#Make Damian more of a teenager please

[rougerave]

Hear me out, okay. Damian is a very casual person. Like he knows slang and swears like a sailor (Jason's fault) and knows memes like he knows his colour pallet, but not in English.

You can't tell me that the first language Talia spoke to Damian was English. No you fool! It was Arabic, then Chinese, then Persian before English.

Because his whole life was surrounded by these three languages, he learned to have more casual conversations in them.

The only reason he speaks so formally in English is because Jason would read him classical literature, and that's the problem. Classical literature if formal and old. Jason never bothered to talk to Damian in English for him to know how to converse in casual conversation, and this being the case Damian grew up thinking this is how people talk.

This being said this is the only reason the family knows Arabic and Persian (they all knew Chinese). The only way to have a casual conversation with him is to talk to him in these languages, and this is how the family leard that Damian is a comedian. Like he can make Bruce and Alfred belly laugh at the most inane, sexually explicit and cras things at the drop of a hat (just like Jason).

He is the only one rivaling Jason in the swear jar, Dick was so shocked he actually cried. This gets worse when he hits 19.

Like that one time he and Tim were walking to the office when they were approached by paparazzi. Like Damian went from cussing their ancestors to dissing their appearance, to saying Joker thinks their joke all in one breath, all with a straight face that it had his 26 year old brother rolling on the floor. Bruce seeing this from the lobby - Where he was talking to a very important ambassador-, comes out to drag both of them inside by their ears. Damian is still going off and Tim is still clutching his stomach.

And the paparazzi is so confused because one: they know Damian to be a very formal young man, if not a little dry and sarcastic, and two: They didn't understand shit. This whole thing has Gotham shocked. Jason and Talia have never been so proud.

[anonymous-existences]

DCXDP Prompt 13 :

@demonic0angel I'm gonna borrow a bit of your 'First Burn' Prompt If ya don't mind <33 just a teeny bit(cuz song hehe) and make it more ANGSTY!!

Danny and Bruce are divorced, Only Dick knew they were together, Danny and Bruce's love started in college, oh how their love and passion were true and gentle, everyone around them wished them happy memories.

But as Bruce took the Mantle of Batman, He never told Danny, neither did Alfred have the heart to tell Danny that he was always getting into dangerous situations as he roamed around Gotham as a Vigilante, Sneaking out at night from their bed.

Bruce and Danny both adopted Dick, Little Richard 'Dick' Grayson, Danny's little boy, his precious little star. Bruce saw how much Danny cared for Dick, Bruce thought Dick could be a distraction for Danny so Danny doesn't notice his secret Vigilante nightlife.

....

Danny knew. He knew everything alright. Danny tries to not cry every night as he feels Bruce sneak away in the middle of the night, every whispers of love that Bruce utters to Danny felt like lies, Danny knew he had secrets too, His Past Vigilante life as a teenager is something he never told Bruce.

But this is something Danny is slowly breaking himself into denial, His husband is a vigilante, that's fine, he was fine with that, but the way he interacted with other women made Danny's heart break, even other heroes... Too close, Too Intimate, Too Comfortable.

Danny stopped following Bruce everytime he left by that time, he felt so hurt and so insecure of himself everytime he saw 'Batman' Interact with those others so.. closely.

It made Danny's core scream in doubt and his emotions derailing into confronting Bruce.

He thought Confronting Bruce about his nightly sneaking would get Bruce to finally trust Danny with the information about Him being Batman but no, it made Danny doubt so much more, Days of constant fight and reuniting, His Little Boy, Dick , and Alfred was the last thing keeping Danny in mental order, Organized and Composed as he always should be. Even if Bruce is Acting like a Playboy Brucie Wayne.

He tried to do what Jazz would have done but nothing FUCKING worked and Danny was always on edge, he felt that everything his husband said was a lie, he loved Bruce but why won't Bruce trust him? Please... please, just tell him the truth, I won't be mad. Please. Just tell me. Tell me everything. TELL ME! PLEASE! IM BEGGING YOU! JUST TELL M—

Danny loves Bruce, But as day passes, that love slowly felt one sided.

....

Dick didn't mean it, it was supposed to be a harmless little prank, he didn't know how rocky Bruce and Danny's Marriage was, he didn't know. He really didn't.

He didn't know a picture of Batman with Selina would seal it off. He didn't know a single lipstick would finish it all. He was only a child. It was his fault. He felt that it was his fault— why wouldn't he? He didn't know.. he really didn't.

Danny and Bruce screamed, it was nothing that Dick could have ever heard before, he didn't know at all. He really didn't.... It was only supposed to be a prank.. He didn't mean it...

...

Bruce soon took in Jason, Dick noticed how much Jason looked like Danny, Dick wanted to yell, he wanted to scream at Bruce, He wanted to confront him about passing the mantle to Jason— but... It's no use fighting against someone that's like Bruce. Not like Batman.

Dick secretly kept contact with Danny and his Family, Dani And Jazz was still his aunt as they lived in Bludhaven, he could always go to them as Nightwing and they'd know to help him without questioning. Dick felt bad everytime he did. He felt as though he was burdening the family of the person who's marriage he ruined, his own Father.

The only Father who could actually handle and was a real father.

Everything passed by so quickly.

Jason Died.

Tim Was adopted and he became Robin.

Jason came back to life.

Dick immediately took Jason to Danny.

Damian Came into their lives. Dick felt his blood Boil when Damian did but he couldn't blame Damian, Dick accepted Damian with a whole heart, acting like the Danny which the Manor Lost because of Bruce.

He will be the person who loved everyone, just like Danny, even if sometimes it's tiring— he just needs to keep being the Father of these children that Bruce struggles to be, It's the only Way Dick could honor Danny.

...

Bruce misses Danny Dearly, he regrets many things.

But the one he regrets the most is...

Losing Danny.

Danny and Bruce are Divorced Because Bruce Fucked up with being Batman and didn't tell the truth, Dick wanted to do a little prank cuz a kid will do pranks and snuck a lipstick on Bruce's coat and a picture of Selina with a kiss mark on it. Danny and Bruce's marriage are rocky as fuck, Dick secretly takes the other Wayne kids to Danny and they come to love Danny as their father much like Dick is attached to Danny, Jazz and Dani are the Wayne's Therapists. Specifically Jazz, she's the Best, Uncle Dan is Jason's Favorite mechanic.

Bruce Misses Danny dearly and wants him back and will try and probably try to court Danny again, nonstop as Batman, Danny still loves Bruce and hadn't moved on, His core is very much attached and embedded in the memory and love of Bruce Wayne, thus he is just waiting for Bruce to finally step up.

Yes this was Angsty, I apologize <33 but yes.

[zylev-blog]

Danny is Jon Kent.

Danny was in English class when it happened. A portal opened under his desk and he fell into it, desk and all. When he was able to get his bearings of whatever he’d been dropped into, he was considering going ghost, but something deep inside of him told him to wait and watch. That his ghost half wasn’t needed yet. So he did.

He looked around. He noticed a teenager, around his age, that was dressed in a gray, black and red costume with a R on the chest, who was standing next to a blonde guy in a long trench coat.

“There you go, Batbrat. One Jon Kent for ya. Don’t kill this one, eh?” Constantine winked and teleported out of the room after clapping the ‘Batbrat’ on the shoulder.

The teen turned to him, walking over slowly. Danny was unnerved. He didn’t know who ‘Jon Kent’ was, or why he was summoned, but he didn’t want to have to defend himself with his English final and a pencil. He pulled the hidden Fentonbat from his pocket and extended it, aiming it at the teen.

“Don’t come any closer.” Danny hissed, “Who are you and why was I summoned here?”

The teen tilted his head. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Am I supposed to?” He kept the bat steady in his hands, but he doubted that it would do much against the teen. Something in him told him that the teen was more highly trained than he was and that he could decimate him without any effort.

The teen reached up and pulled the mask off of his face, looking slightly hopeful. “My name is Damian Wayne.” The teen looked him up and down, “The Jon Kent of my world is dead and you will take his place.”

“Alright, look, uh—Damian, was it? First off, I’m not Jon Kent, don’t even know who that is. Second off, I’m not taking some dead teens place. No way. That’s just creepy and it’s not happening.”

He was starting to get creepy vibes from Damian, and the only other person that creeped him out like this was Vlad, and Vlad was… well, Vlad.

“The world is in danger. Superman is going mad with his grief. He needs his son.” Damian looked into his eyes, “And I need my best friend back.”

“That’s a whole lot of nope from me.” He backed away, but found himself with the desk blocking his retreat. “Look, I’m honored but uh, my sister will get worried if I don’t come home and trust me, you don’t want that.”

“You don’t have a sister.” Damian took a few steps forward.

He stepped around the desk and kept it between him and Damian. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I don’t know who Jon Kent is! My name is Danny! Danny Fenton! And for once in my life, can you please send me back to school so I can take my English test?”

“I thought we would be friends in every universe.” Damian mumbled, “But I guess I was wrong.”

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Uh, quick idea, sending me home sounds fantastic.”

“The world needs you, Jon. I need you.” Damian frowned, “But if you won’t go willingly, I will force you.”

Loosing his temper, he spat: “I’m not Jon, you arrogant ass—“

He was cut off when he saw Damian pull a glowing green rock from his pocket. Instantly, Danny fell to his knees, dragging the desk down with him as he fell. He clutched his chest, making it feel like it was hard to breathe. He lost unconsciousness.

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DP x DC Prompt: The Watchlist

Batman has a watchlist. A list that contains every individual who could become a rouge and a contingency plan for if they did.  

And while they, his children, often make fun of his paranoia and him for having it, they totally understand why he did. They lived in Gotham, for Christ's sake. Where everyone’s just a pin drop away from being the city’s next big villain, forcing the bats to scratch their heads while playing cat and mouse with a sicko for a good few weeks. And while they won’t admit it, the list has helped them a few times. 

But that won’t stop them from making fun of any of the list’s new developments. Because you see, there was a new list. And it wasn’t just a watchlist. No, no, no. It was The Watchlist.

It was a new development after he and Robin went on an out-of-state mission to investigate some town in bum fuck nowhere Illinois. And it was under some pretty tight security as well, so they were expecting something good, like mad scientists or evil mayors. Not profiles of the kids who lived in the town. And while there were a few metas and vigilantes that made the list interesting, by the end of it all they just seemed to be teenagers. 

Until they saw Damian. They hadn’t seen him since he came back from the mission with B. He looked tired. Like ‘Tim hasn’t slept in a week and is surviving on just coffee beans’ tired.

“Ah, I see you all have found it. Good. A few of them will be arriving next week as they’re a part of Gotham Academy’s student exchange program. At least three of them will be staying in the manor with us. Father will need you all to be on standby and to be ready for any possible scenario. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not encourage them in any way, shape, or form. And please do not dismiss them either. The outcome of doing that will be much worse. Is there more that I should add? Yes. Will I? No, because you won’t understand. Not until you've seen what I have.” 

The demon child sighed, then looked them dead in the eyes. “Godspeed to us all.” Then walked away.

Okay, they were scared now.

[damiansgoodgirll]

i know it might be early but can you write about reader being in the judgment day and seeing her family breaking up at summerslam and so even if rhea and damian just lost they comfort her because they know how important was the jd to her? like they were her family.

oh i’ve been waiting for this request honestly

damian priest x reader (platonic) + rhea ripley x reader (platonic)

tw : mention of abandonment, family issues, feeling of loneliness, brief panic attacks

don’t break my heart

if someone told you a year ago that you would have joined the most successful faction in the wwe at the moment you probably would have laughed at them in their face.

and yet, a year ago rhea and the rest of the judgment day saw your potential when you were just in nxt. they saw as the fierce and feisty teenage girl that no one could handle and they knew that they wanted someone like you in their team.

you were only twenty but it felt like you were in the business for forty years. you knew that wrestling was your passion and you wanted to trasform that passion into your everyday work.

your family didn’t agree. they didn’t see what you saw in wrestling and so they couldn’t see the talent you actually had. they said you had to focus on a real career path, that once you finished high school you had to apply for more colleges you could. they wanted a future for you that you didn’t want.

and when you tried to explain to them that all you wanted to do in life was wrestling, they kicked you out. they didn’t want you in the family anymore and you never felt so broken in your life. you were lucky your best friend let you into her house so you helped her with what you could. you found a part-time job so you could help her pay the bills or the food while you were still training to become a wrestler.

it was hard but somehow you managed to get signed into the famous wwe.

but once you joined, you realised that it wasn’t perfect as you thought it would be. you struggled with getting booked and the first time you actually got booked they set you to lose even if you knew you would have won those matches easily. but the pay was good and fans started to recognise you more.

in reality you felt lonely and alone. you barely made any friends as they labelled you as the new one and you didn’t feel welcomed at all. your family still didn’t talk to you and due to you constantly being on the road, you lost contact with your best friend.

one special day the judgment day surprised everyone in nxt, claiming that they were looking for you so when they saw you fighting on the ring, they decided to make a special appearance and shocking everyone.

“we want you y/n” you remembered rhea saying and the crowd screaming of joy “we want you in the team” and so you joined them.

you thought it was all for publicity but truth was that they really saw potential in you. you were young and you already had a big potential of becoming a real threat for the women division.

so they helped you train. rhea and damian showed you some moves and techniques you’ve never saw before, finn was like the mind, teaching you how to trick your opponent with simple mind tricks and dominik was your comfort person, he helped you gaining more confidence, especially during your first matches.

later on you opened up about your past with them. how you basically had no family as they kicked you out, how you had no friends because the girls at nxt didn’t like you and how lonely you felt but they made sure to change all of that. they always included you in their car trips, sundays together and movie nights.

you finally felt like you belonged somewhere.

so you couldn’t believe of what you were witnessing while watching rhea losing against liv at summerslam. tears in your eyes as you watched dominik turning on rhea and betray her like that.

you were backstage watching the whole match with finn and jd and you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking.

“no no no no…dom please…don’t do that…” you whispered as your eyes were glued to the tv.

you couldn’t deny there had been tension this past weeks but you were the judgment day, you always solved all the issues you had so why was it happening now?

“y/n…” finn slowly approached you. his heart was breaking for you, mostly because he knew what was going to happen and mostly because he knew you didn’t deserve to be put into this mess.

“finn…we have to do something we…” he hugged you because he couldn’t lie to you. he couldn’t find words to comfort you because what he was going to later was gonna make you hate him.

you cried into his arms until damian broke into the room and started screaming. he was visibly upset and he couldn’t understand why dom turned on rhea.

“did you know that?” he started screaming at finn but before he could answer you jumped in.

“of course he didn’t…”

“no i didn’t know man” finn lied. he didn’t care about lying to damian, but you, after he said that he simply left the room without saying anything to you.

you stayed there, confused while your brain was trying to elaborate everything that happened in the past 30 minutes.

you knew rhea wanted to be left alone so you guys waited for her to calm down. she joined you a few minutes before damian’s match started “hey” you smiled at her.

“hey…” she put her arm around your shoulder and let you rest your head over it.

“you good?”

“i’ll be okay…not the match i imagined but it will be okay” she softly smiled at you. you knew she was hurting and that she was clearly pissed, but she didn’t want you to worry for her so she pretend that everything was fine.

as damian’s match began, you both had hopes for him to retain his title but everything went downhill when you saw finn turning on damian.

“rhea…what-what is he doing over there?” rhea was as shocked as you were because finn wasn’t supposed to be there.

“i…i don’t know”

“rhea we have to do something! damian’s gonna lose and…” but before you could continue, she grabbed your arm when she saw that you were about to leave the room and she stopped you.

“there’s nothing we could do y/n…” she was hurting as much as you were.

“no no, please rhea…i can’t, this group can’t break up please…” it was like losing a family all over again “we have to go there and help damian, talk some sense into finn’s head and…and”

“hey y/n…calm down, come here” she hugged you as she sensed that you were panicking “there’s nothing we can do right now…they made up their minds”

“but finn…finn, he told me everything was going to be alright, he told he didn’t know anything about dom and now, now he’s just going to betray us like that…rhea we have to stop him…” you were visibly crying right now.

but before you could continue or before, she could answer you, finn did unthinkable and betrayed dam on live tv. he made damian lose his title and while coming backstage, he had this twisted smile on his face that made you sick enough.

“where are you going y/n?” rhea asked you when she saw you about to leave the room.

you stayed there for a minute, thinking if you should go to talk to finn or go to comfort damian “i don’t know…i wanna talk to finn, i need him to tell me to my face that he doesn’t care about us, that he doesn’t care about this group and…”

“love, please stop” rhea’s heart was breaking for you because she knew how much you loved the group as it was your own family “there’s nothing we can do now…finn and dom turned on us but me and damian aren’t leaving you, i promise you”

“rhea’s right…” you both turned your heads to face damian. he had a broken look on his face and it was clear that he was hurting “we ain’t going anywhere y/n…”

“damian…” you went for a hug and he softly smiled when he felt your arms hugging him as strong as you could “i had no idea finn was going to betray you like that…he told me everything was okay and then…”

“it’s not your fault y/n…you couldn’t have known that…”

“are you okay damian?” you asked, feeling guilty that they were the ones who just got betrayed and you were the one crying about it.

“i’ll be okay…you know finn was like family to me and see him betraying me like that. it will hurt for a while but we are a family and we stay together through all of this” he smiled at you.

“i just…i wish i could talk to them and”

“y/n, love…nothing you say would make them change their minds…” rhea softly spoke to you.

“i know but they can’t break this family apart…” you wanted to say group but you never felt like you were part of a group, you felt like you were part of a family and suddenly you felt 18 again, when your parents kicked you out and turned their backs on you.

damian and rhea knew how much that affected you, how scared you were of abandonment and they promised that you would have never felt like that again. but they couldn’t keep their promise as long as they wanted because finn and dom were breaking the group apart and they couldn’t do anything about it to stop them. they knew how much you struggled to make friends and apart from them and a few other wrestlers, you didn’t have many friends.

you struggled again in the women’s faction because they all were too focus on themselves to make space for someone else, apart from shayna or bayley, the rest of them never acknowledged you.

damian introduced you to jey uso and some other people like drew or la knight and even if they were all kind to you, you couldn’t really rely on them as friends because they weren’t.

so all you had left was the judgment day, until now.

“hey hermosa…we are not leaving you okay?” damian reassured you.

“everyone leaves at some point…”

“hey none of that nonsense okay?” rhea almost scolded you “you probably weren’t expecting this, i saw it coming eventually but trust me when i say that me and damian won’t leave you alone…you still are part of this group and we ain’t leaving you behind” rhea gently rubbed your back while you were wiping some of your tears away.

“rhea’s right…we are here and we are here to stay…” damian smiled at you.

“thank you…”

“don’t thank us love, it’s the truth”

maybe, in the end you still had a family that cared about you but for now, you couldn’t wait to kick finn and dom’s asses on monday night raw.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part two

[ghostbsuter]

This is the fourth time damian brought the college student over.

Damian, despite being 14, has been accepted to a gifted school as he had already been taught in the most subjects one usually learns at a slower pace.

(He still gets a headache over the fact his son won't get a normal childhood.)

Which is how he befriended the 17 year old Daniel, an overworked and sleepdeprived college student, getting dragged along and following with no complaint.

Bruce is, even if he wanted damian to befriend someone more around his own age, very welcoming of the student.

Alfred made sure the boy took enough food with him home, always leaving the mansion at point 4 pm.

It really shouldn't have been surprising when Bruce Wayne, yes, THE Brucie Wayne, summoned him to his office.

Danny entered the room fidgeting, giving a nervous smile to the man behind the desk and questioning what he did wrong to offend the patriarch of the family.

(Lies and slander, we, the readers, are fully aware that Alfred is the patriarch.)

"Uh— hi, Mr. Wayne." He sat when gestured to the chair, shitting bricks with how nervous he's.

The man nods in greeting, smiling. "Hello Danny–"

"Please don't kill me!" The teen in question blurts out, flushing in embarrassment once registered.

Taken aback and startled, Bruce snorts, stifling laughter by putting a hand against his mouth.

Shit.

"I don't know what I did! Very sorry if I offended someone!" He rambles, panicking and waving his hands around.

"Danny—"

"I must have done something! Why else would you call me? Oh god– I'm gonna be murdered by THE Brucie Wayne!"

At this point, the rich guy in front of him is barely restraining himself from laughing, trying his best to stay professional.

"Danny–! I- I won't murder you." He reassured, eyes crinkling from smiling.

"But–" he sniffs, both embarrassed and teary.

"I'm not gonna— danny." Bruce sighs, which sounds a lot like a choke, really. "Look, I just wanted a 1-on-1 talk with you about your friendship with damian and some concerns."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Danny sighs in relief at this. "I can do some good old interrogation–" "it's not an interrogation–" "totally interrogation."

He huffs lightly, getting comfortable in his chair and preparing himself mentally.

"Alright Mr. Wayne! Shoot me!"

(Was that a pun? A joke to murder? Really?)

The man clears his throat, straightens his back and looks serious as he was before the accusations of murder.

"What are your intentions with damian and why become friends in the first place?"

Blinking, the teen brightens. "Oh, that's easy! Damian needs a friend. We just kinda clicked after I scared away a few pesky bullies."

Then he shrugs. "Besides, it's great training."

"Training?" Bruce asks, curious, tone light in the way that shows he's very interested.

"Yes. Despite his badly hidden murderous tendencies, love for knives, and slight lack of slang language and knowledge, he's still a kid." He nods.

"A young teen that goes through teen stuff that I barely remember going through and now get to relearn will be handy once Ellie becomes a teenager herself."

Batman was filing the information away, but Bruce kept going.

"Ellie?" He questions.

"My daughter– has damian not mentioned her? We always leave around 4 to get her from my sister. Sometimes, dami stays over for a few hours!"

Ah. Well. Seems like Alfred will have to make more food for the teen now.

"Would you like to stay for dinner today?" He asks, "Bring your daughter too. We won't mind you joining us." smiling and already planning for the new adjustments to make.

"On another note, what are your and your daughters preferences? Any allergies?"

Danny didn't even agree yet, not that he was gonna— mind you.

"No allergies, soft foods only, easy to eat." He answers, listing the stuff from the top of his head.

In a whirlwind of– of planning dinner?? Danny is out of the door and wide eyed.

"What just happened?"

(On the other side, Bruce face-palms, having forgotten to ask what age Ellie is. Damn in Bruce.)

—

On the fifth visit, Danny stayed for dinner.

Damian must know the age, for there are bowls with freshly cut fruits, yoghurt, and rice mixed with veggies and chicken.

On that note, where is damian?

Dick meets his eyes, asking the same quetsion with a look.

Just as Bruce was gonna ask, the door opened, and the cutest picture to ever exist was created.

(Dick RIPPED his phone out of his pocket, swiping a picture of the scene as fast as possible.)

Steph can't hold back the coos at the sight of Damian walking with a toddler into the dining room, her tiny feet propped up on his and in hand together.

She's wearing a Robin onesie and he is wearing his (stolen) Nightwing hoodie.

"Sorry, hope we aren't late!" Danny waves with a grin from behind the pair.

"You aren't, just perfect, in fact." Bruce reassures, waving the teens over to the free seats.

Damian leads the two to his seat, making sure they're next to him.

The conversation during dinner is one spoken fondly, Cass likes to make Ellie laugh with silly faces, Duke and Steph "secretly" feed her tiny pieces of strawberry and Dick is in a rather passionate discussion with both Tim and Danny.

Damian, once he makes sure no one is watching him, wipes the mess from Ellies face.

(Bruce was watching, looking away once damians face snapped to him. He wasn't aware his youngest had such a soft spot for toddlers.)

(It takes a while, but Danny and Ellie become family like every other person, while having not slept over yet, Alfred already has prepared a room for the two in the Family wing.)

(It's barely a week after that everyone bought and gifted him onesie's of their hero personas, with the excuse of them being the gotham vigilantes when questioned. After all, the Robin can't be a one man team.)

—

The Nightwing and his Robin.

[igotanidea]

New rules: Damian Wayne x reader

part 4 of "Family rules" series.

A/N: bit of a filler, cause it's been 3 months(!!!!), but promise next part will be more eventful :D

***

„What is this?!” her father yelled, almost throwing the Gotham newspaper in her face.

“I—”

“Let me tell you what this is! This is you kissing Damian Wayne! And your face is all over the newspapers’ front pages!”

“Stop screaming at me!” she spat back feeling her self-control slipping.

“You better tread carefully young lady. Last time I checked you were still living in my house.”

The nightmare began the second she got back from school, still reeling from everything that happened in the principal’s office. Y/N could barely step over the threshold when a tight grip on her shoulders yanked her back, pushing her into the chair in the living room, with a very angered Mr. Y/L/N hovering above her. Felt like a freaking interrogation because she dared to behave like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time in her life.

If her mother was still alive, she would understand. She would sit down with her, ask a lot of questions, let Y/N blush and be supportive as a mother could.

Instead the young girl had to deal with her father, who clearly forgot that part of the role, focusing only on acting as a CEO, whose daughter was fraternizing with the enemy.

And it made her feel guilty.

Guilty for her own feelings, as if falling in love was something shameful. As if he had to pick the right person to whom her heart should start beating. Or not. Not that she could have experienced that, yet¸ but judging by the screams and rage she could say that in the future her father might try to marry her off out of reason.  

“Dad, please listen, I –” her pleading tone was supposed to make the man realize that she wasn’t just a bargaining chip in his business’ development.

“I understand.” The response was cold, emotionless, almost ruthless, leaving no space for arguing.  

“No you don’t understand! You don’t understand! How could you possibly understand love when even mom was nothing more than a trophy wife for you-!“

Her outburst was immediately cut off by a slap and sharp stinging on the cheek followed by the reddened skin and pulsing blood.

“This is what your mother’s upbringing caused.” Her father hissed “ungrateful, stupid, snouted brat. But let me tell you something. This ends here. And if you want to keep living on my expense, you will do as I tell you!”

“I’m 17! I’m underage, you can’t just cast me out!”

“Unless you want to find out what I’m capable of, I advise you to listen to the plan you’re just a pawn in.”

***

“What is it, Damian?” Bruce asked his youngest son when he came back from school. If there was any anger or disappointment in him, he did a great job hiding it.

“It’s nothing.” Said youngest muttered bellicosely.

It obviously had to come to this stupid awkward conversation with his father but Damian was not going to admit anything easily. And the fact that the boy only just realized that he might be slightly in love with Y/N Y/L/N was causing him to act even more coldly and aloofly than usually.

“Son…”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“So you kissing that girl was just you having fun? Or maybe you were trying to humiliate her?”

“What? No!”

“Look, you are a boy. It's okay if you want to blow off steam. It’s understandable.” Bruce smirked, clearly setting a trap for Damian with the reverse psychology trick.

“You understand? Because you had so much blowing off steam when you were younger?" Obviously the boy raised by Thalia Al-Ghul and Ra’s Al-Ghul was smarter than to fall for something so childish. “Besides, it’s such a humiliating experience. I have no interest in primitive youthful pleasures and amorous activities, father.”

“You sure about it?”

“Positive.” Damian crossed arms over his chest, having his face expression under perfect control.

“Good. Get ready for patrol then. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Damian nodded and with stern look and pursed lips left the room, allowing Bruce to finally let out a sigh of worry. His son may have been a skilled vigilante trained in restraint of emotions, but he could not trick Batman himself. It was impossible to notice how Damian’s eyes were focused on that little Y/L/N during all of last night’s gala. Showing much more than just resentment. And then the dance, which Bruce didn’t even have to force him into. And the way his boy was holding that girl. It was almost obvious that Damian had in fact an interest in amorous activities.

And unlike Y/n’s father, Bruce was not mad about it. In fact, he was quite relieved. As long as possible the relationship would not detriment Damian’s Robin duties of course. But seriously, as a father of a 17 year old, Bruce knew that it was only a matter of time when dilemmas and problems related to love and adolescence would come forward.

And unlike Y/N;s father Bruce was going to watch it carefully, intervening when needed, giving a push here and there, but without obvious control.

***

She was crying a waterfall, holding onto the bruised cheek wondering how to best cover it up so no one at school would ask silly questions.

Locked in the room on the first floor, making the most stern resolution to avoid Damian Wayne for dear life. Even if that was the last thing she would do in her life, she wouldn’t get closer than three rows of desks in the classroom.

For what Y/N cared, Damian Wayne was now officially dead to her.

***

He was sitting on the branch of a giant tree next to her house, dressed in Robin costume, observing how the girl walked into her room with a hand on her cheek, though the distance didn’t allow him to uncover why. Was she sick? Would she be at school tomorrow? Maybe the press got to her and she hurt herself running away from the paparazzi?

“Damian.”

AH! He almost fell to the ground.

“Yes, father?”

“What are you doing?”

“Observing.”

“What?”

“The target.”

“Hm.”

“What now?”

“Unless the target changed age, gender and appearance—”

“Our criminal is currently running down 34th street.” Damian cut his father off abruptly and roughly “his tires are about to burst in about 100 meters due to the explosive I planted there. The explosion will give us enough momentum to jump into action and catch him with the stolen goods in his trunk. That is if we get into action in 3…2…1…” he swiftly shot into the air without paying attention to his companion and even less to his words.

As if Batman was trying to suggest Damian might have been watching her.

Huh! Ridiculous!

***

“Hey Y/n, what happened to your face?” The same girl that used to laugh her out about ending up on the pages kissing Damian, guffawed the next day seeing the poorly covered bruise on Y/N’s face.

“None of your fuckin business -“

“Oh, such bad words coming out of the little princess' mouth, isn’t it?”

“Get lost Lisa!” Y/N shut the locker and tried to walk past her bully.

“You will not ignore me!” Lisa hissed and yanked the other girl’s hair back.

“GIRL FIGHT!” someone yelled and in a blink of an eye the corridor was filled with students cheering on one or the other girl as they started to circle around each other waiting for the moment to strike. Before teachers arrived Y/N was on the floor, blocking the hits that Lisa, who was sitting atop her kept on throwing.

“GET OFF ME!”

“YOU WILL RESPECT MY POSITION IN THIS SCHOOL!”

“YOU’RE A BULLY!”

“I’M A QUEEN!”

“OF MENTAL SICKNESS!"

“HE’S MINE!”

“Wait… what?” Y/N stuttered and the moment of confusion ended up in the perfectly aimed nose punch and a quite decent bleeding. Followed by Lisa’s vindictive smile.

“Now your nose matches your cheek.”

“ny-noze….”  tears pricked from Y/N’s eyes from the combined pain and shock. It was not just about the fight, but everything that happened in the last couple days. Her father’s abuse because of falling in love and now Lisa’s torment because of pretty much the same followed by a girl’s jealousy.

“What is happening here?” Fuck, why were the teachers always appearing  after the drama happened.

“She attacked me!” Lisa exclaimed, putting on an innocent face. “So aggressive, I suppose it’s because she was raised only by one parent.”

For a second the principal and the tutor were looking between untouched Lisa and beaten up, bleeding Y/N. It was clear who was the casualty, nonetheless it was Lisa’s family who’s been giving generous donations to school.

“Get up from the floor Y/N.” she was finally instructed and on shaky legs and with dizziness she clumsily stood up still clutching her nose. “This is your second stunt this week. You’re coming to my office and this time, I won’t go lightly on you.”

“It was not her fault.” Someone from the crowd of the students dared to speak up and the people parted, revealing the fuming….

Damian Wayne.

“it was Lisa—”

“Oh, I don’t feel well!” Lisa exclaimed accidentally falling right into Damian’s arms “I feel like I’m going to faint—”

“Mr. Wayne, take Mrs Thomas to the nurse’s office so she can be tended to.”

“What-?” Damian swiftly avoided Lisa’s fall and the girl almost ended up on the floor. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No. Y/N was the one who was attacked. And for crying out loud, she’s the one bleeding and needing medical attention. So no, I’m not taking her—” he threw a glance at Lisa “anywhere when there’s someone else in need.”

“U-uh…” the principal still had in mind the humiliation he was subjected to last time when he had Damian and Y/N talk to him. “Fine! Fine, you take her to the nurse, though it’s completely unnecessary and –” half a sentence and two of them were already halfway away “Fuck. I mean, you all go back to your classes! There’s nothing to see here! Now go, before I put you all in detention!”

***

So her resolve to avoid Damian was broken on the first day. 

And it was about to get even harder from now on. 

_________________________________________

part 5: Cracking

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali

[002yb]

Damian draws Jason and Dick in some kind of romantic setting (holding hands, maybe) and *that* is how Bruce finds out about DickJay... At first he's a bit confused, but then he starts to pay attention to the signs, and they are all there.

No thoughts, just Damian sketching life around him more often than not. A habit that starts when all the galas become grating and the 'eccentric artist' persona grants him some peace by virtue of Damian minding his business and looking both unapproachable and busy.

Because it's actually enjoyable, it carries over into casual outings, too. Bruce doesn't mind it, either. Is supportive of it, in fact. It keeps Damian out of trouble.

Bruce never having been too curious about what Damian draws until one day while they're visiting Clark on his farm, Bruce looks over Damian's shoulder and sees Damian is drawing Clark (who is working the farm and looking like a dream while doing it - sleeves rolled up, buttons undone, hair mused and muscles--)

"Is that appropriate?"

"It depends where your thoughts are, father."

To say that Bruce is amused at Damian's cheek is an overstatement.

That besides, seeing Damian draw something so scandalous sets off the overbearing, overprotective parent in Bruce because what else is his son drawing in the pursuit of 'art'? Damian's hardly a child anymore; more a sullen, broody teenager than anything. Bruce remembers what it's like. Hormones. Urges. Damian's interests in all things social would have died alongside the abrupt shift of his relationship with Jon years ago (the abrupt aging, the equally abrupt dating…his poor boy…), so it's not beyond the realm of possibility that Damian would turn to smut for--

And Damian clicks his tongue at him although Bruce has said nothing. They've been partners for years though, so it's no stretch to imagine that Damian was privy to Bruce's racing thoughts.

"It's no wonder Grayson is the way he is."

Usually this would be a compliment, but in this instance Bruce feels distinctly insulted. He just wouldn't know how.

He's calling you a pervert degenerate, sir. Dick's compatriot in foul-mindedness.

The drawing of Clark being utterly mundane. But because Bruce is a thirsty bitty, he projects the superbats UST onto Damian who is really not about this life, SOS

Also, Jon and Damian being fine contrary to Bruce's beliefs. Unless they're not. That's not the point of this ask, disregard.

So Damian tries to diffuse the situation and spare himself by blandly stating: "I've drawn you before, too."

Which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because Bruce's mind makes impossible leaps once again to: oh, my boy needs therapy.

To which Damian clicks his tongue again because omfg, Bruce is actually worse than Grayson. Disgusting.

So Damian flips a few pages back (the pages in between being normal, mundane life happenings -- socialites milling about the gala the night before, the wait staff prepping in the kitchen, Alfred mending a button on a shirt, etc) and then, ah.

It's Bruce. Tucked away in his study, finishing up work he had to bring home from the office. Tie thrown over his shoulder, furrow in his brow and face squished by his own hand. Focused, intent, and woefully oblivious because while he remembers Damian being there sat on the couch, he can't recall that he'd been doing this. Huh.

Bruce being so amazed and pleased because look at that, his boy is an artist.

But then, with lines merged into those that make up Bruce's likeness is another moment captured. Alongside a couple others that could fit onto the page

Not inappropriate, per se, but disarmingly intimate nonetheless

Dick, he would recognize. And Jason?

The way Bruce would be utterly bemused because oh. There's nothing so defined; that's not the point of these exercises Damian does, but it's there regardless. A closeness and familiarity. Softness.

Bruce would have to wonder if this is how Damian saw them or how he sees them; knows it's both

And it's curious, because Bruce has never...

He'd linger on those drawings. Of Dick and Jason sat next to each other, Dick's arm thrown over the back of Jason's chair and leaned over into Jason's space -- Jason being drawn in just the same to look over something on Dick's phone.

And more: with Jason laid back, propped up on his elbows and keeping Dick away with his foot. Dick's hand wrapped so casually around the arch, bending Jason's leg. The follow up after Jason must have reversed their positions, with Jason sat on Dick's hips and leaning back against Dick's propped up legs, his own legs hiding Dick's face, but all his intention showing in the steady hold of his hand at Jason's knee

Bruce leafs through the rest of the sketchbook. Seeking out more. Captivated by it because somehow he missed something important. It's right here, too. Alongside so many other mundane things from their everyday lives.

Hidden among other sketches in varying degrees of completion, lost between strangers and landscapes and animals and individual portraits are his boys, at ease and content and oh, what a beautiful thing that is

And Damian misses the memo of where Bruce's thoughts wander, still grumbling under his breath about Bruce projecting his unresolved whatever with Clark on him, gross. Accusing Damian of drawing smut. Even if Bruce was interested in commissioning, Damian won't do it even if it's Bruce asking. Damian has his line and this is it.

From then on, Bruce being mindful of Dick and Jason's interactions. Subtly observing. And it would be right there, though it's discreet. Bruce would catch the affection in bumped shoulders and playful shoves; games of chase around the cave or across rooftops. It would be there in their briefs/debriefs, with Dick's chair turned closer to Jason. Or with Jason brushing his pinky against Dick's before pulling away, shy and with his hand hiding his blush.

It's the lingering looks and the bitten back smiles; the bright eyes and the quiet, joyful warmth.

And Bruce should say something, do something. It's a liability, a risk, a distraction, but the relief would leave Bruce loathe to intrude. Because he can't remember the last time he saw and was able to appreciate either Dick or Jason being so happy. He'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

So for once, Bruce minds himself. And he stays quiet. And he contents himself with observing, same as Damian.

Who very cheekily frames that picture of Clark and leaves it on Bruce's nightstand with a note to keep his depravities to himself, thanks

[2danesand1cat]

The themes of regret, grief, and guilt have been in my mind lately, particularly regarding my sweet angel child-Damian.

It’s a pretty consistent theme in the comics that Damian believes he is not good enough, he’s a monster, that he’s not like his father or siblings, and that he’s full of uncontrollable anger, malice, and spite.

And while of course each batkid (and especially Bruce) have their own unique experiences with guilt and regret, I can’t help but imagine what all of that must feel like to a kid so young, who is incredibly skilled and highly intelligent, yet also very naive in a way that a child is about the world and their place in it.

Damian is frustrated when people don’t understand his harshness and his intense motivations, as it creates a barrier in the way he relates to his family. Additionally, he is barely able to step out of his own perspective as a child, preteen, and even young teenager to understand other people’s ways and motivations. This would certainly be incredibly isolating, having this drive and intensity you were tortured to develop and that you are now being told is wrong even though that’s all you know. But more than anything, he just wants to please someone, and it feels like they just keep misunderstanding him. This, of course, is not to say they didn’t try. Dick, Alfred and Bruce are his heroes for a damn good reason, but it took a great deal of time and constant redirection.

Even now, as an early teen, he’s still struggling with maintaining all the work he’s done on himself to reframe his self image and control his emotions. YOU KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS FOR A 14/15 YEAR OLD TO CONTROL THEIR EMOTIONS?!?!

Do you know how much guilt and regret that must take, to keep him on track?

His desire to please is so strong because each small bit of praise that he earns reinforces this very feeble idea that, maybe, just maybe, he is good, and is doing something right. Each time he hears these things, it slowly erodes that constant weight on his tiny little shoulders of the guilt he carries everyday.

I can’t help but think of all the times he pleaded with himself and some high figure or something to “please, make me good like Richard. Help me be better. Help me be like Father. Please, please please” as silent sobs gripped his tiny frame and tears poured down onto his pillow.

Or all the times where he is sketching or training or just trying to exist and is hit with a wave of guilt as he has a flashback about his time in the league or even his early days in Gotham. Those are the days when his sketches get crumped because “it’s not worth it to even try to create something beautiful” in those moments. And how he refuses to wrap his hands as he hits the punching bag over and over again, feeling a small bit of relief at every spilt knuckle because “I deserve this pain” is all he can think.

Still til this day, as nightmares come and go, he lies there in bed and repeats to himself that “yes, that was me, i did kill, i did slaughter”, and even though what he just experienced in his dream wasn’t real, it was all at one time very, very real.

There were times when he wouldn’t eat breakfast after he lay up all night, coming to terms with his past self, reasoning that breakfast is for people that deserve it. He must instead punish his body for the its sins. Seeking comfort to placate his conscious was weakness as well. He did his best to hide his guilt and suffering from Dick and Alfred and Bruce, as it was not their cross to bear.

What he forgets, and still often forgets, is that he is and was just a child. And what he is trying to learn is that everyone has regrets, but we are not our past, we are our efforts to create a better future self. It gets a little better each day. He is trying.

At least now, he has given himself the permission to seek out the love and comfort he so desperately craves. When he silently pads into Bruce’s room at night, Bruce understands. They don’t speak, not then at least, but Damian no longer constantly denies himself the goodness that he is learning he deserves.

[envysparkler]

Of all the people Bruce expects to see on his doorstep on a Sunday morning, Talia al Ghul is very, very low on the list.  Frankly, he’s surprised she bothered to knock.

“Oh,” Talia says, lips pursing in disappointment as he looms in the doorway, “it’s you.”  She rocks on her heels, like she’s attempting to peer around him.

“This is my house,” Bruce says, half-offended and half-bewildered.  She’s not alone, there’s a child scowling up at him—they’re making League assassins smaller and smaller these days—but Bruce ignores him and focuses on the greater threat.  “I’ve already told Ra’s al Ghul that Gotham is off-limits—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t about him,” Talia waves him off and saunters forward, stepping over the threshold and into the house like it belongs to her.  The child follows her, only pausing to sneer at Bruce, and Bruce is left standing on his porch, thoroughly dismissed.

Talia always did have a way of getting what she wanted, and damn anything in her way.  It takes a moment for Bruce to shake the old, lingering fondness and remember that a deadly assassin is inside his house.

Alfred is going to kill him.

“Wait!  Talia!”  He catches up to her near the kitchen, where she is surveying the cereal boxes on the counter with palpable distaste.  The child looks like he’s trying to test them for poison, or possibly poison them himself, but Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about that, because she’s found—

“Uh, Bruce?” Tim’s voice cracks high, out of his chair and holding both his cereal bowl and his spoon ready to throw.  “Did you forget to tell me you had company?”

“Timothy Drake,” Talia says, cold enough to create icicles.  She studies him for a long moment, skipping from his Superboy pajamas to his bleary face to the overfull mug of coffee on the table.  “You are one of Lady Shiva’s.”

The child’s scowl deepens.

“Yes?” Tim looks at Bruce desperately, like it’s a test and he’s looking for the answer.  Bruce shrugs.

“She mentioned you were passable,” Talia sniffs.  “For a boy.”

Tim looks a mixture of outraged and pleased, but Bruce is more concerned with why Talia is here, standing in his home years after she gave back his mother’s ring.  Talia only reveals whatever she wants to reveal, and while she does only ever tells the truth, she lets him draw incorrect conclusions from those truths all on his own.  It means Ra’s isn’t involved in whatever brought her here, but that could mean anything from the old schemer being dead to Talia being on the run, and Bruce is not nearly awake for an imminent League invasion.

“Where’s Alfred?” Talia finally finishes her survey of the kitchen and rests her cool gaze on him.

That would be the reason Bruce is barely awake.  He only managed to drag himself from bed with the reminder that there was an unsupervised teenager in his house.  Unfortunately, he’d got there too late to save the coffeemaker.

“What do you want with Alfred?” Tim asks, on the verge of hostile.  The child draws himself up like a hissing, spitting snake, and only stays still by virtue of Talia’s hand on his shoulder.  Talia, for her part, merely looks inconvenienced.

“Well, this would’ve been several times simpler had he been here,” she sighs.  “I could’ve dropped off Damian for a spot of tea and gotten on with my business.”

“And what is your business?” Bruce presses.

Talia heaves another sigh—this time dramatic and put upon.  It’s an act, Bruce can tell, but that doesn’t help him, not when Talia turns to him and widens her eyes, looking up through her lashes.  “Unfortunately, Beloved, your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills, and I’ve finally managed to track him down here, so I really must get going before he infiltrates that sorry excuse of a prison and finishes decapitating that clown you keep alive for some unfathomable reason.”

There’s a lot packed into that statement, and Bruce is still untangling ‘your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills’ with the knowledge that Nightwing is supposed to be safely inside Bludhaven and the growing horror that Dick might’ve accidentally started a war with the League of Assassins, so it’s Tim that inhales first, staring at the child in sharp shock and then up at Talia, before finally turning towards Bruce.

“You have a kid with Talia al Ghul?!”

~#~

Talia, of course, does not bother to explain anything.  She merely instructs the child—Damian—to behave before vanishing back out the front door, and Bruce’s attempt to follow her is met with a katana and a high-pitched demand for a duel.  It becomes apparent that Talia’s version of behaving doesn’t match Bruce’s, because it takes several minutes and one shallowly bleeding slice before Bruce can extricate himself.

The child—his child—Damian leaves him alone then, looking disappointed in his swordsmanship skills, and turns instead to badgering Tim, who despite favoring a bo staff—“a clearly inferior weapon unsuited to anything but sloppy pulverization,” comes out crisp and clear-edged, much like Bruce himself when he was younger and his only point of reference was Alfred—is judged a suitable opponent on the basis of Lady Shiva’s reference.

Bruce is maybe a little sulky that a child—his child—has dismissed him in favor of a teenager with a pillow crease on his cheek, but he suppresses the emotion to dart to the Batcomputer so he can ask Nightwing what the hell he’s been up to.

Unfortunately, Dick’s response is both confused and irritated, which means Bruce has to waste time explaining the situation lest his eldest give him the silent treatment again, and Dick signs off with a promise to drop by, clearly excited at the prospect of a new sibling.

Bruce doesn’t warn him that this one is more apt to stab him than hug him.  Dick can figure that out for himself.

But with that distraction out of the way, he’s left to ruminate on Talia’s words.  She wasn’t talking about Dick, and clearly not about Tim, and not Damian, and Bruce has no other sons.  The thought drives a pang through him, a loss he will always carry, and he finds himself in front of the case with Jason’s uniform, as though it can help him solve the puzzle.

Is there another child out there he doesn’t know about?  He’d swear that he doesn’t have another with Talia, but he has no idea when or how Damian was conceived, so it’s the most likely explanation. 

[stardvstbby]

we need more fics of Dick and Tim bonding over shouldering too much of the family duties. but instead of them venting about their experiences it’s them pointing out the signs in each other until they realize “holy shit we are the same”

Dick: you really need to take a break. between running WE and going out as Red Robin you barely get any time for yourself

Tim: you’re one to talk, the way you’re holding a full time job, parenting Damian, being a vigilante, and making constant trips between Blud and Gotham i’m surprised you even have time to think

Dick: yeah but that’s my job as the oldest! i’m happy to do it, and it’s been like this forever so i’m used to it! you’re still young, you need to take care of yourself and live a little

Tim: okay sure but i’ve handled my shit since i was 7 so really that’s been my normal for a while. also i am taking care of myself, being CEO is great for my resume and building a long term future. you don’t even need to have a job rn we have enough money

Dick: Tim that’s depressing. let yourself have fun, you’re still just a teenager. also i will Never let Bruce have financial hold over me again

Tim: hello trauma! you’re the one who needs to have fun, you’re not even old yet. please take time for yourself every once in a while. i’m exhausted just looking at you

Dick: wait you sound like me?? why do you sound like me????

Tim: turns out Eldest Daughter syndrome and Middle Child syndrome are pretty similar. if i sound like you then maybe i Do need a break

Dick: that’s it, put your phone on Do Not Disturb, we’re ordering pizza and watching the entire Lord of the Rings series

[blueberrymori]

☆warnings: FTM! reader, platonical content, teenage reader and older than Damian (reader is between 14-17 years old), dysphoria on the part of reader, reader depriving himself of sleep, Bruce being a good father, I don't use Y/N or variants of those in my fanfics then Bruce calls his son a little bat.

☆summary: when Bruce finds out that his son, is having a day of dysphoria, he plans an entire day to take care of his son.

☆A/N: I didn't really know how to finish this one, it was two in the morning when I wrote it.

Bruce had just returned from a patrol, it was late at night, he expected to see the whole mansion silent and unlit, but that's not what he found, Bruce came across his son in the kitchen barely keeping up, he was practically leaning against the kitchen counter barely waiting for the coffee machine to finish the coffee. 

-What are you doing here? This afternoon, are you still using the binder? - Bruce said worriedly as he realized you were still wearing the binder. He walked over to his son and put his hand on his shoulder. - Little bat, you're barely standing - Bruce said as he moved his hand to stroke your hair.

- I'm fine, Dad, I just need some more coffee - his tired voice betrayed him, and Bruce moved his hand to pull his head to his chest. - No, you don't need coffee, you need to sleep and take off that binder, it's going to affect your breathing and your ribs- Bruce said, hugging you and stroking your back.  Come on, I'll take you to rest- Bruce said without giving you time to answer as he led you into the bedroom and turned off the kitchen light.

-Dad, I'll be fine, I swear - his voice was tired and you couldn't even believe your own words, Bruce just hummed without believing you, he kept his hand on your back and followed the path to your room, when you got to the room Bruce stopped at the door.

-Go and get changed, I'll wait here to make sure you go to sleep - Bruce said, smiling slightly.-What are you going to take care of me as a child? - Bruce laughed lightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door behind you, he laughed and shook his head.

- You're never too old to let yourself be helped, little bat- Bruce said, leaning on the door, he looked at the decorations in the hallway, Bruce waited to hear your voice again, he felt the door open behind him and he stumbled a little before regaining his balance. - You could have warned me before opening the door, couldn't you, little bat?  Bruce said, laughing a little, but the smile soon faded when he saw that you were still in your binder.

-  Little bat, we've been over this, you can't wear it for more than eight hours, how long have you been wearing it?  Bruce's tone wasn't accusatory, no, he was just trying to keep his son healthy. -Okay, I'll go - Bruce cut him off. -No more of that little bat, you can't sleep with that on, take it off, take it off please - Bruce says in a firmer but still affectionate tone, leaving no room for argument, Bruce sees his look of protest and he pats him on the head. -  Please, little bat.  When he sees your nod, he closes the door and, to wait one more time, walks over to the painting.

-Ready - your voice made him go back to the door and open it, he saw you sitting on the bed. - What's wrong little bat, what's going on? Please tell me, you're my son, I want you to be all right- Bruce said, sitting down next to him, the bed heavy beside him.

- Dysphoria  - his voice made him move his hand to his hair. - So you tried to compensate for the dysphoria by overworking, sleep deprivation and kneading your ribs - Bruce says smiling at you even though he's much more worried than usual, when he sees you smiling nervously and smiles, he strokes your hair again and he pulls your head onto his shoulder. - What happened? Talk to me- Bruce asks gently again, to encourage you to speak.

- The clothes, when I wear them with sports tops, they show and when I was looking in the mirror it gave me a trigger...me - he sees you wince, Bruce sighs and kisses your forehead.

- I get it little bat, you should have told me or your brothers, I could have taken you to buy you some new clothes, your brothers could look after you and help you take your mind off it- Bruce says looking at you, he has a worried and caring look on his face, he strokes your cheek and kisses your forehead. 

- Little Bat, how about tomorrow we go out and buy some clothes for you, and spend a day as father and son, and please no overtime - Bruce says before getting up. - Come on, lie down, I'll cover you up - Bruce says, picking up the blanket from the foot of the bed.

-Thank you, Dad, I really do - Your voice makes him calm down, and he covers and kisses your cheek.

- Sleep well little bat- he says before turning off the light and leaving the room.

- Good night, Dad- he smiles as he closes the door,  Bruce was going to plan something to help you, you're his son and he refuses to leave his son feeling like that.

The other day you woke up to the knock on your bedroom door, when you opened the door Bruce had a smile on his face - good morning little bat - he says pulling you in for a hug, the hug catches you off guard, but soon your hands go to him to return the hug.

- Why are you so cheerful? The last time I saw you like this was when you took a week off from patrolling- Bruce laughed and I put my hand on his shoulder, starting to lead him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

- I've planned a father and son day, and we're going to start with breakfast, and then we can watch a movie or do something you like - Bruce says smiling, excited at the idea of spending a day with his son, it's been a long time since something like this has happened, he regrets that this is the result of a bad moment like a day of dysphoria that his son had to deal with alone but he's going to do his best to take care of it.

Bruce woke up early that morning because he wanted you to feel cared for and create a sense of trust so that if it happened again you would go to him instead of putting your health in danger.

Bruce made a point of not giving you coffee this morning, he asked Alfred to help him hide the powder and the coffee capsules, maybe later Tim would freak out when he didn't find his coffee capsules, but that would be a later subject.

-No coffee today, tea will be better for your body and mind - Bruce said as he poured the sachet of chamomile tea into a mug and added the hot water.

-Seriously? You're going to block my coffee? - Bruce laughed lightly and looked at you as he brought the mug of chamomile tea closer.

-Yes, you and Tim are going to run out of coffee today, it'll be good for your health - Bruce said, pouring himself some tea.

- Tim's going to freak out when he doesn't get his coffee, he'll give in to the energy drink and go back to the cases.  As you said this Bruce nodded, he saw you take a sip of tea and he smiled to himself.

Bruce waited for you to take your time eating, he wanted this to be a peaceful moment for you, he wanted to make sure you felt safe and protected.

[dairy-farmer]

Dick cashes in a big favour Tim owes him. It’s a hard ask and it takes a lot of persuasion and maybe even a little blackmail but Dick finally get Tim to agree to help him.

Damian had come to Dick asking about… things. Kissing and sex stuff. He’s a teenager now and he thinks he’s falling behind his peers. They are all talking about loosing their virginity and hooking up with girls. Damian refuses to be inferior in this area.

After a lot of hesitation he finally goes to Divk with questions. Well it started of as questions.. broad generalised questions… And then they became more specific… He asked about Dicks personal experiences. He needed to know more, be better than all his peers. He knew about Dicks reputation both in the caped community and as Rickie Wayne.

Dick was the perfect person to ask and get help from. Eventually just asking wasn’t enough, what started as awkward conversation had turned to lengthy late night talks and Damian was obsessing it was all he could think about. He was so keyed up and horny be wanted more. He begged him to teach him things. But browd suggestions from Dick about finding what he likes porn wise and some tips about masterbation weren’t enough.

Dick isn’t comfort with some of Damian requests he doesn’t want to cross that line with him when Damian demand to know how to be a good kisser. He wants him to show him.

This is when dick becomes desperate and goes to Tim for that favour he owns him.

And Tim no he swears he won’t leave you alone with Damian! He will be there the whole time! He just needs someone to practice with! He needs a person to demonstrate on. So Damian can watch and try for himself! Please Tim he will make it so good for you! He will keep Damian in line he swears!!

😩

dicktim, implied dickdami

!!!!!! this is SOOOO GOOD!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

dick just wants to be a good big brother. he knows what damian feels, the confusion, the curiosity, the desire to be good at something like kissing and sex. bruce had sort of...shied away from that kind of talk. oh he'd given dick lectures sure. about how to put on condoms, on dental dams, on the dangers of stis and teen pregnancy. he made sure that dick knew all of the literature on consent and shit but...he hadn't told dick about stuff like what to do with porn and how unrealistic it was. or how to kiss without looking like a fucking loser. bruce was a "playboy" magazines lauded him and women fell over their own feet to sing his praises. fucking selina and talia were hung up over him even though they could do so much better.

but bruce never talked with dick about that stuff. he just left him...flailing in the water and struggling to swim. dick was doing better than most. his charisma, charm, and natural showmanship made it so he didn't succumb to nervousness when kissing someone for the first time. dick was drowning in anxiety the first time he was going to have sex but none of it showed.

with damian...the fact that teenage sex is getting to him to the point he breaks his own pokerface, god dick feels for the kid. he remembered being that age and being lost.

dick had to go through all that teenage bullshit alone. but his brothers didn't have to.

dick had never gotten to have...boy talk with jason.

with tim dick felt like HE'D learned things because tim had been raised by the internet and exposed to more 'academic' views on sex than dick knew what to do with. plus tim seemed just generally uninterested in talking about sex with dick. at least he had his friends and that made dick feel better that at least tim wasn't going through his teenage years without someone to relate and talk to.

with damian. he literally has no one to talk about sex with. and he should!! it's important for him to have someone who KNOWS sex to talk with. so that his questions have answers, so he knows what to expect, so he's not caught by surprise.

but damian is...a lot. he has questions and an internal drive to be good at everything no matter what it is. so he wants to practice, he wants to understand, he wants to dick to train him in sex.

and dick...wasn't expecting this. damian's a...unique child. and dick doesn't want to hurt his feelings. but he also can't...DO what damian wants from him.

part of dick thinks of damian more of as a son that he does a brother.. and he... CAN'T do what damian wants him to do. but he also can't leave him without the support he clearly needs.

dick can't reach out for help outside the family either. damian would be humiliated. barbara is not an option. she's a blab. she'll tell cass and stephanie and stephanie will tell everyone or mock damian about it to his face.

and damian would never forgive him, he might not reach out for this stuff again.

tim. tim is the only one discrete enough to understand this. the only one who might be willing to...help dick with this.

but it will cost dick.

and it does. it costs dick nearly every favor tim owes him which dick is going to feel in a few months when he doesn't want to sort through piles of evidence files and can't call in one of those favors for tim to do it (which isn't even really a punishment, case files to tim are like enrichment toys to a ferret).

but even then tim is hard to convince and unsure. but dick promises him itll be okay, that dick has a plan, and he'll make sure tim likes it.

dick brings tim to his apartment and invites damian over. at first damian is confused, questioning tim's prescense but dick assures him its for a reason. that dick is going to be teaching him everything about sex. starting with the basics.

the makeout.

dick has tim act as his model for damian to be able to see the finer points. he shows damian how to cup someone's face, stroke their cheeks and tilt his head when leaning in to kiss.

at some point damian stops staring and goes into his backpack.

he starts taking notes.

dick has the supplies laid out on the table. a bottle of lube he recommends, his brand of condoms, and a bunch of little toys.

the fact that tim won't judge wasn't the only reason dick chose him. if push came to shove dick was sure he could've asked jason for a recommendation for a sex worker who'd be willing to do this.

but why outsource pussy when they had tim's?

dick goes slow, he wants damian to follow along. he teaches him everything he can think of. dick even sat down and made a list of skills damian should master, like how to unclip a bra without looking like a loser and how to motorboat. all with lessons on groping a tit and the correct way to suck a titty.

tim makes soft noises, clearly muffling his noises so as to not interrupt the lesson. if there's one thing tim values its being well trained in a discipline.

dick pulls off tim's tit, pressing a brief kiss to the reddened pink nipple and focusing on tim's jeans and pulling them off.

dick has seen tim naked before, injuries on the job means he's seen every member of his family naked. but tim...well maybe it was the pussy and dick was just a horndog at heart but tim had the prettiest, chubbiest little cunt dick had ever seen. it was plush and pink and so sweet looking.

dick doesn't like dental dams. but for damian's sake he peels one out of its packaging and slides it over tim's cunt.

"okay now watch closely dami, this is how you go down on a pussy, alright?"

damian's eyes are intense and dick can feel them on him as he starts kissing and dragging his tongue along tim's cunt. he can't taste tim but he can feel his twitching little cunt under his tongue.

dick spends a few minutes at it before a cleared throat interrupts him and dick looks up to see damian on the edge of the couch with his phone out.

"apologies richard," damian says, "but would i be able to video the technique for review later?"

"of course dami!" dick replies. filming it, god why hadn't dick thought of that! at least this way there'd be no need for a repeat.

dick keeps going now with the knowledge that damian is watching as he gently fucks tim with his tongue and sucks on his clit.

eventually tim is warmed up enough for dick to toss the dam aside and press a finger into his sticky little cunt. tim jolts at the intrusion but doesn't protest. the couch creaks as damian shifts and inches his phone closer.

dick continues to narrate what he's doing so damian understands what's happening while rewatching.

"if you're dealing with a virgin you're going to want to start with a finger or two and see how tight they are. you can help them loosen up by getting them to relax with more foreplay or by stretching their pussies out with a little massage."

dick demonstrates and works in another finger while reaching for the condom and lube with the other hand.

tim is probably wet enough to just fuck straight up but its better for damian to see how to use lube.

dick has told damian how to put on a condom but he turns to the condom to show him.

he tells damian the importance of condoms, how they prevent disease and pregnancy. he tells him to always check his condoms if they're not his by holding them up to the light for damage and to never carry them around in his wallet despite what TV said. also that condoms, like food, expired. so to always have a fresh box ready.

dick can see damian is getting annoyed with the lecture when he snaps and tells dick to "get on with it".

dick lets a drizzle of lube coat his condom-clad cock and then, for fun, turns and gives a fat squirt into tim by pressing the mouth of the lube bottle to his hole.

tim jolts at the sudden cold stream and glares at him but doesn't say anything.

it turns out dick's joke might have been a mistake because when he presses his head into tim, a wab of lube get pushed out and splatters onto the couch below them.

dick can hear that damian has stood up and walked around the coffee table. he can feel damian over his shoulder, pointing the camera down to where dick has worked his cockhead into tim and is slowly thrusting.

tim's eyes are closed and he's breathing steadily through his nose. he'd probably meditating to keep calm and not ruin dick's sex lesson.

slowly, dick builds up to a rhythm. he eases his hips back and then snaps them forward, getting a little deeper each time. he punches short grunts out of tim with each whip of his hips and pins him down by the waist so he can get in nice and deep.

dick is panting and a little out of breath but continues to explain how for a first time damian might want to start slow and that he can start speeding up once his partner has gotten used to it.

dick slides a hand to tim's clit and starts telling damian that this was like the magic button. that even if whoever he was fucking wasn't that into it, they'd get into it if he did this.

tim is hot and tight and he takes dick fucking into him very well so dick gets off really easily with tim. but he makes sure to have tim's legs trembling and toes curling on either side of him so that damian can see what a real orgasm looks like.

he tilts to the side so damian can see tim's clear release gushing slightly out when dick grinds his cock slowly in.

when its over dick shows damian how to tie off a condom and pats tim's trembling abdomen in reassurance and thanks for being a good sport.

he turns to damian who is still filming and asks if he has anymore questions while tim pushes up and starts looking for his clothes behind him.

damian isn't looking at him and still staring down intently at his screen that's still recording.

he opens his mouth and-

"what do i do if i want to have anal?"

bit of a leap but dick can work with that. he reaches for the lube and condoms again and puts up a 'hold up' hand to tim.

by the time this is over dick might be owing tim more than a few favors.

anal after getting his pussy pounded has earned that much at least.

dick will buy him ice cream once its over.

well, damian too. he'll probably insist on tagging along.

little brothers were like that.

[prince-dork-the-companion]

Batfamily Presentation Night - Pizza - Cass

Masterlist

Cass: I'll go :)

Duke: Uh-oh.

Tim: Interested to see where this one goes.

Duke: Is this cheating? This feels like cheating.

Jason: When did you make this?

Cass: Before today. :)

Jason: I shouldn't be surprised.

Damian: That is a very useful visual.

Steph: I have nothing to say.

Duke: A good, hardworking employee.

Tim: We should get a cat and name it Cheese.

Damian: That is a horrible name for a cat.

Bruce: No.

Jason: Wh -

Duke: Are those turtles???

Bruce: Where did you get this image.

Cass: :)

Jason: B you have to explain.

Bruce: Cassandra.

Tim: So Bruce can have pet turtles, but when we do it's a problem? I see how it is.

Steph: Tim this is the perfect opportunity to go on your Jason Arc.

Jason: Your what?

Dick: Oh, I remember them! Those are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! They're vigilantes in New York. Super cool guys. Have a bit of an addiction to pizza, though.

Cass: And the sewers.

Dick: Yeah they live in sewers, it's kinda gross, but they're nice.

Jason: Please tell me this photo isn't in the New York sewers.

Tim: The rats, the rats... we're the rats...

Dick: Oh, that's a good one of me.

Bruce: Dick.

Dick: If you mention the rules about eating on patrol I will throw a fork at you.

Steph: Haven't we already discussed that, Bruce?

Dick: Y- WAIT!

Jason: [cackling]

Dick: So you HAVE been stealing my pizza??

[general laughter]

Steph: Why does that image look so sad...

Babs: Don't diss the deep dish.

Jason: Steph, you're not gonna say ANYTHING about the order it's in?

Steph: Nah it looks fine.

Duke: This is favouritism.

Steph: Sauce on top of cheese is a far cry from PINEAPPLE, DUKE.

Duke: It's good!!

Jason: It's not.

Jason: Wh-

Tim: Why are you so angry... What did that burger do to you...

Jason: CASS??

Cass: :)

Jason: I can't believe I have to move AGAIN.

Dick: You don't have to move every time we find your apartment.

Jason: It's called PRIVACY, DICK.

Duke: I'm unsure if I should be more concerned about what "Nemo" means or the Pinterest deck.

Jason: Pintrest deck?

Tim: [wheezes]

Dick: Nemo... does Jason eat goldfish crackers on his pizza??

Jason: GOLDFISH? Have you NEVER seen the movie finding Nemo?

Dick: I don't remember what kind of fish he is. Sorry for not having that information STORED AWAY in my brain.

Jason: It's a clownfish, Dick. Kind of like you.

Dick: I'm more of a Dory, I think.

Jason: No, you're those annoying ass seagulls.

Steph: Mine? Mine?

Cass: :)

Steph: EXCUSE ME?

Jason: Digiorno? You WILLINGLY eat DIGIORNO??

Steph: NOT ALL OF US HAVE THE TIME OR SKILL TO HARVEST AND PREPARE THEIR OWN PIZZAS, JASON

Jason: SO BUY SOME.

Dick: There's a really good pizza place on Poplar called Moe's. They give me free pizza.

Jason: Moe's is shit and you know it. I'd eat fucking Dominoes before I eat Moe's.

Dick: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Steph: Fight fight fight fight!

Duke: [wheezing]

Tim: Huh what?

Jason: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Dick: It could be worse.

Jason: I don't think it can get any worse than this. I can't believe we're related.

Babs: Y-

Dick: ANYWAYS.

Steph: Tim, you need help.

Duke: He's not the only one.

Steph: Duke, I take back everything I've said about your taste in pizza, this is a war crime.

Duke: This feels backhanded somehow.

Duke: Oh.

Jason: Hm.

Duke: I'll take it.

Steph: THREE STARS?? AND I ONLY GOT TWO???

Duke: L.

Steph: I'm going to unionize against Duke's union.

Bruce: Duke's what?

Jason: Pesto?

Cass: Hm?

Jason: Green pizza sauce. Was it pesto? Tastes like herbs, really notably the basil. It's alright. Not my favourite, but it's alright.

Cass: ...Yes. I think so.

Damian: Only four stars... what do I have to do to receive five stars?

Duke: Dude, are you trying to RIG the competition?

Dick: It's okay Dami, we tied!

Damian: I wish crush all of your pizza flavours.

Jason: There's the answer, kid.

Damian: Hn.

Duke: I smell bias.

Steph: No, no, she's got a point.

Duke: I feel enlightened. Good presentation, 7/10.

Jason: [muttering] So tired of fucking moving...

Dick: You don't have to move, little wing.

Jason: Fuck off.

Steph: I am going to hold off making my judgements but all of you know that Cass's presentation is the best.

Damian: I will go next, as mine is the objectively superior one.

TO BE CONTINUED?

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Two: Cruel New World

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: It's your first-day living life in Wayne Manor. A new house, a new school, and of course there's the new siblings thing too.

Warnings: Negativity, Damian's Jealous, Talks of Death, Numbness, Depression, Disassociation, Misandry, Crying, Suicidal Thoughts (if u squint), Existentialism, Cursing, Yelling, Outbursts, Anti-Police Rhetoric, Injury, Blood, Catcalling

Mentions of: Suicide, Body Fluids (mucus),

Words: 6.7k

A/N: POV kind of switches in some points, but I think it's fine. You know when it's the reader and when it's more of a third-person pov.

"Please take a seat, Miss Wayne," Alfred suggests as he pulls out a chair directly center of the long black cherry wood table. Your father sits at the opposite end of the room at the head of the table to your right, while a smaller black-haired child sits with his back to the kitchen doors on the left. There's one other person who sits directly across the table from where Alfred stands behind the chair meant for you.

"Are you serious? We really have to do this today of all days?" The child whines.

"I thought I told you no technology at the table this morning, Tim," Your father tells the person you're meant to sit across from. Ipad propped up on the table beside his plate, the teenage boy's grayish-blue eyes remain on the screen for a few moments as he shovels forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. In a tacit conversation, they make eye contact for a moment before he flips the cover back over the device and shoves it into the backpack by his feet. "Thank you.”

"You know, Bruce, I really need to get this essay done by this afternoon.” Tim—as you now know—explains.

"Oh? And what's it on?" Always wanting to get more involved in the kids' lives, Bruce attempts some sort of civil conversation other than indulging the begrudging eye-roll Damian throws him from across the table.

"It's on-" Tim begins to explain.

"You're really making us eat breakfast all together at-" Damian interjects.

"-the table like the nice, loving family we are? Pssh, you're lucky everyone's actually here this morning!" Dick cuts Damian off in an attempt to dissuade the boy's frustrations and some of his, perhaps just, points. Walking over to his chair he pulls it out enough to plop down.

"Everyone's coming?! Just for her?!" Damian, as you now know, complains, pointing his cereal’s spoon in your direction.

"I'm afraid Stephanie has a doctor’s appointment, and Jason is... well," Bruce doesn't finish his explanation as he glances around the table.

"Jason," Dick defends, even if he's still somewhat suspicious of the man's current motives. "You'll meet them later, I'm sure," he tosses toward you as he sits at his chair between Tim and Damian still tying his tie.

"Why are you even here? Don't you have work? It's a Tuesday!" Damian chastizes Dick.

"Well if you must know, I have a few suspects I need to bring in for interviews today. They're extraditing a few people since the uptick last week."

"But I thought that-" A look from Dick makes Damian's thoughts linger in the air for a moment as he cuts himself off. Right. Next subject.

"I'm a detective over in Bludhaven," he explains to you, "Luckily I don't live here anymore, so... hopefully that lessens the overwhelming sense of a constant presence of people," he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

With a nod, you finally reach for your fork. It’d been bad enough that it seems more and more people are continuing to engage you when really, it’s been hell enough to process all the transitions currently taking place in your life. While it’s nice in some sense that you’d have breakfast with your Mom on school days like this, having someone cook for you, let alone push in your chair is… well… strange.

“Hello? He’s talking to you,” the sassy child spits at you, garnering your attention. Eyes flitting from him to the person sitting across from you beside Tim, you offer what you can in an attempted smile. It comes across more as a grimace than anything. The Detective politely calls your name, finally tightening his tie as he finishes dressing.

“It’s okay, I get it. This is all a lot. I asked if you ate breakfast with your—“ he spares a quick glance at your Father before it settles back on you, “—Mom, often before everything?”

Though he smiles and has a jovial and pleasant attitude, you can’t bring yourself to really return the favor. While he’s extending an olive branch of friendship, one you’d usually take up, you’re unable to. “Yeah. Nothing like this though,” you mutter, voice surprising even you with the uncharacteristically quiet quality to it.

While the rest of breakfast is filled with questions and trivial conversation, you feel off, with a weary sense of the world. It’s almost like everything is a dream. Once you’ve finished your food, your eyes raise to take in the vase of flowers and candles on either side of it in their ornate silver holders sitting in the middle of the table. “Can I be excused?” Suddenly turned toward your Father, you await his hesitant permission before getting up and heading back to the room they’ve deemed yours just last night.

“She didn’t even look up at me when she answered any of my questions. That’s not good,” Dick points out. There's a hint of concern in his voice as he eyes Bruce.

“She’s probably still grieving her Mom. It only happened yesterday,” Tim proposes with a shrug as he looks up at Dick, who sits to his left.

“Shit,” Dick whispers.

“Do we even know how it happened?” Damian asks from the end of the table, hands clasped in front of himself like a miniature businessman.

“Damian,” Tim whispers with hostility, eyeing him for the inappropriate nature of his comment. Though he’s also curious, as it seems Dick is too, as they all look toward Bruce.

“What? I mean, her Mom dies and suddenly she’s a Wayne? No way,” Damian speaks with confidence.

With a clearing of his throat, Bruce stands. “It’s true. I… hadn’t-” he begins, though hesitates as this wasn’t really a conversation he’d wanted to have with his teenage son of all people. “It wasn’t planned. It was a one-time thing back when I was a little more reckless with keeping up my image.”

“So during your Party Bruce years? Oh my god,” Dick quietly laughs with incredulity. He’d known about it, sure, that ‘phase’ of his Father… yet he hadn’t anticipated him to be that reckless. The look of guilt upon Bruce’s face is all it takes for them to know it’s true.

“I did the math, I looked into her mother’s history, and… it all adds up. I wouldn’t have taken custody of her yesterday if I wasn’t certain.”

“So she was an accident? Ha!” Damian laughs as if he wasn’t technically an accident on his Father’s behalf as well.

“Hey! I will not hear any jokes or have any information imparted on her without my knowledge. It wasn’t her fault, and I won’t see anything but acceptance and welcoming from you three. Will I?” His stern voice sends chills down their spines to some degree. While Bruce doesn’t often take up a fatherly role in terms other than the awful jokes and rare wistful advice, this is a side none of them have ever gotten quite used to.

“Fine. But I’m not changing my entire life around for her. Jon is still coming over after school,” Damian announces with a click of his tongue and a cross of his arms over his chest.

“Good. Now I know this absolutely will not leave the room but I looked into her cause of death last night and it was a car crash.” With that, Bruce leaves the table.

“Sometimes things are just life, I guess,” Dick thinks aloud, still processing the information.

How cool is it that this room has a window seat? You think to yourself, still baffled by the enormous room you’d been gifted. Absolutely awesome! Unfortunately, that’s not something you can fully appreciate as everything has already started to feel numb. They’d explained at the hospital that it’d been a car crash. You know the number of stitches they’d placed, the degree of burns she’d taken as they attempted several grafts to save her life… yet it wasn’t enough. There was nothing they could do. A frown overtakes your expression as a pinch of immense sadness pricks your heart.

“I’ll do it-” you hear a man’s voice from outside the door, “-I’m sure, Alfred.” With three knocks and no response, it creaks open. Unbothered to check who it is, you watch as the rain droplets roll down the leaves on the tree outside your window and slowly drip toward the ground below. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet before speaking. “I really hate to do this to you. I know everyone processes things in their own time, but I’ve got to make arrangements on top of work today and so the best thing I can think to do is get you into a routine.” A look in his direction is all it takes; uniform neatly folded in his extended arms, your Father presents it to you with a sympathetic look on his face.

“What about Melville High?” The question leaves your lips, and all he can think is that you’re too innocent for this world. He doesn't even know you, but already the world has taken too much from you. His daughter. The sentiment still lingers awkwardly between the two of you, both still not used to the idea. After all, you’d both only found out yesterday afternoon. Hell, and that was less than twenty-four hours ago.

“It’s… too far, I’m afraid. Gotham Metro Academy is where Damian goes, and it has a lot of better opportunities from what I know. I’m sure you’ll like it once you get settled in.”

It isn’t the end of the conversation. While you’re barely responding, he imparts as much wisdom and comfort as he’s able, but it goes in one ear and out the other. All too soon you find yourself running your hands over the lapels of your navy uniform’s blazer. A prep school with uniforms was something you’d never imagined in your future—in fact—it’d been far from it! Growing up with enough money to keep you comfortable was fine, but prep school was never in the cards. You and your Mom knew that. Without too much thought to your hair and any accessories or makeup, Alfred is rushing you downstairs and into the awaiting Rolls Royce.

“Had you ever been to Gotham prior, Miss?” Alfred asks from the driver’s seat as you pull away from the infamous Wayne Manor. It looks much more opulent and welcoming in the daylight, yet it still has an intimidating air of aristocracy to you.

“Um… just once, a long time ago.” It hurts your chest to think about; there’d been a weekend you’d gone with your Mom a few years back when she’d wanted to show you all the sights. From the shows to the Financial District, to the historical sights and monuments, it’d been a weekend to remember, truly. If memory serves you right, you even still have a sweater and baseball cap tucked away somewhere from that trip.

Expecting some sort of snarky remark from the child you’ve deduced is Damian, you finally take him in. Sure, everyone’s heard of him. He’s a celebrity for what it’s worth: ‘Bruce Wayne’s Secret Son’ the headlines read. It was national news at the time, his Mom still remaining a mystery. His skin is darker than yours, and while his eyes are a striking green, you can’t deny that he has a resemblance to your Father. Neither can you deny your resemblance, either, really.

“What?” Damian finally bites. His scrutinizing emerald eyes glaring your way. With a quiet, automatic ‘sorry’ and a shift of your eyes out the window and away from the kid on his phone, you can’t help but think about it.

Was Bruce Wayne really as much of a playboy as the media made him out to be? Yours and Damian’s mom would surely proffer the confirmation. Yet, having met the legendary man behind the technological empire, you aren’t sure he really seems the type. As much as your mother tried to keep you from boys and men, you’d met more than your fair share of assholes. Womanizers, scumbags, misogynists; no matter the differences in look or personality, there were always a few similarities they’d have in common, usually in their speech, behavior, or beliefs.

Nevertheless, it’s odd that you’ve been able to place the term ‘Father’ in his grasp so easily. Your mother had feigned a forgetful memory oftentimes when you’d ask during your childhood. Only offering the slightest of details and assuring you that he’d left the both of you as a baby. It was only as you grew up that she eventually let you know that whatever relationship the two of them had, it wasn’t as serious as one would expect of a mother and father. She’d never named him, exactly, having always told you it wasn’t important, or she didn’t remember. He wasn’t worth searching for, seeking out, begging for some answer you surely didn’t want to hear. Why? Why did you leave us? Why don’t you care about us? It was all a waste of time. That much, you knew. Never, even in your dreams would you imagine it’d be the Bruce Wayne.

Before you know it, the trees and streetlights are turning into buildings and stoplights. While you're nervous about going to a new school, it also provides a bit of excitement at the thought of reinventing yourself and making new friends. Surely with the funding from Wayne Enterprises, it'll have more clubs, activities, and maybe more sports, too. You'd always wanted to try out for sports or even be on the varsity squads if possible. Would it be like in the movies? As the car slows along the street, Alfred meets your anxious eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Damian, I expect you'll be there if Miss--" he says your name, "--needs anything. I'm going to park the car and escort you inside, as there happens to be a bit of preliminary paperwork your Father has requested I accompany you to fill out."

Surprisingly, Damian doesn't refute Alfred's sentiment, though as he parks the car, your half-brother hastily exits, headphones still in his ears as he scrolls through his phone. A quiet 'see ya later' is heard from him before the door slams shut. Soon enough you've filled out the registration forms and are given a schedule and tour. Alfred offers you a courteous nod and a lingering hand on your shoulder before he departs for the day. "I'll be here to pick you up when school lets out. You can do this, Miss," he assures with a warm smile. The comforting sentiment only lingers for so long.

It was somewhat embarrassing that you'd had to interrupt class to join in on eleventh-grade, American Literature, yet upon introduction, it doesn't go past your observation that many of the kids start whispering to one another. You’re sure it’s the fact that they’d introduced you as a Wayne. While a few people attempt to talk to you, for the most part, you feel overwhelmed with all the information and the way the lesson quickly continues. Trying to catch up and take everything in, it all feels like too much, and the unintentional tendency to disassociate naturally begins to happen. You zone out for most of the classes, the day passing in a whirlwind with sympathetic smiles from the teachers.

When school lets out, you find Alfred exactly where he'd parked this morning in front of the school. Leant against the car with his hands clasped in front of him, you begin making your way down the steps to meet him. Two boys quickly pass you, both laughing as they playfully smack one another's arms and talk in hushed voices. As you approach the car you realize it's Damian and some boy. He has friends? Who would be friends with him? He seemed so rude earlier, you can't help but think. Maybe he's just upset because you came along.

"Who's this?" The boy in the blue jacket asks as he watches you join Alfred.

"Mister Kent," Alfred greets the boy, "I take it you'll be joining us tonight?" When the boy flashes a smile full of bright white teeth up at him with an eager nod, you take it this is a family friend.

"She's... apparently Dad's daughter," Damian reveals, eyes slicing across the space till the intimidating green orbs land on you. "Don't mind her. I planned a few things we could do when we get to the Manor! I just got Mario Kart Ten and it's supposed to have a bunch of new maps and characters!"

Upon Alfred opening the car door, all three of you slide into the vehicle, the Kent boy separating you and Damian in the backseat. "So... your sister, you mean," He laughs. Despite what he'd said about ignoring you, the boy turns his smile your way with an extension of his hand. "I'm Jon! Damian's best friend. I actually go to West Reeves but I got out early so I could catch a ride to your house. You are..?"

Revealing your name, he repeats it with a fondness as you shake his hand. "I don't know that I'd say best," Damian groans with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh hush! Yes, you would," Jon argues, nudging your half-brother with his body as the two laugh.

"How was your first day, Miss? Did it go alright?" Alfred asks in the rearview mirror before pulling off the school's sidewalk and onto the street.

While this question was unexpected, you can't answer it. Was today good? You're unsure that any sort of sentiment could capture what today was like, truly. With your mother's death, the move, the new school, new people, and the luxury of it all... you feel unable to describe it all in one simple response. It doesn’t feel anything like the life you’ve come to know all these years. Sufficing simply for a nod, you purse your lips before opting for a quiet "Thanks." If nothing else, you can't deny that this old man has been kind to you since the moment you arrived. It seems he cares, but... isn't that also his job? You're not sure how butlers work, exactly, but surely that detail encompasses part of his job description, you think.

With the car parked in the driveway, you all exit the vehicle and head inside. Alfred asks if anyone wants a snack, however, you shake your head and point upstairs, signaling your destination.

You aren't sure what comes over you, a wave of hurt, sadness, angst, pain... there are endless synonyms for whatever it is that washes over you. It winds up there, wallowing in your chest like a weight you hadn't realized was weighing your shoulders down. Maybe it was the attention, the comments, the questions, or the energy it took to put on a 'fine' facade, yet it all finally comes crumbling down. With a click of the lock on your door, you make the final steps toward your unfamiliar bed. Letting the backpack fall from your shoulders haphazardly on the carpeted floors, you flop onto the bed face first, chest hitting the plush comforter before the rest of your body follows, the rebound sending your body bouncing slightly. Face screwing up into one of pain, you do your best to hold it back, and you're not quite sure why. No one's around, no one cares, so why won't you let yourself cry? Would that make it all real? Would that mean you're accepting her death? That she's really gone? That you're letting go? Moving on with your life? Thoughts of guilt consume you as you feel as though you should've known, you should've called her, or said something, maybe asked her to pick you up that day. Anything would've changed the chain in the course of events, right?

It's then, with the realization of a possible butterfly effect that a sob wracks your chest and tears stream down your cheeks. Like rapid fire, the sting of hot, salty tears cascade down your skin leaving streaks of mascara in its wake, you're sure. Screaming into your pillow, you can't help but struggle to breathe as you're not sure what to do. How do you move on from this? Where do you begin? What's left in your life, really? What does anything matter if she's gone? Your mom? The only person who's been there through your whole life from the beginning till, well… now. She was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime, your... everything. At the end of every day you always knew you'd have her to go back to. Never has the fear of being alone crossed your mind until right this second. Now you understand why so many people commit suicide each year. If their pain feels anything like this, then you can understand. All you can think, wish, and mentally pray for is this to stop. For the tears to stop falling and your breath to stop coming in quick bursts of panicked, hyperventilating heaves. Snot runs down your lips and it's hard to see with the blurriness of the tears in your eyes.

After a while, the crying eventually dies down and you lie--wishfully--lifeless on your bed. A small hand towel you'd grabbed from the bathroom is folded under your face where the tears would fall and you've folded it over the few times you'd blown your mucousy snot into it. Silence consumes the room, and you've found yourself simply staring up at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Constantly caught in your thoughts, between crying and being eerily silent, you're unsure if all this was destined to happen. Or maybe it was supposed to come out sooner. You’d never dealt with a grief like this. Maybe it's only because you've been pushing everything down into a deep dark place that only feels safe for you to express once you're absolutely sure you're alone. That has to be it.

In the midst of a quiet moment, your eyes and throat sore, head throbbing, there's a knock at the door. "Dinner will be served in just a few minutes." It's Alfred. You hope he hadn't heard your crying, though if he had... what can you really do? Nothing... just like everything else in life. You can't do anything.

A quick splash of cold water on your face, and hands combing your hair down, you make sure you look as presentable as possible. With that, you're ready to confront them again. Aside from the slight red tinge that persists around your eyes and the dark circles beneath them that are impossible to get rid of, you head downstairs. While you're sat in the same spot as this morning, you're joined by many more people this time. Bruce and Damian both sit at the ends of the table again, Tim sits across from you, he's flanked by the Detective, though this time by another man you don't recognize. He has a white stripe in his hair and a longer face than the others, but it suits him with his angular features. On your right sits a very tall and broad man clad in a business suit and glasses. Past him, sits Jon--who you'd met this afternoon--and across from Jon there's one more person who makes the table uneven in terms of people. It's a blonde girl, with an enticing sparkle in her eyes and a charming smile from what you can see from the other side of the table.

"This is my good friend, and Jon's dad, Clark Kent," Bruce introduces, gesturing to the man beside you. Said man holds out his big hand and offers a friendly smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," he recites your name and you reciprocate the handshake. It's good to know that not everyone in Damian's association is a complete asshole, you suppose.

"Nice to meet you too," you respond quietly. With the meal served, everyone dives into eating, leaving you a little unsettled. While your mother had come from a very religious upbringing, she hadn't forced it on you. Yet, you'd still find yourself and your mom praying before dinner to whatever God or higher deity might exist. In a way, it was more to give thanks each day for being alive and having food on the table. Sometimes it was a conversation starter when someone would mention what their day entailed, the good things they'd seen, or maybe the bad things they'd ask for protection from. Nevertheless, it's clear that this family operates differently; digging your fork into the fancy black-peppered pork roast, you use your knife to slice a piece off for yourself. Not in the mood to talk at the moment, you simply listen to what everyone's discussing.

With the lack of response they'd gotten from you, Bruce opts for talking to Clark about business and how things have been. Dick and Tim fill in the mysterious man on the little they knew of you. The blonde girl talks with the younger boys at the end of the table at moments but also butts into the other conversation among the young adults diagonally across the table from you. Stabbing multiple string green beans onto your fork, you don't make eye contact with anyone as you simply try to get through this dinner. Maybe then you can go upstairs and try to relax away from everyone.

"-something we shouldn't really talk about too much, but I can guess the funeral will be by the end of next week with all the arrangements I made today," Bruce speaks to Clark.

"Wait, what?" Your voice is quiet, only drawing the attention of those sitting closest to you. Butting into their conversation, you raise your eyes to meet your Father's surprised blue eyes.

"The funeral will be at the end of next week, I'm presuming. It'll take a little while with all the arrangements," he repeats. Though he seems hesitant, he doesn't keep himself from speaking it again. After all, he's someone who stands behind his actions. “I told you, this morning.”

"What? Why?" Your fork clanks against the chinaware, lips parted in shock as you dropped it. "You made the arrangements without me?"

"Yes. It was important that you go to school and it was all right there in the will." Forkful of mashed potatoes lingering in the air as his blue eyes bore into yours, you find your breath beginning to rise and fall at a faster rate.

Of course, none of them know your buttons and what it looks like once they've been pressed, but if your mother was here right now, she'd know. With a screech of the chair being pushed back hastily and a quiet slap of your palms on the table to stand, you're livid. "Why would you do that? How could you do that?!" Hands shaking, you begin to gesticulate, any former semblance of masked placation now fallen. All eyes are transfixed on your figure. "She's my mother! Mine! You don't even know her- I do! I know what she would've wanted, and this isn't it. Just because your name was on my birth certificate that means you get to take over my life? You, who doesn't even know anything about me, and yet you act like we're best friends?! Your children call you 'Bruce' and you have no problem with it! You don't get to just come into my life and fuck everything up! You sleep with her once, what? Sixteen years ago and now you come in and take over everything?" A wry laugh leaves your lips, "Well, more for you, I guess! Did you ever stop to think that there's a reason I had no idea who you were? Let alone, why she never told me? She never once asked for your money or your help, and now I'm just here. All my stuff? Gone. All my friends and family? Gone, a-"

"-We can go get your-" The Detective begins.

"-Oh, shut up! You really think anyone wants to hear what you have to say? You're adopted, so you're not even related to me! You don't know me. None of you do! The only good thing about this is I don't have to put up with being interrogated by the BPD every goddamn time I walk down the halls of school. But I'd at least take that over never seeing my friends again!"

"-What do you mean?" He follows up, commenting over you. Everyone else looks around the table silently, taken aback by what they're witnessing.

"You want to 'Bring Justice to Bludhaven', I guess, when everyone already knows what happened to Perdy Chapman! Everyone except the BPD, I guess!"

"How dare you?! You can't speak to my brother like that, you-"

"Finally! The only person I'm actually related to here. My half-brother, the mysterious 'Wayne Boy' who doesn't have a mom! You have no fucking empathy for me, you've been giving me shit all day! And yet you're the only person I would've expected to actually give a damn! So sit your ass down, pendejo twerp!"

Without asking for permission you storm out of the dining room and through the living room toward the staircase.

"I'm guessing you're done with your dinner?"

The voice stops you in your tracks, hand on the banister, you let out a loud sigh, shoulders falling before you try to maintain a jovial demeanor when turning to him. "I don't need you to do anything for me, Alfred. I think it's fucking ridiculous to have a servant when it's the twenty-first century for crying out loud!"

"It's my job. I assure you he pays me, if that gives you any consolation," Alfred speaks in a calm tone, unfazed by your words or behavior.

"Great! Well, I still don't need you doing things for me that I can do myself. Thank you, though," while the words come out through tense, grit-together teeth, you turn and head upstairs. It doesn't take long to get to your backpack, slinging it over your shoulders. Luckily, this was the one thing you knew you could do with the advantages of not only your room’s placement but a backyard. Opening the window, you climb out onto the tree branch sidled an arm’s length away.

Soon enough, you're on solid ground, out of the boundaries and gate of Wayne Manor. With a heaving chest and shaky hands, you speedwalk down the road toward where you know the bridge will be heading into Bludhaven from the transfer point on the Eastern Seaboard. This time for whatever reason, you can't bring yourself to cry. Maybe all the tears had already flooded from your body this afternoon, but nothing emanates from your tear ducts. Eyeing the blood that's already starting to dry on your palms from the splinters and the last little drop you'd had to take from the tree, you stare at your scraped palm.

It'd been silent upon your departure from the dining room. Bruce insisted that everyone return to eating, that everything was fine, and that this wasn't unexpected. While things returned normal for the most part, Jason excused himself with a displeased look toward his father. It wasn't until an alarm rang from Bruce's phone that he groaned and pulled it out only to find the surveillance outside capturing your figure leaving the premises. Announcing what the 'emergency' was, at everyone's persistence, Jon ran out of the room before Bruce could elect Clark to go check where you were headed.

It's a lone road, cypress trees lining it along the gravel-filled sides. With the road only being garnered by private property of the elite, and no real intersections for miles, no cars pass in either direction. As the sound of a faraway motorcycle approaches, you don't let it deter you. It'll be at least an hour or more before any of them realize you've left the property. They all think you're just upstairs crying to yourself, most likely. Rage still swirls in your gut, however, it's drained somewhat, being replaced by the determination to get home. A billionaire, his family, servant, and even a few splinters won't stop you. It doesn't strike you as odd that the sound of the nearing motorcycle slows; after all, not many people hitchhike on this road, you're guessing, and with the speed limit being higher in this area, the wind could cause you damage perhaps.

Jon had been faster, intrigued for some reason to find you--his justification upon later questioning--to find out where you were going. Clark trails behind him, neither of them bothering to change clothes as they fly above the closest road, trailing you from a distance silently in the shadows the darkness nightfall provides . It's only when they spot the familiar motorcyclist approaching you that they hold their position.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice is unfamiliar. While being catcalled isn't a stranger to you, it's still annoying that it'll happen in the middle of fucking nowhere. Ignoring the motorcycle that now stalls to your left, you continue walking with determination, eyes ahead and fists wrapped around each strap of your backpack upon your stiff shoulders. "Really? You're gonna ignore me and play it that way? Get on the motorcycle," the man calls your nickname, which elicits a reaction from you.

Eyes widening and lips parting, your eyebrows shoot upward as you finally look at the man. You don't remember his name, but he'd been sitting at the table across from you between Tim and that Detective. Expression immediately turning into one of anger, your jaw setting, you feel reinspired to make your way to Bludhaven. "I'm not going back! I can't," you argue, "plus I don't even know you. Why would I go with you?!"

A chuckle leaves his lips and you hear the shifting of plastic before the motorcycle revs in a way that elicits an automatic jump from your body. The motorcycle speeds a few feet down the road before it does a loop and skirting and drifts into a stopped position just a few feet in front of you. Legs on either side of the vehicle, the man flicks the visor of his helmet back up and reaches into the back compartment, producing another. Before you have time to react, he throws the helmet your way. Hands instinctively reach out to catch it instead of letting yourself get hit with the speed of it. You wince; it pushes the splinters further into your palm. You come to a standstill a few feet away from him as you lift the helmet slowly, inspecting it only to see the blood starting to pool around your palms again.

"I'm Jason," he reveals, "I don't know where you plan to go running away like this, but you don't think the old man will notice you're gone sooner than later? What's your plan then?"

Irritation and a desperate anger linger in your chest as your eyes finally raise to meet his. "Well, Jason, it's none of your business! Regardless, it doesn't matter. You can't stop me." Approaching him, you're about to shove the helmet in his hands when he raises a hand of his own, palm out facing you in an effective halt.

"Truce? Look, I know you don't know me, but I was like you. I grew up in Crime Alley and had to steal tires for a living. I tried to steal the-" he stops himself, another chuckle escaping his lips, "the old man's, and that's how we met. I get it... it's not easy, and, no one expects you to just go along with everything, alright? If you're thinking about going home, well, that'll take what-? Hours on foot? You really want to walk hours to... where are you from, again? Bludhaven, right? What part?"

"Canaveron District, yeah," you respond gruffly, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. His points are all ones of useful consideration.

"You won't get there for another three hours walking, at best. If you just want to get your things, well, I can take you there. But we'd have to get everyone else-"

"No! no, I don't want-"

"-If you let me finish," he warns, "I was going to say get the others to help tomorrow or this weekend, to get the rest. Alright? Just essentials tonight, and I bring you right back here. Got it?" His eyes search yours for a moment before he adds, "That's the best I can do for you, kid. Otherwise, I've gotta drag you back to the Manor kicking and screaming, which I really don't want to do."

"He sent you?" You weren't too surprised, only that if anyone was coming, you figured it would've been Bruce, himself. It's only when Jason notices you looking around and contemplating your decision that he cocks his head toward the Manor, signaling the Kents to leave. He's got this.

"No. I came, because... unlike those other dicks, I actually know what it's like to come from, well, somewhere that's not the greatest," he admits, a look of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

"And this isn't some scam? You just tell me this, get me on the bike, and then take me back to the White House?" This elicits a laugh from the man, and he runs a gloved hand through his black and white hair.

"Look, I don't know how much they've mentioned about me, but... let's just say I'm not exactly in Bruce's good favor if you know what I mean." Reading the look on your face, he expands. "I'm not exactly the goody-two-shoes of the family. If you want your stuff, I'll take you, but only because I know he wouldn't do that."

"Why?" Standing in silence, the two of you search one another's eyes for any sense of understanding. It's tacit, the question that you both know you were really asking, yet he doesn't make you voice it: why would you do this for me?

"Because I know what it's like to have everything taken from you." A sigh leaves his lips, and you can tell simply from his stance and demeanor that this man has been through much more than he's letting on. "If you wanna do this, we should get going. I can't be out too late tonight. You coming? Or should I call the old man and let him know what your plan is and where you are?" With a raised brow and eyes flicking toward the helmet in your hands and back to your eyes, he awaits an answer.

"I'm coming." Sliding the helmet over your head, you approach the vehicle. "Just... don't tell him, please! At least don't tell him for another... fifteen minutes?" The request elicits a questioning look before a smirk replaces it.

"Deal. Hang on," he requests. Shifting the bike to stand upright, he leans closer and reaches under your chin to clip a strap in place you hadn't noticed. He tightens it, checking in with you, and then gets onto the bike. "You ever ridden a motorcycle?"

With a thick swallow, your eyes shift from his to the bike. Sliding over the seat, you're unsure where to place your feet, but Jason instructs you, making sure you're comfortable before you slide your arms around his waist and brace for takeoff. Visor flicked down and everything in place, he revs the motorcycle before speeding down the road.

Beneath the helmet, the ends of your hair tickle your arm as it whips through the air. Cool breeze wooshes past your body, arms able to feel the chill through the blazer of your new uniform, your legs gaining goosebumps through the exhilarating experience. Cypress trees turn into willows, which become more and more sparse as gates and brick walls slowly fade with the elitist properties into cemeteries and then into more forest before turning more industrial. As different plants and factories appear, so do the cars. Jason weaves in and out of traffic as he maneuvers his way down the highway and onto the bridge that winds around Gotham and finally goes into Bludhaven. The lights and sights passing this fast is intimidating at the thought of crashing, however, it's thrilling in a way you've also never experienced. Skyscrapers line the island, lights, signs, and monuments only add a sort of fascination and exuberant liveliness to it. As the Wayne Enterprises sign passes, you finally feel comfortable enough to remove one hand from Jason's side for a moment, long enough to flash a quick middle finger at the sign before fearfully grabbing onto his jacket again.

With a laugh and shake of his head, he removes a hand from the handlebar to flip the bird alongside you, eliciting what he thinks is a laugh. Nevertheless, he can feel the fear in your grip so he returns his hand to the handlebars and makes sure to keep his focus on the road. It's not likely they'd crash, not unless someone was out for him and knows his bike, not to mention his civilian identity. Not that he goes too far out of his way to hide it, but it's not impossible. He's confident in his abilities, but considering you don't know each other that well, he doesn't do anything to further scare you.

As he draws nearer to the Canaveron District, he slows down enough for you to give him directions. Parking the bike outside the apartment complex you’ve identified, Jason helps you off the bike and stashes the helmets in the back. "Lead the way, little lady," he encourages.

~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

[damiansgoodgirll]

 hi, can you please make a story where reader is young like 19 or 20 and everyone loves her and she’s a pretty close friend with basically everyone in the wwe and one day she has a match with like Nia or someone else and she gets injured so bad that everyone around her is worried sick.? maybe she has a closer feeling with the judgement day or Jey but like if you can mention more wrestlers it would be amazing. Thank you so much. I love your writing 

i love this type of requests cause it makes me travel back in time when i was 13 and i used to play wrestling with my best friend (don’t do this at home) and i remember everyone loving me…anyway

sorry for making nia the bad one!

the judgment day x reader (platonic) / jey uso x reader (platonic)

home is where you belong

you never thought you would find it but you did. the place where you felt safe and loved, the place that you called home.

you’ve been wrestling since you were fifteen and once you got eighteen wwe signed you in. two years later now you were living your dream;

travelling from city to city, having sleepovers with your wrestling friends, gossiping about what people you shipped together, talking nonsense with seth rollins and having becky teasing him, watching and learning new techniques from jey uso, training with the judgment day.

everything was a dream for you.

the fans loved you. even if they weren’t fans about your character, they still liked your persona and your positive energy. you had no enemies, you pretended of course, but you had no enemies at all.

many elders took you under their protective wing and you couldn’t be more grateful.

you we are currently training with rhea as you had a big match against nia and you wanted to be ready. you both already knew that the judgement they were gonna help you win this match because, according to the script they had to ruin this moment for you and for nia, but you didn’t care because you knew how fun it was going to be.

so you were ready to kick her ass.

nia, otherwise, wasn’t as happy as you thought. the idea of losing against some teenager like you made her blood boil. she was more experienced than you so why would you had to win? plus, by getting helped by the judgment day?

she didn’t like the idea but she didn’t tell you.

she had something else in mind.

so you were getting ready, your make up flawless, your hair perfectly posing over your shoulders and a smile that could make happy anyone who met you.

you were so ready.

you heard the “boos” when nia entered the ring and you heard everyone cheering for you when you entered. that’s how it was supposed to be so why did she have an envious look in her eyes?

you pretended it was nothing and you started the match as it was supposed to go.

ten minutes later, the judgment day music echoing through the arena, just like the script said.

rhea distracting nia.

following exactly what the script said.

so what did go wrong?

nia attacked rhea. it wasn’t in the script but rhea knew how to handle situations like that.

you could tell by damian’s look that this wasn’t supposed to happen but you took it as an opportunity to distract nia and make your final move, move that made you win that match.

earlier on the schedule but still, you had your win.

“someone beat your ass…” rhea screamed into the microphone, unleashing mixed reactions through the crowd. everyone cheering for you because of your win, not everyone was happy with the way you won but still, you better than nia.

that set her off.

she didn’t like the idea of a teenager beating her but she hated even more the way the crowd laughed at her face, making her seem weak, not strong enough.

the judgment day were leaving the arena, just like the script told them to do after your victory, so what didn’t go as planned?

you were still in the ring, fans clapping for you, the referee still held your hand high and as you were about the leave, nia hit you behind your back.

this wasn’t prepared.

you fell to your knees and before you could do something she dragged you through your hair into the middle of the ring.

“nia?” you said almost too terrified.

the referee tried to get into the two of you but nia pushed her away, hurting her.

“who do you think you are?” she said hoovering you with her body.

“nia what?” you weren’t understanding. why was she doing that? she was your friend, she wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“don’t act so dumb…” she whispered before attacking you.

for real this time.

nothing prepared.

she was really hurting you. your face first, then your stomach, she kept hurting you, punching you over and over until you couldn’t feel your body anymore.

your head and nose were bleeding.

referees weren’t able to stop her either.

rhea and damian were the first one to intervene when they saw that the referee couldn’t stop her.

rhea attacking her, the referees, trying to get between the two of them, so damian so that as an opportunity to shield you with his body. he could handle nia attacking him.

“damian?” you almost cried.

“hey…shh it’s okay, i got you” he said, slowly moving your hair out of your face and it was in that moment that he saw your bleeding face.

“dam…it hurts” you said clenching your stomach. he felt his heart breaking. the way you were clenching your chest, the way your hands trembled a little, your bleeding face and your eyes full of tears.

he was mad. furious.

“i know…ssshhh…we will take care of you i promise” he whispered.

the crowd was cheering, assuming everything was scripted, but there was an uncomfortable silence going behind the scenes.

everyone watching what was happening in horror.

becky had tears in her eyes and seth was trying to keep her and himself calm because he was mad. cody was speechless. jey ran out of his locker room just to be stopped by the security. dom and finn paralysed in their steps as they were watching everything happening right before their eyes.

that’s what it went wrong.

thankfully, rhea and referees were able to drag nia away from the ring. she knew she went too far but her pride was something she wasn’t willing to give up.

damian was still in the ring with you as medical staff came and assisted you.

you already fell unconscious when damian lifted you up in his arms and dragged you down onto the stretcher waiting for you backstage.

you were rushed to the hospital and honestly no one felt like continuing the show but they had to. jey was next but all he wanted to do was rush to the hospital and stay by your side.

you didn’t even realised that when you woke up you weren’t in some hotel room but you were in a hospital bed. your head still pounding when you remembered what happened.

the doctor told you that you had a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder,a broken wrist, a sprained ankle and a heavy concussion. not to count all the bruising and red spots forming all over your body.

then what you didn’t want to hear : no wrestling for at least four months.

your body needed to rest and heal first.

you were trying to hold in all the tears but eventually let them out when the doctor left your room. you were supposed to have your first main event at wrestlemania and now that dream was gone.

while still crying a soft knock echoed through the room.

damian first, then rhea with the rest of the judgment day.

“hey…” she whispered but her heart broke when she saw the tears in your eyes “why are you crying pretty girl?” she asked sitting on the chair next to your bed, followed by the boys who sat on the small couch right beside the window.

“bye bye wrestlemania…” you said with a broken voice.

everyone knew how much you’ve been waiting and wanting that moment.

“i’m so sorry y/n…” she said softly.

“its just it’s not fair…” you whispered “why did she do that? i thought she was my friend…i would have never done that to her rhea…never”

“i know love…because you know your value, you’re kind and sweet and loving and unfortunately you’ve met someone who thought about her ego and her ego only…” she said smiling sadly at you.

“what matters now is that you rest and take your time to heal” damian joined the conversation “you scared everyone back there…” he said making you smile a little.

“i didn’t mean to…”

“we know…or you could tell them that yourself” finn joked.

“what?” you whispered.

“everyone’s here…jey almost punched the doctor when they wouldn’t let him see you” dom laughed “becky is here with seth, cody and shayna are here too…girl you even scared gunther”

“i don’t believe it…” you laughed.

“we can make you believe that” jey said entering the room with a beautiful bouquet of red roses. everyone followed him too.

you were relieved in seeing so many people caring for you in a way not even your friends cared about. you felt loved and appreciated.

you’ve spent the next hour talking nonsense with them all and you almost forgot about the wrestling problem thing.

almost.

when everyone left for your check up with the doctor, the only one who stayed was jey.

he was the only one who noticed the shift in your mood and he knew what was like staying away from what you love do the most, so if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was willing to do that, if you needed a friendly advice, he was willing to do that too.

“care to tell me what’s on your mind sweetheart?” he asked when the doctor left.

“i’m going to miss all of these…four months of not seeing you all days, no wrestling, no wrestlemania and probably no summerslam too…it’s just, i feel useless and empty not doing what i love jey” you confessed.

“you’re not useless at all, and it’s normal to feel nostalgic right now but it’ll pass and i promise you that you’ll be on your feet for when summerslam comes! i promise you” he said sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder - the healthy one - “i wish i could have done something to stop her but i was the useless one…i hated seeing you in so much pain…she lost her mind and finally she lost her job too”

“what?” you whispered.

“yup! got fired…you know you could sue her right?” jey asked.

“i would never do that…”

“i know…you’re too kind for that…what she did was wrong and completely unacceptable but i’m glad you’re here…” he said softly kissing your head.

“ill be here for a long long time…this is my home after all” you smiled, making jey laugh too.

and it was in that moment that you truly realised how important those weird people were for you, and how important you were for them.