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scarsoncherryglass · 13 days ago

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ITOTIANI. damian wayne.

damian wayne x fem!jinx!reader

summary ; easiest way to fail a chemistry test. (not clickbait) words ; 5.2k warnings ; intimacy, makeout session, chemistry, teenagers sneaking into eachothers bedrooms. masterlist ; here

the thing about wayne manor was that it had entirely too many windows for a house that was supposed to keep secrets. not that you minded, scaling the side of a gothic mansion was exactly the kind of tuesday night activity that kept life interesting.

the shimmer in your veins made you faster, stronger, more graceful than you had any right to be, and the three-story climb to damian's bedroom window was barely a warm-up.

what you minded was the way your heart did stupid things every time you saw him through the glass, bent over his desk with that little furrow between his eyebrows that meant he was concentrating. The way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the way his lips moved slightly as he read, the way he looked so perfectly, frustratingly beautiful that it made your chest tight.

three soft taps on the window. your signal.

he looked up, and even from outside you could see the way his expression shifted, annoyance melting into something warmer, more complicated. he crossed to the window and opened it quietly, stepping aside to let you climb through with practiced ease.

"you're late," he said, but there was no real heat in it.

"traffic," you replied, which was a lie. you'd fallen off the balcony ledge, 10 minutes ago while watching him study. "miss me?"

"desperately," he said dryly, but his eyes were soft as they tracked over your face, cataloguing details like he was memorizing you. "ready for tomorrow's test?"

you made a noncommittal sound and flopped onto his bed, your chipped pink and blue nails drumming against your thighs. His room was exactly what you'd expect from damian wayne, meticulously organized, expensive everything, and decorated in shades of black and gold. the only thing out of place was you, sprawled across his pristine comforter in crazy short shorts, a staple in your closet despite the weather and a long sleeve that had seen better days.

"that's not an answer, and your gonna catch a cold if you keep dressing like that" he said, settling back at his desk. his chemistry textbook was open to a page covered in molecular diagrams that looked like abstract art.

"i don't need to study," you said, which was true. chemistry was easy when you'd been your father's test subject for most of your childhood. hard to forget the periodic table when it was literally running through your veins. "the test is on chemical bonds, right? ionic, covalent, metallic. child's play."

"for you, maybe." he picked up his pen and went back to his notes, the picture of academic dedication. "some of us didn't get a head start courtesy of illegal human experimentation."

You winced. "tough crowd. but i get you need to study. so i can go—"

"don't." the word came out sharper than he'd probably intended, and he softened it with a glance in your direction. "stay. just... let me focus for a few hours. Please."

you studied his profile, the way the lamplight caught the sharp angle of his cheekbone, the determined set of his jaw. damian wayne, heir to a business empire and a vigilante legacy, worried about a high school chemistry test. it would have been endearing if it wasn't so ridiculous.

"you know you're going to ace this, right?" you said. "you're like, disgustingly smart."

"not as smart as you."

"different kinds of smart. you actually work for your grades. i just... absorb information and regurgitate it."

he looked up from his textbook, really looked at you, and there was something in his green eyes that made your stomach flip. "is that what you think? that intelligence doesn't count if it comes naturally?"

"i think intelligence doesn't count if it comes from being injected with experimental chemicals as a child," you said, aiming for light but landing somewhere closer to bitter.

"that's not—" he started to argue, then seemed to think better of it. instead, he just shook his head and went back to his notes. "i need to study."

"right. sorry." you settled back against his pillows, pulling out your phone to give yourself something to do that wasn't staring at him. but it was hard to focus on social media when he was right there, all sharp focus and quiet intensity, pen moving across paper in sure, confident strokes.

gosh, you had it bad.

five minutes passed. ten. the silence stretched between you, comfortable but charged, like the moment before a storm. you found yourself watching the way his shoulders moved under his black t-shirt, the way his long fingers gripped his pen, the way he occasionally pushed his hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was unconsciously graceful.

this was torture. sweet, exquisite torture.

"question," you said finally.

"mm?" he didn't look up from his book.

"what's the difference between ionic and covalent bonds?"

"ionic bonds form between metals and nonmetals through the transfer of electrons. covalent bonds form between nonmetals through the sharing of electrons." he recited the definition without hesitation, still focused on his notes.

"and which one is stronger?"

"it depends on the specific compounds, but generally covalent bonds are stronger within molecules, while ionic compounds have stronger intermolecular forces."

"smart boy," you murmured, and there was something in your tone that made him glance up sharply.

"are you... testing me?"

"maybe." you stretched, arching your back in a way that made your short ride up slightly. "i'm bored."

his eyes flicked to the strip of skin revealed by your movement, then back to your face. "read a book."

"don't want to."

"play a game on your phone."

"boring."

"then what do you want to do?"

the question hung in the air between you, loaded with possibility. because there were a lot of things you wanted to do, most of which involved getting him to stop looking at that damn textbook and start looking at you instead.

"i want to help you study," you said finally.

"you said you don't need to study."

"i don't. but you do. so let me help."

he set down his pen and turned to face you fully. "and how exactly do you propose to help?"

"well," you said, sliding off the bed and walking over to where he sat. "we could make it more interesting."

"interesting how?"

you perched on the edge of his desk, close enough that your knee brushed his arm. he went very still, but he didn't move away. "quiz me."

"you just said you don't need to study."

"humor me." you leaned forward slightly, just enough that he'd be able to smell your perfume, vanilla and cherries. "ask me something difficult."

he stared at you for a long moment, and you could practically see the internal war playing out behind his green eyes. finally, he picked up his textbook. "fine. what's the molecular geometry of sulfur hexafluoride?"

"octahedral," you said immediately. "next."

"what's the bond angle in a tetrahedral molecule?"

"109.5 degrees." you swung your leg, the movement casual but calculated. "this is too easy, boy wonder. give me something challenging."

"explain the concept of hybridization."

"when atomic orbitals mix to form new hybrid orbitals that can overlap more effectively with orbitals of other atoms to form chemical bonds." you paused, tilting your head. "the number and type of hybrid orbitals formed depends on the number of electron domains around the central atom. SP3 hybridization gives tetrahedral geometry, SP2 gives trigonal planar, SP gives linear."

he blinked. "that was... very thorough."

"i told you chemistry was easy for me." you leaned back on your hands, the position pushing your chest forward slightly. "your turn."

"my turn for what?"

"i get to quiz you now."

"that's not how studying works."

"it's how this studying goes." you grinned at him, the expression sharp and playful. "come on, damian. live a little."

something flickered in his eyes at the use of his name. you didn't call him damian often, usually it was boy wonder, or wayne, or nothing at all. but when you did use his real name, it always got a reaction.

"fine," he said finally. "one question."

"what causes the shimmer effect in certain chemical reactions?"

he paused, pen halfway to his mouth. "that's not... that's not a standard chemistry question."

"No," you agreed. "It's a me question."

the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken things. what makes you different from everyone else in ways that can't be explained by normal science?

"i don't know," he said quietly.

"wrong answer."

"ok, then enlighten me."

you slid off the desk and moved to stand behind his chair, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. he tensed under your touch, but didn't pull away. "instability," you said softly, your lips close to his ear. "when the normal rules break down. when molecules can't decide what they want to be."

your fingers found the knots of tension in his shoulders and began to work at them, a slow, careful massage that made him exhale sharply. "that's not very scientific."

"science is overrated." you moved your hands lower, fingers trailing down his arms. "sometimes things just are what they are."

"and what are you?"

the question was barely a whisper, but it hit like a physical blow. Because it was the same question that kept you awake at night, the one that had no good answer. what were you? a failed experiment? a weapon? a girl trying to pretend she was normal?

"unpredictable," you said finally.

"i know."

"so why do you let me stay?"

he turned in his chair to face you, and suddenly you were standing between his knees, close enough to count his eyelashes. "because unpredictable doesn't mean disposable."

the words hit like a punch to the chest, unexpected and devastating. no one had ever suggested that being unpredictable could coexist with being wanted.

"we should study," he said, but he made no move to turn back to his book. instead, his hands came up to rest on your hips, thumbs brushing against the plain of exposed skin between your longsleeve and black shorts.

"should we?" you asked, your own hands coming up to frame his face.

"the test is tomorrow."

"you'll pass."

"you don't know that."

"i know you." you traced the sharp line of his cheekbone with one finger, marveling at the way his eyes fluttered closed at the contact. "you're brilliant and stubborn and you've probably memorized half that textbook already."

"only half?"

"the important half."

he laughed, a quiet sound that went straight to your chest. "you're very distracting."

"am i?" you stepped closer, until your thighs brushed against his knees. "i hadn't noticed."

"liar."

"prove it."

the challenge hung between you like a dare. because this was the game you played, push and pull, advance and retreat, testing boundaries that never seemed quite solid enough to trust.

"you're supposed to be helping me study," he said, but his grip on your hips tightened slightly.

"i am helping." you let your fingers trail down the side of his neck, feeling the way his pulse jumped under your touch. "i'm providing motivation."

"motivation?"

"positive reinforcement. basic behavioral psychology." your thumb found the hollow at the base of his throat and pressed gently. "every time you get a question right, you get a reward."

his breath hitched. "what kind of reward?"

instead of answering, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "that's for knowing the difference between ionic and covalent bonds."

you pulled back to gauge his reaction, taking in the way his pupils had dilated, the faint flush creeping up his neck. perfect.

"that's not fair," he said, but there was no real protest in his voice.

"life's not fair, boy wonder." you moved to perch on the arm of his chair, one leg on either side of his thighs. "besides, you seemed to enjoy it."

"i did not—" he cut himself off as you settled more fully onto his lap, your weight warm and solid against him. "this is not conducive to learning."

"isn't it? i think you'll find that emotional engagement improves memory retention." you reached for his textbook, flipping through the pages until you found a particularly complex diagram. "here. explain the difference between sigma and pi bonds."

he stared at the page, but you could tell he wasn't really seeing it. his attention was focused on other things, the way you were sitting on his lap, the way your dark blue hair had fallen forward to brush against his shoulder, the way your perfume was making it hard to concentrate on anything except the feel of you against him.

"sigma bonds," he said finally, his voice slightly strained, "are formed by the direct overlap of atomic orbitals. they're the first bonds to form between atoms."

"and pi bonds?"

"pi bonds are formed by the sideways overlap of p orbitals. they're weaker than sigma bonds and restrict rotation around the bond axis."

"very good." you leaned forward and kissed his cheek, letting your lips linger against his skin. "you're such a smart boy."

he made a sound that was half groan, half protest. "you're cheating."

"how am i cheating?"

"you're using... unfair advantages."

"such as?"

"you know exactly what such as."

you grinned and shifted slightly on his lap, pretending to get more comfortable but really just enjoying the way his hands tightened on your hips. "i have no idea what you're talking about. i'm just a concerned classmate helping you study."

"concerned classmates don't sit on each other's laps."

"don't they? how disappointing. and here i thought i was being helpful."

"you're being diabolical."

"thank you."

he shook his head, but there was fondness in the gesture. "ask me another question."

"bossy." but you flipped to another page, scanning for something appropriately challenging. "what's the relationship between bond length and bond strength?"

"generally speaking, shorter bonds are stronger bonds. triple bonds are shorter and stronger than double bonds, which are shorter and stronger than single bonds."

"and what determines bond polarity?"

"the difference in electronegativity between the bonded atoms. the greater the difference, the more polar the bond."

you rewarded him with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, close enough to his lips that he turned his head slightly, trying to catch your mouth with his. but you pulled back at the last second, grinning at his frustrated expression.

"tease," he muttered.

"i prefer to think of it as motivation."

"i'm starting to think this isn't actually about studying."

"of course it's about studying. we're learning all sorts of things." you traced the collar of his t-shirt with one finger, letting your nail scrape lightly against his skin. "for instance, i'm learning that you make this adorable little sound when you're frustrated."

"i do not make adorable sounds."

"no? what do you call this?" You shifted again, deliberately this time, and he sucked in a sharp breath that was definitely adorable.

"that's not—that's just—" he seemed to realize that arguing was only making things worse and fell silent, fixing you with a look that was equal parts exasperated and fond.

"cat got your tongue, boy wonder?"

"you're impossible."

"but i'm helpful. look how much you've reviewed in the past ten minutes."

"we've covered maybe three concepts."

"quality over quantity." you reached for the textbook again, but he caught your wrist.

"enough," he said, and there was something in his voice that made your breath catch. "you win."

"win what?"

"whatever game you're playing. you win."

you tilted your head, studying his face. "i don't know what you mean."

"yes, you do." his thumb traced across the pulse point on your wrist, and you were pretty sure he could feel the way your heart rate had picked up. "you came here with absolutely no intention of studying, and you've spent the last fifteen minutes systematically destroying my ability to concentrate on anything except you."

"that's a very serious accusation."

"it's a very accurate accusation."

"and what are you going to do about it?"

the question was barely out of your mouth before he was moving, one hand tangling in your long hair while the other pulled you closer. when he kissed you, it was with the focused intensity he brought to everything else, thorough, determined, and completely overwhelming.

you melted into him, your hands fisting in his t-shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. this was what you'd been angling for all evening, this moment when his careful control finally snapped and he stopped treating you like you might break.

because you weren't fragile, despite what everyone seemed to think. You were dangerous, yes, and unstable, and probably not good for him in any traditional sense. but you weren't delicate. you were steel wrapped in silk, and you could take whatever he gave you.

when you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard. his hair was messed up from your fingers, and his lips were swollen from the kiss. he looked thoroughly debauched, and you hadn't even gotten started.

"feel better?" you asked, your voice slightly hoarse.

"much." he pulled you down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper. when he traced your bottom lip with his tongue, you opened for him immediately, letting him explore your mouth like he was memorizing it.

you could taste the mint from his toothpaste, could smell his cologne and something underneath that was just him. it was intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with chemicals and everything to do with the boy currently making your brain short-circuit with just his mouth.

"we really should study," he said against your lips, but he made no move to stop kissing you.

"mm-hmm," you agreed, then nipped at his bottom lip in a way that made him groan. "very important. academic success and all that."

"exactly." his hands found the hem of your crop top, fingers tracing the edge of the fabric. "education is crucial."

"critical," you agreed, then gasped as his thumb brushed against a strip of bare skin just below your ribs.

"although," he said, his mouth moving to your neck, "i think we might be learning about a different kind of chemistry now."

"that was terrible," you laughed, but the sound turned into something else entirely as he found that sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

"you're one to talk. you've been making chemistry puns all evening."

"have not."

"bond length and bond strength? really?"

"that was a legitimate academic question," you protested, then lost your train of thought completely as he sucked lightly at your pulse point.

"sure it was."

you were about to argue further when he shifted beneath you, his hands sliding up your sides to rest just below the curve of your breasts. the simple touch made you arch into him, seeking more contact, and he took advantage of the movement to trail kisses along your collarbone.

"damian," you breathed, and his name came out sounding like a prayer.

"yes?"

"the test tomorrow..."

"what about it?"

"you're going to fail if you don't study."

he pulled back to look at you, his green eyes dark with something that made your stomach flip. "are you actually worried about my academic performance right now?"

"maybe a little."

"well, don't be." his hands moved to frame your face, thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. "i'd rather fail a thousand tests than stop touching you right now."

the declaration was so unexpected, so unlike his usual careful control, that it knocked the breath right out of you. "you don't mean that."

"don't I?"

"you're damian wayne. you don't fail tests. you don't do anything halfway."

"you're right," he said, and there was something dangerous in his smile. "i don't."

before you could ask what he meant, he was kissing you again, and this time there was nothing careful or restrained about it. this was hunger, pure and simple, weeks of tension and wanting finally finding an outlet.

you kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you tried to get closer, closer, as close as physics would allow. the shimmer under your skin responded to your elevated emotions, making the air around you ripple with heat distortion, but for once you didn't care about control or consequences.

when he pulled back, you were both breathing hard again. his hair was completely wrecked now, and there was a flush creeping down his neck that you wanted to follow with your mouth.

"chemistry test," he said, but it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

"what about it?"

"i should probably... study..."

"probably."

neither of you moved.

"this is your fault," he said finally.

"my fault? how is this my fault?"

"you climbed through my window wearing that outfit and proceeded to systematically destroy my self-control."

you glanced down at yourself, shorts, long sleeve, the same clothes you always wore. "this outfit?"

"that outfit," he confirmed. "and then you sat on my lap and kissed me and made it impossible to think about anything except how much i want you."

the confession made something warm unfurl in your chest. "You want me?" you teased.

"are you serious? i've wanted you since the day you blew up that beaker, on your first day."

"that was an accident."

"no, it wasn't."

you paused. "okay, it wasn't. but it got your attention."

"it got my attention," he agreed. "along with everyone else's. do you have any idea what it's like, watching you be brilliant and crazy and completely oblivious to the fact that half the school is terrified of you and the other half is in love with you?"

"i'm not oblivious."

"you're completely oblivious."

"and which half are you in?"

he stared at you for a long moment. "both."

the simple word hit like a physical blow. because he was right, you were terrifying. your powers made you unpredictable, dangerous, the kind of person that smart people stayed away from. but he was here anyway, looking at you like you were something precious instead of something to be contained.

"you shouldn't be," you said quietly.

"shouldn't be what? terrified or in love?"

"either. both." you traced the line of his jaw with one finger, marveling at the way he leaned into your touch. "i'm not safe, damian."

"i know."

"i could hurt you. accidentally or on purpose, when i lose control or when everything gets too loud. i could put you in danger just by being near you."

"i know."

"then why—"

"because," he interrupted, catching your hand and pressing it flat against his chest, over his heart, "you make me feel more alive than i've ever felt in my life. because when you look at me, you don't see a heir or a legacy or a disappointment. you just see me."

Your throat felt tight.

"because i'd rather have five minutes of crazy with you than a lifetime of safe with anyone else."

the declaration hung between you like a bridge, spanning all the reasons this was a bad idea and landing somewhere that felt dangerously like hope.

"the chemistry test," you said weakly.

"fuck the chemistry test."

the curse sounded strange coming from him, rough and desperate in a way that made your pulse race. "you don't mean that."

"i mean it." His hands found your face again, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. "i mean everything i just said."

"even the part about being in love with me?"

"especially that part."

and then he was kissing you again, and you were kissing him back, and somewhere in the back of your mind you thought that this was probably the most effective study session in the history of education. because you were definitely learning things, like the way he tasted, like the sound he made when you bit his lower lip, like the fact that his control wasn't nearly as absolute as he pretended.

when you finally broke apart, the chemistry textbook had somehow ended up on the floor, forgotten and irrelevant. tomorrow there would be a test, and consequences, and all the reasons this was complicated.

but tonight, there was just this: you and him and the kind of chemistry that couldn't be found in any textbook.

"so," you said, settling more comfortably in his lap, "want to quiz me on molecular orbital theory?"

he laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "i think we've covered enough chemistry for one evening."

"have we? because i'm pretty sure we've barely scratched the surface."

"is that so?"

"mm-hmm. we haven't even gotten to thermodynamics yet."

"and what would you teach me about thermodynamics?"

you grinned and leaned close, your lips brushing against his ear. "that some reactions are so exothermic, they're practically explosive."

his breath hitched. "that's not scientifically accurate."

"isn't it?"

"no, it's—" he cut himself off as you pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just below his ear. "it's... actually, that's a surprisingly apt metaphor."

"i thought you might appreciate it."

"you're going to be the death of me," he said, but there was fondness in his voice.

"probably," you agreed cheerfully. "but what a way to go."

"what a way to go." he whispered and shook his head, but he was smiling. "come here."

"i'm already here."

"closer."

"i don't think that's physically possible."

"we can try."

and you did try, losing yourselves in kisses and touches and the kind of chemistry that made atomic bonds look simple by comparison. the test tomorrow became a distant concern, overshadowed by more immediate and infinitely more interesting lessons.

when you finally came up for air, both of you were breathing hard, and the textbook on the floor seemed like a relic from another lifetime.

"okay," you said, your voice slightly breathless. "so studying is officially off the table?"

"officially," he confirmed, his hands still tangled in your long dark blue hair.

"so then what are we gonna do?"

he was quiet for a moment, his green eyes studying your face like he was trying to memorize it. then he stood up, carefully lifting you with him before setting you on your feet.

"dance with me," he said simply.

you blinked. "dance? here?"

"why not?"

"because we're in your bedroom. because there's no music. because you're damian wayne and i've never seen you dance in my life."

"then you're about to see something new." he pulled out his phone, scrolling through something before some soft spanish song began to fill the room. nothing too loud, the walls were thick, but not thick enough to risk waking alfred.

"you're serious," you said, but you were already smiling.

"completely serious." he held out his hand, and there was something almost vulnerable in the gesture. "dance with me."

you took his hand, letting him pull you into the center of the room. it was awkward at first, you'd never been the slow dancing type, and he moved with the careful precision of someone who'd been taught proper ballroom technique. but then you relaxed into it, letting him lead, your bodies finding a rhythm that had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the way you fit together.

"this is nice," you murmured against his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin.

"better than studying?"

"infinitely better than studying."

he spun you slowly, and you laughed as your hair fanned out around you. when he pulled you back against him, his hands settled on your lower back, warm through the thin fabric of your top.

"you know," you said, looking up at him, "i never figured you for a romantic."

"i'm full of surprises."

"apparently."

you swayed together in the dim light of his room, the rest of the world forgotten. tomorrow there would be a chemistry test, and you'd both probably ace it anyway.

tonight there was just this, soft music, gentle touches, and the kind of intimacy that couldn't be found in any textbook.

after all, some kinds of education couldn't be found in books.

@ scarsoncherryglass 2025 . reposts, likes, and comments are very appreciated!

tag list ; @senatorpadmeamidala, @nyxisnotok

note: I LOVE LOVE LOVE THEM, guys again the titles of each one shot i write are titles of songs this ones itotiani by chicano batman i fw this song heavily since childhood imagined they danced to this song

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scarsoncherryglass · 18 days ago

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OKAY GUYS PERIOD

THANKS FOR THE LIKES

NOW PLEASE HELP ME

WHO ELSE SHOULD I WRITE FOR I DONT JUST WANAN WRITE FOR DAMIAN AND JINX!READER

HELP

I LOVE THE HP FANDOM, OBX, MAYBE ILL WRITE FOR CELEBS, BUT IDK WHO ELSE

i have a hector fort ff that’s absolutely horrible but i love barcelona like thats my childhood team

so maybe i’ll write for them

but idk if anyone will read them cs ppl only cared for those ffs during the 2022 world cup

IDK HELP SEND REQUEST

ALSO I NEED MUTUALS

& lmk if u wanna be in the taglist for jinx!reader

#nati talks (a lot)₊˚⊹ ᰔ #dc comics #batfam x reader #jinx!reader #dc x female reader #jason todd fanfiction #damian wayne #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #clark kent x reader #simon riley x reader #bruce wayne x reader #wally west x reader #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #fred weasley x reader #rafe cameron x reader

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scarsoncherryglass · 18 days ago

Text

SOMEONE TO STAY. damian wayne.

damian wayne x fem!jinx!reader

summary ; yet another breakup gets reconciled at a party. after some… interesting events. words ; 5.8k warnings ; underaged drinking + slight mention on problems with alcohol, verbal argument, relationship conflict, lowkey toxic relationship, mild violence, threats, physical intimidation, unstable living situation, mild sexual undertones (barely), suggestive dancing + touching, language, mentions of cheating? (not really since they’re broken up tho we DONT condone cheating here) masterlist ; here

the kellerman house was the kind of place that screamed "my parents are in the hamptons and left their black card." all glass and chrome and imported marble that probably cost the same as a lung. the kind of place where rich kids came to pretend they were dangerous while their last names kept them safe.

you hated it immediately.

which was perfect, because you were in the kind of mood where hating things felt good. therapeutic, even.

like scratching an itch you couldn't quite reach.

it had been six days since you'd told damian that maybe he should find a girlfriend who didn't come with a body count and property damage.

six days since he'd looked at you with those stupidly perfect green eyes and said nothing.

just stood there in the empty chemistry lab while your words hung in the air like smoke.

six days of radio silence.

not that you were counting.

"holy shit, you actually came."

you turned to find marcus chen approaching with a red solo cup and a grin that suggested he'd already sampled whatever was in it. sweet kid. honor student. the kind of person who probably still believed in happy endings.

"disappointed?" you asked, accepting the drink he offered. it smelled like regret and bad decisions. perfect.

"are you kidding? you're like, an icon. half the school thinks you're going to burn the place down."

you took a sip and immediately regretted it. whatever was in the cup tasted like it could strip paint. "the night is young."

marcus laughed like you were joking. you weren't entirely sure you were.

you'd spent an hour getting ready tonight, your dark blue hair, long enough to brush your lower back, falling in waves around your shoulders. the black halter top and sequined shorts had felt like armor when you'd put them on, but now they just felt like a statement you weren't sure you wanted to make.

the music was too loud, the kind of bass that made your bones vibrate in a way that reminded you uncomfortably of other things. bodies pressed together on what used to be the kellermans' pristine living room floor, all grinding hips and wandering hands and the kind of desperate energy that came from being seventeen and stupid.

you'd fit right in, if it weren't for the whispers in your head that no one else could hear.

another drink. bigger this time. the alcohol burned, but it was a clean burn, not like other things that coursed through your veins.

"you look like you're having the time of your life."

the voice cut through your internal noise like a blade, and you didn't have to turn to know who it was. you recognize that particular brand of sarcasm anywhere.

tyler morrison.

gotham high's golden boy. soccer captain, student council president, and the kind of guy who thought "no" was just a negotiating tactic.

he'd been trying to get in your pants since sophomore year, despite your repeated attempts to explain, sometimes with violence, that you'd rather date a rabid wolverine.

"tyler," you said without turning around. "come to get rejected again? i've got new and creative ways to say no."

"come on, don't be like that." he moved to stand beside you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. expensive. cloying. "we both know you're only playing hard to get because you're hung up on wayne."

something flared under your skin like a live wire. "excuse me?"

"everyone knows you two broke up," he continued, apparently oblivious to the way you'd gone very still. "which means you're available. and i’ve been very patient."

the voices whispered suggestions. you took another drink instead. "your patience isn't my problem."

"maybe not. but your loneliness is."

the words hit like a slap, mostly because there was truth in them.

you were lonely.

had been since damian stopped walking you to class, stopped leaving notes in your locker, stopped looking at you like you were something worth saving instead of something to be contained.

"i’m fine," you lied.

"sure you are. that's why you're standing here alone, drinking marcus's terrible punch, looking like you want to burn the place down."

"maybe i do."

tyler laughed. "See? This is what I like about you. You're wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous."

"you have no idea," you said out loud, turning to face him fully. The movement made the room tilt slightly, when had you finished your drink? but you compensated with reflexes that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

"so show me." tyler's smile was all teeth and confidence. "dance with me."

your rational mind supplied reasons to say no, to walk away, to find somewhere quiet to sober up before you did something you'd regret.

but your rational mind was being drowned out by internal noise and alcohol and the way tyler was looking at you like a challenge. like something to be conquered.

and you'd always been bad at backing down from a challenge.

"fine," you heard yourself say. "but i lead." grabbing his hand you walked him over to where the rest were dancing.

the dance floor was a crush of bodies and sweat and perfume that couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of desperation. someone had turned the music up even louder, and the bass line made your ribcage vibrate in a way that felt dangerously familiar.

tyler's hands found your hips immediately, possessive and presumptuous. under normal circumstances, you would have broken his fingers. but the alcohol was making everything feel distant and dreamlike, and something was humming under your skin like a tuning fork.

you moved against Tyler, letting the music guide your hips, your hands, your whole body. around you, people were starting to take notice. a few phones appeared, but most people were too drunk or too focused on their own dancing to care about your little show.

this was power. not the kind that came from needles and laboratories, but the kind that came from being seventeen and reckless and beautifully, destructively alive.

"damn, girl," someone shouted over the music, but their voice was swallowed by the general noise of the party.

tyler's hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer grinding on your back, and you let him. let him think he was in control, that this was about him, when really it was about the boy who wasn't here. the one who'd looked at you like a problem to be solved instead of a person to be loved.

the music shifted, something with a harder edge, and you found yourself climbing onto the nearest surface, a coffee table that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. a few people cheered, but the party kept flowing around you like water around a stone.

tyler reached for your ankle, grinning like he'd won something.

that's when you saw him, hips still moving and hands in your hair.

damian stood near the kitchen doorway like an avenging angel, all sharp angles and barely contained violence. he was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt that did things to his arms that should have been illegal, and his eyes, gosh, his eyes were locked on you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you. the party faded into background noise, and it was just him and you and six days' worth of unspoken words crackling between you.

then tyler's hand closed around your ankle, and something unstable rippled through the air around you.

tyler jerked his hand away with a curse, shaking his fingers like he'd been burned. which, considering things you didn't like to think about, he probably had been.

"what the fuck—" he started.

"get away from her."

damian's voice cut across the music, low and dangerous and absolutely lethal. he was moving through the crowd now, people instinctively stepping aside without knowing why, and there was something in his expression that suggested tyler had about three seconds to live.

"wayne." Tyler straightened, puffing up like an angry peacock. the party continued around them, most people too drunk or distracted to notice the building tension. "this doesn't concern you."

"everything that involves her concerns me."

the possessive edge in his voice made something warm and complicated unfurl in your chest. even broken up, even after six days of silence, he still claimed you. still came running when you were in trouble.

still cared.

"she was dancing with me," tyler shot back. "willingly."

"was she?" damian's eyes flicked to you, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you swayed slightly on the table. his jaw clenched. "she's drunk."

"so are half the people here."

"she's not half the people here."

there was something in the way he said it, careful, controlled, like he was holding back words that might get someone killed, that made your heart do stupid things in your chest.

he knows, you realized. he knows what happens when you drink. it’d been a problem before, one he of course helped you out of.

"girls," you called out, your voice carrying a sharp edge that made both of them look up. the room was spinning pleasantly now, and everything felt soft around the edges, but that just made you feel more reckless. more willing to poke at wounds. you crouched down and cupped both their faces before pushing them away. "you're both very pretty, but I'm not a prize to be won."

"then get down from there," Damian said, his voice tight with something that might have been fear. "before you—"

he cut himself off, but you knew what he'd been about to say. before you hurt someone. before you lose control. before you prove that you're exactly the mess everyone thinks you are.

"before i what?" you asked sweetly, taking a step closer to the edge of the table. "before I have fun? before i do something spontaneous? gosh forbid i act like a normal teenager for five minutes."

"you're not normal," he said quietly, and the words hit like a slap.

the party kept going around you, but something cold settled in your chest. "wow. thanks for the reminder, boy wonder. you know for a second there i almost forgot i was a freak."

his face went white. "that's not what i meant—"

"sure it is." you laughed, and it came out brittle and sharp. "poor little damaged girl, can't be trusted to make her own decisions. might accidentally hurt someone if she has too much fun."

"you're putting words in my mouth."

"am i? because it sounds pretty familiar. Sounds like every conversation we've had for the past month." you took another step, and tyler wisely backed away from the table. smart boy. "you want to know what i think, damian?"

"not particularly," he said, but his eyes never left you.

"i think you like that i'm broken." The words spilled out of you, alcohol and six days of hurt giving them weight. "i think it makes you feel important, having someone to save. someone who needs you."

"That's not true."

"it is true— it is fucking true. because then why are you here? why do you keep showing up every time i'm having fun without you?"

"because i care about you!"

"you care about controlling me!" The words exploded out of you, and you felt something unstable ripple through the air again. a few people nearby shivered and moved away without knowing why. "there's a difference!"

damian stepped closer to the table, and his voice was deadly calm. "get down. now."

"make me."

it was a challenge, pure and simple. the kind of line in the sand that you'd both crossed too many times to count. around you, the party flowed on, people dancing, drinking, laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that their classmates were having a relationship meltdown in the middle of the living room.

for a moment, you thought he might actually climb up after you. his whole body was coiled like a spring, ready for violence, and there was something wild in his eyes that you'd only seen a few times before.

then tyler opened his mouth.

"jeez, wayne, just let her have some fun. she’s not your property."

wrong thing to say. very, very wrong thing to say.

damian turned on him with predatory grace, and suddenly tyler found himself pressed against the wall with a forearm across his throat. the movement was so fast, so fluid, that most of the party didn't even notice.

"let me explain something to you," damian said conversationally, like he wasn't currently cutting off someone's air supply. "she's not interested in you. she's never been interested in you. and if I catch you touching her again, they'll need dental records to identify your body."

tyler made a strangled sound that might have been protest or agreement.

"damian," you said, and something in your voice made him look up. made him see the way you were staring at him with glittering eyes and no longer smiling. "let him go."

for a moment, damian didn't move. then he stepped back, and tyler slumped against the wall, gasping.

"this isn't over," tyler wheezed before stumbling away into the crowd.

damian sighed rolling his eyes, “yeah it is.”

which left you and Damian alone in a room full of people who were too drunk to care about the drama unfolding in their midst.

"happy now?" you asked, swaying slightly on your perch. "you've marked your territory. very alpha male of you. i’m so proud."

"get. down. i’m not gonna tell you again." he repeated, his voice strained.

"why? so you can lecture me about my choices? so you can remind me how dangerous i am?"

"so i can take you home before you do something you'll regret."

"what if i don't want to go home? what if i want to stay here and dance on tables and let tyler morrison feel me up?" you knew you were being cruel, knew you were twisting the knife, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue and six days of silence had sharpened your blade. "what if i want to be normal for one night?"

"youre not normal, you can't be normal," he said, and there was something broken in his voice. "neither of us can."

"speak for yourself, boy wonder. some of us didn't choose this life."

the words hung between you like poison, and you saw him flinch. because it was true, and you both knew it. he'd chosen to put on a mask, chosen to fight crime, chosen to surround himself with danger.

you'd been eleven years old when the choice was made for you.

"i know," he said quietly. "i know you didn't choose this. But you can't pretend it didn't happen. look i’m sorry for what i said, but you can't drink it away or dance it away or fuck it away with tyler morrison."

"watch me," you said, and started to turn away from him.

that's when he moved.

one moment you were standing on the table, the next you were being lifted down by strong hands around your waist. the world spun, and you found yourself pressed against Damian's chest, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat of his skin.

"let go of me," you snarled, pushing against him.

"no."

"i said let go!"

"and i said no." his grip tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you still. "you’re drunk and you're angry and you're about to do something stupid."

"something stupid like what? have fun? enjoy myself? gosh forbid i act like i'm seventeen instead of some fragile doll that might break if you're not watching every second!"

"you're not fragile," he said, his voice rough. "you're the strongest person I know. But you're also—"

"what? a liability? a ticking time bomb?"

"hurting," he said simply, and the word hit like a physical blow. "you're hurting, and when you hurt, you lash out. at me, at yourself, at anyone who gets too close."

"you don't know what you're talking about."

"don't i? then why are you here, drinking yourself stupid and grinding on morrison? why are you picking a fight with me in the middle of a party? why are you trying so hard to prove that you don't need anyone?!"

the questions hung in the air between you, and you hated how accurate they were. hated that he could see through your defenses so easily, could read you like a book when you'd spent years perfecting the art of being unreadable.

"because i don't need anyone," you said, but the words came out shaky.

"liar."

"i’m not—"

"you're terrified," he interrupted. "you're terrified that if you let yourself need someone, they'll leave. just like your father did. just like everyone else has."

"shut up." the words came out as a whisper, but they carried the weight of a scream.

"i'm not going to leave," he said, his voice gentle now. "no matter how hard you push, no matter how much you try to convince me that you're not worth staying for. i’m not going anywhere."

"you already did leave," you said, and there were tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. "six days ago. you walked away."

"you told me to go."

"you should have fought harder!"

"i’m fighting now."

the simple statement hung between you, and suddenly you were aware of how close you were standing. how his hands were still on your waist, how you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

around you, the party continued. people danced and laughed and made the kind of memories that would embarrass them in the morning. nobody was paying attention to the two of you, locked in your own private drama.

"i missed you," you whispered, the admission torn from somewhere deep in your chest.

"i missed you too."

"even when i’m like this? drunk and mean and impossible?"

"especially then."

you stared up at him, taking in the familiar green of his eyes, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. "we're really bad at this, aren't we?"

"terrible," he agreed. "We fight constantly, break up every other week, and you once put me through that wall."

"okay, that was an accident."

"i know."

"and you forgave me."

"i forgave you."

"why?"

he was quiet for a moment, his thumbs stroking across your hipbones in a gesture that was unconsciously soothing. "because loving you is the easiest thing i’ve ever done. everything else, the fighting, the drama, the constant worry, that's hard. but loving you? that's as natural as breathing."

the tears you'd been fighting finally spilled over, and you buried your face against his chest. he smelled like expensive cologne and laundry detergent and something underneath that was just him.

"i’m sorry," you mumbled against his shirt. "i’m sorry for what i said, and for pushing you away, and for being such a mess."

"you're my mess," he said, his arms tightening around you. "and i'm not going anywhere."

you stayed like that for a long moment, clinging to each other in the middle of a party full of strangers. finally, you pulled back enough to look at him.

"take me home?" you asked.

he nodded and took your hand, leading you through the crowd toward the exit. behind you, the party raged on, but you were already somewhere else. already safe in the space between his fingers and yours.

the drive started in silence, broken only by the low hum of the engine and your occasional sniffles. damian drove with one hand, the other holding yours across the center console, and you watched gotham's neon lights blur past the window.

"i really am sorry," you said finally.

"i know."

"i don't know why i do that. say things i don't mean just to hurt you."

"because you're scared," he said simply. "and when you're scared, you fight."

“that's not an excuse."

"no, but it's an explanation."

you squeezed his hand, marveling at how right it felt. how perfectly your fingers fit together, like they'd been designed specifically for this purpose.

"i love you," you said.

"i love you too."

"even when i'm being impossible?"

"especially then."

you were almost to your neighborhood when you realized the problem. not the time, it was only 11:30, plenty early for your midnight curfew, but the other thing.

you were drunk. not falling-down drunk, but enough that mrs. henderson would notice the moment you walked through the door. would smell the alcohol, see your dilated pupils, ask questions you weren't prepared to answer.

"shit," you breathed as damian pulled into your neighborhood.

"What's wrong?"

"i can't go in like this. mrs. henderson will know i've been drinking."

he glanced at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. "and that's bad because...?"

"because she'll call my social worker. and my social worker will decide that this placement isn't working out. and then it's back to group homes and temporary families who see me as a paycheck instead of a person."

the words came out in a rush, and you saw understanding dawn in his eyes. your living situation was precarious at best, most foster families didn't want a teenager with your particular brand of baggage. mrs. henderson was nice enough, but she had rules. and showing up drunk was definitely against the rules.

"how long until you're sober?" he asked.

"a couple hours, maybe? i didn't have that much, but i'm not exactly a heavyweight."

he was quiet for a moment, considering. then he pulled over a few houses down from yours and turned off the engine.

"what are you doing?"

"waiting," he said simply. "until you're sober enough to go inside without getting in trouble."

you stared at him. "damian, you don't have to—"

"yes, i do."

"it could be hours."

"i've got time."

"your family will wonder where you are."

"i'll text Alfred."

"this is stupid. i can handle—"

"i know you can," he interrupted. "but you don't have to. Not tonight."

the words hit like a physical blow, because no one had ever told you that before. that you didn't have to handle everything alone, that it was okay to let someone else share the load.

"okay," you whispered.

he reclined his seat and gestured for you to do the same. the car was warm and quiet, a cocoon of safety in a world that had never been particularly safe for either of you.

"this is nice," you said finally.

"what is?"

"this. us. not fighting."

"we'll probably be fighting again by tomorrow."

"probably."

"about something stupid."

"definitely something stupid."

"but not tonight."

"no," you agreed, settling back in your seat. "not tonight."

he reached over and took your hand again, and you felt the last of the tension leave your body. the alcohol was fading, leaving behind a pleasant drowsiness and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from emotional warfare.

"tell me something," you said.

"like what?"

"anything. i like your voice."

so he did. told you about the book he was reading, about alfred's latest attempts to get him to eat vegetables, about the robin's nest outside his bedroom window. ordinary things, domestic things, the kind of details that painted a picture of a life beyond the masks and the darkness.

somewhere in the middle of a story about his youngest brother's latest prank war with tim, you fell asleep.

you dreamed of laboratories and needles and men in lab coats who looked at you like a problem to be solved. but in your dreams, someone was holding your hand. someone with green eyes and gentle fingers who whispered your name like a prayer.

someone who stayed.

@ scarsoncherryglass 2025 . reposts, likes, and comments are very appreciated!

tag list ; @senatorpadmeamidala

note: we love this right (yes we do)!!! i wrote two other one-shots too bc i stayed up all night we’ll see when i post them, ones kinda steamy but cute

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scarsoncherryglass · 19 days ago

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CHAT IM WRITING ANOTHER ONE-SHOT FOR JINX!READER

YOU ARE NOT READY FOR THIS I LOVE IT SM WTF

please don’t embarrass me when i post it PLEASE LIKE IT AS MICH AS I DO

if you hate it remember i’m still sleep deprived :)

#nati talks (a lot)₊˚⊹ ᰔ #by nati 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚#jinx!reader #dc comics #batfam x reader #dc x female reader #damian wayne #jason todd fanfiction #damian wayne x reader #jinx inspired oc #damian wayne fic #damian wayne images #damian wayne edit #damian wayne fanfiction #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul

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scarsoncherryglass · 19 days ago

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CHERRY FLAVOURED. damian wayne.

damian wayne x fem!jinx!reader

summary ; he walks you home everyday. words ; 3.6k warnings ; language, suggestive kiss, toxic dynamic (if u read between the lines), protective behaviour, underage kids sneaking into bedrooms (theyre like 17-18 chill), reader is described to have long dark blue hair nothing else about skin color or body image (the pictures in the mood board and the header are not how the character is, i simply chose these to make it easier for me to write) masterlist ; here

it had always been clear to you that in life, some people just had it better than others. no use sugarcoating it, that was just the way things were.

you saw it every day walking down the halls of Gotham High, metal bracelets clinking against each other with each swing of your arms, the thud of worn combat boots echoing off the floors. your uniform skirt was short enough to earn disapproving glances, more belt than actual clothing, making you stand out not only from the pristine, perfume-scented girls, but the guys too.

these people had their lives already mapped out in neat, expensive handwriting. they didn’t need to think outside the box, hell, most of them had never even opened the lid. living one safe, easy day at a time was enough for them. to their eyes, the world was perfect.

Gotham High’s stereotype was simple: it only bred two types of people, the rich, and the richer.

you’d always been good at breaking stereotypes, and this one had been the easiest yet. maybe it would’ve been harder if your “father”, a self-proclaimed scientist with more ego than sense, hadn’t managed to get himself obliterated by his own experiment.

there’s a saying about not speaking ill of the dead. but the dead can’t talk back, so what’s the harm?

damian wayne liked breaking stereotypes too.

just… not as much as you did.

he’d step outside the lines, sure, but only if he decided it was worth it. he was a curious bat, but the type to open the box only if you told him not to. because, really when had damian wayne ever listened to anyone else’s rules?

the young man spoke four languages fluently, was top of his class, and was skilled in more martial arts than you cared to count. raised as a weapon, and fully aware of it.

stereotypes didn’t mean much to him. he liked breaking them. he liked breaking things in general, always certain he could put them back together.

it was different with you.

you came to him already broken, jagged in all the wrong places, and you didn’t want to be fixed. you were comfortable in the pain, like it was an old jacket you refused to throw away.

and even though he’d never admit it, it scared him.

the recklessness. the thoughtlessness.

so he started protecting you in a way that didn’t cage you, a way that let you keep the dangerous freedom you’d fought for your whole life but had only barely managed to touch.

It became a ritual: walking you home. He hated the sight of you weaving down the sidewalk, earbuds crammed in so tight they probably hurt, blasting some rock song loud enough to be heard halfway down the street.

he hated even more the way men would watch you pass, eyes tracking the swing of your skirt, waiting for the wind or your own steps to give them more than they deserved.

so he’d wait by your locker until the bell rang and the trust fund kids poured out of Gotham High like they had somewhere better to be.

as usual, you were held up.

damian stood, patient but watchful, as you argued animatedly with a teacher, no doubt over the ripped black tights you wore. they’d been labeled “provocative” before, but they only became a real issue after some idiot decided to hook his fingers through one of the tears and drag you onto his lap.

the “idiot” came to school the next week in a neck brace. no proof, of course. but everyone knew.

“hey, boy wonder!”

your cheerfully mocking voice snapped him from his thoughts.

he sighed. “how many times have I told you not to call me that?”

he still didn’t know how you’d figured out the robin thing, but you wouldn’t tell anyone and no one at this school was smart enough to put the pieces together anyway.

you sighed back at him in a perfect imitation, falling back into his chest. “don’t know. don’t care.” plucking a piece of gum into your mouth, and reaching up to his to give him his own peace.

he didn’t answer, lips wrapped around the tips of your fingers, giving you that unreadable look one corner of his mouth twitching up almost imperceptibly. his arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you close into his warmth.

the walk from Gotham High to your current foster home was long, especially in Gotham’s bone-deep winters. but no matter how many excuses you threw out, damian walked you there every day, even if it was the complete opposite direction of his own home.

you’d never admit it, but you liked these walks. it was the only time of day that felt… still. that felt yours.

you didn’t know everything about him. he didn’t know everything about you. but he knew your tells.

the way you rolled your bracelets on your wrist to ground yourself when he wasn’t there, the way each shift in your hair color was an attempt to reclaim some control. he knew the pink in your eyes brightened when the shimmer in your blood started pulling at your nerves, making your hands twitch. he knew when to pull you in and when to leave you alone, even when it went against every instinct to step back.

“oooh, look at that,” you said suddenly, pointing a blue-nailed finger toward a newly pasted concert poster.

he made a sound somewhere between a hum and a tch.

“jeez, could you be any more boring?” you wriggled out from under his arm, walking ahead.

he stayed back just long enough to snap a picture of the poster… and a quick candid of you. he knew you’d hit him for it later, but you’d still ask him to send it to you.

when he caught up, you gave him a pointed glare. “you know, most people at least pretend to be sneaky when they take pictures.”

“you’d ruin the shot if i warned you.”

your hand flew to your chest, faux-offended. “so you admit I’m photogenic.”

“that wasn’t a compliment.”

“sure it wasn’t,” you hummed. “bet you’ve got a whole folder of your ‘non-compliments’ saved.”

he didn’t deny it. which told you everything.

by the time you reached your block, the air had turned sharp enough to sting. you slowed down without meaning to, and of course, damian noticed.

“you’re doing it again,” he said quietly.

“doing what?”

“making the walk last longer.”

you smirked. “maybe I just like your company, boy wonder.”

“i prefer to think of it as keeping the streets safe from you.”

“oh, please. without me, this city would be boring. crime rates would drop out of pure disappointment.”

he gave you that sidelong look, the one that made you feel like he could see straight through your skull. “you inspire something. not sure fear is the right word.”

“careful, damian. sounds like you think i’m irresistible.”

“i was going to say troublesome. but if the shoe fits…” he shrugged.

you stopped walking, forcing him to stop too. “did you just call me irresistible?”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

“yes.”

hesighed, like you were exhausting but worth it. “insufferable. that was the word i was looking for—”

“—they’re very similar words,” you cut in nodding, your cold hands slipping into his.

he didn’t let go. “right exactly. unfortunately.”

“not what you said last night,” you teased.

the words “about last night” hung in the air like a live wire between them. you’d said it so casually, like it hadn’t been replaying in damian’s head for hours, the memory into him as vividly as the moonlight that had spilled across his bedroom floor.

last night had been trouble from the second you tapped on his window.

he’d been sketching, alone, in the clean precision of his room, walls lined with books and sharpened blades and then there was you. perched on the sill like sin dressed in ripped tights and smudged eyeshadow, hair falling tangled around your smirk.

“miss me?” you’d whispered, slipping in without waiting for an answer. you smelled faintly like smoke and something sweet he couldn’t place.

he’d told you it was a bad idea. “what the hell is wrong with you? you can’t just show up here.” his tone was sharp, but his eyes had already softened.

you’d only tilted your head, stepping close enough that your knees brushed. “what, afraid daddy might walk in?” you teased, voice low, wicked. the word daddy had made him flinch, not because you were wrong, but because bruce would kill him.

damian had locked the door anyway.

you’d kissed him then, quick, like you were testing the air before pulling back with that sly little grin. he hated how easily you got under his skin. one second, he was trying to keep his guard up; the next, his hands were in your hair and your back was pressed to his desk.

the night had been slow and charged, every movement deliberate. you straddling his lap in the chair, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. him trying not to make a sound when your lips brushed that spot beneath his ear. his mind screaming that bruce could knock any second, his pulse screaming louder that he didn’t care.

you’d ended up tangled together on his bed, knees knocking, your laugh muffled into his chest. when you finally left, slipping back out into the Gotham night, his room smelled like you. It still did.

now, in the present, he was standing in the cold alley of the convenience store next to the hose you were staying at, watching you lean against the brick wall pulling him closer by his uniform tie, like the whole world was your audience. his chest felt tight, a dangerous mix of irritation and longing.

you remembered every second of last night, and like you knew he was replaying it too.

that flicker in his eyes told you you’d hit your mark.

one step, and you were pressed harder against the wall, his hand curling at the back of your neck, mouth on yours not soft, not sweet. heated. certain.

you didn’t even realize your hands had fisted in his jacket until he finally pulled back, breath warm against your lips.

“happy now?”

You pretended to think. “six out of ten.”

that earned you a dangerous-sounding laugh. “six— you know what, careful what you ask for.”

you smirked, brushing his lips once more before stepping away. “guess we’ll see if you can improve your score tomorrow, wayne.”

“get inside before I tell start listing off the reasons that,” he point at your uniform skirt. “—is ridiculous.”

“yeah, yeah, acting as if you don’t like it,” you scoffed, but his eyes flickered toward your street, dark with something unspoken.

he didn’t wanna let you go.

so he stalled.

“you have lipgloss on your cheek,” he said after a beat.

before you could wipe it away, his thumb brushed slow over your skin, his gaze locked on yours.

“gone?” you asked.

his mouth curved. “not exactly.”

“you’re messing with me.”

“always.”

you shoved at his chest, useless since he barely moved, tilting his head back to chuckle, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

you kissed your teeth making a tch sound, and muttered something about him being an asshole.

“and yet,” he said as you both started walking again, “you love me.”

you didn’t answer.

couldn’t answer.

not yet.

but you knew one thing everything felt better with him. even the chaos. especially the chaos.

@ scarsoncherryglass 2025. reposts, likes, and comments are very appreciated!

note: umm so if this sucks leave me alone i’ve been awake all night cs im flying home this is js an intro ok let me live, thanks!!

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scarsoncherryglass · 22 days ago

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WAIT IM DEAD THIS IS SO CUTE AND SWEET

WTF IM SO SINGLE

she loves you, and you know that cant be bad

Jason has lots of scars. They’re littered all over his skin, some are a little pinker, indicating the freshness of some of his injuries. Some are larger than others, some straight, and some jagged. You drag your finger along each one on his back, taking the time to count them to yourself. You hold your breath when he goes quiet for a second too long. You resume your petting when his snores pick up at their regular intervals. He looks so pretty like this, with the sun has barely risen, the room still in that pretty blue shade. Limbo between day and night. Jason deserves the rest, but his strong arms around you aren’t enough, feeling your palm against his back slightly quells your neediness. Knowing you can be with him in this way. Watching him with his guard down, no yelling, just seeing him…peaceful. It’s more than lovely, it’s a privilege you wouldn’t trade for anything. You fall asleep again easily, maybe after the hundredth time of tracing every notch in his spine. You want to be intimate with every dip and curve of Jason’s body, even the obscure ones.

Jason is on a similar level of domestic voyeurism, if one can call it that. He wakes up with you drooling agains his skin, you’re shielded by his chest, the warm rays of light not reaching your eyes keeping you deep in dreamland. You’re not prim, nor proper, and he really, really enjoys that. The drool against your cheek, and the little extra roll under your chin because your jaw is slack. He smiles so wide the dimple in his cheek becomes increasingly prominent. He carefully shifts, pulling you a little closer to him, sliding his hand up the back of your shirt. He can feel your skin react with goosebumps, If you weren’t such a blanket hog his hands wouldn’t be cold, you sow what you reap baby.

“Ugh, Jay.” You grumble, no one could sleep through his cold, calloused fingers stroking their skin. “Ugh, Jay.” Jason mocks your sleepy tone, giving you some nice back scratches, from your shoulder blades all the way down your spine, then back up again. He can sense you’re upcoming cold shoulder, mocking so early in the morning usually is a bad decision, but he can never resist. He squeezes you before you can roll away. Jason cups your cheeks so hard your lips pucker. Perfect, now you have to shut up and accept his affection. Morning breath be damned. He smacks kiss after kiss until you’re trying to bat him away. “You’re crazy.” You say breathily, looping your freed arms around him. He’s successfully gotten himself out of the dog house. “Yeah, crazy for you.” He laughs at your reaction to his cheesy line, the way you scrunch your nose up, trying not to smile, so fucking cute. “You liked that? Ewww, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ soft.” Jason is teasing, with you, it comes easy. “Shut up, you’re the soft one.” You scoff, he grabs your hand, pressing it against his chest, and down his abs, even when he’s relaxed like this, his muscles are defined. Firm, you can feel each notch. “This is not soft. I’m a lean mean muscle machine.” He says, playfully giving you a knock to the chin. You laugh and he can’t resist kissing you again, your hand travels up his abdomen to his chest, you can feel the steady thump of his heart. Jason has had a lifetime of cruelty, but a lifetime of gentleness is what he deserves, you’ll do your best to provide it.

dividers by @cursed-carmine

a/n: i just know he snores, that septum deviated asfff

#nati talks (a lot)₊˚⊹ ᰔ #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu x reader #dc #dcu comics #dcu #dc universe #dc comics #dc fanfic #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction

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scarsoncherryglass · 22 days ago

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⛓ 💣 ㄨ✘✗ﾒ✗•.ᐟ jinx!reader files: shimmer verse au

jinx!reader who’s… father was an ex-WayneTech scientist who got blacklisted after practicing illegal experimentation specializing in biochemical enhancers to turn “potential into power.”

jinx!reader who… was her fathers first test subject.

jinx!reader who… was eleven when she was injected with a volatile early-stage version of Shimmer, an unstable serum developed under the radar in the WayneTech basement.

jinx!reader who… disappeared off the grid for a year when her father “died” and she became a failed experiment.

jinx!reader who… when she came back, she wasn’t the same.

jinx!reader who… imagines killing the scientists that helped her father with the shimmer surge experiment.

jinx!reader who’s… body is extremely unstable due to the shimmer.

jinx!reader who… has brief distortions in space around causing her body to glitch.

jinx!reader who… can charge objects with volatile energy.

jinx!reader who… once “accidentally” blew up the foster home she was staying at.

jinx!reader who… has enhanced reflexes and moves unnervingly fast, making her unpredictable.

jinx!reader who’s… “shimmer pulse” is caused when overwhelmed emotionally her powers explode. often ends with cracked walls, shattered glass, people bleeding.

jinx!reader who… advanced mind has never let her forget her victims.

jinx!reader who… sometimes hears voices, especially when her adrenaline spikes.

jinx!reader who… doesn’t always know if they’re real and relies on damian to tell her.

jinx!reader who… is purely chaotic energy mixed with feral glitter-goth energy.

jinx!reader who… blows things up, skips detention, saves kids from muggers, and steals cafeteria cookies.

jinx!reader who’s… abnormally smart, but refuses to care. 143 IQ. diagnosed gifted.

jinx!reader who’s… barely passing her classes. most of the school thinks she’s a lost cause. except one person.

jinx!reader who’s… pink and blue nails are always chipped, drinks battery-acid-level energy drinks, and makes handmade weapons out of mechanical pencils.

jinx!reader who… skips gym, sleeps in academic math, but aces every chemistry test without showing work.

jinx!reader who… gets called to the principal’s office weekly for minor property damage.

jinx!reader who’s… locker has duct tape, glitter bombs, pop rocks, stolen brass knuckles, and a photo of her and damian.

jinx!reader who… once brought a raccoon to school on a leash. principal still won’t talk about it. litigation is pending.

jinx!reader who… was suspended for the week. came back on monday, bloody knuckles, hair a darker shade of blue.

damian wayne who… got assigned to sit next to her in chem, of course.

jinx!reader who… when the teacher leaves, she grabs a bottle out of her pocket mixes it with other chemicals and throws it onto the floor creating a small gas.

damian wayne who… looks at her after being escorted out of the room. “that was reckless.”

jinx!reader who… simply grins. “it was fun.”

damian wayne who… should’ve walked away. he didn’t.

jinx!reader who… figures out he’s Robin way too fast. doesn’t say anything. but starts calling him “Boy Wonder” with a wink on monday.

jinx!reader & damian wayne who... fight. a lot. then they save each other or apologize (kinda). then they fight again.

damian wayne who… he starts walking her home. she pretends not to notice. he pretends not to care.

jinx!reader who… thinks it’s cute when he’s jealous.

damian wayne who… thinks it’s terrifying when she gets quiet.

damian wayne who… calls her by her real name only when he’s scared.

jinx!reader who… only calls him damian when she means it.

jinx!reader & damian wayne who… break up every other week.

jinx!reader & damian wayne who… are the kind of couple who argue in stairwells and kiss like it’s the end of the world in locker rooms.

jinx!reader & damian wayne who… are just two scared kids haunted by faces only they see.

jinx!reader & damian wayne who…understand each other’s darkness, she lives in hers, he hides his.

@ scarsoncherryglass 2025. reposts, likes, and comments are very appreciated!

i will be accepting requests for this au!!

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scarsoncherryglass · 1 month ago

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AND NOW DRUMROLL PLEASE…

“ introducing jinx!reader… 💣 ㄨ✘✗ﾒ✗•.ᐟ

゛paired with damian wayne ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

NOW PLAYING … SHES’S MY COLLAR - GORILLAZ FT. KALI UCHIS ｡𖦹°‧

✧ ˚ · . chaotic softness . dark blue hair dye stains . mismatched socks . ripped tights . handmade explosives . glitter bombs. lowkey vandal . psychotic . trauma giggles. manic pixie punch . violent . soft rage. paint-stained fingers . heavy boots . a barbie . cracked nail polish . sleepless grins . heavy kisses . ✧ ˚ · .

masterlist . . .

⛓ 💣 ㄨ✘✗ﾒ✗•.ᐟ jinx!reader files: shimmer verse au

cherry flavoured ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

someone to stay ⋆˚࿔ ꩜

itotiani ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

note: obsessed with these two and how unhinged but tender they’re gonna be. i’m fully spiraling, im so excited to write more high school AU stuff with fights, kisses, chaos, and of course any request that may come along!!

#by nati 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚#batfam x reader #dc comics #dc shimmerverse #antihero!reader #jinx!reader #oc #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul #chaotic romance #jinx arcane #arcane #jinx aesthetic #dc x female reader

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scarsoncherryglass · 1 month ago

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where is all the pope heyward fics

PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE SOMETHING THAG ISNT SMUT

no hate to smut writers ur brave i could never even attempt that

but like my bbg pope deserves better

I BEG SOMEONE WRITE OR GIVE ME RECS

#nati talks (a lot)₊˚⊹ ᰔ #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #pope x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #pope heyward fanfic #obx imagines #pope heyward smut #pope heyward angst #pope heyward fluff

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scarsoncherryglass · 1 month ago

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AHHHHHH GUYS IM AT WORK BUT OMGOSH STOP ILYSM

i genuinely do not like how i wrote this bc i was soooo sleep deprived but im glad someone liked it!!

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER. jason todd.

jason todd x fem!reader.

summary ; you find solace in someone other than jason. words ; 2.2k warnings ; angst, emotional distance, love unraveling, quiet betrayal, Jason’s trauma, seeking comfort, unspoken pain, maybe a little suggestive. !no cheating dw, we dont condone that here!

You didn’t fall out of love with Jason.

You just stopped recognizing him.

There were nights he came home with hands that shook too much to hold you. Nights he smelled like blood and gunpowder and something scorched from within—like he’d been fighting the devil and forgot which side he was on.

He’d kiss your forehead without really landing. Say your name like he wasn’t sure it still belonged to someone who stayed. And you? You would press your cheek to his chest and pretend the silence inside it wasn’t screaming.

But it was.

He didn’t mean to disappear. That’s what hurt the most. The apartment used to feel like home. Now, it echoed even when he was in it.

He would sleep facing the wall. You used to count his heartbeats every night while his fingers dipped into your thighs, you used to whisper your dreams against the curve of his spine.

But now?

Now your words fell into the dark, unanswered.

You tried everything. Left notes in his jacket. Cooked his favorite meals. Laughed too brightly at the TV just to feel something bounce off the walls. You touched him with careful hands, with reverence, with desperation.

He didn’t flinch.

But he didn’t lean in either.

It was almost 3 a.m. when you heard the window.

Not the quiet kind of return—where Jason moved like a ghost, silent and precise. No. This was something else. A crash. A grunt. The sound of pain barely bitten back.

You ran into the living room barefoot, heart pounding, just in time to see him stagger through the window, one hand pressed to his ribs, the other clutching the frame like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.

“Jason,” you gasped, rushing to his side, catching him just before his knees gave out. “Shit—what happened?”

“Just a scratch,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

You pulled his mask off, eyes widening at the blood caked on his jaw, the purple blooming across his cheekbone, the deep gash that ran from his shoulder to his collarbone.

“This isn’t a scratch. You’re— you’re bleeding everywhere.”

He tried to push you’re hands away. “I said I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” you snapped, grabbing the med kit. “Sit down and shut up before you pass out on my floor again.”

He relented with a groan, slumping onto the couch. You kneeled in front of him, hands trembling as you peeled his jacket away from his ruined skin.

Your voice cracked before you even realized you were crying. “I hate this.”

Jason flinched. “What?”

“I hate this,” you whispered, hands shaking as you cleaned the wound. “Waking up to find you half-dead. Stitching you up like I’m just some battlefield nurse. Watching you kill yourself every night because you don’t think you’re worth anything better.”

His jaw tensed. “So don’t. No one’s forcing you.”

You looked up at him, heart in your throat. “Do you think I stay out of obligation? You think I don’t choose you—every fucking day?”

Jason’s voice was low, tight. “You said you hate it.”

“I love you asshole. I hate watching you destroy yourself,” you said, louder now. “I hate that you won’t let me help you. That I keep bandaging the same wounds—outside and in—because you won’t stop tearing yourself open.”

Silence.

“I hate that you think being with me means being fixed.”

That’s when something broke in him.

His eyes, already glassy with pain, went colder. “You think I need to be fixed?”

Your breath caught. “That’s not what I—”

“I’m not some fucking broken toy for you to patch up and make pretty,” he snapped, voice cracking under the weight of something deeper. “I’m not Bruce. I don’t need a fucking redemption arc.”

“I never said you did.”

“But that’s what you mean, right?” He stood, blood soaking through the gauze. “You want someone who cries on your shoulder and tells you they’re trying. You want someone you can save. Not someone like me.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered. “I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“Then stop trying to change me!”

“I was trying to keep you alive! So I don’t get a call from Bruce telling me you died again!”

Jason could never handle the truth; everything hurt too much when it was told truthfully, so he didn’t. His silence struck harder than any shouted insult.

And when he finally turned his back to you, bandaged and battered and full of fury he couldn’t aim anywhere else, you felt the floor drop out beneath you.

“Yeah, I’m not doing this right now,” he muttered.

You scoffed, and he didn’t answer.

In fact, neither of you could handle the truth. Your relationship was built on lies. Sweet little lies that no longer seemed that sweet.

And when you left—when you finally grabbed your coat and slammed the door behind you—you hoped he knew weren’t running from him.

You were running from the echo of yourself, begging in the hallway for a version of Jason who wasn’t bleeding to death in your arms every time he came home.

Dick answered before you knocked.

His eyes scanned your tear-streaked face, your trembling lips, your knuckles bloodied—maybe from holding him, maybe from the wall.

“You okay?” he asked.

You didn’t speak.

Just collapsed into him, your voice shattering against his chest.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I can’t do it anymore. He’s gonna die in that stupid costume and I can’t stop it.”

Dick said nothing. He didn’t tell you it wasn’t your job. He didn’t defend his brother. He didn’t ask what happened.

He just held you, arms steady, the world quiet for once.

You cried until you couldn’t anymore.

And when you fell asleep on his couch—grief clinging to your skin like sweat—you didn’t dream of Jason.

You dreamed of silence.

Of stillness.

Of not watching the person you love bleed to death in front of you again.

It wasn’t about Dick.

Not really.

It could’ve been anyone who still looked at you like you were real.

But it happened to be him. The one who still asked if you’d eaten. Who still remembered that you hated when your tea got cold. The one who smiled at you like you weren’t just another casualty of Jason’s war with himself.

You didn’t go to him for love.

You couldn’t love anyone but Jason.

You went to him for quiet.

For safety.

For warmth in the middle of a freezing July.

It was raining that night, too. Gotham always cried first.

When you showed up at his apartment with mascara on your cheeks and heartbreak clutched in your fists.

He opened the door like he’d been expecting you.

And when you broke—when your knees gave and the sob finally tore free—Dick caught you.

And in that moment, that was everything.

You fell asleep on his couch, the lull of his breathing steady on the floor beside you, guilt coiled in your chest like a sleeping serpent.

You told yourself it didn’t count.

But the ache said otherwise.

Jason didn’t need to check your phone.

He didn’t need to interrogate Dick or stalk rooftops or demand answers from shadows.

He just… knew.

It was in the way your fingers trembled slightly when you reached for his hand and stopped halfway. In the way you smiled at him like you owed him something. In the way you didn’t cry, didn’t scream, or beg anymore.

You hadn’t forgiven him.

You’d just stopped hoping he’d change.

One night, months after, you finally had a moment of peace. That night, you finally welcomed him back into your bed and you into his arms, the whispers of sweet nothings could be heard, a sheet of sweat covered his body, and his favorite color was stained upon yours.

But this night hadn’t felt like all the other times you had spent together, it wasn’t rough like when he desired you in his veins, or soft like when he promised to marry you.

It was passionate and lovely like a goodbye that had been shared among two lovers who knew their love wasn’t enough this time.

And then it came.

Like a blade.

“You went to him.”

You froze in the hallway. He was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed, eyes darker than stormwater.

“Don’t lie,” he added. “I can smell the guilt on you.”

You swallowed. Hard. “Nothing happened.”

Jason laughed.

And oh, how—it was the worst sound.

Not cruel. Not loud.

Just… tired.

“I don’t care if you kissed him,” he said. “Actually, I think I would’ve preferred you kissed him, that way I’d have a real reason to be mad, I care that it wasn’t me you cried to.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

“You think I wanted to go?” you whispered.

“I think you went,” he replied. “And that’s enough.”

“Jay—”

“I’m gonna be late.”

Jason didn’t sleep that night.

He just sat on the rooftop, helmet on the ground beside him, cigarette burning down to the filter, staring at a sky too ashamed to show its stars.

He wasn’t angry at you.

He was angry at himself.

For never learning how to be soft with the things he wanted to keep.

For loving like a fist instead of an open hand.

He remembered the way you used to say his name in your sleep, like it meant safety.

Now, it sounded like mourning.

It rained again when you finally broke.

Always the rain.

You stood in the doorway of the bedroom, your hair damp, your eyes glassy, your hands clenched.

“I begged for you,” you said. “Night after night, I begged for you to just see me. Not as another problem to fix. Not as someone you had to protect. Just… me. So that we could be us.”

Jason didn’t look up from the gun he was cleaning. “I saw you.”

“No,” you snapped. “You saw what I could take off your shoulders. You saw a place to hide. But not me. Not the way he did.”

That last part slipped out before you could catch it.

Silence.

And then—like lightning splitting the sky—

His voice, razor-sharp: “So you love him?”

“What? No!”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You crossed the room slowly. Sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

“I only ever loved you,” you said, voice cracking. “Even when it hurt. Even when it hollowed me out.”

Jason’s breath hitched. His fingers trembled. But he didn’t reach for you.

And that, more than anything, was your answer.

He didn’t tell you to leave.

You didn’t pack a suitcase.

But the next morning, the sheets were cold again.

And this time, you didn’t wait for him to come back.

You knew he would.

But not for you.

Not really.

Jason still walked past your favourite coffee shop.

Still paused when he saw your name on paper. Still imagined your fingers brushing his when he reached for the mug. Still dreamed about your laugh echoing in the kitchen.

He never told the others what happened.

Not Dick.

Not even Bruce.

But sometimes, when the mission was over, when the blood was washed off and the mask was off and he was just Jason, he’d lie on the rooftop, stare at the stars, and whisper your name.

And some twisted part of him—

Still didn’t blame you.

Because he would’ve done the same.

You saw him once, months later, in a bookstore you both used to love.

He didn’t see you.

But you saw the way he stared at a worn copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, like it was laughing at him.

You almost called his name.

Almost.

But ghosts don’t belong in daylight.

And you?

You’d already learned how to walk away from graves.

Some wounds don’t bleed.

Some betrayals aren’t made with lips or lies.

Some loves—

Die slow.

@ scarsoncherryglass 2025. reposts, likes, and comments are very appreciated!

#nati talks (a lot)₊˚⊹ ᰔ #by nati 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd angst #red hood x you

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