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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

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What makes me human

[Cyberpunk! America x reader] 08

Wordcount: 4, 490 Rating: MA+ for strong language, violence, and gore. Viewer discretion advised. Chapter synopsis: When Allen finally uncovers the truth, he walks out of his job, but it costs him his life. Meanwhile, you and Alfred have been captured by extremists. Heads will literally roll.

(Remastered)

On my way to hell

Nothing had even happened yet, but Allen could sense it a mile away—he was screwed, and to what degree, he didn’t know. His boss always made a point to keep things ambiguous. And up until a crucial moment to keep an unshakeable hold on him.

“You must have a lot of questions.”

A right-hand man was too generous of a title when he didn’t know shit. A glorified bodyguard was more like it. His importance was solely physical, and that didn’t bode well in a digitized world like this.

“Right, yeah.” Allen spared him a tight smile. He always knew those facts, but remembering it now sent chills down his spine. “I was just wondering if your secret parking space was really all that.”

Mizumoto didn’t answer him, and the silence ate away at him faster than he could deal. So he kept rambling, desperate to preserve the atmosphere.

“I, uh, found somebody down there.” He continued, tensing at the memory. “The hell happened to him?”

“An experiment of mine.”

“Sheesh. What kinda experiment would leave them looking like a prune?” Allen asked. He was speaking the most, yet, he wasn’t the one dominating the conversation. “Did you bake him or something?”

Even in silence, the kumicho held all the power.

“Not at all. He mummified on his own,” The other looked him right in the eye. “But his death wasn’t in vain. I would say it served a purpose equal in value, which is the driving force of all scientific discovery.”

“Oh, yeah? And how did he die?”

“Brain death.”

Allen’s brow twitched, profoundly disturbed by the thought. But he played it off with curiosity. If not, there were grisly fates for those who reacted wrongly to the company’s doings—with empathy, not apathy.

“Damn.” He rubbed his neck. “Sucks to be him.”

And he wasn’t getting his ticket punched today.

“He was a part of the most ambitious experiment to date. One that began long before you were born.” Mizumoto explained, pausing momentarily before continuing. “Fifty years ago, this company was nothing but a lowly yakuza hiding in abandoned buildings. So, when we had the opportunity to make a name for ourselves, we took it without hesitation.”

Pulling out a long pipe, he lit the end and gave it a few puffs. While he tapped it to get rid of the residue, he sensed Allen’s growing confusion at his recount that seemingly came out of nowhere.

“You won’t rest until you have the truth. I know.” Mizumoto remarked lowly. “Even if it isn’t your place. But I’ve always admired that about you, Allen. You’ve always tried your best to live beyond your means.”

Taking on gangsters, joining the yakuza, doing everything he could to protect who he cared about. Forgetting his own heritage to adopt another, he lost and gained everything by becoming a Mizumoto.

“Even if it kills you.”

“I’m still here,” Allen laughed awkwardly.

He was used to being belittled. No matter how spunky he was, talking back to his boss was like asking for a death wish. So he never did—only this felt different. Foreboding, even. But he was too afraid to even entertain the possibility of that tone of voice.

“We made something of ourselves by developing technology decades ahead of our time,” Mizumoto turned back to the window, watching the distant blinking of lights, the airborne traffic of spinners. “Appliances, vehicles, weapons. We quickly realized we needed to protect what we were building.”

He turned back to give the other a hard stare.

“That was when I met Alfred.”

The name caused Allen’s face to contort. Flawless ivory skin, youthful vigor, and the naivety to match. The suggestion that Alfred was older than him was far-fetched enough, but by such a wide margin?

“What? But he doesn’t look a day over twenty!”

“Yes. Twenty-three. In the mind and body.” The man elaborated, watching his puzzled expression deepen.“My men found him on the streets on the brink of starvation. He was only a child, then. Ran away from his orphanage. So we took him in and raised him.”

It sounded too familiar for his comfort, ‘taken in’ by the syndicate. First, Alfred, then him. You were born into it, but what difference did that make? You were all children, lured in by the promise of protection.

“Taught him how to fight. He was exceedingly talented, so we planned to have him join our ranks when he turned sixteen. When he refused, we warned him we would be coming back for him.”

“But how is he…?”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Mizumoto walked closer and closer to him until the proximity was menacing. “In four years’ time, we brought him back to our lab. We put him to sleep for fifty years so he could wake up to a world when we made a name for ourselves.”

Allen took a step back, heart racing. He could feel himself coming apart, starting from the inside out.

“By the time he gained consciousness, we turned him into a fully-enhanced killing machine.”

His loyalty to the company and his protection in it.

“Even to this day, he remains my greatest creation.”

The way he spoke of him made his stomach churn, and the nausea went up his throat. He talked about Alfred like he was his, an object to be owned, controlled, and programmed to do his bidding.

“Let me guess. He didn’t want that.”

“He struggled until the anesthesia did its work.”

Allen closed his eyes. Sweat dampened his forehead as he processed what he was told. Forced sedation, nonconsensual body modification, just what the fuck else was he capable of? He didn’t even want to know.

“Then what about that body in the basement?”

“Oh, that?”

He opened his eyes, his complexion pale.

“That was Alfred.”

“What?” Allen strained. “What do you mean?”

“That body belonged to Alfred.” The man elaborated firmly. “The Soulkiller was a success. He was the first subject to allow for a complete transfer of the mind. His old body couldn’t accept the enhancements, so we gave him a new one—the one he has now.”

He threw his head back as heat rushed to his face. Allen didn’t think it was possible to feel so furious in someone else’s stead, let alone Alfred’s. But this?

“He is the first fully-functioning cyborg with a soul. Human thought and emotion, if you will.”

This was insanity.

“You lied to me,” Allen glared at him through his rapidly blurring vision. “You said the Soulkiller was a prototype. That you were gonna test it on him. But you were just saying that to cover up what you did!”

“And you were fine with killing him the exact same way. It would be hypocritical to blame me for it.”

“Things are different now!” He cried, digging his hands through his hair. Pointing an accusing finger at him, which wouldn’t stop trembling, his face warped with angry betrayal. “I thought he was just another cyberpsycho, but you’re the one who’s insane.”

It was disheartening to see how nonchalant his superior was, how little he cared. He stood there with his arms behind his back, waiting for him to finish.

“I can’t work for you anymore,” He turned his back on him, teeth clenched. “I’m getting out of here.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Mizumoto slid a hand into one of the flaps of his kimono. Allen was already on his way to the door, ready to put everything behind him. “My men shall escort you out of the building.”

Even then, he still wanted to look back for old times’ sake. He spent a great deal of his youth here, somewhere he used to fall asleep after work. There by the kotatsu, or on that couch. You sometimes came here to study, so he made it a habit to visit you.

But that was all in the past, now.

You weren’t here, and he was never coming back. So did that mean he would never see you again? Allen choked back a sob at the thought. As tears bubbled out of his eyes, he turned back for one last look.

But rather than a bittersweet sight of nostalgia, he found himself staring at death in the face. And to feel fear in a place he used to call home was alien to him.

Mizumoto had drawn out his katana.

He was paralyzed as he watched on. A part of him was in disbelief that the old man could even raise a hand against him. Another part of him knew this was his true self, a heartless wretch that didn’t know love.

Before he could do so little as take another step, they lunged forward and thrust the blade into his torso.

“Gh—!” Allen’s eyes flew open as a sharp pain engulfed his chest. He grabbed the handle with both hands and staggered backward, each wobbly step causing blood to pour onto the wooden floorboards.

Sweat rolled down his chin. His mouth fell agape. Lowering his gaze to where the sword plunged into, he watched a bright red patch spread on his shirt. His lung was punctured, and he was suffocating.

“You—” He looked up, face contorting. “—agh!”

While he gasped desperately for air, clinging to each breath to somehow survive, the blade pushed deeper in until it came curving out his back. To be stabbed and suffocated at the same time left him trembling with so much agony, he wished he died right there.

But his enhancements prolonged his death, letting him feel each and every part of his body shut down.

“I sensed you were in conflict with your loyalty, Allen. If you want to side with Alfred, you can do that in the afterlife.” Mizumoto smiled darkly. Raising the katana so he could be lifted a few inches off the ground, he leaned into his paling face for one final reckoning.

He kicked once, but the action only caused him to slide down on the katana, cutting him on the inside.

“Like yours, his death will be slow and humiliating. The chip will plant a virus in his system and cripple him. Then, he’ll become brain-dead so he can be put out of his misery. The most fitting end for him.”

Blood bubbled out of his mouth like a fountain, and he gritted his teeth just to stop more from spewing out. Not a word was spoken, but Allen’s expression did all the talking. His glare burned with the anger of ages, with a ferocity that would stay even after death.

You’ll never get away with this.

But perhaps, he already had.

Allen was the only one who knew of his diabolical plans, and here he was, fading away. Eventually, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, showing the whites. Only then did Mizumoto retract his sword, letting his body fall to the ground in a heavy thump.

He gave the katana a strong flick, leaving a thin line of red on the floor. The door burst open a few moments later, letting men in suits pour in.

“Take him to the dump.”

The katana came down on his mantis blades, severing them in one clean slice. They clattered on the floor and went up in sparks. Alfred reared back and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Then, he started kicking his feet against the ground, wailing in agony.

Your jaw dropped, horrified by the sound of his voice. But what you saw made you cover your mouth. His mantis blades were reduced to stubs sticking out of his forearms, which twitched every so often.

Two men stood with you in the crowd, one on each side. They made it a point to hold you back, for what was about to begin would have you fighting to get onstage. Alfred was moved onto a medical table, and for what, you didn’t know. But it couldn’t be good.

The theater murmured restlessly, only to be silenced by their leader raising both hands in the air.

“Year by year, we lose hundreds to cyberpsycho attacks around the city. This man—”

The speaker pointed at him.

“—is one of thousands to instigate the senseless violence that is destroying the greatest megalopolis in the world.” He boomed, filling the stadium with his truth. The crowd went up in a passionate uproar, acknowledging the irrefutable reality that was their new norm: a widespread epidemic of psychopathy.

Alfred was laid flat on his back. The second they tied him down, he started pulling at his restraints.

But the pain was too much.

“Now, he may look like your average joe from 2070’s America, but do not be mistaken,” They continued, pulling a knife from their sleeve and holding it up. “He’s made of nothing but plastic and metal. Not a single organ is made of flesh, not even his heart!”

Your face fell, hypnotized by the glint of the blade.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you all go to sleep tonight with the relief that you never strayed from the path of God. We embraced ourselves for how we were created—in his image—but folks like him have lost sight of who we are as human beings.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, manic with rage.

“This is not a human being.”

He pulled harder and harder on his restraints, fueled by a growing fire in his chest. He’d been afraid before, but hearing that changed something inside him. If he really was a freak, he’d show them a freak.

The more he strained, the warmer his wrists grew. Soon, they’d be hot enough for him to break free. Small wisps of smoke curled up from his hands, and the stench of melting rope filled his nose.

“If he were, he would bleed.” The speaker cut him across his neck, and like he said, not a single drop of red appeared. Just a transparent slither of fluid. When the audience caught on, gasps went around.

You thrashed as hard as you could in the grips of the two strongmen, but to no avail. One of them resorted to holding your neck, quelling any and all resistance. If you wanted to look away, you couldn’t now.

“Imagine what he’d be capable of when he turns full cyber psycho.” The man mused, holding the knife above his head. “Are we just going to wait for him to slay ten innocents before he’s finally put down?”

The crowd yelled in dissent.

You lunged forward, screaming for him.

“Or do we kill him now and free him from the confines of his corrupted vessel?”

Just like that, your fear for him overcame the fear for yourself. And you did what you never thought you would—take on two grown men unarmed—but you’ve never been this sure of anything in your life.

Kicking one in the groin, they released your arm and stumbled backward. That let you throw a hard punch into the other’s temple. They fell on their side with next to no grace. Then, you raced towards the stage.

The next three seconds happened in slow-motion.

The outstretching of your hand, the beating of your legs, Alfred’s head turning to you.

Before you could get close enough, you were forced to the ground by the man you kicked. They slammed your head to the floor and twisted your arm behind your back, getting you to cry out in pain.

But that wasn’t all.

When you looked up with your teeth clenched, your nose was bleeding. And Alfred saw.

The redness of your blood, their hand on your face, their nails digging into your skin. And it gave him a real taste of the madness he was accused of.

Rage was all he knew as his wrists lit up in flames. Giving his hands a strong tug, he snapped himself free to rip the knife from his captor. Then, he rolled off the table and jumped back onto his feet.

The sight of an unrestrained cyberpsycho sent the audience fleeing, including the man holding you down. As you slowly rose to your feet, you found yourself watching the most gruesome scene unfold.

Alfred marched up to their leader, swinging the knife from side to side. It cut through the air in sharp ‘fwip’ sounds, but the weapon wasn’t nearly as terrifying as its wielder—a cyborg gone rogue. There was nothing behind his eyes but mindless bloodlust.

The man stumbled backward and fell on their back.

“Help me!” He cried. His underlings ran onstage from behind, training their guns at Alfred.

You dove offstage before they opened fire.

A few bangs went off, lodging bullets into his leg and shoulder. His body jolted back from the force of being shot at, but he kept standing. And there he waited, all until all their last bullet was fired.

Then, he dashed forward, slicing their necks. Blood sprayed onto his face, but he never stopped, driven by the uncontrollable urge to mow down every last son of a bitch that dared cross his path.

The last man onstage drew another gun. His mouth fell agape in fear as he fired uncontrollably at the unkillable monstrosity that came at him. Once Alfred passed him, a horizontal line formed on his neck.

His head came off, falling down his back.

But Alfred was far from done.

The man you punched had suffered a concussion, and only now did he have it in him to draw iron. Alfred leaped offstage and onto him with his knife raised above his head. His face sparked from a bullet ricochet, but that did nothing to stop him.

Sinking that into their skull, he killed him instantly.

That left the man who started it all, their leader, who was busy shuffling away from the head onstage.

He picked up the gun by his foot and trained it at the fucker’s head. Curling his finger around the trigger, his glare deepened when he pulled it, ending it all.

Four bangs went off.

Gun shells clinked and clattered on the ground.

When he lowered his arm, they were unrecognizable. The top half of his head was gone. Chunks of flesh, bone, and brain were blasted all over the stage like a painting. What was left of him was the bottom set of his teeth, tongue, and smoking hot flesh.

Alfred took you to the first bathroom he could find. He didn’t have to pay a dime, not when his face and clothes were doused with blood. And the first thing he did was tear off the bottom of his shirt.

Twisting that into a thin tube, he put it up your nose.

Only then did he start washing himself.

Soon, you were back on the street with him again, only more exhausted than before. Your hold on his hand tightened. Then, you slowed down, clutching your stomach with a pained frown.

“What’s wrong?” He turned to you.

“I’m hungry.” You uttered.

It wasn’t the first time he heard you say it, but he was crushed. His brows trembled together as he walked, towing you along. If what happened took as long as he thought it did, you couldn’t have eaten for days.

He’d been so occupied looking for a place to stay, he completely forgot about you. He didn’t feel hunger, nor did he depend on food like you did. His strength and appearance didn’t wax or wane. But you?

“Come on. Let’s get you some real food.” Alfred kept his eyes forward as he led you down the next block.

“Like organic food?”

“Not that real.”

“Aw.”

“Princess.”

Your arms were thinner, and your collarbones weren’t as prominent as they were now. He couldn’t bear to look at you, knowing he would crumble the second he did. Even then, you could barely keep up with him, and he felt it—every pull, every pause.

Staying the night in a traditional Japanese inn was your idea. A ‘ryokan,’ you called it. Night City was rich with all kinds of cultures, especially East Asian ones. Stepping into one transported him to Japan, and as an American who never left the country, he couldn’t really complain. When you walked inside with him, he was immediately taken by the neat line of shoes.

But Alfred seemed to know what he was doing.

And you never brought it up. He slipped out of his shoes, put them together, then moved them so they could point toward the door. You only followed suit, placing your flats next to his boots.

A line of women in uniform bowed deeply at your arrival. You bowed in return, and so did Alfred. After a friendly albeit frenzied exchange in Japanese, they whisked you away, so he jogged over to catch up.

“You seem to know them,” He commented.

“It’s just hospitality.” You replied.

“But they said they’d give you your favorite room,” Alfred quirked a brow. He walked with you down the warmly-lit hall, led by the innkeepers in the front. “And all sorts of things. The soup, what vegetables are in season, the mains, desserts, and blah.”

You turned to him, stifling a smile.

“You didn’t even check in yet.” He finished.

“So you do understand.” You walked into the elevator with him, watching his expression change. Sadness pulsed through him, and it flickered in his eyes. Something beautiful was reduced to a bad memory.

After getting settled in your room, you took a nice hot soak in the private hot spring. Alfred washed up next, and the food arrived while he was neck-up in water. An elaborate array of dishes was laid out on the kotatsu, ranging from warm and cold, soft and hard.

Sashimi, tofu, rice, soup, everything fermented, dried, and marinated among other delicacies.

Before you dug into the mouth-watering dishes, you sat back and called Alfred over. He showed up a few minutes later in his yukata, his hair a damp mess and obi tied in a ribbon. Giving your head a light shake, you stood up with a small smile. It was impressive how he could manage to make anything look untidy.

“You tied it wrong.” You pulled the sash apart.

“Woah—” His yukata loosened, but before his chest could be exposed, you pulled them together again. While you fixed his sash for him, he stood over you, watching every movement of your nimble fingers, every twist and pull you made. “—right.”

Alfred was so close, you could feel his breath fanning all over your forehead. And it was quiet, save for the rustling of fabric. Fortunately, not a minute passed before you were done, gazing up at him again.

“There. Tied like a proper samurai.”

What you weren’t prepared for was how close his lips were to yours. You were quick to notice, and you looked down almost instantly. Alfred didn’t falter. He just smiled at your coyness, only it was so subtle, you missed it when you scrambled to sit down.

“What are you standing around for? Come eat.”

“Alright,” Alfred laughed, giving the table a brief scan. He had never seen so much food in one place, but weirdly enough, that wasn’t what captivated him. “So, which one am I meant to eat first?”

He looked at you several times over the course of the meal. He wished he could say it was because he wanted to, but the injuries they left you with, no matter how minor, bothered him to no end.

You were too ravenous to notice, not lifting your head once as you ate for the first time in days.

Dinner went by without a hitch, bringing the night to a close. Two futons were laid out in the bedroom with a slight gap between them. It was no coincidence that a shoji screen stood conveniently in the corner.

The innkeepers were considerate of your privacies, but that wasn’t how things worked around here.

“Well—” He strained, dragging his futon to yours. One corner even overlapped yours before he fixed it. He stood up, satisfied by his work. “Now we won’t have to worry about separation anxiety anymore.”

“We?” You raised your brows.

“Right, sorry. Just you.” He dropped onto his futon. He leaned back and rested on his palms, watching you do the same. Not a minute passed before he backpedaled on his joke. “Wanna share a futon?”

You shot him a heated look. When you realized he was being serious, you just shook your head.

“One is too small.”

“No it isn’t.” He got under the blanket and scooted to the side, patting a spot for you. “C’mon. Just try.”

“But it won’t be comfortable,” You frowned.

Regardless, you humored Alfred on his suggestion, getting under the covers with him. It should’ve been strange, sleeping so close without reservation. But this was just the norm now. Every past motel room had one bed so he could keep an eye on you.

What made this so different was the choice. He could sleep apart from you, and you him.

Yet, you both elected to be together.

“If you can’t sleep, I’ll just move to the other futon.”

“Fine.”

He laid on his side to face you.

“Dinner was great, by the way.”

“Yeah,” You softened your gaze on him. “I haven’t had something that good in ages. I’m stuffed.”

“I’m glad,” He smiled. A comfortable silence fell as you stared at each other, heads on one pillow. As he lay with you, relief overcame him until it became pure ecstasy. You were here, and you were safe.

But with that pleasure was pain all the same.

What happened to you was all his fault.

Alfred pulled you into a hug, his face warped with sadness. You hugged him right back. As he buried himself into the crooked of your neck, a shudder ran down your spine. You’d been in shock until now, and when you finally processed what you’d seen, tears streamed relentlessly down the side of your face.

He kissed your forehead tenderly, closing his eyes.

Alfred felt no remorse for killing them.

His only regret was that you saw him do it.

Holding your face with one hand, he consoled you until you drifted away beside him. Even then, he never stopped caressing your cheek, comforting you as you slept. And he kept at it until morning.

“We have to go to the dump,” Alfred murmured, stroking your back as you laid on him.

“Why don’t we go to a ripperdoc?” You rolled your head to him, tone unwilling. After a good night’s rest, you were well enough to hear of his plans, however headache-inducing they may be. “I’m not letting you put anything in your body otherwise.”

“I don’t have the money,” He sighed. Before you could say anything, he took the words out right of your mouth. “And using yours is out of the question. We just have to work with what we got, okay?”

Next chapter: Coming soon

Tag-list: @sunnysssol, @chicha027

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thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 10 months

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My favorite room? My favorite room is wherever I sleep the most. In our home, I primarily sleep in two rooms: our bedroom and my man cave. The man cave is the safer of the two. I nap in the man cave. I sleep in our bedroom.Both locations are fortified with giant teevee screens.

This brings up the age old question, which is preferable sleeping or napping. Well, napping is a luxury while sleeping is a necessity. Although if pod people or Freddie Kreuger are around, it doesn't make much difference. You go to sleep, you're in trouble. In that case put me in the kitchen.

If we go by total number of hours slept, it's the bedroom. If we go by clarity of dreams, it's the bedroom. If we go by nightmares per hour, it's also the bedroom. Do we enjoy our nightmares? They're great when we wake up.

If I take a nap in the man cave, it reduces my chances of a nightmare so the answer has to be bedroom after a nap in the man cave.

Last night, I didn't nap in the afternoon. I watched some teevee. I read a biography of Alfred Hitchcock. I started handicapping the NFL and before I knew it, Lynn had prepared dinner. She called me down from the cave for some of her delicious meat loaf. After dinner, We went on a short, digetive walk. Returning ing home We turned on teevee. We watched the National news. We watched Stephen Colbert. We watched Jeopardy. We watched a couple episodes of The Office. Then it was time to transfer into the bedroom. In the bedroom, we watched a couple episodes of Homicide Hunter featuring Joe Kenda. We said good night. We turned off the lights and I went to sleep pretty quickly.

Here's where the danger comes into play. On nights that I slip into sleep without a struggle because of no nap and some digestive exercise and teevee, I sometimes fall out of bed.

I haven't fallen out of bed for a comparatively long time, at least five years. I didn't fall out of bed on this occasion either. I was having a nightmare about being threatened by a guy who was plotting against me and who didn't know that I knew what he was doing so he came over to my house all friendly like and when I told him that I knew what he was doing he asked me what I planned about doing about what he was doing. He gave me a snotty look, so I reared back and punched the guy in the nose. As soom as I connected he sent me a 'you shouldn't have done that' vibe and the next thing I knew I could feel my knees hit the ground and scrape the carpet.

I wasn't sure if I had died. I tried to get to my knees but didn't get too far. I wondered once again, if this was the way people died when they were asleep. I struggled to my knees and from a kneeling position I fell face first onto the bed. My knees hurt but I figured that was a good sign.

I rolled back into the sack. I was still a little shook up. I started to put two and two together and as usual got 22. When the guy who was threatening me approached me in my dream, I had got up from the bed and might even have taken a swing at the invisible man before collapsing to my knees and then scraping them as I fell towards the floor.

I hadn't fallen out of bed, I had stood out of bed.

If you've ever had a somnambulistic experience, you know what I'm talking about. The dream becomes amazingly real just before you hit the ground/wake up. It's kinda cool but kinda scary. If i weren't for the possibility of falling out of bed, I'd pick the bedroom as my favorite room no doubt. The man cave, however, is a lot safer.

But hey, the kitchen ain't bad either.

Nor as I write this, seemingly awake, is my office.

ChatGPT

It sounds like you have two distinct spaces for different purposes. The bedroom is typically associated with more extended periods of sleep, while the man cave serves as a space for napping and relaxation. Each room likely contributes to your overall comfort and well-being in its own way.

The bedroom is traditionally considered a sanctuary for rest and rejuvenation, providing a comfortable and private space for a good night's sleep. On the other hand, the man cave seems to be a more versatile space where you can unwind, take short breaks, and recharge during the day.

What specific elements or features do you enjoy most about each room? Is there something unique about your man cave that makes it a safer and more relaxing space for napping?

You

This brings up the age old question, which is preferable sleeping or napping. Well, napping is a luxury while sleeping is a necessity. Although if pod people are around or Freddie Kreuger are around, it doesn't make much difference. ChatGPT

ChatGPT

The age-old question of sleeping versus napping does bring up interesting considerations. As you mentioned, sleeping is a biological necessity for overall health and well-being. It plays a crucial role in physical and mental restoration, memory consolidation, and various other physiological processes.

Napping, on the other hand, is often considered a luxury or a way to boost alertness and mood during the day. Short naps can provide a quick refreshment and may have cognitive benefits, but they don't replace the need for a full night's sleep.

External factors, like the presence of pod people or Freddy Krueger, can certainly add a layer of complexity to the decision. In those fictional scenarios, ensuring a safe and restful environment becomes crucial, whether it's for a full night's sleep or a quick nap.

Ultimately, striking a balance between adequate nightly sleep and occasional napping can contribute to overall health and performance. It's essential to listen to your body's signals and adjust your sleep patterns accordingly.

You

If we go by total number of hours slept, it's the bedroom. If we go by clarity of dreams, it's the bedroom. If we go by nightmares per hour, it's also the bedroom.ChatGPT

ChatGPT

It's interesting to note the different aspects you consider when comparing your two sleeping spaces. The bedroom seems to be the winner in terms of total hours slept and the clarity of dreams. However, the mention of nightmares in the bedroom adds another layer to the experience.

Nightmares can be influenced by various factors, including stress, anxiety, or even the sleep environment. If you find that nightmares are a recurring issue in your bedroom, it might be worth exploring potential causes and ways to create a more relaxing and comforting sleep environment.

On the positive side, the clarity of dreams in your bedroom could be a testament to the depth and quality of your sleep in that space. It's fascinating how different factors can contribute to our overall sleep experiences in various rooms.

If you ever feel the need to improve your sleep environment or address any specific concerns, consider experimenting with changes in lighting, temperature, and other elements that could contribute to a more restful night's sleep.

You

If I take a nap in the man cave, it reduces my chances of a nightmare so the answer has to be bedroom after a nap in the man cave.

ChatGPT

It's interesting to hear how your sleep experiences in different rooms seem to be interconnected. If taking a nap in the man cave helps reduce the chances of nightmares in the bedroom, it suggests a positive influence of the man cave on your overall sleep quality.

Napping can indeed offer various benefits, including a quick refreshment of the mind and body. If it contributes to a more relaxed state and reduces the likelihood of nightmares when you later sleep in the bedroom, it highlights the interconnectedness of your sleep patterns.

Creating a comfortable and positive sleep environment is crucial for overall well-being, and it seems like you've found a balance between your bedroom and man cave to achieve that. If this pattern works well for you and promotes restful sleep, it's a valuable insight into your personal sleep habits and preferences.

You

Take yesterday and last night for example, please.ChatGPT

ChatGPT

I'm sorry for any confusion, but I don't have access to personal data about specific individuals unless it has been shared with me in the course of our conversation. My design is rooted in privacy and confidentiality. I can provide general information, answer questions, and offer suggestions based on my training data, but I don't have the ability to recall past interactions unless it's within the same conversation.

If you have any specific questions or topics you'd like to discuss related to sleep, dreams, or anything else, feel free to let me know, and I'll do my best to assist you!

You

I didn't nap in the afternoon. I watched some teevee. I read a biography of Alfred Hitchcock. I started handicapping the NFL and before I knew it, Lynn had prepared dinner. She called me down for some of her delicious meat loaf. We went on a short walk after dinner. We turned on teevee. We watched the National news. We watched Stephen Colbert. We watched Jeopardy. We watched a couple episodes of the office. Then it was time to transfer into the bedroom. In the bedroom, we watched a couple episodes of Homicide Hunter featuring Joe Kenda. We said good night. We turned off the lights and I went to sleep pretty quickly.ChatGPT

ChatGPT

Thank you for sharing a glimpse of your day and evening routine. It sounds like you had a varied and engaging day, with activities ranging from reading to handicapping the NFL, enjoying a delicious dinner, and ending the evening with a mix of television shows.

Your transition from the living room to the bedroom, where you watched a couple of episodes of "Homicide Hunter" before going to sleep, provides an interesting perspective on how people wind down before bedtime. It's common for individuals to have different pre-sleep rituals that help signal to the body and mind that it's time to relax and prepare for sleep.

If you ever have specific questions or topics you'd like to explore further, whether related to sleep, entertainment, or anything else, feel free to let me know!

You

Here's where the danger comes into play. On nights that I slip into sleep without a struggle because of no nap and some digestive exercise and teevee, I irregularly fall out of bed.ChatGPT

ChatGPT

It sounds like experiencing occasional falls out of bed can be a concern for you. While it's not uncommon for people to shift positions during sleep, falling out of bed can be disconcerting and potentially pose a risk of injury. Here are a few suggestions that might help:

Bed Rail or Bumper: Consider using bed rails or bed bumpers, especially if the falling out of bed is a recurrent issue. These can provide a physical barrier to prevent accidental falls.

Mattress Placement: Ensure that your mattress is placed securely on the bed frame, and if it tends to shift, consider using non-slip mats or pads between the mattress and the frame.

Night Lights: If you need to get up during the night, having night lights in the bedroom can help prevent accidents and make it easier to navigate without stumbling.

Consult a Healthcare Professional: If falling out of bed becomes frequent or if you have concerns about your sleep quality and safety, it might be a good idea to consult with a healthcare professional. They can provide personalized advice based on your specific situation.

Adjust Bedtime Routine: Since you mentioned that nights without a struggle to sleep are associated with these incidents, you might want to assess if there are particular factors contributing to these falls. Adjusting your bedtime routine or making changes to your sleep environment may help.

If the issue persists or becomes more concerning, it's advisable to consult with a healthcare professional who can provide guidance tailored to your individual circumstances. They can help rule out any underlying sleep disorders or issues that might be contributing to the falls.

You

ChatGPT

It sounds like you experienced a vivid and intense dream with a confrontational scenario. Dreams can sometimes elicit physical reactions, and in this case, the sensation of your knees hitting the ground might have contributed to your awakening. The mind-body connection during dreams can be powerful, and physical movements or sensations in a dream may manifest in real, albeit limited, physical responses.

Nightmares, especially those involving threats or confrontations, can be unsettling. If you find that such dreams are affecting your sleep quality or causing distress, there are a few strategies you might consider:

Bedtime Routine: Establish a calming bedtime routine that promotes relaxation. This could include activities such as reading a book, practicing mindfulness, or listening to soothing music.

Sleep Environment: Ensure your bedroom is conducive to sleep. Keep it cool, dark, and quiet. Remove any potential disturbances that might contribute to unsettling dreams.

Stress Management: Consider incorporating stress management techniques into your daily routine. Activities like meditation or deep breathing exercises can help alleviate stress and anxiety, potentially reducing the likelihood of intense dreams.

Limit Stimulants: Reduce the intake of stimulants, such as caffeine or nicotine, particularly in the evening.

Regular Sleep Schedule: Maintain a consistent sleep schedule, going to bed and waking up at the same time each day, even on weekends.

If vivid dreams or nightmares persist and significantly impact your well-being, it might be beneficial to discuss them with a healthcare professional or a sleep specialist who can provide personalized guidance and support.

You

ChatGPT

It sounds like you had a particularly intense and immersive dream experience. The sensation of struggling and trying to move in the dream, only to find yourself face first on the bed upon waking, can be disorienting. Dreams can sometimes blur the lines between reality and the dream world, and the physical sensations during dreams can have a lingering effect upon waking.

It's worth noting that dreams, even vivid or intense ones, are a normal part of the sleep cycle. The body goes through different stages of sleep, including REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep, where dreams are most likely to occur. The physical paralysis that usually accompanies REM sleep is a protective mechanism to prevent us from acting out our dreams.

The discomfort in your knees upon waking is a tangible reminder of the mind-body connection during dreaming. While the details of dreams can be vivid and even physical, it's essential to remember that dreams are a natural and often uncontrolled aspect of the sleep experience.

If you continue to have concerns or find that dream experiences are affecting your sleep quality or well-being, consider implementing some of the strategies mentioned earlier, such as maintaining a calming bedtime routine, managing stress, and creating a sleep-conducive environment. If the issue persists, seeking guidance from a healthcare professional or sleep specialist may be helpful.

You

I rolled back into the sack. I was still a little shook up. I started to put two and two together and as usual got 22. When the guy who was threatening me approached me in my dream, I got up off the bed and might even have taken a swing at the invisible man before collapsing to my knees and then scraping them as I fell towards the floor.ChatGPT

ChatGPT

Dreams can indeed be perplexing, especially when they involve intense emotions and physical sensations. The experience you described, where you felt threatened in the dream, physically reacted, and then woke up with lingering sensations, underscores the powerful and immersive nature of the dream world.

It's not uncommon for dreams to evoke strong emotions or physical responses. The mind often processes thoughts, emotions, and experiences through dreams, sometimes creating scenarios that feel very real. The disconnect between the dream world and waking reality can be disorienting, and it's understandable that you felt shaken up after such a vivid dream.

If you find that these intense dreams are becoming a recurring pattern or causing ongoing distress, it might be helpful to explore relaxation techniques, stress management strategies, or even consider discussing your dreams with a mental health professional. They can provide support and guidance tailored to your individual experiences and help you navigate any underlying emotions or stressors that may be contributing to these vivid dreams.

You

ChatGPT

Somnambulism, or sleepwalking, can indeed lead to experiences where the dream world and the waking world seem to blur. It can be both fascinating and disconcerting to have vivid, realistic dreams that result in physical actions. The risk of injury, as you mentioned, is one of the reasons why sleepwalking can be a concern.

It's understandable that you may feel more secure in the man cave, especially if you have concerns about potential falls in the bedroom. Creating a safe sleep environment is crucial, and it's good that you've identified a space where you feel more comfortable and secure during your sleep.

If sleepwalking or related experiences become more frequent or problematic, it might be beneficial to consult with a sleep specialist or healthcare professional. They can help assess the underlying factors contributing to these experiences and provide guidance on creating a safer sleep environment or implementing strategies to mitigate the potential risks associated with somnambulism.

In the meantime, continue prioritizing your safety and comfort during sleep, whether that means choosing a particular room or implementing safety measures to prevent falls.

ChatGPT can make mistakes. Consider checking important information.

0 notes

mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

Text

Marriage of Convenience

Word Count: 2,664

Warnings: Language and sexual talk (brief)

Summary: A marriage of convenience isn’t what Uhtred looked forward to right after the love of his life’s death. Uhtred is filled with sadness and anger and often directs it at you. He doesn’t expect you to put him back in his place or challenge him like you so often do. You love to hate your husband Uhtred. After all, it is a means to an end, right?

Mere hours after the legendary Uhtred of Bebbanburg’s wife died, there was talk. Alfred wanted to ensure Uhtred would be in his good faith by marrying a Saxon woman.

You were one name among four others. It was sickening. Being pawned off so his favorite warrior could be more indebted. No wonder why he challenged Alfred so much.

Uhtred hadn’t even come home yet to discover he was a widow, yet the kingdom was bustling with people and gossip.

Even if you or any of the women were chosen he’d never accept you as a wife. So there was nothing to worry about but your stomach still curled in on itself.

There was that bit of nagging in the back of your mind. This was a world of men. They played their hands in public while the women were always the ones behind the scenes.

Hours passed yet you were to remain inside. Word was sent that Uhtred had returned but nothing else beyond that ever came back. He was mourning for sure and your heart ached having lost family of your own but never a lover. No, this was a bit different but a loss all the same. You had never known what love was with another. The touch of a man was familiar and not new unbeknownst to your people who wanted their vessel representing their land to be virtuous.

The long day was now stretching thin as nighttime began to ascend. The murmurs became hushed as people spoke that Uhtred had arrived and wasn’t exactly happy. He had caught wind of what Alfred had planned and was ready to unleash his wrath.

You and the other girls in waiting were held in another room while Uhtred and Alfred had their very loud discussion. Before you knew it you were all being pushed forward into the room like cattle and being lined up for a proper presentation to whom Alfred hoped would be your husband.

You scanned the luxurious room of the king then landed on all the members of King Alfred’s council. That’s when one man, in particular, stood out. You looked at the legendary Uhtred of Bebbanburg seeing how intimidating he was with those piercing blue eyes but besides his lackluster mood, he was actually quite handsome.

The stories had made him sound like a disfigured brute who was all for war but had Alfred there to lead him the right way. Now that you stood here in Wessex, you knew how far from the truth those stories were.

No matter what kind of person Uhtred of Bebbanburg was he was a Dane. Once a Dane always a Dane. He’ll never be seen as anything else for as long as he remains in Wessex. That’s just how it was.

“I’ve narrowed it down for you but the choice of a wife is yours to make.”

Uhtred looked irritated and beyond done with this entire situation but he was still here. He had his hands on his waist looking over the women with disinterest.

“You.” Uhtred pointed to the closest woman who looked undeniably nervous.

“Uhtred, do not be hasty. Marriage is an eternal bond. Do you not wish to ask them some questions? It’ll be in your best interest that you do.”

Uhtred blew out a loud breath of air, no doubt tired of Alfred’s ways.

“My marriage to Gisela was an eternal bond or do you not see that because she’s not Saxon and didn’t worship your god. Does that not matter?”

“Gisela was a good woman but she is no longer in the world of the living. Your heart grieves, I understand that but we must align ourselves to gain allies.” Alfred waited patiently on Uhtred and when he had nothing else to add, he continued. “We have women from each region: Northumbria, East Anglia, Mercia, Wales, and one of our own, Wessex.”

“If I am to choose my bride then I’ll do it my way.” Uhtred turned to Alfred offering only a lift of his brow as if daring the king of Wessex to challenge him and his patience once more.

“If it is under the right circumstances I have no objection.”

Uhtred nodded once and looked towards one of the guards.

“Arm these women with swords.”

“That’s outrageous!” Queen Aelswith objected.

Alfred raised his hand then nodded to Steapa. Each woman was handed a steel sword. Each were heavy and longer than the length of your arm.

You gripped the hilt of the sword not used to Wessex craftsmanship of steel but regarded it to be fit for a man.

You looked down at the others seeing them none too pleased. They didn’t regard it the same as you did. They didn’t even bother to pick it up so neither did you at the moment. You wouldn’t dare show your hand without letting Uhtred show what his intentions were.

From what you heard Uhtred was a dangerous man but he didn’t seem to be unstable like they had foretold. Stories spoken from across the lands can never be fully trusted. People from all around always seemed to exaggerate stories more than they were.

“I’m looking for a woman who’s capable of defending herself.” Uhtred outstretched his arms. “Anyone?” He looked at all the women even looking into your eyes briefly before looking away.

He pointed at the woman from earlier. “You. Raise your sword.” She lifted it just barely before completely dropping it.

He moved on to the next woman pointing at her. She raised it higher than the other but it shook violently before she gave way and dropped her arms letting the steel hang in her hand.

He pointed at the next one. She looked down at the sword and let it clatter to the floor. “I will not succumb to this for a Dane,” she spat.

Uhtred threw his hands in the air turning his back at you all and looking frustratedly at Alfred. “Is this all you have to offer? Do you really expect me to pick a woman from this lot? My wife just died,” he seethed glaring at Alfred who calmly regarded Uhtred with patience. “None of these women are worthy of her place nor my heart.”

“These women are not here to replace your wife spiritually. Only in the namesake part, that is all.”

“All for an alliance so I won’t drift?”

Your eyes drifted back and forth to Alfred then back at Uhtred. It was indeed a heartless move on Alfred’s end but he was king and no one would dare defy him.

“Alliances are necessary. You will grieve and I shall give you time to do that but only if you accept my terms and choose a woman here.”

“And if I refuse?”

Alfred wrung his hands together finally letting everyone know that his patience was starting to run thin with the only man to have ever tested him despite his title.

“You know the consequences of a refusal. I gave you land and your freedom if you wish to continue to have that then terms must be abided by.”

Uhtred’s jaw clenched visibly. His anger was apparent and the tension seemed more intense than before. He cracked his knuckles before sauntering over to you bringing the tension with him.

You were next.

Options were laid out before you. Either showcase what you’re capable of and tolerate the Saxon/Dane warrior or fake being a weak woman only to go back home waiting to be married off to an old fat slob.

You didn’t know much about Uhtred besides from what you heard. The tales varied some stretched but from the looks of it, he loved his wife. He cared for his family, saved the people of Wessex many times, and seemed genuinely good beyond what he showed.

Uhtred now stood facing you. He didn’t need to point or say a thing. It was all in his eyes. ‘Show me what you can do and don’t waste my time.’

He undermined every woman here but after this, he won’t undermine you. He would see and understand that you weren’t like these women, yet you won’t yield to his every command. He waited, his temper increasing each second that passed. He exhaled heavily, losing patience.

You stepped forward moving closer to him. He squinted his eyes likely waiting for you to give up but you brought up the heavy sword with both hands. You raised it just inches from his neck.

There were gasps and another sword unsheathed which you assumed was the guard’s Steapa’s. You didn’t bother to look you were far too busy locking eyes with Uhtred.

His eyes grew wide, not in fear, but in surprise. Impressed for a couple of seconds before pushing the tip of the blade away. You moved the sword back and returned to your spot without looking away.

He was still for a moment. He cocked his head at you assessing you in an entirely new light. Then he walked till he was directly in front of you as one regards a soldier.

“Where’d you learn to wield a sword?”

You quirked a smile proud that you had impressed a gifted fighter such as Uhtred. It was then that you felt grateful for the men in your life for training you in secret.

“We’re a little different in Mercia.”

He nodded his head slowly.

“Mercia,” he pondered for a moment. “It seems I’ve found my bride to be.” He stated a matter of factly yet bored. Your heart now began to hammer in your chest. It was truly happening though you couldn’t process it with how quickly it was going.

“Will you not ask the remaining woman of Wessex?” At Alfred’s question, Uhtred flicked his gaze to the last woman standing beside you. He approached her with his piercing blue eyes directed at her.

“Would you want me for a husband?” She looked at Uhtred then shook her head. “Then it’s settled. Gather Beocca and let’s be done with it.” Uhtred flicked his gaze back to you then looked away as he began to leave the room.

You couldn’t blame the man for how he was being. A bride was being thrust upon him just as soon as his wife passes. No one showed their sympathy, only gave their ‘condolences’ that were just empty words. The only people who truly cared how he felt were the close-knit group he was affiliated with.

So much had happened and so sudden. You were escorted into the church without even a change of clothes. Perhaps they thought that since you’d be married to Uhtred the means of a fine dress wasn’t to be wasted on a Dane.

The ceremony was quick and shorter than you’re used to. There was no refinery in it and there would be no celebration. Uhtred looked bothered and showed his displeasure blatantly. He would sigh and roll his eyes. He simply looked tired and angry at the same time. The only physical contact was when father Beocca intertwined your hands together with Uhtred’s with a piece of thread to showcase the bond of the marriage the both of you will have.

When all was said and done, the vows weren’t sealed with a kiss. Uhtred had unraveled the thread and walked out leaving everyone else to watch in curiousness. There were looks you both were getting. One for Uhtred’s brashness and string of bad luck while you in pitiness.

It wasn’t the best of circumstances but it was the most favorable outcome. There would be no love between you and your new husband and that was fine. He was your ticket to independence while you were his to an alliance. Both worked out in their own ways.

After the ceremony, you were left alone in the church to gather what little belongings you had as Uhtred readied the horses. When you found him he was already stationed on his horse and merely holding the reigns of your horse. He didn’t say where you both were going but you assumed to Coccham where he resided from what you heard.

The journey seemed to drag on as Uhtred was ahead a few yards. He didn’t travel side by side with you and resorted to ignoring you and his companions who remained in the back. He had yet to have a full conversation with you since your marriage became official and as much as you wanted him to have his space, you needed to know what kind of a marriage this would entail so you had your horse gallop next to his.

“Are we to consummate this marriage?” You tried to ask it as casually as you could but once it was spoken out loud, you winced at how it sounded.

He sharply turned in your direction as if your question was out of sorts, which it was. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh and desperate. It was just that every man expected sex from his wife and you wondered if he’d make you. He held the power and the authority to do so with or without your consent.

“I wouldn’t hump you if you were the last woman on this green earth.”

This time you were the one to turn sharply at him. He aimed low but you wouldn’t let such words go by without a comeback. Uhtred had a reputation. A long one that spread throughout the lands and it was no secret he was a womanizer.

“I seriously doubt that. You are the great Uhtred of bedding girls,” you mocked. He chuckled at your comment and even though he was laughing at your words the sound was comforting to hear in his time of mourning.

“Jealous dear wife?” He spat the word ‘wife’ which held no meaning for him anymore.

“Not in the least.” You allowed a few minutes of utter silence to pass before speaking once more to clear the air. “I merely asked my question to know what’s expected of me. I have terms of my own I want to declare.”

Uhtred held your gaze and shrugged. “Speak your terms.”

“I won’t be used for your pleasure whenever you feel like it, you can find that elsewhere. Secondly, I don’t want to be spoken to as a woman below you as I’ve had to endure my whole life. I want to be treated with respect and as an equal.” You looked at Uhtred just waiting for him to interrupt or refuse your terms but he said nothing of the sort so you continued. “Also, I want more training in fighting. If I am to enhance my skill with the sword I want to learn from the best.”

He remained silent as he listened then nodded once as an unspoken agreement. You had to look away as the emotions started to hit you tenfold. Being a woman was hard. Men were always first and put above everyone else. Though this time, a man, a Dane no less was listening and agreeing to everything you said.

“Now for my terms. I have three children that just lost their mother. I need help raising them. I also travel a lot and I don’t want to be questioned where I’m off to each time. If I leave, just know it’s important. Lastly, don’t expect me to act like an honorable husband. This marriage is just to please Alfred. It isn’t meant to last a lifetime.”

He didn’t mince his words. He said it exactly how it was. You took in his terms and thought them all reasonable. You both married for your own reasons to gain something for it and now that you were in understanding perhaps you can live together amicably.

Uhtred watched as you thought over his terms and brought your attention back.

“Are we in agreement then?”

You looked into his blue eyes finally being seen for the first time as a person.

“We are.”

#Uhtred #Uhtred of Bebbanburg #Uhtred tlk #Uhtred The Last Kingdom #TLK #The Last Kingdom #Uhtred Ragnarson #Osbert #Uhtred the Godless #Uhtred the Bold #Uhtred imagine #Uhtred x reader #Uhtred x reader insert #Uhtred x Y/N #Uhtred x you

583 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr. All credit goes to her!

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

"I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him.

"Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls.

"Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh.

Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there.

"How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly.

Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have.

"Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often.

"Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

"But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

"The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening.

Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham.

From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully.

"Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face.

"Baby monk, ya alright?"

Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her.

"Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell.

When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!"

That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest.

"It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe.

"Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.

Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb.

Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

"I did tell you."

"That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster."

And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

"Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

"How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business.

"Would you like to meet him first?"

A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached.

"Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her.

"Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

"Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

"When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

"Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk.

"Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

"Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought.

That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

"You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement.

"I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked.

"I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile.

He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

"No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

"It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement.

"Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings.

Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared.

"No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be.

"She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face.

"Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

"Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

"I will if I must."

"Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares."

Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

"That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more.

As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

*****

Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes.

During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light.

So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time.

Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane.

Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's.

Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met.

Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step.

On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home.

After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench.

There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step.

*****

"So, what is going on between you and Cedric?"

You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

"You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

"Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it.

Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it.

Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

"Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer.

You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches.

The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else.

Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky.

A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.

"He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence.

Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.

"Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

"Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own.

"But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed.

"Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance.

Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

"Your mother will let me in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

*****

"What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason.

When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer.

"Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him.

"Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

"Yes." You breathed out.

He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now.

"Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

"Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step.

"But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see.

That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

"He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true.

The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes.

"If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies.

As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.

"THANK YA, GOD!!"

The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness.

"Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled.

You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin.

"Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face.

"Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead."

Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric.

Just how you wanted it.

Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released.

"I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you.

"Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours.

"You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?"

It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry.

#ems100 #mzwrites #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric #sihtric imagine #Uhtred #Uhtred of Bebbanburg #osferth #finan #finan the agile

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I Saw It Coming When You Threw The First Punch

Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence

Author's Note: I honestly feel like I get my irritation from people out by writing stories where the characters punch people. I live vicariously through my characters. Enjoy! -Thorne

Getting the call that his wife had been taken into GCPD custody was not one that Bruce had ever expected to receive. Not in a million years. And yet, low and behold, Gordon had called sounding apologetic that she’d been detained after a physical altercation at the gala she’d hosted earlier that evening.

Which was absolutely baffling to him, because the only person more anal retentive about screwing up at a gala than Alfred, was his wife. So, something must’ve seriously set her off if she’d hauled off on somebody. And Gordon had made it quite clear that it was his wife that threw the first punch, though beyond that, he didn’t know what else had occurred because she’d invoked her rights to the company lawyer and to remain silent, simply staring at the wall while the other officers tried to get a story out of her—Bruce knew she wouldn’t crack. Other than him, his wife had a reserve that no man, alien, or god could break. He’d never say it, but he was envious of his wife’s willpower.

He arrived rather quickly with all four sons in tow, knowing that the sight of the entire family would probably help her chances of getting out and they waited patiently to be escorted to where she was being held.

When they arrived at the interrogation room, they saw her sitting there with crossed legs, hands placed palm down on the table. Her eyes were closed in what Bruce recognized as her deep meditative state; the one she used to fight off telepathic control from enemies—she was probably recounting what happened that night.

“What are the charges?” he asked Gordon and the older man sighed.

“Simple battery and public disturbance.”

Bruce hummed lowly in his throat and gazed at his wife. “How do you see this playing out for her?”

“If the woman she keelhauled doesn’t press charges, there’s possibility of probation with community service.”

He had to play naïve. “And if she does?”

Gordon met his gaze. “Then you’re looking at your wife going into lockup for a year.”

Bruce let out a sigh. “I’ll call our lawyer then.”

“I’ll give you and your wife some privacy,” he replied, hitting a button on the keypad beside the door, and the glass went dark while the glowing red button recording the room turned off.

“Thank you, Gordon,” he said, and the detective waved as he walked off, closing the door to the interrogation room behind him. Bruce looked at his sons. “Let’s go see what set your mom off tonight.”

***

The door to the room opened but she didn’t open her eyes, still under the cold water in her retreat.

“(Y/N),” someone murmured and though the voice was familiar, she didn’t come to yet.

“(Y/N),” they repeated a bit firmer. “Come back up.”

Ever so slowly, she allowed her mind to come back from the deep waters and she opened her eyes, smiling at her husband and sons.

“Good evening family.” Damian immediately sprinted to her and buried his face in her neck, and she laughed, running a hand through his short dark hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You are in trouble,” he murmured and pulled away to look into her eyes. “We will do whatever you need, Umi.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Don’t worry about me baby. Knowing Little Miss Martha May, she’s not going to press charges over our spat.”

“I think simple battery is bit more than a spat, mom,” Dick worried, brows furrowing in concern. “What did you two even start fighting about?”

Her eyes darted to the glass then to Bruce and he said, “Gordon turned off the cameras.”

“Mom,” Tim started, and she looked at him; he held up his phone screen. “I just assured that you’re protected here.”

She nodded and let out a sigh. “I knew I should’ve just walked away but I couldn’t help it. She just set me off like a match to gunpowder.”

“What’d you guys even duke it out over,” Jason questioned, and she sighed again, recounting the night.

***

“You’ve thrown another wonderful party, Miss Wayne,” Lucius murmured, handing her a champagne glass.

She grinned widely, thanking him. “Thank you, Lucius, I try.”

“Clan couldn’t come tonight?”

“You’ve always been perceptive about us, haven’t you?”

“To use your words, I try,” he laughed, and she nodded.

“Patrol started early tonight,” she said inconspicuously, eyes shifting around to glance at who was walking near them. “Besides, most of them only come to these to appease the crowd.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re the only one who actually enjoys these.”

“Only when Bruce and the kids are here,” she corrected. “It’s easier to bullshit when they’re here to pick up the slack.”

He barked a laugh and she chuckled in return when someone walked up to them. She turned and immediately grimaced at the old classmate of hers.

“(Y/N), such a beautiful party you’ve thrown tonight,” the woman greeted, though it was laced with cheerful fakeness.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Good evening, Marianne. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Oh, you know me, I’m always up for a party.” Her eyes drifted around. “Where is your husband? I wanted to thank him for the gift basket he sent after my operation.” Marianne gave her a sarcastic smile. “Isn’t it rather off for a host to avoid his own party?”

Note to self, yell at Bruce for sending her a gift.

“He had to work late tonight. So did the boys.” (Y/N) matched her smile. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to know that you thought of them though.”

Something shifted in Marianne’s eyes. “Oh yes, the children you have.” She leaned in close and murmured, “You know I’ve been hearing some rather negative rumors about yours and Bruce’s decision to adopt orphans rather than have some of your own.”

(Y/N) blinked, not sure if she should be shocked or unimpressed. “Really? Care to enlighten me?”

Marianne waved a hand. “The major one is that you simply took pity on the strays because you were barren.” She felt like she’d been slapped across the face and her jaw dropped as she gaped at the woman.

Apparently, that was all the ammunition that Marianne needed because she offered a sympathetic smile an placed a hand on (Y/N)’s arm. “Oh, you poor dear.” She patted her arm again. “You should’ve come to me instead of adopting orphans. I would’ve been happy to be a surrogate for you.”

(Y/N) shrugged the hand off her arm and reached up, pulling the silver teardrop earrings from her ears. “Yeah, those orphans aren’t mine, not biologically.”

She pulled off her diamond wedding rings and handed them and the earrings over to Lucius who took them and stepped back.

“But you know what they are?” she glowered at Marianne and seethed, “They’re my sons.”

The next thing anyone knew, the two women were rolling on the floor, their hostess throwing punches that seemed to make everyone wince when they connected to the woman’s face.

***

“And all I remember was being escorted down here,” she finalized, eyes drifting to Bruce’s.

He simply stared at her for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh and put his face in his hands. “I’m proud that you defended our family, but at the same time, I’m disappointed that you let Marianne set you off.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, so you’re taking her side?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Bruce shot back. “If she decides to press charges, you’re going to be in lockup for a year.”

“She’s not.”

“You don’t know that, (Y/N).”

“No, I do,” she blinked and leaned forward. “If Marianne doesn’t want me to ruin her image with shit she did when she was a teenager, she’ll keep her mouth shut and take the blame for this.”

“What’d she do, Ma?” Jason questioned curiously and she turned her attention to him.

“Enough that’ll disgrace her image amongst every elite this side of the globe if she tries me anymore.”

Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and they turned, seeing Gordon walking in. “Good evening, Miss Wayne,” he greeted, and she smiled.

“Good evening, Jim. How’s your night so far?”

He chuckled. “Not too bad. I got to detain my favorite socialite and listen to all my officers speculate what she did.”

(Y/N) lifted her hands palm up beside her shoulders. “I live to please, Jim, you know that.”

“I do.” He walked over and handed her a few papers. “When asked if she wanted to press charges, Marianne Walters declined. She instead gave a rather detailed statement that she instigated the fight and threw the first punch.” He stared at the busted lip she had. “Does that match what happened?”

She quickly looked over the papers and nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

Gordon sighed. “Do you wish to press charges?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No,” she smiled. “There’s no reason to make a fuss about this.”

“…Miss Wayne, you and Miss Walters are all over the news.”

She shrugged. “And people have very short memories. They’ll forget about this.” She handed back the papers. “Send this to my lawyer and she’ll handle it with the prosecutors.”

“You think they won’t press charges despite Walters?” Gordon asked and she nodded.

“Oh, they won’t,” she said then looked at the clock. “Am I free to leave? It’s been a long night.”

Gordon let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Yes Miss Wayne, you’re free to leave now.”

(Y/N) rose. “Wonderful.” She looked at her sons. “Boys, let’s go.”

They followed her and Bruce stood from the table, standing beside Gordon. “Thank you, Jim.”

Gordon grunted. “I know (Y/N) threw the first punch.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do.” He huffed. “And I don’t blame her either.” He watched (Y/N) laugh at something Dick said while the others groaned around him. “You’ve got a good woman, Bruce. Good wife. Even better mother.”

Bruce looked at his wife and let an easy smile cross his lips as she pulled them all into hugs. “Yeah…yeah, I do, don’t I.”

3K notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

Juvenile – Toxicology 2/4

Damian Wayne x Daughter of Poison Ivy!Reader

He was an arrogant boy, struggling as he was pulled between the legacy of being born to kill and the promise that he could change for the better. She saw the world through the eyes of her fatalistic mother, but was forbidden to make sense of it on her own. They shouldn’t work together. But Gotham made their lives align despite all of that.

Word Count: 14,300+

Warnings: nudity, mentions/references to sex, sexual assault/harassment, hormonal teenagers

Damian couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep for quite some time now. But he didn’t know what it was.

He walked into the kitchen. It was 6AM and he had given up on sleep, even though he’d returned from patrol around 3.

“Master Damian,” Alfred greeted. “What a surprise.”

“Pennyworth,” the teenage boy replied as he went to the coffee pot.

“What are you doing up?” Dick greeted tiredly. His hair was wet and he was in sweats. He had gotten back from patrol just now –even later than Damian – and was clearly trying to get something to eat before he passed out for a few hours.

“Couldn’t sleep…” Damian mumbled before taking a sip of black coffee. “What are you doing here?”

Dick had his own place in the city. Being a 26 year old mean that he had a level of independence that Damian had yet to achieve.

“Babs is out of town.” Which was code for, ‘I’d rather sleep here than sleep alone at my place where my girlfriend isn’t.’

Damian rolled his eyes. God, his brother was such a lovesick puppy. It made him sick.

“Wanna tell me why you can’t sleep?” Dick pushed.

His brother tried to sound casual, but there was an obvious concern. It was a question he would ask, but not Bruce. Checking in on people’s mental and emotional health was a responsibility that seemed to solely fall onto Dick.

“I probably wouldn’t tell you if I knew. But I don’t,” Damian answered before leaving the kitchen with his coffee.

His phone vibrated in his other hand as he walked up the stairs.

It was Y/N.

Damian opened the text message to find a 30 second video of the sun rising in Robinson Park. He could even hear the birds waking up, and felt like he was there. There was a romantic ambiance to it. Something only Y/N was capable of making him feel.

After watching the video, he read: “Morning! I feel like I haven’t seen you in awhile. Come over today… if you can.💚”

The truth was, Damian had been avoiding her. Furthermore, he was too much of a stubborn fool to realize that was why he hadn’t been sleeping lately.

And the thing was…he felt lousy when he wasn’t around Y/N. He wondered what she was doing. And then he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

But Y/N was right: they hadn’t seen each other in at least two weeks. And that was out the ordinary for the two of them.

Before he could respond, Y/N sent another message.

It was a video of Y/N this time, sitting in a meadow of flowers with her cat, Cheddar.

Cheddar was an orange tabby cat with bright green eyes. Damian had found him as a kitten on patrol one night, shivering in the rain and malnourished. He knew his father would have a fit if he brought another stray back to the manor. So Damian brought it to Y/N.

Y/N immediately accepted the kitten as her own and named him Cheddar.

It made Damian happy knowing that she had another companion when he wasn’t around. She seemed to get lonelier than he did.

On top of that, after Joker set fire to Robinson Park over 5 years ago, Jon had also started a friendship with Y/N. But it was much harder for him to sneak away from Metropolis, especially since he was a terrible liar and…his father was Superman.

Damian looked at the message below the video with a smirk.

“Hey you little punk. Harley here. Look how cute our little sunflower is.”

Damian had already known it was her who sent it when he watched the video. Y/N would never send something of herself like that, preferring to show the beauty of nature and never herself. Harley must’ve stolen her phone.

He ignored the text, but watched the video two more times.

Damian was by no means a spiritual man. But when he looked at Y/N amongst her flowers and trees and grass, he truly believed it was what the Garden of Eden must look like. Despite his lack of education on such legends, he knew in his heart that Y/N was more beautiful than any depiction of Eve.

After her willow treehouse burnt down, Y/N made a new room for herself in the greenhouse. Poison Ivy wanted a closer eye on her anyway since she had nearly lost her daughter. And now that they knew about her friendship with Damian, they didn’t really need to sneak around anymore.

Damian walked into the greenhouse to hear music blasting.

Ivy and Harley had margaritas in their hands. God knows how many they’d already had. Y/N and Harley were dancing around in circles, Y/N’s head thrown back in laughter as Harley twirled her around again and again.

Damian felt a warmth in his chest as he leaned against the opening of the room with his arms crossed.

Or maybe it was just hot in here. It was a greenhouse, after all.

“Bat boy!” Harley screeched, noticing his arrival. “Come dance with us!”

Y/N slowed her dancing to wince, knowing Damian would rather die.

But the harlequin skipped forward and dragged the teenage boy further into the room.

Damian groaned and simply stood in the middle of their makeshift dance floor, refusing to so much as move a single muscle.

“You’re no fun! Just like batsy!” Harley pouted.

“Leave him alone. He doesn’t like to dance,” Y/N defended as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

The tension and awkwardness immediately left Damian’s body when Y/N touched him.

“Want a margarita, Damian?” Poison Ivy asked.

“No, thank you.”

It was a good thing he said no, because Harley interrupted her girlfriend’s bartending to get her to dance. The song changed, getting a little slower. Ivy had a mischievous smirk as she let Harley pull her onto the middle of the open floor. Their bodies were passionately close.

“OK. Time to leave,” Y/N groaned and grabbed Damian by the hand, dragging him out of the greenhouse and back into the fresh air of the park.

“In about 5 minutes, they’re gonna be having sex in that kitchen,” she grumbled.

Damian couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ivy and Harley had a very open household when it came to sex. And while he knew Y/N benefited from it, she still would prefer not to be so close to her mother’s sex life.

And it wasn’t like no one ever talked about it in the Wayne household. But it was just always implied and not as healthy or honest as Y/N’s family. Well, Bruce never ever talked about his sex life. They were all just aware of how busy it was by the women that sneaked out of the manor early in the morning. Dick was always in relationships. Jason was always secretly in love with someone. And Tim was too sleep deprived to get some consistently.

“Where are you taking me?” Damian asked, trying to sound slightly annoyed by her dragging him around. But the truth was… he didn’t mind at all.

“The reservoir,” she cheered as if it were obvious.

“Isn’t it contaminated?” Damian asked.

“No,” Y/N laughed. “That’s a rumor my mother played up to stop punks from swimming in it. She wanted it as our own private pool. Thanks to me and mom, the water’s probably cleaner than any national parks.”

She led him to the edge of a boulder that worked as a natural pier overlooking the water.

The view almost made Gotham look beautiful. But both of them knew the truth of the city, and romanticizing it was dangerous.

“Let’s go swimming,” Y/N suddenly whispered.

“What?” Damian blurted out. “No.”

“Come on, Damian. Don’t be a killjoy.” She sounded so much like Harley.

Without waiting for another refusal, Y/N started taking off her dress.

Damian’s face immediately turned red and he quickly turned his back before he could see anything. “Y/N! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She giggled, and it caused goosebumps to go across Damian’s skin.

“I said I wanted to go swimming. So I’m swimming.”

She wasn’t wearing a bra or underwear, so it took all about 5 seconds to get undressed, making it an even closer call for Damian almost seeing her completely naked.

“A little warning,” he over his shoulder, cheeks blushing.

He heard a splash and turned around to find Y/N in the water.

“It’s just a body, D. Everyone has one,” she chuckled.

Luckily for him, the water shielded him from seeing any details of her nudity.

“What? Are you scared?” Y/N teased, knowing exactly how to get him to do what she wanted.

Damian glared at her. “I am not scared of anything.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to prove that to me…”

He huffed.

“Do you want me to turn around?” She showed him mercy.

The two of them weren’t kids anymore. They were teenagers – 16 years old, to be exact. Damian had his drivers license. But his father still wouldn’t let him drive the batmobile. Meanwhile, Y/N had been driving since she was 12 – thanks to Harley.

Every day Y/N looked less like that little girl he first met, and more and more like a young woman. Her curves grew, making her less cute and more beautiful. After all, she was the daughter of Poison Ivy, Gotham’s own seductress and femme fatale.

Meanwhile, Damian grew inches, standing at 6 feet tall – and he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. The rest of his body still hadn’t caught up though, and he was still skinny and toned. Just another gangly teenage boy.

Without waiting for his response, Y/N turned her back to him. “I promise I won’t look.”

Damian gave up this fight and quickly got rid of his clothes, diving perfectly into the water like an olympic swimmer.

“Happy?” He growled when she turned around to face him.

Her smile dropped when she realized he really was annoyed with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I forget that you’re family is much more…”

“Prude,” he snapped.

“No, I was going to say conservative.”

Y/N smiled mischievously. “You know…you have a very cute butt…”

“You said you weren’t gonna look,” Damian growled.

“Oh, I didn’t look just now. It’s just a fact.”

Damian rolled his eyes before splashing water in her face.

“Hey!” She laughed and splashed him back.

And a full on water fight began.

By the end, they were both laughing and smiling.

Very few people could get so emotions and expressions out of Damian Wayne. And sometimes it seemed as though Y/N saw it as her sole responsibility.

“Hey, I have a proposition.”

Damian tilted his head and looked suspicious. “Here we go…”

“Let’s go to a bar!” Y/N cheered.

“A bar? Why?”

“Because we haven’t been, obviously. Come on. It’ll be fun, and you know it.”

Damian had no desire to go to a bar. Why would he want to hang out with a bunch of drunk adults? He barely tolerated people when they were sober.

“We’re 16, Y/N. No one is going to allow us into a bar.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Harley could get us the world’s best fake IDs in about 2 hours. But we wouldn’t even need them. Did you forget I can get people to do whatever I want?”

It was true.

As Y/N grew older, her abilities grew too. And she became even more powerful – more powerful than Poison Ivy would ever be. Persuasion and mind control were one of her many gifts. She’d gotten better at controlling them. But her emotions sometimes got the best of her.

If she wasn’t such a saint, Y/N’s powers would be terrifying and dangerous.

But she would never be comfortable with hurting and killing people like her mothers were. She understood that their victims deserved what they got. But she still knew she could never live with herself if she hurt someone again – especially by accident.

“Why do you even want to go to a bar so badly?” Damian questioned.

“I feel – I don’t know – suffocated,” Y/N admitted. “I wanna experience…something. Anything, really.”

Y/N had started leaving Robinson Park more and more. But it was always under the supervision of someone. Either her mother or Harley. But they both allowed such trips without them if Damian or Jon was with her. Sometimes it was to a coffee shop or a food truck. But to Gotham, Y/N still didn’t exist.

“There are better things to experience than a grimy bar,” Damian argued. “How about we go to the art museum tomorrow?”

Y/N didn’t hide her disappointment, but just nodded.

She started swimming back to the boulder. But she stopped before pulling herself out of the water.

“Oh, no,” she gasped.

“What?”

“I think Harley stole our clothes…”

“You have got to be joking,” Damian groaned.

Y/N sighed.

She could care less about walking around naked. Between the three women, they were practically a nudist colony. She and her mother needed the sun to stay strong, and would often sunbathe in the nude to relax when they were tired. And Harley just joined in on the fun. Y/N’s mothers made sure she realized there was nothing to be ashamed of with her body, that she was beautiful. Y/N just didn’t associate nudity with desire or sex.

But she knew Damian wasn’t raised the same way she was.

“I have a solution,” Y/N muttered.

Without giving Damian any warning, she gracefully lifted herself out of the water and on top of the boulder.

Damian knew he should look away. He was raised to be a gentleman by his father, Alfred, and his brothers. But his eyes were glued to her like he was in a trance.

Y/N didn’t realize he was staring at her naked body as she held out her arms and closed her eyes – not that she cared. Slowly, tiny green vines crawled up her body, and water lilies and lotus flowers started blooming against her skin. They were the only things keeping her decent, covering the most intimate parts of her body like a bathing suit and then like nature’s lingerie. She looked like The Birth of Venus.

Then she held out her palm and a giant leaf – the size of a grown man – grew from it.

She turned around and bent down to the water from atop of the boulder. “Here. You can use this until we get our clothes back.” He could basically use it as a towel and wrap it around his waist.

But Damian didn’t take it.

He had completely lost control of himself. The other thing about being a teenager was puberty, erratic hormones, and the lack of control he had over…well, certain parts of his body.

Damian wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Just…give me a minute. OK?”

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. “What do you–” Then her face dropped, “Oh.”

Damian wanted to escape this moment so he dunked his head underwater.

God, if his brothers ever found out about this…

When he resurfaced, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. “I’m gonna give you a minute while I go fight Harley back for your clothes!” He could hear her call out from a distance.

By some miracle, Damian had gotten control of himself by the time Y/N came back with his clothes politely folded in her hands.

“Harley said she was sorry,” she told him.

“No she didn’t,” Damian growled.

Y/N winced. “No, she didn’t,” she admitted.

Then she turned around.

Damian quickly dropped the giant leaf and changed into his clothes with a speed even he didn’t know he had.

“You can…turn around,” he sighed.

Instead of having a teasing smirk on her face, Y/N looked rather serious.

Without saying anything, they walked back to the greenhouse. Somehow Damian knew she was leading them back to her bedroom. And he blindly followed. It was where they usually hung out, Harley and Ivy almost never bothering them.

Y/N walked in and sat on the edge of her neatly made bed.

“Damian,” she mumbled, not making eye contact.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Oh, god. He was going to have to explain himself. She probably thought he was some kind of creep now, no better than some peeping tom or pedophile.

He nodded, knowing there was nowhere for him to hide.

“Why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Oh. This was not what he’d expected.

“I haven’t been avoiding you. Father has me on back to back patrol.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’ve never been too busy for me. Not even when you thought your father was dead and Dick was taking care of you.”

Damian sighed. “I don’t know what you are expecting me to say, Y/N.”

“Something’s changed between us. And I know you feel it, too.”

“I don’t know what you speak of,” he growled.

Now she was getting angry. And she shot up from the bed to stand up to him.

“Please don’t lie to me! Everyone’s noticed a change: my mom, Harley, even Jon.”

“We’re friends, Y/N. Always have been. Always will be,” he pushed.

Y/N stepped closer to him. “If you really feel that way, that’s fine. But I don’t think you do, Damian.”

He froze in place as she got closer and closer.

He’d dreamt of this moment for so long. And in this moment, he realized why he had been feeling off, why he couldn’t sleep, why he had been avoiding her.

Damian Wayne was in love.

And she knew him better than anyone, so that meant she had put it together long before he did.

Y/N cupped his cheek.

Damian swore his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

She leaned closer, but stopped when their lips were just a few centimeters apart. Her eyes flickered up to his, scared of making a mistake. But Damian did nothing to push her away, so Y/N closed the last of the distance between them. Her lips moved against his so smoothly. He knew this was her first kiss, but it sure didn’t seem like it.

But suddenly a toxic feeling washed over Damian.

No.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Love was for children. Love made people weak.

Love is why his father pushed women away left and right. Love is why Dick lost his focus on missions and ended up hurt. Love was what got Jason killed.

Damian shoved Y/N away from him, breaking the kiss harshly.

She instantly looked hurt.

“How do I know this is real? Huh?” Damian cried out. “How do I know this isn’t you?”

‘You’ as in her abilities. Her pheromones that brought even the strongest to their knees to worship the ground she walked on and give in to their darkest sexual desires.

He had never seen her do such a thing, but he had seen her mother’s powers in action. And Y/N was stronger than her, so he knew she could do the same.

Y/N looked hurt. Her eyes glowed green as they filled with tears. “Damian,” she whispered shakily, hurt clear in her voice.

“You have the power of seduction, do you not?”

But his heart screamed, ‘Damian, what are you doing?’

“I-I-I would never use my powers on you like that!” She stuttered out in a gasp, as tears flooded down her face. “You know I wouldn’t!”

“But what if you didn’t even realize you were doing it? How can you be so sure?”

Y/N was crying now. “I am sure!”

“How?” Damian fought back.

“Because I just am! Don’t you trust me?” She sobbed.

Damian was breathing heavily, but said nothing.

And that was worst than speaking. He’d missed his window to take everything back before it was too late.

“Get out,” Y/N suddenly growled.

His eyes shot to hers.

“I said get the fuck out!”

He didn’t move.

“LEAVE, DAMIAN!” Her eyes glowed and her veins turned green, covering her skin with poisonous lines.

He jumped back, never seeing her angry before.

But he did what she said and he fled.

When he got to the kitchen, Ivy and Harley were playing cards.

“Where’s the fire, kiddo?” Harley asked as they saw him rushing out .

He ignored them. As soon as he was outside of the greenhouse, he ran. And he didn’t stop running until he was at the gates of Wayne Manor.

Y/N eyed the bar from across the street.

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ she thought and crossed the street.

The heels she was wearing made her feel like a newborn dear. Her dress left little to the imagination and showed all the right skin. She opted for a dress with earthy tones instead of her family’s notorious green.

Y/N wasn’t a kid anymore. And she wanted to feel like a woman.

She came with the intention to find trouble. After being denied by Damian, she convinced herself the only way to feel better was to get what she wanted from someone else – even if it was a stranger in a bar.

In regards to her sexuality, Ivy and Harley had been rather disappointed when Y/N came out as straight to them.

“Are ya sure you’re not somewhere in the middle, sunflower?” Harley pushed when she told them. “Maybe this is just a phase…”

Both Harley and her mother had almost always known they were bisexual. And they had just assumed Y/N would grow up to be the same.

However, Ivy was more accepting of Y/N’s coming out. But Y/N had still seen the worry and dread in her mother’s eyes. Ivy hated men and didn’t trust them. She knew Y/N would have more heartbreak from them than she ever would from any female lover.

Ivy had never hidden her misandry, and tried to prepare her daughter for the evils of men since the day she was born.

But Ivy still had soother her daughter’s worries, “We’ll love you no matter what.”

Now Y/N stood in front of the bouncer.

“ID?” He glared at her.

And here was her first test.

Y/N tilted her head to the side and gave him a tempting look as she let her pheromones loose. “Oh, you sure you need that from me, handsome?”

She watched as his body loss control. He blinked rapidly as her pheromones took control of his body and mind.

He cleared his throat. “Of course, I don’t. Go right in, beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she cooed and walked past him as he held the door open for her.

But now that she was in the dim lighting of the semi-crowded bar, her courage wavered. Everyone stared at her as she entered. Whether it was from her powers or just her, she had no idea. It was hard to tell.

Y/N was suddenly overcome with anxiety.

Had she bitten off more than she could chew?

But she pushed the thought out of her head.

Y/N had seen her mother in action enough times to know how to do this. And she didn’t need to use her powers. No, she could seduce a man without help.

‘Get a drink. That’ll calm you down,’ a voice said in her head.

She slowly walked to the edge of the bar and instantly got the attention of the bartender.

A few seconds later, he had her drink in front of her, “On the house, darlin’.”

Y/N blinked in surprise.

Even after a few sips, she was still nearly shaking from nerves.

Little did she know her pheromones were slowly filling the bar, affecting all of the patrons. There were no windows and no airflow, and therefore she was slowly poisoning the entire bar with desire for her.

And there was no fooling, Y/N was still a child, a teenager. And she had yet to fully understand what men were capable of when they saw something they wanted. They took what they wanted.

Suddenly a man grabbed Y/N by the arm and turned her around.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” He growled.

Y/N gasped at how forward he was and how little space he gave her.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, shoving him away.

But as soon as he stepped back, she saw that the whole bar was on their feet and staring at her. They all wanted her – even the women. But they weren’t who she had to worry about.

��Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Y/N whispered as she tried to find her escape.

Suddenly all of them rushed her, wanting to touch her skin, to feel her.

She shoved one after another away.

But then she was grabbed by a middle-aged man. He was at least 6’5 and built like a brick house – he was too strong to push off of her.

Y/N yelped when he shoved her through the bar and out the back door, bringing them into an alleyway.

“Get off of me! Don’t fucking touch me!” Y/N screamed.

But she underestimated her poison and pheromone’s hold over the man. He wanted her and he didn’t care where or how.

He shoved her on top of a closed dumpster.

“Please,” Y/N begged. “Please stop.”

He growled, pulled down the thin straps of her dress, exposing her black, strapless bra. Then he hiked up the hem of her dress to her waist.

Y/N panicked, trying to think of all the self defense her mother and Harley taught her. But she never had to use it under pressure, and her body was crippling now.

She was sobbing and trying to shove the man off of her. But he was so strong.

He grabbed the band of her underwear and swiftly pulled, ripping them off.

“HEY! HEY!” A distorted voice yelled from the end of the alley. “GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!”

But Y/N didn’t even hear them. Her body was too busy going into survival mode.

As the man was busy with undoing his pants, Y/N’s veins ran green and her eyes turned green, but they didn’t glow this time. No, they didn’t want to alert her prey.

It was like Y/N’s body had been taken over.

And it was now grasping the mans face and then pulled it to hers. Her lips slammed against his and she wrapped them into a deadly kiss.

The poison only took seconds to transfer to his body.

When it took effect, he stumbled away from her and took a step back. His eyes were wide with fear and his mouth was open as if gasping for air.

A second later, he dropped to the ground.

Dead.

“Holy fucking shit,” that same voice spoke again.

Y/N looked up to see a giant figure in a leather jacket and a bright red helmet.

“Stay away from me!” She gasped.

The figure held up its hands. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But she ignored him, staring down at the now dead man who had assaulted her.

“I killed him,” she whispered. “I killed him. I killed him. I fucking killed him.”

The man in the red helmet. “Listen to me, you didn’t do shit.” Then, without hesitating, he whipped out a gun and shot the dead man 3 times in the chest.

Y/N jumped and covered her ears as she winced. She’d never heard a gun before…and it scared the shit out of her.

“See? I killed the bastard,” he told her, his voice still managing to sound surprisingly soft for being distorted by the mechanics of his helmet.

Y/N was slowly coming out of her panic attack.

Jason figured it was a safe to approach her. He slowly took of his helmet, realizing that it probably was doing little to comfort her. But he still had his black domino mask to protect his identity. Then he shook off his leather jacket and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders, giving her decency and hopefully keeping her warm.

Y/N looked up at him cautiously. And recognition finally crossed her eyes. “I-I-I know you,” she whispered in a stutter.

Jason seemed to relax a little.

A lot of people in Gotham knew his alter ego. Some people saw him as a hero, others were scared of him. But at least he didn’t seem like a creepy stranger to her and he could actually help her now.

“Y-You’re Jason,” she added, making him freeze in his place. “Jason Todd.”

——

Damian had been assigned to patrol the safest neighborhood in Gotham.

It was what he deserved, really.

Last night he had nearly got his head shot off and it was completely his fault. He had been sloppy and in his head, not focusing on the mission at hand. And his father instantly noticed and reprimanded him accordingly.

Deep down Damian knew the punishment was really his father expressing his fear for almost watching his son die. But that didn’t stop the teenage boy from being bitter.

Now he stood on the roof top of a building, looking down at the streets below, fully aware that he would probably see no action tonight.

Obviously he knew why he’d been off his game.

Y/N.

He shouldn’t have said what he did. And he definitely shouldn’t have abandoned her. He was a coward. He saw that now. But in a way, he still believed he did what was best for them. Well, what was best for her. Damian didn’t care what the hell happened to him.

How could they ever truly be together?

They were enemies.

Her mothers, though not being evil, were still dangerous criminals. They didn’t respect the law and they did what they pleased – even if it meant hurting people to get their way. They’d been in and out of Arkham far too many times.

How could Damian be Batman’s accomplice when his girlfriend was so close in the crime he was trying to end?

Not to mention his family would never approve. Why did she think he was hiding their innocent friendship from them after all these years?

As Damian was lost in thought, his comm piece suddenly rang in a blood curdling frequency that hurt his tympanum.

He gasped and ripped it out of his ear, hoping it didn’t just make him go deaf.

But then his senses picked up on an intruder and he quickly realized he was not alone.

Damian whipped around to see Jason jumping onto the roof.

“There you are! Fucking hell! I’m been looking for you everywhere, Damian!”

The use of his given name was the first sign that something terrible had happened. No matter how bad things got Jason never used Damian’s name, opting to use Demon Spawn or Baby Bat or Bastard Child at all times.

“Todd,” the teenager greeted in a growl, expecting him to say one of his brothers or Bruce had gotten injured.

“You need to come with me,” Jason’s voice was nothing but serious.

“Why?” Damian couldn’t help but challenge him. “Did you just short circuit my comms?”

“I can’t explain here. Just do as I ask.”

10 minutes later, Damian realized that Jason had taken him to one of his safe houses in the city.

“Todd, if you don’t start talking soon…” Damian growled as Jason opened the metal gate of his industrial elevator.

But as soon as he entered the safe-house, Damian sensed another presence. It was loft style, so everything was open and easily searchable.

Y/N was sitting in the furthest corner, legs hugged to her chest. She was shaking so much that even the blanket wrapped over her shoulders couldn’t stop it. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged underneath her eyes, further proving that she had been crying – and crying hard.

Without asking anymore questions, Damian rushed to her side.

“Damian,” Y/N whimpered and buried her face into his chest, starting to cry once again.

“It’s OK. You’re OK. I’m here. I’m here,” Damian whispered to her as he rubbed her back.

But Y/N couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him what had happened. She just cried and cried until she couldn’t cry any more.

Eventually, she wore herself out and Damian had carried her to the couch. He undid his cape to cover her as she slept.

As soon as he was convinced, she wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, he went to Jason who had been lingering in the kitchen.

“Tell me everything,” Damian demanded.

Jason recalled all that he had seen earlier that night and what Y/N had done. And he watched as Damian got angrier and angrier the further he got.

Then he was disturbingly silent once Jason had finished.

“Did you call her mother?” Damian finally asked, slow and steady.

“Oh, you mean Poison fucking Ivy?” Jason shot back incredulously. “No, I didn’t. She asked me not to. Said she didn’t want any more people to die.”

Damian nodded. That made sense to him.

“When she wakes up, can you drive us back to Robinson Park?”

Jason nodded.

“And…I need you…Can you cover for me tonight?”

Jason quirked an eyebrow. “Cover for you?”

“Just tell father I’m sleeping at your place tonight or something. He will think I’m sulking since he sidelined me tonight.” Then Damian looked over at Y/N sleeping. “I can’t…I can’t leave her tonight, Todd.”

Jason was processing this all much better than he would imagine. And instead of overwhelming him with a million questions, he just nodded his head again.

——

As Jason drove them to Robinson Park, Y/N fell back asleep in the backseat in Damian’s arms.

Damian didn’t bother to wake her when they reached the greenhouse. He just carried her into the greenhouse.

“I’ll pick you up right here early tomorrow morning,” Jason told him.

Damian nodded.

He had called Poison Ivy and Harley at Jason’s safe-house to explain the situation. They were worried out of their minds. But Damian insisted that they couldn’t bombard her tonight. It would only stress Y/N out more. His only saving grace in calming them down was that they trusted him with Y/N’s life and knew she’d be safe with him.

Ivy and Harley were waiting at the entrance with worry in their eyes.

Ivy rushed forward quietly and brushed Y/N’s hair away from her face. Then she scanned the rest of her body for obvious injuries. There were bruises across her arms and shoulders. But they all knew the real damage was mental.

“Do you mind…May I spend the night with her?” Damian asked softly.

Ivy gave him a sympathetic look.

“Of course you can, sugar,” Harley answered for her.

Damian just nodded and carried Y/N to her bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed and started changing out of his Robin uniform. He had extra clothes at Y/N’s place and quickly changed into them.

“Damian?” Y/N croaked.

He turned and hurried to the bed. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed quietly.

“Sorry? Y/N, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” she whispered.

“I know, Y/N. I know.” Damian slipped onto the other side of her bed and Y/N instantly moved into his arms. “Just sleep tonight,” he sighed. “We can talk in the morning.”

She nodded into chest and hugged him tighter.

They had countless secret sleepovers as kids. But they weren’t like this. Those were filled with flashlights, sleeping bags, and giggling until exhaustion gave them no choice but to pass out. This cuddling was new. And now Y/N was embracing him like a lifeline.

Damian lay awake for most the night.

She went to the bar alone because he wouldn’t go with her.

If he hadn’t hurt her, if he hadn’t lied and pushed her away…then none of this ever would’ve happened.

The sunrise came far to quick for his liking.

But Y/N woke up with it.

She had always been an early riser, claiming to want to get as much as the sun as she could.

“You’re still here,” she greeted him sleepily.

Damian kissed her forehead. “Of course I am.”

“They’ll know I did it,” she whispered suddenly, looking up at the ceiling.

“No. No one will ever know. Your mothers took care of it.”

The body would never be found. Just like the first time Y/N accidentally took someone’s life. And just like last time, Damian would never tell a soul and would protect Y/N with his life.

“Damian, I lost control. I tried to stop it. But they…they wouldn’t stop. The whole bar was possessed. And I only have myself to blame.”

“We’ll practice,” Damian tried to assure her. “Your mother and I will make sure nothing like this will ever happen again.”

But he knew it would take more than that to convince Y/N that she wasn’t a danger to herself or anyone around her.

“Y/N…” his voice shook.

Y/N finally took her eyes off the glass ceiling to look at him.

“I’m sorry for what I did the other night. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Her eyes softened and she caressed his cheek. “I know you didn’t, Damian. I know.”

“But I still hurt you,” he wasn’t going to let himself off that easily.

“You did. But I know why you reacted that way.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He shook his head. “But this was never meant to happen. I was trained for many things, and being someone’s partner was not one of them. This. All of this…it scares me.”

Y/N smirked at that. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being in love. I’m scared of you being used against me or getting caught in the life I born into.”

“I’m stronger than you think, Damian.”

And last night had a fucked up way of proving that to her.

“I’m scared, too.” She whispered. “But I don’t want to give up.”

Instead of responding, Damian crashed his lips against hers. And Y/N quickly kissed him back. But Damian was careful after what happened to Y/N last night. He didn’t want to push her too hard, too fast. So he reluctantly pulled away after a few minutes.

Y/N stared into his green eyes a moment before telling him, “I want to give you something.”

She jumped out of bed and shuffled to one of her dressers. She grabbed something out of it and hurried back to the bed, kneeling in front of Damian now.

She opened her palm to show him a corked test tube that was filled with a liquid that seemed to be glowing slightly, not that much different than her eyes.

“What is this?” Damian asked carefully, not taking it from her quite yet.

“It’s an anecdote. It protects anyone from all of mine and my mother’s toxins, poisons, and pheromones. It also cures all of them if given to the victim in time.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you give me this?”

“If you’re still unsure if your feelings are real…take this.”

Damian pushed her hand away. “I don’t need to. I know how I feel.”

Y/N’s head hung.

“Unless you are the one that’s unsure,” Damian suddenly realized. “I’ll take the damn thing now just to prove it to you.”

“No. I know it’s real,” Y/N mumbled.

“You do?”

Y/N gave Damian a sad smile. “You don’t look at me the way those people did last night. You’re eyes aren’t filled with hunger and domination. You look at me with patience and…love,” she finished. “I know what forced lust looks like, and never once have you shown it.”

Damian couldn’t help himself and brought her face to his so he could kiss her once again.

“I want you to have it,” Y/N whispered when their kiss ended.

She shoved the anecdote in Damian’s hand.

He looked at it, realizing there were very few things she could do that would stronger show how much she trusted him.

Before Damian could say anything on the matter, his phone started ringing.

He sighed, “That will be Todd…”

“You have to go,” she finished for him.

“I don’t want to leave you. But my father is most likely suspicious already.”

As if on cue, Cheddar jumped onto the bed and snuggled against Y/N.

“I won’t be alone,” she laughed, as she pet the top of her cat’s head. “And you know the moms are going to be hovering all day…”

Damian smiled. He reached under the cat’s chin, finding his favorite scratching spot. “Good boy. Look after her for me.”

He begrudgingly got up to leave and but quickly turned around for one last kiss.

Y/N laughed at his antics. She could definitely get used to this new side of Damian.

Damian was silent the whole car ride back to the manor.

And when they reached the manor’s gates, Damian’s plan was to quickly jump out and make his escape.

But Jason saw this coming and immediately locked the doors. “Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warned.

Damian scoffed and crossed his arms.

“I think after all the shit last night, you owe me some answers.”

Damian didn’t say anything.

“How long has this little secret relationship been goin’ on, huh?”

Damian thought what his odds were of successfully lying to Jason. Out of all of them, Jason was best at lying. Did that also mean he was the best at reading a lie?

But Jason was right: he deserved answers. He took care of Y/N and had the sense to temporarily hide the body before Ivy and Harley could get rid of it for good.

The least Damian could do in return is tell him the truth. He actually owed him even more than that.

“Since we were 8,” he mumbled.

Jason’s eyebrows rose. “8! You’ve kept this a secret since you were 8!?”

“Look, I knew none of you would approve – especially father. And her very existence is a secret. I did it to protect her.”

Jason seemed surprised by the protectiveness that was thick in Damian’s tone.

Damian fully faced him, “You have already done enough for us. But I need you to promise that you will never tell anyone about her and what happened last night.”

Jason scoffed. “I thrive off keeping secrets from this family.”

But Damian already knew that Jason would never expose them.

“So…you two…you’re…like…dating?” Jason cringed.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a child, Todd.”

He smirked. “So, that’s a yes.” Then he closely studied Damian’s face. “Oh, fuck. You love her.”

Damian was silent for a moment, neither denying or confirming the statement.

But Jason already knew the truth.

“Can I go now?” Damian growled.

“One more thing,” Jason reached in the back seat of the car and shoved something into Damian’s chest.

It was a box of condoms.

Damian looked flabbergasted and his face turned bright red. “How the hell am I supposed to walk in with these?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something,” Jason shot back and then pointed a finger to Damian’s chest. “Wrap your dick. I don’t want anymore demon spawn in this fuckin’ city.”

He finally unlocked the car doors.

Damian rolled his eyes and made his escape.

He practically sprinted up the stairs and into his bedroom, immediately hiding the box of condoms in his secret compartment.

Dick found Bruce in the bat cave, working. That man was always working.

Without waiting for an invitation, Dick took the empty chair next to Bruce and joined him in staring at the screens.

“Please tell me you’ve noticed Damian acting differently,” Dick hummed casually. “Something’s been off with him.”

Bruce blinked, but kept looking at the screens. He hesitated before telling him, “I believe he has a girlfriend.”

Dick’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Bruce shrugged.

“…and do you plan on talking to him about that?” Dick questioned.

“What for?”

He rubbed his face with frustration. “Bruce, you cannot be serious.”

“If he wanted to talk to me about it, he would,” Bruce answered.

“He’s just as emotionally constipated as you are,” Dick snapped. “You really think he’s going to be the one to start the conversation.”

Bruce finally took his eyes off the screen to face him. “Has he talked to you about it?”

Damian’s habit of going to Dick as more as of a father than Bruce was a sensitive topic. And Dick knew deep down it made Bruce upset that his son didn’t trust him the same way he did his oldest brother.

Dick’s silence answered his question.

“How did you even figure it out?” Dick asked. “Have you been tracking him?”

Bruce shook his head. “He walked in with a box of condoms the other day.”

“Well, at least he’s being safe – no thanks for you,” Dick groaned.

Bruce sighed. “I taught Damian to be respectful – we all did. I don’t think you need to be worried about it.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Do you know who she is?”

Bruce shook his head.

“And are you going to continue your privacy-abusing ways and find out?”

“If and when Damian wants to introduce us is his decision.”

Dick had enough and stood up. “This family is so messed up when it comes to relationships,” he mumbled as he walked away.

6 MONTHS LATER

Damian had walked into the greenhouse to find Ivy and Harley looking at a map of some kind. No, they were blue prints.

As soon as they noticed his entrance, they rolled up the paper.

Damian quirked an eyebrow, but ignored it. “Is Y/N in her room?”

They both nodded.

He bowed his head and started walking past.

“Not so fast, kiddo,” Harley interrupted.

Damian paused.

“It’s time we had a little talk,” she said with an evil smirk.

Damian rubbed his face. He had been dreading this conversation. But, honestly, he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. After all, the two of them knew the exact moment his and Y/N’s relationship had moved from platonic to romantic.

“We want to make sure ya treatin’ our little sunflower right,” Harley cooed.

“She has an IUD…” Damian noted, as if it was obvious, because they were the reason she even got one.

“We’re not talking about safety. We’re talking about pleasure,” Harley clarified with her infamous cackle.

Damian groaned. God, this was so much worse than the safe sex talk. “Believe it or not, my mother taught me quite a lot about female anatomy.”

“Your mother also drugged your father and assaulted him to get pregnant with you,” Ivy pointed out. “So I that doesn’t exactly comfort me.”

“I would never do that to her or anyone,” Damian said darkly, insulted that she had even suggested he was capable of the same mistakes his mother made.

“Look little puddin’, we wouldn’t be worried about this if you were a gal,” Harley told him bluntly. “Most men don’t know what they’re doing. And teenage boys definitely don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t appreciate the female body…”

“OK! Enough!” Y/N shouted suddenly.

None of them had heard her walk in the room.

Damian looked at Y/N like she was his knight in shining armor.

“Fuck. You two are mortifying,” Y/N hissed as she grabbed Damian’s hand and dragged him to her bedroom.

Once they were in the safety and privacy of her room, Damian relaxed.

“I’m so sorry about them,” rubbed her face in embarrassment.

But Damian didn’t think she should apologize on their behalf. “How do they know we haven’t had sex yet?”

Y/N shrugged. “My pheromones. Mother would instantly know.”

“Interesting…” he mumbled.

Although, Y/N didn’t share with Damian the fact that she had recently started asking her moms more specific questions on the subject and way more frequently.

Suddenly, Y/N stepped very close to her boyfriend with an adorable smile.

“Hi,” she giggle before kissing him, upset she couldn’t immediately do it upon his arrival. Instead she had to save him from her moms.

“Hello,” he greeted with a smile when they broke apart.

“So,” Y/N sighed as she plopped herself to sit on the edge of her bed. “What exactly did your mother teach you about female anatomy?”

“You heard that?” He groaned.

She laughed at his embarrassment.

Damian blushed. “Truly, I would prefer the classic threat to my life that dads give, than two moms asking if I know how to pleasure their daughter.”

Now Y/N was really laughing.

But Damian had enough of the teasing and embarrassment.

He slowly walked to the edge of the bed and didn’t stop until he stood between Y/N’s legs. She yelped with his hands gripped her waist and brought it to his, eliminating all space between their bodies.

Then he dipped his head. “But trust me when I said my mother was very thorough in her teachings. She always said the world has no more room for disappointing male lovers.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “Damian Wayne. Who are you?”

Damian answered her question with a passionate kiss.

He pulled them fully onto the back, hovering over his girlfriend as he deepened the kiss.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Damian asked, his voice husky from kissing.

“Nothing,” Y/N laughed lightly.

“Will you come spend the night with me at the condo?” He asked.

The condo as in one of his father’s many properties in the city. It was a penthouse in one of the few safe areas of Gotham.

But Y/N knew what he was really asking, and he seemed to read her mind.

Damian cleared his throat. “I have quickly realized that I want to be far, far away from your moms when…” the words died out.

And he was back to shy and unsure self.

“You don’t even have to ask,” she whispered to him as she thumb traced his bottom lip.

“Actually I do have to ask,” Damian corrected.

Y/N had to follow very strict instructions when she arrived at the Wayne condo. This was all to ensure that no one would catch her entrance on any security footage and Damian could hide that they were ever there.

“What’s all this?” She asked when he led her to the kitchen. Her eyes took in all the ingredients on the kitchen island.

“I thought I would make you dinner…” Damian told her as if it were obvious and should’ve been expected.

Y/N’s heart warmed and she quickly kissed him.

Their night was normal. More normal than their relationship or friendship has ever been.

It almost made them feel like a normal couple: Damian cooking. Having a place to themselves. No hiding. No parents invading their privacy.

They felt like adults. And they felt free.

Y/N was amazed at Damian’s cooking. He had never done this before – mostly because there was never an opportunity.

When they were done eating, a comfortable and peaceful silence fell over them. The music Y/N put on and the rain outside were only things they listened to.

Y/N slipped out of her chair went to Damian’s lap. He welcomed her body against his.

“Thank you for dinner,” Y/N told him softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I honestly had no idea you could cook,” she giggled.

Damian just kissed her in response.

“I’m gonna clean up,” Y/N told him, starting to get up from his lap.

But Damian tightened his grip and wouldn’t let her.

“Leave it,” he told her.

It was soft, but Y/N could tell she shouldn’t argue with him.

Damian carefully stood from the chair with her still in his arms. He may have been a lanky teenager, but he was disturbingly strong from this training and life as Robin.

He carried her to the master bedroom.

Everything happened so slowly. But in Y/N’s head, it was all so fast.

Next thing she knew, they were naked under the covers, kissing more and more passionately.

Damian pulled away and looked down at her with concern.

“What? What’s wrong?” She quickly asked. Her breathing was so shallow.

“You are trembling,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine,” she answered too quickly.

But he narrowed his eyes, silently warning her not to lie to him.

“I’m…umm…” She struggled to speak.

Y/N’s eyes simmered green suddenly, not glowing like usual, but dark. Damian had never seen them do that before.

“I’m really fucking nervous right now,” she finally admitted.

“Y/N,” Damian murmured. “We do not have to do this.”

“No, no, no,” she tried to shut that down.

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” He asked, immediately thinking he had done something wrong.

Y/N’s eyes widened “No, you didn’t do anything, Damian.”

Then she pulled his face down to keep kissing him.

But Damian gently pulled away. “Do not do that,” he warned gently.

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you are alright when you are not.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whimpered. “It was just the build up. I’ve been getting more and more anxious all night. And now I’m all in my head.”

Damian slowly got out of bed and started shuffling around the room. He put his boxer briefs back on and started looking for fresh clothes in the closet, and then handed her an oversize cotton shirt.

He sat on the edge of the bed as Y/N looked at him with confusion.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked so quietly, scared of his answer.

Damian blinked, and then his face scrunched in realization.

He quickly cupped her face. “What? I would never be mad at you for such a thing. Do not ever apologize for saying no to me. Understand?”

He was using his Robin voice and it really caught Y/N off guard.

But it was clear he was waiting for a confirmation from her, so she quickly nodded.

“I would never make you do something you were not completely comfortable with,” he added gently.

She nodded again. “I know that. I was just scared to admit that I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Come here,” he told her as he slid back into the bed, pulling her back into his arms.

Y/N didn’t bother putting on the shirt he’d handed her. The nudity wasn’t her problem, it never was.

“I love you,” she uttered so quietly, almost like she was speaking to the night.

“Wana ahibuk, ya habibi,” he whispered into her hair before kissing her.

Y/N didn’t speak Arabic – she was working on that – but somehow she still felt what he’d spoken to her.

“We need to regroup!” Dick screamed in his comms to the family. “They’ve split us apart on purpose!”

It was true. Whoever was behind this attack had known that the bat family patrolled different areas of Gotham, and now they’d taken advantage of that.

“I’m trying to find an out!” Tim huffed, clearly out of breath as he kept fighting.

Damian ignored his brothers. Maybe it was his arrogance, but he tended to almost never panic in situations like this.

However, what he was worried about was missing date night with Y/N.

He was supposed to meet her 30 minutes ago.

Then a familiar figure dropped down in front of him.

Slade.

Damian’s jaw clenched at the sight of him.

That explained how the attack had been planned so well: Slade knew their family well. Too well.

And there had been a certain rivalry between Damian and him since he’d taken one of his eyes as a mere boy.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the world’s most entitled brat,” Slade cooed as he unsheathed both of his swords.

Damian glared. “Did you come to lose your other eye?” He held his sword at the ready, correcting his stance.

The next second, they were charging each other and their sword fighting began.

Slade was still a few inches taller than Damian’s teenage height. But the growth spurt still made Damian at less of a disadvantage than when he faced off with the traitor as a child.

Their swords collided, locking them in place.

Slade lowered his head closer. “Tell me…how does it feel to never truly belong?”

Damian shoved him away, but the man kept talking.

“You’re not strong enough for the League, but you’re far too corrupt to ever truly be the noble Batman’s son.”

Damian growled at the comment, but said nothing more.

Slade was clearly trying to distract him or a get a enough of a rise out of him that he lost his focus.

They continued fighting, both growing more exhausted.

The fight when on and on and one, then Damian suddenly heard a scream of pain in his comms.

It was Tim.

The sound alone caused Damian to mess up his footing.

Slade noticed and immediately took advantage of it. He sliced his sword across Damian’s chest, striking him down.

Damian groaned in pain and fell to his knees. Not even a second later, Slade sent a kick to his middle, further injuring Damian and knocking him completely to the ground.

‘Get up!’ Damian’s mind told him. ‘Get up you weakling.’

Slade put his sword underneath his chin. “No one will miss you,” he smirked.

No. That wasn’t true. His family would. Of course they would.

But that’s not who Damian was thinking of. No. Not at all.

It was Y/N’s face that flashed in his mind. She would miss him. In fact, he wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She loved him so much. In fact, Damian was sure he’d never be loved as much by anyone else in his life ever again.

Damian looked up, meeting his fate. He refused to show fear in death.

Slade raised his sword.

Except it never fell.

Instead Slade was ripped back 30 feet like a rocket.

Damian looked around in a panic.

Giant vines erupted form the concrete of Gotham.

And the first one had wrapped around Slade’s torso and had ripped him away from Damian protectively.

The others were picking up cars and tossing them at Slade’s comrades, taking them out by the handful.

As Damian shakily go to his feet, someone had stepped between him and the enemy.

Y/N.

“Stay away from him,” she growled as Slade got back to his feet.

“Y/N, get out of here,” Damian begged. He struggled to get back on his feet.

But she ignored him entirely.

And instead…she wreaked havoc on the enemy.

Screams filled the air as the thick vines whipped and grabbed. It was even terrifying to watch while knowing one was safe and they were allies.

And soon, it was just Slade left.

Vines wrapped around him, holding him in place. Y/N clenched her fist and Slade screamed in pain as the vine broke half the bones in her body from the pressure.

Damian knew she was going to kill him. The veins in her skin popped out as they turned green. Her body was preparing for a poisonous kiss, and he knew it.

He jumped in front of her. “Y/N, that’s enough.” His voice was low and serious, making sure Slade couldn’t hear him.

“He almost killed you!” She tried to argue.

“It does not matter. You cannot kill him. You have broken half his body. He’s not going anywhere. Let the authorities handle him.”

Y/N turned around to glare at Slade.

“Fine,” she huffed. But with a gesture of her hand, the vines tightened again, now putting pressure on Slade’s broken body. He cried out in pain once again.

Now that they were out of danger, Y/N’s full attention was on Damian.

“You’re hurt,” she whimpered.

“This is nothing,” he quickly told her. “What are you doing here?”

“You never miss date night. And if you do, you always message me. Always. I knew something was wrong.”

“It was quite the surprise,” Damian managed to smirk.

But Y/N wasn’t as amused and was looking at the gash on his torso that was bleeding. She was used to seeing Damian bruised and patched up. But it was always after he’d been tended to – plus, Damian always played off his injuries as to not worry her.

“I will be fine, Y/N.”

Sirens started ringing in the distance. Followed by someone jumping to the ground behind them.

Y/N whipped around and placed her body protectively in front of Damian, ready to fight yet again.

“Red Hood,” Damian greeted.

Y/N instantly relaxed.

“You gotta go,” Jason pointed to Y/N. “Cops are gonna be here any minute. And if you guys want to keep this little Romeo and Juliet shit going, you best not be here when they get here – or worse, when Bats gets here.”

Damian knew he was right.

Y/N and him shared a look.

“Go,” Damian pushed her. “I will be fine.”

Y/N reluctantly did as she was told, but not before kissing him.

——

Damian and Tim both barely made it home alive tonight. Tim had broken his arm and had bruises and cut all across his body. And Damian had to get stitches from Slade’s sever. And one of his ribs was badly bruised. But the rest of the family was thankfully doing alright.

But that meant Damian was on strict orders to recover. There would be no Robin for a couple of weeks. And he hated being sidelined.

He was pouting in his bedroom sketching when Jason surprisingly walked in.

Jason rarely spent time at the manor. Alfred basically had to beg him to visit.

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked without taking his eyes off of his paper.

Jason closed the door behind him and walked to Damian.

“Special delivery,” he said before reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a glass vial.

Damian immediately knew who it was from.

“She said it would enhance the healing process and numb the pain,” Jason shrugged.

“She gave this to you?”

Jason chuckled. “Yep. The girl gave me a heart attack when plants started crawling through my window and she jumped into my living room.”

Damian tried to suppress his smile at the image.

Jason’s amusement dropped. “She’s real worried about you, ya know.”

“I know.”

Jason sighed. “She saved your ass tonight. You got lucky.”

Damian glared at him. “I had it under control.”

“Maybe you should get over your ego and just thank her.”

But Y/N wasn’t looking for thanks. Damian would’ve done the same thing had the roles been reversed. That was their relationship.

There was not much else to say, so Damian finally looked up and gave Jason a look that asked, ‘Why are you still here?’

“How long do you plan on keeping this a secret?”

“Todd, stay out of it,” Damian warned.

Jason stepped even closer to him before lowering his voice. “Listen, Poison Ivy and Harley are planning something. And I don’t think you should be getting in the middle of it.”

“Planning what?” Damian only half cared.

“You’re too busy being a love sick puppy to notice that Gotham is about to make a deal with Powers Technology. Their proposing to build an oil rig within Gotham’s city limits. Not to mention another factory that will increase pollution.”

“What is your point, Todd?” Damian feigned ignorance.

All these years he’d done a good job of staying out of Ivy’s criminal behavior. It would’ve only complicated his relationship with Y/N and his job as Robin. But now it seemed that had all come to an end.

“Did you forget your girl’s mom is the most notorious eco-terrorist in the world?” Jason scoffed. “Powers Tech is one of the most environmentally destructive corporations in America, and they’re about to make Gotham their new home.”

Damian did know about this. Not only had Jason been following this news, but so was Bruce. Damian would be rather terrible at his job as Robin if he wasn’t already aware that Ivy was most likely going to make a move.

“I know what I’m doing,” Damian sighed.

“And that is…what? Not doing anything at all?” Jason challenged.

Damian only glared at him.

Jason sighed. He should’ve known this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere or help anything. “You can’t be neutral player in Gotham. Not as Damian Wayne and definitely not as Robin.”

“Will that be all?” Damian quipped.

“Fuck this,” Jason snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m done.”

And with that, he quickly left Damian’s bedroom and the manor.

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT...

Damian was asleep when he heard them.

Something or someone was at his window.

His eyes snapped open and he reached for his sword in the same breath.

But when he whipped around in bed to face the intruder, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?” He voice was rough with sleep.

“I came to check on you,” she shrugged as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea how stupid this is? My father has surveillance around this entire property,” he hissed.

But Y/N looked unimpressed. “And you think I don’t know how to avoid cameras as if my life depended on it?”

Damian was still frowning.

“Relax,” Y/N giggled. That sound alone rid Damian of all pain. “I stayed out of sight.”

Y/N bounced onto his bed, and it took every ounce of strength for Damian not to show his amusement.

She looked around. “So…this is your bedroom, huh? Your photos and videos definitely didn’t capture how huge it is.”

Damian rubbed his face.

She was already here. There was no point in scolding her further.

“Did I wake you?” Y/N whispered.

Damian nodded.

He thought his answer was going to make her feel guilty and let him go back to bed, as long as she could cuddle and sleep with him, too.

But instead, Y/N straddled Damian and pulled him into a rough kiss.

“I haven’t stopped worrying about you,” she whispered to him.

Except Damian was too preoccupied with her eyes glowing. They weren’t nervous this time. No, they were needy, filled with want and love.

“Damian?” She whispered.

“Yes.”

“I’m not nervous anymore.”

But Damian knew what she was really saying.

Tonight had clearly scared her. And Y/N was done waiting or being intimidated by their love. She almost lost him, and her mind wouldn’t let her stop thinking about it. She needed to be close to him, needed to touch him, needed to remind herself that he was OK and alive.

“Am I hurting you?” She suddenly asked, glancing at his injuries.

Damian’s grip on her waist tightened in case she tried to move out of his lap. “No, you are not hurting me.”

“OK,” she answered with a shy smile.

Then she started kissing him again. It was getting more and more heated. And Y/N seemed rather frustrated that Damian wasn’t being more aggressive about taking off her clothes – after all, he had already been sleeping shirtless.

But Damian still wasn’t pushing.

He broke their kiss and stared deeply into her eyes. “Are you certain?”

She grinned at how soft he sounded. Damian Wayne. Her gentle boy. She always thought it was silly that people failed to see this side of him. But it was her secret to protect. And in return he protected her.

“Absolutely,” she told him as she pressed her forehead to his.

——

Damian awoke early the next morning with Y/N still sleeping in his arms.

And he was suddenly bitter that this couldn’t be their every day. It wasn’t fair. Even if he did share their truth, his family would never accept it. His father already despised metas – and Y/N’s parentage only made things worse.

He would have to sneak Y/N out soon.

But he allowed a few more minutes of her being in his arms, and pressed kisses to her naked back and shoulders.

That slowly woke Y/N up.

She turned to face him, but buried her face into Damian’s chest. It reminded him of a cat, making him chuckle.

“We have to go, beloved,” he whispered before kissing her forehead.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh. “Beloved,” she repeated teasingly.

“Do you not like it?” He asked her carefully, suddenly unsure of the intimate name he’d bestowed upon her.

“No, I like it.” She laughed, “I just don’t think a lot of teenage boys are running around calling girls ‘beloved’.”

“Well, I am not like most teenage boys…”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his arrogance. “You tend to think that, don’t you?”

Damian pinched her side. And she let out a quiet yelp.

“Come on. I should bring you home…”

Both their disappointment was clear.

1 MONTH LATER

Damian was given a night off of patrol. But to him, that meant sitting in the cave and closely studying all the monitors as Dick and Bruce patrolled. His father had been rather insistent on giving Damian a break, which seemed rather odd.

A part of him thought he could sneak to the park to see Y/N or even try to sneak her into the manor. But when he had messaged her, she said her mom was in a testy mood for some reason and refused to let her leave the greenhouse.

Damian thought that had been rather odd. But he didn’t push.

A few hours went by without trouble from the patrol.

But Damian should’ve realized it was the calm before the storm.

“There is a SWAT team and GPD arriving at City Hall,” Damian reported to Dick and Bruce.

No response.

That was when the vines crawled up the building.

“B, the cops aren’t equipped to handle Ivy’s toxins. Only SWAT has gas masks,” Dick reported into his comms.

Bruce didn’t respond, though.

The vines had completely taken over City Hall, claiming it as their own.

Damian’s gaze moved to a news report and turned up the volume as an anchor reported, “POISON IVY ATTACKS CITY HALL AS NEGOTIATIONS ARE FINALIZED BETWEEN POWERS TECH AND GOTHAM CITY.”

Damian suddenly put it together.

This is what Ivy had been planning. She was either going to scare Powers Tech out of Gotham, or kill them.

The vines smashed cop cars and started flinging SWAT members and officers around the block like they weighed nothing. But they didn’t stand down.

“Batman, what’s the plan here,” Dick started sounding nervous.

“They’ve got it handled,” Bruce finally spoke.

Damian’s brow furrowed. His father knew better than anyone that the group didn’t stand a chance against Poison Ivy. What was his angle?

Suddenly, GPD started launching gas canisters at Ivy and her monstrosities.

The news helicopter captured a closeup of Ivy as she gasped in pain and was brought to her knees. The gas was making her weak and killing all her attack plants.

Damian’s eyes widened in disbelief, realizing that not only had GPD prepared for Poison Ivy’s plan… but so had Batman. And the latter was so much worse.

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

“No,” Damian gasped.

He sprinted out of the cave and up the stairs of the manor to his bedroom.

His breathing was heavy and panicked as he ripped through his room to get to his secret department.

When he opened it, Damian felt sick to his stomach.

The anecdote that Y/N had given him was gone.

And the only person who could’ve taken it…was his father.

It all started to click.

Bruce had known Damian was hiding something. What he actually knew and what he thought he knew didn’t matter. Because he’d found the anecdote, replicated it and supplied it to Gotham to protect itself from Poison Ivy, rendering her powerless.

Damian turned to the TV on in his room, finding the news station.

“THE ECO-TERRORIST KNOWN AS POISON IVY HAS BEEN OVERCOME BY GOTHAM POLICE AND TAKEN INTO CUSTODY. WHILE WE DON’T KNOW THE OUTCOME OF TONIGHT’S EVENTS, IT IS SAFE TO ASSUME DR. PAMELA ISLEY WILL BE SEEING THE INSIDE OF A CELL AT ARKHAM.”

Without thinking, Damian sprinted to the garage, and grabbed the first motorcycle he saw. He threw on a helmet, revved the engine, and raced to the city.

Halfway there, it started pouring rain. The conditions weren’t safe to continue driving on a motorcycle.

But Damian didn’t care. He had to get to her.

Damian skidded the bike to a halt in front of the greenhouse and tossed the helmet to the ground with no consideration.

Sprinting to her bedroom, he yelled out Y/N’s name.

But there was no answer.

Damian was panicked now.

What if they’d come for her? What if his father knew all about Y/N, and the authorities were coming after her now, too? Guilty by association.

Damian wouldn’t let that happen.

He continued to scream her name as he searched the greenhouse. Eventually, the only place left to look was the rooftop.

Stepping into the pouring rain, Damian called out Y/N’s name.

Then he ran to the edge, hoping the high viewpoint would maybe help him locate her within the park. But the rain made it impossible to see more than 10 feet in front of him.

“What did you do?” Y/N said from behind him.

Damian whipped around to find Y/N watching him menacingly. She was wearing a white dress that was soaking wet from the rain and basically transparent. She must’ve been out here long before he’d arrived.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he stepped towards her.

But vines stopped him from getting even an inch closer.

Y/N’s teeth were clenched as she repeated her question, “What did you do, Damian?”

The vines pinned his arms to his side.

“I would never betray you,” he objected.

“You are the only person in the world who has ever possessed the antidote. You had the only key that could take down my mother…and me.” She slowly stepped closer with each word, but her anger grew and grew.

“I did not give it to him! Y/N, please,” Damian begged for her to listen.

But the vines were around his neck now, choking him.

“I don’t believe you!” Y/N screamed. “I kept you and your family’s secret for years and years! Why couldn’t you do the same?”

It wasn’t until she stepped closer that Damian realized she was crying. Her eyes were bloodshot, proving that it had started long before he got there.

Damian wanted to tell her that this wasn’t the first time her mother was stuck in Arkham, that she would see her freedom at one point or another.

“Do you know who else is locked way there?” Y/N cried.

Damian said nothing.

“The Joker. As in the ex of my mother’s partner. And he would love nothing more than to get my mother within his reach and kill her. And he’s just one of her enemies waiting for her.”

Damian struggled against the vines hold.

Y/N stood inches from his face now. Her tears continuing to escape. “My mother will die in there.”

“No, I promise she won’t,” he managed to squeeze the words out as his throat was being tightened.

Y/N tilted her head and gave him an incredulous look. “And you think you have the power to do so? To act against your father – especially after tonight?”

And they both knew she was right.

Y/N stepped closer again, inches from his face as he was pulled off his feet by the vines.

“I hate you,” Y/N hissed.

And Damian’s heart broke.

“I should kill you right now for what you did,” Y/N whimpered. Her eyes flickered to his lips as the veins beneath her skin turned green. “You destroyed my family. Destroyed my home. Don’t you get it? Your father killed my mother.”

Y/N reached out for Damian’s face, roughly cupping his jaw with one hand.

She was hurting, suffering. And her eyes showed it all.

Damian did this – him and his family. Their life mission allowed nothing else.

Her lips hovered over his.

And Damian knew if their lips touched, it would be a kiss of death.

Except, why would he fight? What was the point? He deserved this; he knew he did.

Damian Wayne excepted his fate.

He would rather die than look into the eyes of the girl he loved, knowing that she truly believed he betrayed her.

But Y/N couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

Maybe if she were more like her mother she could.

Y/N cried harder as she realized what she was incapable of doing.

Slowly, she backed away from him.

“We were fools for thinking this could ever last,” her voice shook. “I never want to see you again, Damian Wayne. And if I do…” She hesitated. “If I do, I will kill you.”

With that, the vines released him and he dropped hard to his hands and knees.

He expected to look up to find Y/N glaring at him. But what he found was so much worse.

She was heartbroken. She was destroyed. She didn’t look at him the same way anymore.

Before Damian could even take in a breath to speak, he was smacked off the roof by one of the plants. The height wasn’t enough to kill him, but it knocked the wind out of his lungs. He coughed into the grass beneath him, trying to get it back.

Walking like a zombie – no purpose or care or mind – Damian made his way back to the motorcycle he had discarded. Ignoring the rain pelting him.

To his surprise, Harley crossed his path.

She had an empty and distant look in her eyes.

Harley was broken.

Damian caught her eye and she stopped walking.

How she hadn’t also been detained was beyond him.

“Harley…” he tried to speak. But he instantly stopped. What could he even say?

In return, she looked at him with disgust. “Go home, kid. Before I change my mind.”

——

Damian didn’t go to the cave. He flew back into the regular garage with his motorcycle, soaking wet and dripping water.

But he wasn’t that lucky.

The entire family was in the kitchen, and they were waiting for his return.

Even Jason was there, looking surprisingly uncomfortable.

Bruce stepped out of the kitchen as soon as he caught sight of his youngest son. The rest of them timidly followed.

“Where have you been?” Bruce demanded. His eyes scanned his son’s body, noticing the bruise around his neck and the cut on his cheek and lip.

But Damian continued his walk, completely ignoring his family as he dripped water through the house and made his way to the stairs.

“Damian!” Bruce yelled out.

The boy whirled around with a murderous look.

“What more could you possibly want from me?” Damian rasped.

Bruce was about to say more. But Dick quickly stepped forward and gripped Bruce’s shoulder, instantly silencing him.

But Bruce was stubborn.

“You lied to me, to all of us,” Bruce told him evenly.

Damian grinder his teeth as his stare tore into his father’s gaze, not backing down. “I wonder why…” the boy snapped.

But he’d had enough. Damian didn’t have anything to say to his father. He was betrayed and treated like a new, distrustful member of his team instead of his only blood son.

So Damian walked out of the room. And he didn’t stop into he was in his bathroom, where he suddenly puked his entire stomach into the toilet.

—–

“You probably could’ve handled that better,” Dick sighed.

“I didn’t raise him to be a liar,” Bruce growled.

“But you knew he had a girlfriend,” Dick argued. “You could’ve talked to him about it.”

“Clearly he didn’t want to have that conversation,” Bruce argued.

“You’re all idiots,” Jason finally chimed in.

Alfred, Tim, Bruce, and Dick’s gazes all snapped to him.

“She wasn’t just his girlfriend. They’ve been best friends since they were 8 years old,” Jason explained. “The girlfriend part was just a recent development. But I’m sure after tonight that’s over and done with.”

“What?” Bruce gasped.

“Yep,” Jason was loving knowing more than all of them. “Wonder why he felt the need to keep that from you for – oh, I don’t know – 9 years.”

Jason rubbed his face and sighed. He grabbed his jacket roughly. “I’ve had enough of this toxic family for one night.”

And they all watched him leave.

——

Damian hadn’t slept a minute last night. Instead, he laid in bed switching between staring at the ceiling, hating himself and looking at photos and videos of Y/N.

When he realized he felt too sick to his stomach to sleep, he went to his sketchbook and realized how much of it was drawings of Y/N.

The most recent ones were the kind he’d never want anyone else to ever lay eyes on. After all, Y/N was not one to be ashamed or shy about her body or nudity.

As Damian looked at the drawings, he realized he would most likely never lay eyes on her in such an intimate manner or feel her skin beneath him ever again. He slammed the sketchbook closed and threw it angrily across his room.

In the morning, Damian walked down to the cave to find Dick and Bruce.

From the look of both of them, neither of them got a lot of sleep either.

But there Damian stood in front of his two paternal figures. They both turned to him, Dick looked concerned and worried. Bruce was composed, as usual.

Damian cleared his throat. “I wish to return to my mother and fulfill my true purpose as Heir to the Demon and successor to the League of Shadows.”

Bruce’s face dropped.

Him and Dick shared a look of concern.

“Damian, let’s talk about this,” Dick began.

But Bruce was silent.

“There is nothing to talk about,” Damian shot back. “I am leaving Gotham.”

It wasn’t until then that Bruce truly understood how much he had hurt his son. Damian had never even so much as threatened to return to Talia before – no matter how bad things got with their family.

But Bruce had never put his lovers first – never. He couldn’t relate to his son’s turmoil. Bruce made the assumption that Damian was exactly like him: putting Robin and Gotham before all else. But maybe this was how Damian was more like Talia.

Somehow Bruce knew that he’d have to fight harder to win his son back. And there was no way he could do it before he fled and returned to his mother.

“If that’s what you want,” Bruce finally spoke, defeat and disappointment clear in his tone.

Damian nodded. “I am leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Dick gaped.

But the teenager never even acknowledged his older brother. Only glaring at his father, silently facing off with him. Damian wanted it be clear that he was leaving because of him and only him.

“You taught me to always have a contingency plan,” Damian said slowly. “But you never told me to have one for your own father.”

Dick’s heart broke as he watched it all unfold.

“I won’t be making that mistake again,” Damian finished before turning and leaving the cave.

——

Damian had multiple duffle bags laying on his bed, filling them as he quickly moved around his room. He feared that if he slowed down, he would somehow change his mind.

He heard the swoosh he’d grown so accustomed to over the years and then heard one of his windows creaking open.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Jon was breathing heavily.

Surely he had seen the news from last night.

Damian ignored him, continuing to pack.

Then Jon’s entire body froze when he saw the half filled bags on Damian’s bed.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?” Jon asked quickly.

“I’m leaving,” was all Damian supplied.

“I just went to Y/N’s. She wouldn’t even see me. The greenhouse is completely surrounded by vines and foliage. With no way in. But my hearing could still pick up her crying. She screamed at me to leave.” Jon frowned and his shoulders slumped. “I wanted to rip through the vines, but I only thought it would make things worse.”

Damian ignored him and kept moving.

“Damian!” Jon finally yelled. “What the hell is going!?”

“I’m leaving Gotham. I’m going back to my mother.”

Jon’s jaw dropped. “Your going back to your mother?” He repeated. “As in you’re going to back to the League of Assassins?”

“Yes,” he was growing frustrated.

“You can’t just leave, Damian! Y/N…she-she needs you!”

The words got Damian to whip around and get into Jon’s face. “She made it very clear that she never wishes to see me again. It is over, Jon. Leave it be.”

“You’re being an idiot,” Jon scoffed.

“I put her mother into Arkham!” Damian yelled. “And she’ll be lucky if she makes it out of alive – let alone a few months.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Jon looked like a sad puppy.

“All she’s ever had is Ivy and Harley! And I took that away from her!”

“That’s not true,” Jon’s voice shook. “She has you. She has me.”

Damian glared at him. “We are not children anymore, Jon. We cannot hide in our foolish fantasy anymore. And I should have realized that sooner.”

“You’re…You’re really leaving,” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed and nodded.

Jon pulled him into a hug, even though he knew Damian hated them. “Keep in touch, OK?”

Damian only nodded.

But he knew that he wouldn’t.

–––––––––––

I worked extremely hard on this. It took a very long time to edit. Please share your thoughts. Write me a book report. You will make my week. 💚💚💚

Next Part: Young Adult

#damian wayne #damian wayne fic #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x daughter of poison ivy!reader #daught of poison ivy #poison ivy's daughter #harley quinn #batfam #batboys #damian wayne reader insert #bruce wayne #poison ivy #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x meta!reader

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years

Text

Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #dick grayson imagine #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne imagine #batfamily #toomanyrobins #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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whatiswhump · 3 years

Text

Hydrotherapy pt. 3

Set earlier in the series after Hydrotherapy pt 1 and Hydrotherapy pt 2

Sean restrained himself from jogging down the long corridors to Alfie’s room after hearing what had occurred from the nursing staff. He wasn’t a man prone to anger but this- this would do it.

He was so caught up in his concern and utter frustration that he burst into the locked patient room.

Alfie flinched in surprise, awake enough to register the quickness of the entry.

Sean remembered himself and took a deep breath, he couldn’t let his anger show in front of Alfie. With a twist in his chest he conceded that the kid had grown so sensitive, so easily spooked, he wouldn’t understand and it would only rattle him.

“I’m sorry Fie, I didn’t mean to barge in here.” Sean supplied as a means to apologize on more levels than one, he typically knocked, a courtesy most staff members didn’t supply to the patients here.

“S’okay,” Alfred responded quietly and Sean noted with a cursory look that he had been recently sedated despite the fast reflex when he first entered.

“I just- I heard, about what happened… how are you feeling?”

Alfie looked to the floor for a moment, clearly embarrassed to be a victim once again, “I’m okay. But they came in last night and said I was screaming again.”

Alfie knew he didn't have to explain himself any further, his nightmares had been an ongoing supplication for sedation. The night staff really didn’t have a choice and then risk the sleep of other patients, rest was so vital for their stability after all.

“Well we can take it easy today, I could take you to the sun room, would you like that?”

Sean watched as Alfie’s eyes drifted back down to the floor absently. He hated to see him like this.

“... Maybe later.”

“Sure, bud, is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable? We could go for a hot shower?”

His gaze darted back up to Sean, “No- please, I don’t want to do that.”

So water was a Big No. Noted.

“Hey, no problem, you’re not scheduled for one, just want to help you feel warm enough,”

Alfie turned sheepish as it dawned on him how quickly his panic had escalated. This was Sean, he would be careful. He would be nice.

He began to finger the edge of the starched sheet as those thoughts churned through his mind leading to a question, “Sean?” he looked up again.

“Yeah?” Sean liked it when he had questions- was trying to communicate and sort things out. It was better than the days he didn’t.

“Do you know Dr. Grant?”

“Sure, he’s a good doctor. Why?”

Sean waited customarily for Alfie to sort through his thoughts and connect them with the necessary words, for anyone else it might be frustrating, but he just took the stalling period to take a seat on the side of the patient bed.

“Is he a…. Good person?”

Sean furrowed his brow for a moment, his patient had never asked a question like that.

“Um, I don’t know, I don’t know him all that well, but from what I can tell I’d guess yes?”

The concentrated look on Alfie’s face softened slightly, “Okay.”

Silence hung for a few moments longer before he tacked on, “He helped me… I want him to be- I don’t know.”

“Everyone here is supposed to help you, him included, it is what we are here for.”

Alfie just kept running his thumb over the hem of the sheet, eyes down.

“You would tell me if anyone ever didn’t do that, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded unconvincingly and for the thousandth time today, Sean felt a twist in his chest. Fie didn’t even seem like he should be here anymore, like he didn’t deserve any of this. Why couldn’t they just help him? It should be simple right?

At that moment, with a buzz and a click Cheryl let herself in.

“There you are! Good morning you, two. Sean I thought we’d get started on our medication rounds.”

“Morning Cheryl,” Sean turned his light back on to greet her, attempting to push down the worry that was threatening the edges of his mind.

“Alfred, how are you feeling this morning? Seems like you need a good rest after yesterday.” Her matronly tone was softer than normal.

Alfie only nodded but didn’t look up, practically drooping under some invisible strain.

“We’ll get you back right as rain buddy,” Sean started again with his characteristically cheery tone.

“That we will, just keep your head up,”

Alfie didn’t acknowledge the last few comments, instead closing his eyes for a few long seconds before opening them again.

Cheryl pursed her lips but didn’t seem surprised as she turned to fetch the morning’s dose from her cart just outside the door.

Sean, however, was disheartened that he wasn’t able to be of more help, he stood and looked back at the young man practically melting into the bed out of exhaustion.

But within the next second he realized Alfie didn’t just look tired. There had been a subtle shift since he had walked in, his patient’s pallor was tinged with unusual warmth dotting with more minute drops of sweat by the moment. Sean silently chastised himself for being so distracted by the topic of conversation to have not paid enough attention to Alfie’s physical state.

“Fie, can you look at me? You look- a little flushed, do you mind if I touch your forehead?”

His patient minutely shook his head no and closed his eyes. Sean held the back of his hand up and sure enough he was burning up.

“Oh Fie, when was the last time a nurse checked on you? You’ve got one hell of a fever.”

Alfie blinked a few times, “I don’t know- I thought- it was the sedation.”

“We didn’t sedate him last night,” Cheryl piped up as she reentered with the meds.

He looked back at Sean, confused and uncertain.

“This isn’t good.”

Cheryl slowed down to really take a look at the patient for the first time that morning and her expression said it all. Suddenly she was jumping into action, a worrisome new urgency in her voice, “I’ll go let the doctor know and send another nurse over.”

She rushed out and Sean looked back at Alfie, he was so warm… Much too warm..

“Alfie, can you look at me? What are you feeling?”

Those big scared eyes blinked slowly at him, “I don’t-”

“-Sean, Cheryl sent me, what’s going on?” A new nurse, Tillie? maybe, flew into the room with a strict expression of determination.

“Something is wrong with Alfred, he’s burning up.” And declining by the second... Sean thought worriedly.

The nurse reached into her pocket and withdrew a thermometer she had been toting, “Mr. Finch, let me put this under your tongue.”

He didn’t open his mouth, instead his eyes grew foggy and distant again.

“Alfred, can you hear me?”

She moved forward, gripping his chin to open his mouth.

“Here, let me do it- I don’t want him to get scared,” Drowsy eyes lifted again to watch Sean approach, “Here, bud, I need you to cooperate, somethings wrong, I need to see how high your temperature is-”

Alfie just stared at him, Sean recognized this look, nearly vacant and getting further and further away. Something was very wrong.

But he didn’t resist when Sean slipped the instrument into his mouth and then gently held his jaw closed.

“Oh, god, he’s at 106, I’ve never seen that,” the nurse read in a hushed tone after a few moments.

Footsteps announced a new coterie of arrivals, Harris and Cheryl had returned.

“What’s going on here?” Harris looked at Alfie and then his staff.

“Sir, his temperature.. I’ve never seen it, it’s- 106,” The timid nurse answered.

Everyone in the room looked back to the patient, his eyelids were drooping again.

“He needs to stay awake and we have to bring his temperature down.” Dr. Harris announced to the group with a grimace, “Nurse Cheryl, go prep an ice bath as fast as you can and alert more orderlies to assist.”

“But sir, I don’t think we can get him into one without a sedative and we can’t use one with this high of a temp.”

“With a fever this high the first thing we need to do is get him in an ice bath, cool down the dangerously high core temp, then we can think about treatment once he’s stabilized. He doesn’t have a choice.”

“There’s no way we can do that to him again so soon.” Sean said almost to himself, not realizing that he was essentially talking back to the doctor’s orders.

“I understand, If we don’t get his temperature down soon, he’ll have permanent injury,” Harris glared at Sean.

Sean grimaced, no wonder Alfie was always so scared. How was he supposed to trust them when idiots were leaving him in ice baths for hours on end and then winding up with dangerously high fevers to just throw him back in? It wasn’t just irresponsible, it was downright cruel.

More orderlies arrived, and Sean knew Harris was right, there really wasn’t a choice.

Sean knelt down to him fading in and out on the bed, “Alfie- Fie, I need you to listen to me. Your temperature is way too high, if we don’t bring it down, bad things are going to happen, we don’t have a choice, we have to put you back into an ice bath.”

Fie’s eyes were practically rolling back in his head as he was clinging to consciousness, he didn’t seem to understand what Sean was trying to tell him. He was torn between hoping Fie was too out of it to realize what was happening versus being frightened that his delirium was a very very bad sign.

“Get him up,” Harris ordered.

The other men in white approached and they lifted him with no problem.

Alfie only clutched back to them, like he was afraid of being dropped.

They laid him on a gurney and rushed him down the hall at breakneck speed. As they turned a corner to enter the massive tiled institutional bathroom, a nurse rushed forward with crushed ibuprofen for Harris. He hurriedly fed it to Alfie, who did not resist and washed it down with a sip of water before backing away and nodding to the orderlies.

“I’m sorry Alfie,” Sean muttered as he helped to lift the kid off the gurney and deliver him to the tub.

His eyes went wide at this, as he seemed to understand where he was, “NNNh-!!!!” He began to thrash in the men’s arms, there were four of them to be safe.

“This is for your own good, Alfred,” Harris reminded from above.

They plunged him into the water and he began to shriek and claw wildly like a rabid animal, out of his mind with fear and confusion.

“Keep his whole body submerged!”

Water and ice cubes were sloshing out of the tub as he struggled but no one let their grips loosen, noises not words were coming out of the patient as his struggling began to slow, exhaustion pulling at his limbs.

“That’s it, good boy, let it happen.”

Alfie’s wild looking eyes scanned all of the people above, far too many, all watching him. After a few frantic moments Sean’s concerned face came into clarity.

Alfie now beginning to shiver, locked eyes and stared at him in desperation, not asking to be released but simply using Sean as an anchor, something to grab onto.

“Open his mouth, let’s see if the temp has gone down yet.”

Alfie blindly started looking around again, trying in vain to understand what was happening- what was being said... none of it was computing, only fear, frigid and raw.

Anonymous hands wrenched open his jaw and a thermometer found its way in, another pair of hands held his head so that his mouth stayed closed around it, all the while, four men still held his limbs under the excruciating ice bath.

“Down to 102.”

Alfie then closed his eyes, not understanding the words that were being said, just hoping that this was all a nightmare.

@cursedscribbles @voidwhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @aliceinwhumperland @whump-it @professional-idiocy @ziptiewhump @angrystudentgoopfire @jaxonjekkels @clubbem @simplygrimly @whole-and-apart-and-between @one-stop-whump-shop @bumpthumpwhump @rosesareviolentlyread @whumpasaurus101 @hurting-fictional-people @burtlederp @thelittlegirlwithcurlyhair @crystalquartzwhump

#alfie finch #Dr. Harris #sean #hydrotherapy #possessive doctor #possessive whumper #whump #forced treatment #fever #medical whump #illness #Dr. Grant

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pricetagofficial · 3 years

Text

State Fair -CK

Warnings: Language, fluff, Clark is a dork, Bruce is a good brother

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.2K

Check out my pinned post if you want to be on my taglist!

A/N: Just like Sweet Tarts, whether Reader is adopted or biological is up for interpretation seeing as I never specified. Also, big thanks to Fish and Elle for reading this and helping me out!

“This has to be your worst idea yet.”

“I agree because you are clearly going to back out.”

“I will not!”

“Sure, Clark.”

With a huff, Clark crossed his arms. “You’re insufferable.”

Bruce chuckled and waved his friend off. “Just go sit down, this will work I swear.”

Clark gave Bruce a look before taking his paddle and sat in his chair. This really was a stupid idea, what would happen when it didn’t work? He hated the idea of paying for a date, letting alone having Bruce pay for it so he could ensure he got one. But all the funds went to various charities, so that was a plus.

You peeked out of the curtain, and saw the crowd gathering in the auction room. Bruce had set up an auction where various socialites would be auctioned off for a single date to the highest bidder. Being a Wayne, let alone Bruce’s sister, you were a shoo-in for some really high bids.

Each person represented various charities, and you were assigned to various orphanages across Gotham. You thought it would be good to support other kids who were victims of losing their parents considering you lost yours along with Bruce that night.

Taking another peek into the crowd, you saw Alfred sitting there with Dick, who looked too excited for a thirteen-year-old kid to be at an auction. Dick caught your eye and waved happily at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You waved your fingers at him, earning a smile from Alfred who totally caught you peeking.

Next to Alfred was Clark, Bruce’s best friend, and fellow Justice League member. Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, you quickly hid behind the curtain and closed your eyes. What the hell was Clark doing here?

“Y/N, you doing alright?”

Turning to look behind you, you saw Bruce standing there with his signature charismatic smile. He was being auctioned off for a date a well tonight,

“Why didn’t you tell me Clark was here?” you hissed.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” he shrugged. “Dick was excited to see him.”

“That’s because the kid looks up to him, figuratively and literally,” you argued.

Bruce watched you with a sly smile. “Besides, why is it such a big deal that Clark is here or not?”

“I-- oooh,” you growled. “You know exactly why, asshole.”

Letting out a chuckle, Bruce patted your shoulder. “Go get ready, we’re about to start.”

Giving him a glare, you went and found your seat and crossed your arms. Stupid Bruce and his stupid plans. You weren’t sure what he was hiding up his sleeve, but when you’re older brother was The Batman you learned to watch out for the tiny giveaways.

Bruce was planning something, and you were going to figure out what it was.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to our annual Charity Auction! This year we are auctioning off a single date with some of Gotham’s most notable residents! The funds for this year will go to several charities predetermined by our wonderful participants! Now without further ado, let’s get on with the show!”

The announcer walked to the podium as the curtain rose to reveal a grand stage and all the participants off to the side hidden out of sight. Across the stage sat Bruce, leaning back in his seat as he talked with several friends of his.

“So, what did Bruce do to convince you to join this year?”

Looking to your right, you saw Kate was hovering over your shoulder.

“Last year, Dick was sick and Alfred was called away for a family matter.” You explained, Kate should remember why you weren’t at the auction last year. She helped come up with the cover story.

Batman and Robin had a rough time that night on patrol, thanks in no part to Scarecrow. Dick had gotten a large dose of his fear toxin, and Bruce was too injured to console him. Alfred had to make sure Bruce was alright before the next day, and left you with a hysterical Dick until the antidote kicked in.

You had decided to stay that night because Dick was plastered to your side, and Bruce understood completely. Surprisingly enough, during the auction, Clark had shown up and helped you take care of the little boy wonder, even going as far as falling asleep with Dick curled into his side.

Thinking back on the memory, you couldn’t help but smile. That was one of the first times you and Clark had any time alone together.

“And now for bachelorette number three, Y/N Wayne.”

Jerking your head up, you smiled and rose to your feet, and walked onto the stage. You must have spaced out the first two people during your trip down memory lane. Waving politely, you caught the eye of Clark who only smiled brightly at you.

Seeing his smile made you feel lighter than air.

“Miss Wayne represents the orphanage charities all across Gotham, hoping to restore the buildings and ensure a bright future for the children.”

Looking at the auctioneer, you gave him an impressed look. He was playing it up really well, not like he needed it to. You were a Wayne, and was guaranteed to rake in some serious money. You just hoped it would be enough.

“We’ll start the bidding at $500,000. Do I see $500,000?”

All at once, several paddles went up, including Clark’s. You couldn’t fight the confused look on your face, what the hell was he doing? That had to be almost five times the amount he made in a year working for the Daily Planet! So what the hell was he doing spending it all on a date with you?

You stood on the stage as the prices ranked higher and higher, Clark’s paddle not once lowering. The price was almost $2,000,000 and Clark was fighting off with another guy, all for a date with you. You would be feeling proud if you weren’t so concerned for Clark’s livelihood.

“$2.5 million? Do I see $2.5 million?”

Watching the crowd, you watched as the second guy gleaned at Clark and loosened his tie almost as if he was afraid of what would happen to him if he kept trying to outbid him. He lowered his paddle, and Clark just beamed.

“Sold for $2.5 million!”

Clark let out a sigh of relief, Dick looking at him with astonishment. “How’d you get all that money?”

Shrugging, he sent Dick a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Maybe, this wasn’t such a bad plan after all.

It took a few hours, but eventually, the auction ended and Clark was escorted out of the room with Alfred and Dick beside him.

“You know, this could be a dream come true for you.” Dick grinned. “How long did you have to bully B into giving you the money?”

Looking down at the kid, Clark chuckled. Of course Dick figured it out, he was living with Batman after all. “Not long, he wanted to make sure his sister didn’t end up with some creep.”

Dick chuckled, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

The three of them waited for you and Bruce to show, ready to take you home for a well-deserved rest. The auction went off without a hitch, and it was all thanks to Bruce and the effort he put in.

Turning the corner, you and Bruce smiled seeing them. Nudging his shoulder, you looked up at him. “Are you going to tell me how Clark got $2.5 million?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Crossing your arms, you gave Bruce an unimpressed look. “Sure, but why do I feel like it has something to do with you?”

“You think everything has to do with me.”

“Do I need to bring up your nightly activities?”

Bruce didn’t get another word out before Dick came running up to you with his arms wide, diving in for a hug.

“Y/N! You did great up there! Sure beats last year right?” he chuckled.

Smiling at him, you ruffled his hair. “I don’t know kiddo, I actually enjoyed my time with you.”

“I agree, it was nice to relax for a night.”

Looking up, you saw Clark smiling down at you with his signature boy scout smile. You always loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the little scrunch of his nose.

“You want to talk about relaxing? Where the hell did you get $2.5 mil?”

“Yeah, you were practically shooting lasers, Clark.” Dick chimed in.

Looking between you and Dick, Clark shrugged with a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

***

You stood in the Batcave, by the zeta transport waiting quietly for Clark to show and pick you up. Bruce and Dick stood by your side to keep you company while you waited. Bruce was half-dressed in his Batman suit while Dick was nursing a cup of Earl Grey tea.

“What time did he say he would be here?” you asked, checking your watch again.

“Relax, Y/N.” Dick chuckled, “You know, if I didn’t know any better I would think that you have a thing for Superman.”

“Well, you do know better.” you huffed. It wasn’t the standing that bothered you, in all honestly it was the wait. What if Clark decided to cancel on you? Yeah, he already paid over $2 million for it but that didn’t mean he had to show up.

You shook the thoughts out of your head. Clark wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew he wasn’t. Clark Kent was one of the sweetest guys in the universe, there was no one else you would rather spend your night with than him.

Which brought up other thoughts. Bruce was instructed to not let you dress fancy at all, leaning you closer to casual jeans and a shirt as your attire. Whatever Clark was planning, you weren’t going to find out until he told you.

There was a bright flash and Clark stepped out of the zeta tube, wearing his normal apparel with his glasses propped up on his nose.

“Hey, you ready to go?”

You gave him a nod, grabbing your purse. “Born ready.”

Clark smiled and looked at you. He thought you looked perfect tonight and hoped you would enjoy the date he was taking you on.

“Be sure to have her home on time,” Dick scolded, grinning into his cup of tea. “And no funny business.”

Bruce looked down at him and nudged his shoulder ruffling his hair. “Isn’t that my job, chum?”

“Let’s be real here B, no one takes Batman seriously without Robin there to kick their face in.”

You couldn’t fight the giggles, covering your mouth to muffle them. Walking over, you squished Dick’s face and kissed his forehead. “Make sure you listen to Bruce and Alfred okay?”

Dick gave you a nod, hugging you tightly. “Have fun.”

Running your fingers through his hair, you kissed the top of his head before letting him go. Turning to Bruce, he pulled you tightly into a hug and kissed your cheek. “Be careful, we’re just one call away if you need us.”

“Bruce, I’m with Superman. I’ll be okay.”

Looking at Alfred you pointed at the two boys next to you. “Give me a call if none of them are listening, okay?”

Alfred smiled, “Of course Miss Y/N, now go have fun.”

Turning back to Clark, he offered you his arm before leading you back towards the zeta tube. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me, and we’ll be back before midnight.”

Bruce nodded, waving you two goodbye as you disappeared into the blinding light. Coming out on the other side, you were greeted with the fresh air one wouldn’t normally get in Gotham. The scent of fresh crops, dirt, and manure filled the air as you opened your eyes to the setting sun of the Kansas skyline. It was a beautiful shade of orange with pinks and blues dusted across the sky, you never got sunsets like this back home either.

“Clark, it’s beautiful out here.” you smiled.

He watched you fondly, his eyes not leaving you for a second. “It really is.”

Turning to look at him, you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Keeping a hold of your arm, Clark led you down the streets of Smallville towards a truck that was parked against the curb. Opening the door, Clark reached in and pulled out two plaid shirts, and handed one of them to you.

“Clark, what are we doing?” you laughed, sliding your arms into the flannel sleeves as he pulled on his own.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he grinned. “Hop in.”

Giving Clark a look, you walked to the passenger seat and climbed into the truck. Starting it up, the air was filled with an old Randy Travis song effectively setting the mood for the drive. Leaning back in the seat, you looked out the window as Clark drove off, heading out of town limits.

With the window open, you felt the wind blow in your face and embraced the fresh air. Cornfields flew by as Clark drove down the highway, towards a large empty field. Off in the distance, you could see tall structures you made out to be a ferris wheel and various tents.

Keeping your concerns to yourself, you watched as he turned into the field and parked the truck. Turning it off, Clark quickly hopped out of it before you could even open the door. Walking around to your side, Clark quickly opened your door and held his hand out to you.

With a smile, you took it as he helped you out of the truck. “Shall we?”

“A state fair?” You laughed, hopping out of the vehicle.

Once on the ground, you noticed you were practically pressed against Clark’s chest and were forced to look up at him. You were so close, you could smell his body wash and felt his breath fan over your face.

Clark smiled down at you, holding your hand tightly in his. Brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, he pulled it up and pressed a soft kiss to it. “I thought this would be a great place to take a city girl such as yourself.”

Trying to hide your embarrassment, you pushed the bridge of his glasses up too high and huffed. “Stop doing that,” you muttered and walked towards the entrance to the fair. Clark’s laughter could be heard from behind you as he jogged to catch up with your fast pace. Slipping his hand back into yours, he paid for tickets and led you into the fairgrounds.

Walking around, you couldn’t help but admire the things around you. Banners were hung everywhere, with signs pointing to all the attractions. There were rides, games, and food stands all over the place.

Gripping his hand, you pointed at a booth selling cotton candy and grinned excitedly. “Come on Clark!” You laughed and pulled him towards the stand and watched him order a large cotton candy for you to share.

Finding a spot on a nearby bench, you sat and pulled off pieces and stuck them into your mouth humming happily as they dissolved. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to a fair like this, and the feeling excited you.

Clark watched as you ate the sugary snack, his blue eyes shining in adoration. He loved the way your eyes lit up with every bite and the cute little hum you made when you tasted it.

“Now are you going to tell me where you got the money to buy our little date?”

“You’ll just make fun of me,”

“I make fun of you anyway,” you giggled.

Clark gave you a look before taking the piece of cotton candy out of your hand and ate it with a grin. “Now you’re just being mean,”

Nudging his shoulder, you looked up at him. “Did you forget who I have for an older brother?”

Stifling a laugh, Clark nodded and leaned closer smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re right, being mean is a Wanye trait. I’d hate to see how mean an offspring of Bruce could be.”

Laughing along with him, you couldn’t help but agree. A biological offspring of Bruce would be a nightmare, you only hoped that the kid’s mother would be a calm and relaxed person.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you got the money from Lex.”

Clark gave you an unimpressed look, “Now that’s not funny.”

“I find that I am quite funny,” you grinned.

Dropping his head in defeat, Clark huffed. “Bruce gave me the money,” he admitted. “He wanted to make sure his sister didn’t end up on a date with a creep.”

Taking another bite, you looked at him. “I’m going to assume there is more to this, you don’t go on a lot of dates Clark.”

If you had a dime for every time you saw Superman blush, you would only have five cents which isn’t a lot but it was worth it to see the man of steel blush.

“Clark?”

Turning away, Clark bit his lip. How was he supposed to tell you he set this up with Bruce, so he could get a date with you? But he didn’t need to say anything, you watched his expression and the sudden uptick in his nervousness. You grew up with the world’s greatest detective, of course, you would notice when he was crushing hard on his best friend’s sister.

“You and Bruce set this up, didn’t you?” you asked.

Clark’s silence only confirmed it.

“Clark, you know all you had to do was ask,” you smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. Clark turned to look at you. “I would have said yes.”

Adjusting his body, Clark turned to face you fully. Cupping your face in his hands, Clark pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

Letting out a gasp, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. After a few moments, Clark pulled away and rubbed his nose against yours with a smile. “Maybe next time, I’ll just start with that.”

“Maybe you should, watch Bruce have an aneurysm.” you giggled.

Pecking your lips once more, Clark looked around and saw it was getting dark. “Come on, I have a special place to watch the fireworks.”

Rising from your bench, Clark threw your empty cotton candy stick in the trash and pulled you down the path towards a secluded area. “Hang on tight,” he grinned.

“Hang on to wha-- ah!”

Before you knew it, Clark had his arms wrapped around you before he flew into the air. Gripping onto him for dear life, you buried your face in his shirt afraid to look at the things around you.

“Y/N, open your eyes.” he chuckled.

Carefully peeking an eye open, you saw that both of you were hovering a good height above the ground and watched as the fireworks exploded in the distance with loud pops. Once you got comfortable, you leaned your head against his chest and held on tightly watching the fireworks timing them to the beat of his heart.

“It’s beautiful up here, Clark.” you smiled.

“Not as beautiful as you,”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his with the fireworks going off behind you.

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#Costly Affairs #Clark Kent #Clark Kent x reader #clark kent x reader insert #clark kent imagine #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent fic #clark kent fanfic #superman #superman x reader #superman x reader inset #superman x you #superman x y/n #superman fic #superman fanfiction #superman fanfic #DC comics

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mxtantrights · 3 years

Text

past lives | 10

a/n: final part!! AHHHHHHH stay tuned for the epilogue!!! And thank you guys so much for coming on this journey with me. I really appreciate it and YOU! <3

You awoke to the smell of cement and dry wall. It smelled so bad you could feel it in your throat. Your eyes cleared up to the spectacle in front of you. It was Ra's and Nyssa with their arms crossed.

“Is this some sick parent teacher conference?” you joked.

“No games. You failed to deliver the package.” he said.

“You mean your grandson? The one who left of his own volition?”

“Nonsense he is the heir to everything I have. He can’t leave.”

You looked over more to your former friend, “Nice to see you too Nyssa.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” she asked.

You look at Ra’s and he’s already staring you down. You don’t think he’s told her. It would have been best not to. Withholding information is his favorite skill anyways.

You’re about to say something when Ra’s comes over and backhands you. It makes you curl in the chair they’ve put you in. You weren’t surprised, that didn’t make it any less worse however.

He really doesn’t want her to know.

“All you had to do was seek him out. You couldn’t even do it.”

His smack- you hate to say it- brought up a thought to the front of your mind.

“When did you know about my father?” you asked.

It’s in words that Nyssa isn’t able to pick up on. You know. He knows. It’s clear he doesn’t want her to know. Another hint at telling her might earn you worse than a slap.

“After you came out of the pit. I looked into your identity some more and did some research.” he said.

“Tell me,” you move your arms bound to the back of the chair, “Did you spawn Damian afterwards because of me?”

“No, you’re not the reason. I had already been watching him for some time. You were just a happy coincidence.” he answered.

Ra's folds his hands behind his back and moves around Nyssa, and then around you. In a circle. The predator and the prey. What was Nyssa this time around?

“You never reached out.” you said directly to her.

“You left.” she shot back.

“He wanted me gone.” you nodded to her father.

“It was a test you imbecile!” she shouted.

It made you flinch. You realized that maybe Nyssa wasn’t going to let bygones be bygones. And from her stand point she didn’t have to. You hurt her.

Ra’s circles around you once more. His eyes never left Nyssa though. It gave you a sickening feeling. How everyone was his pawns. Specifically Talia and Nyssa. The women in that family needed serious counseling after being brought up by a man like that.

“If it was a test then why did he let me live? The moment I stepped out the door I should have been dead!” you shouted back.

She stayed silent. So you continued.

“He’s lying to you Nyssa.” you said.

“She’s right I lied to you. It wasn’t part of some test.”

Nyssa turned to her father in shock. You were sat wondering why he would give himself up so easily. What did he have to play here?

Whatever it was could wait. He was far enough now to not strike you again. You needed to let her know.

“He wanted me as a back up for Damian. My half-brother.” you said.

Nyssa turned back to you and when she did Ra's smacked her too. You winced for her, his hand print would probably be on your face in a few minutes. Just like old times.

He turned to you.

“You ruined my plan to bring my grandson back. Now he knows I’m here.” he said.

“He ran away for good reason. I’m glad he did. I would've never handed him over to you anyways.” you spoke.

“You didn’t have to hand him to me, you were just going to serve him to me on a platter.”

“No. Because I know you were tracking me through my phone, both of them. You think I didn’t notice how heavy that flash drive is? I know a cloning device when I hold one. And the burner phone? That was cheap work.”

He began to laugh. It made you sit further back in your seat. Him laughing was never a good sign. And it never sounded right. All those years in the pit must’ve done something to his laugh, along with the rest of his mind.

Ra's al Ghul came face to face with you. He wasn’t a pleasant man to look at. His breath even more telling on how close to death he is. But you looked him in the eye anyways.

“And that’s why you’re here. The bargaining chip. He’ll come for you, because just as you care for him he cares for you.”

He lets up and in the background you saw Nyssa shift her arm really quickly. You don’t know what it was for.

The family had gotten a hit on your location. It had been four hours since you were taken. Everyone decided to suit up and hit the streets for the first two hours. Redhood and Red Robin took downtown, Nightwing enlisted the help of GCPD to search Midtown and Batman and Robin took Uptown. With the league they couldn’t be too careful.

In the middle of searching is when they got a comms message from Alfred. Your phone had pinged off a tower in Crime Alley. As Bruce and Damian were closest they began to head over to that neighborhood. The rest of the boys and some footmen from the GCPD were on their way over.

Batman and Robin got there and Alfred was able to narrow down the closest tower that your phone pinged off of.

In the bat mobile Damian remained quiet. He had kept mum about the real reason you were there with him when Gotham Academy had caught on fire. Bruce could tell it was something he wanted to speak about alone.

“So what's the real reason?”

Damian let out a sigh, “This isn’t our first meeting. We’ve had a relationship since I was born. Back on the island.”

“With the league?”

“Yes. It was sad when we could no longer see each other, grandfather had offered an out. I never thought we would see each other again.”

Bruce stayed quiet for a moment. All that could be heard was the engine of the batmobile.

“Did you know you were related?”

“I found that out the same day as Gotham Academy. We had a conversation later that night.”

“You snuck out?”

“I had to father. It was for good reason. We were able to put the pieces together. I said I would handle grandfather.”

“Damian.”

“This has gone on for too long. It’s my fault. If something happens-”

“We’ll make it.”

Then he steps more on the gas.

Your head lulled forward after the sixth blow he dealt you. It wasn’t like you earned it. He wanted to prove a point to Nyssa. That you were expendable to him. That in the grand scheme of things you didn’t matter.

“All that training, wasted! You can’t even get out of the restraints.”

You swallowed the blood that was in your mouth, “What makes you think he’ll come for me?”

“We’re going to send a public ransom across all of Gotham. I figure a hundred thousand as the bounty will circulate enough to get to him. And then he’ll come and find you.”

“He’s just a child.”

“No he’s more than a child. He’s my grandson, the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.”

“And what does she think about all this?”

“Enough!” he shouted.

You were punched again.

“I’ll get someone to send the ransom around.” Nyssa’s voice said.

You lifted your head up to look at her but her back was already turned to you. This however did earn you another punch, to the gut this time, by Ra’s. You let out a disgusting sound at the impact.

“Instead of a coincidence you’ve become an inconvenience. This time I won’t put you in the pit.”

“Why would you ever put me in there in the first place, huh? I was a no one! You didn’t know me or my mother. You just snatched my body and made me one of your foot soldiers.” you screamed through the incoming headache.

He did that mechanical laugh again and you wanted to spit at him. You never thought he was a good man. All the things he did. The things he told you to do. You can’t absolve all of the blame but he was an undeniable reason why you did those things.

Drop offs turned into stake outs. Stake outs into undercover. Undercover into sedation. With him the lines were blurred, because there was supposed to be nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But you chose Damian. Or, you chose Damian’s new life over his old one. And he didn't like that one bit.

The door bused open and in came Batman. You didn't think you'd live to see him up close. It’s true that while in Gotham you would probably see him once or twice. But this?

You watched as Ra's attacked him on sight. It was like the two were in sync. Batman hit, Ra’s dodged. A kick here, a swerve there. They seemed to be equals. You know you could never pull that off. Ra’s would have you flat out in under a minute.

When Batman should have swerved he didn’t. And Ra’s got the best of him with a punch. This gave way to a kick to the side and a head pull into the ground. You struggled to get out of your restraints. It wasn’t looking good for either of you.

Ra’s picked him up, and you watched in horror as he hurled him toward you. Batman collided with you so hard that he broke the chair you were in. It sent you back into one of the many crates in the room.

Batman groaned as you lifted him off of you. You slid over to the side on the floor. He was definitely not light. He knocked the only wind out of you that remained after Ra’s punishment.

No more chair meant your hands were free.

You pulled your arms around to the front. You could try to take him like this. Even though you could hear him laughing in the foreground.

“Here.”

You looked over at Batman. He was holding out one of his knives, shaped like a bat. You took it without passing a comment on it. You passed the blade over the restraints and made quick work of them.

On your feet, the laughter stops. You inched closer and closer to him.

“I didn’t snatch your body, your mother handed you over when she found out you were murdered. She asked me for this!” he said.

You stopped.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you died she went to a very dark place. With how dark she got it didn’t take long for her to find one of my associates and get in contact with me. She begged for you to be brought back. Her child!”

You ran into the attack. The words that came from his mouth just made you see red. He threw his fists but you ducked and weaved. After weaving you landed multiple blows on him. You grabbed him by the shoulders and brought your knee into him.

He went down a bit, only for a few seconds, then got his bearings back. Ra’s spit out the blood from his mouth.

“You’ll leave here with no parents. And it’ll be at my behest.”

In through the door comes Robin. A robin with a face too familiar to hide behind a mask.

“Grandfather!” the little robin shouted.

That makes you look behind you. At Batman. Bruce Wayne.

Your father was Batman. Your father.

#dc x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Ra's al Ghul x reader #robin x reader #Tim Drake x reader #Nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #Jason Todd x reader #PAST LIVES

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americasmarauders · 4 years

Text

ivy--Jason ToddxFem!Reader

author’s note: once upon a time there was a tiny Luíza who thought it was a good idea to wirite a royal!au. She spent 3 months working on it, but she couldn’t make justice to the words in her head so she gave up on it. Then she watched Bridgerton and decided to give the draft another chance;

so yeah this is a royal!au. this is also my first mature work. nothing explicit just a mention of the devil’s tango.

BEWARE: minors: there is nothing explicit, but there is a mention of sex towards the end, so read it with discretion. I would classify this as a 16+

words: 11,071

the link to my masterlist is here and the link to my jason playlist is here

This was a business transaction, she kept reminding herself.

There were lives on the line, lives she had sworn to protect. It was her duty as the princess to guarantee the continuity and longevity of her bloodline and, above all else, her subjects. And the proposition presented to her guaranteed both of those.

She saw it coming. Her Father’s lavish spending sprees, buying fights with people he shouldn’t. The vault had emptied—not completely, although it wasn’t nowhere near the same state it once was—and the people had suffered. She inherited the mess.

Her kingdom, her prized kingdom, so brilliant, so beautiful, was in ruins. Because of an ego too big. She wasn't going to let that happen again.

The Wayne’s presented as the exit. The kingdom of Gotham neighbored her own, it would be convenient for them to incorporate hers. But above all else, king Bruce wasn’t looking for lands, he wanted knowledge, something her kingdom had plenty to spare.

He wanted the kingdom of scholars to be his own. He wanted to stop the gangs, the barbaric gangs that destroyed her precious land, and he needed help from her scholars. Bruce gave her a business offer too hard to refuse. But there’s always a catch.

‘She’ll marry into the family,’ he wrote in his letter to the Queen, her mother. ‘My second son, he’s the Captain of the Royal Guards, he’s the one to take my throne. She’ll be a fine Queen, and with her knowledge, Y/N will help defeat this evil lurking in our shadows’.

At first, she refused. She wanted to do it, but not at the cost of her future, not at the cost of her love. But she cooled her head. She couldn’t let her selfishness get in the way of the kingdom’s prosperity. So, she sent a letter to King Bruce. She accepted, at the condition they would do whatever it takes to preserve her tradition of knowledge. If to preserve her kingdom and give her people a relief she had to sell herself, then she would gladly do it

Gotham was nowhere near as beautiful as her kingdom. It had its charm, she could see why someone would like it, but it didn’t have the same ethereal air to it. On the contrary, it was quite gray and moody.

She guessed it went along with the family running it. The Wayne’s were famous for being an overly serious, and, quite honestly, incredibly brooding family. King Bruce adopted 6 children—and rumors went around that only one of them was biological; a bastard—and all of them had varying levels of moodiness. She was to marry the second one: Prince Jason, Prince of Park Row.

For a long time, he was the cautionary tale that was told to the children of the royal families. The Prince gone wrong, he snapped, rebelled, and, to many, he had fallen from grace. It was only a few years back he had resurfaced to the public attention as the one who was to be the next king. What happened between being the fallen Prince to being the heir was a mystery, one she wasn't sure she wanted to unveil.

She looked at the windows, seeing the tiny rock houses and the calm villagers walking around under the daylight. She knew that once the night fell, things would change and the streets would be filled with those she yearned to eradicate.

“You do not have to go through with this, my daughter,” her Mother started, once again trying to convince you of backing out of the deal. “We can find another way.”

“There isn’t,” she answered. Her Mother opened her mouth to try to argue. “Don’t, Mother. You raised me to do what was right by my kingdom and its people and continuing by ourselves isn’t the answer.”

“You are not sure about that,” Mother said, condescending in her words.

“Don’t patronize me, Mother,” she shot back, her tone controlled. “I know this isn’t the ideal situation, but our situation wasn’t ideal to begin with,” she inhaled, her gaze shifting to the window of the carriage. “If Father hadn’t been so careless, we wouldn’t be here, and I would have turned down King Bruce’s proposal.”

“I know,” Mother agreed quietly. “I feel for our loss of freedom, that’s all.”

“This isn’t a loss of freedom. This is a new beginning. This is our chance to right our wrongs. Is there more freedom than that?” she responded, putting an end to this conversation as the carriage approached the castle.

It was incredible and grandiose, far more than her family’s castle. It was fitting, she’d heard once from Elizabeth, one of the ladies in her court, that the Waynes vault was enormous. She didn’t know how she knew but seeing the castle alone she believed it.

The carriage pulled to a stop, the door opening for her exit. Mother went first accepting the help from the coachman. She got out gracefully next, and the coachman closed the door behind her. She saw two men standing approaching. The older one had an austere air to him, but as he got nearer, she saw the crinkles next to his eyes, indications of years of smiling. The younger one had mischief in his eyes, and she couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome.

“Your Majesty,” the older man bowed to her Mother. He then turned to her and bowed, “Your Highness, it is an absolute pleasure to have you in our kingdom.”

She smiled politely. “The pleasure is all mine, Sir.”

He smiled back. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth, I run the Wayne estate,” he turned once again to Mother. “Your Majesty, if you please I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“Yes, thank you, Sir Pennyworth,” Mother answered, following him into the castle.

The other man cleared his throat. “Your Highness, I’m Prince Dick, Duke of Blüdhaven,” he bowed, and she offered her hand. He kissed it politely, quickly releasing it and standing straight. “I’m the one escorting you today.”

“Thank you, Prince Dick,” she said politely.

“Shall we?” he offered his arm, and she couldn’t miss the golden glimmer of his wedding band on his hand.

“We shall,” she said, controlled.

Both of them walked calmly, as he showed her around the castle. She noticed the extravagant décor, paintings of generations of Wayne’s before adorning the walls, amongst other priceless pieces of art she was sure were worth more than the entire treasure she had in her kingdom. She quietly observed as he showed the corridor to her quarters for the month—he gracefully omitted the fact that she was marrying a stranger by the end of it and this wasn’t going to be her room any longer than that.

She heard Prince Dick sigh next to her. “I’m sorry it has come to this,” he stated. “I’m sure I can speak for my Father when I say we all wished for a different outcome.”

She offered him a tight smile. “Yes, well, I believe what we have agreed on is what’s right for both of our kingdoms,” she noted. “And while I wonder what would have been like if I didn’t come to this decision, if I may be candid, I do not regret making it.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I’m glad you do not have any regrets, Your Highness,” he said. “And I’m glad you were candid about it. I’m positive you’ll do great in our family.”

He stopped in front of a large and sturdy double door. He knocked 3 times. “The King awaits you,” he stated to her. “You shall wait here.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” she bowed slightly. “Thank you for escorting me.”

“I will not marry her, for fucks sake,” Jason growled, slamming his hands on his guardian’s imponent desk. “I will not be a fucking bargain coin for your politics, Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch with his son’s outburst. “It is your duty.”

“Shove the duty up your ass, then. I have too many things to worry about, I don’t want another.”

Bruce continued to look at the map sprawled out on his desk, “The L/N’s are incredibly smart and their kingdom holds a lot of the knowledge that we need to defeat the Joker’s gang and the others. This is very much your concern, isn’t it?”

Jason shuddered at the mention of Joker. “It is,” he said, defiant.

“Then marry her and do your job,” he stood up, leaning menacingly over the desk to look Jason in the eye. “You are the main responsible for our safety, and although I disagree with your methods, you are doing a good job. You need to start thinking of the future, Jason. This is bigger than you.”

Jason huffed in annoyance. “I know of that,” he muttered. Then he smirked and said: “But you didn’t marry and had biological kids, Bruce,” he taunted. “Why should I do it the traditional way?”

“Because I know what it’s like to not go down that path, son,” he answered, raising his voice slightly, but still composed. “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be better.”

Jason was speechless. He tried to mutter a word but his brain couldn’t think of any of it. “I still don't want to marry her.”

“You will, though,” his Father answered, opening his drawer and pulling the contract out of it. “And all I ask of you is to not push her away. You’ll need her, more than she’ll need you.”

Jason wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. And he hated to admit—he and Bruce were constantly fighting over everything, especially after… after—but his Father was right. He wished it didn’t come at the cost of his liberty. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He found that it would only hold him back. But the prospect of the crown loomed in his horizon, and if he wanted to do right by his people, marrying was one of the requirements. It was too late to turn back.

Three sturdy knocks sounded. Jason quickly recomposed himself.

She had seen King Bruce once, when she was younger. Her Mother threw a gala for whatever reason and he attended. She didn’t remember seeing any of his kids there, or maybe she was too occupied with her own thoughts to notice.

She remembered him being charming and handsome. A lot of the ladies of the court wanted to marry him, but somehow none of them had managed to. She recalled the color of his eyes so vividly, not because it was beautiful—it was—but because it revealed something deeper about himself that left her guessing. She could never discover it, though. Some things are better left unsaid and unknown.

Looking at him now felt like she had entered a time machine. He had stayed the same, save a couple of wrinkles of worry—totally comprehensible for someone with his position.

She curtsied. “Your Majesty, it’s an honor to meet you once again,” she said.

“Princess Y/N, please come in,” he motioned for her to come in. She straightened up and calmly walked into the room. “I believe you haven’t acquainted yourself with Prince Jason,” he nodded towards the direction of the man standing angrily in the corner.

“No, I haven’t,” she smiled politely and turned to the man. She curtsied, “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She could feel him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn’t see him. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness,” he answered sarcastically.

She uncurled and crossed her hands in front of her body. She glanced one last time at her suitor, studying him.

He was beautiful.

Jason had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen. They were the perfect shade of blue, and she never thought there was a perfect shade of color. His hair had a streak of white, that made him look even more rugged than he already was. His hair was swept, messy in the perfect way. He was pretty in the way a bounty hunter or a thief would be, not the way a prince would. Princes were known for being pristine and soft around the edges: Jason was nothing like that.

She turned her eyes to the king. “I believe we have arrangements to make,” she said calmly.

“Yes, we do,” the king replied. He picked up a stack of papers on top of his desk. “I took the liberty of assembling a contract for the annexation,” his hand rested on top of it. “Your input will be valuable.”

King Bruce handed her the papers. “Thank you very much, your Majesty. I imagine this needs to be signed by the end of the week?”

“Yes, but I’d rather it was signed today. Forgive me for the rush, but we need your scholars’ help as soon as possible.”

“I understand,” she replied. “By the end of the day we can sign then.”

“That’s perfect, Princess Y/N. Jason, escort her to the library so she can read in peace,” Bruce commanded.

“Yes, Father,” he gritted through his teeth. She could feel his body shaking with anger and resentment and she knew she was the source of it.

He strode towards the door and flung it open for her. She curtsied to the king one last time, before turning and accompanying her suitor towards the library.

Jason’s hands were crossed behind his back, his feet heavily stomping the ground. She kept up with him, walking side by side, lifting her dress slightly.

The walk was filled with strained silence. She started to feel uneasy about the waves of anger coming off Jason, she felt the need to address it.

He stopped abruptly and opened the double door standing in front of them, revealing the most beautiful library she had ever laid eyes on. Bookshelves adorned all of the walls, from the ceiling to the floor. The stairs to the mezzanine—once again filled with full bookshelves—were of sculpted wood and she considered them pieces of art. The ceiling had the most beautiful paintings on it, and she wondered who had the patience to paint such a huge canvas. It was all breathtaking.

“Well, this is the library. If you need anything don’t hesitate on calling one of the help,” Jason said mechanically, snapping her back to reality.

“Thank you, your Highness,” she muttered, still quite perplexed at the sight. She inhaled deeply and said: “I know this situation isn’t ideal and that you might feel cornered. But, truly, I’m not here to get in your way. I just want what’s best for my people.”

Jason hummed, his anger somewhat subsiding but still very much present. “Yes, well,” he said, “I think you should get to reading that contract. Wouldn’t want to keep his Majesty waiting,” he finished, voice laced with sarcastic undertones. He turned around and left her alone with the papers.

It was late at night. The sun was long gone. Her stomach rumbled in hunger; the last thing she ate was at lunch, when she was about halfway through the papers.

It wasn’t even that long, she just wanted to be thorough. She had read every single line for what it was and all the possible meaning behind it. Kudos to King Bruce for making such a complete and meaningful contract, she had been entertained the entire day.

She rubbed her eyes, exhausted. She had managed to reorganize the contract after pulling it apart, the small piece of paper with her suggestions resting on top of it. With her hands stained with ink, she picked the papers up and headed towards the door, when it opened.

“Sir Pennyworth,” she said in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Your Highness, his Majesty has sent me to escort you to his office. I believe you’ve settled on the final details of the papers?” he announced politely.

“Yes, I did. King Bruce did a superb job on it,” she complimented. He guided the way towards the office.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t him who wrote it,” Sir Pennyworth pondered.

“No?” she replied.

“I’m sure it was Prince Tim, he’s the one with an aptitude for these endeavors,” he said.

“Oh, I’m afraid I haven’t met Prince Tim, yet. I’ll be sure to compliment him when I do.”

“He’ll be excited, your Highness,” he commented. “What did you think of Gotham so far?”

She smiled sweetly at the older man. “I haven’t seen the city yet, but I found the part I have seen completely charming,” it wasn’t completely a lie. It was charming. Just not as charming as her own kingdom. “The castle, though, I’m mesmerized by it. You have done an incredible job maintaining it, Sir Pennyworth.”

“Please, your Highness, call me Alfred. Thank you for your kind words,” he smiled warmly.

“Well, Alfred,” she stressed his name, respecting his wishes, “thank you for escorting me.”

She stopped as she saw the familiar door, holding the papers tightly. “It’s been my pleasure, your Highness,” he bowed, and left.

She knocked on the door, calmly. A muffled come in came through and she turned the doorknob. Walking in, she saw King Bruce and three of his sons gathered around a round desk in the corner, a map sprawled out. She curtsied. “Your Majesties, I’m here with the contract and my notes.”

She saw one of the Princes mouth ‘notes?’ to Prince Dick, (who shrug it off, just as confused) as Prince Jason rolled his eyes at her once more. “Please, Princess, sit down so we can further discuss it,” he motioned to his desk. “Dick, Tim, we will continue debating this tomorrow. Dick, you are dismissed. Tim, stay in case we need to change the composition.”

Both Princes furrowed their eyebrows. As Dick left the room without a word or bow—which she was sure broke some kind of protocol—Tim decided to sit on an armchair next to the table they were standing before. The door closed with a click and she sat down, the papers resting on her lap gently.

“I heard you said you have some notes on the text?” King Bruce initiated politely.

“I mean no disrespect, your Majesty. The redaction was splendid,” she complimented, “I just mean there could be a couple of points added to make it more complete.”

“Yes, yes,” he agreed, “please make your points.”

“I agreed to this proposition on the condition of preserving my kingdom’s tradition in academia. While there was a clause in page 5 that stated that clearly, I thought it would be to everyone’s benefit if it was expanded into specifics,” she handed him the contract and the notes.

He glanced over the notes, Jason reading it too, behind his Father. “I think these are all fair requests.”

She smiled. A much needed win for her kingdom. “Thank you,” she said.

“Tim, grab a pen and paper and add these to the text,” Bruce ordered. “We sign this tonight.”

Tim jumped up from his seat, quickly opening a drawer for the pen and paper, and grabbing her notes. He scribbled furiously and within minutes the new page of the contract was finished, both parties agreeing to it.

“Now, all there’s left to do is sign,” Tim announced handing a pen to Jason.

She noticed Jason’s eyes filled with something indescribable, a mix of what she assumed was anger and grief. She wished both of them had a choice, but this was bigger than both. She prayed to the stars that both could make the best of this bad situation.

He signed, handing the pen to her. Her fingers brushed for a mere second, and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. She quickly recomposed herself and swiftly signed out her name, her kingdom.

It was done. It was easier than she thought it would be. She hoped she hadn’t made the wrong decision, and there was all that was left to do.

King Bruce dismissed Tim, leaving just her and Jason in the room. “There’s the matter of the engagement ball,” he stated. “We hope to announce your engagement by the end of next week.”

“Of course,” she stated clearly. Jason only grunted.

“Should I expect both of you to be involved in the planning?” the King asked. It sounded more like an order and she knew Jason knew about that.

Jason nodded stiffly. She then turned to the King and opened a polite smile. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” she agreed.

King Bruce dismissed both of them and Jason ran out of the room.

She ran to catch up to him, his long strides almost besting her in a long gown and high heels. “Prince Jason, wait!” she shouted.

He stopped and turned. “What?”

If she was taken aback by his rudeness she was sure to not show it. “Since now it’s official, I was wondering if I could tag along to one of your strategy meetings. I might have some knowledge to share or point the way to help.”

“Aren’t you going to be too busy planning the ball?” he taunted.

“I’m perfectly capable of focusing on more than one thing,” she replied dryly. “Gotham is my kingdom now, I want it to prosper. And I want to be a part of it.”

His face didn’t leave any indications on whether or not he was to grant her permission to participate, so she was surprised when she heard him agreeing. “I’ll arrange for you to participate in one. I’ll send Alfred to tell you details,” he dismissed and turned around once again intended to walk to wherever he was headed.

“Thank you,” she shouted after him.

He hesitated before walking. He turned to her slightly and gave her a smile--and she felt like it was an honest one. He turned back and disappeared.

A gentle breeze blew as she walked down the busy streets of Gotham. Her dress—which she felt was too light for this occasion—blended in with the crowd splendidly. Jason walked beside her calmly, his hands behind his back.

His face was serene and calm, as if he was truly where he belonged. She thought it as a good quality: it meant he was empathic, not on a pedestal like most heirs. He came from the people and he would serve his people. Her heart fluttered involuntarily. She struggled to contain it.

The people of the city were quite vivacious and charming. The city in itself was gloomy and, quite honestly, a touch depressing, but the people colored the streets and made it feel almost as if the city was breathing.

“This is so different,” she said, perplexed by the movement around her. No one as they passed by her noticed who she was, or better, what she was. “They don’t care.”

Jason smiled. “No, they don’t.”

“It’s quite magical,” she concluded.

“It may be to us, but to other people,” he pointed to a couple, both very dirty and very thin sitting on the floor. They tried to get people’s attention, but they just didn’t care, “well, it can be quite awful.”

She wished she was just as cold as those other people. It would save her a whole lot of suffering but she wasn’t. People’s pains found a way to her heart and became her own. She pushed through the crowd, muttering a few ‘excuse me’s along the way. She took off the only jewelry—a necklace, so simple and delicate; it was one of her favorites—she was wearing and left it in the can the old couple had in front of them.

She knelt to be at eye level with them and said, looking at their shocked faces: “Sell it, please. It’s worth some money and you’ll be able to buy some food and clothes.”

Their faces lit up and they thanked her enthusiastically. She smiled at them before getting up and rejoining Jason and continuing her walk. He had the same shock the couple had. He offered his arm, out of politeness she was sure, and her hand rested on the crook of his elbow.

“Out of all the things I thought you would do, I—” he trailed off.

“You think so little of me,” she said. “I’m not heartless, you know?”

“I never assumed that,” he muttered.

She looked him dead in the eye. His eyes twinkled in the sunlight and once again she had to fight the fluttering feeling in her stomach. “Good.”

A few beats went by before either of them spoke again. She was the one to break the silence. “Does Gotham have any social programs to help the poor? It would greatly benefit the people,” she added kindly. “If there isn’t, I’m sure I can think of something to help.”

Jason fought to contain a smile creeping on his face. “I think His Majesty deals with this type of project. You’d have to talk to him,” he said, guiding her back to the carriage.

“I’ll discuss it with him then,” she said, impassive, her lips quirking up at the end. “Have you arranged for me to participate in the meeting?”

Jason sobered up quickly. He couldn’t show her that he found her amusing. He couldn’t be so transparent. He didn’t want a wife, he repeated to himself. He didn’t need a wife, he tried to convince himself. This girl was not for him, she was too good. “I did.”

She smiled. “Great. I’ll catch up on studies so I can understand everything.”

He hoped he had remained impassive, because he couldn’t control the plethora of feelings inside his heart. Fuck.

Jason paced in his office. Tim watched him closely, studying his brother.

“Why are you so exasperated?” Tim questioned. “I’m glad you like her, otherwise you would have led a horrible life.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Jason said, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to like her, Tim. She’s too good for me.”

“How do you know that? You’ve barely even met her,” Tim leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“I just fucking know it, Tim,” he snapped, yelling at his brother. “It’s bullshit, that’s what it is. I wasn’t supposed to be in this situation, I’m not supposed to fall in love and get married and have a white picket fence life, goddammit. Look at me” he motioned to himself, looking straight into Tim’s eyes, “I’m a fucking disgrace. I’m a monster who kills people without remorse, I’m—”

“Enough with the self-pity, Jason!” Tim got up abruptly, matching Jason’s volume. Jason’s mouth promptly shut. “Stop it. You’ve wallowed in it since Bruce told you about the arrangement, I won’t allow it anymore,” he added quietly. “You know none of what you said is true, you know it,” Tim walked to his brother and rested his hands on his shoulder. “Fuck what you think, Jay. Fuck what everybody else thinks, okay? You’re already getting married to her no matter what, let yourself like her. It’s the least you could do.”

“I can’t—” Jason inhaled sharply recomposing himself. “I don’t know if I can like her the way she deserves.”

“Then try. Isn’t it what you’ve spent your life doing? Trying? Try this too. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She hates me and I have to be married for the rest of my life with someone who hates me,” he didn’t say that that was his greatest fear. That he never wanted to be like his parents, fighting and bickering and beating each other. Showing their worst to the world. Having a kid and traumatizing him to the point he’d hardly trust someone.

“So, you’d be just like another royal,” Tim tried to lighten up the mood. He noticed Jason’s somber expression and quickly sobered up. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s trying so hard to please you, to prove to you she’s a worthy addition to the family, can’t you see?”

“She’s not doing it for me,” Jason got out of Tim’s hold, turning his back to his brother.

“She may not, but she’s trying hard, when most wouldn’t even bother. That’s something, Jay,” Tim completed.

Jason didn’t complement Tim. He had enough with the talking and the convincing. Tim sighed sadly, and left the room, leaving Jason to sulk alone.

Between setting everything up for the ball, arranging the wedding ceremony, learning everything she could about Gotham recent history, and everything else she had taken upon, she was completely and utterly occupied.

It was for the better though. The more she was doing, the less she stayed inside her head, thinking about herself and letting her anxiety and doubt eat her inside. She had done the right thing, she kept reminding herself. She had done the best thing for her people, they would prosper, they would not suffer anymore.

And yet, there was always a little voice telling her that she had signed her people’s death sentence. The more she learned about Gotham, the more she read about its history and its horrors and its corruption, the more she thought she had condemned her people to a life in misery. Look at the amount of homeless, she thought, why did Gotham have so many homeless people, so many kids?

No. No. No. She wouldn’t allow herself to get nervous. She was sure in her decision, and Prince Jason had proven himself to be reliable, even if he was distant. When she asked him a favor, he did it. When she asked him a question about his lands--Park Row--he would answer it truthfully. It was more than she could have expected in an arranged marriage. Most of those ended up in misery, both parties unfaithful to their spouses. She knew Prince Jason wouldn’t seek pleasure and comfort elsewhere. She felt it.

As soon as she stopped in front of Jason’s improvised study in Gotham’s main castle, Prince Tim opened the door. She could see Jason gazing through the window, his back turned to the door.

“Princess Y/N!” Prince Tim exclaimed, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

She saw Jason tense and turn to them. She smiled. “I have a couple of things to discuss with Prince Jason,” she explained.

Tim chuckled. “Yes, yes, of course,” he shook his head and said with an airy smile on his face. He turned to Jason and shared a look. Jason looked like he could kill his brother. Tim stepped out of the way and let her enter the room. She entered and Tim left closing the door behind him.

She stared at him. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes casting shadows over his face. But somehow, his eyes looked brighter than she had ever seen it before. She has trouble breathing and her heart beated faster inside her chest. She swallowed dryly, her hands gripping tightly the papers she carried. She curtsied to him. Follow protocol. Protocol is safe, it doesn’t make anyone nervous.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes, well,” she snapped out of her daze, “there’s still a few details to be decided for the ball.”

He sighed and sat on his chair, his body looking exhausted. “Can’t you decide?”

“It’s not only my ball,” she said. “I can’t decide for you, Your Highness.”

“Don’t call me Your Highness,” he muttered, annoyed. “It’s weird. We’re going to be married,” he explained. “I don’t want to have protocol in the middle of it.”

She looked down at her feet and back up at him. There went her comfort, the line she drew to not get too close. It was a business transaction after all, no need to get personal. Well, she figured, it got personal when she promised herself as a bargain coin for politics. “Yes, of course,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again,” she finished.

He sighed. He mentioned for her to sit in front of her and she sat. “We need to establish some rules before we embark in this...journey together,” he stated.

“Of course,” she agreed.

“I don’t want you to be restrained by protocols and etiquette when speaking to me,” he said softly. “We’re going to rule a kingdom together, one that just got bigger, we’re going to have to trust each other.”

“I agree,” she said, hesitant. “What is your point?”

“Call me Jason,” he said. “I never really liked my title all that much and I don’t want my future wife using it when talking to me,” he stated. It was the first time she heard him referring to her as his future wife, and he said it like it didn’t bother him. It sent butterflies to her stomach.

“Yes, you’re right,” she shook her head. Of course he was. Her parents never called each other by their titles when they were alone. “I suppose you’d want to form a friendship too?”

His mouth quirked up. “That would be preferable, yes,” he said.

“Okay, then, Jason,” she stressed his name. “Then we should start this partnership deciding which colors do you want the napkins to be.”

“Actually,” Jason started, “I have something to give you first.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I wanted to start this on the right foot,” he pulled out a little velvet box from a drawer behind the desk and walked to be beside her. “Since we’re engaged, I thought it was only appropriate to give you an engagement ring.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “You didn’t have to,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

He smiled at her. “Open it,” he urged her.

She picked up the box and opened. Resting inside it, she noticed, was the prettiest ring she had ever seen. There was a single ruby, sided with two simple diamonds. It wasn’t the flashiest and biggest engagement ring she ever saw--one of the ladies of her court married a rich duke from a far away kingdom and he had given her a diamond ring that almost covered her entire finger. “It’s beautiful,” she said, staring at it.

“Allow me,” he said, picking the box, and slipping the ring on her finger. His hands lingered on hers longer than it should have. “There.”

She stared at it for a bit longer. “I have no words, Jason.”

He smirked and walked to his chair. “How about we decide the color of the napkins?”

He knew he shouldn’t have done that. He was getting involved, he was cultivating feelings for her, feelings he had refused to have just mere minutes ago when he was talking with Tim. But when he was with her, he couldn’t help it, he was just swept away by her. Suddenly, around her, Jason wanted to do everything to please her, to make her happy and satisfied.

Jason knew he was in deep shit. Jason knew he was falling for her, and he wanted, consciously, to stop that. But he couldn’t: his heart spoke louder.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

They had walked side by side the entirety of the ball. Her hand rested in a variety of places, the crook of his elbow, his hand, or the skirt of her dress. It didn’t need any saying that her favorite place for her hand to be was in his.

Nevertheless, the fluttering it sent to her stomach every time he would smile at her--albeit she knew the smile was only for show--it didn’t diminish the anger she felt at him.

They walked side by side all night, him telling a fantasious story about how they met. It was love at first sight, he’d tell. They’d met under the moonlight, a sky full of stars, he looked at her and knew she was meant for him. She wore a blue dress, according to him. She smiled at him and it was like a whole new world opened up to him, a world full of love. According to him.

The worst part was that she couldn’t say anything. Because she didn’t know anything about the lie he had constructed, what he had told other people when she was talking to his brothers while he was talking to Kings of other kingdoms. And that was what made her angry. He had reduced her, at least for the night, as a mere accessory for him.

He had been so sweet with her, so charming and loving. And then he did what he did. It could have been worse, she thought. He could have been invasive, he could have ignored her ‘no’. In that way, he was an angel. But he was still shitty with her that night. And it didn’t matter that it could have been a million times worse, Jason had reduced her to an arm candy. She still felt like an object. That would never be acceptable to her.

He took her to the dance floor, as the orchestra played a slow song.

“It was a charming story you told our guests,” she said, her voice impassive.

“I figured it would be better for them to think we’re marrying for love instead of what actually is,” he explained, his hand resting on her lower back and the other holding her hand. She ignored the feeling his touch sent through her body.

“I wish you would have told me,” she said, her voice strained. She tried to control her anger.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“I discovered you had concocted a story for us at the same time all the others did, Jason,” she said. “And I couldn’t say anything, in risk of exposing the lie you’ve built.”

He looked at her confused for a mere second, before recognizing what he did. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t think--”

“You didn’t,” she interrupted him. “I’m not an accessory, Jason. I’m far too smart for that role,” she said. “I can’t stand by your side and smile and wave as if it’s just all I can do. I came to Gotham expecting not to be numbed by antique expectations of women of royalty. And you forced me to fit that box tonight. I hate it.”

“I’m truly sorry,” he said sincerely.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Next time you decide to lie, at least tell me what you’re planning. After all this is a partnership, we agreed on that. We can’t act behind each other's back.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, squeezing the hand he was holding more tightly and bringing her closer to him. “It won’t ever happen again.”

“Good,” she nodded.

She knew he was trying to charm her with his tight hold on her. She tried to stay mad at him, tried to remain impassive, but she found that she felt safe with his arms around her like that. She broke a shy smile at him. He smiled at her too, his eyes bright with something unrecognizable.

She sat quietly in the corner, a notebook resting in her lap. Her fingers twiddled with the pen, as she listened attentively to what the council members had to say.

It was refreshing to be intellectually stimulated when she’d spent the entire week deciding dumb details about the wedding. It didn’t matter what flower arrangement the church was going to be decorated with, or which color the napkins were. She really didn’t care about it. If it were up to her she’d be married in a tiny room with no party. But it wasn’t, so she complied.

“—we need to send humanitarian help to the Bowery, the people are starving!” Lady Helena exclaimed, cutting Tim in his long rant about something overly complicated.

“We can send help after we eliminate Scarecrow!” Tim replied just as loudly. “If we send food, the gang will intercept and the situation will get worse, Helena. Don’t you get it?”

“What I get, Tim,” she said annoyed, “is that you are so entangled in your overly complicated plan to dismantle their operation that you are blind to the suffering of your people.”

Tim got up abruptly from the table, angry at Lady Helena, his fists balled up like he was going to punch her. Dick rested a hand in his brother's arms, calmly guiding him down for him to sit. Tim sat with a thud, his eyes flaming with rage, his face red.

Jason, who was awfully quiet the entire meeting, sighed and rubbed his hands on his face. He leaned forward on the table, looking defeated. “And here I thought we’d make a good first impression,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, your Highness,” she said respectfully, thinking it would be better to use his title in front of the committee instead of his name. “In fact, I think I might have the solution to the Bowery problem.”

Tim scoffed. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for the past year to solve it and I’m nowhere near to the solution.”

She ignored his comment. “Anyway, I remember reading something about Scarecrow in my dad’s files. I’d need to reread to be sure, but I know there’s a safe way to provide supplies for those in need.”

Jason clasped his hands together. “Great! We’ll discuss details at the next meeting after we get those files.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather pick those up myself,” she said

“Sure, I’ll ask Alfred to arrange the trip,” he dismissed. “Well if there’s nothing else to discuss, this meeting is finished.”

The council members disbanded leaving only her and Jason in the council room.

“What did you think?” Jason asked, his voice tired.

“They mean well,” she started, “but I can see that they’re desperate for results. And desperation in these situations isn’t a good thing.”

“I know,” he sighed, his hands running through his hair. “I know, I’ve tried telling them but it never works in the long run.”

She smiled. “Good thing I know how to help,” she said.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s good that you’re here.”

He knew it was coming. He thought he was prepared for it. He thought he wouldn’t feel anything when he saw her walking down the long aisle, he hoped he wouldn’t. But when Jason saw her in her white dress, walking towards him, his heart stopped for a second and the world stopped turning.

She chose to walk down the aisle by herself. She wanted to show she wasn’t led into any decisions. She was doing this by her own accord, her own judgement. Jason thought it showed a lot of her character. She stood by her decisions and its consequences. She was strong. He admired her, more than he cared to admit.

Jason could barely remember the ceremony. He couldn’t stop looking at her, memorizing every detail of her in the light of the Gotham Cathedral, the crown she was wearing, the embroidery in her dress. But most importantly, the look in her eyes. It was everything to Jason.

He couldn’t exactly place what it was yet, but it was there and it meant more to him than he realized it ever could.

He floated through the ball after the ceremony. It was weird to call someone his wife, he never thought he would see the day he could call someone that. But Jason found that it didn’t repulse him like it would have before he met her. He was left with a tingly sensation of joy inside him.

It scared the daylight out of him.

He kept a tight grip on her, walking side by side. She was enchanting. She talked smartly with Kings of neighboring kingdoms. He heard King Clark of Metropolis commenting to Bruce how perceptive the new princess was. How intelligent she was.

Jason knew all of that, but it still didn’t stop him from being mesmerized.

“Who’s that gentleman?” she nodded towards an old man on the corner of the room.

Jason hummed looking at the man. “That’s Oswald Cobblepot. He is a part of one of the oldest families of Gotham.”

“He has been staring intensely at me for the entire ball,” she looked at Jason, whispering to him.

“Well, you are the future Queen,” he commented. “People will stare at you more.”

“No,” she shook her head, her hand resting on the crook of his elbow. He guided her through the ballroom. “This is different. He looks at me like he hates me.”

“Oh,” he said. “He has a…quarrel, if you will, with the Waynes. His family was one of the few that founded Gotham. The Cobblepots almost ruled the land, but the Waynes got the kingdom. They have hated our family since then.”

“Now that I’m a Wayne, he hates me?” she asked. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, technically you’re a Todd-Wayne, but yes.”

She hummed. “He seems suspicious, Jason,” she whispered. “I think he’s planning something.”

“Cobblepot is a coward, he would never hurt you,” Jason reassured. “But he would pay for someone to do so.”

“You think he has?” a twinge of panic rising in her voice.

“He has done that before,” Jason said. “He wasn’t supposed to be invited, but Bruce insisted, and I had to dislocate more guards to the ballroom because of him.”

“Can you keep an eye on him?” she asked. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

“We always keep an eye on him, Y/N” he whispered. “He’s a criminal.”

“What?” she said, shocked. He guided her to the dance floor, as a soft song played through the room.

“We have undercover guards track him everywhere,” he stated quietly, as if no one was supposed to know. “We have to every criminal mastermind this city has ever had the pleasure to meet.”

“That’s a lot of guards then,” she commented.

“It’s a fucking nightmare,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get to you, love.”

She looked at his eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Jason.”

“I’m your husband now, Y/N. It’s my duty,” he said.

She smiled shyly at him and glanced at their feet for a second before looking back at him. “I never thought…”

He smiled at her. “What?”

She shook her head, smiling at him, completely lost for words. “Nevermind.”

He sighed and tightened his hold on her. “I didn’t say this yet, but you look breathtaking today,” he stated, clearly.

“You look beautiful too,” she replied.

He gaped at her, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment. He quickly recomposed himself. “Well, I guess we make a breathtakingly beautiful couple then,” he joked.

“I guess we do,” she looked deeply into his eyes, smiling softly. Her eyes glinted with something different, something familiar and warm. But something he couldn’t quite name yet.

He found that he looked forward to the day when he could.

She had dismissed the maid that would help her get rid of the dress. She was too nervous to deal with anyone else. She paced in front of her vanity, waiting for Jason to come in their room.

It was so weird to think that now there was a ‘they’. They were a couple, they were a unit. It was a first for her, and she hadn’t had the time to think about it until all of the whirlwind of the wedding had passed.

“I thought you would have been out of that uncomfortable dress by now,” she heard him. She turned to see him. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie hanging untied on his neck. He carried his jacket over his shoulder. He looked relaxed and comfortable, and she got even more nervous looking at him.

“I was nervous so I sent Claire away,” she shrugged.

He took a step in her direction. “What are you nervous about?”

She sighed and pressed her hands together over the skirt of her dress. “About us,” she whispered. “I didn’t think of the after. I didn’t have the time.”

He smiled and took another step towards her, finally close enough to her. She could see perfectly the sincerity in his eyes. She could see the scar above his eyebrow and the tiny freckles on his nose. “You don’t have to be nervous about anything,” he reassured her. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

“It’s not only that,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never done this before. This…” she hesitated, “partnership. I know things are different for men.”

“I don’t see how,” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You know how,” she snapped. “Men are praised for their sexual endeavours. Women are expected to remain pure until marriage,” she explained calmly. “And it’s not fair to either of us, you have an unfair advantage over me and I--,” she stopped herself.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You can say it, I won’t be hurt.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do this, Jason,” she admitted. “I’ve never even been kissed before.”

He smirked. “That’s easy to resolve,” he stated. His hands cradled her face and he leaned in, stopping just before their lips met. “If you want, of course,” he whispered, his breath mixing with hers.

Her breath got caught up in her throat. She wasn’t expecting him to be that direct. She thought he would seduce her first, like in the romance novel she had read. She’d rather his directness. “Yes,” she whispered.

He smirked and clashed his lips with hers. She closed her eyes and grabbed his shoulders tightly. His lips were surprisingly soft on hers, and she wondered what would happen if he decided to kiss with more passion instead of holding back.

She decided to, then, take the first step towards that direction. Her hands moved to his hair and she brought his lips closer to hers--which she thought it was impossible. She responded with more passion and more eagerness and he was shocked for a second before complying.

One of his hands moved to her waist and pressed her body closer to his. She opened her mouth just a little and his tongue licked her lips, entering her mouth slightly. She felt a wave of heat invade her, and she let it in pleasurably. His mouth started to make way down her neck, his fingers on her back, fumbling with the buttons of her dress.

She felt panicked at the intimacy of the act and tensed. Jason felt her nervousness and stopped. “We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to,” he whispered.

“It’s too much,” she replied, her voice strained. “It’s not you, Jay, I’m just not ready.”

He cradled her head, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’d wait forever for you,” he said. “I can wait until you’re ready.”

She gave him a shy smile. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, let me undo those buttons and get some sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

The carriage shook as they rode through the country towards her kingdom. She looked out of the tiny window at the horizon, admiring the view.

“Did you miss home?” Jason asked.

She looked at him. “I did miss my Mother, and my friends,” she said, “But I don’t know if it’s my home anymore.”

“What is home then?” he asked, curious.

She searched in his eyes any indication of his intentions with that question. She found nothing but admiration and warmth and--if she’d be so bold--love. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “When I found out, I’ll tell you.”

“Please do, I’d like to visit that place,” he laughed.

Now that they were officially married, they had moved back to Jason’s residence in Park Row. They were almost completely disconnected from the Wayne Castle in the outskirts of the city. Park Row was in a part of the city called Old Gotham, some would say it’s the heart of the city, right in the center, the most populous part. Others would say it’s the cancer of the mechanism of the town, littered with homeless and thieves.

Jason was born in Park Row. His parents were simple people. He didn’t give her much detail on who they were, and she could feel it hurt to talk about that subject so she didn’t push him to say anything. All he would tell was that his Father died first, and he was left as a child to help his sick Mother and him survive.

He became a pickpocket at age 8. His Mother died when he was 9. He lived on the streets up until he was 13. That was when King Bruce found him and took him in. Jason said he was trying to steal one of the wheels of his carriage when Bruce arrived and offered him shelter and food. Next day, he was already adopted and enrolled in classes. Next day he became a prince. She wondered what it was like for him to have gone through such a radical change in the span of a day.

He disappeared when he was 17. He was especially cagey about his time away. No matter what questions she asked he wouldn’t answer any of them. She wanted to attribute it to mystique, but she knew it was because of trauma.

When he came back he was a changed man, a stronger one, a more traumatised one. That was when he started to disagree with his Father more. He would question the methods Bruce would use in his hunt for justice in Gotham. He would question everything Bruce did, in Jason’s exact words. He didn’t detail anything and she started to notice a trend in his behavior: when something hurt him too deeply, he would barely talk about it.

Next thing he knew, he agreed to be the heir, he accepted the role his older brother left for him. He said it was because he knew better than any of his siblings how it was to be on the streets and suffer like most in Gotham. He would do better by them, and she believed in him. Wholeheartedly.

“So, what’s the plan of attack here?” he asked.

“We go in, say hello to my Mother and go to my Father’s study and look for the files,” she said. “It’s a dangerous mission, be careful,” she joked.

“We should have called for backup,” he said, seriously, embarking on her joke. “Maybe 1,000 soldiers would have sufficed.”

“More like 10,000,” she laughed. “Seriously, we’ll just spend the afternoon going through dusty paperwork,” she said. “It’s going to be quite boring.”

He smiled. “Nothing’s boring with you,” he stated.

She smiled back. “I quite disagree, but I appreciate the compliment.”

The carriage halted to a stop. Jason opened the door for her and offered his hand for her to come down the steps. She accepted it and stood proudly by his side. He offered his arm and she took it. He led her towards the staircase that led to the main entrance of her castle. She could see her Mother standing there waiting for her.

She had her problems with her Mother, but she still loved her. She left Jason’s hold and ran up the stairs to meet her Mother. She panted when she finally got up the stairs, but nevertheless, she held her Mother in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

“You shouldn’t have run,” her Mother said in her ear, her voice humorous. “What would Prince Jason think?”

“Jason would think I love my Mother and I’ve missed her,” she stated. “How have you been?” she said, breaking the hug.

“I’ve been okay,” Mother answered. She looked behind her daughter and her expression became impassive. “Your Highness,” her Mother said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Jason smiled at her mother. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She smiled at her husband and at her Mother. “Shall we get inside?”she suggested. “Jason and I have to go through Father’s files.”

“Oh, those things?” her Mother said. “Good luck, I know he left those completely disorganized.”

“I remember,” she muttered. “It’s going to be a nightmare,” she said to Jason.

“I don’t mind,” Jason stated. “We can spend as long as we want here,” he gripped her hand. “This is important for us back in Gotham, it’s important to be thorough.”

“Well,” her Mother started, “I’ll leave you two to work then. I’ll send in some tea for you.”

“Thank you Mother,” she said, watching her Mother disappear into the corridor. She turned to Jason and smiled. “Shall we?”

He bowed slightly and said: “Lead the way, My Lady.”

She smiled and started getting up the stairs, Jason right beside her.

It was charming how much Jason’s behavior towards her had changed so much in a relatively small amount of time. When she had first met him, she feared a loveless marriage, with a husband cold towards her. But, slowly--or as slow as it felt--he had shifted. He started being less sarcastic and more truthful. He would still make sarcastic remarks, but never directed towards her. Jason started being soft and understanding. It was weird to think of a man so big and rough as him as soft and gentle, but it was how she saw him.

She knew he had his insecurities. He had told her once. He had told her he was reluctant to trust her, that he thought he didn’t deserve her. She said he was selling himself short. He replied that she didn’t know most things that he had done. She thought that it didn’t matter because she was falling in love with him.

Love. What a strange feeling. What an overwhelmingly dangerous feeling. It had changed her entire view of the world. She was much more willing to happiness, to the tiny beautiful things of the world. She saw things colored pink. She knew this effect would pass, but she would enjoy it while she could.

She felt his hand brush hers. She looked down at their hands, barely touching and then looked at him with a smile. He looked forward, his face impassive, like he had no idea what he was doing. She held his hand and he squeezed it. Her mouth quirked up slightly.

She led him right to a giant double door. She released his hand and opened the door, revealing her Father’s office.

It was considerably smaller than King Bruce’s office, but it still held an air of authority. Behind the main desk there was a big window that had a view of the castle entrance. Both side walls were bookcases, from the ceiling to the ground. In the middle of the room was the King’s desk, untouched.

“Nobody has come in here since he died,” she said quietly. “Except me.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied.

“It’s fine, it’s been a long time,” she sniffed. “I just miss him.”

Jason remained quiet, examining the room. “Anyways,” she said. “I’ll get those files, and we’ll start looking.”

She pulled a book in the middle of a bookcase. The bookcase retreated and it revealed a big safe. She opened the safe and revealed piles and piles of papers, untouched for years. “Will you help me?” she asked, picking a pile.

He picked up another big pile. He rested it on the floor. “We can pick more up after we go through these,” she said, sitting on the floor. “We’ll be entertained for a while.”

They spent hours reading. She started a system to organize the files into topics. Those that treated about economic affairs were separated into one corner of the room, those of the political affairs into the other. The political affairs were separated into topics: internal politics, external, and finally security. Those were the ones they had to nitpick through. She catalogued it in criminals: Penguin, Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, the lot.

She had through those files at least once in her life. It was interesting to read through once, and she could see Jason was fascinated about the operations her Father had led once. But she found it a bit boring, like she had predicted. Nevertheless she persisted. It was more important than her entertainment.

“Y/N” he called for her, “look at this.”

She got up from the ground and walked towards him. She had discarded her shoes long ago and was almost tempted to change into some pants. “Yes?” she asked.

“Is this the file you talked about?” He gave her the document.

She scanned through the document. It detailed how they had managed to successfully cut off supplies for the fabrication of the fear gas in her kingdom and how, with that, they had managed to ban Scarecrow from there. “It is,” she said. “I can’t believe you found it, I thought we would spend another day looking for it.”

“We already did that,” he said. “We already tried stopping the production of the gas, we discovered an antidote for it, it didn’t stop Crane.”

She smiled. “It’s not only that,” she explained, turning her back and going to the internal affairs pile. “You can’t stop only Crane, you have to redirect his soldiers to a more positive occupation,” she found the file and gave it to him. “See?”

He read through the document quickly. “But we have social programs in Gotham, it still--”

“You have and those social programs are great,” she said. “But it’s not enough for you to take care of the children and the homeless, you have to take care of the poor, those who struggle to get a job and do whatever it takes to not be helped by those social programs.

“You have to direct those men and women to better jobs, give them better chances, educate them and then you’ll defeat Scarecrow fully,” she finished

“Because then they’ll know better than to join him,” he whispered. “It’s brilliant.”

“It’s how you stop them,” she smiled and sat on his lap. “This is the beginning of the end, Jason. We’re on the right path.”

“How didn’t we think of it?” he asked himself. Her hands found his cheeks, caressing it gently.

“You were too focused on the short term solution, and it’s okay,” she assured. “Now, you can do better.”

“I will,” he looked into her eyes and he said. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, confused.

“For everything,” he whispered. “For agreeing to give up being the sole sovereign of a land to joining Gotham and be its Queen, for being so wonderfully smart, for being patient with me for umm--”

She interrupted him, kissing him with passion. She stopped the kiss and rested her forehead on his. “You don’t need to thank me, Jay,” she said. “I’m doing what’s right.”

“For that I love you,” he responded. She tensed at those words. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to--”

“I love you,” she said. “I love you,” she kissed him with a passion.

“Is it too soon?” he mumbled on her lips. “Is it too soon to say that we love each other?”

“I feel like I’ve waited all my life for you,” she mumbled back. “So, no.”

“Great,” he whispered.

Then he kissed her like his life depended on it. His kiss was filled with a fiery passion she had never felt before. Granted she hadn’t kissed much in her life, but nevertheless this was a new first for her.

His tongue made an entrance in her mouth and she felt a fire run through her. She returned his passion, gripping the base of his hair. He moaned against her mouth, bringing her closer to him. He gripped her waist with determination as his lips moved swiftly against hers.

He tilted her head upwards and his mouth kissed its way to her neck. She hummed and as he bit a sensitive part of her skin. “Jay,” she moaned.

“If you want me to stop, I will,” he replied, his mouth still on her neck pecking where he had just bitten.

“Don’t stop,” she said.

“You shall have your wish, then, My Princess,” he smirked and kissed the corner of her mouth.

She got impatient and grabbed his face, smashing his lips on hers. She kept on kissing him, running her hands through his hair. He fumbled with the buttons of her dress and she didn’t feel like tensing and running away. She wanted him to continue to fumble with the buttons, she wanted him to open those buttons and take off her dress.

“Jason,” she mumbled.

He hummed in response, his lips leaving hers. He kissed all over her face and she giggled delighted.

“How about we take this elsewhere?” she suggested, trying to be seductive.

He smirked and looked at her softly. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” she affirmed. “I’m ready.”

He smiled and kissed her lovingly. “I love you,” he whispered, he got up and started carrying her towards the door of the office. He couldn’t stop kissing her even if he tried.

“No!” she exclaimed. “There’s a secret bedroom next to here.”

“Is this castle full of secret passages?” he mumbled, his lips trying to find hers like a magnet.

“Yes,” she breathed out. “Pull that book,” she pointed to a book in the top corner of the last shelf of the last bookcase.

He pulled the book and the bookcase retreated revealing a simple wooden door. He opened it and it revealed a King’s bedroom.

“My Father slept here after he pulled all nighters,” she kissed his neck gently. “After he got sick he barely came into the office so it’s been unused for years.”

He smiled and lifted her chin. He looked in her eyes lovingly. “Are you really sure?” he asked once again. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“How can I, Jason?” she said. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He smiled at her. He closed the door behind him and they laid together.

To think one day he had questioned how he could want a wife. He hadn’t met her before. He hadn’t known he was destined to meet such a wonderful person, determined and strong. He hadn’t known he was meant to love her.

He had been too naïve to think he wouldn’t need her. He needed her more than he needed air, water, food. And he knew she needed him. It was a partnership after all. They needed each other, they trusted each other, and they loved each other.

author’s note: don’t forget to reblog if you’ve liked to make sure more people see it. also, the link to my jason playlist is here

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