#damian X OC

[nottheoracleofdelphi]

Have this little WIP. please let me know if you would like to see more of this story :)

Pairing: Yandere!Damian Al Ghul x F!reader/oc? (There is a single mention of reader having curly brown hair)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blood, murder, Dark themes, Yandere!Damian

Authors note: Yes, this is lowkey inspired by that one scene in ROTS with Anidala. please let me know if you want more, or if I missed any warnings. thx<3

Blood pools at his feet, each step leaving behind a trail of scarlet. His sword rips through the air like a red hot knife to butter. At least that’s what it feels like for him; skin and muscle and bone giving so little resistance, so little protest at being cut and ripped open. Body after body hitting the floor, fighter and civilian alike, so much blood collecting on his blade, it drips with his rage and his fear. 

Drip. The hunter before him crumbles like sand.

Drip. Another approaches and falls just as quickly. 

Drip. Their screams blur with his vision, sweat and blood dripping into Damian's eyes, but still he swings. 

Cut after cut, swing after swing, they all fall. One by one, he goes through and erases anything left in the village, silencing anything living, and burning any evidence of a village to ash. 

It's all Damian can do to keep himself from collapsing when all is said and done, the scarlet on his blade now staining his cloak. His hand raises to wipe his face, cleaning the red from his eyes, and the blood from his face, and he sheathes his sword. It’s not a long walk back to his landing zone, and yet Damian feels as if the silent roaring in his mind drags on forever. It's desolate, lonely, and all too much like home for any sort of critical thinking. He just slaughtered an entire village; an entire town full of men, women, and children, now reduced to memory by his hand.

He almost wonders what his mother would say, if she could see him now. Would Talia be proud of her son, would she revel in his return to what she had intended for him since his birth. Or would she be ashamed, saddened by Damian's lack of control over his fear. He wonders if she would change her opinion if she knew why he did what he did. Would she accept his reasoning? Would she understand his motives? After all, is this not what she felt when she had him? Would she not have felt the same way? Would she condemn him for the blood on his hands? Would she hold his face the way she did when he was just a babe, taking a life for the first time? 

He’s close now, the shape of his plane coming into view. The blackened metal of the leagues’private jet glitter red and orange, flames reflecting off of sheet metal and her curly brown hair. 

The flames bounce off her curly brown hair.

It’s her tears reach him next, those liquid trails of worry that he had strived to ensure never returned,  but here they are, directed at him, caused by him, and covered in the blood of children, Damian wonders what she would say. Surely Bruce had filled her head with his lies already, convincing her that he was dangerous, that he could not be trusted. He wondered if she would believe him over Bruce if he were to tell her a little white lie about his actions. Probably not, he thinks. The only thing his beloved hated more than cruelty was lies, but how bad could a little lie here, about this, hurt. Would she still hold him close at night? Would she still hold his hand over her stomach and their growing baby? Would she still love him after everything he's done?

Would she still love him after this? 

“Dami!” Her face contorts in overwhelming relief, running towards him and throwing her arms around his neck, her belly pressing into his as she breathes out a gentle sob. He can feel the blood on his breastplate slide onto her soft skin, the red marring her forehead, tainting it with his violence. 

“Ya Hayati,” Damian breathes out, his hands pulling her concerned face away from his chest, her watery eyes looking back at him. “What are you doing here?”

Her breath trembles as she speaks, “Bruce came by the apartment,” her hands reach up to the back of his neck, the soft locks there wet with sweat. “He was looking for you. You left so suddenly, he was worried something had happened.”

“Are you alright?’’ she can feel Damian's hands card through the ends of her hair, his fingertips wet and much less gentle than normal. 

“We are fine,” her eyes contort with worry, the metallic scent of blood finally reaching her. “But what about you? You are covered in blood!” Her voice is unusually timid, tainted with worry. His once boisterous and lively girl now small and afraid in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

“No, my love. I am not hurt.” His hands fall, reaching for hers, cradling her soft palms in his. He watches as her eyes fall to his hands still red with blood. 

“But-” she trembles, taking a step back.”all this blood.”

“Nothing to concern yourself with beloved.” his hands squeeze hers, a sickening squelch resounding through the empty night.

“Where did it all come from?” lips quivering she searches his eyes, hers now, once again, filling with tears.

“Nowhere, now let's get you both back home, yes?” Damian tries so desperately to guide her onto the jet, yet she simply stands unyielding, her eyes flickering with something he didn’t recognize.

“Damian,” she inhales, “...Whose blood is this?”

He freezes, her entire body near trembling, and he now recognizes that look in her eyes; one he had seen countless times before, the same look that had haunted him in his dreams, the same look that they had all given him. He doesn't speak,  instead he remains still and silent, looking past her, jaw set in stone. And only one thing comes to mind.

Fear.

She was afraid of him, or for him, he couldn’t tell, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. 

“Dami, whose blood is this?” she quivers out again. 

“What did he tell you?” It's cold, and it's angry, the way he spits out those words like their venom.

“Dami, please answer me-”

“What did he tell you?” The annunciation behind every word is set with hatred as he locks eyes with the descending ship, one that could only belong to one person. Damian's grip on her hands tightens, her knuckles and fingers turning white from the force.

“Dami, please let go.” tears spill from her eyes.

“All of this is for you.” if she didn't know any better, she would say that he was pleading with her, but she does know better. Damian doesn’t beg, he doesn’t grovel and ask for forgiveness, he acts, and he acts without second thought for anyone besides her or himself. Everyone else could burn so long as he could watch with her by his side. “Everything I’ve done is to give us a better life. To give our child a chance at living without fear.”

“What have you done?” her words tremble and shake like a building in an earthquake, crashing down before she can let them escape. 

“I’ve given the league a new purpose,” his hands squeeze tighter, her hands now red from the force of her trying to pull out of his grip. “We will bring freedom and peace to the world. Together. With our child.”

“Dami, please, you’re hurting me” she sobs.

“Damian let her go.” His fathers voice carries with the wind, reverberating in the cold nights’ air. 

His grip loosens just enough for her to pull her hands away, and his attention turns to Bruce. “What sick lies have you told her about me?”

“Nothing untrue.” It's not his fathers voice, Damian realizes, no, this is Batman, not Bruce Wayne. His father hadn't come for him, but Batman had. 

Batman had come, not to bring him home to Gotham, not to talk him down from whatever metaphorical ledge Bruce thought he was on, but to stop him at any cost, to take him down and keep him that way. 

“You betray me for him?” she gasps at the accusation, her tears flowing faster and his patience for his father dwindling with each tear that fell from her pretty eyes. How dare Bruce make her cry, how dare he hurt her, how dare he turn her against him, her own husband, the father of her children.

“You know I would never-” she begins, but Batman cuts her off.

“Damian, you've already done enough damage.” he steps forwards, now about ten paces behind his love, his beloved, his life and family. “Stop this now and come home.”

“How dare you turn her against me.” vitriol is the only way to describe the pure hatred behind Damian's words, “I’ve done only what's necessary to keep my family safe and free.”

“You’ve crossed the line, Damian.” Bruce steps closer again, and Damian matches his pace and then some, putting himself between his father and his pregnant wife. 

“Dami, please.” she grabs onto his cloak, the very same fabric that she had oh so loving draped over his shoulders that very morning, “You’re scaring me.”

“Whatever falsehoods he has told you beloved, I can assure you they are false.” His hand, still red and wet, begins to reach back for your hand.

“And what about the village near here, Damian,” Bruce takes another step closer, his entire body tense. “What will you tell her about that?”

If Damian wasn't able to feel her pull away from him, he could at least hear the horrified gasp she let out. “The blood…” she can barely finish her words before she attempts to bring her hand to her mouth, gagging at the blood that stains her hands, the blood that covers Damian.

His cape bellows as he turns, facing her, his eyes wild and uncontrolled. “Beloved, I-”

“What did you do…”

“What was necessary to keep us safe, my love. Nothing more.”

“How could you?” she gasps out.

“I did it for us.” His hands gently cusp her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away her tears, “for you.”

“No. Dami, you're scaring me.” stumbling, she steps back, her face now covered in the blood from his hands. “You’re going down a path I can't follow.” 

Damian straightens, his eyes hardening with some sort of wicked resolve. “So, you’ve chosen him then.”

“No-” She stutters, “No, of course not. I love you.”

“Liar!”  Damian yells.

[narrativeglitch]

Where No One Knows My Name

(Aged up Damian Wayne- In College )

Warm light glowed from the string of fairy lights draped above her bed, casting a soft, golden wash over the crinkled world map taped to the wall. The room smelled faintly of vanilla body lotion, the citrusy echo of her shampoo, and something cozy and sweet like sugar cookies and secondhand coffee. Marjorie knelt on the mattress in her mismatched socks and oversized hoodie, animatedly pointing at a new travel idea while the scent wrapped around them like a blanket.

Damian sat with his back on the wall and his leges sticking out on her bed, watching her with quiet amusement. He looked relaxed in his black long-sleeve tee and soft gray sweats, but behind his calm exterior, his mind never truly stopped moving.

“And then this,” she said, tapping the northeastern coast of Spain, “this is where I plan to spend all my student loan money and questionable budgeting decisions. Barcelona. Imagine it. Rooftops. Music. Tapas. Overpriced gelato. Me pretending I know Spanish.”

Damian’s mouth curved slightly. “I’ve been there.”

Marjorie froze mid-motion, her finger still pressed to the map. “Wait. What?”

Realizing what he just admitted to, He nodded, needing a quick save "Yeah.”

She turned fully toward him on her knees. “When?”

Damian paused to make sure he got his story right “My parents were... missionaries. Volunteer work. We moved around when I was younger. The last trip I took with them before I went to live with my grandfather was Barcelona.”

“Oh.” Her voice was softer now. “I didn’t know that.”

“Mhm,” he murmured.

She gave a light pout, turning back toward the map. “Still. Now if we go, it won’t be new for you. You’ll just be watching me freak out over little alley cafés you already know exist.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out and tugged her gently by the waist, pulling her down until she was nestled beside him. She landed against his chest with a small “oomph,” giggling as their legs tangled.

“Hey! rude,” she teased, looking up at him.

He brushed a curl away from her forehead, eyes soft.

“It’ll still be my first time,because I’ll be going with you,” he whispered against her temple, then pressed a soft kiss there.

She groaned dramatically. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my emotionally constipated boyfriend?”

He laughed quietly, the sound low and warm.

They fell into a gentle silence. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hand lightly tracing the chain of the necklace around her neck, the onyx stone catching the lamp light just right.

“You know,” she said softly, “I still can’t believe you picked this out yourself. You have weirdly good taste.”

Damian didn’t look down. Just replied, just as quiet, “I had help.”

From Alfred. The only person who knew about her. It had happened by accident. Damian had forgotten a homework assignment on the kitchen counter at Wayne Manor, a first, Alfred had noted with thinly veiled suspicion. Alfred drop it off at campus between errands. He hadn’t expected to find Damian standing just outside the student commons, holding hands with a girl. 

Alfred paused, struck by the rare softness in Damian’s posture, the way his thumb traced circles over her knuckles like it was second nature. When Marjorie turned and smiled, Damian looked more like a twenty-year-old college student than a Wayne or an al Ghul.

“This is my grandfather,” Damian had said smoothly, motioning to Alfred without a hint of hesitation. And Alfred ever the picture of discretion, watched as Damian’s eyes, just above Marjorie’s head, locked with his in a rare flash of open vulnerability. Not fear. Pleading. Please, they said. Don’t ruin this.

Alfred gave the faintest of smiles and nodded graciously. “Ah. You must be Marjorie. Damian’s told me so much.”

Since then, he hadn’t said a word about it. But when Damian came to him weeks later, fidgeting with velvet in his hands, asking for help choosing something special, Alfred only gave a knowing look. He’d slipped the necklace into Damian’s palm with a quiet, approving murmur, “Something simple, but meaningful, Master Damian.”

And, of course, Damian had added a tracker in the clasp.

Not because he was watching her. Not because he was possessive.

But because this was Gotham.

And if something ever happened,if she disappeared or was taken or was hurt he wanted to be able to find her.

His hand rested low on her waist, almost forgotten, and without realizing it, his thumb began drawing soft circles on her skin beneath the hem of her shirt. Slow, Thoughtless.

Marjorie sighed contentedly and curled a little closer.

“I really love it,” she murmured, thumb brushing the pendant.

He looked down at her, gaze serious but full of something tender.

His thumb kept moving, lazy circles traced into her skin. Grounding him as much as her voice did. As much as her presence did. With her, he didn’t have to be the heir. Or the weapon. Or Robin.

He could just be Damian. Quiet. Soft. Hers.

And in this moment, that was all he wanted to be.

[caffine-addict-living-in-gotham]

Me and @gotham-witch three minutes before meeting Batman and the principal because the scarecrow decided to bomb Gotham Academy again. (Damian and Jon are standing on the other side of the elevator)

[christelgothamite]

Just watched all the kids yell "BABA" in a whinny tone and Damian going extremely still like his soul got taken or something.

[mentalteen]

Random self oc x canon art

damian al ghul Wayne x Avon(oc)

The lil sillies

[meloyol]

Friends ON the other Side

Chapter 03

Damian woke up in a Magnificent Bed, an even more magnificent dormitory in an insanely magnificent palace.

At first he thought about the league, but a look in the mirror told him that this was a dream.

How did he recognize that? His body was grown. And he wants the sight too much. He looked good enough to eat. But if he was aware of this fact, it was said to be a lucid dream.

Perfect. He was dressed by his servants and he realized that he was the Sultan. The loyal advisor at his side introduced him to his next wife, who was his own daughter.

But he became suspicious. Was that an adult version of Jordis?

It even seemed that way. The Sultan noticed the discomfort the advisor felt. The own daughter. He was well known for having his wife executed the day after their wedding because his first wife had cheated on him.

Jordis, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any fear of death; she flattered him and talked to him, kept him company. After the wedding and after his daily business, she kept him company again and began to tell him fascinating stories. This woman captivated him.

And the days passed without execution. She was his Sherazade. He was addicted to your stories. Every day this feeling grew stronger. Was he just addicted to  stories?

No, it was certainly more than that.

But suddenly he woke up rudely from his dream. At first he was a bit disoriented. He blinked at the now younger Jordis, yawned loudly and wrapped her in a hug. But something was strange right now. This aura...

[yustar0903]

She might still mad at him.

Nayla and Damian

[meloncat-artcult]

Haven't posted art in forever

Moth is an DC OC insert she's the main character for my fic 'what the hell is wrong with you' on ao3 still learning how I want to draw Damian

[ladycloudless]

This crackship is my brainrot right now

A next gen Lego Monkie Kid oc and a DC character what can go wrong? (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

without the drawings

this is also for future chapters of the fic for this crackship-

[iydiamartinx]

STAKEOUT AT TABLE NINE

dick grayson x reader, ft. batfam

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto& @omi-resources word count: 1.8k synopsis: Dick Grayson just wanted a normal date. No suits. No masks. Definitely no Batkid stakeout at a fancy restaurant. Too bad his siblings brought disguises, drama, and a front-row seat to his love life. a/n: Since you guys liked unexpected guests, I thought I'd might make something with a similar vibe

You were halfway through your glass of wine, basking in the warm candlelight of the nicest date night you’d had in weeks, when Dick froze, fork halfway to his mouth, eyes narrowing like a predator who’d spotted prey.

“…No.”

You paused, setting down your glass. “What now?”

His eyes narrowed. “We’re being watched.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Joker? Riddler? Ra’s?”

He leaned in, deadly serious. “Worse. My siblings.”

You’d never officially met them outside your masked persona, but Dick had told you enough stories to paint a vivid picture—and to mentally prepare yourself for chaos incarnate.

You turned slowly. And sure enough…

At a nearby table, Tim sat like a stockbroker on his lunch break—slicked-back hair, tailored blazer, a leather briefcase on one side, and a newspaper in front of him. A newspaper with actual eyeholes cut into it. He lowered it just long enough to snap a photo of you and Dick with his phone—flash still on. The sound of the shutter echoed across the room.

You blinked against the glare.

Two tables behind him sat Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra—though only one of them looked remotely sane.

Steph wore a wide-brimmed floppy sunhat, oversized sunglasses, and clutched a fake martini glass with what looked like club soda and a floating plastic olive. She was scribbling furiously in a notebook every time you smiled.

Duke, hood pulled low and sunglasses slipping down his nose, scanned the restaurant with exaggerated caution, eyes darting like a man expecting an ambush from the breadsticks.

And Cass—bless her—was the only one not drawing attention, dressed in all black, seated in a dark corner with the stillness of someone who could vanish in a blink.

At the bar, Jason hunched in a hoodie, the world’s worst fake mustache clinging to his upper lip. He cradled a glass of whiskey like a noir detective, speaking quietly into the cuff of his sleeve.

“Target is laughing,” you overheard him mutter. “Suspect she’s under duress. Dickhead is not that charming. Something’s not right.”

And then there was Damian.

In a crisp waiter uniform and fake french moustache.

He was not employed at this restaurant.

Dick sucked in a breath, knuckles tightening around his fork. “I’m going to kill them.”

“He’s got a name tag,” you whispered, peeking at the small child approaching. “It says ‘Darian.’”

Damian arrived at your table with the poise of a cat about to pounce. “Your special tonight is betrayal with a side of poor judgment. Wine?”

“Hi, Damian,” you said sweetly.

He did not flinch. “Darian.”

Dick gave him a look full of daggers. “You don’t work here.”

“I do now,” Damian replied, already aggressively pouring wine you didn’t order. “You’re welcome.”

“Damian,” Dick warned, voice like steel under velvet.

“Darian,” Damian corrected with a touch more venom. He leaned closer, gaze flicking to you. “Also—if she hurts you, I know where she lives.”

You took a measured sip of your wine. “You do not.”

He offered a tight, terrifying smile. “You’d be surprised.”

With that, he straightened and stalked away with a grace that would’ve fooled anyone who wasn’t aware he was a miniature assassin in disguise. You watched, stunned, as he stopped at another table and casually placed a Caesar salad in front of a confused elderly man.

“…did he just bring someone a salad?” you whispered.

Dick blinked. “That better not be poisoned.”

You stared at the table. “Do we tell the manager?”

He reached for his phone, jaw set with dangerous calm. “No. We do something worse.”

It turned out Dick’s threat wasn’t empty, and that “something worse” wasn’t him dealing with the problem himself. It was calling Bruce.

Two minutes later, Damian stormed back to the table where Stephanie, Tim, and Jason had regrouped—his eyes burning with righteous fury, apron askew, name tag reading Darian slightly crooked.

“Grayson called Father,” he hissed, like the words tasted like acid in his mouth.

Tim slowly lowered his newspaper, concern flickering across his face.

The fallout had been immediate. The real waiter—confused but polite—had approached Damian mid-salad-delivery with the kind of corporate smile reserved for polite hostage situations.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man had said, “but we’ve received a call from a Mr. Wayne regarding a… staffing issue.”

Damian hadn’t even gotten to argue before he was gently but firmly escorted from the dining floor like a misbehaving pageant child. Of course, Bruce had smoothed things over with the restaurant, offering a generous donation to the manager’s favorite charity along with a promise that the Wayne family would “handle it internally.”

To Damian’s credit, he had been shockingly efficient. No-nonsense, quick on his feet, and absolutely ruthless with customers who snapped their fingers or mispronounced “gnocchi.” In another life, he might’ve made an excellent maître d’.

“Abort?” Tim asked cautiously, glancing between his younger brother’s scowl and the still-blissfully-untouched couple across the room.

Duke, seated beside Steph, hesitated. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Steph scoffed, eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses, the rim of her floppy hat flopping forward as she leaned in.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “We need to know more about her.”

“Her name is Y/N,” Damian deadpanned. “She’s twenty-six, known as the vigilante Nightshade, she is a licensed EMT, allergic to strawberries, and owns three copies of Pride and Prejudice. She’s left-handed but shoots with her right. She—”

“I meant emotionally,” Steph cut in, wagging a finger. “Like… her vibe. Her soul. Her long-term intentions.”

Jason, sprawled sideways in his chair, tossed a peanut into the air and caught it in his mouth without missing a beat. “As long as I get to annoy Dick, I’m in.”

“You’re always in when it comes to annoying Dick,” Tim muttered.

Jason grinned. “Exactly.”

Cass, perched quietly at the end of the booth, looked up from her menu and gave a simple shrug. She hadn’t contributed much—hadn’t even bothered with a disguise—but she didn’t seem eager to leave either. Being around the family was enough for her.

Across the room, Dick brushed your hair behind your ear, leaned close, and murmured something that made you smile wide and laugh softly. It made Jason scowl like he’d bitten into something sour.

“They’re flirting,” he muttered. “Like, real flirting.”

Tim frowned. “Well, yeah. It’s a date.”

“I didn’t think he had that in him,” Jason said. “I mean—look at him. Who laughs like that? It’s so…bright.”

Duke arched a brow. “You mean… what happy people do?”

“Or people in love?” Tim added

Jason blinked. “Exactly. They’re disgusting.”

Stephanie snorted into her fake martini. “God forbid someone in this family finds healthy emotional connection.”

Jason pointed a finger at her. “Hey. I support him. I just don’t want to witness it.”

Cass, quietly perched beside Duke, leaned forward with her chin in her hand and spoke for the first time since returning to the booth. “It’s nice.”

The rest of them looked over at her.

She shrugged, eyes still on the couple across the restaurant. “He’s soft around her. Comfortable. That matters.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Jason muttered, “I liked it better when he was brooding and depressed. At least that made sense.”

“You say that,” Steph quipped, “but we all know you’d cry if he got dumped.”

Jason scoffed. “Tch. As if.”

Cass tilted her head. “You hugged him when his goldfish died.”

“It was a very loyal goldfish,” Jason snapped.

Duke stifled a laugh behind his hand.

Tim was already typing on his phone again. “Logging that. Jason cried over the fish.”

“I did not cry—”

Back at your table, Dick dragged a hand down his face, groaning softly into his palm.

“This was supposed to be a normal date,” he muttered. “No suits. No masks. No siblings playing Mission: Impossible: Wayne Edition.”

You bit back a grin, reaching under the table to squeeze his hand. “You know what this means, right?”

He tilted his head toward you, wariness creasing the corners of his eyes. “That I’m not allowed to have a single nice thing?”

“No,” you said sweetly, lacing your fingers with his. “That they’re deeply invested in your love life.”

He groaned again.

You leaned in conspiratorially, your voice soft, dangerous with mischief. “Should we give them a show?”

There was a pause.

Then a slow smirk curved across his face. It started small—just a twitch at the corner of his mouth—but it bloomed fast, pulling dimples into his cheeks and lighting a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes.

“Oh,” he said, voice low and gleeful, “absolutely.”

His hand tightened around yours, and for a moment, you could almost feel the heat of retaliation rolling off him like sunbeams through stained glass.

“They wanna spy?” he murmured, already sliding his chair a little closer. “Let’s give them something worth watching.”

He looked over his shoulder—right at the table full of Bat-siblings, who immediately scrambled to look inconspicuous. Tim’s newspaper snapped, Jason dropped his toothpick, and Steph turned her martini glass upside down in panic.

Dick turned back to you, grinning like the devil himself. “You ready?”

You lifted your wine glass with a wink. “Always.”

The group didn’t even have time to formulate a new plan—no whispered code words, no exit strategies, not even a dramatic group huddle.

Because across the room, right there in full view of God and Gotham, you and Dick locked lips.

Heatedly.

With both hands cradling your jaw and your fingers curling into his shirt collar like a scene straight out of a romantic drama that was very much not PG-13.

A collective shriek erupted from the Bat-kid table.

“Gross!” Jason choked, nearly falling off his stool as he recoiled like he’d just witnessed a live-action horror movie.

“My eyes!” Tim wailed, throwing his newspaper into the air like it might serve as a spiritual shield. “I can’t unsee that!”

Duke scrambled upright, reaching out like a soldier diving into danger. “Damian, don’t look—!”

Too late.

Damian stood rigid, face twisted into a look of pure betrayal, eyes wide like someone who’d just witnessed a war crime.

“They have no shame,” he said hollowly.

“There are children present!” Duke hissed, pulling his hoodie over Damian’s head like a protective blindfold. “Actual children!”

Across the restaurant, a waiter paused mid-step to observe the scene at the booth. He blinked once, slowly, then turned and walked in the opposite direction without a word.

Stephanie gagged, shoving a napkin over her face. “I knew they were going to do something, but that—that was unholy!”

Cass, on the other hand, leaned forward with a pleased little smile, calmly sipping her water. “They’re cute.”

“No,” Jason said hoarsely. “They’re a menace.”

“They’re a power couple,” Cass countered.

At that moment, Dick finally pulled back, eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction as he rested his forehead gently against yours. You both laughed—softly, smugly—and he didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know the carnage had taken hold.

“I think I broke Jason,” he whispered.

You grinned. “You definitely traumatized Tim.”

He sighed happily. “Best date night ever.”

[batsis-reader]

Batsis: Hey Jason Jason: Yes? Batsis: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on? Jason: Jason: Where’s Damian?

[invincibledc]

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★synopsis: a simple discussion with the batfamily ends with memories spurring in your head.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★genre: fluff

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin sister of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ word count: 1,342

“We have to talk about your certain relationship with.. the son of joker.” Bruce says while he faces you. You felt nervous as you had your faces clamped together. But you pulled a poker face, simply nodding.

“What’s your relationship with him.”

“Well, I would say that we’re—”

MEMORY 1.

Jack was balanced precariously in a handstand, his lithe form showcasing a hint of the muscle definition he had been developing. His face, painted with wild colors, radiated mischief and playfulness as he grinned upside down. “So, puddin’, think we could sneak away from your little colony and grab some grub? I’m starving,” he whined dramatically, a playful pout forming on his lips.

You sighed, knowing he was spot on about the hunger gnawing at your own stomach, but the thought of abandoning your duty to patrol Gotham sent a pang of unease through you. The weight of your responsibilities pressed heavy on your shoulders.

“I can’t. I’m on patrol. And shouldn’t you be with your crazed father?” you replied tersely, lowering the binoculars from your eyes to meet his gaze. Jack, ever the bundle of energy, flipped out of his handstand and landed deftly on his feet. He stretched his arms behind his back, feigning innocence.

“Nahhh... My old man’s out cold like a baby. And my ma’s off having a girl’s night with Aunt Ivy. So here I am,” he declared, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling against your neck with surprising tenderness. “Just me and my darling, my cute little bird.”

His words, though playful, carried a warmth that made it hard to resist his charm. In that moment, the chaotic world of Gotham faded slightly, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of mischief and youthful affection.

MEMORY 2.

Out of everything—heroes, villains, and the chaos that comes with them—Jack lay sprawled in your room. His tousled blonde hair framed his face, and his simple blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Clad only in gray sweatpants, he was the picture of relaxed spontaneity. His slightly tanned skin contrasted with your [color] complexion, creating a juxtaposition of warmth and coolness as you both lounged on the bed. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful that you and Damian no longer had to share a room like you did when you were young.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow, revealing that goofy grin you couldn't help but find charming. “I can’t believe my girl—who isn’t mine—is letting me crash here,” he said with a boyish spark in his eyes. Despite the obsession he harbored for you, the night felt blissfully laid-back, a rare moment of peace in a world filled with so much tension.

As you continued to weave your fingers through his messy locks, you remarked, “You know, you could try being your civilized self and meet my family instead of sneaking into my room with a bag of clothes for what seems like a sleepover. And by the way, I’m getting pretty squished here.” You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out in one breath. Jack feigned annoyance, his pout playful. “Oh, come on, puddin’, that’s boring! Where’s the thrill in sneaking into my future wife’s house to just chill with her?”

Your heart raced at the unexpected title he casually tossed your way. “Jack, what??!!” you stammered, caught off guard by his bold claim.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” He looked genuinely perplexed, scratching his head in a manner that showed his typical carefree nature. You struggled to respond, your shock momentarily robbing you of your voice.

“Eh, whatever,” he shrugged, a grin spreading across his face as he declared, “I’m gonna grab some water.” He hopped off the bed and, as he exited your room, he caught sight of Jason strolling through the hall, engrossed in the pages of a book. Time slowed as Jack froze, and then, thinking quickly, he launched himself over the stair railing, expertly grabbing onto a chandelier for balance. His heart raced as he spun mid-air, landing seamlessly on the couch below with a triumphant flair before dashing to the kitchen like a ninja on a mission.

Jason’s sharp eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious of the antics unfolding in the house. He knew something was amiss.

In the kitchen, Jack filled a glass with water and chugged it rapidly, desperately hoping to evade any unwanted company. But, in a cruel twist of fate, as he drained the last drop, the overhead lights flicked on, illuminating the space. There, framed in the doorway, stood Jason Todd—also known as the second Robin, and now, the formidable Red Hood.

“You!” Jason bellowed, his finger jabbing menacingly at Jack.

“Me!” Jack replied with an impish grin, pointing to himself as his instincts kicked in. Without a moment of hesitation, he bolted past Jason, laughter spilling from his lips like the joy of a child who had just escaped capture.

The chase began, and Jason pursued Jack with an intensity akin to an enraged bear, all the while Jack couldn’t help but cackle in delight. He darted back into your room, where your eyes widened in surprise. Without missing a beat, Jack gathered his belongings in a flurry, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you breathless.

“Don’t wait up!” he shouted cheerfully, diving out the window with the agility of a circus performer. He executed a graceful barrel roll before calling out, “Bye, babe!”

In the wake of his departure, you could only raise a bemused eyebrow. But before you could fully process what had just transpired, Jason leaped after him, both boys sailing out into the night in a chaotic blend of laughter and shouts, leaving you in stunned silence.

MEMORY 3.

“Honestly, why can’t you just be called Batgirl or something straightforward? I mean, it feels a bit off being just another ‘Robin,’ especially when your twin brother is Robin too. What’s the point of that?” the clown boy remarks, tying up some goons who tried to mess with some women

You weren't even with him; you were at home, focused on your homework and not even thinking about patrolling. You kept humming, grateful for him handling your dirty work.

“So what do I get in return for this?” Jack asks, fiddling with his green and purple phone case while the tied-up goons try to protest through clown noses. “How about we hang out on the weekend when everyone’s busy?” you suggest, tapping your pencil against your notebook filled with history notes. Jack’s enthusiasm is heard on the other end of the line.

“That sounds amazing, sugar. Can we grab some batburgers too?” He says, smiling as you reach for your phone. You chuckled. “Absolutely,” you respond confidently. Jack practically bounces with excitement, despite the bemused expressions from the goons. “Awesome!”

You and Jack stay on the phone, and while he serves as your backup during patrols, he’s more than up for the task. You might not want to feel like you’re using him, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. The dynamic between you two is unconventional, but at least you’ve got each other’s backs.

“We’re nothing but enemies, honestly why wouldn’t we.”

Your brothers gave a clear expression that they weren’t falling for it.

“Okay then tell us why in the world is that goblin out there with a sign saying in quote, ‘let’s go out later’.” Jason says with knitted brows.

“Wait for real?!” You got up quickly to look outside, and there was no one. Turning back to glare at Jason, Jason held a smug grin on his face.

“Gotcha.”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle before remaining stoic. “I would like to say as well that you’re grounded for sneaking out.”

“What?! How did you find out.” Pouting, you sat back at the table.

“Damian told me.”

“DAMIAN!?”

Damian drank his tea elegantly despite his messy self. “I can’t have my little sister dating some sociopath.”

“Oh shut up, I’m not buying you anymore cool and smooth paper to draw on.” Damian almost spits his tea out, scrambling to follow you as you walked upstairs.

“Wait! Sister, maybe we can rearrange some things!”

[narrativeglitch]

Where No One Knows My Name

(More Snippets (#2)/Aged up Characters)

The quad buzzed with palpable Friday energy. Laughter spilled from the dorms, friendly shouts crisscrossed the lawn, and the fading sun bled gold and rose behind the stone buildings.

Damian, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stood sentinel near a tree, scanning the throng. Outwardly calm, inwardly his thoughts vibrated half anticipating a text, the other half meticulously planning his next visit to Marjorie’s dorm.

He didn’t register the footsteps until they were too close.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled behind him, saturated with grin and older brother mischief. “Look who crawled out of the library.”

Damian turned, jaw tightening. “What are you doing here?”

Dick stood there with his trademark casual confidence, hands in his own pockets, a knowing smirk already blooming. Tim hovered a few paces back, nursing a half-finished iced coffee.

“We haven’t seen you at the Manor in, what, ten days?” Dick said, tilting his head towards Tim for confirmation, then back to Damian.

“Alfred’s playing the long game and withholding intel, so naturally, we got curious.”

“Curious,” Damian echoed, his tone flat.

“Not suspicious,” Tim interjected diplomatically. “Just… noticing a pattern. You disappear. You’re always ‘at college.’ So…”

Damian’s mouth opened, a lie or deflection forming but his gaze shot past them.

Across the quad, a girl stepped out of one of the buildings, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up, oversized Gotham Academy sweats hung low on her hips, and her curls were gathered into a messy bun at the top of her head.

Marjorie.

“Maj!” he called, his voice slicing through the ambient chatter.

She paused mid stride, blinking towards the sound, then spotted him and her face lit up, as it always did. A small, almost bashful wave, and she started towards them.

Dick and Tim pivoted, eyes narrowing slightly as they took in the girl walking toward them wearing what was unmistakably their younger brother’s hoodie.

They exchanged a look. Then turned back to Damian.

Tim appeared confused but intrigued. Dick was already smirking.

“Hey, Damian,” Marjorie said as she reached them, brushing a stray curl back into her bun. Her other hand clutched the strap of her bag a little tighter. “I was looking for you earlier.”

“I thought you were heading back to your dorm.”

“Yeah, about that…” Her eyes flicked toward Dick and Tim, clearly clocking the unfamiliar faces.

Damian sighed, gesturing half-heartedly. “These are my brothers. Dick. Tim.”

Both offered smiles that were too pleasant to be anything but suspicious.

“Oh! Nice to meet you,” she said politely.

“Likewise,” Dick replied, voice practically dripping with interest.

Tim’s brow furrowed, and then realization clicked. His eyes ping-ponged between Marjorie and Damian. Oh, he mouthed.

Damian cleared his throat, laced with warning, and shot them both a glare that read: Don’t start.

He turned back to Marjorie. “So” He glanced at her overnight bag. “You’re heading back to L.A.? You didn’t say anything.”

“I was going to,” she said, biting her lip. “But that’s kind of why I didn’t. I knew if I told you, you’d try to come with me.”

“I would have,” he muttered, tension tightening his jaw.

“I know.” Her voice softened. “But it’s just a family thing. Kind of...” She trailed off

A small silence settled over them. Charged. Heavy with unspoken things.

Damian didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lingered on her like he was memorizing her made her heart flutter and her brow arch.

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “What, are you about to freak out? Come on, I grew up in L.A. I’m not gonna get lost in my own city.”

Then, with a teasing tilt of her head, she fingered the chain around her neck and added, “Unless you snuck a tracker in this thing. Should I be worried?”

All three brothers laughed with her. Sort of. Tim’s was a beat too short. Dick’s dissolved into a cough. And Damian… Damian managed a smile, but the slight stiffening of his shoulders was a tell that his brothers didn’t miss.

The air shifted, subtle yet unmistakable. Marjorie, oblivious, just chuckled and rocked back on her heels. She laughed again, oblivious.

“Kidding. Obviously.”

Her phone buzzed. She glanced down. “Oh! That’s my Uber. Gotta run.” She looked up at Tim and Dick. “It was really nice meeting you guys.”

Dick nodded, smirk firmly in place. “You too, Marjorie.” Tim offered a kind smile. “Safe travels.”

She turned to Damian, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll text you when I get to the airport, and when I land.”

He gave a curt nod, one hand briefly brushing her arm as she turned and walked towards the curb.

The instant she was out of earshot, Dick swiveled to Damian, eyebrows raised high. “You definitely put a tracker in the necklace.”

Damian didn’t bother denying it. “We live in Gotham,” he stated stiffly. “I take precautions.” Tim took a finishing sip of his coffee and muttered, “God, he really is turning into me.”

[caffine-addict-living-in-gotham]

3rd anniversary gift. Thank you, @dami-wayne-al

That being said he is continuing to annoy me with elaborate puns. Help me ✨ (Grayson stop giving him more, I will end you ✨)

[dollishmehrayan]

𐔌 . ⋮ DAMIAN WAYNE AS A S/O .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( solo damian wayne x reader run )

𝜗𝜚 a/n: I’ve been reading damian’s run these days and aww stop he’s so adorable anyways I thought why not to write something for him to get out my writers block sooo enjoy?? anyways I was pressured by my bbg @kyriakis to post this so after this I’ll probably write genuine hcs of him only of things he probably does / used to based off canon, tags: ( damian wayne x reader ) ! Disclaimer the following tags include jason, dick, bruce, Tim even when not mentioned this allows for the fandom to equally react since most don’t follow damian tag

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

A BIT OF A GREAT GIFTER ── .✦

Damian’s idea of romance is... a little dramatic. You once casually mentioned how you like the color purple or any other color and the next day you received an extravagant bouquet of rare lavender flowers, LIKE THIS MAN REMEMBERS WELL.

“Purple is a necessary part of your aesthetic,” he states nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But then, if you ever mention how much you love a particular type of chocolate or a specific scent, he’ll track it down and somehow acquire it without you knowing and just say it’s a ‘gift’ as if he didn’t spend hours finding it.

And if you dare to ask him about it? PFFFF

“Tt, don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply noticed the details, as any competent person would.”

DRAMATIC BUT ON LEVEL 10 ── .✦

Damian acts like you’re going on an actual mission when you leave the house. “What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You can’t just walk around Gotham. There’s danger everywhere.”, “It’s just a bodega damian.”

And even if it’s just a trip to the store, he’ll insist on accompanying you with that “I’m doing this for your own safety” tone, but the moment you come back home, he acts like he’s been out on patrol the entire time.

“I’ve successfully completed the task of ensuring no harm came to you.” HIS LOVE IS IN ACTIONS NOT WORDS OKAY?!

He says this while wearing a full suit and tie, because of course, that makes sense for a walk to the bodega ( corner shop )

Not the Best at Compliments, but...

Damian’s way of showing affection can be a little... rough. But somehow, it always gets the point across, think of like people being sarcastic as a love language but his seems to be like kinda blunt? Where at first he won’t say out loud ‘oh I love you’ no but he isn’t ignorant either, he knows he loves you and that’s validated to him.

“You’re fine. I mean, I guess I could see how someone would find you attractive. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

And then he’ll look at you, almost daring you to call him out. But in truth, his eyes are saying, “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world, but I’ll never admit it because I am Damian Wayne, and I am far too cool for this.”

The thing is, though, he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy, even if it means begrudgingly going out of his way to make sure you get exactly what you want.

WILL DEFEND YOU 100% ── .✦

one of his brothers say something mildly annoying to you?

“Don’t talk to them like that.”

Damian’s got your back no matter how small the offense.

Someone’s being rude to you in public? He’s ready to pull a full I’m Damian Wayne, son of Batman, sole heir to ra’s al ghul and start a verbal altercation, followed by a very intense, “No, they didn’t just say that about you” look.

You? Trying to defuse the situation like a normal person?

Damian? “Nope, too late. I already decided it’s a fight now, this is mockery.

If you’re lucky, he’ll look at you and say, “It’s okay. I’m protecting you,” with a glint in his eye that says, “And you better be grateful.”

GENUINELY DOESNT GET PDA BUT FOR A GOOD REASON ── .✦

Damian’s not one to show affection publicly. In fact, he’ll try to avoid touching you at all if he’s around anyone. But the second he’s sure no one is looking, you’ll catch him glaring at you from across the room like, “We’re together, and everyone should know it, but I won’t say it.” BUT he isn’t embarrassed by you or isn’t hiding you relationship

It’s just private not secret.

He’ll give you the occasional side-hug or brush your hand ever so slightly, then immediately retreat like nothing happened if you don’t grab it fast enough.

But if you’re standing near him, don’t be surprised when he casually places a hand on your shoulder or rests his head on yours... only for it to turn into the most awkward five seconds ever, followed by an immediate, “What? It’s not like I wanted to do that. You were in my personal space.” HE DOESNR WANT TO ADMIT HE’S DEPENDENT 😭

So, yeah. PDA with Damian is... complicated, BUT ITS DIFFERENT

“It’s a Normal Relationship. I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About”

Damian, when you ask if he wants to do something like go for a walk, or watch a movie together:

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re not doing anything special. This is just a normal... well, normal for us. What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And yet, there he is, sitting with you, absolutely enjoying the time together trying to act like it's nothing special, but he’s leaning in just a little too close to you to be that casual.

Sometimes, he’ll act like he’s too cool for the typical date stuff, but in reality, he’s all in. He’s just trying to pretend he’s not, to maintain his Bat-cred.

COMPETITIVE TO A TEA ── .✦

This seems like a regular occurrence for him where, it’s not only you but anyone, he likes competition and challenges in general by classmates, friends, you, teammates, anyone. ( This also why he doesn’t do well on teams in canon but we ain’t ready for this convo )

Whenever there’s something to compete over whether it’s a simple game or a sparring match damian’s all in. He takes everything way too seriously.

“I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Damian: “Tt, you think I’m going to let you win? You underestimate me immensely this is social injustice to my name.”

And the next thing you know, he’s strategizing his every move, plotting out every turn like he’s planning an actual mission. MEANWHILE ITS JUST JENGA DAMN

When he inevitably wins (because he’s Damian Wayne, and you knew he was going to), he’ll throw you the most smug smile.

“I told you. You should’ve known better.”

BUT HE LOVES YOU ── .✦

Underneath the tough exterior, Damian’s a softie who occasionally lets his guard down when you're alone together. He might not say it, but you know when he's trying to be vulnerable.

For example, one evening, after a particularly intense patrol or he says something too smart during a simple game of uno , he’ll just stare at you, quietly, in the way that only Damian can.

“You’re... okay, right? I didn’t, uh, hurt you…. I apologize for my lack of understanding if that hurt you.”

You’ll blink and be like, “You literally saved me like 10 minutes ago?”

And he’ll just look away, muttering something like, “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt. I just... don’t want to lose anyone again.” ( damian ‘I will not have anyone dying for my mistakes the way he did’ Wayne ☹️

And then he’ll change the subject super quickly, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his fears

[meloyol]

Friends ON The Other Side

Chapter 02

                      

The Young Assassin visited his self-determined "wife-to-be" several times a week. There was no set time for this spontaneous appearance.

From time to time, Jordis was a bit irritated, since it had been regulated for her a few times disrupted daily routine.

How long has that been? A few months for sure.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Damian therefore asked this time.

Waiting for someone else?

She was pausing what she was doing, really thinking of someone it seemed before shaking her head.

"It would probably be in vain to wait for him"

The black-haired frowned.

"Him?"

Jordis tilted his head and then looked closely from top to bottom.

"He hasn't been here in almost four years. Last time he said he would adopt me and travel the world with me. But he just stole my Research breakthrough in nanorobotics. I don't think he'll use it to cure cancer"

She thought of Slade Wilson, even if she wanted to hate him. she missed him. She secretly hoped he was fine wherever he was.

After all, before this betrayal, he had taken care of her, even her

taught to fight and fished with her on the beach. The giant strong man was really a great guy, she thought at that time.

Damian's green eyes bored into hers before she turned away and dedicated a display in front of her.

"You're stupid, although you're smart..." the brat said boldly and

dry.

"I think the more appropriate word for your statement is 'naive'. But thanks."

She sighed softly, "I think I'm having trouble with... the intentions and Reading people... would be easier if you could read minds, wouldn't it? Or having  a glimpse of the future"

"Mind reading? I think there's a reason people don't

express certain Things . It's either their choice or their own problem."

commented Damien.

"If people don't say what's on their mind, it's not your Problem. But you should be more suspicious"

"It's okay. Maybe you're right. But isn't IT a little Bit to harsh. …Mistrust? Do you think this is the ultimate solution, Damian?"

He nodded, but she shook her head.

"I think I should do something with anatomy, facial expressions, gestures and am in general deal with verbal communication... I can also draw something, also has something positive"

Her attempt to find a solution surprised him again. "Doesn't sound right for a simple solution"

"Simple solutions are boring, Damian"

"Tzz", Damian made annoyed and tapped in expectantly with his right boot repeating beat on the floor .

His arms were crossed and Jordis closed the laptop.

"Okay, apparently you're expecting something"

"Oh yeah?" Damian said snotty and sarcastic.

"Well that's just too obvious," she tapped his forehead.

"So what do you want?"

"Cocoa, Cookie and Snuggle"

Jordis chuckled softly.

The dwarf could be cute when he wasn't wielding his katana dashed around.

"All right," she admitted defeat. She got chilled drinking cocoa out of the Fridge, the biscuits from the pantry and came with a book and a cozy blanket back to him, ON the way to the Living room.

Snuggled up in the blanket and with the guest taken care of, she read him stories.

And this time Damian fell asleep. She still didn't know what the consequences would be…