#another damian piece? yes. are we surprised? no. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makethatelevenrings · 2 years

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Guy.exe // B. Wayne x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), somewhat d/s, dom!Bruce

Summary: Five months of dating and Bruce and you have yet to sleep together. One gala and an uppity bitch changes things.

“I hate these things,” you muttered to Alfred as he passed by with another tray of champagne. He smirked at your comment and jerked his head towards where your boyfriend’s two oldest sons were leaning against the wall.

“Masters Dick and Jason feel quite the same, miss,” he assured you. “I’ve lost sight of the others. Master Bruce is somewhere with an investor.”

“How much longer do we have to be here?”

“At least another two hours, unfortunately.”

“And what’s Bruce’s excuse for us to get out of it tonight?”

“Master Damian’s desire to go to a zoo. Since Gotham’s is closed, it only makes sense for the whole family to leave and fly to Australia, of course.”

You drained the glass in your hand and rolled your eyes. “Of course. Only sensible.”

Being Damian Wayne’s teacher had been a challenge you never expected. Being saved by Batman and Robin when Killer Croc came bursting through your classroom had been a terrifying surprise. Meeting Damian’s father, the most eligible bachelor in Gotham, the next day and being given roses…well, there’s a first time for everything.

Five months later and you were firmly entrenched as “Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend” by the media. You didn’t mind the honorific, but you hated the paparazzi, the galas, and the schmoozing.

“Ah, ah,” you chastised Jason as he reached for a glass of champagne. “You are still nineteen so unhand the booze before it ends up on the gossip columns.”

He frowned but relented, leaning up against the wall in between you and Dick. You were comfortable around your boyfriend’s adopted children. It helped that you had stumbled on their little secret when Damian missed school for a week due to being “sick” and so you dropped by the manor with homework and found Alfred lecturing fucking Superman in the kitchen. You were a smart woman and the pieces fell into place pretty quick.

“So far, so good,” Dick reported. “Damian hasn’t drawn a sword out yet.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “I should really be concerned that Damian’s penchant for violence is our gauge for success but at this point, I’m used to it.”

“Do you think Della Henderson knows she has toilet paper on her shoe?” Jason asked. You cracked an eye open to spot the boisterous woman dragging what looked like the whole damn roll after her. Dick and you both stifled your laughter and you nudged Jason’s ankle with your foot.

“You two are the worst.” Your eyes found your very handsome boyfriend looking charming as always as he talked with one of Gotham’s richest couples. While he appeared cool and suave, you could see the tight lines of his shoulders indicating his growing frustration. “I should go save Bruce.”

“I say let him suffer.”

“Jason!” you chided. “I can and will tell Alfred to stop baking your favorite cookies for a month.”

“Jesus fuck, B really knew what he was doing when he picked you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him which was clearly very mature for his father’s girlfriend before you left the two boys to make your way across the ballroom. But you didn’t get far before you heard the familiar voice of Gotham’s gossip queen, Mila Trenchard.

And she was talking to the youngest of the Wayne clan.

You quickly diverted your steps and joined Damian just as Mila poked his nose with one of her lengthy acrylics and cooed out, “I mean, your real mother has been replaced by a regular schoolmarm, hasn’t she?”

“Mila!” you hummed as you sidled up next to Damian and rested a hand on his shoulder. While it might have looked as though you were merely pulling him closer, the truth was that you were ensuring he didn’t lunge at the woman with a butter knife and cause a media incident.

“Oh, Y/N! I was just asking little Damian here about you.”

“I heard.” Your cheeks hurt from the fake smile plastered on your lips. “You know, Mila, I actually haven’t replaced anyone in Damian’s life. His mother still plays a large part in his upbringing and in fact, we can credit her for a lot of his personality. Damian is a great kid, isn’t he? All of Bruce’s kids are, really. I’m not here to replace anyone’s mom. If I can serve as a role model for them, I would be honored, but I’m not expecting anything out of them.”

She let out a simpering aww at your statement and flapped her hands at you in a patronizing wave. “Oh, isn’t that precious! It must be so difficult taking on so many problem children. What with them all being adopted and such.”

Anger flared in your chest and your grip on Damian’s shoulder tightened as you felt him try to squirm away, presumably to get a sword. “Believe me, Mila. If I need parenting advice, you’ll be the first person I contact. Who better to ask than the woman who has abandoned three kids and five marriages? Motherhood, so hard, am I right?”

You stepped closer, leveling her with a sickly sweet grin. “I would hate it if your affair with Councilman Peterson reached the news. That would really stick a wrench in marriage number six, wouldn’t it? If I ever hear another word about me or my kids out of your mouth one more time, I will not hesitate to show you how a Gothamite really settles issues.”

You pulled back and patted her arm. “Great talking with you, Mila. Damian, are you hungry? Let’s go find you some snacks.”

But when you turned around to leave, you ran smack dab into a very firm, very muscled chest. You stumbled, your hand coming up to rest on the hard ridges of Bruce’s stomach, and you tilted your head up to see him.

“Hi,” you greeted. “I was on my way to look for you, actually.”

“Damian, go bug Dick,” Bruce ordered. He wrapped a hand around your wrist and tugged you closer to him, his other hand sliding down to rest on your waist.

“We’ll be right back,” he informed the crowd of admirers who hovered around him before he swiftly headed towards the stairs. You fumbled in your heels for a moment and he didn’t hesitate to lean down and sweep you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, but you knew he wouldn’t drop you.

“Okay, I’m sorry if I overstepped back there, but Mila Trenchard is a bitch and I stand by that,” you exclaimed as he pushed open the door to his bedroom and shut it behind him with his foot. He set you down on the bed and turned back to lock the door. “Seriously, Bruce, do you have to keep inviting her? She insulted the kids and I get it, I’m not their mom, but still…”

You trailed off when he stripped off his suit jacket and started to make quick work of his cufflinks. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and his blue eyes flickered down to follow the movement.

“I take it I’m not in trouble for starting shit,” you murmured.

“Strip,” was his only reply.

Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your evening gown but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way his nimble hands deftly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the scarred skin and strong muscles underneath.

In five months of dating, Bruce and you never found time to get past a heavy make out session in the Batcave. There was school and patrol and kids everywhere. Five months of using your aptly named “Batarang” toy to help take the edge off. Five months of watching those veined hands effortlessly take on villains with ease.

You stood up and let your gown pool at your feet, revealing the fact that you had gone commando for the night. His head fell back against the door and he groaned.

“Panty lines are a bitch,” you explained smugly.

“I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now,” he rasped. “So fucking pretty.”

“Then do it.” The challenge hung in the air and you swallowed tightly when a shark-like gleam entered his eyes. He strode forward and yanked you into his chest, a bruising kiss crashing down against your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, granting him access as his teeth clashed against yours. His skilled hand reached up and snapped off your bra with one swift movement as you yanked off his belt and tugged at the waistband of his pants.

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” he murmured. You slipped one hand into his briefs and wrapped your fingers around his length. He shuddered at the touch and you grinned.

“Are you sure about that?”

His lips met your jaw and you tilted your head up to give him better access. Fire ignited across your skin with every brush of his lips and you gasped as his lips enclosed around your nipple. His tongue danced across your skin with affection and you pumped your hand around his shaft a few times, eliciting a groan from him.

Bruce grabbed the back of your thigh and pulled you up, depositing you on the bed in one swift motion. You pushed up on your elbows and watched as he shoved his pants down and his cock sprung free. It bounced up, the tip hitting his stomach, and he stood there and gazed down at you with such a hungry look that your stomach tightened just from that alone.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he whispered as he kneeled down. “My pretty girl. Gonna treat you so right. I’ve been so fucking stupid not doing this sooner.”

“Oh my god, shut up and fuck me,” you groaned.

He answered with a swipe of his tongue against your slit. Your legs instinctively began to close but he spread them and pinned your hips in place with his thick arm. If there was one thing about Bruce Wayne, it was that he was dedicated to the task. He ate your pussy like it was his last meal. His tongue darted in and out, lapping up your juices with a vigor you had only seen when he trained. It was as if he actually enjoyed it and based on the groan he emitted that sent vibrations shooting through your core, he genuinely enjoyed eating you out.

His finger rubbed deft circles around your clit before he swiped some of your slick up and over the bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked and you moaned. He raised his head just for a second, chin drenched with you and a smile on his face.

“Sound proof walls, baby. Let me hear you scream.” His thumb rubbed your clit as one of his fingers slipped between your walls. Your cunt clenched around him and he hummed in satisfaction. “I want to see how pretty you look when you cum. Make you cum on my fingers, warm you up for my cock.”

“Fuck, Bruce. Fu- please,” you whined. He slid a second finger into your cunt and scissored them. You threw your head back with a choked moan as the coil in your lower belly tightened.

“That feel good? Use your words, Y/N.”

“Please let me cum. Please,” you sobbed. Bruce kept an even pace, his fingers sliding in and out of your hot cunt as his thumb toyed with your clit. The tension rose higher and higher until your back was arching off of the bed as white hot pleasure ripped through your body. It had been months since someone else had touched you and now this Adonis of a man was getting you off like it was his only goal in life.

Bruce crawled up and leaned over you and captured your lips in a kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue and he gladly swiped your slick across your lips. “Think you can take me now? That okay?”

“If you don’t put your cock in me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna go fuck Hal.”

A guttural growl ripped from his throat and he gave you no time to prepare before he was sliding the thick head of his cock against your folds. You gripped the sheets by your head and turned your head into the pillow as his cock spread you apart. He paused with only the head in and gave a shallow thrust, watching with awe as your hips immediately rolled in response.

Bruce reached up and grabbed your chin so he could turn you to face him. “Eyes on me, baby. Look at how well you take me.”

He gave another shallow thrust as if to punctuate his statement and you glanced down, watching as another inch of his cock slid into you. He wasn’t overly long, but he was certainly thick and it felt like he was splitting you apart in the most delicious way possible. Bruce moaned as he bottomed out and you grabbed his shoulder, your nails digging into his back. It was a beautifully erotic sight: his thick shaft swallowed by your aching cunt.

Every stroke brought you higher and higher. You were already nearing your second orgasm and you had no idea when he would stop. Frankly, you didn’t care.

“Taking me so, so good. That’s a good girl. So fucking tight. Squeezing me so good.”

“Fuck me, Bruce. Please, fuck me.” Mindless babbles and pleas slipped past your lips as he rocked into you. The headboard hit the wall, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think about that right now. Your only thought was a steady stream of pleasepleaseplease.

“Please, sir.” The title slipped out without thinking and Bruce grunted. He brought your ankle up to his lips and bit down, sucking a dark mark into the skin there. It would be easy to conceal later, but you would know. You would feel him every time your fingers brushed between your legs.

Bruce Wayne was going to ruin dick for you forever and you really hoped that it would stay that way.

“Harder, sir. Please!”

He picked up the force, his hips roughly snapping into yours. The room filled with the sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin. A high, keening wail escaped you as he brought his finger down onto your clit once more and you clenched around him as your orgasm ripped through you. The pulsating walls of your pussy beckoned him over the edge and you felt your walls painted by his cum.

Bruce dropped down onto his knees and bracketed his arms on either side of your head, making sure to keep his weight off of you. He kissed you softly this time and slowly eased himself out of your aching cunt. Milky white cum slipped out of you and he swiped a finger to gather some up. He raised his hands to your lips and you greedily sucked the mixture of the two of you off of his skin. Bruce stroked your hair as you licked his fingers and then you laid your head back, watching him curiously.

“Seeing you take on Mila Trenchard was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he admitted, a hint of a laugh lacing his voice.

“Hmmm. So all this time I’ve just needed to bully the city’s biggest gossip, huh?”

His nose brushed against your cheek and he laid a kiss against the apple of your cheek. “No, I just needed to get my head out of my ass. I was treating you more like a glorified roommate. You deserve better than that.”

“You gave me two pretty mind blowing orgasms just now so I’ll accept your apology if there’s more where that comes from.”

Bruce rolled you over so you rested on his chest. He brushed his thumb along your jaw and smirked. “I think I can agree to that.”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne imagine #batman x reader #batman imagine #batman smut #dc imagine

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mortiferumsomnum · 1 year

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HELP! I ACCIDENTALLY GOT ENGAGED TO THE GHOST KING!

EDIT: Masterlist

***

Please excuse the stupid Manhwa title, but Jon is panicking right now. Like, really, really, REALLY panicking.

Damian is going to kill him.

Wait, no.

He’ll save him, AND THEN kill him.

NO.

He’ll save him, become the Ghost King HIMSELF, AND THEN KILL HIM.

Oh man, oh god, oh NO--

“Dude, are you done?”

The very Ghost King he got engaged to is sitting on some kind of bean-bag blob ghost with the most tired expression, like in that one meme. And Jon is the girl that’s crying with his fingers closed together while trying to explain his point.

The blob ghost under the Ghost King made a happy purr.

“Danny, my dude, please, you--- you need to understand. WE ARE ALL ABOUT TO DIE.”

The Ghost King, Danny, huffed in tired amusement. And he was about to say something, but Jon grabbed Danny by the shoulders and glared deep into his eyes. He doesn’t understand. Jon will make Danny understand.

“Relax,” Danny said before Jon could say anything, phasing out of his hold to float in the air. He crossed his arms behind his head as he yawned. “I mean, what’s he gonna do? Bust in here with a sword and declare a battle for your hand?”

“Yes,” Jon replied without a beat. “He would. That’s exactly what he would do.”

How did Jon even get into this mess in the first place?

***

It had been a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and teens like Jon were happily chatting amongst themselves as they headed home from school. Jon in particular was waiting in the parking lot for Damian to pick him up. He was seated on the wheel-stop, in the place where Damian would usually park his car, looking through his phone while listening to some of his music.

A classmate of his walked up to Jon with a wide smile. He couldn’t remember her name, but he’s seen her in Homeroom and Geometry. He knows that she’s very studious and works well in groups. But Jon hasn’t really interacted with her much... or at all. So, it’s a wonder why she’s coming up to him.

“Hey, Kent!” she greeted, bringing out a piece of paper to show in front of him. A bunch of names and signatures were on it. A few, Jon could recognize from his own classmates.

“We’re signing a petition,” she said, excitedly. “It’s to help keep Coach Harold as our P.E. teacher.”

Jon raised his brow in surprise. “What’s-- uh-- What’s going on? Is he getting fired?”

He’s such a good teacher! A good coach! He never pushes if it’s out of his classmates’ abilities, and he also makes sure that everyone is safe no matter how easy the activity. He’s patient, understanding, and a lot like Jon’s dad. Well, the man is a fan of Superman, so maybe that’s why? It doesn’t matter!

His classmate, who he still couldn’t remember the name of, huffed in annoyance. “Apparently, he’s already fired.”

Jon shot up from where he was sitting, almost floating into the air, but catching himself before he could. “What do you mean he was already fired?! What was--- What was he even accused of?!”

“Harming a student.”

“What--”

“Yeah,” his classmate said, huffing. “I heard it from the injured student himself. It wasn’t Coach Harold. The school’s protecting another teacher. I don’t know how to get the other teacher to face consequences, so I asked our homeroom teacher what we could do to keep Coach Harold.”

“And it’s a petition?” Jon asked.

His classmate grinned, showing him the paper once more. “I have five more of these babies in my bag. If you sign, you’re gonna be the 250th signature, Kent!”

Jon reached a hand out, and his classmate let him take the paper. He read the written request at the top, and at the other names and signatures. Then, he brought out a ballpen he kept on himself at all times - a habit he gained from his parents. Without a beat, he signed his name.

“All done,” he said, giving the paper back. His classmate cheered, and looked at the paper in wonder, making Jon chuckle. “But uh...” shoot, he still doesn’t remember her name, “don’t you think this petition would hold more weight if our parents signed it?”

His classmate giggled. And... it wasn’t a nice giggle. This one caused the hair on his arms to raise, a chill to run down his back. She grinned at him, and Jon could see how her skin turned into a pale blue color, her hair turning into flames, and the paper in her hand growing longer and longer with Jon’s name and signature at the very bottom, along with one named Daniel Fenton.

“Jonathan Kent,” her voice wasn’t as cheery anymore. It was mocking. She floated in the air and made the paper disappear in her hands. “Thank you for your cooperation, Future Prince Consort. With this, my job with the Observants are done!”

She rose into the air.

Jon flew into the air to go after her.

And before Jon knew it, she grabbed his arm and made both of them invisible. The world around him passed in a blur until he saw a green, swirling portal. He tried to stop them, tried to pull away, but she only clutched harder, flew faster. He screamed as they entered the portal.

The next thing Jon knew, he was in front of some royal, who looked to be the same age as him. It didn’t matter if he was donned in a cape that seemed to be made of galaxies. It didn’t matter if he also looked as blue as all the other residents in the... palace? Was this a palace? Whatever!

What mattered was that when Jon searched for heartbeats, there was none. No one in this room was alive.

Then, with an echoing laugh, his classmate-turned-crazy-lady disappeared from the room.

“What’s going on?” the royal-looking teen asked.

And, yeah, that’s what Jon wants to know! But, the people around him only bowed in response. “Your Highness,” said the Giant... Yeti? Was that a Yeti?!?!? “We congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Excuse me?” the royal asked, as flabbergasted as Jon was. “I’m only sixteen.”

SO AM I! Jon wanted to scream.

“Did you not sign a paper from the Matchmaker?” the Yeti asked.

The royal blinked. “Is... that what she was? Also, she said it was a petition.”

EXACTLY!

Jon felt faint. But also, “What-- What do you mean by Matchmaker?” he asked. Everyone was looking at Jon now, but the royal nodded for him to continue. So, Jon did, his heart beating loudly in his ears. “Don’t they just-- just, y’know-- find matches and stuff? Isn’t the actual engagement planning done by-- by, I dunno, the families??”

The yeti gave Jon a rueful smile. “She doubles as the officiator, unfortunately,” he said. Turning his head towards the King, his face turns apologetic. “She’s been doing this for millennia, Your Highness. The rules for engagement prior marriage has not changed, even as Pariah Dark slept.”

Um, what? Pariah-who-now?

“The only way to cancel this engagement is to rip the contract that had been signed between you.”

Sounds easy enough-- NOT.

The King didn’t seem to be panicking. But, his face did look troubled.

He looked to Jon, then he looked to the people in the large hall. They were all still kneeling. The King raised a hand and, with a loud and booming voice, ordered for all to rise.

“Frostbite, Fright Knight, stay,” he said. Then to the rest of the people, “All of you, leave. We shall cut our activity short.”

No one complained, all nodding and murmuring in understanding. Jon watched as the people disappeared one by one. There are little, green blobs cleaning up buffet tables by eating the remaining food, and larger blobs eating the tables and chairs. It was bizarre and cute.

After that, the King led Jon to his personal quarters, the Yeti and this Giant Knightly looking dude following after them. It was there that Jon learned that they were not just people, they were ghosts! And that he was in a realm called the Ghost Zone. And that he got engaged to THE Ghost King!

Sugar honey iced tea, this isn’t good.

“A ghost marriage,” Jon mumbled hauntingly to himself, holding his head in hands. He was seated on a... beanbag blob ghost that purred and tried swatting at Jon’s ankles with its blobby hand. Jon let it.

The King, who turned out to be the other name at the bottom, Daniel “call me Danny” Fenton, snorted. He was seated on his own blob-bag, sipping some kind of ghost slurpie with a tired look. He was changed into a comfortable looking hoodie and sweats, his socked feet also being swatted by blob hands. “Could be, but it’s not. You’re alive and I’m half-alive.”

This then led to Jon’s panic-fest, which actually lasted for only a few minutes.

****

“We have to find that-- that contract and rip it before Damian gets here,” Jon said.

Danny nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “Fright Knight is doing his best to track down where the Matchmaker could be. And then, after that, I’m going to make sure to rewrite all these outdated laws one by one. First one I’ll rewrite is the legal age requirement for everything. BTW, my dude, is there a legal age requirement for engagements?”

“Uh... I think it only applies to marriage,” Jon replied, also thoughtful. Then, he sat back down in his blob-bag, which caused the blob to purr and swat at his ankles again. “How long do you think this will take?”

Danny shrugged. “Probably a few hours. Maybe days.”

“And... in the living realm? Or-- or at least, my realm?”

Danny shrugged unhelpfully once more. “Depends. What’s your Realm? The one with Spider-man?”

What. “...Who’s Spider-man?”

“Oh... so, is it the one with Percy Jackson??”

Jon only gave a confused look.

“How about Sonic the Hedgehog?”

“The game?”

Danny sat up with a grin. “Sorry. How about you tell me a famous hero from your Realm.”

“Wait-wait-waiiiiiittt, there are multiple realms? Like--- like, different worlds?!”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “An Infinite amount, actually.” He sipped from his never-ending slurpie cup. “Now, tell me a hero, not-future-consort!”

Jon huffed. Then, he grinned. “Does Superman ring a bell?”

To Jon’s disappointment, there is no ‘Whoa!!! Your Realm has Superman?!’ or ‘So cool! Does Batman also exist in your Realm?! What about the Justice League?!’

Instead, Danny nodded. “Good, good. Now, you said that Damian is your boyfriend, so you must be from one of the Minor Realms connected to the Main Realm that it was based off of. In other words - an alternate reality... basically.”

Jon was confused now. “What? Alternate reality? There are more versions of my realm? And, if not Damian, who-- who would be my partner in the Main Realm?”

Danny made a thoughtful look. “I believe it was... Jay Nakamura?”

Jon blinked. “Who’s that?”

Danny waved a hand. “You saved his college from a school shooter. It’s not important to your realm--”

“College?! I’m in high-school!! A Sophomore!!”

“I didn’t look much into his school - it’s probably just called a college and is actually just some K-12 and Higher Education kind of school - but I’m pretty sure he’s just 17--”

“HOW DID DAMIAN TAKE THIS?!”

Danny’s eyes glazed a bit. Then, “He... smiled? Oh, Ancients, that is one scary smile. But, he’s impressed? Jay Nakamura is part of some news site that reports everything the media’s too afraid to report about.”

Jon gaped. Then, he shook his head. “I’ll have you know that Damian smiles all the time! And it’s not scary!”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re dating the Beast, dear Belle. You’re already immune. Now, tell me other important things about your realm so that searching through the minor realms would be easier.”

Jon frowned. “How many minor realms are there?”

Danny sighed. “Jon, my dude, imagine the main realm as a movie, or a really good book, or an extremely good comic. And then, the minor realms are the non-canon series or films, comics, or fan-works that surrounds that piece of media. And as you know, people go crazy when it comes to fanworks, am I right? So, can you imagine the thousands of minor realms that are based off of the main realm?”

Yeah. Jon can imagine it. Which causes him to pale. “Will I--- Will I be able to go back?” he asks.

“Of course,” said Danny, not at all troubled. “It’ll just take me time because I haven’t practiced as much. But, I’ll be able to bring you back once we’re done with all this engagement madness.”

Then, Jon wondered, “Are there also multiple Ghost Zone Realms?”

Danny nodded. “I’m not the only King of the Infinite Realms. There are other versions of myself, as well. Once a Realm exists, there will be alternate realities born from it. Sometimes, even Minor Realms could turn into Main Realms if there are more minor realms born from it.”

“Huh...” Jon said. Then, “What’s the-- um-- Main Realm for this one like?”

Danny smiled. “Apparently, I’m just an ordinary boy with ghost powers, and that’s what a halfa is. But, if you look into its minor realms, most of my alternate selves, and I mean MOST of them, are referred as half-dead and half-alive. Other me’s are tortured, vivisected, and have horrible parents. Honestly, it’s really concerning--- Ah, I think I found it.”

Jon, who was making a very alarmed expression a while ago, now perked up from where he sat on his blob-bag. “What is it? Did you find my realm?”

“I hope so!” Danny said, waving a hand to create a hologram-like image in the air. “Bloodthirsty, yandere-like Damian looking around a school parking lot for clues on where you disappeared to?”

Jon looked closely to Damian. He was talking into his communicator, probably to Batman, while holding on to Jon’s backpack that was left in the parking lot.

“Yeah,” Jon said, a lump in his throat. “That--- That’s him.”

He watched as Damian yelled into his communicator, obviously alarmed by what was going on. He watched as Superman landed beside Damian, a face full of worry that Jon would only see from his father and never from the Man of Steel. He watches as Kon lands next to Superman, demanding where Jon could be, why they couldn’t hear Jon’s heartbeat.

Jon reached out towards the magical-window-thingy that allowed him to see and hear what they were doing and going to do. But then his hand reached through it, the magic swirling around his fingers.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was gentle, and he turned to see Danny giving him a soft smile. “I guess time is running the same time as this Realm,” said Danny, causing Jon to huff. Then, he said, more seriously then before, “I’ll get you out of this mess, I promise.”

Jon nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

Danny was about to say something, when, “If anything happens to Jon, I’m going to kill everyone in this world and then myself---”

“Now, Damian--”

“Don’t you ‘Now, Damian’ me, Clone! My beloved is missing, and if I find a single scratch on his body, or a single hair missing, I WILL. KILL. EVERYONE.”

Danny whistled. “Wow. Main-Damian wasn’t so bloodthirsty... Well, anymore. Interesting to know that there’s a Damian that actually enhanced his bloodlust.”

Then, he made the magical window go away and pulled up two more. “Frostbite, Fright Knight. Please make more of an effort to find the Matchmaker. Danny’s concern about his lover finding the Ghost Realm may actually be possible, I’m afraid.”

“Understood, My King,” said Fright Knight.

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. “She’s hiding really well, Your Highness. We’ll be sure to quadruple our efforts.”

Danny nodded and waved the windows away.

Jon sighed, anxiety wracking up once more. Will things be okay?

#Damn this got long XD #dc x dp #dp x dc #jon kent #danny fenton #danny phantom #damian wayne #jondami #damijon #platonic jon x danny #I'm sorry if the characters are OOC *sobs*#BUT ALSO #DANNY ACKNOWLEDGING THAT SINCE THERE ARE INFINITE REALMS THERE ARE MULTIPLE WORLDS AND ALTERNATE UNIVERSES #BECAUSE IF WE'RE GOING TO MAKE HIM RULER OF THE INFINITE REALMS IT SHOULD COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING THAT THERE SHOULD BE ONE RULER #BUT IF THERE ARE SO MANY VERSIONS OF DANNY BECOMING THE RULER OF INFINITE REALMS WHO IS THE ULTIMATE RULER AND HOW IS HE CHOSEN?!#OR IS RULER OF INFINITE REALMS JUST A TITLE THAT ANY VERSION OF DANNY OR RULER OF THE INFINITE REALMS COULD HAVE??? AND THEY ACTUALLY #DO TEAMWORK IN WATCHING OVER THE INFINITE REALMS?? AND IF ONE OF THEM IS NOT DOING THEIR JOB THEY NEED TO DOUBLE THEIR EFFORTS????

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ggomos-maribat · 30 days

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Soul-Stitching: The Heir and the Guardian

Masterlist

Chapter 4: freedom and imprisonment | AO3

CW: Depictions of (physical and mental) child abuse , childhood trauma, mentions of (human) experimentation, cult-like behavior, blood, violence

Marinette hasn't felt idiotic in a long while. After the Bats took away Robin and stuck the special cuffs to her wrists, she tries to think why the young hero suddenly burst in like that. She pities him, truly—he looked extremely pained when she saw her. She's sure she hasn't inadvertently used any magic on him, not that she even has the ability to do that to a person. At first, she considers that he might have some connection to Paris and the akumas, but that can't be possible.

She recalls him to the best of her memory: there are swords sticking out his back, dark hair, eyes concealed by the domino mask, marks on his hands, his tight grip on her. The swords on his back . . . twin swords with a . . . familiar hilt?

What.

Her hands fall limply to her sides as she sucks in a breath. That must be it.

Marinette jumps up and begins pacing around the room. Nevermind that encounter looked horrible in Batman's eyes, as well the other League members. Perhaps enough to aggravate her guilty position. This definitely complicates things on her end but kwamis know she'll be killed first before being able to approach within ten feet of Damian al Ghul.

For a few days, she isn't brought out for interrogation again but she hasn't missed the dirty looks from anyone who passed by her cell. On the bright side, she doesn't get to interact with the other heroes that much. On the other hand, she has a sinking feeling that something worse is to come.

One day, while she's sitting near the locked barrier, she senses someone approaching. Someone new who hasn't come by before.

“Hey.” She taps on the translucent barrier. “Black Canary, right?”

The blonde woman looks surprised at her sudden greeting. “Yes . . .?”

“You have expertise in psychology?”

She casts a look of suspicion. “How did you know that?”

“I heard other heroes talking about you,” Marinette explains. “Red Robin and Nightwing I think. They were wondering if you could examine me. They're still undecided on that part, but I figured I'd get ahead and jump the gun. Can—can I ask you something?”

Black Canary doesn't hide her skepticism, but she comes closer after one look at her cuffs.

“I haven't had the chance to talk to a therapist because of the akuma thing and all.” She rambles, waving her covered hands. “Plus with my background, you can see I'm emotionally troubled.”

“What do you mean 'because of the akuma thing’?” She asks.

Marinette's pretty sure she's trying to squeeze information from her which breaches some medical ethics. But she doesn't mind.

“Trying to . . . find an outlet during those times risks triggering negative emotions for an akuma. Basically, we couldn't talk about our feelings at all, unless we were at a safe distance away from Paris. If you don't believe me, you should look up the time a therapist got akumatized.”

Marinette ignores the look of horror on her face. “But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I was wondering . . . can repressed memories come back?”

The heroine doesn't say anything for a while. Marinette begins to think that she shouldn't have asked that question.

“Yes, they can. Usually, if there is a significant trigger linked to the cause of trauma,” Black Canary says carefully. “A sight, a smell, sound, event—anything can bring it back. Sometimes it happens all at once, sometimes little by little.”

“Ah . . .”

“Have you regained memories from your childhood?”

“Uhh, sure, something like that. How do I know they're not fake?”

“You would have to consider something tangible to verify the truth of your memories. It helps if another person can help piece things together with you.”

It's not my memories, Marinette wants to say.

“Thanks. I don't know what to do yet, but that helps. I have another question—”

“Stand back, we don't know what she's doing to you.” A sharp voice cuts in. That's when Marinette notices that more people have joined them: the magic-wielding Zatanna, as well as the big Bat himself scowling at her. But the man trailing behind them grabs her attention. She's heard of him, but it's the first time she's actually seen him in person.

She does a once over at the unkempt look and long brown trench coat. “John Constantine.”

Constantine freezes in his tracks when he lays his eyes on her. His tired expression shifts to a stony one as he utters one word. “ No. ”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Zatanna asks.

“Z, don't you see the kid?” He hisses.

“Does she have magical powers outside of the miraculous?” Batman steps towards him. “We have to know if she's Paris’ villain.”

Constantine scoffs. “Villain or not , you do not want to get on her bad side. Can't tell what she is but she's leaking a lot of magical aura right now.” He looks at her more intently. “Miraculous power. I'm out. I'm not dealing with this shit right now.”

“Miraculous power?” Zatanna repeats. “But I never sensed it aside from the traces.”

“She's hidden it from you, obviously.”

“Oops,” Marinette whispers, dropping her cover to bare her full aura to the heroine. She stares at her in shock.

“You cannot back out of this, Constantine. We need to pry information from her,” Batman grabs the other man's arm.

“What about that Martian of yours?”

“He can't get through her.”

Constantine shrugs him off. “Leave me out of this then. You're messing with something greater than all of you.”

Marinette blinks. She doesn't expect him to back out that easily, but at least he acknowledges the degree of her power, which she herself hasn't fully understood. She makes a mental note to ask him for advice next time.

“What do you mean?” Black Canary asks. “She hasn't done anything here. She can't. We had her in handcuffs ever since Robin . . .”

“That's because she chooses to,” the man responds. “Don't you see? Those handcuffs can't bind her powers.”

----

“Fuck you, John Constantine,” Marinette grumbles under her breath.

Because of the occult detective's wonderful remark, the JL has sounded a metaphorical alarm and increased the security around her. She's now confined in a smaller space, both hands and feet bound, with round-the-clock surveillance and even soundproof walls. She's astounded by this level of paranoia, honestly, but she expects nothing less from Batman.

What is bothersome, however, is that a: they should already know that the extra ‘precautions’ are useless; and b: she has been holding back out of her own volition this whole time.

Eventually, she feels too suffocated to stay in the same place. Marinette lets her magic hover onto the security cameras, casting an illusion to hide her disappearance. Next, she takes a piece of thread from her clothes, summons a different kind of magic, and watches as a senti-being in the image of herself sleeping morphs out of nothing. It takes a quick destructive energy burst to break out of her binds and in no less than five minutes, she's slipping through a portal to her base. Her home.

The night sky envelops the half-opened dome in the building. She grabs a spare blanket off the floor, wondering if the others are staying in the base or are still in Gotham. Her questions are immediately answered when Fei strolls in with a clipboard in hand.

“Marinette!” She perks up. “You came back sooner than I thought.”

“I'm back only temporarily.” She runs her thumb over the thin thread holding the existence of her replacement. Gliding over to the stone table, she pulls up several of the screens.

“Why? What happened?” asks her second-in-command.

“Nothing too bad.” Marinette rubs the telltale marks on her wrist. “So? What's the status report?”

“We did a survey across Gotham like you asked, but there's no signs of them,” Fei relays. “There's some talk on the streets, though. Kagami and Luka are looking into it.”

Marinette hums while studying the city map they've marked. “The site for the ritual?”

“The top of the Wayne Tower seems to be the best.”

She makes a face. Just yesterday, she made an association as well, between knowing that Damian is a Wayne and Batman just called Robin his son. “Eugh. Wayne Tower.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Marinette shakes her head. Wayne Tower it is.

“I've been meaning to ask . . .” Fei tips her head. “Why Gotham? Why not, you know, here in Tibet?”

“Because their numbers are here. Gotham used to be a center of the black market for ring-adjacents, the Black Cat's power. Of course, none of it has the same power as the real thing, but its energy leaked out through the years. Pretty sure the Order has a stronghold there.”

Fei bites her lip. “But to make ring-adjacents, they'd have to be close to the source . . .”

“Yeah. They brought the Guardian there.”

The other girl's eyes darken as the meaning of Marinette's words settle in.

“If our hunch is correct and they have some brooch-adjacents–Peacocks, that is—we'll be very busy.” Marinette rakes a hand through her hair. “Where are the others? Is Adrien still sad about the trial?”

“I think he's seriously considering a law career.” Fei rolls her eyes. “They're sleeping and—oh, right now he's mad because of Red Robin.”

“Red Robin?”

“He came up to us in Gotham and asked about you.” Fei's tight grip on her clipboard tells Marinette that Adrien isn't the only one holding a grudge. “The nerve of them.”

“Oh? Were you nice to him?” Marinette remembers the same vigilante, who also visited her cell at one point alongside Nightwing.

“Of course not. Kagami flipped him off too.”

“Fei Wu.”

“What? He was the one who disturbed us!”

“Did you shake him off?”

“Of course. They're not touching Gotham until we've done our job.”

Marinette nods. If the Bats had spotted them in Gotham, questions were surely raised. They'll just have to be more careful; she's spending her time in the Justice League’s captivity anyways.

There are two reasons for the setup. First, to finally catch the Justice League's attention towards the Paris situation and have them help deal with the aftermath. But secondly—and most importantly—they have to divert the Bats’ attention elsewhere. Marinette is aware their plan isn't foolproof. There will always be eyes on Gotham regardless, like Oracle's surveillance or the Red Hood's rounds in Crime Alley. But at least they won't be interfering while preparations are being made.

Another voice speaks up behind them. Adrien sluggishly walks out, yawning.

“Marinette?”

“Hello, kitty cat. Slept well?”

“You're back?” He rubs his eyes.

“For now. My senti-double can't stay there for too long. Told ‘ya I can escape after you got me thrown in jail,” Marinette teases.

“M'lady!” Adrien whines. “I tried my best!”

She chuckles, looking back and forth between Fei and her former partner. They've got matching pajamas. Cute. “I know, I know. Come on, let's find Luka and Gami. I want to see them too.”

“What was that fake miraculous all about? It totally threw me off,” Adrien recounts the ‘one piece of incriminating evidence’ that the prosecutor showed everyone.

“You mean that replica? I made it and had Tikki take it to the apartment. Helps sell the show, you know.” Marinette shrugs. “The glass got damaged a bit on the way I think.”

“I didn't know you'd do that!”

“She didn't know you were going to be her lawyer, idiot.” Fei rolls her eyes.

----

Her stomach twists in worry when they open up her cell and take her out. There is a cloth over her eyes, and her limbs are bound in chains but she feels that she's transported to another area of the Watchtower much farther from her cell than the interrogation room. When her blindfold is lifted, she finds that she's in what looks like a meeting room, surrounded by the heroes talking amongst themselves.

Her gaze zeroes in on Zatanna holding a spellbook. She doesn't know what it is, but she feels wary of it.

“I don't think this is a good idea,” Black Canary tells the others.

“It's a breach of her privacy,” Superman argues as well, “What are you thinking?”

“We just need to confirm her identity as Hawkmoth or at least her collusion with the villain.” Batman crosses his arms. “If nothing comes up, we'll stop.”

“You can't do this to her, B. Didn't they say she has some childhood trauma?” Nightwing says.

“They're repressed memories. They won't show up,” Zatanna opens up the spellbook. “The magic will hold out for just a few minutes anyway.”

“I acknowledge that we must resort to this option to extract the truth, but what if she uses her magic like Constantine warned us?” Wonder Woman speaks up. Marinette vaguely remembers how the Lasso of Truth doesn't work on her, which she figures is owed to her own powers.

“That's why I'm telling you to stop if she tries to resist.” Constantine pushes off the wall, walking closer towards the debating group. “If her powers accumulate, I can't promise we can stop her.”

“It's safe ,” Zatanna asserts once more.

“She's barely an adult.” Nightwing raises his voice.

“Don't tell me you were influenced by her magic, Nightwing,” Batman says in a low voice.

“I'm not. And Robin wasn't. That wasn't magic; I checked with Constantine.”

“Even so, we need to confirm with her memories,” says Green Arrow. “She's still a threat, given the amount of magic she has.”

“Threat is an understatement,” Constantine mutters.

“If she is innocent as you say, Supes, we'll see that too won't we?” The Flash points out.

More or less, Marinette can figure out what they're trying to do—use magic to access her memories and prove her innocence or guilt . . . clearly without regard to her consent. If Fei or Adrien or Kagami or Luka find out, they are sure to storm into the Watchtower themselves, secret identities be damned. She stares off at the ceiling to contemplate her next move. She can, of course, escape easily and save herself from the unpermitted exposing of her inner trauma. But that can complicate things and make them view her even more as danger.

She can also resist the magic in her head without doing anything physically. She has shooed out Hawkmoth from her head plenty of times—more than she can count. It's not any different from the mind reading or Amazonian tricks they subjected her to, since her own magic can protect her.

As she's finished deciding, so have the heroes. Zatanna positions herself close to her, chanting an unfamiliar language than her usual backwards verses, drawing out a bright light from her hands and into Marinette's head.

Marinette bites her tongue.

She's made a grave mistake.

This type of magic isn't as simple as Hawkmoth's mental coaxing. There's barely any voice in her head, but she's compelled to open her mind. It feels invasive but welcoming, a foreign warmth that sends a shiver down her spine, almost hypnotic. Her muscles twitch as she tries to break away when she realizes that she has not pushed the magic out of her head, but rather another part of her consciousness.

She tastes blood in her mouth, not wanting to cry out. In her desperation to keep them away from her more recent memories, she has instead bared her past.

A holographic projection appears in midair.

As it is her memory, the vision appears in first person—coming from her own vision. She's in a dimly-lit room, surrounded by old men in long robes and sullen eyes. Deep but steady breaths sound out as she looks down on her bony arm speckled with bruises. A needle sticks out from the crook of her elbow, joint to a syringe, held by a man in front of her.

“This one is more behaved than the last.” The man grins, crooked teeth showing. He is speaking a different language than she's used to, but she still understands.

“Silence!” The monk beside him barks. “She is only a vessel for our Guardian.”

She stares down again at her arms. They're drawing blood. Again. She whimpers, trying to pull away but she's met with a harsh slap on the face.

“Foolish girl, be grateful for the success of the ritual. You are now one with the Guardian.” He turns to his companion. “How is the new set, Master Wen?”

“We've imbibed Illusion, Protection and Subjection so far but the miraculi are still weak compared to her natural abilities.”

“We shall harvest more blood then.”

Hatred and anger burst in her chest. Even if her body feels unbearably heavy, and the wound in her chest is seconds from opening up, she wants to fight these men. As she flails around and they hold her down, she catches sight of the line of vials, all filled with blood from her veins. She sees an opening, reaches out for one of the glass containers, and shatters it on the table she's sitting on.

“How dare you! That's for the miraculi!” She's struck again, harder this time.

One shard. She picks up one shard and swipes at their wrinkly eyes—

“THAT'S ENOUGH!” Constantine shouts, leaping to push Zatanna aside.

Zatanna looks back and forth at the girl and her fellow heroes, muttering her chants over and over. “I can't! I stopped the spell, I swear but—”

Even those not magically-aligned can sense some sort of subliminal pressure. Marinette is slumped and her eyes are trained on the projection, devoid of emotion. But the strength of her aura is burning around her, only increasing by the second.

“I thought it's not supposed to show repressed memories!” Superman yells.

Zatanna sucks in a sharp breath, jaw clenching. “It's not! That only means . . .”

“—her memories aren't repressed in the first place,” Black Canary continues.

“Her magic's making the spell persist,” Constantine deduces. While he tries to do damage control, the other members watch helplessly with pale faces.

The projection flickers.

She's a little younger, but still worn out and tired. In front of her is the naked back of her Master, marred by all sorts of scars and fresher wounds. Her small hands run a warm damp towel on his skin.

“You have to go easy on your body during training, Master.” Arabic spills from her lips.

“Tt. Aches are normal. I cannot improve without getting hurt first,” the boy in front of her protests.

“You have not improved yet if you cannot defend yourself well enough to avoid injuries,” she scolds lightheartedly. “I told you to watch your back earlier.”

“How am I supposed to predict another assassin behind me?”

“They can come from any direction, Master. That was just training.”

She stops scrubbing first, letting him face her for a moment. The green hue of his eyes dances with the candlelight. “I can't remember to watch my back because you are always behind me,” he confesses quietly.

Her mouth shapes into an ‘o’. “Then we'll just have to practice more. I'm afraid there will come a time that I can't protect you anymore.”

“What the—” Nightwing breathes out.

The scene flickers again.

The world tumbles in her vision as their trainer kicks her away. She hears her name called out by Damian but her ears are ringing. A familiar metallic taste trickles into her mouth.

“What have I told you, young master,” their trainer scolds, “If you fall behind in your training, she is the one to face the consequences.”

“You would not dare ,” Damian scowls.

“She is your servant. This is her purpose.” The assassin flicks his hand. “Back to your spar, young master.”

From the floor, he watches him fight another assassin, a designated sparring partner. She can tell his body is still tensed up, still concerned about her. She wants to tell him not to worry but she fears disrupting their fight. Damian is brought down to his hands and knees again—

She suppresses a scream after the trainer scratches her back with his knife. Damian is about to rush towards her but stops himself, picking up his sword and returning to position instead.

Another defeat.

A second kick to her abdomen, only eliciting a grunt. Her body has grown numb . . .

Marinette feels a thread snapping in her head—the spell has halted, but the damage is done. She doesn't need to look at the heroes to tell what they're thinking. Finally, the wave of exhaustion takes over and she allows herself to collapse.

---

Damian is utterly furious with his father. Not only has Bruce banned him from the Watchtower, but he's also forced to sit out patrols. Now he can only spend his pastime sitting around in the cave, with Barbara and Stephanie to keep him company (read: watch over him).

“I don't get it. Why are you convinced that she's innocent?” Stephanie, still donning her purple gear, spins around on a chair.

“Because the facts say so,” Damian replies grumpily. “They have not completely proven that she holds the Butterfly miraculous.”

Actually, Hawkmoth or not, he can't care any less about which side she's on. All he wants to know are her reasons, and if she is guilty, she wouldn't commit crimes on a whim.

“Yeah, I'm on Dames’ side here,” Barbara adds, still poring over the same files on the computer. “Some things aren't adding up. I'd stay neutral until more information comes to life.”

A series of beeps announce the arrival of two more visitors in the Batcave—Red Robin and Nightwing, who both wear grim faces as they approach the central console. If Damian remembers correctly, they should have come from the Watchtower.

“What's up?” Barbara inquires, turning around on her wheelchair.

“The JL has gathered more info on Marinette,” says Dick. “We have more clues on her past . . .”

Tim looks at Damian. “There's something you're not telling us.”

Damian tries to hide the shift in his body language. He hasn't given his family a clear reason yet for his breakdown, not wanting to share his memories with Marie. He wants to investigate on his own first, especially on how she's alive. His first thoughts go to the Pits, but his gut feeling tells him it's something else.

“You knew her.” Dick folds his arms. “In the League of Assassins. She was an assassin.”

Damian bites his tongue. But she's more human than I'll ever be.

Stephanie's jaw unhinges. “Damian?”

Damian lowers his head. “Fine. I did . . .”

“How?”

He averts his gaze, thinking maybe he deserves to have his sins put out in the open like this. “We were raised together,” he recounts softly. “She served under me . . . Before the coup, there was a series of attacks on all the League's bases to weaken us—I had to be transferred frequently to different locations.”

“What happened to her?” Tim leans in closer.

“She . . . she died. We were heading back to Nanda Parbat and . . .” Damian cannot bring himself to say it. I killed her. It was my fault.

Both Dick and Tim share a look. A silent conversation.

“Fuck,” Dick breathes out, “We really messed up. It had to have happened after she died, after she was with the League.”

“Why? What did you find out?” Barbara begins to type furiously, to access the records in the Watchtower for them. “You said you gathered more information on her; how did you do it? Did she talk?”

Tim visibly flinches. “No, she didn't.”

Damian springs up to his feet. “What did you do? ”

“Zatanna . . . she had this spell . . .”

“You coerced her?!”

“Memory projection.” Barbara's voice is laced with horror as she shows a series of videos on the screen. “How—how can you do this . . . how did they agree to this?”

“We were only trying to look at the time of the akuma attacks!” Dick protests. “But something went wrong.”

Damian feels his throat dry up, looking at the memories they documented. He feels sick seeing himself there, through her eyes. One thing catches her eye: Marie sitting in front of old men as they stick a needle onto her. He only hears blood rushing, barely catching his brothers’ explanation on ‘the Order of Guardians’ doing some sort of experiments on her.

His lip trembles. Her body. He never saw her body after the fall. He remembered feeling to numbed by her death to look for it.

Did they take her? Bring her back to life? Is she the same ?

Back in the Watchtower, she looked at him with so much unfamiliarity that he was paralyzed. Her eyes colored in a vibrant shade of blue are forever seared into his mind—they were never that blue before. They were just dull.

Damian runs before he realizes it. Away from the cave, away from the manor, away from the voices calling him back.

His body moves faster than his mind; he doesn't know what he should do or where he should go, but he's aching to do something. Serve revenge to those who hurt Marie, or sneak into the Watchtower himself to get her out of there. He swiftly takes hold of one of his father's jets, running through his options.

Tibet. The Order of the Guardians.

He curses himself for letting them get to her. He heard of them during his stay in the third base; another secret organization associated with magic, also located in the Tibetan range. As far as his knowledge goes, his aunt Nyssa was researching them at that time. Damian immediately shifts his flight to head east.

The maps show the location as he traces from memory; it is not too far from the League of Assassins' base. A stone temple sits up on top of a mountain, capped with a dome that has been damaged, exposing the entire. Damian wastes no time landing his aircraft and entering via the open dome.

The temple is practically in ruins. He wonders if it has any occupants at all—if he sees any of those monks, he vows not to hold back, even if he ends up killing. If the Justice League hasn't done it yet, he promises to wipe away the Order himself.

A flicker of movement in the dark catches his periphery. Damian immediately snaps his wrist to throw his knife. A shout follows after, as well as an echoing crunch of ceramic breaking.

“ Noooo, my cereal!”

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Fun Fact! It took Marinette a while to perfect her senti-double. Her primary reference is Ladybug's wax statue in the Paris Wax Museum. It also took her a while to not get creeped out by said double. No, the double doesn't speak unless she orders it to Taglist: @noisydreamlandkoala

#tw child abuse #tw suicide #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fic #daminette #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #tw blood #ggomoz #maribat damian wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #SS:H&G #tw panic attack

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mochinek0 · 1 year

Text

Agreste-Wayne 19

It was hard to believe one year had passed so quickly. Wayne Manor was filled with close friends and family, all to celebrate one person: Emma Lily Agreste. It was her first birthday and so much had changed since she was born.

Much to Gabriel's distaste, Adrien had found he preferred Gotham. Adrien and Emma had officially moved into Wayne Manor. Gabriel had hoped that Adrien would come back and at least work in the business section. He wouldn't have forced him to come to meetings or model. Unfortunately, he had found a job at Wayne Enterprise and was Tim's direct line to the science department. Perhaps, he was only sour that he had to leave Paris to see his granddaughter, but he had never seen his son happier.

Quickly, Gabriel found he had gained a new respect for Mrs. Wayne. Mairnette Wayne was a rival and comrade in fashion, whom he could bounce ideas off of. While his son was working, she was happy to allow him time with Emma and converse about the latest trends. They had their differences, but they could also call each other and complain about the competition. Eventually, not to anyone's surprise, they began to bounce around the idea of a collaboration.

"Happy Birthday, Princess!" Adrien cried, happily, as he took another picture.

"Papa!" Emma giggled.

"Okay, so we have the cake and presents ready!" the excited father spoke, "Nino, Kagami, Luka, and Alix are putting their stuff in their rooms."

"Yeah, after you shooed them away." Marinette smiled, "They barely said 'hi' to anyone."

"Shoot." he winced, "I'll apologize when they get back down."

"Amaya, Jun." Damian spoke, "Why don't you take Emma outside as we prepare the decorations. I believe her grandfather is here, as well."

"Yes, Baba." Amaya answered, picking up the birthday girl.

"I'll grab Titus!" Jun shouted, running out of the room.

Amaya and Jun quickly adapted to Emma as being their cousin. They loved spending time with her and Uncle Adrien. They had made some not to subtle remarks about wanting a younger sibling to the whole family, leaving Damian and Marinette bright red.

Marinette placed her hands on Adrien's shoulders, "Breathe. I know it's her first birthday and you want it to be special."

Adrien nodded in response.

"Spend time with her, take pictures, talk with your father, and let everyone spend time with her, too." Mari smiled, "That's what will make her birthday special. Not the flavor of the cake, not the decorations, and not the dinner. It will be when you see her eat cake and open presents."

Adrien smiled and pulled his best friend into a hug, "You always know what to say."

Nino, Kagami, Luka, and Alix came back downstairs.

"I'm sorry for forcing you to put your stuff away so fast!" Adrien apologized.

They all laughed. They could tell he was excited.

"Where is Little Emma?" Kagami questioned.

"She is outside." Damian interrupted, "The girls took her to play so we could finish setting up."

"Right; food will be inside." Marinette smiled, "Party, outside!"

"Where can we put her presents?" questioned Luka.

"Oh! In the dining room." Adrien cried out, "Cake, then presents!"

Alix laughed, "She'll probably pass out from the sugar rush and playing with her new toys."

Everyone placed their gifts for the birthday girl down. Nino lingered behind as the others went to see Emma.

"Need help?" he questioned.

"Sure." Mari answered.

Damian grabbed Marinette's hand and dragged her to the other side of the room.

Nino sighed as he followed Adrien to put up more streamers.

"She still...." the DJ began.

"Damian's overprotective." Adrien spoke, "He knows who you are and who you talk to."

Nino handed him a piece of tape, "Do you think she's okay?"

"Marinette read the blog." he answered, "She knows Alya is sorry, but she was hurt a lot by Alya's decisions back then. I don't think Mari's ready to forgive her yet."

"It's been almost a year." Nino stated.

Adrien sighed and turned to his friend, "I know, but in Mari's eyes, this never should have happened. Lila didn't need to have a blog written about her; she didn't need to be outted on tv."

"What do you mean?" his friend asked.

"All she wanted was for the people she grew up with, ten years ago, to listen to her. Alya never would have been fired from her job and she wouldn't be going to school for culinary because she can't find a job. In a way. Marinette thinks it's all her fault." Adrien explained, "If she tried harder to call her out, tried to prove more how Lila was lying. She's known Jagged Stone since she was thirteen. She's even thought what it would have been like to call him that day when Lila claimed to have tinnitus from saving his cat. She blames herself for Alya not getting her dream job. She knows how much it meant to her to be a journalist. That article spread far and wide. Even Lois Lane, Alya's idol, told her there wasn't really a way back from that. It would follow her no matter where she tried to apply."

Nino frowned. He never thought about how Marinette was dealing with this. He knew Marinette would never be on speaking terms with Lila. He thought eventually she'd speak to Alya since they had been best friends, but now he wasn't so sure. He had been getting closer to Alya, but he knew they would never get back together.

"Marinette doesn't wanna hear apologies." Adrien continued, "She can tell Alya is sorry. If anything, Mari would probably cry and say sorry to Alya. You guys are the closest people Mari talks to from Paris and half of them weren't even in that school."

Nino suddenly started to feel uncomfortable, "Did people really try to get her to find them jobs?"

The birthday girl's father nodded, "I asked Damian about it later. I had no clue, but he said he ended up blocked a couple numbers. They called her phone and at Wayne Enterprise. I think she was pregnant with Jun. He grabbed the phone and yelled at someone on how his wife wasn't responsible for the mistakes they made in the past. She had zero reason to help them now. He told them to spread the word around to the others because the next person from Bustier's class that called, he was gonna sue them for harassment."

"It was that bad?" Nino cried out.

The newest adopted Wayne nodded.

"Who called?" he hesitated to ask.

"I know Kitty Section didn't, but only because of Luka. He might not be with them anymore, but he called them idiots when he found out about everything. He told them that until they found solid proof of what Lila said was true and that Marinette was the liar, he wouldn't play with them. They had a concert that weekend, I think. Anyways, Juleka looked everywhere for Lila's old modeling shoots, aside from my father. Rose called Prince Ali. Ivan looked up about Jagged Stone."

"And that's how they found out." the DJ answered.

"Yep. Prince Ali had never heard of Lila or an environmental project. Ivan learned tha Jagged went to lots of animal charities and was seen holding cats. He wasn't allergic to fur, like she claimed. Also learned he's never owned a cat, but a dog as a child. Juleka only found the Gabriel brand. It was probably then she realized that Lila was never going to help her become a model. They apologized to him. They wanted to apologize and suggested going to the bakery. Luka had to tell them that she had left Paris because of the bullying. They didn't take it well and cancelled the concert."

Nino sat down, "That's what that was?"

"I think Mylene called once." Adrien spoke.

"Really?" his friend questioned, "Ivan and Mylene don't like confrontation."

"It wasn't about a job, though. I think she just wanted to apologize. Ivan tried to tell her, but Lila is her friend, so they argued. He showed her all the proof he found. Mylene even talked to Juleka and Rose, but she still didn't listen. Mylene left on a trip that was suppose to be paid for and had nowhere to stay when she got there. They had never heard of Lila Rossi. She ended up callign Ivan, in tears, that she couldn't reach Lila and had nowhere to stay. She was sobbing in the lobby. Ivan didn't have enough money either. Mylene had to work for her ticket back."

"I think Alix found out when Lila claimed to have an injury and she had the same one. Alix was on three different medications, could barely walk, and had her leg in a cast. Lila was limping around. Alix suggested going to a hospital, but Lila claimed to be fine. She told Kim later, but he didn't believe her. He said Lila was probably stronger than her for building houses for charity. She called and apologized for not realizing it sooner, especially all her phony injuries."

"Max did call looking for a job. Marinette told him 'No'. He complained how they needed someone like him to further the future of Wayne Enterprise. He reminded her that he created an AI at age thirteen. All she said was that he thought a paper napkin could take out his eye with glasses on. He hung up."

"A blow to the ego, then?" Nino questioned.

Adrien nodded and continued, "Chloe never cared. Sabrina went into psychology and realized just how bad Chloe and Lila were. She apologized to Marinette, but that's it. Nathanial might have been the one Damian yelled at, but I'm not sure."

Adrien took tons of pictures as Emma was passed around. She would waddle after Amya and Jun, with Titus by her side. She held onto his collar as she walked around the backyard in her dress. Emma was spoiled by her aunts and uncles. She smiled the whole day and looked just as excited as her father to have vanilla cake with strawberries. Gabriel was quick to help put Emma down to sleep as Adrien lugged her new toys and clothes to her room. Tom and Sabine offered to put Amaya and Jun to bed, as well. Gabriel went to check on his son and found him passed out, same position Emma was in.

'Definitely Father and Daughter. I wish you were here, Emile. We raised a fine young man and a great father.'

PERMANENT TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @thepaceperson

AGRESTE-WAYNE TAG LIST: @danielslilangel @pawsitivelymiraculous @crystalangelluna @tomanyfandomsonmymind @sassakitty @ichigorose @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

#mochinek0 #dc x mlb #marinette wayne #adrien agreste #platonic adrientte #damian wayne #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #luka couffaine #alix kubdel #kagami tsuguri #gabriel agreste #tom dupain #sabine cheng #titus #emma agreste #birthday #firsts

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intercoursefluids · 8 months

Text

Well That Happened Chapter 7

Damian dodged another boulder, pushing off a wall and out of the way just as it came crumbling down.

He looked over searching for Princess across the rooftops.

He was panting, which was surprising. He usually had much better stamina than this.

He spotted her, ducking for cover behind a wall. Looks like she was also getting winded.

He sprinted for her, ignoring the burning of his legs and the fire in his lungs. He needed to catch up with her, he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing other than staying with her.

He dodged around rubble, skirting around the edges of the sharp pieces.

The giant had lost sight of him, of them both. Which was a relief.

He dropped down beside her, finally having caught up.

She startled, kicking him in the stomach and springing up to her feet. Something was behind her, it looked like she was building something.

Her caught on his uniform and she winced, crouching down beside him and getting back to work.

“Sorry,” She called over her shoulder. “Didn’t know you were one of us.”

Damian groaned, sitting up. That was twice now that she had hit him in the stomach.

Once with her entire body, and once with her leg.

“No problem, what are you making?” He questioned, trying to get his breathing under control.

She held it up, turning to show him when she froze staring at his face.

Right. She had no idea he was here.

“What the fuck? Why? How?” She demanded, leaning into his space.

‘“Uh…” He replied, intelligently.

“I left you in America!” She declared before pausing. “I left you in America, didn’t I?”

He nodded, gently pushing her out of his space.

“Yes, you did. I got here by other means and, as luck would have it, I was paired with you by Pegasus.” He informed her, trying to decipher what she was holding in her hands.

It didn’t look like much, just a bundle of rope and some odd knots.

She groaned, leaning back.

“Of course he did. Anyway, hold this and follow me. Stick close.” She thrust the bundle of ropes at him, standing up and climbing over some rubble crouched down low.

Damian scrambled up, following after her.

They climbed up higher and higher, moving carefully to avoid notice.

“What is our objective? You seem to have something in mind.” Damian inquired, whispering in her ear when they stopped in the shade of a torn up wall.

She jumped slightly before shaking it off, pointing down towards a circling shadow before pointing up to the dragon that was causing it.

“That’s Fang. We are going to ride him to the center of the battle.” She informed him, scoping out a vantage point for them to jump onto the dragons back.

Damian took a deep breath because, of course this would be happening.

It was only natural that they ride an entire dragon to battle.

Today has already been so bizarre he may as well.

He could tell Jon about it when he got back to Gotham.

She started moving again, walking out into the open. They needed to cross this expanse of clear land in order to get up higher.

Damian started to follow her, glancing to the side as he did so.

He wasn’t expecting to see anyone else to be there so he was incredibly surprised to see someone dressed like they were in the Matrix.

That someone was raising a gun, aiming for Princess.

Damian shouted out for her, telling her to move.

She didn’t hesitate, diving for cover as soon as he had called out to her.

She wasn’t going to make it, Damian knew she wouldn’t.

He raced forward, shoving her further out of the way.

A beam of light grazed his side, just barely but it was enough.

He tumbled to the ground, hitting the back of his head on a rock hard enough that he was seeing stars.

Damian groaned, everything was fuzzy and there was a ringing in his ears.

He was dimly aware of someone pulling on his arms, trying to get him up.

He did his best to help, stumbling after them as they pulled him to what he could only presume was safety.

He was going to be sick.

Tag List:

@Dontbenddontbreak

@Its-maemain

@Toodaloo-kangaroo

@Doll246

@Jennifer-rose123

@Razzledazzle247

@Cydaeashootingstar

@Madhatter-crazyasahatter-blog

@miyatalksshit

@Vroomtaka

@animegirlweeb

@rosesandsailboats

@depressed-bitchy-demon

#maribat #ml x dc #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #marinette x damian #maridami

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yjhariani · 2 years

Text

Movie Night Banter

Jason Todd X Reader (GN) Word Count: ±760 Warning: Mostly dialogue. I am not used to writing in this form of sentences, might be awkward.

A/N: This is another chance where I submit to my Kahlil Gibran obsession and I do need something to make me feel better about myself lately so I write something that I can indulge something that I learn from college into. As always, further context and resource will be at the end of the piece.

Sometimes, movie night goes emotional. This time, surprisingly, is because of a book to film adaptation. Book to animated film to be exact.

It does sound like something not even Damian would choose to watch. However, it all started last night. Also, yes, Damian was involved.

"This week's theme is book to film adaptation. I say we go with The Portrait of the Lady on Fire," Jason begins.

"No."

"Anything Stephen King?"

"No!"

"Give me suggestions, then," Jason whines.

"My friend just returned from Bali and they did recommend some local books and films. I think they mentioned something about 5 cm and Rainbow Troop. You know, it's just that Rainbow Troop one isn't about queer people," Y/N explains.

"We have foreign film next week," Jason shrugs.

Y/N takes a moment, really thinking about what they think will make Jason be a little emotional.

"What about," Y/N puts a finger on Jason's chest, "The Prophet?"

"I don't think the Bible counts as a book in this category, darlin'," Jason chuckles.

"First, I'm glad you got that right. Kahlil Gibran indeed was a Christian. Second, it's nothing religious. Third, let's invite Damian," Y/N lists, with a mischievous smile.

"What?" Jason raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, Mr I-Spend-My-Free-Time-Reading-Poetry never touched The Prophet?" Y/N scoffs, but immediately cringes, "That sounds wrong."

"Oh, that one," Jason exhales.

Y/N nods in confirmation.

After a moment of consideration, Jason nods.

"Okay. We're not inviting Damian, tho," Jason states. "Can you at least give me a recap of the book? I don't think I'll have time to read it."

"I can't. It's too complex. I'm surprised you haven't read it," Y/N says.

"It's not really my domain," Jason admits.

"One time you made an elaborate presentation about Mahmoud Darwish because you interpret his poem differently from Damian," Y/N recalls.

"We don't talk about it," Jason points out.

***

Now, almost twenty-four hours later, Jason and Y/N are in the middle of the film and Jason aggressively pauses the film. He brushed his hair back with his fingers as he leans forwards, putting his elbows on his knees.

Y/N follows the gestures, a little concern. They put a hand on Jason's back.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

"I can't continue watching this," Jason says, turning towards Y/N, his eyes darkened. "I need to read the book first and that," Jason points at the screen, "if we ever... get married, I want that to be read in our wedding."

Y/N lets out a chuckle.

"Now, give me the book," Jason seriously says.

"Oh, Jason, we can continue watch—"

"I can't," Jason insists. "I need the book!"

"I don't have it, darling," Y/N calmly says. "There's ebooks on the internet."

"No! I want the book," Jason clarifies.

Y/N looks at Jason, seeing his frown. There is a sense of need in his eyes. With that, Y/N holds Jason's hand.

"Damian has it," Y/N informs.

Jason huffs out a blow of air.

"I'll head to his place, then. I'm sorry we have to cancel tonight," Jason says.

"Oh," Y/N chuckles, "I'll keep watching and by the time you return, I'd have finished the movie, sobbing my eyes out, and you're a few pages into the book, also sobbing your eyes out. We'd be crying together all night long. Won't that be romantic?"

"I won't... cry," Jason emphasised.

***

Y/N wakes up with Jason cuddled on their chest. Looking at the window, they see that it is morning already, with the sunshine sliding underneath the curtain.

"Hey," Y/N softly greets, brushing Jason's hair with their fingers.

As a response, Jason lets out a hum without opening his eyes.

"Were you up all night?" Y/N asks.

"I finished the book and watched the movie," Jason murmurs.

"Yeah?" Y/N replies. "How long'd you cry?"

"I didn't cry," Jason insists, "longer than fifteen minutes."

Y/N exhales a bit of air through their nose.

"I won't tell anyone," Y/N promises before pressing a kiss onto Jason's forehead.

Jason lets out a hum before he mumbles, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Y/N replies. "Now, I'm gonna get up and cook breakfast."

"Let's be together when the white wings of death scatter our days," Jason quotes.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes," Y/N chuckles.

"Just... five minutes? Until I fall asleep?" Jason bargains.

Y/N cannot help but smile.

"Alright," Y/N agrees, once more kissing Jason's forehead, which Jason returns with a kiss on their chest.

The Prophet (Book; Project Gutenberg)

The Prophet (Movie; Trailer)

On Marriage (from the book)

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #mind dump

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batstorm93672 · 1 year

Text

Dick got up from the sofa letting Kory keep watching Full House as he went to the door. "Who is it?" "Might be Damian, I invited him over"

Opening the door, Damian was on his phone with his other hand on Titus. He looked at Dick and turned off his phone with a small frown. "I got your text" "So glad you could make it" "Yes well, I suppose it's been awhile" Titus almost knocked Dick down as he barked "Yeah Titus was excited to know we were arriving here"

Titus licked Dick's face and went to Kory next. "How's everything going Dami?" "It's fine. Stopped a few crimes here and there, spoke to Stephanie not too long ago. How are you?" "Blüdhaven is doing good, as are we" "...has he asked recently?" "No. I think he's still taking time, it seems he's putting in effort to give you some space" "Tt. How pleasant"

Damian looked worn out, bags under his eyes, kinda pale too. It's months since the incident, he hasn't been the same.

"So, you want to go out and get some pizza?"

"Oh! While you two go for pizza, can Titus stay with me? He's a really good boy, aren't you?" Titus's tail wagged as he barked, Damian sighed and a small smile peeked out "You may, I entrust your care for him. Titus be good"

Dick grabbed another slice and Damian huffed "Isn't that your third slice Richard? Such a glutton" "Hey, if it's good, it's good" Damian rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed his second slice. "So have you been drawing lately?" "Mhm" "Could I see?" "No"

That came out with more force than Damian intended based on how his face flushed. "I mean, no. I'd rather you not" "That's fair, how have you been feeding Titus by the way?" "I have money and a bag full of supplies, a bag of food and treats are accompanied" "Nice"

Damian agreed to sleeping over, he curled up with Titus in the guest room. Dick settled into bed as Kory yawned. "How has he been doing?" "I don't really know, he's been distant" "Damian being distant? I'm surprised" Dick shook his head and chuckled "Come on Kor. He's more distant and he's rejected every single time I ask if he would like to live with us until he feels ready" "I would enjoy it if he stayed, he's hard on the outside, but he's nice and a joy to be around if you stick long enough" "Yeah... but Alfred's death really hurt him. Not to mention Bruce saying that it was his fault, he fucked up and I'm sure he didn't mean it. But still... he's so young, saying such a thing about a man who he adored is insane" "I'm sure Damian will be ready and whenever that is, Bruce will be delighted to see him" "Yeah. I just hope he's okay, he looks so out of it" "Come, let's go to sleep. For now, Damian is safe and well"

Dick stretched, giving Kory a kiss on the forehead before getting his slippers on and leaving to check the guest room.

Knocking to hear no response, he was most likely sleeping. Opening the door to see Damian with his knees to his chest, keeping his head buried in the gap. The blanket was tossed to the floor, a few pillows ripped open, Titus resting with his head lying on Damian's feet with a small whine when Dick came and there were crumpled papers everywhere. "Bad night... hey Dami" Dick walked in, stepped on a piece of paper and opened it...

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

That...

Oh my god he is not okay

It's a vivid drawing of that night

Alfred was tied to a chair sitting down, a dark shadow behind as his head went limp to the side, looking at the other papers it was all the same. Sometimes Bane was the one behind, others it was Robin or it was a shadow of sorts.

Damian's shoulders suddenly went up and he tried to bring himself closer in. "Damian..." From the way his body was... he was crying, yet he made no noise and from that... he ran out of tears to cry. Dick got closer, Titus closed his eyes and rubbed his snout against Damian's hand that hung to the side. Damian didn't react.

"Hey, it's Dick. I see you had a bad night, would you like anything?"

Damian inhaled it was full of shudders as he then deflated. "I..." Damian coughed, clearing his throat. "I can't do it Richard. I can't handle this, I can't handle anything. I said I wouldn't kill, I failed. I'm horrible, I can't handle being an Al Ghul or Wayne. I should have never been Robin or a part of the Wayne family. If I never showed then Pennyworth would be alive. Mother should have either never birthed me or never gave me to father. It was a mistake to bring me about"

"Damian... please don't say that. You're amazing, it wasn't your fault and I know Alfred knows that. He loves you, we all love you. You are a hero, we just experience loss, it hurts but it happens. So we have to keep going, keep going for Alfred, for the family and most of all for yourself. Do you really want to give up now?"

"Sometimes... I do. I really do. But I can't. It wouldn't be fair to Pennyworth if I did that. And I don't want to go to Hell knowing my last sin was killing a beloved family member"

Damian lifted his head up, eyes red matching his tear stained face. Dick hugged him and closed his eyes. "It's okay. You'll be okay, it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could and Alfred knows that too. He loves you" Damian unwrapped his arms from his chest and hesitated before hugging Dick. "I want him back... I want him back" "I know... we all do"

#damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #kory anders #dick x kory #dickory #tw death mention #not me actually liking to input alfred's death for the angst #fuck it's because it has so much angst potential #titus #titus is his emotinal support and we all know it #anyways gonna go sob or something i don't know #*slams fist on table*#I AM WEAK #THE ANGST IS MY ACHILLES HEEL #i'm totally okay

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bluebellhairpin · 3 years

Text

Not Jealous

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

A/N: So I worked on this instead of like, five other things that people want but hey - gal’s gotta have her vices. - Nemo

Summary: Even after years of fancy gatherings, Bruce wants nothing more than to give in to his introvert nature and run away from them. You however, have taught him that after sticking it out, they might not be so bad.

Warnings: Flirting. Bruce get’s jealous but not really ‘cause Batman doesn’t get jealous. Reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as uh ‘wife’ multiple times.

Listening to: ‘Can’t Take My Eye’s Off You’ by Frankie Valli - ‘Pardon the way that I stare, there's nothin' else to compare... You're just too good to be true.’

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Gala’s were something that Bruce never really liked.

As Bruce Wayne - the billionaire, playboy, golden child, Prince of Gotham - he couldn’t get to enough of them.

As Batman - the brooding, ‘I work alone but not really’, Protector of Gotham - he avoided them at all costs.

But as himself - the friend, father, husband, Bruce - his thoughts on such events could only be described as apathetic.

Over the years he grew a very nice façade to hide how he truly felt. After the entrance of his wife, and then each child that followed, it became easier to fake, and he did have to admit they became a little more enjoyable with proper company anyway.

Of course, the first time he saw she who would be his wife at one of these events, she was hanging off the arm of some blond, tanned, rich member of high society. From his knowledge and meetings with her on the streets she wasn’t exactly supposed to be enjoying it as much as she looked like she was.

Turns out she was one great faker too.

Over the course of the past seventeen-ish years, Bruce got to know the various ways you dealt with these gala’s.

While he was tempted with the recluse lifestyle everyday, you managed to get him out of the house when it was needed. Even if it was a big house, he still needed to get out of it sometimes.

With the outings you used to force him on, he was able to learn a thing or two from you. You weren’t born into wealth like he was, and you never had it until you married him, but you took to it like a fish to water. Well, the avoiding attention part anyway. In fact, when it came to going to gala’s with you, he was surprised at how little attention you drew when you didn’t want it.

The first time you went as a couple, and then again as a married couple, were the worst as far as being left alone went, and he did expect it. Newspapers craved that sort of thing.

After that, when it was just him and you, the most you were asked of was the journey between the car and the front door thanks to the press and media - once inside you could sulk away to a corner or table, get up for a dance or two, loiter at the bar and then go home without anymore than a half dozen people approaching. Those were very good nights for Bruce, mainly because on those nights he’d rather be anywhere else.

As if he didn’t feel that way about them anyway.

But lately your trick of not gaining attention at the gala’s wasn’t working anymore. It wasn’t that people were noticing him again, no it was because they were noticing you.

Namely someone kept noticing you.

“You both have never looked more alike.”

Tim slid into a set opposite Bruce and Damian. Bruce had a crystal tumbler filled with ginger ale pressed to his lips, unmoving as his eyes locked onto where you stood across the room. Damian was in the exact same position, whether knowingly or not, and was sending a glare towards the man who was looking far too happy about talking to you.

“We are kind of literally related, Tim.” Bruce mumbled, sipping his drink before setting it down and leaning back in his seat.

“He’s too close.” Damian whispered.

“I know.”

“She could get uncomfortable soon.”

“I know.”

“If it bothers you so much then either of you could go over there and whisk her away.” Tim said, shaking his head a little. “Bruce could pull out his charisma, or the gremlin could pretend to ask for a dance with his mother all cute and mother-son-like.”

Damian switched his glare over to Tim.

“Why don’t you go and fix it since you’re so smart?”

“‘Cause it’s not bothering me as much as it is you.” Tim laughed. Bruce looked between his two sons, then up to where you and the man were talking. “She can handle herself. Plus he’s way below her league anyway, if she doesn’t know that then something’s wrong.”

“You don’t think Ummi’s being mind controlled right now, do you?” Damian asked, sitting straighter and squinting a little. “We should go home and -”

Bruce stood, patting Damian’s shoulder as he pushed his chair back in, and then strode over to your side.

As usual, you noticed his approach with barely having to look, and reached out an arm as he pressed his side to yours. His arm wound it’s way around your waist, and he offered his free hand to the man whose conversation he probably just ruined.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.” he said, lips tight in one of the best and believable fake smiles he’s put on in his entire life.

“Henry Syrus.” The man said, stepping to match Bruce’s fake pleasantries with his own, “I was just having the most wonderful conversation with your darling wife about the art pieces here.

“Next time you should compare novelty keychains.” Bruce’s voice was light, but you could tell there was a little something underneath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take her away for a dance before the night dies down too much.”

So without another word, Bruce swept you away and onto the dancefloor with the hoard of other swaying couples.

“You need to practice that.”

“Practice what?” he asked, looking down at you as his fingers intertwined with yours.

“The ‘I’m taking my wife away from someone who makes me feel like they’re making her feel weird’ thing you just pulled.” you said, a small smile twitching onto your features from your lips up to your eyes - your first genuine smile of the night - and Bruce was proud to think it was because of him.

“I did that?” he mused, feigning thought for a moment, “I don’t think I did.”

“Well you weren’t jealous. Everyone - including you! - says Bruce Wayne does not get jealous.” Bruce spun you away, and then back closer to him again. Closer than before.

“I don’t need to get jealous, I know you can’t resist me.” he mumbled against your ear, then pressed a kiss to your cheekbone before leaning back some again. “That’s why you keep sticking around.”

“I thought I stuck around because you’re filthy rich and never at home, so that I have the place to do as I please.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, chuckling, “Now you’re really teasing me.”

“I’m just getting started.” you said, a sly glint in your eye that made his arm around you tighten.

“Oh? Dare I ask what else you have in store?” he replied, preparing to meet whatever you came up with. You hummed at him, surveying the room and fellow dancers before looking back up at him again.

“I’m gonna take you home, pull you into our bedroom, and take you out of this monkey suit -”

“- it’s a tux, not a suit -”

“- I’m going to take you out of this tuxedo,” you corrected, tugging on his tie as he smiled down at you, “And then we’re gonna sleep for twelve. Whole. Hours.” He groaned.

“You love me so much. You know exactly what to say. You treat me so well.”

“I know.” you said, smiling up at him. He couldn’t help but press his lips to yours in something a little longer than a peck, and you hummed again. “Now you’re making Henry jealous with all the faces you’re making.”

“How can you tell, you can’t see him?” he asked. Looking over, he was able to see that, yes, the man you were with before wasn’t looking incredibly happy at the moment.

“I’m a mother of at least five children, Bruce. And I have to deal with you. I can tell when someone’s glaring at my back.”

“I do glare a lot.” He grimaced. “I should’ve known better.”

“Underestimate me again and you’ll pay for it.”

“And if I do then you can name your price, my dear.”

#The adventures of batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #batman x batmom #batfam x reader #batfam x batmom #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne one shot #batman imagine #batman one shot #damian wayne x batmom #tim drake x batmom

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lily-drake · 3 years

Note

Twin!Sibling Tim and Marinette where Tim is digging into his parents old files one day and discovers he had a younger twin sibling that was given up cause she wasn't planned. Tim does what Tim does best starts tracking down where she was sent/adopted to and finds out she's in Paris. Marinette has always known she was adopted and doesn't even bat an eye when he shows up. Basically they bond over coffee/riddles/problem solving, and discover each other hero identities.

Siblings don’t shake hands, siblings gotta hug!

sorry this took so long!

Tim didn’t want to be at the manor. He was tired, and it wasn’t because he hadn’t slept in like 4 days, no his tiredness was bone deep. It has been a year now since he was proven right that Bruce was indeed alive. He was right, but Dick never apologized, Damian was still trying to kill him, Jason was still doing his thing in Crime Alley, and as long as he stayed far away from there he would be fine. Bruce, at least he had thanked him when Tim had pulled him out of the time stream. But that wasn’t enough, because he never stopped Damian’s many attempts to kill him, he often let Jason, his also attempted murderer, into the manor whenever the guy wanted! Dick had even threatened to send him to Arkham for even suggesting that Bruce was alive, and would you look at that, he is! So no, he didn’t feel safe at the manor. And yes, he was tired of doing so much for everyone and having to be trampled on and thrown away for someone or something new.

He didn’t know why he was at Drake Manor. Honestly this place wasn’t any better, but he knew that no one would ever think to look here. So he let the back of his mind take control and he wandered through old dusty rooms. He was honestly surprised Bruce was still spending his money to keep this place. He was wandering through his father’s old office and saw a filing cabinet. Why not, Tim thought tiredly as he opened one of the drawers and he was met with files upon files. Some mindless work would be good for him, it would keep his mind off of his horrible thoughts and the feelings he really didn’t need right now.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just going through old documents, bills, reports, but it was fine. Well it was fine until he stumbled upon a birth certificate that wasn’t his own. It was a girl’s certificate, she was born the same day, of the same year, two minutes after him. Tim sat there staring down at the piece of paper before his mind basically exploded and he was a flurry. He was going through the metal cabinet drawers much faster. He pulled out everything he could find on “Marinette”, and that’s when he stumbled upon a journal entry inside one of the envelope that held his —oh my gosh, he had a little sister, he wasn’t alone anymore; shut up, he’s not crying— apparent sister’s name on it.

19 July ####

Stupid child. We didn’t know that this stupid girl was going to disrupt our plans! We don’t need another heir, especially not a girl. This might just set back our plans for Tim… unless we get rid of her. Nobody has to know who she is, not even her if we put her up for adoption. I’ll have to run it by Janet first, but I may have just found the answer to the problem.

Tim felt disgusted, how could his parents do something like this?! Tim imagined what it would have been like to live with his apparent twin and thought how much better and warm it could have been. Tim came to a decision, he was going to find her, he was going to meet her, he had to make sure that she was in a good home and that hi-er, their parents hadn’t just shipped her off to some random family that could be hurting her. So that’s what he did. After collecting all the information he could find and stuffing it into one of the manilla folders he ran back to the manor and to his room where his personal laptop sat on his desk.

_______

Marinette always knew she was adopted. While she had many similarities to Sabine, she knew she couldn’t be her real mom. She was different from them, and while she had learned so many things from them and she was so happy, she knew that she was missing something. She had always felt some sort of loss, and it wasn’t their fault, but at the same time it might have been. So when she saw a boy around her age with dark black hair and eyes so similar to hers she could just feel a connection. It felt like something had just fallen into place and the world was finally beginning to be complete. The two stared at each other for what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes before he approached her.

“Umm..h-hey. Um,”

He awkwardly cleared his throat before continuing.

“I’m Tim Drake, and I know this is going to sound weird…but I think I’m your twin brother.”

Marinette blinked a few times before a wide smile spread across her lips.

“It’s great to meet you Tim! I’m Marinette, though I’m sure you already knew that.”

They both chuckled at that before the awkward silence surrounded them once more.

“Sooo….would you like some coffee?”

Marinette asked, noticing the tired posture that her —she had a brother, a twin no less, that’s so cool— brother’s exhausted posture.

“Wait, you're just going to take my word for it?!”

He asked incredulously. Marinette rolled her eyes at that as she went behind the counter of the bakery and began a brew of her special all-nighter coffee.

“We have the same eyes, hair, and how dare you be a bad influence to me when I haven’t even met you!”

She joked, but he looked confused.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week, and I’ve been there, done that, and I know I’ll do it again.”

Tim didn’t have anything to say to that, because he was the older sibling, and he was a bad influence, even from an ocean away. How could he fall into such a bad habit and let his sister think it was okay to do it too?! A large cup of coffee was placed in front of his face breaking him out of his stupor. He carefully took it and gave her an awkward smile.

“Thank you.”

He said sheepishly. He slowly took a sip of the hot drink and his eyes widened with wonder and delight.

“Magical coffee goddess, I worship you. This is the best coffee ever. I’m so glad we’re related right now!”

Marinette giggled and played along tilting her chin the air in a ‘better-than-you’ sort of way,

“Of course you should worship me. I am your sister and thus I obviously deserve all of the praise.”

They made eye contact and began laughing again.

“Follow me, mama and papa made some cookies upstairs.”

“Really?!”

Tim said with hope and pure joy. Marinette could see the loneliness in his eyes, and she understood it. They both carried a burden, maybe they had more similarities than they would ever truly know.

“So, do tell brother-o-mine, what are your hobbies?”

Marinette asked as she opened the apartment door that led to the main room. He thought over for a bit as they settled on the barstools in front of the counter where the cookies sat in a pile atop a decorated plate.

“Well, I like photography, I do a lot of tech stuff, I solve cold cases, and solving riddles is fun.”

He said before nibbling shyly on a cookie, like nobody had ever really cared or asked what he liked to do. Marinette was going to change this, he was family and he should be treated as such, which means she’s going to treat like he’s the most important person. And considering their twins he is!

“Oh? Ok then Tim-Tam,”

He made a confused face but didn’t say anything,

“I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”

Tim's eyes widened before they sparkled with a bright happy gleam. He took another bit, a bigger one this time, of the cookie and swallowed before easily replying,

“An echo.”

Marinette nodded her head and held her hand up, he looked at it for a second confusedly before he realized what she was doing. He quickly high fived her back and her bright smile made him so happy. Was he doing this right, Damian had never given him a chance to be an older brother, he was even kicked out so he really didn’t know if he was doing anything right. But she looked happy, and it seemed genuine, so maybe he was?

“Alright, my turn.”

He said, and after a bit of thought said,

“White bird, featherless. Flying out of paradise. Flying over sea and land. Dying in my hand. What is it?”

Marinette had never heard of this one, but she was determined to figure it out. She took another cookie from the plate and began to eat it as she thought.

“Could you repeat it please?”

He smirked and did. She would wipe that smirk off his face, she would not surrender!!! After a few more minutes it hit her an she smiled brightly,

“A snowflake!”

Tim wanted to feel upset, he did, really! But her smile was so bright and she looked so happy and prideful, he couldn’t help but smile too. Marinette opened her mouth to ask him another riddle when her Akuma alert went off. She glared at it before she sighed and stood up.

“I’ll be right back Tim, I just need to grab something in my room, okay?”

Tim hesitated a little but nodded silently and gripped his hands together. Marinette wanted to scream, because of course he had abandonment issues. She was going to kill whoever hurt her —she didn’t know who was older, she’d have to ask— brother in such a way.

“Tim, I promise that I will be back, and I’m not trying to get away from you. I want to get to know you, I just need to take care of this, okay?”

Tim could feel tears stinging at the back of his eyes at her words. How long had he been waiting for someone to say that to him? That they weren’t going to run from him, that they would stay, that they actually would come back?

“Okay.”

He whispered not daring to meet her eyes for fear that she would see his weakness. He could hear her feet on the stairs and the door close and then he waited anxiously for her to return.

It felt like hours that she had been gone, but when he checked his phone again it had been, half an hour. He bit his lip in anticipation and came to a decision he would knock on her door and ask if she needed help with anything. If she was working on some project it would be rude of him not to try to help her in some way. So he carefully made his way up the stairs and knocked on the door.

“Marinette, do you need any help?”

There was no reply and it was silent in there. It was too silent for someone to not be in there. And he was a paranoid man, so could you blame him for opening the door, and when she wasn’t there looking around? When he heard a thump come from the loft bed he quickly looked up and took a defensive stance only to see a lady in ladybug themed spandex and ladybug themed mask, and the suit was disappearing into magical pink sparkles, and his sister was staring at him instead of the ladybug girl, and oh, his sister was the ladybug girl.

“I’m the most terrible, horrible, absolute worst, influence to ever exist. The worst big brother to ever exist.”

Tim groaned, burying his face in his hands. Of course she was also a superhero. When was anyone he called family not one?! Marinette did not expect or understand his reaction. How was he such a terrible influence, it’s not like he was a-unless he was. So he was the older twin, question answered at least.

“What hero are you?”

She asked as she stared down at her brother from her bed.

“Red Robin, in Gotham.”

He groaned, face still covered.

“Well, want to meet the rest of the team? We were planning to meet for ice cream soon.”

Tim looked at her eyes shining with emotion.

“Just like that? You’re just going to accept it, except me so easily?”

Marinette hopped down and hugged her brother tightly and felt her heart ache as he practically melted into her touch.

“Of course! You’re my brother, my family, and I’ll never leave my family behind, ever.”

They had both lost people important in their lives, both been betrayed in ways they weren’t able to talk about quite yet, but one day they would.

______

Tim had begun to zeta to Paris almost every other day to visit Marinette, and sometimes he would stay with her for weeks on end. Tom and Sabine were such genuine and sweet people and he had never felt so loved then he did in her house or with her and her friends. Chloe, Luka, Kagami, Adrien, and Juleka were some of the most genuine and protective people he had ever met. He would often patrol with them, and when Adrien using his bo staff as a sword finally got to him, taught the kid how to use his precious child properly. With his spare time he would help them track down Hawkmoth and help them narrow down the suspect list.

He had been gone from Gotham for almost a month now and all of them were just chilling in Chloe’s room. Luka was strumming some soft melodies on his guitar, Juleka, Chloe, and Marinette were talking about designs, and Adrien and Kagami were talking about fencing techniques. Tim looked up from his laptop, he had been doing WE work from here and attending meetings via video call, and picked up the camera he had brought with him from the table next to him. He set his laptop aside and stood in a corner of a room getting the perfect angle to capture the serenity of the moment. He stared down at the picture with a gentle smile and went back to his spot on the couch only for Marinette to lay down across his lap.

He smiled gently at his little sister. She seemed to understand how touched staved he was, but knew how it was awkward for him to be touched or held for long periods of times. So, she would often just lay in his lap and let him control the amount of touch that happened, he would often just run his fingers through her hair, and when the roles were reversed she would do the same for him. He liked being able to fall asleep to her gentle touches. They may have only officially met about 3 months ago, but it felt like they’d known each other their entire lives even though they were separated. Suddenly his computer began to fuzz out and…he knew Oracle’s work when he saw it. He sighed tiredly and leaned his head on the back of the couch as his brothers’ faces popped onto the screen along with Oracle herself. He had been ignoring their texts and calls all week, he should have seen this coming.

“Tim! We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks! We could really use your help right now!”

Tim grumbled tiredly under his breath as Marinette stared at the screen that held the faces of Dick, Damian, and Barbara.

“Tt. We don’t need the pretender’s help, we’re just fine on our own. In fact we’re better off without him completely.”

The small boy with green eyes said. She glared at the screen and she could tell her friends were glaring as well. Before Tim could do or say anything she snatched the laptop and made sure her face showed through the camera.

“What the-“

“Who are you?”

“Shut. Up.”

Marinette said darkly as she glared at the screen. Damian went to open his mouth but she beat him to the punch.

“You will never, and I mean never call my brother that again. And none of you have even noticed where he’s been! None of you are worried about him?! All you care about is what he can give you, what he can do for you, right?”

It was silent on the other end, everybody shocked at the words she was saying, specifically the “brother” part.

“I’ve dealt with people like you before. Always wanting something, always asking, never caring about the person doing it. You just expect it to be done even if they have other things they need or have to do. And when it isn’t done you guilt or shame him, don’t you?!”

It was silent and she could tell she was right by the way two of them went pale, the other just crossed his arms and looked away definitely.

Her team was coming up to the camera and they made sure that the people saw their faces.

“Never call here again unless it’s for an apology or it’s the end of the world. He's ours, and I’m going to make sure he’s protected from people like you.”

Then she shut the laptop. Tim looked at his little sister and her, no, their friends with shock and utter joy. He could feel warm tears begin to flow down his face and his family…yea, family were hugging him and reassuring him. He loved it here, and he was so thankful he found his little sister. He could share anything with her, and she never judged him, in fact she just up and helped him. He made sure he did the same for her, and they often spent late nights working together and helping each other.

“Thank you Bean, and everyone. Thank you.”

“We love you too Tim-Tam. We'll always be here. Because family don’t shake hands.”

“Family hugs.”

He finished. It was a joke as after the first time they met before he left he held out his hand for a handshake, but instead she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Yea, he loved his family, and he was happy that they were always there for him.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.”

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf.

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels.

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons.

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be.

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

------------------------------

+ Childhood

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batman x daughter #batman x daughter!reader #bruce wayne's daughter #batman's daughter #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #clark kent x platonic!reader #superman x platonic!reader

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j3ssisam3ss · 3 years

Text

Childhood Friends - Fluff

For @animebookworm16

It got kind of long and I’m not really sure it still counts as fluff, but here’s my piece for @maribat-angst-fluff-april, prompt 25, Childhood Friends.

Damian Al Ghul-Wayne was five years old the first time he met a girl his age. And in typical League of Assassins style, he went for efficiency by meeting ten at once.

“These are your betrothed,” Talia told him. “All but one will be dead by your twelfth birthday. You will marry the sole survivor on your eighteenth birthday and produce an Heir to carry on the great legacy of the League of Assassins.”

Nine of the girls heard the words without so much as a flinch. The last stared in shock at Talia, then broke into tears.

“Quiet, Marinette,” Talia hissed.

“No,” she yelled defiantly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I want my mama!”

Talia backhanded her and she fell to the floor with a yelp.

Damian surveyed the girl – Marinette – with distaste.

“Mother, surely you don’t consider this sniveling coward worthy to compete for my hand?”

“Her mother, Sabine Cheng, was our best assassin for years before she turned traitor. I suppose she’s lost her touch if she raised such a weak daughter.” Talia shrugged elegantly. “No matter, if she turns out to be useless, we’ll ship her mutilated corpse back to Sabine as a reminder of what happens when you cross the League.”

She waved the girls away. “To your training now.”

Damian watched as Marinette sniffled and followed the other girls out the door.

She won’t last a week.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was five years old the first time she won a fight. And in typical Dupain-Cheng fashion, she did so in the most unpredictable way possible.

“You’re going down, pigtails,” shouted a pretty brunette, charging at Marinette with a sword that was as tall as she was.

With a startled shriek, Marinette darted away. She hated how behind she was here. Back home, she was good at everything – reading circle, art class, tussles when the teacher’s back was turned. Here, it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up.

Not to mention, the constant threat of death was not fun.

Skidding around a corner of the labyrinth arena, she tripped over a protruding stone and fell to the ground. The brunette grinned viciously, advancing towards her.

Marinette smiled nervously. “Can’t we talk this out?”

“Not a chance, shortie,” said the brunette.

Marinette glanced around frantically.

I don’t want to die!

She reached for a rock, a stick, anything that could help her fight, but came up with only a handful of sand. With a pleading glance heavenward, she flung it into the brunette’s face and lurched to her feet, grinning when the girl had to stop to get the grit out of her eyes.

Taking off into the labyrinth of passages, she nearly stumbled again, this time over a nearly buried metal object.

She shifted away the dirt surrounding it and smirked. “Finally, a weapon I know how to use.”

Ten minutes later, the watching League members straightened in surprise as the smallest and weakest of Damian’s betrotheds utterly decimated her opponent.

With a frying pan.

“What are you doing here?”

The two children spoke in unison, glaring daggers at one another.

“I always come here,” Marinette said. “It’s my drawing spot.”

“The vents are my domain, Dupain-Cheng,” Damian said. “Get out.”

Two years’ worth of resentment and anger simmered beneath Marinette’s skin.

Drawing is the last thing I have of home. I won’t let him take it from me.

“No.”

Damian looked thunderstruck and Marinette couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.

“I am Heir to the Demon! You will obey me!”

“You may be Heir to the Demon, but right now you’re also a kid skipping classes,” Marinette argued. “And if you make me leave, I’ll tell Talia exactly where you go when you’re not in class.”

Ha, take that, you tyrant!

Damian froze. Marinette watched as emotions overtook his face – anger, resentment, then acceptance.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Marinette smiled and returned to her sketchbook – which wasn’t really a sketchbook, just some loose papers she’d tucked into her history book.

A few minutes later, Damian peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing,” she said, holding out a few of her older sketches, the ones she wouldn’t mind losing if Damian decided to rip them. “There’s your mother fighting, cook making soup, the sunset from this other spot in the vents – actually, that one’s pretty bad because I didn’t have any colors.”

Damian stared at the drawing of his mother.

“I’m keeping this,” he announced.

Well, at least he didn’t tear it up.

The next week, when Marinette arrived at her drawing spot, Damian was already there. With an annoyed grunt, he shoved a sketchbook and colored pencils into her hands.

Marinette looked between him and the supplies in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“Teach me how to draw.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking longingly at the colored pencils. Then, she pushed them back towards Damian.

“I want you to give me weapons training. As often as I teach you drawing.”

I may be naturally talented at combat, but the other girls have been training their entire lives. I need to catch up.

Damian eyed her suspiciously. “That’s against the rules.”

“So? Are you scared?”

“Never.”

“Then it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.”

Damian lunged, making a displeased noise when his quarry danced out of his reach.

“You’re slow today, Dami,” Marinette teased. “Losing your touch?”

Marinette was no longer the scared little girl she’d been at five, or even at seven. She’d thrown herself into her training with single-minded determination and two years of training with Talia by day and Damian by night had made her a formidable – and snarky – combatant.

“Never,” Damian replied. His next attack nearly threw her off-balance.

With a grunt, Marinette recovered her footing and countered with a flurry of blows that would have left a lesser opponent dizzy.

Damian smirked, parrying each attack easily. “Completely mediocre. Should I tell my mother that her protégé is slipping?”

Although he’d never admit it, Damian was proud of her. She’d gone from being the worst of the League’s trainees to the only one able to keep up with him in a fight.

“Me? Slipping? Not a chance.” Marinette flipped backwards, knocking his weapon away. “Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Marinette?” He scooped up his katana, readying himself for her next move.

“The floor is lava.”

With a startled intake of air, he leaped onto the nearest table.

“Really?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused.

Marinette giggled, peering down at him from her spot in the ceiling rafters. “I thought we could use an extra challenge.”

Damian glanced up at her. “You just like having the high ground.”

“Technically speaking, it’s the high rafter,” she pointed out.

“Either way, it won’t prevent me from defeating you,” Damian said, pulling himself into the rafters.

At that moment, the door opened and they both immediately went still.

“Damian? Are you here?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Skipping again?” she mouthed.

Damian shrugged in response.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette gestured to the vents behind him. “I’ll meet you in the lower training rooms to finish our bout.”

“Marinette!” The teacher startled as she caught a glimpse of the pigtailed girl. “What are you doing up there?”

Effortlessly, the girl swung down from the ceiling, drawing the teacher’s attention away from Damian’s hiding place.

“Just improving my arm strength, Mistress Eva.” As she distracted his teacher with false information about his whereabouts, Damian climbed into the vents.

Marinette makes a surprisingly tolerable ally.

It didn’t seem to matter how many people Marinette killed; it never got easier. Surrounded by the bodies of Deathstroke’s traitors, she retched.

She was alone. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, she’d gotten separated from the rest of the League’s loyalists.

I need to get moving. I’m an easy target right now.

With a shuddering breath, she climbed to her feet and made her way out of the compound and into the shadows. It was there, staring at the ruins of the League’s strongest base, that the realization hit her.

“I’m free,” Marinette whispered, tears trickling down her face.

The Head of the Demon was dead, his followers scattered.

“I can finally go home.”

She ignored the voice in her mind that said her home was here, with the League, with Damian. She ignored the tightness in her chest at the thought of never seeing Damian again. She ignored the fear that he might already be dead.

The League kidnapped me. Talia abused me. Even if I managed to be happy here, I owe the Al Ghuls nothing. A vow of loyalty made under duress is no vow at all.

Her hands curled into fists.

And if they come for me again, I’ll be ready.

Damian scowled as their plane descended into Gotham.

“This is imbecilic. I should be assisting you in decimating our enemies, not hiding like a frightened child.”

“Damian,” his mother’s voice was cold. “This is not up for negotiation. You will stay here and train with your father.”

“Yes, Mother,” he replied bitterly. A moment passed, then he tilted his head in thought. “But what of my betrothed? If she is to be my equal, should she not train with me?”

Talia studied him carefully. “You use the singular of betrothed,” she noted. “Despite the fact that three remain alive. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me which one you consider your wife-to-be?”

“Tt. Your protégé, the Cheng girl, is the only one that even approaches competent. You know this.”

“I also know that you trained her separately – against my orders,” Talia said.

Damian nearly flinched. “And yet you didn’t stop me.”

“I wonder if that was a mistake,” his mother said. “You feel more for her than you should.”

“She is an effective ally. That is all.”

“Then you won’t mind being separated from her for a while.”

“Not at all, Mother,” Damian lied.

“Marinette? Is that you?” Her mother looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Marinette smiled. “Hello, Mama.”

Sabine reached out a shaking hand to cup her face. “How are you here? We saw you die.”

“Sabine, do you know where – ” Tom dropped the pan of croissants. “Marinette?”

He jumped over the counter and raced to her. Marinette took a step back before her mind caught up with her body.

This is Papa, you idiot. He’s not a threat.

She threw herself into his arms, shoving away her fears.

Twisting to face her mother, she said, “I don’t know how my death was faked, but I never died. The League kidnapped me.”

Tom’s arms tightened around her.

“The League?” Sabine’s face went pale. “What did they want with you?”

“The usual,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Revenge on you for leaving and a capable assassin and potential wife for Damian if I turned out to be any good.”

“Who’s Damian?” Tom asked with a frown.

Marinette grinned. “Oh, Damian’s great! He’s the Heir to the League, but he’s actually pretty okay for an assassin. He helped me get good enough to survive. You know, after I blackmailed and bribed him.”

“What?”

Meeting his father did not go the way Damian had imagined.

Talia always spoke of Bruce Wayne’s great intellect, his strength in combat, his determination in all things. She never mentioned his brainless playboy act, his absurd prohibition of killing, or his habit of taking in strays. Damian wasn’t sure which one was most offensive, but he was incredibly disappointed in his father regardless.

He had to reassess after he saw Batman at work. When not purposely acting like a buffoon, Bruce Wayne was everything his mother had described and more, entirely deserving of Damian’s respect.

He set out to prove himself in his father’s eyes. It didn’t go well. Whatever he did, it was the wrong thing. In any fight with the imposter sons, Damian was punished – even if he won. Assisting his father with Wayne Enterprises was met with an eye-roll and a request to stay away from Bruce’s office.

It should have made Damian angry but instead it hurt and Damian did not understand why.

And then his father was gone. Richard Grayson became Batman.

Damian became Robin. Finally.

And yet the triumph felt hollow.

Not to mention, it came with strings attached: ‘Murder is bad.’ ‘Justice, not vengeance.’ ‘Robin doesn’t kill.’ ‘Protect rather than avenge.’

Grayson’s teachings were imbecilic. And yet he had to follow them. His mother had yet to finish with the traitors.

He wondered where Marinette was, if she was undergoing similar training, if she fought the way he did to reign in the bloodlust. Considering how she had to hide her dislike of killing, how she helped heal her competitors, he thought probably not.

Slowly, things got easier. Grayson became tolerable. Damian learned to suppress the instinct, the muscle memory that said ‘kill or be killed.’ He found an adoration for animals and learned to deal with his classmates. He finally began to understand why Grayson and his father valued life so highly. His father came back and he chose to deny the League. Wayne Manor became home.

On days when he struggled, he retreated to his room and the comfort of his sketchbook. And if a certain blue-eyed girl made an appearance every few pages, well, who would know but him?

Returning home did not go the way Marinette had imagined.

She knew it wouldn’t be sunshine and roses, of course. But she hadn’t expected the magnitude of the changes in her home, or in herself.

School was laughably easy. Marinette had the equivalent of several college degrees. Finding x and learning how to spell ‘earthquake’ was a waste of her time. Instead, she spent class drawing and coming up with increasingly complex plans for fighting off the League should they try to kidnap her again.

She kept herself closed off from her classmates – she didn’t know how she’d ever called them friends. They were neutral parties at best – not one ever stood up for her against Chloe. Her parents encouraged them to give her classmates a chance, but the League had trained her well. Misplaced trust could kill. And Marinette had fought long enough for survival to know that dropping your guard was a death knell.

She hated hurting her parents though.

Though they tried to hide it, she saw the pain cross their faces when she flinched away from hugs. When she moved like an assassin rather than a child. When she gave away her stuffed animals. When she skipped family game night and spent her time training.

She hated hurting her parents. So she changed.

Marinette locked away her lethal grace, faking clumsiness and turning it into an art form. She hid her weapons, training only when her parents were asleep. She returned to family game nights; she initiated hugs. At school, she became bubbly and friendly again, though she trusted no one.

More than anything, she tried to atone. She sought out those in need and tried to help – whether by providing food, babysitting, or making them warm clothing. She discovered an interest in fashion design, but mostly stuck to making the essentials for those in need. She met a tiny floating bug named Tikki and became a superhero.

On days when she struggled, she retreated to her room and the comfort of her sketchbook. And if green eyes and a cocky smirk featured prominently in the book, well, who would know but her?

Damian frowned as he followed his brother into Wayne Enterprises.

"I don't understand why it's so important for me to be here."

"C'mon, Baby Bird!" Dick said. "You said you wanted to be more involved in the company!"

"I meant the business side of things," Damian said. "I have no interest in showing around a gaggle of unruly teenagers."

"You're a teenager too," Dick pointed out. "It'll be fun!"

Damian sniffed. "I'm an adult. And fun, really? Surely you don't truly believe that?"

Dick sighed. "Just give it a chance, okay? They seem like really great kids."

They walked into the lobby and Damian stopped short, eyes catching on long black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

"Marinette?"

In truth, Marinette wasn't all that excited about the Wayne Enterprises tour. The architecture was interesting, sure, but her class had a habit of making themselves a target and Bruce Wayne's patronage was not helping.

She gave it three days, at most, before they got in trouble with Gotham's Rouges.

Which meant she was on 'keep the class from dying' duty. Joy.

She kept her eyes and ears peeled, which meant that she heard the faint whisper of her name from an unfamiliar voice.

"Marinette?"

Forest-green eyes filled with far too much emotion had her breath catching in her throat.

"Damian?"

With obvious effort, the League's Heir pulled himself together. "Fancy meeting you here, Dupain-Cheng."

His voice. Oh, kwami, it should be illegal to look AND sound that good. Nope. Nope. Not doing this. He's an assassin, get your act together, Marinette.

"Al-Ghul." She was proud that her voice betrayed nothing. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. This doesn't seem like your scene."

She reached out for a handshake and was taken off guard when Damian kissed her hand instead. She blushed.

"It's Wayne now," Damian said. "I'm... no longer associated with the Al-Ghuls. Or their business."

He's not an assassin anymore? Yes! I knew you were a good person deep, deep down, Dami!

"Really? I broke ties with them several years ago myself."

See that, Damian? We're both good people. Good people that would be great toget - no! Bad Marinette!

Damian grinned. "In that case, I look forward to reconnecting. Perhaps after the tour?"

Oh, kwami, I'm doomed.

"I'd like that."

"What was that?" Dick asked in a low voice. "I've never seen you open up to someone so quickly."

With difficulty, Damian tore his gaze from Marinette.

Stars, she grew up gorgeous.

Damian smirked. "Don't be ridiculous, Grayson. I met Marinette over a decade ago."

I wonder, does she still consider our betrothal valid?

"Wait, so she's an assassin?" Grayson blanched. "Who is she here to kill? Who do I have to protect? Ugh! Why can't you ever have normal friends?"

"Relax," Damian chided. "She's an ex-assassin. Like me."

"That does not make me feel better. Who is she to you?"

Damian hummed in thought, running through years of teasing, fighting, and spending time together. "She was my first friend."

And maybe now something more.

#daminette #maribat #maribat angst and fluff april

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andieperrie18 · 3 years

Text

Your Endgame

So this is requested by@raginghellfire. I haven’t written in a while due Uni and busy classes but I hope I did a good job on this. UwU Dami might be a bit OOC but I really think he is a passionate lover when he falls in love.

Bruce Wayne was one tough cookie. Unlike Tony, he held shackled himself with the responsibility of protecting Gotham city from its baddies that he barely let himself enjoy his life. He too cares for children very much but he wasn't as hands-on being there for them. He wasn't always there in those best events in their life to congratulate them that greatly hurt them. It would seem that he just adopted these children as soldiers for his endless war with crime, that they were nothing but expendable assets. But he does love them and had just recently been trying to reconnect with all of them.

Tony Stark had always let his child have free reign over their life but he never leaves the passenger seat. He will always be by their side no matter what choice they make. He was never strict as he was a free soul but he grows and understands responsibility everyday after returning from Afghanistan after being held captive. He wasn't a perfect father but he did try for Y/n, good thing for him is that she understands responsibility earlier made it easy for him to be there for him.

Bruce Wayne was notorious for being a play boy, same goes to Tony Stark. Both men has had another of flings that the paparazzi didn't miss to see. It took quite a while before two of them finally found out the true meaning of true love. The one decided to settle down while the other chose his job over attaining a lifelong happiness and peace.

Some of the Wayne kids also had their own flings through out their lives. Some had more the two and some, just one. Just one cause when the second came, they were their endgame.

---

The bright city lights of Paris slightly seeped in the glass panes of the balcony doors of the room. Across it was a king sized bed with undone sheets and two people underneath the high quality comforter. Damian and Y/n sat with backs against the head board, the latter former resting his against the latter's figure. His head slightly buried on her neck as her fingers combed through his bed hair her other hand around his bare chest.

"I'm pretty sure that photo reached them already," her voice echoed around the slightly dim room.

Damian hummed, "It did, which earned me quite a number of miss calls from my family,"

Y/n giggled that he found contagious making him do the same.

"I'm going back to Gotham in two days but I don't think I'm ready to leave your side yet," he snuggled his face on her neck, placing butterflies kisses on them. Her eyes close, a flutter vibrates within her chest as she pulled his head closer. Placing her lips on his head. Damian pulled her seated figure closer to his own, his face snuggling closer to her skin.

"Can I just postpone the flight for another month?" he mumbled, sending tickles on her skin making her giggle.

"Dami, you said that 2 months ago and you already bought a ticket home,"

Damian never whines but after almost two years of being in a relationship, there are certain childishness he had suddenly unlock being with her. Y/n laughed at his childish wiles as it send tingles in his stomach, he loves it when she laughs because of him.

"Besides, I already scheduled mine and my seat is next to yours, you can't expect me to have an empty seat beside me?"

Damian's head shot up from her neck, his eyes staring at her. Y/n bit her lip containing a fit of giggles after seeing his eyes sparkle like a child getting a new toy. He slumped his faced between breast.

"I really love you."

"And I really love you too, Dami,"

---

And probably the biggest public figures is youngest Wayne child and the eldest Stark Child. The most controversial couple that reached ears all over the world. No one knew of their relationship as until the paparazzi caught a picture of them kissing at Champ de Mars near the Eiffel tower. The news made use of the quote, "Pictures speaks a thousand words" rather well. Some are heartbroken by the news but the biggest people taken surprise by the news were the Wayne's.

Clicks and flashes surrounded the long trail of red carpet that lead to entrance of the Wayne manor that held another gala. This time it was a celebratory occasion for the youngest Wayne's return from a long vacation that he took a almost 2 years ago. A break he took after a rather peaceful yet melancholic break up with titan's member. Damian suddenly decided to toss the towel and told his Father that he doesn't want to be like Bruce, alone and brooding. He needs to breath for a while to which his father did not hesitate to agree. Bruce loves his children, he may not show it but he does.

A Grey matte Porsche 911 parked its way at the end of the carpet making some of the photographers to it, awaiting the celebrities that will emerge.

"Do you think they'll like me? I mean Dad isn't really in good terms with Bruce Wayne you know," Y/n eyed the silhouette of the Wayne manor and the crowding paps at the cat walk. This wasn't the first time she came to a Wayne gala, its just that this time she was going to be introduced as Damian Wayne's girlfriend.

The emerald eyed Wayne gently took her chin to meet his eyes. A gentle smiles grew from his lips.

"They will, beloved. I know they will because I love you," his voice said laced a such a tender tone that no one ever thought he could have.

A love sick grin emerged from her once doubting expression before she pressed leaned for a quick peck to which he returned in an instant. They pulled away with both of them sharing the same cheek tinted grins.

Damian emerged from the driver's seat followed by the loud camera clicks and calling reporters. He simply gave his signature Wayne smile before turning to the other side of the car to where Y/n emerges with the same celebrity like smile that she inherited from her father. From the moment they set foot on the carpet, the paparazzi just got louder and rather pushy that made the guards push them out a little harder.

"Mr. Wayne how'd you meet Ms. Stark?!"

"Miss Stark, how long have you two been together?!"

"Miss Stark look here!!"

"Mister Wayne! Look here!!"

To say that the paparazzi were going crazy would be an understatement, as they were going mad-crazy as the couple walking the catwalk is the biggest confirmation to the news that a union between the Wayne and the Stark has occurred. If they could only get to the couple to ask some, more like a bunch of questions would be the cherry on top of the new news for next day.

Upon entry within the Manor, their arrival turn heads and silenced chatters.

Y/n M/n Stark, the matriarch of the Stark Industries inheriting the nickname, 'Merchant of Death' in Manhattan. She was a much smarter tinker as she assured no such case like her father's long captivity ever happened again and all Stark weapons are heavily protected and can only be handled by the military hands.

Damian Wayne was no CEO but is a COO of the Wayne Enterprises. Helping his brother Tim in managing the affairs in the company. It's bad enough that the male is overdosing himself with caffeine while handling their nightly hero affairs, he was still his brother no matter how much they quarrel. Damian was willing to shoulder long painstaking meetings for him just to let him have a day off.

To see the two of them together would expresses a union.

Their matching outfit theme elevated the curiosity of all the attendants of the gala. Damian's slick three piece burgundy check suit made Damian look sophisticated but neat. Every young lady around the room were welcome to gawk at his figure as he glides with his partner. Y/n's own green gown greatly complimented his with its shade of green, its shape hugging her figure naturally that she loved. Every young man had their eyes on an emerald.

It didn't take long before the couple reached the group of people they are meant to meet. They didn't miss their wide eyes and dropped jaws. Y/n may be a stranger but they could agree that she is a beautiful stranger.It was only when Damian spoke that they have gained awareness of their surroundings.

"Good evening father, everyone. It's nice to see you all again," Damian began with Y/n holding on to his shoulder.

"I gotta say demon spawn you grew quite a lot for just two years," Jason earned a slightly hard nudge from Dick. Damian may have grown but he still has a tick with Jason's nicknames for him.

"Don't mind him Damian, why don't you introduce your company," the eldest said as he slightly push the white streaked hair male behind him that earned a look from his father.

Damian didn't say anything on the nickname thing and proceeded to introduce her which earned quite an awkward atmosphere on his family's side while the couple remained at ease in their presence.

"Stark its nice to finally see you again," Tim entered as he brought his hand out to which the woman took generously.

"Good to see you too Drake, and good evening to you too Mister Wayne,"

Bruce went forward to shake her hand, "How is your father by the way?" he asked.

"He is doing well, he's living by the countryside with my sister and mom," she replied with a smile.

"So he's settling down?" Bruce asked, quite surprised.

"Yes, he said life is short and he intends to spend it living it with us," She continued to which earned a bit of awkwardness with Damian's siblings. It was a rather sensitive topic but they didn't speak of it any further.

---

Damian had to separate himself from Y/n to help Tim a bit on the company. Seated by the bar, with his two brothers and his father, it was quite a company.

"How long have you two been going out?" Dick opened as you turned to him.

"We've been together for almost 1 year and half years, but we didn't started dating until six months later after we met,"

"We're you aware he just got out of a break up?" Jason raised.

Y/n took a sip of her drink, "I did, that's why I didn't let him to be with me until I totally confirmed that I was not a rebound,"

"And how do you know you aren't just a rebound for Rachel Roth?" Dick asked this time.

Bruce didn't say anything as he wasn't very much in touch with his son's relationship, but he did know that he loved her, Damian wouldn't risk his life for anyone if he did. As much as he wanted to stop Dick from pulling a rather sensitive topic on a person he just met especially when that person is someone close to his brother, he wants to know if the girl was just a fling. Y/n was known to have a number of flings before Damian came in to the picture.

"Damian is not mine to claim, whether I am a rebound or not, I still love him, you can try to make me say what we are having is just a fling but I know one thing," her tone was authoritative but calm.

They were doubting Damian's judgement with her relationship with her. Its not like she wasn't aware that he dated a co-worker of his. He was his first love and Y/n knew she might not be his last but she sure prays to whatever ethereal being that they last.

"I love him. Whether you believe me or not, I will always do even if he chooses her over me,"

Damian was her everything.

---

By midnight, Damian said his good byes with his family. He didn’t miss the slight look of sadness in her eyes so he took her away from his brothers' company. Damian was sure that they said something but she chose to protect them by not telling him anything.

When they got to the parking lot as they got to their car, Damian stopped and had Y/n face him. Before she could ask, he had already latched his lips on her. Giving her an ever so passionate kiss they always share. One that he always felt like he was having his first kiss the first time.

Y/n circled her arms around his neck before they broke off, forehead resting against each other.

"I may not know what went on between you and my family by the bar, but I want you to know that I love you. You may not be my first but I am deathly sure that you are my last…" he whispered to her.

#damian wayne x reader #Damian Wayne #song prompt #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #batfamily x reader

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM I

HELLION: A rowdy or mischievous person

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18 explicit content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @lovinglerae , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I’m so into this series that I even made moodboards 🤣 Don’t @ me 😂 I want to give a HUGE a thank you (and shout out) to @letsgivethisonemoreshot for helping me out with this entire trilogy! Thank you for your ideas and feedbacks, love ❤️ If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😘

“Miss Y/L/N” He greeted me “Sit down”

Father Damian was the school’s principal, and in the three short months since I transferred to this school, let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time in a chair in his office

“Yes?” I faked a smile as I stared at him from the chair I was sitting on

“Can you explain to me what this is?” He showed me a piece of paper written ‘Satan rules! And fuck you, Principal Damian’ “And why was this taped to my car window?”

“I have no idea where that came from” I shrugged

“Miss Y/L/N, are we really gonna go down that path?” He pinched the bridge of his nose

“Why do you think that was me?” I pretended to be offended

“Because you’re the only student who has pulled stunts like this before”

“Maybe it was one of your perfect little students” I stood up and made my way towards his wooden desk and sat on top of it “You know, the ones who wear the pearl necklaces to show their purity” I laughed

“Miss Y/L/N, please refrain yourself from talking ill of the other students and return to your seat”

“Why? Because they’re pure, perfect and collected?” I slid across the desk and placed myself in front of him “Because they’re God’s children and I’m Satan’s spawn?”

“Miss Y/L/N” He warned

“Yes, Father?” I batted my lashes at him

“Ever since you stepped foot inside this school, you have done nothing but speak profanities, break the school’s dress code and make the lives of everyone in here a living Hell!”

“When have I spoken profanities?” I gasped, acting as if I was shocked

“You asked your classmate if you could caress her…. pussy!” He said through gritted teeth and I held back a chuckle

“And what’s wrong with that? She got a cat and I wanted to know if I could pet her”

“You asked another colleague if you could taste her melons!”

“She brought some with her for a snack and I love melons! Don’t you love them too, father?” I smirked

“What about the ‘BJ practice at 4pm behind the bleachers in gym’ sign you were caught hanging on the wall?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest

“What? BJ: Bible Jam, where we go over some hymns and try to set up a choir, since you don’t have one here”

“Is the choir for you ‘demonic pagan chants’ you love to recite in Latin to the other students?”

I just shrugged in response

He sighed “You’re turning nineteen years old next month, Miss Y/L/N! You’re an adult, so behave as such! The entire reason you were transferred here in the first place was because of your horrid habit of skipping classes, which caused you to repeat last year! How long do you plan on continuing that behaviour? Until you turn twenty years old, perhaps? My point is, how difficult is it to follow the rules? You can’t even follow a simple dress code, Miss Y/L/N!”

“That’s absurd!” I said with a huff “I follow the dress code impeccably!”

“By wearing revealing undergarments?”

“How do you know they're revealing if you're not looking, Father?” I smiled

“It’s a bit difficult to not see a red bra underneath a white shirt, Miss Y/L/N”

“So you do like melons then?” I laughed “Oh Father, is the Devil tempting you with the pleasures of the flesh?” I grinned evilly as I leaned towards him, revealing some of my cleavage

“You know perfectly well to not joke with unholy names, Miss Y/L/N” He gulped

“I love to swirl my tongue around the D word, Father” I whispered “Would you like me to show you how well it fits my mouth?”

“Miss Y/L/N, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into”

“I’m talking about the Devil, Father Damian” I cackled “But I see you have another D on your mind”

“You shouldn’t mock the Devil, Miss Y/L/N. It’s not wise” He whispered, placing both of his hands on my sides and trapping me on the desk

“I’m not mocking, Father. I think he’s quite fun actually...don’t you?” I tilted my head to the side

“All that is forbidden is fun, Miss Y/L/N” His fingers brushed against my exposed thighs “It’s delightful to commit sinful actions”

I was caught off guard by his behavior, I never expected him to actually respond to my flirting

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” He chuckled “Devil got your tongue?”

“Maybe” He placed one hand underneath the hem of my skirt and stroked my inner thigh “He told you that I saw your red lace thong when you bent down to tie your shoes in the hallway this morning”

I gasped in shock and he continued

“The Devil knows our weaknesses so well, doesn’t he, Y/N? He knows that my weakness is a devilish little slut like you, and he knows that your weakness is a holy cock” He laughed

“Father Damian” I gasped

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Wouldn’t you like to commit a sin with me? A delicious, rough, sweaty and lustful sin?” He leaned forward until he was uncomfortably close to me

“Maybe I can turn you into a good little lamb once my cock is buried deep inside your pussy” He nibbled my bottom lip “Would you like me to fuck the filthy whore out of you?”

“Father...I-“

“What is it, Y/N? Not so brave anymore, are we?” He chuckled “I thought you liked teasing, isn’t that what you’ve been doing with me for the past three months? Teasing me non stop with your bratty attitude and smart mouth? Do you think I’m dumb? That I don’t see your true intentions?”

“I-“

“No no no” He placed two fingers on my lips and whispered “Don’t speak” Father Damian turned around and grabbed a Bible from his bookshelf

“Do you know what the punishment is for the lustful people in Hell, Y/N?” He turned around and looked at me in the eyes while placing the Bible on top of his table

I nodded in response

“Enlighten me, then” He grinned

“Those who commit the sin of lust will be punished in Hell by being smothered in fire and brimstone, Father”

“Good girl” He smiled “I see you paid attention to your biblical studies class” He said in a mocking tone

“Don’t you think that sounds so appealing?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and reaching for the Bible

“No, I don’t” I whispered

“Yes, it is. Want me to show you how appealing it can be?” He smirked, opening the Bible

To my surprise it was a hollowed out Bible, inside of it there was a slim vibrator and a bottle of lube

“Why do you have-“

“Yes or no, Y/N?”

“Yes” It slipped out of my mouth so easily

He smirked and reached his hands underneath my skirt, soon after the sound of cloth being torn apart filled up the room. Father Damian kept his gaze locked with mine as he brought my ripped thong to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking the piece of fabric

“Sinners always taste so sweet, don’t they?” He chuckled

Grabbing the lube, he squirted some on his fingers and spread it through my folds, the cold feeling was soon replaced by a warm feeling I never felt before. He added some more lube to his digit and slid his finger in me

“Oh my God” I moaned at the warmth that filled me

He reached for the vibrator and turned it on, sliding the cold toy against my warm bundle of nerves

“Fuck” I shuddered at the pleasurable feeling

“Repeat the punishment for me, Y/N” He smirked

“Being smothered” I started and his free hand wrapped around my throat

“And?” He grinned evilly

“Fire” I whispered, as he squirted more lube directly onto my folds this time

“So much fire” He smirked, replacing his finger with the toy at the same time his grip around my neck closed

I moaned softly as all of the different sensations hit me

“Oh there she is!” He laughed “The sinful little whore” And sucked on my bottom lip “You love to come out and play, don’t you my sweet harlot?”

I just nodded softly

“I’ll give you something even nicer for you to play with, how does that sound to you?”

“Anything, just please” I pleaded

He smiled widely, like a predator. In my foggy haze of pleasure I hadn’t even realized what he meant by that

“Father, please” I moaned

He smiled at my pleading “Oh my dear Y/N, isn't it a real joy to be a sinner?”

#damian priest smut #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes #resistere tentationem trilogy

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

A Shot In The Dark

Batfamily x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: I'm going to start the flow of Ghost-Maker fanfiction onto this site, watch me. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

The butler cleared his throat. “Master Bruce, Ghost Maker is here.” A grunt signaled his response. “I shall take my leave.”

“I forgot you still had the butler hanging around.”

Bruce didn’t look over from the screen as the vigilante stepped into his peripheral. “Are you here about Kolkata?”

“Spice has been entering the U.S. through the black market.” He looked over. “It’s in Gotham.”

“I know. I tracked a shipment in on one of Penguin’s cargo ships.” Bruce shot him a grin that practically bled, ‘I just one-upped you’. “The same one you tagged after me.” He knew Ghost-Maker wasn’t going to take the bait, easy as it was, but still, the way the man’s jaw set told Bruce just how ticked it made him.

“The only way to stop it from getting in is to head over and stop it.”

Bruce shook his head, tapping at the screen. “Interpol can shut down the operations in India. I just want it stopped in Gotham.”

Ghost-Maker sighed. “Why do you always have to take the easy way out of things? What’s stopping you from going?”

“Tim’s got a presentation at Wayne Enterprises tomorrow, Cass has a dance recital, and Damian has a debate team championship.” He glanced at him. “I promised I wouldn’t miss them.”

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” he asked and the other nodded.

“Like clockwork.” He pointed to a drawer. “Hand me the instrument from the bottom drawer.

Ghost-Maker bent over and pulled open the drawer; a small carved flute rested inside, and he picked it up, examining the instrument. It was made of carved onyx, slashes of tiger-eye and jade up the sides; holes were drilled into it in a fashion telling him it would produce music if he blew into the piece at the top.

He handed it over. “Why do you have a flute in your drawer? And why do you need it?”

Bruce didn’t respond, merely bringing the instrument to his lips; he blew softly, an almost mournful sounding tone. Setting the piece down, he waited, and to Ghost-Maker’s surprise—which didn’t happen often—a cloud of black smoke began to swirl beside them. Faster and faster, it spun until it suddenly dispersed and in its wake was a woman—a rather bare woman…in a rather exposed position, her arms stretched out above her head, and one of her legs up in the air like it had been resting on someone’s shoulder and the other leg like it had been around their hip.

She let her legs fall, almost gracefully, and she heaved an incredibly annoyed sigh. “One of these days, Bruce Wayne, I will refuse your summons.”

“Well, it wasn’t today,” he quipped, spinning in his chair to look at her. “Were you in the middle of something?” his tone denoted that he knew she was, he was just being a sarcastic ass about it.

“I was.” She griped, then let her head loll back on the floor. “In the middle of silky sheets with all those fine bedfellows and now here I am on a cold, hard cave floor with no one to drive me into sexual-oblivion.” She stuck one perfectly nailed hand in the air. “Ahem.”

Bruce rose from his seat and took her hand, pulling her up and into his arms. “However, can I make it up to you, (Y/N)?”

Cocking an elegant eyebrow, she murmured, “You do not have enough resources to make up the good time you just pulled me out of.” Pushing out of his arms, she bypassed Ghost-Maker like he wasn’t standing there stunned out of his mind about what just happened.

“Is my wine still down here?” she asked, already bending down to rummage through the drawer. “Hmm, I see I answered my own question,” (Y/N) remarked, pulling out a bottle of wine so old, vintage didn’t seem to describe it. Popping the top, she took a sip and snapped her fingers, a silky black robe instantly clothing her naked body.

Leaning on the desk, she crossed one of her smooth legs over the other, idly swishing her foot. “So, why do you need me?”

Bruce nodded at the screen. “Do you know about the spice shipments in Gotham?”

(Y/N) hummed. “The shipments of spice that Penguin’s buying from black market deals that are originating out of Kolkata? Those spice shipments?” she shrugged. “I might know something. Why?”

“We’re trying to stop Penguin from getting it into Gotham.” Ghost-Maker interrupted before Bruce could say anything and she gazed at him.

“And you are?”

“Ghost-Maker.”

“Hmm.” She said, though she sounded disinterested. “Come here.”

“Why?” he questioned, though he obeyed and before he could even react, she reached up and touched his jaw. In a flash he saw every memory of his life in his mind, and she pulled away, tone curious.

“Oh? So, you are the one Bruce thinks about. The hedonistic anti-hero that copes with his psychopathy by challenging himself to fix the world.” A smirk tugged her lips. “Interesting.” Her eyes found Bruce’s. “Why is your ex-boyfriend in Gotham? I thought you did not want him anywhere near here? From both of your memories, you are both antagonistic to the idea of working in each other’s locations.”

“You just read my memories?” Ghost-Maker inquired, reaching up to touch his face. “How?”

“Telepathy, amongst many other dark things that would make even a person like you quake in fear.” (Y/N) glanced at Bruce again. “Answer the question.”

“He’s not my ex-boyfriend.”

“Wrong question and even more wrong answer.” She shot him a knowing look, one he matched with a firm look of his own and she waved a hand. “Fine, I will relent for now. What do you need to know about Penguin’s shipments?”

Bruce hit another button on the computer and a picture of a manila file came up. “It’s locked in his personal office surrounded by turrets and armed thugs.”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled pathetically, and she whimpered pitifully, “Aw, can the two of you not get into the office with your powers combined? So sad.” She raised a hand and touched the tips of her pointer and thumb to one another, then she lifted it to her mouth. She blew a single, sharp ear-splitting whistle and both Bruce and Ghost-Maker heard ringing in their ears as a dark smoke began to pool from the edge of the cave, the type that sent shivers up someone’s spine.

A low growl sounded from the smoke and out of the vapor stepped a dark hound, black as midnight, with glowing red eyes and rows of razor-sharp teeth. (Y/N) clicked her tongue and it bounded to her. She reached down and caressed its head, speaking in a language that neither Bruce nor Ghost-Maker understood.

She stood back up and pointed to the screen, uttering one more word, cold and firm. “Hunt.”

The hound barked but it still sounded like a growl, and it turned, sprinting towards the wall; it collided with it in a hail of smoke, and (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “Cù-sìth will get what we require.”

“I haven’t seen your hell-hound in a long while, (Y/N).” Bruce noted and she scowled.

“Death hounds. Cù-sìth and Garmr are death hounds.”

“And where is Garmr now?”

She frowned, looking away from him. “He is…recovering from a sustained injury.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

(Y/N) sighed and shook her head. “I appreciate your sympathy and trying but injuries that death hounds receive can only be healed by darker magic.” Her fingers swirled with her sorcery.

“Is that why you’ve been in hiding for a few months now?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I have devoted most of my time to healing his injuries.”

Bruce took her hand, gently but firmly. “(Y/N), is there anything you need from me?”

She met his gaze, holding it for a moment before sighing again. “Do you think you could find nightshade and belladonna extract for me?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, then he nudged her in the ribs with a grin. “You’re not planning on poisoning anyone, are you?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Maybe just a bit. You know, not enough to kill them but just enough to drop them out of a city government meeting where an especially important vote is being decided.” She winked. “Care to wonder who it is?”

Bruce grunted, pulling from her. “I already know who it is.” He took a seat at the computer, and she leaned against the desk, her thigh brushing the arm rest. “You’re not allowed to poison people.”

She let out a humored breath through her nose and reached out, gently carding her fingers through his short dark hair. “Joy-killer.” (Y/N) took a moment to gaze at him, then she shifted, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. “When is the last time you rested?”

“A few hours ago.”

Frowning, she corrected, “I meant when was the last time you actually had a restful sleep?” he opened his mouth, but she was quicker. “You are not getting younger, Bruce.”

“I’m fine.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes.

“You are so stubborn.” (Y/N) glanced at Ghost-Maker. “Do you get decent sleep?”

“Of course,” he retorted. “Only Bruce thinks sleep is for the weak.”

“It is.”

(Y/N) looked back at Bruce. “That’s because you are a stubborn ass.”

Before he could respond, a growling caught their attention and they all turned to the entrance of the cave, seeing Cù-sìth coming towards them, the manila folder in his teeth. She plucked it from his mouth and flipped it open, scanning the contents; when Bruce reached for it, she jerked it away and clicked her tongue.

“Oh no. Only those who have maintained a correct sleep schedule are allowed to read this.”

Bruce glared at her. “Give me the file.”

“No.”

He started rising from his seat. “Give. Me. The. File. (Y/N).”

“I think you are forgetting that I am not one of your little minions, Bruce.” (Y/N) snapped her fingers and he sunk back into his seat, compelled by her magic. “You do not tell me what to do. Ever.” She looked at Ghost-Maker. “Come with me to the docks and we will take care of this.” Then she met Bruce’s gaze again. “When I snap my fingers again you will go up to your room and sleep for a few hours.”

“(Y/N),” he warned. “No killing.”

“I will do as I wish,” she offered nonchalantly, handing Ghost-Maker the file. “You know I have never adhered to your rules.”

Bruce’s glare darkened. “I know.”

“You know as well as I that you get rude when you are tired. Sleep now. Let us take care of this.” (Y/N) held out her hand. “K, take my hand.”

“How do you—”

She ignored the vigilante’s shocked question, taking his hand and the world twisted and turned around them until the smoke cleared and they were outside the gates of the dock. “You will want to take your mask off.”

“I’m not taking my mask off,” he retorted, and she shrugged.

“Then you will be sick in your mask.”

He stared at her, then he spun around, undoing the clasps of his mask, barely getting it off his face before he was vomiting into the grass.

(Y/N) merely watched. “I told you. Magical teleportation always wreaks havoc on the stomach the first time.”

“What—what are you?” he asked, then went back to puking.

When he went down on one knee, she leaned over and steadied him. “Older than what your mind can comprehend.” (Y/N) reached down and placed a hand on his forehead, then he stopped retching and coughed a few times. “There. Your digestive system should relax now.”

He didn’t necessarily shove her away, but it was obvious he didn’t want her seeing him because he pulled from her touch and wiped his mouth, quickly pulling his mask back on. “Don’t ever do that again.” He warned and she snorted.

“What? Heal you or teleport you right to the location of your target?”

With his mask back on he glared at her, light blue slits glowing brightly. “Call me K.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, you and Bruce are so much alike.” (Y/N) hauled him to his feet by his sword scabbards and let him go, starting towards the opening of the gate. “This will be a rather enjoyable night.”

“You need adequate protection.” He said. “You’re going to get killed without anything on.”

(Y/N) tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “My, my, Ghost, are you worried about me?”

“I don’t feel empathy,” Ghost-Maker said, hurrying to walk beside her.

“That is not completely true. At least through the memories I have seen.” (Y/N) looked over at him. “You are empathetic to Bruce. It is not like my empathy to him, but on some level, you do care.” She smiled. “Nothing is completely void of some form of empathy.”

She looked over at the dock, scrutinizing the cargo ship. “There are armed guards along the pier. A frontal assault will get us caught…no airstrikes…” she hummed, then brought a hand to her chest. “I have an idea.

“Care to share?” he asked, looking over at her, and to his surprise, she transformed before his eyes, taking on the shape of one of the thugs on the ship. “Huh. That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.” She said, though her voice was much deeper, like a mans and she stood up. “I will infiltrate the ship from the front. I trust you can go through the back?”

He pulled out his swords and (Y/N) swore she could practically see the smile growing on his lips as he said, “Absolutely.”

“Then be swift.”

***

A few hours later they appeared in the cave, and she sighed, gazing at the man collapsed at the desk. “I forgot how easily he deflected magic. Even mine.” Shrugging, she left the file beside him, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “At least he is sleeping though.”

Pulling away, she looked at Ghost-Maker. “You did well this evening. Your training is almost superior to Bruce’s.”

“It is superior to Bruce’s.” he griped and she tsked at him.

“Well, from what I have seen in your memories, I am afraid you have not much proven superiority to him. Equality, yes, but not superiority.” (Y/N) hummed and smiled at him. “I hope you and I can do missions together again, Ghost. It was rather enjoyable to have a talking partner. Bruce does not like to talk unless he has to.”

As she started walking towards the stairs, he followed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“You may.”

“Where do you live?”

(Y/N) eyed him. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Your meditation techniques appear similar to mine.” He smiled at her. “I was thinking you and I could meditate sometime.”

She paused and looked him over, a hand on her hip. “You want to sleep with me? Really?”

“You already told me what I am. A hedonistic crime-fighter.”

“Technically I said antihero, but I digress.” (Y/N) stepped up to him, staring into the glowing blue slits. “But I saw your abilities…they could be…intriguing.”

“I can show you now, if you’d like?” Ghost-Maker tipped his head to the entrance of the study. “There’s enough rooms for us to disappear into.”

(Y/N) chuckled and shook her head, walking ahead of him. “Bruce would not be happy about that.” She reached the top step and turned back, grinning at him. “But worry not, Ghost. When I am ready to see you, I will find you.”

“I look forward to it.”

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