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Sugar on the Rim vol. II

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

part one

warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader

You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.

You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.

You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all. 

You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety. 

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it. 

Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.

He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.

He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.

You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.

The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.

He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.    

One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”

You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.

He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”

You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”

You nod, easing your posture.

He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”

You hum, nodding again.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.

You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.

Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.

You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions. 

“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment. 

You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him? 

He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?

You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more. 

You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.

Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist. 

He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.” 

He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”

“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”

His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.

“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale. 

“But you like it?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”

You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.  

He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.

He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.

His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.

He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.

He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.

When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.

He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.

His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”

As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.

He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.

After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes. 

He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”

Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.

He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”

You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”

The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”

He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.

Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.

He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.

He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”

You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”

You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.

He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling. 

He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.

“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”

That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions. 

“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up. 

He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you. 

He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.

By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.

He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.

It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.

Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip. 

You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.

He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.

You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce��”

He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”

You sigh out, “Bruce, please.” 

He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. 

He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.

He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”

You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.

The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.

He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation. 

He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.  

He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.

You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind. 

He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.

He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed. 

He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons. 

“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”

You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come. 

You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.

So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.

He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed. 

You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.

He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his. 

He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”

You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.

You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.

“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”

As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.

He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.

Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.

He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.

You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.

But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips. 

It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”

He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.

Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.

He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”

Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now. 

He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.

It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.

He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever  convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”

He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate. 

“Yeah?”

He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.

He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.

You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.

His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.

He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.

He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop. 

You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.

You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.

You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.

You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.

You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm. 

His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action. 

“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.

You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.

Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.

You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.

He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”

“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”

He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.

“Lay down.”

You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.

He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.

Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.

Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back. 

The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.

You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲

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You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 1

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

Warnings: no proof reading, sexual activities, language, neglecting husband and father, kinda angst/comfort

Imagine Bruce Wayne with no child, no wife (you), no friends and no more Alfred. He was all alone, making his life even harder, more cruel, more violent.

He didn’t adopt any child - not even Dick - because Alfred died quickly after Bruce became an adult. Thus, Bruce needed to take care of himself, and he didn't feel like he could look after a child. He was too tired and too depressed. He didn't want to bring any child into such a dark life.

His hands were full with Wayne Enterprises and his Batman way of life, so he also didn't make time for the Justice League. He sometimes helped them when it was about Gotham but nothing else.

And he never succeeded in getting you. He knew you. Oh yes, he knew you. He always thought that Batman would be his sole obsession, destroying him and his body. But then he met you, and he grew half insane. He needed you in his life so badly; he didn't care about anyone else. You were such a ray of sunshine in his dark existence. But you didn't want him. He was too desperate for you. You were scared of the darkness surrounding him, and you hated that rich man who wasn't trying hard enough for Gotham's poor people. He would have loved to cover you in affection and gifts, but you always escaped him.

Imagine this same Bruce Wayne being switched from places with another Bruce Wayne from another universe. This other Bruce had children, was married to you, and was friends with the Justice League. Alfred was still around. But this Bruce was neglecting everyone a little bit. This man thought he was entitled to get everything. His relationships were just alright with everyone. You more than once thought about getting a divorce actually, but you loved your life too much to let it go, even if Bruce could be a disappointment.

Imagine the lonely and desperate Bruce Wayne waking up one morning with you in the same bed as him.

At first, he believed it was all a dream, so he happily pulled you against his chest and snuggled up against you. He kissed the top of your head. When his alarm sounded out, he simply turned it off and hugged you tighter. He felt good and warm for the first time since his parents died. He completely melted in pure joy when you gently kissed his chest and neck, stroking his scarred stomach. He leaned into all your touch. He had no idea when he was going to wake up, so he wanted to enjoy this as much as possible. He didn’t want to think of the cold and empty bed that was going to greet him soon enough. He just wanted to stay there forever, cherished by you. Your scent was bringing him such comfort. He was relaxed, feeling safe and at home. This was what heaven must look like, he thought.

"Not running to work already?" You softly asked, a little bit surprised you didn't have to beg your husband for morning cuddles

"I'm good here," Bruce mumbled into your hair, his eyes closed in bliss

"What have you done to my husband?" You laughed as you straddled the man, looking down at him.

Husband? Fuck, it sounded so sweet to his ears. Bruce opened his eyes, drinking into your form. He loved how the sun was softly shining against your skin. He moved his hands on your thighs and stroked your skin. You were a goddess to him

“You’re beautiful” He whispered

You hummed and leaned to hungrily kiss him. He almost moaned against your lips. He had dreamt so many times of the feel of your mouth against his. But it was different than usual, it was better than he expected. He felt so whole. You were his soulmate. He always believed it. And feeling you like that… He promised himself that once he would be back to reality, he would find a way to seduce you. He needed you. You teasingly bit his bottom lip, and he smiled. Bruce's hands greedily moved around your body before settling on your ass. He gently squeezed it.

“Naughty” Ypu giggled, and he smiled even more

“Not my fault. You’re a goddess of love and light” He whispered

You didn’t reply. You weren’t too used to your husband talking to you like that. Your Bruce was good to you, but he never called you such things. He never watched you with such devotion in the eyes.

You sightly moved away to remove your nightgown under his watch. This Bruce had no idea how gorgeous you were naked, on top of him. He realised it was his favourite sight from now on. Gosh, what he wouldn’t do to be allowed to be greeted like that every morning of his life? He had dreamt so many times to be allowed to see you like this, to touch you like a lover and to take care of you. He was happy he was shirtless when you leaned back against him so he could feel your skin against his. He gently switched positions with you so he could get down on you. He kissed your neck, breasts, stomach, and inner thighs before settling in between your legs. He would have taken the time to kiss your legs and feet if he hadn’t been so hungry for you. It was such a vivid and nice dream. And he wanted you so badly. The way your fingers moved into his hair and tightened their hold whenever he was making you moan in pleasure became his favourite sensation. After the second orgasm he gave you this morning, he started to wonder if he truly was dreaming. You felt so real. 

He didn't have time to think more about it as you brought him closer to you. You were softly panting, as he was happily kissing and stroking your skin. You were made to be worshipped, he thought. And he would love to be your most obedient and caring servant.

A soft knock at the door startled the two of you.

"Master Bruce, do I need to cancel all the meetings you had this morning?" Alfred's voice sounded out.

Bruce froze for a few fractions of seconds before regaining his composure. Was it truly Alfred? His dream was getting nicer and nicer. However, it was hard to think when you were affectionately kissing his skin and playing with his hair, looking at him with such tenderness in your beautiful eyes. He needed all his willpower to answer Alfred back.

"I'm on my way to Wayne Enterprises, Alfred," He finally replied, and you laughed because he really didn't look like he was. 

The sound of your laughter made his chest blow with a warm feeling he didn't know. He was so deeply in love with you. He was so happy. And yet, the word “happy” didn’t feel strong enough to describe how he felt in this instant. He leaned to kiss you with pure affection before getting up, even though he would have loved to stay in bed with you.

You decided to be a good wife who cared about your husband’s work and duty, so you didn't follow in the shower, knowing Alfred would indeed need to cancel all of the meetings. You wondered what you did last night for Bruce to treat you with such passion and love this morning. You wished things would be more often like that. 

You were still lying in bed when Bruce came out of the shower. Before looking for some clothes, he went back to you, like a magnet attracted to you. He kissed your naked back before kissing your lips.

"Time for some lunch with me, hon?" you asked, clearly pushing your luck, but Bruce seemed in a very good mood today.

You were ready for him to say no, though, like he always did.

"Of course, anything you want," He whispered, smiling.

He was excited you seemed to want to spend more time with him.

You didn’t add anything, truly wondering what you did last night. He kissed you again before dressing up. You enjoyed the view from the bed. Bruce loved the warm feeling of your eyes on him. He couldn’t get enough of your attention.

He reluctantly left the room after having stolen another kiss from you. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He properly greeted Alfred and thanked him for having checked on him.

Bruce was a little bit surprised to discover so many young adults and teenagers eating breakfast in his living room, but it was giving some life to his old manor. And in a dream, you couldn’t expect everything to make sense, right? So he simply greeted everyone and asked if they all slept well, like his father did when he was a child. They all seemed stunned by the question, but they still answered. What amazed them even more was that Bruce actually listened to their answers. He waved them all goodbye, wished them a good day, and went to work.

It was time for lunch, and Bruce hadn't woken up yet. His meetings were now done, and he could take some time to think. Everything felt so real so far. Usually, in dreams, when you read something, lines are blurry or the words mean nothing or the words change all the time... But it didn't happen. Apart from the people he didn’t know in his living room, everything seemed to make sense?

He typed away his name on his Internet browser and started to read about how he was dealing with Wayne Enterprises, how he was married to you, how he adopted or took under his roof many children. Bruce Wayne seemed quite… popular. He looked for Batman's work as well. It seemed he was often with the Justice League, and he had some vigilantes under his lead. He started to think about what happened last night - before he woke up with you in his arms.

He could now remember a very bright light engulfing him while he was fighting off some criminals.

"Where are we going for lunch?" You texted him, and the notification brought him back to the present

"That Italian restaurant near Wayne Enterprises?" He offered.

He always wished he could invite you there because he quite enjoyed this place. He hoped the place existed here, but with your answer it seemed it did.

"Oh yes, it's been a while!" You quickly replied. "I'll meet you there in a few. Love you <3" You added

"Love you too, wife" Bruce sent back.

Gosh, he never thought he would be allowed to send you such words and it was making his head spin.

But Bruce was a smart man, so he started to understand that he must have taken the place of the Bruce Wayne of this world. It couldn’t be a dream because it was too detailed and realistic. It couldn’t be an illusion, because something would have felt off to him. It wouldn't have been the first time he was trapped in an illusion, he would have been able to feel it. This place... everything felt true, real.

There were only two possibilities: someone brought him to a parallel universe or he died and went to heaven. 

He hurt one of his fingers to draw blood. He couldn’t be dead if he was still bleeding, could he? So if he was going with the parallel universe, it meant… It meant that the other Bruce Wayne had this perfect little life. Fuck, he felt a deep and raw jealousy stabbing his heart: why didn't this Bruce suffer like he did? Why did this version of himself get everything he ever wished for himself? Alfred, children, you? Even Batman seemed to be doing better here. Wayne Enterprises were thriving, the biggest and most powerful firm of Gotham. 

He needed to understand what happened... So he could forever stay here. There was no way he was going back to the Hell that used to be his life. He would kill himself at the instant he would get back. How could he survive being alone again? The other Bruce was a problem because if he was alive, he would want to get back here. But fuck him. Everyone seemed so surprised by how he was acting, so he was certain that the Bruce of this world didn’t deserve their love. And he would do anything to deserve it. It was his chance to finally be happy and he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

--

Part 2

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damian al ghul wayne dating hcs

tags. fluff, no angst :3 also my first damian work yipee!

i feel like this boy has a TON of drawings dedicated to you, or is you. like, your favorite food, animal, etc.

one time, he tried challenging his artistic skills by using ONLY your favorite color on one painting

it’s still his favorite painting

his hands literally have muscle memory on how to draw you 😭

speaking of muscle memory, i feel like he’d be the type to really memorize your face, every contour and line of it. while you’re not looking, he’s memorizing how your face is sculpted

very, very chivalrous. a rare trait we see from men these days

he’ll always open doors for you, pull out your chair, and always walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street.

despite his rich background, i feel that he isn’t the type to always shower you in gifts, rather, he gives you gifts that actually has meaning to them, rather than just buying you random luxury.

for example, you mention this one thing you’ve wanted ONCE, he buys it for you secretly, and you spot it outside of your doorstep a day later 😭

the type to be protective, but he’s not SMOTHERING you with his protective tendencies, if ykwim

he’s just hyper-aware when the both of you are in a public space together; you get one bad look at someone? he’s already thinking of countless of curses at the person.

he’s def not big on public displays of affection, but, he’s a HUGEE softie in private

if you tease him about it, he’ll give you a side-eye and definitely deadpan at you

i feel like he’d love dates with shooting ranges, just to test each other’s skills

he’s really competitive though

so when you beat him, he finds himself falling harder for you

his brothers say that his eyes never looked so bright until he met you

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

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The Potty Mouth - Dick Grayson x Reader

Warning - Swear words and adult themes related to said swearing are ahead!

Requested by Anon - dick grayson!robin x reader where reader is very loud and gets excited easily, also has a bad potty mouth and robin finds it hilarious whenever reader is roasting somebody or upsetting kaldur with their colorful language and jokes

***

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MOTHER DOESN’T KNOW BEST D.W.

Request: Would it be possible to request a Damian one shot abt him protecting you from Talia? Like she dosent like you at all so she tries to either kill you or manipulate you into breaking up with Damian.

Warning: Violence, angst, Talia being a b i t c h, mentions of blood. 

A/N: Take two people. Never trusting mobile to post ever again. Anyways, I hope you enjoy rather than getting just the title lol

Word Count: 4.1k 

Damian didn’t like Gotham at first. It was cold, gross, the city was filled with those who didn’t understand the greatness outside of the city walls. He hated being away from his mother and grandfather, as well as the strict rule that his father had given him. He was no prince there, he was nothing but a rich man’s son.

It seemed at first that Bruce was doing everything in his power to suppress everything that Damian grew up with. No killing, no servants, even hiding him in the shadows with the assumption that his mother was going to take him back. It made Damian feel like this was never meant to be his home.

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NIGHTMARE SECRETS D.W.

Summary: Damian’s been having nightmares and you just want to help, that leads to a learning more about him than you ever expected. 

Damian is older, like late high school age

Warning: Nightmares, swearing, older!damian

A/N: Damian deserves all the love in the world 

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.8k

Damian Wayne was the kind of person that didn’t believe he had time for romance.

Between his nearly full time job as Robin, as well as attending high school - only to which his father demanded - he didn’t think he would have time for anyone in his life. Dressing up for dates or making the time to spend with someone was never going to be on the top of his priority list.

In fact, he thought that his brothers were dumb to think that they had time for another person to protect. Dick was with Barbra, Jason wandered between women and couldn’t find the right one to settle with, even Tim was with Steph. Damian truly believed that they were selfish to prioritize a single person over a whole city.

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YOU NOT HIM T.D.

Request: Can i request reader liking dick but he reject her because she is too young or something lol. But then tim has a crush on her and she slowly starts to fall for him. Then dick regrets it. Pretty please? 🙏 Thanks!

Warning: angst, mentions of blood, if you squint really hard mentions of sexual content, fluff

A/N: This might be one of my favourites 🥺🥺

Word count: 5.1k 

Bruce Wayne was somehow able to adopt all attractive children. Every single kid that he had living under his roof turned out to be ridiculously handsome later on in life. Dick, the oldest - a ladies man through and through. Jason had his whole ‘bad boy’ persona - though you knew him well enough to know he was nothing but a sweetheart.

Tim was nothing but lovable. He was kind and sweet to you since the beginning. Even Damian who was still young was going to grow up to be just like his father. They were all incredibly good looking people - all of which had made you weak in the knees.

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Tim Drake:

- is the type of mf to ask you to marry him by listing out all the benefits 💀

Extra Info: Tim Drake x Gn. Reader, Scenario.

Warnings: None

 “Did you know..” Your fingers stop typing at his pause. When he doesn’t continue you turn your head to see him already looking at you. Suspicious red blotting his cheeks when he clears his throat. 

      “Did I know?” You press.

      “Did you know that if we got married, you’d get quite a lot out of it.” He notes. He watches as your brows furrow and steamrolls ahead with what he thinks is the perfect persuasive argument. “Think about it, You’d have access to my rather sizable funds.” He briefly wonders if he hit the correct humorous tone, he really doesn’t want to come across as bragging right now. 

     “Y-you’d have an excellent health insurance plan courtesy of Wayne enterprises, of course, Tax deductions, IRA benefits, w-we’d get lots of discounts?” He lists. 

       His blue eyes search yours to see if any of those have caught your interest. You continue to look at him befuddled. “I have a life insurance policy too” He quickly adds. “So if I die on you, you’ll be all taken care of?” His tone falters when your eyes meet again. Vertigo hits him when your lips quirk up and his mind is overrun with how you’ll deny him. 

     “You’re not even my husband yet and you’re already talking about leaving me widowed.” You joke. The tension in his shoulders melts at your smile and he returns it with a bashful one.

       “I’ll try not to go too soon..” He huffs “..but what do you think?” He asks. You swivel your chair to face him properly and he grows nervous at your widening grin. “You know I might’ve considered it buuttt your bargain is missing something kinda important~.” 

      His heart almost stops but when his brain catches up to your words he blurts out a quick “What?!” Anything!

      “You, you dummy. All that other stuff is okay I guess but, do I get you?” 

      “Oh….” He exclaims softly. Mind blanking on how he’d forgotten to even mention himself. He’s idly playing with his fingers when he replies, face too hot to look at you “Yeah, You’d get me too... If you want me, that is.” 

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sparks fly [yj! robin x reader]

[not my gif]

pairing: [yj!robin x reader] (romantic), [yj team x reader] (platonic) 

description: You and Robin have known each other since you both became sidekicks at roughly the same time. And when you joined the team, you realized that you felt different with him than you did with anyone else. Maybe this mission will finally help you both confess your feelings

word count: 3799

warnings: robin, sb, and aqualad being overprotective, reader getting hurt, prolly like 2 cursewords

a/n: This is during the 5 year gap between season 1 and 2 so reader and dick (still robin) are both 16. Flora is your hero name

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Choices that define us

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, gore and violence, strong language, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: "This was supposed to be a new beginning, the beginning of a bright new future…" you recalled the optimistic thoughts that filled your mind when you first set foot in Gotham City. But Gotham City turned out to have other plans for you. "How did I get here?" you wondered. Between the Joker and Harleen and Batman and Bruce Wayne, between near-death experiences and sessions with Professor Crane, in an endless loop of constantly recurring nightmares, attempts to contact Harleen, and the bold decisions. "What am I doing?"Word count: 10.5k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

"No" two letters, one syllable, that's how much Batman answered to your question. For a moment you looked at him surprised, not quite believing your ears. "No?" you asked in a whisper, anger rising in you second by second, "No?!" you stood up abruptly and measured him with a furious look, "isn't that what you do? She needs help! And you have the opportunity to help her and you refuse?!" you asked Batman, who before your eyes turned from an empathetic man into a stern, cold mythical being. He stood in front of you measuring you with an unwavering stare, while his posture betrayed no emotion, "how can you say no?!" you tried but he looked at you with eyes hidden under a mask and in an icy tone ended the discussion, "leave it or I'll have you arrested for interfering with the investigation."

Sitting back in the office, tapping angrily on the keyboard, you tried your best to focus on your work but his words still echoed in your head. The cold and harsh tone of his voice, the threat of arrest, the last glance, his shape looming faintly in the sky as he rose above the rooftops. At that moment, when you asked him for help, you were sure he would agree. After all, you had spent two weeks reading incessantly about how much good he had done for the city, how many people he had helped, how many he had saved, how he had restored hope in the hearts of Gothamites. The words Batman and hope so often appeared side by side, and yet, he refused.

Days had passed since that evening and yet, the echo of his words refused to leave you. Days have passed since you went back to work and yet, every day your own words echoed in your head. "I can't just go back to work and normal life," you said, and each passing day convinced you more and more of the truth of your words. When you first stood in front of the majestic Wayne Enterprises building more than two months ago, you felt joy and excitement. With your eyes open, you were daydreaming your bright future, the growth opportunities you would get, the possibilities to build your new life. Now, as you sat in front of your computer, you felt trapped, like an animal that had tasted a little freedom only to find itself caged again. The numbers didn't line up in equations, the drawings of the project didn't look perfect, and your focus kept slipping away with a longing look out the window. For the world outside the window was frightening, it was full of horrible people doing nightmarish things, but it was also thrilling, alluring, exhilarating. What was mundane work, even for a prominent company like Wayne Enterprises, compared to loud stuffy clubs, to chases with a gun put to your forehead, to late-night strolls along the bank of the bridge, to long fascinating conversations over a mug of coffee when everyone had gone to bed, to the feeling of flying when you soared above the surface of the water in Batman's arms. Some part of you felt ashamed to admit it, but secretly, you longed for it. You longed for that feeling of wild freedom, for the threat that could end your life in the blink of an eye, for the adrenaline pumping through your veins, for the cool thrill of excitement every time he spoke in a cold stern tone. Batman. He possessed your every thought causing you to follow the news every day, forcing you to go out to the observation deck after work every evening longingly looking out for his symbol in the night sky, causing you to replay your encounters over and over again even while at work. Every gesture he made, every step he took, every word he said to you was imprinted in your mind and you could once again see clearly the contradictions colliding with each other. Because in your eyes, Batman was just that, a clash of contrasts like all of Gotham. The Dark Knight, the crime-fighting vigilante bringing pale terror to the faces of criminals by his mere appearance. A defender who put his life on the line to protect those who could not protect themselves. Manece, capable of knocking down several armed assailants in the blink of an eye. A savior, diving into the depths to save the life of a stranger. There was strength and authority in him, under which even his partners yielded, but also kindness and concern, which he did not have to show at all. There was something else, something infuriating, something that wouldn't let you just "go back to normal life." Something that made you stare mindlessly at the computer screen instead of paying attention to your surroundings, oblivious to the approaching footsteps.

"Good morning," a soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Mr. Wayne," you whispered surprised raising your gaze above the computer screen. Bruce Wayne, stood in the doorway of your office, with a barely discernible smirk wandering across his face. He leaned against the doorframe with his hands nonchalantly shoved in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black suit, and you couldn't help but wonder how long he had been looking at you like that, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you coming," you stood up abruptly, realizing that it wasn't polite to sit in the presence of the company's CEO.

"It's okay," he replied maintaining a gentle tone, "I saw you were busy, I didn't want to interrupt you. Lucius reported that since you came back from sick leave you are not allowing yourself to be sent home and you are working for twelve hours a day."

"I thought I was contracted for non-regular, task-based working hours," you replied maintaining a professional tone, "I didn't think that would be a problem."

"It's not a problem," he replied softly, "don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're feeling well after that terrible accident you had. But that doesn't change the fact that your engagement caught Lucius' attention, and consequently mine."

"I have wasted enough time…"

"You suffered an accident, a fortuitous situation. You can't hold that against yourself. None of us do."

"And yet I feel I must make up for it," you replied stiffly. Bruce merely continued to stand leaning against the door and looked at you intently, "Excuse me for asking Mr. Wayne, but what brings you here? It seemed to me that the CEO has more important things on his mind than keeping an eye on lower-level employees."

"I'm not checking on you, not on your work to be precise," he replied shortly, "I pay close attention to Wayne Tech, I'm sure I told you that. Besides, I wanted to see how you were doing," he took two steps inside your office and pushed the door behind him without closing it completely, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," you replied with a smile yet you struggled to hide the irritation caused by his sudden appearance, "this is your company."

"But your office," he smirked, "so, how do you feel Y/N? To be injured in a car accident, that must have been horrible," the blue eyes watched carefully as if observing your reaction.

"Unexpected, that's for sure," you replied, "but I feel fine, physically at least. My shoulder still hurts, but the doctors said that's normal with joint damage. And I'm managing with the rest, a friend is helping me."

"I'm glad to hear it," he replied sincerely, "if you need anything…"

"I'm fine, Mr. Wayne," you interrupted him.

"I thought we were past that," the smirk returned to his face, arching a surprised brow.

"We're at work," you replied in a hushed tone, "forgive me if I don't feel comfortable addressing the company CEO by his first name on professional grounds."

"Forgiven," the discreet smirk irritated unbearably, "speaking of professional ground, wouldn't you mind sharing with me what you're working on?"

"Sure," you replied shortly and sat down at your desk, "this is just the start of a project. Mr. Fox gave me a few others to choose from but the events of the last few days inspired me to do something else," you explained as you opened the files and arranged them across the three monitors. Bruce made his way through the office and stood behind your chair, bringing with him the energizing scent of fresh citrus, smoothed by woody and musky notes.

"Some kind of detection system?" he asked leaning closer to the computer screen, placing one hand on the desk the other resting on the back of your chair. The scent of his fragrance lingered in your nose sharpening your senses, making you hyperaware of yourself. "Does this dress show too much cleavage? I forgot to put on my bracelets. Why do I have such a mess on my desk? I should straighten up, I hunch over. My hands look awful with these bloody cuticles," the thoughts ran rapidly through your mind, one after another.

"That's right," you said focusing on the design displayed on the screen, "but not some kind of. A system designed to detect increased activity in the city meant to warn Gotham citizens of a potential threat," you explained.

"May I?" Bruce asked, gently taking the mouse from you, "continue please," he encouraged while clicking through the project files.

"My recent accident as well as the events of the last few weeks that have been talked about in the news inspired this idea in my mind. First the shootout at the docks, then the Joker's escape from Asylum and the chase through central Gotham. Miraculously, only three people were injured…"

"How do you know?" he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I've been reading online," you replied evasively, "anyway, it all gave me an idea. What if we created a system to detect increased activity in the city that could send alerts to the people of Gotham warning them of potential danger?"

"You'd want to use telecommunication boxes, traffic lights, and radio towers for this," he analyzed points plotted on a map of Gotham.

"Wayne Tech owns most of the telecommunications and radio network in the city," Bruce nodded confirming, "we could use the already existing points spread throughout the city. On top of that, we could install the system in traffic lights, CCTV cameras and coordinate everything by triangulating the signal to the radio towers," you continued to explain.

"What would be detected?"

"At first, I thought to base the system on existing in the city speed limits and coordinate them with traffic lights. In case the limit was significantly exceeded and the registered vehicle ignored the traffic light, the sensors would send a signal to a radio tower, which in turn, coordinated with the telecommunications network, would send out alerts to citizens," you took the mouse out of Bruce's hand and clicked through several files, presenting a diagram of how the sensors would work, "this solution, however, seemed too flawed to me."

"Detecting every increased traffic would send too many irrelevant notifications unnecessarily spreading panic…"

"Exactly! So then I thought about adding a camera system and face detection software, but I think the city government and some of its people could find that…"

"Unethical…" he finished for you.

"Yup!" you confirmed and smiled faintly seeing his visible interest, "having crossed out these two solutions, I started to think what else could be detected. I thought of detecting sounds and the air's chemical composition," Bruce shifted positively surprised blue eyes from the computer screen to you, "criminals are unlikely to operate silently. This method may be flawed, but by my calculations, it has at least a 65% success rate. Sound detection based on specific sound waves to eliminate accidental detection. Sound waves such as those emitted by screeching tires, gunfire, the shouting crowd, the sound of shattering glass, an explosion."

"What about detecting a chemical alteration of the air?" he asked without breaking eye contact.

"An additional precaution to eliminate accidental detections. We would have to design really accurate and sensitive sensors, able to detect the slightest change in the air but based on its chemical composition. I was thinking that the sensors could detect gun smoke fumes, chemicals released during explosions, carbon, nitrogen, nitroglycerine, mercury fulminate, lead styphnate," you listed, "we could present the design to the police and get the chemical composition of the toxins the Joker has used in the past. I was thinking that one more safety feature could be added in the form of supersonic sensors to detect blast waves in an area, but I don't have that worked out yet."

"You worked it all out in four days?"

"I've been working too much," you smiled playfully, "I know that's not what I was supposed to do but…"

"This is good," he interrupted you, "really good."

"You think so?" excitement crept into your professional tone.

"Yeah, really impressive," he returned his eyes to the screen, "it requires the development of new technologies, especially sensors, but the idea itself is really impressive."

"I know it would require a lot of financial resources to implement the project, but if you give me the green light I will refine it! I'll develop new technologies, design the required components, plan tests and proofing methods, sparse risk levels and an implementation plan," seeing his interest you didn't hesitate, "Bruce! Imagine how many needless accidental casualties we could avoid with such a system! We could deploy the system to hospitals, the police and the emergency services, thereby improving response. We could design a mobile application for smartphones, voluntary to install, thus avoiding unnecessary dissenting voices and unfavorable public opinion that would probably want to turn this against us and argue it as an infringement! Bruce! Every time when something bad happened in the city people could just stay home and avoid the danger!"

"You've really thought it all through," he smiled fondly.

"I've had a lot of time to think lately," you replied innocently, "what you think?"

"Keep working on it," he replied, "you have the green light. I'll inform Lucius not to assign you any additional work for the next few months."

"Yes!" escaped happily, "sorry, but I'm really glad that you approve of my idea."

"And I'm really glad that I hired you," he replied straightening up, "send it all to me please. To me and to Lucius. I'd like to study your concept in detail," he added heading back toward the door, "good work."

"Thanks!" the wide smile didn't disappear from your face, "you'll have a link to the share drive tonight."

"Speaking of tonight," he stopped in mid-step, "I still owe you a stroll," he added softly.

You blushed not knowing what to answer. The sudden change in tone and direction of the conversation completely threw you off balance.

"Bruce… I'm sorry but I think this time I'll ask for a raincheck," you replied hesitantly, "don't get me wrong but after my accident, somehow, damn…" you stumbled over your words.

"What about dinner, then?" he asked and that rage-inducing smirk crept onto his face again, "Saturday night?"

"Bruce, you're my boss…"

"Lucius Fox is your boss, I just sign papers and spend money," he smiled wider, "Italian or Asian?"

"Italian," you smiled meekly, "after last weeks Asian is enough for me for the next six months."

"Italian it is," he agreed, "I'll pick you up at let's say 6 pm," he added, then without waiting for your answer he left your office leaving you confused, shocked and happy.

"Bastard is smooth…" you chuckled to yourself in disbelief at what had just happened, "damn smooth…."

***

Twelve miles southeast of Gotham in the Bristol Township amidst the towering hills and green woods a lonely Wayne Manor stood. Huge, lavish, majestic, a symbol of wealth and prosperity hidden deep within the estate behind an iron gate decorated with a stylized W at its top. To casual eyes, it seemed to be a Gothic palace, with beautifully ornate carved walls, and perfectly preserved architecture, surrounded by a beautifully tended garden. For some Gothamites, it was just one of the city's many Gothic buildings, for others it was an unshakeable memory of the great men who had been taken by the city's darkness and whose memory continued to live on in the hearts of many. Yet only a few knew its true meaning. For behind the perfectly painted richly decorated walls hid something more than prosperity and wealth. Beneath the arched vaulted ceiling, below the polished wooden and marble floors, below the firmly set foundations, countless caves spread. Once raw, wet and cold, they had been transformed by a young man who decided a few years back to change Gotham forever. The smaller caves were combined into one huge one, stretching underneath the entire mansion. Stone obtained from the reconstruction was used for creating various elevations and passageways. The natural structure of the cave was preserved but the flow of water was modified, leading all the streams down a single torrent towards the entrance, which in turn was converted into a waterfall hiding behind a driveway. Electricity and heating were brought in. An elevator was installed connecting the property to the cave as well as multiple minor entrances. Digitization was introduced, monitoring and many safety features were installed. Not one, not two, but three training rooms were created, and a special augmented reality simulation room was designed. Some of the natural rocky hollows were transformed into a medical wing, another into a workshop, and another into a laboratory. A huge computer was installed, multiple vehicles were brought in and in time even a small kitchen was arranged. For overtime, the cave became a home not only for one determined young man but for four more. Each so different from the other, each with a different past and different baggage of experience, all united in one goal, to make Gotham safe, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

Life for the men living in Wayne Manor was not easy. Years passed, years spent in sacrifices, devotion, and constant work. Years of loneliness and a sense of belonging. Years of frustration and joy. Years of anger, angst, grief, and understanding. Years of loyalty and love, even if none of them would admit it out loud. Years full of pain and suffering but also joy and warmth. Years kinder to some than to others. But can one speak of the kindness of fate when each of them bore on their bodies and souls countless wounds and scars like badges from battles fought? Can one speak of the kindness of fate when some carried within themselves wounds so deep that it seemed they would never heal?

In the empty cave music echoed from one of the training rooms. The loud deep beats blended together with the sound of fists hitting the punching bag repeatedly. 'Till the roof comes off, 'till the lights go out 'Till my legs give out, can't shut my mouth fists hit the bag rhythmically again and again. Right punch, kick from the knee, left punch, kick, elbow, kick. 'Till the smoke clears out, am I high? Perhaps I'ma rip this shit, 'till my bone collapse sweat poured down Jason's forehead but he didn't stop. He pounded the bag repeatedly and the swollen muscles pulsed under the tight T-shirt. Fist, elbow, kick, right fist, left fist alternating, faster, faster, harder, faster, kick, knee kick, fists again, alternating, as if his life depended on it. 'Till the roof comes off, 'till the lights go out 'Till my legs give out, can't shut my mouth anger, frustration, pain poured out in a hail of strikes.

"I think this bag has had enough Jason," Dick said in a raised voice observing his brother, "don't you want to change the bag to a living target?"

"Go away Grayson," Jason growled without interrupting his strikes.

"I'm just sayin'! A living target is better than a training bag! Promise I'll go easy on you!" Dick's unbearably cheerful tone irritated Jason.

"I don't need a training partner," Jason breathed out through clenched teeth without even looking at him.

"Come on Jay! Let's agree that I need a workout!"

"Then find Drake or little brat," right fist, left, kick, elbow, kick.

"I rather spare with you!"

"I said go away."

"Dude, don't make me beg!"

"Fuck off Grayson!!!" Jason yelled sending the bag ripped from its hanger with a thump through the room, "I won't train with you when I'm in like this cos I'll fucking massacre you!" Panting heavily he finally looked at his brother. To his surprise Dick was not smiling, concern and worry were painted on his face. He took a few steps toward his brother and handed him a towel and a water bottle.

"No, I don't want to talk about it," Jason snarled, downing the entire bottle in one gulp.

"I'm not saying anything!" Dick raised his hands defensively.

"You don't have to!" Jason growled angrily, "you've got this look on your face!"

"What look?"

"The one you give to little shitheads from Brat Justice Leauge! The one that says I'm your friend and mentor you can talk to me," Jason mimicked Dick in a mocking tone.

"Dude I'm just worried about you, that's all..." Dick kept his voice calm, knowing very well how to talk to his brother.

"Then don't! Just fuck off! I don't need your pity!" anger burned in Jason's eyes.

"Jay, you are boiling with rage…"

"What a fucking discovery mister detective!!! Wow!!! Just wow!!! Fucking brilliant detective work!!!"

"Jay…" Dick tried to interrupt him but it was too late. Jason's remnants of self-control were gone, the barriers let go.

"And how the fuck would you feel in my place?! How would you feel?! Every fucking time the Joker shows up, the fucker benches me! Every fucking time! Because what?! Because I can't handle it?! Because I can't handle the Joker?! Because he doesn't trust me?! Because he thinks I'm weak and I'll fucking break as soon as I face the fucking clown!!!"

"No, Jason!" Dick interrupted him abruptly, "Bruce doesn't think you can't handle it! None of us thinks so! Just the opposite…"

"What?! He's afraid I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"Jason…"

"I should do it! I should kill the fucking clown! I should fuck him up with a fucking crowbar, just like he fucked me up!!!! I should do it because neither Bruce nor any of you have the balls to do it! Because your precious moral code doesn't allow you to do it! But it did allow you to have the Joker kill me!!!" Jason grabbed his brother by the shirt and pulled him violently towards him, "I should do it. Not a day goes by that I don't dream about it. I should repay him with death for death. But I won't do it!!! But I won't fucking do it even though I want it and even though he deserves it! I won't do it because I'm not like him!!!"

With his hands gripped on Dick's shirt and his face red from anger, Jason was breathing heavily, and even though he was shouting the rage in his eyes was beginning to dim. For as he looked into his brother's eyes he saw only sympathy, concern and understanding and something much more important to him, trust.

"Better?" Dick asked quietly.

"Fuck you," Jason chuckled but this time a faint smile swept across his face. He let his brother go and proceeded to collect the ripped bag from the floor.

"Good, because we got work to do."

"Suit up?"

"Yup!"

"What's the job?"

"Tim and I interviewed Elliot Mercy employees, but they didn't tell us anything interesting. Crane, on the other hand, hasn't appeared at the hospital or at his home for several days. We need to track him down and interrogate him."

"You and I?"

"Not this time," Dick replied sensing his brother's impending second wave of rage, "You and Damian are tasked with observing the hospital and Crane's home."

"Stakeout with little batbrat? You must be shitting me!"

"Dude, work with me here!"

"What about you?"

"Tim and I have other job to do,". Dick replied evasively hoping Jason wouldn't ask for details.

"You are going after the Joker…" Dick was wrong.

"After Harleen Quinzel more than the Joker but yes."

"And what about Mr. Brooding?"

"Bruce is investigating Arkham," Dick replied, "Dr. Quinzel worked there for almost two years. There is a lot to investigate at Arkham."

"So I'm stuck with babysitting on a stakeout…" Jason muttered with resignation, hanging the bag back on the hook.

"Please don't kill him," Dick chuckled, "One dead Robin in the family is enough."

"Very funny Grayson, very fucking funny…."

Yet they both laughed, understanding very well how much self-control Damian sometimes required of them. Understanding very well that in the presence of death sometimes there is nothing left to do but simply laugh in her face.

***

Batman deeply wanted to share Y/N's belief in Dr. Harleen Quinzel's innocence. His memory was still vividly alive with situations from the past in which he himself had first assumed the innocence of a potential criminal, only to later realize painfully his mistake. He was young then and his head was filled with idealistic ideas and the belief that people deep down are good, only the situations they find themselves in do not allow goodness to flourish. Years passed, and he learned. He learned painfully from his own experiences, and he learned through the experiences of others. He hardened his body, honed his mind, learned to rely on his intuition, learned to see the facts as they were, without embellishing them with needless ideology. Years passed and he changed, his view of the world changed, his view of people changed, his approach to the mission changed. Still, one thing never changed. He always believed that the people deep inside were actually good, that he could help them. And he tried. He tried until no illusion remained. He tried until no other choice remained.

As he walked through the dark corridors of the Intensive Treatment Center, he looked sadly at the cells of all those he had failed and he could not help but wonder if each of them was a lost cause. He knew their stories, he knew the cause-and-effect sequence that led them to where they were now, but still he pondered who they would have been had they made different choices. Who would Victor Zsasz be if he hadn't lost millions in a casino and started murdering people arguing that he was "liberating" others from their pointless existence? How much good could Jervis Tetch, a brilliant neuroscientist, have done for the world if he hadn't gone on a homicidal spree driven by delusions and psychotic manic depression. Would Dr. Robert Langstrom have made a scientific breakthrough had it not been for the experiments he conducted on himself that eventually turned him into a humanoid bat-like monster and led to the death of his wife? How much good could Harvey Dent have done for the city as an amiable and courteous district attorney had it not been for the acid thrown in his face by Sal Maroni? Could the rise of others like Mad Hatter, Man-Bat, Two Face have been prevented? The latter particularly saddened Bruce; after all, they were once friends. Walking into Harleen Quinzel's former office, he wanted nothing more than for Y/N to be right.

*

Dick remembered very well the glory days of the Amusement Mile. The times when the Mile was bustling with life, laughter and joy, resounding with music and lighting up the neighborhood in all the colors of the rainbow. He remembered the times when families came with laughing children to ride the carousels, to feel the adrenaline rush while riding on roller coasters, to see the city from the top of the Ferris wheel. He remembered clubs bustling with music, theaters filled with artists, cinemas overflowing with viewers. He remembered the crowds of excited spectators filling the benches of Haly's Circus which was stationed on the shore of the bay. He remembered donning a shiny, tight red and white costume every night to swing with his parents on trapezes suspended from the ceiling, performing intricate acrobatic tricks to the delight of the crowd. It was the latter that Dick remembered very well, as well as his parents' dead bodies lying ten feet below him.

Only a painful memory remained of the past. The Amusement Mile was long forgotten, consumed by time, rust and decay. Once vibrant with life it now stood abandoned, silent, only occasionally whining metallically under the pressure of the wind. It once brought laughter and joy, but now the only laughter to be found in it was the distorted maniacal laughter of the only clown left in it.

"You okay?" Tim asked glancing stealthily at his brother.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…you know…" Tim didn't want to state the obvious.

"I'm fine Robin," Dick forced himself to smile, hoping to look sincere, "honestly, I'm fine."

"I wouldn't be," Tim replied zooming in on the entrance, " One time I wandered in there you know? I never told you that. Did you know in some parts of a mile you can still find posters?"

"I know," Dick replied shortly, "there was a time I wanted to burn them all."

"What happened?"

"Batman made me realize that wasn't the healthiest thing to do."

"How does he do that?"

"Do what?"

"He acts as if nothing moves him. As if he has everything under control."

"He doesn't have everything under control," Dick countered, "he tries, but it's not possible, even for him."

"Then why pretend?"

"It's not about pretending Tim," Dick lowered his voice addressing his brother by name, "this is about us. About you, Jason, Damian, and me. I think he's doing this for us. That he has decided in his mind that he needs to be strong so that we could be strong too."

"But displaying emotions is not a sign of weakness," Tim argued.

"You and I both know that," Dick chuckled, "But you know how he is. I'm not sure there's anything that could change him. He carries too much."

"But you are so much like him and yet so much different," Tim continued scanning his surroundings, "You have a life beyond the mission. People you care about. You have Barbara, and you guys somehow made this work! And I see how happy you are together!"

"Don't think that is all sunshine and rainbows! We've got our problems and it can be challenging at times."

"But you make this work!"

"Are you implying that Bruce needs a woman?" Dick chuckled.

"I'm not implying anything but even Joker got himself a girlfriend," Tim rightly pointed out straightening up from his squat, "and there she is…"

The door of one of the buildings opened revealing a female figure. Dressed in a tight-fitting red and black outfit, with two braids tied at the sides of her head, with a gun attached to her thigh, she wielded a baseball bat in her hands.

*

Jason hated many things in life. He hated the color green because it reminded him of the years he spent alongside Batman as Robin. He hated the sound of metal scratching against the pavement because it reminded him of things he preferred to forget. He hated it when the v-belt of his motorcycle jammed, hated the punctured tires as they bent the rims. He hated it when someone disturbed his reading, he hated black coffee, he hated pineapple on pizza, and above all he hated hospitals. Sitting on the roof of a building overlooking Elliot Memorial Hospital, he slowly realized another thing he hated, stakeout. Hours passed, every position he tried became uncomfortable, and Crane didn't show up.

"So, father assigned you with me so you wouldn't get yourself killed by going after Joker," Damian started the conversation as he scanned the hospital windows one by one, "If you ask me, I don't understand father's hesitance toward killing. It's the most effective way of dealing with criminals. Hundred percent success rate."

"I didn't," Jason muttered.

"If you think about it father doesn't at all bring the change he would like to bring for the city. He's only minimizing it temporarily, but the threat comes back sooner or later anyway. It's not a very impressive tactic." for a 15-year-old, Damian was haughty and snarky, in a tone of voice indicating his superiority over others.

"No one asked you for your opinion."

"Mistake. My grandfather has a much better approach from a tactical point of view. Complete eradication of the threat at the source."

"Ra's al Ghul would have happily slaughtered hundreds and thousands of innocents if he had any reason to do so," Jason growled, "The Lazarus Pit perverted his mind. Even you must see that."

"Lazarus Pit brought you back to life," Damian pointed out, "my grandfather didn't have to do that and yet…"

"Listen, kid! I didn't ask to be resurrected! Ra's al Ghul hoped to bring me back to life and create for himself the perfect soldier, which he failed to do. There was no moral virtue in it! Mere calculation and cold logic!"

"He is a great tactician."

"For fuck sake can you just please shut up!" Jason cast a warning glance, "your name is Wayne, isn't it! So think about it, who are you? Are you Damian Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne? Or are you Demon Head descendant, grandson of Ra's al Ghul?"

"I'm both…" the confidence suddenly vanished from Damian's voice, giving way to downright childlike embarrassment.

"You can't be both," Jason stated, "You're smart kid, too smart for your own good. Think about it, can you really be both? You're here, with me, proudly wearing Robin's outfit, and at the same time you're bullshitting about how you don't like your father's tactics."

"I thought that who like who but you would understand…" Damian tried explaining quietly.

"I understand. But no matter how much I sometimes resent him, and how much I sometimes disagree with his approach, and how much I sometimes wish he would behave differently…." Jason hesitated for a moment and sighed heavily, "no matter how hard it is for me to admit it, but Batman is right."

"It's not like you Todd," Damian quipped.

"Maybe not," Jason admitted, "but sometimes you have to shove your pride up your ass and admit someone else is right."

"From a strategic point of view…" Damian began again in a haughty tone but Jason didn't let him finish. He stood up abruptly throwing a loud for fuck sake, then began to walk away at a quick pace. "Where are you going!" Damian called out after him, "Hood! Where are you going!?"

"Far away from here!"

"But Batman clearly…"

"Crane is obviously a no-show!" he turned on his heel to face his younger brother, "my ass froze to concrete! Fuck it! I'm outta here!"

"But Batman clearly gave us instructions!"

"If you want you can stay. Do I tell you to follow me," Jason growled.

"And where are you going!?"

"I'm going after Wing and Red."

***

Meanwhile, in another part of the city

The white light was hurting your eyes making keeping them open impossible. A huge lamp shone straight at your face, blinding you, hiding everything around you from sight. The light was irritating, causing your eyes to water. You wanted to push it away, smash it, you couldn't. You yanked with one hand, then the other, to no avail. You couldn't move. You moved your wrists and felt the material tightly wrapped around them. You tried to pull yourself up, you couldn't. You were weak, helpless. You wanted to speak but instead of words, a pitiful moan came out. You tried to scream but your voice seemed trapped in your throat. You were choking, the tube pushed deep down your throat made it impossible to breathe. Fright overwhelmed you completely. You tried to get up but someone's hand held you tight.

"She's waking up," came as if from afar.

"Too early…" replied another.

Stinging in the hollow of your hand, a burning sensation like acid spread through your veins. You cried out. Darkness followed.

*

You pulled yourself upright drenched in sweat. For a moment you lost your sense of time and space blinking intensely trying to find anker with reality.

"Breath steady, everything is fine, you are safe," Jonathan grabbed you gently by the shoulders and force you to look at him, "do you know where you are?" he asked softly.

"Yes…" you whispered anchoring yourself in his eyes, "we are in your laboratory."

"Good. Now breathe calmly," he instructed.

"Easier said than done," you chuckled, "since the accident I've been dreaming the same dream, alternating with other nightmares. Every goddamned night."

Jonathan handed you a glass of water and helped you sit down comfortably. You placed your bare feet on the soft carpet thus making sure you were not still dreaming. For a laboratory, the room you were in was uncharacteristically cozy. If it weren't for the medical equipment, ECG monitor and electroencephalogram you were hooked up to, you might have thought you were in a cozy living room with a curved chaise longue and soft fluffy carpet. The design was reminiscent of his office where you met regularly for weeks. Suspicion crept into your head at the realization that Crane had two nearly identical offices in two different parts of the city. Nevertheless, you didn't have time to dwell on it, you were here for another purpose.

"Tell me what you were dreaming about," he instructed in a gentle voice.

"It's hard to say…" you tried to gather your thoughts but your mind seemed as if behind a fog, "I was in some room, a hospital maybe? I couldn't see much because the lamp above my head was shining in my face, blinding me. I tried to struggle but I was tied up. I couldn't see but I think it was the operating table."

"That would explain the spikes on your EEG," he stated, looking at a printout from the machine, "what happened next?"

"I couldn't speak, I had an oxygen tube in my throat," you continued, "and there was someone else there. At least two people. I couldn't see their faces. One held me down and the other gave me the injection," you involuntarily touched the deepening in your arm and to your surprise you felt a small pinprick under your finger, "what the hell!"

"I had to give you a sedative because your heart was racing at over 200 beats per minute," Crane explained, seeing your shocked look.

"Then I woke up…"

"Continuing the test was a threat to your life, we can't risk that," he explained handing you two pills.

"What are those?" you asked uncertainly.

"I thought we trusted each other," green eyes glared above his glasses, "something to calm your heart rate and iron. I need to take your blood for testing," he explained before walking over to you, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently forcing you to lie down again, "relax," he smiled, "I promise to be gentle."

"You better!" you replied with a frail smile and straightened your right arm exposing a vein, "I have an important meeting tomorrow, I don't want to be forced to cover the bruises!"

"And what is this important meeting?" Crane asked tightly clenching the belt above the hollow of your arm.

"That's something you don't need to know about," you smirked, grimacing simultaneously when the needle pierced your skin, "and don't start again with confidence and full transparency! Some things I must keep to myself, and I assure you they have nothing to do with my problems."

"So sure you are able to assess that?" he glanced at you.

"Yup!" you smiled widely, "one hundred percent sure! My problems apparently come from the past and tomorrow's meeting has nothing to do with it."

"If you say so…" he relented while gently removing the needle from your hand, "all done. There's not even a trace."

"You're lucky!"

For a moment you watched the professor as he busied himself around the equipment. He tightly secured the blood vial and labeled it with a date sticker, tore the printouts off the machine and folded them methodically placing them in one of the drawers, then returned to you and began detaching you from the machine. First, he gently removed the sensor grid fitted on your head, carefully so as not to tug your hair, then proceeded to remove the electrodes from your chest and ribs. You watched him. Undressed from the waist up, lying in front of him in nothing but a bra, you didn't feel ashamed; after all, he was a doctor, and he also maintained complete professionalism, focusing his gaze alternately on the electrodes and on your eyes.

"I'd like you to add to your evening medications, two more," he informed, removing the last electrode and handing you your blouse, "one that will help you sleep better, and the other is simply iron."

"Am I to understand that we plan to draw my blood more often?"

"It is imperative. We are subjecting your body to a strong chemical influence. It's my duty to monitor the changes on a regular basis and react accordingly should anything alarming occur."

"Sure," you nodded in agreement and put on your blouse, "Do you think it happened?" you asked, then added upon noticing his puzzled look, "I mean my dream. Do you think it happened?"

"And what do you think?"

"I'm not sure…"

Jonathan only sat down next to you, looked deep into your eyes, and placed his hand on yours as if to assure you.

"We can't conclude anything after one session, but don't worry, I promised to help you didn't I?"

"That you did," you smirked in response. "Not like him…."

***

Contrary to popular opinion, which was often expressed by his boys, Batman did not like to always be right. For two weeks he kept returning to Arkham Asylum, for two weeks every night he hoped to finally find evidence that he was wrong. He hoped for it when he analyzed the breach in the wall in the Joker's cell that strangely reached toward the floor and below. He hoped for it when he forcibly interrogated the inmates, when he talked to the Arkham staff, when he surveyed Dr. Quinzel's office, when he calmly listened to the arguments of Warden Quincy Sharp, who tried at all costs to keep him out of the Penitentiary's lower levels. However, as he stood in the room hidden deep in the lower levels of Intensive Treatment, from which, as it turned out, the explosion had been initiated a few days ago, he could not help but feel disappointment, sadness even, that Y/N's faith in human goodness had lost in the battle against his suspicion of human intentions. "Perhaps if Y/N had arrived earlier in Gotham, Dr. Quinzel would have changed her plans in time, perhaps she would have turned back, perhaps she would not have made the choices she made…" he wondered.

The evidence was unmistakable, the breach in the wall, the traces of blood splattered on the floor, the bullet holes, the knocked-out teeth in the corner of the room that no one has cleaned up till now, the photos and plans hung on the wall, all of it left no doubt, that Y/N was right about one thing. Dr. Quinzel was a victim. A victim who, like all the others he passed along the way, had been harmed by the circumstances in which she found herself, by the man she met on her path, by the choices she made because of him. But instead of running away, instead of turning back, instead of seeking help, she gave in to madness.

"Are you getting this Oracle?" Batman murmured seemingly to himself, yet the voice in the earpiece answered almost immediately.

"Every single bit," Oracle confirmed, "enough evidence to convict her."

Batman squatted wordlessly over a fragment of the detonator that had not been destroyed but had merely flown off to the other end of the room during the explosion.

"I'm sending you more fingerprints for analysis…"

"Sloppy job," Barbara replied, analyzing the image from his camera displayed on the computer on the other side of the city, "the bomb must have been unstable, and constructed in haste, or without much knowledge, that's why the fuse flew off instead of being destroyed," she assessed with confidence, "Batman, those marks on the wall…. blood…"

"The pattern and direction of the spatter, as well as the amount of blood on the wall, suggests that the blows were inflicted with something very heavy and with a wide sweep…" Batman assessed as he stood up from his squat and approached the wall again.

"Could a petite woman have hit a large bodyguard with enough force to knock his teeth out?" Oracle questioned.

"You could," Batman noted, "And you wouldn't need a heavy tool to do it."

"True, but I was trained."

"We don't have enough information on Quinzel to be able to rule out training or the presence of a metagen. The evidence is clear," Batman straightened up and retreated to the entrance of the room placing himself in a way that allowed his eyes, and therefore the camera, to capture an accurate image and send it to the computer, "Dr. Quinzel used this room for months, maybe longer. On the day of the Arkham breakout, she came here from the main corridor of Intensive Treatment and detonated a charge placed on the east wall," he trailed his eyes to the breach.

"The fingerprints match…" Oracle interrupted him upon seeing the results of the analysis.

"Arkham's security guards must have known or at least suspected something because they resisted and tried to stop her," he ran his eyes over the wall, "shots were fired, I assume they were aimed at her…"

"Frank Nelson who was on shift that night is in a clinical coma, we can't verify that," Oracle's voice in the headset interrupted his thoughts, "his weapon was not found."

"It doesn't matter," Batman continued, "bullet marks on the wall suggest a tracking pattern. The guard fired, Quinzel dodged the bullets," he paused with his eyes on the traces of splattered blood, "she reduced the distance separating them and overpowered Nelson with a strong blow with a heavy tool made from a sweep, rendering him unconscious."

"Analysis of the tooth found matches dental records. Well, and there's also the fact that Nelson actually has several of them knocked out."

"We need to find her and stop her," Batman stated thus completing the analysis, "Oracle, give me a status update on Nightwing and Red Hood."

"Dick and Tim are in the Amusement Mile and Jason and Damian are on the move…" Barbara replied almost immediately, "Dick, report!" Batman heard a beep in his intercom and after a brief moment a second voice.

"Nightwing to Oracle. We have eyes on Quinzel. Over."

"Do not engage!" Batman spoke, "Stay out of site. Follow and observe. Hopefully, she will lead us to Joker."

"Copy that!" Nightwing confirmed.

"Dick! Consider her highly dangerous and be careful. If she tires to run, detain her."

*

On the way from Crane's office, you couldn't stop thinking about the situation you were in. Events followed one after another and it seemed you had no control over them. "This was supposed to be a new beginning, the beginning of a bright new future…" you recalled the optimistic thoughts that filled your mind when you first set foot in Gotham City. But Gotham City turned out to have other plans for you.

"How did I get here?" you wondered. Between the Joker and Harleen and Batman and Bruce Wayne, between near-death experiences and sessions with Professor Crane, in an endless loop of constantly recurring nightmares, attempts to contact Harleen and the bold decision to go out for dinner with Bruce Wayne. "What am I doing?" you questioned your choices while swallowing one of the green pills you got from Crane. This wasn't your style. Just a few weeks ago, the vision of seeing Bruce Wayne at the office gave you heart palpitations, and talking to him on the observation deck brought a strange excitement that you tried with all your might to hide. But when he mentioned a walk you didn't refuse because you were afraid, you refused because decency demanded it. And when he did not back down and invited you to dinner, you did not hesitate for a moment. There was no fear or anxiety in you against meeting with this powerful man even though logic told you that there should be. You felt good, confident.

Just as confident when Crane put his hand on yours and, while looking deep into your eyes, assured you that he would help you. You didn't run away with your eyes, you didn't took your hand away, you embraced it. "He will help me… I've got someone I can count on…" you thought, recalling in your mind his intense gaze, a gaze that was almost immediately banished by darkness and an ice-cold voice, "No. Leave it, or I'll have you arrested for obstructing the investigation."

Determined, fearless, you pulled the hood over your head and hid your face in the shadows, glancing one last time at the dark, extinguished "Amusement Mile" sign looming in the distance.

*

"Hood wait!" Damian shouted, following Jason with rushed steps. Jason was older, taller, and although Damian was much more agile, he moved much faster.

"Keep up kid!" Jason shouted as he saw the Amusement Mile sign faintly in the distance, "You don't want Wing and Red to have all the fun for themselves!"

"Don't call me a kid!"

Jason only laughed deeply, amused by his brother's reaction. They may have had different fathers and mothers, but to Jason, Damian was always the little brother. He had never told him this, but he hoped Damian understood it without mincing words. The grapple gun fired high and Jason soared, dragged through the air toward the tall buildings.

"Where the fuck are they…?" he asked quietly, landing softly on the roof, knowing that thanks to the intercom installed in his cowl, Damian would hear everything. He looked around trying to spot any movement, "Quiet…too quiet…" he muttered under his breath.

"Do you think they are not here?" Damian asked landing quietly next to him.

"I think they are…I think they are here. As well as Joker and his chick…"

"Hood, we should not abandon the task. Batman will…" Damian began but stopped mid-sentence. He climbed on his toes and fixed his gaze pointing wordlessly at the figure in the darkness.

"Bingo!"

*

Nightwing and Red Robin observed. Crouching in the darkness, hidden under the cover of the night, they sat on the roof and watched. Their perceptive ears picked up every murmur, their attentive eyes caught every slightest gesture Harleen made. Every glance at her watch, every glance at her phone screen, every methodical tweak of her hair, every affectionate pat on her bat.

"Someone is coming…" Tim said almost inaudibly, "can you hear?"

"Yup…" Dick nodded quietly, "be ready…"

Tim replied with a nod, pulling a Collapsible Bō Staff from behind his back.

"Multiple steps…. ambush?" Tim turned his head then left then right listening for movements.

"I think we might have overstayed our welcome…"

*

The surroundings were eerie. Abandoned buildings with broken windows bore no trace of their former decadence, the empty dark littered streets had long forgotten the joy and vibrancy of life. Even the street lights seemed dark and gloomy, as if trying to scare away stray wanderers. But you were not strayed. You walked confidently ahead with a steady step, minute by minute, decreasing the distance between you and the pin on the map. You wondered what you would say to your friend, what words would be appropriate? Will you contain your anger? Will you hold back your resentment? Will she do the same? What could you possibly say?

"Harleen?!" you stopped in half step shocked, "what the actual fuck?!"

"Call me Harley, everyone does!" Harleen turned on her heel displaying her new look and smiled broadly.

"No one calls you that!"

"You like my new outfit?!" she asked, running her hand over the tight-fitting red and black corset, "What am I saying! Of course, you do! Who wouldn't!"

"What the actual fuck…" you measured her with your eyes from top to bottom. Tight leather pants, corset, mid-waist jacket, baseball bat placed by her leg, gun at her thigh, tattoo on her forearm, all colored in black and red.

"I see you speechless! Imagine what Mr. J said when he saw his new and improved Harley Quinn!"

"Did you lose your goddamn mind!" you growled angrily not believing your eyes. Walking here you imagined that you would find Harleen miserable, weeping, and tormented, instead she looked thriving.

"Hey, no need to be mean ya know!"

"Fucker put the gun to my head!!!" you shouted and your voice echoed through the empty surroundings, "your boyfriend threatened me to blow my brains out and you telling me not to be mean!"

"Oh he was just joking with ya!" she brushed off, "ain't my fault that you never could take a joke!"

"A joke…" you gritted your teeth, narrowing the distance between you, "a joke?!"

"You see… Mr. J found your joke very funny! He was laughing all evening! So no hard feelings, forgive and forget!" she sounded infantile, modulating her voice in a playful way, "what ya think!? We can still be friends!"

"Harl…" you lowered your tone, "you need help. That maniac has you wrapped around his finger. I don't recognize you."

"Mr. J loves me! I don't need any help!"

"Harleen…" you looked at her seriously, "whatever that is I am sure it's not love…"

"You just say that cos you don't know him!" she grabbed you firmly by the forearm, "once you get to know him you'll see!"

You never thought Harleen had such strength in her. Ignoring your screams, she dragged you toward the entrance. You begged, fought, tried to struggle but she didn't listen. Singing cheerfully under her breath she dragged you towards the entrance.

"Let me go!!!"

"You know, I ain't even mad at you! You shouldn't be mad at me either!"

"Harleen, please! Let me help you! Come with me please!" you begged "Whatever he did to you we can fix this! I'm gonna help you! Just please come with me!"

"Mr. J always says….."

"I don't give a fuck about what Joker says!" you yanked your hand from her grasp, "just come with me!"

"You shouldn't say no to my invitation," she frowned, "Mr. J won't like that. He doesn't take no for an answer."

A swish cut through the air. Something metal flew past your head and hit Harleen right in the hand in which she was wielding a bat. She cursed foully.

"You brought them here!!!" she exclaimed furiously with a blazing look.

Jason didn't have to give any orders; he and Robin worked in perfect synergy. They jumped off the roof using the element of surprise and attacked. Batarang aimed at her hand stripping her of her grip on the bat giving Damian a split second to leap into the air and attack Harley. With one swift move, Jason pushed Y/N aside and attacked. Both he and Damian assumed a quick effortless fight but the Joker's new partner turned out to be much more skilled than they anticipated. She leaped back nimbly with two back flips, avoiding Robin's attacks, and delivered a powerful half-turn kick.

"Where is Joker!" Jason shouted furiously.

"Mr. J is not up for a visit! Especially not from a batshit crazies like you!" she chuckled angrily and swung aiming a punch.

Block, counter, punch. Jason delivered three quick, precise blows. Harleen groaned falling to the ground.

"Where is Joker?" he repeated the question, standing over her and crushing her hand to the ground with his boot as she tried to reach for her weapon. Harley groaned in pain. He had her. Weeks of searching were over. He may have defied Batman but he had caught the Joker's accomplice.

"Red Hood to Batman," he spoke into the intercom, "we apprehended Quinzel."

An unknown force lifted him into the air and threw him several feet away. His eyes darkened as he hit his head on the wall.

"Hood!" he heard Nightwing's voice in the distance. He opened his eyes again and saw an utterly hilarious image. Dick, Tim, and Damian trying to deal with two angry women.

Nightwing tried to reach out to Qiunn but Y/N stubbornly kept placing herself between them.

"Leave her alone! She needs help!" she shouted in Nightwing's face.

Tim and Damian attacked Quinn again. A big bat snatched from Y/N's hand flew above their heads trying to hit them. They dodged the attacks nimbly, one by one trying to counterattack. Aimed at Quinn's head, Damian's Batarang missed, Damian never missed. Tim attacked from behind Quinn's back but Y/N reached out in time and grabbed his cape sabotaging his attack.

"Wing would you mind!" Tim threw in the direction of Nightwing who was struggling with the girl.

"Harleen run!" she shouted.

She merely smiled broadly, reached behind her belt, and pointed her gun straight at Tim.

As if in slow motion, Jason watched the flash bounce off the metal, a wide Joker-like smile, her finger on the trigger…. He reached behind his belt and threw the Batarang with all his strength in Quinn's direction. He missed. He never missed either. The clang of metal. Y/N's terrified eyes and her two hands on Nigtwing's chest as she pushed him back with all her strength.

"Harleen don't!!!" she ordered with a shout, situating herself between the aimed weapon and the unaware Tim, "just don't…" she added more gently, "don't make choices that you won't be able to change…"

"You just made yours…" Harleen hissed angrily and dashed to escape.

*

Tim and Damian ran after her. They did not wait for permission or for the reactions of their older and more experienced brothers. They knew what they were doing. During the fight, during the mission, they worked seamlessly with each other. Jason watched them disappear behind a closed door and for a moment considered running after them.

"Hood!" Nightwing called out in his direction, "you good?!"

"Yeah yeah…" he muttered gathering himself from the ground. He knew very well that this question was only there to redirect his attention, "What the hell happened?"

"That is a good question…" Nightwing glanced meaningfully at Y/N who was still struggling in his grasp. Despite her hands twisted to the back held with little force she yanked and pulled in an attempt to free herself from his grip, "please stop. You gonna hurt yourself."

"Let me go!" she hissed fiercely.

"I cannot do that…"

"You are hurting me!"

"Then stop yanking…"

"But Harleen…"

"She made her choice."

"Oh, you are as stubborn as he is!!!"

"Who? Batman?"

"Let go of me!"

"If you try to run I'll stop you…"

"I won't…" she replied but as soon as Nightwing loosened his grip she threw herself running towards the building.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jason asked blocking her way.

"Oh for fuck sake!!! How many of you is there!" she boiled with frustration.

"How come I flew over a hundred feet and hit a wall?" he asked, ignoring her curses.

"I don't know, fucking magic!" she growled, "get out of my way!"

"Is she always like that?!" he asked Nightwing ignoring her completely.

"Last time she was more unsteady on her feet but just as fierce," Nightwing countered in his characteristic playful tone, "are you done?" he turned to Y/N, "we won't let you in."

"But Harleen, she needs…"

"Yes, yes she needs your help yatty yatty yatta…" Red Hood sneered, "you want to go get yourself killed by all means!" he taunted stepping off her way. She, however, did not move. The door to the building opened and Batman emerged from the darkness. He measured her with a stern look and, without taking his eyes off her, spoke.

"Quinzel is gone, Joker was never here," he informed, "the building was a decoy. Two additional exits with quick access. Robin and Red are searching the place."

"Now it's Quinn, Harley Quinn apparently," Nightwing informed him.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Batman turned to Y/N, "You ask me to believe in your innocence and yet I keep finding you in compromising situations."

"I wanted to help her," Y/N began uncertainly only to look at him furiously a moment later and add in a raised voice, "I wanted to help her because you refused to help me!"

"I think I like her…" Jason muttered to Nightwing quietly.

"I asked you to help me! Didn't I! I gave you my reasons, explained my point of view, and asked for help and you said no!!!" she shouted furiously standing at arm's length in front of Batman, "so don't fucking act all surprised that I decided to act on my own!"

"I definitely like her..." Jason grinned under his mask.

"I also said that I'll have you arrested for interfering with the case…" Batman reminded her.

"Then please!" she held out both hands in front of him, "Arrest me!"

For a moment they stood like that. Y/N and Batman in uninterrupted eye contact as if they were fighting each other without words. As if they were challenging each other, soundlessly questioning each other's choices. Jason and Dick were just observing but they too didn't need to exchange words to know what each was thinking. Both were amused and curious by the unfolding situation.

"You have to come with me," Batman finally broke the silence but did not cuff her hands. He only turned around and started walking toward the district exit.

"Hey, I was just kidding…" Y/N chuckled nervously and yet she sped up her pace to catch up with him.

"I'm not arresting you."

"Then why do I have to go with you?"

"You need to see something."

***

Chapter seven: Choices that shape the future

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Author note: Well...I got carried away with words. Oops? As I started to write this chapter I had only two major bits to hit and story, well it just happened. Is unfolded as I wrote it, and I had to make sure that it will all come together. I hope it did cos I won't lie, I really really loved this chapter. Mostly because I got an opportunity to more light on beloved Batfamily! Oh, I so love them all and it is a crime that Batfamily is so ignored in the mass media and popular big blockbuster movies! Batman, there is no Batman without his Robins, without his whole family. So right from the beginning, I knew I wanted to bring Batfamily to this story. I wouldn't have it any other way. Hope you enjoyed this very very long chapter! I'm hitting "publish" and starting to work on next chapter :) I've got a feeling it's gonna have more fluff to it. Thank you all for your interactions and shares! I truly appreciate that. And as always Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

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Tag list:@clown-princesa @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming

[gothemoccentral]

Could we get a lil love letter from Damian

My beloved,

I am writing this letter to ask for forgiveness. I have been angry and nasty in my desperation for your love, and I hope to make it up to you. The gifts accompanying this letter are just the start. My heart craves you like no other, and the thought that I might have lost your affections before I even get the chance to experience your sweet touch fills me with insurmountable grief. I wake up and have bouts of horrible homesickness in my very own bed because you stray so far away. I thought I had found my home, but I am haunted by the missing piece: you. Your glassy eyes haunt me as well. I did not mean the cruel things that fell from my mouth. You have taken ownership of my heart by your simple existence, and I was frightened. My heart is no longer my own, and it now overflows with you, a love which had evaded me for so long. Please do not leave me. I need to fix what I have done.

Affectionately, Damian Wayne

[gothemoccentral]

rev up – batman: overdrive

[ID: a monochrome panel of Bruce Wayne as a toddler. Bruce is sitting in a booster seat in the backseat of a car as Alfred Pennyworth drives him. Bruce points out the window and giggles, '‘meow!’ as Alfred fondly smiles. He gently corrects him, “The cow says mooooooo, Master Bruce!” END ID]

[gothemoccentral]

Whipped Like A Motherfu- (Older!Damian Wayne x Reader)

Description: The boys never thought it was possible for their youngest brother to have a soft spot for a woman. Or a soft spot in general. So how will they react when they witness their brother being lovey-dovey first-hand?

This was requested by @beatriceshadowmarvel2 so enjoy!!!

The only warning I got for this is that it has explicit language.

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Damian could be hot-headed. And very irritable. Also not to mention annoying at times. Overall he was a complete dick to almost everyone around him. Keyword: Almost. There was one person he would never and could never show any harsh emotions towards. The love of his life, the one he'd die for, the one he'd kill for. You.

The two of you had met during an attempted robbery. But not in the way one would probably assume. It was Damian who was getting robbed, not you. For obvious reasons, Damian could handle himself in these situations. But also for obvious reasons, Damian is the one who usually initiates the attack. It's been a while since he's been jumped out of nowhere. So he was a bit rusty on his reflexes.

You, on the other, had grown up on the rough side of Gotham so you had gotten a headstart on having your reflexes in tip-top shape. At the time of the incident, you had a fresh can of mace. You were walking past when you noticed the man get struck on the back of the head and were taken aback by surprise. On instinct, you reached into your purse and whipped out the black can. Then the rest was history.

That was approximately two years, six months, five weeks, and twenty-two days ago. It was that long ago since Damian realized that he could never love and long someone as much as he did you. But somehow, after all this time, you're finally meeting the infamous Wayne. His family.

And he was not excited.

"Of course, I'm not going to be excited, sweetheart. You didn't have to live with them for eight years of your life and for another two, having to meet up with them for every fucking holiday to exist." Damian scowled as you flipped his eggs onto a plate. He had just entered the kitchen and sat down at the bar of your shared apartment.

You turned around, one hand on your hip and the other lying his plate in front of him.

"C'mon Dami. They can't be that bad if you didn't run away." You offered, running your hands through your boyfriend's messy hair. He picked up his black coffee and muttered:

"Trust me. I tried."

You sighed and kissed his cheek, his freshly shaved jaw still having shaving cream in random areas of his face. "Did your father ever teach you how to shave?" You chuckled, wiping a smidge of cream off his face. You walked out of the kitchen and stood next to him, silently urging him to eat.

He grumbled something Arabic before grabbing your hips and pulling you down to his level. He started rubbing his cheek against yours, which usually you would be fine with. If shaving cream still wasn't on Damian's face.

"Damian! I was finally ready to go and now my makeup is ruined! I think you got some on my sweater, too!" You whined as he let out a laugh. He pulled away and stared into your eyes, his hands on both sides of your face. His green eyes kept observing each little feature you had on your face. The confused posture on your lips. The twitch of your nose as words came out of your mouth but he could only focus on your face.

"You don't need makeup, my love. You don't need anything to change how you look. You're already the most beautiful thing to bless this Earth." Damian said mindlessly, staring into your eyes.

You chuckled, confused about what made Damian come to those words or thoughts. "I'm not too sure what you mean by that, Dami. But I love you as well.". You stood up to your full height and tried removing the shaving cream from your sweater. "But not as much as I love looking presentable for your family so they don't think I'm a South Side junkie." You announced while walking back to your bedroom.

After your little situation was fixed, the two of you left the penthouse and started your thirty-minute journey to Wayne Manor. The drive gave you time to publicise your concerns.

"Dami, what if they think I'm not good enough for you? Or what if they think I'm using you for money? It doesn't help that I'm from the poorest side of Gotham and possibly the entire fucking country. Should I swear in front of them? I know they're all guys and probably swear worse than me but they-" Your rambling was cut off when your boyfriend kissed you right on the lips.

"Damian! You're driving, from the last time I checked. That's how people crash and die from a cell stroke or something." You reprimanded. Damian only chuckled and removed his hand from the wheel of his favorite Corvette.

"One: This is the car that was partnered with Wayne Enterprises to create the first self-driving sports car. It was in Hands-Off mode, sweetheart. Two: You can't die from a cell stroke because there is no such thing. Three: They'll love you I promise. Because if they don't, I can guarantee they will die a slow and pai-".

"That's enough, love. I'll stick to them not liking me." You compromised, knowing it was the best option as you were aware of Damian's threats becoming a reality.

"That's the thing, Y/n. There shouldn't be a reason for them not to like you. You're beautiful, both book and street smart, and the kindest person to ever walk this Earth." Damian was about to continue his rant about how much you were worth when he noticed he was already parked outside the place he too wasn't sure how to feel about.

A part of him wanted to walk in and reminisce on the memories of his youth. The other part of him wanted to drive his car into the side of the house (without you in it, of course), put it in self-destruct mode, and blow the house into pieces.

"I'm gonna fucking kill myself." Damian groaned as he put the car in park. You glanced at him as his face contorted into one of horror as he stared at the now wide-open door.

Four grown men walked out of the door, a prideful aura radiating off them. Damian's eye twitched as he swung the car door open and flicked them off before they even got the chance to utter a word to him. He made his way to your side of the car and opened the door for you.

He reached his hand out to you and helped you out of the car. You readjusted your skirt and reassess your outfit choice.

'Does this make me look like a hooker?' You wondered to yourself as the group approached your boyfriend and yourself.

"Wow. Little demon managed to find a girl that will put up with his attitude. And he... opened the door for her?" The one who you knew was Dick Grayson and your boyfriend's oldest brother. Only because he was on the best terms with Damian that he actually talked about him. But not in the brotherly way people would consider.

"Fucking Grayson. He's always showing off."

"Dick? Just assume the name comes with the job"

"I will not talk to him. Just because he's my brother and helped me out when I was younger doesn't mean I forgot he threw up all over me when he got shitfaced the last time I saw him."

"Guys, don't tell me the spawn of Satan himself actually learned manners and pulled a good-looking chick. I think I'm gonna cry." The one next to Dick wiped fake tears from his eyes. Damian's scowl deepened.

"Here's an idea, Jason. Go fuck yourself." Damian retorted. The new speaker, Jason, rolled his eyes and chuckled. He was the first to approach you formally and stuck his hand out.

"Hey, I'm Jason, Damian's older, hotter, and smarter brother so if he fucks up, you know where to find me," Jason smirked while you shook his hand.

"I'm Y/n. I would gladly take your offer if I didn't know Damian would never fuck up." You replied back, silently wincing at your use of vulgar language.

But instead of sneering at you or commenting your foul language was 'unladylike', Jason howled in laughter and shrugged.

"Offer still stands. Your accent. You grow up on South Side?" He asked, crossing his arms after you dropped his hand. You nervously glanced at Damian, who nodded in affirmation.

"Yep. Born and raised. How'd you figure it out? I'm usually pretty good at hiding it. That and I don't go around at night, begging for a cigarette and three cents in change."

"I'm from there too. At least before Buck-for-Fuck here adopted me. Grew up on Crack row or whatever it's called by the rich." Jason shifted his gaze to his brother. "You got a good one, Demon. You already know how we turn out." He gestured to himself with up and down hand motions.

"It's a good thing she got out before you, then."

"Fuck you, man."

Jason whimpered in fake pain before being shoved out of the way by Dick and the other brother. Dick introduced himself to you in a very formal way, starting it off by kissing your hands.

Damian did not take it well. He pushed Dick's cheek away from your knuckles. "At least ask her first. Don't you have any self-dignity?" Dick frowned but backed off nonetheless. "My bad, little man. I-", the first thing you've picked up from this family is they don't seem to let each other finish as you watched Dick get shoved by his father, who was clearly embarrassed.

You didn't need an introduction from Bruce motherfucking Wayne. 1. He owns the biggest technology company in the world. 2: It's Bruce Wayne. He's probably the one person on the planet who doesn't need to introduce himself. And he knew that too.

But he introduced himself anyways.

"Hello, Y/n. I'm Damian's father, Bruce. I've heard a lot of things about you." Bruce held his hand out as you shook it respectfully. You glanced at Damian, who scoffed at his father.

"All good things I hope, Mr Wayne." Bruce grimaced when you spoke. "Please call me Bruce, dear. Mr Wayne makes me feel as if I was alive when the Civil War was still being considered." Jason snickered before saying, "You probably were. You'd think with the amount of money you earn, you could afford getting rid of those crow's feet." Damian rolled his eyes at his family's antics before pointing at the last brother that wasn't introduced.

"The emo one who hasn't said a word is Tim. He's a bit odd and stays in his room jacking off or playing with Father's computers." Damian wrapped an arm around you as he explained his brother's habits. Tim's face became stoic as Damian shrugged.

"I hope all your stocks drop completely," Tim grumbled, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Damian's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to send a comeback towards his brother before Bruce chuckled nervously.

"Why don't we all go inside and catch up? Also so we don't embarrass ourselves even more in front of Y/n." The boys seemed to all agree and Damian and yourself followed the rest of the family inside.

After settling down inside the manor's living room, Bruce poured you a cup of tea and sat down in between Jason and Dick, Tim sat on the floor, and Damian and yourself sat on the couch.

"So Y/n. Tell us more about yourself. You didn't seem to have any time to do to certain people in the family. You said you were from South Side, right?" Jason clapped his hands and hollered. Bruce gave him a nasty side-eye while Dick slapped his chest.

"I think the more important question is... how the fuck someone like Damian ended up with a sweet little angel like yourself," Tim spoke while drinking something that obviously wasn't tea. Your boyfriend's frown deepened.

"I wouldn't call her a little angel, Timmy. We met because she maced a guy trying to rob me." Jason jumped out of his seat and started a handshake that was created for South Siders to identify each other with. Surprisingly, you still remember the whole thing.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about! You make everyone who still lives in Shitville proud!" Damian pushed Jason back into his seat before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Please refrain from tainting her with your filthy hands." Damian had little spurts where he would switch from casually talking to someone to as if he was talking to the president. Of course, Jason had a knack for making fun of it.

"My dearest apologies, my lord. May I offer my condolences for my idiotic acts?" Jason bowed from his seat.

"Okay, we can try this again. Please don't fucking touch her with your nasty ass hands that we all know you 'forget' to wash. The next time any one of you touches her without her permission, I'll be sure the Lazarus pit can't bring you back to life." Damian snapped. It suddenly became quiet despite the conversation being between two people.

Although it was only two sentences, it was enough to leave the family of undercover heroes speechless. Not about the fact that the youngest member snapped at them. No, they've gotten used to that.

It's the fact he snapped at them over a girl, let alone anyone else in general.

Jason's jaw was slacked and his eyes were wide in surprise. Tim had lost all his secret stash of alcohol as he not only spit out the liquor in his mouth but his water bottle dropped onto the shiny floors. Dick's face was stoic as he processed the fact that his baby brother could actually care about someone as much as he cared about himself. Maybe more.

Bruce's expression was possibly the hardest not to laugh at. His eyes were wide, an eyebrow was arched, and overall just looked weirded out.

Damian groaned in irritation and his fingers twitched in annoyance. He tapped your thigh a few times and stood up with your hand in his. "We're gonna head to my room and sleep off the bullshit from today. Don't bother us." Damian dragged you along like a lost puppy up one of the many staircases throughout the mansion and disappeared behind the thick walls of the hall. Not before hearing:

"Use protection, please! We don't need any more demon spawns running around when we have Damian and Jason!" "Fuck you, Bruce!"

Bonus:

You laid on Damian's bare chest, his pecs acting like a pillow for your head. Your legs intertwined with his and your hands were in the pockets of his black sweatpants.

You were fast asleep, the warmth from his upper body acting as a sedative for comfort. But Damian wasn't asleep. He couldn't fall asleep. Not while admiring the beautiful soul on his chest.

He ran his calloused fingers through your hair, dismissing the tangles in your hair by prying his fingers apart at the ends of each strand. He knew you'd be pissed about the sudden frizziness when you woke up but he didn't care. Not when he'd at least hear your voice.

"Words cannot describe how much I love you, Y/n. You saved me more than the day we met with your can of mace. You changed me and I will always be grateful for your love and affection towards someone like me." He whispered into your ear. He kept whispering poetic words into your sleeping ears. He suddenly stopped when he heard a creak from the corner of the room.

His vision sharpened to see into the darkness of his old room and immediately reached over to his nightstand and switched his lamp on. It illuminated the room just enough to see his family in the corner of his room, recording the scene in front of them.

Damian wrapped his arms around your waist and gave the nastiest glare possible towards the boys. Tim was about to say something, maybe lighten up the approaching argument but Damian brought a finger up to his pursed lips.

"If you wake her up, I will play tic-tac-toe on your throats with my katana." He blankly threatened.

Dick realized there wasn't any bluffing behind his brother's threat, as he had doubted threats from Damian before and that's how he ended up with thumbtacks in his ass and tried to escape the impending doom.

Jason, on the other hand, wanted to see the world burn and tripped his older brother, causing him to trip and eat shit. A thud echoed throughout the room, causing you to stir in your sleep.

"Dami? What was that?" A dagger was whipped out of the nightstand and held by Damian in a way with the intent to throw it at an unsuspecting victim. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just go back to sleep, okay beautiful?" You drifted back to sleep as if under a spell, your hands now on his defined chest.

There was a brief moment of silence that gave Damian time to admire the love of his life. That was until Jason decided to open his mouth.

"Dude, you're whipped like a motherfu-"

A knife flew across the room and landed right next to Jason's head.

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This is the first thing I've written in almost a year so lmk if it's ass or gas. BUT KEEP SENDING IN REQUESTS I LOVE HEARING OTHER PEOPLE'S IDEAS!!!

[gothemoccentral]

Mother Doesn’t Always Know Best | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 1k

✦ request — Could I request something where Talia meets Damians gf and dosent like her and insists he break up with her but Damian stands his ground and lets slip he loves you for the first time

✦ warnings — smidges of angst, I guess? and some fluff.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Under the scrutiny of sharp green eyes, somewhat familiar yet too cold to be the ones you liked so much, you shifted on your feet.

“I don’t like her,” Talia gave her verdict.

“Good thing she’s my girlfriend, not yours.”

“I am your mother!”

“I am aware.”

“Break it off. Now.”

“No.”

Talia narrowed her eyes. “What did you just say to me, Damian?”

Damian crossed his arms, defiant. “I’ve never stuck my nose in things that do not concern me. I’ve always respected your personal relationships, the least I could expect is for you to do the same with mine.”

“I have authority over you.”

“Not anymore.”

“Are you really defying your mother for some girl?”

Tim winced beside you, only making you more nervous. Jason placed both hands on your shoulders, standing behind you — steadying you in a way.

“Of course not, mother.”

You tensed. Was he really about to break up with you in front of his entire family?

When he told you he wanted you to meet his mother the next time she visited, you pictured everything but this.

Talia smirked. “I knew I had taught you well.”

“(Name) is not some girl,” Damian clarified. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said your name.

Talia’s gaze snapped in Bruce’s direction. “You’ve spoiled him rotten. He’s defying his own mother, who raised and nurtured him, for a girl because he’s having a whim!”

“My beloved isn’t a whim!” Damian yelled, indignant. “I love her, mother. Nothing you do or say will change that.”

You felt butterflies swarm in your belly upon hearing the pet name and his admission. Realistically, you were aware of the fact that he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but you believed his words, the weight they carried, and the desperation in his tone for his mother to understand.

Talia looked offended. The idea of her son being in love with someone was foreign, an inane thing beneath him and his training.

Dick let out a gasp that he uselessly tried to cover with a cough, staring at Damian with bright eyes filled with pride and happiness.

You felt eyes on you. Everybody was waiting for your reaction. Jason patted your shoulder, encouraging you to do or say something.

It was easy for them to both judge and expect a quick reaction. You focused on the family portrait over the fireplace, hoping your semblance wasn’t as harsh as theirs.

Such thing was understandable to an extent. They didn’t know Damian as you did, they only saw what he wanted them to see while you had learned to see through him.

You had known his feelings for you were strong, not at which extent but details were only that when you were so happy and so in love with him.

Bruce cleared his throat, fighting the shock to his best ability. “You heard him.”

She stared at Damian as if considering his confession to having been a lie. Her son only stared back, head held up high.

“We should give Damian and (Name) a moment...” Tim suggested.

Bruce nodded, opening the door and holding it for his sons to exit the room.

Dick smiled brightly at you, over the moon because his little brother loved someone. Jason gave you a teasing smile in contrast. They followed Tim who had probably already known the extent of Damian’s affections without being told.

“Talia,” Bruce said sternly.

Talia didn’t move immediately. She stared at Damian, expecting him to finally say something else, to tell her he had experienced a lapse in his judgment.

Such thing didn’t come. Damian walked past her, opening the curtains. Talia scoffed, glaring at Bruce as she left the room.

The door was closed softly, leaving you in the vast living room with Damian, your thoughts, and his.

You waited for him to give a sign that he would speak. Damian stared out of the window, watching his parents fight in the garden. It was a miracle that they weren’t trying to kill each other — well, his father wouldn’t do that but Damian didn’t doubt the thought had crossed Bruce’s mind.

You timidly said his name, not sure if he wanted you to be there or not.

He turned around, easing his stance as his eyes fell on your face. You fiddled with your fingers, a habit you had developed when you did it by mistake to stop yourself from talking back to a teacher.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

Damian lifted his eyebrows. You always danced around certain subjects, he usually found if endearing — he liked that he could make you talk with just a gaze. But this time he feared you wouldn’t.

“Well...” you breathed out. He exhaled too, finally approaching you, making you realize he had been giving you space and not the other way around. “She’s your mother either way.”

“Exactly. And you are my girlfriend either way.”

Nodding, you reached forward to fix his tie. It hadn’t looked crooked earlier, but your nerves could’ve been playing with you.

In all honesty, you wanted Talia to like you, to give you a chance at least. You knew the chances of that happening were thin at best, realistically nonexistent, yet a part of you hoped she would give into Damian’s whim as she called it.

He stopped your hands, softly grabbing them in his. You looked up, acknowledging him. Damian licked his lips, mouth suddenly so dry that he had to self-lubricate it.

“While not the way I was meaning to tell you, I meant every word.”

“Were you really going to tell me?”

He smiled, tilting his head as he shrugged. You knew him well. “When the moment was right.” Seeing you frown, he asked, “Does it bother you?”

“No. God, no!” You inhaled sharply. “Hearing it felt nice, that’s all.”

He guided your arms to his shoulders, encouraging you to embrace him. You wrapped them around his neck, looking up at him as he rested his hands on your waist, warmth immediately seeping through the fabric of the fancy dress you had specifically chosen for the occasion.

“Doing it feels nice, too,” he told you in a whisper.

Giving him a beaming smile, you nodded. There was no way you couldn’t agree with him.

Loving Damian felt better than nice, it was natural, comfortable — something so ingrained in you that you would be incomplete if you didn’t feel that way.

[gothemoccentral]

[gothemoccentral]

"And all is right in the world. " AHHHHHH I'm fangirling rn 💕 New Wonderbat post :)

On Instagram by @_thewonderbat_

Enjoy 🖤🛐 @wonderbat-official

[gothemoccentral]

Power point night for team bonding!