#wayne answers

[waynes-multiverse]

I’m obsessed now with Soldier Boy with an artist!reader❤️ do you think you can write something where Ben sees one of readers pieces and is actually impressed? Like he gets all soft and compliments her (idc if it’s ooc😭) and reader gets all shy since he’s never that nice. Keep doing your awesome work I love reading everything you do!

A/N: I know you sent me this a long time ago, but it always stayed with me! I honestly loved that pairing so much, so here it finally is – another installment of Ben dating an artist! ☺️🎨

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Artist!Reader

Warnings: language, humor, weirdly not that OOC, established relationship, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist || Tag List

Drawn to You

He’s not supposed to be in here.

You left him on the couch with snacks and an old action movie that usually keeps him entertained for at least two hours – three if there’s enough gratuitous violence. But now, somehow, Ben’s standing in the middle of your studio like he’s caught you doing something wrong.

You’re not even sure why you left the painting out. It’s half-finished, not even something you meant to show him – or anyone, really. But the corner of the canvas had been poking out from under the drop cloth, and of course he has no sense of boundaries.

Now he’s standing in front of it like he just discovered fire – or maybe a grenade he forgot he’d thrown. Arms crossed over that broad and proud chest of his, sparkling green eyes narrowed, plush mouth slightly open.

Confused admiration.

You hover awkwardly by the studio doorway, heart ticking a little too fast in your chest. “It’s not done.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just tilts his head a little, still staring. “You did this?”

“Uh-huh…”

There’s a beat of silence. You chew the inside of your cheek.

The background of the piece is still unfinished. You’ve been working on it for days – an abstract portrait, full of deep greens, reds, golds and harsh brush strokes. It’s raw. A little messy. Way too personal.

“You didn’t tell me you were hiding this in here.”

Your head whirls around, already flustered. “I’m not hiding anything, you just–… This is my space!”

“Yeah, and I just breached it like fuckin' Normandy.” He purses his lips, not paying much attention to you, head still jerking left and right, eyes fixed on the canvas. “Huh. You’re actually fuckin’ good.”

You blink. “Wait, what?!”

His eyes flick toward you, still that familiar sharp green, but softer than usual. “I said you’re good. Don’t make me repeat it.” He gestures toward the canvas, vaguely. “All this color, the-… what’s the word – texture. It’s got–…” He squints, licks his lips, searching for something. “Depth. That’s what they call it, right?”

“Uhm…” You tuck a paint-smeared hand behind your back. “Yeah, that’s, uh, usually the goal.”

He nods like he knows exactly what he’s talking about, like he didn’t just learn that word from an article someone else read to him. “It’s got, like… emotion. Makes you feel things. Which is weird, ‘cause I don’t usually–” He breaks off, shrugging. “You know.”

You can’t help it – you snort a laugh. “Feel things?”

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite in it. His mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “I’m fuckin’ serious. This is the kinda shit people should be talking about. Not those goddamn… squiggly dot paintings you showed me last week.”

“Those were pointillism. It’s a style.”

“It’s a migraine. Looked like someone sneezed on a fuckin’ napkin.”

You roll your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Not ‘thanks, I guess.’” He steps closer, and something about the way he’s looking at you – uncharacteristically gentle, borderline sincere – makes you feel suddenly very small. “You’re talented. Like, actually talented. This is good. Museum good. Better than half the shit I’ve had to pretend to like at galas.”

You make a noise – somewhere between a laugh and a scoff – and look away, suddenly way too interested in the floor. “You’re being nice to me. What’s going on? Are you finally dying? Is it actually happening?”

He never says anything is good. The best you’ve gotten before was “not bad, considering you listen to sad girl music while doing it.”

“Careful,” he warns, but there is that hint of playfulness that swings with the word. “But seriously, I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day. Back in the ‘60s, I ended up at one of those warehouse things. You know, big parties, free booze, fuckin' weirdos in sunglasses? Some guy with a mop of white hair kept trying to talk to me about soup cans.”

Your brows draw tightly together. “Are you talking about Andy Warhol?”

“Yeah! That’s the one.” He shrugs casually, rolling his eyes at the memory. “Kept calling everything ‘genius’ and offering me a banana. Thought he was a fruitcake. Turned out he was famous. Who knew?”

You stare at him. “You met Andy Warhol?!”

“Briefly. Didn’t like him. Too smug. Liked to talk about himself a lot.”

Your lips curl in amusement, muttering, “Pot. Kettle.”

“You always paint like this?” he asks then, and it’s the softness in his voice that stays with you. He’s still looking at the painting like it surprised him.

“Only when I’m trying to work stuff out in my head,” you admit.

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing just a little. He looks at the canvas like it just whispered state secrets to him. You watch his expression shift from surprise to something dangerously close to pride. Like he found a shiny rock in a field and decided it must be a diamond.

“So what are you working out here?”

You hesitate. You don’t want to say it out loud, but a lot of it is him. The chaos, the unpredictability. The way he storms into your life and makes it impossible to think straight.

“I don’t know,” you lie. “Stuff.”

“Mmm.” He gives you a knowing look but doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out – almost touches the canvas, then thinks better of it. “I like it. It’s loud. Kinda like you.”

Your mouth drops slightly. “I am not loud!”

He grins like the devil then – more like the man you know so well. “Yeah? Tell that to your neighbors when I fuck you, angel.”

You shove him lightly, and he doesn’t even flinch. Of course he doesn’t. Doesn’t even move an inch. Just catches your hand in his like he always does – easy, delicate – like it belongs there.

“I mean it, though,” he says, and his voice is lower now, less teasing. “You’re good. Like… makes-me-shut-up kind of good.”

He finally looks at you, and there’s something different in his expression. Less cocky, more real. Like maybe, maybe, he’s seeing you for the first time and not just his chaotic, caffeine-fueled girlfriend who lives off granola bars and impulse.

You look away, cheeks burning. “Stop it.”

Your heart does something deeply inconvenient – skips, flutters, maybe backflips. He’s got it doing gymnastics. God, you hate when he gets like this. All curious and quiet and goddamn nice like he didn’t punch a man into the sun two days ago.

“What, I’m being supportive.”

“You’re scaring me,” you quip, laughing a little – probably due to uncomfortableness and jittering nerves. “Seriously, who are you and what have you done with the arrogant man-child I’m dating?”

He doesn’t answer instantly – which is weird. Because usually, silence with him means he’s about to say something wildly inappropriate or launch into a story about the time he suplexed a Nazi into a tank.

Instead, he pulls you closer by the hand he’s still holding – slow, calm, like you’re a feral cat he doesn’t want to spook – and gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his knuckle. He smiles like he can read your thoughts. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” His smirk is infuriating.

“I have paint on my face.”

“It’s under the paint.”

You swat his chest, because it’s easier than admitting he’s right. Ben, on the other hand, grins like a smug golden retriever with biceps.

“Gonna paint me next?” he asks. “Something tasteful. Maybe a toga – or no toga.”

You deadpan, “I could paint your mouth shut.”

He laughs, big and real and unfiltered. “God, you’re hot when you sass me.”

You roll your eyes so hard you see your past lives, but your heart still stutters in your chest like a traitor. You look up at him, but you’re smiling now, warm and glowing, even if you’re trying not to show it.

“You really like it?” you ask, quieter this time, almost afraid of the answer.

He doesn’t even hesitate, just smiles. “I really do.”

Hope you guys liked this! It's been stuck in my head forever. Glad I finally got to it 🥰

Let me know what you think! My inbox is always open for more of these shenanigans 😉💚

Looking for more Soldier Boy x Artist!Reader? Check out these stories:

🎨 French Boys

🎨 He Comes In Colors

Tag List Pt. 1:

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[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[batboopp]

do you think he’s capable of love even though he’s from new jersey

[everwalldigan]

My favourite thing ever is when Jason is drawn to resemble Bruce because I KNOWW his ass would HATE it😭😭

Dick: hey Jason you haven’t forgotten our meet u— oh my god are you ok?? What happened?

Jason *rocking back and forth on the floor with a traumatised look in his eyes, whispering in horror* someone mistook me for Bruce in the grocery store today.

Random kid at a charity event pointing at Jason standing grumpily in a corner: who’s that?

Bruce (smiling fondly): that’s my son Jason!

Random kid: he looks like you! :D

Jason: *leaves the room*

Bruce (running after him): jason, Jason they didn’t mean anything by it, Jason, you’re going to jump off a balcony just because of a child’s observation Jason?

[ditzybat]

jason: you don’t even know what my favorite book is, how could you even stand to call yourself my father if you don’t know me anymore!?

bruce: jay, your favorite is pride and —

tim: the velveteen rabbit.

jason: … i’ve had like two conversations with you outside of murder attempts, how do you know that?

tim: im not an amateur, i took my baby stalker duties very seriously!

[lucatheskydiamon]

4 random moments

[waveoftheocean]

do you fw superbat?

just a little 😊

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Al Ghul Twins Quick Thought

Jason, visiting the manor the first time after Damian showed up: *does a double take* Where's the second one?

Damian, stopping in his tracks and looking him dead in the eye: Dead.

Jason, rolling his eyes but dropping the subject: Alright.

The entire Batfam:

[bougiebutchbinch]

I just think that Joker would sidle up to Bruce Wayne at a urinal and be like 'pissing all by yourself handsome? ;)' and Bruce Wayne would be like 'we are in the bathroom of my heavily secured penthouse apartment. on the 101st floor. how the FUCK did you get up here'

but, crucially, he would not stop pissing

[prlssprfctn]

Dick and Jason are arguing. Jason starts crying. Dick panics and starts crying because Jason is crying and now both of them are in tears and trying to continue arguing but they're both sidetracked because they don't like seeing each other cry.

this is SO funny and SO real—

Jason, trying to wipe away the angry tears: why the fuck YOU are crying?

Dick, simultaneously trying to wipe Jason's tears away and not choke on his own: BECAUSE *YOU* ARE CRYING?

Jason, shoving napkins in Dick's hands and half-sobbing: STOP CRYING???? IT IS NOT HELPING

Dick, whining: STOP CRYING FIRST

Jason and Dick: *messy arguments through tears while they aggressively try to calm the other down*

Tim: what the hell?

Damian, in disgust: Drake. that is never going to be us.

Tim: yeah, and thank God for that—

Damian: *nods* i fear, we are superior pair of Robins there

Tim: God, sucks to agree with YOU, but you low-key ate

Bruce, staring at the whole thing through surveillance camera: i had seen the day when my sons are in one room and love each other openly, but at what cost

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Batkids calling Bruce when they need him.

Dick gets arrested for underage drinking call my dad now he's not in the slightest scared but he wants his dad. Bruce who already got bail done and is wrapping Dick in a blanket.

Jason crashes a car already on the phone with Bruce who is speeding to him.

Tim is falling asleep at the office and wants to go home dad please pick me up. Waking up tucked in Bruce's bed.

Damian gets in a fight at school you call my father right now. He suspended but Bruce hugs him on the way out.

Cass standing face to face with David Cain the man who should have been her father but isn't but before she can scream for Bruce she's wrapped in his cape.

Duke calling Bruce because the kids at school have never been nice to a kid from the wrong side of the tracks and getting ice cream just because.

Stephanie just calling Bruce to talk knowing no matter how busy he is there will be time for her.

Babs who even though Jim Gordon is a great man after a nightmare about the joker only wants one man. Bruce running in the middle of the night to her door. Wrapping his batgirl in his arms.

Kids who aren't afraid to call Dad. He wont be mad he wants them to call. To know he will drop everything to get to his boys, or his girls. Scared birds shouting for the big bad bat and he comes running.

[thenonbinarydetective]

how much time was spent specifically on Damian??

[cardo-de-comer]

no words

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Okay you can’t tell me that Vlad doesn’t have an organ somewhere in his mansion. Upon learning of this, Danny would teach himself how to play the Haunted Mansion theme on the organ and play it at 2am.

Vlad Masters is away on business in Gotham, and the Fentons are coincidentally there for a symposium on ecto-activity. So it’s perfect! Except he goes to the wrong house, er mansion.

Honestly, Danny thought it was one of Vlad’s many mansions. Scaring the old man is his favorite activity after all. There’s a higher amount of ectoplasm here, so it has to be Vlad’s place right?

When Bruce comes out (on one of his few nights off) and sees his carbon copy playing the organ, all thoughts fly out of his head. Danny finally looks up and also blue screens. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity until Danny’s cell phone rings (the ghostbusters theme??) and he panics. He jumps up and makes a break for the other door rushing through apologies “SorryWronghousegottagobye!” And runs out of the room. “Wait! Who are you?”Bruce exclaims as he rushes after him. They’re on the second story in one of the rooms he rarely uses. How did he know where the organ was? No matter. He’ll catch the kid on the stairs.

Except the kid is already almost at the bottom. How did he get down so effortlessly? The kid practically floated down the stairs.

Bruce gets to the foyer just in time to see the kid realize the door was dead-bolted in multiple spots. He won’t be able to undo them all before Bruce catches up to him.

He slows down and stands behind a pillar, assessing his next move. He needs to be careful here. This is a child after all, no need to spook him any more than he already has. He needs to slowly approach, and ask his questions.

But then the kid does the unexpected. After looking around frantically, he takes a deep breath. Two rings form around his middle and travel up and down his body. His black hair turns ghostly white. He looks back, almost directly at Bruce. His eyes widen as if he realizes he’s being watched. He whispers, barely loud enough to hear, “I’m so sorry, please don’t follow me.” Then, he backs through the locked door and vanishes.

[ditzybat]

Bruce in a stretched out Nightwing suit:

Tim: Bruce Thomas Wayne, take that shit off NOW! Your bones are CREAKING trying to replicate Dick’s flips

Bruce: Bludhaven needs Nightwing

Tim: The seams are ripping on that costume, get out and let me put the stupid suit on, you don’t have the ass to be Nightwing

Bruce: I’ll have you know I was named sexiest man alive for three years straight! My ass is perfectly fine!

[flamingpudding]

Can you write a fic about this if you can

https://www.tumblr.com/hello-eden/759003690226024449/is-it-a-enemy-or-a-child?source=share

Thanks for the ask, I will try! But first...

Link and credits to the original op: Prompt by @hello-eden

Now onwards! :D Hope you will enjoy....

-----------

Damian stared. There before him was no longer his Grandfather but a boy some years younger than him. He glanced over at his elder brothers. Richard was already on the coms reporting back. Drake was on his wrist computer typing away about something while muttering. He glanced back at the boy, suddenly realising that what he thought was his resemblance to his father could also be resemblance to his grandfather.

The boy before him, probably around the age six, had dark black hair with a white prominent sideburns, similar but far more prominent then Todds white forehead streak. The boy's eyes were not just the simple green Damian had been familiar with but one of the boy's eyes was red, heterochromia. Something Damian hadn't been aware his grandfather apparently had. All his life he had never seen his grandfather like this. The youngest that man had ever appeared had been 60, though Damian was acutely aware that his grandfather was far older than that.

But right now, there sat a six years old boy, his grandfathers ropes, oversized and barely hanging to the boy's shoulders, in the middle of the aftermath of one of his grandfathers plans backfiring. The boy glared at them eyes narrowed as he clutched the robes around himself, Damian noticed the shift in the boy's eyes, red and green wandering around but keeping them in his field of view. He noted how his shoulders tensed before they turned back onto them. It was clear his grandfather did not retain his memories.

"Hey there buddy." Richard, the one who probably had the best handle on small children among them stepped forward and Damian watched how his de-aged grandfather took a step back growling. Damian blinked, that was not what he had expected from his usually dignified grandfather, but then again, he was de-aged and a child.

"Where is mom?"

There was a pause among everyone and they could practically feel the drop in the air of reality hitting hard. With how old his grandfather truly was, there was no way his great-grandmother was still alive. Damian's head turned to look at his eldest brother, his eyebrow arched his masks on his face moving according to that. The silent question of 'now what?' Passed on towards Richard before he turned back.

"Some things happened, and we are here to help. You don't need to be scared of of, in fact it would be create if you could help us better understand-" He watched how his brother tried to gently explain the situation to his grandfather, a sense of strangeness filled Damian watching that seen but he snapped out of it as the boy cut Richard off with a small growl.

"Mom would never leave me. The only reason he would is if something happened to Ellie!" They stared and the conviction the boy spoke these words with, yet they all caught it the brave front the boy was putting on. The slight barely audible stutter, the wet sheen to his eyes as he stared back at them. It tucked at all their hearts. And Damian could accept it right now, this wasn't his grandfather Ra's Al Ghul, but a small boy lost and confused.

While Damian came to terms with the situation Tim caught on to something else. The boy before them asked about his mother, but then used the pronounce 'he', while Tim hadn't expected it that clearly indicated that Ras mother wasn't a simple female that might have died long ago. He had noted the use of a different pronounce that 'regularly' associated with the term mother.

Despite the show of hostility Tim crouched onto eye level of the boy. "Could you tell us your name, and age?" He tried to ask gently, the way he had seen Dick interact with children before. "We could help you find your mom then or maybe Ellie, if you tell us who they are?"

Tim ignored the looks his siblings were sending him and burning into the back of his head. It didn't matter if that was a small lie, they needed to calm the boy down and confirm information. While there likely was no doubt that this was Ra's, they still needed to confirm it, the de-aging happened to quickly before their eyes there was no guarantee that they really could completely trust what they saw.

Though judging by the glare the boy was now giving him, that had a lot of similarities of how Damian tented to glare at them at times. Tim could say there was no changes that, that wasn't Ra's. Still they had to proceed logically just to be on the safer side, in case this wasn't just a villain plan backfiring but a part of a bigger absurd plan, to appeal to their consciousness with the use of a innocent looking child.

The boy on the other and stiffened more, eyes darting towards each of them, then around the area before coming back to stay on Tim. In a way the teen hoped to see some sort of recognition. But instead he saw contemplation, the gears turning in the small boy's head as red and green eyes wandered over them once more.

"Dan."

Was the court answer they got after several minutes. Dick blinked under his mask glancing back at his siblings before at the child again. "What was that Buddy?" He kept his tone friendly and calm, anything to make the child feel safe at the moment, even if that child was Ra's Al Ghul.

"Dan, that's my name." The child version of Ra's, Dan spoke again eyes on them as the boy clutched the oversized robes around him tighter. Not speaking up more.

"Dan?" Dick heard Damian murmur, it was the least to say it confused them all but then again, Ra's was very old originally, he might have changed his names a couple of times during his life time so far. It wasn't like they could track down anyone anyway or keep to what Tim had told the boy, about trying to find likely already dead people for the boy.

"Anything else you want to tell use, Dan?" Dick ask gently in hopes to get anything more out of the boy but, realised a moment later that they hit a wall as the boy's eyes narrowed with dangerous glint. Something he tried not to react on as he had seen that kind of look from Damian before and dear god, this child version of Ra's was making them more and more aware that Damian was related to that man after all.

"That's all I am going to say." The boy growled a little, though Dick could still see the hints that all of that was just a brave facade to not appear weak before them. A mannerisms he remembered all to well Damian had for a long time when he first came to Gotham. A mentality of 'don't show weakness'. Dick sighed, this was going to be difficult to handle wasn't it?

Dan stared at the place these strangely dressed people had brought him too, by now he was wearing more fitting clothes instead of that oversized robe. Though the shirt and shorts where still to big for his current frame. For a moment he cursed his small build as he quietly walked about this 'safe house'. While Dan was no stranger to strangely clothed people or entities, he was wondering what he had gotten himself into as he watched them from the corner of his eyes. The last thing he remembered was being with his Mom and Ellie, they had just gotten back from a checkup with Frostbite and his mom had promised him that he was allowed a spar with Frightnight.

And then...

Suddenly he was before these people strangely dressed people in the mittel of what looked like a destroyed altar, robes that were way to big barely fitting him. While Dan acted bravely he couldn't help the childlike fear at the sudden change of situation. Frostbite had explained it to him and Elly, that because of now properly growing up their mentality would reflect on their actual ages now. It was annoying and by all means Dan didn't want to appear weak in front of potential danger, but his eyes still watered at the thought of his mom suddenly leaving him.

Sometimes he hated how attached he had gotten to Danny after all these years.

He glanced back at these 'heroes', his ears twitched as he tried to catch what the conversation the oldest of them was having on what appeared to be a earpiece communicator. Dan had noted that everything seemed, a lot more modern that what he was used to. It made him wonder if maybe something happened to the timelines again and he got flung into a different time. If that was the case he knew he could relax and just wait for his mom to pick him up, but at the same time Dan had a feeling that wasn't the case. There was no green post-it note from old Clockwork.

Keeping these people in his peripheral vision he angled his body away. One hand out to the side and definitely kept out of their side he tried to see if he could still access his ghost powers, he knew Frostbite had told them not to do that while they were still in a delicate state of re-aging but he needed to know, in case he needed to defend himself. It didn't have any Fenton weaponry on him either.

Dan hissed as a pain shot up his arm and he dropped trying to summon his powers, with a slight bout of annoyance. Okay Frostbites warning was valid, noted. Thought the next moment the kid dressed like a streetlight, Robin if he remembered right, snatched his arm up, inspecting his hand and Dan blinked for a stunned moment before growling. He didn't liked getting touched. He was just about to voice that when he froze.

Recognising something he hadn't before. "You...." He mumbled stunned. That kid had a ecto signature, it was weak, washed out and not really strong, but Dan recognised it and swallowed hard, it was similar to his moms and his own and Ellie's. Before he could comment on it more a gleam got his attention and suddenly Dan saw something else peaking out of the collar from the colourful dressed boy.

Without thinking Dan snatched it and stumbled back from the boy, inspecting the green, emerald like stone. The gold chain around it broke as he had ripped it of the others neck as he looked at it carefully, his thumb going over the smooth surface. While Dan did that he did not notice how Robin got held back by the teen from lashing out. He didn't noticed how the three 'heroes' seemed to hurriedly hiss and discuss something among themselves as Dan inspected the calling stone.

He would be a fool to not recognise this. It was a stone made from concentrated ectoplasm, it appeared like an emerald to mortals but in truth was made from his mothers ectoplasm. A calling stone, to call him when ever they were in trouble and his mom wasn't with them already. Dan clutched the stone, it looked different from the one he remembered his mother giving him. His head snapped up as he stared hard with narrowed eyes at the other boy only a couple years older. Noting some resemblances to Danny.

Suddenly he had the thought that maybe, just maybe Clockwork had sent him here on purpose. Because maybe these people had done something to his mother, to Danny, and maybe even Ellie too. Because why else would they have one of these calling stones.

"How did you get that? Where is mom?"