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redhead-batgal · 2 years

Note

I wanted to request Jason in crime au with a chameleon+rival reader idk if you want to do both at once but if its okay please 🥺

Type: One-Shot/Drabble (it’s a shorter one-shot, but too long to be a drabble)

Pairing: Chameleon! and Rival! Reader x Criminal! Jason Todd

AU: Criminals AU!

Content: Cursing, just a tab of sexual tension, this ending is not a wrap up, sorry not sorry😂, some fighting, theft, breaking and entering, technical angst 🤔 (i think,) and a little bit of fluff

Word Count: 1,891

Y/N: Your Name, L/N: Last Name C/N: Criminal nickname

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years of blood sweat, and tears went into making you who you were today. Years of work, pain and scars. You worked hard to become who you were, to get the reputation of the best thief in Gotham.

So, when the second son of Gotham’s main crime family begins to make a ruckus as a thief, with people saying he’s even better than you, you were determined to prove them wrong. Only problem was you had no idea who he was or what he looked like.

Not that anyone knew what you actually looked like, you had spent years learning how to completely change how you looked, from your eye color all the way to your appearing gender. Which worked out very well for you, once you figured out who the hell this kid was you were going to use your skills to ruin him after all you didn’t take rivalries very well. You were the best and no one- no one was going to show you up. Especially not some rich brat.

Targeting the Wayne family wasn’t your brightest idea, but it was an idea, nonetheless. You knew you had to take down the rumors that you were second best, and the Wayne brat was a better thief than you. So, you waited and watched, constantly changing what you looked like to hide who you actually were.

No one suspected a thing, so when Bruce Wayne and his butler Alfred Pennyworth left for the weekend, you knew it was time to strike. You of course had heard of the added security measure added to the manor, but you were no fool. You may be a thief, but you still have friends.

So, with the help of your most tech savvy friend you were able to breach the Wayne manor defenses and figure out the best plan to avoid any and all security.

With a blueprint of Wayne manor and its security firmly in your mind you crept onto the property. Cloaked in black, you slipped past the gate and moved into the trees by the house.

Climbing up the tallest tree, you made it till you were level with the manor’s roof and jumped. Landing gently on the roof you crawled slowly across the roof, on the ground around the manor were sensors. Same with certain windows, but only certain ones. There were a few, barely enough to count on your hand that didn’t have sensors.

Moving across the roof until you were above one of the sensor-less rooms. Then you scaled down the side of the manor until you were parallel to the window. Much to your surprise you barely needed to move. If you wanted, you could hang down from the room and look straight through the window. Gripping the edge of the roof, you guided your foot until it touched the window and pulled it up.

Much to your luck, it slickly slid open. Once it was wide enough, you launched yourself into the room. Looking around you found a darkened bedroom. It was barren and if you had to guess it was either a guest room or one of the Wayne kids wasn’t happy.

After closing the window, you slowly moved out of the room looking before you slipped into the hall. If that was the room you remembered it being on the blueprint, Bruce Wayne’s office should be just down the hall.

You slid down the hall, feeling like darkness itself. The upper floor of the manor was completely dark, and you faintly heard voices and noises coming from below.

Just as you found yourself in front of a pair of double doors did you hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Slipping into the room you closed the door behind you without a single sound.

Turning around you found yourself in an office-like room. Double checking where light switches and air vents were. You found this was, in fact, Bruce Wayne’s office. Now all you had to do was find the valuables. Now where would a billionaire crime boss hide his safe? You looked around the room trying to spot something, anything that could read as a sign of a safe. You saw nothing.

Something was off though, in the darkened room you tried to stop what exactly didn’t look right. Your eyes came to a small but seemingly unnoticeable filing cabinet. Moving towards it, you looked at it and noticed how it was pressed right against the wall, despite there being a floor baseboard on the walls around the rest of the room.

Moving the filing cabinet, you found an indention in the wall holding an old fashion safe. It made sense to you, you thought as you dropped to the ground to begin cracking the safe, why he kept his valuables in an old safe. With technology nowadays being able to detect another tech, a technology enhanced safe would only give away it’s hiding place.

After twisting the dial until you heard a click and felt pressure you flipped it the other way and soon you heard a loud click and the handle shifted slightly. Opening the safe you saw what you could only assume was the Wayne family heirlooms. Too bad that their brat had crossed you, they were quite beautiful gems and jewels.

Shoving the heirlooms into the pockets on your outfit you cleaned out the safe and moved over to the desk. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen you wrote a note.

Dear Mr. Wayne,

I would like to thank you kindly for the lovely jewels. They are a wonderful addition to my collection. In return I shall give you something. A bit of advice to give your son.

There is only one major thief in Gotham and that’s me.

Make sure he knows his place or next time it will be more than a few simple jewels that will go missing.

Sincerely, Gotham’s Best Thief

Setting the note in the safe you noticed in the back of the safe was a leather-bound book. Raising an eyebrow, you pulled it out and opened it up. Inside appeared to be the criminal dealings of the Wayne family. However, something didn’t exactly seem right. Flipping through the book you raised an eyebrow as a fact became very clear to you. All the ink was fresh, or at least was written at the same time. You highly doubted that there would be two copies or that they would write down all the stuff all at once. It was a fake. Shrugging you closed it and the safe. Spinning the dial, you heard it lock with a satisfying click. You began moving the filing cabinet back, with only an inch left to move when you heard footsteps and saw the doorknob jiggle.

Lunging for the nearest hiding place, which just so happened to be the corner nearest to you. Which was bordered by a window with curtains.

You hear the swing open, unfortunately you can barely see, due to the curtains. With the fake book still in your hand you watched a boy- a man. No, a young man moves towards the desk. He was mumbling things to himself.

“Bruce doesn’t think I’m good enough, Ha. I’ll show him. I’ll prove that I can help, and he’ll regret it.”

Leaning forward a bit you watched as he pulled the top left drawer out and yanked at its side for a small panel to slide out. He then pressed a button and a tray popped out from the top of the drawer. He picked up a near identical leather-bound book that was in your hands.

You had to resist a smile as you slowly stood up. Whoever this brat was, he just scored you gold.

“Fucking lets the demon brat and replacement help, this will show him.” The man muttered before making his voice higher, “I can’t trust you, Jason. You’re too violent Jason. You’ll see old man, you’ll see.”

Moving forwards, you slowly approached him as what he remarked played in your head. Jason... as in Jason Todd. Your rival, the kid who thought he could show you up.

“Hi-ya pretty boy,” You remarked, batting your eyes as you captured his attention, “I’ll take that thank you.”

Snatching the book from his hands you grinned, pressing it against the other one. Turning to move towards the window you felt a hand on your arm and spun to see the second Wayne boy staring at you slightly surprised and slightly angry.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked pulling you towards him, “and how did you get in here.”

Smiling slowly, you couldn’t but notice you were wrong, he wasn’t pretty, not really. Well, not in the modern kind of way, but in a classical kind of way. He had blue-green eyes and a sharp kind of face.

“Oh, darling, I’m your worst nightmare.” You replied leaning in towards him, so close you could feel the warmth from his body, “you really need to watch who you mess with boy. When you scald a girl like me... well we come back to burn you to nothing but ash.”

He blinked in surprise and a smirk of sorts appeared on his face. He leaned in even closer to you and you could feel his breath on your face. His eyes darted around taking in your face.

“Oh, really now?”

Leaning in even more so your nose brushed his you pulled away and matched his grin.

“You don’t even know the start of it.”

He laughed slightly, “I think I have an idea sweetheart.”

His hand had gone limp on your arm, and you began to slowly back away from him.

“I doubt it.”

The two of you stood staring at each other for a minute and you looked out the window to see a pair of headlights. You recognized the car; it was the car Bruce and Alfred had used when they left. They were back, why were they back??

Pulling sharply away from Jason you moved towards the window only for him to grab your arm again. He gave you a look and you found yourself glaring at him.

“Let me go.” You hissed.

“Give me the book.” He replied leaning towards you.

You paused for a few seconds before an idea crossed your mind. Passing over a book you felt his hand leave your arm to grab at the book. With that you moved over to the window and yanked it open.

“I hope to see you again.” Jason remarked.

You looked back to see amusement and intrigue on his face. Rolling your eyes, you hauled yourself halfway out the window.

Hanging by the frame of the window you met his eyes and smiled wickedly, “Don’t speak too, quickly pretty boy.”

With that you began to scale your way down the side of the house. Once you made it to the ground you broke into a run. After all the security was to keep people out, not in.

By the time you made it a safe distance away from the manor Bruce Wayne had realized your trick. Your switching of the two books and slipping away into the night.

With the book and the jewels, you smiled. No one messed with the best thief in Gotham and was left unharmed.

Tag list:

@andromedaj2003 @daemonnix96 @Zvtanna @krswrites @thomasbeloved @thefallingstarlight

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sukorakurai · 3 years

Photo

@snarkyship is a true genius. I commission this Stark Family Portrait and I couldn’t be happier. I wrote a little fic to accompany this fabulous Picture. hope you all enjoy.

Stark Family Picture Day

By Sukora Kurai

Tony sighed over the counter in the communal kitchen. He had been there since dawn when he asked Jarvis what day it was. Then his trusty AI informed him of an importance of this month. Now he was stuck with what to do now.

“Hey Tony what’s got you down?”

“Hey Capsicle, I’m doomed.”

“Oh come on Tony, it can’t be that bad you are an Avenger.” Steve smiled as he got out food to make omelets for the Team, and greeted the in coming members. “Morning Nat, morning Bruce.”

“Morning Steve, what’s wrong with Tony?” Bruce greeted heading to the stove to put the kettle on for his morning tea.

“Not sure I found him like this.” Steve stated cracking some eggs into a bowl.

“His and Loki’s anniversary is this month and he has no idea what to get him.” Nat answered pouring a large mug of coffee.

Tony shot up in his seat and stared slack jawed. “How could you possibly know that?”

“It’s my job as a shield Agent and Pepper’s PA to keep tabs on you. So it is well documented when you clumsily asked Loki to be your boyfriend during the Lord of the Rings Marathon where you bought out the AMC Theater for the day.” The Spy shrugged ignoring the fact that all her team mates stared at her in horror. All were now wondering what she had on them in those SHIELD files.

“So Tony, you have and anniversary coming up? Have you though about what Loki might like?” Steve coughed drawing the conversation back to the main topic.

“No, I don’t. What does one give a god especially one that has magic and can make anything appear out of thin air?” Tony waved his arms in frustration.

“That is a tough one but I’m sure anything you get him will be fine. Loki loves you Tony.” Bruce tried to be supportive.

“I hope you will be putting more thought into the gift you give me next month for our anniversary.” Nat gave the Gamma Doctor a pointed before wandering out of the room to start her routine before heading out to work.

“Ha, I’m not the only one in hot water now!” Tony crowed at the look of devastation in his science-bro’s face.

“Tony, knock it off. Now in my day it was the thought that counted most. You should find what Loki cherishes the most. You find that then you can present to him in a meaningful way. It’s true he’s a prince and probably has had his other lovers throw jewels and meaningless expensive trinkets at him to win his affections. You know Loki better because you love him and he loves you.” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah, Lokes complains a lot about his life in Asgard and that there were many who wooed him just to get to Thor. At night when it’s just the two of us and RC snuggled between us he sighs soft and says what a perfect night it is. He never elaborates but I think it means that he likes just the quiet nights with us.” The genius eyes went glazed as he recalled the many nights he cuddled with his god. Then the idea hit him. “Hey Spangles, can you paint or do you just draw?”

“Huh,” Steve was caught off guard and almost dropped the omelet he was flipping. “I paint from time to time.”

“Don’t lie babe you are in your studio whenever can get the chance.” Bucky laughed entering the kitchen. “All the paintings in our apartment Stevie did.”

“Great! Can you do a portrait if I get you a picture?” Tony asked digging in to the ham and cheese omelet.

“Yeah, it might take two weeks maybe less depends on if we get called out or if SHIELD needs me.” The captain estimated placing another plate in front of his boyfriend.

“As long as it’s done before the end of the month we’re good. Jarvis start looking through my photos and pull out any possible portraits.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Delicious breakfast as usual Capsicle. I’ll get you the photo as soon as I find one.” Tony dumped his empty plate in sink and ran off to his lab.

Two hours later…

“None of these are good enough J.”

“Sir, might I suggest you take a new photo of you and Prince Loki.”

“Yeah and RC too, because she’s our baby. We can’t have a Family Portrait without all the family members. Where’s are RC now?”

“She is currently with Alpine in his play room.”

“Cool, I think I got the perfect outfit in mind.” Tony grinned as he ran to his emergency closet in the lab. Tony had put in the closet when he realized he destroyed a lot of his clothes during his inventing and building phases. Also there was a suit or two for the days he forgot he was supposed to be in a meeting and had to make a rush to the board room.

In the penthouse…

It had been a quiet morning with no call outs, no calls to Asgard and no need to go anywhere. Loki decided to enjoy the peace and quite lounging in his soft Asgardian casual clothes on the couch reading his mother’s spell journal.

“Hey there, Bambi! It’s Picture Day!”

“Anthony, what are you on about?” The prince looked up from his book to see his lover carrying their cat into the living room.

“Well Picture Day refers to the day school kids take pictures for the yearbook and photos are bought for family distribution. Anyways I want to have a family picture that was honest. I never had that growing up because Howard was an asshole and Maria, my mother, was frail. She loved me but she couldn’t express it because she was always ill. Now we have our own little family and I want a picture to put in the lab.”

“You want to take this picture now? Anthony, I look a mess and how did you get the bow on the cat?”

“Aww, you look gorgeous, love, as always. Anyways, I put a bow on our baby because RC loves to look pretty for her daddies. Don’t you sweetie.” Tony scratched under the kitty’s chin as they sat on couch next to the god.

“Mew,” RC purred.

“Fine, you win, where would you like to take the picture? Also what are you wearing? I don’t believe I’ve seen that outfit before, and what is on your feet?” Loki set his book aside and took in his lover’s appearance.

“Oh you like? I dressed in red and gold to match my shoes. I had these shoes made based on my Iron Man suit. I thought maybe putting them on the market for kids but I liked them too much to share. So I have a life time supply in the lab. If you want I can have a pair made for you.”

“No thank you. They clash with my outfit. Now let’s take your picture.” Loki said taking the cat in his arms.

“Okay, okay. Let me get out my phone.” Tony fished his Stark Phone out of his back pocket and held it out to make them all fit in the frame. “Okay say cheese!”

“Click”

“Okay let’s see how that one turned out.” Tony looked at the photo to see him smiling a black blur and a bland look on Loki’s face. “Nope we got try again. This time smile Loki and RC you need to stay still so we can see you.”

And it went picture by picture they have yet to take a family portrait.

“Shit I only got half your face.”

“Anthony your thumb is on the lens.”

“RC Stay still!”

“Achoo! Ow! I dropped on my foot!”

“Do not eat my hair you Retched Creature!”

“Okay I set it up on a tripod. Now say cheese.”

“CHEESE BROTHER!” Thor popped up between the two men who stared at shock at the blond god.

“Next!” Tony rolled his eyes as Loki vanished his brother to where ever. Tony didn’t ask where the Loki sent Thunder god. He rather liked staying in the tower and wanted to keep it that way.

“Meow!”

“No RC! Don’t chase the bunny!”

Three Hours Later…

“Okay, this is it I can feel it. Now Jarvis is going to take the picture the bunnies are secure in their room. The penthouse is locked down, so no unexpected guest and RC is filled of milk to keep her calm and relaxed. And I promise after we get this picture I will have Jarvis order you favorite meal from the Thai Palace down the street and I’ll rub your feet, while we watch you favorite Harry Potter movies.”

“Oh Anthony you spoil me. I love you.” Loki sighed as a soft smile graced his face and he leaned into his lover as Tony joined their hands together. RC who was seated now on the god’s shoulder leaned in and purred soaking up the love of her people. The genius couldn’t be happier in that moment as he had his to precious family members with him and the grin on his face was wide and bright.

“Click.”

Two Weeks Later…

“Sir Prince Loki and Mr. Odinson have returned from Asgard.”

“Great, I got everything ready. Tell Loki that I have dinner ready and waiting.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony had the table set with Loki’s Favorite food from the five star steak house, they go to. He paid extra to have the chef come over and cook for their anniversary.

“Ding.”

“Thank you, Jarvis. Evening Anthony, never in my life had been so glad to leave Asgard. He talked for hours at the council over stagnant topics. What’s all this?”

“Well my hard working God of Mischief, today is our one year Anniversary and I have planned the perfect evening. Dinner, a bath and I installed a movie screen in our bathroom so we can enjoy the movie of your choice during the bath and then I plan on us making love until dawn.” Tony pulled Loki over to the dinner table, watching as the god’s magic removed the armor and replaced it with comfortable Asgardian wear.

“You lovely little man, you spoil me so; I don’t deserve it or you.” The Raven pulled the billionaire into his arms and planting kisses all over the man’s face.

“Yes you do, because I love you and I got you something, well I got Cap to make it, but it was my idea.”

“You didn’t have to, dinner is more than enough.”

“No, I wanted to. Now close your eyes and I’ll get your present.” As Loki closed his eyes Tony ran out of the room and grabbed the portrait from where he hid it. He placed it on the wall then Jarvis turned on the lights illuminating the painting. “Okay open them.”

“Oh Anthony! It’s wonderful.” Loki’s eyes became all misty seeing their little family together and there was so much love radiating from painting. “It’s perfect.”

“Happy Anniversary Reindeer Games.”

“Happy Anniversary, my Man of Iron.” Loki whispered pulling Tony in to the sweetest kiss they ever shared. They didn’t hear the click sound of Jarvis capturing the moment with the sunset background. Another memory to save for another day.

The End.

#fanart #fiction from fanart #iron frost #frostiron #ironfrost #Iron Man #tony x loki #loki x tony #loki #random black cat #tony stark #Avengers #Marvel MCU #Family Portrait

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alexiessan · 4 years

Text

Never alone - Chapter Five - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Thank you everyone for your feedbacks!

It makes me really happy to see that you like this story and motivates me to write.

Which is why you get two chapters this week!

Getting to know each other turned out to be pretty easy. Not only did the soulmate magic made them be at ease for each other, but Marinette made it a game out of it. The first game was a classic twenty questions, where they each got twenty questions to ask each other.

Robin was grateful that his soulmate didn’t ask for any too personal questions. She asked him if he had siblings but didn’t ask how many nor for their name. She asked for his favorite color, his favorite meal, his favorite kind of music. She asked for his pass time and favorite TV shows.

For each question they asked, the other would also answer. And thus, he told her how much he loved animals, that he had a dog, a cat, and a cow, and he was a vegetarian ever since he adopted said cow. He told her that he loved to read and to draw, and promised to show her one of his drawings after she nicely asked.

Then, she turned the game into two truths and a lie. And this one made him smile as he had done some crazy things as Robin which made it hard for her to figure out which one was the lie.

Then again, he was also surprised by some of the things she had done.

There was more to Marinette than it first appeared.

They stayed on the roof until five in the morning, only stopping because the blue-eyed girl was starting to fall asleep mid-sentence. So he took her in his arms and took her back to the window of her hotel room where they promised in a whisper to meet at the same time that night.

After four hours of talking, Robin was satisfied as he felt like he knew Marinette better than some people he had known for longer.

That’s probably what happens when you actually put effort into knowing someone, he mused as he got home.

Right as he got out of his uniform and prepared himself to go to bed to catch at least an hour of sleep, he remembered that he had to do a little bit of research about his soulmate.

Not to stalk her or to know everything about her by checking her background. But the feeling that he had seen her before didn’t disappear at all that night, and he wouldn’t be at peace until he knew why.

So he went to the Batcave, empty at this hour of the night, or rather, this early in the morning. As he sat at the computer and typed Marinette’s full name, he discovered that there was already a file on her.

This meant that his family had made some research about her prior to their meeting.

Upon opening the file, he cursed himself for not connecting the dots.

Back when Hawkmoth started to terrorize the city of Paris and Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared to fight against him, Batman had Red Robin investigating the matter.

He wanted to know who was behind the masks of the heroes and the villain, especially since the duo of heroes seemed to be made of children.

While magic was involved in the matter, it didn’t mix well with technology, so Tim had tried to run a facial recognition for the heroes, hoping the magic wouldn’t work on technology.

Unfortunately, Hawkmoth was the kind of guy to act from the shadows and there wasn’t any picture of him anywhere on the internet.

It took a good week, as Paris had millions of people, but they eventually got a result.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug and Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

Both were only thirteen when they first began their job as superheroes, and no adult was ever seen by their side.

It was also obvious that none of them had any training and were only trusting their instincts. Odds were that they were literally thrown into the superhero business without their consent and, most likely, without any proper explanation.

Damian remembered that he had rarely seen his father and his brothers so mad about something that didn’t have anything to do with the Joker. Batman had then called the Justice League of Europe himself, demanding to know why children were playing superheroes when it was their job, but was then asked nicely to mind his own business back in America and that Paris was not under Batman’s jurisdiction.

There was nothing they could do to help the two heroes, but they had been keeping tabs on the situation in Paris.

That explained why Marinette was not as awkward as she should have been with the “my soulmate has a secret identity” issue. She knew better than to ask personal questions since she herself had a secret identity to protect.

Damian sighed, massaging his temples. He didn’t want to keep too many secrets from Marinette. While he knew there were some things he wouldn’t talk about for some time — his childhood — and he wouldn’t reveal his identity before long, he still didn’t feel like keeping the fact that he knew her identity would be a good way to start any kind of relationship with her.

He would have to tell her when he’ll see her tonight.

Looking at the time on the computer, the youngest Wayne sighed.

So much for catching some sleep.

And he still had to have a conversation with his father.

Despite having only an hour of sleep that night, Marinette managed to wake up at six sharp, even before Alya.

Never before has she been in such a good mood after waking up so early and with only an hour of sleep.

It was a good thing that she got up before her friend too, as she had to figure out how to put contacts on.

“So, I get it that it went well last night?”

Marinette looked up from the little box of contacts, from which she was reading the instructions. She smiled at Tikki, who was looking at her with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it went well. Sorry I didn’t take you with me.”

Tikki shrugged.

“It was probably better that way. He’s not a civilian, one small error from me and he would have you figured out.”

“We talked for hours. I was at peace with him, it felt like I knew him already and after we talked, it feels like I’ve known him way longer.”

The tiny god smiled.

“That’s part of the soulmate magic. You’ll always feel at ease with each other and the most time you spend together right after your meeting, the more you’ll feel like it. Do you know if your bond is a platonic or a romantic one?”

The designer winced as she poked her eye trying to put the contact on.

“That’s harder than it seems.” She tried once more before answering, “Well, I think Robin is very attractive.”

Which was exactly what told you if your bond is romantic or not. The bond didn’t make you instantly love your soulmate, no, those feelings would develop at your own pace, but instant attraction was the key to know whether a bond is platonic or not.

You’re attracted to your soulmate? The bond is romantic.

You’re not attracted to your soulmate? The bond is platonic.

It’s as simple as that.

“It’s a romantic one, then! I’m so happy for you Marinette!”

“Thank you, Tikki.” the designer smiled.

They were silent then, Tikki enjoying a cookie and the black-haired girl still trying to put the contact on.

It took approximately ten tries before she finally put it on, and just as Alya was knocking on the bathroom’s door.

“Are you almost done?”

The baker’s daughter opened the door with the brightest smile she couldn’t manage.

“It’s all yours!”

The journalist giggled.

“Well, aren’t you happy?”

“I’m always happy, Alya! Come on, now. Go take a shower and change, I can’t wait for today’s visit!”

When Damian came home from school that day, he went straight to bed to take a good nap before dinner. He had done his homework during the day so he could have the evening entirely free. If he wanted to announce to his family that he met his soulmate during dinner, it would be after he was well-rested.

No way was he dealing with that when he was half asleep.

It’s Titus who woke him up twenty minutes before dinner, barking behind his door, probably wanting to be let out outside.

He took the dog outside, playing with him and petting him for a while before Alfred came to tell him that dinner was ready.

After washing his hands, he joined his father and his brothers at the table, wondering how he should bring up the topic of meeting his soulmate.

Turned out, he didn’t have to worry as Dick brought it up himself.

“So, Damian, don’t you have something to share with the family?”

It was enough to silence them all.

Jason raised a brow.

“Something’s wrong, demon spawn?”

The green-eyed boy sighed, putting his fork down.

“Nothing’s wrong, Todd. It’s just…” he turned to look at his father. “I met my soulmate last night. As Robin.”

It was silent once again until Jason let out a low whistle.

“Damn, that’s news. Wonder how she is.”

“She’s such a cutie!” exclaimed Dick.

Bruce cleared his voice.

“I see. It’s a little problematic that you met her under your alias, but… Congratulations, Damian.”

“So that’s why you came back at five in the morning.” mused Tim.

“Come on, tell us about her little D.”

The youngest sighed. They would meet her eventually, so it was better to give them the information they were seeking.

“She’s a French student here on a trip for your Career Program, father.”

“She’s from the winning class that will be interning next week, then?”

Damian nodded.

“I’ve run a background check on each of them. Ladybug and Chat Noir are among them.”

Tim frowned. “Will Paris be alright with them away?”

“They must have a plan to keep Paris safe, they wouldn’t leave just like that.”

Damian took a deep breath.

“About that… My soulmate’s name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Dick’s, Tim’s and Bruce’s eyes visibly widened and Jason let out a snort.

“Figured your soulmate would be a hero.”

“At least, that means she’s understanding about your identity, right?” asked Dick.

The young heir nodded.

“I see. Will you tell her that you know about her identity?” asked his father.

“I will. If I want us to start on the right foot, it’s the best thing to do. She understands that I have to keep my identity a secret, but it’s another thing to know hers and to keep it a secret.”

Bruce nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“You’ve grown, Damian.”

Damian could feel his ears go red from his father’s praise.

“I know that you can’t keep your identity a secret from her forever but… I trust you to wait until you completely trust her before you do tell her, and telling us beforehand, as once she knows about you, it won’t be hard for her to figure out ours.”

“Of course, father.”

Dinner then went as usual, until they all stood up after finishing and his father came to him, giving him an unexpected and somewhat awkward hug.

“I’m happy for you.”

As he saw his brothers smile at him from behind his father, Damian thought that, maybe, from now on, he could talk a little more to his family.

One step at a time, though.

They agreed with his father that he wouldn’t be patrolling for the next two weeks so he could get to spend time with the tiny French girl for the duration of her trip.

It was the first time that Damian didn’t protest about sitting out of patrol.

Marinette was in Gotham for only two weeks, and he wanted to get to know her as much as possible during those two weeks.

So when he took her to the roof at one sharp after giving her his cape to hide her from sight, he told her that they could meet earlier if she wanted.

They agreed to meet at eleven from now on, as her roommate tended to fall asleep around ten, luckily for them.

Before they got in another conversation to learn more about each other, he had to bring up a delicate issue.

“I need to tell you something.”

Marinette smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but compare this smile to the sun.

“What is it?”

He winced before taking a deep breath.

“Back when Hawkmoth appeared in Paris, we couldn’t believe that the superheroes were just two children so we investigate a bit to help. The JLE rejected our offer though… Anyway, we did some facial recognition for Ladybug and Chat Noir and… Well, to put it simply, I know that you’re Ladybug, and I thought it would be better to tell you I knew than to keep this piece of information from you.”

The fashion designer stared at him, completely silent. He stayed silent too, giving her all the time she needed to process what he just told her.

“I see.”

He could see her having trouble breathing, on the verge of a panic attack.

He hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry, except for us, no one knows and we won’t tell anyone.”

Marinette took a few breaths before looking at him.

“Sorry. It’s the first time someone figured out my identity and I’m trying not to freak out. I’ve always been told how important it is that no one knows about me being Ladybug that I can’t help but panic.”

“Understandable. But, no one knows about you being Ladybug?”

The teenage girl shook her head no.

It made Robin mad. That girl had so many great responsibilities on her shoulder, and no adult to guide her or to vent to when it became too much.

“What kind of person just drop a miraculous to a child anyway?” he asked not too kindly.

Marinette flinched.

“The guardian… He just chose people that were the most compatible with the miraculous… And children are less likely to use the miraculous for evil so…”

“It doesn’t excuse anything. You were just a child without any guidance. You shouldn’t have the responsibility of Paris’ safety on your shoulders.”

The girl shrugged.

“There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“I could always introduce this guardian to my sword.”

“He’s not here anymore.”

As he was about to answer to that, mad that she was now completely alone except for her partner in all this business, she raised a hand.

“But let’s not talk about it. You know about me. That’s one secret I don’t have to keep and honestly, it’s like a weight off my shoulders, even if it’s not ideal that you know.”

She stopped to take a deep breath, now completely calm. She raised her head, looking at him in the eyes and giving him a shy smile.

“I won’t ask for your identity, don’t worry. We’ll cross that bridge when you’re ready, okay?”

He nodded, grateful that she didn’t ask for his identity in exchange for hers.

“Now, I remember you told me that you loved dogs. I have some very cute pictures to show you!”

Her smile was so bright and contagious that he couldn’t but smile a little too, as he got closer to her to watch her phone over her shoulder.

Tag list:

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @mikantsume @dast218

#maribat #ml x dc #miraculous x dc #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette

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bakugous-bakahoe · 4 years

Text

Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne

Bruce X reader.

Summary: The one where (Y/N) tell how she meets Bruce

Tonight was a slow night, Bruce, Dick, and Damian went on patrol. When they saw what a slow night it was. Bruce sent them back to the manor. Now they were sparing with each other. Their mother was working on the Bat-computer while Alfred was upstairs making tea. (Y/N) was giving some directions.

“Now if you go to the left you will be right under them.”While she was talking she heard a thump from behind. She turned around and saw that Damian took dick to the floor. then Dick took Damian foot and slammed him to the ground. “BOY, STOP. you’re going to pop yesterday's stitches” Yelled (Y/N).

Dick lifted his upper body and turned to her. “Don’t worry mom. we’re good.” He said with a nose bleed. Alfred came through the elevator with a tray of cups of tea. He got closer to (Y/N). Has he set the tray down he handed her a cup of tea. The boys got up from the floor and walked closer to them. Alfred handed Damian his cup while he gave Dick a napkin to wipe off the blood.

As they drink their tea, their mother kept staring at the feed that was showing on the monitor. Her children look at her and they could see something in her eyes. That’s when Damian remembered their conversation from two weeks ago. “Mother.” His mother hummed as she kept staring at the monitor and gave a sip of her tea.

“Do you miss it,” Damian mentions looking that his mother. Dick was a bit confused has to why he would say that.

“What do you mean?” Dick question.

“Right you guys weren’t there when she told me. Mother is from a mafia family.”

“WHAT! Since when?” he looked at his mother.

“Well, Dickie if it’s a family a think that is since always.” She said with a slight smile as she raises her cup to her mouth. She looked back at the screen, then back at her children. “Sometimes, not the whole killing, drug dealing, and the kidnapping. But being out there and beating some people up was sort of my specialty. I never really love being the boss but I did enjoy kicking ass.” she said with a smile.

“Well, mother. Can you tell us how you met.”

“Well, I did say I would. It was about 20 years ago”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~20 years ago~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a new life for me while my father was in Black Gate. I was trained by my family, well by my 2 aunts and uncle. I was was not yet accustomed to being a boss, let alone a mafia boss, but for now, I was enjoying the party. I have no idea why I’m here but they just told me that an invitation came for me, which was odd, but not unusual. My father is fairly known through Gotham both good and bad. I the other hand, that was different. He always tried to keep me out of if his work has much has he could. Now that he was gone, he couldn’t. So, I came to his art gallery party. This was unusual for the man who is throwing the party. Bruce Wayne, he normally throngs galas or party at his home but in and art gallery, that was odd.

I thought I could have talked to him. Not, tonight though he was busy keeping the old farts occupied. So, I signed a check and went on my merry way. I have bigger shit to deal with right now. Roman Sionis was parking at the trees, he is trying to get my territory. That shit could get real ugly real fast. Yet, I kept calm and told my men to keep tabs on him one move that was out of place was to be reported to me. Although right now I had another plan in mind. I was going to meet the man who put away her father. The Batman. He will be my gateway to take Roman down, Though he didn’t know that he was going to meet me. So, now I am here in the second tallest building in Gotham. And I am going to through myself to see if he will come and rescue me.

God, it’s cold up here. That is when I heard someone drop onto the roof, I was going to turn but I didn’t cause I knew that is if he sees my face he might know who I am. Then he won’t help me so, I will take my chances with a 1,050ft drop.

“Let me help you.”

“Why?”

“Please step off the ledge”

“No” I stepped forward and went down. I could feel the air pulling my hair up and that is when I felt it. I felt an arm wrapped our my waist and pulled me close to his chest. we landed on a nearby building while I was close to his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now.” I look up at him. He, on the other hand, doesn’t look too happy. The real question is when does he ever.

“What do you want.”

“Well for starters you can be happy to see me.”

“I should be cuffing you to a spot and calling Gordon.”

“And why is that? I haven’t done anything wrong” I said in a sing-song kinda way while I walk to the railing and got a good look of the city. “ Anyway, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I did that little stunt cause I need your help.”

“And with what exactly?”

She turned to face him and her hands were stretched on both sides and said.

“Has much as I don’t like my job, I still have to keep up the fort somehow. An for that I need you you to take Ronan for me.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t do anything for criminals.”

“Yea, well I don’t do plans with the guy that took my dad to jail but what can do. Plus, a little kitty told me you do favors. Has much as she has stolen from me she has a point.”

“Well, I am not interested.”

“Then get interested, because as much as I hate you I need it. Ronan is coming to my territory, and he's going to start a war is he gets any closer. I don’t want that we know that there's going innocent people getting caught in the crossfire now for the love of. Will you help me.?!” He didn’t look impressed at all he just Hmm’ed. I was mad.

“Fine you wanna do that okay. I won’t do jack shit. I am not my father and I’m trying to clean a little not do worse things around here. So, Hmm’ed all you want I will let that bastard ruin everything to you can pick up all that is left.” I went to the door that leads to the stairs of the building, I opened the door. Before I left I turned and told him. “You are interested you know where to find me”

With that, I left the roof. That night was stressful after I got back I earned an earful about my aunts. Saying that I shouldn’t have gone to him for help. I was thinking they might be right, so, I gave it put for a while and tried to get everything under control.

Once again I was invited to an event, This time wasn’t to a gallery it was to a gala for the mayor. Most of the politicians are corrupted and like any other corrupt politician they need the mob behind them, God all I want is a freaking burger nothing else. All these men and women all pampered and only care for themselves. That pisses me off, why are all these people old there isn't anyone a bit my age to talk to. Now I have to be sitting at my table, alone, with two old pervs and an empty sit that the person has yet to arrive.

"And who are you, Little Miss?" one of the old men said his breath reeking of alcohol. I have no intention of answering. I'm here to talk to the mayor, donate, and leave.

"Aren't you going to answer?" The other man said.

"No," I said with no emotion on my face

"Do you know who we are. I don't even know why your here. This is the VIP table. Why are so important." These men are making me angry. They don't know that I could break their arms.

"I'm here to donate for the mayor and leave. And if I am in this table it means that I'm as important as you men."

" Are you sure you are as important as us or are you just here for the mayors in other business."

"That is in no way to speak to any woman, Please do have some respect." A sudden new voice came from the side of us. A tall man proximally 6' something, he has jet black hair and deep blue eyes. Bruce Wayne was the one missing from the table. Bruce Wayne. What an Ass.

"Mister Wayne, we didn't if you were going to arrive."

"Why are you saying something so stupid." He said as he fixed his bow tie. Damn this man is too handsome for his own good. He took the chair pulled it back and sat down. "If she is here it means she donates the same or more amount of money then you. So, please stop with the degrading."

"We weren't degrading her."

"No, you were just telling her that she may be a prostitute." The men huffed and both of them stood up from their chair and then left the table. Then he turned his attention to me. "Well, I don't think we've met. Do I know you?"

" No, we haven't. But I am certain that everyone in this room including me knows who you are," I say with a slight smile on my face. He smiled back and we started to talk with each other.

“A thank you is in order.” I take my hand and extended out to shake his hand. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N), Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne

“ Well, Nice to meet you as well, Miss. (L/N).” He extended his and we shook hands

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The present ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What that’s it. Nothing more you just meet and them Boom you got together?!” Said Dick.

“No there’s more but I have things to do tomorrow, and it’s 3 a.m. I don’t want to be late. So, good night, please go to sleep, especially you, Damian.” She pointed at Damian. “You have school tomorrow.” Damian scuffed and crossed his hand.

“Well, good night boys.”

#batman x reader #batman #bruce x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #dick grayson #damina wayne #jason todd #Batmon #tim drake #bruce wayne #dc #bruce wayne x reader

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huilian · 4 years

Link

Character: Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Summary: One person's hobby can quickly be the entire family's business, especially with a family like this (aka, Cass's adventures with ballet featuring her relationship with her siblings and Steph)

***

It’s rare that Cass would willingly sit in front of a laptop for an extended period of time for something that is not a case. It’s even rarer that her schedule would coincide with Tim’s enough to allow them to be sitting in front of their laptops together. (Well, separately, but in the same room at the same time. So, close enough to being together.)

It’s only because Tim has been expecting it for a few minutes now that the sound of a laptop being slammed closed doesn’t startle him. Tim looks up to find Cass putting her head into her hands while saying, “Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This… this damned website!” Cass all but shouts. “How am I supposed to know which shoes fit me best if I haven’t worn them ever? I’m reading your website to figure that out!”

“Umm… Cass?” Tim is now confused. Very confused. “Can you backtrack a little? What shoes?”

“Ballet shoes!”

“I thought you have them already? What shoes have you been wearing to class then?” Cass has been taking dance classes for months now. She must have ballet shoes, there’s little to no chance of her doing all those classes barefooted. Tim knows that ballet requires special shoes, which is about 50% of his current knowledge about ballet.

“Not those shoes. These are the… the… the pointe shoes!”

Tim is now even more confused. “So? There you go. The shoes you’re looking for are those pointe shoes.”

“No! There’re different kinds of them!”

“Huh?”

“Different brands and models and years and… and the endless modifications!”

“Okay.” Tim raises his hands placatingly. This sounds like an information problem, which he can help with. “Can I maybe, you know, look at the website? Maybe I can help?”

Cass slides her laptop to Tim. Tim closes his own laptop, then opens Cass’. Fifteen tabs greet him from the screens of Cass’s laptop. Tim sees that this is not the only window opened, and is then greeted with another three windows, each having tabs ranging from ten to thirty. Huh. It’s usually Tim who has that problem, opening too many tabs and windows and finding himself trapped in an information hellhole before he looks up to find that he has spent the entire day reading about the probabilities of oak tree getting struck by lightning.

Thankfully, that same thing has prepared Tim for this day. He quickly skims about every other tab. About a quarter of them is measuring tips, half of them are blogs with fitting and choosing tips, some are lists of pros and cons, and the rest are catalogs.

“Are all of these for choosing pointe shoes, Cass?”

“Yes,” Cass grits out.

“I… I never knew there are so many brands of pointe shoes.”

“Exactly! How am I supposed to choose if there’s so many of them!”

Tim, armed with his years of experience of sorting through bullshit on the internet, finds the most promising blog article titled ‘How To Choose Your Pointe Shoes: Guide to Getting the Best Shoes’ and starts to read.

“It says to go for a professional fitting? Maybe we should do that.” Cass makes a sound of protest. “I can start researching, but it’ll take ages and I’m not sure I’ll get it right. I’m pretty sure that poor pointe shoes fitting causes injuries, Cass. When do you need it anyway?”

Cass mumbles something. Tim, whose attention is now partially reading the section titled ‘Shank Strength’ and wondering what on earth a shank even is, doesn’t catch it at first. Then, the connecting nerves between his ears and his brain rebooted, and Tim screeches out, “Tomorrow? Yeah, no. We’re going to a professional fitting right now.”

“Ugh.”

“Cass,” Tim says, drawing out the syllable.

“Ugh.”

“Come on.”

“Ugh.”

“You’re seriously gonna make me read all of this before tomorrow? Have some mercy, Cass,” Tim teases. But seriously, he doesn’t want to have to read all of it in the short time-frame he has. He can do it, but then he’s gonna skip dinner and forgoes sleep and rest entirely and he just got Alfred to stop hounding him to go to sleep after his latest incident . He doesn’t want to have to do it again.

“You’re gonna do it anyway.” He is, but still. It’s the thought that counts. “Fine. It can’t be worse than comparing the box length of Grishko and Bloch.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

“Do you know where?”

Tim freezes. “Shit.” Now he still has to research the fitter in Gotham, and vet the places, and do all sorts of things he was hoping to not have to do by going to a fitter. Damn it.

Cass, being the absolute horrible sister that she is, just laughed at him.

“It’s your shoes, Cass! You do it!”

“No. You read about it. It’s your project now,” Cass smiles triumphantly.

“You are the worst.”

“I am the best.”

***

Jason only comes to the Manor to return Alfred’s pans, swear to god. There’s about half a dozen of Alfred’s pans (because even though it’s Bruce’s money that bought them, they are Alfred’s pans) in his latest apartment, and it’s getting ridiculous. Maybe take a book or two from the library while he’s there, because even with all of Bruce’s fault, he still keeps the library well-stocked with Jason’s favourite books.

So how come that leads to him being dragged by Cass to the Cave?

“Cass. Cass, please,” he tries.

Cass’ response is only to drag him even faster. How a girl half his size has the strength to drag him down the Cave’s stairs, Jason doesn’t know.

“Cass.”

“You said you don’t have anything else to do today. So you can do this.”

“Well, Cass, I-”

“It’ll be fun. You only have to sit. You can even read the entire time.”

“What if-”

“Alfred agrees.”

Jason sighs. “I doubt this is what he meant when he told you to go somewhere else to practice, Cass.”

“I asked him. He agrees.”

Jason sighs again. The problem is, she did ask Alfred, and Alfred did agree. Though why Cass chose to ask Alfred for permission to use Jason as a living, human barre for her ballet practice after Alfred banished her from using the kitchen countertop is a mystery. Maybe she thinks that Jason is not going to protest if Alfred said yes?

“Why me? You can have literally anyone to be your personal barre, Cass.”

“You are the right height.”

There’s nothing to say to that, is there? What’s Jason going to do, argue that he is not the right height? He doesn’t even know how high a ballet barre should be. Besides, Cass is right. Alfred already said yes, and he even went so far as expressing his delight in seeing Jason interacting with his siblings outside of their ‘nighttime activities’. So there’s that. There’s no arguing with Alfred when he had given out his verdict like that.

They arrive at the Cave, and then Cass drags Jason towards the empty space somewhere in between the sparring mats and the computer. Then, she lets Jason’s arm go, which should be enough of an opening for Jason to escape, but Jason knows what Cass can do. She’ll just catch him and drag him back. Jason accepts his fate and stays put even when Cass leaves his side to in search of a chair. Cass finds one, then drags it over, and then says, “Sit.”

Jason, who knows that this girl can easily force him to sit, sits. Cass smiles and nods her approval. She scrolls down on her phone for a while, and then music fils the Cave via the speaker system Bruce installed. Jason allows himself a small shake of the head. It’s just like Bruce to install a speaker system and then let it go to waste by preferring to brood in silence.

Cass puts her hand on Jason’s shoulder, and starts dancing. The hand is feather-light throughout her first combination, and Jason knows enough about ballet to know that this meant Cass doesn’t particularly need a barre to do the movements.

But. Well. It’s not half bad, watching his sister dance in between reading his book. That, coupled with the knowledge that Alfred is somewhere upstairs, most definitely preparing Jason’s favorite foods, made Jason relax.

“Stop moving!” Oh. Jason relaxing meant that his shoulder is now not in the same place it was before.

Jason smiles and says, “Sorry, sorry,” surprising himself that he actually meant the apology.

***

“Cass? Are you there?” Cass had promised to teach Steph a new throw today, but she’s not in the Cave, so Steph is now up in Wayne Manor, hoping she’ll find Cass in her room. “Cass? You promised to show me that throw, remember?”

Steph hears movement from inside Cass’ room, so she opens the door, considering Cass to be well and truly notified of her presence by her hollering in the hallway, only to be greeted with the sight of Cass with surgical tape and cotton balls in her hands. Steph goes to full-alert mode immediately, because anything or anyone that can get Cass to be hurt is a huge threat.

(Steph still hasn’t forgotten about Lady Shiva.)

“Cass, are you alright?” Steph says.

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you hurt? Do I need to call Alfred? Or dr. Thompkins?”

“I’m fine, Steph,” Cass’ voice is calm, but Steph has seen her take a bullet and still talks in the same calm voice as she is using now, so that is not an accurate meter to gauge Cass’ wellbeing.

“You’re holding bandages, Cass. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. Watch out for the bucket.”

“Bucket? What bucket?”

“That bucket,” Cass points to her right.

“Why do you need a bucket?” Steph pauses, then the implication of a bucket in Cass’ bedroom hits her. “Are you sick as well?”

“No, it’s for my toes.”

Toes? What? “Okay, back up. Your toes?”

“Ballet.” Oh. Oh . Now that Steph is no longer worried that Cass is going to bleed out, she realizes that Cass is not putting on the tapes, but pulling it off. Oh, again. “Can you push the bucket here?”

Steph pushes the bucket, which Steph now notices is filled with ice, towards Cass with her foot. Cass puts her feet inside, groaning all the way.

“Ballet?” Steph asks. It seems weird that something so innocent can make Cassandra Cain react this extensively. But again, Steph has long learned not to underestimate anything.

“Ballet,” Cass answers.

“Is it the pointe shoes thing? I’ve read about it somewhere. That’s why I don’t want to go into ballet,” Steph says, lifting up a towel that’s next to Cass and replacing its position.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?” Steph puts her head on Cass’ shoulders, looking up a while to check whether or not this is okay.

“Yes,” Cass says, both as an answer for Steph’s question and Steph’s unspoken question.

“Can you still teach me that throw?”

“Yes. Give me a few minutes.”

“Okay.” They sit in silence for a while, until Steph suddenly has a thought. “Is it weird that you can take bullets without flinching, but groans at this, or is it just me?”

Cass hums. “It’s a different kind of pain. Never had it before. Not prepared for it.”

“Okay, but is it weird, or is it just me?”

“It’s weird.”

“Are you ready to teach me that throw now?”

“Sure.” Cass pulls out her feet and motions for the towel. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because of this.”

Steph hands her the towel, and says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

Dick is walking down the hallways of the Manor when he hears Cass swearing from inside a bathroom. Normally, that wouldn’t be a cause of alarm, but since the only reason he’s at the Manor today is because Cass has a ballet recital and everyone is going to go watch it, Dick calls out, “Cass? Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Cass’ voice replies. “Yes! No! I don’t know!”

Okay, that warrants further investigation. “Can I come in?”

Cass makes an affirmative sound, so Dick opens the door, just in time to see Cass putting on false eyelashes in a truly dangerous fashion. As in, almost putting it straight into her eyes. Yeah, something is wrong.

Of course, the false eyelashes do not stick the way it’s supposed to, because Cass is not putting it on properly. Cass swears, again, and picks up the fallen eyelashes from the sink. Dick has seen enough.

“Do you know how to put those on?” Dick says.

“No! Why do they keep falling down? I’m doing it exactly the way they told me to!”

Dick takes a look to the false eyelashes on Cass’ hands, then to Cass’ eyes. “It’s too long for your eyelids, Cass.” Dick frowns. It has been a while since he has to handle false eyelashes. “At least, I think that’s why they keep falling down.”

Cass, who has been furiously dabbing glue to the false eyelashes, looks up to him with wide eyes. “You know how to do this?”

“I mean… I guess, yeah? My mom used to put this on for performances. She would let me help, sometimes.”

“You know how to do this!”

Dick takes a look at Cass’ hopeful face, then says, “Do you want me to do it for you?”

“ Please .”

“It’s been a while since I’ve put this on on anybody. It’s not going to be perfect.”

“ I don’t care . Just put it on.”

“Okay, then. Do you have scissors?”

Cass looks at him, and scrunchs her nose as she says, “No.”

“I’ll get one. Do you want to…,” Dick searches his memory for the times he helped his mom put on false eyelashes, “...clean the glue from the eyelashes? Too much glue will make it stick less, if I’m not wrong.”

“How come too much glue makes it stick less ?”

“I think it’ll make it stiff or something. My mom always cleans the glue off before putting it on. You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” Dick says, but Cass is already picking off the dried glue from the false eyelashes.

When he returns with scissors that’s suitable enough ( not the kitchen scissors, Master Dick), Cass is already sitting down on the toilet.

“Are you still sure about this? I’m not sure I can do a good job, Cass.”

“You will not be worse than me,” Cass says, which, considering she almost poked her eye out trying to put it on, Dick is inclined to (grudgingly) agree.

“Alright. Close your eyes.”

Cass obediently closes her eyes. Dick picks up the false eyelashes from the sink and starts to measure it to Cass’ eyes.

“You did this a lot,” Cass says.

“What? Make-up?”

Cass hums. “ Stage make-up.”

“Oh. I guess, yeah, back at the circus. I didn’t have to put on false eyelashes, though.” Dick dabs on the glue to the eyelashes and starts to gently place it to Cass’ eyelids. “But everything else, yeah. Can you open your eyes?”

Cass opens her eyes, and that makes it clear that one of the ends is misplaced. Dick makes a motion for her to close her eyes again.

“Can you do the rest of my make-up too?” Cass says while Dick is pulling down the misplaced end.

Dick stops, surveys the state of Cass’ face, noting the base already on and the mostly done eye make-up, then says, “You just need some blush and lipstick, and you’re done.”

“Do it anyway.”

Dick exhales out a small laugh. “Fine, little sister. Is there anything else I can do for you, oh most talented princess?”

Cass’s response is to stick out her tongue.

“Don’t do that! You’ll make it harder for the lipstick to stay on!”

Cass opens one eye (one that’s not the one Dick is working on now, thank god) and locks eyes with Dick as she proceeds to lick her entire lip. Dick should be annoyed, but he just laughs harder.

***

Damian watches his sister dance in the exercise room. Not the practice and training space down in the Cave, but in the exercise room upstairs that Father remade to be a dance floor with floor-to-ceiling mirrors after too many incidents of pointe shoes flying in the Cave. Cassandra is truly a master of her body, and watching her do this, a very different use of her body than fighting, is mesmerizing. Damian has watched Cassandra’s dancing before, of course, the entire family went out to watch Cassandra’s recital, but that was with make-up and costume and stage-lights. This, just Cassandra with her leotard and tights in the bare room, is somehow a purer and more hypnotizing version.

It has been brought to Damian’s attention that he should do more moving sketches. Damian reviewed his drawings and concluded that that suggestion has value. He has been drawing more still-life lately, and it would be well to branch out from it. So here he is, debating whether or not to ask Cassandra to allow him to sketch her in her practice.

Damian is tempted to just start drawing, but Richard had said to ask for permission before drawing anyone after Damian had just started sketching his brother’s acrobatics practice. Before Damian can decide on anything though, Cassandra notices him and beckons him over.

“Cain,” Damian greets.

Cassandra tilts her head.

Well, now or never, Damian supposes. With her body-language reading capabilities, Cassandra might already know what Damian is there to do and is simply waiting him out. “May I sketch your dancing?”

Cassandra smiles. “Of course, little brother.” And without waiting for further clarification, she simply moves backward enough to not kick Damian with her dancing and starts where she left off. Damian, perplexed but satisfied enough not to make a fuss, sits down on the wooden floor and opens his sketchbook. He has never sketched a person dancing ballet before, and this is a welcome challenge.

As if she knows what is going on, Cassandra switches her routine, moving to a slower piece with lots of holds and balances, all without losing her graceful movements. It is infinitely easier to sketch this routine, especially with Damian never drawing ballet movements before.

Damian doesn’t say anything. He has a feeling that his sister already knows his appreciation for the change. Why be redundant and say it?

It’s a surprisingly pleasant way to spend an afternoon, especially when Cassandra grows tired of watching Damian sketch and drags him into joining her in a routine. He protests at first, only to give in eventually. And if he ends the session with laughter, well, nobody has to know.

(And if he plans on giving Cassandra a painting of her dancing sometime in the future, well, nobody has to know that either.)

#dc #cassandra cain #tim drake #jason todd #stephanie brown #dick grayson #damian wayne #fic #lian writes #batmanbingo2020

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

Text

I’m Gonna Make This Place Your Home (Part 6)

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 3036

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER (finally) also there’s some violence and mention of abuse.

Runaway reader finds a home with Bakugo. But will trouble follow?

*****************************************************************************************************

You were packed in record time. It helped that you didnt have much to pack.

Bakugo was now pulling you into a car you didnt know he had while yelling at someone on the phone. “No you cant come!”.... “Because we’re trying to hide her and blend in and your hair is literally a bride red fucking target!”... “Yes! I will tell you once we’re settled... Thanks Man..”

He threw his phone out the widow of the moving car and sped up. “Alright so they found you, and they know you’re with me. We just need to get somewhere safe and lay low for a bit. I’ve filled Kirishima in on everything and he’s going to see what he can find out through our hero database.” His grip was tight on the steering wheel and shoulders were stiff as boards. He was stressed out.

You reached over and placed your hand in his lap. You could feel him relax only slightly, but enough for him to release some tension. “Where are we going?”

I’m going to drive us out of town then stop at a random hotel. We’ll check in under a fake name and use cash. I have enough to last us a while.” He took the hand that you had put in his lap and intertwined your fingers, “They’re not going to lay a finger on you. Not if I can help it.”

Later that night you laid next to him while he clicked away on his laptop. “You threw your phone out the window but kept your laptop? Wouldn't they be able to track that as well?”

He scoffed, “I wish they’d try. This is government issued from work. As soon as they even tried it would alert my agency of their location and who they are.” He continued to click through. He started off by asking who I ordered the pizza from. From there he hacked into the cameras of all the locations near our apartment and was now busy watching through hours of footage trying to find whoever wrote the message on the box. You tried to stay awake to keep him company but your eyes were so heavy. His fingers threaded through your hair, “Go to sleep babe. They’ll be plenty of time to talk tomorrow.”

So you snuggled into him and let sleep take over. You kept waiting for him to join you. In fact every so often you'd reach out to join his dream, but he wasn’t there. You hoped he wasnt driving himself mad with all of this investigative work. Wasn’t that was Kirishima was supposed to be doing?

Hours later you heard a loud “Mother Fucker!”

You shot up strait and grabbed onto Bakugo’s arm. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“That fucking asshole from the coffee shop was the one who rated you out... Your boss.” He turned the laptop towards you and sure enough there was a video of him sneaking into the pizza shop and writing his lovely little note on the pizza box before turning to the camera and flipping it off. “He’s one of eight brothers. All of them bad news. The oldest brother is the head of some secret society that they’re all members of. They call him the puppeteer. Riku’s the youngest and his job is to find girls and trick them into going to a ‘party’ after which they're never seen again. Police have been trying to take them down for years but there’s never been enough evidence. I had Kirishima email me over every file he could find on this secret society.”

He opened up a new tab that was full of pictures, mugshots, and reports. “They call themselves the Pure. They believe in arranged relations and breeding for maximum quirk efficiency. There’s allegedly a lot of really important people involved which is why a case has never been made against them. Drugs, arms dealing, racketeering, kidnapping, slavery... this.... this is crazy. How can they be involved in so much but no one even know about them. I’m a fucking hero and I had never heard about it.” He turned to you, his red eyes burning with intensity. “How do you run from something that doesn't exist?”

You scrolled through the file before your heart stopped. “Bakugo.. I recognize that man...”

He looked over your shoulder and you could hear him gasp. He recognized him as well. He had seen him in your dreams. This man had been your prison guard for years. He had hit you, starved you, drugged you, stripped away your clothing and left you to freeze. He was an animal, he was evil, and Bakugo wanted to kill him.

According to the file his name was Bruce. He was from Slovakia, and as far as anyone knew he died in a train accident fifteen years ago. You wish he has though.

“I’m going back to sleep...”

Bakugo held you to him, “You sure? You don’t want to talk about it?”

“I know his name now... I know his face. I think it’s time I pay Bruce a little visit... You coming?”

It clicked with him what you meant. You were about to visit him in a dream. And there was no way he was going to let you do that alone.

He gripped your hand and spooned up behind you. “You sure about this?”

Your only response was, “If it gets to be too much for you , you can leave at any time.”

Then you were falling asleep and taking Bakugo with you. You had done this plenty of times when you were held captive. Taking people with you into dreams was easy enough. They usually couldn’t affect anything the way you could though.

The bright light flashed behind your eyelids signaling that you were connecting with your intended target.

Eh. Even his dreams were gross. You looked around and saw he was dreaming of an orgy. Naked women and drugs everywhere. You strolled right up to him as he sucked at some poor girls neck. You had to touch him to control the dream. That was the rules. And usually you waited for them to make that decision. But not Bruce. He didnt get that privilege. You slapped him across the face.

He shoved the girl off of his lap, “What the fuck-” his eyes met yours and his angry scowl turned into a disgusting smirk.

“Hello Bruce..”

“Well if it isnt my little slut? I was wondering when you would show up. I was careful to never tell you my name but I knew it would only be a matter of time.”

“My name is Y/n..”

He chuckled, “Shit I didn’t even know you had a name. Thought you were just another one of the boss man’s pets.”

Your fist shook with rage and all of the girls disappeared and you were back in that cold room that had been your cell.

His eyes shifted back and forth, “What are you doing? This is my dream. You cant...”

“Oh but I can. I am capable of much more than you ever knew.” All of the sudden his face started to sink in as if he was starving. His skin became littered with bruises. His ears and nose began to bleed just like yours would when they made you overuse your quirk.

He started to panic and tried to run away but his foot was shackled to the floor like the animal he was. “Fucking bitch! Stop it!”

But you didn’t. You continued to make him suffer, he deserved it after all. All the sudden a hand came down on your shoulder. You grabbed it and threw the person to the ground. Your eyes glowing purple with rage. But they softened when you realized it was just Bakugo. Looking worried with his hands held up in surrender, “It’s just me. It’s alright. It’s okay. Just breath. Calm down. This isn't you!”

You ran your fingers through your hair and began to pace. You really wanted to hurt the asshole in front of you but you couldnt allow yourself to stoop that low. You couldn’t break down like this. Especially not in front of Bakugo. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little on edge right now. I hope I didnt hurt you.”

He shook his head as he regained his footing, “I’m fine, you're the one I’m worried about. You sure you can handle this. We’ve been here for only a few minutes and it looks like you're already losing it a little bit. I’ve never seen you so... angry before.”

Bruce started laughing that sickening laugh that made your stomach turn. “Your little boyfriend thinks so highly of you. I wonder if he would stick around if he knew some of the twisted shit you pulled to get out of here.”

You walked over and gave him a swift kick to the ribs, “I did what I did to stay alive. I will never apologize for that.” You knelt down to look him in the eyes. “Now tell me where you are.”

He spit blood onto your feet, “This is just a dream. You can do what you want and it’ll never actually hurt me. I’m not telling you shit!”

You narrowed your eyes at him but a cool smile came over your face, “That’s true... Assuming you ever actually wake up. I can make sure you don’t. Keep you here forever, in a coma. Have you ever wondered what happens when you die in a dream? No one really knows right? Because our brain wakes us up because it wants to avoid the trauma. Well I know what happens... Would you like me to show you?”

Bruce gulped as his eyes shifted from Bakugo to you. He spit one more time before he groaned, “FINE!...We’re in the mountains. We're at the main campus for the Pure. There’s a big meeting coming up and everyones coming.” He went on to ramble in great detail about how to get there. He made it very clear that you wouldn't make it past the front gate. That they had some strong quirks up their sleeve.

He was still spilling his guts when Bakugo grabbed your hand. “What if he’s lying? What if he’s setting a trap?”

You sighed and rubbed your temples, “I don’t think he’s that smart.”

You looked over when you no longer heard Bruce’s labored breathing. “Shit... he woke up” You reached for Bakugo’s hand, “Come on we should wake up too.I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about..”

“You’re fucking right we do.”

You woke up and you felt that your face was soaked in tears. You may have put on a brave face in Bruce’s dream but it didnt change the fact that you had been terrified to be face to face with him again. You wiped furiously, trying to dry your cheeks before Bakugo could see. He probably already thinks you’re unhinged. No need to fuel the crazy fire.

You took a few deep breaths before turning around and facing Bakugo. To your surprise his eyes were wet as well. “I’m sorry. I know you’re the one who just had to confront the monster from your past. But... That shit was hard to watch. What did he mean when he said you did twisted shit to get out? You told me you jumped out of a moving car?”

You bit your lip and played with the hem of your hoodie. You couldn’t look him in the eye when you told him this. “I lied.... I was scared if I told you the truth you would be scared of me.”

He cupped your damp cheek and kissed your forehead, “You say scary.. I say badass.”

You would have laughed if the moment hadn't been so tense. “I uh.. If I really focus I can make people see things... when they're awake. Like daydreaming.” You leaned into him and he instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist. “I made them see intruders when in reality no one was there. They all ended up shooting each other and when backup came I made them think that I was also dead. They threw me into the back of a van, didn’t even bother tying me up. When we got close to town I made the drivers vision go blank so he would crash and I could get away.”

Bakugo pushed your hair out of your face, “Why would you be scared to tell me that? Like you said in Bruce’s dream, you did what you had to. After everything they put you through? I know it has to weigh heavy on your conscious, but it shouldn't. Those people were bad people who did bad things. Who knows how many people you saved by taking them out.”

You nodded, “I guess... But heros aren't supposed to kill people.”

Bakugo smiled, “Well not to be a dick but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here with a hero license. You’re a survivor. There’s a difference.”

You took a deep breath, trying to expel all of your anxiety. “I also didn’t want you to be constantly trying to guess if what you were seeing was real or if I was manipulating you.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I trust you then...”

You leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his.

You should have known better though because there was rarely anything gentle about Bakugo. He returned you kiss with a burning passion that had you dizzy.

He rolled on top of you and your legs wrapped around him pulling you to you. You wanted him, all of him. You reached down to waistband of his pants and pushed your hand past it to palm him through his underwear. He groaned and bucked his hips towards you before pulling back. “Y/n. I love you. But are you sure you want this?”

You arched your back so you could peel your shirt off. You hadn't worn a bra to bed and naturally you weren't wearing pants so now the only article of clothing you did have on was underwear. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He leaned forward and attached his lips to your shoulder while he rubbed one of your nipples between his fingers. You arched your back to lean into his touch a soft moaning falling from your lips. He smiled as his kissed trailed south over the swell of your breeds before sucking your other nipple into his mouth. Licking it and sucking util it grew hard. “Looks like someone has sensitive nipples...”

Your eyes blinked open, “What are you doing? Dont stop!”

He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.” He tore off his shirt followed by his pants. Now you were both in your underwear. He grinned into you and its made you throb. You bucked your hips up to meet his, desperately needing friction to ease the desire building inside you.

His lips returned to your neck as he tapped your hip signaling for you to lift them off the bed. Without any hesitation he ripped them off leaving you bare before him. His fingers teased around the sport you wanted him most. But he was trying to give you time to make sure you hadn't changed your mind. And as sweet as that was... You needed him. “Bakugo... I need you. Please.”

With a feral groan his slipped his middle finger into you and slowly pumped in and out. “God Y/n you’re so tight.” He added a second finger and you had to suck in a breath, shit that felt good. He had you whining beneath him. Squirming around his fingers wanting more.

He kissed up your neck until he got to you ear, where he stopped with a breathy whisper, “You ready?”

You wrapped your legs around him, “Yes! Please!”

His slid his underwear off and you heard the sound of him opening a condom then his weight returned to you. His forehead already sweaty pressed against yours. “You let me know if I need to stop. If it hurts, if you change your mind. I dont care just let me know...”

You nodded and he slowly pushed into you bit by bit. Letting you adjust as he went. It definitely stung but in the sweetest way possible. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he began to thrust into you. It started out as slightly painful but all the sudden he snapped his hips at a completely different angle and you were seeing stars. You couldn’t help your moan of pleasure, “Oh shit! Right there!”

Bakugo picked up the pace looping his arm around the back of your knee and lifting it up so it sat on his shoulder. Heat began to burn within you as you pleasure climbed. You understood why in books they always called it that climax. Legs shaking, fingers digging into his back, “I’m gonna - I’m gonna-”

Bakugo growled as he thrust at an erratic pace, “Let go. I’m right behind you. COME ON Y/N!”

Just like that you you peaked and clamped around him as he stuttered into his own finish.

You both laid there breathing heavy as he rolled over and pulled you into his chest. His fingers carding through your hair with occasional kisses to the crown of your head. “Hey not to alarm you or anything but I literally saw fireworks...”

You laughed and gave him a funny look, “Yeah me too. That was amazing!”

He gave you a serious look, “No I totally agree.. best night of my life... but Y/n I dont mean metaphorically.. like I literally saw fireworks at the end there. I think you may have subconsciously used your quirk...”

You blushed, “Oh my god I’m so sorry! I didn’t even realize...” You covered your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

But Bakugo wasn’t having any of that. He took your hands and pulled them from your face, “Are you kidding me? That was hot. That was awesome! It was like you got to show me exactly how you felt.” He snuggled closer to you, “Makes me want to do it again.”

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Tags: @1000fandoms @carolinawindsay @targaryens-blog @fukyouthink @malibusurfer56 @theoneforallkiddeku @emmyljo @water-melone98 @opentheskeletonkey @ilikeanimeandbands @dexterous-deku @joonishantics @-hiddlesdweeb- @crimson846 @emotions-and-potions @tokoyamis-luv @itsmetsuki @awkwardlife202 @tinymatwrote

Hey guys quick thing about the tags, I really am trying to remember to tag everyone who asked. If you aren't here I apologize I have the memory of a goldfish lol. Just shoot me a message and remind me. Or if you want to be added thats totally cool as well! Also it looks like some of the tags aren't working as they should. So if looks like you’re there but you didnt get a notification let me know. Maybe I spelled something wrong lol. I tend to do that a lot! Thanks!

- Molly

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #bhna bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugo x y/n #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha x reader #my hero academia

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get-your-fics · 5 years

Text

Whatever He Wants

Summary: You’re an intern at Wayne Enterprises, and you mistakenly catch Bruce Wayne’s eye.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Warnings: Smut, rape/non-con, sexual harassment, language

You stood in the back corner of the executive-conference-room-turned-work-party with a drink in your hand and your arm folded protectively around your waist. The air was filled with chatter and laughter, and you stared at the clusters of business execs and board members who all got paid ten times what you did. It was supposed to be a casual affair, but casual meant something completely different at Wayne Enterprises than it did to you. You felt out of place in your plain slacks and button up blouse. Everyone was wearing what they had worn to work that day, but that meant the women wore Louboutin stilettos and designer dresses, and the men wore two piece Givenchy suits. It looked like a casting call for New York Fashion Week models more than a work party.

Being an intern, you didn’t have many friends at Wayne Enterprises, especially not ones of this high of status. In fact, your work only ever required you to talk to one person, and you hadn’t spotted him yet...

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” You snapped your head to see your boss Lucius Fox walking up to you. Spoke too soon. “Shouldn’t you be on a coffee run somewhere?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up.” You knocked your shoulder playfully into his.

Contrary to his joke, Lucius was one of the few bosses you had while interning that didn’t make you fetch Starbucks orders or make copies the entire time. He actually taught you things that would apply to your career later in life, and sometimes he would even let you handle projects he oversaw. For someone in this cutthroat line of work, he was surprisingly nice and levelheaded. He never talked down to you or acted you like you were less than him. He treated you more like his coworker than anything, and you severely respected him as your mentor.

He opened his arms, and you gave him a big bear hug. “How are you?” He stepped away. “Why are you lurking in the corner by yourself?” he asked.

“Waiting for you to show up, don’t you know?” you taunted him.

“Oh, I’m flattered.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “But relax tonight. Mingle, meet some people.”

“Right, ‘cause who wouldn’t want to talk to a broke college intern in a room full of world class business execs?” You scoffed.

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the chance to as a tall figure approached. Bruce Wayne strolled up to you, dressed in a black Yves Saint Laurent suit. His jet black curls were parted and slicked, and his dark, brown eyes were sharp like a hawk’s. “Lucius.” He gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Bruce.” He met his gaze before shooting you a look out of the corner of his eye.

Bruce Wayne was an absolute foil to Lucius Fox. He walked around like he owned the place even though he had just recently come into his inheritance of the company within the last year. He would strut into Lucius’s office and completely ignore you most days. On the days he didn’t, he would send you on meaningless errands and talk to you like how an owner would talk to his dog. He claimed the title of advisor and CEO, although he hardly did more than prance around and flaunt his abundance of wealth and condescend to anyone who had the unfortunate displeasure of crossing his path.

He turned his head, and his dark eyes locked with yours, scalding you. “Mr. Wayne.” You clasped your hands in front of you and kept your tone passive and neutral.

His eyes narrowed into slits as he looked you up and down. You felt like you were under examination. “Intern, I have some papers in my office I need filed.”

Your eyes widened. He didn’t just... did he?

“Bruce,” Lucius’s tone was sickly sweet and artificial, a warning, “it’s a work party. Nobody’s doing any work right now.”

He laughed like he had said a joke. “Like she does work any other day of the week? All she does is sit there and watch you type on your computer.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side, and you bit your tongue. He was acting like you weren’t even there. You so badly wanted to tell him off for speaking to you in such a rude manner, but you knew better than to do so. As much as you hated it, he was your boss, even more so than Lucius, and he could have your ass thrown out of the Wayne Enterprises building any time he liked.

“Come on, Bruce. Let her enjoy the party. You should enjoy it too,” he suggested.

His face remained stone cold and unfeeling. He switched his gaze to you. “Let’s go. I’ll show you where they are.”

He spun around on the heel of his polished dress shoe, and you knew better than to disobey him. Lucius let out a sigh next to you. “Have fun, intern,” he accentuated the last word, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, you know I will.” You took one last look at Lucius’s smile full of blinding white teeth and chased after Bruce. You hurried to close the distance between the two of you before he could realize you had tarried.

You turned out of the conference room and into the hall as you followed him. Your flats slapped against the glossy, marble floors as you approached the elevators. He jammed the button displaying an up arrow with his thumb, and a second later, a resounding ding sounded as a red light flashed above the elevator to your left. The sleek, metal doors of the elevator slid open.

He placed his hand on your lower back. “Get in.” You stiffened under his touch. His hand moved down until it was resting just above the curve of your ass. You were about to step out of his grasp when he gave you a nudge with his hand towards the elevator.

You caught yourself on the frame of the elevator door before you could tumble. You thought you heard a deep chuckle behind you, and you gritted your teeth before walking into the elevator. He got in beside you, entering with grace and elegance, and hit the button for the top floor of the building. It lit up as the doors clicked into place, and the elevator jolted as it started its ascension.

Silence settled over the elevator, and you could feel it eating you up inside. You fidgeted and shifted your weight from foot to foot as Bruce stood beside you, stoic. The prospect of spending time alone with him made dread form deep in the pit of your stomach, although you didn’t mind getting away from the party. You were slightly grateful for having an excuse to escape, if only he hadn’t have been that excuse.

The elevator halted, and a moment later, the doors opened. Bruce stepped out first, and you followed after him on instinct. You walked down a corridor before stopping in front of a tall door. He fished his keycard out of the pockets of his suit pants and swiped it through the scanner. The red dot changed to green, and he turned the handle without a problem. He pushed the door open and stood to the side, gesturing you inside.

You walked into his office. All of the lights were off. He stepped in behind you and let the door fall shut. With a flick of his finger on the light switch, the dim, overhead lights cast a warm, yellow glow down on his office. You had never been in here before, but it looked just how you expected it would. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, the shelves filled with neatly stacked, color coded books. A grandiose, black desk was in the middle of the room, a overstuffed, tufted desk chair on one side and a plain one on the other. You assumed whoever had sat in the plain chair was either really lucky or really unfortunate. But the most breathtaking part of his office was the wall behind his desk that consisted of large windows looking out onto Gotham City’s skyline. You could see every neon light, every digital billboard, and every headlight of the cars stuck in traffic several levels below your feet. You wanted to press your hands and face to the glass and stare out the window all night, but resisted the urge to.

“You have a beautiful view,” you broke the silence, your voice wavering.

Bruce didn’t say anything. He merely walked past you, and you swore you felt his hand brush up against your ass. But it must’ve just been your imagination. You shook off the feeling as he got out a stack of loose papers piled a mile high. He dropped it onto the desk with a solid thud.

“Here’s the papers.” He maneuvered around the desk and pulled out the bottom drawer. “And here’s where you can file them.”

You walked over and peered down at what he was talking about. The bottom drawer of the desk was a built in filing cabinet. It was separated by multiple dividers all a different color. They each had a tab with a letter going from A to Z in bold, black font and a manila folder behind each divider.

“I want all of them sorted by the first letter of their last name.” He put his hands on his hips. “Think you can manage that?”

You quirked a brow, but his face was hard and unreadable. Was he joking? You learned how to do this in middle school. “Yeah, I can,” was all you said, however.

“Good. Then get started.” You thought that he would leave, but he remained stationary where he was.

You grabbed a paper off of the top of the stack and scanned it with your eyes. It looked to be contact information of some sort. You found the person’s last name and bent over the filing cabinet. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw Bruce lean over as well, as if he was trying to get a peek down your shirt. You fixed your blouse so it covered more of your cleavage and shrugged it off. You were just paranoid, and now your mind was playing tricks on you. You searched for the corresponding letter and filed the paper into the appropriate folder.

You still felt his presence behind you. Maybe he was just trying to make sure you knew what you were doing. He didn’t trust you to file a few papers correctly? “Like that?” you asked, hoping the slight edge to your voice made it clear you wanted to be left alone.

“Yeah, just like that,” he answered. His voice sounded breathier and lower than it had before.

That’s when you felt it: two hands on your hips, and something hard brush up against your ass. You immediately retracted and turned around, your back bumping into the desk. You stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?”

Unfortunately, your position allowed him to trap you between him and the desk. “You’re such a tease, you know that?” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed an openmouthed kiss to your neck. “Walking around this office with your nose in the air like you’re better than everyone, like you’re better than me.”

He nipped at the skin on your throat, and you squeaked. You grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him back far enough so he wasn’t touching you. What was he talking about? He was the one who thought he was better than everyone! “I... I think I should go.”

You made to slip between him and the desk, but he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and jerked you back. “You’re not going anywhere, not until I show you where you belong.”

You furrowed your brows. “What are you doing?” It was becoming increasingly hard to hide the panic in your voice. You tugged against his hand on you, but his grip held strong. “Let go of me!” You struggled to break out of his grasp. “Help!”

“Go ahead, scream. Most of the floors below us are empty. No one will hear you.” He pushed you back against the desk and held your body flush against him. His erection was now painfully evident as it strained against the fabric of his pants and poked you in the stomach.

Your eyes widened with fear as you realized no one was coming to save you. Now that flight was no longer an option, you decided to fight. You raised your free hand and clawed at him with a snarl. However, he caught your hand before it neared the smooth, pale skin of his cheek. Your vengeful expression fell, and his lips curled into a devious smirk.

“We’ll have to work on your behavior,” his hold on your wrists was tightening, his fingers painfully digging into your skin, “especially towards your boss.” He leaned in and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent. His hips bucked against yours, and you yelped when you felt how hard he was.

“I’ll... I’ll tell someone!” you threatened, your voice shaky and uneven. “I’ll tell-”

He reared back. “Who are you going to tell? Lucius?” he cut you off. “He can’t do anything. Besides, I’ll just fire you, and you’ll look like you’re making up shit to save face.” He took the skin of your neck between his lips and sucked, clearly aware of the power he had over you.

You bit down on your lip to hold in any moans that wanted to escape as your body tensed against him. You didn’t want to lose your job - couldn’t lose your job. It was the first internship you had found that you had actually enjoyed, not to mention being an intern as a freshman in college at Wayne Enterprises was a major feat. You knew you would have to give into him eventually. It was inevitable; he was Bruce Wayne. Everything got handed to him on a silver platter. Anything he wanted, he got, no matter the cost.

“Please, don’t fire me,” you squealed. You despised how pitiful and helpless you sounded.

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands. “Oh, you want to be a good girl for me now?” You were forced to stare directly into his eyes. They were dark with lust, and his pupils were extremely dilated. They looked completely black.

You sucked in a breath before your next statement. “What will you do for me if I do?”

He grinned like a wolf barring its teeth. “Now, you’re talking.” He moved his leg in between yours and pressed his thigh right against the sensitive area in your crotch. You gasped at the pleasure that ran through you like a chill as warmth pooled in your gut. “I’ll double your salary,” he rocked against you, causing his thigh to rub your clit, “and guarantee you a job in four years time.”

“Do you like doing this?” You tried to seem tough despite your wavering voice. “Forcing yourself on vulnerable interns?”

He chuckled at that. “Lucky for you, you’re my first. There’s just something about you I find so... irresistible.” He ran this thumb over your bottom lip, and your jaw went slack. You were the same age, but right now he seemed so much older than you. “So, do we have a deal?”

You were absolutely aching now. As much as you hated the wetness that gathered in between your thighs, it was growing unbearable. You didn’t think you could stand it any longer, and his offer was pretty much impossible to pass up on. Securing a job at Wayne Enterprises would set you on a good career path for the rest of your life.

You nodded. “Okay.” Your voice cracked.

His grin widened, and his eyes darkened until they swallowed all light that hit them. “Good.”

He crashed his lips against yours. You were so taken aback that you bumped back into the desk, causing the stack of papers to crash to the ground. They scattered across the floor, and some floated in the air before slowly descending and coming to rest. He didn’t seem to care and continued to move his lips against yours. You closed your eyes and tried to relax into the kiss. He tilted his head to the side and slipped his tongue into your mouth, quickly gaining dominance over yours. He tasted like whatever drink he had been sipping on downstairs at the party: sweet, but bitter. You loathed the fact that you enjoyed the taste and found yourself yearning for more.

He disconnected your lips, a flush of red across his pale features and one dark lock out of place on his forehead. “Get on the desk,” he whispered huskily, his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You did as he said and grabbed the lip of the desk, pushing yourself on top of it. You laid down on your back and hugged your knees to your chest. You caught sight of the red marks he had left on your wrists and rubbed at them. You rolled out your sore wrists, knowing you would find bruises there later.

He grabbed your blouse and tore it open, causing buttons to pop off and fly everywhere. You listened as they bounced off of the desk and onto the floor. He covered the cups of your bra with his hands and left a trail of wet kisses over the swells of your breasts. He moved his hands lower to the zipper on your pants. He pulled it down and practically ripped your pants and your underwear off of you. He pushed your legs apart, and you became aware of how exposed you were. You felt like you were on display for him.

He stared down at your pussy like he was mesmerized and ran a finger through your folds. “You’re so wet, all for me.” You felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. He slipped his finger inside of you, and you gasped as the burning stretch gave way to pleasure. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

He got on his knees and wrapped his lips around your clit as he continued to pump his finger in and out of you. The sensation was too much for you, and you couldn’t stop the filthy stream of expletives that spilled from your lips. You needed something to grab onto, so you threaded your fingers through his hair. He moaned against you as you roughly yanked on his dark curls, the vibrations only aiding the arousal pulsing through you.

Just as you felt your climax building, he pulled away. You almost whined at the loss, but stopped yourself by biting down your tongue. He ran his tongue over his lips, licking your juices that dripped off of his chin, and sucked your slick off of his fingers. He shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened the tie around his neck. Then, he reached down and undid his own zipper. You watched as he pushed his pants and boxers over his hips, freeing his straining erection. You got a good look at just how big he was, precum dripping off of the red tip.

He leaned over you so his face was mere inches from yours. You felt the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushed in, and a squeak fell from your lips. You felt like you were being pulled apart in different directions. You sat up on your elbows and spread your legs wider to alleviate some of the tension. He pushed you back down and pressed his chest flush against yours. He finally pushed in to the hilt, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out of you only to thrust back in with a sharp snap. You yelped, your walls still too tight to accommodate him comfortably. “Relax, intern,” he purred, his tone strangely soothing. He planted one arm on the desk next to you to steady himself as he set a pace. “Fuck, I knew you’d feel amazing.” Sweat gathered on his brow as his lips parted in rapture. The sight made your stomach crawl, and you looked away. He grabbed your chin, squishing your cheeks, and turned your head back to face him.

He forced you to stare into his eyes as he fucked you. They were like two blackholes, endless, bottomless voids that you could fall into. He pounded into you faster now, and you could feel your orgasm starting to build once again. His white button up clung to his chest with sweat where your bodies met, and the creaking of the desk under your weight filled your ears. Your breaths came shorter now, and there was no stopping your desperate mewls. He grunted in time with his thrusts, the head of his cock hitting that spot in you just right each time he pushed in to his max.

You were on the cusp of your orgasm as you latched onto his shoulders. “Are you going to cum for me, intern?” he almost sneered at you.

You wanted to curse him out, but found that your brain couldn’t form any words. All you could do was let out a breathy sigh and nod your head. You locked eyes with him as your pussy constricted around his cock, drawing a high-pitched whine from you. Your juices spilled out of you and coated your thighs as you came. You arched your spine, the back of your head painfully connecting with the desk, and curled your toes as every nerve ending in your body was set on fire. You raked your nails up his back under his shirt, leaving goosebumps and red, irritated skin in your wake.

He groaned and sped up. “Gonna fill you with my cum,” he muttered and licked at your breasts. “You want that, intern? For me to cum inside you?”

You couldn’t say anything; you were still coming down from your high. He growled and pushed your knees up by your shoulders. He thrust into you all the way as he came, spilling his warm seed into you. He stilled on top of you, his thighs twitching and his face frozen in ecstasy. Then he pulled out of you, and you could feel his cum drip out of your sore pussy.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your hair. You both stayed like that for a moment as you recovered from your climaxes. Then, he pushed himself up and covered your face in kisses. It was a strangely sweet and intimate gesture for the harsh fucking he had just done to you.

He got completely off of you and pulled his pants up, zipping his fly. You slowly sat up, your head spinning. You looked for your discarded pants on the floor and eventually located them through your blurry gaze. You reached for the lacy underwear sitting on top, but a hand snatched them out of your grasp before you could get to them. Bruce brought them up to his nose and sniffed, a mischievous smirk coming over his face. “Consider these assurance of our agreement.” He dangled them from his finger tauntingly before stuffing them in his back pocket.

You grimaced as you pulled on your pants, the material sticking to your legs. You didn’t know why you were getting dressed; there was no way you could go back to the party looking how you did. Your hair was mussed, your lips red and swollen, and you were covered in sweat and saliva and cum. You looked thoroughly fucked, and everyone would know what you were up to with your boss in his office. It wouldn't be hard to come to some conclusions.

Speaking of... “So, when will I get my raise?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible. You tried to casually lean back against the desk. You could see an outline of your entangled bodies in sweat on the surface.

You watched as he adjusted his tie. “Probably by the end of this weekend.” He fixed the collar of his button up. “However, it is going to come directly out of my personal bank account. Not that that’s a problem, but I think that I should be the one getting the benefits of your hard work instead of Lucius.” He smoothed out the fabric of his shirt with his hands. “So you’ll be interning under me for now on.”

Your heart sank to your stomach. “Wha... what?”

He smirked. “You heard me, intern.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his chest, pressing a kiss to your matted hair. He had gotten the last laugh. “It looks like me and you will be working very, very close together.”

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #dark!bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #dark!fic

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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What if dick is de aged just like you said some time ago (back to when he left the manor and he thought anyone would be robin anymore, in robin year one) and Boone find him just like the other guy who id remember his name did. BUT Boone knows Dick, He knows how to control him, and he cares about Dick, so he is in the assasins league, and he has dick... Imagine the batfam fighting back, without even know Dick is a kid again

Its an interesting idea. I’m assuming you’re referring to the original Shrike when you say ‘just like the other guy’ in R: YO. If he was around in the vicinity or keeping tabs on Dick when Dick was de-aged to his YO age, Boone certainly would recognize Dick, of course, I agree - and I could definitely see the scenario you’re describing happening.

It fits his character, and while I don’t know I’d use the term ‘control him’ as being the right fit, lol, mostly because I think many have tried to control Dick and yet it always takes actual brainwashing in order to succeed, Boone would have the advantage of knowing Dick and his mindset from that time and thus how to at least influence him.

One of the things that makes R:YO so compelling to me and why I return to it so often is because its such a fascinating ‘sweet spot’ in terms of where Dick is character wise at the time. Like, he’s only so distraught and runs away because of how much he’s grown to care for Bruce and rely on him and his opinion of him in just the couple of years since his parents died….but at the same time, it is still only a couple of years since his parents died and despite working well with Bruce by the time that story starts, I think he’s still very wary and suspicious of people in general. Still bruised by his experiences and upheaval in the wake of his parents’ death…..and another thing that’s interesting to me about that story is it takes place before Dick’s really even had a chance to form other attachments within the hero community.

As far as I can tell, it was set before he ever met or became friends with Roy, Wally and the other original Titans, and he didn’t even meet Babs until the literal last page of that story arc……so I just mean, he’s still at that time a fair ways away from having recovered enough to become the lynchpin of the hero community he’s often cited as being - trusted and trusting of so many others in turn.

So that makes this scenario interesting to me in the sense that like….time travel or de-aging or in some other way regressing Dick to this specific place and time in his life would inevitably make him a lot more vulnerable to a lot of his enemies, or Bruce’s or villains in general….but it wouldn’t IMO inherently make him more….malleable, or easily manipulated by any of the many, many villains who have tried to turn him to their side in the past. The core root of the conflict between Dick and Boone was always that Boone saw the original Shrike’s interest in them (well, in Boone specifically) as proof that he cared about him….whereas Dick never had any such illusions about Shrike and was always cynical in regard to him and his intentions for them. He stayed at the Vengeance Academy not because he felt he was wanted or respected there, the way Boone did, but simply because Dick felt he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Which I see as likely to play out similarly should most villains happen across a de-aged Dick Grayson and think it was the perfect opportunity to get their hooks into him. He was emotionally wounded, distrusting and cynical at that point in time - even without knowing who say, Slade or Cobb or any of the Court or various other villains were….he’d be wary and resistant to trusting them, or trusting that they had his best interests at heart - because he’d heard that a lot, from a lot of people, by that point, and only Bruce had ever seemed to mean it….and, at this present time, he felt even Bruce had shown that he couldn’t actually be trusted in that regard either….so even with master manipulators who knew his future self well, like Slade….this younger Dick would be waiting for the other shoe to drop, perhaps playing along but far from actually being sold on whatever lies they were telling him.

The part of this ask that really has my wheels spinning, actually, isn’t just Boone himself, but rather all the other villains who might see this de-aged Dick as an opportunity…and totally fuck it up….because I talk a lot about how most of his friends and family members would be thrown by meeting a Dick Grayson of this time, given that their impressions of him based on who he became would not really match up too well with him back then…..but one thing I’ve never really extended that to, is how many villains could be similarly thrown and shoot themselves in the foot by believing that they know his future self well….but that doesn’t mean they know THIS boy, at this particular time. This is before Dick ever even knew the other Titans, which means its yeeeeeeeears before Slade had the opportunity to observe him in person and form his own views of him and his strengths and weaknesses, same with many other villains….

So now I’m picturing various other villains trying to play this de-aged version of Dick Grayson and ending up played by him instead….because all their plans hinge on him being as trusting and optimistic and committed to believing the best of even strangers….that they view his older self as being. Not realizing how much he’s changed between then and now.

Actually, a really interesting thought that just struck me is other than Boone himself, having been friends with Dick at this time, the one and only other antagonist I could see truly having enough knowledge of Dick to take full advantage of his de-aging here, and capitalize on knowing his true state of mind and personality of the time…..is Talia. Given that Talia was the direct contact for the original Shrike, when he was training his students to vet them as potential recruits for the League….so even though Robin: Year One was literally years before Dick and Talia ever interacted in person, or before Dick knew anything about her…..Talia already knew a lot about Dick, just from whatever Shrike told her about his student “Freddy Lloyd” during Dick’s time at VA. Even if it wasn’t until after Shrike’s death and Dick’s return to Bruce that even she connected that Freddy and Bruce’s ward Dick Grayson were one and the same.

LOL sorry to go off on a tangent from your actual ask, was just exploring where that train of thought took me. But yeah, I could see what you’re describing, especially if Dick was de-aged specifically to a time right smack in the middle of his time at VA, so that Boone would have some way of getting Dick to believe that he was the kid Dick knew from that place….but without Dick being aware yet of how things had ended between them or at the Academy as a whole. Because even back then, as much as Dick and Boone were ‘friend-ish’ rivals, depending on your read of things, I wouldn’t actually describe them as like….I don’t think Dick ever actually fully trusted Boone, or vice versa, like, they both had a ‘its a dog eat dog world, and we’re both looking out for number one’ view of things and each other at the time.

So they could get along, and I think there was enough commonality that I use this as the basis for my headcanons about them later in life, where looking back on it, both of them have potential for more….’fondness’ for each other, or at least regrets, because they’ve both experienced enough since then to know how rare it is for anyone to even be able to understand each other at least as much as I think they could……so the key thing to me about Dick and Boone, is most of their potential to me is in them coming to view each other as missed opportunities - both for someone who was really ‘like them/how they’d been then’ to grow into an actual ally or brother-in-arms….and more in Dick’s case, as viewing the other as someone they could have persuaded down a different path than they ultimately ended up on.

Which to me suggests that Boone would have more of a chance of manipulating a de-aged Dick here than most anyone else….but it still wouldn’t be a given, because most of the leeway and emotions I headcanon Dick having towards Boone as an adult are more of an after-the-fact thing…born of nostalgia and regret, rather than because at the time, as kids, Dick fully trusted Boone and vice versa. But again…if Boone played it right, by virtue of being the only one of them who actually knows in this scenario how that all ultimately played out….he could feasibly ‘rewrite history’ when catching Dick up to speed on what their lives had been like since then, and plausibly feed Dick an alternative take on how things ended between them (or didn’t).

Because the other thing here is that I mean, obviously so much of anything to do with Dick and Boone is just headcanoning your ass off, as I’m wont to do, lol, given that Boone is hardly used in canon - but if you’re basing it enough on canon as I like to do….another key thing is that Boone DOESN’T associate with the League of Shadows as an adult….he goes solo before he and Dick ever meet up again in Bludhaven, and is a lone operative/mercenary-for-hire. For some reason or another, even though he went with Talia for training with the League as a kid, by adulthood he’d broken away from them himself, even if we never got the full story on when or how or why. Sooooo….my take on this scenario wouldn’t be Boone manipulating Dick in order to get him on the side of the League….if that were the goal, I would use Talia instead. Boone, IMO, would be more likely to try and convince Dick that its just them against the world, ‘misunderstood’ by both Batman and his later allies and family, as well as by the League and various supervillains. Smack in the middle, only looking out for themselves and each other.

And either way, yeah, Bruce and the rest of the family would have their work cut out for them getting Dick back, because without any memory of Bruce ever coming for him back then and repairing the bond between them, to Dick, all these many successors - many of them having worn the Robin mantle themselves - would give a LOT of credence to whatever Boone told Dick, and make it very easy to spin as ‘proof that Bruce moved on/didn’t care about you/replaced you.’

Thanks for the ask, there’s a lot of food for thought here and a ton of different ways this could be taken and played out! Very interesting to contemplate.

#boone aka shrike

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gothamslimpestwrist · 4 years

Text

s1e2 selina kyle

killcount:

“doug” the childsnatcher: “soldier” (homeless guy)

oswald cobblepot: douchebag college bro from the car, probably the other douchebag college bro as well.

jim gordon: quillan’s janitor

“patti” the childsnatcher: cat scratch fever dude w/ no eyes

episode total: 5 total count: 12

the dark knight rises: shit is clearly fucked in gotham. crime families are ruling the city, yes, but honestly that’s the least of it; look at the police force. we see that bo, the first responder, is late to the scene of the crime because he takes protection money from a local restaurant & gave them first priority (in other words, he’s a crooked bitch demanding a racket, AND it gets in the way of him actually doing his job). the cops are pretty much, explicitly, just an extension of the mob at this point.

interestingly, we also see the start of an exploration of the wayne’s corruption; falcone refers to “the wayne empire,” mirroring the way they talk about the crime families And Also setting the waynes up as, like, a picture of the wealthy elite taken to a whole ‘nother level. gotham is the last modern vestige of the city state--and that is the wayne empire. who takes the crown now that the emperor and empress are dead?

in OTHER news, the waynes really fucked bruce over. the murder itself was the lynching pin, causing him to jump over the fucking edge, so to speak, but he is Just A Little Boy! he is so troubled! he’s self harming and alfred yells at him and HITS HIM for being stupid, he’s listening to loud music and drawing fucked up shit, he’s both burned himself and is apparently cutting, and alfred, seeing all of this, refuses to get the boy who saw his parents shot a therapist, because the waynes told him to essentially let bruce raise himself. “the children are thoroughbreds,” basically.

quoth barbara (thinking about essen shushing the child snatcher case in fear of bad press): “i can’t believe the system is so corrupt.” quoth jim (thinking about how he was yelled at for not beating a perp, thinking about the cop/mob connection that demanded he kill a man to prove his loyalty, thinking...): “you have no idea.”

oh! and jim tells bruce the kids need more than money to keep them safe.

sliding scale of barbara kean’s sanity: she seems to be doing alright, but she’s troubled by jim’s troubles. also, this episode sets up some shit that will lead to irreparable damage later on; jim, even when he’s telling her things, isn’t telling her everything. she knows it. she hates it. he specifically hasn’t told her about oswald, which gives her reason to believe he’s a murderer pretty soon. plus, what she does w/ the information he does give her about his work (go straight to the press) gives him immediate reason to start trusting her less... and so they spiral.

sliding scale of ed nygma’s sanity: he’s a little bit more of a lurker this episode. creeps outside the captain’s office until someone notices him, lingers inside until everyone in the room makes it obvious he’s not welcome. he’s trying his best, but he’s not... very... “well liked,” shall we say.

continuity: montoya and allen are looking into the murder of oswald cobblepot. he was their snitch, after all. so that’s problems... many things are subtly set up in this episode: falcone and fish discuss maroni and his anticipated power play (adding another piece to the political chessboard of this season), the atp drug the child snatchers use is established to have been developed for arkham asylum, which is also established to have been closed for the past 15 years AND to have recently been in the works for a reopening, specifically by thomas and martha wayne. and that’s all just offhanded discussion. also related to the atp, when ed is listing the only three places that still stock it, it’s quillan pharma, drakatech (?)... and welzyn, which isn’t relevant at all to THIS episode (quillan’s the one dealing with the childsnatchers) but WILL become relevant to everyone in a few episodes, when welzyn manufactures viper. oh, and naturally the identity of the man the childsnatchers are working for: the dollmaker. hm!! on a lighter note, harvey’s ex-white knight tendencies that we explore in spirit of the goat are foreshadowed here; essen accuses him of leaking the child snatchers story to the press, w/ the reasoning that he’d done it before. after jim & barbara established that it was the right thing to do....

parallels: jim & selina meet in this episode. they are... The Same™. (look, i’ll come back to it later, but even tho my parallel in the pilot was btwn selina and oswald, and even tho they’re the two that are the villain counterparts to our heroes, jim and SELINA are the matched set.) also, this is the episode where fish expresses the wish that penguin wasn’t dead (because she wants him to suffer), but also she tells jim & harvey that she knew it was a mistake to order them killed as soon as she did it. so that means something?

neither here nor there, but gertrud tells montoya & allen how elegant and well dressed oswald is, and bruce comments on the orphans’ scruffy appearances and buys them new clothes... we love a dandy, i guess.

characterization: we meet some irrelevant street kids that selina knew; zeb, smoke, and mackey (corey in the house). i’m basically using the characterization tab as fanfic reference so i might as well record that.

lazlo, fish’s lover, is relevant, in that falcone beats him to get to her. it definitely does affect her, though she says she only keeps him around for exercise. maybe more b/c of falcone’s threat and the fear of what it implies, though.

and gertrud! ozzie’s mom. everyone connected to oswald, even outside (maybe even especially outside) of his mob connections, is a little twisted. she’s no different; she’s clearly a bit out of her head, she mistrusts the police (which i guess we’re supposed to think is suss, though really...Fair and Just), she’s got that almost creepy codependency with oswald while not really knowing what’s going on there. (other examples: elijah, oswald’s gothic horror father, martin, oswald’s lowkey homicidal son, edward, oswald’s fascist dog, jim, oswald’s corrupt boyfriend...) she also seems to think oswald has run off with some painted lady (actually, she says painted slut), which might be indicative of her experiences w/ van dahl and some unstable jealousy more than it is of oswald, who’s... you know.

in other news, jim is all over the map here. he stops harvey beating mackey (and later, quillan, after they’ve already gotten info out of him) and protests that they should leak the story to the press, but he also seems content to keep his mouth shut until barbara takes doing good upon herself. he adapts to the mob shit pretty quick, but expresses disgust w/ the corruption in the system. he gets off on the wrong foot w/ mayor james because he disagrees with locking up the kids w/o a trial, but he doesn’t... step in... either. we see this willingness to compromise and bend the knee that means he’ll never be the hero gotham deserves.

also, not to be a jim apologist on main or anything (ha, ha), but he’s just so... brainwashed. all this, & he still tells alfred that being a cop, which has thus far caused him nothing but pain & misery, is the “best job in the world.” because he thinks he’s helping people. (and he likes getting to feel like a hero... so where do the misguided good intentions stop and the selfish motives begin?) he also kills a man for the first time on screen this episode because for all its examinations of dirty cops... gotham is still, at the end of the day, Copaganda. in an actual moment of me drinking I Love Jim Gordon juice, jim is the one who advocates for bruce going to therapy, and tries to convince him to go personally, even when jim himself is too emotionally stunted for it to help him.

also, backstory: harvey pegs his love life, saying, “high school sweetheart, then a bunch of hoes (read: eduardo dorrance) overseas only made you sad... and then there’s barbara.” he also calls jim a monkey riding a race horse; jim’s face is really good @ that. i misinterpreted the line about high school sweethearts back in the day to mean that barb was jim’s highschool sweetheart. this is on account of auditory processing disorder and also general dumbassery. anyway, the point is that jim is a boring, predictable bitch! whom i love.

...in terms of characterization from the episode that i don’t agree with, i can’t really see oswald writing all the shit that they had on his conspiracy board, lmfao. “crybaby brucie,” “gordon=STOOGE,” & so forth. i pretend i do not see it.

#gotham #text post #meta #jim gordon #season one #selina kyle

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quillsareswords · 5 years

Text

I Love You

Damian Wayne (fluff/angst)

Unrequested

Prompt List // Masterlist

As we all know, Damian Wayne has never been, and likely never will be, one to show his emotions.

You knew this. It’s part of why you loved him so much, because neither were you. It was far easier to be with someone who knew to focus on the little things more than anything.

You were the first one to say “I love you”. It was in the middle of patrol on a rare quiet night, perched at the edge of a roof along side him. Your quiet confession was carried to him partly by a somewhat warm summer breeze that ruffled his hair. You weren’t sure if it was the breeze or your words that made his eyes glitter the way they did.

But that isn’t what this is about.

This is about the first time he said those three special words, or rather, the fact that he never really did.

The first time he said I love you, had been when you were sixteen, on a cold January afternoon in a coffee shop near Gotham Academy. You were standing beside him at the counter to order, barely a month in to your relationship. You were skimming the board above the kitchen, trying to find something that caught your attention while he ordered.

“. . . And for her,” your eyes darted quizzically to him, “a hot chocolate with cinnamon extra whipped cream.”

Now that sounded good. You didn’t take your eyes off of him until he met your questioning gaze.

He looked away almost immediately.

The second time he said I love you, had been in the same year. It was May, rain pouring down with only one intention: soak the entire city and everyone in it.

You had been one unlucky victim, but you were dry now, more or less. Your hair was still damp, but you knew you wouldn’t be getting a hot shower or a towel anytime soon.

Robin’s eyes were glued to his task, mask laying forgotten on the floor at your feet. You flinched as he tugged on the thread to tighten it, immediately drawing his attention. He said nothing. There was nothing left to say, after the biting comments made only moments before.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t even known you reacted. You were too busy concentrating on the gash running the length of his calf, fresh blood still dripping down his leg. You had begged him to let you stitch him up first, but he wouldn’t have it, and instead decided you were going first.

You knew damn well it hurt more than he let on, especially by the stone set expression his face, an obvious sign he was hiding emotion, and the way his leg shook just enough for you to see.

It was days like these when you wished with everything you had that he didn’t love you as much as he did, even it you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The third time he said I love you, it was summer vacation of the same year. you were longingly scrolling through your friends’ messages, skimming pictures of their marvelous trips and events. You didn’t have time for any sort of trip, nor the money. You were slouching in Damian’s reading chair in the corner of his room, waiting for him to finish up his portion of his monthly report to Bruce.

When the door opened, you switched tabs to something less depressing, uttering an absent, “How’d it go?” You’d mentioned it offhandedly to him once or twice, but you hadn’t expected anything of it.

He didn’t answer until he was standing in front of you, and only then did you look up at him, confusion scribbled into every muscle of your face. You weren’t sure what puzzled you more, the proud yet mischievous gleam in his green-blue eyes, or the matching, loose smile he wore.

Wordlessly, he removed one hand from behind his back. You immediately gasped at the two plane tickets carded between his fingers, leaning over to get a better look at the brochure that accompanied them.

The fourth time he said I love you, it had been a rough week to say the least. You had been up throughout the previous night, cramming for a test that you thankfully aced, which hadn’t helped your mood when Bruce called you, reminding you that you and Damian had agreed to pick up an extra patrol night on account of the rise in drug deals.

When you tiredly shuffled into Damian’s bedroom a few hours early, hoping he wouldn’t mind if you were to catch a nap while he did whatever it was he would be up to that afternoon, you hadn’t expected the sight before you.

The bed you’d slept in a hundred times looked three times as comfortable as it usually did, the flat screen facing said bed was already on, a favorite cartoon on yours cued up. Damian laid beneath the covers, propped up by the headboard and a few pillows you knew he had added.

You didn’t let him speak. You dropped your bag where you stood, kicked the door closed with a foot, and all but threw yourself upon the mattress. You kicked off your shoes and wiggled up the bed in one fluent motion, flipping over to pull your legs up and shove them under the covers.

You wriggled closer to a smiling Damian, the opening theme of your favorite cartoon filling the room. You were asleep within minutes.

The fifth time he said I love you had been different from all the rest. You were seventeen, laying flat on your back, the cold sting of the concrete beneath you one of the only things you could feel through the mind-numbing pain emanating from you abdomen.

You focused on breathing. If you could keep yourself awake and breathing, you’d be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You’d been stabbed in the same place before, but you’d never felt a blade pierce straight through you.

Your grip on reality was slipping, so you weren’t sure if the floor was really shaking the way you felt it. The sounds of a fight crept into your ears, over the sound of your own heart thumping and stuttering.

You had to focus on breathing, you reminded yourself. So that’s what you did. In. One, two, three, four. Out. One, two, three, four. You repeated the cycle again and again, blocking out the noises as they grew louder. You didn’t even react when you heard something near the door.

Bang! Pause. Bang!

Your breaths were getting ragged ad desperate with the door finally gave way, the inches thick steel bouncing off the brick wall as Robin stumbled inside. You rolled your head to the side, the action causing your vision to blur around the edges. He was at your side before you could catch up, kneeled over you as someone else sped in through the door. He ripped his mask from his face, as if the lenses were lying to him.

Your eyes met his, a low grunt leaving you as he started applying pressure. You searched for the calming green-blue you were so used to, silently begging for the comfort of turquoise ripples over a green ocean. What you found though, were two emerald stones, all store clouds and welling tears.

Sheer terror rolled in waves of consuming emotions, but he choked back any other sign of concern, flattening his brow and pursing his lips. You knew, though. He was just as scared as you were.

The sixth time he said I love you, it was 39 hours later, and you were blinking up at the light obstructing your vision. You grumbled something you weren’t even sure about, and suddenly the lights dimmed, leaving you in a dim, blurred setting with nothing but outlining blobs of dark colors. Was that a chair?

You regained your hearing first, or rather, remembered it. You could hear a fan running, spinning, you could hear a light bulb buzzing, and you could hear rain pattering aggressively against a pane of glass.

You blinked a few more times, your vision clearing a little more every time. Whatever you were lying on (you assumed it was a bed, i softness was anything to go on), dipped with an extra load of weight, a blurry shape of a person appearing at the edge of what you now knew to be a bed.

With you vision finally cleared, Damian’s bedroom came into view, along with the man himself. He slowly reached further up the mattress, tacking your cold hand in his warm one. “Good morning,” he said softly.

You didn’t reply right away, the memories of earlier events slamming into your conscious mind like rocks to a windshield. You stammered for a moment, before your eyes found his. You could clearly pick out the worry, the exhaustion, the pity, the specs of joy, the liveliness. They were bright ad attentive, focused on nothing but you.

You didn’t have to ask to know, by the rumpled pajamas, the wild hair, and the tired eyes, that he hadn’t strayed far from your side the entirety of you slumber.

The seventh time he said I love you, it was a still autumn morning. You were out on the balcony adjacent to only his room and then one next door (which you had claimed for yourself long ago), laying between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. You kept still, your eyes following the movements of the pencil in his hand, tracing the marks it left across the paper.

You looked away for only a moment, eyes flitting up to examine his subject. A small cluster of red roses laid peacefully on the stone railing enclosing the balcony. As you saw it, it was an elegant sight, but when your eyes returned to the sketchbook in your lap, it appeared lonely an cold, despite the beauty tucked between and within every line.

Quietly, you asked him about it.

You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and watched the paused his pencil took over one of the roses, before his hand moved to rest on the edge of the page. You felt his chest rumble as he spoke. “It won’t look so dreary, once I color it,” he assured.

You hummed, a small smile curling your lips. “I was worried you were in a mood,” you admitted, raising one hand. With you index finger, you traced shapeless lines along the side of his thigh, across the soft sweatpants he had slept in the night before.

He made some soft of agreeing, amused noise. “How could I be?” You shifted to look up at him, his face hovering above yours. “It’s such a lovely morning, and I get to spend it with you.”

Your smile became more apparent, your lips lazily meeting yours, proving he intended on spending the rest of the day the exact same way. When he pulled away, eyes drinking in the color of your own, he matched your careless smile. “How could I be in a bad mood when I love you this much?”

#damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne

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miserablesoldier · 5 years

Text

I Don't Know

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Possessed! Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been crushing on you from afar in the gym and Wanda has had enough and decides to befriend you but she wasn’t expecting to see what’s inside your head.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning: swearing, possession, kidnapping (?)

Author's Note: This is a one shot and I don’t tag people so please don’t ask, thank you. Feel free to listen to the song to get a gist of where I was coming from at 4 in the morning. IDK by Bruce Wiegner.

You knew exactly who he was as soon as the very first day you joined your local gym. You went out of your way to not catch his line of sight, meet his eyes or collide into him in any way.

You used very visible and bright blue ear phones and an arm strap that held your phone as music blasted into your ears. It helped to ignore him and the resident in the back of your head.

The voice in the back of your head didn’t belong to you, it belonged to someone or rather something demonic but you had no choice but to house it.

You made a deal, and now, you’re alive but you’re never alone.

It was a coin flip daily on the whether that was a good or bad thing. Seven out of ten times it was bad, but there were some good days and you prayed for those every time you woke up.

Wanda was working her body on the elliptical and saw almost immediately where her friends line of sight was staring at.

Her eyes caught the sight of you, running casually on the treadmill against the wall on the other side of the gym. She shook her head, exhaling and slowed down her rhythm and sliding off. Making her way to Bucky by the weights.

“You know it’s considered creepy to stare at a woman in the gym these days.” Wanda smirked, crossing her arms.

Bucky blinked and set the dumbbell on the rack. He shook his head with a chuckle. “I wasn’t staring.”

A lie. “Oh? Is the term ogling? Leering? Being a 100 year old virgin?”

“Wrong super soldier.” He said, avoiding the questions. He had to admit to himself he was staring but not in a creepy way (he hoped) as it was obvious that you were beautiful but it seemed he’s lost whatever charm he had in the 40s.

He just can’t seem to walk over to you, pick up a conversation with you like a normal, functional human being as he should be. You would come in nearly every weekday and run for an hour or two, then head to the swimming pool do your laps and then leave. Not that he knew your schedule or anything.

“Talk to her then, she’s not going to bite you.” Wanda suggested, shrugging her shoulders and looking over to you.

She had an idea.

And a point. “I can’t...” He's afraid, not of rejection, but of the possibility of him telling her all of his baggage, her running away from him, her being frightened of him and the darker part of him. He hated that.

“Then I will.” She left him, walking confidently over to you.

His eyes widened as he just stood there frozen, watching her walk over to you. A coldness spread through his stomach and straight to his heart, he was nervous and had those butterflies that they all talk about in the movies and books.

Wanda tapped on your shoulder, confused you slowed down the treadmill to a stop and pulled your earphones out of your ears.

Threading the ear buds and wires through your fingers, you rose an eyebrow and chose the polite route. “Yes?”

She looked familiar but you weren’t sure where to place her in your memory. She smiled warmly at you before speaking. “I’m Wanda, me and my friend, Bucky, have been going to this gym for a while now and he’s got this adorable crush on you. He’s too shy to say anything though.”

This was new. She looked back at Bucky and you followed. You saw him, and now you could place her. She was one of those Avenger folk.

Play the part of a bubbly, happy gym girl.

The voice told you and you conceded. You gave him a shy smile, he waved back to you. He was incredibly handsome, intensely strong especially with that metallic looking arm of his, but you couldn’t go there. That wasn’t your future.

Play the part, you remembered. You turned back to Wanda and smiled. “He's shy?”

She laughed and nodded. “Doesn’t look it but he is. Is it okay if I give him your phone number?”

“Not my name?” You smirked.

She liked you. “Well, he’ll need something to moan out.”

This could be fun.

Shut up, you willed the voice in your head.

You gave her your phone number. “My name is (Y/N).”

Wanda was thrilled. “Thanks, hopefully I’ll see you soon.” She winked and placed her hand gently on your elbow and felt something she shouldn’t have.

A dark, old presence.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

It feels so good.

I bet it’ll feel really good to kill him.

Her eyes widened, her fingers lit up with a red essence and it shot up straight to your forehead, sending you to a quick and deep sleep.

You fell forward against her, limp like a rag doll.

Bucky saw the whole thing and rushed over, making sure no one saw. He held you up and you rolled against him, he lifted you up, holding you as he would a bride.

He glared at Wanda. “Why did you do that for?”

She shushed him and ushered him to the emergency exit. “I accidentally read her and she wanted to kill you.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t process that right now. They made it into the car park, Wanda opened the back seat and he slid you in the back, closing the door and getting in the drivers seat.

It was much later, you slowly started to wake up but you kept your eyes closed for as long as possible. Feigning sleep, you felt the straps and confines around your wrists, ankles and abdomen.

You heard her voice, the one who knocked you out and a male voice, you assumed was Bucky's, the one that harboured some sort of crush on you.

Use that.

You’ve done enough, you thought and you listened to what they said.

“Oh, yes, Steve, we will be fine alone in the compound while you and the others are on mission. What could possible go wrong? Oh, right, we kidnapped a woman!” He hissed out.

Wanda tapped her foot. “She will wake up soon and we can find out exactly what she wants from you.”

Nothing, I want to go home. You sighed, announcing your consciousness to them both. They both stood up as you opened your eyes.

You noticed the gun in his hands, your eyes softened at him. “That won’t be necessary.” You winced at the pain in your back.

“I think it is, (Y/N), why do you want to kill him? Did someone from Hydra send you?” Wanda questioned you, her hands lit up red again, ready to strike when provoked.

Your brow furrowed, more confused than you were before. “I don’t know whatever Hydrant is, and I can explain what you think you saw in me.”

The light disappeared from her fingers and he lowered his gun. “What do you mean think she saw?”

You sighed, you hated explaining this part of you. “I am possessed.”

A silence passed.

Wanda spoke first. “Possessed? Like, um, demon possession from those horrible horror films?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I don’t spin, distort my body or crawl like a crab on the ceiling.”

Bucky chuckled. “Then what?”

“Twenty years ago, I sold my soul. Then, when my time was up ten years later I was killed and dragged into hell. In January of this year, I made another deal to come back but with a friend that takes up residence in my head.”

Another silence.

They didn’t believe you.

“Show me.” Bucky said, you looked up at him.

“I show you and I can go home?”

Wanda considered it. “Yes, but we keep tabs on you.” Until the team comes back from their mission.

Don’t make it worse.

You nodded and closed your eyes, they quickly flashed open pure black. Wanda took a step back but Bucky stayed where he was, staring at you, entranced.

The demon behaved and relinquished control back to you. You looked back at Bucky. “Still want to go on that date?” You laughed a little.

Bucky smiled. “Yes.”

I just want to find a way to get out of my mind,

Craving validation from some people I don’t like,

I don’t know them so why am I caring so much?

I don’t know

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #reader insert #marvel fanfic #fanfic #bucky x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #the winter soldier #marvel fics #mcu

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nancywheelxr · 6 years

Text

long nights, daydreams, sugar and smoke rings

"The hours spent between coming back and chasing down his alternate self, it’s a blur. He’s tired and angry and hurt and worried.

Everything blurs together in one nightmarish night Tim wishes he could wipe out of his memory.

He can’t think too much on it, not without falling in a rabbit hole of paranoia and distrust and despair and-

It feels too much like looking in his eyes.

But after everything, after he repressed it all to a locked chest in the back of his mind, one thing lingers to the forefront of his thoughts.

Conner."

or, the one where instead of obsessing over the Knights Project, Tim focus on finding Conner, and maybe learns how to live one day at a time.

alternatively, Tim isn't Macbeth, Bruce needs a book on parenting, Jason is trusted with the custody of a teenager, and Kon finally sees the stars.

It’s like chasing a ghost.

But then again, in this family, this wouldn’t be the first time.

The hours spent between coming back and chasing down his alternate self, it’s a blur. He’s tired and angry and hurt and worried.

Everything blurs together in one nightmarish night Tim wishes he could wipe out of his memory.

He can’t think too much on it, not without falling in a rabbit hole of paranoia and distrust and despair and-

It feels too much like looking in his eyes.

But after everything, after he repressed it all to a locked chest in the back of his mind, one thing lingers to the forefront of his thoughts.

Conner.

He doesn’t know who Conner is or why he’s so important to that version of him.

Tim tries not to think about it, it can’t be good if it’s linked to that . And besides he has bigger things to worry about. Batwoman. The Knights. All the future he needs to avoid.

But still, in the silence when he lays down to sleep, it echoes.

Then, it all goes to hell.

That’s the thing about knowing too much. It comes with a price. It always comes with a price.

And this time all of Gotham is paying the fare.

He’s Macbeth, crumbling under a prophecy he fulfilled on his own.

His leg is broken, and he’s confined to his bed. No training, no unnecessary stress.

Bruce is worried, Tim knows. And so are Alfred and Dick and even Jason, in a way.

They all dance around him, waiting for him to snap.

Tim isn’t going to snap.

For something to snap, to break, there needs to be pressure. A balloon bursts when it’s full.

But he’s not filled with anything. Tim is hollowed out. Empty.

There’s not enough of him to snap.

Still, he waits, and when Dick asks him if he wants more pillows, Tim gives him the tantrum they’re all expecting.

That’s only fair, he supposes.

With nothing to do, Tim thinks of the name rattling around his ribcage, woven in between his bones.

Conner.

This future- no . This version of him from an alternate universe, had said tell him you’re sorry and you know how important he is to us.

Except, no, he doesn’t.

There’s only a handful of people Tim cares about on that level, even less that aren’t somehow connected to Batman or Gotham. None of them go by any version of that name.

So, with nothing else to do and everything else turning to dust and ashes, Tim decides he wants to.

Tomorrow , he’s starting tomorrow.

There’s not much information to work with, all Tim knows is a name.

Even if it makes his chest ache and long and burn for no reason at all, it’s no help. There’s thousands of guys named Conner in the world.

How is Tim supposed to find his?

He unlocks the chest at the back of his mind, and tries to remember all that the other Tim Drake told him about this.

His hands shake and cold sweat drips from his forehead, but Tim closes his eyes and clenches his fists and thinks.

“How are you doing, Tim?” Dick asks.

“I’m fine.” Tim says, and it’s only mostly a lie.

Things Tim knows:

Conner

Probably around his age

Becomes Superman in that universe

Possibly related to Superman

Things Tim doesn’t know:

His full name

Good or evil?

Where he is

Does he exist in this universe?

Why haven’t they met yet?

Is he Superman’s son?

Where is he?

Why no one knows about him?

How can he find him?

Does he want to be found?

Does it matter?

Stephanie texts him once, u ok?

yeah, don’t worry, he text backs.

His phone doesn’t chime again.

The problem is that the list of things Tim knows is way too short compared with all the things he should but doesn’t.

Without at least a last name, he’s stuck.

Where does he even begin?

He gives up on looking up Conner. Instead, he downloads all files on Superman from the batcave after Bruce leaves for patrol.

Cassandra shows up one night, and Tim isn’t sure why he’s so surprised. She comes through the window, in the hours between night and not quite morning, and she gives him a sad, tired smile before joining him on the bed.

“Does it stop?” She asks quietly, “how you make it better?”

Tim has his computer on his lap, too many tabs open, and the screen hurts his eyes and it’s hard to make out anything more than her silhouette in the dark. He’s been reading files after files after files since five days ago, and he thinks he might be making some progress. The name Cadmus is highlighted in yellow ink.

He wonders why she’s asking him, of all people, this. Tim isn’t good at coping with shit. None of this is healthy, he knows.

But maybe, she doesn’t want healthy. Maybe she wants honest.

So Tim swallows around all the words choking on his throat, and says “it doesn’t.”

He lets her curl up and cry under the artificial light. When he wakes up later, she’s gone.

Cadmus.

It all comes back to Cadmus.

Tim hobbles down to the cave again, downloads more files. This time, the name Lex Luthor flashes on the screen.

Jason comes next.

He leans against the doorway, says, “you look like shit.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Tim keeps typing, he’s so close to hacking on LexCorps.

“And he speaks!” Jason smirks, but there’s not enough bite in his voice, and it leaves him on edge. Jason is chaos and fire and sharp edges, if he’s walking on eggshells, then- “listen, Replacement, Dick’s worrying.”

There it is.

His blood boils.

“Then tell him I’m fine,” he says, focusing on the screen and the code he needs to write, “you can go now, you already checked to see if I’m alive.”

Jason looks conflicted. Tim guesses he’s as uncomfortable in this situation as Tim. But he doesn’t leave, instead he digs around his pocket and throws him a key.

“165, Belmont Street.” Jason sighs, rubs his face tiredly, “if it gets too much. Tell anyone and you’re a dead bird.”

Tim hides the key in his sneaker under the bed. When he looks up, Jason nods, hands stuffed in his pocket. Tim doesn’t say thank you but he knows his brother gets it, and he’s surprised by the fierceness of gratitude and fondness that washes over him.

“Take care of yourself, Timbo,” Jason leaves.

Tim lets him, wordlessly.

Bruce is standing in the doorway. Tim knows, he had heard the stairs creaking under his weight and had just enough time to close his laptop and dive under the covers.

Neither says anything, and Tim isn’t naive enough to think he’s fooling him. Bruce knows he isn’t asleep.

But he says nothing, and doesn’t come in either. It’s late, he probably just came home from patrol. Tim can imagine the wariness cloaking him better than the cowl.

A sigh. Something that might have been his name.

Tim keeps his eyes closed, keeps on pretending.

The door closes with a soft click. The stairs creak.

His leg is healed and Tim is so close to cracking his mystery, but the world around him is spinning again.

The Trial of Batwoman.

A charade. An excuse. A lie.

But then again, he’s not sure what is or isn’t true anymore. Batgirl-

No. He should trust Bruce. Batman . He wouldn’t-

Tim wants to scream and tear this room apart. Instead he clenches his hands into fists until his nails dig into his skin and blood dots the sheets.

For the first time since Clayface, Tim feels so stretched out thin he fears he might snap.

He’s so tired of having the ground shifting under his foot.

After he escaped, Tim thought things could go back to normal, pick it up where he left off. But this world he came back to, it’s so different from before, he’s not sure where is his place in all this.

He feels misplaced.

So it’s easy, so easy , to focus on his search rather than map out a way back in this reality.

Tim searches for Conner and hopes to find himself.

“You were supposed to be resting.” Bruce. Batman says. “Not on a wild goose chase.”

“I need to know-”

“When is the last time you slept?”

“That’s not important,” Tim grits his teeth, tries a different approach, “imagine what it would mean for the Knights Project-”

“ Tim.”

Batman is trying, Tim can recognize that. But it’s too little, too late.

Especially when his blood is boiling and his foundations are crumbling again because it was all built on smoke and mirrors and how could he-

Tim thinks of the key hidden in a secret pocket on his utility belt and it feels like lead and burning iron on his hip, and he wants to punch Jason and he wants to hug him thank you.

He hops on his bike and speeds away.

Jason’s safehouse turns out to be an old warehouse near the docks, but to be fair, it’s furnished and well stocked enough to last for a good few months.

Thank god for Jason’s paranoia.

Tim drops down on the beat up couch, feeling the free fall from everything he knew. It makes his skin crawl and itch and buzz.

He knows Jason is bound to show up at some point, knows this place is probably bugged and tripwired, but he can’t begin to deal with this.

For now, Tim cries.

When he wakes up later, the sky is dark and there’s a warm pizza on the coffee table and ice cream on the back of the small refrigerator. A quick search around the warehouse and Tim finds some clothes that might fit him for the most part.

It’s easy to forget, but Jason is his older brother too. Dick’s not the only one that worries, he’s just the loudest about it.

Tim gets in the shower and lets the hot water wash over him, scrubs at his skin until it’s red and raw and hurting. The mirror slowly fogs over and the water runs hot, then lukewarm, then cold before he reaches for the towel.

He’s feeling a little more human by the time he sits back in the couch, hair dripping a puddle on the floor. The pizza has gone cold, but he doesn’t bother microwaving it, eats half of it without even realizing while some mindless talk show plays on the old TV.

There’s no clock anywhere Tim can see, so he has no idea how long has passed since he first got there when Jason comes through the door in full Red Hood gear, but the ice cream is already almost gone and the talk show has been replaced by an action movie with a too low budget for the kind of stunts they’re trying to pull.

Jason nods at him before climbing the stairs, two steps at a time, and disappearing inside one of the bedrooms. When he comes back down again, the helmet and armor has been replaced by sweatpants and a Wonder Woman T-shirt, and a blanket is bundled under his arm. Jason waits for Tim to make space for him on the couch before sitting down beside him. Tim hesitates for only a second, but stretches his legs over his brother’s lap as he lays the blanket over them both.

The credits are rolling in the screen and Tim is completely wrapped up in the soft fabric of the comforter when he finally speaks up, “Bruce is an asshole.”

Silence. Then, a snort, “tell me about it, kiddo.”

Tim snickers. And surprisingly, he tells him.

After the first night, Jason comes and goes randomly. Sometimes he shows up in the middle of the afternoon, arms full of groceries, and sometimes he comes in during the night and the only sign he was ever there at all are the blood stains in the couch and the bullets in the bathroom floor. Sometimes he stays for dinner and then breakfast, and sometimes he insists on cooking lunch. But his visits are scattered over the course of weeks, and Tim is grateful for the solitude.

It gives him time to pull himself together.

And pick up his research where he left off. In the five weeks he stays holed up in the warehouse, he finally narrows it down to an address.

Maybe Bruce has a point, he’s obsessing and refusing to face reality. But things have changed since he first started. This isn’t just about finding Conner anymore. It’s about Cadmus and Lex Luthor trying to clone Superman and getting it right. It’s about a version of Bizarro that doesn’t degenerates out of confinement. It’s about LexCorp creating and manipulating a weapon in masse.

It’s about a boy grown in a lab that might never have any choice at all.

After the utter failure with the Knights, Tim has a purpose again. Something to focus on and fight for. He’s helping people and feeling more like Red Robin than in all the time he spent scrambling to avoid all those what ifs.

He buys a ticket to Metropolis.

What Tim knows:

His name is Experiment 13, and he’s the most successful attempt to clone Superman Cadmus has managed so far. His DNA is half kryptonian and half human, although the human donor has not been listed in the files and Tim can’t find a trace anywhere.

He’s 19 weeks old and is being given implanted memories while undergoing an artificial maturation process. A few more weeks and he’ll match Superman’s age.

Cadmus’s plan is to build and manipulate him into carrying on their plans and defeating any threat Superman might pose.

Tonight Tim is setting him free.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going, Babybird?” Jason’s voice comes from the kitchen, “you seriously thought you could sneak out? Really?”

Of all the days Jason might want to check up on him. It’s just Tim’s luck, really.

“Don’t call me that,” Tim frowns, “and I’m going home. Not that I’m not grateful, but I figured I couldn’t hide here forever.”

Jason comes from the kitchen, dish towel hanging on his shoulder. “Man, that’s funny, you think you can lie to me.” He shakes his head, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, “you don’t have to tell me where you’re going, but you gotta tell somebody.”

“Since when you’re the responsible one here?” Tim glares.

“Since everyone else is busy being idiots,” Jason raises his an eyebrow, “is this about your sudden interest on Cadmus?”

“How the hell you know that?”

“Language,” he smirks, “please, this is my safehouse.”

That’s fair, Tim shrugs. This is a waste of time.

“I’m storming Cadmus in Metropolis,” Tim says, “do you want to help me blow shit up?”

In the end, Jason follows him to Metropolis with only mild complaining, but in Tim’s opinion that’s already more complaining than he’s entitled to, since he’s the one who inserted himself into this operation.

“Don’t you have teammates to bother?” Tim sighs, as he turns the security system offline, “I don’t know, really tall amazon? Looks perpetually grumpy? Or giant Superman clone? Ringing any bell? Really, they’re impossible to miss.”

“Nah,” Jason shrugs, working on disabling the cameras, “Artemis and Bizarro are having some good ol’ bonding time. She needs to chill.”

“To be fair,” Tim overrides the door locks; they’re good to go, “all of you need to chill. Come on, we’re clear.”

“Honestly, one month and you’re a little shit again,” he shakes his head, and Tim has the annoying sensation Jason is grinning under the helmet, “lead the way, Replacement.”

When they reach the actual labs, underneath all the facade Cadmus puts on for the world, Tim is horrified.

Experiment 13, and Tim forces himself not to think of him as Conner, because this is a real human being and not a ghost for him to chase, is submerged in a tank, hooked to a multitude of machines.

Jason fires another round outside. The sounds of the fight are getting louder, he doesn’t have much time, Jason can delay them for only so long.

Tim begins unplugging what he can, hoping he’s not doing more damage than good. The machines beep urgently, and the water level start to slowly come down. Tim watches as the boy in the tank takes his first breath.

It feels like he’s witnessing a miracle, something holy.

But there’s no time, as soon as he opens his eyes, Experiment 13 panics and Tim is fumbling to open the tank and outside Jason fires something that sounds suspiciously like a rocket launcher but Tim can’t deal with Jason’s bullshit right now.

The tank slides open, and the boy falls to the ground, tangled in wires and IV lines and coughing up water. He tries to tear it all out, and blood begins to stain his white suit, and Tim figures he needs to do something, but to be honest, when he had started looking for Conner, he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“Who are you?” Experiment 13 asks, voice hoarse and broken and stilted, “what- where-”

And he looks up with blue eyes confused and open and scared, and Tim aches , “I’m Red Robin, I’m here to rescue you. You-” He hesitates, unsure if that’s a promise he can keep, but decides to make anyway, “you’re going to be fine.”

Experiment 13 doesn’t look very convinced, and Tim braces himself for him to lash out, but the boy stumbles, tripping on the wires, and Jason is bursting through the doors, helmet a little cracked. “Yo, Red, we gotta go. Like, now. ”

Tim nods, rushing to help the boy stand up, feels his legs faltering, hesitant knees wobbling, and ends up throwing one arm over his shoulders and supporting most of his weight. “Hang on, we’re getting you out of here.”

“That,” Jason points to Experiment 13, as if he’s not using most of his strength to hold the door closed, “why you wanted to bust this place? Nice. ”

“Can we focus on how to get the hell out of here?”

Something pushes against the door from the outside and Jason grunts, throwing his weight to keep it closed. They need to find a way out, they should’ve known better than to let themselves be cornered like this, but Tim had been distracted by the excitement of finally, finally , getting to the end of this. And what’s the use? If they all die here because he couldn’t figure out an exit- oh man , Bruce is going to kill him if Jason dies again. Jason will probably hunt him in the afterlife and kill him again, too.

“Time’s running out, Red,” Jason grits his teeth. “Tick tock, use that big brain of yours-”

Before Tim can tell him to shut up , Experiment 13 whimpers, hands flying to his eyes, but it’s too late, he’s not fast enough, a beam of red laser shoots off, almost catches Jason’s helmet and burns a hole in the ceiling, causing half of it to collapse.

“That works too,” Jason doesn’t waste time gaping like Tim, instead he shoves both boys away, yells for them to just hurry the fuck up , and waits until they’re halfway up the next floor to fire his own grappling gun.

Dick would probably be so very proud.

As the three of them come to a stop in a rooftop in the other side of town, Tim sits down and breathes.

Tim isn’t stupid, he knows Superman and probably Batman will be here as soon as the situation in the Cadmus lab is dealt with, he’s actually surprised it’s taking them this long.

But he’s glad they have this moment to gather themselves, and when Jason says something about buying cigarettes and jumps down into the night, Tim lets him.

“I,” Experiment 13 starts, hesitating, “I don’t understand-”

He clutches his head, eyes squeezing closed as he begins to hyperventilate, so Tim rests a hand on his back, rubs circles soothingly, “it’s okay,” he repeats over and over, until the boy is breathing evenly again; then he asks, because he has to, “do you know who I am?”

“I’m,” his eyes glaze over, but he shakes his head to try and clear them, “Superman?”

Tim swallows. “Not exactly-”

“They- a clone?” He runs a hand over his hair, the tanks thick liquid sticking to his fingers along with the dust from the debris, “I heard- bits and pieces- they didn’t know I could- but I, I remember. ”

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, and he means it, “they are bad people, and they wanted to use you.”

“A weapon,” he nods, looking a little better, if still overwhelmed, “they called me their secret weapon.”

He spits the words out like poison, and Tim can understand. “You’re free now, you can choose for yourself.”

The boy looks up, and it’s almost a smile.

“What is the meaning of this?” Batman asks, “that building exploded , people could’ve been hurt, what were the two of you thinking?”

“We just want to understand,” Superman amends, but there’s a frown on his brow.

Jason shrugs, and Tim will give him this, he didn’t expected him to come back at all. “I think it’s pretty clear, old man.”

Batman twitches. Superman fights down a snicker. Tim facepalms. 13 looks confused.

“Cadmus was trying to find a way to clone Superman,” Tim steps in, “Bizarro wasn’t the last one like we thought back then. But after tonight, there’s no way they can pick up again. Not in the next decade.”

“What?” Superman starts, gaze landing on the boy standing behind Tim, “does that mean- did they succeed?”

Tim looks behind him, Experiment 13 nods. “Yes, mostly.” He steps back, nudging the boy forward gently, “this is him.”

Superman lands in front of him, eyes softening, “do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do.” Experiment 13 crosses his arms, glaring, “I’m not stupid.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, where even Jason seems uncomfortable, but then Superman laughs, rests a hand on the boy’s shoulders, “that’s fair. Sorry, do you have a name?”

The boy falters, and Tim feels his heart beating wildly on his chest, tries not to wonder , tells him instead, “it’s your choice, if you want. Whatever you decide, whoever you want to be.”

“Conner,” the boy says quietly, after a pause. Then stronger, certain, “ call me Conner .”

It’s no surprise that Conner leaves with Superman, Tim had expected, hoped , for that. But after they leave, the boy awkwardly holding on for the flight, it’s only Batman, him, and Jason standing on a rooftop, and that’s probably the most volatile combination.

“Red Robin,” Batman starts, stops himself. Starts again, “you look better.”

I was right , Tim wants to scream, you should’ve believed in me . Instead, he says, “I am better.”

“Nightwing is worried,” he continues, taking his answer as a white flag, “and so are the others.”

“You can tell them I’m fine.” Tim closes off. He wants this conversation to end, he wants Jason to shoot him now if only that would make it stop.

“What happened today,” and now Batman sounds wary, “you could’ve called, we would’ve helped.”

No, you wouldn’t. They would have dismissed him. Would tell him he needs rest in that voice that drips pity like acid on his skin.

“Yeah, well,” Jason is suddenly a part of the conversation again, resting his elbow in Tim’s head in the way he always does just to show he’s the tallest, “he did call the cavalry.”

Batman purses his lips. “Red Hood, while I appreciate you- helping your brothers, you should’ve called back up. The two of you- people could’ve been hurt.”

“Bats, and I say this with only mild intention to offend,” Jason continues, even after Tim shakes him off, “but you seriously need to chill.”

A pause, then Batman sighs, looking too tired to pick fights. “Make sure he sleeps, at least.”

And with that the Dark Knight is gone.

“Why do I feel like I just accepted to babysit his cat?” Jason frowns, “this is a trap, but I don’t know how yet.”

“Can we go home now?” Tim yawns, “and ‘sides I’m hungry.”

“Did he just trick me into getting custody of you?” Jaso stops, “wait, goddamnit, I want a lawyer!”

Later, after they ate a whole pizza and Jason stumbled upstairs to pass out on his bed, Tim lays on the beat up couch, wrapped in the softest blanket he could find. On the TV another action movie drawls on, and Tim finds himself lost again.

He spent all this time trying to find Conner, and now that he has, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

From what his alternate self had said, they would grow to be important to each other. But when? How? Would this even happen here, in this reality?

There’s a whole new future waiting for him, all these days laid down in front of him, and Tim is excited and exhilarated and scared.

While he doesn’t want to live out what the other Tim Drake told, running away, fighting against it, has only made it true.

Alternate Tim Drake had said after Batwoman, it was all downhill. And while he was right, the Knights Project is over, he was wrong, too. Because upstairs Jason is snoring lightly, even though he’ll deny it if Tim brings it up in the morning, and Batman is an asshole and it will still take some time, but all bridges can be rebuilt.

And somewhere in Kansas, there’s a boy named Conner learning how to live.

In the morning, Tim might call Dick. Check in with Cass. And maybe even with the Demon Brat.

This is not downhill, it’s not easy, but Tim never expected it to be; this is him, taking a day at a time and embracing whatever his future might hold.

It's like chasing a ghost, but Tim finds he can live with the unknown this time.

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #batman #timkon #detective comics #robin #red robin #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #rhato #batman fic #timkon fic #kon el #conner kent #there i fixed rebirth #and the detective comics last issue ending #bring kon back you cowards #give tim his boyfriend back

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whitelabelseoreseller · 5 years

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Kindness as Currency: How Good Deeds Can Benefit Your Local Business

Posted by MiriamEllis

“To receive everything, one must open one’s hands and give.” - Taisen Deshimaru, Buddhist philosopher

A woman stands in a busy supermarket checkout line. The shopper in front of her realizes that they don’t have enough money with them to cover their purchase, so she steps in and makes up the balance. Then, when she reaches the checkout, her own receipt totals up higher than she was expecting. She doesn’t have enough left in her purse.

“No problem,” says the young clerk and swipes his own debit card to pay for her groceries.

A bystander snaps a photo and posts the story to Facebook. The story ends up on local radio and TV news. Unstructured citations for the grocery store start crackling like popcorn. National news takes notice. A scholarship foundation presents a check to the clerk. When asked how he felt about it, the clerk said:

“Personally, I think it’s undeserved attention. Because she did something so good … I felt like it was my responsibility to return the favor.”

In the process, if only for a moment in time, an everyday supermarket is transformed into a rescue operation for hope in humanity. Through the lens of local SEO, it’s also a lesson in how good deeds can be rewarded by good mentions.

Studying business kindness can be a rewarding task for any motivated digital marketing agency or local brand owner. I hope this post will be both a pick-me-up for the day, and a rallying cry to begin having deeper conversations about the positive culture businesses can create in the communities they serve.

10+ evocative examples of business kindness

“We should love people and use things, but sadly, we love things and use people,” Roger Johnson, Artisan

As a youngster in the American workforce, I ran into some very peculiar styles of leadership.

For instance, one boss gruffly told me not to waste too much time chatting with the elderly customers who especially loved buying from me...as if customer support doesn’t make or break business reputations.

And then there was the cranky school secretary who reprimanded me for giving ice packs to children because she believed they were only “trying to get attention” … as if schools don’t exist to lavish focus on the kids in their care.

In other words, both individuals would have preferred me to be less kind, less human, than more so.

Perhaps it was these experiences of my superiors taking a miserly approach to workplace human kindness that inspired me to keep a little file of outbreaks of goodwill that earned online renown. These examples beg self-reflective questions of any local business owner:

If you launched your brand in the winter, would you have opened your doors while under construction to shelter and feed housing-insecure neighbors?

If a neighboring business was struggling, would you offer them floor space in your shop to help them survive?

Would your brand’s culture inspire an employee to cut up an elder’s ham for him if he needed help? How awesome would it be if a staffer of yours had a day named after her for her kindness? Would your employees comp a meal for a hungry neighbor or pay a customer’s $200 tab because they saw them hold open a door for a differently-abled guest?

What good things might happen in a community you serve if you started mailing out postcards promoting positivity?

What if you gave flowers to strangers, including moms, on Mother’s Day?

How deeply are you delving into the season of giving at the holidays? What if, like one business owner, you opened shop on Thanksgiving just to help a family find a gift for a foster child? You might wake up to international fame on Monday morning.

What if visitors to your community had their bikes stolen on a road trip and your shop gifted them new bikes and ended up on the news?

One business owner was so grateful for his community’s help in overcoming addiction, he’s been washing their signage for free. What has your community done for you and how have you thanked them?

What if all you had to do was something really small, like replacing negative “towed at your own expense” signs by welcoming quick stop parking?

What if you, just for a day, you asked customers to pay for their purchases with kind acts?

I only know about these stories because of the unstructured citations (online references to a local business) they generated. They earned online publicity, radio, and television press. The fame for some was small and local, for others, internationally viral. Some activities were planned, but many others took place on the spur of the moment. Kindness, empathy, and gratitude, flow through them all like a river of hope, inviting every business owner to catch the current in their own way. One easy way for local business owners to keep better track of any positive mentions is by managing and monitoring reviews online with the New Moz Local.

See your online presence

Can kindness be taught in the workplace?

In Demark, schoolchildren learn empathy as a class subject. The country is routinely rated as one of the happiest in the world. At Moz, we have the TAGFEE code, which includes both generosity and empathy, and our company offers internal workshops on things like “How to be TAGFEE when you disagree.” We are noted for the kindness of our customer support, as in the above review.

According to Stanford psychologist Jamil Zaki, people “catch” cooperation and generosity from others. In his study, the monetary amount donors gave to charity went up or down based on whether they were told their peers gave much or little. They matched the generosity or stinginess they witnessed. In part two of the study, the groups who had seen others donating generously went on to offer greater empathy in writing letters to penpals suffering hard times. In other words, kindness isn’t just contagious — its impact can spread across multiple activities.

Mercedes-Benz CEO, Stephen Cannon, wanted employees to catch the kindness bug because of its profound impact on sales. He invited his workforce to join a “grassroots movement” that resulted in surprising shoppers with birthday cakes, staff rushing to remote locations with spare tires, and other memorable consumer experiences. Cannon noted:

“There is no scientific process, no algorithm, to inspire a salesperson or a service person to do something extraordinary. The only way you get there is to educate people, excite them, incite them. Give them permission to rise to the occasion when the occasion to do something arises. This is not about following instructions. It’s about taking a leap of faith.”

In a 2018 article, I highlighted the reviews of a pharmacy that made it apparent that staff wasn’t empowered to do the simplest self-determined acts, like providing a chair for a sick man who was about to fall down in a long prescription counter line. By contrast, an Inc. book review of Jill Lublin’s The Profits of Kindness states:

“Organizations that trade in kindness allow their employees to give that currency away. If you're a waitress, can you give someone a free piece of pie because the kid at the next table spilled milk on their foot? If you're a clerk in a hotel, do you have the authority to give someone a discounted rate because you can tell they've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day?”

There may be no formula for teaching kindness, but if Zaki is right, then leadership can be the starting point of demonstrative empathy that can emanate through the staff and to its customers. How do you build for that?

A cared-for workforce for customer service excellence

You can find examples of individual employees behaving with radical kindness despite working for brands that routinely disregard workers’ basic needs. But, this hardly seems ideal. How much better to build a business on empathy and generosity so that cared-for staff can care for customers.

I ran a very quick Twitter poll to ask employees what their very most basic need is:

Unsurprisingly, the majority of respondents cited a living wage as their top requirement. Owners developing a kind workforce must ensure that staff are housing-and-food-secure, and can afford the basic dignities of life. Any brand that can’t pay its staff a living wage isn’t really operational — it’s exploitation.

Beyond the bare minimums, Mercer’s Global Talent Trends 2019 Survey of 7,300 executives, HR experts, and employees highlighted trending worker emphasis on:

Flexibility in both hours and location to create a healthy work/life balance

Ethics in company technology, practices, and transparency

Equity in pay ratios, regardless of gender

Empathy in the workplace, both internally and in having a positive societal impact with customers

It’s just not very hard to connect the dots between a workforce that has its basic and aspirational needs met, and one possessing the physical, mental and emotional health to extend those values to consumers. As I found in a recent study of my own, 70 percent of negative review resolution was driven by brands having to overcome bad/rude service with subsequent caring service.

Even at the smallest local business level, caring policies and initiatives that generate kindness are within reach, with Gallup reporting that SMBs have America’s happiest and most engaged workers. Check out Forbes list of the best small companies of 2019 and note the repeated emphasis on employee satisfaction.

Kindness as currency, with limitless growth potential

“I wanted a tangible item that could track acts of kindness. From that, the Butterfly Coin emerged.” Bruce Pedersen, Butterfly Coins

youtube

Maybe someday, you’ll be the lucky recipient of a Butterfly Coin, equipped with a unique tracking code, and gifted to you by someone doing a kind act. Then, you’ll do something nice for somebody and pass it on, recording your story amongst thousands of others around the world. People, it seems, are so eager for tokens of kindness that the first mint sold out almost immediately.

The butterfly effect (the inspiration for the name of these coins) in chaos theory holds that a small action can trigger multiple subsequent actions at a remove. In a local business setting, an owner could publicly reward an employee’s contributions, which could cause the employee to spread their extra happiness to twenty customers that day, which could cause those customers to be in a mood to tip waitstaff extra, which could cause the waitstaff to comp meals for hungry neighbors sitting on their doorsteps, and on and on it goes.

There’s an artisan in Gig Harbor, WA who rewards kindnesses via turtle figurines. There are local newspapers that solicit stories of kindness. There are towns that have inaugurated acts-of-kindness weeks. There is even a suburb in Phoenix, AZ that re-dubbed itself Kindness, USA. (I mentioned, I’ve been keeping a file).

The most priceless aspect of kindness is that it’s virtually limitless. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be quantified. The Butterfly Coin idea is attempting to track kindness, and as a local business owner, you have a practical means of parsing it, too. It will turn up in unstructured citations, reviews, and social media, if you originate it at the leadership level, and share it out from employee to customer with an open hand.

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theinjectlikes2 · 5 years