#you’re bruce wayne and now you are older than your father ever was

[hkhyuk]

you’re bruce wayne and you turn the same age your father was the night he died

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 3: The End (Warning: this will be dark. Read at your own risk)

The last bell of the day rings, letting everyone know that they’re free to go. In unison, your classmates begin shoving books and papers in their designer book bags before getting up and flooding the exit all at once. People begin to pair up with their friends, talking about hanging out and staying over at one another’s house for the weekend, but as usual, you’re left by yourself; when you first enrolled in GA, many students wanted to be your friend, but you could tell they were more interested in Bruce Wayne being your father than you because they talked more about Bruce than you. When Tim became Timothy Drake-Wayne, everyone flocked to him, starstruck that he was now a member for two of Gotham’s most elite families. Since you lack Bruce’s good looks and charisma, Dick’s athletic prowess, Jason’s brute strength, Tim’s intelligence, and Damian’s pure pedigree, everyone here has deemed you unworthy of a passing glance; you’re painfully average in every aspect and in a family as prestigious and remarkable as Gotham’s beloved Wayne Family, that’s an unforgivable sin.

It didn’t matter to you, though. You didn’t care that no one in school or in your “family” acted like you didn’t exist and think you unworthy of a fraction of their attention, you had your video games. When the silence of Wayne Manor became deafening to you, you had your faithful 3DS with multiple generations of teams full of loyal and strong Pokémon that have defeated the mightiest of champions and your preowned laptop that’s allowed you to play a wide variety of games, your favorite being Fallout New Vegas as it took place in your rightful home of Nevada and started off in your beloved Goodsprings. You’ve gone through countless playthroughs because you feel close to your childhood home, no matter how many times you go through the same dialogue options and quests.

In fact, video games have been a major influence on you that you’re determined to be an indie video game developer when you finally graduate. Your laptop isn’t too old to run a visual novel maker software that came out four years ago and you spent over a year scribbling away in a notebook that held all the details that would form your first game, staying up late for three months working on the plot alone and the remaining nine months on side quests, combat, dialogue, and everything else. Despite your best efforts, you’re not an artist like Damian (and how ironic that someone so spiteful like him has the gift to create beauty) or a musician, so the only thing you’re able to work on right now is the code, but you’re not tech smart like Tim so it’s full of bugs and errors and despite you following your Guide to Making Video Games book to the letter, the code just won’t do what you want it to do. With spring break around the corner, maybe you’ll be able to make progress on it.

As you step through the front door of the school, you see Damian and Tim being dragged into a bear hug by Dick, the little shit quickly breaking free; Dick laughs and ruffles his hair before all of them getting into the older man’s car and drive off, leaving you behind. That’s nothing unusual, though, Dick’s always picked up the two of them from school and you know they always go get ice cream or go to an arcade while you get left behind to find your own way home. You’ve never been offered a ride to or from school or asked if you’d want to go hang out with them and with how they’ve treated you over the years, you’d sooner have a tea party with the Mad Hatter before you ever got in a car with any of them. Knowing them, Damian would probably try to strangle you with your seatbelt, Dick would most likely try to guilt you to spend more time with your “brother,” and Tim would just sit there, not saying anything, no matter how wrong their words were or how upset you got.

You’ve been relying on Alfred to give you rides (always a block away from the school since you didn’t want them knowing you were relying on him), but Bruce gave him the month off. He tried to turn it down, of course, insisting that he had important duties at the manor (you knew it was because he was worried about what would happen to you while he was gone), but Bruce insisted. Only after you promised to text him everyday and call him the moment something went wrong did he book a flight to Essex. After taking care of a museum the size of the Smithsonian, taking care of a family full of assholes, and dealing with your emotional baggage, the man deserved to take off and relax for a while.

Since he’s been gone, you’ve used the bus to get to where you need to go and have kept a wide berth between you and the Waynes and so far you’ve managed to stay under their radar. Though, with you not even clocking on their radars, can you really claim such an achievement. Hell, you’re positive they wouldn’t notice you even if you were right behind them. World’s greatest detectives, your ass.

That’s right, you knew about their nightly activities of wearing bird themed costumes, jumping across rooftops, and battling with the demented freaks locked up in Arkham. Not because Alfred told you (and god knows they’d never tell you shit), but because your status as the unwanted and forgotten firstborn of Bruce Wayne is like an invisibility cloak allowing you to walk in plain sight without anyone noticing you and it’s thanks to that you’ve been able to spy on conversations. You’ve come down many times in the late hours of the night to find them sitting at the dining table, eating, talking, laughing, and enjoying their lives as if you don’t even exist. Sure, it hurt you to see them so happy while you sit above them, miserable, what hurt even more was the fact that Alfred didn’t tell you. Sure, you have no intention on joining them in fist fighting Joker or solving the Riddler’s Saw-inspired puzzles (not that you could, you obviously lacked the capabilities), but you thought that after all that they’ve out you through, you were entitled to know what was going on.

But, you know that Alfred is also in on it, providing support from cave under the mansion (that you found after investigating the library while they were all out) and since he’s helped you through the bad times, hugging you tightly white you cried your eyes out, you decided to keep your discovery to yourself. Besides, if the secret ever comes out, you have plausible deniability.

Your phone rings and when you pull it out to check the caller ID, you see a picture of Alfred and you on the screen.

“Hey, Alfred,” you answer.

“Good afternoon, Master Y/N. Did you have a pleasant day at school?”

“I did. Since spring break is next week, the teachers toned down on the lessons.”

“And how did you fare on your algebra test?”

“Fine, I guess,” you mutter. “I’m sure I got more right than wrong.”

Math’s always been your worst enemy (at least until you met Damian) and getting an A on an anything math related was always once in a blue moon. A B was always your goal back in Goodsprings Elementary, but with Gotham Academy being a prestigious institution, their math classes were as difficult as a speed run in Dark Souls. Sure, all your classes are hard, but math has always been your Achilles’ heel.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you prepare for it. Maybe I should come home—“

“No,” you quickly say, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I studied my notes and found some practice problems online. I’m sure I passed.”

There was a brief pause before the man said, “Very well, Master Y/N. If you’re sure. How have you been faring? I trust you’re eating three meals a day and sleeping enough?”

“Of course,” you say. You’re lying, of course. You skip breakfast and dinner since they’re all downstairs at the same time in the mornings and at night use before going out on patrol and only eat lunch at school, where lunch is prepared by five star chefs because their elite students will accept nothing less. As for sleep, you’ve been cramming for this test and trying to work on your game, where as soon as you fix one bug, three more come to take its place.

“Of course,” he says, obviously not convinced, but chooses not to call you out. Not over the phone, anyway. Had he been here in person, it would be a different story. “And how have the others treated you?”

“Like I don’t exist. So, things are status quo.”

“I know their behavior has been nothing less than unacceptable, but have you tried talking to your father? Maybe he’ll be more receptive to you if you approached him while he was alone.”

“We both know that’s not gonna happen, Alfred. Bruce can’t stand the sight of me because I’m his greatest mistake.”

“Master Y/N!”

“It’s true and you know it! Both he and Momma were young and stupid, one thing led to another, and I was their reminder why condoms were invented. He got stuck with me and he’ll never forgive me for that. You know it and I know it.”

His silence tells you he knows you’re right. You hate to say how you really feel since you know that Alfred raised the man after his parents were murdered and telling him things like this makes him feel like he failed as a father figure, but after being treated like shit for most of your life, you’ve really run out of fucks to give. Hell, when you turned eighteen last month, you had your bags packed and were ready to buy a ticket on the first bus to Las Vegas, but Alfred begged you to stay long enough so you could graduate and since it would be a pain in the ass to transfer this close to schools letting out for summer, you agreed. Plus, it’d look good on a resume that you graduated from Gotham Academy. .

“Maybe I could talk to him for you? I just don’t want you to leave hating your father so much.”

“Look, Alfred, I really don’t wanna talk about this. I gotta go, I’ll be late for work.”

“Very well, Master Y/N. Please be safe. You know I hate you being out at night all alone.”

“Don’t worry, I will. Talk to you later, Alfred.”

And with that, you hang up and head to the nearest bus stop to take you to Chinatown. When you turned sixteen, you decided that it wasn’t fair taking Alfred’s money (in your defense, you helped out in cleaning the mansion, but you were still taking his hard earned paycheck), so you went out and found a job working at Gotham Games, a small store in one of the few nicer parts of Gotham that specialized in video, trading card, and tabletop games. Your boss, Mr. Chen, is a sweet old man who loves to talk games with you, especially Pokémon; in fact, he always gives you a free booster pack when he hands you your paycheck, saying that it’s a bonus for doing a good job. You love your job and aside from Alfred always willing to lend an ear to listen to your troubles, it’s made living in this hellhole of a city actually bearable.

After arriving at the bus stop in Chinatown, you walks a few blocks to find Mr. Chen closing the door and locking it.

“Mr. Chen,” you say when you near him, making him turn around to face you.

“You’re always on time, Y/N,” he says with a chuckle, but you can see he’s sad about something.

“Is the store closing for today?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m closing the store for good.”

Your heart stops and you feel yourself losing balance a little and you quickly steady yourself. You quickly think for any reason why the store would be closing for good.

Poor sales? No, you helped Mr. Chen with the spreadsheet for last month and sales had gone up by 11% thanks to the Pokémon TCG tournament you hosted.

Too much theft? No, you keep a close eye on all the customers and last time you checked, all inventory was accounted for.

Threats? Please, Mr. Chen’s been here for twenty-five years and is a pillar of the community. If anyone ever had the dumbass idea to threaten him, all shop owners in the street would rush to his aid, yourself included.

So, why?

As if he read your mind, he says, “My daughter said she was worried about me when the Penguin broke out of Arkham the other day and his car chase with Batman ended when he crashed a block away from here. She said that she and her husband had already set up a room for me at their house and now they’re here to take me with them to Florida.

You remember hearing about that. Bruce devotes all his time to fighting Gotham’s crime problem and one would think all the time he doesn’t spend with you could go to keeping things like car chases with Arkham’s inmates far away from innocent people and their businesses, but guess that’s what you get for having expectations when it comes to Bruce.

“What will happen to the store?”

“Mark’s already taken care of it. He called up some company that owns plenty of stores that’s just like mine and they agreed to buy my entire stock. They’ll have some people here tomorrow to get it all.”

For the second time in your life, it feels like your entire world’s been turned inside out. Working here and being around Mr. Chen was the best thing that’s happened to you since you over to Gotham and with Alfred gone and the loss of your job and boss, you’re extremely tempted to get on the nearest bus and ride it out of Gotham right now.

“I also wanted to wait for you so I could give you this.” He hands you a neatly wrapped box that you just now realize he’d been holding this entire time. “To thank you for keeping an old man company.”

You take the box and with shaky hands, you unwrap it and open the lid to see a pristine aqua blue Game Boy Advance surrounded by several cartridges. When you take a closer look, you see that they’re all Pokémon games, ranging from the original Red and Blue to Red Rescue Team.

“You appreciate the classics and it seemed a shame to let that Game Boy and those games just sit around, collecting dust. Plus, it’s my way of saying thank you for taking care of an old man.”

At this point, you realize you’re crying and can’t help but hug your boss. “Thank you, Mr. Chen.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. When you move back to Nevada and win big in Vegas, don’t forget to give me a call so we can celebrate.”

You laugh at that and it makes you feel better, but only a little bit. When he promises to call you when he’s set up in Florida and you promise to call him when you’re back in Nevada, you two separate and watch as he gets in his daughter’s car and drive off, waving at him until he’s out of sight.

As you neatly tuck the box into your backpack, you realize that your schedule’s totally fucked up now. Normally, Alfred comes and gets you when you get done working at 7, but with him gone, you’d been using the bus that comes at that time to take you to the closest stop to Bristol and walk the rest of the way to Wayne Manor, but that bus won’t be here for hours. And you’d sooner chew your own arm off before calling any of them for help.

You mull it over for a minute or two before deciding to walk to the nearest stop, hop on the bus, and ride it to as close to Bristol as possible. With the store closed (and your beloved job lost) you can use the time to get ahead on your spring break plans and work on your game, ironing out bugs and working on your art. You pull out your map of Gotham’s bus stops and see the closest station is over in the East End, a place no one with a half working brain cell goes. Still, it’s the closest bus stop and you’ll only be there for a few minutes. You’ve survived Wayne Manor for thirteen years, surely you can deal with Gotham’s trash can for a little bit.

With your mind made up, you make your way to the East End. As you cross into the district, you’re greeted by a group of kids playing Cops and Robber, but instead of cops, one of them plays the role as Red Hood, complete with two stick guns and a red plastic pail on his head. That’s right, East End is Jason’s territory and is well loved by many of the children. The thought of the brute gives you even more incentive to leave the area as fast as possible because you’ve heard Jason yelling at the others for entering the East End because it’s his to protect and he doesn’t want any of them unless it’s a really big emergency and even then, they need his permission. Knowing him, he’ll accuse you of invading and try to fill you full of lead, despite the fact that you’re not a vigilante and he ever pulled his head out of his ass, he’d know that, but you guess that being in a family full of distrust and paranoia has polluted his higher reasoning skills.

The further into the district you get, the closer you hold onto the straps of your book bag. With every step you take, you hear glass shattering, people screaming, and even a gun shot or two, making you regret ever coming here. You should’ve found another bus stop or just found something to kill time until your regular bus showed up. Still, you’ve already come this far and turning around would probably be more dangerous than continuing forward, so you keep your head up high and try to change your stride to be more confident, hoping that appearing more confident would keep people away from you.

You see the bus stop and pick up speed to get there quickly, but just as you get close enough to see the map and schedule, you feel something grab your book bag and you’re quickly yanked backwards. You turn to look behind you to see three men staring down at you and by the way they’re grinning down at you, you can tell this won’t end well for you.

“Well, what’s a little GA snob doin’ here,” one of them sneers.

“Surprised you’re actually walking,” the other jeers. “Thought all you little shits were carried around by your butlers and maids. Too good to use your own legs.”

That little joke actually pissed you off because you’re not like the rest of your classmates who have their private drivers open their car doors when they go to the airport to spend Christmas on their private islands. You aren’t using Bruce’s money to pay for every little thing you see (not that he’d give you any because he’s forgotten you exist), you actually have a job and work hard for your money, damn it!

“Bet there’s someone who’d pay a pretty penny for you,” the man, obviously the leader of the other two, says. “Looks like we’ve hit pay dirt, boys.”

You struggle to break free of their grasp, but the three of them are too strong for you. The leader pulls out a rusty pipe from his back pocket and the last thing you see is said pipe rushing towards your head before everything goes black.

“Wake up, you little bitch,” a gruff voice says as you’re overcome with feelings of sheer cold and wetness.

You open your eyes to find that you’re sitting on n extremely dirty floor. You look up to see a man looking down at you, a sadistic look on his face and a dirty metal bucket in hand. Your mind finally boots back up and you remember being stopped by three dirtbags and being knocked out be a pipe to the head. As if on cue, the memory triggers immense feelings of pain in your head and while you’re no doctor, you’re pretty sure that you have a mild concussion. When the rest of your senses come to, you realize that you’re tied to chair with thick ropes you have no chance of getting out, at least without a knife. Through blurry eyes, you’re able to look around to see you’ve been dragged to some dirty shack and based on what you see through the busted windows nearest to the door, you know two things: that you’ve been dragged to Gotham Woods and you’ve been knocked out for a while.

“Alright, now that you’ve had your beauty sleep, it’s time to get to business.” The leader squats down to your level, an old flip phone in hand. “You’re gonna give us a number we can call to ransom you off. Try any funny business and…” he trails off as he brings out a gun and points it at you. “You won’t live long enough to regret it.”

You hears the words, but all you can focus on is the gun aimed at you. You’ve known Gotham is a dangerous place and going to certain parts of the city at night is practically committing suicide, but you never thought you’d be in this position, where the slightest action or inaction was the difference in sleeping in your bed or being put to rest in a pine box when everything was said and done. Ever since you’d turned eighteen, you’ve kept a tally of how many days you have until you graduate and put this city of the damned behind you and now there’s a good chance you’ll die here, in a city you’ve hated since you were forced to move here.

“Hey,” he says, breaking you out of your stupor. “Number. Now.” He emphasizes his point by waving his gun.

At first, you’re tempted to give him Alfred’s number, knowing the butler would probably come to your rescue and kill these thugs John Wick Style, but you know that they wouldn’t appreciate talking to someone on the other side of the world and right now, you couldn’t take the chance on pissing them off; you need someone here in Gotham and as much as every fiber in your body wants to throw up at once just for even thinking it, you know Bruce is your only hope of making out of this in one piece. Even if he doesn’t care about you, he’ll be able to swoop in and bash in the heads of a bunch of kidnappers, so that should be enough of a reason to bring him here.

“Alright, you can call my father,” you say, the word “father” leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, but right now, you can’t afford to let your hatred for the man get the better of you; not when your life hangs in the balance. You give him the manor’s home phone number, which he dials and puts it on speaker.

You wait with bated break as the phone rings. After the third time, you can feel yourself breaking into a cold sweat and when you look up at one of your captors, you can tell he’s getting angry by the second; with every ring, his scowl gets more and more intimidating and the gun starts to shake in rage.

Finally, after an eternity, you hear someone pick up.

“Hello,” Bruce’s voice comes through, and based on the tone, he sounds pissed. Knowing the time, he was probably getting ready to go out on patrol. Still, you can’t help but feel just a little to relived to hear his voice. You just might make it through the night. “Bruce Wayne speaking.”

“Holy shit, man, we’re about to be rich,” one of the other men whispers to his cohort, who nods in agreement.

“We have your son, Wayne,” the man says with an air of confidence. “Do as we say and you—“

“No, you don’t,” Bruce says, cutting off the man.

“What,” the leader says, the wind obviously taken out of his sails.

“No, you don’t,” Bruce repeats.

“Fuck you mean,’ he shouts. “I’m looking at him right now! Don’t you know you’re missing a brat right now?”

“All my kids are right here with me and I’m none of them are missing,” Bruce says in a matter-of-fact tone that makes your heart stop.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice if someone was missing” Dick chimes in.

“Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid,” Jason mocks.

“You’re not the first to fake holding a Wayne for ransom,” Tim explains. “It hasn’t worked before and it won’t work now.”

“If you lowlifes put as much effort into finding a job as you did trying to steal money, you’d be rich,” Damian taunts.

“Wow, you’re a loser,” Cass laughs. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your life? Why don’t you get out of your mom’s basement and go outside to touch grass and maybe talk to a girl.”

They all laugh at that and you can feel your heart just collapse in on itself. Right now, you have a better chance of sprouting wings and flying out of here than this man letting you go after being insulted by every member of the Wayne Family. And based on the fact that his face is as red as a beat, this definitely won’t be for you.

“As you can see, all my children are home, where they should be. I don’t know how much you hoped to get out of this, but you aren’t seeing a dime.”

And with that, the call ends and so does your chances of leaving here in one piece. You always thought that your existence was a complete unknown to them, but to actually see something that proves it? You can’t help but begin to cry, both at how the call went and for the world of hurt you’re no doubt about to experience with your captors.

“Bet you thought that was funny,” the man says as he slowly flips the phone shut, indicating that he’s pissed off beyond words.

You decide that Alfred is the one you should’ve had him call, but before you correct your mistake, you’re filled with pain as he strikes you on the head with the pipe. He hits you again and the force sends the chair tumbling to the floor, but that doesn’t matter to the man; he’s pissed and all he cares for now is hurting you. He’s spouting off insults and threats, but all you can focus on is the immense pain you’re in. He never hits in the same place twice, spreading the pain to your head, arms, torso, and legs. You feel your skin tear, bones break, and blood shed and the pleas you’d been shouting since he began his assault finally die, opting for crying and sounds of pain.

By the time he’s finished, you’re in so much pain, you can barely think. All you want to do is die.

“Hey, look what I found in his bag.” You look up through swollen and blood filled eyes to see one of the other men is holding up your Momma’s pen. “Looks like real gold. Might be worth something.”

After the pen incident three years ago, you’ve lived in constant fear that Damian would take you pen in an act of revenge, so you’ve kept the pen on you at all times, even keeping it under your pillow as you slept, only taking it out when you were in the safety of your room. Up until now, it’s kept your most treasured possession safe, but it looks like it’s about to cost you dearly.

“At least it’s something. Anything else?”

“Naw,” the man responds as he rummages through your bag. “Just the regular school shit, a wallet with a few bucks in it, and…” He pauses before pulling out the box Mr. Chen gave you and opens it. “Holy shit, looks like an old Game Boy! And there’s a bunch of games with it!”

“Is it worth much?”

“Might be able to get something for it. A bunch of collectors out there looking for shit like this. Couldn’t hurt to check around.”

“Haven’t seen one of those in years,” the last man chimes in. “Had one when I was a kid. Someone stole it, though. Hey, if we can’t get much of it, can I keep it?”

“Not now, Butch,” the leader growls. “Batman’s busy dealing with that clown bustin’ outta Arkham and all we got out of this is a lousy pen and a stupid video game.” He looks down at you. “Since you didn’t give us a name to ransom you off to, guess no one’ll care if you go missing.”

He picks his gun up and aims it at you. You feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at you.

“No, please,” you beg, struggling to spit out the words as you’re so badly hurt, it’s a miracle you’re able to talk at all, but right now, all that matters is that you do what ever it takes to survive this.

“What’re we gonna do with the body,” one of the men asks.

“There’s the chasm near Mt. Gotham,” the one called Butch says. “That thing goes down for miles. We dump him in there and not even Batman’ll find him.”

Is this how it ends? After everything you’ve gone through, you die from being shot by three thugs in the forest and you’re thrown in a big ditch like a trash bag when you’re so close to leaving this damn city behind. You try to open your mouth to say something, anything that will at least buy you a few more minutes, but whatever you wanted to say is drowned out by the flash of a muzzle and the bang of a gunshot.

Your world goes to black.

A/N: Sorry, we were a little under for on cliffhanger quota, so we had to up production. The original plan was to split this chapter into two, with the kidnapping at the end of the first and the shooting at the end of the second, but with October upon us, I think things are going to get really crazy for me this semester, so I decide to be merciful (this time) and make one big chapter that only has one cliffhanger. Enjoy the wait for the next chapter! Also, if you asked to be added to the tag list and don’t see your name, I promise it’s not because I didn’t do it on purpose, but because when I went to tag you, Tumblr didn’t find your blog. I always check twice before uploading a new chapter to ensure everyone who asked to be tagged has been added.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @l0serl0v3r @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick

[thestarsofpines]

a little wip of a combination of prompts and AUs I've seen that I just had to give my own take on.

Damian was bored. He’d followed Father around for most of the night, listening absentmindedly to the trivial blabbering of rich socialites that tried to suck up to the prince of Gotham. He could only handle it for so long, patience quickly running out as a few shoved their own children his way, perhaps hoping the young heir would make a friend and create easier access to the Wayne wealth. Pitiful. 

The young teen stood off to the side of a polished dance floor that had couples mingling and swaying to the soft classical music playing. He’d picked up a drink and was sipping at it slowly, just to have something to do with his hands. He itched for something to do that wasn’t making small, meaningless talk.

He hears footsteps approaching, perhaps a bit heavier than intended, as if it was a warning for someone that they were approaching.

“Little Badger, we talked about this in great detail earlier, you are not to leave my sight-“

Just as a man moves to place a hand on Damian’s shoulder, the teen turns around and glares at the man. He takes in the details of the man quickly; older, likely mid forties if not older, gray hair pulled back into a low ponytail, vibrant blue eyes that at first are narrowed at him in perhaps annoyance before they turn wide with shock. The man recovers quickly, expression turning apologetic as he steps back.

“Oh-my most sincere apologies, I thought you were someone else!” He breathes out, and his expression shifts again to one of slight surprise as he takes in more of Damian’s features from the front. “My, you two do look quite alike.” He says easily, hand coming back to rest beside him before he places both his hands behind his back. “I do apologize again, young sir…?”

Bruce spots this interaction, politely ends the conversation he was in, and makes his way over to investigate. 

“Damian Wayne, my son.” Bruce slides up to the pair, standing easily at Damian’s right. “Vlad Masters, yes?”

Said man’s eyes widen ever so slightly at the easy recognition and at the fact that he could’ve accidentally torn into such an influential young man as he’d been planning to do to whoever he was looking for, but he recovers quickly again.

“Yes, I was just apologizing to your boy here, Mr. Wayne. It seems he has quite a lot of physical similarities to my godson.”

Damian remains silent, but nods in the direction of the billionaire. Something isn’t sitting right with him about Masters, but he can’t put it into words. He’ll allow Father to handle the situation, for the moment. 

“Oh? Why, that is quite interesting.” Bruce smiles, open and disarming. He places a hand on Damian’s shoulder, and gives a subtle squeeze. “What’s the young man’s name?”

“Daniel,” And the grip tightens ever so slightly. “He is the son of some old family friends who unfortunately cannot take care of him anymore, so I’ve become his legal guardian in their stead.”

“How kind, opening your house to a youth in need.” Bruce continues, pushing for more information. “From experience I know how hard that can be. Raising a teenager is no cakewalk that’s for sure.”

“Oh yes, I do recall hearing of your experiences with adoption; you’re up to four adoptions now, yes?” There’s a hint of something in Vlad’s eyes, likely aware of the information seeking nature of this conversation but unconcerned by it. Intriguing. “I can hardly claim to have such kindness, one fifteen year old is enough for me.”

Damian has to physically restrain his face from reacting. Perhaps this is another cloning situation. Perhaps this Vlad Masters should be higher on the priority list of people to investigate closely. 

“Oh, well I do believe I have taken up enough of your time, Mr. Wayne. I really must get looking for Daniel, as we do intend to leave soon.” Vlad holds out a hand to the two, smiling confidently. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.” 

Bruce takes it and shakes it politely; Damian’s following is more forced in its gentleness. Vlad Masters unsettles him and it is driving him mad that he cannot pinpoint why. 

“Enjoy the rest of the gala, Vlad Masters. Perhaps our paths will cross again soon.”

[theodorecanaryhood]

Dangerous Villain

Jason Todd x Male reader

Yes, yet another JT x Male reader fic, I can’t get enough of these

Warning: swearing, unprotected rough sex, mentions of blood and death

The blood stains were a struggle to wash out of his white shirt, Jason sat with a smile as the blood was splattered on his face.

Knuckles raw and red, body aching from the fight, the blood from his enemies covered him. Jason ripped his blood soaked shirt from his body. Throwing it into the fireplace.

His knife was covered in blood, his gun was empty as it had been used to its limits tonight.

Jason showed up to the smuggling ring undercover as a Crime Lord, only to take everyone out in seconds.

The smuggling ring was children and Jason saw red, black in his eyes as he killed all the men. Red Hood was retired tonight as Jason took over as himself.

Knowing a risk of being spotted, he left no one alive. He made sure of it.

The black shirt and pants pressed against Jason’s form, as he attended the gala, a recent one that Bruce was organising for Wayne Enterprises. Jason only went for the free drinks, not being in great speaking terms with his father.

You were sat next to Jason as he held your hand, your smaller form sat neatly on the chair as Jason held you in place. Pride on Jason’s face to call you his, and only his.

Jason is a jealous type and you were fully aware, Jason liked his boyfriend to know his place. To know that you are Jason’s, no one is allowed to look at you. Not the way Jason does.

Jason isn’t violent towards you, he would never. But he is dangerous, dark, and can switch sides if provoked.

You know better than to question Jason’s authority, he is your master.

So many times Jason has walked into your shared bedroom and demanded you take him in, Jason has had a rough night of patrol, or even just horny.

Tonight is no exception as you sat in a suit, shirt not done all the way up so Jason can glance at your chest every so often.

Jason had lust in his eyes as he took in your form, seeing that an older man was looking at you. Jason gave him a death stare.

You sat by the bar as the older, well dressed, rich snobby type man came over to you. A chance he’d sought after once you were alone.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ The older man asked, you being a polite man, simply smiled.

‘No thank you, sir’ you replied, taking your attention back to your drink.

‘I’m Matthew, Lord Matthew. I own half of Metropolis Estate, along with 15% of Gotham, hopefully after tonight’ he bragged, you nodded.

‘Congratulations, you must be proud’ you responded, politely but not being too open to a conversation.

‘I noticed you earlier, you’re friends with Mr Wayne?’ The man asked, you nodded again.

‘Yeah, I’m dating his son’

‘Well, if you ever want an older man, more experience and money. Here’s my number’ the older man said, handing his number to you on a business card.

Jason appeared and took the card out of the man’s hand.

‘Thanks, but he has everything he needs already. My dick being one of them, which still works unlike yours’ Jason snarked.

The older man took offence as he snatched his card back.

‘I only give these to people that deserve my attention, which you do not, young man’ The older man barked back.

Jason’s fist clenched as he tried hard not to punch him in the face. Jason promised you he would behave tonight, but this man was trying his luck.

‘Y/n, go wait in the car’ Jason said as he took out his keys, handing them to you.

Jason didn’t take his eyes off of this man, black in his eyes again as the older man smiled smugly.

‘He has a nice ass’ the older man said as he spanked you, you shot your head around.

Before you could register anything the man had tumbled into a stack of glasses, holding his nose that was now bloodied.

Jason’s fist was red as he’d obviously punched the older man. Jason smiled a little as he grabbed your hand and walked you outside to his car.

The drive home was a rush as Jason hit speeds he would usually avoid, he charged through the streets in his Mustang.

Jason was charged with adrenaline and rage as he got you both home, Jason ordered you in the house.

‘Get in, wait for me in the bedroom’ Jason ordered as he locked the car doors.

You walked toward the bedroom as your heart pounded. Your heart thumped so hard you couldn’t hear anything else.

Jason’s form appeared in the bedroom doorway as he threw you on the bed, ripping your shirt off.

You grabbed onto Jason and kissed him as he held onto your face, feeling heat coming from his crotch.

You shuddered as Jason took off his clothes, peeling the rest of yours off.

‘Who do you belong to?’ Jason asked, hard as he stared in your eyes.

‘You’ you responded quick, Jason raised his eyebrows.

‘Who?’ He asked again, harsher than before as he applied pressure to your throat.

‘You Master’ you responded, feeling yourself getting hard.

Jason pushed you down as he yanked your hair, biting your neck.

He rolled you onto your front as he pushed himself inside you. Raw, with no warning.

‘I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t fucking walk again, maybe then you’ll remember that you fucking belong to me’ Jason growled as he pumped into you.

You clawed at the bedsheets as Jason stuffed himself deep inside you, pulling your hair again as he kissed the top of your head. Jason then placed his hand on the back of your head, pushing it into the pillow.

‘This is what happens when you don’t obey me, you get fucked raw. Do you like misbehaving?’ Jason roared as he slammed into you quickly, you moaning underneath as your back shivered.

‘No master, I’ll behave’ you panted as Jason’s dick filled you up from behind.

Jason was hitting so hard that the bed would’ve surely broke into pieces. The force of his manhood was surely going to tear you in half.

‘I don’t believe you, this is your punishment, you are mine and you won’t fucking obey me. This is your punishment’ Jason panted as he continued to pump deep inside you.

His throbbing length ached for release as Jason thrusted even faster and harder, his seed spilled into you as you felt it swim inside you.

‘Fuck’ Jason called out as he emptied his load.

You lay on your front trying to catch your breath as you felt Jason pull out of you, your brain seemed to be switched off as you couldn’t register anything for at least a minute.

‘Clean yourself up, slut’ Jason ordered as he stood up and threw a towel at you.

Jason left the room to use the shower as you grabbed the towel, wiping yourself up as you felt Jason’s seed dribble out of your hole.

You stood and looked at yourself in the mirror as you saw Jason’s teeth marks on your body, red marks where he had grabbed. Areas of your body that Jason had marked for you to remember, remember who you belong to.

Jason was angry that another man had touched you, he was angry that you entertained the idea you were noticed. Jason would never be angry at you, hurt you on purpose or even assault you.

It was these moments that you actually felt more love than ever from Jason, a man who was so dominating and overpowering. It was why you stayed.

Jason loves you, no doubt about it, but he just hates that men still think they can try it with you.

The first time this happened you almost shit yourself.

It was in a bar and a man asked for your number, not realising Jason is your boyfriend. Jason got so angry that he drove you both home, he didn’t speak to you the whole way and you thought you’d done something.

Jason lifted his hand to run through his hair, but you flinched the second Jason’s hand raised. His eyes shot wide as he looked at you, realising what you thought of him.

Jason gave you the chance to leave then and there, but you didn’t. You stayed, and every time a man looks at you, Jason has to remind you that you’re his.

Jason was smiling at you as he pulled you into bed with him, holding you in his arms as the two of you slept. A moment to last all night, where both of you wanted to remain. With each other.

[rosiesramblings]

Meditation, Interrupted

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth at the end

WC: 1k

A/N: Hello! I wrote this fic as a birthday gift to myself - the found family troupe is my weakness. I've only ever read fanfic from this fandom (no actual consumption of cannon, lol), so if everyone is OOC, that's why. I hope you enjoy!

“Jason.”

Jason continued his meditation, giving no indication that he heard his older brother from across the cave.

“Jason. Hey, Jason,” Dick called, getting closer.

Jason continued to ignore him. At this point in his life, ignoring Dick was a skill he had honed after years of practice.

“Jay. Jason. Jason. Jason.”

Jason bit back his irritation, accepting that his meditation was well and truly over, but still keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even. With any luck, Dick would get bored and go bother the Replacement for whatever he needed.

Jason felt Dick step onto the mats where he was seated, still repeating his name.

“Jason. Jason. JasonJasonJasonJason - “

Jason deftly caught Dick’s hand before it could poke his ribs. “Do you want to die?” He bit out, finally opening his eyes to glare at the acrobat.

He was met with a shit eating grin. “Little Wing! Don’t tell me you’re still ticklish?”

It took effort not to let his reaction show on his face. “No. Lucky me, the Pit took care of that.”

Dick’s grin grew. “Oh yeah? Hm. You know what the Pit didn’t take care of?” Dick flipped out of Jason’s grasp, landing behind him with his hands on Jason’s sides. “The tips of your ears still turn red when you’re lying.”

Dick squeezed his sides, and Jason lurched forward with a gasp he couldn’t quite strangle. Dick spidered his hands up to Jason’s ribs, and this time Jason didn’t manage to stifle his snickers.

“Fuhuhck off, Dihihckhead, I’m not in the mohohood.”

“Awwww, Little Wing, you might be worse than when you were a kiddo!” Dick teased, watching delightedly as red crept up the back of his little brother’s neck.

Jason quickly decided that was enough of that, thank you, and spun around, tackling his older brother to the ground. “Mahahybe. But unluckily for you, I’ve got ahabout 40 pounds on you these days.”

Dick barely had time to wheeze out a shocked, “Shit!” before Jason dug his fingers into Dick’s underarms and vibrated his fingers back and forth.

Dick immediately burst into cackles. “WAHAHAIT, WAIT, NOHOHOHO,” he managed, his pleas echoing around the cave.

“What’s wrong, Dickie? Can dish it out, but can’t take it?” Jason asked, removing one hand from under his arms to scribble across his brother’s tummy.

“Jahahahahahay, Jahahay, plehehehehehease, Ihihih’m sohohohorry!”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t care,” Jason said as he reached down to grab one of Dick’s thighs and squeeze.

Dick hollered, begging, as his little brother showed no mercy to his worst spot. He writhed, trying to escape, but apparently more than a decade of vigilante work flew out the window when his brother was murdering him with tickles.

“Don’t forget, Dickie, I’m the biggest one in the family now,” Jason taunted, giving his brother a break by scritching at his knees, not wanting him to actually pass out.

Suddenly, there was a shadow looming over Jason’s shoulder. A deep voice rumbled, “Biggest save for one, Jaylad,” before Jason was unceremoniously tackled to the mats, off of his older brother.

Jason could do little more than suck in a breath before his adoptive father was attacking his ribs with frightening precision. Jason threw his head back as ticklish shocks swarmed his senses, laughing like a loon. 

“FuhuhuhuhUCK! SHIHIHIT, DAHAMMIT, B, WAHAHAHAHIT!” 

“Mmmm, no, thank you.” His father said fondly. “It’s been altogether too long since I’ve heard you laugh.”

“Get him B!” Dick cheered tiredly from the sidelines, still recovering from his own torment.

“FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF, DIHIHIHICKHEAD!” Jason bellowed as Bruce attacked his underarms ruthlessly.

“Do you remember what I used to do to get you to screech like a banshee?” Bruce asked, grinning down at his second-eldest son. “Alfred came running with his shotgun the first time I did it.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he started fighting back even harder. “Nohohoho, nohohot thahat, plehehease, B, I cahahahan’t - “ he babbled as Bruce slowly ruched up his workout top, exposing his tummy. 

Bruce smiled as Jason sucked in his tummy as far as it would go, shaking his head back and forth. He leaned down, keeping eye contact with his frantic kid, before taking in a deep breath and blowing a raspberry right over Jason’s belly button.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,” Jason arched off the ground, his head thrown back as his hysterical laughter filled the cave. “PLEHEHEHEHEHE - DAHAHAHAHAD, I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!”

Bruce took one more breath, knowing Jason was close to his limit, before ducking back down and blowing one final raspberry, shaking his head back and forth so that his stubble would catch on his son’s skin and tickle even more.

Jason’s laughter went silent, tears beading in the corners of his eyes as he rode out the ticklish sensations. Bruce sat up and pulled Jason’s shirt back into place, still grinning as his son’s laughter continued. Jason curled into a ball, still giggling, arms firmly around his tummy to guard against any more attacks, but none were coming.

“He’s too precious,” Dick stage-whispered, sitting up and mirroring Bruce’s fond expression. Then at a normal volume, “Still want to try and convince me the Pit ‘took care of it’?”

Jason, still giggling, uncurled one arm enough to flip Dick the bird.

Dick still wasn’t done. “Is it true that Alfred ran in with a shotgun the first time you gave him a raspberry?” he asked Bruce, smirking.

“I don't know that I’d ever seen him move that fast,” Bruce remembered, then yelped as the butler in question appeared behind him and deftly scribbled across the back of Bruce’s neck.

“I’ll remind you of my extensive knowledge of your own spots, Master Bruce,” Alfred sniffed reprovingly, handing bottles of water to Jason and Dick as Bruce rubbed away the ghost tickles.

Jason, panting but recovered enough to sit upright, smirked. “Alfie’s got my back. ‘Specially against you cheaters.”

“Quite so, Master Jason.”

“Whatever you say, Jaybird.”

“Of course, Jaylad.”

“Fuck off.”

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 7/?

Prev | Next

“So, does that mean you can get us that sweet, sweet new Wayne tech,” Tucker asked.

Sam hit him in the back of his head.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem,” she said.

“Betrayal from my only two friends!”

The three teens were in Sam’s basement/entertainment room. Danny had just finished giving them an unabridged version of his family’s history. Barring a few things. Like the fact that Bruce Wayne was Batman and his kids were the other Gotham heroes.

“So, what now,” Sam asked. She still couldn’t believe it. Danny was raised by assassins! She wanted to be disgusted; she couldn’t condone any life-taking, but she was also aware enough that it wasn’t Danny’s fault.

Besides, he has stopped, and he was a hero now.

“Now, I tell my parents the whole truth about Phantom.”

Sam and Tucker stared at each other.

“Are you sure, dude,” Tucker asked.

“Yeah, what if they don’t accept it and attack you?”

Danny shrugged, “They took it just fine when they found out during the whole reality gauntlet fiasco.”

“Yeah, but that was then; this is now. Danny, you just told them a cult raised you. There’s only so much you can dump on people before they break. Especially parents. Why can’t you accept me for who I am, mom?”

Sam was breathing hard at the end of her little rant.

“Okay,” Danny drawled, “Your parents aren’t my parents, Sam. I would have to tell them eventually. I might as well get it over with.”

“Are you going to tell them about the Ghost King thing, too,” Tucker asked.

“I’m not the Ghost King yet,” Danny said. Tucker rolled his eyes, “Fine, crowned prince.”

“Yeah, I am,” Danny said. For it to work, he had to be fully honest with his parents about Phantom and everything it entailed.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other.

“If you’re sure,” Sam said, “Just know we will always be here for you.”

“Yeah, dude, the three of us are a team.”

“Thanks guys.”

The three friends sat in silence for a while.

“So, are you really not going to ask for that sweet new Wayne tech?”

“Seriously, Tucker?”

“Boo,” a pillow hit Tucker in the face.

“Hey! A guy should be allowed to ask.”

____

Vlad Masters sat in his office listening in to the three friends.

He was glad he had the foresight to bug more than the Fenton’s home. (Daniel always found the bugs, anyway.) What he had just learned had him reeling. Daniel wasn’t Maddie and Jack’s biological son. Not only that but that buffoon Bruce Wayne was Daniel’s father.

What’s more, Daniel had been raised by assassins.

This changed things. He got up and looked out the window.

Daniel was a valuable asset just for being a half-ghost like him. But now, he was not only the crowned prince of the Infinite Realms, but he was also the biological son of Bruce Wayne. If he could get Daniel on his side, Vlad would have more power than he could have thought possible. Daniel would be his son, and Maddie would be his.

It was time to scheme.

____

Damian got out of the car and left as soon as they got to the hotel room. Bruce was glad he had called Dick to meet them in front. His eldest followed Damian, even if it was from a distance.

Bruce sighed. He had no idea what to do. How do you deal with a long-lost child forgotten by his mother and brother? A child who had been abandoned by the only family he had ever known? A child who Bruce had no knowledge of?

“God, I wish you were here, Alfred.”

As he exited the car, he could’ve sworn he heard the older man speak, “I’m still here, Master Bruce. Always.”

He turned and saw an empty car.

The city must be getting to him.

____

Tim had not slept since he got to Amity Park. Now that the firewalls were gone, he had done research.

What he found disturbed him.

“Duke, come here for a moment,” the newest member of the family walked up.

“Tim, you should really sleep.”

Tim took a gulp of his energy drink, “Read this.”

Noticing her brothers’ tense posture, Cass came up to read whatever had caught their attention.

“That can’t be right,” she said, “that violates the Protection Meta Act.”

“Well, it’s there and it exists.”

The Anti-Ecto Act laws were laws that carried out government-approved genocide. They allowed ecto-entities to be hunted down, studied, and exterminated without prejudice. Not only that, but the way the laws were written allowed for any ectocontaminated human to be classified as an ectoentity and stripped of all rights.

How had the Justice League missed this?

“Bruce is going to be pissed,” Duke said.

“Our new baby brother is in danger,” Cass stated.

Tim kept the tab on the Anti-Ecto Act open and took notes to present to Bruce. He was also able to find fights between Phantom and other ghosts. The kid mostly fought in the air.

Tim took more notes of every power Phantom showed. The list was extensive. He whistled when the kid gave a well-placed kick to a vampire-looking ghost. Tim could easily see the League training. It was easy to notice when you knew what to look for.

He found blogs of teenagers praising the teenager and articles claiming that he was as big a menace as the ghosts he fought. Over the years, though, it seemed that the perspective had shifted on Phantom.

He cataloged the shift after Amity Park had been sucked into an alternate dimension and Phantom had helped save the city.

There were more articles.

Phantom Saves the City from an Eternal Sleep.

Phantom Stop Giant Plant Ghost from Eating Amity Parkers.

The more he read, the more Tim learned. The more he worried for his new brother. He was different from Damian. There were no articles of decapitated people or people stabbed by a sword. Danny didn’t seem to be as violent as Damian had been.

It made sense. Talia and the League didn’t truly raise him. He had had a chance of a semi-normal life.

Tim also looked into the other hero, the Red Huntress.

She seemed more like a ghost hunter than a hero to Time. She shot any and all ghosts. There was an interview of her saying that all ghosts deserved to be exterminated. Yikes.

There was a knock on the door. It was the secret knock Bruce had taught them. Cass opened the door.

“Hey, Bruce,” Tim looked up and saw the weariness on Bruce’s shoulders. The guy must really be going through it. It made Tim feel a bit bad for what he was about to show Bruce, but the man deserved, no, he needed to know what was going on in Amity Park.

“Tim. Found anything?”

“Oh, I found plenty. You might as well get comfortable. This is going to be long.”

So, I'm better from Covid, which means I'll start working again. I won't update as often as I did the past few days but I'll try to update at least once a week.

I hope you liked this chapter.

[uncpanda]

Found in the Fort

Requested by: ANON 

Prompt: “Your eyes are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen”

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader 

Warnings: Pretty heavy toxic family. Nothing graphic, but still. 

“I’ve never met the parents before.” 

“I’ve never introduced a boy to my parents before.” 

“That’s not really all that comforting.” 

“It wasn’t meant to be.” 

Dick shoots you a look, and your lips quirk up. To be honest, you’re dreading this meeting more than he is. On the other side of the restaurant doors await your parents and two older sisters. Your parents, while rich, had been unhappily married for nearly twenty years now. 

Then there were your sisters. Jill was a high profile business executive who chose not to have a relationship. The other, Jan, was a partier who was intent on being a reality TV star. And then there was you. You were messed up in your own particular way, but you’d sought help. Your therapist had worked wonders in getting you over your troubles with relationships and teaching you how to deal with your parents. 

You feel Dick place a hand on the small of your back, “Are you okay?” 

You don’t look at him, “I’m just going to apologize now.” 

“Nothing that happens tonight is your fault.” 

You pull away and walk to the bench a few steps away; he follows. You take a few deep breaths and look at him, “I know nothing they do or say is my fault, but man I don’t want to do this.”

He takes your hand in his, “We can always go.” 

You shake your head, “No. I need to do this. Let’s go.” 

He squeezes your hand once, and the two of you go inside. You spot your father immediately. He smiles at you, Jill looks up from her phone long enough to wave, your mother continues drinking, and Jan continues taking selfies. 

The night goes about how you would expect. Your father drills Dick on his plans for the future and his career. You can tell he’s not a fan of the detective thing. Your oldest sister barely says hi, your mother asks questions that border on too personal, and your other sister keeps trying to take pictures of him.

Halfway through dinner you’re mentally drained, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re in the middle of washing your hands when Jan comes in. She pauses at the sink. You begin the countdown in your head, you only reach five before she asks, “How the hell did you land Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son?” 

You turn the water off, “He has a name.” 

“Who cares. I can’t believe you haven’t locked him down yet. I mean, I know he’s a cop, but still, when his old man dies that money has to go somewhere.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek as anger wells inside you, “I’m not with him for his money.” 

“Please.” 

“Believe it or not Jan, money isn’t the most important thing to some of us.” 

She looks at you, “What family did you grow up in? Mom and dad hate each other, but they won’t get divorced because of the money. Jill works her ass off so she has the same money. Me? I find rich guys who can do the work for me. And your rich guy? He has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” 

That’s the last straw, “Go to hell Jan. If you want to be like mom and dad and Jill, you go right ahead. Not me.” 

You head out of the bathroom. You stop long enough at the table to grab Dick, “We’re leaving.” 

He doesn’t even try to disguise his relief, “Thank God.” 

You ignore the calls of your family as the two of you head out. Once you’re out in the fresh air, you suck in a deep breath. 

Dick waits for you to say something, “Man . . . my family sucks.” 

“Yeah. They do. Do you feel better?”  

You smile and look at your husband, “About not having them in Eleanor’s life? Yeah. About not having them in our lives? Yes again.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and starts guiding you down the street, “I still have no idea why they reached out after all this time.” 

Dick nods, “I might. Your dad was hinting at money troubles while you were in the bathroom.” 

You feel a headache coming on, “Makes sense. They disowned me when I stopped playing their games. We’ve been together five years, married three. They didn’t come to the wedding or even call when I had the baby, but hey, when they’re running out of money . . .” 

Dick brings you in close to him. He wraps himself around you in a protective bubble, and he kisses your forehead. “Let’s go home.” 

It’s much earlier than expected when you walk into your apartment. There’s a large blanket fort in your living room, and you can smell fresh cookies in the kitchen. You hear giggling in the fort. You silently slip off your shoes and crawl in, with Dick right behind you. You find Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Damian in the fort they’re all reading. Eleanor is in there too, fast asleep on Bruce’s chest. You smile at the sight. 

They don’t ask any questions and you’re grateful for that. Instead, Bruce seamlessly passes your sleeping daughter to you. You and Dick cuddle her close and you thank the Lord for this family you found. 

[ledalasombra]

The Granddaughter - Chapter 4 - Little reveals

"Media? If he's famous, the paparazzi must have made a mess of the relationship," Tim commented as he took a sip of his coffee.

Alfred noticing the matter, called attention to the preselnce of the two at the door, causing the room to be silent.

"He was a model…" Marinette replied in a low tone when she noticed the silence and everyone's attention on her. "He gave up his career when his father disappeared."

"A pity the boy had to go through that. Adrien is a good boy, and he didn't deserve to lose his father so soon after finding his mother and no matter how bad his father was, the boy should try to keep the good memories…"

"Gabriel Agreste is probably the worst person I've ever met in my life Jagged." Marinette spoke calmly, taking a deep breath "I'm sorry to cut you off, but after I had to take Adrien to the hospital at least three times in less than a year because of the absurd diet his father made him follow and of the countless times he's come to my house hungry because he's gone more than 12 hours without a proper food, I refuse to hear anything good about him."

"Oh Mari I'm sorry. I know you don't like talking about him, it's totally my fault" Jagged tried to apologize but she just shook her head slightly.

"Water under the bridge Jagged, don't worry." She looked at Alfred who rubbed her hand lightly to assure her that everything was fine. "Excuse my rudeness, good night everyone! Mr. Wayne, Damian, it's nice to see you." She smiled slightly, cutting the subject short. "Jagged didn't inform me that we would be coming here today, as usual I'll just find out where I'm going when I get to the place."

"Hey, that's not true.." he spoke with his hand on his chest pretending to be offended

Penny smiled looking at her husband beside her "unfortunately she's right, she only found out when she got in the car. I didn't know you knew Mari"

"Oh! Penny, Jagged, let me introduce you to my grandfather Alfred Pennyworth. He is Julia's father" Marinette spoke with a wide smile and a lot of pride, looking at her grandfather, hugging him from the side. "He is simply the best person in my life. I certainly would not have survived the last 5 years without him."

Alfred returned the hug, lightly rubbing his granddaughter's head. It wasn't common to see him so openly show affection, not that the older one didn't show it in general, but he was very attached to etiquette in front of other people. "You're going to be fine" he spoke softly in her ear seeing her just nod positively. He lightly rubbed her head with his hand, turning his attention back to the couple.

"No way Alfie! How could that be? And I thought I was going to surprise him…."

"Mr. and Mrs. Stone, Mari is my only blood family and, after hearing all the stories possible from her about the interaction between you, I can only thank you for the care you both have taken with her." Alfred told the couple "actually the family didn't know about her existence until yesterday…"

"So let me introduce you to my friend of many years. Bruce Wayne this is my niece Marinette Dupain-Cheng aka Marie from Luck Charm, my fashion designer for the last four years…" Jagged spoke excitedly. Marinette smiled, greeting the older Wayne again.

"It's nice to see you. Jagged has been talking about you and your family for some time now and I can tell you it's nice to be able to put a face to every story. However, I must say I can't put you in most of the situations he described. "

"Should I care about what was said?" Bruce commented smiling and looking towards Jagged.

"Only if I decide to talk about them" Marinette completed looking at Bruce and smiling genuinely.

"Then I shouldn't worry about what Jagged and Alfred say about you. Let me introduce you to my children." He turned around pointing to the others in the room "This is my oldest, Richard Grayson-Wayne…" he said pointing to him.

"You can call me Dick, short for Richard… " Dick spoke cutting off what Bruce was saying. "You really look like Julia. Your mother was an amazing person from what I remember of her."

"Thank you. I don't remember her very well but Alfred always talk about her."

"This is my second oldest Jason Todd-Wayne" Bruce said.

"Oh… you were the guy from yesterday, who talked about the curves… of my motorcycle" Marinette spoke slowly, with a playful smile, which earned a few chuckles from around the room.

"It's a pleasure sunshine… " Jason replied laughing and shaking her hand.

"The one with the coffee is my second youngest Timothy Drake-Wayne" she smiled slightly greeting Tim from afar, where he looked at her a little scared.

"He is fine?" She spoke looking at Alfred and then Bruce

"You're Marie…" he said still on cloud nine "...and Alfred knew all this time?" Tim looked at the older man and only received a slight smile in return.

"It's not a secret of mine to tell master Tim" commented the butler….

Tim approached looking at Marinette in the eyes and then taking her hands. "Marry me?" She looked at him with wide eyes "You're the best designer I've ever seen in my entire life! You're smart, beautiful and Alfred's granddaughter…"

Marinette looked at him desperately hearing Jagged and Jason laugh behind her. She looked nervously at her grandfather who just shook his head. "Um… I don't think that's a good idea?"

"Master Tim, I suggest you sleep after dinner and I'll be clearing out all the coffee until you get a decent amount of sleep…."

Marinette frowned, looking at him sympathetically… "I'm sorry about that…" she said watching him walk away, looking at Bruce who pinched the bridge of his nose in a clear sign of tiredness.

"My youngest, Damian Wayne, who you met yesterday…" the young adult just nodded slightly towards her in greeting.

"It's a pleasure to see you Damian." she smiled slightly towards the boy.

"I'm going to finish setting the table for dinner. If you can all make your way to the dining room, everything will be ready in a few minutes." said the butler.

" Do you need some help?" Marinette asked, looking at her grandfather.

"Don't worry my dear, you are a guest." the older one responded by patting her hand, then moving away. The young woman just nodded, turning her attention to the other members of the room.

"Jagged mentioned yesterday that you moved to Gotham to study, correct? With so many universities in Europe and the region being so well recognized, why come to America?" Bruce asked, seeing the young woman take a seat next to Jagged.

"Actually, it wasn't such a difficult decision. My grandfather lives here, I spent my whole life away from him, for me it was the most logical thing. My parents are great people, but I always missed him by my side." She paused as if thinking briefly about what to say, "Besides, Paris has become a city with a lot of memories that I'd like to leave in the past."

"Hawkmorth left a deep mark on everyone." Jagged completed by speaking seriously for the first time.

"But people are healing, that's what matters. Plus Gotham has one of the best universities in the world which will certainly help me a lot with Luck Charm."

"It must have been pretty hard living all that time under the pressure of not being able to release your feelings in a decent way" Dick commented sympathetically.

"Everyone did what they could to not get akumatized. And those who couldn't or didn't care... people just wished it wasn't so bad." She spoke with a faraway look

"And how it is?" Damian asked, causing her to turn her attention to him, not understanding the question. Dick looked at him scolding him "What's it like to be akumatized?" She looked him in the eyes, but before she even answered, Penny did.

"I don't think Mari is the best person to answer since she has never been akumatized" Penny commented, hugging the young woman from the side.

"There were some very close situations... in one of the most extreme cases he called the akuma back. Not being akumatized is probably the hardest thing to do, but I managed it and I believe meditation and my family at the time were what got me helped. I also talked to Alfred quite often. I think knowing how to address stress and feelings was what helped me the most." She commented with a tight smile.

"I believe it's best that we direct the conversation to the dining room." Alfred spoke completely cutting the subject. Everyone got up, following Alfred to the dining room, not being able to notice some exchanges of glances between the family.

Dinner passed with light conversation about Jagged's tour accompanied by delicious food served by Alfred. Jokes and puns were thrown in during dinner, setting a mild mood, very different from earlier in the evening, where the atmosphere was tense.

“Hey Alfie, dinner was wonderful. I already missed your food, there's no place that can do what you do…” commented Jagged excitedly “I'll invite myself to eat here whenever I'm in Gotham…”

"Jagged... you can't just invite yourself into people's homes..." Marinette commented, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head.

“Oh M, I already do that with Tom and Sabine. You know very well that this is true. Your parents and Alfred are the best…”

“I'm glad you enjoyed the food, Mr. Stone. I suggest you finish your conversation in the living room and I'll bring you all tea in a minute." the butler commented getting up, watching the others leave next. Marinette watched the others leave, gathering some plates to help her grandfather.

“Do you think you can come to lunch with me tomorrow? We really need to talk…” the young woman said gathering all the dishes and taking them calmly to a cart that was in the corner of the dining room.

"I'll be there. Did anything happen besides the pending conversation?” the older one replied looking at her intently, studying her reactions. She looked at him without answering and they were both silent for a few seconds.

“I need to have a breakdown before answering this question, but we can say that the night has not been very easy… The conversation with Adrien was difficult and all the questions today were not very helpful…”

"I'm going to make you some tea to help you relax… In the meantime, we'll talk and you can explain to me what's going on in that head of yours that's always full…" the eldest smiled lightly, heading towards the kitchen with his granddaughter right behind him.

–

"What possessed you to ask those kinds of questions Damian? I think it was clear that Parisians have a hard time with the whole Hawkmorth situation… We're not in an interrogation…" Dick spoke to the younger one when they both fell further behind when left the dining room.

"Tt. It's obvious to me that she knows something… The whole situation in Paris was very closely guarded, we don't have much information about what really happened these years…"

"Damian… Alfred asked that there be no involvement on our part. We all agreed not to delve into her life… "

"I, as an outsider of the situation, was trying to understand what went on in Paris. I wasn't looking at anything in her life… " the young man stopped to look the older one in the eye "I just think from the way she spoke and her reaction, she was involved..."

"Where is she? I didn't see her go by with the others…" Dick asked looking where they came from.

"She was talking to Alfred." Damian ended the conversation and walked back to the living room. He didn't intend to stay long, but he didn't want to be lectured by his father. Dick stopped for a few seconds, going back the way he did earlier and going to the kitchen, where he could hear part of their conversation.

___

"Adrien is trying to convince me to go back to London." She spoke as soon as they entered the kitchen. She was clearly uncomfortable with her conversation with her ex. "My presence wasn't doing him any good grandpa"

He sighed looking at his granddaughter "You need to worry a little about yourself too Mari. You need to be sure of what you want and what you need." He paused, reaching over and holding both of her hands. "Let's try to explain it piece by piece. Why do you think your presence hurts him?"

"He has nightmares seeing me… " she stopped talking closing her eyes “...during the last encounter everything got out of control and…"

"Calm down my love. Take your time…" he rubbed her hand lightly trying to be supportive.

"He thinks that because he couldn't protect me on the last day, because he saw me... he thinks that being by my side is putting me in danger. He pulled away and when he said it was better that we broke up, I ended up accepting it." she opened her eyes letting a tear fall. Marinette was going to continue but before she could say anything, she looked her grandfather in the eyes and stopped, pressing her lips together. "It's better if we talk when we're in a place where no one can hear us…"

"Hum…" the butler paused looking at her "we'll talk better tomorrow, ok?" She nodded.

"I'll understand your calmness about this whole situation as a vote of confidence but I don't like it…" He smiled slightly with the younger girl's sentence moving away. He put the water on to boil in the kettle, watching as she approached and stopped next to the marble cupboard in the center of the kitchen. He walked over to her, holding her hand "Do you trust me?"

"My life and more" she answered honestly and without hesitation.

"Then get that worry out of your head… " he said placing his index finger on her head. Marinette just pursed her lips, looking at him "Worry about what is necessary. I'll be by your side to solve what you need" Alfred caressed her face, seeing his granddaughter nod positively, leading them both to the door right away. As soon as he got to the door, both stopped and Alfred addressed the guy who was on his back playing with his cell phone "do you need anything Master Dick?"

….

Dick returned to the kitchen, stopping in the hallway when he heard the voices of Alfred and Marinette.

"He has nightmares seeing me... during the last encounter everything got out of control and…" 

 "Calm down my love. Take your time…"

"He thinks that because he couldn't protect me on the last day, because he saw me... he thinks that being by my side is putting me in danger. He pulled away and when he said it was better that we broke up, I ended up accepting it." Dick heard Marinette talking, noticing that they both stopped talking for a few moments. He was going to move, but stopped when he heard the young woman continue "It's better if we talk when we're in a place where no one can hear us…"

Dick was standing next to the kitchen for about 5 minutes and he was sure no one heard him coming, so how? He never understood how Alfred managed to sense his presence even when he didn't make a sound in the dark. Even after years he had come to simply accept that his grandfather just managed to be always present. Finding out that her granddaughter could do something similar was intriguing to say the least. Was it a family thing? Dick took the cell phone sending message in the group chat that has only his brothers.

Group Chat: The war zone

The First One

She certainly knows about what happened and from what I understand, so does Alfred.

It's scary how they manage to talk without saying anything...

I think it runs in the family, she knew I was down the hall in less than 5 minutes….

The Best One

I said she knew something. Pennyworth must explain to us later.

Richard was about to respond to the group when he heard Alfred speak behind him. He noticed that the cell phone started to be bombarded with a lot of messages, keeping it in his pants pocket.

"Do you need anything Master Dick?"

"Alfred! I came to get Marinette, she wasn't with the others…" he said smiling gallantly as he looked at the two. Marinette looked him up and down, taking a deep breath...

"And here I thought only Mr Wayne was like that…"

"Marinette…" Alfred spoke in a scolding tone.

"What? Seriously grandpa, Mr Wayne acted exactly the same yesterday… This family is very strange…" she said as she walked a little further ahead and Alfred shook his head negatively at the interaction.

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

Hello everyone... sorry for the delay but life is hectic... 

I'm still trying to finish editing the other chapters of "My not so normal little sister" and it's complicated... I won't even start with the others WIPs that are in my head and partially written. thank you for your patience, feedback and a thousand apologies if I forgot to tag someone. And again, english is not my first language, it's actually my fourth so I am so sorry for the grammar mistakes... the goal is always to improve

@fusser90  @night-ngale  @missmadwoman  @prettylittlebutterflie @babylovebug18 @its-maemain @iglowinggemma28 @the-church-grimm @kp-names @iamablinkmarvelarmy​ @starling218  @battybatbat  @atiredartistandacat @serasvictoria02 @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @alice-hazelwood @maybeanalien0-0 @stella17luna  @sknerd101 @kathygene @waffleyunsure @nightfallsthings @taewinterbear95 @occulta-lacrimarum13  @kathygene  @tinybrie​  @kitsun369​  @iglowinggemma28​  @crazylittlemunchkin​  @nightfallsthings  @fangirlingfanatic​  @nightmarewasteland​   @laydeekrayzee  @the-ruler-of-death​ @sarcasticbambi

[spideybatsy]

A+B | Chapter Three

Summary: GN!reader is falling in love with Bruce Wayne, even if they won't admit it. Everything takes a turn for the worse when Bruce's biggest secret comes to light.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader

WC: 2.1K

Warnings: attempted mugging!

Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3

Masterlist

“Going on another date, are you?”

A laugh leaves my mouth as I turn to my flatmate, Stacey. “I think you’re the only person who would call it that,” I respond.

“And what would you call it?” She walks further into the room and sits on the end of my bed.

“I don’t know,” honesty is always the best policy. “Probably just dinner with a friend.”

“A friend who just so happens to be very rich, very handsome and quite the bachelor.” She hums, “how many times have you been over now?”

“Maybe half a dozen?” It’s been a few months and you try to have dinner weekly, but things come up and plans change. “I’ll have you know that Alfred joins us every now and then.”

“Yes, Alfred. The older man who has been taking care of your ‘friend’ since his birth. Some might call him a father to Bruce.” She uses air quotes as she says friend. “Not something a couple would do at all.”

I try to brush it off, as I have done every time before, but something inside me just snaps. “Don’t you think he would’ve made a move if he was interested in me?”

Stacey goes to respond but I cut her off.

“Every time he’s seen with someone, it’s a 20-something model whose skinner, prettier and much more PR than me. He’s a playboy, Stace. He’s never had trouble making a move before and therefore, the lack of ‘move’ shows that he has no interest in me.”

She stands from the end of my bed, gently taking me into her arms. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

I struggle to keep the tears at bay. I will not cry about this. Not now, not ever. Bruce is a friend and a friend alone. He’s never made a move to indicate otherwise and it would be unfair of me to be upset about it. There are much more pressing matters than an unreciprocated crush.

“It’s fine, honestly. I’m just sick of having it thrown in my face.” My voice sounds so small, so weak.

“Okay, I’m sorry. No more Bruce talk.” Stacey rubs my back, putting me more at ease.

“Thank you.”

Our moment is cut short as someone knocks on the door. “That’ll be Alfred.” He insisted on picking me up once he found out my car was getting serviced.

“I’ll get the door,” Stacey says. “You, get all cleaned up. Can’t have him know we were talking about a boy.”

--

“Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in.” Bruce says as he stands by the door, ushering me inside.

“As long as we’re feline fine, it doesn’t matter.” I hold back a grin, watching as Bruce’s face lights up.

“That was terrible, truly.” We sit down on the couch, his thigh casually resting against my own. Every time I come over, he sits slightly closer to me. Whether it’s purposeful or subconscious, I don’t know. I do know that it sends my heart racing, so I take a deep breath as I look around the room, hoping it looks innocent enough.

We talk briefly about work but there’s not much to say. We only saw each other a few days ago and despite living in Gotham, we live uneventful lives. So, rather than sit in silence I turn on the TV. I’m flicking through the channels when an old cartoon catches my eye. I hesitate and then switch the channel.

“I thought you liked Looney Tunes?”

I turn to Bruce, still holding the remote. “I figured you wouldn’t be interested, it’s fairly… childish.”

The corner of his mouth turns down as he leans closer to me. I notice the mole next to his eye, I don’t know why I’d never seen it before. “I’d do anything, as long as you were with me.” Before I can fully process his words, he pulls back. “Looney Tunes isn’t childish anyway, it’s classic.”

Without turning away from him, I switch the channel back. Anything? With me? Bruce doesn’t look back down at me and instead seems invested in the show. I miss his small smile when I turn to the screen, I also miss the way his entire face softens when he looks over at me.

We manage to watch a few episodes before Alfred comes to get us. Whether it was because me or him, I’m not sure, but our legs are squished together, his hand resting on my leg. Knowing dinner is ready, I go to turn the tv off, but my finger slips and I accidentally bring up the news. There’s a robbery happening downtown, there are a few hostages being held at gunpoint. Bruce shifts on the couch, his hand subconsciously squeezing my knee. Alfred also moves closer, leaning on the back of the couch behind Bruce.

“Do you think Batman will show up?” Both their heads snap to me. Anytime the topic of Batman came up, I changed the subject. It was probably silly, but there was an incident last year where Bruce was being held hostage and the vigilante never showed up. It wasn’t publicly addressed, but a lot of people said that Batsy hated rich people, so he wouldn’t save the billionaire.

It’s Alfred that responds first, “I’m sure the police have it handled.”

“Batman has a duty to the people.” Bruce almost snaps back.

Alfred lets out an irate sigh. “Everyone needs a break. Even the great Batman.”

Bruce doesn't respond, instead, he stands up. I hadn’t realised how warm he was until he left my side.

“What do you think?” It takes me a moment to realise Alfred is addressing me.

I look over at Bruce, whose eyebrows are furrowed, his face in a tight scowl. I wonder if this is bringing up bad memories for him. Bringing up the anxiety he must've felt that day. I briefly consider lying but I know Bruce would see straight through me.

“I think he carries a great burden.” I look over at Bruce, but he’s death staring at the ground. “And I feel very sorry for him.”

At this, he looks at me. “Sorry?”

“Crime in Gotham never stops, which means he never stops. That’s got to be too much for one man to handle, no matter how good-looking he is.”

Alfred goes to speak but is immediately cut off by Bruce. “You think Batman is good-looking?”

“You don’t?” I almost laugh. “I mean, look at him. All dark and mysterious, with huge muscles and a desire to help people? How could you not be attracted to him?”

Silence falls over the room and suddenly I’m worried that I said too much. Bruce probably hates Batman; Batman seems to hate him. God, what if I’ve just ruined everything, my new little fa-

My thoughts are cut short when I see a small, cheeky smile play on Bruce’s lips. Alfred tries, and fails, to cover his laugh.

“Well, when you say it like that.” The older man says, “How could you not be?” Then he walks out of the room.

Bruce is still smiling when he comes over to the couch and takes my hand, leading me towards the dining room. I don’t miss the way he looks back at the tv, or the way his eyes narrow when he does.

--

We’re halfway through our meal when Bruce puts his utensils down. Alfred didn’t join us tonight, so it’s just the two of us. I hesitate on my own meal when he stands up and walks over to the side of my chair. Gently, he reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear. His hands comes to rest on my cheek. His palm is so big that it covers my cheek and still lingers on the side of my neck.

“I’ve got to go, A.” The disappointment that floods my veins must show on my face because he starts stroking my cheek with his thumb.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Alfred can make you anything you ask for and then he’ll drive you home.”

“Okay.” My voice is softer than I expected. “Is everything okay?”

“Apart from leaving you, everything is fine.” He leans in and for a moment, just a brief moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.

Instead, he pulls away and leaves. I try to compose myself enough to finish my meal, but my appetite has vanished.

“Is everything okay, Master Wayne?” Alfred stops short when he notices Bruce’s empty chair. His eyes shift over to me and instantly soften. “He left you here?”

“Yeah,” I rise from my seat. “I’m going to head home.”

“Give me one second to get the car.”

“It’s okay, I’d rather walk.” He hesitates for a moment but must decide it’s a good decision because he leads me to the door. “I am sorry, truly. Master Wayne doesn’t always think.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” I wrap my arms around his torso. “I’ll see you.”

Then I walk out the door and into the darkness.

--

The streets of Gotham are creepy during the day, so I’ve always avoided them at night. But now that I’m here, the fresh air helps ease the stinging behind my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m so upset. Bruce is an incredibly busy man, and I’ve never had any right to his time.

Part of me wonders if I’m actually upset because he didn’t kiss me. I feel myself cupping my cheek where his hand was, but it just doesn’t feel right. Am I just making all this up?

In the back of my mind, I hear distant footsteps behind me. I’m so wrapped up in my head that I don’t notice as they progressively get faster and closer.

Does Bruce think about me when I’m not around? He talks so sweetly but maybe he talks to everyone like that.

The only warning is the prickle at the back of my neck. Then heavy hands grab my shoulders. A scream escapes my throat as I try to run away, thrashing in his grasp. But it’s no use. The stranger effortlessly pulls me off the street and shoves me into a brick wall.

My face is gets scratched while I struggle against him but I quickly stop when I feel the metal head of a gun press into my side.

“Give me your wallet.” I can hardly hear him over my ragged breathing.

My hands fumble around my pocket for my wallet, I don’t bother telling him it's empty.

“Hurry up, bitch.” He presses the gun further into my side, “Or I’ll press the trigger.”

The tears are freely running down my face now, I’m almost hiccupping with every breath. My wallet falls to the floor, and I tense as he pulls away and leans down to reach for it.

Seconds pass.

Then a minute.

I take a deep breath and turn my head to look behind me, but no one’s there.

I’m overcome with relief and turn around to spot my wallet still on the floor. It’s wet and dirty but at least I won’t have to get new ID. There’s the crunch of broken glass near the dumpster. I can’t stop the flinch that jolts up my spine at the sound, as I cower away.

“Don’t be scared.” The voice is deep, unnaturally so.

“Please, I don’t have anything.” I whimper. “Please, I swear.”

A figure emerges from the darkness, yet the darkness doesn’t disappear. Then I realise, he is the darkness.

“You’re safe.”

My knees give out and I fall to the floor, as sobs rack through my body. I can’t see through my tears, but I hear him step closer. Then, he’s by my side. Arms wrapped around me, palm on my face and thumb stroking my cheek calmly.

I don’t know how long we sit there but it’s drizzling by the time I relax. Now that my eyes are cleared, I rake them over the strange man. He’s covered in head-to-toe black, but don’t look any higher than his chest and the bat symbol plastered there. I’m too scared to look into his eyes.

He helps me stand up, his arm still wrapped around my waist. He moves around for a moment and then drapes his cape across my shoulders. I hadn’t realised how cold I was. We stand in the street for what feels like minutes but is probably seconds. Then, I drag my gaze up his chest and to his eyes, which are staring back at me.

They’re stunning.

Yet, there’s something so familiar about him that I just can’t place my finger on.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

I nod and he slowly starts walking me out of the street. Then I see it. The mole next to his eye. I say it before I even think. Just one small word, yet the damage is incomprehensible.

“Bruce?”

[ao3feed-superbat]

No One Could Ever Replace You

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/NBen7Ru by CapedAlexander “Oh, hey Clark.” He straightened up and turned to face Clark who sat down on the couch next to the armchair Dick was sitting in. “I know we probably should have had this conversation before you and Bruce got married, but…What does your being married to Bruce mean for our relationship? I mean you’re only like eight years older than me so, even if I did think of Bruce as my father, I definitely don’t think of you that way. But he is family, which makes you family so what does that mean for us?” aka. Clark Kent and Dick Grayson talk about Dick's place in the family now that Bruce and Clark are married. Words: 1595, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Superman - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Clark Kent, Dick Grayson Relationships: Dick Grayson & Clark Kent, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Fluff, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Established Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent Tries to Be a Good Parent, Dick Grayson and Clark Kent are Friends, Dick Grayson Finally Talks About His Feelings read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/NBen7Ru

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

[ladyelissarose]

Part of.. “Living In The Lyrics”

Perfect

Song- ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran 

Battinson x reader 

Summary: Bruce never knew his childhood friend was after all his soulmate for life. (FLUFFFFF)

I found a love, for me

Darling just dive right in

And follow my lead

Well, I found the girl, beautiful and sweet

I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

  In the crisp air of the spring night, while barefooted on the soft green grass Bruce stood face to face with his childhood best friend, Y/n Y/l/n, or who was now, Y/n Wayne. Taking in her beautiful countenance as it glowed with the moonlight shining upon her, he took a deep breath as he lifted a small but loving smile. If he had asked himself as a kid when he met his best friend, that if years later would he marry her, he would’ve said no. For Y/n held a very different personality than from him, she grew up with her father after her mother left them for another man, but either way she was bubbly and happy, always wearing bright colors with her hair bouncing everywhere when she ran around with undeniable joy.  

  While Bruce on the other hand, after he lost his both parents, he became depressed and a loner, changed his personality drastically to always wanting to be silent and wearing dark colors, it was like a sign saying he was still mourning his loss. He was classmates with Y/n sense kindergarten, they both attended a top notch school, both of their parents were rich of course so they placed their children in the best school with harsh but great education. But after Bruce parents died he insisted that he be homeschooled, he didn’t want to face the public, their questions were overwhelming and the stares bothered him, he also didn’t feel like being surrounded by other kids his age that were loud and annoying to him, he just wanted to be alone with Alfred, his mentor and butler. But nonetheless his best friend always came by his house and helped him out with homework, bringing back and forth his assignments as well. Before the tragedy stroke Bruce and Y/n were always playful and getting into messes at the galas they attend with their parents, but sense Bruce was the Prince of Gotham he never got in trouble for it, and because he was best friends with Y/n, he made sure she was safe with him, and never got scolded either. 

Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

Darling just kiss me slow

Your heart is all I own

And I your eyes, you’re holding mine

He had a feeling for her that he didn’t know was actually love, all he knew was that when she was with him he was happy and safe, he trusted her with his whole heart and gave it to no other. He called his strong feelings for her a good friendship, a great friendship actually, because no matter who he was or who she was, Y/n was either way a humbled person and gave a helping hand to those who needed it. She never let her riches and fathers high position in the city go through her head. Y/n always invited Bruce to go with her and they volunteered at shelters and places where they helped the poor, ever sense they were a little kids, being a great demonstration of what a good person is, at least their parents told them so. But as they were growing older Bruce only was in Y/n’s presence when he felt extremely lonely or that he wanted to play chess or something that kept the area quiet but with company, but she either way kept him lively with small talk, refusing to let him drown in his own sorrow. Deep in her heart she had a safe place for him to stay, with hurt and all she stood by his side regardless of the rough times he gave her sometimes when he let his pain get to him. She felt the hit too with Bruce’s parents died, she was close with Martha, Bruce’s mother, only because she didn’t have one herself, she was alone with her father for most of her life growing up. But she refused to compare her pain with his, so when she came around, Y/n made it a point to get him up and moving around, also getting some sun on the few occasions that Gotham wasn’t pouring rain. Or at night she take him around in the garden at the balcony of the Manor as they listened to a soft but favorite melody of theirs, she made sure he was barefooted too, saying that it was good for his feet to feel something other than the shoes and hard floor he walked on daily. But that all came to a stop once they both went to college, Y/n went to Harvard to get a degree in Law, while Bruce went his separate way to study on his own, but his choices of majors were always a mess and he couldn’t make up his mind. So he always took classes here and there, switching them up as he got bored. Their strong friendship tore apart little by little as they lost touch and lived their own lives like if they never knew each other. But that was Bruce’s fault, Y/n always sent him letters and tried to call him, but he left to dust his incoming letters and never picked up the phone, even less when he started the Gotham Project. Keeping up with the crimes in the city as well as his own life made him forget Y/n almost completely. Which soon he regretted, when he felt that he needed her the most on nights that haunted his mind with the past. 

Baby, I’m, dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, we’re listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess,

I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling you look perfect tonight

 Bruce twirled Y/n around watching her white gown flow in the wind as she wore a happy smile of satisfaction and joy. Her soft and warm hands were soft against his face as she cradled it, with a look of admiration. Seeing her like this reminded him of the night he saw her again, after not seeing her for almost 3 years. It was at a Charity Gala of course, Alfred had insisted he go, saying that making a public appearance was good for him, as well as try to socialize with different people. On the other hand Y/n had just returned from university, and her father welcomed her back with the offer of joining him at the Gala, saying it would be fun and something that wasn’t books and work. So she went after much convincing. 

  Oddly enough both of them received attention and warm welcomes, but neither felt comfortable or exactly happy, deep in their hearts they knew something was missing, but they didn’t know just what yet. Until the late night drew in as the moon shined brightly in the sky, blending with the Gotham clouds that spread across the sky hiding the stars, Bruce decided he needed a break from the crowd, he was so lost the entire time, stumbling on his words and shying away from the prying paparazzi. He figured that if he escaped to the balcony of the elegant building, he’d be alone. But he was so wrong, someone was already there. He didn’t know who just yet though,

 until the suppose stranger turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. At seeing her face Bruce took in a deep breath as his heart squeezed in his chest, he simply breathed out her name,

  “Y/n?”

 “Bruce!”

 Without second though Y/n threw her arms around Bruce’s neck embracing him with all her might, and she mumbled into his ear,

  “I missed you.”

 Star-struck of her reaction to seeing him again caught Bruce off guard, he thought she was going to storm off and leave him like he did her, but instead she was digging her head into the crook of his neck as she tightened her arms on him, as if she was afraid that if she let go it would all crumble apart or just not be real at all. 

  Bruce finally wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her slightly off the ground, her backless dress let his hands roam across her bare skin that was soft and warm under his cold and calloused hands. He felt like crying, braking down and just overall confessing how sorry he was, for leaving her to dry and forgetting how she was there for him sense day one, but instead he pulled her away and planted a kiss to the corner of her plump red lips, letting his kiss linger there as he decided what to do next, or what the right thing to say, his hand was holding her waist tightly as the other held her chin up, he then felt him thumb wet where it was resting on her chin and he opened his eyes to see that his best friend was crying, the moon glistened off her wet cheeks as she looked up at him with a hint of pain and hope in her eyes, her voice lowered as she asked,

  “Why did you never call back? Or send a letter.. I waited day and night for even the smallest thing.. but I never got a word-“

  “i’m so sorry-“

  “Bruce Wayne I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you.. why didn’t you call back?” 

   His gaze left her eyes as it hurt him to see his best friend crying because of him, but he found the true courage that was hidden deep inside his broken heart to confess...

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know 

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her home

I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets, 

To carry love, to carry children of our own

  “because I’ve loved you all my life.. and still do, because you’re the strongest person I know.. you’ve kept me on my feet, whether it was on the grass at my place or on the wet pavement as we danced in the rain.. but, I never helped you out. Never comforted your pain, I hid away and only took and took from you.. I had to realize that my fear of losing you was really looking like I was using you for your goodness and healed heart. When in reality all I wanted was to be with you forever.. and when you left off college, I figured that by then you had probably found someone else, to be your friend.. and lover. And I couldn’t bare the thought of discovering the fact that maybe you were never coming back home.. coming home to me.. you’re my home Y/n, so yes, I didn’t ever reach you again or called back, because I was scared of what could’ve been the truth, the truth of you moving on.. I know it sounds selfish and stupid. But please don’t doubt my love for you, it’s all I’ll ever be sure off.”

  Y/n reached out her hands to grab Bruce’s into hers, she let out a sigh as she leaned her forehead against his his, closing her eyes she confessed,

  “Bruce.. I’ve been your friend and lover all my life, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. You’re my home too, we both lost something big in our lives.. and as much as it burned my chest to know that we could never fight to get them back, I had to fight to keep what I still had, which was you. Why do you think I showed up everyday? Everyday, to talk to you, play with you, sing and dance Bruce, oh and for Christ’s sake teach you how to cook, though we ended up almost burning down Alfred’s kitchen.”

  That made a short giggle leave Bruce’s lips at the mention of that core memory, that was definitely a story for another time. Y/n opened her eyes and looked at Bruce’s large hands locking in with her fingers as she brushed his knuckles, they were covered in faded bruises, now looking back at him she whispered in his ear,

  ‘I know your secret.. but it’s been safe with me sense you’ve started.’

  His eyes snapped to hers as he debated the fact of being convinced that she really knew or not, until she added,

  ‘The only person I know who’s favorite animal is a bat.. is you. As well as I have your face memorized from years of knowing you.. the mask hides nothing from me..’

 She then sent him a wink and before Bruce could spill the truth more about his secrets with her Y/n pulled him by the collar for a real, and deep kiss. His hands drifted to her back pressing her closer to him, locking her in between his arms as she still held his collar kissing him like her life depended on it. Feeling each other smile through the kiss they pulled away for air after what felt like an eternity of kissing another’s lips. Y/n beamed with a smile as he wiped her drying tears, they giggled as they embraced again. Feeling that feeling they felt when they locked eyes for the first times years ago, full of love and innocence.

We are still kids, but we’re so in love,

Fighting against all odds,

I know we’ll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand,

Be my girl, I’ll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

  His mind coming back to the present he felt Y/n tug on his collar as she asked him lovingly,

  “A penny for your thought my husband?”

 Sending her a warm smile he answered truthfully,

 “Just thinking about the first time you kissed me Mrs. Wayne.. my one and only perfect wife... “

  “You’re too cute.. my perfect husband.”

 That comment sent him scoffing in disbelief as he doubted himself,

 “Perfect.. dear, I don’t think so.. I fight crime everyday.. dressed like a damn bat.. then I have a terrible sleep schedule, I sometimes cave myself in and lose it.. I get shy and don’t know how to tell you how I exactly feel.. you’ve basically become my therapist.. and I only eat when your there if not I only nibble on blueberries... I still don’t know how you said yes. What could be so perfect about me.. you on the other hand are flawless?”

   “Oh baby... maybe you feel like you’re not perfect enough for this world.. but to me, you’re perfect enough.. what you see as flaws I see as perfection.. I said yes.. because that’ll be my answer for everything and forever.. Yes, to let you cry on me, yes, to spoon feed you when I find out that you haven’t been eating well, yes, to stitch up your scars every time you come home from patrol, yes, to remind you every day that what you do for the city as both the Batman and Bruce Thomas Wayne is enough and appreciated, yes, to go through life with you in sickness and health, the good and bad.. and lastly but not least, I say yes, to tell you day and night and every second I can that I love you, that I’m madly in love with you. When I see you Bruce, I see my future shining in your baby blues. So yes, once again.. you’re perfect to me.”

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what is see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don’t deserve this...

You look perfect tonight

“Thank you.. for believing in me dear, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

  “You’re welcome Bruce...”

  Bruce continued to dance with her as they talked about the future, to him Y/n was his perfect angel, and to her.. Bruce was her perfect Bat.. they both had wings and flew together, trials of course would come into their lives, they both knew it, but that only made them come closer, to stand through it all. Maybe to the world they weren’t the perfect couple, but in the Wayne family, inside the walls, they learned that through acceptance came perfection.

[staywhelmedbatfam]

I’d Fight Superman Just to Hold Your Hand (2/2)

~Older!Damian Wayne/Kent!Reader~

Summary: Bruce finds out about the date. Of course, teasing of the World's Greatest Detective ensues.

Part One / Part Two (You’re Here)

I had posted this second part on AO3 back in February and felt too lazy to post it here on Tumblr. Now that I’ve graduated college, I have free time again and am remembering to post this! Enjoy.

***

Batman was in the middle of sharing a debriefing with the rest of the Justice League members on the Watchtower. Seeing as he’s Batman, he picked up on Superman’s impatience while he talked. He decided on ignoring it but after ten minutes of constant glances at the clock and thumb-twiddling, Bruce couldn’t take it anymore.

Batman turned to the Kryptonian, calling him out mid-sentence with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Clark. Is there somewhere else you need to be right now?”

“Sorry. I’m just on edge because (Y/N) is on her first date,” he paused and squinted at the Bat before finishing, “With your son.”

Bruce’s eyes widened from surprise beneath his cowl. He recalled Damian requesting not to patrol tonight and saying something about going to Metropolis. Any time something related to dating came up in the Manor, Damian would usually roll his eyes or scowl. Bruce had just assumed he was doing something with Jon. World’s Greatest Detective, everybody.

“What?” he asked with a deadpan expression, his tone flat – maybe a little disbelieving. It was more of a rhetorical question than a genuine query.

Flash spoke up before anyone else could. “Woah, hold on a minute. Robin is dating (Y/N)?”

“You two could end up becoming in-laws,” Hal chimed in with an amused grin. Batman let out his usual annoyed grunt as he narrowed his eyes at him. Superman also gave his own glare. “Too soon?”

A moment passed and Clark turned back to Bruce with a surprised expression. “You really had no idea?” When there was no response, he continued. “Damian approached me a week and a half ago, asking for permission to take her on a date.”

“Kid’s got moves,” Flash mumbled to himself.

Bruce ignored Barry’s comment. “I see…”

***

Having returned to the Batcave from the League meeting, Bruce sat in front of the Batcomputer. He was doing some research and typing out case notes, but those weren’t the only things on his mind. His conversation with Clark has been replaying ever since he left the Watchtower.

Drawing him from his thoughts, Alfred entered the cave and came walking over with a tray in his hands. “Would you care for some refreshments, sir?”

“No. Thank you, Alfred.”

“Say, Alfred…” Bruce suddenly said after a pause – stopping Alfred from walking away – and sat back to stare at the computer screen for a brief moment before turning to the butler. “Did you know that Damian and (Y/N) were going on a date tonight?”

“Of course, sir. You didn’t?” he replied, surprise lacing his words and evident on his face.

“I–,” Bruce sighed then shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No…”

“Perhaps you should spend more time with Master Damian as his father and less time as the Batman.” Alfred began walking away again without receiving a response to his suggestion.

***

Lois was still awake doing some late-night work on the couch when Clark got home from the meeting. He plopped down next to her and let his head slump over onto her shoulder. She took one glance at her husband and shut her laptop, sitting it on the cushion next to her.

“What are you so mopey for? You have to face the fact that our daughter has grown up.” Clark let out a grumbled denial.

“But why did it have to be Damian?”

Rolling her eyes, Lois tried to cheer him up. “Look at it this way – we don’t have to worry about telling anyone else about the ‘Super’ secret. Oh, and she was in the door exactly at ten.”

There was a brief silence and then Clark mumbled, “He always has been very punctual.” He let out a heavy sigh. “It feels like it was just yesterday when she walked through the door for the first time.”

“Now she’s graduated high school and starting college in the fall. It makes me feel old,” Lois responded. Clark nodded in agreement.

The two of them remained on the couch in silence. Sometimes light conversation would break up the quiet, but it wasn’t necessary for them to talk. They just enjoyed sitting with each other for a bit longer before going to bed.

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

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

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Some Wounds Leave Scars (Part 3)

Fandom: DC, The Batman, Batman, Bruce Wayne

Word Count: 2137

TW: Hospital, Head Wound, Language

Notes: The reader is Alfred's daughter. Thank you to @green-socks for beta reading for me!

This is set before The Batman (2022) so there are no spoilers for the movie.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four (Coming soon)

The doors of the elevator opened and your father led you out into an expansive, dimly lit room. Hesitantly, you followed the man you knew more from stories and letters rather than in person and you wondered if he was as nervous to be around you as you were to be around him. Not that you didn’t trust him, but you barely knew your father. And now, he was all you had left.

Everything around you was grim and somber, but you didn’t care because it matched how you were feeling inside. As you rounded the corner, you saw a boy maybe a year or two older than you sitting on a couch reading. His dark, messy hair fell into his face as he looked up and stared at you with pale, blue eyes which looked like they have seen far too much for his age. It was a look that you recognized in your mirror.

But the boy stood and gave you a small smile as he extended his hand. “Hello, Alfred told me you were coming to live with us. My name is Bruce.”

You quietly introduced yourself as you hesitantly took his hand. He continued to stare at you, and you saw something pass over his face. A look of understanding as if he recognized you share the same pain he has. With a small nod, he drew you farther into the room. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like. I know this is probably a lot to take in right now, but I hope you can come to think of this place as home one day.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me,” you asked softly.

“But I would like to. Plus, you’re Alfred’s daughter and that makes you family, even if you don’t realize that yet.” He lowered his voice as he took a step closer and bent over so he was at eye level with you. “Not that we are trying to replace your mom because no one could ever do that. We just want you to remember that there are still people here for you and you aren’t alone. Okay?”

You hesitated for just a moment before throwing your arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were your last lifeline. Bruce stumbled back under your unexpected embrace but as he regained his balance, he wrapped his arms around you. He seemed to be the only thing anchoring you through your pain and grief and for the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of hope that you were going to be alright.

Finally, you released your hold on Bruce’s neck and he straightened up. Offering you his hand once more, he said, “Come on… I’ll help you pick out a room.”

But as he led you to the stairs, he passed through a shadow, and it was no longer a ten-year-old Bruce holding your hand. It was the Batman. You tried to pull your hand away, but he just smiled down at you. You suddenly realized you were no longer a child either, but your current self. Shaking your head, you whispered, “Bruce, you don’t have to become this. I know you are helping people, that you have always just wanted to help people, but I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The Batman stepped closer and cupped your face in his hand as he whispered, “Then why did you leave me?”

Your eyes flew open just to close again instantly at the bright light glaring in your eyes. You groaned softly as pain shot through your head, and you struggled to remember where you are or what happened.

You heard a voice murmur your name, “Is the light too bright? Give me a second.”

After a moment, you could sense the lights dim and you cracked your eyes open once more. The room was now only lit by the faint glow of the sun through the blinds and the stark, clean lights from the hall. You watched as Bruce removed his sunglasses and returned to the chair by the side of your bed.

“Is that better? It was too bright for me too. But I wasn’t sure what you would want once you woke up.”

“’Course it was too bright for you. You’re basically a vampire. When’s the last time you saw the sun?” you asked with a light chuckle, but it sent another flare of pain through your head.

Bruce noticed instantly. “How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts. And I don’t really remember what-” Suddenly, it all came rushing back. Dinner with your father, walking back to Wayne Tower, the men who had confronted you, fighting back, a gunshot- You frantically struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that this action caused. “My father! He was shot! I have to go to him! I must make sure-”

Bruce gently eased you back into the bed. “Alfred’s going to be fine. The bullet hit just above the knee and went straight through. He’ll need a cane or a crutch for a while, but the doctors think he’ll make a full recovery.”

You leaned back, your head throbbing painfully. “And me?”

“You have a small linear fracture where you were hit, but you should be fine. You just need some rest. They want to keep you here for a few days under observation just to make sure, but then you’ll be free to come home.”

Home. The word lingered in the air between you, heavy and thick. You thought back to the time when Wayne Tower had been your home. About when your father and Bruce had been your world and everything you ever needed. But then you went and destroyed all of that. And now…. you weren’t sure where home was.

Thinking back to your dream, you asked, “Bruce…. Do you remember when we first met?”

He nodded with a soft smile. “Of course. How could I ever forget? Why do you ask?”

You shook your head softly. “I was dreaming about it just now. How scared I was. I was in a new place, coming to live with a man I barely knew, I had just lost the person who meant the most to me in the world, and I thought no one would ever understand the pain I was feeling. But then I met you. And you were the first person since my mother died who didn’t look at me with pity. You took one look at me and it felt like you knew every part of me. And more than that, you understood everything I was feeling in a way no one else ever did. Even my father. Because you had been there. I don’t know if I could have made it through her loss without you by my side. And I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”

A deep red color bloomed across his pale skin as he stared at the floor. “I just tried to be the friend I wished I had had when I lost my parents. It was no big deal.”

“Maybe to you, but to me it was everything. You have always been the light of hope shining through my darkest moments and I need you to know that.” You gently took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You never give yourself enough credit for the amazing things you do for others. You are one of the most selfless people I have ever met, yet you act like you still owe the world everything.” You thought back to the scars you saw littering his chest and back, to him in the suit as he saved you from your attackers, to the news reports and videos you had seen almost every night for the past two years. He had sacrificed and given more to this city than anyone would ever know, and it scared you how much more he might have to sacrifice before he hung up the cowl… if he lived long enough to hang up the cowl. “I just…. I just need you to take care of yourself every once in a while too.”

An uncomfortable silence settled throughout the room as your words linger. So, you finally decided to switch topics to something else you had been eager to bring up. “You know… Batman saved us last night.”

Bruce nodded but still refused to meet your eye. “Yeah, Alfred mentioned that.”

“I never imagined I would ever see him in person, let alone have him rescue me. It was a rather unreal experience, being able to see him fight up close and personal. Even if I could only see out of one eye. I just wish I could thank him for saving us. For fighting off those thugs when I failed to.”

“I’m sure he knows how grateful you are. And you didn’t fail. You protected both yourself and Alfred valiantly. But you were trying to hold off five guys twice your size by yourself all while wearing a dress and heels. Plus, they had weapons. Given the circumstances, you did an amazing job, and I just wish I would have been able to see it.”

You smiled. “You know…. that was almost exactly what Batman said.”

The blush returned to his face as he mumbled, “Well, it seems like whoever he is, he knows what he’s talking about.”

You wanted to tell him you know. Just get it out in the open once and for all. But as you opened your mouth, you saw the look on his face. You had always been able to read Bruce like an open book and right now he was scared. Also worried, but mostly scared. Scared that you would ask a question he couldn’t answer, scared he might have slipped up and revealed too much. He was scared you might figure out the truth. And so, you remained silent. This was his secret, and it was up to him to tell it to you when he was ready. Until then, you would just play ignorant.

But before either of you could say another word, your phone began to ring. Glancing over, you saw it sitting on your bedside table plugged into the charger. Even from here, you could see the name illuminated on the screen. “Oh, shit! That’s my editor. I was supposed to have a conference call with her this morning. She is probably freaking out that I missed it. Do you mind….?”

“Not a problem.” Bruce unplugged your phone and handed it over to you, then he started heading for the door. “I’ll go let Alfred know you’re awake.”

“Please tell him I am fine, and I will be coming by to see him as soon as they let me.” He nodded but before he could leave, you blurted out, “Thank you, Bruce…. for coming to see me. And I know we haven’t really had the chance to talk since I got back to town but for the record, I missed you. A lot.”

Bruce smiled. “I missed you too. We’ll catch up once you’re back at the tower.” And with that, he left the room.

Sighing as you settled back into the pillows, you redialed the last call on your phone. It only took one ring for someone to answer. “Hello?... Hello, Ms. Grant, I am so sorry-…… Oh! You heard about that already?.... Yes, I am still in the hospital, but they think I will be able to be released in a day or two…. I thought I still had a few more days before getting a new assignment… Yes…Yes, but…. No! I’m sorry but I’m not doing that. I understand why you would want me to write it given what just happened, but I know the sort of story you will want me to turn this into and I do not agree-….. No offense, ma’am, but you have said I would have creative liberty before but then always made me go in the direction you want. And I will not do that in this situation……… You would really fire me for turning this down? After all the exemplary work I have produced for you up to this point?......... Fine. Seeing as you have given me no other choice, I will do it. But only if you give me assurances, in writing, that I can take this story in any direction with any angle that I see fit……… Agreed. Send me the paperwork tomorrow and I will get started as soon as I am out of the hospital…. Yes…. Goodbye, Ms. Grant.”

You hung up the phone and looked anxiously at the door that Bruce had walked out of moments before. “Fuck.”

This will be a multi-chapter story. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters.

Tag List: @caswinchester2000, @hovxki, @green-socks, @blackparacosm, @spider-thot0115, @bride-of-stucky, @abibliophobiaa, @poenariuniverse, @jolly-polly, @skywalker-spengler, @cathssart, @rosesinmars, @freeshavocadoooo, @yunho-leeknow, @youdidnotseethisluv, @xoxoloverb, @sakuracindy, @weallhaveadestiny, @pedroyleia, @dweeb-central, @reggxe-a, @blue-aconite, @ajordan2020, @that-sarcastic-writer, @lacontroller1991, @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @spooky-ghosts, @chronicallythicc, @mileyc111, @junipercloud03, @whatkindofnameshould, @gothicxbarbie, @myguiltypleasures21, @johnny-pie, @lanatheawesome

[ragingbookdragon]

My Brother's Best Friend Is The One For Me

Wally West x Batsis!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Got to rereading my Batsis fics and came across the "What A Flashy Romance" and wanted to do another one with Wally because I love him. Enjoy! -Thorne

Being the middle child and also the only girl in the Batfamily meant two things:

1. She had four brothers that treated her like a porcelain doll, despite the fact that she could throw a punch at 336 PSI.

And

2. She followed an unspoken rule that Dick and Jason’s friends were off limits when it came to dating.

In all, neither of those things were major problems. She’d learned at a young age how to avoid Dick and Jason’s overbearing-protective-brother-modes, and Tim and Damian were younger, so she didn’t have to worry about them. The second one was also avoidable—most of her older brothers’ friends were the same, and she wasn’t around most of them to develop any feelings.

Well, there was Wally, but it was just a crush. A stupid, little school-girl crush—that she’d never really grown out of—that didn’t matter in the slightest. Except whenever Dick brought him over to the house and she had to pretend that sitting next to him didn’t make her heart race like she’d run a mile.

And the most annoying thing about the whole crush is that she couldn’t tell if Wally was ever interested in her or not. Most of Dick’s friends, Garth, Kyle, Roy, they treated her like a little sister—hell, they even said “Love you lil sis!” to her regularly. And yet, Wally didn’t. Now, there was the occasional head pat, but even that was an affectionate gesture that siblings and SO’s did all the time. It was infuriating, and so was Wally—but she was going to sort it all out the next time he came over because the worst thing he could say was “No”, and either she needed to hear that…or “Yes”.

***

Normal Sundays for the Wayne household usually meant Ultimate Waffle Breakfast and sitting on your ass all day until patrol—it was the one day of the week where they could do anything and nothing and didn’t have to stick to schedules. Everyone loved Sundays, especially (Y/N), because it meant that all of her family was home, even Jason (who tried to deny that he enjoyed coming home to hang out, but if that mile long grin was any help, he was lying). And while everyone was home, that usually meant that everybody’s friends were coming over too.

***

She swiped the syrup out of Jason’s hand when he swung it back around, grinning at him when he glared at her.

“I was gonna use that, (Y/N),” he griped, and she shrugged, uncapping the bottle.

She tipped it over and watched the syrup lazily pour out of the container onto her waffles.

“You were taking too long.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “I guess you were as…slow as molasses.”

While most of the table groaned at her terrible joke, Dick snorted into his milk, causing it to splatter on his plate and across the table.

“Nice one,” he coughed, wiping his face and the dark oak surface.

(Y/N) bowed dramatically. “Well, I did learn from the best.” When Dick’s face lit up, she turned to Alfred and smiled. “Alfie, thank you for teaching me your ways.”

The old butler merely tipped his head, a hidden smile crossing his lips at the way the eldest son’s jaw went slack. She turned her attention to Bruce who was quietly chewing, eyes following along the research paper she’d asked him to check out.

“Dad, what’s on your agenda for today?”

He swallowed and flicked a line out with a red pen, etching his own comment in the margin. “Lucius has a few ideas about some new gadgets he wanted to run by me.” Another line went out. “I’ll call him after breakfast.” Bruce looked at her. “You?”

(Y/N) nodded at the paper in his hands, then slapped Jason’s who was reaching over to take a piece of bacon from her plate. “Waiting for you to finish tearing me a new one so I can redo the paper.” She cut into the waffle with the side of her fork. “Once I salvage what little scientific dignity you’ve left me with, I’ll probably laze around.”

“You mean what you do normally?” Bruce quipped, grinning when she glowered at him; his eyes went back to her paper. “You’re doing well so far.”

She huffed. “Tell that to every red line you’ve marked out in that paragraph.”

He flashed the paper. “I’m writing in the margins how to change it. This isn’t a dissertation, sweetheart. You’re allowed to make mistakes. We all do.”

(Y/N) grumbled as her cheeks warmed and she went back to her plate as the conversation flowed around her.

Most of it was the discussion of what everyone was planning on doing, Damian was going to play video games, Tim was going to join him (which she knew was going to be fun while the moment lasted until the petty sibling rivalry got in the way and their gaming dwindled into a physical fight that she and probably Dick were going to have to break up), Jason was going to use the workbench in the cave to upgrade some gear, and Dick apparently,

“Wally and Garth are gonna come over later and hang out.”

She paused, mid-stab of her fork and looked at up. “Wally’s coming over?”

He nodded. “And Garth. We were gonna go to the mall and get some new clothes.”

Jason snorted, laying an arm over the backs of Tim and (Y/N)’s chairs. “Spending money with daddy’s credit card, Dickie?”

Dick smirked. “Just like you.” Jason merely matched his grin, and while the entire table was cracking up at Bruce’s frown, (Y/N) was silent, heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Wally.

“(Y/N)?” She startled and looked up at Dick.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay. You got quiet all of the sudden.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, just thought about all of the corrections I’m gonna have to do because somebody CAN’T STOP MARKING OUT MY PARAGRAPHS.” Bruce merely smiled and knocked out another line.

It was a lie. It was the biggest lie she’d told right next to the one she told when Bruce had asked her where she was on prom night her senior year a few years ago—she was totally not saving a different sector of the universe with Kyle Rayner, she was dancing with Sam Reilly all night—she strongly believed her dad knew the truth—Batman knew everything.

Bruce handed the paper back to her and she groaned as she scanned the red lines on every page. It was going to take her hours to go over this.

Jason leaned over and read the title, “Cellular Division and Mutation Under Extreme Elemental Circumstances…a composition by (Y/N) Wayne.” He cocked a dark brow. “Go big or go home, huh, baby girl?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Doctor Halberd wanted us to pick challenging topics for the research paper this term.” A crooked smile crossed her lips. “I’m nothing if not ambitious about proving I’m smarter than everyone else.”

“You need another source,” Bruce murmured, sipping the steaming black coffee. “One-fourteen is good, but I’d go for one-fifteen.”

She groaned and dropped her head. “Are you kidding me? I had enough trouble gathering that many.”

“Why don’t you use Barry?” Tim piped up, mouth full of whip cream and strawberries.

“Master Timothy, we do not talk with our mouth full,” Alfred admonished, and Tim blushed.

(Y/N)’s head shot up and she stared at her brother. “That’s actually a good idea. Speedsters would make for perfect references about cellular division.” An idea popped into her head and she glanced at Dick. “And since Wally is com—”

“Nope,” Dick interrupted, pointing at her. “Wally is coming over to hang out, not to be poked and prodded to finish a paper.”

She let out a whine and turned to Bruce. “Dad, tell Dick to let me at least talk to Wally about it.”

Bruce turned his attention onto Dick. “Let your sister talk to Wally about her paper.”

“Oh, come on,” he complained and (Y/N) stood from her seat, hurrying around the table to stand behind Dick’s seat.

She draped herself over his shoulders, tucking her chin in the crook of his neck. “I promise I won’t be annoying if you let me come with you. I’ll ask two questions every thirty minutes and I’ll go do shopping on my own, so I won’t be in the way.” (Y/N) craned her neck and pulled the most pitiful puppy eyes she could. “Please?”

Dick’s eyes darted to her face and then he looked away. Just one more push.

“Please frate?” she begged and when his eyes went wide from the usage of his native tongue, she knew she’d won him over.

He deflated and let out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can come with us.”

(Y/N) squealed and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, as she grabbed the paper and hurried towards the door. She halted and spun around, looking at her father.

“What do I need to be most specific about?”

“Division under elemental circumstances.”

She glowered at him. “No shit Sherlock. Specifics.”

“Molecular division under terrestrial gamma-ray flashes.”

“That’ll work,” (Y/N) nodded and exited to room.

Jason looked out the door then back to his brothers. “She’s way to excited about science sometimes.” They merely laughed.

***

She raised the red lace, cold shoulder V-neck shirt to her chest before frowning, and switching it with the full lace blue shirt with mini golden lightning bolt charms hanging off the trim. After a moment, she pulled the blue one down and sighed.

“You know, if you want to impress him, I’d wear the red shirt.”

She jumped and barely managed to suppress the scream that was coming up in her throat as she swiveled around to face her door. Jason stood in the doorway, a knowing look on his face. She could play this one of two ways: she could be truthful, or she could lie—she chose the latter.

“What do you mean?” He snorted and walked into her room, taking a seat at her desk.

“I mean if you’re trying to impress Wally, wear the shirt that’s the color of his suit, (Y/N).” She looked away and into the mirror, but she couldn’t escape the eyes boring into her back.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked quietly, and he laughed.

“That you’re head over heels for Dick’s best friend? Oh yeah. Totally.”

She sighed and sat on her bed, pulling the red top over her torso. “It’s just a crush.”

“Seems like more than a crush to me, baby girl.”

(Y/N) pulled the fabric down and looked at him. “Are you gonna tell Dick?”

Jason scoffed. “Do I look like a narc to you?”

She cocked a brow and deadpanned, “Just the other night you told dad that Damian lifted Two-Face’s wallet when he was being put in a cruiser.”

“Well, that wasn’t something important,” he countered and nodded at her. “This is.” He paused and shrugged. “Nah, I’m not gonna tell Dickhead. Play this out however you see fit, baby girl.”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment then averted her gaze and let out a sigh; Jason huffed.

“That sounds like a heavy sigh, (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know if Wally would be interested in me. He’s him and I’m me.”

Jason stood and walked over, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anytime he’s had a girlfriend she’s always been super strong or really outspoken.”

“And you’re not?” he quipped, causing her to huff.

“You know what I mean, Jay.”

He nodded. “Okay, so you’re not an Amazon or shoving your head up someone’s ass for a story. But you’re you.”

“And that means?”

“You’re the only daughter of the World’s Greatest Detective who’s a wicked smart science major by day and a badass vigilante by night.” He cupped her cheeks. “You are intelligent, warmhearted, talented, and absolutely beautiful.” Jason smushed her cheeks together and grinned as she giggled. “And if Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time. You hear me, baby girl?”

She nodded. “I hear you.”

Jason gave her a firm nod and let go, standing to his feet. “Now come on let’s go do your makeup.”

(Y/N) blinked. “You can do makeup?”

“Baby girl, I can do a lot of things. Now hurry up. That razor sharp eye liner and golden eyeshadow isn’t going to do itself.”

***

She waited beside Dick with a pleasant smile on her face, and despite the fluttering heartbeat in her chest, Jason’s pep talk kept running through her head and with every passing moment, she felt her confidence rising. He was right, if she told Wally and he didn’t feel the same, then it was his loss and her gain to move on and find someone else.

A black sedan pulled up at the manor and the passenger window rolled down, revealing Wally at the wheel and Garth in the passenger’s seat. Dick waved at them.

“Hey guys,” he greeted. “How was the drive over?”

“Oh, you know, we saw three carjacking’s and one armed robbery,” Garth quipped. “I assume that’s normal for Gotham though.”

“It’s a bit below average actually,” (Y/N) piped up. “Hi Garth. Hi Wally.”

Wally smiled and Garth waved in return as the two siblings started getting in the car.

“You’re coming with us, (Y/N)?” Wally questioned and she nodded.

“Do you want me to lie to you or give you the truth?”

He chuckled. “I’m always open for a good story.”

“I wanted to buy out Victoria’s Secret and piss off any boyfriends who are in hot water with their girlfriends.” The guys laughed and she admitted, “Truth though, I need one last source for a research paper.”

“Gonna find that source shopping?” Garth asked and (Y/N) caught Wally’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Actually, my last source is Wally.”

They fell silent and looked at her, though the speedster’s focus was on the road.

“What are you gonna source Wally on?” The Atlantean inquired.

“My paper is over cellular mutation under distress from elemental conditions.” She smiled at Wally. “Our speedster here, is a walking subject perfect for the paper. I can only hope that he agrees to be a willing participant.”

Wally chuckled. “I’d be willing to part with a few secrets for you. Of course, I’d have to—”

“Remain anonymous.” (Y/N) winked. “I’m sure my professor would be okay with me citing ‘The Flash’ so long as I had a picture with him to back it up.”

“I like pictures,” he murmured, pulling into the parking lot.

“That’s good to know,” she replied and when he put the car in park, she took her purse and added, “So I’ll leave you boys to do your shopping and Wally, I’ll text you any questions I have.”

“You’re not gonna hang around?” Garth asked and she shook her head.

“Nah, I don’t wanna be the annoying little sister who follows her older brother and his friends around.” She smiled at them. “Besides, Dick was kind enough to let me come along. Least I can do is stay out of your way.”

(Y/N) opened the door and waved at them. “Text me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll meet you back here.”

***

Despite the initial joke that she was going to buy out the lingerie store, there was actually some truth in the statement, and she drew her fingers over one of the lace baby dolls as she looked at her phone, grinning like a dope at Wally’s response.

Well, I wouldn’t say I’d grow a second skin from how fast my cells regenerate, but I can make my body heal instantaneously. -W

Can you regenerate limbs or major organs? –(Y/I)

Major organs or useful ones? -W

(Y/N) paused at his response and thought for a moment. It was risky. Sending the text, she was thinking about was risky, but it’d sure get her point across that she was into him. With her heart hammering in her chest, she pushed send and stuck her phone in her pocket.

Whichever ones are useful to you, Wally? ;) –(Y/N)

Her phone didn’t buzz for a good minute, and Wally took less than a second to reply, so he was doing one of two things: A.) Telling Dick that his younger sister sent a flirty text, or B.) Trying to figure out how to let her down easy. (Y/N) didn’t know which one was worse. Her hip buzzed and she inhaled shakily, pulling her phone out of her pocket with one eye cracked open to see how screwed she was.

Do you have a useful one in mind, beautiful? -W

She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from letting out the biggest gasp any human had ever made, and she nervously looked around her to make sure no one else was staring at her. She grinned as she replied to him.

Oh, I could think of one…or two or three…Why? Is there gonna be a pop quiz over this later? I’ll have you know I’m an excellent test taker. –(Y/N)

Is that so? Well, what happens if you were to fail this particular pop quiz, (Y/N)? -W

I guess you’d have to stay the night for a study session and help me make a better grade ;) –(Y/I)

As she waited for another response, someone’s hand touched the small of her back and she reacted, immediately stepping away from the offending touch to spin on them. Her eyes went wide when she saw Wally standing before her, a grin on his face, phone in his hand.

“I think an overnight study session is possible, (Y/N).”

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish until she finally got her brain to work and asked, “I thought you were shopping with Dick and Garth?”

He shrugged. “Told Dick you asked me an advanced question that’d be easier to answer in person than over text.” He wiggled his brows. “You know, advanced equations and scientific gibberish.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and turned back around, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she picked up one of the teddies. And when she realized what it looked like, she only felt more flustered. Crimson with baby blue trimming and was practically a shoelace.

“Well, that’sa hint if there ever was one,” Wally quipped, and she pulled the lingerie out of his line of sight.

“It was just the first one I grabbed!” she exclaimed, snapping her mouth shut when people looked over at them. Her cheeks felt like they were wildfires, and she pressed her head against the cool metal of the rack, sighing with what little relief it provided.

“You know, (Y/N),” he started softly. “If you’re not comfortable, this doesn’t have to go anywhere. I can forget this ever happened if you want me to.” (Y/N) opened her eyes and peered at him, at the concern but also the kindness in his gaze.

“I just—” she murmured and trailed off before letting out a sigh. “It’s kinda complicated.”

“Okay,” Wally nodded. “My mouth might work faster than my brain sometimes but lay it on me.”

She cracked a smile and thought back on Jason’s words. If Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and looked at him, admitting, “Wally, I have…feelings for you.” His eyes widened and though she felt the sting of embarrassment, she pushed out her words. “It’s stupid, like one of those dumb childhood crushes that just sticks with you, you know?”

She averted her gaze and looked at her peep toe heels. “I just don’t wanna screw anything up because even if you don’t feel anything like I do, I don’t wanna lose you as a friend. Because I do value your friendship.” She sighed. “And Dick. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable about coming over to see him if there’s a chance you’ll have to see me too. I just—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Wally interrupted gently, a smile growing on his face. “You’re thinking way big here, (Y/N). Bigger than you need to right now.”

She met his eyes. “Right now?” she repeated, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. His fingers felt tingly against her palm and he smiled.

“I like you, (Y/N).”

She blinked at him, practically dumbfounded. “You…you do?”

Wally nodded and confessed, “Have for a couple years, but I didn’t wanna make a move not knowing if you were interested.” His cheeks tinged pink, and he said, “But I’m glad you are. Like super glad.” (Y/N) giggled, suddenly feeling really foolish for all her worry and Wally let out a chuckle too.

She stared at him for a moment, relishing the coolness of his skin before pulling away, toying with the teddy in her other hand.

“So, about tonight…you staying over?”

Wally let out a groan and looked between her and the lingerie. “Probably, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away long enough to spend some time alone with you.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’ and winked. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Flash. You are the fastest man alive.”

“You’re into quickies? Good to know,” he grinned.

“Shut up,” she giggled.