#Damian Wayne reader insert

[justiceiswater]

Just me over here bawling my eyes out!! When she ran out to him to stop him!! When she had that talk with Bruce! When Alfred welcomed her into the family!!!!! It’s just so much! This is everything I wanted for them and look at how much he smiles now. That’s because of her!

Also, let’s all celebrate how ivy and Harley are the true heroes of this story. And that Bruce was a douche nugget who ate some big pieces of humble pie!

Of Age – Toxicology 4/4

Damian Wayne x Daughter of Poison Ivy!Reader

He was an arrogant boy, struggling as he was pulled between the legacy of being born to kill and the promise that he could change for the better. She saw the world through the eyes of her fatalistic mother, but was forbidden to make sense of it on her own. They shouldn’t work together. But Gotham made their lives align despite all of that.

Word Count: 8,900+

PAST PART: Young Adult – Toxicology

Damian watched silently as Y/N led them through the streets of Gotham, extremely confident in her directions.

“How do you know where you’re going?” He finally asked.

“All three of us have trackers on us at all times, so we always know how to find each other.”

Damian thought about how Bruce was always tracking all of them. But that didn’t go the same way for him. So much of Bruce’s tactics were a one-way road. Never reciprocated, and rarely ever even communicated.

Y/N stopped walking for a second and faced him.

“Listen, I really don’t need your help.” She took in a shaky breath. “Go home, Damian.”

“No,” was all he said in return.

Y/N rolled her eyes and started walking again, increasing her speed.

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn,” she muttered under her breath.

But Damian easily heard it.

After 20 minutes, Y/N had stopped and was looking up at the building that sat across the intersection.

“Powers Tech,” she mumbled to herself.

“We’ll enter through the delivery entrance. I’ll be able to hack into the security system from there. We can take the freight elevator as soon as I have control,” Damian’s mind was already racing with any possible contingency plans they would need.

Y/N tried to stifle a laugh, but failed. The sound came bursting from her.

Damian glared.

“I’m sorry. Really,” she managed to push out in between laughs.

Without explaining further, she made a run for the side of the building that was hidden in a shadow that even Gotham’s street lights couldn’t reach.

“What the f– Y/N!” Damian hissed as he sprinted after her.

Just as he caught up to her, the ground started shaking slightly.

Damian looked down as he tried to keep his footing.

Suddenly, the concrete and pavement split open.

A giant vine the width of a bus emerged from the ground and with it, a giant flower hanging off the side.

Y/N hopped up.

And to Damian’s surprise, she turned back to look at him expectantly.

“Feel free to go take out security and hack whatever system,” she teased.

He glared at her, but then jumped up beside her.

As kids and teenagers, Damian had seen Y/N use her powers effortlessly. They seemed innocent and almost magical – despite them taking the lives of two men.

But this? This was something else entirely. Her powers were showing a merciless and powerful side that he had never seen before.

Damian looked up to see that the building was at least 40 floors. And Y/N planned on her vines taking them all the way up.

“Watch your footing,” was the only warning she gave before the flower, stem, and vines shot to life and grew alongside the skyscraper.

As soon as they reached the top of the building, Damian was quickly observing the inside of the floor through the glass.

Without hesitation, he threw a small adhesive explosive to the glass. They only had a moment to keep the element of surprise. And it would only take a few seconds for them to notice vines and a giant flower.

A moment before the explosion could go off, Damian rapidly covered Y/N with his body, protecting her from the impact. He expected her to push him away, but she tucked her head into his chest. He felt her jump slightly when the explosive went off, shattering glass.

They both lunged inside, landing perfectly.

When they looked around, they found both Harley and Ivy unconscious with their ankles tied and their hands bound behind their backs.

“No!” Y/N gasped, about to rush forward.

But Damian held his arm up, stopping her from going to them.

Nothing was ever this easy, especially a rescue mission.

“My, my. I honestly didn’t expect anyone to come save two criminals…”

A voice spoke as they walked out of the shadows.

“Arthur Brown?” Damian asked incredulously.

“I don’t care who the fuck he is,” Y/N growled, taking a step forward.

Arthur Brown was a failed celebrity. And his last gig had been hosting a new game show. Its ratings plummeted. And no on in Gotham took him seriously since, making him the laughing stock of the city. And he became an easy target for jokes and humiliation, especially on the internet.

But what role he played in all of this was difficult for Damian to wrap his mind around.

Arthur looked back, and studied him in return.

“Ahh. I know that face…” He hummed.

Arthur chuckled, “I thought ripping away Batman’s mind would distract you brats longer. But I guess that was too optimistic of me…”

Damian’s glare narrowed. Of course Bruce’s state was used as a distraction. It all made complete sense to him. What concerned Damian now was that one of Gotham’s new villains knew the true identity of Batman. And with that, he knew all of his family’s, as well.

“Enough talking,” Y/N growled. “Let my mothers go, and maybe I won’t kill you.” She tilted her head. “But even if I let you live, I can’t guarantee my mothers won’t.”

Damian never got nervous on missions. There was hardly ever any concern for his own life. But preparing to fight with Y/N by his side caused him anxiety. He didn’t want her anywhere near such dangers. It was making him jumpy and second guessing his plan of attack. If only he could’ve convinced Y/N to stay away.

“Mothers?” Arthur cooed as he took a step toward them.

Damian unsheathed his sword and took a half a step in front of Y/N.

He should just kill him now, save them some time. But this wasn’t the League anymore. This was Gotham. Different world. Different rules.

“What an interesting development. Explains you’re little flower power,” Arthur gestures to the deadly plants lingering outside the broken window. “It’s very cute, really.”

“You’re behind Powers Tech?” Damian ignore his games; he wanted answers.

“No, no, no, you silly boy. I was hired by Powers Tech. You see, they noticed a certain crazy bat was snooping around, trying to find secrets in places he shouldn’t be snooping.”

“Maybe because Powers Tech is corrupt and slowly destroying the environment,” Y/N snapped.

“Oh, get off your high horse, brat!” Arthur shot back. He cleared his throat and looked at Y/N as if she had been rude for interrupting him. “Anyways, I distracted him, laid out clues that would catch his attention. I slowly lured him exactly where I wanted him and then…”

“And then you poisoned him,” Damian finished.

“Yes, obviously.”

“And you gave them the same toxin,” Damian nodded to Ivy and Harley.

Arthur smiled. “Can’t fight for mother earth if you don’t even know your own name.”

That was Y/N’s tipping point.

And not even Damian could stop her attack.

With the wave of her arms, vines shot out from behind her, breaking nearly every window on the floor. While they had been talking, dozens of deadly vines had crawled their way up, waiting for their master to call them forth.

But just as they were about to reach her, Arthur pulled out a giant canister from his vest, pulled the pin, and tossed it in Y/N’s direction. A gas sprayed into Y/N’s face with the intention that it would kill any of Y/N’s deadly plants and weaken her.

She coughed as the gas filled her lungs, and the vines paused, as if waiting to see if their mother was harmed or not.

Arthur sneered with pride. He walked forward and lifted Y/N off the ground by the throat, forcing her to look at him.

But Y/N’s coughing slowly subsided, and then she gave him a wicked smile. “You really thought an anecdote from years ago would still be my weakness?”

Arthur’s sneer vanished.

Vines wrapped around his torso and ripped him back, causing him to drop his grip on Y/N’s throat.

She dropped to the ground and coughed as air returned to her lungs.

Damian rushed forward to make sure Y/N was alright and helped her to her feet.

Now Damian held his sword steady and placed his body protectively in front of her.

“Touch her again, and I��ll slice off your head,” he growled in warning.

Arthur cackled at the threat, but he was still clearly shook by Y/N’s unexpected strength.

“Oh, come on. You think I don’t know about Batman’s moral compass?” He smiled. “No killing. That’s the rule. For him and for all of his pathetic little sidekicks.”

Damian sneered. “I don’t work with Batman anymore.”

Arthur’s smile fell as he realized Damian wasn’t bluffing.

“And I plan on killing you,” Damian added darkly.

“Hmmm…” Arthur hummed and scratched his chin melodramatically. “Fire it is then.”

He pressed a button on his watch and mechanical torches lowered from the ceiling and fired at will. Flames shot out like dragon’s breath, threatening to kill them all.

In fear that Ivy and Harley would be burned alive, Y/N made a run to shield them from the flames.

Meanwhile, Damian lunged for Arthur with his sword drawn. He hadn’t been lying when he threatened to kill Arthur. He wasn’t Robin anymore. After living with his mother and the League for four years, his moral compass shifted slightly. Killing innocent people was wrong, and he still believe that. But some people…some people deserved to die.

However, Damian should’ve known that Arthur would have other tricks up his sleeve.

The man quickly pulled three metal orbs from his vest, tossing one in Damian’s direction and the other two in Y/N’s. And Arthur knew they wouldn’t be fast enough.

But Damian wasn’t worried about himself.

One of the few weaknesses Y/N and her mother had was fire. And no matter how powerful Y/N was, her abilities were useless against it.

“Y/N!” Damian cried out.

But there wasn’t enough time.

The blast threw Y/N back so hard that she nearly flew out the window. But not before her left leg hit the metal frame.

Damian swore his heart stopped when he saw Y/N disappear over the ledge.

Completely forgetting Arthur, Damian sprinted to the edge of the building.

By some miracle, Y/N was holding onto the ledge of the window from the floor below. The blast had been strong enough that it blew out that floor as well. And now it was on fire, as well as the top section of the whole building.

Damian saw blood dripping from Y/N’s hands as she held on to the sharp ledge that had once been glass windows. She couldn’t call to her plants when so much fire surrounded them. They would never make it past the heat alone.

“Y/N, don’t you let go,” Damian warned.

He pulled a grapple gun and shot the metal coiled rope to the other end of the building to stabilize him before flying off the edge himself, and swung gracefully to the floor below.

Without a second to spare, he pulled Y/N up as if she weighed nothing.

But her balance was all off and took Damian down to the floor with her, before she could get up and stand on her own two feet.

He didn’t seem to mind, too relieved that she hadn’t fallen to her death.

“My moms,” Y/N gasped.

But a second after she asked, a rattle and boom was clearly heard from above. It sounded as if a fight happening above them.

Y/N looked at Damian in confusion.

He smirked mischievously. “I may have called back up on the way over here…”

Y/N smiled back and shook her head. “Any way that fancy thingamajig can get us back up there?”

“Thingamajig?” Damian sounded insulted.

But he still grabbed Y/N, surprising her with the boldness, before shooting the gun back up over the ledge to the floor above them.

Y/N yelped as the device whipped their body into the air.

She was so used to being in control, always trusting her plants to keep her safe. But now she had to put her life into Damian’s hands, the boy who broke her heart and taught her to never expect anything from anyone – except her own family.

When they got to the new floor, Arthur was surrounded by Dick, Jason, and Tim. His hands were held high. And from his expression alone, they knew he didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve. This was the end for him.

All he had left were words.

“You turn me in, and Gotham will know who all of you really are,” Arthur threatened.

Jason laughed. “I’m legally dead, motherfucker.”

But Dick and Tim were more nervous. They had people they loved – who would go down with them if their identities were exposed. Every crime lord in Gotham would be after them and anyone they ever cared about.

Damian’s attention was ripped away when he heard cry out in pain as Y/N tried to stand and make her way to Ivy and Harley.

Just before Y/N had been knocked out the window, she had conjured up enough plants to protect her mothers from the explosions and fire. But those had been disintegrated by the flames before their Y/N could return to spare them.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Damian tried to stop her.

“I think…” Y/N hissed in pain. “I think my leg is broken.”

It made sense with the way she had been thrown out the window.

“And my shoulder feels off…” Y/N admitted without looking him in the eye.

“It’s dislocated,” Damian noted as if it were obvious. “And your femur is probably broken,” he studied after just a few seconds.

“Just…” she bit her lip, clearly trying to hide how much pain she was in. “Can you help me up?”

But before she was even done asking the question, Damian had carefully scooped her into his arms. Except he wasn’t walking her towards her moms.

“No! Wait!” Y/N begged.

She had to get to them. She had to make sure they were OK.

“They’ll be fine,” Damian answered. “We know what he did to them. We’ll replicate your anecdote.”

“No, Damian. I’m okay. Just let me… I need to be with them.”

But Damian ignored her and started walking toward the freight elevator.

“I’ll take care of them,” Jason was in front of them now, cutting off their path. “I promise,” he tried to assure Y/N when she still looked anxious.

Damian nodded in thanks, then moved around his brother.

When they reached the bottom, Y/N’s face had lost its color from how much pain she was enduring. On top of the broken leg and dislocated shoulder, both of her palms were still bleeding from holding onto the edge of building for dear life. There was even broken glass embedded in her skin.

“D-D-Damian,” Y/N whispered when they were finally outside.

He looked panicked when he glanced down at her face.

“Y/N, you’re about to pass out. But I need to do a closed reduction on your shoulder, otherwise it’ll be worse later on.”

She had no idea what he was trying to tell her.

But for some reason she nodded anyways.

“Alright. I’m…I’m sorry, but it will hurt,” Damian sounded as if he hated himself as he warned her of it.

Y/N nodded, but her eyes were fearful.

“Take a deep breath. Try to relax,” he coaxed her. “One, two,” and before three, he maneuvered her shoulder and shot it into the correct position.

Y/N let out a howl of pain and gulped for air, trying to catch her breath.

“Good girl,” Damian muttered, pushing some of her hair away from her face. “All done. I promise. Just rest now.”

He could tell from the daze in her eyes that she was about to pass out.

“How long have the two of them been like this?” Dick whispered.

“Few hours, I think.” Jason answered.

“They’ll be here any minute. And I doubt they’ll appreciate seeing their daughter unconscious in bed with her ex-boyfriend…”

Jason chuckled darkly. “Well…Why don’t you be the one to try to separate the demon spawn from mother nature, and see how that turns out for you?”

“No, thank you.”

Y/N was barely awake enough to register the words being spoken during the two men’s conversations.

But she was lucid enough to realize she was in a bed. But there was someone else sleeping next to her, too. They weren’t touching her, but she could feel their presence.

Before she could be sure of who it was, she feel back into her deep sleep.

Y/N woke up to the sounds of birds and leaves rustling in the wind. The trees were watching over her, making their presence known to assure her that she was not alone.

Y/N could tell that she wasn’t in the greenhouse. These sheets were far too nice. And she could hear the ticking of a grandfather clock from the other side of the room.

Her eyes blinked open.

She was at Wayne Manor. But more specifically, she was in Damian’s bedroom.

It was like a time capsule. Not a single thing had been changed about it. The bedroom was exactly the same as when she had snuck in that one night. Y/N swallowed as she thought about exactly what happened then.

“Are you hungry?”

Y/N jumped, not realizing she wasn’t alone.

When she turned, Damian was sitting in a fancy armchair that had been pulled next to the bed. His arms were crossed and his face serious.

“W-What?” She asked, clearly still waking up.

“You should eat. Pennyworth will make anything you want. And I mean anything.”

“Sorry.” She touched her head. “I just feel a bit…out of it.”

“That will be the meds.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Are you in any pain?” He asked her carefully.

“Umm…”

But before she could answer, someone slammed into the windows.

“For fuck sake,” Damian mumbled under his breath in annoyance.

He shot up to his feet and marched to the window.

“Damian!” Jon Kent tackled him to the ground.

“Seriously?” Damian growled as he managed to push Jon off of him and get back onto his feet.

The two young men had grown to be the exact same height of 6’3. Even though Damian was broader and looked more muscular, they both knew Jon was the strongest between them.

Jon’s attention shifted to Y/N. He flew forward so fast that his body disappeared from the human eye for a moment.

“You know I hate it when you do that,” Y/N groaned as her new headache hurt more from trying to keep her eyes on the superboy.

“Sorry, sorry.” Jon winced.

“Be careful,” Damian warned. “She’s still recovering.”

Jon’s gaze went across Y/N’s body. “Hardly. Looks like her leg is nearly healed.”

“Ugh,” she groaned again. “I hate it when you do that, too.”

“I only looked at your leg and shoulder!” Jon defended his innocence as he raised his hands. “I would never do anything else – my father would end me.”

“Jon, what are you doing here?” Damian asked.

“To check on Y/N, obviously. And to see you, you asshole.”

“Jonathan!” A voice yelled from the window.

And in slowly flew Superman.

“Fucking great,” Damian mumbled.

Any amusement Y/N managed to have – even with her headache – now dissolved at the sight of Clark Kent.

“Jonathan, I told you that you could only come if you let her rest.”

Despite being a grown man, Jon still looked like a scolded child as his father reminded him of their little deal.

“We came as soon as we heard about Bruce,” Clark tried to explain to Damian.

“Yeah. Well, he’s fine,” Damian answered harshly. Then he nudged his head in Y/N’s direction. “Thanks to Y/N. She saved his life.”

But when Clark glanced at her, she wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

“We’ll let you two get some rest,” Clark told him as he grabbed his son’s shoulders and guided him out of the bedroom to go find Bruce.

“So,” Damian cleared his throat as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?” He repeated his original question that interrupted by the Kryptonians.

“Fine,” Y/N lied. “What happened?”

“You passed out. I brought you here. You’ve been sleeping for a few days."

Y/N opened her mouth to ask a million follow-up questions.

“Ivy and Harley are fine. Tim replicated your anecdote, and administered it to them – as well as Bruce. The two of them stopped by to check on you yesterday. You were still sleeping.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you…for helping them.”

“We owed you,” Damian shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes. “And that’s the only reason why you did it? Because you owed me?”

The challenge was obvious.

“You really need to eat something,” Damian changed the subject. “What are you craving?”

“It really doesn’t matter.” Y/N started to get up from the bed. “Actually, I think I need some sunlight more than anything else.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Damian felt like an idiot for not thinking of that first.

He went to scoop her into his arms.

“Damian,” Y/N stopped him. “I can walk.”

“Right…” He immediately stepped away to give her space. But it was so clearly hard for him to do so.

He stood close to her and watched anxiously with his hands at the ready, prepared to catch Y/N if she so much as stumbled slightly.

Damian led them to the lawn chairs that sat on the edge of the manor’s outdoor swimming pool. Thankfully the sun was shining bright.

Y/N carefully laid down in the chair and closed her eyes as she soaked up the rays like a plant. Her and Jon were alike in that way.

With her eyes closed, Damian took his chance to study her. He was standing awkwardly next to her chair, not sure if he should sit in the one next to her or leave her alone completely.

“I’m sorry about Arthur,” Y/N said out of nowhere. “He’s going to expose all of your identities. What will your family do?”

“Cluemaster.”

“What?” She squinted up at him in confusion.

“Apparently, he goes by Cluemaster. Or at least…he did.”

Y/N sat up. “What do you mean?”

“He was killed yesterday,” Damian noted.

Y/N’s face dropped. Had it been her mothers?

“He was being transported to Arkham by GPD. Their armored car was knocked over by an explosion from the sewer beneath. Arthur was ripped to shreds – they only found his severed head. However, the drivers and guards were barely bruised from the attack.”

Y/N slowly smiled up at Damian. “I thought by now you would realize that there’s perks in being friends with criminals…”

Damian tried not to smile, but Y/N still caught his amusement.

“So you’re all safe?” She asked seriously.

Damian nodded.

“How’s your father?” She asked slowly.

He was surprised she pushed herself to ask the question.

“Your anecdote worked. He remembers everything.”

“Of course it worked,” Y/N commented with a cheeky smirk.

Damian didn’t bother trying to hide his smile this time.

And just like that, things felt normal between them, like they’d gone back in time to when they were teenagers.

But Y/N wasn’t prepared of that.

She quickly sat up – too quickly. “I should probably get back to the park.”

“Not before you eat something,” Damian warned.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I did just eat,” she countered, posting to the sun.

“Please,” his voice had gone so soft.

And it caught her off guard.

“F-Fine.”

When they got to the kitchen, it was loud with energy. All of Damian’s brothers were there, as well as Clark, Jon, and Bruce.

They all got a bit quiet when they noticed Y/N walk in.

Y/N had dreamed of an interaction like this when she was younger: all of Damian’s family in one room, him introducing her, all of them welcoming her to the family.

But that never happened.

Now it seemed off. She felt like an imposter, almost unwelcome.

To her surprise, Alfred stepped forward out of nowhere.

“Ms. Y/N, I wished to thank you for helping my family. If it were not for you, who knows what would have become of Master Wayne.”

Everyone was watching the interaction, making Y/N feel even more uncomfortable.

“Y-Y-You’re welcome,” she finally managed to respond.

Alfred leaned in closer. Apparently he had no issue with the whole family closely watching their conversation.

“And I must say,” he almost whispered to her, “it is such a pleasure to meet you after all these years. I hoped this day would come.”

Y/N gave him the warmest smile. “I-I wanted to meet you so badly,” she admitted ever so quietly. The only people that could’ve caught it were Jon and Clark.

Alfred winked at her, before quickly turning to face the rest of the group.

“Now you heathens shall get out of the way and make room for Ms. Y/N,” Alfred warned the men. “She hasn’t had a proper meal in days.”

Y/N sat in nervous silence as Alfred ushered her into a seat and gave her a plate so full of every possible breakfast food that she was sure it could’ve fed the entire room.

Damian sat next to Y/N, purposely blocking everyone else’s view of her by doing so.

“Ignore them,” he muttered to her.

“Kind of hard,” she mumbled before taking a bite. “Can’t remember the last time I was in a room with this many men…”

Actually, she did. It was the night that Jason found her right as she killed that man out of sheer survival. To this day, Y/N believes it was completely her fault. After all, it was her pheromones that caused the man to turn sex crazed.

It was as if Damian could read her find as he studied her facial expressions. He knew that she was now thinking of that night too, lost in the past.

He also noticed that none of the men seemed effected by Y/N’s presence or her pheromones. That was expected to a degree from Jon and his father. But the rest of them should be feeling at least a little something.

“But you have learned to reverse your powers,” Damian noted.

Y/N shrugged, but nodded.

“Why?” He wished to know.

“I want to be left alone. I was sick of accidentally slipping up. It made me feel…” Y/N hesitated and her gaze flickered up to Damian’s. He gave her an encouraging look, hoping she would finish. “It made me feel unsafe…and…and scared all the time.”

Damian nodded slowly. He would never have any idea what it felt like to have the powers she did. So all he could do was listen and show his support.

“I guess all women wish they could turn if off,” Y/N laughed lightly. “End the harassment, the stalking, the groping. If women had the choice to make it all go away like I did, they would take it.”

Before Damian could respond, Bruce was clearing his throat behind him.

Y/N sunk into herself at the sight of him.

Never in her life had she been this close to Damian’s father.

All those years, she had dreamed of Bruce accepting her and their relationship. Now? Now she never wanted to breathe the same air as him.

“Damian, could I have a moment alone with Y/N?” Bruce shocked both of them by asking.

But Damian only glared at his father and showed no signs of moving. “Anything you wish to say to her, you can say to me, as well.”

Bruce didn’t appreciate the attitude, but he had fully expected it. What authority did he have over his son anymore? Damian was almost 23 years old now. He was a young man, not a child living underneath his roof and rules.

“Damian,” Y/N tried mutter subtly.

She didn’t want to talk to Bruce. But she knew that if she didn’t step between the father and son, it would only cause more tension and perhaps even a fight. And that would make everything even more uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” Y/N whispered to Damian, hoping her request would make him stand down.

Without looking at her, Damian scraped his chair back and left the room with the rest of them, sending one final glare at Bruce’s back before disappearing.

Instead of taking Damian’s empty seat next to Y/N, Bruce grabbed the one across from her, giving them more space between each other.

Y/N refused to cower under his gaze, meeting it confidently and trying to prove that she wasn’t scared of him.

“I wanted to thank you for saving my life,” Bruce confessed.

Y/N didn’t respond. Because he should be thanking her.

“But more importantly, I owe you an apology. The night your mother was arrested, I thought I was protecting my son. At the time, I never could have imagined the sequence of events that would follow because of it.”

Y/N’s heart was threatening to beat out of her chest as she listened.

This was not at all what she had been expecting.

“I lost Damian’s trust – and then I lost him all together. But I quickly learned what became of your life, how I inherently made you an orphan. Hurting you and Damian was never my intention.”

“What was your intention then?” Y/N shot back.

Bruce thought a moment before responding with, “To keep Gotham safe.”

“And was Gotham any safer when my moms were behind bars?”

But they both already knew the answer was no.

Bruce cleared his throat, hoping to move past the question.

“I was apprehended by Cluemaster because I was digging into Powers Tech, to prove what your mother was trying to all those years ago.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that right before he tried to kill all of us,” Y/N muttered harshly

Bruce slowly slide a manila folder across the table to her.

“What’s this?”

He gave her a subtle smirk. “This is all the evidence that proves Powers Tech has been responsible for severe damage to the environment through it’s practices and business. Every law they’ve broken. Every corrupt politician that looked the other way to get a check. It’s all there. And it will be all over national news tomorrow.”

“So why are you giving it to me?” She asked.

“It’s a copy – for you and your mother.”

“What are you looking for?” Y/N challenged. “Forgiveness?”

“I don’t believe I deserve it. But, yes, that was my intention.”

She only stared at him.

Bruce Wayne was such a complicated man. But one thing was clear: he regretted his actions all those years ago. And he learned the true destruction that came from them. Bruce didn’t just lose his son, he was the cause of so much heartbreak.

Y/N stalled and looked down at the files. Her voice shook as she whispered, “Was I really so terrible for your son? A girl who you never even bothered to meet or get to know?”

But Bruce didn’t know what to say. Because at the time, he did think she was no good for Damian. But that was all based on where she came from, who raised her. And the fact that she was a meta human – and those were not to be trusted.

“I think I’d like to leave now,” Y/N blurted out as she quickly stood up.

As did Bruce, a gentlemanly gesture that had been ingrained in him as a young boy. “I’ll have Alfred or Damian drive you.”

“No. Jon can fly me back. He’s probably eavesdropping on this conversation anyway.”

Right on cue, Jon appeared in the doorway to wait for her. At least he had the decency to look guilty about listening in, and gave Bruce an apologetic wince.

“Y/N,” Bruce called out before Jon could help her flee.

She turned to him.

“What I did that night… none of it was Damian’s fault. He lied to me for years, all to protect you. And he would’ve done everything in his power to stop me had he known what I was planning. You should know that.”

Y/N could only nod, her brain overwhelmed with such information. It made it harder to process, hearing it from Batman himself.

“Ready to go?” Jon asked carefully, knowing she was in a fragile state.

“Yeah. Please.” She almost gasped.

THREE DAYS LATER...

Y/N was packing all her stuff back into the small duffle she had returned to Gotham with.

Ivy sat on her bed, watching her daughter.

“Want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Y/N sighed.

Ivy smiled and shook her head. “You and I both know that is a load of bullshit.”

Y/N groaned and her hands chucked the clothes down with a huff. “I fucked up. I blamed him for everything, mom! If I had just listened, if I had just trusted that he had nothing to do with it…”

“You were scared, Y/N. It’s hard to listen to logic when you’re faced with fear.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

“So that’s it?” Ivy asked.

“There’s nothing to do, mom.” She went back to packing. “Yeah, none of it is a secret now. But we’re not kids anymore. Everything…Everything’s changed. And I can’t live in the past. I just have to move on.”

“Do you love still him?”

Ivy’s question made Y/N freeze.

Did it even matter if she did? And if she did, how pathetic to hold on to it after all this time?

Harley knocked on the doorway of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she told them with a knowing smirk on her lips.

Damian stepped into view, towering over Harley from behind.

“Come on, Harley. Let’s get started on dinner,” Ivy told her partner, practically having to drag her out of the room.

“Hey,” Y/N blurted out quietly.

Damian gave her a sad smile. “Hello.”

She noticed he had a duffle bag over his shoulders.

And then he took in her half filled bag on her bed.

“Going back to Metropolis?” He asked.

“Yeah, I have finals in a week and then graduation.” She nodded towards his bag. “And you? Where are you off to?”

“Back to the League.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re not…You’re not staying in Gotham?”

“I told Dick I would help him find Bruce, and then I was gone.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t know what else to say to that, so she changed the subject. “Thank you for going with me that night. If it weren’t for you, we’d probably all be dead.”

“No, it wasn’t me. You would have found a way,” Damian disagreed. “You’ve always been stronger than you believe.”

Y/N seemed taken aback by his comment.

But Damian wasn’t done. “You always thought you were the one with the darkness. You were convinced the power you couldn’t control was the danger.” He shook his head. “But I always knew it was me. I knew I would be the one to ruin everything, to hurt you.”

“No–” Y/N gasped and was about to try and argue.

But Damian wouldn’t let her. “No, listen to me, Y/N.” He stepped further into the room. “You deserve to live the life you want, whether that’s in Gotham or Metropolis – anywhere. I should’ve never been your only window to the outside world.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears at his confession.

Is that really how Damian saw himself when it came to her?

“I just came here to thank you for helping my family. And to…say goodbye.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Y/N mumbled.

“Yes, I do.” Damian awkwardly cleared his throat. “Bruce told me what he said to you.”

“Did he apologize to you, too?”

Damian nodded and chuckled. “According to Dick, he’s been trying to find a way to do so for four years.”

His phone chimed from his back pocket. “That’ll be Dick, he’s waiting at the chopper.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say or even what to do.

A hug felt wrong. But doing nothing felt even worse.

Damian seemed to being going through the same turmoil.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He finally said, opting to just slowly walk backwards.

“Bye, Damian.” Y/N whispered back.

It felt like their last goodbye.

Damian turned and walked out before his body decided to have a mind of its own.

Y/N watched him disappear with tears in her eyes.

Just a moment later, she walked into the kitchen where her moms were – not knowing what the hell else to do with herself.

Ivy and Harley watched their daughter as she was completely dazed.

Ivy gave Y/N a sympathetic look. “Honey, I think that boy still loves you, too.”

“I never said I still loved him,” Y/N tried to argue.

Harley gave her a disapproving look. “Sunflower, what’s the point in still lying and torturin’ yourself? Ya deserve to be happy.”

Y/N waited for Ivy to be on her side. But it was clear she only agreed with Harley.

“Fuck,” Y/N gasped before she sprinted out of the greenhouse.

Damian was still walking to the helicopter when she spotted him.

The blades had just started up.

“Damian!” Y/N screamed, hoping he could hear her over the roar of the machine.

By some miracle, he did and turned around with his brow furrowed in surprise.

Y/N sprinted even faster.

Damian caught her in his arms and realized she was crying.

“I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you go,” Y/N repeated as she cried into his shoulder.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist as one of his hands held the back of her head and the other kept her hips secure.

“Shhh,” he tried to comfort her. “It’s alright. It’s OK.”

“Please stay. I can’t lose you again. I-I-I never should’ve pushed you away that night. I’m s-so sorry.”

Damian gently pulled her head back so he could look at her.

“You’re asking me to stay?” He breathed.

To Damian, this all felt like a dream. He couldn’t believe it was real.

“Yes. I want you to stay,” she whispered to him.

He wiped her tears away with one hand.

“I love you. Do you understand?” He replied.

She nodded.

“I never stopped,” he added.

Y/N couldn’t control herself any longer, and her lips crashed against his.

“I never stopped either,” she breathed when they finally pulled apart.

“I left Gotham because it was impossible to stay here without you by my side,” Damian confessed with a shaky voice.

“I know,” she whispered. “So stay. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian answered with another kiss.

3 WEEKS LATER…

Y/N had graduated that day. And after, Damian treated her and her moms to a fancy, congratulatory dinner in Metropolis. Then Harley insisted on barhopping. Which was really just Harley and Ivy getting so drunk that Damian and Y/N had to call them a cab and make sure it got them to their hotel safely.

Now Y/N and Damian sat on the love seat she had on the rooftop of her apartment.

He was so large that both of them barely fit on the thing. Damian had to pull her into his lap to make it work.

“I still can’t get over how much you’ve grown,” Y/N giggled as she eyed his broad shoulders and height. “But I have a feeling that little boy I first met all those years ago is still in there somewhere.”

He blushed and gave her a shy smile. “And what about you, beloved? I didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more beautiful.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears and she laughed lightly. “Say it again.”

“You are beautiful.”

“No. No, not that part. What you called me.”

Damian’s brow wrinkled for a second before realization hit. “Beloved.”

A tear single down Y/N’s cheek. It had been so long since he’d called her that. She had almost forgotten that it used to be his name for her. It was never spoken in the company of others, and that only made it more special to Y/N.

“Thank you for tonight. It really meant a lot to me that you came,” she told him.

“I never would have missed it.” Then he pulled something out of his pocket. “Speaking of, I have your graduation present.”

“Damian, don’t be ridiculous…”

But he ignored her and handed Y/N a small wooden box.

“I can’t exactly get you flowers on such occasions, so I had to be creative.”

Y/N eyed him suspiciously, but opened it.

Inside was a gold and sterling silver necklace in the shape of a flower. But not just any flower.

Y/N breathed, “It’s a…”

“Edelweiss,” Damian finished for her.

To many, it wasn’t a popular or even a known flower. But Y/N had always said they reminded her of Damian.

“Help me put it on,” she requested softly.

Damian didn’t hesitated.

“Now, I’ll have a piece of you with me all the time,” Y/N murmured as she looked down and played with the necklace.

Damian kissed her shoulder in agreement.

“I saw all those offer emails in your inbox earlier,” he changed the subject.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Snooping, are we?”

Damian ignored the accusation. He was Batman’s son, after all.

“Are you going to accept any of them…?”

“Well, I do have to get a job,” she laughed.

“Not necessarily.”

Y/N hesitated before letting out a loud laugh, “Are you trying say you’ll be my sugar daddy, Damian Wayne?”

“Tt. You know my father is a billionaire. Which means I am also a billionaire. If you did not want to work, you wouldn’t need to.” Then he grinned softly. “But I know you would never do that – even if I insisted. You’re too passionate about your work.”

Y/N laughed. “I have no intention of becoming a Real Housewife of Gotham.”

“A what?”

That made Y/N laugh harder. “I really need to force you to watch reality tv with me.”

Damian grimaced in absolute disgust. He barely watched any television at all. Y/N was lucky if she got him to watch a movie with her.

“There’s a couple labs in Gotham,” Y/N hummed. “And one of those was Wayne Enterprises.”

“My family had nothing to do with that, by the way,” Damian quickly interjected.

“Really?”

“I already asked my father about it. He was just as surprised by the news. I knew you would think you hadn’t earned your way, so I asked him myself.”

Y/N gave him a shy smile. Damian still knew her so well, and expected her to accuse him of using nepotism in her favor.

“It doesn’t have to be Gotham,” he suddenly told her.

“What?”

“You don’t have to choose something in Gotham. It can be anywhere.”

“But your family…” Y/N muttered.

Damian pulled her tighter to him and pressed his forehead against hers. “I stayed for you – not them. Therefore, I will go wherever you go. Gotham or Metropolis or anywhere in the world, I will stay by your side.”

“But would you be mad if we returned to Gotham?” She asked carefully.

Things were still complicated with Damian and his family. It was clear he still hadn’t fully forgiven Bruce. But he was at least acknowledging his presence. Damian wasn’t even staying at the manor, mostly living with Y/N at the greenhouse or crashing at one of his brother’s safe houses. He knew staying at the manor would make Bruce happy, and Damian was too petty to allow his father that joy.

“No, I would not be mad. Never at you.”

She kissed him and pulled back a little.

“What will you do?” Y/N urged. “Take back the Robin mantle?”

“No. Robin is tied to Batman – a sidekick and child. That is not who I am anymore.”

“So who will you be?” She knew he was probably getting irritated by her pushing him to answer such questions.

Damian playfully glared at her, knowing what she was doing. “Am I allowed to say I don’t know quite yet?”

Y/N giggled. “Yes, I’ll allow it.”

Damian pulled her hips closer to his. “Right now, my only concern is you.”

Y/N wasn’t stupid: she knew where this was heading. She could sense his desire through his pheromones.

“I…I haven’t…umm…” She awkwardly cleared her throat. “It’s been awhile.”

Her confession surprised Damian a bit. He knew Y/N was subtle telling him that she hadn’t slept with anyone else since him. But before she made a replant for her powers, Damian could only imagine that the boys at school were probably obsessed with Y/N. He was realizing how much she chose to really isolate herself from any possible human connection.

“It’s the same for me,” Damian shared, too.

“Really?” Y/N asked with obvious surprise. “You weren’t messin’ around with any ninjas back at the League?”

“Ninjas?” Damian scoffed with narrowed eyes. “No. I could hardly stand any of them. And they didn’t want what I did.”

“And what was that?” Y/N challenged, genuinely curious.

“To be seen and understood. To be loved. If you don’t have that, what is the point of anything else?”

“Well, Damian Wayne, I’ve always seen you,” Y/N whispered playfully.

But he remained serious. “I know. And that’s why it’s only ever been you, Y/N.”

Y/N carefully moved off of Damian’s lap and he immediately hated the separation.

But then she silently grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her, leading them to her bedroom.

ONE YEAR LATER…

“Where are you taking me?” Y/N giggled

She leaned into Damian and laid her head on his shoulders as he drove.

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” Damian smirked.

“It’s not fair,” Y/N whined. “Every time I try to surprise you, you always figured it out! You and your detective-ness…”

Damian smiled and kissed her forehead. “Next time I promise to pretend to be surprised.”

“No, that’ll just make me feel worse,” she huffed.

Not much later, Damian pulled the car into parking lot for Cloyster Woods, a giant forest that was on the outskirts of Gotham. It thankfully didn’t have the same issue as Robinson Park when it came to criminals trying to make it their home.

“Moms told me about this place before, but I’ve never been,” Y/N said with awe in her eyes.

“I know,” Damian answered as he got out.

Y/N was so zoned out, taking it all in, that he actually got to her door before she could open it and offered her a hand out.

“We going on a hike?” Y/N giggled.

She hadn’t exactly dressed for one.

“Not exactly.”

Damian grabbed her hand and started leading her through the woods.

It was starting to get a bit dark, which was not the time to be stuck in the middle of the woods. But Y/N trusted Damian. Plus, this was where she most powerful, so there really was nothing for them to fear.

They had been walking for nearly 30 minutes and the woods were getting thicker.

But Y/N swore she saw a glowing in the distance. Was it a bonfire?

“Are we about to join a cult?” Y/N teased.

“You wish,” Damian grumbled.

She’d forced too many docu-series on Damian for him to take her comment as a joke.

“Everyone thinks they wouldn’t fall for a cult. But the psychology proves otherwise. You know this, Damian!”

“Please do not start,” he begged.

“League of Shadows is a cult when you really think about it…”

Damian stopped talking and grabbed Y/N’s face and brushed his lips against hers, starting a slow and very passionate kiss.

That shut her up.

“Now…can I show you why I brought you out there?” He asked, still gripping her face gently.

Y/N smiled sheepishly, but nodded.

They made it through a thick link of trees.

Y/N stopped in her tracks.

“Damian?” She whispered. But there were a million other questions in his name.

Before them stood a newly built treehouse in the middle of Cloyster Woods.

There were fairy lights around the porch underneath and more that moved in the trees along the path that led to the front door.

“It’s ours,” Damian told her.

Y/N managed to rip her gaze away from the house to see if Damian was messing with her.

“W-What?” It was all she could manage to say.

“I had it built.

“How?”

“These woods have been in the Wayne family for centuries. Bruce has just always kept it open to the public.”

“I…I don’t know what to say, Damian.”

He smiled, finding her shock and awe rather adorable. “How about I show you the inside, and then you can tell me if you like it or not?”

All she could do was nod.

Damian grabbed her hand again, interlacing their fingers, and led her to the house.

The inside was small and quant. But it was one of the coziest homes Y/N had ever been inside – and her family were the masters of coziness.

Damian was one for elegance. And even though it was a small treehouse, his influence and design was seen in every inch of it.

“I know it’s rather small, but–”

“No,” Y/N cut him off before he could make excuses. “It’s perfect.”

Damian looked relieved. “The less space we have, the less likely my family will try to crash. Even all the way out here, we’re not safe from their invasions.”

She chuckled.

“How long were you working on this?” Y/N whispered as she walked around.

“Since we moved back to Gotham,” he admitted.

In the past year, Damian had finally agreed to move into one of Bruce’s many penthouses around Gotham. Y/N hadn’t officially moved in with him, still keeping most of her belongings at the greenhouse. But she was at Damian’s place nearly every day. And it made commuting to work easier.

Y/N’s heart got warmer with every room and detail Damian showed her.

She was stunned into absolute silence, a rarity for her.

But Damian was worried she wasn’t actually processing what all this meant.

“Y/N,” he whispered gently as he gripped her chin, “This is our home.”

“Really?” Her eyes welled with tears.

Damian laughed lightly at her shock. He couldn’t help it. “Yes, beloved.”

“How will you run patrols?” She blurted out.

Damian hadn’t returned to Gotham as Robin. But he had no choice but to continue the mission of saving the city from itself. He was a shadow, no name or costume. Just a black uniform with no face attached to it, watching over the innocent.

His family didn’t pressure him to commit to an official return to their vigilante team. But Damian worked patrols with them as if everything had returned to normal.

Damian smirked at Y/N’s concern and pointed out one of the windows. There sat a jet, hidden in a circle of trees, but just visible from that one specific window in the house.

“When I was younger, I used to dream of us living in the manor together. I guess it was somewhat of a fantasy,” Damian confessed. “But I wanted a place that only belonged to us, a place where you would feel the most at home.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered before wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder.

“I know father hopes that I will manage the manor once he is gone,” Damian spoke into her hair.

“Well, that stubborn old bastard ain’t dying anytime soon,” Y/N laughed.

“Come,” Damian pulled away slightly but kept his arm over her shoulders. “There’s more I want to show you.”

“More!?” Y/N practically screeched.

Any more at this point, she was going to die of shock.

But Damian hadn’t just built a house. He had also built a small greenhouse on the property, just waiting for Y/N to work her magic on it.

“And here is where you could start your garden, not that you can’t have one wherever you please,” Damian noted as he pointed to a marked off area next to the greenhouse.

To add even more, just half a mile away, there was a rather large lake. And Damian had built a dock and pier for them, with chairs and a bonfire pit ready to go.

Eventually Damian brought them back to the house, worried that he was starting to overwhelm his girlfriend.

After all, Y/N had grown quiet.

But she turned and placed her hands on his chest. Her eyes were shiny with tears that she was barely keeping from falling.

“You really have no plans of getting rid of me any time soon, huh?”

“No, beloved,” Damian smiled. “You have me forever.”

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

I have had a terrible week, and an even more terrible day. Please write something nice. I really need it 😔

As for the ending of this series, thank you for everyone who encouraged me and wrote lovely reviews and messages to me. You are who I write for and why I am able to conintue to do so. Thank you thank you thank you.

[kimjun]

girls are like “I want a boyfriend” but reject everyone because none of them are their comfort characters

[shortnsweetsposts]

Child!Damian: *Trying to hug Bat!reader*

Bat!reader: Leave alone, baby.

Child!Damian: *Looked up at Bat!reader with them big ol'eyes*

Bat!reader: ...

Bat!reader, starts ugly sobbing and hugged child!Damian back: YOU'RE MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Batfam: Oh wow

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.

But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?

In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3

They are upset because I left

Where they never included me.

The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.

In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.

"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."

But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.

"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."

Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.

"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."

But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.

The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.

"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.

You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.

Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.

"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."

Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.

"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."

"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.

"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."

You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.

"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."

The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.

"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"

The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.

"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."

The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."

"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."

You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.

The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.

"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."

You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."

And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.

Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.

“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.

Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.

You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.

It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.

And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.

The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.

Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.

Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?

“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.

Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.

“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.

“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.

Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.

“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.

Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.

“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”

“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.

“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.

The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.

“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.

Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.

“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.

Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.

“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.

“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”

Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.

“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.

Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.

“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.

She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.

“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”

Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.

“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.

Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.

“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”

Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:

“You’re turning red, you know?”

Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.

“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”

“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”

“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”

Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.

“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.

“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.

Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.

“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.

“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.

“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”

Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.

“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”

Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.

“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.

“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.

Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.

“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”

Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.

“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.

Y/n shook her head.

“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.

“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”

Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.

“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.

In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.

In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.

“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.

“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.

Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.

The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.

“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.

How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.

The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.

Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.

“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.

“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.

But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.

Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.

Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.

“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”

The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.

“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”

Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.

The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.

Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.

“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”

Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.

“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”

Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.

“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.

“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”

Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.

“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”

Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.

“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”

The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.

“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.

“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”

Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.

“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”

Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.

“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”

Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.

Wherever you are, I will find you.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.

Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.

“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”

Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.

“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.

“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.

“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.

Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.

“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.

“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”

The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.

“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.

“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.

The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.

“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.

“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”

The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.

The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.

“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.

“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.

The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.

“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.

The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”

Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.

“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.

Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.

“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”

The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”

“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.

The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.

“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.

In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.

“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.

Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.

The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.

Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.

“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.

Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.

“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.

“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.

Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”

With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.

As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.

“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.

“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”

Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”

Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”

The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.

“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”

And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.

The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.

The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.

The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.

“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”

Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.

“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”

Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.

The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.

“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”

“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”

The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.

“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”

Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?

“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.

“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.

“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.

The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.

“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”

Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.

“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”

The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.

“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”

“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”

The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.

“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”

“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”

“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”

A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.

“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.

“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”

“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.

“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”

Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.

“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”

The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.

“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”

He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.

Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.

“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”

Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.

Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.

The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.

The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.

As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.

“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.

“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.

“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”

“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”

Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.

“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.

“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”

Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.

“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.

The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.

“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”

As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.

With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.

“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”

The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.

“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”

And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.

☆

A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.

I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.

By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 4:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 5.

This chapter is brought to you by myyyyyyy🎉birthday🎉 woohoo 🥳 I hath aged

It's a little bit shorter, but I mean come on it's a unique chapter soooo it's cool guys I swear

Lots more Batfam content this time, albeit Tim centric. I'll balance it out in the future I swear! Also it's still platonic, but you could probably get a romantic reading from this a lil bit if you try

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0

----

A few days have passed since your encounter with Red Robin. He hasn't shown up since, but another thing has.

Your work had sent you an email. An invitation to Wayne Enterprises, to represent them. According to them, your location was the closest to Wayne Enterprises, and so you were selected. You lived 50 minutes away from Wayne Enterprises. Their home office was 30 minutes away. You weren't sure who was doing the math here, but they needed some more practice.

That being said, you could notice a pattern when there was one. This was Tim Drake's attempt to get you out of your home. And unfortunately, it was going to work. You needed your job. It was perfect, remote, didn't bother you as long as you got the work done. Jobs like that were rare, especially in Gotham.

Not for the first time, you kinda felt like crying.

If Red Robin, your soulmate, was indeed Tim Drake, then what was this? Did he have you figured out? Or was he continuing the investigation?

You didn't know...

Refusing to show up would get you fired. There was no way around that. But, what if you couldn't go?

What if you were too injured to go? There's no way you could fake something, the bats are quite literally master detectives. That and your soul animal form would likely reveal the uninjured truth.

Maybe if you injured yourself?

No, no no no. That was a bad route to go down. If this meeting is to check whether you are soulmates with him, a matching injury on your soul animal form would be like a criminal and a suspect having the same tattoo.

There wasn't really any option here. Which, really, is just typical for the vigilantes of Gotham.

"Ughhh." You groaned to yourself, cradling your hands with your head. You glared over at Red, who had been showing up much more frequently these past few days (which was saying something, since all your soul animals were already by you 23/7). Red gave a small chirp in reply, some sort of smugness in its tone.

Maybe it was time to invest in wind chimes or something. You heard they can scare off robins.

You felt like you were going to need it.

~ ~ ~ ~

Tim's developed something of a guilty habit.

It wasn't a bad thing, per se. Nothing B would particularly frown at. Dick might even agree.

He imagined you wouldn't quite feel the same, though.

You looked especially fragile, as you slept. During the day your face was haunted by false bravado, a paranoid edge to every smile. Sleep smoothed out the lines of your face, giving a softer touch to your slumbering form.

You frown when he reaches out to poke your cheek. It's cute. His hand twitches for his camera. You're always cute, whether it's a small little frown on your face or beaming joy.

He's developed a new favorite activity. Alongside solving cases, he's now watching you. He wants to observe it all. From little habits to obvious passions, he wants to know everything. Hobbies, skills, loves, DNA. He'd only just found you, the answer to the mystery that he's been in since birth. He's had a lot of time to build up this obsession.

He wants and wants and needs. He can wait to take.

You are a light sleeper, but he's a quiet stalker. You don't always drink milk before bed, but when you do, you'll get a little more tired than usual. Your groggy face is cute, too.

He reached out, stroking your hair with the slightest of a smile beginning on his face. It was soft. It reminded him of you, your soul animal form. It had flinched away from him earlier, as it always does whenever they were in uniform. Finding that you do the same as a human wasn't so surprising.

They had adapted to your soul form’s skittishness. They could do the same again. His mind briefly flashed through some ideas, an ankle bracelet, a watch, a collar? If it was on the ankle, you'd match.

He broke out of his musings at the shift of movement. A flutter of wings. B’s soul animal flew down perching on a piece of furniture nearby as a vantage point. He smirked. Looked like he wasn't the only one feeling a little possessive tonight.

He must've been thinking of you. Not surprising, given that your soul form was scheduled time with him today. They had to work out a schedule, else there would have been a lot more stabbings. Not that it didn't prevent sudden abductions occasionally, thanks Jason.

That was fine though. B could have you tonight, Damian could have you tomorrow, Dick the next. Because Tim had the real you, right here.

And he wasn't planning on letting go.

There's a room he's preparing inside Drake manor. He’d put your name on it, but that would be too obvious if anyone came around. Instead, it would be his little secret with you. He's only just met you, but he has plenty of ideas for it already.

He didn't feel guilty for this. Not at all.

You were his as much as he was yours after all. If there was a problem with these feelings, then why would fate itself tie you to him?

If anything, the only guilt he’d feel is not telling anyone else. He couldn't help it, he just wanted you to himself for a while. He caught you, so he was allowed to have you.

But was that really guilt? Or just annoyance at the idea of getting caught?

An alert on his communicator made him frown, taking him out of the trance he had felt into. There was more he had to do.

A shame, but it was fine. He got to spend some quality time with you, taken a few things for the future. He’d make more time. And you'll have all the time in the world for him. But first…

Tim withdrew a specialty camera from his utility belt, raising it to his face. He adjusted a few settings, then…

Snap!

~ ~ ~ ~

You fought the urge to yawn. You have been so sleepy lately. You had to wake up especially early for today. Lovely.

At least today was the moment of truth. You'd show Red Robin for once and for all that you were perfectly normal, and not at all his soulmate. He’d lose interest, and your life would return to its domesticity.

The one good thing going for today was that you're somehow accompanied by none of your soul animals. A truly rare occasion that is ruined by the fact that you're instead visiting a soulmate in the flesh. If any of your soul animals do show up, you have your old reliable bag to shove them into. So, you should be alright.

Wayne Enterprises was a terrifying image, but you steadied yourself with the fact that your whole life’s freedom was at stake here, which was much more terrifying. After that you could get through the door. Security just letting you through after giving your name almost had you running out the door though, you'd admit.

The elevator ride was long and solemn, giving you time to think about everything. Maybe you should think about moving, staying in Gotham was perhaps a ridiculous sentiment to begin with. It was a shame though, you were a Gothamite through and through, you didn't want to leave the country your parents lived and raised you in.

Still, perhaps it was time to leave. Things were getting too risky. Thinking about it, Wayne Enterprises? Honesty what even was your life.

The ding of the elevator door interrupts your musings, an assistant directing you to Tim Drake’s office.

As you walk over, you can't help but listen in to some shouting coming from the room.

A younger voice is yelling. “Give me them! You do not deser-” The voice gets cut off, as an older voice yells back. “It is my turn, you do not get to just steal them!”

The younger voice starts up again, but so does the older voice, alongside what you can only presume to be fighting noises.

You just kinda stare at the door. You are a working professional, representing your company to the prestigious Wayne Enterprises. You came here with lofty expectations and responsibilities to fulfill. And the CEO��� is fighting someone in his office.

You have no idea what to do.

A minute passes.

You started to think about signaling an assistant to come help, but before you could do so the fighting seemed to end with a shouted “Fine! But B will hear about-” you can't hear the rest, as the shouting returns to a normal volume.

A door is opened and slammed, footsteps retreating away from the office. You take a moment to appreciate the fact that Tim Drake’s office has two doors that lead in different places, because it means you didn't have to meet whoever he was fighting.

A second or two later, the door in front of you swings open. Tim Drake is facing you, his hair a little askew, and his cheeks a little red. He smiles, an easy thing. It's as if the sight of you brought it to his face.

“Welcome!” He waves you in, somehow not acknowledging what you just heard in any form. The objects in his office are perfectly aligned. Nothing looks disturbed at all. How?

He waves you over to a chair, settling into one himself.

“Well.” He begins. “It's nice to see you again, Y/n."

You hope this goes by quickly.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Bruce: Has anybody seen Reader today? She hasn't answered any of my texts since last night.

Tim: She told me she had an important errand to run last time I saw her.

Cass: Wasn't that, like, yesterday during lunch?

Tim: ...Yeah

Bruce: So... she's missing?

*Batfam, panicking and preparing to go on a search*

Damian, watching the chaos unfold: She's hiding in the Batmobile eating ice-cream.

Batfam: ...

Bruce: On my leather seats?

Damian: ...

Damian: Don't tell her I told you.

[nosyrobin]

Yandere Older!Damian narrowing his eyes at his beloved husband who is getting checked out by the cashier. As reader goes to pay with his non-ring hand, Damian force switches it quickly to reader having to show his left hand. With Damian’s initials on it as well. The cashier frowns while Damian smirks.

Later on……

Damian: I should’ve had that lady’s head off for looking at you my beloved….

Reader who is nervously holding Damian’s hand: Dear…please. She’s only a cashier..

Damian who has a mean glare: Low life cashiers steal money from the cash register. What makes you think they won’t try to steal you from me..

Reader who is now baffled: Damn..

[rambling-at-midnight]

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever tag list

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know if there's anything you guys want to see with Jason in the future. My requests are open!

[totallynotashieldagent]

genuinely believe that every single bat would ask explicit verbal consent at every time, at every different position, at every progressive state of undress.

doesn't matter if you're married for years or started dating two weeks ago.

It's always can i kiss you? can i put it in now? can i touch you? can i cum on you? or in you? whatever is fine, really. always. every single time.

they'd ramble and stumble over words because they need to know, need to be sure that you're okay with it that what happened to them, the way their autonomy was taken by friends, strangers, enemies, they'd be damned before they even accidentally do it to someone else.

which is, for most part is very sweet and endearing and lovely

but the times when you're holding legs up for them to just CONTINUE and they stop to ask "is this fine? you're okay right?" you kind of just go, DUDE YES !!! because physical cues also are a thing but not to them

unless you say yes with exact words, there is no assumed yes

[justiceiswater]

I cry! i cry for my two innocent little ones. I shouldnt be surprised that bruce would do such a thing but i am! the selfish hubris, the clear and destructive sense of entitlement! and then to just, treat him like the betrayer! 

it is one of my most strong parental beliefs that if i know a truth, that my child doesnt want me know, I DO NOT try and trap them in a lie. I tell them straight up that I know what happened, because secrets are toxic and damaging and tricking my kid in a lie is only going to make things worse. 

And bruce just went and did that!! Neglectful! emotionally manipulative! derisive! 

Juvenile – Toxicology 2/4

Damian Wayne x Daughter of Poison Ivy!Reader

He was an arrogant boy, struggling as he was pulled between the legacy of being born to kill and the promise that he could change for the better. She saw the world through the eyes of her fatalistic mother, but was forbidden to make sense of it on her own. They shouldn’t work together. But Gotham made their lives align despite all of that.

Word Count: 14,300+

Warnings: nudity, mentions/references to sex, sexual assault/harassment, hormonal teenagers

Damian couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep for quite some time now. But he didn’t know what it was.

He walked into the kitchen. It was 6AM and he had given up on sleep, even though he’d returned from patrol around 3.

“Master Damian,” Alfred greeted. “What a surprise.”

“Pennyworth,” the teenage boy replied as he went to the coffee pot.

“What are you doing up?” Dick greeted tiredly. His hair was wet and he was in sweats. He had gotten back from patrol just now –even later than Damian – and was clearly trying to get something to eat before he passed out for a few hours.

“Couldn’t sleep…” Damian mumbled before taking a sip of black coffee. “What are you doing here?”

Dick had his own place in the city. Being a 26 year old mean that he had a level of independence that Damian had yet to achieve.

“Babs is out of town.” Which was code for, ‘I’d rather sleep here than sleep alone at my place where my girlfriend isn’t.’

Damian rolled his eyes. God, his brother was such a lovesick puppy. It made him sick.

“Wanna tell me why you can’t sleep?” Dick pushed.

His brother tried to sound casual, but there was an obvious concern. It was a question he would ask, but not Bruce. Checking in on people’s mental and emotional health was a responsibility that seemed to solely fall onto Dick.

“I probably wouldn’t tell you if I knew. But I don’t,” Damian answered before leaving the kitchen with his coffee.

His phone vibrated in his other hand as he walked up the stairs.

It was Y/N.

Damian opened the text message to find a 30 second video of the sun rising in Robinson Park. He could even hear the birds waking up, and felt like he was there. There was a romantic ambiance to it. Something only Y/N was capable of making him feel.

After watching the video, he read: “Morning! I feel like I haven’t seen you in awhile. Come over today… if you can.💚”

The truth was, Damian had been avoiding her. Furthermore, he was too much of a stubborn fool to realize that was why he hadn’t been sleeping lately.

And the thing was…he felt lousy when he wasn’t around Y/N. He wondered what she was doing. And then he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

But Y/N was right: they hadn’t seen each other in at least two weeks. And that was out the ordinary for the two of them.

Before he could respond, Y/N sent another message.

It was a video of Y/N this time, sitting in a meadow of flowers with her cat, Cheddar.

Cheddar was an orange tabby cat with bright green eyes. Damian had found him as a kitten on patrol one night, shivering in the rain and malnourished. He knew his father would have a fit if he brought another stray back to the manor. So Damian brought it to Y/N.

Y/N immediately accepted the kitten as her own and named him Cheddar.

It made Damian happy knowing that she had another companion when he wasn’t around. She seemed to get lonelier than he did.

On top of that, after Joker set fire to Robinson Park over 5 years ago, Jon had also started a friendship with Y/N. But it was much harder for him to sneak away from Metropolis, especially since he was a terrible liar and…his father was Superman.

Damian looked at the message below the video with a smirk.

“Hey you little punk. Harley here. Look how cute our little sunflower is.”

Damian had already known it was her who sent it when he watched the video. Y/N would never send something of herself like that, preferring to show the beauty of nature and never herself. Harley must’ve stolen her phone.

He ignored the text, but watched the video two more times.

Damian was by no means a spiritual man. But when he looked at Y/N amongst her flowers and trees and grass, he truly believed it was what the Garden of Eden must look like. Despite his lack of education on such legends, he knew in his heart that Y/N was more beautiful than any depiction of Eve.

After her willow treehouse burnt down, Y/N made a new room for herself in the greenhouse. Poison Ivy wanted a closer eye on her anyway since she had nearly lost her daughter. And now that they knew about her friendship with Damian, they didn’t really need to sneak around anymore.

Damian walked into the greenhouse to hear music blasting.

Ivy and Harley had margaritas in their hands. God knows how many they’d already had. Y/N and Harley were dancing around in circles, Y/N’s head thrown back in laughter as Harley twirled her around again and again.

Damian felt a warmth in his chest as he leaned against the opening of the room with his arms crossed.

Or maybe it was just hot in here. It was a greenhouse, after all.

“Bat boy!” Harley screeched, noticing his arrival. “Come dance with us!”

Y/N slowed her dancing to wince, knowing Damian would rather die.

But the harlequin skipped forward and dragged the teenage boy further into the room.

Damian groaned and simply stood in the middle of their makeshift dance floor, refusing to so much as move a single muscle.

“You’re no fun! Just like batsy!” Harley pouted.

“Leave him alone. He doesn’t like to dance,” Y/N defended as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

The tension and awkwardness immediately left Damian’s body when Y/N touched him.

“Want a margarita, Damian?” Poison Ivy asked.

“No, thank you.”

It was a good thing he said no, because Harley interrupted her girlfriend’s bartending to get her to dance. The song changed, getting a little slower. Ivy had a mischievous smirk as she let Harley pull her onto the middle of the open floor. Their bodies were passionately close.

“OK. Time to leave,” Y/N groaned and grabbed Damian by the hand, dragging him out of the greenhouse and back into the fresh air of the park.

“In about 5 minutes, they’re gonna be having sex in that kitchen,” she grumbled.

Damian couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ivy and Harley had a very open household when it came to sex. And while he knew Y/N benefited from it, she still would prefer not to be so close to her mother’s sex life.

And it wasn’t like no one ever talked about it in the Wayne household. But it was just always implied and not as healthy or honest as Y/N’s family. Well, Bruce never ever talked about his sex life. They were all just aware of how busy it was by the women that sneaked out of the manor early in the morning. Dick was always in relationships. Jason was always secretly in love with someone. And Tim was too sleep deprived to get some consistently.

“Where are you taking me?” Damian asked, trying to sound slightly annoyed by her dragging him around. But the truth was… he didn’t mind at all.

“The reservoir,” she cheered as if it were obvious.

“Isn’t it contaminated?” Damian asked.

“No,” Y/N laughed. “That’s a rumor my mother played up to stop punks from swimming in it. She wanted it as our own private pool. Thanks to me and mom, the water’s probably cleaner than any national parks.”

She led him to the edge of a boulder that worked as a natural pier overlooking the water.

The view almost made Gotham look beautiful. But both of them knew the truth of the city, and romanticizing it was dangerous.

“Let’s go swimming,” Y/N suddenly whispered.

“What?” Damian blurted out. “No.”

“Come on, Damian. Don’t be a killjoy.” She sounded so much like Harley.

Without waiting for another refusal, Y/N started taking off her dress.

Damian’s face immediately turned red and he quickly turned his back before he could see anything. “Y/N! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She giggled, and it caused goosebumps to go across Damian’s skin.

“I said I wanted to go swimming. So I’m swimming.”

She wasn’t wearing a bra or underwear, so it took all about 5 seconds to get undressed, making it an even closer call for Damian almost seeing her completely naked.

“A little warning,” he over his shoulder, cheeks blushing.

He heard a splash and turned around to find Y/N in the water.

“It’s just a body, D. Everyone has one,” she chuckled.

Luckily for him, the water shielded him from seeing any details of her nudity.

“What? Are you scared?” Y/N teased, knowing exactly how to get him to do what she wanted.

Damian glared at her. “I am not scared of anything.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to prove that to me…”

He huffed.

“Do you want me to turn around?” She showed him mercy.

The two of them weren’t kids anymore. They were teenagers – 16 years old, to be exact. Damian had his drivers license. But his father still wouldn’t let him drive the batmobile. Meanwhile, Y/N had been driving since she was 12 – thanks to Harley.

Every day Y/N looked less like that little girl he first met, and more and more like a young woman. Her curves grew, making her less cute and more beautiful. After all, she was the daughter of Poison Ivy, Gotham’s own seductress and femme fatale.

Meanwhile, Damian grew inches, standing at 6 feet tall – and he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. The rest of his body still hadn’t caught up though, and he was still skinny and toned. Just another gangly teenage boy.

Without waiting for his response, Y/N turned her back to him. “I promise I won’t look.”

Damian gave up this fight and quickly got rid of his clothes, diving perfectly into the water like an olympic swimmer.

“Happy?” He growled when she turned around to face him.

Her smile dropped when she realized he really was annoyed with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I forget that you’re family is much more…”

“Prude,” he snapped.

“No, I was going to say conservative.”

Y/N smiled mischievously. “You know…you have a very cute butt…”

“You said you weren’t gonna look,” Damian growled.

“Oh, I didn’t look just now. It’s just a fact.”

Damian rolled his eyes before splashing water in her face.

“Hey!” She laughed and splashed him back.

And a full on water fight began.

By the end, they were both laughing and smiling.

Very few people could get so emotions and expressions out of Damian Wayne. And sometimes it seemed as though Y/N saw it as her sole responsibility.

“Hey, I have a proposition.”

Damian tilted his head and looked suspicious. “Here we go…”

“Let’s go to a bar!” Y/N cheered.

“A bar? Why?”

“Because we haven’t been, obviously. Come on. It’ll be fun, and you know it.”

Damian had no desire to go to a bar. Why would he want to hang out with a bunch of drunk adults? He barely tolerated people when they were sober.

“We’re 16, Y/N. No one is going to allow us into a bar.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Harley could get us the world’s best fake IDs in about 2 hours. But we wouldn’t even need them. Did you forget I can get people to do whatever I want?”

It was true.

As Y/N grew older, her abilities grew too. And she became even more powerful – more powerful than Poison Ivy would ever be. Persuasion and mind control were one of her many gifts. She’d gotten better at controlling them. But her emotions sometimes got the best of her.

If she wasn’t such a saint, Y/N’s powers would be terrifying and dangerous.

But she would never be comfortable with hurting and killing people like her mothers were. She understood that their victims deserved what they got. But she still knew she could never live with herself if she hurt someone again – especially by accident.

“Why do you even want to go to a bar so badly?” Damian questioned.

“I feel – I don’t know – suffocated,” Y/N admitted. “I wanna experience…something. Anything, really.”

Y/N had started leaving Robinson Park more and more. But it was always under the supervision of someone. Either her mother or Harley. But they both allowed such trips without them if Damian or Jon was with her. Sometimes it was to a coffee shop or a food truck. But to Gotham, Y/N still didn’t exist.

“There are better things to experience than a grimy bar,” Damian argued. “How about we go to the art museum tomorrow?”

Y/N didn’t hide her disappointment, but just nodded.

She started swimming back to the boulder. But she stopped before pulling herself out of the water.

“Oh, no,” she gasped.

“What?”

“I think Harley stole our clothes…”

“You have got to be joking,” Damian groaned.

Y/N sighed.

She could care less about walking around naked. Between the three women, they were practically a nudist colony. She and her mother needed the sun to stay strong, and would often sunbathe in the nude to relax when they were tired. And Harley just joined in on the fun. Y/N’s mothers made sure she realized there was nothing to be ashamed of with her body, that she was beautiful. Y/N just didn’t associate nudity with desire or sex.

But she knew Damian wasn’t raised the same way she was.

“I have a solution,” Y/N muttered.

Without giving Damian any warning, she gracefully lifted herself out of the water and on top of the boulder.

Damian knew he should look away. He was raised to be a gentleman by his father, Alfred, and his brothers. But his eyes were glued to her like he was in a trance.

Y/N didn’t realize he was staring at her naked body as she held out her arms and closed her eyes – not that she cared. Slowly, tiny green vines crawled up her body, and water lilies and lotus flowers started blooming against her skin. They were the only things keeping her decent, covering the most intimate parts of her body like a bathing suit and then like nature’s lingerie. She looked like The Birth of Venus.

Then she held out her palm and a giant leaf – the size of a grown man – grew from it.

She turned around and bent down to the water from atop of the boulder. “Here. You can use this until we get our clothes back.” He could basically use it as a towel and wrap it around his waist.

But Damian didn’t take it.

He had completely lost control of himself. The other thing about being a teenager was puberty, erratic hormones, and the lack of control he had over…well, certain parts of his body.

Damian wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Just…give me a minute. OK?”

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. “What do you–” Then her face dropped, “Oh.”

Damian wanted to escape this moment so he dunked his head underwater.

God, if his brothers ever found out about this…

When he resurfaced, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. “I’m gonna give you a minute while I go fight Harley back for your clothes!” He could hear her call out from a distance.

By some miracle, Damian had gotten control of himself by the time Y/N came back with his clothes politely folded in her hands.

“Harley said she was sorry,” she told him.

“No she didn’t,” Damian growled.

Y/N winced. “No, she didn’t,” she admitted.

Then she turned around.

Damian quickly dropped the giant leaf and changed into his clothes with a speed even he didn’t know he had.

“You can…turn around,” he sighed.

Instead of having a teasing smirk on her face, Y/N looked rather serious.

Without saying anything, they walked back to the greenhouse. Somehow Damian knew she was leading them back to her bedroom. And he blindly followed. It was where they usually hung out, Harley and Ivy almost never bothering them.

Y/N walked in and sat on the edge of her neatly made bed.

“Damian,” she mumbled, not making eye contact.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Oh, god. He was going to have to explain himself. She probably thought he was some kind of creep now, no better than some peeping tom or pedophile.

He nodded, knowing there was nowhere for him to hide.

“Why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Oh. This was not what he’d expected.

“I haven’t been avoiding you. Father has me on back to back patrol.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’ve never been too busy for me. Not even when you thought your father was dead and Dick was taking care of you.”

Damian sighed. “I don’t know what you are expecting me to say, Y/N.”

“Something’s changed between us. And I know you feel it, too.”

“I don’t know what you speak of,” he growled.

Now she was getting angry. And she shot up from the bed to stand up to him.

“Please don’t lie to me! Everyone’s noticed a change: my mom, Harley, even Jon.”

“We’re friends, Y/N. Always have been. Always will be,” he pushed.

Y/N stepped closer to him. “If you really feel that way, that’s fine. But I don’t think you do, Damian.”

He froze in place as she got closer and closer.

He’d dreamt of this moment for so long. And in this moment, he realized why he had been feeling off, why he couldn’t sleep, why he had been avoiding her.

Damian Wayne was in love.

And she knew him better than anyone, so that meant she had put it together long before he did.

Y/N cupped his cheek.

Damian swore his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

She leaned closer, but stopped when their lips were just a few centimeters apart. Her eyes flickered up to his, scared of making a mistake. But Damian did nothing to push her away, so Y/N closed the last of the distance between them. Her lips moved against his so smoothly. He knew this was her first kiss, but it sure didn’t seem like it.

But suddenly a toxic feeling washed over Damian.

No.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Love was for children. Love made people weak.

Love is why his father pushed women away left and right. Love is why Dick lost his focus on missions and ended up hurt. Love was what got Jason killed.

Damian shoved Y/N away from him, breaking the kiss harshly.

She instantly looked hurt.

“How do I know this is real? Huh?” Damian cried out. “How do I know this isn’t you?”

‘You’ as in her abilities. Her pheromones that brought even the strongest to their knees to worship the ground she walked on and give in to their darkest sexual desires.

He had never seen her do such a thing, but he had seen her mother’s powers in action. And Y/N was stronger than her, so he knew she could do the same.

Y/N looked hurt. Her eyes glowed green as they filled with tears. “Damian,” she whispered shakily, hurt clear in her voice.

“You have the power of seduction, do you not?”

But his heart screamed, ‘Damian, what are you doing?’

“I-I-I would never use my powers on you like that!” She stuttered out in a gasp, as tears flooded down her face. “You know I wouldn’t!”

“But what if you didn’t even realize you were doing it? How can you be so sure?”

Y/N was crying now. “I am sure!”

“How?” Damian fought back.

“Because I just am! Don’t you trust me?” She sobbed.

Damian was breathing heavily, but said nothing.

And that was worst than speaking. He’d missed his window to take everything back before it was too late.

“Get out,” Y/N suddenly growled.

His eyes shot to hers.

“I said get the fuck out!”

He didn’t move.

“LEAVE, DAMIAN!” Her eyes glowed and her veins turned green, covering her skin with poisonous lines.

He jumped back, never seeing her angry before.

But he did what she said and he fled.

When he got to the kitchen, Ivy and Harley were playing cards.

“Where’s the fire, kiddo?” Harley asked as they saw him rushing out .

He ignored them. As soon as he was outside of the greenhouse, he ran. And he didn’t stop running until he was at the gates of Wayne Manor.

Y/N eyed the bar from across the street.

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ she thought and crossed the street.

The heels she was wearing made her feel like a newborn dear. Her dress left little to the imagination and showed all the right skin. She opted for a dress with earthy tones instead of her family’s notorious green.

Y/N wasn’t a kid anymore. And she wanted to feel like a woman.

She came with the intention to find trouble. After being denied by Damian, she convinced herself the only way to feel better was to get what she wanted from someone else – even if it was a stranger in a bar.

In regards to her sexuality, Ivy and Harley had been rather disappointed when Y/N came out as straight to them.

“Are ya sure you’re not somewhere in the middle, sunflower?” Harley pushed when she told them. “Maybe this is just a phase…”

Both Harley and her mother had almost always known they were bisexual. And they had just assumed Y/N would grow up to be the same.

However, Ivy was more accepting of Y/N’s coming out. But Y/N had still seen the worry and dread in her mother’s eyes. Ivy hated men and didn’t trust them. She knew Y/N would have more heartbreak from them than she ever would from any female lover.

Ivy had never hidden her misandry, and tried to prepare her daughter for the evils of men since the day she was born.

But Ivy still had soother her daughter’s worries, “We’ll love you no matter what.”

Now Y/N stood in front of the bouncer.

“ID?” He glared at her.

And here was her first test.

Y/N tilted her head to the side and gave him a tempting look as she let her pheromones loose. “Oh, you sure you need that from me, handsome?”

She watched as his body loss control. He blinked rapidly as her pheromones took control of his body and mind.

He cleared his throat. “Of course, I don’t. Go right in, beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she cooed and walked past him as he held the door open for her.

But now that she was in the dim lighting of the semi-crowded bar, her courage wavered. Everyone stared at her as she entered. Whether it was from her powers or just her, she had no idea. It was hard to tell.

Y/N was suddenly overcome with anxiety.

Had she bitten off more than she could chew?

But she pushed the thought out of her head.

Y/N had seen her mother in action enough times to know how to do this. And she didn’t need to use her powers. No, she could seduce a man without help.

‘Get a drink. That’ll calm you down,’ a voice said in her head.

She slowly walked to the edge of the bar and instantly got the attention of the bartender.

A few seconds later, he had her drink in front of her, “On the house, darlin’.”

Y/N blinked in surprise.

Even after a few sips, she was still nearly shaking from nerves.

Little did she know her pheromones were slowly filling the bar, affecting all of the patrons. There were no windows and no airflow, and therefore she was slowly poisoning the entire bar with desire for her.

And there was no fooling, Y/N was still a child, a teenager. And she had yet to fully understand what men were capable of when they saw something they wanted. They took what they wanted.

Suddenly a man grabbed Y/N by the arm and turned her around.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” He growled.

Y/N gasped at how forward he was and how little space he gave her.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, shoving him away.

But as soon as he stepped back, she saw that the whole bar was on their feet and staring at her. They all wanted her – even the women. But they weren’t who she had to worry about.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Y/N whispered as she tried to find her escape.

Suddenly all of them rushed her, wanting to touch her skin, to feel her.

She shoved one after another away.

But then she was grabbed by a middle-aged man. He was at least 6’5 and built like a brick house – he was too strong to push off of her.

Y/N yelped when he shoved her through the bar and out the back door, bringing them into an alleyway.

“Get off of me! Don’t fucking touch me!” Y/N screamed.

But she underestimated her poison and pheromone’s hold over the man. He wanted her and he didn’t care where or how.

He shoved her on top of a closed dumpster.

“Please,” Y/N begged. “Please stop.”

He growled, pulled down the thin straps of her dress, exposing her black, strapless bra. Then he hiked up the hem of her dress to her waist.

Y/N panicked, trying to think of all the self defense her mother and Harley taught her. But she never had to use it under pressure, and her body was crippling now.

She was sobbing and trying to shove the man off of her. But he was so strong.

He grabbed the band of her underwear and swiftly pulled, ripping them off.

“HEY! HEY!” A distorted voice yelled from the end of the alley. “GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!”

But Y/N didn’t even hear them. Her body was too busy going into survival mode.

As the man was busy with undoing his pants, Y/N’s veins ran green and her eyes turned green, but they didn’t glow this time. No, they didn’t want to alert her prey.

It was like Y/N’s body had been taken over.

And it was now grasping the mans face and then pulled it to hers. Her lips slammed against his and she wrapped them into a deadly kiss.

The poison only took seconds to transfer to his body.

When it took effect, he stumbled away from her and took a step back. His eyes were wide with fear and his mouth was open as if gasping for air.

A second later, he dropped to the ground.

Dead.

“Holy fucking shit,” that same voice spoke again.

Y/N looked up to see a giant figure in a leather jacket and a bright red helmet.

“Stay away from me!” She gasped.

The figure held up its hands. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But she ignored him, staring down at the now dead man who had assaulted her.

“I killed him,” she whispered. “I killed him. I killed him. I fucking killed him.”

The man in the red helmet. “Listen to me, you didn’t do shit.” Then, without hesitating, he whipped out a gun and shot the dead man 3 times in the chest.

Y/N jumped and covered her ears as she winced. She’d never heard a gun before…and it scared the shit out of her.

“See? I killed the bastard,” he told her, his voice still managing to sound surprisingly soft for being distorted by the mechanics of his helmet.

Y/N was slowly coming out of her panic attack.

Jason figured it was a safe to approach her. He slowly took of his helmet, realizing that it probably was doing little to comfort her. But he still had his black domino mask to protect his identity. Then he shook off his leather jacket and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders, giving her decency and hopefully keeping her warm.

Y/N looked up at him cautiously. And recognition finally crossed her eyes. “I-I-I know you,” she whispered in a stutter.

Jason seemed to relax a little.

A lot of people in Gotham knew his alter ego. Some people saw him as a hero, others were scared of him. But at least he didn’t seem like a creepy stranger to her and he could actually help her now.

“Y-You’re Jason,” she added, making him freeze in his place. “Jason Todd.”

——

Damian had been assigned to patrol the safest neighborhood in Gotham.

It was what he deserved, really.

Last night he had nearly got his head shot off and it was completely his fault. He had been sloppy and in his head, not focusing on the mission at hand. And his father instantly noticed and reprimanded him accordingly.

Deep down Damian knew the punishment was really his father expressing his fear for almost watching his son die. But that didn’t stop the teenage boy from being bitter.

Now he stood on the roof top of a building, looking down at the streets below, fully aware that he would probably see no action tonight.

Obviously he knew why he’d been off his game.

Y/N.

He shouldn’t have said what he did. And he definitely shouldn’t have abandoned her. He was a coward. He saw that now. But in a way, he still believed he did what was best for them. Well, what was best for her. Damian didn’t care what the hell happened to him.

How could they ever truly be together?

They were enemies.

Her mothers, though not being evil, were still dangerous criminals. They didn’t respect the law and they did what they pleased – even if it meant hurting people to get their way. They’d been in and out of Arkham far too many times.

How could Damian be Batman’s accomplice when his girlfriend was so close in the crime he was trying to end?

Not to mention his family would never approve. Why did she think he was hiding their innocent friendship from them after all these years?

As Damian was lost in thought, his comm piece suddenly rang in a blood curdling frequency that hurt his tympanum.

He gasped and ripped it out of his ear, hoping it didn’t just make him go deaf.

But then his senses picked up on an intruder and he quickly realized he was not alone.

Damian whipped around to see Jason jumping onto the roof.

“There you are! Fucking hell! I’m been looking for you everywhere, Damian!”

The use of his given name was the first sign that something terrible had happened. No matter how bad things got Jason never used Damian’s name, opting to use Demon Spawn or Baby Bat or Bastard Child at all times.

“Todd,” the teenager greeted in a growl, expecting him to say one of his brothers or Bruce had gotten injured.

“You need to come with me,” Jason’s voice was nothing but serious.

“Why?” Damian couldn’t help but challenge him. “Did you just short circuit my comms?”

“I can’t explain here. Just do as I ask.”

10 minutes later, Damian realized that Jason had taken him to one of his safe houses in the city.

“Todd, if you don’t start talking soon…” Damian growled as Jason opened the metal gate of his industrial elevator.

But as soon as he entered the safe-house, Damian sensed another presence. It was loft style, so everything was open and easily searchable.

Y/N was sitting in the furthest corner, legs hugged to her chest. She was shaking so much that even the blanket wrapped over her shoulders couldn’t stop it. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged underneath her eyes, further proving that she had been crying – and crying hard.

Without asking anymore questions, Damian rushed to her side.

“Damian,” Y/N whimpered and buried her face into his chest, starting to cry once again.

“It’s OK. You’re OK. I’m here. I’m here,” Damian whispered to her as he rubbed her back.

But Y/N couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him what had happened. She just cried and cried until she couldn’t cry any more.

Eventually, she wore herself out and Damian had carried her to the couch. He undid his cape to cover her as she slept.

As soon as he was convinced, she wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, he went to Jason who had been lingering in the kitchen.

“Tell me everything,” Damian demanded.

Jason recalled all that he had seen earlier that night and what Y/N had done. And he watched as Damian got angrier and angrier the further he got.

Then he was disturbingly silent once Jason had finished.

“Did you call her mother?” Damian finally asked, slow and steady.

“Oh, you mean Poison fucking Ivy?” Jason shot back incredulously. “No, I didn’t. She asked me not to. Said she didn’t want any more people to die.”

Damian nodded. That made sense to him.

“When she wakes up, can you drive us back to Robinson Park?”

Jason nodded.

“And…I need you…Can you cover for me tonight?”

Jason quirked an eyebrow. “Cover for you?”

“Just tell father I’m sleeping at your place tonight or something. He will think I’m sulking since he sidelined me tonight.” Then Damian looked over at Y/N sleeping. “I can’t…I can’t leave her tonight, Todd.”

Jason was processing this all much better than he would imagine. And instead of overwhelming him with a million questions, he just nodded his head again.

——

As Jason drove them to Robinson Park, Y/N fell back asleep in the backseat in Damian’s arms.

Damian didn’t bother to wake her when they reached the greenhouse. He just carried her into the greenhouse.

“I’ll pick you up right here early tomorrow morning,” Jason told him.

Damian nodded.

He had called Poison Ivy and Harley at Jason’s safe-house to explain the situation. They were worried out of their minds. But Damian insisted that they couldn’t bombard her tonight. It would only stress Y/N out more. His only saving grace in calming them down was that they trusted him with Y/N’s life and knew she’d be safe with him.

Ivy and Harley were waiting at the entrance with worry in their eyes.

Ivy rushed forward quietly and brushed Y/N’s hair away from her face. Then she scanned the rest of her body for obvious injuries. There were bruises across her arms and shoulders. But they all knew the real damage was mental.

“Do you mind…May I spend the night with her?” Damian asked softly.

Ivy gave him a sympathetic look.

“Of course you can, sugar,” Harley answered for her.

Damian just nodded and carried Y/N to her bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed and started changing out of his Robin uniform. He had extra clothes at Y/N’s place and quickly changed into them.

“Damian?” Y/N croaked.

He turned and hurried to the bed. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed quietly.

“Sorry? Y/N, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” she whispered.

“I know, Y/N. I know.” Damian slipped onto the other side of her bed and Y/N instantly moved into his arms. “Just sleep tonight,” he sighed. “We can talk in the morning.”

She nodded into chest and hugged him tighter.

They had countless secret sleepovers as kids. But they weren’t like this. Those were filled with flashlights, sleeping bags, and giggling until exhaustion gave them no choice but to pass out. This cuddling was new. And now Y/N was embracing him like a lifeline.

Damian lay awake for most the night.

She went to the bar alone because he wouldn’t go with her.

If he hadn’t hurt her, if he hadn’t lied and pushed her away…then none of this ever would’ve happened.

The sunrise came far to quick for his liking.

But Y/N woke up with it.

She had always been an early riser, claiming to want to get as much as the sun as she could.

“You’re still here,” she greeted him sleepily.

Damian kissed her forehead. “Of course I am.”

“They’ll know I did it,” she whispered suddenly, looking up at the ceiling.

“No. No one will ever know. Your mothers took care of it.”

The body would never be found. Just like the first time Y/N accidentally took someone’s life. And just like last time, Damian would never tell a soul and would protect Y/N with his life.

“Damian, I lost control. I tried to stop it. But they…they wouldn’t stop. The whole bar was possessed. And I only have myself to blame.”

“We’ll practice,” Damian tried to assure her. “Your mother and I will make sure nothing like this will ever happen again.”

But he knew it would take more than that to convince Y/N that she wasn’t a danger to herself or anyone around her.

“Y/N…” his voice shook.

Y/N finally took her eyes off the glass ceiling to look at him.

“I’m sorry for what I did the other night. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Her eyes softened and she caressed his cheek. “I know you didn’t, Damian. I know.”

“But I still hurt you,” he wasn’t going to let himself off that easily.

“You did. But I know why you reacted that way.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He shook his head. “But this was never meant to happen. I was trained for many things, and being someone’s partner was not one of them. This. All of this…it scares me.”

Y/N smirked at that. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being in love. I’m scared of you being used against me or getting caught in the life I born into.”

“I’m stronger than you think, Damian.”

And last night had a fucked up way of proving that to her.

“I’m scared, too.” She whispered. “But I don’t want to give up.”

Instead of responding, Damian crashed his lips against hers. And Y/N quickly kissed him back. But Damian was careful after what happened to Y/N last night. He didn’t want to push her too hard, too fast. So he reluctantly pulled away after a few minutes.

Y/N stared into his green eyes a moment before telling him, “I want to give you something.”

She jumped out of bed and shuffled to one of her dressers. She grabbed something out of it and hurried back to the bed, kneeling in front of Damian now.

She opened her palm to show him a corked test tube that was filled with a liquid that seemed to be glowing slightly, not that much different than her eyes.

“What is this?” Damian asked carefully, not taking it from her quite yet.

“It’s an anecdote. It protects anyone from all of mine and my mother’s toxins, poisons, and pheromones. It also cures all of them if given to the victim in time.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you give me this?”

“If you’re still unsure if your feelings are real…take this.”

Damian pushed her hand away. “I don’t need to. I know how I feel.”

Y/N’s head hung.

“Unless you are the one that’s unsure,” Damian suddenly realized. “I’ll take the damn thing now just to prove it to you.”

“No. I know it’s real,” Y/N mumbled.

“You do?”

Y/N gave Damian a sad smile. “You don’t look at me the way those people did last night. You’re eyes aren’t filled with hunger and domination. You look at me with patience and…love,” she finished. “I know what forced lust looks like, and never once have you shown it.”

Damian couldn’t help himself and brought her face to his so he could kiss her once again.

“I want you to have it,” Y/N whispered when their kiss ended.

She shoved the anecdote in Damian’s hand.

He looked at it, realizing there were very few things she could do that would stronger show how much she trusted him.

Before Damian could say anything on the matter, his phone started ringing.

He sighed, “That will be Todd…”

“You have to go,” she finished for him.

“I don’t want to leave you. But my father is most likely suspicious already.”

As if on cue, Cheddar jumped onto the bed and snuggled against Y/N.

“I won’t be alone,” she laughed, as she pet the top of her cat’s head. “And you know the moms are going to be hovering all day…”

Damian smiled. He reached under the cat’s chin, finding his favorite scratching spot. “Good boy. Look after her for me.”

He begrudgingly got up to leave and but quickly turned around for one last kiss.

Y/N laughed at his antics. She could definitely get used to this new side of Damian.

Damian was silent the whole car ride back to the manor.

And when they reached the manor’s gates, Damian’s plan was to quickly jump out and make his escape.

But Jason saw this coming and immediately locked the doors. “Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warned.

Damian scoffed and crossed his arms.

“I think after all the shit last night, you owe me some answers.”

Damian didn’t say anything.

“How long has this little secret relationship been goin’ on, huh?”

Damian thought what his odds were of successfully lying to Jason. Out of all of them, Jason was best at lying. Did that also mean he was the best at reading a lie?

But Jason was right: he deserved answers. He took care of Y/N and had the sense to temporarily hide the body before Ivy and Harley could get rid of it for good.

The least Damian could do in return is tell him the truth. He actually owed him even more than that.

“Since we were 8,” he mumbled.

Jason’s eyebrows rose. “8! You’ve kept this a secret since you were 8!?”

“Look, I knew none of you would approve – especially father. And her very existence is a secret. I did it to protect her.”

Jason seemed surprised by the protectiveness that was thick in Damian’s tone.

Damian fully faced him, “You have already done enough for us. But I need you to promise that you will never tell anyone about her and what happened last night.”

Jason scoffed. “I thrive off keeping secrets from this family.”

But Damian already knew that Jason would never expose them.

“So…you two…you’re…like…dating?” Jason cringed.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a child, Todd.”

He smirked. “So, that’s a yes.” Then he closely studied Damian’s face. “Oh, fuck. You love her.”

Damian was silent for a moment, neither denying or confirming the statement.

But Jason already knew the truth.

“Can I go now?” Damian growled.

“One more thing,” Jason reached in the back seat of the car and shoved something into Damian’s chest.

It was a box of condoms.

Damian looked flabbergasted and his face turned bright red. “How the hell am I supposed to walk in with these?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something,” Jason shot back and then pointed a finger to Damian’s chest. “Wrap your dick. I don’t want anymore demon spawn in this fuckin’ city.”

He finally unlocked the car doors.

Damian rolled his eyes and made his escape.

He practically sprinted up the stairs and into his bedroom, immediately hiding the box of condoms in his secret compartment.

Dick found Bruce in the bat cave, working. That man was always working.

Without waiting for an invitation, Dick took the empty chair next to Bruce and joined him in staring at the screens.

“Please tell me you’ve noticed Damian acting differently,” Dick hummed casually. “Something’s been off with him.”

Bruce blinked, but kept looking at the screens. He hesitated before telling him, “I believe he has a girlfriend.”

Dick’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Bruce shrugged.

“…and do you plan on talking to him about that?” Dick questioned.

“What for?”

He rubbed his face with frustration. “Bruce, you cannot be serious.”

“If he wanted to talk to me about it, he would,” Bruce answered.

“He’s just as emotionally constipated as you are,” Dick snapped. “You really think he’s going to be the one to start the conversation.”

Bruce finally took his eyes off the screen to face him. “Has he talked to you about it?”

Damian’s habit of going to Dick as more as of a father than Bruce was a sensitive topic. And Dick knew deep down it made Bruce upset that his son didn’t trust him the same way he did his oldest brother.

Dick’s silence answered his question.

“How did you even figure it out?” Dick asked. “Have you been tracking him?”

Bruce shook his head. “He walked in with a box of condoms the other day.”

“Well, at least he’s being safe – no thanks for you,” Dick groaned.

Bruce sighed. “I taught Damian to be respectful – we all did. I don’t think you need to be worried about it.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Do you know who she is?”

Bruce shook his head.

“And are you going to continue your privacy-abusing ways and find out?”

“If and when Damian wants to introduce us is his decision.”

Dick had enough and stood up. “This family is so messed up when it comes to relationships,” he mumbled as he walked away.

6 MONTHS LATER

Damian had walked into the greenhouse to find Ivy and Harley looking at a map of some kind. No, they were blue prints.

As soon as they noticed his entrance, they rolled up the paper.

Damian quirked an eyebrow, but ignored it. “Is Y/N in her room?”

They both nodded.

He bowed his head and started walking past.

“Not so fast, kiddo,” Harley interrupted.

Damian paused.

“It’s time we had a little talk,” she said with an evil smirk.

Damian rubbed his face. He had been dreading this conversation. But, honestly, he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. After all, the two of them knew the exact moment his and Y/N’s relationship had moved from platonic to romantic.

“We want to make sure ya treatin’ our little sunflower right,” Harley cooed.

“She has an IUD…” Damian noted, as if it was obvious, because they were the reason she even got one.

“We’re not talking about safety. We’re talking about pleasure,” Harley clarified with her infamous cackle.

Damian groaned. God, this was so much worse than the safe sex talk. “Believe it or not, my mother taught me quite a lot about female anatomy.”

“Your mother also drugged your father and assaulted him to get pregnant with you,” Ivy pointed out. “So I that doesn’t exactly comfort me.”

“I would never do that to her or anyone,” Damian said darkly, insulted that she had even suggested he was capable of the same mistakes his mother made.

“Look little puddin’, we wouldn’t be worried about this if you were a gal,” Harley told him bluntly. “Most men don’t know what they’re doing. And teenage boys definitely don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t appreciate the female body…”

“OK! Enough!” Y/N shouted suddenly.

None of them had heard her walk in the room.

Damian looked at Y/N like she was his knight in shining armor.

“Fuck. You two are mortifying,” Y/N hissed as she grabbed Damian’s hand and dragged him to her bedroom.

Once they were in the safety and privacy of her room, Damian relaxed.

“I’m so sorry about them,” rubbed her face in embarrassment.

But Damian didn’t think she should apologize on their behalf. “How do they know we haven’t had sex yet?”

Y/N shrugged. “My pheromones. Mother would instantly know.”

“Interesting…” he mumbled.

Although, Y/N didn’t share with Damian the fact that she had recently started asking her moms more specific questions on the subject and way more frequently.

Suddenly, Y/N stepped very close to her boyfriend with an adorable smile.

“Hi,” she giggle before kissing him, upset she couldn’t immediately do it upon his arrival. Instead she had to save him from her moms.

“Hello,” he greeted with a smile when they broke apart.

“So,” Y/N sighed as she plopped herself to sit on the edge of her bed. “What exactly did your mother teach you about female anatomy?”

“You heard that?” He groaned.

She laughed at his embarrassment.

Damian blushed. “Truly, I would prefer the classic threat to my life that dads give, than two moms asking if I know how to pleasure their daughter.”

Now Y/N was really laughing.

But Damian had enough of the teasing and embarrassment.

He slowly walked to the edge of the bed and didn’t stop until he stood between Y/N’s legs. She yelped with his hands gripped her waist and brought it to his, eliminating all space between their bodies.

Then he dipped his head. “But trust me when I said my mother was very thorough in her teachings. She always said the world has no more room for disappointing male lovers.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “Damian Wayne. Who are you?”

Damian answered her question with a passionate kiss.

He pulled them fully onto the back, hovering over his girlfriend as he deepened the kiss.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Damian asked, his voice husky from kissing.

“Nothing,” Y/N laughed lightly.

“Will you come spend the night with me at the condo?” He asked.

The condo as in one of his father’s many properties in the city. It was a penthouse in one of the few safe areas of Gotham.

But Y/N knew what he was really asking, and he seemed to read her mind.

Damian cleared his throat. “I have quickly realized that I want to be far, far away from your moms when…” the words died out.

And he was back to shy and unsure self.

“You don’t even have to ask,” she whispered to him as she thumb traced his bottom lip.

“Actually I do have to ask,” Damian corrected.

Y/N had to follow very strict instructions when she arrived at the Wayne condo. This was all to ensure that no one would catch her entrance on any security footage and Damian could hide that they were ever there.

“What’s all this?” She asked when he led her to the kitchen. Her eyes took in all the ingredients on the kitchen island.

“I thought I would make you dinner…” Damian told her as if it were obvious and should’ve been expected.

Y/N’s heart warmed and she quickly kissed him.

Their night was normal. More normal than their relationship or friendship has ever been.

It almost made them feel like a normal couple: Damian cooking. Having a place to themselves. No hiding. No parents invading their privacy.

They felt like adults. And they felt free.

Y/N was amazed at Damian’s cooking. He had never done this before – mostly because there was never an opportunity.

When they were done eating, a comfortable and peaceful silence fell over them. The music Y/N put on and the rain outside were only things they listened to.

Y/N slipped out of her chair went to Damian’s lap. He welcomed her body against his.

“Thank you for dinner,” Y/N told him softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I honestly had no idea you could cook,” she giggled.

Damian just kissed her in response.

“I’m gonna clean up,” Y/N told him, starting to get up from his lap.

But Damian tightened his grip and wouldn’t let her.

“Leave it,” he told her.

It was soft, but Y/N could tell she shouldn’t argue with him.

Damian carefully stood from the chair with her still in his arms. He may have been a lanky teenager, but he was disturbingly strong from this training and life as Robin.

He carried her to the master bedroom.

Everything happened so slowly. But in Y/N’s head, it was all so fast.

Next thing she knew, they were naked under the covers, kissing more and more passionately.

Damian pulled away and looked down at her with concern.

“What? What’s wrong?” She quickly asked. Her breathing was so shallow.

“You are trembling,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine,” she answered too quickly.

But he narrowed his eyes, silently warning her not to lie to him.

“I’m…umm…” She struggled to speak.

Y/N’s eyes simmered green suddenly, not glowing like usual, but dark. Damian had never seen them do that before.

“I’m really fucking nervous right now,” she finally admitted.

“Y/N,” Damian murmured. “We do not have to do this.”

“No, no, no,” she tried to shut that down.

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” He asked, immediately thinking he had done something wrong.

Y/N’s eyes widened “No, you didn’t do anything, Damian.”

Then she pulled his face down to keep kissing him.

But Damian gently pulled away. “Do not do that,” he warned gently.

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you are alright when you are not.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whimpered. “It was just the build up. I’ve been getting more and more anxious all night. And now I’m all in my head.”

Damian slowly got out of bed and started shuffling around the room. He put his boxer briefs back on and started looking for fresh clothes in the closet, and then handed her an oversize cotton shirt.

He sat on the edge of the bed as Y/N looked at him with confusion.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked so quietly, scared of his answer.

Damian blinked, and then his face scrunched in realization.

He quickly cupped her face. “What? I would never be mad at you for such a thing. Do not ever apologize for saying no to me. Understand?”

He was using his Robin voice and it really caught Y/N off guard.

But it was clear he was waiting for a confirmation from her, so she quickly nodded.

“I would never make you do something you were not completely comfortable with,” he added gently.

She nodded again. “I know that. I was just scared to admit that I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Come here,” he told her as he slid back into the bed, pulling her back into his arms.

Y/N didn’t bother putting on the shirt he’d handed her. The nudity wasn’t her problem, it never was.

“I love you,” she uttered so quietly, almost like she was speaking to the night.

“Wana ahibuk, ya habibi,” he whispered into her hair before kissing her.

Y/N didn’t speak Arabic – she was working on that – but somehow she still felt what he’d spoken to her.

“We need to regroup!” Dick screamed in his comms to the family. “They’ve split us apart on purpose!”

It was true. Whoever was behind this attack had known that the bat family patrolled different areas of Gotham, and now they’d taken advantage of that.

“I’m trying to find an out!” Tim huffed, clearly out of breath as he kept fighting.

Damian ignored his brothers. Maybe it was his arrogance, but he tended to almost never panic in situations like this.

However, what he was worried about was missing date night with Y/N.

He was supposed to meet her 30 minutes ago.

Then a familiar figure dropped down in front of him.

Slade.

Damian’s jaw clenched at the sight of him.

That explained how the attack had been planned so well: Slade knew their family well. Too well.

And there had been a certain rivalry between Damian and him since he’d taken one of his eyes as a mere boy.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the world’s most entitled brat,” Slade cooed as he unsheathed both of his swords.

Damian glared. “Did you come to lose your other eye?” He held his sword at the ready, correcting his stance.

The next second, they were charging each other and their sword fighting began.

Slade was still a few inches taller than Damian’s teenage height. But the growth spurt still made Damian at less of a disadvantage than when he faced off with the traitor as a child.

Their swords collided, locking them in place.

Slade lowered his head closer. “Tell me…how does it feel to never truly belong?”

Damian shoved him away, but the man kept talking.

“You’re not strong enough for the League, but you’re far too corrupt to ever truly be the noble Batman’s son.”

Damian growled at the comment, but said nothing more.

Slade was clearly trying to distract him or a get a enough of a rise out of him that he lost his focus.

They continued fighting, both growing more exhausted.

The fight when on and on and one, then Damian suddenly heard a scream of pain in his comms.

It was Tim.

The sound alone caused Damian to mess up his footing.

Slade noticed and immediately took advantage of it. He sliced his sword across Damian’s chest, striking him down.

Damian groaned in pain and fell to his knees. Not even a second later, Slade sent a kick to his middle, further injuring Damian and knocking him completely to the ground.

‘Get up!’ Damian’s mind told him. ‘Get up you weakling.’

Slade put his sword underneath his chin. “No one will miss you,” he smirked.

No. That wasn’t true. His family would. Of course they would.

But that’s not who Damian was thinking of. No. Not at all.

It was Y/N’s face that flashed in his mind. She would miss him. In fact, he wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She loved him so much. In fact, Damian was sure he’d never be loved as much by anyone else in his life ever again.

Damian looked up, meeting his fate. He refused to show fear in death.

Slade raised his sword.

Except it never fell.

Instead Slade was ripped back 30 feet like a rocket.

Damian looked around in a panic.

Giant vines erupted form the concrete of Gotham.

And the first one had wrapped around Slade’s torso and had ripped him away from Damian protectively.

The others were picking up cars and tossing them at Slade’s comrades, taking them out by the handful.

As Damian shakily go to his feet, someone had stepped between him and the enemy.

Y/N.

“Stay away from him,” she growled as Slade got back to his feet.

“Y/N, get out of here,” Damian begged. He struggled to get back on his feet.

But she ignored him entirely.

And instead…she wreaked havoc on the enemy.

Screams filled the air as the thick vines whipped and grabbed. It was even terrifying to watch while knowing one was safe and they were allies.

And soon, it was just Slade left.

Vines wrapped around him, holding him in place. Y/N clenched her fist and Slade screamed in pain as the vine broke half the bones in her body from the pressure.

Damian knew she was going to kill him. The veins in her skin popped out as they turned green. Her body was preparing for a poisonous kiss, and he knew it.

He jumped in front of her. “Y/N, that’s enough.” His voice was low and serious, making sure Slade couldn’t hear him.

“He almost killed you!” She tried to argue.

“It does not matter. You cannot kill him. You have broken half his body. He’s not going anywhere. Let the authorities handle him.”

Y/N turned around to glare at Slade.

“Fine,” she huffed. But with a gesture of her hand, the vines tightened again, now putting pressure on Slade’s broken body. He cried out in pain once again.

Now that they were out of danger, Y/N’s full attention was on Damian.

“You’re hurt,” she whimpered.

“This is nothing,” he quickly told her. “What are you doing here?”

“You never miss date night. And if you do, you always message me. Always. I knew something was wrong.”

“It was quite the surprise,” Damian managed to smirk.

But Y/N wasn’t as amused and was looking at the gash on his torso that was bleeding. She was used to seeing Damian bruised and patched up. But it was always after he’d been tended to – plus, Damian always played off his injuries as to not worry her.

“I will be fine, Y/N.”

Sirens started ringing in the distance. Followed by someone jumping to the ground behind them.

Y/N whipped around and placed her body protectively in front of Damian, ready to fight yet again.

“Red Hood,” Damian greeted.

Y/N instantly relaxed.

“You gotta go,” Jason pointed to Y/N. “Cops are gonna be here any minute. And if you guys want to keep this little Romeo and Juliet shit going, you best not be here when they get here – or worse, when Bats gets here.”

Damian knew he was right.

Y/N and him shared a look.

“Go,” Damian pushed her. “I will be fine.”

Y/N reluctantly did as she was told, but not before kissing him.

——

Damian and Tim both barely made it home alive tonight. Tim had broken his arm and had bruises and cut all across his body. And Damian had to get stitches from Slade’s sever. And one of his ribs was badly bruised. But the rest of the family was thankfully doing alright.

But that meant Damian was on strict orders to recover. There would be no Robin for a couple of weeks. And he hated being sidelined.

He was pouting in his bedroom sketching when Jason surprisingly walked in.

Jason rarely spent time at the manor. Alfred basically had to beg him to visit.

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked without taking his eyes off of his paper.

Jason closed the door behind him and walked to Damian.

“Special delivery,” he said before reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a glass vial.

Damian immediately knew who it was from.

“She said it would enhance the healing process and numb the pain,” Jason shrugged.

“She gave this to you?”

Jason chuckled. “Yep. The girl gave me a heart attack when plants started crawling through my window and she jumped into my living room.”

Damian tried to suppress his smile at the image.

Jason’s amusement dropped. “She’s real worried about you, ya know.”

“I know.”

Jason sighed. “She saved your ass tonight. You got lucky.”

Damian glared at him. “I had it under control.”

“Maybe you should get over your ego and just thank her.”

But Y/N wasn’t looking for thanks. Damian would’ve done the same thing had the roles been reversed. That was their relationship.

There was not much else to say, so Damian finally looked up and gave Jason a look that asked, ‘Why are you still here?’

“How long do you plan on keeping this a secret?”

“Todd, stay out of it,” Damian warned.

Jason stepped even closer to him before lowering his voice. “Listen, Poison Ivy and Harley are planning something. And I don’t think you should be getting in the middle of it.”

“Planning what?” Damian only half cared.

“You’re too busy being a love sick puppy to notice that Gotham is about to make a deal with Powers Technology. Their proposing to build an oil rig within Gotham’s city limits. Not to mention another factory that will increase pollution.”

“What is your point, Todd?” Damian feigned ignorance.

All these years he’d done a good job of staying out of Ivy’s criminal behavior. It would’ve only complicated his relationship with Y/N and his job as Robin. But now it seemed that had all come to an end.

“Did you forget your girl’s mom is the most notorious eco-terrorist in the world?” Jason scoffed. “Powers Tech is one of the most environmentally destructive corporations in America, and they’re about to make Gotham their new home.”

Damian did know about this. Not only had Jason been following this news, but so was Bruce. Damian would be rather terrible at his job as Robin if he wasn’t already aware that Ivy was most likely going to make a move.

“I know what I’m doing,” Damian sighed.

“And that is…what? Not doing anything at all?” Jason challenged.

Damian only glared at him.

Jason sighed. He should’ve known this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere or help anything. “You can’t be neutral player in Gotham. Not as Damian Wayne and definitely not as Robin.”

“Will that be all?” Damian quipped.

“Fuck this,” Jason snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m done.”

And with that, he quickly left Damian’s bedroom and the manor.

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT...

Damian was asleep when he heard them.

Something or someone was at his window.

His eyes snapped open and he reached for his sword in the same breath.

But when he whipped around in bed to face the intruder, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?” He voice was rough with sleep.

“I came to check on you,” she shrugged as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea how stupid this is? My father has surveillance around this entire property,” he hissed.

But Y/N looked unimpressed. “And you think I don’t know how to avoid cameras as if my life depended on it?”

Damian was still frowning.

“Relax,” Y/N giggled. That sound alone rid Damian of all pain. “I stayed out of sight.”

Y/N bounced onto his bed, and it took every ounce of strength for Damian not to show his amusement.

She looked around. “So…this is your bedroom, huh? Your photos and videos definitely didn’t capture how huge it is.”

Damian rubbed his face.

She was already here. There was no point in scolding her further.

“Did I wake you?” Y/N whispered.

Damian nodded.

He thought his answer was going to make her feel guilty and let him go back to bed, as long as she could cuddle and sleep with him, too.

But instead, Y/N straddled Damian and pulled him into a rough kiss.

“I haven’t stopped worrying about you,” she whispered to him.

Except Damian was too preoccupied with her eyes glowing. They weren’t nervous this time. No, they were needy, filled with want and love.

“Damian?” She whispered.

“Yes.”

“I’m not nervous anymore.”

But Damian knew what she was really saying.

Tonight had clearly scared her. And Y/N was done waiting or being intimidated by their love. She almost lost him, and her mind wouldn’t let her stop thinking about it. She needed to be close to him, needed to touch him, needed to remind herself that he was OK and alive.

“Am I hurting you?” She suddenly asked, glancing at his injuries.

Damian’s grip on her waist tightened in case she tried to move out of his lap. “No, you are not hurting me.”

“OK,” she answered with a shy smile.

Then she started kissing him again. It was getting more and more heated. And Y/N seemed rather frustrated that Damian wasn’t being more aggressive about taking off her clothes – after all, he had already been sleeping shirtless.

But Damian still wasn’t pushing.

He broke their kiss and stared deeply into her eyes. “Are you certain?”

She grinned at how soft he sounded. Damian Wayne. Her gentle boy. She always thought it was silly that people failed to see this side of him. But it was her secret to protect. And in return he protected her.

“Absolutely,” she told him as she pressed her forehead to his.

——

Damian awoke early the next morning with Y/N still sleeping in his arms.

And he was suddenly bitter that this couldn’t be their every day. It wasn’t fair. Even if he did share their truth, his family would never accept it. His father already despised metas – and Y/N’s parentage only made things worse.

He would have to sneak Y/N out soon.

But he allowed a few more minutes of her being in his arms, and pressed kisses to her naked back and shoulders.

That slowly woke Y/N up.

She turned to face him, but buried her face into Damian’s chest. It reminded him of a cat, making him chuckle.

“We have to go, beloved,” he whispered before kissing her forehead.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh. “Beloved,” she repeated teasingly.

“Do you not like it?” He asked her carefully, suddenly unsure of the intimate name he’d bestowed upon her.

“No, I like it.” She laughed, “I just don’t think a lot of teenage boys are running around calling girls ‘beloved’.”

“Well, I am not like most teenage boys…”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his arrogance. “You tend to think that, don’t you?”

Damian pinched her side. And she let out a quiet yelp.

“Come on. I should bring you home…”

Both their disappointment was clear.

1 MONTH LATER

Damian was given a night off of patrol. But to him, that meant sitting in the cave and closely studying all the monitors as Dick and Bruce patrolled. His father had been rather insistent on giving Damian a break, which seemed rather odd.

A part of him thought he could sneak to the park to see Y/N or even try to sneak her into the manor. But when he had messaged her, she said her mom was in a testy mood for some reason and refused to let her leave the greenhouse.

Damian thought that had been rather odd. But he didn’t push.

A few hours went by without trouble from the patrol.

But Damian should’ve realized it was the calm before the storm.

“There is a SWAT team and GPD arriving at City Hall,” Damian reported to Dick and Bruce.

No response.

That was when the vines crawled up the building.

“B, the cops aren’t equipped to handle Ivy’s toxins. Only SWAT has gas masks,” Dick reported into his comms.

Bruce didn’t respond, though.

The vines had completely taken over City Hall, claiming it as their own.

Damian’s gaze moved to a news report and turned up the volume as an anchor reported, “POISON IVY ATTACKS CITY HALL AS NEGOTIATIONS ARE FINALIZED BETWEEN POWERS TECH AND GOTHAM CITY.”

Damian suddenly put it together.

This is what Ivy had been planning. She was either going to scare Powers Tech out of Gotham, or kill them.

The vines smashed cop cars and started flinging SWAT members and officers around the block like they weighed nothing. But they didn’t stand down.

“Batman, what’s the plan here,” Dick started sounding nervous.

“They’ve got it handled,” Bruce finally spoke.

Damian’s brow furrowed. His father knew better than anyone that the group didn’t stand a chance against Poison Ivy. What was his angle?

Suddenly, GPD started launching gas canisters at Ivy and her monstrosities.

The news helicopter captured a closeup of Ivy as she gasped in pain and was brought to her knees. The gas was making her weak and killing all her attack plants.

Damian’s eyes widened in disbelief, realizing that not only had GPD prepared for Poison Ivy’s plan… but so had Batman. And the latter was so much worse.

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

“No,” Damian gasped.

He sprinted out of the cave and up the stairs of the manor to his bedroom.

His breathing was heavy and panicked as he ripped through his room to get to his secret department.

When he opened it, Damian felt sick to his stomach.

The anecdote that Y/N had given him was gone.

And the only person who could’ve taken it…was his father.

It all started to click.

Bruce had known Damian was hiding something. What he actually knew and what he thought he knew didn’t matter. Because he’d found the anecdote, replicated it and supplied it to Gotham to protect itself from Poison Ivy, rendering her powerless.

Damian turned to the TV on in his room, finding the news station.

“THE ECO-TERRORIST KNOWN AS POISON IVY HAS BEEN OVERCOME BY GOTHAM POLICE AND TAKEN INTO CUSTODY. WHILE WE DON’T KNOW THE OUTCOME OF TONIGHT’S EVENTS, IT IS SAFE TO ASSUME DR. PAMELA ISLEY WILL BE SEEING THE INSIDE OF A CELL AT ARKHAM.”

Without thinking, Damian sprinted to the garage, and grabbed the first motorcycle he saw. He threw on a helmet, revved the engine, and raced to the city.

Halfway there, it started pouring rain. The conditions weren’t safe to continue driving on a motorcycle.

But Damian didn’t care. He had to get to her.

Damian skidded the bike to a halt in front of the greenhouse and tossed the helmet to the ground with no consideration.

Sprinting to her bedroom, he yelled out Y/N’s name.

But there was no answer.

Damian was panicked now.

What if they’d come for her? What if his father knew all about Y/N, and the authorities were coming after her now, too? Guilty by association.

Damian wouldn’t let that happen.

He continued to scream her name as he searched the greenhouse. Eventually, the only place left to look was the rooftop.

Stepping into the pouring rain, Damian called out Y/N’s name.

Then he ran to the edge, hoping the high viewpoint would maybe help him locate her within the park. But the rain made it impossible to see more than 10 feet in front of him.

“What did you do?” Y/N said from behind him.

Damian whipped around to find Y/N watching him menacingly. She was wearing a white dress that was soaking wet from the rain and basically transparent. She must’ve been out here long before he’d arrived.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he stepped towards her.

But vines stopped him from getting even an inch closer.

Y/N’s teeth were clenched as she repeated her question, “What did you do, Damian?”

The vines pinned his arms to his side.

“I would never betray you,” he objected.

“You are the only person in the world who has ever possessed the antidote. You had the only key that could take down my mother…and me.” She slowly stepped closer with each word, but her anger grew and grew.

“I did not give it to him! Y/N, please,” Damian begged for her to listen.

But the vines were around his neck now, choking him.

“I don’t believe you!” Y/N screamed. “I kept you and your family’s secret for years and years! Why couldn’t you do the same?”

It wasn’t until she stepped closer that Damian realized she was crying. Her eyes were bloodshot, proving that it had started long before he got there.

Damian wanted to tell her that this wasn’t the first time her mother was stuck in Arkham, that she would see her freedom at one point or another.

“Do you know who else is locked way there?” Y/N cried.

Damian said nothing.

“The Joker. As in the ex of my mother’s partner. And he would love nothing more than to get my mother within his reach and kill her. And he’s just one of her enemies waiting for her.”

Damian struggled against the vines hold.

Y/N stood inches from his face now. Her tears continuing to escape. “My mother will die in there.”

“No, I promise she won’t,” he managed to squeeze the words out as his throat was being tightened.

Y/N tilted her head and gave him an incredulous look. “And you think you have the power to do so? To act against your father – especially after tonight?”

And they both knew she was right.

Y/N stepped closer again, inches from his face as he was pulled off his feet by the vines.

“I hate you,” Y/N hissed.

And Damian’s heart broke.

“I should kill you right now for what you did,” Y/N whimpered. Her eyes flickered to his lips as the veins beneath her skin turned green. “You destroyed my family. Destroyed my home. Don’t you get it? Your father killed my mother.”

Y/N reached out for Damian’s face, roughly cupping his jaw with one hand.

She was hurting, suffering. And her eyes showed it all.

Damian did this – him and his family. Their life mission allowed nothing else.

Her lips hovered over his.

And Damian knew if their lips touched, it would be a kiss of death.

Except, why would he fight? What was the point? He deserved this; he knew he did.

Damian Wayne excepted his fate.

He would rather die than look into the eyes of the girl he loved, knowing that she truly believed he betrayed her.

But Y/N couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

Maybe if she were more like her mother she could.

Y/N cried harder as she realized what she was incapable of doing.

Slowly, she backed away from him.

“We were fools for thinking this could ever last,” her voice shook. “I never want to see you again, Damian Wayne. And if I do…” She hesitated. “If I do, I will kill you.”

With that, the vines released him and he dropped hard to his hands and knees.

He expected to look up to find Y/N glaring at him. But what he found was so much worse.

She was heartbroken. She was destroyed. She didn’t look at him the same way anymore.

Before Damian could even take in a breath to speak, he was smacked off the roof by one of the plants. The height wasn’t enough to kill him, but it knocked the wind out of his lungs. He coughed into the grass beneath him, trying to get it back.

Walking like a zombie – no purpose or care or mind – Damian made his way back to the motorcycle he had discarded. Ignoring the rain pelting him.

To his surprise, Harley crossed his path.

She had an empty and distant look in her eyes.

Harley was broken.

Damian caught her eye and she stopped walking.

How she hadn’t also been detained was beyond him.

“Harley…” he tried to speak. But he instantly stopped. What could he even say?

In return, she looked at him with disgust. “Go home, kid. Before I change my mind.”

——

Damian didn’t go to the cave. He flew back into the regular garage with his motorcycle, soaking wet and dripping water.

But he wasn’t that lucky.

The entire family was in the kitchen, and they were waiting for his return.

Even Jason was there, looking surprisingly uncomfortable.

Bruce stepped out of the kitchen as soon as he caught sight of his youngest son. The rest of them timidly followed.

“Where have you been?” Bruce demanded. His eyes scanned his son’s body, noticing the bruise around his neck and the cut on his cheek and lip.

But Damian continued his walk, completely ignoring his family as he dripped water through the house and made his way to the stairs.

“Damian!” Bruce yelled out.

The boy whirled around with a murderous look.

“What more could you possibly want from me?” Damian rasped.

Bruce was about to say more. But Dick quickly stepped forward and gripped Bruce’s shoulder, instantly silencing him.

But Bruce was stubborn.

“You lied to me, to all of us,” Bruce told him evenly.

Damian grinder his teeth as his stare tore into his father’s gaze, not backing down. “I wonder why…” the boy snapped.

But he’d had enough. Damian didn’t have anything to say to his father. He was betrayed and treated like a new, distrustful member of his team instead of his only blood son.

So Damian walked out of the room. And he didn’t stop into he was in his bathroom, where he suddenly puked his entire stomach into the toilet.

—–

“You probably could’ve handled that better,” Dick sighed.

“I didn’t raise him to be a liar,” Bruce growled.

“But you knew he had a girlfriend,” Dick argued. “You could’ve talked to him about it.”

“Clearly he didn’t want to have that conversation,” Bruce argued.

“You’re all idiots,” Jason finally chimed in.

Alfred, Tim, Bruce, and Dick’s gazes all snapped to him.

“She wasn’t just his girlfriend. They’ve been best friends since they were 8 years old,” Jason explained. “The girlfriend part was just a recent development. But I’m sure after tonight that’s over and done with.”

“What?” Bruce gasped.

“Yep,” Jason was loving knowing more than all of them. “Wonder why he felt the need to keep that from you for – oh, I don’t know – 9 years.”

Jason rubbed his face and sighed. He grabbed his jacket roughly. “I’ve had enough of this toxic family for one night.”

And they all watched him leave.

——

Damian hadn’t slept a minute last night. Instead, he laid in bed switching between staring at the ceiling, hating himself and looking at photos and videos of Y/N.

When he realized he felt too sick to his stomach to sleep, he went to his sketchbook and realized how much of it was drawings of Y/N.

The most recent ones were the kind he’d never want anyone else to ever lay eyes on. After all, Y/N was not one to be ashamed or shy about her body or nudity.

As Damian looked at the drawings, he realized he would most likely never lay eyes on her in such an intimate manner or feel her skin beneath him ever again. He slammed the sketchbook closed and threw it angrily across his room.

In the morning, Damian walked down to the cave to find Dick and Bruce.

From the look of both of them, neither of them got a lot of sleep either.

But there Damian stood in front of his two paternal figures. They both turned to him, Dick looked concerned and worried. Bruce was composed, as usual.

Damian cleared his throat. “I wish to return to my mother and fulfill my true purpose as Heir to the Demon and successor to the League of Shadows.”

Bruce’s face dropped.

Him and Dick shared a look of concern.

“Damian, let’s talk about this,” Dick began.

But Bruce was silent.

“There is nothing to talk about,” Damian shot back. “I am leaving Gotham.”

It wasn’t until then that Bruce truly understood how much he had hurt his son. Damian had never even so much as threatened to return to Talia before – no matter how bad things got with their family.

But Bruce had never put his lovers first – never. He couldn’t relate to his son’s turmoil. Bruce made the assumption that Damian was exactly like him: putting Robin and Gotham before all else. But maybe this was how Damian was more like Talia.

Somehow Bruce knew that he’d have to fight harder to win his son back. And there was no way he could do it before he fled and returned to his mother.

“If that’s what you want,” Bruce finally spoke, defeat and disappointment clear in his tone.

Damian nodded. “I am leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Dick gaped.

But the teenager never even acknowledged his older brother. Only glaring at his father, silently facing off with him. Damian wanted it be clear that he was leaving because of him and only him.

“You taught me to always have a contingency plan,” Damian said slowly. “But you never told me to have one for your own father.”

Dick’s heart broke as he watched it all unfold.

“I won’t be making that mistake again,” Damian finished before turning and leaving the cave.

——

Damian had multiple duffle bags laying on his bed, filling them as he quickly moved around his room. He feared that if he slowed down, he would somehow change his mind.

He heard the swoosh he’d grown so accustomed to over the years and then heard one of his windows creaking open.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Jon was breathing heavily.

Surely he had seen the news from last night.

Damian ignored him, continuing to pack.

Then Jon’s entire body froze when he saw the half filled bags on Damian’s bed.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?” Jon asked quickly.

“I’m leaving,” was all Damian supplied.

“I just went to Y/N’s. She wouldn’t even see me. The greenhouse is completely surrounded by vines and foliage. With no way in. But my hearing could still pick up her crying. She screamed at me to leave.” Jon frowned and his shoulders slumped. “I wanted to rip through the vines, but I only thought it would make things worse.”

Damian ignored him and kept moving.

“Damian!” Jon finally yelled. “What the hell is going!?”

“I’m leaving Gotham. I’m going back to my mother.”

Jon’s jaw dropped. “Your going back to your mother?” He repeated. “As in you’re going to back to the League of Assassins?”

“Yes,” he was growing frustrated.

“You can’t just leave, Damian! Y/N…she-she needs you!”

The words got Damian to whip around and get into Jon’s face. “She made it very clear that she never wishes to see me again. It is over, Jon. Leave it be.”

“You’re being an idiot,” Jon scoffed.

“I put her mother into Arkham!” Damian yelled. “And she’ll be lucky if she makes it out of alive – let alone a few months.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Jon looked like a sad puppy.

“All she’s ever had is Ivy and Harley! And I took that away from her!”

“That’s not true,” Jon’s voice shook. “She has you. She has me.”

Damian glared at him. “We are not children anymore, Jon. We cannot hide in our foolish fantasy anymore. And I should have realized that sooner.”

“You’re…You’re really leaving,” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed and nodded.

Jon pulled him into a hug, even though he knew Damian hated them. “Keep in touch, OK?”

Damian only nodded.

But he knew that he wouldn’t.

–––––––––––

I worked extremely hard on this. It took a very long time to edit. Please share your thoughts. Write me a book report. You will make my week. 💚💚💚

Next Part: Young Adult

[kimjun]

Damian: crushes are the worst

y/n: right? i tend to act stupid around mine

Jason: you always act stupid

y/n: yeah, don't think too hard about that

[bia-wayne-west]

Milk with cookies and bedtime stories [Batmom x Damian Wayne]

Synopsis: It was just a few months ago that Damian was included in the Wayne family. He still didn’t like you, but you tried so hard to make him appreciate you. During a patrol, Damian got hurt and after Alfred took care of the little boy’s wounds, you surprised him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

Characters: Damian Wayne and Reader [YOU]

A/N: I wrote this quickly. Hope you like. In this imagine, Batmom has been married to Bruce since he adopted Dick.

I want to apologize if there are any writing errors. I'm a Brazilian girl and I don't speak fluent English, so I may make some writing mistakes. Feel free to correct me.

I hope you read, like and feel how cute Damian is.

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, reading a fashion magazine while you waited for your husband to return from patrol.

Bruce forbade you to stay in the Batcave, as he was afraid that someone would break in and find you, alone and unprotected.

As soon as you felt the ground shake, it meant that the Batcave had opened and that Batman had arrived with his Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing.

You ran to the clock that gave access to the secret entrance to Batcave. The elevator quickly took you to where your children and husband were.

“Hey, my love. You got back before 5am!” You said, running up to Bruce Wayne. He still wore black clothes and was without a mask. Your husband didn’t respond. He was serious and had a worried expression on his face.

“A man dropped Damian from a three-story building .” Bruce said looking at the boy who was sitting next to Alfred.

You finally noticed Damian, whose face was bruised and his leg was bandaged. You walked over to the boy and knelt in front of him.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I fell on top of a car and didn’t break any bones.”

“Damian, darling, are you hurt?” You asked, looking into Bruce’s son’s green eyes.

You smiled, in a motherly way. Damian didn’t consider you a mother, unlike the other three boys who called you ‘mother’ and ‘mommy’ all the time. Your husband’s son only considered you as a stepmother, but that didn’t stop you from taking care of him as if he were your son.

“I’m going to run you a hot bubble bath. After Alfred takes care of you, I think you’ll want to relax in the warm water.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I’m not your baby.” He said rolling his eyes and turning his face to look at Alfred.

“Damian!” Bruce warned his son. But you smiled at your husband, showing that everything was okay. You left the Batcave, heading back to the mansion to prepare Dami’s bath.

(…)

Damian was already in his room. You were heading to the boy's room, with a tray in your hand.

The clock said 2:32 am, but you were sure the boy hadn't slept yet. The Waynes used to sleep only when the sun came up.

Yout left hand knocked lightly on the wooden door with the boy's initials engraved on it. Ypur ears picked up a “you can come in”, authorizing you to enter Damian’s room.

“I came to see if you were okay, Dami.” You said, entering and closing the door behind your body. Your arms came off the tray on the bed, seeing that the boy was sitting on the mattress. “I brought milk and cookies, this will definitely make you feel better.”

“Why do you do these things, Y/N?” He asked, with a questioning look.

“I didn't understand. Don't you like what I do for you?”

“At first I thought you had a plan to win me over and then you would hate me for being Bruce's biological son.” He said, seeing you take a cookie and offer it to him.

“I would never do that. I love you, Dami, even if you don't like me. These things I do for you are normal motherly actions.”

“My mother didn’t do any of that. She only got cookies when she did something good.” He said, his eyes shining like he was going to cry.

“Oh baby. I know you don't consider me your mother and I don't want to force you into anything, but I want you to know that these things I do are because I love you.” You explained, smiling widely at him and drinking some milk. “Do you know what my mother did for me when I was hurt?”

“No.” He said, while devouring several cookies. “She also gave you cookies and milk?”

“Yes, and she also told me a bedtime story.” You argued, running your hand through the boy's hair. “I'll tell you a story.”

“I’m not four years old, Y/N” He murmured.

“Damian, you’re not old enough to hear a good story before bed.”

“OK. Just don't tell stories about princesses or ponies.”

“Clear. I'm going to tell the story of a boy called Dami. He was so brave and beautiful, he was a strong and fearless boy.” His lips formed a smile as he said the words. Damian's eyes were bright and sweet. “One day, he went to the forest to play with the birds and found a portal to a magical world.”

“Like Narnia?: He asked, completely interested in your story.

“Yes, but without the closet. The magical portal led to a kingdom full of witches, fairies, vampires and any magical creature you can imagine.”

“Even elves?” He questioned you again. Now Damian was lying in bed and you covered him with the blanket.

“Of course, elves can't be missed.” You said. Your heart filled with love and you almost cried when you saw the image of the boy who hated you six months ago totally interested in a bedtime story. “In that kingdom there was a crystal that served as oxygen for all beings there, but a terrible villain broke this crystal and stole its essence, leaving the world without magic.” Damian still had complete fun with your narration. “Then, the queen called Martha went and asked the brave Dami to hunt down the villain and recover the essence of the crystal.”

“And he did this?”

“Yes! Dami took a sword and shield and went out to the magical kingdom in search of the villain. He went to an ancient village in the kingdom called Gothym and met three knights named Grayson, Todd and Drake. They sent Dami to the mountains where he would find the villain.”

“And he found it?”

“He found it, but it was difficult. The villain was hiding in a ruined castle north of Gothym. Dami fought bravely with the villain and defeated him. Dami recovered the essentials of the crystal and in exchange, Queen Martha gave him a personal portal to return to the kingdom as often as he wanted. Dami was a brave hero and defeated the evil villain.” You told the story while running your hand affectionately through the boy's hair. “Did you like the story?”

“Yes, it was the best story anyone told me.”

“I'm glad you liked it, my love. If you want, I can tell you a story every night.”

“Todd would make fun of me if he knew.” He said, looking at you so intently that you knew he was embarrassed for having liked the story.

“I'm gonna tell you a secret. I told Dick, Jason and Tim stories for three years, but they didn't want to.”

“Did you tell Todd bedtime stories?” He asked loudly, as if it were some blasphemy.

“Of course, and he loved them all.”

“So I want to hear stories before bed.”

“I'll love telling you, along with a glass of milk and cookies. Good evening, Dami.” You said getting up from the bed. Your lips found the boy's forehead.

“Good night, mom.” He said, making you look surprised at him. “I can call you mom? Since Dick, Jason, and Tim call you Mom, I thought you might as well.”

“Of course, my dear. You can call me mother and I will call you my son.” Your arms wrapped around the body of the boy, your son. Love seemed to explode in your heart. “Good evening, my dear son.”

“Good nigh, mom.”

You gave Damian one last kiss on his forehead, before picking up the tray and taking it to the kitchen. After washing the dishes, you went to the master suite, the room shared between you and Bruce.

Your husband was lying on the king size bed, waiting for you. After showering and putting on your pajama, you laid down on the bed.

“Damian called me mom.” You said to Bruce, earning a smile from him.

“With bedtime stories, milk and cookies.”

“How did this happen?” He asked, setting aside the iPad he was using to hug you.

[shortnsweetsposts]

*Bat!reader and Batman arguing*

Bat!reader: Every bitch can't be your son.

Batman: ...

Batfam: *Gasp*

Damian: They're right actually.

Bat!reader: Bruce, I didn't mean-

Batman: How could you say that to The Batman.

[n0cturn4]

Was it worth it?

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader Summary: In his arms, with the last breath of life Word Count: 948 Music: Hurt Like Hell - Madison Beer

The abandoned building loomed in dark ruins, like a monument to oblivion, its peeling walls and partially open ceiling letting in only scattered drops of the rain outside. The dense shadows of dusk seemed to hold a vigil around us, and the heavy air carried the smell of rust and dampness, so thick it felt as if time itself was trapped there, holding everything stagnant except for the pain.

And then, in the middle of that desolate scene, my eyes found her. She was leaning against the wall, pale, her trembling lips shaped into an expression of exhaustion that no battle could explain, one hand pressed against the open wound on her torso. Blood slipped between her fingers, slow and dark, as if each drop was being pulled from the very essence of her. My heart clenched at the sight, realizing this was no longer one of the many wounds we healed in silence. This was something far deeper, a kind of sacrifice that should never have been hers to make.

She lifted her eyes to mine as she sensed my presence, her face marked by an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, an exhaustion that burned into the soul. Yet still, she managed a tremulous smile—a smile that, somehow, seemed more of a farewell than a greeting. Leaning against the wall, her frail and fading body seemed to struggle against an invisible weight pulling her down, as if the simple act of continuing to breathe demanded every fragment of strength she still possessed.

“Why…?” The question escaped my lips in a whisper barely audible, tearing through the oppressive silence surrounding us. I moved toward her, each step heavy, each movement carrying the weight of what I knew I couldn’t fix. I knelt by her side, my knees pressing into the dirty, damp ground, but none of that mattered. I was so close that I could see the contours of the bloodstains on her clothes, the dark color I knew so well but had never wanted to see there, on her.

She tried to speak, but the sound came out weak, sliced through by the pain. Her lips trembled slightly, and I saw hesitation in her gaze, as if she was afraid to let me know everything that was inside her. I touched her hand, feeling the warmth of life slipping between our fingers as she struggled to find the words. There was something solemn and irreversible in her eyes, as if she had already accepted a fate I still refused to see.

“I… I wanted to protect you, Dad.” Her voice was faint, a breath barely reaching my ears, but every word carried the determination of someone who knew that sacrifice was inevitable. “I knew the risks… knew it would be a one-way road… but I didn’t care. It was my choice.”

I felt my throat tighten, swallowing hard, trying to contain the unbearable weight now crushing my chest. There, in the middle of the shadows, with my daughter fighting for each second of life, the mantle of Batman felt useless. I was nothing but a father, and watching my daughter fade in my arms was a suffering no battle could prepare me for. I held her hand tighter, as if I could anchor her to life, as if I could convince her to stay.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My words came out shaky, almost like a murmur of despair. “I should… I should have protected you… should have stopped you… never should have let you walk down this path.”

She gave a faint smile, that sad and tired smile that bore a courage I had never seen before. Her eyes, even weakened, met mine with a depth that destroyed me inside. She knew, knew everything, and still, she looked at me with an acceptance that felt greater than any understanding I could have.

“Was it worth it?” The question escaped my mouth almost without thinking, a mixture of pain, guilt, and the desperate hope that, somehow, her words could relieve me of this weight that seemed to crush my soul. I needed to believe that all of this wasn’t in vain, that everything she had endured had a greater purpose.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Her trembling hand touched my face, a final gesture of affection, and when she spoke, each word came out in a whisper laden with unshakable strength:

“It was worth it, Dad… it was worth it, because I would do it all over again, just to know you’re still here. I was never just your daughter… I am your shadow, and that is my part in your legacy. You gave me purpose. Now, you have to go on, even if I’m not here. You have to keep Gotham safe… that’s the path I chose, for you.”

She closed her eyes, and her hand slipped softly from mine, leaving her last breath to escape her lips. I remained there, holding her in my arms, feeling the weight of loss rooting itself within me, a profound emptiness taking over what had once been a simple desire to fight. The rain outside seemed to intensify, as if the city mourned the loss of a silent heroine, a warrior who had sacrificed herself for something greater than herself.

For a long time, the only sound that filled the space was that of the rain, like a sad melody merging with the emptiness left behind. And I knew, there and forever, that this sacrifice was the greatest Gotham had ever demanded of me—a sacrifice I would carry with me for the rest of my life, a sacrifice that, as she had said, was now an inseparable part of who I was.

[rainnyydaysworld]

More incorrect quotes! :D

—

Reader: How has life been treating you lately?

Cass: Horribly.

—

Reader: I honestly feel like some of our conversations here are almost word-for-word accurate to the generator.

Steph: Yup.

Bruce: Maybe the generator is watching us.

Reader: Wouldn't that imply this conversation will be added?

Reader: ...

Reader: Wait—

—

Jason: There are no friends when playing board games. I am here to win.

—

Reader: Oh, so you two are getting along very... cordial now?

Cass: Cordial? Nah, we're friends.

Reader: Friends?

Cass: Yeah. After you stopped us fighting, we got to talking. Seems like we have some common interests.

Steph: We both love butterflies.

Reader: Aww–

Steph: And beating people up.

Reader: Oh, okay.

—

Reader: Remember what I told you.

Cass: Don’t be a cunt.

—

Damian: I'm very scary.

Reader: You're about as scary as a wet kitten.

Damian: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me.

Reader: And small.

Damian:

Damian: ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.

[idyllcy]

cherry red pies, pretty pink skies

word count: 1.5k || pt2 of sparkling green eyes, dazzling green lines

summary: Damian's sweet baby has her first ballet recital

"Dami, can you—"

"Don't worry." He hums, showing you the pamphlet he had picked up earlier. 

You never thought you'd be worried over ballet lessons. His sweet daughter was having her first recital, and he had cancelled a whole day's worth of plans in order to make sure that everything would go smoothly. You found it cute, though you were no less worried than he was. You could just never quite know what would go wrong in Gotham. The possibilities were endless... even with private security around the vicinity of the theatre.

You wonder if it's possible to be even more anxious than Damian.

"We'll be safe." He hums, hand reaching for yours as he runs his thumb over your knuckles, and you exhale.

"We'll be fine." You mumble. "We'll be fine."

"And if not then I get to shoot at Drake once."

"WHAT." 

Damian doesn't elaborate more on it, but when you catch a blur of orange in the dark, you get the general idea.

Well, at the very least, you feel a little more at peace knowing that someone is taking care of security. You wonder if Tim's out on the roof only to hack the cameras, though.

"Is he?" 

"No." Damian shakes his head, showing security the ticket. "Not this time."

You wonder just how worried Damian is over this entire situation, then.

"Are you worried that she'll mess up on stage at all?" You follow him to the center seats in the middle row, sitting down as he helps you down first.

"She's our blood. She's perfect even if she somehow does mess up. In that case, it would be improv, which we both know is something only the most talented can dream of doing."

You hold back at laugh at Damian's words. 

"Besides. We've both seen her practicing. She'll be alright." His hand covers yours, tapping gently at your fingers.

"I think she'll be fine." Cass hums as she slides next to the two of you, small bouquet in her arms, Bruce following shortly after.

"She's going to do the best out of all her peers." Damian rolls his eyes. 

You can only laugh.

In a way, Damian isn't wrong. Out of all those in her age group on stage, only your daughter somehow manages to remember the routine from start to finish, and when it's the end, you can barely contain your excitement to greet her. Damian follows after you with the flowers he had put in the trunk, small bouquet of congratulatory flowers in his arms as you pick up your precious baby girl and spin her around.

"You were great, baby." You grin, bouncing her in your arms.

"Thank you, mama." She mumbles. "Hi daddy."

"Hi, princess." Damian imitates a light curtsey, offering her the flowers. "Well done on your performance."

"Thank you, baba." She mumbles, cheeks flushed as she takes the flowers from her dad. "I didn't mess up."

"I know." He hums, holding her hand. "We're proud of you."

Your moment is interrupted when she spots Cass, eyes lighting up as she reaches from your arms for her. You hand her over with a gentle roll of your eyes, and Damian watches as she babbles nonsensical things that Cass entertains, flowers handed to her as she continues, thanking her in the same breath, going back to speaking.

"She takes after me for all that talking." You grin, patting Damian's hand as he rests it on your elbow.

"She's much more formal than her peers." Damian scrunches his nose. "Perhaps due to my influence."

"It isn't a bad thing." You wave as you watch Tim and Jason walk in. "You guys missed the whole thing."

"Oh, no we didn't" Tim shakes the camera in his hand, popping out the SD card and tossing it to Damian. "All on video with photos."

"Much appreciated." Damian nods. 

You wonder if Damian's family adores your little girl a little too much. She greets the rest of her uncles with a grin, excitement that only a child can experience making her little body shake with excitement. At one point, Dick calls to let you all know that dinner was ready at the mansion, and you offer to take your little girl from Cass.

"I wanna stay with aunt Cass." She pouts.

"What if she's tired?"

"Baba will carry you." Damian opens his arms for her, and she leaves Cass' embrace reluctantly. "Good girl." 

"Sorry about that." You laugh. "She was excited that you watched her perform."

"Thank you for inviting me." Cass hums. "She'll be great."

"I'm sure it's because she saw that photo of you doing ballet that one time while visiting Bruce. She's been enamored with the idea ever since." 

Cass only hums, glancing to the side as she waves at your daughter — who's still looking at her.

"I'll take her off your hands tonight after dinner." Cass laughs. "I'll bring her back tomorrow."

"Well, it is her summer vacation." You sigh. "Baby, you wanna stay with Aunt Cass for the night?"

"Can I?" She blinks up at you expectantly, and you look up to Damian.

"Do you want to?"

"It would be nice..."

"Then yes." He hums. "Don't trouble her too much, alright?"

She nods, grinning at Cass as she smiles back.

You have dinner with the rest of the family, their soulmates all present, handing your daughter small gifts of celebration as she thanks everyone with a polite nod. She reminds you very much of Damian, and from what Talia had told you when he was a baby, your daughter seems to be the exact image. At the very least, you hope that she'll grow up without the trauma that Damian had to experience because of his blood. He does a great job at keeping her separate from his life in the streets of Gotham. 

You wave goodbye to the family as your daughter gives you both a small kiss goodbye, promising she'll be good for Cass for the night. You have a feeling that means she's going to stay up past her bedtime practicing ballet with Cass again, but as long as she doesn't stay up too late, she'll be fine.

"How late do you think she'll be up until?" You mumble to Damian as he holds your door open for you.

"I'd argue anywhere around 11 to midnight." He nods as he closes the door for you.

"I hope she has fun, then." You chuckle, watching as the manor's doors close once more.

"We'll have our fair share of fun."

"Ugh, I can't wait to get a glass at home."

"Would you like to look through what just arrived? Drake dropped it off before patrol to me."

"You know, for someone who claims to just tolerate him, you sure do rely on him for a lot." You turn your head to glance at him, and he sighs. 

"Siblings."

You found that Damian was highly sentimental after marriage. From the wedding invites to the clothes he wore first when he met you, he knows every moment and minor detail of you. In your room, other than the shelves of mangas he collected as a teen, he also keeps photobooks of the two of you through each year, and all six failed engagement ring attempts are framed on the wall in the living room. You are lucky, you think. Your hopelessness had paid off... or rubbed off. You hadn't known it was possible to be so enamored with someone. Maybe his brothers rubbed off on him.

"Do you want a snack with the wine?" Damian hands you a glass, lips curled upwards gently as you grin at the package.

"I'll be fine. You kept it in the delivery box?"

"You like opening boxes." He hums, settling next to you on the couch as you open the box to find a booklet.

"Oh, from our wedding?"

"These were the behind-the-scenes that Drake got." He hums. "I did not enjoy that he got to see you first on the day of the wedding, but he did give this to us... even if it is years late."

You smile, patting Damian's shoulder gently as you flip through it with him, humming as you point at certain photos, watching as Damian texts Tim to send him the digitals later. You raise brows at certain people, and he tells you each one's name, lips quirking up in amusement when you roll your eyes at some of your friends. You wonder if the development would have happened had you not taken the risk and asked him to be your plus one to the wedding so long ago.

You yawn at one point, and Damian's hand rubs circles on your back.

"Bedtime, habibti?"

You yawn more in response, nodding slowly as you cover your mouth. "Bedtime. Are you going to frame any photos from it?"

"Most likely the one in the back. We should get a family portrait sometime as well."

"Yeah?" You start getting up, pausing mid-way to yawn. Instead, Damian picks you up with ease, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, Dami."

"Anytime. Rest well, habibti."

"Mm... you too, beloved."