#the 'B' above the door stands for bruce | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quietlyimplode · 2 years

Text

leave everything but your bones behind

Whumptober 2022: day 5 - Every Whumpee’s Needs

Warnings: medical procedures or medical talk/seizures

Word Count: 1.6k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha becomes unwell and only the Red Room can fix her. The choice is die or go back to the very place that made her.

A/N: in which we find out what’s wrong with Natasha, forgive my medical speak, it’s not my first language. Or second (suspend medical realities for a little bit).

Main Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

———-

Natasha hates it here.

She hates that they’re going to know just how fucked she is. She can’t hide it now.

She’s going to have to tell them about Irina, and Sana.

They’ve got her blood.

They’re going to do scans.

They’re going to know.

She wishes she could disappear.

Her attention wavers and she sees Bruce standing at the door talking to the doctor that was in before.

Tony joins them and there seems to be an argument. She’s too tired to read their lips, instead she closes her eyes and sighs internally.

Clint, Tony and Bruce are the only ones that have read her whole file.

Tony because he’s a nosy prick with all the technology and no boundaries, Bruce because of the mission in Bolivia and Clint, well that was a gift; and he knew it was too.

The three men know the workings of her body, the simple changes that make her different and now, the stranger of a doctor will too.

There’s a reason she doesn’t get sick, why she churns through medication quickly, why little cuts; not matter how deep, will heal without scars.

There’s nanites in her blood.

There’s still Red Room poison in her, but up until this point it’s saved her, kept her alive.

Like all her memories, it’s not something she could ever get rid of. It’s part of her.

The doctor looks over to where she sits, then back to Bruce, anger on her face as she says something.

It’s got Clint on alert, and clearly it’s nothing good. He squeezes her hand in reassurance.

She’s not above killing the doctor, Natasha thinks, fists clenching unconsciously, if it would eliminate another person knowing all of her.

Clint might even agree.

Her teeth bite hard into her cheeks.

She’s not running because she knows what this might be.

Death.

The beginning of the end.

She feels it, the dread that washes over her.

Pain spikes as she shivers to cover the flinch.

The headache is dulled comparatively to the morning but the day of tests has been exhausting. More emotionally than anything else.

She can feel her mind slipping.

Clint hasn’t left her side and keeps his hand in hers; even when she tries to pull away. Maybe because he thinks she’ll pull out her IV.

She won’t.

If anyone can fix her, the three people arguing outside her room can.

Tony paces.

Bruce is steady.

The doctor frowns.

“What do you mean?”

Tony feels anger, restlessness and thoroughly inept; but he pushes it down, trying to get his head around what her blood work and scans have revealed.

He read her file, but seeing the way it works, the way it’s affecting her makes it real.

Her past is a horror story, to him maybe, to her, it’s real life, and now the horrors are back.

Like they ever really left her alone.

Natasha looks up from her chair in the room and they make eye contact through the door. Tony tries to hold it but she closes her eyes instead.

His anger boils at the unfairness of what he knows.

“Her nanites are failing, they’re dying,” Bruce explains in layman’s terms; trying to make sure they’re all on the same wavelength.

The doctor refers to her pages and nods.

“Why now?” Tony understands most things but he’s not a doctor, this is all so far out of his comfort level of knowledge.

“They’re old,” the doctor says bluntly.

“She wasn’t supposed to live this long.”

They’re all silent in that realisation that the upgrades that came with being a Black Widow meant that they didn’t expect them to live past a certain age.

Bruce crosses his arms, face gaunt with a twinge of green around the ears.

Ignoring it, Tony continues.

“So they’re in her blood?”

He doesn’t understand. If the nanites make up everything, in her blood for repair, healing, he’s sure there can be a simple fix.

“Give her a blood transfusion,” he rationalises.

The doctor shakes her head.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

Bruce is the one to explain further.

“It doesn’t treat the cause,” he says, slowly. “They’re in her, everywhere, even if we gave her a blood transfusion, they’d still be with her, and if we try and get rid of them, her body will shut down, she’s lived to long with it, to not live without it.”

The doctor hands Tony her scans to further the point. There’s grey and blacked parts, and she points to all the places the nanites are.

Everywhere.

Infecting every part of her.

The doctor looks to Natasha.

“Do you know anyone from her past? Anyone that could have programmed the nanites? That could essentially preform a system upgrade?”

Tony understands that, like a computer.

He appreciates the analogy.

“We can do it then?” he asks hopefully. He preforms system upgrades all the time. How different can this be?

“What, you’re experts on nanorobotics and molecular homeostasis?” the doctor shakes her head.

“Not yet,” he says fiercely. For her he will. How hard can it be?

The doctor sighs, a loud heaving of breath.

“I don’t doubt you’d both, but it’s a specialised field, specialised fields…”

Tony scoffs and gestures to the tower. He can do it, he knows he can.

“I’m not saying you can’t..”

But that’s what he’s hearing.

“To save her, we will,” he says defensively.

“I understand, you might, but it just won’t be in time,” the doctor tells him.

“You might kill her.”

Sighing, the doctor rubs her face, tucks all the paperwork under her arms and looks to Bruce.

“Find someone who was there, find someone who understands now and they might be able to reverse it.”

Appealing to Tony, she tries to tell him as it is. He can’t save her. Not this time.

“She’s going to die before you figure it out, tailor it to her, and figure out what works for her.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Tony says fiercely, anger on his face.

“Tony…”

But he pushes past her, entering Natasha’s room, welcome or not, unwilling to hear more.

Bruce wears a face of acceptance and the doctor appreciates his calm. It’s ironic given his reputation.

“Do you want me to tell her?” he asks.

Someone has to. Maybe Natasha can tell them who they can contact.

The doctor looks to Bruce and then Tony who’s sitting on his computer, that’s appeared from nowhere.

“I think we should,” she decides, “I want to run a few more tests.”

Bruce nods.

“What other tests?”

“Maybe a PET scan. It might tell us where the nanites are attacking, what’s been damaged, if anything, find a way to slow it down.”

She starts to walk away, and appeals to him one last time.

“Bruce; find someone who can help, anyone, this isn’t going away, and we don’t have the current technology. Convince Tony. We’ll do what we can, and I suspect that Natasha will trust you more, ask her, she might know more than she’s letting on.”

Natasha feels it coming, she doesn’t have time to alert Clint.

She’s gone and back and none the wiser of time that’s passed, except wide eyes looking at her saying her name.

“Mmok,” she tells him, wishing she could take the worry away.

“Do you want some water?” he asks, holding up a straw.

The disorientation on waking has her vision blurred, but as it’s cleared she sees Tony on his laptop in the corner.

“Hey,” he acknowledges, and although he covers it, she can see she scared him.

“You had another one, but this time we caught it.”

He points to the EEG that Natasha is still attached too.

“They’re going to do a PET scan, which isn’t as fun as what it sounds,” he continues.

“Your body is trying to kill you,” he says bluntly.

Overwhelmed, Natasha falls silent.

Her head hurts, it’s thumping and she’s so tired.

“Go’way”

Clint glares.

“They want me to find someone from Russia to fix you,” he starts, “they think I can’t.”

It’s like it’s a personal assault on his intelligence.

“But I don’t know everything,” he turns his screen around, and Natasha is assaulted with an image of her own body.

From what she can see, the Nanites are everywhere, but not integrating like they usually are.

They’re stationary, moving slow.

“Tell me the story of Irina,” he asks.

She doesn’t know where he’s got the name from.

“It’s this, or Russians,” he threatens.

Clint frowns.

Her head hurts so much.

“Wrong,” she bites out, sitting up a little straighter, taking a deep breath, pushing all pain down.

“Sana,” she sighs.

“Sana is the one you want to look up.”

This all costs. Spilling her secrets, talking, knowing that he won’t find anything, that she’ll have to say it.

“Sana, got sick. Seized. We tried to hide her. Hide when it happened. But they knew. Punished us. Took her. We thought. We thought they’d kill her. Like Irina. Defective, they said. But. They didn’t. They fixed her. She came back. Not sick.”

Clint squeezes her hand.

“So it can be done,” concludes Tony.

“That was then,” Natasha replies.

She closes her eyes.

“Go away Tony,” but it’s not unkind.

He leaves, with Clint following behind.

Natasha trusts that he’ll fill her in on everything they’ve found, or not found.

She closes her eyes and forces herself to sleep.

#whumptober2022 #no.5 #every whumpee's needs #marvel fic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fic #Tony stark fic #clintasha #black widow #clint barton #my fic #hawkeye #clintasha fanfiction #tony stark #seizurefic #whump fic #avengers fic

48 notes · View notes

morbidlyhumorous · 1 month

Text

Protector (Loki Laufeyson)

TW: blood and beating

I grunted as another kick landed against my ribcage. The man standing above me chuckled menacingly as he began to pace again. "So, Y/n, do you want to tell me about that little secret serum you're working on?" I raised myself up despite the agonizing pain that shot through my body and said "Fuck you." The man's demeanor quickly changed and he glowered down at me before reaching down and wrapping his hand around my throat. He lifted me up and smacked me against the wall. I let out a groan and said "That's gonna leave a mark in the morning." "Believe me, you're not going to see the morning." Then the man punched me in the face and stars began to fill my vision. I felt blood flowing down my face and before I could ready myself, he landed another blow to my gut. This was repeated for several minutes and I was fighting to stay awake. The man stopped for a moment and asked "any last words?" I sighed and spat a bloody stream of saliva at his face. He howled in disgust before raising his fist to deliver the final blow, but a loud thud outside caused him to freeze.

All of a sudden the door was flung open and the man was grabbed from behind, which resulted in me being flung across the room. My back hit the stone wall hard and I crumpled to the ground. I couldn't find it in myself to move and as I stared back, I saw the broad frame of a man in green and gold uniform coming towards me. He dropped to my side and cradled my head in his lap and began to shout at some other people. He then picked me up and began to leave the room. As we hurried through the hallways, I began to heave up blood. I heard the man talking, probably to me, but it sounded very muffled and far away. Everything seemed to be swimming in front of me and I couldn't make out much. As we broke out of the underground bunker, I felt cold winter air hit my skin and saw a dim light before I blacked out.

I opened my eyes again to find myself lying on a very soft bed in a room I was very familiar with. My whole body ached and I could barely move my head, but I could move it enough to see my boyfriend, Loki, pacing the room silently but anxiously. His green and gold cloak was thrown haphazardly over a chair and he was left in his black shirt rolled up to his elbows and his pants. I groaned and Loki stopped. He rushed to my side and collapsed to his knees on the floor. "Darling, how are you feeling?" He asked, concern and tiredness evident in his voice. "I feel like shit." I croaked out. Loki chuckled softly to himself before gently resting his hand on my cheek. I could see that it made him upset to see all the injuries I had. "You were incredibly brave, my feisty little firecracker." I smiled at the nickname before my body was wracked by a coughing fit. When I wiped my mouth, blood could be seen on the back of my hand. Loki's face changed and I looked up at him with concern. "It's okay, Darling, Bruce will get you all fixed up. He didn't do it when you were out because we didn't know when you would wake up." I furrowed my brows at this comment and whispered "How long have I been out?" "3 days." "Have you left here at all?" Loki shook his head. I looked at him more closely and noticed the way his hair seemed to be in complete disarray and how tired his face was. He also looked like he hadn't showered since the rescue mission."Would you like me to tell Bruce you're awake?" I nodded my head and watched Loki hurriedly leave the room.

Fifteen minutes later I was being gently carried to the infirmary. I was laid on a table and given a numbing shot before a sheet was constructed between my head and the rest of me. Bruce began to get to work fixing the internal injuries and Loki stayed near my head, carefully stroking my hair and offering words of encouragement. When Bruce was done, he stitched me up and told Loki not to do anything to it for at least 12 hours. I was given pain medication before I was carefully carried back upstairs and back into Loki's bed. As he tucked me in, I asked "Why am I in your room?" He looked down at me and said "You're staying here until you're all better so I can protect you." I smiled up at him before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. The rest of the evening was spent with Loki sitting on the bed next to me, reading in his soothing voice. I eventually fell asleep and Loki resigned himself to the floor, afraid to even sleep next to me for fear of somehow hurting me.

When I woke up in the morning, I felt absolutely disgusting and knew Loki must be feeling the same way. When he woke up, I suggested that we bathe. "Are you sure?" He asked as he picked himself up off of the floor. "I don't want you overexerting yourself." I rolled my eyes and pouted and Loki sighed and said "Fineeeeee." He quickly filled the tub with warm water before he came back into the room and picked me up. He carefully helped me undress and get in the tub before he got himself undressed and slipped in behind me. He began to gently wash my hair and body, which made me feel so much more at ease. When I was done, he quickly cleaned himself and got out and put clean clothes on. As he reached for me, I protested and said "I can stand up on my own. I'm not helpless y'know." "But Darling I don't want you to hurt myself." "Well I'm going to hurt myself by not moving at all. It's part of the process of healing." Loki looked at me dubiously before he sighed in defeat and offered me his hand. I accepted it and shakily began to rise from the tub. Loki wrapped his other arm around me to give me more support as I stepped onto the tile floor. I leaned myself against the wall, and with the help of my boyfriend, I began to slowly get my clothes on.

It was during this time that the pain medication began to wear off and I felt a wave of pain spread through my body. I bit my lip hard as I was getting my pants on and my grip on Loki's shoulder tightened. He looked up to see pain written across my face and quickly picked me up and placed me on the bathroom counter. "What is it, Darling?" "Pain" was all I could manage to gasp out. Loki reached behind me to grab the medicine Bruce gave him yesterday and a cup of water. I quickly downed it and held on tightly to Loki's extended hands as I rested my head on his massive shoulder. "It hurts so much" I whimpered. "I know, Darling, I know, but you are so incredibly strong." And so we sat there for fifteen minutes, me sitting on the edge of the sink, shirtless, while pressing Loki's hands down on either side of me and resting on him. Finally, the medicine kicked in enough that I only felt achey. I released my hold on him and put my shirt on before I was picked up and placed in bed. "I think it's time for a nap after all that fun." Loki said humorlessly as he wrapped the blankets around my body. My hand reached up to grab his wrist and I asked "Can you please sleep with me this time? You're not going to hurt me and it'll make me feel better." He looked down into my pleading e/c eyes before he climbed in beside me and hesitantly drew me into his side. I rested my hand on his chest and burried my head into his shoulder. As I drifted off to sleep, I muttered an "I love you" and received a kiss on my forehead in return.

#oneshot #loki #the avengers #marvel

2 notes · View notes

sillypinkboy · 5 months

Text

Meetings

Characters: Jake Lockley, Joe Fixit, Bruce Banner, Marc Spector

Pairing: Bloody Protectors

Word Count: 1.5k

Tagging: @goodoldfashionedengineer

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bruce was stopping through New York. That was the only reason Joe even met the cabbie- it was an accident. Not intentional. He was just trying to get to a bar. Really, he was. How was he supposed to know the New York cabbies were so charming?

Joe had crawled into the backseat and shrugged off his jacket. The car was much hotter than the snowy weather outside. As he sat the coat down, a smoky voice filled the small area.

“Where can I take you?” The driver questioned as he readjusted the mirror. Dark eyes caught Joe in the reflection.

Joe leaned back in the leather seats as he spoke. “Know any good bars? Still new ‘round these parts.”

The driver nodded, and merged back into the traffic. A gloved hand moved to turn up the radio. Something in Spanish started playing. Joe closed his eyes, taking in the smells that filled the cab - old leather and cigarette smoke.

The car ride wasn’t that long. It took no longer than five minutes to get from point a to point b. Joe moved closer to the driver's seat, expensive cologne filling his senses.

“7.06,” the driver stated after pulling aside. It took a moment for Joe to realize what he was talking about.

Joe grabbed for his cash - finally taking a moment to look the driver over. The man was quite handsome. Dark curls poking out from a cap, tanned skin, freckles, the start of a beard, rusty eyes that watched him impatiently. Joe looked down and counted the money before handing it to the cabbie. He grabbed his coat and stepped out.

As the cab left him on the sidewalk, he screamed internally.

“Fuck, shoulda asked for his number,” he mumbled, slipping the coat over his hawaiian shirt. He turned and started walking towards the bar doors, the sign lighting casting a bright green glow on his auburn hair before he disappeared inside.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The snow had stopped by midnight. Clouds still coated the sky in a thick blanket of gray. A masked face looked towards the hidden moon, steady eyes looking from whatever light streamed through. A wet thump from the street below caught the figure’s attention.

It took seconds for the hero to come crashing down in the dimly lit street, silver flaring behind like a shadow. The sickening sound of bone breaking echoed through the tight alley, alcohol intoxicating the air. Broken glass littered the concrete below, crunching under the patted boots of the suit. The hero coughed as the smell filled his lungs.

The only man still standing groaned, looking over at the newest face to join the brawl. Amber light casted odd shadows from a broken casing, pulling the whole scene together. Blood and glass littered the snowy alley, a set of men left mostly unconscious. The victor pulled his weapon - a broken bottle - above his head in an attempt to show he was in charge here. The hero kept his hands to his side.

A breeze swept between the two, carrying the smell of blood and sweat closer to the vigilante. He spoke, keeping an even tone, “What happened?”

The bloodied man stared back. He slowly lowered the glass as he narrowed his eyes. “Nothin’ to worry ‘bout, huh?” he answered, straightening his stance.

The hero didn’t seem happy with the response. The man huffed.

“This ain’t your area, is it? Didn’t mean ta intrude,” He offered, trying to find a way to leave without more questioning.

The hero nodded, “We don’t appreciate when people start fights this close to the mission,” he gave back, the tone still as cold as the air between them.

The other nodded, pretending to understand.

“Then, I should uh- get goin’, huh?” His voice carried leftover adrenaline.

The hero nodded and watched the other run his hands down his pant legs. He lingered by the alley moments longer, before scurrying off.

The hero watched him go before he pulled himself back into the night. Something about the other man had felt vaguely familiar. A twinge of recognition pulled at the caped crusader’s mind. There wasn’t time to dwell on it now.

The hero faded into the busy streets.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Bruce was the next one to meet the cabbie. It was… late. The city left the stars unseen and he felt tired. The day had been difficult, he needed to pack- get out as quickly as he could.

He pulled himself into the backseat, and buckled himself in. Arms hung tightly around his chest- he tried to ignore the copper that filled his nose. The radio played quietly, forming into just another ball of noise he had to tune out.

“Where to?” a warm voice filled the silence. Bruce could feel eyes on him. He tried shrinking into himself more.

The eyes quickly dropped from the mirror.

Bruce took a breath, mumbling the block he needed to be at. The driver nodded and started the journey. He kept the radio quiet and rolled down a window partly, trying to allow some air in.

Bruce laid his head against the cold glass, arms still held tight. His eyes slowly closed, his head felt full of static. He slowly let out a deep breath. The last feeling being cold and eyes watching him.

Joe blinked against the window. The world outside felt still as they sat in traffic. Lights glistened back at his still foggy vision. As his sight cleared, he noticed where they were. A cab. It smelt different than the last one he had been in- a much more familiar scent. A bad night that felt best with rain.

“Smells like blood,” he said, the tone of a joke wrapped around the words.

The cabbie chuckled, “Had to bring someone to the hospital. Saw you on my way to the carwash,” he continued to explain.

Recognition hit Joe. The cabbie from a few nights ago.

“Hell, I’ll take it, yeah?” he responded, sitting up from the window.

The cabbie smiled to himself, catching a sight of his passenger scribbling on the back of a crumbled receipt. His gaze quickly dropped back to the road as traffic started to move again. The sudden movement jerked the passenger forward, he cursed as pen ink ran onto his pant leg.

“Everything okay back there?” The driver questioned, honey-like heat dripping off his words.

Joe offered, “Yeah, jus’ a sec,'' with a nod. He licked his thumb and scrubbed at the mark.

The cabbie nodded and continued to focus on the road, a gloved hand moving to turn up the radio. Pop music filled the small space. He never moved to change the channel until the other asked - if the other asked.

Joe softly hummed along and watched the outside streets. When the ride finally ended - the car stopping at the corner - Joe unbuckled and leaned forward.

Blood and cologne. The smell was much clearer now.

“How much?” he asked, digging in his pockets for money.

The driver hummed, “14.35.”

Joe handed him a twenty, the receipt tucked behind it. He held his hand up and mouthed call me before slipping out.

He shut the door and watched as the cabbie drove off. Pride struck a chord and he smiled. Cold air swept at his curls and he moved forward.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Marc stared at the newest number added to the notepad. There was nothing written next to it, unlike the others. The handwriting was familiarly Jake’s - messy and difficult to read. He reached out for the alter, hoping for any explanation. None was given, so he tried to ignore it.

The number sat unchanged for a few days. The days grew into weeks - by now the owner of it was long gone. Still, the number sat unused.

It had been a long, busy day for Jake. He had gotten home and poured a cup of scotch with a sigh. Walking the familiar apartment, the floor groaned under his heavy boots. His tired eyes caught the closed notebook that sat on the makeshift desk.

He hummed, setting the glass down with a small thump, ice clinking against the sides. Gloved fingers lazily flipped pages, trying to find the latest entry. A number - the last one he added - caught his eye in its red ink. A warning. Or.. a promise?

He quickly slid his phone - their phone - out of his pocket. The phone opened with a click. He typed the number in, double checking on almost every number. His thumb hovered over the dial button, unwilling - unsure - if he should call.

The glass was picked up, ice clinking as Jake made his way to the couch. He tried to get comfortable before deciding to click dial.

The phone rang. And rang and rang and rang. He gave up on any hope to get an answer. The phone continued to ring. It hit voicemail - or to be exact, lack of voicemail.

The robotic voice met Jake’s hum. He quieted, hanging up. The phone was set aside as he sipped at the drink, taking mental note of the lack of answer.

The drink was finished in tired silence. The glass met warm water when finished, as Jake rinsed out the sticky residue. After setting the dish aside, he made way for the bed.

As he sat undoing his laces, the phone buzzed. A text.

#a gift #:]#bloody protectors #pink writes #jake lockley #joe fixit

1 note · View note

beauty-of-sins · 3 years

Text

Unquenchable

Alpha!Natasha x Omega Fem! Reader

A/N: Def not a reason why I choose this gif. Enjoy lovelies, and have a good weekend. Made this sweet as a pre-apology for the rest of my writing. Pst also if you speak Russian slide in my dms PLEASE

Warnings: 18+, A/B/O Dynamics, Possessiveness

Part One

Bruce said it would take time for your senses and instincts to return after you were forced into being Hydra’s science project. However, you didn't think they were that bad, that you couldn’t smell your wife’s rut coming.

It was Wanda who had told you, after she had sidestepped the hug that you were about to give her. You were confused and a little hurt, a pout beginning to form on your face. Wanda had smirked, giving you an all too knowing gaze.

“Your Alpha needs you,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Go home, before she tears the compound apart looking for you.”

Oh.

You turn on your heels, racing towards you and Nat’s little home in the compound, barely taking notice of the Alphas giving you a wide berth on your way there.

You almost run into the door because of your shaky vision. Your eyes dilated and unfocused at the thought of Natasha finally claiming you again.

The door opens suddenly, and immediately your vision was consumed by red. Strong arms pick you up and drag you into the room. The door slamming shut behind you with a finality that sends pleasure arching up through your spine.

Painted lips capture yours as you’re thrown against the front door, and you moan at the slight smokiness of her taste. Natasha quickly wins the fight for dominance, as the heat radiating from her body threatens to overwhelm you. Her hands lift up your skirt, gripping your ass harshly.

“I should have never gone to that fucking mission,” she whispers once you finally break apart, allowing you to see how far gone she is. Her skin has broken out into a sweat that would only cool from your touch.

Her hips desperately roll into yours, and you gasp at the feeling of her erection rubbing perfectly against your center.

“I should have reminded everyone who you belonged too.”

Fuck. You love when Nat talks like that, when the both of you were at your base instincts and all you wanted was each other. You purr in pleasure at the familiar sensation of her weight against you. You reach down rubbing her length through her pants, unsurprised to find that it was already wet with pre-cum.

Nat gasps into your fading mating gland as she thrusts roughly against your hand. You were greedy for her. Hell, it almost feels like you were starting to be in heat just from being around her. It had been too long, over a month since you’ve been taken, the forced separation taking its toll on the both of you.

She’s shaking hard, to the point her muscles seem like they are locking up. She needs this. She needs you.

Suddenly, Natasha bends down, lifting you further up against the door making her mouth level to your heat. Her fingers snap your panties over to the side, exposing your already soaked pussy. Your wife doesn’t waste any time, her lips wrapping around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, smirking when you arch into her hungry mouth. Her tongue dives in between your folds, licking long swipes to get as much as you in her mouth as possible, and the sensation of her moaning at your taste made you jerk further into her mouth.

“Nat,” You moan, head hitting the door violently as she devoured you. You had no idea how she was even breathing. Her face already covered in your juices, while her tongue circles around your clit.

“Fuck, omega.” she says, her eyes shining, flecks of gold in her green eyes, “I want to drown in you.”

Her tongue pushes into you suddenly, and you cry out as your orgasm splashes onto her face. She doesn’t stop either, even when your hands grab onto her hair.

“Stay right fucking there,” Nat mumbles into your folds. Her nails dig into your your panties sliding them off, and out of the corner of your eye you see one of her hands move out of your sight. “You taste so good.”

Her tongue laps at your entrance, cleaning up the mess you made. Your thighs lock around her head, holding her there. Natasha’s muffled laugh vibrates through your sensitive clit making your eyes roll back, before she nibbles lightly on your swollen lips. You curse, crying out her name. You couldn’t take much more of this. Natasha stands back up, running her tongue over her now shining canines.

She pulls back, and you moan at the sight of your wetness dripping off her chin. You see her arm moving, and your eyes follow to see she is rubbing herself with your panties.

The full sight of her makes your eyes water, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing. You need her. Now. You feel like you’d die without your wife inside of you.

“Take me now.” You say, licking at the corner of her mouth tasting yourself on her lips, replacing your soaked underwear with your hand.

“Please, Alpha.” You keen, rubbing her cock before placing it against your soaked entrance, sending shockwaves through you both. “Knot me.”

Nat whimpers, as she wraps her arm around you, picking you up with all the gentleness in the world. She kneels on the floor, keeping you in her lap as she gives you light nips on your mating gland. Her other hand steadies herself at your entrance, before she pauses.

“I love you,” she says, before she kisses you once more.

You don't even get a chance to say it back, because she surges into you with enough force to make you fall out of her lap and onto the pillows below. You didn't even notice she made a nest right by the front door. Your heart swells with love at the thought of her making one, before she would have rushed off to find you. Nat grabs your wrists, and holds them above your head. You are truly at your wife’s mercy. You’re about to fuck like animals, and you weren’t ashamed to admit you loved it.

She starts at a slow pace, letting you get used to her again. You whimper as your body remembered how big she was, how easily she could ruin you. Time slows, as you look up at her, her hair sticking to the sweat on her face, eyes focused on nothing but you. Even through the lust in her eyes, the love shines there. Tears well up in your eyes, and she kisses them away as love pulses through your bond. Here you feel cared for, washing away the dark memories of what had happened to you.

“I can’t hold back, Y/N.” The whisper of your name, making you squeeze around her tighter, and you watch her eyes flutter from the sensation. You run your hand along her tensed biceps, as she fought against herself to really take you. “I need-”

“It’s okay. I want you. All of you.” You purr, trying to comfort her, wrapping your legs around her as tight as you can.

“You can-

Your words were cut off with a gasp as she begins rutting you roughly against the floor, her own thighs becoming stained with your wetness, as she rammed into you over and over again. You scream in ecstasy, your hips bouncing back up from the force of her thrusts, as she reaches places deep inside of you. You aren’t sure if you want her to stop or keep going. Your nails dig into her back, making her growl into the heated air, as you mark your territory. Natasha kept muttering something into your neck, and it wasn’t until she angled herself again that you could hear what she was saying.

“Mine.” she was growling, over and over again as you cried out for her, because of her. You can feel her knot swelling against your entrance, hitting against your heat with every thrust. You whimper, anticipating the tight fit as you were already full with just her cock inside of you.

“Nat,” you whine, and she leans down to kiss you, nipping at your lips until you can taste blood. Natasha’s breathing was getting more and more unstable, and your own orgasm was well on it’s way. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest as she leans down, her teeth wrapping around your mating bond, waiting for the perfect moment for her to bite down. You’re clenching down around her damn near after every thrust, and you know you aren’t going to last long. Her hand moves down to rub her knuckle into your clit, her other hand gripping hard around your hip, preventing you from squirming, from running away from what’s yours.

With force, she bites down right on your gland, washing away the slight pain that you felt from her knot sliding inside of you. You clench down around her draining her for all she’s worth and sending you hurtling to oblivion, stars coming to your eyes as you screamed loud enough that you’re sure the entire compound heard you. Her hips stutter forward a couple more times, as she loses herself inside of you, locking herself completely inside before she slumps over you. You’re both panting heavily by the time you both ride out your orgasms. Natasha licks gently at the fresh bond wound, as she holds you, making sure your neck rests safely on the pillow.

Their is no one else you want to spend the future with. No one else you want to make love to you like this. “I’m yours,” Nat whispers, “All of me.”

“Mine.” You whisper back while her hips start back up again. You lean forward and without warning bite down into her own gland, enjoying the way she cries out your name, the way her skin tastes under your tongue.

You bite down long enough to make sure you sear her taste in your senses, deep in your memory. No one will tear her away from you again.

They’d die trying.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #mcu #wlw #abo

538 notes · View notes

that-milo-kid · 2 years

Text

Day 12: Abduction

Warnings: Slight swearing, mentions of torture

Fandom: DCU (Batfam and YJ)

Word Count: 1140

Characters: Dick Grayson and Wally West

Notes: this is a sequel to my day 10 submission! shout out to the absolute love of my life @azzeryyjazzery (who i am going on a date with tomorrow :0 )

The fan on his ceiling was spinning at an almost dizzying speed. He watched it turn – going around and around and around, never stopping, not until it’s turned off by someone else.

With nothing interesting happening in his line of sight, Dick listened to his neighbours. Sure, it was a bit nosey, but they were being almost unbearably loud, and he had been trained as a detective from age nine. He could hear the couple a few doors down fighting, some screaming match about nothing in particular. The kid who moved in across from him a few weeks ago was blasting music. It was a song Dick actually recognised for once (Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles had been Tim’s favourite song for a while), and he let himself sit and enjoy the music for a few seconds.

Other assorted sounds were coming from the rooms. Lots of yelling, a few different sources of music, and a vacuum cleaner on the floor above him. Dick wanted to move, to get up and do something to take his mind off the ever-growing mess of sound around him. A sharp pain like wildfire tore its way through his neck and chest as he tried to lift his head, acting as a reminder to why he was lying down in the first place.

Ah, that’s right, he thought absently to himself. Torture wounds. Whoops.

So, he was back to square one. Lying on his bed, the terrible wall of noise suffocating him as he watched the fan and tried to focus on anything other than what happened. He hated the sound of people yelling, specifically – they were able to talk, to communicate and connect with other people in such an intimate way. And they used the gift of speech to express hate and violence.

It had been two weeks since Dick had lost his voice. The physical wounds were healing slowly, but surely. Leslie cleared him three days ago, and he was back to living in his shitty apartment with his shitty neighbours and his shitty job. Not that he had actually gone back to work yet. Tim called up for him as the only Wayne willing to talk to any member of the BPD… well the only Wayne who wouldn’t a) lose their shit or b) start crying if they spoke about what happened to Dick.

Dick didn’t think he’d ever seen Bruce as emotional as when he broke the news to Clark.

Either way, he was currently at no human interaction. No one from his job, none of the heroes he associated with, not even any of his brothers or sisters had stopped by. Steph had popped in the day before, just to say hi, but the interaction lasted less than two minutes. Dick didn’t think it really counted.

He wasn’t sure where he stood with human interaction at the moment anyway. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t effectively communicate what he wanted to say, anyway. Not to mention all the weird flinching and seizing up when people touched him in certain places. His neck was much less sensitive than it had been, but having your throat slashed open by a madman doesn’t exactly have a speedy recovery time. he had also been more sensitive than usual around his ribs. Two or three of them were likely bruised.

He wondered if he’d ever be the same after what happened. I’ll certainly be less eager to talk to criminals, he thought with a small chuckle, before he remembered exactly how he felt as he bled out on the floor of that cell and decided that maybe he would hold off on the jokes for a little bit.

He was shaken out of his usual self-pitying spiral by a knock at the door. Weird. Alfred said he’d be by on Wednesday, and it wasn’t like him to appear anything but on time. Shrugging it off (maybe he just wanted to see Dick?), he went to roll out of bed. The movement jostled his neck again, and this time the rush of pain was so violent and sudden that he had to stand still and hold onto a nearby dresser for a moment to steady himself.

He shuffled over to the door, hoping that moving around might help the dizziness fade a bit. It doesn’t, obviously, and the little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Leslie yelled at him to sit back down and ignore the door. Richard John Grayson is nothing if not polite, however, so he gathered himself and opened the door with as much grace as he could muster.

The shock of bright red hair that sprinted through the door was not at all what he was expecting, and he almost fell over again in his shock. Wally stood in his living room, beaming at him, holding copious amounts of snacks and chip packets.

“Come on man, I haven’t seen you in forever and we still haven’t watched that new Spiderman movie!” Dick held one finger up in the universal sign for one minute and walked into his room as quickly as he could manage. He dug around in the piles of clothes and books scattered across his room – he really should clean it – before finding the thing he was looking for.

When he walked back out to Wally holding his whiteboard and marker, the speedster had made himself comfortable on Dick’s couch. He turned to look at his friend as he re-entered the room and patted the spot beside him on the couch.

“Get your fine ass over here, Robin! I even got salt and vinegar chips for you, even though they are disgusting, and you are a heathen.”

Dick’s grin made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He quickly scrawled on the whiteboard, ‘I haven’t been Robin in years, and everyone knows salt and vinegar is the superior flavour.’ Wally scoffed jokingly, pulling Dick down beside him onto the couch. His hands were careful around Dick’s ribs and went nowhere near his friends face. Dick was more grateful than Wally could ever imagine.

Curled up on the couch with his best friend, Dick realised the one thing he’d been missing more than his voice. Normality. Something that no one could give him while they walked on eggshells around him, careful and cautious as if he would shatter into a million pieces.

Turning further into Wally’s warm side, Dick managed to whisper out two quiet words.

“Thank you.”

Wally didn’t even look over from the screen showing the opening scene of Spiderman as he responded.

“Of course, dude – what are friends for if not cheering up their bros after getting abducted?”

Another small chuckle, and Dick is out like a light. He slept better than he had in two weeks, tucked into his best friend’s side.

Maybe everything would be fine.

#agony april #agony april 2022 #agony april day 12 #tw swearing #tw mention of torture #BatFam #the batfamily #dick grayson #wally west #birdflash #maybe its romantic maybe its platonic. who knows??? certainly not them #milo writes

23 notes · View notes

crackedoutwalnut · 3 years

Note

Will you consider writing Diana Prince x Fem!Reader who has anxiety, and she frets endlessly over Diana when she’s away on missions? Diana constantly assures her she’s fine and even jokes it off to seem like missions are no big deal, let alone a threat, to her. But, then, there finally comes an instance where the news or something announces no one/or very few of JL survived some unbelievably dangerous, world saving mission. Reader, of course, believes it and her anxiety takes over from thinking Diana is gone. Basically, I’m asking for angst that ends in a whole lot of comforting fluff! Sorry this if this is long and too much detail!

A/N: Heyyyyy,,,, sorry this took so long. Writer's block is a b*tch to deal with ;/. Hope you still enjoy though!

Word Count: 2k

When you first started dating Diana, she quickly grew fond of calling you her "little worrier." You were always flitting and hovering around her before and after a mission. Even after she insisted she felt completely fine, you would drag her into bed and make her rest after a battle. Amazonian or no, your girlfriend still had her limits. You were both yet to see a said limit; however, you were not keen on finding out what it looked like.

Currently, you were pacing a hole in the living room of your shared apartment. Your hands were clenched into fists at your side as you frantically looked between your girlfriend and the window.

"What could Bruce possibly want you for that requires you to be gone for a week?" You asked, running a hand through your hair.

Diana gave you a sympathetic, if a touch amused, look before making her way over to you. She cut your frantic path short by wrapping her arms around your waist. Her nose burrowed into your hair as she squeezed you closer. "My love, I'm not made of porcelain. If I was concerned about my safety, I would make sure to bring extra backup. I promise you this mission will be no different than the rest of them."

You groaned and hid your face in the crook of her neck. "But what if it isn't?" You melded your body impossibly closer to her own as countless gruesome scenarios rattled around your head.

You felt two large calloused hands cup the sides of your face as Diana tilted your face up. Begrudgingly, you complied and met her soft gaze. "My little worrier, I promise I will not take any unnecessary risks. I will be back home before you know it. Okay?"

You sighed and fell into her once more. Your cheek rested against her collarbone, and she traced circles up and down your spine. "Just come back to me in one piece, okay? I like your scars but not enough to add to the collection."

Diana grinned and planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. "I promise, my little worrier." The two of you clung to one another for a moment longer before the demigoddess finally pulled away. "I have to leave now, but I will be back before you know it. I promise, my darling."

You huffed and pressed a kiss to her jaw, "You better. After having sex with an Amazonian for two years, it would be nearly impossible to replace you with anyone else."

Diana chuckled and lifted you into your arms. You yelped in surprise and wrapped your legs around her waist as she pulled you into her. Your lips met in a slow, melting kiss. "I will see you soon, darling." With one last lingering look, she left.

You were certain they had added new days to the week. It had been three days since Diana had left for her mission with the Justice League, and you felt as if you were about to explode. The confidentiality of the threats that the League faces meant you were left entirely in the dark. No status updates, no calls, not even a damned text was allowed. Time had a funny way of making the complete severing of communication even more painful.

The four days remaining felt like an entire century as you spent most of your time flipping between news stations just in case one of them had something- anything - of use. Sighing, you scrubbed your hands over your face and shut off the TV. It was around three in the morning, and even though you had work in four hours, sleep evaded you. Rest was not an easy thing to come by when Diana was away. The combination of a cold bed and the unknown danger she faced was enough to keep your eyes stapled open.

Still, that didn't mean you couldn't give it a shot. After taking well above the recommended dose of Melatonin, you opted to wear one of Diana's hoodies to bed. The sweatshirt fell down to your lower thigh and wrapped you entirely in the familiar scent of her perfume. A soft smile settled on your face as you buried your face in the collar of her hoodie.

Ironically, Diana had bought the hoodie more for your benefit than anything else. After you complained that all of her clothing was too fancy to steal, the demigoddess went out and bought one. After it started to smell like her, you snatched it from her closet as often as possible. The comfort provided by the well-worn cotton was what finally managed to lull you to sleep nearly an hour later.

Hours later, your fitful sleep was abruptly cut off by the feeling of your phone violently vibrating beside you. Groaning, you cracked your eyes open and peered over at the alarm clock. Who the hell was calling at 5:30 in the morning? Cursing, you fumbled for your phone and peered up at the caller ID. Your heart dropped when you saw who it was: Diana.

Your girlfriend only risked calling you while on a mission for one reason; something horrible had happened. Quickly, you slammed your thumb against the accept call button and lifted it to your ear.

"Diana? What's wrong? Did something happen?" You sputtered, sitting up.

"Y/n I don't have much time. I just wanted to let you know that this job might take a bit longer than I originally thought," your girlfriend sounded uncharacteristically rushed. In the background, you heard the sounds of panicked shouting and something gut-wrenchingly similar to gunshots. "Everything will be fine; just stay safe for me. Okay?"

"Diana, what's going on? Is everyone alright? Are you alright?" Your fist clenched the sheets as you kicked the comforter off.

"I don't have time to explain. Just stay safe. I love you." You opened your mouth to protest. However, the call ended before you had a chance. Cursing, you threw your phone to the side and rushed to the living room. Scrambling around in the dark, you finally grasped the TV remote and flicked it on. On the news was a concerned-looking reporter standing behind a battle-torn field. Bodies, both alien and human, were strewn across the ground lying in charred craters with billowing smoke.

"Just hours earlier, a rogue alien fleet attacked a small village just on the coast of western Italy. The Justice League confronted them in a gory battle. Unfortunately, two members, the Flash and Batman, were gravely injured during the fight." You gasped as a video of a bloodied Barry Allen in his now tattered suit was rushed away on a stretcher. Your chest clenched painfully as you paced in front of the television screen. "The location of the rest of the Justice League is unknown at this time."

You blindly slammed your finger against the power button on the remote and chucked it against the couch. Diana was okay. She had to be. How else would she call you if she wasn't? These thoughts did little to soothe your fears as your legs gave out from under you. Your knees collided with the solid wood floorboards as you tried desperately to keep your sobs at bay.

For the first time in your relationship, you had no clue where Diana Prince was. Was she still in Italy? Were the others with her? Had she been kidnapped? Was she okay? The thought had you heaving out wheezy breaths. You had to calm down; you refused to have a panic attack at 5 in the morning. Squeezing your eyes shut, you roughly dragged yourself onto the couch. A clenched fist was pried open as you rested it over your stomach. Breathe. In. Out. Repeat.

After the oxygen returned to your lungs and your vision was no longer blurred with tears, you shakily stood from the couch. Diana would be okay. She had to be. If Diana was okay, you were okay.

Nothing was okay. It has been a month since your girlfriend's ominous phone call, and there was neither hint nor mention of her anywhere. It was hell. The whole world mourned the death of the Justice League while you clung desperately to a glimmer of hope that grew dimmer every day. As the idea of Wonder Woman being alive started to diminish, so did you. You had lost quite a bit of weight over the month. Your clothing was smelled of weeks worth of unwashed grime.

Since your work allowed you to work from home while you got your life back together, there was no point in leaving your apartment. For the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to be completely consumed by grief. What else was there to do when the love of your life was either never coming back or lying face up in a ditch somewhere? The process of living was more of a day-to-day chore that you forcibly dragged yourself alongside. Not quite alive, but not nearly dead enough for it to be a relief. You were simply there.

This was still the case when your friends decided to drag you to the mall. After not hearing from you for nearly three weeks straight, they had decided that it was about time to get you out of the apartment. You hardly gave a shit either way. Currently, you were scrubbing dry shampoo into your long-abused scalp. You rubbed your nearly used up deodorant on and decided on which almost clean outfit to wear.

After settling on one of Diana's old hoodies, you threw on some sweatpants. The clothing you stole from your girlfriend had long stopped smelling like her perfume so, you reapplied it yourself. Your phone buzzed with a message from your friend's group chat, letting you know they were outside. With a resigned sigh, you forced yourself out the door.

Nearly three hours later, you finally pried yourself away from your friends. You refused to let them give you a ride home as you opted to take the bus instead. The mall had been agonizing. Every high-end clothing store was like a painful reminder of who you had lost. She seemed to be everywhere these days in billboards, mall food courts, and in crowds. Her memory seemed to follow you like a phantom limb. After nearly falling asleep on the bus, you stumbled up the stairs and into your apartment.

You were nearly halfway to the couch when you heard an odd noise coming from your bedroom. It sounded like... shuffling? Furrowing your brows in confusion, you grabbed the pepper spray Diana had insisted you buy from your bag. Carefully, you crept down the hall. Your heartbeat hammered in your chest as you slowly opened the door.

Time stood still. There, sitting on the bed so casually you could have believed she had been there all along, was Diana Prince. The pepper spray in your hand hit the carpet with a soft thud as you gaped at your girlfriend. She looked up at the sound and nearly leaped to her feet at the sight of you. "Y/n, you're here!" She cleared the space between you in two long strides. Her hands were cupping your cheeks with a familiar sense of love. "When I got home, I saw that you were not here, and I feared that something had happened," Diana explained as she cocooned you in her arms.

At the familiar sensation of her strong arms wrapped around your abdomen, you finally broke. You crumbled into her chest as sobs wracked your body. Your hands grasped at the back of her shirt as your tried desperately to get closer to her. Diana tutted quietly and cradled the back of your head. "You- you were dead," you heaved hysterically. "Ever-Everyone thought you were dea-dead."

Your girlfriend carefully guided the two of you onto the bed. She lounged on her back, allowing you to lie entirely on top of her. Frantic hands clung to her. If you didn't hold on tight enough, she would crumble to sand and dust, like a castle on a beach. Diana ran her hands up and down your back, quietly shushing you whenever you gasped or cried. "Shhh, you're alright, everyone's okay, my love. I'm here now." You felt a gentle kiss being placed onto the crown of your head.

A long beat of silence stretched between you two as your cries died down. "Where were you."

"I will explain everything later. For now, all you need to know is that I'm here. I'm here, and I'm never leaving you again."

#diana prince x reader #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman #diana prince #dc universe #justice league #reader insert #writing prompt

272 notes · View notes

marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 25: Fighting Alone (Grounded)

AO3

Marinette was exhausted. Adrien’s father had sent him out of Paris for a week for some fashion show that he couldn’t be bothered to go to in person. Instead, he had Natalie with Adrien. Since Marinette herself wasn’t in Paris, she usually wouldn’t mind Adrien’s week-long trip. Except, she wasn’t in Paris. And now, neither was Chat Noir. Which means for nearly a week, she’d been sneaking out of her dad’s house at random times to do patrols in Paris. Luckily, there hadn’t been any akuma attacks. She knew her dad would be beyond angry if she was the only one to show up for an attack. And if he knew that she knew about Adrien’s absence ahead of time and didn’t ask any of her family to help? She’d been in big trouble. Even more if he knew she’d been not only going on patrol in Gotham under his supervision, but also in Paris. Getting next to no sleep. So yeah, she was ready for a nap. Just as her eyes are about to close, the shrill akuma alarm screams from her phone. Groaning, she sits up.

“Marinette, you’re exhausted.” Tikki admonishes her, her tiny arms crossed.

“Tikki, I have to do this. I’m sorry, and I promise I’ll sleep when we get home.” Marinette says, giving her friend a pleading look. Tikki huffs, letting her little arms drop.

“Fine, but when we get back you are going to talk to your father and stay home from patrol tonight.” She says. Marinette frowns, but quickly agrees. It never went well arguing with the goddess of creation.

“Tikki, spots on!” She says, letting the warmth of her transformation flow over her. She glances at Kaalki. “Ready?” She asks. The Kwami nods and Marinette combines the transformations, quickly opening a portal and dropping into Paris. She could do this.

---

The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm breaks Bruce from his thoughts. He raises an eyebrow and quickly pulls up the newsfeed of the attack, letting it play in the background as he continues working.

“Ladybug has just arrived on scene! No direct confirmation on the akuma’s powers yet. We just have to hope it’s a weak one today folks as it appears speculation is correct and Chat Noir is not currently in Paris.” The reporter says, making him snap his attention to the video. His jaw tenses and his phone starts ringing and flooding with text messages. No doubt the boys were also watching the video. He answers the phone as he swiftly walks towards the elevator. Work could wait. Right now he needed to get home and take the Zeta tubes to Paris.

“Hello.” He says, not even bothering to look at the caller id.

“How many of us are going to Paris?” Dick asks. Bruce frowns.

“I will be going alone.” He says. Dick snorts. Bruce hits the button for the garage, shifting impatiently in the small space. He could’ve taken the stairs, but he had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t sprint down the stairs like he could as Batman. People would talk.

“Yeah right, B. There’s no way you’re gonna get Jay and Little D to agree to that. You know the three have been attached at the hip lately.” Dick reminds him.

“Will you please monitor the tubes until I get there? I don’t want your brothers rushing off and doing something stupid.” He says.

“Sure can, B.” Dick says. Bruce hangs up the phone and stares at the number indicating the floor the elevator is on. The second it switches to ‘B’, he’s prepared and storms through the door, not slowing until he’s in the car. He pulls up the news feed immediately, pushing down on the gas as he drives through the city.

“It’s been confirmed that the current akuma has a sword and appears to be skilled with the weapon. Ladybug herself has urged citizens to remain in their homes until this battle is over.” The reporter says. Bruce curses under his breath and pushes the gas pedal down even more. Almost there. Almost there. The car alerts him to a phone call and he answers.

“Father, why have you locked us out of the Zeta tubes?” Damian demands, his voice harsh. “The akuma has a sword, Marinette is not skilled with a sword yet.”

“Damian, I don’t want you or Jason going to Paris. I already told Dick that I’m the only one going.” Bruce explains, pulling the car over at the front of the manor and switching the call to his cellphone as he rushes into the house.

“Yeah B, that’s what Dick said before we tied him up. But how the hell did you lock us out of the tubes? Even Timmy can’t figure it out.” Jason says, and Bruce freezes. She wouldn’t. She…. she couldn’t, right?

“Jason, untie Dick and have him put in my alternative password.” Bruce orders, rushing through the manor to get to the entrance of the cave. If his suspicions were right, his daughter had managed to shut down the Zeta tube in the Batcave. And maybe even halted any attempts to enter Paris.

“Still not working, B.” Tim’s frustrated voice comes through the phone. Damnit. Bruce storms into the cave, slipping only a domino mask on. Protocol be damned, his daughter was in danger. He hangs up the phone as he storms in, walking past his sons and straight to the tube. He quickly changes the destination to the watch tower and steps through, ignoring his son’s protests. Once at the tower, he tries Paris. And then he tries again. How the hell had she managed that? He quickly returns to the Batcave, looking at his sons with a tense face.

“Somehow, your sister has cut off the Zeta tubes’ ability to go to Paris.” He says with a clenched jaw.

“Why the hell would she do that?” Jason asks, looking both angry and hurt.

“Does she not trust us?” Dick asks, frowning. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, trying hard not to yell. He wasn’t mad at his sons. They hadn’t done anything. His youngest daughter, on the other hand.

“I’m sure she does. But I’m also sure that this is her idiotic way of keepin all of us safe. Even if it’s a danger to her.” Bruce says, glancing at the giant computer screen where the battle was playing out live. The boys had muted it, and Bruce was glad. Glad that he didn’t have to listen to the reporter constantly mentioning that this was dangerous and that Ladybug was alone. She didn’t have to be alone. But she was, and he had no way to help her.

---

Damian Wayne is not one to give up. He had been trained by the best of the best his entire life, and he refused to back down from a fight. Especially one where his sister was so obviously unqualified. His thoughts rush through his head as he attempts to find a different path, a different way to go and assist his sister. He nods slightly as it comes to him. This could work.

“I will be upstairs, if you need me.” He informs his family, ignoring the questioning. They would only slow him down. He remains in his uniform though, no need to cause panic while he goes through with his plan. Once he is out of the cave, he calls out: “Jon? I require your assistance.” He walks outside the manor and stands just outside the front door, waiting for his acquaintance- friend- to arrive.

“What’s up?” Jon asks, hovering slightly above the ground.

“We are needed in Paris and the Zeta tubes are down. Care to join me?” Damian asks, and Jon grins.

“Let’s go!” He says excitedly, grabbing Damian and flying away from Gotham. Damian briefly wonders if he should have told his Father his plan. After all, he had his own friend- acquaintance- with the ability to fly. Hmm. He doesn’t bother thinking on the subject long as the Eiffel tower comes into view. He scans the ground quickly, looking for the tell-tale red and black of his sister’s uniform.

“Have you spotted Ladybug?” He asks Jon. He had shown Jon videos of previous battles, in case he ever needed assistance to find Ladybug rather than Ladybird.

“Found her! Wanna drop in?” Jon asks. Damian nods and Jon flies over, the two landing right behind Ladybug. She whirls around, a shocked look on her face.

“Really, Robin?” She snaps. Finally able to look at her up close, instead of through a screen, he is able to see the exhaustion on her face. And how worn down she looks.

“You blocked the others from assisting. I had no such trouble. Now, let's finish this.” He says, pulling out his katana and shifting his position. She could be angry at him later, right now they had a job to do.

---

“-and reckless, and totally irresponsible and-” Damian cuts off her ranting.

“Are we still discussing my actions, or yours?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow. Marinette glares at her little brother, dropping down to sit on her bed, slouching her shoulders. She was tired.

“There’s a reason I blocked the Zeta tubes from going to Paris during attacks, Damian.” She sighs, running a hand over her face. She cared about her brothers and her father and Cass. She really did. But while she loved them, Paris was her fight. She needed to get through the battles alone. Or with Adrien.

“No matter the reason, it was still reckless. And Father-” Damian starts, but is cut off.

“Is very angry.” Her dad says, and Marinette winces. She turns towards her door, smiling awkwardly at her dad.

“Hey, Dad, uh, fancy seeing you here.” She says, laughing awkwardly.

“How long has Adrien been away?” He asks.

“Only a week.”

“And you have been patrolling both Gotham and Paris during that time, correct?” He asks, and she sighs.

“Yes.”

“I see. How much have you slept this week?” He asks. She opens her mouth to respond when Tikki zips out.

“Twelve hours. Total.” She rats her out, and Marinette huffs at the Kwami. Traitor, she thinks, but doesn’t say it.

“You also messed with the Zeta tubes.” He says and she purses her lips.

“Paris is my fight, Dad.” Marinette says, standing by her decision.

“You made it nearly impossible for any of us to help you. What would have happened if this had been another akuma that killed you? Marinette, no one would have been there to take the earrings. No one to cast the cure. You would have stayed dead, Marinette. And we would have been stuck here watching it happen, unable to protect you.” Her dad lectures her, and she can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he’s mad. Really mad. More than the Batmobile incident or the sneaking off to the Watchtower. Really, really mad.

“But-” She starts, almost glad when he cuts her off as she didn’t really have a good comeback for him.

“You are grounded. You have to take one of us with you to Paris when there’s an attack until Adrien returns. And you’re benched on patrol here. If you insist on patrolling in Paris while Adrien is away, you will also take one of us with you. Do I make myself clear?” He asks, and she wants to argue. She’s a hero, she knows the risks. She knows that she could handle that akuma alone and if she couldn’t, she would have brought in a temporary hero. She would’ve been fine. But then she looks at the tension in his shoulders and remembers the time that her whole family watched her die. On tv. Remembers that her dad has had to go through the death of a child too many times, even if they’d all come back (and formed the aptly named chaos trio), he’d still had to watch them die. So she decides she’ll accept the punishment, will go along with the new guidelines. If only to give her dad a little peace of mind.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

102 notes · View notes

waiting4inspiration · 3 years

Text

Obey IX: The Target

Summary: It's time to take down the person that knows basically everything about your programming. But some things don't go as you had planned them to and Bucky has to step in and decide what's the best thing to do to protect you.

Warnings: angst, strong language, murder, triggering reader's programming, I think that's it

Word Count: 2,097

A/n: Good morning, my lovelies! I was supposed to update this last night, but I was in a lot of pain so I decided to do it this morning instead. Hope you enjoy it, please don't hate me, and tell me what you thought of it. I really do enjoy reading your responses!

Obey Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

Alik Hansen is in a hidden base in Germany. Luckily, you know exactly where the base is. You know the location of every base HYDRA has, but most of them are dormant and only there in case they need another place to go if one base falls.

Even though Bucky didn’t want you to come on this mission, the rest of the team thought it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have someone that knows the base inside and out and he was outnumbered in trying to get you to stay in the compound. No one was going to stop him from being with you through the mission, however. He’s determined to never leave your side even if Steve thinks that it’s a good idea to split up you and your Commander all because there’s no know what might happen in the base. Bucky’s just glad that you took his side.

Thinking that this is your first mission without having your programming active makes your mind wander a bit as you and Bucky reach your entrance. He looks back at you to make sure you’re ready and sees that you’re a bit distracted. “You okay?” he quietly asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You nod, step forward to get closer to the door you’re about to break through, and smile to yourself. “This reminds me about that mission we had in Russia,” you whisper, shaking your head at that thought.

Bucky chuckles, glances at the door for a second before looking back down at you. “I’ve been trying to remember that mission. But I can only remember what happened after it,” he mentions, smiling at you when you smirk at him.

“Do you now?” you ask. Bucky nods at you and reaches out with his metallic hand to touch the side of your face. “Hoping that it will happen after this mission?”

“Maybe,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Hopefully, neither of us gets hurt this time.” That makes you laugh and you step past him to enter the code on the keyboard to unlock the door.

You look up at him, make sure he’s ready, and when he nods you place your hand on the door handle and then quickly rush in to deal with the guard. You take care of the guard to the right, punching him in the face and knocking him unconscious as Bucky deals with the one to the left. And before they fall to the ground, you catch them and slowly lower them down. You don’t need to make a noise and alert anyone you’re here. “Tony, cut the surveillance,” Bucky orders through the earpiece as he picks up the guards’ guns and hands one to you.

“On it,” Tony speaks, your eyes staying on the camera that faces the other way. You suggested this entrance because of this one flaw and you knew that if they kept the same code to the lock on the door, the guard would be easy to take care of with the element of surprise.

Seeing the red light go out above the security camera, you nod your head to signal that it’s all clear before you and Bucky start to make your way down the corridor. “Hansen should be in his office,” you mention. You can see the route there clear in your mind and though it’s your job to lead Bucky and alert the team of anything they need to be cautious about, you’re still checking out for any guards or agents that might come into your way. That’s Bucky’s job. But it’s still instinct to you. “We have five minutes before he leaves to get coffee.”

“Steve, Nat, what’s your position?” Bucky questions as you two turn the corner, constantly looking down corridors that join up with the one you’re in to make sure it’s all clear.

You breathe out a low breath to calm your pounding heart as you walk beside Bucky, your hand gripping the gun tightly and your eyes flicking from side to side. This mission needs to go well. “Just go into the building. The roof is clear and we’re making our way to the second floor,” Nat speaks.

Now that the roof is clear, Bruce - who’s in charge of the jet and on stand-by for hulking out if something goes wrong - can drop Clint off so he can keep an eye out on the guard patrolling the grounds.

You lead Bucky through the route that should be the quietest one with little guards. The only ones you have to take care of are the ones that guard places like the records room that you pass and other such important rooms.

Hansen’s office is just around the corner and you know that it will be guarded. Before you turn the corner, you look over at Bucky and swallow roughly. He gives you a reassuring smile before stepping past you, shooting at the guards as you stay in your place. You’re frozen there for a moment before stepping out too, aiming your gun in front of you and shooting at one of the guards. You hit him in the shoulder.

You and Bucky barge into the room, guns pointed at the only person there. “Get up,” Bucky sneers, stepping towards the man who holds his hands up over his head. Bucky pulls the man out of the chair and turns him around so that he faces you.

When Hansen’s eyes land on you, a wicked smile grows on his face and he laughs. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to come back,” he snidely says, dropping his hands to his sides as he steps forward. His eyes glance over to Bucky when he steps to your side again. “And look who you brought with you. The Winter Soldier. You must be stupid to willing walk back into HYDRA’s hands.”

“Shut up,” you bark, stepping forward as you roughly point the gun in his face. “You know everything about my programming,” you say, standing a few feet in front of him, a stern, cold glare in your eyes.

Bucky’s eyes go to the computer screen on the desk Hansen was sitting at and he walks towards it to see what he was working on. “And I suppose you’re here to ask me to delete your programming.”

“Not ask. Order,” you demand, your finger resting on the trigger of the gun and you narrow your eyes at him. “And I know that you can’t delete my programming without killing me. So, you’ll reroute it somewhere HYDRA can’t get their hands on and where they can’t control me anymore.”

Hansen sighs, licks his lips, and then nods his head. “Fine. Let me just save my work-”

As he turns around to go back to his computer, Bucky grabs him roughly by his shoulder with his metal arm and stops him in his tracks. “You’re not going to touch that computer,” he orders, pushing him back and standing between him and the computer. “You were going to trigger her programming. You figured out how to do that without using the Commander,” he says, your eyes going wide at his words and your mouth falling open slightly.

“What?” you whisper, your gun lowering slightly as your eyes go to the computer screen behind Bucky.

Hansen takes the opportunity to swipe the gun out of your hand, pulls you towards him, and presses the gun against your head as he turns around to face Bucky. “HYDRA is changing. Soon, we won’t need people commanding our soldiers. Everything will be done with computers and technology. We will be able to control armies behind a computer screen.” You push against him to try and get out of his hold, but he presses the barrel of the gun harder against your head to make you stop fighting. “And she is the first. She will be a great step in HYDRA history.”

Bucky glances down at you, his jaw tense and his eyes gleaming with anger. But then they soften and you can tell he got an idea. You don’t know what it is, but you give a small nod to tell him to do whatever it is he’s thinking. But he shakes his head back at you. He’s hesitant to do what he thought of.

“Now, Sergeant Barnes, would you be so kind as to move,” Hansen orders Bucky, moving the gun from your temple to your chin.

You give Bucky a pleading look, telling him to just do whatever it is he’s thinking. It can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, he lowers his gun slightly and takes a deep breath. “(Y/n), would you kindly obey.”

It’s like a switch in your mind. And with a sharp breath, everything changes in your mind and you don’t have any thoughts of your own. But, feeling a gun pressed to your chin triggers your response to protect yourself and you roughly grab his wrist. Quickly bending forward, you flip him over your back and to the ground where you pry the gun out of his hand, wrap a hand around his throat, and dig your knee into his chest.

Then, you wait for an order.

Hansen chuckles as he glances at Bucky. “Smart. No one can trigger her when she’s already triggered,” he laughs, looking up at you and your unchanging face. “Now what are you going to have her do? Kill me?”

Bucky steps closer, trying not to feel bad about triggering your programming, and keeps telling himself that he did it to protect you. But he didn’t ask you if that was okay. And he did promise you never to do that. “No. She’s going to make you reroute her programming,” he says, and the moment the words leave his lips, you pull Hansen off the ground and force him into the chair, picking up the gun as you go and hold it to his head with the safety off.

There’s a dangerous look in your eyes. All it takes is for one word from your Commander and he’s dead. He knows that. And he knows that he’s not the only one that knows what he knows. If he dies, it won’t be long before you find someone else to do what you want them to do. “I can’t change her programming how you want me to change it,” he mentions, looking up at Bucky as he holds his hands up in defeat. “To do that, you need to disconnect the chip in her brain first and the only place that can probably happen is…” he trails off, biting his lip to stop him from speaking.

“Tell me,” Bucky demands, stepping forwards as you press the gun to his forehead.

“The HYDRA Server. Anything to change her programming like that can only be done there. But, I must warn you that you might not get what you want if you go through with it,” Hansen says, but Bucky’s heard enough.

“We’ll take our chances. Terminate program,” Bucky orders to you.

Your body relaxes and you take a deep breath as you step back, blinking rapidly as your mind collects all its thoughts that you seem to have lost. Realizing what happened, you look up at Bucky with wide eyes. But it’s not because you’re shocked. You pull your lips into a thin line before looking at Hansen and shooting him in the head, killing him right there in his chair. Then, you shoot the computer to get rid of whatever coding he recently did so no one else can access it.

And without looking at Bucky, you walk past him and out the room. He knows why. “(Y/n),” he calls after you, turning on his heels and following you.

Nat and Steve appear around the corner, stepping into the corridor where they were supposed to meet you and Bucky. From the look on your face, they can tell that something happened. “What happened?” Steve questions as he and Nat continue to walk to meet you halfway.

“Ask Bucky. I just want to get out of here,” you mutter, pushing past them to carry on walking down the corridor.

Bucky stops before reaching Steve and Nat, breathes out a heavy sigh, and drops his head between his shoulders. He knew that you would be upset about doing what he did. Which is why he didn’t want to do it. But, it was either he does it or HYDRA does it.

He thought he did the right thing in protecting you.

Like my work? Buy me Ko-fi over HERE!!

Tags are in the reblogs!

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #marvel #james barnes #james bucky barnes #obey

160 notes · View notes

jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

@damianwayneweek Day 3 (6-15): “That wasn’t supposed to happen” | Reconciling with Tim | Autistic!Damian

Note: at this point, this is just "Damian cries and Dick hugs him" week. Someone send help. I love these two so much.

Warnings: angst and tears and Damian being a ball of separation anxiety.

---

The smell of sea salt mixed with the pollution of Gotham's coast is almost close to nauseating. If Damian hadn't already been feeling anxious and sick to his stomach, he would definitely be now.

And the thing is, he doesn't even know why.

It's been this way all night. It started before tonight, even. He's convinced himself it's probably something he had for lunch, but even a child would know that's a weak grasping of straws. No one ever gets sick from the food made in the Wayne Manor, not when Alfred is there to cook it.

But he tells himself it's because of that anyways. He feels sick to his stomach because the lettuce in his sandwich must have been old. Not for any other reason. And certainly not because his father has been off-world for the past month and Richard is once again holding the mantle of Batman while he's away.

"What do you say about heading home early?" Richard asks from where he stands besides Damian. The word home grates on Damians nerves for reasons that he... cannot bring himself to comprehend.

Damian nods his head, not saying anything. It's been a quiet night in Gotham anyways. His nerves feel fried from the constant anxiety pressing in his chest and he's sure the moment he gets to his bed he'll pass out.

Or at least stare blankly at the ceiling until he does.

The ride back to the manor is silent between Damian and Richard. Almost a month ago, it used to be loud with banter whenever he and Richard had a minute to themselves. They'd get back at the manor and Alfred would be there to pester them into taking care of themselves. Cassandra and Duke would enter and leave as they wished with the occasional appearances of Timothy and Jason. The only time they had to themselves was inside the batmobile, as there's not much private banter you can have while defending the streets either.

But it's silent now. Damian's chest and stomach hurts and no words seem to want to come to his throat, but he's not usually the one to start the conversations anyways. Something is keeping Richard silent as well. The thought that, for whatever reason, Richard doesn't want to talk to him makes his anxiety spike just the same as the thought of conversation.

It feels like the second they pull into the cave Damian's jumping out of the car and stalking towards the changing rooms. Alfred let's him stride past, lifting an eyebrow as he does, but he doesn't stop him. Alfred simply walks over towards Richard and offers him a cup of tea from the metal tray he's been holding.

Damian can hear the low rumble of words beginning to be exchanged between the two, but he's already too far away to make sense of them. He doesn't care to listen anyways. He just wants to get dressed and go to bed without anyone talking to him.

Without anyone asking him what's wrong. They must notice something is wrong, right? What would he say if they do ask? No. No one knows anything is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. Everything is okay.

He dresses into a clean pair of pajamas that feel fresh from the dryer and heads straight towards the exit of the batcave, not sparing Richard or Alfred a glance as he does so.

Everything is okay. He ate something bad for lunch.

That's all.

He manages to get all the way to his bedroom without running into anyone. Cassandra and Duke must be busy tonight, and he can't think of any reason why Timothy and Jason would be here at this hour of night. It's not surprising he didn't run into anyone. Why does he almost wish he had?

He shakes his head and closes the door behind him. Whatever is making him feel this way, it will go away if he rests. He's sure of it.

Wordlessly and single-mindedly, he removes the decorative pillows from his bed and pulls down the sheets. In a few practiced and fluid movements, he's under the covers and glaring at the ceiling, his stomach clenching.

There's glow in the dark stars above him, made of plastic and held to the ceiling with fun-tak. His eyes drift to a bigger glowing figure, it's circular and there's swirling patterns that mimic the global storm of Jupiter's surface. Another has two rings, like the planet in Treasure Planet.

Richard put them up the second month after Damian first came here. Damian had expressed... desires... to study and learn how kids who weren't raised in the League of Assassins lived. Glow in the dark stars was something Richard very much enjoyed getting off of Amazon that night, saying they were all the craze when he was younger. Every friend he visited had them in their bedrooms. His own childhood bedroom still has some old and dim ones hanging on the ceiling from when he convinced his father to get him some.

He didn't understand the appeal of them then. Nor does he now. Perhaps it's something to do with children in Gotham never seeing the actual stars because of the light pollution. All he knows is that in the desert he grew up in... these fake green plastic decorations do not compare to the galaxy he used to see as if the only thing separating him from the universe was a single pane of glass.

He turns away from the fake stars, closing his eyes, before they open again to glare now at his bookshelf, filled to the brim with books of all kinds and Cheese Viking figurines. There's a collectable coin there too, one Richard accidentally won way back when he decided to buy a mystery box from some website. It turned out to be pretty rare. He gave it to Damian and Damian got curious enough to look up the game.

It's his favorite game now. Because Richard found him a random gold coin.

Richard. His stomach clenches. Why won't it stop hurting? He has no reason to be this anxious.

No reason at all.

There's a soft knock on his door. Damian shifts so he's holding himself up on his elbows, watching as the door opens to reveal none other than Richard. His hair looks damp from a shower, which makes Damian wonder how long he's been glaring at random things in his room. He's dressed in an old Gotham Knight's tee-shirt with mustard stains around the right breast. Damian went to a game with him when he was wearing that shirt. He accidentally got shoved into Richard in the crowd, looking for their seats, when Richard was holding a hotdog. It got all over him, but the mustard is the only thing that persisted multiple rounds in the washer.

"Dami? You up?" Richard asks. Damian reaches over and turns on the dim lamp by his bedside.

Richard's eyes settle on him, and he smiles. It looks strained though.

That festering, lingering anxiety spikes.

"What is it?" He asks.

Richard walks into the room, then sits down on the side of Damian's bed. Damian bends his knees to allow room for him. He brings his pillow in front of his body and hugs it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question shocks Damian, as he didn't mean to ask it. It seems to startle Richard as well, because he goes stock still and looks at Damian with wide eyes.

It shocks them both, but it must be the reason if a bad lunch isn't.

Then, Richard breaks into soft laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was about to ask the same thing, actually," he says, once the laughter dies down.

Damian frowns. Has Richard done anything wrong?

No. The answer is immediate. Richard hasn't done a single thing wrong. He's been nothing but his usual annoying and loud and pushy and kind and loving self since his father left and he came to keep the suit warm.

It almost feels like the beginning all over again. Waking up in the morning and smelling sweetened mocha instead of straight black coffee. Sketching in the afternoons by the fireplace in the family room and being interrupted by Richard barging in with a portable speaker, blasting the newest trending pop song. Going to bed with a goodnight hug. Bandaids snuck into Alfred's first aid supply that have cartoon and Disney characters designs. He's wearing a Frozen 2 bandaid now, on his knee.

If his father hadn't left with the rest of the Justice League, the band-aid would be a normal tan color and the day would be close to silent and alone.

It's feeling normal again, he realizes with horror. Because whatever mood Richard brings into the manor isn't normal. Normal is Bruce Wayne silently checking up on him throughout the day and calmly helping him with homework and giving tips on sketching techniques. Normal is leaning against the strong shoulder of his father as he tests those tips while his father reads a book, the only sounds to interrupt them being the ticking clock on the wall and the crackling of the fire.

Normal is... Normal isn't...

It's not this. He likes the time he spends with his father. He enjoys the wordless love and reassuring squeezes to his shoulder.

Normal isn't the loudness and silliness of Richard's affection.

And just like that, he finally knows what's wrong.

It feels the same as it used to be. Back when they thought his father was dead. Back when Richard seemed to be the only trusted adult in his life, and the daily interactions he had with him almost promised to be infinite.

And then they found out his father was still alive, just stuck in time. With the help of Timothy and others... They managed to bring him back.

And.

And Richard left.

And Damian was left.

And.

And that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

He hasn't allowed himself to think about much. It was something neither of them had acknowledged or mentioned. Richard once said he considered adopting Damian if his father was dead. Damian didn't stop himself from taking comfort in that.

And it feels like history is repeating itself. His father is away. Richard is Batman.

However, now Damian knows that the second his father returns, Richard will be packing his bags and leaving. This isn't normal. He can't get used to this again. He loves his father. But Richard...

It hurt enough the first time, watching him go.

And it will happen all over again. He'll get comfortable with Richard and his daily hugs and laughter, and then he'll be gone.

Separation anxiety. He has separation anxiety.

"Oh buddy," Richard coos, wrapping his arms around Damian and bringing him to his lap to hold him better.

He's crying. Tears are running down his face and it's stupid, because he knows that when Richard leaves again, it won't be like he'll never see him again.

But he's crying, and it hurts. Hurts more than if he had eaten something bad. He clutches to the pillow between them and let's the tears fall.

"Tell me what's wrong," Richard soothes, probably the only person in the entire universe to not freak out when he cries. Probably the only person in the entire universe Damian would allow himself to cry like this to. "What can I do to help?"

"It's stupid," Damian says, through it's through a hiccupping sob, which makes it sound very not stupid to someone like Richard. He sniffs and rubs his eyes on the pillow, forcing his breathing to go normal and to stop crying. "It's nothing. Father will come back, and- and you'll go back to Blüdhaven, and everything will be normal again."

Richard stills, then sighs. "So it's about that," he says softly. Of course he immediately knows what Damian means. He tightens his hold on Damian. "You know when your dad comes back, nothing will change between us, right? Even if we're on the opposite side of the world."

"I don't want to be on the opposite side of the world," Damian snaps, shoving himself away from Richard and glaring. "I want- I don't-" he presses his face into his pillow and groans.

Dick is silent, then he shifts closer and wraps his arm around Damian's shoulder gently. "I know. I don't either. But... it's just the way things have to be. You know this. Just like you know that... that if you ever really want to, I can clean out my guest room."

Damian shakes his head, his feelings feeling so all over the place and raw. "I just- when father came back, I didn't expect you to just leave. I don't want to choose. I-"

"I know," Richard whispers. "I know. I love Bruce. He's my dad too. But, you know us. If I move back in, we'll be at each other's throats. I'm a grown man now, Dami. I have to be on my own. He's... Protective. He still sees me as seventeen years old. And he's your father. You should be with him."

Damian sniffs. He doesn't nod. He doesn't shake his head. Agree nor disagree.

Simply understands.

It's just the way things are.

He stays silent as Richard continues. "And you know that I'll always be there for you, if you need me. I'll drop everything for you. Just say the word. I'll be running, even if I'm on the other side of the world."

Now Damian nods. Let's the cotton of his pillowcase soak up his silent tears.

He doesn't feel much better, but he doesn't feel so awful anymore either. He supposes that's the best it will get in this situation.

So he just sits there until his head begins to dip with exhaustion and Richard pulls him in so he's laying against his shoulder. His eyelids droop, and they stay there, together, like they used to.

It's scary to allow himself to become attached to things, but he can never help himself with Richard.

The best that he can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of it.

Richard will be gone when father comes home, but for now he's here, and he's warm, and he's solid.

Damian falls asleep, and Richard doesn't leave that night.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #jin writes #fanfiction #dc comics

108 notes · View notes

liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

Connections 9

Chapter 9

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

Warning ⚠️ Character death

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari always thought her soul bond was curious. She never heard or activated the bond on purpose. She doubted her soulmate did either, because of what Bruce had told her about the league of Assassins. But everything seemed just off. Apart from that one switch she never had contact again. The only thing she has to gleam of her soulmate are the abilities she learned through him. She settled into bed after biding her papa goodnight.

That might not be a bad thing. As soon as that thought crossed her mind was she pulled again, but this was different.

---

Time seemed frozen for Damian.

His mother came for him again. She brought an army and him, an older version a clone of himself. She brought his clone Heretic, who was pulling the sword from Damian's chest.

I lost, he thought as the sword fell from his hand.

Father, Batman, rushed towards him when two orbs of light circled above him, one red and one green.

The red light morphed into a girl with a high ponytail and a red mask covered her eyes, her eyes emanated a red light. She was dressed in a basic suit that resembled a cross of Nightwing and Red Robin's uniforms, just all red with black spots, gloves, and boots.

The green orb turned into a boy a short cloak covered his torso, the hood covered his head and face, two cat ears were part of the hood, his eyes were glowing green. A tail flicked around under the armor set around his waist.

The girl looked at him now in his father's arms.

"No!" she yelled everything fell silent to him as he watched about a dozen more orbs appeared each forming a figure in either red or green. All except the first two moved and quickly dispatched the clone, the army of assassins, and pushed mother back.

His vision faded to black.

He could no longer feel his father's arms under him.

---

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin were now around Batman and the fallen Robin. The past holders of the miraculous formed a ring around them, linking hands. They moved them all to the Bat-cave.

"Come back little one." Hippolyta, if she remembers what Tikki told her, cupped her face as she faded away.

"Tikki," she whispered out.

"What's wrong?" the little goddess rubbed her eyes.

"I... We... Cave... Now." She managed. She transformed and swung through Gotham unnoticed until she reached the cave under the manor.

The past holders and her cat were still there. She dropped her transformation and ran to her extended family.

"Pixie how?" Jason had taken off his helmet and hugged her.

"You were there weren't you." Tim stated, so she nodded confirming his theory.

“He is neither alive nor dead he is in a plane between the two." A cat, Hei Mao, dressed in a long sleeved black gi, armor plates on his right upper arm and a cat mask on top of his head, eyes like the other cat apparitions were glowing green a black domino mask covered his eyes.

"How is that possible?" Bruce coaxed himself to whisper, cowl down and holding back tears.

"He is your bonded. You are tethering and maintaining his soul whole." A ladybug in knightly armor, red glowing eyes like all the other ladybugs spoke, Joan of Arc.

"My bonded," Marinette breathed under her breath.

"The magic which flows through your veins flows through him. He is your..." the only male ladybug, a red feathered headdress and red cape, red warrior paint covered his eyes and stained his hands, Micazoyolin, added only to be interrupted by Dick.

"Soul mate." Dick gasped from next to her.

"It is possible to revive him." a woman in a loose black dress and a Jaguar patterned cape with green under the cape. A black Jaguar headdress with long green feathers sat on her head green warrior paint on her face and hands, Ocelome, drawled looking between Damian's lifeless body and the green soul of her cat. "By using the waters of the Lazarus."

A gasp was heard from the bats and birds in the cave, Mari flinched further into her big brother Jay. Mari began to sag from exhaustion and the visages of the past holders began to flicker.

"Perhaps this conversation is best held elsewhere," Hippolyta broke the silence. "I, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, invite all of you to Themiscyra. Until we meet in the flesh my child."

Two by two each pair of ladybugs and their cats disappeared, all but the solitary cat, her cat, remained. Everything was still and silent within the cave. No one knowing how to proceed, so they stayed as they were.

None of them could tell you how long they stayed like that, but a new voice started.

"Bruce care to explain why my mother told me to bring all of you to Themiscyra." Wonder Woman appeared on the Bat-computer. "By Zeus. The apparition of the cat. Do you know what this means?" Bruce’s back was to the computer, Damian’s body still in his arms protected by his cape from Wonder Woman’s sight.

"Yes we do. Come by around noon everything should be sorted by then." Bruce brought himself to say, Tim ending the call after a nod from Wonder Woman.

"Come on pixie let's get you home before the sun rises." Jason put on his helmet. She nodded, transformed , and let Jason pick her up as they left the cave.

Jay-Jay stopped a few blocks away, she moved and clung on his back like a baby koala. As Red Hood swung and ran across the roof tops. He tucked in his little sister and left.

---

One moment he was dying in his father's arms. No he did die in his father's arms. But what was odd was the tug after a moment in the darkness.

The next he was standing in the Bat-cave next to his father and his body. The first girl in red was gone, but the others were here still. About 10 minutes later a red figure of a girl swings into the cave. If he could move or speak he would have. Or maybe not. The figure was engulfed in pink light and there stood Marinette Stone. She ran into a hug from Todd.

"Pixie how?"

"You were there weren't you." Drake stated, Marinette must have understood the statement as she nodded her head. It was silent until one of the green and black figures spoke.

"He is neither alive nor dead he is in a plane between the two." Hei Mao, the other voice in his mind supplied.

How am I not dead?!

He could still not move or speak so he stood and listened.

"How is that possible?" he heard his Father.

"He is your bonded. You are tethering and maintaining his soul whole." Joan of Arc, the voice again supplied.

"My bonded," Marinette, the voice supplied but now he placed it, the voice is Marinette.

"The magic which flows through your veins flows through him. He is your..." the only man in red, Micazoyolin, Marinette corrected his thought.

"Soul mate." Grayson shrieked.

"It is possible to revive him." Ocelome, she supplied and he took the intonation, without our analyzing now. "By using the waters of the Lazarus."

He heard his family suck in a breath and seem to become stone still, Marinette flinched further into Todd who was hugging and seemingly guarding her.

"Perhaps this conversation is best held elsewhere," Hippolyta broke the silence. "I, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, invite all of you to Themiscyra. Until we meet in the flesh my child."

Two by two each pair of ladybugs and their cats disappeared, all abut him. He still could not move, he could not speak either, but his mind raced.

I am dead.

Actually I am apparently not alive or dead.

My best friend is my soulmate.

My soulmate does not hate me.

She knows. She knows me. She knows my aggravating family.

She is stuck with us, with me.

Marinette is my best friend who happens to be my soulmate.

His thoughts would have continued had it not been for the voice coming from the Bat-computer.

"Bruce care to explain why my mother told me to bring all of you to Themyscira." Wonder Woman, "By Zeus. The apparition of the cat. Do you know what this means?"

"Yes we do. Come by around noon everything should be sorted by then."Father spoke his back to the screen shielding his body from vein.

"Come on pixie let's get you home before the sun rises." Todd finally spoke taking Marinette home.

Father finally stood, for a moment he looked at him and then his body before moving to place his body in a portable cyro-chamber in the Bat-plane.

Then the darkness returned.

---

The next morning she woke up with a resolve that everything would turn out fine.

Okay sure I just found out my best friend is my soulmate. the was killed by his clone, but he is in a state of limbo. Okay this was a lot but this is not the end of the story.

So as she, her papa, and Penny were having breakfast a knock sounded at the door.

"I'll get it." Penny excused herself. "Tim what a surprise come in." Tim was promptly sat at the table a mug of coffee and pancakes were placed in front of him.

"What brings you here so early mate?" Papa chuckled after watching Tim chug the coffee.

"Well, we were planning on a family trip for the week but..." he started. "B locked himself in his office and Damian won't budge, so" he looked at Jagged. "We were hoping that we could steal little bean for the week since both of them can't say no to her." he rushed barely stopping to breathe.

"Whatcha say little rock star," Papa turned to her smiling, "want to spend the week with your brothers?"

"Yes." She jumped up and hugged her dad and ran to her room to pack. Tim-Tam joined her a minute later as he asked Diana about the climate of the island.

"Why can't we go too, Lucky Penny?" Mari heard her papa ask.

'Sigh' "You've got a full schedule, why don't we plan something for the following week, your clear then." they heard Penny compromise.

"Rock 'n hear that little star," Papa poked his head in as they finished packing. "Maybe we'll steal one of Bruce's birds next week for our trip." He semi whispered the end.

Tim seemed surprised at the comment but schooled his features quickly, he picked up the suitcase and Mari pulled her papa out of the penthouse suite, gave him a hug as she went with Tim.

Less than an hour later she was sitting in the Bat-cave having loaded the bags in the Bat-plane, with the three eldest Wayne children and Bruce, waiting for Wonder Woman.

"Hey Mari can I ask something?" Tim sat down next to her.

"What is it Tim Tam?"

"What did Jagged mean when he said one of Bruce's birds?" Everyone was now watching the two and listening to the response that was to follow.

"Oh, um papa might have figured out that Uncle Bruce is Batman." She was now fiddling with her fingers in her lap. When no one answered she continued. "Remember a couple of months ago when the Sirens crashed Papa's concert. Well when Uncle Bruce and Jay Jay moved me and Papa away and into his dressing room, B didn't make his voice gruff and gravelly as Batman's usual voice. So papa thought maybe his voice isn't usually as gruff and the new voice is actually his real voice, and once papa hears a voice, he never forgets it. I promise I never told him and I never told him he was right but he is pretty sure and I don’t think he’ll even believe you if you tell him he’s wrong." Mari scrambled to say, ending it with a small sad smile looking up through her lashes at everyone.

"Father like Daughter," Bruce was the first to speak. "Everyone is getting a permanent voice modifier installed in their suits." This resulted in every one laughing. Effectively breaking the tension previously in the room.

"Smart idea B." Jason answered making Mari smile wider.

That was when Wonder Woman decided to arrive. Ending the conversation as they boarded the Bat-plane leaving for Themyscira.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist🐺🐾: @itsmeevie01 @miraculouspenta

Taglist🐞🦇: @thanks-captain-obvious @mandy989 @our-preciousss @readingismyoxygen @birdy912 @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @todaylillypads @laurcad123 @demonangel27 @be-happy-every-day-please @fandom-trapped-03 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @t1dwarrior-of-earth @saays-bitch @k-poplunardreams @animegirlweeb @weird-pale-blonde-person @myazael @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @miraculous-simmer7 @wannajointhecrabcult @blackmagicforever @iamabrownfox @justcourttee @consumeconstantly @abrx2002 @livelifeauthorstyle @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25 @ironspiderstark @fantasyislive @dast218 @susiej1118 @sassakitty @lilyreadbooks12 @dawnwave16 @mochegato @galla02006 @nathleigh @trippingovermyfeet @promiswords @rosep16 @officiallydarkgeek @inarachi02 @justafanwarrior @emimar7

#maribat #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #miraculous x dc #mlb x dc #past holders #daminette #maridami #damimari #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #soulmate au #Connections AU

258 notes · View notes

preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Batfamily #fanfiction #crack #crack treated seriously #multimedia fic #humor #kidnapping attempts #revenge plots #Ra's tries to recruit tim #Spoilers it backfires #what is canon #precious posts #long post #chapter 1

80 notes · View notes

daringyounggrayson · 3 years

Note

Could you do 25 or 30 for Bruce and Dick? I’d really like for you to make Bruce say those words to his son!

I think we would all like to see that! oh, and for this one, I’m mixing things up: Bruce took Dick in as his ward but never went on to adopt him.

25: “You know I love you, right?”

30: “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

AO3

"Mr. Wayne!” a photographer calls, waving his arm toward their small group as they try to make their way inside. “A picture of you and your sons, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure!”

On cue, the four of them turn toward the camera with easy smiles.

“Oh, sorry sir.” The photographer directs this at Dick. “Could I just get his sons for this shot?”

Dick doesn’t blame the reporter, honestly. He was probably assigned to get pictures of the Waynes, and when you google the Waynes, Dick’s name doesn’t pop-up—at least, not under family. And it makes sense; he was never adopted, so he’s legally not part of the Wayne family. Dick’s relation is just a small, unimportant detail. And to outsiders, especially people outside of Gotham or people who simply don’t keep up with Wayne Family News, Dick looks like more of a family friend, if anything.

It’s an honest mistake, and Dick doesn’t take it personally. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less awkward.

Dick glances at Bruce, trying to decide what to do. This evening will be long enough as it is, and if Bruce would rather let it go and get through the photos as quickly as possible, Dick wouldn't blame him. And it’s not like Dick needs his face on another magazine.

Bruce tightens his hold on Dick’s shoulder, decision made.

“If you don’t mind,” Bruce pipes up with a charming voice, “I would like Richard to be in the photo. I did raise him for a decade, after all.” Bruce laughs to ease the tension, and Dick joins him to tell the photographer it’s okay.

The photographer’s eyes go wide, face going slightly pink. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I, er, here—” he holds the camera up “—smile!” The camera flashes twice. “Perfect. Have a nice evening!” And then the photographer is gone.

“I think I’m going to run ahead,” Dick says. “Find me when you can.”

“Dick, you don't—”

“It’s fine, B. Seriously.” Dick grins.

Bruce frowns.

Dick shrugs and ducks away from his group, heading toward the building. He ignores the flashing of cameras and calls from the various photographers, and he ignores the three pairs of eyes that dig into his back as he goes.

oOo

All in all, the party was uneventful and the four of them excused themselves early after receiving an alert that Scarecrow had been spotted on the other side of town. If Scarecrow hadn’t been spotted terrorizing civilians with fear gas, Dick might’ve been able to enjoy the free ticket out of the gala.

“Shit,” Tim mutters.

“What?” Dick asks, not taking his eyes off of Scarecrow.

“Forgot to grab a new rebreather. I still have the busted one from the other night.”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath before grabbing his own rebreather. “Here.”

Tim pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I messed up; I can deal with the consequences.”

“I’m offering you the solution,” Dick insists, pushing back. “We don’t have time to argue. Take the rebreather so we can move in.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you to protect me like I’m,” Tim looks away, down, “like I’m Robin. Besides, I think we both know that I’ll be able to handle fear gas better than you.”

Dick clenches his jaw, then relaxes it. Not the time. “Maybe, but I’m in charge right now. So: take the rebreather or you’re playing look-out for the rest of the night.”

Tim’s head shoots up, eyes scanning Dick to see how serious he is. Tim takes the rebreather, shoving it into his belt. “Happy?”

“Thrilled. Let’s go.”

oOo

If anyone had to get gassed, Dick’s glad it was him. Even though he has an objectively bad reaction and treatment isn’t always effective, he has more experience and can deal with it better than his siblings. During and after. On top of that, Tim was and continues to be his responsibility; his top priority was getting Tim home safe. From those perspectives, it was logical for Dick to take the lungful of fear toxin.

Then there’s the selfish, probably more powerful perspective: Dick can’t stand seeing Tim on fear gas. The screaming, the tears, the things he says, the inability to comfort him and take the pain away. It’s awful to see once, and Dick’s seen it countless times, in real life and in nightmares. He’d do anything to avoid it—for Tim’s sake and, when Dick’s being honest, his own. He knows his family probably feels the same way about him, but that just means they’d act out of selfishness too.

Tonight, Dick had more say, so Tim got the rebreather and Dick got more than a lungful of gas.

“Sorry again,” Tim mumbles, passing Dick a fresh ice pack. “About the rebreather.”

Dick takes the ice pack and presses it against his right shoulder, which he agitated at some point during their fight with Scarecrow. “’S fine. Knowing you, you’ll triple check next time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“No kidding,” Tim mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He stifles a yawn. “Need anything else?”

“Nah.” Dick starts reciting pi in his head, trying to drown out the voices he knows aren’t real. “Get some sleep. And good work tonight.”

Even with the gassing, he and Tim were able to take down Scarecrow fairly easily. It’s nice to know that the two of them can still work well together, even when the circumstances aren’t entirely ideal.

“Thanks, you too.” Tim bounces on the balls of his feet and fails to stifle another yawn. This time, Dick yawns too. “You don’t want company or anything?”

“I’m good. Besides, I’ll probably just try to sleep until Alfred is happy with the blood work.”

Tim shrugs and takes a few steps backward. “If you change your mind.”

“Night, Timmers.”

“Night.” Tim turns around and makes his exit.

Dick throws his good arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.

oOo

Unconsciousness comes in waves, broken by adrenaline spikes and Alfred or Bruce checking on him. But no matter his consciousness status, Dick’s reality is shadowed and manipulated by voices and figures, hallucinations and lies that feel like absolute truths. It’s hard to tell the difference between sleep and wakefulness, but the shaking is a good tell. He doesn’t usually shake in his nightmares.

He's in his room, lying in his bed and shaking. He doesn’t remember coming here, but that doesn’t say much. He’d been having a dream, something that felt real, but wrong. Something adjacent to reality.

A camera kept flashing in his face, the photographer morphing into something less and less human. And Bruce, Bruce had been there. Yelling at him, telling him to—

No. That hadn’t happened, and now that he’s awake, Dick can barely remember the lies.

Dick kicks at his sheets, trying to reach the cool air above them. At first it’s a relief, but soon it’s not enough because he’s hot and sweaty and something keeps telling him to run. He glances out the window, trying to figure out if he could survive the fall—

No. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Dick pushes himself upright, takes some deep breaths, tries to recite pi.

He jumps at the knock on his door.

“Dick?” the door creaks open to reveal Bruce, who enters the room before Dick can answer. “What are you still doing here?”

“I—” Dick feels hot, his palms are sweating again and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to escape. He blinks, twists the skin on his forearm until it hurts.

Bruce is in front of him, sitting down on the bed. “I trained you to be a detective. Can’t you piece together the clues? You’re not wanted. Get out of my house and stay away from my family.”

Dick shakes his head, fists his hair. The room feels like it’s getting smaller, twisted and darker. Louder. Wrong. This is a sign, but Dick can’t remember for what. “But you—no. You trusted me with Damian, you said—”

What had Bruce said? He’s a master manipulator when he wants to be, needs to be. He might’ve trusted him with Damian, or maybe, just maybe, he was only trying to protect Alfred in case Damian had been given orders to assassinate them. He’d already attacked Tim, after all, and keeping that fact in mind, Bruce would have needed to consider safety and who he’d be willing to lose in order to protect someone else. Dick’s death and its repercussions would have felt minuscule if it meant Alfred would be saved.

Hands tug at his wrists. It’s three fourteen. The voice is lying.

“Shh. Take a breath.” Dick tries, but it’s like his chest has stalled. “Tell me how many posters are in your room.”

“There’s—”

“Take them and go. I don’t want any trace of you left in this house.”

“Dick, you’re alright. Take a breath.” Hands are on Dick’s shoulders, trying to restrain him. He brushes them off, tries to get to the window. “I’m out of patience. I won’t be subtle any longer—I’ve regretted taking you in from the moment you moved in. Go!”

His fingers barely brush against the window’s lock before he’s slammed into the ground. His shoulder pops, making him grunt.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Focus. Wait it out.”

Dick struggles against the weight on top of him, but it doesn’t give, not even when he resorts to biting. The hands simply shift from his chest to his stomach, and his attacker doesn’t even make a sound.

The voices in his head build up. There are millions, all shouting conspiracies at him, all of them sounding too true. His heart pounds so hard that it must be bruising his chest, and he’s so hot that his brain must be about to melt. And, and—he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. This is it—he’s going to die.

A hand forces his head down, and it’s not until then that he realizes he’s been slamming it against the ground in an attempt to silence the voices.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“Leave! Jump out the window, you’d be doing everyone a favor!”

Dick tries to lift his head again, but the hold is firm. There’s not enough room to hit it against the ground, there’s not enough room to shut the voices out.

“No one will miss you!”

The familiar feeling of a needle slides into his arm.

“Shh.”

Something happens. The room shifts, he shifts, and he realizes that he’s no longer shaking. It’s a sign.

The hallucinations shift into a nightmare that feels too real.

oOo

Dick wakes up to nausea and a headache. He tries to move his hand to rub at his head only to find that he’s been restrained. Bad night then.

He opens his eyes and turns his head. There’s an empty chair by his bed and the bedroom door is cracked open.

“Bruce,” he calls.

Damian steps into view, pushing the door open a little wider. The quick response tells Dick that Damian has been listening from the hallway. “Father is answering a call from Kent. Would you like me to collect him?”

"It can wait.”

Damian still hasn’t entered the room, and it makes Dick wonder how much he’d heard last night, how much last night has to do with the distance, the hesitance. He doesn’t remember seeing Damian at all, but he probably came back when Dick was still in the Cave. And even if they hadn’t seen each other, it’s not like Dick’s bedroom is soundproof.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” He can remember Bruce having a handful of especially bad reactions to fear gas from when Dick was a kid—they’d been terrifying, seeing Bruce like that had made them terrifying.

“Of course. You are the one who was incapacitated.” Damian tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling it halfway down his hand. “But you are alright now?”

Dick quirks his lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I imagine last night was quite difficult,” Damian begins. “Titus woke up several times.” Damian tugs on his sleeve again, he looks like he wants to ask something.

Damian’s head turns abruptly, and whatever he sees causes him to take a step back. Into the hallway, he says, “Richard is awake.”

Now that he’s paying attention, Dick can hear Bruce’s footsteps. Bruce pauses outside of Dick’s bedroom, and he and Damian exchange words in quiet voices that Dick can’t understand. Then Bruce steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

“Lucid,” Dick starts. Bruce tilts his head, expectant. “Not great overall, and I still feel a little on edge, but I think the worst of it is over.”

“Hnn.” Bruce looks him over for a moment, trying to confirm Dick’s self-evaluation. He must pass because soon Bruce is taking off the restraints.

“Did I . . .” Dick tries to think back to last night and work out what was nightmare and what was hallucination and what was reality. “Did I try to jump out a window last night?”

“Yes. I had to hold you down until a sedative was administered. After that, we decided it would be safer to use restraints until the toxin wore off.”

Dick sits up as the last of the restraints are removed. He stretches his ankles and wrists. “Did the antidote not work or something?”

“It either wore off early or the toxin was stronger than usual. Possibly both, considering how you reacted to additional doses,” Bruce explains.

Dick frowns. “How many doses did you give me?”

“Three. You probably won’t need a fourth, but we’ll check your blood in a few hours to make sure that the traces still in your system are gone, or at least decreasing.”

Dick groans and slides back down against his pillow, draping his arms over his face. The fear toxin antidote, while helpful, isn’t without side-effects. With three doses, those effects will stick around for days.

Bruce, the bastard, has the audacity to chuckle at him. Dick blindly throws a pillow at him, smiling when he hears it meet its target.

Then, “Are you hungry?”

“Not even a little.”

Bruce runs a hand through Dick’s hair. “Sleep.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

oOo

Dick wakes up alone again, but this time the chair is gone and the door is completely shut. It’s a good sign, and since Dick isn’t currently disoriented, very much preferred.

It’s much later in the day now, a little past noon, but he knows he could very easily close his eyes and sleep for another few hours. Possibly until the next morning. But to his misfortune, his stomach growls in protest.

With a dramatic sigh that no one can hear, he gets out of bed, quickly showers and dresses, and goes downstairs to find something to eat.

"I was just about to check on you," Alfred says when he spots him entering the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugs. “Tired.” It’s a side-effect of the antidote, but the nightmares probably hadn’t helped. “Did you guys have lunch already?”

“It would seem that everyone has gotten a rather late start to the day. We were just about to settle in for a brunch of sorts.”

“Do you need help?” Dick asks.

Alfred points toward a tray of what looks like buckwheat pancakes. “If you could bring that tray into the dining room, please.”

Dick hums and grabs the tray, carrying it into the dining room with Alfred behind him. He’s just setting the tray down when Titus storms in, running into his legs with a force that threatens to knock him over.

He takes a step back with a small laugh, reaching down to pet Titus. His tail thumps against the ground as he takes a seat on top of Dick’s feet.

“Master Damian!” Alfred shouts, setting a bowl of fruit down on the table.

“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dick asks the dog as he bends down to pet him better. Titus doesn’t usually tackle him, especially not when they just saw each other the day before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Alfred tsks to the room at large.

“Yes, Pennyworth?” Damian asks when he eventually reaches the room.

“What have I told you about animals in the dining room, especially during meal times?”

Damian rolls his eyes, prompting another “Master Damian!” from Alfred. Dick almost laughs, but the adult in him tells him to stand up and keep his mouth shut.

“Titus, come,” Damian says.

Titus whines.

“Titus, come,” Damian repeats.

Titus obeys, tail low as Damian leads him out of the room.

“And please gather the others before returning.”

Damian mumbles something under his breath that Alfred claims to have heard. Despite the resistance, Tim comes into the room a minute later, so Damian must’ve done as Alfred asked.

“Morning,” Tim says. He juts his thumb toward the hall. “What’s Damian mad about?”

“Oh.” Dick huffs a small laugh. “Titus ran in here and Alfred kind of went off on him.”

“Ugh, and I missed it? Bummer.” Tim takes a seat next to him and steals a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Feeling any better? Bruce said you had a rough night.”

Sometimes a little fear toxin exposure can be so mundane and minuscule that it isn’t mentioned the following morning. Dick wishes this was one of those times.

“Yup.” Dick taps his fingers on the table. “What happened to your ankle? You didn’t report it last night.”

Tim looks down at the ACE bandage wrapped around his left foot. “Oh. Just an old injury that started acting up this morning. I can still kick your ass at sparring later, though.”

Dick snorts and grabs one of the buckwheat pancakes, deciding he can’t wait any longer. “You wish.”

oOo

Breakfast is uneventful, aside from Dick literally falling asleep on the table. Bruce shakes him awake after everyone’s finished eating and then drags Dick down to the Cave to check his blood levels. Titus joins them, pressing himself against Dick’s legs and nearly tripping him as they make their way down the Cave’s stairs.

One blood test later and they learn that the toxin levels haven’t budged. Bruce decides to give him another dose of the antidote.

“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” Dick says.

“Hnn.”

Bruce sets a timer on his phone, just like he used to do in the early days. Draw blood, antidote, set a timer, draw more blood. That had been the routine for so much of his life.

Although, Dick supposes, they hadn’t really had antidotes back then; they’d had attempts at treatments. Desperate attempts to manage symptoms. There was no testing to guarantee their effectiveness or safety, and their chemical makeup had been based purely on theory and desperation. It was better than nothing, but it was risky, so they took precautions: monitoring each other not only for effectiveness but also for the inevitable side effects.

Dick will never forget the time an “antidote” caused his throat to swell up and chest to stall. The timer had only had a minute left, too—they’d increased the time after that, and Dick hadn’t complained about having to wait the whole time for almost a year.

These days, monitoring isn’t always part of the routine, and when it is, it’s mostly to check for effectiveness. But since this is Dick’s fourth dose in a relatively short timeframe, his risk for adverse effects is higher and he needs to be monitored to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Bruce will probably force him to stay at the manor until all side effects of the treatment subside, longer if new side effects arise.

“Have you been able to get any restful sleep?”

Dick jerks as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Uh,” he starts, needing a second to process what Bruce just said. “No. Not really, no.”

“Someone can patrol in Bludhaven while you recover.”

It’s an offer, Bruce trying to be helpful. Dick knows that, but something makes it feel like an order, proof that Bruce thinks he’s incompetent.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Funny how Dick’s still trying to prove that, after all these years. He remembers when he was eight and first moved in with Bruce, how he’d been adamant about not needing a parent, not needing Bruce, but he became attached anyway. He’d told himself Bruce was a want, not a need, but that hadn’t been true, not in the early days.

Then things shifted. He grew up and no longer needed Bruce, but he’d wanted him. Dick had lied to himself again, telling himself that Bruce was the last person he wanted. The lie was easier to believe on some days than on others, but it had been even harder to convince himself that Bruce felt the same way. That even if Bruce didn’t need Dick, he wanted him.

That feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, had been with Dick since he was a kid, and it had persisted and worsened as he’d gotten older. It had been exacerbated after Two-Face nearly killed him and Bruce promptly fired him from being Robin. He was twelve and lost back then, and in what he now knows was just his twisted, hurt kid-brain, he’d convinced himself that Bruce didn’t need nor want him, as Robin or anything else.

Back then, he’d been certain that pity and guilt were the only things stopping Bruce from tossing Dick out onto the streets. He’d felt like a burden, and he’d hated everything about his life in those moments. So, he’d done the only thing he could think of—he ran.

And Bruce—Bruce didn’t chase him.

That was—maybe is—the important bit, the part that Dick still thinks about. Not the initial rejection, not being fired—that Bruce didn’t come after him.

After all, that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bruce to prove him wrong, for Bruce to chase after him, fight for him. To want him.

Bruce fought for Jason, then for Tim and, eventually, Damian. It’s clear that they are and always will be wanted, and Dick knows it’s stupid, but he doesn’t always know if that’s true for himself. At the end of the day, his brothers all have Bruce’s name, and all Dick has is a man who stopped being his legal guardian when he turned eighteen.

Dick is useful, even needed on the rare occasion, but he’s not always sure that he’s wanted. And he desperately needs to be wanted.

“Something’s . . . bothering you.” Bruce’s brows are furrowed, searching Dick’s face and trying to find the clues that will tell him what went wrong and where.

Dick scratches behind Titus’s ears, looking at him instead of Bruce. “Just the toxin.”

“Hnn.” Bruce sits down next to Dick, grunting slightly as he settles. “I imagine that the photographer’s comments last night didn’t help.”

Sometimes Dick hates how well Bruce knows him.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe. But fear toxin twists things, and it’s been known to draw on recent events, especially the latest versions.”

Dick says nothing, just nods in acknowledgment as he attends to Titus.

“Dick, you are my family, in every sense of the word. And I . . . I was bothered by the comment last night that implied otherwise.”

Bruce reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee, and Dick wonders how much he’d said last night when the fear toxin was in control.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—” Dick sighs, leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. “Sometimes I don’t.”

Bruce shifts. He cups the back of Dick’s head and pulls him toward his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you, okay? And you are wanted here. So, so wanted.” Bruce holds him in a tight hug and traces circles into his hair. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

Dick hugs him back and nods into his chest. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it better. And sometimes that’s all anyone needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #nightwing #batman #red robin #robin #batfamily #fear toxin #elizabeth writes

198 notes · View notes

stressedoutcanary · 3 years

Text

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’ Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead,

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed.

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room.

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you.

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one.

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile.

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator.

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement.

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time.

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing.

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation.

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord.

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze.

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

113 notes · View notes

avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

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

47 notes · View notes