#if they would stop roping Tim back into Robin that would be great actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

Seized

An addition to Approval. Do not read this until reading that first.

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom

Summary: What happens when Talia Al Ghul learns that someone has stolen the affections of her past lover and her son?

Word Count: 3,000 [One Shot]

“Delinquents have been detained. I can hear the sirens,” Damian stated calmly in his comms.

“Good work, Robin. You know where to meet me. You have a minute,” Bruce responded as he whipped the bat mobile through Crime Alley to grab his son.

Just as Damian opened the door and hopped in, an alarm went off within the vehicle.

“The Manor,” Damian thought aloud as he read the screens with his father.

Bruce ignored his comment and was calling Alfred immediately.

“Master Wayne,” the butler instantly picked up. “I followed protocol, but they were already gone when I arrived.”

“Y/N…” Bruce immediately asked.

“They took her,” Alfred told him, distress clear in his tone.

Damian’s head whipped to his father to watch his reaction.

But Bruce’s jaw only tightened and he sped the batmobile even faster.

Returning faster to Wayne Manor than ever before, Bruce jumped out of the batmobile and up the secret entrance to get to the main house.

Damian was hot on his heels. He’d already sent an encrypted message to his brothers, informing them of the situation. It was only a matter of time before they were at the manor as well. Though Damian suspected Jason would not come, instead already starting to scour the streets of Gotham for Y/N and her captors.

Alfred was already waiting for them. “Master Wayne, I am so sorry.”

Bruce ignored him and walked to the master bedroom. Y/N would’ve been sleeping when the attack occurred. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been awake, she had no training in self defense. She was merely an innocent civilian.

“Father,” Damian muttered quietly.

Bruce turned around to find his son ripping a shuriken out of the door frame.

They shared a look, both recognizing the particular shape and color.

“The League…” Damian muttered quietly, saying what they both were thinking.

——————

Y/N was barely awake.

They clearly had drugged her with something to make her more compliant. Everything was foggy and muffled.

Yet they still tied her hands and ankles together, as if her brain could even manage to get her body to move.

But Y/N could feel the effects of the drugs losing their strength, yet keeping their hold on her.

She squinted as she looked around. The air felt different. It was colder and dryer, making Y/N believe that she was no longer in Gotham. Little did she know, she wasn’t even in the country any longer.

“I do not know what he sees in you,” a woman hummed from somewhere in the room.

Y/N blinked as he listened, but her eyes could not adjust to the low lighting and she didn’t even have the strength to turn her head.

“You are weak. Ripped from your own bed without so much as a fight.”

Then she heard the grunts and clashing of metal.

The woman smiled. “Right as expected, my son.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed at ‘my son.’ Then she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings. There were swords and other weapons stored everywhere, and there was armor hung from the walls.

“Talia?” She whispered.

The woman chuckled. “Weak, but not utterly foolish.”

Then the door of the room was thrown open.

Y/N looked to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

“My son, finally returned," Talia greeted with a smirk.

“Mother.” Then his gaze flickered to Y/N. Very subtly, he was scanning her body to access any possible injuries.

His gaze turned back to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You have forgotten where you come from, Damian. You are not just the heir to the Wayne family. Before anything else, you are my son and the heir to Ra's al Ghul’s throne.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Damian said with a gesture to Y/N.

“She has everything to do with this,” Talia snapped. “She has made you weak.”

Damian said nothing.

“She has taken you both from me,” Talia growled.

“Father does not love you,” he growled.

“A small lapse in judgment on his part, but not something that cannot be remedied. Our love gave us you, and I fully believe he will return to me.”

“His heart belongs to someone else. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can give up your fantasy.” Then he hesitated to say the next part. “I never plan on returning to The League of Shadows. I wish to stay with father.”

Talia’s amusement vanished at her sons words.

The next second, she unsheathed her sword. “Perhaps I should just kill her and remind you of your place, my son.”

With that, Damian rushed forward and intercepted Talia’s attack with his own sword.

“Do not touch her,” Damian growled.

Their swords continued to clash as the mother and son fought each other. The fight raged on for what felt like forever. Too evenly matched, but also both too terrible at hiding that neither actually wanted to kill the other.

In the distance, Y/N could hear even more fighting. She could only assume it was Bruce fighting his way to her and his son.

Talia and Damian’s swords locked again, both of their stances shaking from the hold.

“Do you really think you and your father stand a chance against the entire League? Why do you think we lured you all the way here? You are outnumbered.” Talia hissed.

“You think us foolish enough to come alone?” Damian smirked right before there was a boom that shook the entire compound.

Talia’s focus slipped half a second, allowing Damian a window to go on the offense.

He flipped his mother’s sword out of her grip and held his own to her throat.

“Yield,” he growled down to her.

“You truly choose her over your own mother?” The hurt in her eyes was clear.

“You abandoned me, used me as a tool to disrupt father’s life. She taught me that there is more to life than killing and destroying. She loves me and care for me, even when I gave her no reason to do so.”

“And it will be the death of you,” Talia warned.

He glared at her. “Yield!”

But he knew she would never. So he whipped out a dart and blew it to her neck – a sedative. It knocked her out within seconds.

Waiting until he was sure it had worked, Damian sheathed his sword once again and ran to Y/N’s side.

With a knife, he cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles.

“D-Damian,” her voice was still slurred from the drugs and she was weak. How long had she been here without food or water? “I don’t think I can walk."

Damian helped her to her feet. “Y/N, please try,” he begged as he wrapped her around around his shoulders. He was still just a boy, one that was shorter than her. But he wouldn’t give up that easily.

There was another explosion.

“What’s-What’s happening?” Y/N asked as she dragged her feet and held on tightly.

“That would be Todd, most likely taking his job of distracting to an unnecessary level.”

“You all came?” She asked in shock.

“Of course,” Damian scoffed.

Suddenly an object came flying at them and Y/N cried out in pain.

“No!” Damian bellowed as he looked up to see that another League member was attempting to stop their escape. And with it, they had thrown a shuriken that had landed in Y/N’s side.

She dropped to the ground.

Damian screamed as he unsheathed his sword once again and charged the assassin. It wouldn’t take him long. He knew that every minute spent fighting was a minute Y/N was bleeding out and edging closer to death.

He didn’t hold back like he had with his mother and quickly disarmed the enemy. Then thrusting his sword into a nonfatal area of his body, enough to neutralize him.

Damian rushed back to Y/N’s side, where a pool of blood was forming from her wound.

He knew it was useless, but he still tried to lift Y/N into his arms to carry her. He cried out in both panic and frustration.

The building had now caught aflame due to Jason’s explosions. Damian would need to call for backup, hoping one of his older brothers could help.

Then a shadow was cast over him.

Damian tensed, believing it to be another attack.

But he looked up to find his father standing before them.

However, Bruce’s gaze was on his unconscious girlfriend.

With the arrival of his father, Damian’s cold and calculating disposition melted.

“She’s hurt,” his voice trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Help her.”

Damian rarely cried. He cried less than grown men. He was raised that way. It didn’t help that his father was not a great example of healthy emotional expression.

But Bruce knew what his sons tears were for: Damian was frustrated, he felt weak, and he thought he had failed his mission. But most of all, Bruce knew his son was crying for fear of Y/N’s death. Because the boy had grown to love her.

As if there were a world when Bruce wouldn’t give his own life to save Y/N.

Bruce bent down and carefully brought Y/N into his arms.

Damian heard her mutter his father’s name, though still delirious from both the drugs he’s sure his mother pumped into her and the blood loss.

“Red Robin, get the jet to my coordinates immediately,” Bruce instructed through his comms.

Damian wondered how his father could be so calm when the woman he loved was bleeding out in his arms. This wasn’t bat business, this was personal. But Bruce spoke like it was just another night of patrol.

A few minuets later, Damian and Bruce had fought their way through the flames and burning compound.

Tim lowered the platform of the jet.

Damian made sure his father and Y/N got on before he followed. He turned and gave one last look at the burning compound that would no longer exist come morning. He did not fear for his mother’s life. He knew someone from the League would come for her – if she didn’t save herself first.

When he boarded the jet, his father already had Y/N on the surgical table that elevated from the jet floor.

Bruce had taken off his cowl, allowing Damian and his brothers to study his expressions.

Damian had been wrong about his father handling the situation like any other mission. For now he could see the terror and worry in his father’s eyes, despite him trying to control his emotions.

Damian looked to Jason, who still had his Red Hood helmet on.

“My grandfather?” He asked his brother.

“Escaped,” Jason muttered.

Damian stepped forward to help Bruce with Y/N’s injuries.

“She’ll be OK,” he muttered to his father.

All of them had high-level medical training to know.

Thankfully the assassin’s aim was not great and didn’t land in lethal place on Y/N’s body. But she still lost a lot of blood and would need many stitches.

All the brother’s shared a look when Bruce ignored the statement.

———

Y/N woke up to someone gripping her hand. She recognized from the smell and the feel of the bedding that she was in Bruce’s bed at the manor.

She winced as she opened her eyes to find Bruce was the one holding her hand as he sat in a chair only inches away from the side of the bed.

“Hi,” she whispered to him with a sad smile.

“Hi,” he said back with a smirk.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

Then Y/N looked past Bruce to realize there was someone else in the room.

Damian passed out on the velvet chaise that was pushed against the windows.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Bruce told her. “Dick had to convince him just to take a shower for 5 minutes when we first got back.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the revelation.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice as he said it made Y/N’s gaze snap back to him. Had it shook? Or was she imagining it?

Y/N squeezed his hand that was still wrapped around hers.

“I know,” she told him with a sympathetic look.

He hid it well, but Y/N knew Bruce. And she knew that her being kidnapped from his own home probably drove him mad with guilt. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already designed an entirely new security system to prevent something like that ever happening again.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He wanted to say that he always feared her being with him would put her in danger like this.

He wanted to say that maybe she should stay away from him.

He wanted to say that him and the kids didn’t deserve her.

He wanted to say that the only reason this happened is because Talia hated that she loved her son better than she ever did.

But Bruce had never been good at saying how he actually felt – or even acknowledging he had any feelings at all.

So Y/N brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Bruce, I know,” she said once again.

“I won’t let it happen again. I promise you,” he told her evenly.

“Bruce, I knew what I signed up for when you told me you were Batman. If I wasn’t willing to face the reality of it, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you hadn’t.”

There was a knock at the door and then it opened a second later.

Damian jumped awake at the sound. But then he quickly brought his attention to Y/N. “You’re awake.”

But everyone’s attention was on Dick, who was standing at the open doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted Y/N, surprised to see that she was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. But I’ll be alright.”

He seemed to relax from her answer.

Then he winced when he looked at Bruce. “They put the signal up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them to handle it, not wanting to leave Y/N alone now that she had woken up.

“Go, Bruce. I’ll be OK.” Y/N told him, reading his mind.

“I think it’s the Joker,” Dick added with a serious frown.

“Bruce, go.” Y/N repeated.

And he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, deciding he didn’t care if his two sons were witnesses to the intimacy.

Then Bruce kissed her forward. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Alfred will be here if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded.

Bruce stood up and acknowledged Damian and Dick. “Let’s go.”

Once they were ways down the hall, Bruce heard Damian stop.

“Father?”

Bruce and Dick both turned to face Damian.

“I wish to stay with Y/N.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look, and then Dick decided to give the two a moment alone and muttered something about waiting in the cave.

Bruce walked back to his youngest son.

Damian’s gaze was glued on the floor. “Mother truly would’ve killed her?”

Bruce sighed. “Most likely, yes.” He saw no point in lying to his son.

“Because she knows that you and I love her?”

“Yes.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. But Bruce knew he had more to say.

“I used to think I had to earn it.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mother’s love. I had to earn it. Win in combat. Successfully execute a target. Outsmart a puzzle or challenge.” Damian looked up at his father with a broken expression. “Her love always came with a price.”

Bruce kneeled down to his son.

The boy shook his head. “But Y/N made me realize that I don’t have to earn anyone’s love. I don’t have to prove that I’m worthy of it.” He bit his lip. “She’s not my father or my brother. She didn’t have to love me. But she does…even when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone is deserving of love, Damian.” Bruce gripped his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for not teaching you that myself.”

Damian nodded. “So, may I please stay with her tonight? I don’t want her to be alone.” But then he quickly corrected himself. “Unless of course, you require my assistance, father.”

Bruce smirked at him. “I think we will manage, Damian.” Then he squeezed his shoulder. “Look after her for me, alright?”

Damian relaxed and quickly nodded his head. “Of course, father.”

When Bruce returned hours later, Damian was cuddled next to Y/N in the bed. But clearly laying in a position to be mindful of her injuries. Both were fast asleep. The bright television was the only thing lighting the room, as it played a Pixar movie.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“I got him,” Dick whispered to him before stepping into the room and carefully lifting the boy in his arms, clearing the space in the bed for Bruce to join Y/N.

Bruce moved about the room as he changed into cotton shorts and went without a shirt.

Y/N woke slightly as he joined her in bed.

“Everything OK?” She whispered sleepily.

“Everything’s fine. Did Damian keep you company?”

Y/N smiled and shifted her body so she was cuddle into him. “Yes…my little protector.”

Bruce smiled at that. “Don’t let him hear the ‘little’ part…”

She chuckled. “Good call.”

And then she was fast asleep once again.

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

Please, please, please let me know what you think!

#bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x batmom #damian wayne x batmom!reader #batmom #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman reader insert #batman x reader #damian wayne & batmom!reader #damian wayne & batmom #talia al ghul #damian al ghul #batman universe

2K notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 4

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette almost missed Hawkmoth. Sure, she ended up extremely emotionally repressed, but hey! At least her opponent was stupid, at least she never had to fear losing.

But, yeah, that was why she didn’t notice the fact that chloroform was on the floor. That was way too smart for a villain, in her opinion. Wasn’t Joker supposed to be insane or something? Why wasn’t he completely stupid like Hawkmoth had been?

Those were her last thoughts before her vision blacked out.

She blinked her eyes open one time while she was being transported, but… it wasn’t enough. Her head pounded, her limbs felt like lead. She tried to pull one of her arms away from the five goons carrying her around -- she giggled at how much effort they were going through to keep a half-conscious person down -- but it was too weak to even break their grip. She wasn’t going to be getting out of the situation anytime soon.

She rested her head back against the chest of whoever was carrying her head.

Her eyes fluttered shut without her permission.

It took a while for her to be able to open her eyes again, and when she did she was almost tempted to close them. She was tied up with Red Robin, hanging upside down over a vat of acid. Decidedly not a good situation to be in. Maybe she could ignore it for a little longer…?

She buried her face in the neck of Red Robin’s suit, using the cool material as a kind of cold pack to try and soothe her pounding headache.

… wait... Red Robin!

She had a bit of protection because of her mask covering her mouth and nose and miraculous immune system, but he was a human and both his mouth and nose were uncovered! Shit!

Marinette pulled back as much as she could to check his face and see if he was okay and then cursed the domino mask blocking his eyes from her view. What she could see wasn’t good, though: the skin of his face had broken out into hives where he had come into contact with the chloroform. Ouch.

She tried just poking the good parts of his face with her nose to get him to wake up, but clearly that wasn’t working. Alright, new plan.

“Red Robin?” She whispered.

Nothing.

“Red Robin Red Robin Red Red Red Red Red…”

She was pretty sure she was doing this annoying thing right. She didn’t have siblings, how could she know?

Wait wait wait, what was that one thing that his siblings always said to him?

“Reeeeed Robin, yum~.”

Not even that got a response? Damn, he must really be out of it.

Time for drastic measures, then.

She tipped her head back as far back as it could go and then slammed her forehead against his. This evoked a lot of swearing from both parties. Apparently, headbutting people doesn’t help headaches.

When her head stopped ringing as loudly, she peeked her eyes open. “Sorry, checking to see if you were alive.”

He gave about as much of a nod as he could. “It’s… I understand why you had to do it.”

She gave a tentative smile. “Right. Still, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, then glanced down to see what they were working with. He bit his lip anxiously. “Ah, that’s not good,” he said after a few moments of consideration.

She rolled her eyes because, yeah, obviously. She didn’t say that aloud, it wasn’t productive, so she said: “I’m going to squirm. See if you can free your arms a little?”

“Do you think I have some kind of gadget in my gloves for every situation?”

“Don’t you?”

He hesitated. “I mean… yes, I do have something that could help us out of the ropes, but we are kinda over acid right now. How fast is your reaction time?”

She tipped her head from side to side with an awkward smile. “Not great.”

“Then maybe we should just wait for backup --.”

“Do you think they’ll get here before Joker does?”

“... you’re right. Start squirming --.”

“Wow, you two hate me that much? I’m hurt,” a voice cooed.

Marinette jumped out of her skin. She craned her neck to glare at Joker for scaring her…

And immediately regretted it. Why was his face not attached to his skull properly? Did he cut his own face off? Who even does that? Ew.

Red Robin scowled at him. “I can’t say we were all glad to hear you were out.”

“Red Robin...” she warned.

“Wow, not even old Batsy was happy to hear the news?”

“Nope. Didn’t say anything, actually.”

Joker’s smile wavered. “He didn’t?”

“Um, Red,” she tried again.

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Not. A. Word.”

Joker didn’t seem to know what to do about this information. Batman wasn’t even paying attention to him? What was the point, then?

Marinette was also concerned about what was going on, but for a completely different reason. She leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Why are we trying to anger the psychopath?”

He gave as much of a shrug as he could while tied up. “If he’s talking he’s not trying to kill us.”

“And what if he gets angry enough to kill us?”

“He probably won’t.”

She winced. “Okay, I really don’t like your use of ‘probably’ there --.”

With both of their hands forced behind their backs, the only comfort he could really give was pressing his good cheek to hers. It shouldn’t have worked, but apparently life or death situations mess with your emotions.

“Just… trust me?” He pleaded quietly.

She sucked in a deep breath before turning to glare at Joker, who was still having a crisis over the fact that Batman didn’t care as much as he did. Well, she guessed that she had to take out her headache on someone. Might as well be the bitch in ugly clown makeup.

“You know, I don’t even understand why people are scared of you.”

Joker frowned and turned to look at her. “What?”

“I mean, I get why Poison Ivy is feared, I get why Mr. Freeze is feared… I even get Penguin and Riddler since they both have a high enough intellect to make up for their lack of powers… but you’re just… some guy.”

Joker gave her a cold look. “I could kill you.”

“So could a particularly determined cow, you’re not special.”

Red Robin snickered. She smiled, a little proud of herself for making him laugh.

Their grins were wiped off their faces when the rope holding them up dropped.

It caught them again dangerously close to the acid. Red Robin was a few centimeters from getting a new haircut. Marinette wondered, morbidly, whether her suit would go with her if she disintegrated.

“Not going to kill us, huh?”

“... well, I did say probably,” he mumbled, his face a little red.

She swallowed thickly. “If we live, I’m going to kill you.”

“Fair. Want to mess with him if he’s going to kill us anyways?”

“... yes.” She whipped around to glare at Joker again. “I mean, honestly, why aren’t you dead yet?”

“We don’t kill,” supplied Red Robin.

She grinned. “Sure, and I get that. I’m also not fond of murder... but is every citizen in Gotham just agreeing to not kill him? Does Batman spend all his time making sure that civilians don’t do it? Why hasn’t anyone seen him on the street and just tried to run him over?”

“... I mean, Robin hit him with the Batmobile once.”

“See?” She grinned. “And don’t even get me started on Punchline and your goons, Joker. How did you find so many people loyal to you?”

“I love him!” Said Punchline defensively.

“... sweetie, if you want a pasty white guy with green hair just watch 2016 Jacksepticeye.”

Red Robin nodded. “At least he’s kind of funny sometimes.”

“If you need the guy to be evil, how about the evil alter ego he made… what was he called?”

“Antisepticeye.”

“Ha, you’re a fucking nerd,” Marinette teased.

Red Robin blushed (or maybe that was just the blood slowly rushing to their heads from being upside down for so long) and pointedly ignored her: “Look up Antisepticeye. It’ll probably be healthier for you.”

Punchline didn’t have a retort for that. Marinette was deciding that was because she was considering it, not because she probably didn’t know who Jack/Antisepticeye was.

She pushed on: “And, hey, you goons don’t have to give Punchline over there the glory. Stab your boss. C’mon, it’ll be cool. Doubt he’s paying you more than whatever bounty is on his head, anyways.”

“If you’re going to rally henchmen maybe you shouldn’t call them ‘goons’,” suggested Red Robin.

She pouted. “But ‘goons’ sounds cuter.”

He opened his mouth to retort but she’d never know what he was going to say because, at that moment, Signal and Robin came busting in through the skylight.

Tim relaxed when he heard the glass shatter. Whether Marientte’s henchmen rallying had somehow worked or their backup had come, it at least meant that Joker and Punchline were distracted from wanting to murder them.

He struggled to crane his neck to see what was going on.

Oh. Damn. Damian was back from his angsting on the weird murder island? And he was here? Nevermind, he’d prefer Joker and Punchline. Damian was never going to let him live this down.

Speaking of Damian, a weight jumped onto their ropes and the three vigilantes became a pendulum. Tim grit his teeth tightly and Marinette let loose a long string of swears as their headaches worsened.

But, apparently, the world wasn’t done with them. Damian sliced the line at the highest point and they went flying across the room. Tim was the unlucky one on the bottom when they hit the ground, which he doubted was an accident.

Damian left them to deal with things on their own from there. Least he could have done was cut them free with his katana, but Tim supposed that was too much to wish for from the youngest brother.

He rested his head back against the cool floor for a second. He could feel Marinette stretch across his shoulder to do the same. They sighed in relief. This was the closest they had come to treating their headaches and wow was it nice.

But, frankly, resting in the middle of a fight isn’t a great idea. So, they wriggled around on the floor until he was able to flick open the tiny knife in the index finger of his gloves and cut the rope binding them without, y’know, cutting one of them instead.

Freedom! What did they do with this newfound freedom, you may ask? Scratch their heads. Turns out chloroform sucks for many reasons and one of those is that it’s a major skin irritant.

He also vomited. Thank god they’d been freed. He’d been only a few seconds away from throwing up on Marinette. He felt especially bad about that when she peeled a hand from her itching to hold his hair away from his face.

The fight was over soon enough. Duke and Damian came over to watch the two of them attempting to peel their skin off layer by layer.

“Pathetic,” chided Damian.

“Don’t be a dick --.” Marinette cut herself off, her hand flying to her mouth. “I swore in front of a baby.”

“I’m twelve!”

“Exactly: a baby.” She reached out and cupped a very affronted Damian’s face in her hands. “Look, you still have baby fat! You shouldn’t be fighting crime!”

Tim couldn’t tell if she was messing with Damian for being rude to them or if she genuinely saw him as a little kid. He wasn’t going to correct her. She’d remember he was a gremlin soon enough.

Damian wrenched his face from her grip. “If I hadn’t come you two would have been burned in acid.”

“Please, we all know Signal probably could have dealt with this entirely on his own,” Marinette waved him off.

Duke rested a hand over his heart like he was touched.

Tim rolled his eyes and pulled Marinette to him, resting his head on top of hers lazily. “We should get a checkup at the cave. Chloroform has… not nice effects and we both rolled around in it a little while fighting.”

Duke and Damian both winced, but Marinette didn’t seem all that concerned.

“I’ll be fine. My immune system is enhanced by --.”

Duke clapped his hands by her ears as loudly as he could. Neither Marinette nor Tim were particularly happy about it.

“Behold: a headache, one of the main symptoms of chloroform. Your face also has some red streaks, so don’t even try to deny that the chloroform is affecting you.”

“I take back my praise, I’ve decided I hate you,” she murmured, massaging her temples.

“I just remembered that I need the siren on my bike on to tell all the other bats we’ll need them at the cave...”

“Wait, no --.”

Marinette glared at Black Bat and Spoiler. The batboys had left the infirmary area for her own comfort and that was nice of them but she would really prefer if she hadn’t had to come at all.

Now she sat in some of Black Bat’s pajamas and one of Spoiler’s spare masks as they inspected her.

Her nose scrunched as Black Bat drew blood from her arm.

“This is dumb. I don’t need this.”

“We’ve been told. Humor us?” Spoiler said and, though Marinette couldn’t see her face from where she was, she knew she was rolling her eyes.

“I would if you were actually funny.”

“I think we can definitely put her down for irritability,” commented Spoiler.

Black Bat nodded and dutifully wrote it down. Traitor.

The cool metal of a stethoscope was pressed to her back and she cringed.

“Deep breaths.”

Marinette complied, however reluctantly. Might as well get all this bullshit over with as soon as possible.

… she was regretting that decision, now, though.

She gave Batman a cold look. “You can’t keep me here.”

“You need to stay so we can monitor your state overnight. You could have asphyxiated.”

“But we didn’t,” complained Red Robin, who looked just as annoyed about this as she was.

“We have lives, B,” she said.

“You weren’t going to do anything other than patrols tonight, don’t act like I’m tearing you away from something important.”

“The protection of the city is important,” Red argued.

“Neither of you would be much help tonight in the state you’re in, anyways.”

Red Robin stuck his lower lip out in a pout. Marinette gave her best puppy-dog eyes.

Batman wasn’t moved. “If you need something, Agent A will provide it.”

She blinked, eyes returning to normal in her confusion. “Who --?”

He disappeared into the shadows before she could finish the conversation, something she was, unfortunately, getting used to.

Marinette scowled at where he had last been.

Maybe she should have expected this, maybe if she had been less out of it she would have. They had given her pajamas when she’d had clothes and insisted on cleaning her old ones ‘for chloroform’. The checkup might have been a genuine checkup on her state, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered what the results were. She was always going to end up staying the night in the cold, dingy cave filled with bats.

She sighed and laid back against the stone floors. She heard Red Robin groan and looked up to see he had been locked out of the Batcomputer for the night. He leaned back in his chair and mumbled curses.

She giggled at his distress and, despite himself, a tiny grin poked at his lips.

“Want to race to see who can hack into it first?” She suggested.

He raised an eyebrow at her under his domino. “Think you can win?”

“Considering I don’t know that much about hacking, I’m going to say probably not.”

A wide smile spread across his face, now, and he waved her over. She took a seat on the desk beside the keyboard and he started teaching her everything.

Most of what he said, while technically heard, wasn’t exactly understood. She couldn’t concentrate. It was the first time she had seen him in anything but his vigilante suit and she decided that that was a crime because he looked so cute in the Batman-themed pajamas. Furthermore, the way his long hair was pushed back by a headband to keep it out of the green paste spread over his face to alleviate the chloroform’s rash reminded her of a spa day in all those movies.

And then there was the smile. It made her heart flutter in her chest because she was so used to his grins but this was just a genuine smile. He looked so passionate about the intricacies of cyber crime. She was almost sad about the domino hiding his eyes because she wanted to see the way they lit up while he explained different ways viruses could be accidentally downloaded to devices.

Basically, she was a mess for this random cute guy she worked with. She had never seen him so casual and at ease and it felt far more intimate than it maybe should.

She rested her head on her hand, nodding along as he talked about data encryption versus decoding.

Well, maybe a forced sleepover in the Batcave wouldn’t be so bad...

Tim was suffering a lot more than he would ever admit, and only a small part of it was due to chloroform.

He was going to be having a sleepover with one of his idols and he was going to be spending a large amount of the time trying not to throw up. And she could totally tell, too, why else would she be watching him so intensely? Someone kill him, please. He was so glad he had a secret identity because he didn’t know how he would manage if she thought Tim Drake-Wayne was a loser.

Granted, she was going to think Red Robin was a loser... but at least he had a second chance as Tim.

He rested his chin on the back of his chair. He had hacked into the Batcomputer already but it was a relatively dull night out on patrols and he wasn’t eager to be yelled at for showing Marinette some files on top of already hacking into them when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Wanna do something?”

She grinned. “Is there anything to do here other than train?”

“... nothing approved.”

She tipped her head to the side. “And of the things that aren’t approved?”

He matched her grin. “Well…”

And that was how he ended up setting up a movie projector in the cave so they could watch Groundhog Day. Marinette had taken to making them a pillow fort.

Duke stumbled down the steps, half awake, and raised his eyebrows at them from behind his domino. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that they had made and took a long sip before sending the two of them a wary look. “Do I want to know?”

Marinette didn’t look up from her and Tikki’s base construction. “Dunno. Do you want to watch Groundhog Day with us?”

He frowned. “Isn’t that the one where that guy in a time loop stalks his co-worker until he knows enough to make her fall in love with him?”

“Just say you don’t like romcoms and go,” Marinette irritably.

“I’m fine with romcoms, it’s just… a little messed up that he uses the knowledge he gets from being in a time loop to ensure she falls for him?”

“It’s a story about self-improvement,” Tim said, sending his brother a glare. “He grows as a person until he is worthy of her love.”

“Him learning about her is part of his arc. He starts off selfish and he ends it with a deeper appreciation for other people,” agreed Marinette.

Duke held his free hand up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your stalker movie.”

“It’s not a --,” Tim tried to argue, but Duke was already heading back upstairs.

He huffed a little and finished setting up the computer and projector, then took a seat in the pillow fort. She poured each of them a cup of coffee, put a straw in hers to maintain her identity, and then took a seat beside him.

He took it from her with a bright smile and turned on the movie.

She rested her head on his shoulder as the happy-go-lucky music started up.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t manage to stay awake for all that long. Duke had drugged the coffee pot.

Marinette shifted awake a while later and promptly decided that being awake sucked.

Nothing about her current situation sucked, of course. At some point during the night they had fallen asleep and now she was laying half on top of Red Robin, clinging to him like a koala. He didn’t seem all that upset about it, though, with his arm wrapped around her and his face buried in her hair.

Unfortunately, the time on the bottom right of the Batcomputer’s screen told her she didn’t have much time to enjoy it.

She started the slow process of extracting herself from him. Getting the arm off of herself was easy, getting his face away from her head was much harder (this wasn’t helped by the fact that the paste on his face had stuck to her hair).

There was one scare where she thought he was going to wake up. She pushed herself off of his chest and he took a long breath in. Marinette froze, watching his lips tighten… and then he turned over in his sleep.

Oops, apparently she’d been suffocating him a little in her sleep. Sorry, Red.

Well, at least she was free now.

She slipped out of the pillow fort and glanced at the time again.

Even less time to do what she needed. Because that’s how time works.

She sighed and called Tikki over with a tiny wave of her hand, walking over the edge of the railing. She looked down at the abyss that stretched many feet below.

Tikki couldn’t have looked more disapproving if she tried.

“It’s just a little insurance,” Marinette signed.

This didn’t make Tikki any less upset with her, but she hadn’t really expected it to. She signed for her transformation. She tied herself to the railing with her yoyo as a precaution and then hooked her legs around the railing.

And down she went.

She flexed at an awkward angle, flashlight in her mouth, and stuck a tracker to the bottom of the platform.

And, really, she wasn’t intending on using it. Like she said, it was just insurance. They had drawn blood from her earlier and she knew for a fact that it wasn’t necessary for chloroform inhalation. The only reason that made sense for that was that they wanted to check and see if she had inhaled some but they already knew that so… what did they want with her blood?

She was willing to bet it had something to do with her secret identity. And, hey, she didn’t particularly care if they knew her identity, she trusted them, but if it ever got out because of them revealing then who the bats were would be 1) revenge and 2) a good distraction.

“Hey --?”

Thank the kwamis she had tied herself to the railing because she’d been surprised enough to let go of the platform.

“Shit, sorry!” Said Red Robin.

She pulled herself back up onto the platform with his help and then collapsed on the cool stone. She spat the flashlight from her mouth. “Fuuuuuuck, don’t do that again, please.”

“Sorry,” he said again. Then he glanced back at where she had been and, momentarily, his lips pulled into a frown. “I gotta ask: what were you doing?”

“Hm?”

Shitshitshit.

“Oh, I wanted to see if there was anything down there or if it was just for The Aesthetic.”

“Why not just use your yoyo to go down?”

She shuddered. “The flashlight barely did anything. Would you want to go down into that darkness with no clue even how far down it goes?”

He seemed to accept the answer. “It’s an old iron mine. No one uses it anymore, though.”

She nodded her understanding.

She pushed herself back up to a sitting position and looked at him.

“The bats don’t get back for a while and we’re still on lockdown, so… want to do something?”

Damian was the first one to get home. Apparently he had broken a leg on patrol. This was fine (well, maybe he shouldn’t have been driving himself, but whatever).

What was not fine was that he had promptly decided to be an asshole.

Tim and Marinette had been playing Minecraft on the Batcomputer and, like all younger brothers, Damian asked to play.

And, like all older brothers, Tim barely looked up from his controller to tell him: “No.”

Damian looked to be on the verge of a meltdown.

Marinette sighed and sent Tim a tired look. “Red, don’t be mean. He’s just a kid. There’s more controllers, we can just give him one.”

“But…” He started. Damian was a terrible partner to play Minecraft with because he never helped out with anything except for the farm.

However, Marinette was looking at him expectantly. Tim bit his lip, considering.

Damian looked between the two of them and a wicked grin spread across his face and oh no.

Damian took a seat next to Marinette and gave her puppy-dog eyes (a real feat, considering the fact that he was wearing a domino and therefore his eyes were invisible). “Miss Ladybug, can’t you please make him let me play?”

Marinette gave Tim a tired look. “Red, c’mon, just for a bit.”

Damian smirked a little but, by the time Marinette turned back around, he had schooled his face back into a pout.

She handed him her controller. “You can have mine. I’ll find another for myself.”

The two watched her leave and Tim sent his younger brother a glare. “I can’t believe you would embarrass yourself this much just to play a game.”

“Anything to annoy you, ‘big bro’.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but then Marinette came back and all he could do was send him a glare behind her back.

Damian retaliated by sitting himself on Marinette’s lap. She looked down, amusement making her eyes crinkle, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. Damian smirked and stuck his tongue out at Tim.

That little shit.

And it continued on for hours while the three of them waited for the rest of the bats to come back. Damian would cling to Marinette in some way and he would become the bad guy for glaring at a child. He was seriously considering breaking the No Killing Rule for this kid.

Finally, though, people started coming back and apparently Damian thought it too embarrassing to do such a thing in front of more than just the person he was trying to annoy because he clambered off her lap to play just a little bit away.

Bruce was the last one to come in and he looked at his kids with the patented Batdad Glare because they had managed to drag Steph into playing with them (without much effort) and Cass into watching (with much more effort). Which meant that there were currently five family disappointments. Yay them.

Tim smiled innocently. “What? We got bored. Maybe you should let us out so this doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m keeping you here for your own safety.”

Marinette and Tim both groaned.

“I have work to do.”

“Me, too.”

Bruce didn’t relent because he was a stubborn asshole.

But that was fine. They really hadn’t expected them to. Tim glanced at Marinette and she twirled her index finger against her flat palm, the sign for ‘start’.

One flash and smoke bomb later, the two of them were running as fast as they could to his bike. He grinned as he helped his giggling friend get on and hopped up himself. Arms wrapped around him tightly and her face buried in his back. They tore out of the cave, giggling all the while.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #theyre paranoid bastards your honor

100 notes · View notes

lady-literature · 4 years

Text

for us to collide (part 4)

anyway who actually expected me to end this thing in 4 chapters lol

rip me ig

After the not-so-impromptu interrogation courtesy of her friends (because there was no way they hadn’t planned that, it was too coordinated) Robin doesn’t stop by for two weeks.

Which is… fine. Marinette is plenty busy anyways. The extra time she has free now that she isn’t entertaining a bratty vigilante, goes to more productive uses of her time. Like watching bad horror movies with her friends and jeering at the horrible acting and special effects.

(Red Hood stops by in the middle of watching Grizzly Rage and proceeds to rant for twenty minutes about ‘shitty, unrealistic blood splatters’. Marinette has long since passed the point of being worried about it.)

So, yeah. She doesn’t see Robin.

But Damian, oddly enough, seeks her out.

It’s early, and there isn’t anyone else in the studio right now which means Marinette has her music blasting and she’s humming along as she hand paints silk for Clara’s dress. It’s loud and she’s in her zone, so it’s only by Tikki warning her that she realizes someone entered her sanctuary.

Her eyebrows raise when she sees who it is.

“Uh, bonjour Damian," she greets confusedly, reaching over to lower the volume on her speakers. "I hadn’t expected to see you here. Is there something you need?”

He stops before her workstation, only slightly bigger than the ones the rest of her staff use due to the sheer amount of open commissions she normally has. She has an actual office on this floor, but Chloé uses it more than she does. Marinette likes the open space and being around her designers more than she likes the privacy.

His eyes catch on the two bouquets of flowers she’s yet to take home, neither of which have even begun to wilt—and likely won’t. (She’ll have to take them home soon before people start asking questions.)

“I was called here by Father, but he’s currently indisposed. I’ve been told to wait.”

She waits a moment for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she asks, “So you came to visit me?”

“Yours is the only tolerable presence to be found.” His lips purse, and he crosses his arms. “And that includes that imbecile Drake who is no doubt still in his office like the pitiful insomniac he is.”

Her tongue is already halfway around a joke about excuses—she didn’t befriend Felix for nothing, okay? She knows how people like Damian work—when she realizes what he just said.

“Wait. Tim’s been here all night?”

Damian snorts. “He certainly didn’t return to the manor.”

She’s out of her seat in an instant, frowning and muttering up a storm as she rummages through the storage cubes pushed up against the far wall. She has a blanket, pillow and plain cotton shirt in her hands before Damian registers that she even moved.

“I’m going to kill your brother,” she says simply. “Would you like to come with?”

She’s gotten closer to Tim since working in Wayne Tower. He’s a notorious recluse and rarely leaves his office when he’s in the building, but Marinette makes it a point to visit him during lunch and before she leaves for the night.

He isn’t one of her Waynes, but he is a Wayne and her Waynes love and care for him so there’s not much of a difference really. She does like to think they might be something close to friends at this point though. And if the way Tim comes down to visit whenever he ventures out of his office means something, she might even be right.

Another thing that should be noted, is that Marinette is very much a ‘ride or die’ kind of person when it comes to the people she cares about. She will ruthlessly bully her loved ones into taking better care of themselves on threat of death because she is the semi-hypocritical mom friend and damn proud of it.

Damian looks her up and down, eyes lingering on the items in her hands and the determined set to her jaw and says, “Of course.” Then he’s plucking her things from her hands, offering her his arm and saying, “Shall we?”

Marinette laughs as she loops her arm with his. “We shall.”

***

She spends ten minutes scolding Tim before wrangling him onto the couch in his office and wrapping him up in the blanket so tightly he’d need to be an escape artist to get out of it. He tries to struggle anyway, but Marinette has too much practice at this and he doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

Damian stands at her shoulder and smirks the entire time, eyes dancing with amusement as she forces the CEO of Wayne Enterprises to take a fucking nap. Then, she’s treated to the sound of his surprised laughter as she begins switching out all of Tim’s regular coffee for magic-decaf—not that Damian knows it’s magic.

(By the devilish smirk playing at his lips, she’s starting to think that maybe Damian really is just as sadistic as Duke and Jason say he is.)

***

Damian starts dropping by more often after that (read: starts dropping by at all). Not that Marinette minds. She quite likes his company, actually.

He normally stops by first thing in the morning when Marinette is the only one in the workshop, walking in like he owns the place. For the first couple days, he asks about Ladybug and the rest of Paris’ Court, claiming that he’s curious about them.

She answers them, but only as far as she’d answer them for any reporter and is careful not to give away any sensitive information not known to the public. He gets a bit frustrated at one point, complaining that she must know more, but she stays stubbornly silent about it and, sometimes, steers the conversation deftly to the Great Bat and his Flock instead.

He eventually stops asking about the Parisian superheroes and instead their morning conversations turn to a thousand random things. Complaints and anecdotes and a silly back and forth between the two.

Marinette’s never been much of a morning person but having Damian there to keep her company is… nice.

She almost finds herself looking forward to mornings now.

***

When her Waynes learn that she’s started a food kitchen and makes a habit of spending her weekend there, they immediately insist on joining her, despite her protests.

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” she says even though the three of them are already in their aprons and Cass is eyeing the boucher, Vivian, and her collection of knives with glittering interest.

Duke grins at her, “We know, M. But we want to.”

Jason finally turns back to her from where he’s been staring at the kitchen with something just shy of awe on his face. “You’re downright incredible, you know that?” he waves a hand out at the seating area, and then at the people in the kitchen assembling the healthiest and cost-efficient meals she and Felix could find after days spent researching. “I would’ve killed for something like this when I was on the streets.”

“It’s not just me who’s got this up and running-” she tries protesting but then Fiona, the woman Marinette actually put in charge of this place, is at her side and all but shoving the four of them into stations.

Marinette ends up by the pastries, like always, and she can see Jason making sandwiches. Duke's been roped into making eggs and bean casseroles and Cass, by some grace, actually ended up by Vivian and is having a blast cutting up all the meats as fast as she can.

They don’t stop until lunch, all four of them helping prepare meals for the upcoming week in bulk. After, they all go out for ice cream by the pier and Jason smears chocolate on her nose and Duke carries her around on his back when she complains about being tired.

Cass takes pictures of it all and later, Marinette gets them all printed out.

It ends up being a really good day.

***

The buzz from the charity gala and all the press regarding her and Damian’s non-existent relationship had calmed down weeks ago. There was still the odd article about Marinette being seen with her odd assortment of Waynes and the newspapers still called her ridiculous names when they got a picture, but it was about as close to normal as she gets.

The quiet lulled her into a false sense of security.

Ice Prince and Sweetheart Finally Seen on Date: Fairy Tale Romance or Publicity Stunt?

The ‘date’ in question was a coffee and lunch run for her designers and also Tim (because kwami knew he'd work through lunch if allowed).

Damian normally didn’t stay past Lilliane arriving in the morning (the poor dear was chronically late and always the last to arrive) but he hadn’t shown up until after she came that day and overcompensated by hours—which she hadn't minded. He kept to the fringes of her workspace and didn't distract her, instead focusing on his own thing. She wasn’t quite sure what he was up to, but she knew he was switching between his computer and sketchpad every so often.

(She's pretty sure he was hiding from Dick for some reason. He’s the only Wayne brother who doesn’t visit her at work, seeing as they have their bi-weekly gymnastic sessions; recently, with the addition of Mar’i, who still calls her ‘twin’ and whom Marinette still adores.)

And then lunch had rolled around, and it was Marinette’s turn to go out so she brought Damian with since he was still there.

They were out together for forty-five minutes. Tops.

“Why me?” she whines into the surface of her desk.

Damian, the asshole, just laughs at her and she can’t even be mad about it because he’s only just started laughing around her and not hiding behind so many of his walls. He laughs and Marinette knows it's precious so instead of shooting him the glower he deserves, she finds herself having to hide the smile slowly creeping on her face.

***

They’re splashed across the papers again less than a week later, only this time she has her Waynes there too.

Marinette's wearing her bright red sundress and she's somehow convinced Damian to wear a jacket with elaborate crowns and snowflakes embroidered up the sides. Because, as Chloé says: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

They see the camera this time and the photo splashed across the page the next day is of Marinette laughing with Jason’s arm slung across her shoulders as both he and Damian flip off the camera. Meanwhile, Duke and Cass stand just far enough in frame to capture their expressions of pain and amusement respectively.

(Marinette makes a mental note to order apology gift baskets for the PR department.)

There are a lot of headlines the next day about Marinette’s ‘harem of Waynes’ and how she’s a ‘horrible influence on such bright children’. She spends about ten minutes trying to decide whether she should be horrified or laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it and eventually decides on both.

Adrien, the little shit, sees the headline and immediately prints it out to hang in her kitchen.

It reappears every time she tries to take it down.

***

Gotham does not smile upon daytime heroes.

Not to say that Gotham really smiles on anyone, but it’s especially vicious to those that think they’re owed anything. She’s heard the way Gothamites talk about Superman and The Flash—it’s not exactly what one would call adoring.

But Ladybug's been a daytime hero her entire career and it is not difficult to see that there's something distinctly different about the way daytime heroes and Gotham’s vigilantes operate.

Something more vicious, maybe; something more restrained.

Without the light of day and without the people’s eyes watching them at every moment, the Gotham Bats have become something else entirely.

Signal, their Daytime Protector, is especially strange.

A bat who's meta, straddling the line between day and night. The Day Patrol, trained by the night.

Sometimes, when she and Signal talk about heroing, there is such an odd type of disconnect that it throws her. Nothing horrible or major, but little things she’s sure she wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t so intimately familiar with it all herself.

They don’t always talk about heroing though. After two months, Ladybug is proud to say she seems to be worming her way past his outer shell nicely. He tried so hard to keep his distance from her, but Ladybug’s always liked a challenge, and it isn’t long before she has him relaxing around her.

Well, for a definition of relax anyway. He's still a bat after all.

But then, it’s pretty easy to get past Signal’s barriers when she’s already had practice breaking through the more stubborn bats like Robin and, to an extent, Hood. Not that Signal, or any of the bats, know that.

Which, speaking of the bats, isn’t it a bit weird she’s only met three spread across two of her alter egos? As Ladybug, she’d expect to be hounded by a few of them but the only one she’s met is Signal. She can’t decide if it’s because he’s the only one that operates in the daylight, or if they just don’t want to spook her into running or something.

Either way, they’re going to start giving her a complex. She’s heard so much about the rest of the Batfamily, and not one of them even wants to meet her? Either her?

(Maybe Marinette should ask Robin and Hood what’s up with that? The way they talk about how nosy Red Robin is, she’s surprised he didn’t drop by months ago and- is it weird that she’s offended by vigilantes not prying into her private life?

…Probably.)

***

Marinette blinks, stopping dead in her tracks.

Damian's on her fainting couch, sketchpad in his lap as he waits for her.

“Why are you wearing a beanie?” she blurts out instead of greeting him like a normal person. "You never wear beanies."

Luckily, Damian scowls at her question rather than at her. It’s a subtle but very important difference.

“Sorry,” she apologizes anyway, putting her bag down. “I haven't had coffee yet.”

He hums, then nods to her desk where she finds a steaming to-go mug. Her face lights up and she quickly snatches it, breathing deeply the lovely aroma. “You’re a godsend.”

That brings a quirk to his lips, closer to a smirk than a smile, but progress nonetheless.

After a moment, where she sips at her overly sugary monstrosity—just the way she likes it, when had Damian even noticed that?—and he continues sketching she asks again. “Okay but, I actually am kinda curious. What’s up with the hat?”

He sighs heavily, closing his pad. “It’s… better than the alternative.”

Marinette snorts. “Alternative to what? A top hat?” But instead of snapping back like she expects, he just continues to frown. Immediately, her lips turn down into a concerned frown. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes,” he grounds out and Marinette puts her coffee down. She’s just about to open her mouth and say something else when he reaches up and rips the beanie off his head.

For the second time in less than five minutes, she stops dead.

Marinette opens her mouth. Closes it. Blinks, but the scene doesn't change.

His hair is still blue.

Damian Wayne's hair is blue.

Damian Wayne’s hair is vibrantly electric blue.

Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her giggles.

Damian’s scowl deepens. He moves to shove his ridiculous beanie back on his head but her hand snaps out before he can.

“No! No, I’m sorry I just-” she giggles again. “You looked so upset by it and you took me by surprise. I like it!”

He glares up at her, still sat on the fainting couch so it’s her who has the height advantage for once.

“Don’t patronize me.”

She rolls her eyes, the hand that wasn’t settled on his arm reaching up to touch the bright strands. It's slow enough that he can stop her, but he, surprisingly, makes no move to.

His hair is a lot softer than she expects it to be. But she supposes he didn’t use that gel stuff today, planning on keeping his hair under a hat the whole time.

“It looks good on you,” she says softly.

He snorts disbelievingly and she smacks his shoulder lightly. “It’s true! I swear you could look good in any color.” She clicks her tongue longingly. “I wish I had your skin tone. I’m too pale to wear pastels like I want.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Pastels?”

“Oh you hush,” she quips, finally pulling her hand from his hair. “Anyway, if you don’t like it, why’d you dye it blue in the first place?”

“I… lost a wager with Todd.”

She laughs, starting to move around and get ready for the day. She doesn’t have any meetings scheduled, which means she gets the whole day to create. She’s pretty excited about it.

“I should’ve guessed it was Jason’s doing.”

Damian shrugs, settling back into the cushions. He drapes himself across them in a way that’s effortlessly elegant and like he’s ready to be photographed for a magazine cover or something. Must all her friends be so pretty? It’s playing hell on her self-esteem.

“But blue is your favorite color, right? So there’s that at least.”

Damian hums. “Todd had threatened to dye it pink or some other equally garish color.”

“Hey!” she exclaims in mock outrage. “What’s wrong with pink? I’ve been wanting to dye my hair pink for ages.”

“Nothing. It’s just simply not a color I appreciate.” He makes a face. “Like orange.”

Marinette huffs, but there’s a smile on her lips. It's quiet for a moment, for long enough that she thinks the conversation's been dropped. But then-

“Why don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Why haven’t you dyed your hair?” he repeats. “Your friends—Couffaine and… Kubdel? They both have colored hair.”

Marinette shrugs. “I dunno. Never got around to it I guess. I suppose I could do it now. Dye mine in solidarity,” she jokes. “Oh! We could match even! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I thought you wanted pink?”

“Well, yeah. But blue is nice too. Besides,” she smiles wryly over her shoulder, “you just said pink was ‘garish’.”

Damian frowns slightly, shaking his head, “On me, perhaps. But I think you’d look very fetching in pink.”

“Oh,” Marinette pauses, feeling her face grow warm at the sudden compliment. “Well- Uh, pink it is, then.”

***

(Damian watches the blush rise on her cheeks as she turns away to try and hide it. Yes, he can’t help but think, fetching in pink, indeed.)

***

Luka insists on being the one to dye her hair, citing that he’s the one who had dibs all these years, but Alix and Jason both all but demand to be there too.

Her bathroom is not big enough for all four of them to sit in.

Not a single one of them cares.

Cass and Duke ask for progress pics along with Uncle Jay, and all her Parisian friends cycle through standing at the bathroom door to see how it's going.

The constant stream of people looking at her makes her feel not unlike an animal at a zoo. (When she wryly tells this to Alix, all she gets is her friend cackling on the ground.)

But, after all the bleaching and conditioning and waiting, she stares into the mirror with soft pink hair the color of bubblegum and thinks, yeah, it was worth it.

She thinks it again when Damian walks in the next day and almost trips over his own feet.

(She’s also wearing her Robin themed sundress, complete with hood, matching boots and personal touches not found on the mass-produced version—but Marinette doesn’t know why that would be relevant.)

Her favorite reaction to her new hair color though is, by far, Mar’i’s.

Marinette doesn’t see the young Grayson until a week later when she’s invited to the monthly family dinner Alfred insists all the Waynes attend—which includes her now, apparently (she tries not to show how pleased she is by that).

She arrived with Damian, who was kind enough to pick Tim and her up from work, and Mar’i takes one look at Damian and her standing next to one another before she starts babbling excitedly about Lilo and Stitch and Angel. A character who is—apparently—Stitch’s girlfriend and the complimentary pink to his blue.

Marinette is momentarily surprised, but Mar’i’s enthusiasm is contagious and it isn’t long before the rest of the Waynes are teasingly calling them Angel and Stitch. Marinette thinks it’s all very funny and adorable.

Damian, on the other hand, most certainly does not and threatens everyone who calls him that ‘ridiculous nickname’ with graphic depictions of bodily harm.

‘Angel’, oddly enough, sticks for Marinette. She finds she kind of likes it.

***

Later, Damian asks her about nicknames.

Well, he calls them ‘asinine titles’ and doesn’t so much ask as demand she explain why she allows anyone to call her by them seeing as she has a ‘perfectly serviceable name,’ in his opinion.

Ignoring the fact that she’s heard Dick call him multiple nicknames he hadn’t protested to, she says, “Well, I guess it’s that everyone uses Marinette. A nickname is something… special. A little more personal, I guess. And, I dunno. My parents named me Marinette, but it’s nice to share something between other people. And it shows they care.”

Damian looks confused after she’s done, but also thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything to that and Marinette doesn’t really expect anything to come of it.

She's proven wrong when, a week later, Damian calls her Starling instead of Marinette.

(And the transition from Dupain-Cheng to Marinette had been enough to make her beam—this is just ridiculous.)

***

When Robin disappears a second time, Marinette doesn’t get the chance to notice his absence on her own. He’s only stopped showing up four days ago—which is longer than normal, but not unheard of—when she hears unfamiliar voices on her balcony.

Looking out, she finds three semi-familiar individuals clustered around the plate of treats she leaves out for Robin and Hood.

Nightwing and Red Robin are both stuffing their faces full of the fruit tarts she had made while Spoiler glares at them and seems to be cursing the fact that her mask covers her mouth the same way Hood always does when she makes those raspberry scones he likes.

The scene is… odd. For many reasons but most pressingly that their arrival has come out of nowhere.

“Well,” Nightwing explains when she asks, “We wanted to visit ages ago, but baby bird threatened to stab us all if we tried.”

“He’s very… particular about you,” Red Robin tacks on while Spoiler nods sagely like she hasn’t crafted some strange straw monstrosity just so she can drink tea while still wearing her mask. Red Robin has one too, but his for the aesthetic rather than out of necessity.

Marinette stares at the three of them. “That… does not explain why you are here now.”

“Robin can’t stop us now, obviously,” Red Robin says casually, like he hasn't just kicked her heart into high gear with a few words.

“What? Why?” she demands, trying very hard not to sound panicked. “Is he okay? Was he hurt?”

Red Robin blinks, going quiet in that way Hood and Robin do when they’re judging her just a bit. She hates this family.

“No, he’s… fine.”

“B’s just benched him for the time being,” Nightwing helpfully supplies, amusement flickering at the edges of his lips. “He’s a little too… conspicuous at the moment.”

Marinette’s shoulders relax even as her brows furrow. Conspicuous? What in the world is that supposed to mean?

“Does that mean he won’t be coming around for a while?” she asks before she can think better of it.

The three vigilantes in front of her share a look before Spoiler says, “Probably. But the gremlin’s never been one to sit still so who knows?” she smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners as she leans toward Marinette conspiratorially. “But don’t worry. We can keep you company in the meantime!”

“We’re much better company than the demon anyway. Certainly less insulting.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad. He’s an ass, for sure, but you can tell when he means it and when he’s just stumbling over himself.” Marinette smiles fondly, “For someone so dignified, he trips over his tongue quite often.”

Now the vigilantes are really staring at her. She’s starting to feel pretty uncomfortable about it all when Nightwing beams at her, jumping up from his seat to sweep her into a hug. It startles her, but she doesn’t push him away, instead laughing at the sudden affection.

“Oh you really are perfect!” he exclaims, setting her down and still grinning like an absolute lunatic.

She’s smiling, because Nightwing’s joy is infectious, but she's even more confused than before. And then, before she can ask what he means, Red Robin’s wrist computer lights up—and damn, isn’t that cool? Marinette wonders if Tikki could do something like that for the Ladybug suit—and the three are moving to swing back out into the night.

She waves them off and they all promise to visit again.

Marinette shakes her head before going back inside with the empty pastry plate and four empty mugs.

***

Damian knows of Marinette’s friends of course. It'd take more effort not to when she talks about them every chance she gets and tells him all the wild stories about their escapades and misadventures.

(They also all came up in the background check he ran on her when they first met.)

Most of her friends are exceedingly normal oddly enough. Well, they’re all mildly famous and the leaders of their various fields, but they’re just civilians.

The only exceptions being, Bourgeois, Agreste, and Graham de Vanily.

Bourgeois is a former hero like Marinette, only she doesn't seem to still be in contact with the Parisian Court. All the articles he could find spoke about how Queen Bee was deemed unfit for her mantle and later replaced by the new bee hero, Ambrosia. Agreste was caught up in the scandal of his father being Hawkmoth, but he was found innocent and ignorant of his father's crimes (something Damian made sure to confirm). He now works at and is being groomed to own the bakery Marinette's parents run, seeing as their daughter has little interest to do it herself.

And finally, Graham de Vanily, Agreste's cousin, has a history of causing trouble wherever he goes. Nothing villainous, and rarely even malicious, but there's something about him that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Not everything is as it seems with the Graham de Vanily heir.

Besides those three outliers, Marinette's friends seem to be untouched by the vigilante life. Which means he thinks they must be utterly boring.

Only, when her friends start coming around to visit and drag her out for lunch or some other random outing, Damian keeps finding himself baffled by each of them.

They act strangely and with a dangerous air none of them should possess, except for Tsurugi. The questions they ask him are strange and the jokes they make have no sense. He's been warned about how he better treat Marinette so many times, he's started to lose count. (Which is ridiculous. He treats her just fine and would never intentionally harm her. What are they trying to insinuate?)

But, by far, his most memorable encounter is with Lahiffe. A veritable wolf in sheep's clothing.

Marinette is excitedly babbling about her newest idea for her summer collection, pressed up against him on the chaise and practically shoving her sketches in his face as she demands his critique and thoughts.

Her hands are waving every which way and, on more than one occasion, he has to quickly lean back so she doesn't hit him in the face.

He’s focusing on what she’s saying so much—because she has a habit of forgetting things if she doesn’t write them down and needs someone to remind her of the ideas she had at a later time—that he doesn’t even realize Lahiffe is there until he clears his throat.

Marinette jumps, almost elbowing him in the stomach. “Nino!” she shouts, springing up and flinging herself at the other man who catches her like this is something she does often.

“Heya, Nettie.”

“Wait- what are you doing here? You’re not-” she jolts back to look at Lahiffe’s amused expression. “Oh kwami, is it time already? Shit. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so sorry! I have to give this one thing to Publishing but then I promise we can go, okay? Like, just five minutes!”

She's already moving before she finishes speaking, sweeping up papers and rearranging files and putting things away with all the swiftness and agility of a speedster. Damian watches her go about her routine, occasionally handing her something she’s dropped or pointing out a thing she’s missed, weaving around her chaos with practiced ease.

Then she’s sweeping out of the office with a distracted “be right back!” and he’s alone with Lahiffe.

The second Marinette leaves, the man’s attention swings onto him with a strange weight. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything and Damian’s hackles raise with every passing second.

He doesn’t snap at him though, because he’s one of Marinette’s friends. Insulting him would only serve to make her upset and that’s something Damian's been trying to avoid causing as of late.

“Man,” Lahiffe says at last. “Alix wasn’t kidding about the whole besotted thing, huh?”

Damian rears back, straightening up to his full height. “I beg your pardon?”

Lahiffe laughs and waves his hand about like that’s supposed to mean something. “Ah, no need to be embarrassed about it, dude. You’re far from the first of us to fall for her charms.”

“What.”

“Yeah, we've all been there. I think over half of the Paris crew crushed on her at some point, including myself. None of us are into her like that anymore, so as long as you treat her right, you got nothing to worry about."

“I’m not- I'm not interested in Marinette,” Damian tries to protest but Lahiffe just calmly steamrolls over him.

“Nah. Everyone loves Nettie. It’s universal law or something. First, there was me and Adrien, then Luka—who she actually liked back for a while there but are now practically siblings. Chloé liked her in collége, but she hadn’t really come to terms with that at the time. Alix might’ve, but she’s pretty grey-ace and fluctuates on the romance points, so who knows.

“Oh! And Nath. He also snagged a date with her, but he was an Akuma at the time so I’m not technically sure that it counts. And he’s with Marc now anyway. Thinking of adopting a kid, last I heard. Anyway- my point was: everyone loves Nettie. And don’t bother trying to fight it, because it only makes her pull of gravity worse.”

Lahiffe then claps him on the shoulder like their talk amiable and not the most confusing speech Damian’s ever heard.

And then he doesn’t even get to say anything to that because Marinette is sprinting back through the door, grabbing her jacket and bag, telling him goodbye, and dragging Lahiffe out to who knows where.

Damian stands there longer than he cares to admit trying to make the world make sense again.

***

A week and a half after she learned Robin was benched, Damian catches her staring off into space as she doodles tiny robins in the margins of her sketchbook.

He gives her an odd look when she scrambles to hide them, blushing hotly and babbling about how she’s “Just fine! Nothing to worry about! I’m just, maybe, perhaps, a little worried for a friend even though I shouldn’t be, because his family says he’s just fine and-”

He looks contemplative when he leaves that day, but he didn’t ask about her outburst, so she extends the same courtesy to him.

***

That night, Robin returns.

“What,” she says around the laughter threatening to bubble out of her throat, “are you wearing?”

Robin scowls from behind the full cowl he has on that she’s pretty sure belongs to Red Robin. It makes him look a whole ten years older and she can’t get over how ridiculous he looks. If he keeps doing stupid things with his face while wearing that monstrosity, she is definitely going to laugh at him.

“What are you wearing?” he shoots back petulantly.

She blinks in confusion, then realizes she’s still wearing her Red Hood inspired jacket right now. Tan colored fake leather with fuzzy, red inner lining, done with all the same pockets, buttons, and zippers Red Hood has on his own jacket. It looks almost exactly like the jacket she fixed for him all that time ago, except she's also added a soft, crimson hood and his own personal bat symbol stitched across her shoulder blades.

As far as things she's designed goes, this is one of her simpler ones. It's nothing like the elaborate creations she makes for the Ambrosia or Ryuko themed items.

But Red Hood was a simple kind of person, and she likes that it’s reflected in her work.

Robin doesn't seem to agree if the poorly concealed disdain on his face means anything.

“What?” she asks teasingly, “You jealous?”

He scoffs and looks off to the side. “Of course not. I simply do not understand why you’d want anything to do with that simpleton. Especially not when I know you have clothing articles referencing far superior individuals.”

She snorts good-naturedly, "What 'individuals'? You mean you?"

The way he raises his nose self importantly is answer enough, and she can't stop herself from rolling his eyes. "Well, it's certainly a start. But I'm not the only one."

"Oh, yeah? And who else is marvelous enough to stand on the same level as you?"

"Multimouse."

Her mouth goes dry, and she can tell Robin is pointedly not looking at her.

“Come inside,” she blurts in lieu of all the things she really wants to say—which are mostly just embarrassing variations of I missed you. “I can, uh, make us tea. If you want.”

It's the first time she’s ever invited him inside and she can see the small bit of shock on his face—well, what she can see of it anyway—before he schools it.

“Yes,” he says in a tone of voice that implies it was his idea in the first place. “That sounds… good.”

She steps aside, allowing him to pass her by into the flat. Only instead of just walking past her, he stops halfway through the doorway and stares at her. She’s about to ask what’s wrong when he reaches out with his hand to gently grab a lock of her hair.

“Pink suits you, by the way.”

She quirks her lips, “Yeah? You don’t think it’s… too much?”

The corners of his mouth turn down, “Absolutely not. You look…” he trails off, mouth flattening into a line and dropping his hand.

She blinks at the odd behavior. “Nice?” she offers tentatively.

He nods, but it’s a little jerky and strange. But before she can ask about it, he’s already turning to enter her flat like he owns the place, remarking about her choices of tea and if she’s finally acquired an ‘adequate teapot’.

She shakes off the moment and goes in to follow him before he wrecks her kitchen in his careless search for tea supplies.

***

MinnieMouse: COME GET YALL JUICE

and by juice i mean me

I still do not have an american license

JaneAustenStanAccount: what do we get out of it?

MinnieMouse: ???

the pleasure of my company??

also youre literally the one that invited me to watch megamind

JaneAustenStanAccount: and??

daisyduke: shut up jay

we all know youre soft for M stop tryin to play tough

MinnieMouse: this is why duke is my favorite

he’s a living callout post

swanlake: :(

MinnieMouse: second favorite

im so sorry cass ily

swanlake: :)

daisyduke: i aint even mad

JaneAustenStanAccount: I AM

guys wtf

MinnieMouse: you brought this on yourself

maybe you should be nicer to me

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

daisyduke: ‘get fucked jason’ -marinette 2k20

btw im omw for you now

MinnieMouse: thnx ur the best

also im bringing scones as movie snack

daisyduke: noice

swanlake: !!!

JaneAustenStanAccount: FUCK YEAH!!!

MinnieMouse: you dont get any Jay

JaneAustenStanAccount: >:(

i hate it here

***

Marinette doesn’t know a lot about Robin’s past, which she assumes is by design. Secret identities don’t lead well to handing out details and concrete information about one’s personal life.

But, she thinks, one would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not see that whatever facsimile of a childhood Robin had was about eight different levels of fucked up.

It’s in the vague allusions to ‘training’ and the scorn filled way he says the word ‘mother’. It’s in the not-quite-confusion—because whatever family he has is better now, at least—of Marinette telling him about her own parents. About the happy memories she’s shared with them, of learning to bake bread and croissants and macaroons under the loving guidance of her father and practicing delicate designs and frosting techniques with her mother.

So, yeah. She knows he’s kind of messed up and definitely checks off the childhood trauma box that’s apparently one of the requirements for being her friend.

So when Robin suddenly decides to go against everything she’s learned about him up until this point and actually share something about himself—and when that thing he shares just so happens to be a story from his childhood—well… Marinette wouldn’t say she’s prepared, but she’s not- prepared.

He’s in her kitchen, because Marinette has learned her lesson about bleeding vigilantes on her couch, and she’s pretty sure he could’ve gone back to the Cave for this, but he came here for whatever reason. (Was closer, he said. Marinette doesn’t know if she believes him.)

She’s cleaning the knife wound on his arm, and she has his cape laid out across her island. There’s a hole in it she plans on sewing back up after she finishes sewing the hole in her reckless vigilante back up.

“You need to be more careful,” she scolds. “You’re lucky this didn’t nick something important.”

“It's hardly the worst wound I’ve ever acquired,” he tells her in a tone of voice that he probably thinks is reasonable. “At seven years old I had to dig a bullet out of my side in the middle of a Himilayan snowstorm while still making it back to base with time to spare after having successfully assassinated a Russian ambassador.”

Marinette pauses where she’s smoothing the gauze onto his bicep. Her eyes flick up to his, and she sees the exact moment he seems to realize what he just told her. He’s gone utterly still beneath her hands, with terror or worry or the effort it takes not to bolt out the window immediately, she doesn’t know.

“That’s horrifying,” she tells him as she finishes securing the obnoxiously bright bandage, “Never tell me that story again.”

She then drops a kiss onto his bicep, subtly imbuing it with enough luck that it will keep off any infection—the wound was filthy when he came in, seriously, was he in a sewer?—and pats his cheek warmly before moving to clean up all her supplies.

She feels his eyes on her the rest of the night, but every time she turns to him, she can’t tell what he’s thinking. All she knows is that he seems… softer, in a way.

***

Three days after Marinette’s unexpected look into Robin’s past, she finds a box on her desk. It’s a jewelry box, and the only reason she doesn’t immediately freak out is the fact that it lacks any of the miracle box markings.

Still, she opens it hesitantly, and inside, she finds a necklace. A completely normal, non-magical necklace that’s simple and pretty and very much shaped like a tiny toy mouse.

There is no note.

***

(Lahiffe was right.

The Earth spins around the sun. The sky is blue.

Everyone loves Marinette.)

***

The necklace is obviously supposed to be a reference to her Multimouse days, but that doesn’t exactly narrow down who could have left it for her.

Or well, it does, but all the people it narrows down to don’t make any sense.

Multimouse is a badly kept secret, but it’s still a secret. Most people outside Paris don’t know about her and the people in Paris didn’t exactly recognize her off the street either.

Her Court knows, obviously, and so do the Waynes and the bats. But her Court wouldn’t leave her mouse themed gifts, they tend toward ladybugs or their own animal motif as a gift (the amount of cat and bee themed items she owns is ludicrous).

Which leaves the Waynes and the bats.

But her Waynes wouldn’t leave the gift on her desk, and they certainly wouldn’t forget to put a note, so Duke, Jason, and Cass are out.

She must stand there thinking about it too long, because then Jeremy's walking in, just as bright and early as ever.

He sees her holding the box and his face turns a strange mix of curious and outraged. “Is it your birthday? I swear, Boss if you didn't tell us it was your birthday-”

“No, Jeremy,” she says, amused despite her confusion. “That’s not for a while yet. I found this when I walked in,” she shakes the box slightly for emphasis, “but there wasn’t a note.”

“Oh.” A smile slowly spreads across Jeremy’s face. “Oh?” he purrs, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Does the boss have a secret admirer?”

Marinette blinks and- what?

“What? No. I can’t- That doesn’t-” she splutters but Jeremy just laughs and walks over to his station to start setting up for the day, leaving Marinette to her breakdown.

Because this can’t have been left by a secret admirer. That’s just crazy.

There are exactly two people who could’ve left this for her and neither of them would be an admirer of any kind. And she wouldn’t want them to be anyway because that would be stupid and ridiculous and weird.

She doesn’t like Robin or Damian like that…

Right?

***

(It’s impossible not to love her, he realizes, mostly by accident.

She loves, wholeheartedly and unafraid and so much more than Damian had ever thought one person could. She loves with a ferocity and passion no person deserves or can match.

And Damian, foolishly, loves and wishes to be loved by her anyway.)

***

There are roses on her desk the next day, potted and still healthy.

The day after that, there’s a box of expensive chocolates. Like, the kind only Adrien, Felix, and Chloé buy without a second thought. The gossip has spread far enough that all of her designers know about the gifts and probably-admirer.

On the fourth day, there is a box full of high-quality pencils and a new sketchbook, one with nice thick drafting paper, but small enough to fit in her favored bag. Her name is embossed across the front, along with her personal motif of delicate apple blossoms.

On the fifth day, she shows up to find there is only a drawing, which should point to it being Damian, but drawing-her is holding a robin in her cupped palms which cannot be a coincidence. Drawing-her also looks serene and beautiful with her mouth curved slightly and her eyes gentle and soft and Marinette is as touched by the image as she is frustrated by it.

There are hair sticks on the sixth, and delicate pins shaped like flowers on the seventh. Another stunning drawing of her on the eighth, a bottle of wine older than Master Fu on the ninth, the softest cashmere blanket on the tenth, a basket of sweet floral lotions, a glass statue of a bird in flight—she gets so many gifts, Marinette has to stop keeping count.

It’s somewhere around day six that her designers must’ve ratted on her to either Felix or Chloé because it’s not long after that, that all of her friends learn about the gifts and start being terrifically unhelpful about the whole situation.

They each try to give her advice, which would be sweet if it wasn’t all equally terrible and conflicting.

They’re also placing bets on who they think her admirer is, Damian or Robin. They’re trying to be discreet about it—which means they’re failing miserably.

Marinette, admittedly, never expected any different from them.

***

Marinette begins watching Damian in the mornings with a newfound interest.

The gifts are always there before she arrives, which means they're also there before Damian arrives, so she’s in a prime position to catch his reaction.

Or, she would be, if he ever reacted. He barely glances at them and never says anything unless the gift is particularly obnoxious, like the giant stuffed mouse she found sitting in her chair last week. (It was almost as big as she was. Adrien, Nino, and Alix had ended up on the floor from laughing so hard when they’d seen it.)

Damian almost never comments on the gift she received that day, but whenever she uses or wears something that her mysterious admirer had gotten for her, he makes sure to compliment her. Which would be very suspicious except that Robin does the same thing.

It’s just- they’re both so frustratingly silent about it all! Marinette is this close to just grabbing one or both of them by the shoulders and just shaking until they tell the truth.

It’s driving her insane! Before the necklace appeared on her desk, she didn’t even know that she liked Robin and Damian.

And now she’s overanalyzing their nonreactions. She hates it.

It feels too much like she’s back in collège, trying to sort out her feelings for Adrien and Chat. (Who ended up being the same person—which was just very inconsiderate of him, really. The least he could do is let her angst have meaning dammit!)

And- ugh. What if she doesn't even like either of them? What if her mind is just making her think she does because the idea of them liking her was presented? What then? Or what about the fact that the two boys are also ridiculously similar when she thinks about it. What if she only likes one and is just projecting her feelings onto the other because her mind associates the two?

Oh, she doesn’t like that thought. That thought makes her feel upset and like she wants to cry into a tub of ice cream.

Nino happily indulges her and doesn't even complain when she eats her way through his stash of mint chip as she dramatically complains about stupidly confusing boys.

Honestly, she may as well be back in lycée.

***

(What Marinette does not realize in the midst of all her careful analysis of his reactions, is that it’s not the gifts he’s focused on.

When she wears the necklace and hair sticks, she misses the way his eyes linger on the slope of her neck. As she cares for her roses, she doesn’t notice the way he follows the easy nimbleness of her fingers. She uses her sketchbook and eats the expensive chocolates and doesn’t pay attention to the way he steals glances at her lips. She doesn't see the way his hands twitch when she ventures just near enough to touch.

(She exists next to him, in any form or light, and he is captivated by her very presence.)

Marinette looks, but it is in all the wrong places.)

***

Strangely enough, it’s Signal who helps her with her internal crisis—completely unintentionally and in a very roundabout way—but he helps all the same.

He’s taken an… interest, she supposes, in her magic. One that is entirely his own and has very little to do with that Bat from what she can tell.

His abilities and hers stem from different origins, but she would be lying if she said his weren’t oddly complementary to her own. His precognition abilities stemming from his photokinesis has been useful on more than one occasion regarding the experimental spell matrices she, Tikki, and Nooroo have been testing out.

The magic is normally invisible to people without a Miraculous, but Signal seems to have little trouble seeing what she’s doing, even if he can’t interact with it the way she can.

(There is also the fact that she seems… more when he is around. Days that he spends watching her do her work go by faster and smoother than when he is away. Her magic is easier, and her mind spins with ideas and creations faster.

It’s an odd phenomenon and Ladybug is looking into it.)

There has been more than one occasion where Signal had warned her of the matrix’s imminent collapse with enough time for her to prepare herself for its blowback.

The version she’s working on today is their fifth iteration. It’s supposed to pull the miasma out of the building, filter it through her and Tikki’s own magical energy, before flowing back into the brickwork. Marinette had thought of the idea while talking with Nooroo.

If she can get it to work, it will shift the misfortune into good luck and order and release it back into the environment. Then she’ll only need to cleanse strategic portions of the city in a lattice network, and the creative and destructive energies will mix from there, balancing themselves without much input from her at all.

Of course, that’s only if she can actually get it to work. It’s been almost a month and this is the fifth version and it’s already collapsed on her three times in the last hour. Signal must see the frustration on her face and has taken to trying to distract her with small talk.

She’s very thankful for it, actually. If he wasn’t doing that, she would probably start screaming right here and now, on this random rooftop in the residential district. Which would just be very startling and embarrassing for everyone involved, so. You know. Glad she doesn’t have to do that.

Eventually, she asks him, apropos of nothing, “You’re a detective right?”

He pauses, and blinks at her, likely trying to follow the train of thought that led her to that question. She assumes he did not find it because when he speaks, he still sounds confused.

“Yes? I guess that’s technically what I am.”

“So you’re good at figuring out who’s behind a crime?”

Signal only looks more confused. “Yeah? But Ladybug, what-”

“Great, so. Hypothetically, if you had two suspects for a—well it’s not a crime. A… thing? Situation. How would you figure out which one of them is actually behind the… situation?”

Signal’s lips quirk, just a bit despite his confusion. “I think I’m gonna need a little more to go on than just ‘a situation,’ LB.”

Ladybug purses her lips and stares down at the light weaving intricate patterns in the space between her palms. Slowly, carefully, she tells him, “There are items being left where a person can find them. But the identity of the person leaving them and their intentions are unknown.”

“Are the items dangerous?” he asks worriedly.

Ladybug shakes her head. “No. They're more like gifts.”

“Are the gifts unwanted or creepy? Unsettling? Threatening?”

Another head shake. “Just confusing and… thoughtful.”

“Someone is leaving you thoughtful gifts and you're worried about that… why?” Signal asks, slowly and disbelievingly.

“It’s because I- wait! I’m not the person!” she panics, causing the magic to spark dangerously in her hands but she barely notices. “The person doesn’t even exist. It was a hypothetical question!”

Signal stares at her. She can’t see his eyes or the top half of his face, but she just knows he’s raising his eyebrow judgingly at her.

“Stop that!” she snaps. “Stop being perceptive! I have enough perceptive people in my life so knock it off!”

Signal laughs like the horrible person he is. “But don’t you need me to be perceptive? That’s like, a requirement to be a detective.”

“Stop it,” she says again, mulishly and very childish.

And isn’t that an odd thought to have? Ladybug being childish.

How novel. Ladybug has never once been childish. She can’t afford to be, because when she is behind the mask, she is all the most important parts of herself. She is the Grand Guardian, is the one who must be in control at all times because she has an entire team to keep safe and alive.

Behind the mask, she’s all of her greatest responsibilities.

But here, in Gotham and with Signal, she is none of those things to him. She is simply another hero, that is his age and very much like him in ways so few are. Ladybug, in the moments she spends with Signal, is probably the closest she has ever been to carefree while in the mask.

It’s as comforting a thought as it is terrifying.

Signal raises his hands in surrender, but his lips are still quirked in amusement.

Ladybug regrets starting this conversation.

She regrets it even more when, five minutes later, Signal manages to pull the rest of the story from her… along with a name.

She realizes her mistake a second too late to stop herself, and then all she can do is watch.

She watches, with ever-growing horror, as Signal slowly puts the pieces together. She watches, as her whole secret identity starts unraveling around her for the first time ever. She watches, stricken, as Signal opens his mouth to speak.

And then she grabs both sides of his head and Orders him to sleep.

***

The second Marinette bespells him, she regrets it.

She was panicking, okay? And Marinette panicking is very different from Ladybug panicking and truly, she creates messes just by existing.

Nooroo flies out of his hiding place to make distressed noises at the now unconscious Signal with her, which is… actually kinda soothing, if not exactly helpful.

At least she knows she’s not the only one upset right now.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Nooroo frets, flitting around her head with agitated wings. Hers aren’t much better, if she’s being honest. “What are we going to do, Guardian? He knows who you are! This is bad.”

Marinette worries her thumb between her teeth, shifting her weight from foot to foot. With a thought, she's back in her civvies and Tikki is perched on her shoulder, blinking at the scene she’s suddenly a part of.

“Well,” Tikki says, sounding far too calm for the situation. “This isn’t ideal.”

The laugh that escapes Marinette is on the edge of hysterical. “You think?”

“It’s not ideal,” Tikki repeats firmly, “But neither is it a disaster.”

Nooroo lands on her other shoulder as she kneels down beside Signal to rearrange his limbs to not be so uncomfortable. “But he's unpredictable!” he argues, curling into the side of her neck like she will hide him from the world. “We don’t know what he’ll do with this information!”

Tikki hums thoughtfully. “Then we will have to ask. There are far worse people we could have been revealed to. We're lucky it was a friend rather than foe.”

“You think so?” Marinette asks softly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

She knows the Bat’s flock are good people. Many of them are her friends, or people she hopes to call friends soon.

But she doesn't know if these people Marinette calls friends could be Ladybug’s allies.

The bats hoard secrets like black holes, and perhaps they would keep hers just as well, but they could just as easily use it against her. Batman barely tolerates her presence, she can tell by the way Signal talks sometimes, and it is no small stretch of the imagination that he would use this to try and kick her out of Gotham.

Marinette cannot, as a Guardian, leave Gotham.

But more importantly, she doesn’t want to leave Gotham. It’s… her home now. Her friends are here. Her family is here. Robin and Hood and the other bats are here. Damian and all her Waynes are here.

Leaving Gotham would not only make her sick and jittery at the imbalance, but it would break her heart.

If, when Signal tells Batman, he reacts poorly, there is so much that Marinette is set up to lose. And that terrifies her.

Some of that thought process must show on her face—or perhaps Nooroo has just picked up on the turmoil in her chest—because the two Kwami are pressed on either side of her face, nuzzling and hugging as much of her as they can reach.

“We’ll make it through this, Marinette,” Tikki says firmly, no room for argument. “Don’t worry so much. Both of you. Everything will turn out just fine, you’ll see.”

***

@bluesimani @how-to-fuction-properly @chocolatecatstheron @mystery-5-5 @nickristus-dreamer @mochegato @thenillabean @animegirlweeb @novaloptr @darkdaysandfakesmiles @optimistically-pessimistic0524 @clumsy-owl-4178 @g-arya @undecisioned @smolplantmum @blackmagicforever @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @wannajointhecrabcult @paintedhope7 @redscarlet95 @roselynfey @ira-sairain @lozzybowe @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @2confused-2doanything @pepelachanel @too0bsessedformyowngood @miraculouspenta @itsmeevie01 @corabeth11 @jalaluvsu

#maribat #daminette #ml x dc #my typewriter #for us to collide

240 notes · View notes

wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

It’ll Be Fun They Said

day twelve, where dick and tim's brotherly bonding night takes a nefarious turn for the worse...

A/N: suffering together is the best bonding, right? whumptober prompts: torture / made to watch

“Ready to go, Timbo?” Dick asks.

Tim makes sure to visibly roll his eyes before fixing his domino mask in place. He may be excited to be working together since Nightwing and Red Robin are rarely working the same cases, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to laugh at Dick’s ridiculous nicknames.

“Let’s go,” he replies, unable to resist a smile when Dick beams as if he’s given him a lifetime pass to every circus in the world or something.

The man they’re after is barely more than a lunatic obsessed with tally marks. Unfortunately, pen and paper don’t seem to be enough for him, and all of his victims end up as some kind of human chalkboard, with the chalk being a knife and their wounds a series of tallies.

“Be careful,” Dick says as they reach the street he’s rumoured to currently be living on.

“Likewise,” Tim replies, and that’s all the exploring they manage before everything goes dark.

He groans himself back awake.

“Oh, thank bats,” someone says besides him. It’s not really a mystery who it is because there’s only one person he can think of who would say something so weird.

“Nightwing?” he mutters.

“I’m here,” Dick confirms immediately. “You’re alright, Red, everything’s going to be fine.”

Well, that doesn’t sound good. Tim swallows the fear threatening to rise inside of him and opens his eyes, blinking rapidly when he’s still only met with darkness. Okay, not darkness, just very very dim lighting. Dim lighting that doesn’t last for long, because his eyes have only just adjusted when the lights are actually switched on, making him wince.

“Two birds with one stone!”

“What’s the stone?” Dick asks as Tim takes a moment to process that he’s standing against a support pillar or something, his hands held above him and tied together with what feels like rope, but not the kind he can slip out of very easily.

The man laughs. “A chance to discover who you all are, of course!”

Oh, great.

“Then why are we here?” Tim asks, trying his best to sound bored. “You could have just taken our masks off.”

Instead of replying, the man draws a knife.

“That’s not a good way to remove our masks,” Dick says quickly.

Tim hadn’t pieced together why they weren’t both leaning against something until the man laughs, at which point Dick being more in the centre of the room starts to make more sense, even if he wishes it didn’t.

“I think we should keep a count of how many times I need to ask who you are,” the man says, smirking at Tim.

“Leave him alone!” Dick hisses, apparently not quite having figured out the man’s plan yet.

“Don’t do this,” Tim says to the man, but it’s too late, he’s already walking around Dick, who swallows visibly and stops trying to slip free of his own ropes.

Tim doesn’t need to be a genius to know when the first tally mark is carved into Dick’s skin. It doesn’t bode well that the man’s knife is strong enough to cut through Dick’s suit and he makes a mental note to look into that once they’re free. Apparently this case isn’t as straightforward as it had seemed.

The man looks at him over Dick’s shoulder once he’s done. “So, are you going to tell me your name?”

“He isn’t,” Dick replies for him.

“Pity,” the man drawls, and Dick’s jaw clenches as another tally wound is added. “Do you feel like answering yet?”

Tim bites his cheek to stop himself from simply cursing the man into oblivion and shakes his head, wincing when Dick lets out a quiet groan as the blade sinks into his skin again. He schools his expression into neutrality quickly enough but Tim has a horrible feeling the man isn’t starting with shallow wounds like he had done with his previous victims. God, he wishes he could do something to stop this.

This time, the man walks in front of Dick and casually brushes the flat edge of the knife against his cheek, leaving behind a red smear. Tim’s blood feels ready to boil at the sight of it. As soon as the man turns to face him, Dick shuffles, bending one of his knees and curling his leg backwards until his foot reaches his utility belt, his distress beacon.

“What’s the point of all this?” Tim asks, keeping the man’s attention on him as Dick settles back to his original position with a silent but painful exhale.

“I just want an answer,” the man says slowly, as if Tim is the insane one.

As much as Tim wants to provide one and stop this, he can’t. Objectively speaking, Dick can survive a few scars but the world can’t survive their identities falling into the wrong hands. He hates to think of it like that, as if his name is more important than keeping Dick from suffering, but he doesn’t have a choice.

“I guess the tally is going up!” the man laughs, a frankly criminal level of glee in his tone.

Dick smiles softly as the man walks behind him, mouthing a thank you instead of saying it aloud. Tim hates himself for the relief that fills him upon seeing that; he’s both comforted by the fact that his decision has been approved and repulsed by the fact that he’s receiving praise for causing his brother more pain.

He doesn’t feel like he’s made the right choice when Dick’s face scrunches up tightly but he doesn’t say anything, not even when the man makes eye contact with him again and tilts his head questioningly. Honestly, he’s not sure he won’t just throw up instead if he actually tries to reply.

“I do always love this part,” the man says gleefully before stepping back the same way an artist steps back to survey their canvas before adding the final touches.

He can only imagine how painful the fifth tally must be, overlapping each of the other cuts along the way. Dick lets out a very strange strangled noise that has the hairs on the back of Tim’s neck standing up and for a second, he goes utterly boneless, his knees buckling and his whole body slumping before he catches himself and exhales slowly, shakily.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers, “I’m so, so sorry.”

That seems to interest the man and he has the audacity to once again wipe the blood off his knife onto Dick’s cheek before walking over to him to ask who knows what. But he doesn’t make it even halfway, collapsing between them with a surprised gasp.

Tim stiffens, frowning for a moment before he sees the familiar batarang that had taken the man out, then shares a weak relieved smile with his now very pale but thankfully still conscious brother as footsteps rapidly approach them. Maybe they should just have a movie night or something next time.

sorry not sorry for yet another totally random temporary villain :))

thanks for reading !! masterlist | dc sideblog: @batfamvibes

#whumptober2021 #no.12 #torture #made to watch #dc #batman #fanfiction #dick grayson #tim drake #hurt comfort #angst #whump #my writing #nightwhump #no beta we die like gotham's psycho of the week

14 notes · View notes

birdy-bat-writes · 4 years

Text

New Year’s Bet

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

Pairing: Tim Drake x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Word vomit and weird writing? But mostly fluff.

Summary: You and Tim have liked each other for a while. It’s Your chance to confess at the New Years Eve party.

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

Sometimes, life overcomplicates things, and when you’re a teenage superhero that fights crime in between your homework, you don’t want any more complication. That’s why you really resented today. You had just come back from a mission with the team. When you got back with the rest of your Alpha teammates, you noticed that Beta had already been here for a while. Typical. Still, it was sweet that you found Tim waiting for you. His hair looked a little more ruffled than when you saw it last, and he looked as tired as you felt but it didn’t stop him from flashing you the smile that could light up your whole world.

“Hi, Boy Wonder.”

“Hey, how’d your end of the mission go?”

“Not bad. No injuries, so that’s good, but I, for one, am exhausted.”

“Same here.”

“How’d your end go?”

“Well, I guess you’ll find out in about 30 seconds because Batman is calling us for a briefing.” You laughed and headed over for the briefing along with your teammates. Seriously, Batsy could not have picked a worse day to send you on a mission that ran for 14 hours. It was peak winter and New Year’s Eve. When you were deployed, you could tell by the looks on your teammates faces that they weren’t too thrilled either and just wanted to be in their beds. You all practically exuded lethargy. Although, as much of a toll as the covert op took on you, the emotional ache of trying to confess to your crush for a week and failing was far more crushing. That’s why you were so exhausted. For the last two weeks, either you or Tim were called away for something before you had the chance to tell him, and now you were back to debating if you should even try. See? Complicated. You were pulled from your thoughts when you saw the crowd around you disperse, indicating that Batman was done talking.

“Briefing over, Nap time!” you exclaimed.

“Nap time? Its 2:30 pm.” Tim huffed a laugh.

“Yes, and that means I have not slept in 27 hours. You and I both know that’s never a good thing.” He smiled and looked like he was about to say something. Presumably sarcastic, before,

“No one’s napping. Y/S/N, Robin, you both said you would help me decorate the party hall today.”, M’gann said. She was right. A few weeks ago, the Justice League members had decided to throw a New Year’s Eve party and invite all the members of the junior team. M’gann was tasked with decorating. You had promised to help, and you weren’t one to break a promise.

“You’re right, I’ll be right there.”

“Great! Robin, you too, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Of course, Tim was going. You were going to be there and there’s no way he’s missing any opportunity to talk to you. Especially since he had been trying to tell you something rather important for over a week now. He was hopelessly in love with you and now he really wanted to tell you. What better place than a party, right? Gosh, he hoped you felt the same way. I mean, Conner and Gar insisted that you did.

The two of you Zeta tubed over to the hall of justice and saw that Bart, Conner, Jaime and Dick were already there. By the looks of it (the looks of Dick covered in confetti and holding a glitter banner with his foot), they were also roped into helping M’gann. Understandable since the room you were standing in was enormous. This was just one of the spare rooms on the top floor of the Hall of Justice. The back of it was a wide balcony overlooking statues of esteemed heroes, and beyond that, the city skyline. The air was icy but still refreshing. You were admiring the sight when the first order was barked, surprisingly, not by M’gann.

“Okay! Tim, Y/N, you guys hang the banner. Seven feet up on the left wall.” Dick ordered. “Bart, Jaime, you two set up the tables. Conner, make sure they don’t eat all the food. Anyone that can fly is left responsible for the disco ball. I don’t trust any of you with the sound system so I will be picking the music.” He looked a little too happy about that last part. He’d better not play 80’s music all night.

***

“It’s going to happen…” Bart whispered under his breath.

“No, you will not eat the-”

“Not that! Look at Robin and Y/S/N. Today’s the legendary day.” He cut Jaime off.

“Oh yeah, you said they get married in the future. Today’s the day they get together?”

“Yeah, and we’re going to see it live. Now I’ll know who actually wins the bet!”

***

You dragged the step ladder over to the wall while Tim came over with the banner and measuring tape. Honestly, you had no clue that Dick was such a stickler for organization. Still, it wasn’t as boring or tiring as you thought it was. Joking around with Tim brought some life into you.

You had climbed up to the four-foot mark and taped the banner edge to the wall. Nice and even, but you didn’t step quite right while getting down and tripped. A fully trained hero of the night like you would have had no trouble landing on their feet, and you didn’t, but you didn’t get to land on your feet because you landed in someone’s arms. Tim Drake’s arms.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I am. Thank you.” Your arms clung onto his shoulders and his hands tucked under your knees and waist.

“Are you sure? You didn’t hurt your ankle, did you?”

“I don’t think so. How’d you catch me that fast?”

“Um… my protective override gives me superpowers?” You both laughed at this. His eyes were so genuine and pure. It was only when you felt his chest heave from laughter against your body that you realized he was still holding you, and suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat get faster.

“Hey, guys, is the banner up?” You heard Dick’s voice approaching and scrambled to your feet. Tim rushed to straighten himself.

“Yeah, everything’s great here. All done!” Tim spoke a just fast enough to sound suspicious, but Dick ignored that. He just might win that bet tonight.

“Perfect. You guys can go home and get changed for the party. Everything is pretty much done around here.” With one last smile to Tim, you zeta’d back home with M’gann so she could help you choose your dress, and you skipped the entire time.

***

“He caught you?!” M’gann was your biggest cheerleader and she was like an older sister to you. Tim was your best friend, but she was the one you went to when you needed to talk about feelings and the girl stuff. You know, like how to keep your hair up during a fight.

“Yeah! Does that mean something?”

“Obviously! I’ve seen both of you jump off 20 story building and land on your feet. There was no reason for him to catch you unless he really wanted to be your hero.” You were positively giddy.

“Maybe I should tell him.”

“Maybe? DEFINITELY! And you can do it in this.” She pulled out a simple black tulle dress that hemmed just above the knee. You really liked it. Paired with a pair of silver shoes and some light jewelry, you were ready to go.

***

By the time you made it to the hall of Justice, the room was already filled with people. Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman sat in the corner of the room. You were sure Supes and Wonder Woman were trying to convince Batman to actually leave the corner but were not succeeding. The decorations you had put up were gleaming in the lights that contrasted the fading daylight outside. Then you saw him. Tim was dressed in a black suit with a dark red tie. He stood next to Bart, smiling that smile again and you felt the butterflies come back. You weren’t alone though. When he saw you, the whole world melted away. You looked absolutely beautiful. With the way your hair fell so gracefully over your glowing skin and how your dress fit you so perfectly… It probably wasn’t possible to be more in love with you than he already was but if it were, he would have fallen hard. ‘Butterflies’ was an understatement.

“So, are you going to go talk to her or would you rather just keep staring at her?” Tim’s thoughts were interrupted by a very amused Garfield Logan. “She’s waving at you. Go talk to her.” He urged. Tim started walking and looked back only once to see gar with the biggest smirk on his face.

“Y/N, you look really nice.” He said. You tried to hide your blush, but he saw it.

“Thanks, so do you.” The smile was audible in your voice and the thought of you smiling at him made the corners of his mouth pull up even more. He wanted more than anything to hear your voice, see your smile, to gaze into your gorgeous eyes forever. “They effort we put into decorating this place paid off. I never thought I’d see Batman under a disco ball.”

“Funny, it’s my sixth time seeing that. One time, there was a shark involved.”

“Someday, you have got to tell me that story.”

***

Minutes turned into Hours and you spent most of them in the back of the room with Tim.

“Capes are functional!”

“How?! Edna Mode said-!”

“Yeah, but mine is bullet proof!”

“Tim, your whole suit is bulletproof! There’s no point of a cape!”

“Fine, it gives me flair.” He joked. In the distance, Bart was watching the two of you giggle in each other’s company.

“It’s 11:30, Jaime, we just have to wait half an hour”

“Dude, this is creepy.”

“But necessary.”

M’gann passed the two of with Conner by her side. She waved at the two of you and joined Artemis and Wally. Both couples looked so happily in love. “You know, I think Conner’s planning on proposing.”

“Really? M’gann will be so happy! I can’t wait for the day he does.”

“Do married couples kiss at midnight on New Year’s?”

“I guess so. I mean, the point of it is to kiss the person you want to spend the new year with, right?”

“Right. So, do you think Dick will kiss Barbara or Wally?” You chuckled. “I say Wally.”

“Never tell Dick, but I agree with you.”

“Are you going to kiss anyone at midnight?” The question had you flustered to say the least. You weren’t expecting him of all people to ask you that.

“Well, I-”

“Guys, have you seen the cake they’re bringing out? Its massive! Come see.” He tried to pull the two of you toward the kitchen, but Bart was having none of that. It was too close to time and things weren’t about to get off schedule now. So, he sped over.

“Hey, Gar! What was that about cake? In the kitchen you say? Cool, let’s go now! Y/N, Tim, have a lovely evening.”

“Wai-” And they were gone. You and Tim looked at each other with eyebrows raised. There was a non-verbal exchange of “That was weird, right?” and “Eh, not for them.” Tim went to get two drinks and you made your way to the balcony. The bright lights of the city skyline looked so alluring for no explainable reason. They looked like stars scattered among the buildings and you couldn’t help but think of all the nights you’d spent staring at the stars until the sun came up next to Tim. You really wanted to tell him tonight. It was 11:55 by now, imagine if you had your first kiss on New Year’s. But that won’t happen. Pssht.

“Two glasses of punch, lots of ice.” He handed you a glass.

“Thank you very much.” Tim’s mind was racing silently. He kept thinking if he should or shouldn't confess. With your own mind racing, you broke the silence "I never answered your question...I- No, I don't have anyone I plan to kiss tonight." His face relaxed for a second before a fiery blush crept up "Do you...plan to kiss anyone?"

He responds "I wouldn't say I plan to. Just…" Should I…? Ah, screw it he thought. He's in love with you with you and he wants you to know. "Y/N?"

“Hm?”

“I really like you. A lot, and-" he's interrupted by a shout, It's 11:58 only two minutes ‘till New Years! You were smiling uncontrollably. "Two minutes till midnight, wow. I know you probably don't feel the same, but I just wanted you to know that since the day I met you, I've been so unbelievably happy. You make that way." Someone started a countdown from 60.

You began, "Timmy, I like you too." You placed your hands on his and the countdown reached 35. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the heat of the moment, but you felt particularly bold and said, "Tim, we kiss people on New Year’s because we want to be with them for the new year. You make so happy all the time and I love being around you and-and- " you stammered while the countdown reached 10. "Will you spend the new year with me?"

5, 4,

"I'd love to."

3. You both looked into each other’s eyes, glanced at each other's lips. He placed a hand on your cheek and gently drew you in.

1! His lips were on yours. Happy New Years! The crowd cheered while you moved your arms up to pull Tim closer into the kiss. It was soft and warm and perfect. You both pulled away grinning like idiots. Bart looked over at you two, Crash.

***

Later on, the Justice League is watching from afar how cute you two are. Wonder Woman and Canary were awing while Arrow and Green Lantern were giving you the "Way to go kiddo" head nod.

"I’d better ask Tim who confessed first." Batman said. Superman looked at him questioningly. "I had a bet with Nightwing. My money was on Y/S/N"

Superman just smiled and said, "You're going lose your money, Bruce."

"Were you actually listening in on their conversation?"

"Um..." Batman looked at him with faint surprise and gave a nod of disapproval. "Oh, what can I say I was rooting for them!"

"I'm disappointed in you Clark. Now quick, tell me what they said."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @anothertimdrakestan @offendedfishnoises @comicsandhoney @river-bottom-nightmare @catxsnow @cries-in-fangirl-23 @batarella @idkmanicantenglish @sonofrobin16 @l-horizon11

170 notes · View notes

bartistic · 3 years

Text

@redrobinperiodt requested Tim Drake Angst so here we go

- - - - -

CW: Panic Attack, blood, injury, head injury, Joker, self-loathing

Tim felt sick to his stomach as the night rolled and tossed around him. He was breathing very hard— possibly, no, probably on the verge of a panic attack. He clenched his fists, which seemed stuck to his sides. Okay, five things you can see—

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. Not just pitch black, but darker. True, deep, nothingness black. With his mask on, though, he couldn’t tell whether he was blinded, blindfolded, or simply in a very dark room.

He could vaguely feel his limbs, which could be a good or bad sign. He couldn’t remember whether it ought to be a good or bad sign. With a numb hand he attempted to reach up to his face to check for a blindfold, but doubled over in pain as his arms met ropes instead. The movement stretched a wound he didn’t know he had, slick wet fluid making his clothes tacky.

Or maybe the fluid was something else entirely? Now that he was more tuned in, he noticed the smell. It was hard to believe he hadn’t noticed it before— the invasive and sluggish stench of Gotham’s sewers. He shifted his feet, hearing a soft and wet shlop echo through the wide chambers. He could hear the dripping of the condensation now, and the bustle of the city outside. Was it daytime? Tim couldn’t recall. He couldn’t hear anything out of the usual for the sewers... Killer Croc was still in Arkham, last time he checked, and without him the sewers were a relatively quiet, if definitely toxic, affair.

So the question remained: why was he in the sewers? He couldn’t recall how he got there— wracking his brain, the last memory he could think of was leaving to patrol. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually saw any of his family outside of uniform... He had his own apartment now. Where he could be a slob in peace, and not have to worry about sharing the coffee pot.

Shifting his arms served a dual purpose— it helped him to attempt to shimmy out of his bonds, gasping in pain all the while, and to feel the rope itself. The knot was surprisingly easy to loosen... suspiciously easy, in fact. With his arms free, Tim reached for his face, careful to mind the wound on his side.

He was relieved to find a blindfold tied securely over his mask. It was giving him a bit of a headache, actually, so it was a relief to pull it down. He carefully brushed past a tender bump that was sticky with blood.

Tim blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light— dim light, for sure, but enough to confirm his surroundings. He looked down at his feet. They were padlocked together, with a literal ball and chain attached and sitting in the muck a few feet away. He leaned back against the wall, which was moist (as expected. Ew.), and slid down the grungy bricks into a squat. Taking the lock picks out of his mask, he began to work at picking the padlock. With a finger, he absentmindedly brushed his hair out of the way behind his ear.

His ear, which ought to have a comms unit in it. Why didn’t it?

Breaking free of the lock he lifted a foot to step forward, but was stopped by a cackle. A familiar cackle.

A laugh familiar to any Gothamite, and more than familiar to any Bat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little birdie. A ha ha. Hee hee. OOH HOO HOO HOO we— we wouldn’t want to spoil the main event before we even got ready now would we? No, ha, we want to wait for the rest of the little birdies to come along and play before we can BLOW YOU ALL SKY HIGH AH ha HEE HEE,”

Sure enough, as Tim looked beneath the grime under his feet, he could see a pressurized plate. A mine, that would go off if he even shifted his balance too much to the side. There was a countdown on it as well, set to 18 mins and 20 seconds. 19 seconds. 18 seconds.

Tim was suddenly very glad he had only shifted his feet a little bit earlier, and while picking the lock.

“That is... if they even come for you. I don’t see, ha, why they’d care about such a miserable little bird! Look,” the Joker attempted to pout as he came prancing into view, “his poor wings are all soggy. Naughty naughty oil slicks, gooping up the birdies wings so they can’t fly! HAHAHA!” He leaned in close to Tim, using his hands to lift the sides of his cape, drenched in raw sewage, and flapping them. Tim stiffened slightly, preparing to attack, but the Joker stepped back, holding a small remote in his hand. “Ooh, good one boy blunder! You switch places with me, and I’ll press this lil button here! It does just the HA the funniest thing, y’see... it’ll set off a nice little chain reaction that will make the whole sewer go BOOM! HA HA HEE HA!” Joker pranced around, kicking sewage everywhere, splattering onto the walls, onto Tim, even onto his own purple suit. “Now let’s see. How shall we pass the time while we wait for dear old Daddy Bats to realize you’re missing? I think we ought to have a few days or so... HA! I ought to have a few days. You, ha, don’t have that much time, babybird.” Tim wasn’t sure where the clown had heard that nickname, but it made him sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was just the almost certain concussion. “Now how about a game of Go Fish?” Joker pulled a deck of cards out of his suit pocket. He shuffled them haphazardly, most of them falling into the lazy brown river below. They were all Jokers.

Tim’s attention was brought back to the man himself as the clown roughly grasped his hand, forced it open, and placed in it a hand of cards. Then with the same about of force, he shut the hand. Tim let out a stuttered inhale at the pain in his side. “Now, do you know how to play Go Fish?” Tim glared, but didn’t say anything. “So what you’re HA gonna do is, you’re gonna say a card. Like this:” he did a nasally, whiny imitation of Tim’s voice, “Do you have any sevens, Mr. Joker sir? And then *I* get to say NO!” He cackled and shoved Tim’s head all the way into the ground, through the sewage. Hard. Tim sputtered and flailed and desperately tried to keep balance as a spindly yet strong hand held his head in place. It was like a more tortuous version of the swirlies he’d never had to endure, but had heard about on the internet. “Go fish! A HA HA HEE HOO HEH. You’re no fun.” Tim’s head lolled on his neck, feeling too heavy to hold up. “I’m going to go hunt down some more friends for us to play with, alrighty? Have fun while I’m gone! Or don’t. HEE HEE HA HOO HOO!” The Joker kicked tim’s head from where he was kneeling on the ground. Then he left.

Tim’s thoughts were swirling, much like the muck they were surrounded by. It had to be daytime by now, surely Bruce and the others would have noticed he was missing. But would they? Asked another part of his brain. You’re the forgotten Robin, the unimportant one, you’re not even a real part of the family. Dick created the role, Jason died for it, Damian was born for it, what were you? Were you even needed? You just shoved yourself into their lives and everything became all the worse because of it. When’s the last time you’ve spoken to them, any of them? They don’t want to even be near you. They all hate you. They’ve noticed you’re gone alright, but whatever would make them want to come find you?

Tim settled onto the plate. 10 minutes, 57 seconds. He closed his eyes and tried to not think.

He didn’t know how long it was until he heard voices again.

“Hey assholes, I found him! He’s over here! He’s... oh fuck Timmy, that’s a lot of blood. You’re okay. Batman apprehended the bastard. I’ll kill him for you later though, okay babybird?” Tim shuddered at the nickname, letting out what could be called a whimper. “We got you, we’re taking you home.” Home. What was home. The manor? He looked up, head swaying. Red Hood was crouched in front of him, hands out in a placating gesture. He was flickering at the edges. Great, a caffeine-withdrawal-induced hallucination.

“No... y’ can’t...” He mumbled under his breath, his voice scratchy and dry-feeling. “Y’r not real. Y’r not coffee.” Jason— the hallucination— looked concerned. Tim felt a pressure on his head. He yelped. “G’t away... Y’ll set off th’ bomb...” The hallucination-possible-not-a-hallucination-jason cussed. Tim let out a soft huff of laughter. Who knew his imagination was so colorful.

“B, there’s a bomb here. We need immediate extraction and medical for Red Robin, I’ll do what I can to defuse it.”

“Pr’ssure Plate...” Tim murmured before he was under once more. And then there was shouting, and slapping of his face, which made his neck hurt and his face sting.

“No, you are not falling asleep on me! Dammit B, get here now!” Tim had never been the best at following orders. And he was running on no caffeine. He was going to take a nap now, and nobody could stop him.

Flashes.

Strong arms holding him, carrying him through the sewers.

Shouting from someone who sounded a lot like Dick, but that was impossible, because Dick wasn’t there.

Strong arms holding him, loading him into a car, careful of his head.

A squeeze from a small hand. “You are not going to die by the hand of that clown, Drake, I will not allow it.”

Pressure on his stomach, overwhelming pressure and pain and he was jackknifing and fighting whoever was pressing on his wound and there was more screaming but this screaming was him.

Finally, a steady beeping. He opened his eyes, then immediately shut them again. Too bright. He wished he had his Robin shades. He snuffled his nose and heard a noise in return. Someone at his bedside, then. He grunted. There was a gasp.

“Too bright. H’rts.” He watched from behind his eyelids as the flourescent lights were turned off with a click. Then he hazarded opening his eyes again. Bruce was sitting, asleep in a chair by the side of the bed, clearly in a very uncomfortable position. Tim had no doubts he’d had worse. At the door were Dick, Duke, and Stephanie. They looked as if they wanted to talk to him but didn’t want to risk waking a sleeping batman. Damian was at the light switch. Tim was officially confused. Fuck the sleeping Batman, he wanted answers. “J’ker?”

Dick scowled. “Arkham. Although he definitely won’t be out again for a while after Hood’s through with him.”

Cass spoke up from the other side of the room, “Wheelchair.”

Tim nodded. “Bomb?”

“It was a dud.” Tim frowned. That made no sense. Also, they were definitely hiding something.

“How long w’s i out?”

“4 days. You flatlined two times. Between the wound in your side getting infected by fucking sewage water and your memory-hazy brain injury, it’s a miracle you survived.” Steph looked angry. Then she began to cry. “You asshole! You almost died!” She looked as if she wanted to either hug him or punch him, but neither were a feasible option for the moment, so she settled on sniffing angrily at her tears and then purposely walking out. “I’m going to go make coffee. For myself.”

————

whoo boy that’s all i got in me tonight. thanks for the request lol!

#tim drake #tim drangst #lol #angst #my fic #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #duke thomas #cassandra cain #steph brown #damian wayne #red robin #yummmm #uhhh is this whump #whump #tim drake whump #yeehaw fuckers it’s 2:40 AM

77 notes · View notes

anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 11

A/N: Something I want to address - Updates will be coming slowly because not only am I writing this fic as I go, I have other irl issues that need my full attention. Just wanted to let you guys know incase you see inconsistent updates in the future.Thank you for reading and understanding! <3

Day 11 of @biodad-bruce-month event!

Chapter 11: The “Talk”

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

The weekend ended up uneventful (in terms of akuma attacks), allowing Amira to catch up with Dick and Wally.

The three went to the arcade the following day, Dick smiling the entire time as he watched Amira enjoy herself.

He watched as she went from arcade machine to arcade machine, pulling Wally along. He watched as she cursed out claw machines but shouted in victory at the pinball machines.

He watched as Wally showed her how the ring toss worked, Amira easily nailing it after watching Wally miss his second and fourth shot.

Dick watched as the two ventured around the arcade, Amira racking up the tickets as time went on. In the end, she was able to get herself the most expensive prize there.

“Did you seriously just spend all day trying to get that?” Wally asked her, earning a huff. “And wait, where’s the other one?”

Wally looked as Amira swung around the lit up dagger, watching as she twirled it around with ease. The soft lavender glow came to a halt when Amira placed it on her holster that would usually carry an actual dagger.

“I can protect myself with just one.” Amira tried to brush off, only to confess when she saw Dick raise a brow. “I gave my other one to the girl that was beside me at the prize area. Every girl deserves to have a weapon.” That caused the two boys to laugh, causing Amira to pout.

“Whatever you say, Mimi.”

“Shouldn’t we start heading back home? Looks like it's about to rain.” Wally pointed out.

Looking at the darkening skies, the trio agreed to call it a day.

Amira had a bounce to her step as she entered the apartment, bouncing onto the sofa and grabbing the remote to see what was on the news.

Much to her disappointment, it was some news coverage about Batgirl’s latest appearance.

“-amateur footage of the vigilante taking down-”

Amira quickly flipped to another channel, a frown now on her face.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to end up with scowl lines for life.” Dick commented, taking out some ingredients to cook.

“Did you know about Drake replacing Jason?” Amira asked out of the blue, causing Dick to almost drop the cabbage in his hands. “Or what about Barbara being Batgirl?

“I...I didn’t know about Tim being the new Robin.” Dick stuttered, placing down carrots and potatoes on the table. He didn’t want this day to come. But he knew he was going to have to eventually tell Amira the truth. “I recently found out about it when I went to the Cave to retrieve some data. As for Barbara being Batgirl…”

He could feel Amira’s eyes on him, analyzing his every move. Taking a deep breath, Dick continued. “I was the one who gave her the mantle.”

Amira dropped the remote in her hands, staring at Dick with wide eyes.

“You?” Amira whispered. “You asked her to become Batgirl?” Amira felt her chest begin to twist.

“Amira, Bruce needed-“

“Why did you drag Babs-”

“I didn’t- she, ugh.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t drag her into this. She already knew about us.” Dick defended. “I simply-“

“Then why did you let her! Why did you encourage her?” Amira screamed. “She didn’t need to be roped into our messed up family-”

“Gotham needed him back.” Dick cut off. “Gotham needed Batman back. And we both knew that. We understood that. With his head still in the gutter-”

“Then why didn’t you stay there with him?” Amira cried, hating that she was having trouble breathing. “Why didn’t you-”

“Because I couldn’t forgive him with what he did to you!” Dick shouted, Amira watching him look down at his feet despite his head being held up high. “He shouldn’t have sent you to Paris when we were all mourning Jason! He should’ve let you go to the funeral, to visit him one last time before forcing you out of the country! He didn’t have to push you away just because he was mourning!” Duck didn’t care if his shoulder shook or if his voice warbled a bit.

This was Amira. He could trust her. She was his sister.

Amira watched as Dick walked up to the couch and plopped next to her. “We both know he’s still in mourning, hell all of us are. But that doesn’t excuse him for doing the shit he did!” Dick growled out before letting out a deep sigh. “Did you know he almost sent me to Germany?”

“Germany?”

“Alfred told me after I fled here.” Dick threw himself back, looking up at the ceiling fan. “To think he would try to pull that on me as well.”

“I...I didn’t know.” Amira said, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. All this time, she was venting towards Dick and she never asked how he was dealing with all this. He had to deal with all of his emotions on his own, storing them inside while he played peacekeeper.

How selfish she was. How stupid and blind did she have to be to not notice her brother’s suffering?

“Where are you going?” Dick asked her as she got up and started to storm towards the window. She whispered ‘Spots On’, watching as a soft red glow engulfed her. “Amira!” She heard Dick yell, but she didn’t turn back.

The sun was beginning to set, but she didn’t care. She was Ladybird. She can handle a few Gothamite thugs. With that in mind, Amira got on the railing before dropping from it and swinging herself towards Gotham.

If there was one thing any villain in Gotham hated, it was newbies waltzing into their terf.

As for Selina, the moment she noticed this newbie, she knew something was up. After all, no one survived longer than ten minutes while on enemy turf.

“I’ve never seen you around here before.” Selina looked at the girl from top to bottom, critiquing the girl’s choice of red and black. “New to the game, aren’t you?” She asked, noticing a dagger hidden within the shadows cast by her skirt. “Tell me, what brings you to these parts of Gotham?”

Selina watched as the cloaked girl continued to analyze her, trying to circle around her.

“Okay then, would you like to tell me your name, kitten?”

“Marienkäfer.” The girl spoke, glaring at her with an ever so familiar glare through her red domino mask.

So she spoke German. Great. To be honest, she wished the kid spoke Mandarin just like- “Wie heißt du?“ The girl asked her, or at least Selina judged from the way her brows furrowed a bit. She huffed, knowing this is going to go nowhere without help.

Pressing her comm, Selina awaited for the other end to pick up.

“Hey. Got a kid here who only speaks German. No, she doesn’t seem- yea. Yes she’s wearing- wait hold on. What do you mean-“ a frustrated sigh left Selina.

What did he mean by he knew her?

Selina kept watching over the girl, deciding to watch her as the girl started to make her way towards her.

Her hooded cape flew back from the autumn breeze, exposing the girl’s midnight hair.

Selina watched as the girl stood mere feet away from her, her green eyes holding a curious twinkle in them. She saw how the girl approached her before quickly falling back, her hand hovering over something at her side. Was that a yo-yo?

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Bruce’s voice trickled down Selina’s back.

“Why do you always have the need to do that?” Selina hissed, but Bruce remained silent. “Anyways, how do you know her?” She frowned when he ignored her.

“Amira.” Bruce called out, Selina watching as the girl didn’t budge. “Amira, what-”

“She smells like you.” The girl -no- Amira said, Selina watching her scowl. So she knew English, so why did she act as if she didn’t know it?

Or did she do it on purpose? Was it just a ploy?

“What-“

“Your cologne...it’s all over her...the cologne I gave you for your birthday two years ago.” Amira growled. “That could only mean one thing. When were you going to introduce us to each other, Father?”

Selina looked at Amira and then at Bruce for some type of explanation. She was his daughter? Why is she learning about this now? As far as she knew, he only had Dick and Jason...and currently Tim.

“Bats, explain.” Selina demanded, Bruce feeling a headache starting to form.

“Fine. But not here.”

Selina felt as Amira continued to glare at her, Selina starting to hate the attention from the younger Wayne.

They finally arrived at the manor, currently walking towards Bruce’s study. Of course, Amira didn’t change out of her costume yet, walking in the red and black suit.

“So Amira, how come I haven’t heard about you?” Selina decided to ask.

“I wonder.” Amira spat with venom, causing a brow to raise. “It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with my father-”

“Amira.” Bruce cut off, prompting Amira to frown. “I meant to say this earlier, but welcome back home.”

“Home?” Amira let out a dry laugh. “Last I recall, the apartment back in Paris is my home. Not this place despite having been raised here for 13 years.”

“Amira.”

“I didn’t come back here to see you. I didn’t even plan on seeing you, yet you always seem to find a way to find me.”

“Amira, you said you used to live here for 13 years. So tell me, how old are you?” Selina asked, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.

“Turning 14 in July. And you don’t have to worry about having to see me for the rest of the year. I’m going back to Paris in a few hours. After that, I won’t be back in Gotham for another half year or year.” Amira looked at Selina, her eyes dull and void of the anger from earlier. “Father’s never let me attend any gala or any event that requires showing my face, so coming back to Gotham would be pointless for me.”

Selina stopped herself from coming to a halt, absorbing Amira’s words.

She was 14, living in Paris by herself while her family lived in Gotham...not only that, but she seemed so distant to Bruce despite loving -no- adoring Gotham...

“Bruce, did you really send her to Paris...by herself?”

“What if I did?” Selina let out a scoff.

“Are you being serious right now? Bruce, she’s 14!”

“She’s still a child.”

“And yet you still thought of doing the same thing to Dick and he was 17 at the time, turning 18.” Amira interjected. “

She didn’t know what overcame her, she really didn’t.

“I’m going to Paris with Amira.” She never saw Bruce turn around so quickly before, noticing Amira had the same reaction as him when she said that.

“Selina. You-”

“I’m only going to be there for a week, make sure Amira is doing well and from there, I’ll come back.” Selina walked up to Bruce, sinking her nails into his arm. “After that, you and I are going to have a talk.” She whispered, letting go of Bruce. “So Amira, where are your things?”

Selina waited for a few minutes before getting a response from the girl.

“A-At Dick’s. I didn’t think I was going to be here for that long. I just wanted to talk to my father before heading back, although it seems like there will be a change of plans.”

“You wanted to speak to me?” Bruce asked, wondering what exactly Amira wanted.

“Yes. But of course, in your office.”

Selina had gone to pick up Amira’s things from Dick’s apartment, leaving father and daughter by themselves.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Is it true you wanted to send Dick to Germany?” Amira threw out the first thing in her mind, watching as her father tensed. “You could’ve just sent him to France with me. The two of us would’ve kept each other company, be safe with each other. But no. You thought it was best to separate us, to keep us isolated from each other because-”

“I...I didn’t actually want to send him to Germany.” Bruce confessed. “I...I also didn’t want to send you to Paris either, but I knew that if I didn’t, the two of you ran the risk-”

“But isn’t that why you fight? Wasn’t becoming Batman the solution to your worries?”

“I can only do so much. I can only guide the villains towards redemption, I can’t force them to-“

“Then why? Why didn’t you simply kill them off?” Amira asked. “Why don't you just get rid of them...or rather, him? Of Joker? Of the bastard clown that took Jason away from us! Why didn’t you-”

“You don’t understand, Amira. Getting rid of Joker isn’t the solution nor is getting rid of anyone for that matter. Killing isn’t-“

“Don’t you realize it? He’s the main problem. He’s the one racking up the deaths in Gotham. The reason why we have to keep constructing new cemeteries. The madman behind the cruelest tortures. The one who-“

“Killing Joker won’t do anything!” Bruce yelled. “It won’t bring Jason back and it definitely-”

“I never said it would bring Jason back. I said it because if you did kill him, it would bring you peace of mind. It would make Gotham safer for me...and countless other children.”

“Amira, I don’t think you understand. I don’t think you nor Jason understood.” Jason had told Bruce this before? “Killing only brings out the worst of people.” Amira watched as Bruce walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “If I were to kill anyone, I won’t be able to get back from there. My hands will no longer withhold the justice I claim to uphold...I also don’t want my children to have a murderer for a father.”

Amira watched as her father shook, but she didn’t care.

“You always said you wanted to be someone we could be proud of. A father whom we adored...but in your mission to become that, you’ve become a stranger to me.” Amira said, pushing Bruce off her. “I claim you my father, but...I don’t know much about you.

I have a stranger for a father instead of a respected man.

I found out about your girlfriend-no...fiance around a day ago, only to find out you’ve known her for longer. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the inconsistencies in her files?” Amira brought up.

“You looked at her files? When? Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Despite not being in Gotham, I like being up to date with the news. As for how, I was downloading information from the computer to take back with me to Paris. Got bored and started to look at the criminal files you had there. That’s how I landed on Selina’s file.

To think you’re engaged, nonetheless to a thieve.” Amira glared at her father. “Then again, why am I surprised at you for hiding things from me? You’ve always hid me away from anyone else. Just like how you hid Barbara and Drake from me.”

“I never hid that from-” Amira raised her hand and shook her head.

“I don’t care about that. I don’t care about what the hell you do anymore. But just know this. I will never forgive that bastard from taking Jason away from us. Now, I better get going. I have a plane to catch.”

#maribat #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #b!dbwm2020 #amira wayne

142 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

-----.------

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both.

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any.

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens.

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had.

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense.

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong.

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’.

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example.

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk, little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one.

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas.

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person.

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor.

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it.

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us.

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

#My writing #Tim Drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #core four #Dick grayson #Bruce Wayne #cassie sandsmark #kon el kent #conner kent #bart allen #jason todd #Damian wayne #this is just crack guys #Tim thinks Santa is out to get everyone #he's a tired boy okay #no edit #tw: mentions of child abuse #nothing graphic just Tim doing typical comic book research

262 notes · View notes

onlyfireandphoenix · 4 years

Text

The Golden Rules (from the Golden Boy Himself)

Summary: Dick tries to teach Tim how to be a good brother (as well as a semi-normal human) through love and affection

Dick had called an emergency meeting of Robins, which meant that it was just him and Tim sitting in the living room with a tray of Alfred’s cookies.

“Tim, we need to talk,” Dick was surprisingly serious, which was not comforting coming from the person who never learned to be serious outside of his masked life. Tim knew that something bad must have happened. What had he done this time? Was he going to get kicked out of the Robin mantle?

Dick looked at him, and frowned, “Tim we have a problem.” Oh no, he knew it. He was getting kicked out of the mantle and he didn’t even know what he did. “You are way too serious.” Wait… what? Tim glanced at Dick trying to puzzle out what he heard. Surely he must have heard wrong.

“Tim, you are like what? Ten?”

“Twelve,” Tim said indignantly.

Dick plowed right through like he hadn’t heard. “No ten year old should be as serious or reserved as you. It’s not healthy.”

Sooo…. Tim wasn’t getting kicked out? This was only an intervention! He couldn’t believe that Dick would call an emergency meeting to tell him that he needed to be less serious.

“So, I thought that I will teach you how to be less serious.” Because he was the perfect example of less serious of course. Still out of respect for Dick and not wanting to hurt his feelings, Tim stayed.

“Great! Now, lesson number is one everyone always needs a hug. You can never give too many hugs.”

Tim frowned at Dick. He knew that Boy Wonder was much more knowledgeable in the area of physical contact, but he clearly remembered Batman’s face last time Dick tried to hug him. “Are you sure about this? Bruce never seems to like it when you hug him.”

Dick pouted at Tim. “Tim… you don’t trust me?”

And there were those stupid puppy dog eyes. Why did Dick always pull those puppy dog eyes on him? Any why did they work every single time? Tim sighed, and Dick gave a gleeful squeal and hugged Tim as if to prove his point.

After few weeks of not so subtly drilling this lesson into Tim’s head, Dick watched from a distance as after a long patrol, a exhausted Tim Drake shuffled over to where Batman was sitting in the cave and gave him a hug that might have been more of a collapse than a hug, but still, it was progress.

The first time Tim had tried Dick’s advice, Dick remembered watching Bruce stiffen like a board under the tiny boy’s embrace. It took a week and much encouragement from Dick for Tim to try it again. Dick might or might not have given many lectures to an emotionally constipated bat behind the scenes, but Tim did try again, and this time Batman did not stiffen. From then on it was smoother sailing. And Tim had begun hugging people on a much regular basis. Now even the emotionally constipated bat was getting use to the idea that it was not only Dick that gave hugs and that maybe normal people hugged each other more than just on their birthdays.

Now that stage one was completed, Dick decided that it was time to move on to step two.

Tim sighed as Dick called another emergency meeting. He wondered if this one was an actually emergency. Knowing Dick he doubted it, but he still went anyway, if only to humor Dick.

“It is time for lesson two,” Dick said in all seriousness. So no, it was not an actual emergency. Figures. “You need to know how to cuddle.” Was he serious? But knowing Dick, yes, unfortunately he was completely serious. “Cuddling on the couch is important in everyone’s life, so you need to get acquainted with it.” Dick decided to work on cuddling while watching Lilo and Stitch, which if Tim was honest, he wasn’t opposed to.

Dick felt a surge on glee as one night after he had convinced Tim to watch another movie with him, Tim plopped right down next to him and curled up like a kitten next to Dick. The child was finally learning!

Soon even Batman started noticing that Tim was becoming more like Dick, but at first he saw nothing wrong with it. The problems started when he found Tim dangling from a light fixture eating a bowl of cereal. That is when he called in Dick to reign in these ‘lessons’.

“Oh come on B, don’t you like having a more friendly, slightly more normal child around instead on a miniature version of you?”

“I do not mind that you are teaching Tim to be more socially interactive, but I do not want to see you teaching him your unhealthy addiction to cereal or to risk his neck my dangling from places that are not meant to be dangled from.” Dick sensing that he was not going to get anywhere by arguing, agreed. However, Bruce never said anything about discontinuing the lessons…

That is how Bruce got stuck with another, smaller Dick Grayson.

Tim had heard that Jason was back. He had heard that something was very wrong inside his head, but he still hoped that maybe now, he could finally meet his predecessor, and brother that he never had. Of course he had been warned to stay away, and he would never break Batman’s order, so he didn’t try to go hunting for Jason, but if he happened to patrol a little later than normal or stray closer to Crime Alley than he did before, who could stop him?

This strategy of ‘avoiding’ Jason finally paid off when three shots came whizzing past Robin on one of his slightly longer patrols.

“Greetings from the dead, Replacement!” IT WAS JASON! Tim would recognize that voice anywhere, even though it was slightly distorted through the red mask Jason was wearing.

“JASON!” Tim squealed before launching himself at the vigilante. Jason who was not expecting this, took a moment to shake off the child that was… hugging...him?

“Get off me, you rat!” Tim only clung on harder and climbed further onto him with Dick-like agility.

“Ican’tbelieveitisreallyyou!” The miniature Dick rambled. “I have wanted to meet you since forever, and now you are here, and alive, and RIGHT HERE! I can’t wait until you get to go back to being Robin! You will kick so much bad guy derriere!” Who was this kid, and what had Dick done to him? This kid should not be allowed next to any sugar. Jason would make sure to warn Alfred, but knowing Alfred, he already knew and had locked all of the sugar in a bat-proof safe.

“Look Replacement, I don’t do all of the hugging and touchy feely things, okay?” He peeled the kid off of him and pinned the boy’s cape to a nearby wall.”

“Nightwing says that everyone always needs a hug. It is rule number one.” Even behind his domino mask, Jason could tell the kid’s eyes were unnaturally bright. And of course it was Dick’s number one rule. Jason would make him pay for corrupting this child.

The child suddenly changed the subject. “Are you aware of the breakout at Arkham?” And before waiting for a reply, he plowed on. “There were no major ones that escaped but a few of the lower ones did and I am trying to track them. I was wondering if you could help me?”

Jason knew exactly what the little vermin was doing. Nightwing had already tried this tactic on him MULTIPLE times. “Why isn’t the big old bat helping you?”

“I think that he is away in a JL mission and Nightwing is away at Bludhaven.”

“So they left you here to deal with it alone?” Jason couldn’t tell if he was impressed by the kid’s guts or furious at the bats for abandoning one of their own? Maybe a little of both? But no, he was not going to be roped into helping any of the bats.

Then the rat delivered his final blow. “Okay that is fine. But could you get me another cup of coffee? I haven’t been able to get enough sleep since the breakout.”

He would strangle Dick if he ever got his hands on him again. No remorse. In fact he was thrilled about the fact. Him and his manipulative little clone.

“Replacement,” Jason growled in warning. He was not going to be manipulated into helping this accursed family. “Go home.”

“I really shouldn’t. Who knows what these villains might do while they are loose?” He gave a tired smile and was about to leap away, when Jason grabbed his arm.

“Fine, Replacement, I will help! But don’t think I don’t know what you are doing!” The little rat would be the death of him.

Tim grinned as he watched his predecessor kick some bad guy derriere. It was nice to have Jason back home, and Tim would make sure that he comes home permanently. Maybe then Dick would have someone else besides him to teach his rules.

Jason had finished with the bad guys now, and with a sidelong look at Tim, he silently agreed to just truss them up for the police to handle.

“Now Replacement, go get some sleep and leave me alone.” Tim grinned again and let himself sag to the floor. He really was tired and Jason had never brought him that coffee. “Aww, I didn’t mean here!” Jason said plucking Tim up from the ground, but Tim was already on his way to dreamland. The thought of maybe this is what Dick’s rules were really supposed to be used for, flitted through his head before the sleep took over. The last thing he heard was Jason grumbling about having to drop him off, and with one last smirk, he was asleep.

He woke up a few hours later back inside the mansion with a slightly puzzled Dick hovering over him. “What happened out there last night?”

Tim smiled up at his big brother and replied, “I used rule number one.” Then he scooted off the makeshift bed and walked out of the room, leaving a still very confused Dick behind.

It wasn’t like Jason came over any more than normal, but if the bats got into some trouble, there was always someone who would miraculously save their bacon right in the nick of time. Now who this guardian angel was, who could guess….

……….

Then along came Damian, the demon spawn. He was the one that really challenged Dick’s rules. Maybe this was the one person that truly did not like being hugged. But that couldn’t be true because he let Dick hug him. What was up with that? Tim frowned at his little brother who was sitting across the cave. If the rules worked for Jason, surely they would work for this child, so with a deep breath, he walked towards the demon child.

“What are you doing, Drake?”

“Just coming to say hi, you know like a good brother would do.”

“We are not brothers, Drake,” the little brat was sure not making it easy.

“Okay, but will you be willing to come watch a movie with Dick and I?” Tim felt sure he could rope Dick into watching a movie. He loved stuff like that.

“Tt, I assume Dick is going to force me to do it if I refuse.”

Knowing Dick, he probably would. “Yes…”

“Fine, Drake, I will meet you up there.” Tim looked at Damian warily. Well that just happened. Tim assumed that it had been a victory for him, but one could never tell with Damian. After all, the assassin child could be plotting his murder at that moment. After a moment’s hesitation, Tim retreated to find Dick.

…

“Hey Dick,” Tim poked his head into Dick’s room. “Would you mind watching a movie with Damian and I?”

“Oh sorry Timmy, you know how much I would love to, but B has me working on this case, and I don’t think I can take any time off. You know how he is.” Dick did look apologetic, but all Tim could think of was how dead he was going to be once Damian found out. This time there would be no stopping it. He was going to die, and knowing Damian, it would not be pleasant. But maybe he could turn this situation in his favor. Yes, he had been meaning to get some sleep sometime, and dying in your sleep was always better than being tortured. And if he didn’t die, there was always the benefit of getting more than two hours of sleep at one time. Maybe Dick’s rules could come in handy after all...

...

When Damian showed up to watch the movie with Grayson and Drake, he found Drake sitting all alone on the couch. Of course Damian knew right away that this meant that Grayson could not have come to this ‘bonding’ session, but for some reason that completely escaped him, he walked over and sat down anyway.

After a long moment of silence, Damian broke the silence. Just out of curiosity of what Drake would say he asked, “When is Grayson arriving?”

Drake visibly gulped and replied without looking, “Soon, but let us go ahead and start the movie.” It was said way too quickly. Drake might be an expert at lying when he was under the mask, but in familial situations like this he was less than competent. Still, Grayson would prefer it if Damian participated in this ‘brotherly bonding’, so he pretended to be blind to Drake’s obvious lie.

“Do you want to watch Star Wars?” Tim asked as he held out the whole collection with a pride that was something to be ashamed of.

“What would Grayson want to watch?” Damian couldn’t help himself. It was quite amusing to watch Drake squirm as he tried to figure out a way to justify a decision that Grayson would clearly dislike.

“Well…… he isn’t here right now, and I would prefer to have a movie marathon right now.”

Damian didn’t care one way or another what they watched, so he gave his consent. Though he did vaguely wonder why Drake would want to watch a marathon. Usually he did not want to hang out with Damian if he could help it.

However, it did not take him long to figure out why Drake was so keen on the marathon because not even five minutes into the film, he was sound asleep. Wrapped around a very stiff Damian.

That sly little manipulator, Damian could almost not help but be impressed with Drake’s skill at masterminding this entire scenario just so he could get some sleep. Drake must know that Grayson would never allow Father to take Drake away from a “bonding” experience with his brother. He also knew that Grayson would never forgive Damian for waking Drake once he was finally getting some sleep, so Damian was stuck with an unconscious brother for 9 hours.

Drake would pay for this later, but Damian admitted that he needed the sleep, so he waited out the movie.

When Dick finally managed to take a break from the case, he was surprised to still hear noise coming from the living room. He quietly peeked his head and and laid eyes of something that he had only dared wish for in dreams. Not only was Timmy finally asleep, but he was asleep on Damian. And Damian wasn’t trying to kill him! The worst thing about this scene was Damian’s scowl, but there was not blood or knives, so Dick didn’t worry too much.

There was no way he was going to interrupt this progress, so he quietly stole some of Alfred’s cookies and headed back to the cave.

Tim awoke to find that he wasn’t dead. That was good at least. Damian was no longer in the room, but Dick sat on edge of the couch.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he grinned. Catching Tim’s questioning look around, he said, “Damian had to go to school. You know, we have to keep up the appearance of a semi-normal family.” Tim gave a small, sleepy nod, and rolled out of bed.

“I am really glad you taught me those rules.” Dick didn’t bother to think about Tim’s sleepy ramblings, so he just grinned and caught Tim when he tripped over a stray blanket.

……….

This time Tim didn’t even mean to use the rules. It wasn’t even his fault. He was just tired and had a bit too much work to do. The rest of his family shouldn’t have even noticed, but somehow they managed to catch wind of his perpetual exhaustion decided to do something about it.

Dick suggested that they hold an intervention because those had worked in the past. Jason suggested they knocked him over the head and carry him to bed. Bruce wasn’t there as usual. No one would let Damian give his suggestion because no one wanted another dead Robin (except Jason at times, but those were becoming more rare).

This meant that the bat brothers spent the afternoon arguing about whose idea was better.

Damian rolled his eyes at Grayson and Todd. Sometimes his predecessors were fools. If Damian wanted Drake dead, the whole world would know, and that mechanical fraud would already be dead by now. However, Drake was an asset to the team, as long as he didn’t kill himself through exhaustion.

His brothers were obviously incompetent to handle the situation, he snuck out of the room to handle it himself.

Now where would a sleep deprived Drake be? He wouldn’t be in the cave because Father had banned him after Drake had collapsed mid lecture from Batman for lack of personal care. Probably then Drake would be holed up in his room. Sure enough, Damian could hear low moans coming from said room that could possibly resemble some form of language. The locked door was only a small inconvenience, and within seconds, Damian had the door opened.

“Demon Spawn?” a slurred voice asked hidden under a canopy of covers. “What ‘re you doin’ ‘ere?”

Damian pulled the covers away to find a haggard Drake surrounded by piles of papers. “Tt Drake, I am here to make sure you survive the next few hours.”

“I’m survivin’ great,” the slurred, slightly delirious voice responded.

“Grayson says that we need to have some ‘brotherly bonding’ time. He says that we need to watch a movie called The Guardians, and he has sacrificed some of his favorite chocolate milk for this.”

“But… I need to finish this for Bruce…” Drake stared blankly at the papers surrounding him.

Curse Drake and his stupid lack of self preservation instincts. But Damian needed to convince Drake to go along with this, not force him because Drake would only dig his heels in if he thought this might be some kind of trick. “Do you want to disappoint Grayson, Drake?”

“Well...no…”

“Then we need to have this ‘brotherly bonding’.”

Drake looked suspiciously at Damian. “Why ‘re you insistin’ on this? ‘Re you gonna kill me again?”

Damian replied as gently as a former assassin could. “No, I just want to assuage Grayson’s constant naggings.” Apparently that was enough to convince the sleep deprived Drake of his sincerity because Drake shoved some of his papers aside to make room for Damian on the bed. Damian quickly set up the movie and moved nest to Drake on the bed. “Here is Grayson’s chocolate milk.” He handed Drake a mug of the milk he had swiped for this occasion. Grayson would not mind his donation once he found out what it was for.

Drake clung to the milk and gulped it all down in only a few seconds. Damian was almost impressed with how he didn’t choke. Once the movie had started, Tim curled up against Damian, and within five minutes he was sound asleep.

Damian quickly scooted off the bed and collected the stray papers. He then gathered the discarded mug and made his escape.

Damian then went down to where his predecessors were still arguing. “The matter has been dealt with.” He said matter of factly as he interrupted their heated discussion. The both turned towards him with identical looks of horification. “I did not kill him, if that is what you are thinking.” Again, both faces sagged with relief.

“Then, what did you do?” Grayson asked hesitantly.

“I tampered with his chocolate milk.”

“Chocolate milk!” Grayson exclaimed. “My chocolate milk?!?” Todd promptly hit him in the head for being an idiot. “Okay fine, I guess that is okay.” Grayson grumbled.

“Drake will be asleep for at least 24 hours,” Damian reported.

“Good work,” Todd said, almost sounding surprised and possibly a bit relieved.

“Tt, of course, Todd. Unlike you two, I was able to get the job accomplished.” Damian took that opportunity to escape before things could get sentimental.

#Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #Fix-it #Small Tim Drake #Jason Comes Home #damian needs a hug #Tim needs sleep #Protective Tim Drake #Protective Damian Wayne

58 notes · View notes

wordsfromthesol · 4 years

Text

It’s All in the Jump

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You’ve known Tim since you were children. Best friends turned something more. Warnings: Language, injuries, blood, ya’know the usual stuff. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: Unhappy endings? Not in this house! Get that shit out of here, life is sad enough!

“Are you ever going to let this obsession go?”

“It’s not an obsession! I just…need to know!”

“Whatever you say…”

“I mean look! Batman got a sidekick!” Tim points dramatically at the computer screen.

“Yeah?”

“Y/N/N, we gotta see them!”

“UGH! Fine! Tell me where and I’ll be there. But only so you don’t get yourself killed!”

Tim pretended to crack his knuckles as he turned back to his computer with a smile on his face. As long as he had the support of his best friend, he knew that he could crack the superheroes’ identities.

A few melancholy days later and Tim rang you frantic, “Y/N! Y/N! You gotta get down here! Like now!”

“I don’t know where you’re at Tim!”

“My house! They are on tv!”

“Why can’t I just turn –”

“Y/N!”

“Okay, I’m coming!”

Really, you only lived down the hall from Tim, but you wanted to push his buttons. You barged through the door and pounced on Tim as he sat on the floor next to the tv.

“Y/N!”

“Alright, I’m watching.”

Tim kept pausing the footage, rewinding, and screaming “There! Right there!”

“All I see is jumping Tim.”

“It’s ALL in the jump!” You rolled your eyes and proceeded to get up and head to the kitchen before Tim scrambled from his spot to follow you. “You can’t tell me you don’t recognize THAT jump!”

“It’s a jump, Tim.”

“But it’s Dick Grayson’s jump. From the circus. Remember the show we went to?”

“At Haly’s? I’m sure many acrobats jump the same way.”

“No, this was him.” Tim grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “Robin is Dick Grayson!”

“Alright! I believe you! Geez!”

Your eyes attempted to open, but they were badly bruised. You wanted to stay in your memories, your best memories with your Timothy Jackson Drake. But there were other plans in store for you.

You felt a sharp pain in your side, but you couldn’t turn your head enough to determine the cause. Your memory had to be playing tricks on you, why would anyone care about you? As your vision cleared you began to look around, it seemed to be an abandoned warehouse. You couldn’t see anyone else, but it did look like a bomb had gone off. Bomb? Right, you were working on a story and came into the warehouse after someone gave you a lead. It seemed like just as you had entered, it exploded.

Okay, relax. Can I move? You tried to lift your left leg. Nothing. Right leg? Relief flooded through your body as your right leg twitched at your command. You tried your arms. A sharp pain flooded through your body as you attempted to lift your arms one at a time. Okay, almost unbearable, but working. You glanced around for your purse, spotting it about 12 feet in front of you, contents spilled all around it. Sucking in a deep breath, you braced yourself for the oncoming pain.

It felt like hours had gone by, but you finally reached your phone. Praying it still worked you inched your finger towards the now shattered screen. The background flickered and a distorted image of you and Tim at Haly’s circus flashed across the screen. You winced as the image involuntarily brought a smile to your battered face. Lying on the floor, you listened to ring echo through the warehouse. Tears began to fall down your face, as his voicemail came across the phone.

“Hey Timmy,” your voice meek and strained, “Don’t be mad. You told me to wait for you…” You stopped to catch your breath, it was getting harder to breathe. “I didn’t.” A small whimper left your lips, “I lo –”. Everything faded to black once again.

“What did I tell you, Y/N/N?! Isn’t this amazing!” Tim stood in awe in the center of the Batcave.

“I just can’t believe you convinced Bruce to let me tag along!”

“I couldn’t leave my best friend.” Tim smirked as he nudged you before running over to the computer. “LOOK AT THIS! Think of how many databases I can access from this! FBI, CIA, MI6!”

“You’re such a nerd Timmy.”

“Yeah but I’m your nerd.” Rolling your eyes, you stalked over to the computer to join him. You had to admit, your best friend was pretty amazing. The connections he drew from the smallest details left you stupefied…and the look on his face now. You knew you would remember this forever.

“No…no…no. Y/N. God. No.” Tim rushed towards your side, ignoring the blood pooling around you. “WHY COULDN’T YOU WAIT FOR ME?!” He pulled you into his lap and held you tight.

“Tim, we gotta get her out of here. I got the Batmobile.” Jason kept his voice low and calm and he walked towards his brother. Tim glanced up at him and nodded as he scooped you carefully in his arms.

“How did you rope me into watching this?” Tim scoffed about half-way through Murder on the Orient Express.

“Because it’s a great movie!”

“But it’s so predictable!”

“It’s a classic!” You threw a pillow towards the other end of the couch, where he sat with your feet in his lap.

“Oh, that’s it.” He launched at you, pinning your wrists above your head as he started to tickle you.

“That’s not fair!” You struggled to get the words out between spurts of laughter.

“Life’s not always fair Y/N/N!” Suddenly you thrust your knee up and it hit him square in the chest, causing him to double over and fall off the couch.

“Oh my gosh! Tim!” You knelt beside him on the ground, worried until you heard his stifled laughter. He opened his eyes and noticed how close you were. Before you know it, he had pulled you closer and pressed his lips to yours.

“God, I love you.”

“It’s been days! Why is she not awake yet!”

“Maybe because you’ve been awake enough for the both of you.” Tim shot daggers towards Jason, he was not in the mood for his quips. “I’m just saying, you need sleep too, Timbo.”

“I’ll sleep when I know she’s okay!” He screamed as his finger shot in the direction of the med bay.

“Tim,” Dick walked over and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Alfred is sure she will be fine. Her body is just taking time, so it can recover. She lost a lot of blood. Her femur was shattered. Three broken ribs –”

“I get it. You can stop relaying all the injuries my girlfriend has, Dick.” Tim whipped his head around once he felt a slight prick in his arm. “Damian, what the hell.”

“You would not sleep voluntarily. So, I helped.”

“What do you mean –” Tim’s words were cut off as he began to slink to the floor. Dick moved to catch his brother, while shooting a look of disapproval towards Damian, who just shrugged.

“You know this was the only way Grayson.”

“Why can’t you just wait for me, Y/N/N?”

“Because if I wait for you, I will never get to follow-up on this lead.”

“It’s intel on a drug ring, you can’t go in alone.”

“Well maybe if I knew a superhero not glued to the damn computer, I wouldn’t have to.” Tim didn’t hear the words, as he just got a new lead himself, on a case involving Two-Face. One that Bruce asked him to look into. You threw your hands in the air, well aware that you were no longer the topic of interest. “Whatever, Tim. Maybe when you care about me as much as,” you walked over to his computer, “Two-Face, then we can actually hold a conversation.”

“What about Two-Face?” The name sparked interest in Tim’s mind, that’s what he was investigating after all.

“Nothing, Tim. I’m going to the warehouse tonight at 6. Come if you want, but I won’t hold my breath. I know I’m second place.”

Tim woke up several hours later, in his old room at Wayne Manor. “That little demon.” He huffed under his breath, quickly making his way back to you. That can’t be his last memory of you. You were so mad at him, and it was all his fault. He couldn’t let you die mad at him, you meant everything to him. He made his way downstairs to see Damian next to your bedside, and was he talking? Were you awake? Tim broke into a run.

“I am glad you are okay Y/L/N. I do not think any of us could handle Drake if you were not there to reign him in.” Though words still failed you, a faint smile lined your lips as you lightly squeezed the young Wayne’s hand. “Sorry I had to sedate him.” Damian moved to get up as soon as he saw Tim running towards you.

“Y/N!” Tim ran to your side and embraced you. You let out a small cry in pain but didn’t mind. He, however, pulled away at the sound. “I’m sorry…I just thought I lost you.” He grasped your hand as he sat beside you. “You are always first place. I never want to make you feel otherwise, ever again.” You slid over and gestured for him to join you. Wrapping yourself in his arms, the two of you slowly drifted to sleep.

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x y/n #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #red robin #red robin x y/n #dc imagine #dc reader insert #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #tim drake fanfic #red robin fanfic #batboys fanfic #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam fanfic #batfam imagine

366 notes · View notes

elareine · 4 years

Text

You still look like a movie (DickWally, side JayTim)

When Gotham Academy offered him a position, Wally jumped at the chance. He’d trained as a teacher here, after all, and he thought the city could use all the help it could get.

The memories of grad school were a mixed bag, as these things tended to be. Living prices in Gotham had been low, still were, which had been what allowed Wally to truly break away from his father for the first time. He’d made his first best friend here and had his heart broken.

That had been ten years ago, though. When he arrived at school the week before the term started, Wally was determined to make new memories.

His hiring had been kinda last-minute, so he didn’t expect any arrangements to have been made for his first day. Apparently, the old teacher had been kidnapped by a clown-penguin or something? Gotham was so weird.

But there was a figure waiting for him at the gates. And he looked familiar.

Wally blinked. “Jason?”

Jason Todd grinned and ground out his cigarette. “Hi, Wally. I’m your welcome committee.”

So Dick’s delinquent little brother had grown up to become a teacher, too, huh? Who’d have thought? The students they met on the corridors clearly liked him, though, judging by the enthusiastic greetings they got. Jason was kinda doing a half-assed job of showing him around, though, soon abandoning it entirely to drag Wally into one of the classrooms.

A pale, dark-haired young man gave Jason a wave, then smiled politely at Wally. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Wally was about to introduce himself, but Jason intervened. “Wally, this is Tim Drake. He teaches CS and, occasionally, Math. Tim, this Wally, our new Chemistry teacher.”

“West?” Tim asked, peering at Wally’s face. “Wait, are you that Wally?”

“Uhm.” Wally didn’t know how to answer that question.

Luckily, Jason seemed to know exactly what Tim was talking about. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

Wally watched in confusion as Tim’s smile suddenly turned a lot more genuine. “Welcome to Gotham Academy, then, Wally. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Wally was just going to ignore that. “Thanks. Good to be here. You another brother?” Wally had always bet Dick that Bruce Wayne’s adoptions wouldn’t stop at two. That man screamed ‘father energy’ as loudly as ‘will not be in a stable long-term relationship.’ Of course, he’d adopt.

“Sort of.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Definitely. You know that if we’d divorce, Bruce would sign the papers in a heartbeat.”

“I’m a grown man.”

“You think that’ll stop him?”

Oh. Okay, then.

One of the reasons Wally had been so eager to leave his old school had been the constantly-reinforced need to stay in the closet. And here he was and the first two dudes he met were married to each other.

“Anyway,” Tim pointedly turned back to Wally, “Dick will be so happy to see you.”

Would he, though? And more importantly - “Does he teach here?”

“Does he ever.”

“Jason’s just here on loan,” Tim explained. “He usually teaches at the other end of town. Dick’s the one that roped him into this.”

“That’s cool. That you’re doing that, I mean; in my old school people always refused to help out even when we didn’t have an English teacher for six months—”

“Right,” Jason said. “Let’s get going.”

This was good, Wally thought as he followed Jason through even more corridors. He’d get to see Dick again, but he’d have time to prepare for it. Once he sorted through the mix of dread and joy rushing through him at the prospect, he’d be fine. Great, even. Totally cool.

They turned a corner, and Jason called out: “Yo, Dick, check out who just joined our school!”

Dick Grayson turned around to where he’d been talking to one of the administrators, and. Uh.

Wow.

Dick, as a teenager, had been short and wiry. As a young man, he’d been the epitome of an athlete, lean and with a flexibility that had caused Wally some sleepless nights.

As a man in his thirties, he was a total fucking knockout, Jesus. Where had that jawline come from?? Wally hadn’t acquired anything like that. It was unfair!

“Wall-Man!”

“Robin!” Wally called back, unable to resist that smile or the hug Dick immediately drew him into.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” Dick grinned. “Awesome to have you here, Walls.”

See, that was the thing about Dick. He might be one of the weirdest people Wally knew, thanks to his family, but also the nicest. He’d even pretend it hadn’t been Wally’s massive, creepy crush on him that had caused him to flee to the other side of the planet.

“Yeah, well, last thing I heard, you were in China. What in God’s name possessed you to come back here?”

Dick shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, man, it always comes back to this, doesn’t it?”

Considering the situation, he and Dick in a hallway in Gotham, Wally had to agree. “I guess.”

When the silence stretched on a bit too long, Dick finally looked away from Wally. “Hey, Jason, if you want, I can take over the tour—”

Jason had already left.

It was incredible how easy it was to fall back into old patterns with Dick. Two months in and Wally was as regularly a guest in Dick’s office as Dick was at Wally’s apartment after work, which is to say, almost every day, including today.

“Do you need anything else?” he heard Dick say. The group of students shook their heads, so Wally had no qualms about walking in.

“Walls, hey,” Dick smiled when he saw him. “Lemme just finish that form, and I’m all yours.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Wally was dying to tell Dick about the shit John from 4a had tried to pull away, but it would need to wait until the group of students that was still lingering outside had moved out of earshot.

“See, I told you he’d be taken,” he heard one of them say. “Guys like that don’t reach their thirties single. He’s certainly not interested in you.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Don’t be sad,” a third voice interjected helpfully. “Mr Grayson is like the hottest teacher around. No shame in losing out.”

Wally would very much like to tell them how much he resented the implication he would go for a teenage girl if Dick were slightly less hot.

Wait, what was he thinking?

Wally glanced at Dick. He was still focused on his paperwork and hadn’t heard anything.

Good. Last thing Wally needed was for his stupid crush to fuck things up between them again.

“So that’s happening again, huh?”

“...why are you crowding me into a wall?” Wally asked curiously. It was quite impressive, really, the way Jason towered over him despite not being that much taller. If Wally weren’t so sure he could outrun Jason, he would even feel slightly intimidated.

Jason backed off a bit, still glowering. “Just be glad it’s me and not the munchkin parade. Damian was all for locking you two into an attic at swordpoint.” He pointed his thumb vaguely into the direction of Dick’s office. “I’ve heard the students discuss running interference, Wally. This has to stop.”

Wally sighed. Trust the Waynes to have figured him out. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not obvious enough, apparently.” Jason snorted. “Do us all a favor and actually kiss him this time. He’s a dumbass who thinks this has always been one-sided.”

“Well, yeah.” Wally’s brain decided to skip right over ‘kiss him,’ because what. “It has, I’m just being stupid; I know Dick isn’t interested in me that way, but it’s so nice to have him back, he’s my best friend and I missed him so much, that’s more important than being in love with him.”

“I think that you need to kiss him,” Jason said again, more loudly, and why was he speaking so loudly, almost as if he wanted someone else than Wally to hear it—

Wally turned.

Dick was gaping at him. There wasn’t a better word for it. Even he couldn’t make that level of ‘wtf’ look attractive.

Of course, he’d heard all of that. Wally wanted to sink into the ground. “You, uh. Maybe wanna talk about that?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “Yeah, I think we should.” He made toward his office but abruptly turned back before he’d finished the movement. “No, actually, we should follow Jason’s advice.”

Wally heard grumbling behind him. “I’ve been saying.” He’d tear Jason a new one for this, he swore, right after he found out what Dick meant by that.

And then he did find out and forgot all about Jason Todd, because Dick was—rather predictably, but still incomprehensibly to Wally—kissing him, and that was more important than anything else.

The first few years after Dick had left, Wally had idly fantasized about this. In his mind, there had been elaborate love confessions that displayed a degree of coherency neither of them ever possessed in real life; kisses in the rain, maybe, or at an airport; Dick somehow swooping in and rescuing Wally from what his life had become.

Later, when he’d started getting his shit together, the phantasies turned more mundane. What it would be like to have Dick with him again. How Dick would laugh at Wally’s impression of his annoying boss; whether he’d get along with Wally’s new friends; what Dick’s opinion on fidget toys might be.

And yes, how it would feel to be kissing him the corridor for the entire world to see. That, too.

The answer?

Even better than Wally could’ve ever imagined.

#dickwally #birdflash #elareine writes #advent calendar 2019

35 notes · View notes

catalystcfchange · 4 years

Photo

∘⡊ ( brenton thwaites, he/him, earth 9 ) earth prime is now home to DICK GRAYSON, a TWENTY-SEVEN year old DETECTIVE with ambitions of LEADING THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ONE DAY. Some say they look like NIGHTWING, the masked HERO of BLUDHAVEN. But that has to be a coincidence, right?

THE BASICS

NAME: Richard John Grayson-Wayne

NICKNAME(S): Dick, Dickie, Golden Boy, Bird Boy, Boy Wonder

ALIAS(ES): Robin, Nightwing

CURRENT AGE: Twenty-seven

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: He/him

BIRTHDAY & ZODIAC: March 20, 1993. Pisces

ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic Demisexual

FACECLAIM: Brenton Thwaites

FAMILY: John Grayson (father, deceaded), Mary Grayson (mother, deceased), Bruce Wayne (adoptive father), Jason Todd (adoptive brother), Timothy Drake (adoptive brother), Damian Wayne (adoptive brother), Cassandra Cain (adoptive sister), Rachel Roth (adoptive daughter), Alfred Pennyworth (grandfather figure), William Cobb/Talon (creepy great grandfather who wants him to join the Court of Owls. Dick has not met Talon and does not know their connection. Yet.)

STATISTICS

AFFILIATION: Young Justice (formerly), The Titans, The Batfamily, The Birds of Prey (tags along on occasion), Justice League (worked with them on and off but isn’t an offical member)

MBTI: ISFJ (The Defender)

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: Robin Hood (the book), coffee, that feeling of the wind in your face when you’re swinging through the city and it feels like you’re flying

THREE HATED THINGS: Kids being hurt or targeted in any way, people who mistreat others for being different, galas

EDUCATION: Whatever top school Bruce got him into as a kid, + a degree in Forensics.

WEAPONS: Escrima sticks (with electric charges he can release), wingdings

ABILITIES: No meta powers here, but he does have an indomitable will and a genius level intellect.

SKILLS: Acrobatics, Martial Arts, Peak Human Condition, Espionage, Throwing, Weaponry, Intimidation, Aviation, Stealth, Tactical Analysis, Disguise, Escapology, Investigation, Forensic Science, Multilingualism, Leadership, Physics, Tracking, Eskrima, Stick Fighting, Firearms, Swordsmanship.

GREATEST STRENGTH: His kindness. Dick Grayson is so kind and caring and empathetic, that it’s his strength. And perhaps why he’s the light of the Batfamily.

GREATEST WEAKNESS OR FLAW: He has a guilt complex. Dick has had it since his parents died and he was unable to catch them. Because of that, he often sees himself as the family’s security net and blames himself for everything bad that happens even if it wasn’t in his control. This often leads to him trying to stretch himself thin or work alone. While he has toned it down due to raising Rachel, he still has this to an extent, and it gets worse every time someone he loves dies.

THE CRISIS

What was your character doing when the Crisis began? Did they try and stop the Anti-Monitor? Or did they simply watch their earth die?

Dick was “dead” when the Crisis happened, working for Spyral at the time. He came back to help his friends and revealed he was alive to them at the same time. After all, once a hero, always a hero, and he was willing to do whatever it took to save the multiverse. However, because he was not a paragon, he died during the Crisis.

What earth was your character from originally? How is their life on Earth Prime different from their original?

Dick Grayson was originally from Earth 9. On Earth 9 he was much more cynical and, while still kind and compassionate, hard to get close to with anger issues due to a not-so-good relationship with his version of Bruce Wayne. He was a father figure to Rachel Roth, though Dick did not feel comfortable being an official parent, thinking his life was too messed up to adopt a kid into. They fought Trigon and later went to Titans Tower, eventually fighting Deathstroke along with a few other Titans missions before disbanding the team after Donna Troy and Jason Todd’s deaths (the order of these events is vague, since he doesnt remember any of this). He found out during one of the crossover events later on that he was related to William Cobb, a Talon in the Court of Owls, through meeting a version of himself in the multiverse who was raised by his great grandfather instead of Bruce Wayne and instead of becoming Nightwing, became a ruthless assassin. Events soon led up to Dick needing to fake his death and he joined Spyral to take them down from the inside for Batman. However, those events were halted by the Crisis.

On Earth Prime, things are quite different. Here, he does not know his connection to the Court of Owls and is not as cynical as he was on Earth 9, having most of his optimism back, though he still blames himself for the deaths of his parents and Jason Todd and still has his guilt complex. On Earth Prime, he took it upon himself to adopt Rachel Roth, a young girl the Team found when he powers alerted M’gann to her wherabouts. Dick’s life here is much more put together on his civilian side than it was on Earth 9, thanks to the fact he not only had his siblings looking up to him, but a kid as well, though he can still be the soft yet serious and dangerous goofball he was as a thirteen year old. On Earth Prime, the Titans were also different, as, Dick started them at the age of eighteen after becoming Nightwing. Tired of being told what to do by the Justice League, he made his own team that didn’t need to answer to them and worked on his own terms. When Rachel was sixteen, Dick helped her and the younger Titans lock Trigon away, refusing to let the demon anywhere near Rachel. He currently tries to balance being a cop, a single father, a vigilante, and a team leader all at once.

While Dick might be more Young Justice based, there’s a few things I’m changing. First off, I’m toning down his hacking abilities, since those are more Tim and Barbara’s department, and while Dick’s good, he’s never been their level. Second, I’ve always had a liking for him being a detective, so that’s the only thing he shares with his Earth 9 counterpart (other than being a father to Rachel). And, last but not least, I am removing the extra family members the Young Justice tie in comics gave him. Dick has enough angst going on watching his parents fall to their deaths, we don’t need to add cousins, an aunt, and an uncle to the death count. His origin is angsty enough without it, so obviously, its more comics than YJ here. Dick’s parents fell to their deaths during their act after Tony Zucco messed with their ropes, and Dick was unable to catch them. Cue Bruce Wayne coming in, taking him in, we all know the story after that.

Does your character have any memories of the Crisis? If so, are they a paragon or were their memories restored? If not, would they even want to remember?

Nope, he does not have any memories. I think Dick would be curious about his old life and would ask the Paragons to tell him about it, but as for actually getting the memories back, he would rather not. Having two sets of memories in his head sounds uncomfortable as hell, and he would probably hate his Earth 9 self.

#crisis:intro #//I apologize for how utterly long the third answer got #I tried to tone it down but

4 notes · View notes

birdy-bat-writes · 4 years

Text

Damian Wayne - Civilian crime solver

Request: Could you do headcanons or a scenario about Damian with a friend or s/o that is really into mysteries and goes around investigating cases even though they're really in over their head? Bonus points for shenanigans. Thank you!

Of course, amazing Anon! Great suggestion! And hey, why do friends or lovers when we can do both?? ;) I hope you enjoy this!

A/N: Um… My Headcanons are basically just fanfictions with sentences that don’t flow into paragraphs. I split it into 2 parts. I Really liked writing this one though. I love Damian. This one came out kinda angsty though, sorry about that. But it has a sweet ending.

Part 2 here

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

- You met Damian when you both were in the sixth grade. He was quite the indignant 11-year-old. Unfortunately for you, this fellow was your lab partner for the year.

- You noticed his distaste for most people, but he didn’t have it with you. You couldn’t have known at the time, but the reason for that was that you were the only person in the room Damian saw as someone of equal intellect. It was the way you were organized and level-headed. You were independent and self-sufficient.

- Truth be told, the only major difference between your mindsets was that you weren’t as cocky.

- Made sense though, since your mother was an environmental toxicologist. Your home was pretty full of science equipment since you could remember. You were always curious as a child, and of course your proud mother encouraged it and taught you bit-by-bit how to use the tools. You idolized her and your father, who passed away when you were younger.

- Over the course of your partnership with Damian, you grew to tolerate each other, and then even enjoy each other’s company. By the time You were both 12, you had a pretty solid friendship.

- You discovered this when he invited you over to his house for his birthday and his family nearly choked, had a stroke, or checked if you were a robot. He had to explain to you that he didn’t bring friends over very often.

- “I made an exception for you because you are far closer to me than anyone else and I enjoy your company.”

- You guys hang out all the time now and talk about personal stuff and just joke about things. It makes you really happy when Damian laughs. He often found himself thinking about how much more often he’s been doing it since he met you.

- “Hey, what do you want to be when you grow up, Dames?”

- “Well, I’d like to follow in my father’s footsteps.” You assumed that meant running Wayne Enterprises. You were half right.

- “I want to be a detective.”

- “Really?”

- “Yeah, like my dad was.”

- “He’d be proud of you.”

- You had a love for forensics and special permission from your chemistry teacher to use the advanced chem lab after school. You were her TA after all, and Damian used that time to sit with you and chat while you worked.

- “Y/N, what are you analyzing?”

- “Um… It’s a mud sample.”

- “From?

- “The Gotham botanical gardens.”

- “Why?” Why are you analyzing dirt from Poison Ivy’s crime scene from last night?

- “Promise you won’t freak out?” He nodded. “I heard on the news that Poison Ivy was using monster plants to terrorize people. And they looked kind of like yellow trumpet vines you find a in the Gotham gardens. I was just checking the dirt for any chemicals that could have altered the plant growth.”

- Damian was stunned and speechless. Something he experienced rarely, if ever. “Y/N, messing with this stuff is dangerous. maybe you should let Batman and the GCPD handle this.”

- “Come on, Dami. Please don’t say that. I want to do this; I want to help people. If I figure this out first, I can tell the GCPD.”

- “I’m just worried for your safety.” He couldn’t deny that your work was brilliant, but he couldn’t let you put yourself in harm’s way either.

- “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

- He ultimately told you it was alright with him if you were careful. What he meant by that was that he was going to spy on you and keep you away from any and everything that was dangerous.

- Robin would follow you to your house from the shadows to make sure you got home safe and Damian would check in with you on your files. As your determination to solve cases increased, his desire to ask you why increased as well.

- “I just think it’s fun, Damian.” Wow you were a bad liar.

- “There’s more to it.”

- “What?”

- “Why are you actually doing this?”

- “Because I want to.” You were sterner this time. Damian noticed and decided to drop it for now. He offered to walk you home like he usually did but you declined.

- That night, you decided to investigate a lead you didn’t tell Damian about. It led you an abandoned building in old Gotham. You were scanning the second floor for anything out of the ordinary until you heard a voice approaching from the corner.

- You ran into the nearest room and hid. The voices were getting closer. “Falcone wants this job done tonight. Don’t f*** up.” You were terrified.

- Suddenly, your mouth was covered by a green gloved hand. You wanted to yell but you heard him shush you. You turned quietly to meet eyes with a domino mask. It was Robin. You didn’t have enough time to process everything that happened but at the end of it all you ended up on the sidewalk next to an ambulance and police cars.

- Deciding you had enough for one day, you headed home.

- The next day at school you seemed quiet and so did Damian. At the end, you walked over to Damian to ask if he wanted to hang out.

- “Not at the lab.”

- “Okay… we can watch a movie if you want.”

- “Alright.”

- “Cool. I’ll just go get my stuff.” He saw you walking in the direction of the lab and something sparked in him. He stopped you.

- “I’ll get it.”

- “What? I can get it. It’s fine.”

- “Just stay here, Y/N.” He was a bit too curt for your liking.

- “Don’t tell me what to do.”

- “Just listen to me for once.”

- “Why are you being like this?!”

- It turned into a yelling match. Damian’s emotions got the better of him and it ended with a “You could have died last night!”

- Tip of the hat to him *clap* *clap*. That’s how you found out he was Robin.

- It made sense really. You shared a heartfelt conversation about how he trusted you but he didn’t want you getting hurt. He knew what it was like out there and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.

- You promised to keep his secret and he made a compromise with you; you could help him with forensics for his cases with Batman as long as you never went out into the field.

- Then you went an watched the movie you wanted to.

- “Hey Dames, I need to tell you something.” He turned his head to you. “You had asked earlier why I was so obsessed with the cases… my dad died investigating Falcone’s drug cartel. I guess got a bit too into it… I just thought you deserved to know.” You shared a look of sympathy and for the first time in your friendship, he hugged you. It held for a while, but it wasn’t awkward, just comforting, as if you both said that you were there for each other.

- Skip to the point where your working with him and Batman was normal. Well… as normal as it could get. You and Damian blew the Batcave circuit breaker. Twice.

- You would always get results before Bruce managed to figure out how. Tim liked you specifically because you could make Bruce look very confused.

- You and Damian would pass notes in class in code about new information from cases. It started to make people gossip about you two. It didn’t help that you both always stayed back late together and showed up to class alone, before anyone else.

- It began to scare people because Damian doesn’t bother to spend time with other humans but with you, he like?? Willingly?? Does it??

- You would work late nights with the boys and keep track of how much sleep they each were getting. If anyone fell too short, you sent them up to bed. It actually backfired on you once because you were very sleep-deprived and didn’t want to admit it, so Jason picked you up and dragged you to your room in the manor while Tim and Dick smiled cheekily. “Oh, how the turntables.” ;D

- Damian would sleep when you forced him, but he would still have his days. He believed he was above sleeping???

- This boy refuses to admit he’s tired. Even when he looks like a jittery racoon. So, you bring him hot chocolate in the mornings, (courtesy of Alfred) with a hint of a lot of caffeine (courtesy of Tim).

- Ever since you started spending so much time at the manor, you got much closer with Damian and his brothers. You felt a sense of family and care there.

- Your favorite nights were the ones where your mom would let you sleep over and you would stay late in the cave working with Damian. The serenity of the cave and the faint glow of the computers always made it feel like some alternate plane of existence.

- “Alright, Sherlock, you’ve been obsessed with this case for three days now. Let the computers do their work and take a nap.”

- “Dami, I’m too ‘thinky�� to sleep.”

- “’Thinky’?” you nodded and giggled at your superior use of vocabulary. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

- You detected a hint of mischief in his voice and followed him up the cave staircase to the top of a ledge. He pulled a rope ladder out from behind the ledge and gestured for you to climb it.

- You glanced at him once before hoisting yourself up and climbing onto the rocky surface. You looked up and the sight took your breath away. The ledge was a flat floor of the cave that overlooked the waterfall from the inside. If you looked down, you could see the dancing currents on the lower levels of the cave. The air was misty and cool, and you honestly had no idea that there was a view like this anywhere in the manor.

- “You like it?”

- “Its so beautiful.” You said, your voice full of awe. Damian sat down on the floor, against the cave wall and patted the ground next to him. He wanted to say something. Just regular makings of conversation, like the ones you always had. This time, for the first time, he felt like he didn’t know what to say to you, so opted to look at you.

- The way the water reflected light on the cave walls made patterns of hazy light. The glow hit your skin and made your eyes sparkle. For the first time since he had met you, Damian saw you in a completely new way. He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t opposed to it either.

- You broke the silence with, “You know, ever since I met you, and your family, I’ve never been happier.”

- You looked back at him. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel butterflies and fireworks all at once.

#damian wayne #Damian al Ghul #damian wayne headcanon #ROBIN BATMAN #robin #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne x y/n #damian x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne x reader #batbros #dc comics #dc fluff #headcanons

183 notes · View notes