#damian expressing that he cares in his own way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luxaofhesperides · 4 months ago

Text

the lost brother - damian

There is static in his ears.

There is a baby in his arms.

His niece. His niece from a brother dead before he was born. The daughter of Danyal, his mother's greatest regret, the ghost haunting his childhood, the brother he never got to have.

She is so small in his arms. Still. Quiet.

It frightens him, cradling such a fragile life in his arms. He's not good with most people, let alone a baby.

Danyal must have been truly desperate to leave her with him.

"Robin."

The voice makes the world come rushing back into place. Damian moves before he thinks, turning his body to shield his niece from danger, but it's only Red Robin standing before him. He stares, wide eyed, until Red Robin pushes his cowl back and Drake stands before him, expression carefully neutral. He doesn't look at the baby in Damian's arms. He only looks at Damian.

"Robin, come on. The Batmobile is right below us."

Damian hesitates, then follows Drake to the edge of the roof. He takes the fire escape down, landing carefully so he doesn't jostle the baby in his arms, and Drake grapples down a moment later, carefully maintaining the distance between them.

He knows it's to keep Damian from feeling trapped, and he's stupidly grateful, though he'll never say so.

The rest of the family will be a pain to deal with. They will demand answers he doesn't have, invade his space, insist on taking his niece from him. At least Drake is quiet and willing to observe without interference beyond getting them all home.

As promised, the Batmobile waits for them in the alley. Drake holds the door open and Damian slides in, adjusting his niece to make sure she's comfortable. She blinks up at him with dark blue eyes.

How strange. He had expected them to be green.

Drake drives them, speaking in short bursts into his comm. Damian brings a hand up to his own, realising rather belatedly that it's muted. Oracle must have grown annoyed at the barage of questions heading his way and silenced them for him.

He'll have to thank her later, once things have settled down.

For now, all his attention is on his little baby niece. What did Danyal say her name was?

Ellie.

Ellie Ellie Ellie.

She reaches up with a small hand, curious, and Damian offers a finger for her to latch on to. Her grip isn't strong, and her hand is small and barely warm.

He holds her closer for the rest of the ride home.

Father wants to take Ellie away for tests. Damian refuses to let go of her, going as far as leveling a sword at anyone who tries.

Drake is the only one who offers to only draw the barest minimum amount of blood for a DNA test, all while Damian holds her.

This, he accepts.

The others hover in his periphery, muttering amongst themselves, but Damian cares little for their thoughts and judgements. He was given Ellie for the sole purpose of caring for her. He will not fail in his duty. If it comes to it that he has to hide away with Mother for the rest of them to calm down, then he will. Surely she'll want to be involved with her granddaughter.

He'll have to tell her about Danyal, anyways.

Father stays at the computer, watching as the results load. He does not look away from the screen to even greet Ellie.

Damian pushes down his bitterness. He knows well the kind of man Father is, now. This is expected of him.

It's Richard that stays by him, hurrying across the Cave with an armful of diapers and baby clothes.

"I wasn't sure what to get, so I got a bit of everything," he explains, setting everything down on the cot where Damian sits with Ellie. Richard cut his patrol short as soon as Danyal left and made an emergency run to the nearest store with baby supplies, pulling sweatpants and a jacket over his Nightwing suit. The collar of the suit peeks out from beneath his jacket, and Damian is sure that it's only the late hour that kept anyone from asking too many questions while Richard was shopping.

"Thank you," Damian mutters. He sets Ellie down carefully, and she blinks up at him with tired eyes. Her face is round with baby fat, but not by much. "How do I…?"

"I think I know how to change a diaper," Richard offers, already pulling a fresh one out of the pack. He gets a small pack of baby wipes out of his pocket and quickly undoes the diaper on Ellie, wiping her down. Damian watches carefully, committing each step to memory as Richard changes her diaper and makes sure she's comfortable.

They're all out of their depths, Damian realizes. Have any of them actually cared for a baby? Pennyworth might have had some idea, and though he died a few years ago, the loss of him aches sharply even now.

"We'll have to figure out how old she is before we get any food for her," Richard murmurs, reaching out to brush a finger against her cheek. His eyes are soft, sad, and Damian lets out a slow breath, relived to know he can trust Richard with Ellie. "What happened?"

It's the question everyone's been asking him, and Damian has refused to answer each time.

But he will answer Richard.

"I saw a person on the edge of the roof as I patrolled. I went down to bring them to safety. He was… I had an older brother who died before I was born. But I know what he looks like. It was him, on that roof."

"You think he came back to life?"

"He must have. He was placed in a Lazarus Pit, but Mother said it didn't bring him back. Perhaps it just took time."

"What made you think it was him, if you've never met him?"

Damian thinks back. The man on the roof was a few years older than Drake, thin and worn-down. His eyes caught Damian's attention first; al Ghul's have very distinctive eyes, and it seems they both inherited that trait from Mother. Beyond that…

Lazarus Pits have magic in them. They wouldn't be able to do what they did without it. Those revived by Lazarus Pits carry some of it with them; it's not Pit Rage, which fades within an hour, but something else that leaves them on the boundary of inhuman. Damian grew up around the Pits and people who used them. He knows what the magic of the Pits feels like, and he could feel it in Danyal.

"I just knew," Damian answers. "Should Mother ever meet him, she'll be able to tell you the same thing: that was Danyal. And this is his daughter."

"Do you know why he left his daughter with you?"

"He asked if Batman was a good father. If I was safe here. Only then did he give Ellie to me."

"He could have stayed to," Richard says, sadness coloring his tone.

Damian doesn't respond. What could he say? Yes, Danyal could have stayed and joined them. He chose not to, for whatever reason. They have not found him yet, and Damian doubts they will find him any time soon.

Danyal is the first son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne. He will not be found until he wants to be.

Damian will have to wait until then.

The DNA results come back after eight rounds of testing.

Ellie is indeed Damian's niece.

The closest matches to her in the database are Damian and Bruce, which all but confirms that Danyal is indeed the first blood son of the Bat.

Father stares down at Ellie with an unreadable look on his face. He doesn't try to hold her; Damian doesn't know if he should be grateful for this or not.

"I have another son," he says. "And neither you nor your mother ever told me."

"He was dead," Damian answers, "What use would a dead child be to you? Even I never met him until tonight. He was gone long before I was born."

"He's still my son!"

"He's a stranger," Damian bites back. "Why do you pretend to care now? He has never been a part of our lives before. You won't even hold his daughter."

Father flinches back, just slightly, but it's enough to know that the barb hit. Damian gathers Ellie up into his arms and heads for the stairs. "I will be going to sleep now. Ellie will stay with me. You are welcome to stay down here to search for Danyal, or you can get some rest to join me in shopping for Ellie. I will call Mother. Good night."

The others don't have the decency to wait until he's completely out of the Cave before they begin shouting amongst themselves. Damian clicks his tongue and looks down at Ellie, who's sleeping peacefully.

"Let's hope you grow up to have more sense than them," he says to her.

He lays her on top of the blankets, then curls up next to her. It's a long time before he's able to fall asleep.

Mother calls first thing in the morning. Damian's barely had time to brush his teeth before his phone is ringing, and he has to rush to catch it before the call ends.

"Is it true?" she demands as soon as he answers, "Was it Danyal?"

Damian bites back a curse. He said he'd call her. It would have been best if he had been the one to break the news, rather than anyone else, but it doesn't surprise him that no one listened.

"It's true," he says. "Danyal was in Gotham last night. He left his daughter in my care before disappearing. I was unable to speak to him more."

"How can that be," she says, breathless, "It's been decades since his death. The Lazarus Pit never returned him to me."

"It was him. That's all I know."

There's a pause as his mother gathers her composure. Then she says, "I will be in Gotham in a week. I will not be kept out of my granddaughter's life."

"I will make sure we have a room ready for you."

"Good. Take care, habibi."

The call ends without any other fanfare. Damian drops his head with a sigh and tosses his phone back onto his desk.

On his bed, Ellie is sitting up, watching him curiously.

"You and your father have caused a lot of trouble already," he tells her, and she claps her hands together.

When he goes downstairs, he immediately makes note of Drake and Brown's presence with displeasure. His hopes for a quiet morning are dashed before he even reached the kitchen.

"There you are!" Brown says far too loudly. She bounds up to him, ignoring his scowl, and peers at Ellie. "Hm, I'd guess around nine to eleven months, accounting for FTT and some malnutrition."

"FTT?" he repeats.

"Failure to thrive. If infants aren't care for properly, which includes cuddling, then they just… don't grow as they should. They end up smaller and weaker than is expected for their age."

"I imagine she was not taken care of properly, wherever she was before. She wouldn't have been left with me otherwise."

Brown looks troubled, but she blinks it away and smiles when Ellie reaches up to grab at her nose. "Hello there," she says in a soft voice, "I'm your favorite aunt. Don't forget that, alright! I'm your favorite."

Damian pushes her away. "She has no favorites."

"Not yet, but it'll definitely be me when she does!"

"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"

"No. But, in all seriousness, me and Tim are here to help. He gave me a rundown and what happened and I still have a bunch of stuff from my pregnancy classes that can help you. We also got some baby food and milk and formula for the baby, since she'll need to eat and be burped. I can walk you through all of that so you can start getting some experience in baby care."

Ah. He had forgotten that Brown had once been pregnant. That she gave away her own baby.

It must be hard for her to be on the other end of that situation, to watch someone take in a baby whose parent couldn't properly care for her, to muster up a smile and all the information she has to make things better.

"I would… appreciate that, Brown."

"Good! Well, lesson one starts now."

She throws open the door to the kitchen, where Drake is pressing the tip of a feeding bottle against the inside of his wrist. "Come here," he says to Damian. "Hold out a hand."

Curious, Damian does as told, and watches as Drake pressed the warm tip of the bottle against his wrist, where liquid splots out onto his skin. "That's about how warm it should be when you feed her. Here." He presses the bottle into Damian's hands, and it takes some adjustment before he can feed Ellie, who starts off slowly, then with more energy.

Brown tosses a rag over his shoulder, and instructs him on how to burp Ellie once she's finished eating. She coughs up some formula, then settles back into his arms, eyes closing as she begins to doze.

"I'll handle shopping," Drake says. "You need a crib, right? Maybe some toys… Just text me a list, I'll get everything."

"Why are you doing all this?" Damian can't help but ask. "We are not exactly… close."

Drake blinks at him, as though he's confused. "Because a baby is a big responsibility. And just because we don't always get along doesn't mean we're not family. She's my neice too. Doesn't she deserve to have more people in her corner?"

Damian can't argue with that, so he nods and lets Drake go to buy whatever he thinks is necessary. Brown lingers in the kitchen, making breakfast for them both in between sneaking glances at Ellie. Usually being watched so obviously would have him on edge and snappy, but he understands the urge to keep looking; he also can't take his eyes off of Ellie.

For someone so small to go through such hardship already… he doesn't understand how anyone can look at her and not want to keep her safe.

He wonders if anyone is keeping Danyal safe.

As much as he wants to go after Danyal, search for his resurrected brother, Ellie takes priority.

She's the one who's here to stay, after all.

Father doesn't come up from the Batcave all day.

Damian tries not to hate him for it.

He doesn't think he succeeds.

(masterpost for all parts)

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #demon brothers #the harmless series #dcxdp fic #my writing #now comes complicated family!!!! hehehehe #yes alfred is dead. this takes place a few years after his death. so damian's around 15 and danny's about 24 #this will be explained more later. just know he was in that lab for a very long time.

2K notes · View notes

aealzx · 4 months ago

Text

(This one is pretty long info dumping. Warning: mention of mild gore)

_______________________

Prologue

Previous Next

_______________________

With the state of the one named Danny, the safehouse Barbara directed the group to was one that was a little more well stocked than the others. It was only because of Jazz that they were able to reach it, being the one to accept all of them being blindfolded after Jason had suggested they could hold each other’s hands the whole time and let the rest of his team put the blindfolds on. It made walking a little awkward with Jazz firmly hanging onto her unconscious brother’s hand, but it was an annoyance Jason was willing to accept for the comfort it gave them. It was only when they were in a room without windows that they took the blindfolds off, and pulled chairs over for the kids to sit on.

“Don’t touch me,” Sam hissed when Cass took her arm to start cleaning a cut she had, snatching her limb back and glaring.

“If it gets infected and you get sick then you’ll have one more of your team in need of care. That seems detrimental to your state of affairs,” Damian commented after catching sight of Cass’ sad expression.

“Robin,” Tim hissed, not wanting to stress this group of teenagers out more than they already were.

“He’s not wrong,” Jason interjected, keeping a hold of Danny not only because there was only one table open that he’d directed Stephanie to set Danielle on, but also because he knew the others would behave better with their seriously injured friend in obvious custody. “You guys should take care of yourselves too, otherwise no one will be left to look out for him.”

It was effective. Sam flinched before lowering her head and hunching her shoulders like a scolded puppy, then offered her arm back to Cass.

“Dude,” Tucker protested weakly, but didn’t say anything else and aso looked to Tim to accept his own check up. He had to wait for Tim to stop facepalming first though, a heaved sign from him before he decided not to further comment on his two brothers’ unnecessarily blunt comments.

“Are you feeling a little better sweetie? Sorry we roughed you up so much, but you were quite the fighter and it was hard to deal with you,” Stephanie decided to also ignore her brothers, resting Danielle on the table while Dick was clearing the other.

At first Danielle was about to be snarky about whose fault it was that she wasn’t feeling okay, but Stephanie’s expert inclusion about her fighting ability effectively changed her thought process. “Heheeh. And don’t you forget it,” Danielle chimed with a proud giggle. “I’m feeling much better now. Thanks for carrying me all the way.”

“No problem! Thanks for listening to your sister and not fighting us again,” Stephanie returned. “Jazz said you’re different from the others. Do you need anything? It doesn’t look like you’re injured anymore.”

“I heal fast, so I’m okay. But do you have any food? We haven’t really gotten much lately,” Danielle asked shamelessly. She didn’t need any bandaids or antiseptic like the others, but fights had still taken a lot of energy on top of being short supply of food for the past few months. If they were willing to finally give her a good meal then she was going to take advantage of it.

“Sure thing,” Stephanie giggled, appreciating the honesty. “I’ll be right back,” she bid, leaving Danielle on the table and heading to another room where they kept food supplies.

Letting Stephanie pass by them, Jason shifted towards the remaining table where Dick was finishing clearing the surface of spare parts and supplies. “Get two blankets, he’s cold as ice,” Jason directed Dick, the concern in his voice being the only hit to his hidden expression.

“...Still breathing?” Dick asked after obediently pulling a thick blanket from a nearby cupboard and spreading it on the table first. They were both keeping their voices on the quieter side, letting Stephanie and Tim take care of keeping the other three occupied. Jazz was the only one staying near them, having not let go of Danny’s hand just yet.

“Yeah, it’s weak though,” Jason confirmed, carefully setting Danny down and helping Dick spread the second blanket over him. “How long has he been like this?”

That question was directed to Jazz, who pursed her lips both in reluctance to answer and to fight back more tears. “Since we got here. He collapsed and hasn’t woken up since,” she admitted, almost a whisper.

“What?” Dick smothered his outburst so the others didn’t notice, but couldn’t keep it quiet completely. “He’s been comatose for months without life support?”

Jazz flinched and shrank back slightly at the outburst, but Jason rested a hand on her shoulder to keep her from fleeing. They needed her to talk if they wanted to be able to help them. “He’s not a regular human, remember?” he reminded Dick, speaking up to try and help Jazz feel a little less interrogated.

Jazz didn’t offer any further information, just pulled her gaze back to look up at Dick, lip wavering despite her trying to keep a defiant expression. She wasn’t looking for pity, but she wasn’t good enough at pretending to be a tough girl that Dick didn’t notice her distress. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... I know you were doing your best,” he apologized, pulling back a little as well.

“Dr. Thompkins has reached you guys. Penny-one opted to call her after hearing Danny's initial condition,” Barbara’s report came over all of their comms, able to keep tabs on everyone through secure video feeds of the inside and outside of the safehouse. And as each of her team members got DNA samples from their captive rescuees she was also starting an identity analysis for each of them in the background.

“Robin?”

That was all Dick had to say, calling to the youngest who was leaning against the frame of the only door. Damian simply raised his hand in a brief acknowledging wave before he left to let Leslie inside. As he left Stephanie returned a moment after, a plate of warmed up frozen burritos in her hands and a bag of bottled water over her shoulder. The bag caught Jason’s eye, and he moved over momentarily to grab one of the bottles and bring it to Jazz.

“Our medical contact has arrived. We’ll have her look at your brother first. Just make sure you stay hydrated,” he commented, handing her the bottle and letting her open it so she could see it was still sealed and therefore wasn’t contaminated. If that was even a concern that crossed her mind. It was starting to quickly seem like these kids weren’t criminals at all, and many of them were starting to have a hard time treating them as such.

“...Thanks,” Jazz responded, taking a moment to be willing to let go of Danny to open the bottle. It was much needed, and she ended up drinking half of it before lowering it again.

Jason watched her for a moment, noting how tense she was and her reluctance to speak with them. He couldn’t blame her for being secretive, having no idea what had driven them to where they had been. But he couldn’t help notice it was strange they were all still distrusting of the group they were with. Didn’t they know Batman’s group of birds were a trustworthy lot? Were they still hiding something illegal? Or maybe… they simply didn’t recognize them. Where were these kids from? “Before the Doctor gets here, I just want to strongly recommend that you don’t keep anything from her, alright? I know it’s scary to reveal things about your brother to a stranger, but the more she knows the better she can help. Got it?”

Jazz looked up at him at the half request half demand, eyes trying to see him beyond the mask as she considered his words. She hadn’t thought about that yet, being so used to keeping everything about what Danny was a secret from everyone. But what Jason said made sense, and she wasn’t going to risk Danny not getting better just to stay paranoid. Two months was a long time for them to have tried to figure things out for themselves, only to have every attempt fail. But if there was one thing they’d all learned in the past months, it seemed ghosts were practically nonexistent in Gotham. So perhaps there was much less risk than back home. “...Okay,” Jazz agreed, giving a small nod.

“This way Doctor. The young meta is over there,” Damian was quick to return, refraining from entering the room for a moment in favor of allowing Leslie to get by, but still gesturing his open palm towards the group of four to the right side of the room from the entrance.

“Thank you, Robin,” Leslie responded, stepping into the room and heading over to them. She didn’t sound too happy to be there. But considering the circumstances it was hard to be joyful about it. She did end up pausing when she laid eyes on Danny though, momentarily taken aback. “If I didn’t know any better I’d be questioning your ability to tell when someone was still alive,” she commented, looking at Dick and Jason for a moment before setting her medical case on the edge of the table with a small sigh. “Let’s take a look. What kind of injury is under the wrappings, dear?”

Her voice had softened, being able to recognize each of the kids who were there from the rundown Barbara had given her on the way there. As she gathered her tools Jazz watched her, hesitantly nudging herself to respond honestly. “...Burns,” she said quietly, willing herself to move as she saw Leslie pull out some scissors to cut the bandages with. “From here to here,” Jazz added, rising from the stool to gesture the entirety of Danny’s left side of his torso, and onto his shoulder somewhat.

“Thank you, dear,” Leslie hummed, slipping the scissors under the bandages on the opposite side to make sure she didn’t aggravate any of the injuries. It only took a moment to cut through the stolen wrappings, and then she was very gingerly peeling them away.

Jazz still felt nauseous whenever she saw the blaster inflicted burns marring a good portion of her little brother’s body, and was glad she was already sitting. Leslie didn’t seem too phased though, simply humming once the wounds were revealed even as Dick and Jason made tense noises. “Hmm. Those are definitely third degree,” Leslie commented, slowly cutting away the rest of the bandages around Danny’s shoulder. But then she noticed something unusual that caused her to look closer. The tissue that wasn’t destroyed appeared irritated, as if exposed to an allergen or poison. “What caused them?” she asked, looking closely.

“...A shot from a Blood blossom blaster,” Jazz almost whispered, clenching her hand as the memory of her brother screaming when the red tinted blast had caught him in the side made her feel even more sick. She wasn’t sure if that was worse than seeing him stand up afterwards with a gaping hole in his side dripping green blood. At least in his ghost form there hadn’t been much to see in terms of insides. But after having expended all his energy to take out the GIW’s machines he hadn’t had any left to heal, and the injuries had carried over his human half.

“Wait, you said third degree?” Sam suddenly spoke up, the whole room having stopped conversations when Leslie had come in. “You can’t see his ribs anymore?” she continued, standing up and intending to check for herself before Cass stepped in her way.

“Don’t interfere. You’ll get in the way,” Cass directed, holding her hands out to block Sam’s path and ignoring the glare directed at her.

Tucker made a gagging noise at the question, covering his mouth for a moment. “Dude, could you not remind me of that?”

So Sam wasn’t just being dramatic? Dick and his team ended up looking at Jazz when they heard her draw a breath of realization, turning from Sam back to check for herself. “Oh-... Oh thank goodness. You’re right,” she breathed, sagging to her knees and letting out a sob of relief. “We were right. He is still healing.”

It was a strange thing to hear, but for the first time since they’d caught them Sam actually gained a small smile. Danielle also ended up giving a short giggle too, kicking her legs once. “Told you,” she commented.

It was admittedly a very confusing conversation, but Dick had to just remind himself once again that Danny wasn’t completely human. Following Cass’ lead, Dick gently helped pull Jazz back to the stool she’d been on. “Let’s keep out of the Doctor’s way,” he suggested.

“Can you guys explain a little more though?” Tim spoke up now, trying to piece together everything that had been hinted at. Apparently Danny had actually had fourth degree burns, but they had healed despite him not having proper medical care other than clean dressings, and having been asleep for months. “I’m having a difficult time understanding how he’s not…. in worse condition,” he added, catching himself from being too blunt like his siblings had been before.

“You mean how he’s not dead?” This time it was Danielle that was strangely blunt with a calmness that made the others think she didn’t fully understand what she was saying. “That’s easy. He and I are both halfas. It’s harder to kill someone who’s already half dead.”

Tim’s brow twitched, and Jason didn’t miss the few glances taken at him. He doubted they were the same as him, considering he unfortunately couldn’t phase through solid objects or fly like they had seen Danielle do many times already.

“Halfas?” Stephanie repeated, pulling her gaze from Jason and looking back to Danielle.

“It’s short for half human half ghost,” Sam answered, as though it was an obvious connection to make.

“Yup. See,” Danielle confirmed, pushing off the table midmorph and floating in the air instead of landing on the floor as her now stark white hair wisped gently in a soft wind unfelt by anyone else. It didn’t look like much of a change other than she had different hair and eye colors now. But it definitely felt different. That eerie skin crawling sensation that people usually associated with ghosts that almost never actually existed.

‘...Huh, I guess it’s kind of like Captain Marvel, but with their ghost half as the other side,’ Tim thought after a moment of consideration after watching Danielle. “And being halfas give you guys accelerated healing, but… Danny’s is… hindered?” he asked next, clarifying that they were on the same page.

The nod from Danielle turned into a grimace, and she floated back to sit on the table once more. “Something like that. We have to have enough energy for it to work, and he used up a lot. This place kinda sucks too. There’s no natural portals to the Ghost Zone, and no ecto hot spots that we can gather energy from either.”

“The closest supplement we could find that we thought would work was the Lazarus water. But after getting a hold of some we decided we shouldn’t risk using it,” Jazz added, feeling the despair starting to sink into her shoulders again.

“Yeah, that stuff is freaky bad. I only took a little bit and it was horrible,” Danielle agreed, shuddering and wrapping her arms around her knees.

The others weren’t sure how to answer that fully, most of them being lost in thought about the unfamiliar data they’d been given. Eventually Jason shifted with a short comment. “We’re not too fond of the stuff either,” he huffed, then switched his gaze back to Leslie. “Have you finished looking him over?”

While they had been discussing half ghosts Leslie had continued her exam and treatment of Danny, having cleansed the obvious injuries, rebandaged them with Dick’s help, and added a simple saline IV, oxygen mask, and heart monitor. When Jason addressed her she was making notes about her results. “Mm. Aside from the burns it looks like he’s been exposed to an allergen or toxin as well,” she began, turning to face them.

“That’s the blood blossoms. They’re poison to ghosts,” Jazz supplied quickly, then looked apologetic for interrupting.

Leslie didn’t seem to mind though, just nodding and continuing her report. “There’s also the expected signs of malnutrition. If the human half still needs regular human nutrients then Vitamin IV therapy would be of benefit. The strange part is it looks like all of his bodily functions are significantly slowed, similar to that of cryogenic stasis. That could explain why he’s still alive after so long.”

“That also explains why he feels like an ice cube,” Jason noted, “Could you tell what’s causing it?”

“It seems to be self generated. I imagine this ‘meta’ potentially has ice related abilities,” Leslie answered. None of the teens said anything, but their tight lipped reactions and expressions of sudden understanding were enough to confirm Leslie’s guess.

“Do you have the details of the Vitamin IV needed? We can get that brought here,” Dick requested, moving closer to Leslie to look over her shoulder at the notes she’d taken. Leslie just shifted the tablet slightly, letting Dick get a good look since it seemed he was trying to formulate the next steps of action.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is stable for now. We’ll keep two people here at a time to keep an eye on everyone, and make sure people get fed and taken care of. Unfortunately none of you are allowed near any of our technology still, so we can see about bringing you some books or something to keep from being bored,” Dick started to plan out, giving a sympathetic shake of his head when Sam and Tucker groaned about not being let near technology. Jazz felt like it was fair enough, she wouldn't trust them either and at least they were going to make sure they had food and water. Plus they seemed to be pretty serious about taking care of Danny. Even after learning about the unique difficulties in his condition they hadn’t abandoned them yet. “The rest of us will work on getting the rest of what Danny needs, that we know of so far. Something to neutralize the blood blossom residue, IV vitamins, and ectoplasm. Does anyone else have any unique needs?”

At that point Sam raised her hand, letting Dick gesture to her before speaking up. “Vegetarian,” she said simply.

“Not a problem. I’ll make sure everyone in charge of food knows.” Dick nodded, noticing how Damian very subtly gained a smile about that. “Do any of you have a picture, or description of the blood blossom plants? It doesn’t sound like anything I’m familiar with.”

“The only ones we’ve seen look like rosebuds, red with black leaves and stems,” Sam spoke again, seeming to be more favorable to them now. The same care for Danny that was winning Jazz over was winning the rest of the team as well.

“Got it,” Dick nodded, gaining a pleased smile when Leslie also passed over a sample of the blood blossom affected tissue that she had taken from Danny before covering the wounds again. A tiny sample encased in glass, but it should be more than enough for them to figure out how to neutralize the remainder of the toxin without hurting the lad further. “Orphan, Spoiler, are you okay with taking the first shift?”

“Sure thing,” Stephanie agreed, giving a thumbs up along with Cass.

“I’ll stick around too for now,” Jason added, for no other reason that he felt like he should stay there for a while. At least until they knew for sure who these Phantom kids were.

Dick seemed surprised, but didn’t argue. “Fine. Keep in touch, we’ll let you know as soon as we find anything,” he nodded, motioning for those who weren’t staying to head out. He knew Leslie would stay to double check their work on the other kids, so it ended up being just him, Tim, and Damian filtering out the door.

_______________

I actually had this one all typed out before I even started the prologue one. So I just had to draw something today to get it all up.

Drawing this I looked up canon heights for the first time and found out that Danny is a tiny lil nugget, and that's adorable X'D

I also complained to Na about "having to draw Jason's stupid helmet instead of his pretty face" and she gave me the suggestion of having his face on the side.

_________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai

#my art #phantom rogues #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #writing #long post #fanfic #mentions of gore #tw medical devices

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

Note

Batboys with reader who has a silly collection of stickers and puts them over their faces, their suits or their weapons (most of them with silly encouraging phrases to cheer them up lol)

Dick

He bought you a set of stickers once and ever since it’s been his ultimate downfall but in the most humorous way possible.

Dick has a sense of humour, he didn’t mind a couple of stickers here and there, even going so far as to keep the cute cartoon mushroom stickers that you’ve left on his escrema sticks as your personal touch on his belongings.

He even once woke up to a face full of them and when he asked your reasoning as to why, you only shrugged your shoulders and said ‘I thought it’d be funny to see how many stickers I can put on your face without waking you up.’

Dick takes the whole thing in stride and in good faith and loves the fact that you went out of your way to cheer him up through your cute but inspirational stickers. It was almost as though you knew that he needed a little pick me up that day and did so tenfold by coating his hands in stickers that reminded him of your deep care for him and his mental health.

So nowadays Dick doesn’t mind waking up just to see his face covered in stickers and instead smiles and goes about his daily routine as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jason removed his red helmet from his hand and could only stare at the stickers that littered across the sides and back either a blank stare as Roy practically pissed himself with laughter.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, how did I not see this?’ Jason muttered under his breath, scratching at sticker of a cartoon Robin holding a stick in its beak.

‘Oh there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a little self expression Jason,’ Roy snickered, ‘but I didn’t peg you as the type to collect stickers and cute ones at that.’ He then points to a particular sticker on his helmet of a cat hanging from a branch followed by the saying; just hang in there.

‘piss off.’ Jason told him. He knew something was a miss but didn’t know what it was and now that he knew, everything was starting to make a bit more sense. For starters you didn’t kiss his helmet like you usually did before he left of patrol, almost as though you didn’t want to ruin something on his helmet that he didn’t see, at least not at that point in time.

He should’ve known because you’ve pulled this stint with his guns before in the past but what you didn’t know was that he kept a few that were now a little worn and faded. So while he appear a little peeved that you have took it upon yourself to decorate his helmet, he was a sentimental guy deep down who loved anything and everything you’ve given him and treasures it with his entire heart.

Jason’s a secret sap when it comes to you and knows that he’ll come to laugh at all this at a later date as he recalls all of it to you when he comes home, already envisioning your reaction when he’d inevitably calls you out on it, knowing that he could never stay mad at you for very long. He physically couldn’t and refuses to when all you were trying to do was lift his spirits.

You were too sweet for him but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Damian

Wants you to take them off at first, how was he meant to be taken seriously if he was covered head to toe in stickers, ridiculous.

He thinks them childish unfortunately

However when you do stop putting your stickers across every one of his belongings for a brief stint, he begins to realise the true intended purpose behind them, and would begin to leave subtle hints that he wanted you to go back to coating everything he owned in stickers in his own way of apologising.

He’s stubborn but he cares for you and what you meant to him and if planting stickers on the sheath of his sword on the premise to uplift his spirits, then who was he to stop you from doing so. He wasn’t use to someone going out of their way to try and cheer him up and was more use to isolating himself from everyone in his room and just draw out his innermost feelings.

So you covering his face, suit and or weapons with stickers with cute and uplifting words was something he needed time to get use to, but once he does he tries to keep the stickers that had long served their purpose within the pages of his sketch pad as a keepsake of your thoughtfulness towards him.

This portion of his sketch pad is kept under a lot of secrecy on his part but you find it eventually because of course you do.

Damian wasn’t use to someone caring about him as much as you did and in a more unique way than littering the hilt of his sword in stickers made to make his day just that a little better. Damian, much like Jason, keeps a sticker or two on his weapons but in places where it would be harder for others to spot and would run his thumb over it whenever he felt that he needed your presence.

Tim doesn’t mind you putting stickers on his stuff, he’s pretty much unbothered by it and would just accept the fact that this was your way of saying that you’re thinking of him and his well-being. Tim knew you well enough to understand what you were trying to say through your stickers from the stickers you used consistently.

However due to his egregious sleep schedule lead to many instances where he would wake up to his face covered entirely in stickers, and at first he thought it was the lack of sleep that was making him see things but soon realised that his face was indeed covered in stickers, and would silently stare at you through the mirror as you tried hard not to laugh.

He threatens to plaster your face with stickers next time, he does follow up on his promise but that’s a story for another time.

To Tim it was almost as if you had just made up an entirely new way of communication through stickers, he’s even got them categorised based on their subliminal messages and what you were trying to tell him through them.

He appreciates the stickers and would even find himself smiling at them on the odd occasion and run his fingers over them gingerly as to not accidentally peel one of them off. He loved your unique way of cheering him up and would get a little sad when he sees that someone them were starting to fade or become worn, only to feel a warmth spread throughout his chest when he saw new stickers next to the places of the old ones.

Each and every sticker had it’s sentimental significance to him and if Tim were to ever find out that you didn’t have anymore stickers to spare, he would buy you more sets and act like he didn’t have any part in this despite the parcel having his name on it.

2K notes · View notes

klemen-tine · 8 months ago

Text

Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

Part 2

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot.

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting.

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs.

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it.

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?”

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and–

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.”

“Dami!”

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.”

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing.

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair.

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life.

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about.

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham.

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne.

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads.

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.”

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.”

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book.

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.”

“Jay, I swear to God.”

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.”

“Little wing–”

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.”

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words.

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs.

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?”

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–”

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!”

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present.

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it.

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee.

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle.

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason.

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?”

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass.

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze.

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission.

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home.

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something.

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here.

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine.

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight.

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over.

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child.

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance.

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing.

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away.

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them.

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why.

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here.

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder.

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.”

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up.

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others.

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn��t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred.

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home?

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence.

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered.

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking.

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea.

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.”

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector.

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?”

In the L/N Manor

Y/N walked the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere.

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm.

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it.

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham.

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him.

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window.

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl.

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?”

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face.

“Did F/N do this?”

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?”

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice.

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!”

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory.

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.”

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.”

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go.

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip.

“Guys, you’re scaring me.”

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move.

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing.

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor.

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages.

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably.

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–”

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands.

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.”

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.”

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say.

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–”

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile.

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different.

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his.

“I-I should change first–”

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.”

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something.

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted.

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty.

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air.

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about.

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family.

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like.

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick.

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.”

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman.

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers.

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.”

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say.

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly.

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-”

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance.

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–”

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family.

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly.

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.”

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.”

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.”

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.”

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in.

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.”

“Language.”

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company.

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!” Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.”

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper.

“Just… just please don’t do that again.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

2K notes · View notes

luludeluluramblings · 4 months ago

Text

Damian Wayne’s Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: Strictly Platonic, this ain’t no Game of Thrones.

A/N: I’m over halfway done with Part Six, but I need to fluff it up. Life is just exhausting me right now. I feel like my writing is downgrading despite my efforts. But, I’m assuming that’s just the exhaustion.

A/N: Also, how y’all feel about AI art? I have some images of the Smalltown Folks for visualization purposes, but I’ve been keeping them ambiguous in the story. I plan on giving background information on them, so if y’all wanna see ‘em lemme know.

Warning: Slight Obsession and Yandere Themes

Damian is so similar to his father and Tim in the way he sees Reader, his blood sibling. But, only after he realizes his mistake in pushing them away. He is one of the many that refuse to like reader on principle, yet the one of the quickest to fall into the obsession after the realization hits.

Damian has always thought of himself as the blood-son. Though, he’d grown less fanatical than he once was about it. It became his way of reassuring himself whenever he falls short of being Robin, or he can’t seem to live up to his own high standards. He’s the blood son, he is family. Bruce won’t abandon him. He’s worthy. He has a cemented place here.

His training and time with the League of Assassins caused him develop this need to constantly proof himself. Which still influences his behavior despite the family working to pull him from that unhealthy mindset. It’s still there, buried deep, and the fact that he was Bruce’s only biological child helped him keep that mental state at bay.

Finding out about the existence of Reader made that believe falter. Worse yet, Reader coming to join the family ripped that coping mechanism right out of his hands.

Bruce didn’t even know Damian existed until Thalia just dropped him off, and everything he and Bruce had took effort and time and so much work.

Yet, Reader instantly got it all. With no work, no fight, no blood, no sweat, no choking back tears because god forbid he cries. Reader had Bruce first. Reader had what he fought so desperately for.

That’s what stung. Damian was less concerned about being replaced as Robin, he had earned that title. But, he was concerned about being replaced as Bruce’s child. He no longer felt he had that exclusive connection to Bruce.

Damian can’t help but take it out on Reader. Yes, he has grown a lot of a person since coming to live with Bruce. But, Reader was just so fragile and weak and frustrating. It brought back a lot of old negative feeling he had thought he moved past. It didn’t help that Reader seemed to always be trying to squirm their way into his life. What more did they want to take from him? They’re nothing like him, or Bruce. Or anyone in this family. They don’t belong.

It isn’t until that night in the Kitchen, when they offer food the peace-offering to Damian, that he realizes he may have been wrong. That expression, that cold look, that had appeared on Reader’s face had look startlingly like Batman Bruce.

And, when the stopped attempting to talk to him, to wriggle their way into his life, he could shake the wrongness of it. Of course, his pride told him he had won and, for a while, he felt satisfied.

Until that phone call. Reader was always talking on that damn phone. Clinging to it like a lifeline. A weakness.

Damian overhead the conversation Reader was having with their other half-brother. The gentle reassuring tone. The unconditional love and care. Things he had craved. Things he sees other people have that he’ll never admit he wanted.

At first, he assumed it was a lover they were talking to. That love between family members still being a slightly foreign concept to him. But, when Reader confirmed it was their brother, something in him clicked with realization.

He wanted that. And, worse yet, he could’ve had that. But, Reader was now giving him that blank look. One of a stranger. Their walls had come up. They were no longer allowing Damian access to what they had previously offered him. How dare you withhold it? That affection is mine.

Of course, he’s disappointed. In himself and with Reader. He finally realizes that Reader had just been offering that love to him and he’d stubbornly foolishly refused. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know. It’s not his fault.

But, the thing about blood is that there will always be a connection. He has time. He can break those walls back down and bury himself in Reader’s affection. They already had a place for him anyway. He’ll let them cool off a bit before he tries again. In the end he is just taking what he’s owed.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #platonic batfam #yandere dc #smalltown!reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere damian wayne #Smalltown!Reader Obsession

636 notes · View notes

thesuperiorrobin · 10 months ago

Text

Damian Al Ghul was livid.

He leaves you on your own, after a month of convincing him that you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself with no help from his men, and now he’s starting to regret leaving you alone as he paces back and forth in his study, green and gold silk crumbling under his hold. Everything in the room is either pushed over or flipped. His hair is a mess from the amount of times he ran his fingers through it. His heart sank when he got a letter—a Ransom little from a long-time enemy of the Al Ghul family. They’ve taken you hostage and want something in return, and if he’s unable to meet the requirements then they’re sure your head will look pretty on their wall. The paper is ripped in shreds on the floor. The doors to his studies are slammed open and out he goes—jaw clenched and everybody fearing the dangerous aura that spills from him.

But you on the other hand hold no worries as you sit on the ground patently as you wait for your dear husband to rescue you. Locked up behind bars, Knees brought up to your chest—humming a soft tune as you feed a small mouse, that had caught your attention by squeaking at the very stale loaf of bread they have given you, you don’t hesitate, breaking it into pieces and give it to the poor starving animal. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been taken, but you know it’s been more than a day. The silk on your body is torn out the bottom, and bits of dirt cling to it. You bring your hand down—palm up. And the dirty mouse climbs, settling down comfortably with bread in its hand. Legs are not straightened as you place your hand on your lap, holding the dear animal softly. A soft sigh escapes your lips, head falling back and up against the wall. “How much longer?”

You don’t know how much passes right after.

But you hear screams and gunshots.

Tried eyes bore onto the door that’s on the overside of the bars. The mouse starts to shake in your hands—you feel it as you try to calm it down by gently rubbing the top of its head with your finger. The gunshots and screams get louder—they’re getting closer and you feel your heartbeat quicken a bit.

The door is kicked open—and you jump. Green and gold catch your eyes and a smile forms on your lips. “Finally,” you say, pushing yourself up with your green hand. Damian holds a frown on his face and a worried expression. His katana is placed back in its hilt.

“I apologize for being so late—“

“Don’t apologize” you cut him off “I’m just glad you’re here”

He says nothing and hums, opening the gate that held you secure in place. His arm is outstretched to you—waiting patiently for you to grab it and you waste no time in doing so. The minute he feels your hand against his, he pulls you closer in a heartbeat. In his arms he left you up your feet in bridal position. A giggle erupts from your throat, oh how he missed that sound, and you shake your head. “I can walk Damian. I’m not hurt, I kicked their asses before they did anything” your hand is brought up to his cheek, cleaning any blood that was left behind on his skin. He leans into your soft touch as he makes his way out of the room.

“That’s my beautiful wife,” he says in a murmur that makes your heart throb.

“Enough sweet talking me, let’s hurry and head on home” You wrap your arm around his should “Me and Perla need a nice bath”

Damian takes a glance at you, eyebrow raised in confusion “Who’s Perla?” He questions.

And just as you were about to answer a soft squeak comes from his shoulder, and a white small mouse stands still. Your other hand is brought up and a finger rubs against the white fur.

“She’s our new pet!”

Adding the mouse was so random! 🎊

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #damian scenarios #damian all ghul scenario #damian wayne one shot

2K notes · View notes

corkinavoid · 5 months ago

Text

DPxDC Gala, But It's Not Wayne, It's Masters

This just lives rent-free in my brain, so I'm here to share. And maybe get help.

Batfam probably don't only go to galas and events in Gotham, right. Bryce Wayne is a rich bitch and WE has contracts and ties around the world, so Wayne Wards have to attend events out of state (and out of country) from time to time. This time, they are invited by Vladimir Masters, the owner of DalvCo.

Coincidentally, Vladimir Masters is rumored to have some hidden Kryptonite stash. So Bruce decides to go, taking some of his kids with him, because it is also rumored that Masters has two wards of his own, and, first, Bruce has to bring his kids for disguise, second, he needs them for some team building, bonding and whatnot, and last, he really needs to check if Masters' children are living in a safe environment. Cue all his family making fun of him for wanting to adopt more kids.

What makes the jokes even worse is that both Master's kids have black hair and blue eyes.

When they arrive, they are greeted with a sight of a full-sized gothic castle. It looks really out of place in Illinois, but the vampire vibes are there, definitely. And said vibes only become stronger when they meet Vladimir and his kids - all three of them are giving the Batfam goosebumps, and not in a good way. Now, the things capable of giving Bats goosebumps are very, very limited. And never good.

Vladimir - he insists they call him Vlad - is a fairly tall, gray-haired man with piercing eyes. His smile is nice and polite, but it kind of reminds Tim of Ra's, which is, well, not a good thing. But overall, he is... Okay. They can definitely take him down if they need to (they really can't, but they don't know it).

The kids, though. They are twins, probably fifteen or sixteen, a boy and a girl, and they look like they came straight from a horror movie. Calm and even, mirroring each other's gestures and finishing each other's sentences, no facial expressions, and they don't seem to be blinking. Cass has a hard time getting anything from the way they hold themselves - they seem to only show any kind of emotion when they are addressed. Damian can't shake off a feeling of being watched, even though the twins barely look at him. Tim, raised in a family of socialites, notices how both of them have really nice manners, the kind you learn when someone teaches you etiquette specifically.

Bruce is unnerved by the sight. Are the kids mind controlled? Are they okay? This is definitely not how kids should act at fifteen at a gala, holy shit. Granted, he's seen not that many kids at galas, but the point still stands.

Now, at this point, I have a few ways this can go. First one, the suffering orphans way, Danny and Dani are actually controlled by Vlad, who wanted perfect heirs. Second, the little shits way, Danny made a deal with Vlad to attend a gala and Dani joined him, so now they are having fun with acting as eerie as possible since Vlad strictly forbidden them from shenanigans. This can be either redeemed Vlad or not. Third, the demonic twins' way, where Vlad is definitely redeemed and is taking care of the Fenton kids, raising them however he sees fit. Jazz is also under his care, but she is mostly an adult now, and they have more of a 'caretaker on paper and legally not old enough to live on her own' relationship than a 'parent and daughter' one.

Do the Waynes befriend them? Do Bats get caught while investigating? Do Danny and Dani cause trouble at the gala? Maybe they get to prove to Bruce that they are, indeed, perfectly happy about living with Vlad?

Inspired by this art

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #batfam #tim drake #batman #damian wayne #cassandra cain #vladimir masters #demon twins #but its different twins #or wait maybe its not how about still fitting damian and danny being twins/siblings here #anyway i'm just throwing things up on the wall right now #feel free to add on #thoughts?#cork prompts #cork writes

757 notes · View notes

ggomos-maribat · 7 months ago

Text

Double Lives

Damian was certain that his wife was keeping a secret from him.

He trusted her with his life, of course—Marinette had kept a number of things from him in the earlier stages of their relationship, like her experience and trauma in Paris. He knew not to pry, and eventually she opened up. He was glad that some burden was taken off her shoulders.

But this was different. She was deliberately trying not to get caught; she took care to hide her phone from his view, and there were days she'd come home very late. When asked, she'd get irritable but also nervous around him. Damian didn't want to assume things right off the bat, but he did hope she would finally grow comfortable to talk it out with him. And so he resisted using his ‘resources’ to peek into her life—what kind of distrusting partner would he be if he did that?

He knew, too, that he was being awfully hypocritical. He was still yet to sit her down and reveal his vigilante alter ego to her as well as his family's. Damian would swear he planned to rip the bandaid off when they got engaged. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, out of the fear that she'd leave him. As far as he knew, Marinette wanted a normal quiet life after living through the Evil Butterfly Man's reign of terror. Telling her his identity would just put a target on her back, if there wasn't any already after she became a Wayne.

He couldn't imagine his sweet innocent wife exposed to the horrors of vigilantism.

Still, even though he had his own secrets, it felt quite frustrating not to know hers. That was what Damian was thinking one dark night when the door finally opened, signalling her arrival from work.

“Damian?” Her eyes widened. “Why are you still up? You shouldn't have waited for me.”

“It's alright. I couldn't sleep anyways.” And I will be sneaking out for patrol later. He stood up to kiss her cheek—

But froze upon seeing a red mark right at the base of her neck.

Marinette hummed tiredly. “Next time, don't wait for me if you're tired, okay?”

“. . . What's that on your neck?” He dared to ask.

Her hand immediately flew to the spot on her skin. For a split second, her expression changed into a hint of annoyance. “It's—it's . . .” she stammered, “I accidentally hit myself.”

“You hit yourself?”

She nodded meekly.

Damian stared at her for a moment. There was one thing he knew about his wife: she was a bad liar. But she was expert at omitting things, partly because she probably knew he wouldn't interrogate her further. He knew that she was aware it was the vaguest of explanations but she never tried to elaborate.

He mustered out a smile. “Be careful next time.”

She let out a nervous laugh and squeaked out a ‘yes’.

“By the way.” He took a deep breath, “I visited your office this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and your secretary told me you hadn't punched in for the day yet.”

The silence between them was thick.

“Ah . . .” Damian could practically see the gears turning in her head. “That was . . . erm, I had to run an errand before work! Yeah . . .”

“I see. I was hoping to have lunch with you earlier but it seems that you're busy nowadays.”

She cursed in French under her breath.

“I'm really sorry, Damian.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “I'll make time this week. I promise.”

She hurried off to their bedroom, leaving Damian with his thoughts.

He really really didn't want to assume the worst. But his heart was racing and when he looked at the signs, they were clear as day. His mind started to spiral a little, wondering where he could've gone wrong, wondering if he didn't spend enough time on her or if she felt that he wasn't giving enough effort.

But he pushed all those thoughts away and followed her to bed.

***

One Saturday afternoon saw Robin and Superboy in the Watchtower's breakroom, talking about Damian's predicament. He hoped his friend could at least contribute an objective outsider's perspective in his dilemma and encourage him to broach the topic with Marinette.

“She's cheating,” Superboy deadpanned.

“She's—she's not,” he argued back, “Perhaps I am just reading too much into it . . .”

“Um but the hickey? The late night escapades?” Superboy frowned. “I don't know about you, but I don't think there's any other explanation for it.”

Robin bit his tongue. No, it's not possible. He loved Marinette terribly, and he knew—he could feel the same love from her if not more.

His friend sighed, “Look, I know it's hard to believe. Even I don't think M can be . . . unfaithful but you should confront her about it.”

“I can't. I can't face her like that when I am still keeping a secret of my own.”

“Then tell her you're Robin. A secret for a secret, hm?”

Robin didn't even want to think about how messy that conversation would be.

“It's all just about communication,” Superboy continued. “If you're worried she won't accept you, take my mom and dad as an example—”

He stopped talking, indicating that he sensed another presence nearby. Just on cue, a fuming Ladybug stomped into the breakroom, heading straight to one of the refrigerators.

The two men watched as she muttered angrily while looking around for food—Robin could see the clear exhaustion on her tensed figure. The Parisian heroine had joined the Justice League after the Hawkmoth fiasco became public; the heroes were quick to recruit her but not before she voiced out her complaints about the League neglecting her city. Though she hadn't revealed her identity to anyone, she had formed bonds with the other heroes her age, not excluding Robin and Superboy.

Superboy winced when she kicked the fridge door.

Ladybug did a hundred eighty, showing both the fires of hell and sleepless nights in her blue eyes. “You don't happen to have an extra stock of Kryptonite, do you?”

Superboy looked at her warily. “What happened this time?”

“Your dad assigned me to another magic-involved mission!” She tugged at her hair, sitting beside them. “I thought I made it clear I didn't want to be involved in too many missions especially if it's non-miraculous related ones!”

“You could . . . tell him that?”

She shot a sharp glare at them. “You don't think I did? They're insisting it's miraculous related when Constantine hasn't even confirmed anything! Just because Paris was terrorized, it doesn't mean miraculi are going to pop out from everywhere! These missions are affecting my normal life!”

It was a common complaint for heroes who had alternate civilian lives, but Robin was a bit surprised that she was that open about her feelings.

“And—and Batman too!” She pointed a finger at Robin. “I know Monsieur Furry's guilty about the Paris thing and all and me not having a mentor but he keeps checking on my progress after missions liked a damned helicopter parent! “

Before either of them could reply, she continued ranting, “I was going to meet an important client yesterday but they just had to call me in to help with the mission! And then it goes on until freaking midnight! What about my precious sleep?! Then Zatanna accidentally used a spell on me—it hit my neck and now it looks like a hickey!”

Her head dropped onto the table. “How the fuck do I fucking explain that to my husband?!”

Robin and Superboy looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“You—you haven't told your husband that you're a hero?” Superboy asked carefully.

Not lifting up her head, she replied with a muffled voice, “Of course not! I can't do that to him! He's already exposed to enough danger because of his last name! I just can't tell him ‘ hey mon amour so I'm actually that heroine from Paris on top of my emotional PTSD!’”

Robin swallowed. That was Marinette's name for him.

It ticked too many boxes.

He started to subconsciously connect the dots: catching his wife absent at work at the time the magic-wielding team of the JL was away on a mission; Ladybug sharing that she finally linked up messages from her yoyo to her personal phone; his wife coming home late, tired and fatigued from head to toe when all she was supposed to be doing was designing.

“I'm sure he'll come to understand your circumstances,” Superboy consoled.

“He won't.” The heroine sat up, revealing that her eyes were now welling up with tears. “He probably hates me right now because I'm sending the wrong signals. What if he thinks I'm just taking advantage of him for his money? His family already hates me! What if he's filing for a divorce right now?”

Robin felt the nudge from his friend, as if to tell him to do damage control. Superboy abruptly stood up, spouted out an excuse about being called by someone, and left the room to the two of them.

Ladybug sniffed, “Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that.”

“It helps to get your problems off your chest.” Robin awkwardly patted her head. In truth, she was really Marinette, he wanted to pull her into a hug already.

He coughed. “Why—why do you think your husband's family hates you?”

“Oh . . . I don't know, but his father’s always distant. Whenever I'm at a family dinner, they're just very quiet,” she replied sadly. “I know they're good people but I felt like I didn't belong somehow. My husband keeps saying they adore me though.”

Robin wanted to sigh out loud. His father still had his guard up because he believed she was a civilian, hence there was a side of her family they could never show her. It was always quiet due to Alfred's stern lecture about behaving in front of Marinette lest they accidentally spill something they shouldn't.

“It sounds like your husband cares a lot about you,” he told her, “Don't you think he would trust you if you told him the truth?”

“But I can't! I don't know where to begin!” She pursed her lips. “He's always been good to me and he never steps the line even if I'm obviously lying. I just . . . I thought I could tell him before we got married but I was too scared and I didn't want to ruin what we had.”

“But he won't think any differently of you, would he?”

“No . . .”

“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” He smiled a little. “It may come off as a shock at first but he will accept it in time. You will be stressing yourself out even more if you keep thinking about the worst scenarios.”

She stared at him. “When did you get so wise?”

“Ever since I started thinking about what my wife was doing.”

She tilted her head. “Huh?”

It was unmistakable. Those gleaming blue eyes were Marinette's.

He was such an idiot.

“She keeps coming home late, hides her phone every time I'm near,” he listed, gauging her reaction. “Last night, I found out she hadn't come to her office even when she said she was working, and I caught her with a strange mark on her neck.”

Her eyes slowly widened as she seemed to come to the same realization. The heroine's gloved hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Damian?” she whispered.

He checked if the coast was clear and slowly peeled off his domino mask to show his full face. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you habib –”

He was cut off by her warm lips, her arms winding around his neck. Damian immediately melted into her touch, relieved that they finally divulged their secrets. He wouldn't have to be worried about introducing her to the hero world after all.

He was extremely relieved, in fact, that he hadn't noticed his father and eldest brother stroll into the room.

“ROBIN! Are you cheating on your wife?!”

Robin pulled away from Ladybug, withholding a sigh of exasperation. He put his mask back on and turned around to see Batman looking constipated and Nightwing utterly shocked.

"How could you do that to—to . . ." Nightwing cried out.

"Leave us." He glared.

"Robin—" His father's voice was tinged with disapproval.

"Leave. Us."

Fortunately, the two scurried off. Damian faced his wife, who seemed as flabbergasted. He was worried since it was her identity that was at risk, unless he embraced the unexpected cheating allegations.

"Oh my kwamis," Ladybug said softly, "I called my father-in-law a furry ."

"It's deserved." He rubbed up and down her shoulders. "What do you want to do?"

"Oh um . . ." She ducked her head. "Maybe go home and I'll—I'll explain everything from the beginning."

***

Damian had to recount his life story after his wife shared hers whilst they cuddled in bed. After they talked, he was surprised to learn so many new things about her—he thought he had her memorized already, even before they exchanged vows. At the same time, he was mentally kicking himself for thinking that Marinette was never closely involved in the war against Hawkmoth.

Of course she was Ladybug.

Of course she was a hero.

So while she was spiraling at the number of times she'd unknowingly mocked her in-laws in the suit, he was regretting not telling her the truth sooner. If they'd opened up years ago, he would've stayed by her side during missions, helping her deal with the troubles of having a masked alter egos, and sharing his own experiences with her. A stronger bond would've formed between them, because they both understood the hero's life after all this time.

Not long after, she finally decided she was ready to tell the Waynes who she was. ‘It would do more harm than good if I kept hiding it anyway,’ she reasoned. He did agree, since she was part of the family, both as Ladybug and Marinette. The others would surely be overjoyed (and less overprotective) if they found out that she was a hero. What Damian found strange, however, was Marinette seemed to worry that Bruce's opinion on her would change and he'd become ‘distant’ as Batman as well.

“Remember, Batman is afraid of you,” he had reminded her over and over again.

(And Batman would be ecstatic to discover that Ladybug was his daughter-in-law, but Damian would never tell her that. The caped vigilante had grown fussy over the Parisian heroes as his way of ‘making up’ for the Paris incidents . . . But at the same time, he cowered ever so slightly when Ladybug raised her voice on him. Damian's siblings blamed Ladybug's black hair and blue eyes for triggering the adopt-itis.)

And so Damian and Marinette decided to arrange a family lunch to break the news to everyone. It was then Damian remembered that there was one issue he hadn't resolved yet.

“If you don't tell Marinette today, I'm telling her.” Dick glared at him from across the table.

Damian glanced at his watch. His wife wasn't present yet, and had sent him a message about picking up pastries from Paris first.

“Tt. That would mean revealing our identities, Richard.” He crossed his arms.

“Just because you have the mask on it doesn't mean you can do that to her!” Dick argued. “Does Ladybug even know you're married?! ”

“What did he do to Pixie-pop?” asked Jason.

“He---he—” Dick was once again trembling in anger and disbelief.

“We saw him kissing Ladybug.” It was Bruce who replied. “Damian, I never expected this from you. You will have to talk and apologize to Marinette.”

“You did what?!” Jason stood up so abruptly that the utensils clattered.

“What the fuck?” Tim exclaimed.

Stephanie gasped. “What the hell Damian?”

“Holy shit,” Duke whispered.

Damian could only stare at the entryway of the dining hall, hoping that Marinette would arrive soon. If he was left with his family any longer, they'd be beating him up and disowning him.

“I have . . . a reason,” he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't exactly tell them right off the bat, since Marinette wasn't there yet.

“Open . . . open relationship?” Cass frowned.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared at the ceiling—a portal— and from it, a figure dropped down, much to everyone's shock. Ladybug, unified with the Horse miraculous, grinned at them with an armful of boxes filled with croissants and macarons.

“Ladybug?” Bruce gaped.

“Your daughter-in-law actually.” She lowered the sunglasses, showing her narrowed eyes. “And your worst fucking nightmare.”

“W---What?”

Damian could barely control his laughter, seeing his father frozen.

She detransformed completely and scowled at Bruce. “This is technically your fault, furry old man! If you didn't keep agreeing to send me on those magical missions, I wouldn't be so tired and caused a misunderstanding in the first place.”

Damian didn't have time to shield himself from the eruption of noise on the table. With his wife's theatrical reveal, everyone was in different states of shock. Tim stood up quietly to face a wall with a blank stare, entertaining another existential crisis. Duke choked on the water he was drinking. Jason was crouched on the floor miserably with his hands over his face, perhaps because of the times he complained to Marinette about Ladybug's uptight methods. Dick's jaw was completely unhinged, and he was slapping himself every minute or so. Stephanie passed a hundred dollar bill to Cass.

And Bruce. Poor Bruce was paler than their porcelain plates, speechless and unmoving.

Damian exchanged a wide smile with his wife. He loved her so much.

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #maribat marinette dupain cheng #ggomoz #maribat damian wayne

1K notes · View notes

ghostbsuter · 1 year ago

Text

Wonder MOM ( part 1 )

Happenings/mentions of:

Child abuse, possible trafficking, kidnapping and blood!

Nothing is explicit.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Someone was in that cage.

Controlled anger aside, Batman made sure his footsteps were to be heard, speaking slow and calm as he approached and slid off the cloth.

"Everything will be okay now, are you–?"

With the cloth aside, Batman got a good look at the unconscious person inside.

He knows that face.

Thats—!!

"B! B, can you hear me?" Oracle calls, considering no one else seems to talk, he assumes Barbara put them into a private line.

"I'm here, Oracle." He answers easily, hands gripping the lock and fishing out the familiar pick-locking equipment.

"You went silent for a moment there, B, we got worried."

He gives a grunt at that, ripping the cage bars open and carefully checking for a pulse.

It's there, barely.

"Oracle, call Agent a to prepare, I'm bringing someone over."

"Got it. B, be careful, please."

Bringing the teen, the same age as his youngest, out of the cage seemed a bit harder than thought.

With some manoeuvring and carefully placed feet, the big Bat brings them both out in one swoop, tight on his hold.

His head rolls to the side, groggily blinking awake and peering up to Batman.

"Batsy?"

"Sleep, I'm getting you out of here."

"...knew you'd find me." Messy black hair hides the way he squishes his own face into Batman's side.

"Mom's probably very worried..." he gives an awkward laugh, throat dry and burning with the move.

The movement and warmth lulled him into sleep quite easily.

(Batman's expression, even if stony and blank, covered in a dark veil, anyone can see the carefully hidden layer of fury.)

—

Patrol was cut short that night, the boy in Alfred's care, and Bruce didn't hesitate calling Diana immediately after.

"Hello—"

"I found him."

Diana, Wonder Woman, remained silent upon the response, a quite inhale echoing through the call.

"They brought him all the way to Gotham?"

The man nods despite knowing Diana wouldn't see, giving a verbal answer after.

"I have a report of all injuries he has been subjected to. I'll send you the list."

There is a moment of silence before a sharp hiss from Diana comes through.

"They took his blood–?!"

"Not much from what Alfred gathered, but enough to get a running supply for their... plans."

"I'm coming over. Bruce, you and I both know the dangers of his blood in the wrong hands."

"Let's discuss this once you're here, Diana. Safe travels."

With a click and the call ended.

One look, and he has the eyes of most birds and bats on him already.

"The boy. You know him." Damian steps forward, arms crossed and cape off. The others must have come back not long ago and eavesdropped on his conversation.

"I do."

(The fact he doesn't elaborate nor does anyone either speak up is quite hilarious, wasn't it for the situation.)

The silence goes on, eyes sweeping over Stephanie's furrowed, thoughtful expression, Tim's calculating gaze, cass's curious yet open body language, duck's suspicious raised eyebrow and Damian's 'I dare you' scowl.

At least they didn't wake duke with their commotion.

"What's going on?" Jinxed, Duke himself comes down the stairs in his sleeping clothes, yawning.

"Duke, you're supposed to sleep."

"Sorry, sorry, apparently family drama is happening, and they needed more support." He jerks his hand towards the gaggle of vigilante children(1)/teens/one adult that is only an adult because of age laws.

Bruce suppresses a sigh.

There's a giggle to the side which gathers the attention of everyone.

Around the same height of damian, slightly thinner, is the teen B rescued not long ago. And who should not be awake either.

Alfred gives a smile, arm out stretched to support him on his way to the batclan, eyening his form with tapt attention.

"Batsy!" Ignoring the snorts and coos, Bruce nods back.

"Danny." The kid grins broadly, approaching.

He gives a wave to the other, attention solely on Bruce however.

"Is my mom coming?"

"Yes, she is on her way."

"Wonderful!"

He claps, arms bandaged to his throat, sickly pale and absolutely looking like prime adoption bait.

Cass approaches, hands ready to sign the most wnated question of everyone in the room and Bruce is already feeling the words of denial at the tip of his tongue.

'New br—'

"No."

Cass isn't backing down, expression only getting more determined.

'Honorary brother?'

He doesn't stop the sigh escaping, especially when Danny jumps up at the words with glee.

"Yes! Honorary!"

She seems very pleased with that, holding her hand out for a silent request, qnd once approved, gave a nice headpat.

"I'm actually surprised you didn't tell your kids of me, batsy." Danny side eyes the man, grinning mischievous.

"It slipped my mind."

(No, he doesn't break under the gaze of every person's disbelief stare directed at him. He stronger than that.)

(B did avoid meeting anyone's eyes tho.)

"Wait, so who is the moth—"

A green portal opens in the middle of the cave, and it has the most tense and drawing weapons.

Wonder woman stepped through.

"That answers my question then."

"Mom!"

Diana swooped him up, holding him closer and ducking her head into his black hair.

The Lady peers up at Bruce with a smile. "Thank you."

Her attention shifts to the child. "Frostbite will be expecting us, are you doing good enough to walk or should I–"

"I'm okay! I can walk!" Danny puffs his chest to prove it, giving her a reassuring smile.

Diana's brows knit together in worry. "Very well." She accepts, reluctant. She leads him to the still open veil of green, nodding towards pennyworth and both bid their goodbyes.

For now that is.

The portal closes.

"So, how were we originally supposed to know about Diana having a son??"

"HIS MOM IS WONDER WOMAN????"

"I'm so glad this isn't another adoptive brother. Honorary is good enough."

"HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM US, B!!!"

"Does that mean we have a miniature Trinity of the originals?"

1K notes · View notes

spacedace · 2 years ago

Text

Bruce is grateful for the fact that Damian has made friends, he is.

He's happy that his son has met children his own age at school and befriended them. That he is growing from that prickly, unhappy, scarred child he'd first been when he'd come to live with Bruce. That his friends are even normal kids - baring Jon, who is still normal enough despite being the son of Superman and occasionally a super hero himself - with no links to anything strange or dangerous or illegal.

"Oh, sup B."

He just wished that his son's friends were also just a little less...feral.

"Hello Elle."

Elle Nightingale gave him a little wave with the lemon she was holding - or as best as she could considering the space she was working with - and smiled cheekily at him. Bruce felt a headache budding behind his eyes.

"I thought Alfred banned you from the kitchen?" She shifted a bit, nudging a bottle of milk - farm fresh, courtesy of the Kents, passed along via Jon as thanks for looking after him for the weekend. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to expect that Jonathan Kent staying over for the weekend would mean that Elle, her cousin Billy and their friend BL - the children refused to say the girl’s real name, likely to spite Damian, and thr initials had been a compromise to calling her Box Lunch - would take it as them being permitted to stay over for so long as well. Damian had just given Bruce a an unimpressed look when he'd expressed his surprise at the sudden influx of twelve year olds in his home. As if Bruce was disappointing him at being so foolish as to think his entire pack of hellhounds wouldn't be invading enmass.

"Just getting a snack." He assured her, not wanting her to being the wrath of Alfred down upon his head. The hellions liked doing that, for some reason. "I don't suppose you could tell me what exactly you're doing in my fridge." Bruce tried, looking at the girl curled up in what should have been a deeply uncomfortable position between a few shelves of the large appliance.

Elle grinned. Her canines looked a little too sharp in the odd light of the fridge. Bruce really had to stop thinking of his sons friends as demonic hellions, he was starting to impose impossible features on them when he was sleep deprived.

"We're playing hide and seek." She made direct, unblinking eye contact with him as she brought the whole lemon to her mouth and took a bite out of it like it was an apple. "It’s Day's turn to seek." She added, lemon juice dripping down her chin as she swallowed her bite, rind and all.

Well at least she was getting enough vitimin C.

"Right." He nodded, deciding that it wasn't cowardice that led him not wanting to get involved. No, it was just...good parenting. Letting the kids be kids. It was a sleepover, and Damian was actually playing a game! That was something to be encouraged! Bruce wasn't fleeing from this particular group of children's brand of chaos at all. "...could you hand me one of the fruit cups Alfred made earlier?"

Elle obliged on the condition Bruce didn't tell Damian about her hiding spot and returned to happily eating her...whole lemon...as he shut the fridge door on her.

As he returned to his office he glanced out one of the manor's large windows long enough to see Billy stick his head out from the top of the twelve foot tall topiaries out on the front lawn, checking to see if Damian was about. Bruce shook his head, kids and their ability to climb impossible structures never ceased to amaze him. Billy should be careful not to keep trying to peak for Damian though, he was going to end up getting found that way.

4K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 7 months ago

Text

Okay I got some sleep- here’s pt. 2 of my nightmare:

——

They spoke to each other as they moved, the surroundings that had egregiously attacked the group of heroes earlier easily parted way for his sister.

‘How has everything been, habibi?’

They talked to each other in a language known only to them. The rest of the Justice League team, the members of this mission: Batman, Flash, Superman, and Zatanna did not understand the signs, a feat worthy of his sister.

‘Alright. They are not bad. I like it here.’ He told her, eyes not quite wary but fear of disappointing her running through his small frame apparent all the same. ‘I would… like to stay.’

She ruffled his hair once more, wistfulness growing in her heart. How her little brother had grown. It seemed like yesterday she held him as a babe, swaddled in even more opulent green and gold silks than her own clothing. Now, he stood in front of her, daring to express his own thoughts with a domino over his face and strength of free will in his eyes. ‘That is good. I am glad you are happy.’

Batman lurched forward to stop her from touching Damian, only to freeze as his son accepted the touch without a hint of resistance. Even Dick couldn’t get that reaction, not without some grumbling and scowling. Who was this…?

The rest of team agreed to wait and watch. Part of it was strategy. Most of it was the wonder of a such Bat-like Robin being so open with someone.

‘Have you been here before?’ Damian, relaxed as she all but gave him her blessing to stay with father, peered at the local fauna as it bowed away from her sister. She shrugged, his katana sheathed on her back. She was at ease with it as he was with her blade, the training they did to get there unwavering despite the time they spent apart.

‘Sometimes. The tower we’re headed to, I often go there to relieve stress by training with the monsters there. They like to… attack everything that moves.’

Something told Damian it was more of a one sided massacre on his sister’s part.

‘Why would the magician hide there?’

‘It would serve adequately as a natural barrier, should he have a safe space put there ahead of time.’ His sister tilted her head, masked face still in the way he knew meant that she was thinking. Her hands moved. ‘Perhaps it was Grorgiantue that attacked you. He often goes there to experiment with alchemy and demonic remains. He often wears a maroon headband.’

“That’s him.” Damian confirmed.

“Are you going to clue us into what you’re saying, you two?” The Flash zoomed around the pair, skidding to a stop in front of them. Damian’s sister simply stepped around him, slicing apart a thorn bush that attacked when it got startled by the Flash’s speed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Robin scowled at him and the unknown ally spared him one quick, neutral glance of displeasure.

“No. Do not ask again, you eavesdropper.” Damian curtly replied, surly Robin mask back up.

“Robin.” Father reprimanded. Damian acknowledged it, but did not offer an apology. His sister remained silent and watching.

She’s relying on him to navigate these allies, Damian realized. His shoulders went back at the show of trust. He does not acquiesce to Father’s silent command. Had it been Richard… perhaps.

“Ouch, but still, if your… friend knows what’s up ahead, it’s be good to let us know.”

“We do need to take care of this as fast as possible, Robin. And we’re not the best team against magic.” Superman hovered. He would have gone and scouted ahead, but magical planes always had nasty surprises that he found extremely hard to escape.

“Speak for yourself,” Zatanna joked. Regardless, she looked askance at Damian’s sister.

Damian scowled and opened his mouth. His sister placed a hand on his shoulder and Damian sighed, readying himself to act as a translator. He knew she could sign in practically every standard sign language there was, damn it. She’s lucky he loved her enough to be a translator when she’s unwilling to socialize.

——

“Your sword,” Damian tried to hand her sword back. Her little brother, for a genius, was an idiot. She huffed, pushing the sword back.

‘Keep it. How will you cut through a magical tower without a magical sword?’ She signed to him, emphasizing her amusement.

“What about you?”

‘I must report back. I am... a bit late. I’ll see you later, habibi.’ She tapped her hand four times. A reminder that she cared about him. Before she disappeared through a swirling portal of mist grey and acrid blue, she saw him repeat the sign.

Behind her mask, she smiled.

——

“Who was that, Robin?”

Robin stared up at Batman. Damian Wayne stared up at his father.

“She... protected me.”

Not quite an answer. But it was an olive branch, to tell him who she was to Damian himself, but not who she truly was in relations to Damian.

“That’s it?”

“That is all you’re getting.” He replied, hands tightening around the hilt of his sister’s sword. Her magic hummed beneath his fingertips, the feeling of indescribable violence softening to a sense of protectiveness the moment the sword felt his presence. Damian respected Father. He might even love him. But Damian loved his sister first, and he would not betray her trust.

A new file is added to the database. Nightwing gets an update. When a familiar masked face pops up, Dick Grayson sped out of Bludhaven to interrogate his littlest brother.

And so the wheels turned.

——

“Tell me, granddaughter, what it is you truly think of me.”

Despite the conversational tone, she knew it was an order. The scars on her back burned, a reminder of another rebellion and the cost of failure.

There were many, many ways she could answer. All of them unpleasant. Yet, she must be pleasant. He must hear how she’d been broken, or else he’d keep trying to break her.

She tilted her head down, so he would not glimpse the hatred brewing in her eyes.

“I respect you, grandfather.” Because she did respect his ability to bend her at his will, for all that she hated him. It took a special kind of scum to be so cruel to one own blood. “I wish to obey your every order.” Because if she didn’t, pain would follow. But that wish was a temporary one, only in effect until she managed to kill him and come out on top.

Ra’s laughed, a warm and rich sound. Hollow, because he loved none but himself and so only reserved warmth for his own flattery. It sounded like the sharpening of a blade and it felt like balancing on a precipice. On one side, an eternity of torture. On the other, the pain of those she loved. Damian... and maybe, just a little, Talia herself.

"Do you love me, granddaughter?" He crooned, mocking and cruel, in a way one might ask a jilted lover. The reincarnation held her breath and answered. She will not lie. She can not lie, not to him. He had gouged the order into her tongue with magic and brutality. And so, she will not lie.

"No, grandfather. But I do not dislike you." The reincarnation said, soft as velvet. It was true, because what she felt for Ra's al Ghul was the cold, pervasive hatred. "I respect you."

"I see I've managed to beat some of that foolish sentimentality out of you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. Oh, how she wished she could slip poison in his cup. How she wished to make him choke on his own words, his own blood. But she could not. Not. Yet. "Alas, I can not undo the magic. I suspect you'll be serving at my feet for... quite a long time more."

She snapped her mouth closed, phantom rage hovering between her teeth. The world swirled around her, greens and purples, and the revolting touch of his hands on her.

No, she will bide her time.

She knelt, the motion familiar, on plush carpet that she could not appreciate. Luxurious cloth rustled in front of her.

And when her time comes, she will revel in Ra's al Ghul's agonizing death.

——

"Damian, you have to tell me who that is!"

Damian could be stubborn at times, he knew that. He worked with him on it. Damian was as much, if not more, Dick's Robin as he was Bruce's Robin. So why...?

"And for what reason do you wish to know her identity, Richard?"

Dick paused. He couldn't. He couldn't tell him. No one knew, except for that masked person. It happened so long ago- not long enough- and Dick could not wash the taint, could not wash the trauma from his brain, his heart. Whispers that sounded like Catalina surrounded him when he thought of that rainy night, telling him how disgusted his family would be, if they knew. Those things went away, now that he's pulled up the file on the batcomputer. The whispers fade a bit as he looked upon the masked face of the person who saved him. Just in time.

"For your safety!"

Damian crossed his arms, a look that spoke of an unbending unwillingness present in his eyes. Dick knew then that Damian would not tell him. "I will never be in danger if it's her on the other side of the blade."

"Come on, Damian, I won't tell B. Promise. Don't you trust me?"

Damian's face softened, and for a second, Dick had thought that he'd managed it. "I do... trust you." Damian struggled to say. "That is hardly ever in question, you imbecile. But to tell you would mean betrayal. And I will not betray her trust. Especially not for your personal satisfaction."

Dick wondered what this masked woman did for Damian to be unhesitatingly confident in her. He wondered if his own desperation meant something he had yet been able to put into words.

"For what it's worth, Dick, I think we should trust Damian and not pry."

Dick and Damian turned to Tim in surprise. Damian, because it was an unexpected vote of confidence.

"Woah, I do not want to hear that from you, Mr. Tiny Tot Stalker McGee."

"It's called preparation!" Tim said hotly back. Then, he subsided. "She, uh, saved me once. Back then, before I was... associated with Bruce."

"What?" Dick and Damian demanded.

——

Innocuous. The worst and best things always happened on innocuous days.

The beginning of her slavery began on a regular, if painful, sunny day.

The beginning of her freedom began on a regular, if painful, cloudy one.

She'd have to thank the little photographer later, she decided. His work all but forced her grandfather to rely on a handful of backup Lazarus pools only he, mother, and herself knew about. She stared at the green pools as her grandfather stripped to his waist to step in.

"Guard me," he commanded her as he stepped towards the pool. The sting of the command settled familiarly around her neck. “Once I am done, you will depart to force Damian or the detective back to Nanda Parbat. By any means necessary.”

It was his first time ordering her to hurt her brothers, past physical pain disguised as training.

His first mistake today.

That's the thing with her grandfather, she mused as she silently unsheathed Damian's sword. He was so complacent, that he could fathom her betrayal.

His second mistake. His last mistake.

Then again, it was her who lulled him into it, with the shows of loyalty and seemingly willing obedience outside of her magical collar's commands.

After all, he had commanded her to guard him. From outside threats, surely, but he hadn't commanded her to guard him from herself.

"You-!" He coughed as her- Damian's- blade slid in between his ribs and straight towards the other side. It missed his heart by a hair's breadth, Ra's having moved the moment he felt the blade. Truly, it was hard to beat a near-immortal's experience.

"Kill yourself!" He barked at her, clutching at his chest, trying to stumble towards the pool.

To kill herself, she had to remove the blade lodged in his chest. The magic urged her to follow his commands immediately with searing pain. But she's had over two decades to endure and adjust to it, to grit her teeth and learn how to move with the torture of being alive. So she follows it just to dislodge the blade. The reincarnation then, with the magic trying to break her, cripples Ra’s with two blows.

He collapsed, screaming bloody murder and slurs at her. Before he could say another command, she stabbed down and to the side, cutting deep enough to cut his voice box and spill his life-blood, his unceasingly irritating throat, over the craggy rocks surrounding the pool.

Then, she slit her throat with a cut that was a touch too shallow to kill her right away.

"I do not dislike you," she said, the pain easing as she spoke to him. The red she's taken from others now spilled on the front of her shirt. She stared at his enraged glare, vicious glee at making him choke on his own actions. "No, I hate you."

She bent down, twisting and breaking his arms with little effort. She patted his cheeks and raked a trail of pain down his face with her metal tipped gloves. Her blood dripped onto him, blinding his eyes.

Fitting, she'd thought. "No one will come for you, grandfather. But... I do have to ask," She looked down, voice tilting in the cruel way that he'd unintentionally taught her. "Don't you love me, grandfather?"

She walked backwards until she reached the edge of the pool. She knelt once more, a mockery of every time she's knelt for him.

The reincarnation watched his blood spill, the light leave his eyes, and the way his body stilled and the way his rage was stifled like he'd smothered her voice so long ago. She memorized it, because hate was an active emotion. But she was tired, and she wanted to rest. So she watched him die and felt nothing but peace.

Then, as she felt the magic take hold and tear her soul from her body, she tipped backwards and plunged her corpse in the glowing pits that awaited her.

——

It felt like drowning.

(did y’all know cats lay on your chest?? bro i straight up couldn’t breath bc of that)

Breathless. Corrosive. Freeing.

The Pit felt like freedom.

And she’d long forgotten what that felt like.

It tasted like shit water though, and suddenly she felt bad for everyone whoever swallowed some of the water here. She’s going to need her stomach pumped out after this-

Her thoughts were washed away in a haze of green tinted fury.

——

“Habibi.”

Nightwing slid in front of Robin with a well practiced flip. Batman emerged from the shadows, followed Spoiler and Red Robin.

“Talia. What do you want?” Batman growled. Talia ignored him, an uncharacteristic action that had the vigilantes putting their guards up.

“I… you know I would not ask this of you- I would not ask you to return,” Talia said softly.

“Then don’t.” Red Robin cut in sharply, bo staff at the ready. Talia ignored him too.

“But she needs you, habibi. I can not… I can not help her.”

“Who?” Spoiler asked, curious but ready to rumble.

“What happened?” Robin stepped around Nightwing, who made an aborted movement to try to pull Robin back behind him.

“Something terrible.” Talia al Ghul closed her eyes, a sliver of vulnerability and regret showing on her face. Robin straightened, fear thudding through his heart. What happened to ukhti, he wanted to ask. But he could not, not without betraying the promise of silence he’d made to her. “I… I have failed her greatly. And she was paying the price for it, this entire time.”

“Wait, is this about the masked woman?” Nightwing asked.

“Alright,” Robin- no, Damian- stepped forward once more. His decision was made. Had been made, the moment his mother allowed the rare instance of vulnerability to come across her face. “I’ll be going back, once…”

“Of course. She would not let me keep you, habibi. She knows you are happier here.”

“Then, let’s go.”

“Robin!” His family tried to stop him but Damian slipped between and out of their reach. “Do not!”

“I’ll be back,” he declared, like he was daring his mother to say otherwise. “Try not to raze Gotham into the ground with your incompetence.”

“I’ll kill Ra’s if something happens to him.” Red Robin pointed the bo staff at Talia as she and Damian turned to leave. He stopped an alarmed Batman when he tried to lunge for Robin.

“No need,” she threw back. Damian whipped his head up at that. “He’s already dead.”

And they disappeared into a whirling purple cloud of magic.

——

Snippets of reality return to her bit, by bit. Her mother had cautiously entered the pit with her guards- worried, no doubt, by their absence- and stilled upon seeing her father’s dead body.

She laughed, and dug her hands into the bodies of the assassins she’d trained until her nails dripped with blood and pieces of organs. She felled them, one by one, until only mother was left.

She’d attacked, like a rabid dog, until the green slipped and her mother came into focus.

“I killed him,” she’d croaked out. And that was what broke her; the smooth way air wrapped her around her throat where only ripping pain had existed. Her voice came out unhindered and recklessly so, without the tinge of agony carefully picking her sentences.

“I killed him,” she repeated, and set Ra’s al Ghul’s body on fire. “I killed him.”

Her mother stared at her, hands dropping carefully to her side. “Why?”

She smiled, teeth bared and bloody- oh, she must have ripped into an assassin with her teeth, how messy- and endlessly joyful. “Because he dared to chain me- because he threatened Damian.”

She broke, and she told her mother everything. No, not everything. Just, enough. At the end, when her back is bowed with pain and heart empty, her mother knelt before her and quietly, tremblingly, apologized.

“I am sorry, habibi. I…”

The reincarnation’s made a small, wounded noise and lost herself to the green.

——

Damian trembled with rage. With grief.

With regret.

He followed mother into the caverns, mind turning and whirling with everything he’d learned in the hour that had passed since he’d left Gotham. His sister’s inclination towards magic was incredibly helpful, but Damian wished that she had never had the cause to go delving into magic like she did.

He thought it was passion.

His mother had informed him of what Grandfather had done to his ukht all these years. She told him of what his sister had sacrificed so that he remained free.

“Every time she spoke to us, to tell us that she loves us… father had made sure she paid for every word with unceasing agony.” His mother had muttered, eyes more lost than he’d ever seen it. “The magic at her neck ensured that she obeyed unquestioningly or she paid the price.”

“She is paying the price right now,” he’d snapped at her.

“Yes.”

Damian had thought ukhti’s collection of magical tomes were a sign of her interests. He thought it was passion for a subject. He had even envied how she did not have to hide her hobby like he had to with his art.

Now, he knew it wasn’t passion. No, it was desperation; a scrambling for freedom, a wish for dignity, and the fear of the same restrictions being placed on his ukht’s loved ones- him and mother.

When he entered the cave, lit up by swirling, sickly green, he saw his ukht, drenched in blood and sclera, tearing apart another group of assassins. There were ashes and the smell of burnt flesh around them.

Her eyes- green, glazed, furious- turned towards them.

His mother tensed. His ukht lunged, pitted sword aimed at his eyeball.

But if there was anything Damian knew, it was that ukhti would never hurt him.

So he stayed still.

And she stopped. Blade a centimeter from his eyes, his sister stopped.

“Damian?”

How his heart broke when she spoke, confusion in her voice that sounded as if she had been screaming for decades and nobody had heard.

As Damian’s hand wrapped around her wrist and she dropped the sword, he morbidly thought that she might have been doing that. It’s not like they heard her, after all, not until she’d freed herself with broken fingers and steel spine.

——

Bruce paced around in the cave. With the disappearance of their youngest, the entire family gathered in the cave, the night after. Except for Barbara, who had been scouring the cameras and had prior engagements, and Cass, who was on a plane back from Hong Kong, the family watched as Bruce slowly lost his mind.

“Relax, B. Look, even Dickface and Timbers aren’t worried, and you know how they get.” Jason said, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Ahem.”

Jason quickly put his feet down.

“We know nothing about this woman! She could be a danger- she could-!”

“B, if it really is about the masked woman, I think we should give Damian some trust.” Dick spoke up.

“And what if they keep Damian captive?”

“Then we go get him, Bruce. Simple.” Duke said, yawning.

Whatever Bruce would have said next was cut off by the opening of the cave’s underground entrance, with an approving beep of a recognized and authorized entrance.

Damian stalked in, hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword like he was going to cut through the next fool who tested him. His face was in a frown.

“Damian. Are you alright?” Bruce rushed towards his youngest, only to be dodged.

“I need to break something. Then, we shall talk.”

Damian headed towards the training dummies at let out his fury. He let out his heart break. Splinters of wood and cloth and ripped padding laid testament to his grief.

Then, the younger brother of the true heir to the Demon’s Head turned around to speak to his chosen family.

——

Clarity.

Her brother, her fool, dumb brother who had just stood there as she tried to gouge his eyes out, had been exactly what she needed.

She avoided his concerned eyes as she muttered calculations under her breath.

“Ukhti, what are you doing?”

“Freedom, habibi. I am… creating my freedom.”

At his confused look, she made the signs for Pit Rage. He nodded and guarded her back.

Damian was so adorable. And now, now that there’s not collar around her neck, she could say that without awaiting internal agony!

Her mouth spoke the words she’d found all those years ago, magic flaring bright white and blue as the circle she laid down on crumbling rocks shuddered.

The magic soothed her frayed mind and seeped the poison from her mind.

——

“I have a sister.” He’d told them. He turned to his father, who had a blank look on his face. “An older sister. She is yours.”

“You fucked Talia, twice?!”

A scowl. “Keep your trap shut, Todd.”

Bruce felt his world shudder to a stop.

——

Her fingers, her left hand as her right was busy scratching absently at Damian’s head, found purchase on her back and neck. The skin wasn’t so soft anymore, time and scars making for a rougher feel.

There were worse things than death. Bitter, painful things.

Loosing her freedom. Loosing her voice.

But… there were better things than life. Sweet, gentle things.

Regaining her freedom. Getting revenge. Securing her family’s safety and freedom from the grotesque thing that wore the skin of a grandfather.

Her brother, tucked safely against her side, and a mother that finally understood.

“Come to Gotham with me,” Damian had suggested. She hummed, delighting in the way the sound came out with out the ringing pain.

But one does not erase two plus decades worth of trauma in one night.

Her hands came up.

‘Not yet. Mother will think-”

“It is a good idea.”

Her gaze darted up. Her mother’s eyes… softened. Odd. No… her gaze was heavy with guilt.

“It would… do you good to be away from here, my daughter.”

Well.

It’s not like she was opposed to that, at all, but still…

‘Two weeks. I’ll tie up loose ends… and I’ll go to Gotham in two weeks, if that’s alright with you, Damian?’

“Of course.” He leaned against her, hand clutching at her shirt in a motion that she wasn’t sure was meant to comfort himself or her. “May I tell father about you?”

Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. The pit really scattered her mind. She nodded.

——

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to.”

“And since when did you do things people ask of you, demon brat?”

Damian scowled. It did not make his next sentence any less genuine.

“Since it was ukhti that asked.”

Tim spun around on his wheel chair. “Holy shit. So the masked person was your sister. No wonder you were so….”

Protective, they all finished the rest of the sentence silently. They all sat back to contemplate that Bruce had one more kid… and that Tim had met her before Damian was even born.

“So, why were you so upset, baby bird?” Dick asked, an odd feeling of both gratefulness and mild jealousy towards Damian’s sister- his savior, because holy shit- gathering underneath his heart.

“Apparently, grandfather put her under an enslavement spell all these years.”

“Damian… say that again. I- I must have heard you wrong.”

Damian closed his eyes, hating how unsteady and fearful his father sounded. He obliged, because he knew what it felt like.

“Grandfather put her under an enslavement spell and used her to further the League’s reach.”

Damian had wondered why he had encountered his sister so often while passing by grandfather’s chambers and why she always looked tired when she goes past those ornate doors.

Now he knew.

“Does that- does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes. She,” Damian’s hands gripped harshly on his forearms. He breathed in and out slowly. “She was… assaulted. Most likely regularly. To broker more favorable agreements. She could not refuse. The magic demanded complete obedience or risk the punishment of unbearable pain.”

Dick looked away. They had a lot in common. She saved him… but on her end, she was not saved. His hands itched to punch Ra’s al Ghul in the face.

“Fuck.” Stephanie cursed. Her eyes met Duke’s and Jason’s.

Tim’s hands stopped moving, eyes staring blankly at Damian. He should have tried harder to kill Ra’s al Ghul.

Bruce got up, trembling, and stalked over to the training dummy. They sat in silence.

“What else?” Bruce rasped. He hung his head.

“She was ordered not to speak a word.”

“But she… spoke to me.” Tim said. Damian felt an irrational flare of jealousy.

“Then it most likely caused her unimaginable pain as punishment.” Damian snapped.

“What do we have to do to free her?” Stephanie demanded.

“Nothing, Brown. She freed herself.”

“How?” Duke leaned in, expression serious. “Did Ra’s al Ghul free her before he died or something?”

“I… am not too sure of the details, but it involved killing him… and jumping into the pit.”

Jason stood up with a clatter. “She was in the pit?!

“Yes. I think… she might have died. I’m not… sure.”

Bruce closed his eyes, working on his breathing like Dinah had showed him.

“Is that why Talia came? Because you could stop her pit madness?”

“Yes. I- there-” Damian struggled to get the words out, the ball of upset sitting on his chest made it hard to breathe. “Ukhti would never hurt me. Unless it’s training, but even then, I am sure she fought against her orders to wound me.”

Dick nodded. Yeah. He would have too, if he were in her shoes.

“I… can ukhti come here to recover?”

“Of course. When?” It was at times like this when he appreciated his family’s sentimentality and ridiculously large hearts. Unhesitatingly kind, even when they should have been furious at him for keeping ukhti’s secrets.

“Two weeks.”

“Then we shall make adequate- no, better than adequate preparations. Master Damian, what were her preferences for food?”

——

She should probably prepare a gift. Multiple.

“Ukht.”

She tilted her head to show Damian she was listening.

“I am sorry.”

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’

“But-”

She squeezed his shoulder and forced the words to come out. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have noticed.”

‘I did not want you to notice. If I hid things from you, do you think you could find them so easily?’

“No, I suppose not.”

She smiled at him and tapped her hand four times. He tapped his own four times in response.

——

The dream ended there, well, no, there was actually some more nonsense about a corgi, a room full of strings and slenderman or whatever but I didn’t include that part. There’ll probably be a part three bc I kinda wanna know what happens when she comes to Gotham to recover from trauma.

The oc, relatively well adjusted: *dies*

The oc, reincarnated and got fucked over (figuratively and non consensually literally): “yes, I should go to Gotham (aka trauma central) to recover from my trauma. Sounds legit.”

#Dick Grayson #dick grayson and his gatekeeper gaslight girl boss self #oc in dc #batman #damian wayne’s older sister #damian wayne #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #ra’s al ghul and the consequences of his actions #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

398 notes · View notes

luxaofhesperides · 3 months ago

Text

a safe place to rest - duke

(part 3 of the harmless series)

Although he hears about the baby, Duke doesn't get to meet her for a few days.

He does meet someone else though: Danny.

"You need anything before I go?"

He doesn't want to leave Danny alone in the Hatch. Not out of mistrust or anything, but because he's sure that the moment he looks away, Danny's going to disappear again. It took so long just to convince him to take a moment to breathe, to rest and recover from whatever he's gone through.

There's a frantic sort of energy surrounding Danny that has his aura all messed up, which is the only reason Duke decided against letting anyone else know that he found Danny.

He got the basic rundown from the night shift, but he hadn't had time to look more into it before Danny was crashing into him during his day patrol, eyes wide and wild and looking like his world had just ended.

"You," Danny had gasped, "You're with—Batman? Please, take these." And he shoved a bag against Duke's chest.

He had to react fast to grab it, and then grab Danny when he all but collapsed against him.

Now, he sits on top of the spare bed Duke set up in the Hatch, pale and tired and quietly devastated. "I'm fine," he insists. "You don't need to do anything for me."

Duke frowns. "Uh, I absolutely do, you think I'm just gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Come on, man, that's not how I do things."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Obviously not. It's not about owing things. I'm doing this because you need help and I can give it."

"I can take care of myself," Danny says firmly, and Duke holds back a sigh. Yeah, this guy really is Batman's kid. Horrible self-care habits and all.

"You don't gotta, though. You get that, right? You can take one day off and just rely on me to take care of you until you're back on your feet."

"No."

Duke tries to shove his emotions down, to stay neutral and calm. This is a guy who came crashing into their lives, shoving a baby into Damian's arms, and then vanishing. This is a guy who's gone through way too much on his own. Of course he's not going to trust anyone. Duke knows well how heavy everything becomes when it feels like the world's against him. He can give Danny grace.

"Okay. Just so you know, I'm asking to be polite. I'm still going to grab some extra clothes for you, and a homemade meal, so you just stay here and get some sleep. We'll talk more when I get back from delivering all this to Batman." He lifts the bag Danny gave to him for emphasis, then pins the guy down with a hard stare. "You better be here when I get back, or I am going to have no one to show baby pictures to."

"…You're gonna check on Ellie?"

The clear concern and desperation in Danny's expression make him soften. "Yeah, man. I'll check on her and let you know how she's doing. That's why you gotta be here when I get back. Got it?"

Danny bites his lip, then nods slowly. "Yeah. Got it. Thank you."

"Get some sleep."

Duke pulls the door shut, setting the alarm system to quietly alert him if anyone goes in or out while he's not in the Hatch. There's a first aid kit on the table and some water bottles as well, but it's not going to be enough to really help Danny start to recover. Duke takes a moment to curse his past self for not better stocking his crash room for emergency visitors, but in his defense, he isn't in the habit of bringing anyone back to the Hatch, not even other Bats, when the Batcave is more suited for handling lots of people.

Well, it's something to work on in the future.

He doesn't get more than a few steps away when he hears the door opening behind him and looks back to see Danny poking his head out.

"Hey, before you go…"

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Can you maybe not tell anyone I'm here? I'm assuming you know who I am, since you know Ellie."

"Yeah, your Batman's first lost kid, right? Trust me, I've heard of you."

Danny winces. "Great. Figures. I just really need to not deal with all of them right now, so if you could keep all this quiet…"

Duke looks him over, takes in the paleness of his skin, how worryingly thin he is, the dark half-moons stamped under his eyes, and promptly decides then and there that the rest of the world is going to have to go through him to even think about going near Danny. It's a complicated situation he's in and if he needs time to prepare himself for meeting everyone else, who Duke knows from personal experience can be a lot, then Duke is going to make sure he has all the time he needs.

"You got it man. They won't hear a thing about this from me. I'll lock everyone else out of here, too, so you can rest easy. They ain't getting in here to bother you while I'm still around."

"Thank you," Danny says again, sagging against the doorframe. "I'm… I really need to sleep."

"Go crash," Duke says softly. "I can take care of things until you wake up."

Bruce is the only person in the Batcave when Duke arrives. He's bent over the Batcomputer, head in his hands, when Duke parks his motorcycle and heads for the stairs to meet him on the upper level. He keeps his footsteps purposefully loud so Bruce can track him as he makes his way over, Danny's bag slung over his shoulder.

"Rough night?" he asks, just to get the conversation started.

"Yes," Bruce sighs. "There have been a number of—changes."

"Oh. Good changes or bad changes?"

Bruce lifts his head as he considers the question, then rubs his temple. "Unclear. It's nice to see everyone working together for Ellie, but I'm—concerned."

"About what?"

"About Ellie. And everyone. And Danny."

Duke leans his weight against the desk and lets the bag drop off his shoulder, then holds it out to Bruce. "Well. I dunno if this will make things any better, but Danny threw this at me while I was on patrol. I took a quick look through it and, uh. It's kinda rough. It's what he went through and how Ellie was created."

Bruce snatches the bag from his hand and immediately begins rooting through it. "Is Danny—?"

"He vanished as soon as I grabbed the bag. I think he's got a few loose ends to tie up before he feels comfortable being here again."

"What did you think of him?"

Duke looks at Bruce, looks at the papers in his hands, and thinks of Danny. "I think he needs someone in his corner. I think we gotta lot to do to make the world safer for him and Ellie. I think he's been scared for a very long time."

Nothing in Bruce's expression changes, and there's no shift in his aura, his emotions tightly locked up as always. But Duke hasn't gotten this far without learning how to see the little things: Bruce's grip on the bag tightens, his feet shift farther apart, as though he's ready to leap up at a moment's notice, and his shoulders slump just slightly under the heavy weight of all the things he refuses to share.

Sighing, Duke tilts his head to look at Bruce more closely. "Why are you down here? It's the middle of the day."

"I'm researching."

A hand loosely gesturing to the large screen of the Batcomputer has Duke turning to see what Bruce has been so occupied with.

It's not case files, as he expected. It's not even research into Danny and what happened to him.

All that's there is PDFs upon PDFs of child psychology papers and essays on recovering from trauma and research on various methods to help children with failure to thrive and malnutrition and neglect.

There's also, in one window, different safety ratings of baby cribs.

Well. Let it be known that Bruce's love language is information.

"Cool. Have you spent any time with anyone since a baby got dropped in your lap?"

Bruce's silence is extremely telling.

Duke briefly considers trying to get Bruce to go upstairs, but he knows better than to pick a losing battle. Especially after he's handed him information on Danny.

At some point, Bruce will have to go upstairs, if only to eat. He's getting old, and his body can't quite keep going like it used to. Duke will let him deal with the consequences of his own actions, or lack of action, when that time comes. He's not a mediator or peace-keeper. Duke has other pressing matters to attend to.

Taking pictures of the baby for Danny is definitely more important than navigating the minefield of family tensions and miscommunications ever present with the Waynes.

Duke reaches out and claps a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Don't get so caught up in getting all the pieces together that you forget to actually spend time with family. They're gonna need you now more than ever," he says, and waits until Bruce meets his eyes and gives a resolute nod before Duke stands and heads for the stairs that will take up him to the manor.

The sooner he gets back to Danny, the better.

Ellie is cute.

This isn't a surprise. Most babies are cute, and Ellie is no exception.

What Duke hadn't been expecting is how protective Damian is of her, or how everyone else orbits around the two, just on the edge of hovering. Damian's prickly personality is well known, so the rest of the Waynes have taken to acting like cats: always on the same floor, ready to pop in should they be needed, but otherwise out of sight.

"Thomas," Damian greets quietly. Ellie is asleep in the baby wrap keeping her secure against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Damian lowers his paintbrush, turning to give Duke his full attention.

Duke takes a hesitant step into Damian's studio, then walks up to him once he isn't hissed at to leave.

"So this is our newest troublemaker, huh?" he says, looking down at Ellie. "How's she doing?"

She's so small. Her head has some black hair on it, but it barely covers her ears.

Damian lays his brush down on the easel. "She's doing much better now that she's getting regular meals and care. She still doesn't make much noise. It is… concerning."

The raw fear and care in his gaze is what makes the words tumble out of Duke's mouth. "I have some news about Danny."

If anyone deserves to know about him, it's his little brother.

Damian's gaze snaps up to Dukes, a fierce light in them, and his hands raise to hold Ellie tightly. "What is it?"

"He gave me a bag while I was patrolling, then left. I looked through it before giving it to B, and it's all… I only read the papers, not anything on the flashdrives, but Danny went through some awful shit. He was captured and experimented on by some group called NOVA. They had him for some time doing tests before he was put in isolation for acting out. And then he kinda… went into a death-like stasis. They did more tests and took some bio-material from him to try to figure out how he was surviving in stasis, and used that to make Ellie with the genes of one of the other captured metas. Danny was in stasis for around seven years."

Reading about it, learning about what Danny went through made Duke's stomach turn. It was like something out of a nightmare. Duke knows the fears metas have to live with; he carries it too, a weight he can never put down.

There's a reason civilian metas try to keep their powers a secret. Metas go for a high price on the black market, are at a higher risk of human trafficking, are seen as the best test subjects by unethical scientists wanting to find some way to replicate those powers in other people or in weapons.

Summarizing the horrors Danny had to experience leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. The silence in the studio stretches long enough for Duke to regret opening his mouth. Damian's still a teenager. He may have had a different upbringing and be able to stomach what most people can't, but this is still his brother. Anyone would be rattled hearing about this.

Then, without a word, Damian stands. He storms out of the studio, leaving Duke to catch the stool he was sitting on before it hits the ground and wakes Ellie.

When he goes to catch up with Damian, the kid is already walking into another room, tension in every line of his body.

"Richard," he snaps quietly, and Duke watches as Dick pops up from where he was lounging on the floor on one of the softest rugs in the manor.

"Dami? What's wrong?"

Damian doesn't answer, just unwraps the baby sling and carefully passes a still sleeping Ellie over to Dick.

"Damian," Dick tries again, his voice hardening, demanding an answer even as he adjust Ellie in his arms to make sure she can continue sleeping comfortably.

"I need to speak with Father," Damian answers shortly. "I will be gone for some time. I am entrusting her to you."

Dick glances at Duke, who tries not to look too stressed or tense. He doesn't think it works.

Reaching out, Dick puts a hand on Damian's head, managing to ruffle his hair for a few seconds before Damian steps away, batting at his hand with a scowl. "Alright," Dick says, "But I'm sending someone to get you for dinner if you're not back by then."

Damian nods, then turns on his heel and leaves for Bruce's office.

Neither of them move until they're sure that Damian is out of earshot.

"What was that about?" Dick asks, lowering himself down onto the rug again, one hand rubbing small circles against Ellie's back.

Duke sighs. "You'll find out soon. Just... chill for now and let me get some cute baby pictures."

Dick, as he finds out, is actually pretty good at helping Duke get the cutest pictures of Ellie.

And when Ellie blinks her little blue eyes open, Duke's heart melts and he understands how she's got everyone wrapped around her fingers.

NOVA, whatever remains of them, is going to regret ever hurting Danny and Ellie.

Danny is asleep when Duke returns. He sleeps through the night, and when Duke wakes up early the next morning to make sure he hasn't disappeared, Danny remains motionless in his bed.

Is he in stasis again? Duke wonders, panicked, as he rushes into his crash room and gently shakes Danny, trying to wake him up.

It takes a few tries before Danny lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat. He turns his face into the pillow, then abruptly tenses up and shoots out of bed. In a blink, Danny's on the other side of the room, flying up to the ceiling where Duke can't easily reach him.

Hands up, palms open, Duke says, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. How're you feeling?"

Danny sucks in a few deep breaths before he slowly floats down to the floor. His eyes are still too wide and there's a faint tremble in his hands. "Fine," he answers blankly.

"Up for eating something? I did promise you food and baby pictures."

Unsurprisingly, it's the mention of Ellie that gets Danny moving and brings some light back to his eyes. He follows Duke out into the main room of the Hatch. There's not really a kitchen in here, but there is a fridge and a microwave, which is enough for now.

One of his workstations has been cleared off and now has chairs around it to turn it into a makeshift dining table. On it, Duke's left a tupperware of French toast, made the way he remembers his dad making them when he was a kid, and as well as a store-bought container of cut fruit.

It's not really a lot, but it's what he could do on a short notice.

Danny takes a seat, and Duke settles in on the other side of the table, pulling out his phone to flip through the many pictures he took of Ellie.

Duke keeps up a light commentary as Danny slowly eats, sharing little stories about the Waynes and all the nonsense they get up to. That turns into sharing stories about the stupid shit he and his friends gets into, followed by some of the weirdest things criminals have done to try to get away from him, including the one that said 'nuh-uh!' when Duke said carjacking is the lamest crime to commit in Gotham.

That story gets Danny to smile, and it takes way too much effort to keep from celebrating it.

All the while, Danny slowly looks through each photo of Ellie, making sure she's okay. He looks so fond and sad that it's breaking Duke's heart, and he swears to himself then and there that he's going to do whatever he can to reunite them.

"Don't you have hero things to do?" Danny asks. It's the first thing he's said since they both sat down.

Duke shrugs. "Nah, not right now. Gotham can wait. You're my priority right now."

"You don't have to—"

"Nope. If you don't want anyone else to know you're here, then you're gonna have to deal with me."

Danny squints at him. "You're both very chill and very stubborn."

"It's the only way I was able to survive working with the other Bats."

"They sound… interesting."

"You can say they're a hot mess," Duke laughs. "But hey, who isn't?" He watches as Danny pushes around the last half of the French toast around the tupperware and straightens up from where he was leaning on the table. "Want me to put that up for you? You can finish it later."

Danny looks down at his plate, then slowly nods. "Yeah. Sorry."

"No worries. You went through some shit. It's not surprising that you don't have much of an appetite." Duke reaches over the table to pop the lid back on the tupperware, then stands to put it in the fridge.

When he turns back, Danny is no longer visible.

Or, at least, his physical body isn't visible. Duke can still easily see his aura, a vibrant green that has streaks of white moving through it like a current of water, which leaves an outline of his body. Danny is also trying to sneak out of the Hatch.

"Oh," he says, "I didn't know you had invisibility. That's pretty cool. I can still see you, by the way."

Danny becomes visible again, glaring at Duke.

"That's such a Batman move," Duke grins, "I should have expected it."

"What was a Batman move?"

"Sneaking away as soon as I turned around. B does that all the time with the Commish. And everyone else, honestly. Though, to be fair, we all do it because we all learned from him. Yeah, you'll have no trouble fitting in with us."

"I don't think what I'm doing should count, since I'm using powers."

"Dude, watch this."

Duke makes sure Danny's looking at him, then bends the light around him to hide him from view. He can see the exact moment Danny realizes he's vanished when his eyes go wide and he takes a few steps closer.

"Signal?"

"Still here," Duke reassures. "Haven't moved an inch." Then he releases his grip on the light around his head, a fun little trick he figured out a few years ago that makes it look like he's a floating, decapitated head. The goons always love that one.

Danny looks at his head. Looks at his invisible body. Then looks back to his head. "That is freaky," he says, a slow smile dawning across his face. "I can do that too."

And sure enough, Danny's body becomes invisible, save for the outline of it in his aura, and now there's just two floating heads in the Hatch.

He's not sure who cracks first, but in no time, they're laughing like everything's alright. Danny's expression brightens and suddenly he's years younger, all the stress falling off his shoulders in the face of their mirth. Like this, he could be any other guy in one of Duke's classes, talking nonsense just to pass the time, quick to laugh and without a care in the world.

This is what he wants for Danny.

This ease, this calm, this lightness in his heart: Duke will keep them safe for Danny.

If nothing else, Duke can be a safe place to land for another meta who needs, more than anything, someone willing to be there for him.

(masterpost for all parts)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #demon brothers #the harmless series #dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp fic #my writing #can u tell i love duke #didnt mean to make this ghostlights flavored but i cant help myself theyre just too good #slowly building in more things... NOVA and dannys powers and bat dynamics.....#there is MUCH more to come i promise #this little series is a challenge to write as many povs as possible #there will be some repeats but im gonna try to keep that only to danny and damian

619 notes · View notes

rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Jealousy in Motion

SUMMARY: Tired of waiting for Damian and Rhea to make their moves, you and Jey decide to stir things up with a little game of jealousy. What starts as harmless flirting at a club quickly turns into a night of heated glances and rising tension.

WARNINGS: Teasing, Alcohol Use

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

OTHER PART(S): PART 2

TAG LIST: @miss-kuki-nz I @just-another-personal-side-blog I @caramara3 I @yana3sworld I @terrortwinunicorn I @hotwheels1108

The backstage area of the arena buzzed with the usual pre-show energy—wrestlers preparing for their matches, production staff rushing around, and the distant hum of the crowd filtering in through the walls.

You found yourself leaning against a storage crate backstage, your eyes drifting to Damian as he finished lacing his boots. The sight of him—tall, imposing, tattoos snaking across his arms and shoulders and back to his back—always sent a thrill through you. He was magnetic, and you had been caught in his orbit for months now. But as you watched him, the ache of wanting more twisted in your chest.

"Ready for tonight?" you asked your voice light, hoping to catch his attention.

Damian looked up, his expression as casual as ever. He offered a half-smirk, nodding. “Always am. You?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool even though your heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, feeling good. Maybe I’ll catch your match later, see what you beat up Dom.”

He chuckled, that deep, resonant sound that always sent shivers down your spine. “Yeah? I’ll make sure to put on a show for you, then.”

It was the same banter you’d had a hundred times. Light, playful, but never deeper. You’d heard a few people backstage gossip about how Damian seemed to have eyes for you—how he was different when you were around. But standing here now, you weren’t so sure. If he did have feelings, he never showed it in a way that mattered.

You glanced around, checking to see if anyone was nearby. Then you stepped a little closer, just close enough that your arm brushed against his as you leaned in. “You know,” you started, your voice a little lower, “I’ve been thinking...”

He raised an eyebrow, his attention still on you but with the same calm, unreadable expression he always had. “About?”

You hesitated for a beat, trying to gauge his reaction before continuing. “About how...maybe we could hang out outside of work. You know, not just...the usual.”

There it was—your not-so-subtle hint. You felt the tension rise between you, hoping he’d finally catch on.

But Damian just chuckled again, brushing it off like it was nothing. “We hang out all the time,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms. “Just hung out with you last night, didn’t I?”

You swallowed the disappointment that settled in your stomach. Yeah, last night. When he’d snuck into your hotel room after his match, spent the night with you, and then slipped out before anyone could see. The same routine you’d been doing for three or four months. But it wasn’t enough anymore—not for you, anyway.

“Right,” you murmured, forcing a smile. “Just last night.”

You took a step back, crossing your arms as you tried to shake off the frustration that was building. Every time you hinted at the idea of something more, it was like he didn’t get it—or maybe he didn’t want to get it. And now you were starting to think that the rumors, all the whispers about him being into you, were just that: rumors.

It wasn’t that Damian wasn’t kind or caring—he was, in his own way. But you wanted more than secret rendezvous and stolen moments behind closed doors. You wanted to be his. His girlfriend. Not just the girl he came to when he needed to blow off steam.

“You know,” you started again, your voice quieter now, “sometimes I feel like I’m just your dirty little secret.”

Damian’s eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe. But he quickly masked it with that same casual demeanor, shrugging it off like it didn’t matter. “Come on, don’t say that,” he said, offering you a grin. “You know it’s not like that.”

But you weren’t so sure anymore. You sighed, your shoulders slumping as you realized he wasn’t going to get it—not tonight, maybe not ever. “Right. It’s not like that.”

You turned away, trying to put some distance between you before the sting of rejection hit too hard. You were stuck in this endless cycle—always wanting more, always hoping he’d step up and make things real. But as the weeks that turned into months had dragged on, it was becoming painfully clear that maybe you were just the secret he kept from everyone else.

Damian stepped closer, his hand gently grazing your arm. “Hey, don’t get in your head about it. You know I care about you.”

You nodded, but the words didn’t hit the way you wanted them to. You knew he cared—but was it enough?

With one last glance at him, you gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

But deep down, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep pretending that was enough.

The low hum of chatter echoed through the hallway as you made your way backstage after your match. The adrenaline from the night still coursed through your veins, but it wasn’t the excitement of the crowd or the rush of getting another win that had you on edge. It was Damian. Or rather, the frustrating conversation from earlier in the evening that had been bugging you ever since.

As you turned the corner, you spotted your friend Jey Uso leaning against a crate, his eyes locked down the hall where Rhea Ripley was doing an interview with Cathy Kelly. A smirk tugged at your lips as you sauntered over, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Not gonna make your move?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Jey’s gaze didn’t leave Rhea, but he smiled, shaking his head. “Not sure she’s even noticed, to be honest,” he admitted, his voice light but tinged with frustration.

You laughed, crossing your arms as you leaned beside him. “Oh, she’s noticed, trust me.”

His eyebrow arched as he glanced your way, curious. “Yeah?”

You nodded, casting a glance down the hall at Rhea, who was still mid-interview. “We’re close. You don’t even know how many times I’ve had to listen to her talk about you in the last few weeks. Pretty sure she’s more interested than you think.”

Jey’s grin widened, but it quickly faded when his eyes flicked back to Rhea. There was something vulnerable in his expression, like he wasn’t sure if he should believe you or keep playing it safe. You could see why he’d hesitate; he and Rhea had been circling each other for a while now, both giving mixed signals but never making the first big move.

Just then, Rhea’s eyes darted in your direction, and for a split second, you caught the way her face changed. She’d seen you and Jey talking, standing close, and a flicker of something unmistakable flashed in her eyes—jealousy.

A slow grin spread across your face as an idea began to form. You nudged Jey again, leaning closer as you whispered, “She’s jealous.”

He blinked, his focus snapping to you. “What?”

You nodded, motioning subtly in Rhea’s direction. “She sees us talking. I know that look.”

Jey’s eyes shifted to Rhea, and when he saw the way she was glancing at the two of you between interview questions, his grin returned. “Damn, you think?”

“I know,” you said confidently, the idea cementing in your mind now. “You going out with some of the crew after the show?”

Jey smirked, standing up straighter. “You know I keep it lit on the dance floor, baby.”

You laughed at his swagger, but your mind was already spinning. This could work. This could solve both your problems. “I’ve got an idea,” you started, lowering your voice as your eyes flicked back to Rhea and then down the hall where Damian had just passed by, his attention elsewhere.

Jey tilted his head, intrigued. “What’s that?”

You leaned closer, a mischievous smile pulling at your lips. “We’re gonna make them jealous. You and me. A little flirting, some dancing, maybe getting a little too close for comfort. That’ll get their attention.”

Jey’s eyebrow shot up, his smile turning more playful. “You trying to stir the pot, huh?”

“I’m trying to get Damian to step up,” you said, sighing. “He’s been...distant. Or, I don’t know, maybe just not getting the hint. But I know him. He won’t like another guy getting close to me.”

Jey chuckled, crossing his arms as he considered your plan. “And Rhea? You think she’s gonna bite?”

“Oh, she will,” you assured him. “She’s already looking over here like she’s ready to step in. Trust me, once she sees you and me getting close, she’s not gonna let it slide. She’ll make her move.”

Jey thought it over for a moment, the gears turning in his head as he glanced back toward Rhea one last time. Then he smiled, that signature confident grin of his, and nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it. If it gets her to stop playing games, I’m in.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as your plan fell into place. “Good. Pick me up at 11. Room 4112.”

Jey nodded, flashing you a wink before turning to head off, but not before you gave him one last parting shot. “And make sure you bring your A-game, Uce. We’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

He laughed over his shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry. I always do.”

As he walked away, you glanced back toward Rhea, who was still watching. The look on her face told you everything you needed to know. The game had just begun, and tonight, things were finally going to get interesting.

The night air was cool as you walked side by side with Damian toward the parking lot, your boots crunching softly against the asphalt. The energy from the show still buzzed around the arena, but out here, it was quieter. Just you and him, under the soft glow of the streetlights. You glanced up at him, taking in his relaxed demeanor, the way his hands rested casually in his pockets. It should’ve been a perfect moment. But your frustration still simmered beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the limbo you were stuck in with him.

“So…” Damian started, breaking the silence, his voice low and casual. “I heard a few of the guys are heading to some bar after the show.” He glanced over at you, his dark eyes searching yours. “You wanna go?”

You almost smirked, but you caught yourself. Of course, now he wanted to hang out. Now that you were making moves to get his attention.

Instead, you played it off, pretending to be a little caught off guard as you reached for your keys. “Oh, uh… I’m actually already going with Jey.”

Damian stopped walking for just a second, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Jey? Like… Uso?”

You nodded with a smile, keeping your tone light. “Yeah. He asked me earlier if I wanted to go with him.”

Damian’s expression shifted, just for a moment, but it was enough. You caught the flicker in his eyes, something sharp and possessive flashing behind his otherwise calm exterior. Bingo. Your plan was already starting to work. But you didn’t want to push too hard too soon. You had to play this carefully.

“But maybe I’ll see you there, though?”

Damian’s jaw tightened just slightly, and he gave a small nod. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You could see the tension in his posture now, the way his jaw clenched briefly before relaxing again. This was what you had wanted—Damian’s attention. But now that you had it, there was something almost thrilling about making him stew just a little longer.

You turned to get into your rental car, turning to give him a final smile before you closed the door. “See you later, Damian.”

He nodded again, though his gaze lingered on you longer than it usually did. “Yeah. See you.”

As you pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward the hotel, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Damian’s reaction was exactly what you had hoped for. The flash of jealousy, the uncertainty. He wasn’t oblivious anymore.

Tonight was only going to get more interesting.

You hadn’t been on the road for more than a few minutes when your phone lit up with Rhea’s name. You smiled to yourself, already knowing where this conversation was going to lead. You had a feeling Damian had talked to Rhea and that was the reason for her call. Keeping one hand on the wheel, you tapped the screen to answer.

“Hey, Rhea. What’s up?”

“Hey,” she replied, her usual confident tone slightly off, a hint of something uncertain hiding underneath. “So, I heard a few of us are going out tonight after the show. You in?”

You bit your lip, holding back a grin. Here we go.

“Oh, yeah, I’m going. Jey actually asked me to ride with him.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could almost picture the way her brow furrowed in surprise. “Jey asked you?”

You made your voice sound casual, as if the question wasn’t loaded with the tension you knew she was feeling. “Yeah. He asked me before the show if I wanted to join him. Sounded fun, so I figured, why not?”

Rhea didn’t reply immediately, and you caught the slightest edge of jealousy creeping into her voice when she finally spoke again. “I thought you were just blowing Damian off when you said that.”

The corner of your mouth lifted as you kept your gaze on the road. “Nope, Jey actually asked me. I mean, Damian hadn’t said anything, and clubs aren’t always his thing. So I figured, why not go with someone else, right?”

You could hear her shift on the other end of the call, probably trying to find the right words to respond without giving herself away completely. “Right... I guess I just didn’t realize you two were, you know, hanging out outside of work like that.”

Your smile widened. She was trying to play it cool, but the jealousy was there, simmering just under the surface. Your plan was working, just like you hoped it would.

“Yeah, well, Jey’s seems fun to hang out with,” you said, keeping your tone as light and innocent as possible. “I guess we’ll see what happens. Maybe I’ll see you there though?”

Rhea hesitated again, and you could hear the unspoken questions swirling in her head. “Yeah... maybe.”

You ended the call and couldn’t help but feel satisfied with how things were playing out. Damian’s possessiveness had already started to show, and now you had Rhea on edge too. The night was shaping up exactly how you planned, and it was only going to get better from here.

The thumping bass of the music hit you the moment you stepped into the club, the energy of the crowd buzzing in the air. You and Jey walked in together, fashionably late, just as you’d planned. You scanned the room, catching sight of Damian and Rhea almost immediately. They were at the bar, exactly where you hoped they’d be. Perfect.

Jey’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd, both of you pretending not to notice the two people you were trying to get a rise out of. It was part of the plan, after all. You could feel eyes on you—probably Rhea’s, maybe even Damian’s—but you kept your focus on Jey, playing your part flawlessly.

As you reached the bar, Jey leaned in close, his voice low and playful against your ear. But also just loud enough for the two people standing next to you to hear him say it. “What you drinking tonight, baby?”

You tilted your head up, locking eyes with him as you smiled. “Hmm, I don’t know. What do you think I should start with?”

He chuckled, his arm draping casually over your shoulder as he signaled the bartender. “Let’s start with something light,” he suggested, glancing down at you with a grin. “I gotta keep you in good shape for the dance floor later.”

You grin at him and pretend to reach for your purse but he reaches out and stops you. “Nah, I got you tonight, baby.”

You laughed, nudging him slightly. “You really know how to take care of a girl, Jey. That’s sweet.”

The way you said it wasn’t lost on anyone. It wasn’t just a simple compliment, not with the way you let your fingers trail down his arm as you spoke, or the soft smile you gave him as you tilted your head just slightly, enough to let anyone watching see the ease between you two. You could feel the tension coming from behind Jey, the way Damian and Rhea were likely taking in every detail, even if they were trying to hide it.

Jey played along perfectly, his own smile widening as he leaned just a bit closer. “Sweet, huh? Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

You laughed again, the sound light and easy, and let your hand rest on his chest, feeling the heat from his body through his shirt. “Maybe I am.”

As the bartender handed over your drinks, Jey slid one toward you, his fingers brushing yours. You could practically feel the weight of the stares coming from behind you, and it took everything in you not to glance back at Damian and Rhea. But you knew better than to break character now. The game had only just begun.

As you lifted your drink to your lips, you felt Jey's hand lightly graze your back again, the touch casual but deliberate enough to keep up appearances. The warmth of the alcohol mixed with the buzz of the club had you feeling confident, ready for whatever came next. You tilted your head, flashing Jey a smile before turning away from the bar, deciding it was time to up the ante.

With your drink in hand, you turned to leave the bar, making sure to brush close enough to Jey that it would look as if you were moving together. As you did, you caught sight of Damian and Rhea out of the corner of your eye.

Damian’s eyes were locked on you, his brow slightly furrowed, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he watched you interact with Jey. It was subtle, but you knew Damian well enough to recognize the telltale signs of his possessiveness flaring up. You let your lips curl into a smirk, satisfaction blooming in your chest. The plan was working.

Rhea was standing next to him, drink in hand, but her expression was much less controlled. Her gaze flickered between you and Jey, and there was no mistaking the spark of jealousy in her eyes. Her lips were set in a thin line, her posture stiff as she watched you practically draped against Jey. You knew that look—she didn’t like it one bit.

You exchanged a knowing glance with Jey, and as he flashed you a grin, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of triumph.

Turning back to Jey, he leaned in just a little closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “I think they’re starting to notice,” he whispered, the amusement in your tone unmistakable.

You chuckled, his hand resting on your hip as you reached up on your tip toes to reply. “Told you this was gonna be fun.”

You straightened, taking a slow sip of your drink before glancing back in Damian and Rhea’s direction, letting your gaze linger just long enough to make sure they saw. Damian’s dark eyes hadn’t left you, and Rhea’s fingers tightened around her glass as she muttered something under her breath to Damian.

Satisfied, you turned your attention back to Jey, the smirk still playing on your lips. “Looks like round one goes to us.”

Jey raised his glass in a silent toast, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”

The tension in the air was palpable now, the game in full swing. All you had to do was keep pushing the right buttons, and Damian and Rhea would break. And when they did, it was going to be so worth it.

After a few more rounds of playful banter at the bar, you felt Jey’s fingers gently brush against your arm, pulling your attention back to him. His smile was easy, mischievous, as if he had something up his sleeve.

“You know what we need to do now?” he asked, his eyes glinting.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What’s that?”

He straightened up, looking over toward the packed dance floor, where bodies swayed and pulsed to the heavy beat of the music. “We gotta hit the dance floor. I promised you I’d keep it lit, remember?”

You bit your lip, already anticipating what was about to happen. Glancing over to where Damian and Rhea were still standing, you noticed Damian’s eyes briefly flicker in your direction before shifting away, as if he were doing his best to act unaffected.

Perfect.

Jey reached out his hand, palm up in a silent invitation, and without hesitation, you slipped your hand into his. He gave it a slight tug, pulling you closer, and the two of you made your way through the crowd toward the center of the dance floor, where the music seemed to throb even louder.

As soon as you reached the middle, Jey spun you around with a playful grin and pulled you close. Your back pressed against his chest, and his hands naturally found their place on your hips, guiding you in time with the music. The moment you started moving together, everything else seemed to fall away—the lights, the noise, the crowd—it was just you and Jey, playing the game you both knew so well.

Jey leaned down, his voice low and teasing in your ear. “This okay for you?”

You nodded and then leaned your head back, resting it on Jey’s shoulder. There weren’t many guys on the roster you would let hold you and touch you the way Jey was. But you trusted Jey. You knew he wouldn’t push it too far.

He then whispered into your ear, “They’re already watching. You ready for this?”

You laughed softly, your fingers resting over his hands as you started swaying together. “Oh, I’m ready.”

The two of you moved effortlessly in sync, your bodies shifting and swaying with the rhythm, close enough to leave little to the imagination for anyone watching. The heat from Jey’s hands on your waist and the feel of his body behind yours made it easy to slip into the role you needed to play, pretending to be lost in the moment, when in reality, your mind was focused on one thing—getting Damian’s attention.

Your hands glided up, grazing Jey’s forearms lightly as if you were completely comfortable with his touch. But in reality, you were simply waiting for the exact moment to strike.

With a subtle glance over your shoulder, your eyes scanned the room until they found Damian.

There he was—standing by the bar, his drink forgotten in his hand, his jaw clenched as he watched the two of you. Even from this distance, you could see the flash of frustration in his eyes, the way his posture had shifted from relaxed to tense. The possessive gleam that flickered there was unmistakable, and it sent a jolt of satisfaction through you. He wasn’t liking this at all.

Jey’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, his voice brushing your ear again, a knowing edge in his tone. “Think he’s mad yet?”

You smirked, your eyes never leaving Damian’s. “Oh, he’s definitely mad.”

As the music continued to pound, you took things up a notch. You pressed your body closer to Jey’s, your movements slowing down, becoming more deliberate, more intimate. Your hips swayed against his as his hands followed your lead, guiding your rhythm.

You let your head rest back against his shoulder, your lips close to his ear as you murmured something irrelevant into his ear, loud enough for Damian to see but not hear. Jey chuckled, playing along perfectly, his lips grazing your ear as he responded, though you didn’t even need to hear the words to know you were in sync.

Finally, you couldn’t resist it any longer. You looked back across the room, and your eyes met Damian’s. His gaze was locked on yours, burning with a mix of jealousy and frustration that made your heart race. His body was tense, his grip on his drink so tight you were surprised the glass hadn’t shattered in his hand.

You smirked, letting him see just how much fun you were having, knowing that this was driving him wild. And it was working. The game you and Jey had started was finally beginning to pay off.

Damian wasn’t going to let this go much longer—you could feel it in the way his eyes bore into you, dark and heated. He was on the edge of stepping in, of making his move. And you were more than ready for it.

Jey must have sensed it too because his grip on your hips tightened slightly, and he whispered in your ear, “Any minute now.”

You nodded, your smirk widening. “He’s almost there.”

As the music pulsed around you, the tension between you and Damian crackled in the air like electricity. You could practically feel his frustration, his desire to intervene, and the satisfaction of knowing your plan was working filled you with excitement.

Before you realize it, Damian is weaving his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on you and Jey. The intensity in his gaze makes your heart race, knowing that this moment is exactly what you had been waiting for. Jey, clearly noticing Damian’s approach, doesn’t hesitate. He steps back just as Damian reaches you, offering a quick nod and a knowing smile.

"Mind if I cut in?" Damian asks, his voice low but commanding, half-expecting Jey to protest. But Jey just motions toward you with a grin, as if to say, “All yours.”

With Jey stepping aside, Damian wastes no time. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you back against his solid, muscular chest. His grip is firm, possessive, and the heat of his body seeps into you as he takes control of the moment. The atmosphere shifts, and it feels as though the entire room fades away, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the pulsing crowd.

Damian leans down, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. You shiver, the intimate gesture sending a thrill through you, but it’s what he says next that really makes your pulse quicken.

“You let him touch what’s mine,” he whispers, his voice laced with both frustration and desire.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch his dark gaze. Your heart skips a beat, but you won’t let him get away with that statement so easily. "I didn’t know I was yours," you tease, raising an eyebrow, the challenge clear in your voice. “I thought we had a casual arrangement.”

Damian smirks, that cocky, confident grin of his flashing as he pulls you even closer, so your bodies are flush against each other. His hands tighten on your waist, his fingers pressing possessively into your skin. "Oh, you’re mine," he says, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

You’re about to respond when Damian moves faster than you expect. In one swift motion, he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark with intent. Before you can catch your breath, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and hungry. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a statement to everyone in the room, especially Jey, that you belong to him.

The kiss leaves you breathless, your mind spinning as Damian pulls back just slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "You're mine. My girl."

Your heart pounds in your chest, the words echoing in your ears. His hands don’t leave your body, staying firmly on your hips as if to prove his point. His eyes search yours for any hesitation, but instead of pulling away, you feel a sense of relief, the very thing you’ve been wanting for so long finally falling into place.

In that moment, the game is over. You’re no longer just his secret—you're his, for everyone to see.

As Damian’s words sink in, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment, you glance over toward Jey. Just in time, you catch Rhea stepping up to him, her arms snaking confidently around his neck. A smirk spreads across Jey’s face, his hands naturally resting on her waist as if they’ve been in this position before.

You watch as Rhea leans in, her lips brushing against Jey's ear to whisper something. Whatever she says makes him smile, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t seen before. It's clear that Rhea’s walls are coming down, just like Damian's did with you.

For a fleeting second, Jey looks up and your eyes meet across the room. There's no need for words—just a shared glance, an unspoken acknowledgment of victory. The plan you hatched together has worked.

You smile knowingly, feeling the weight of success settle in. Damian's grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing the top of your head. Meanwhile, across the dance floor, Jey's hands slide up Rhea's waist as she moves even closer to him, their chemistry undeniable.

Everything has fallen into place.

#Damian Priest #Damian Priest x reader #Damian Priest Fic #Damian Priest Fanfic #Damian Priest Fanfiction #Rhea Ripley #Rhea Ripley Fanfic #Rhea Ripley Fanfiction #Jey Uso #Jey Uso Fic #Jey Uso Fanfic #Jey Uso Fanfiction

304 notes · View notes