Hello My Dears! I, Asmaa, Are Asking You To Support My Campaign To Help Me Reach My Goal. I Am Now In

Hello my dears! I, Asmaa, are asking you to support my campaign to help me reach my goal.🙏 I am now in desperate need of your support to help me stay alive and safe. Gaza is a very dangerous place, both in terms of living standards and souls. I need your financial support so that I can obtain the basic needs of my family until the Rafah crossing is reopened to transport my family to safety and peace. Please help a family survive through your small donations or through your shares to others. Thank you very much for standing by those in need. The campaign is going very slowly. Campaign link: 🙏🍉💔https://www.gofundme.com/f/8wewmz-help-asmaa-to-continue-school-outside-of-gaza

Please everyone who has the ability to help please do!

i. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Mild sexual jokes, Making out, Blood, Explosions, Mentions of Child Abuse, Good Aunt-Mom Selina Kyle AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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“Uh, good morning?” you offered weakly, trying to give a casual shrug despite the mess around you. “Mom, this might sound insane. But, I think I might have accidentally discovered superpowers.”

Selina stared at you, blinking slowly as she processed the scene before her. Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hold back a laugh or perhaps some form of disbelief.

“Accidentally discovered superpowers?” she echoed. “I think you've been around your boyfriend and his family too much. Baby—”

Before she could finish, your hand instinctively reached out. With a flick of your wrist, a web shot from your fingers and latched onto the door behind her. In a heartbeat, the door was yanked from its hinges, splintering as it flew across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud.

Selina’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the now doorless doorway. She blinked at the empty space where the door had once been.

“Well,” she said, “I guess that’s one way to explain things.”

༻⊰───⋅

SELINA'S DEFT FINGERS SLID over the fabric of the dress, adjusting and smoothing it until it hugged your figure perfectly. The elegant emerald gown shimmered under the dim lights of the apartment, the material soft and luxurious against your skin.

"You didn’t steal this, did you?" you murmur, adjusting the necklace resting delicately around your neck. "I’d rather not end up in jail tonight."

"The dress? No, it's one of my old ones," Selina scoffed, turning away. She handed you a pair of black heels. "But if anyone asks about the necklace, just say it's a family heirloom. Which, technically, it is."

You shot her a pointed look, and she rolled her eyes with a smirk.

"Oh, hush. I haven’t stolen anything in… at least a month," she drawled.

"A month, wow! That’s a new record," you teased, slipping into the heels.

Selina laughed, shaking her head. "Don’t get too comfortable. Just because I’m on a hiatus doesn’t mean I’ve gone straight."

"Well, let’s hope your hiatus lasts at least through tonight," you winced. 

She smirked, giving you a once-over. "Trust me, darling, tonight is all about you."

"Oh! Before I forget…" Selina brightened, moving swiftly to one of her drawers. She retrieved a thigh strap and fastened it securely onto your leg. With nimble hands, she slid a blade into the strap. You rolled your eyes but accepted the gesture with a resigned nod. It was Gotham, after all—being prepared was always a need.

“Damian will be with me the whole night,” you said, trying to reassure her. “You don’t have to worry that much.”

Selina paused, her hands on the thigh strap, and gave you a serious look. “Sweetheart, I worry about you every single second of the day. It’s not that I don’t trust Damian—he’s capable. But it’s Gotham I don’t trust. And wherever those Bats go, trouble tends to follow.”

"Okay, Mom," you said, offering a reassuring smile as you squeezed her hand. "I get it. Thanks for looking out."

Selina Kyle might not be your biological mother, but she’s never cared about that. She’s been your mom since she found you that day by her door, carried by a social worker, alone so many years ago. 

To her, you’re her kid.

And to you, Selina was more than just your biological aunt; she was the person who had stepped in when your world fell apart.

Selina and her sister, Maggie, had been born into a troubled family. Their father was an abusive alcoholic, and their mother, Maria, was emotionally distant. After their mother’s death, the sisters were separated. Maggie was adopted by a loving family and built a stable, happy life. Selina, however, was thrown into the harsh hands of Gotham’s orphanage system. Those dark streets and hard knocks eventually shaped her into Catwoman.

But the past has a way of catching up. Maggie, living a seemingly charmed life, was targeted by Catwoman's enemies. Black Mask, in a ruthless bid for revenge, orchestrated a brutal attack. Maggie was kidnapped, tortured, and left for dead. Her husband didn’t survive the onslaught either.

Maggie had a daughter—barely a toddler. Too young, too innocent to be left on her own in such a cruel world. With no other family to turn to, Selina took you in, vowing to protect you from a world that had already taken so much from both of you.

Her life wasn’t easy. She was young, barely in her twenties, struggling to make ends meet in one of Gotham’s most unforgiving neighborhoods. The jobs she managed to get were barely enough to cover rent, let alone the needs of a growing child. Selina’s nights were spent planning heists and navigating the criminal underworld—not out of greed, but out of necessity. She used her skills as Catwoman not just to survive, but to provide for you, making sure you had a roof over your head and food on the table.

You eventually discovered the truth about her double life. As a child, you had been so smart and perceptive, piecing together clues about the mysterious disappearances and the high-end items that seemed to show up around the house. When you confronted her, your heartbroken tears and questions about right and wrong were met with a mix of regret and sorrow in her eyes. It wasn’t easy for either of you.

But through it all, she provided a sense of stability and love that helped you turn out alright.

Selina's hand slid across her vanity as she reached for a sleek black clutch resting on a nearby table. With a theatrical flourish, she presented it to you. You took the clutch with a smile and stepped back, a playful twirl sending the emerald fabric of your gown into a graceful dance.

“How do I look?” you asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice as you posed.

Selina’s serious expression softened instantly. Her eyes roamed over your outfit, from the delicate neckline of the dress to the perfect fit around your waist and the way the gown flowed gracefully to the floor.

“You look amazing, sweetheart,” she purred, her voice full of warmth and approval. “You’re going to knock the whole school off their feet. Damian’s going to need a crowbar to keep the other guys away.”

Selina reached out to adjust the straps on your dress, ensuring everything was perfectly in place. Her fingers then moved to a stray strand of hair, brushing lightly against your cheek with a gentle touch.

“Just remember, darling,” she spoke slowly, “it never hurts to stay safe.”

Your eyes widened as you caught the hint of her meaning. “You’re not suggesting I—”

"I was at that age," She cut you off with a mock-serious tone, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m just saying you should be prepared. Especially with the way that boy looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Make sure he wraps something else too.”

You felt a flush of embarrassment rising to your cheeks. You fumbled with the clutch in your hand, trying to divert your attention from her teasing. “Mom! What the hell?! I think that’s enough advice for one night!”

Just as Selina was about to respond, a sharp car horn beeped from outside. Both of you turned towards the window. A sleek black sports car, glistening in the dim streetlight, stood out starkly against the gritty backdrop of your neighborhood. It looked painfully out of place among the surrounding dilapidated buildings.

Selina’s smirk returned as she looked back at you.

“Looks like your chariot awaits,” she said, hands sliding up your shoulders as she pushed you to the door. “Remember, have fun, but stay sharp. Gotham’s never as quiet as it seems.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “Got it. Thanks.”

With a final reassuring smile, you stepped out of the apartment and made your way down the stairs. As you reached the bottom, you saw Damian waiting by his Porsche, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He was dressed impeccably in a deep black suit with an emerald button-up shirt underneath, which perfectly matched the striking color of his eyes and your dress. A sleek black tie completed the ensemble, matching his fitted gloves. His hair was slicked back with gel, each strand perfectly in place, emphasizing his sharp features.

Damian's gaze softened as he saw you approaching, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. 

“Beloved,” he greeted, extending a hand to you. “You look stunning.”

“Hi, handsome,” you replied, taking his hand and moving forward to press a gentle kiss against his lips. Damian responded with a soft hum, tilting his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make the moment linger.

Just as you were about to lose yourself completely, Selina’s voice rang out, cutting through the night air. “Save some of that romance for later! We don’t want you to be late!”

Damian pulled away from you so abruptly that it almost seemed like he’d suffered whiplash. His face turned an uneven shade of red, a mix of embarrassment and irritation evident. He shot a sidelong glance at Selina before his eyes darted back to you.

Damian cleared his throat, his usual composure momentarily slipping. “Right,” he said, his voice strained. “Let’s… get going.”

He moved swiftly to open the car door for you, his lips twitching into a grimace. As you slid into the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the abrupt change in his demeanor. Damian was always somewhat awkward around Selina. His feelings about Catwoman were conflicted, yet he maintained a deep respect for her as your mother.

Once he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car roared to life with a smooth, powerful purr. The sleek vehicle glided down the streets with impressive speed, Damian navigating through traffic with a confidence that bordered on recklessness. You couldn't help but recall the first time he’d taken you for a drive, when his aggressive maneuvering had left you clutching at the seat, your heart racing like you were in an ambulance on a high-speed chase. This time, though, you've long gotten used to the feeling.

The ride was brief but exhilarating, and soon the car pulled into the school’s parking lot. Sleek cars and limousines lined the lot, each more extravagant than the last. Students and their dates, dressed in formal wear, were mingling and laughing as they headed towards the entrance. As you stepped out of the Porsche, the cool night air greeted you, carrying the scent of fresh flowers and the faint strains of classical music drifting from inside. Damian drew you close, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked toward the entrance together.

The sprawling campus was illuminated by an array of twinkling lights, casting a warm, golden glow over the manicured lawns and historic stone buildings. The ballroom was stunningly elegant. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting colorful reflections onto the polished marble floor. Tables dressed in white linens, adorned with fresh roses and flickering candles, lined the room. The dance floor gleamed with couples already swaying to the soft music of a live orchestra.

The atmosphere was just screaming old money, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Gotham. 

Gotham Academy was one hell of a school, and you already knew that. It was a breeding ground for rich fucks, each one more insufferable than the last. The halls echoed with the chatter of kids who had everything handed to them, their lives a far cry from yours. The only reason you’d managed to slip through those gilded gates was thanks to the Martha-Wayne scholarship. Without it, you’d still be stuck in the middle of nowhere with your mother, scraping by on whatever scraps you could find.

“Habibti, are you going to keep staring at the floor? Or may I have the honor of requesting a dance?”

You looked up, meeting Damian’s eyes with a playful glare. “I don’t know… this is a really interesting floor.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, really? I didn’t realize the floor had such a captivating allure.”

You crossed your arms, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, it’s not every day you get to appreciate the fine craftsmanship of marble. Plus… we gotta keep our thing going, you know? I can't give in that easily.”

“Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but want each other carnally?”

"What?" Damian snapped, cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his brows furrowing at you. "What nonsense—"

His hands, typically so composed, were now slightly tense as he pulled you along and guided you onto the dance floor. The music around you pulsed with an upbeat rhythm, couples spinning in slow dances.

“You never miss an opportunity to mortify me, do you?” Damian scolded.

You laughed softly, your body swaying gracefully with his as the music surrounded you. “I think I just enjoy keeping you on your toes. It adds a touch of excitement.”

Damian’s lips curved into a wry smile despite his grumbling. “Indeed, you’ve inherited Catwoman's knack for keeping things lively.”

You grin. The rich, velvety fabric of your dress brushed against Damian’s suit as you moved together. “Yeah. Once she retires, I could always take up the mantle of the next Catwoman.”

Damian’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of mild exasperation. “Please do not. I fear what will become of you then."

“Why not?” you batted your lashes at him coyly. "Does the thought of me in a skin-tight suit not delight you, beloved?"

Damian made a noncommittal sound, his ears tinged with red as he averted his gaze.

“I would not… be entirely opposed to that idea,” he muttered.

Grinning, you purred, your hand gliding gently up his jaw, letting your touch linger just enough to be felt. A glimmer of mischief sparkled in the crystalline depths of his jade-green eyes. Damian’s grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing into a mock glare that barely masked the warmth in his gaze.

He guided you into a slow dance, his movements smooth and assured, reminiscent of that one late night in the kitchen of his manor. The memory of swaying together in the dark, with only the soft glow of the moon from the windows and music playing from the speakers of his phone, flashed in your mind.

It was moments like these that peeled away his usual brooding demeanor. In the soft glow of the ballroom lights, the tender, affectionate side of him came out—a side that offered you a special kind of attention, one that made every shared glance and touch feel uniquely intimate.

“This profound, almost maddening attraction I have for you makes me want to stab myself,” Damian confessed, his voice a low murmur that cut through the ambient hum of the party. As he spun you both gracefully, the fabric of your dress flared out around his ankles. 

He held you closer, his fingers pressing into your waist as you moved together in perfect harmony

“Yet, despite it all,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, “I find myself yearning for more.”

“Wow, you certainly have a way with words,” you said, your smile radiant and your eyes gleaming with a playful spark. “Admit it—you love every moment of it, don’t you?”

Damian’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his tone light but laced with an undeniable charm. He pulled you back into his embrace with practiced ease. As he guided you across the floor, the world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of soft music and swirling colors.

Damian’s gaze, however, was sharp and vigilant. “I don’t like how they’re staring at you,” he murmured, his green eyes narrowing as they scanned the crowd. His voice held a familiar edge. “Perhaps they need a reminder of whom you belong to.”

"Damian, no—"

Before you could protest, Damian leaned in, closing the distance between you with a smooth turn of his head. The kiss was tender yet heated, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip. 

Anyone who glanced your way could see Damian Wayne with his lips pressed against yours. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this—there was that incident when you both landed in detention because he couldn’t keep his hands off you by your locker.

You whined softly, trying to pull away, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips in a delicate, glistening thread. “We’re in public—”

“Shut up,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough yet tender, before diving back in. The breath you had been holding escaped in a slow, shuddering sigh, mingling with his as he drew you closer, his hands firmly cupping your hips.

His kiss deepened, a passionate exploration that left no room for hesitation. His tongue slid into your mouth, wet and hot, as if he were trying to devour every last sweet sound you made. Damian’s hands trembled slightly, betraying the depth of his own emotions as you clung tightly to his tie. Finally, you both parted, breathless and flushed.

Damian and you locked eyes, his expression unreadable until a shit-eating grin slowly spread across his face.

"I hate you so much," you scowled. "In public?! Again?!"

"Beloved, just look around," he scoffed, motioning toward the prom scene.

Teenagers were kissing without a second thought, and none of the teachers seemed inclined to intervene—after all, they'd been paid enough to turn a blind eye. You wouldn't be surprised if that was why some of the teachers even went to the effort of chaperoning.

"No one's paying us any mind. Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "I like reminding everyone that you're mine."

“The day we made it official, every paper seemed to be all about me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I think they’ve figured it out.” You couldn't help but let a small, playful smile tug at your lips. “You’re impossible, Damian Wayne.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he used your own words against you. “And you love every moment of it, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, he tilted your chin up, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “Let them see. They’ll just have to get used to the sight.”

The kiss was softer this time, more tender and deliberate as you swayed against him, savoring the moment.

Then, without warning, the serenity was shattered by a deafening explosion. The sound of shattering glass and a violent burst of energy ripped through the ballroom. The room was plunged into chaos. Crystal chandeliers swayed violently from the ceiling, their light flickering erratically as debris rained down. Guests screamed, their frantic movements a blur as they scrambled for cover.

Damian’s reflexes kicked in instantly. He broke away and yanked you closer, shielding you with his body. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping tightly around his torso as you buried your face into his neck. His eyes darted across the room, scanning for the source of the threat, every muscle tensed and alert.

From the smoke emerged a middle-aged man, suspended in the air by his mechanical arms—sleek, metallic, and bristling with a variety of intimidating gadgets. The arms whirred and slashed through the air with deadly force, carving through the walls and sending more chunks of debris down.

“You think you can just throw away everything I’ve built?” the man roared. “This school, this place, it’s all been a mockery of my work, my life! I’ve sacrificed everything for this and you’ve repaid me with nothing but scorn!”

Damian cursed under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he tapped an emergency button on his wrist. The signal to the Batcomputer blazed through the network, alerting Batman to the crisis unfolding in the ballroom. Without missing a beat, Damian enveloped you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly as he maneuvered through the chaos.

The two of you darted out of the ballroom, the once-grand entrance now marred by the chaos. Damian carried you swiftly through the building's hallways, the sound of distant alarms and the echoes of your hurried footsteps reverberating through the empty corridors. The moment you reached a safer location, he paused briefly, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any further threats, his grip on you firm but reassuring.

“I’ll be okay,” you said as he put you down. Panting, you gripped his gloved hands in yours, squeezing them lightly. “Do—do you have your suit?”

“It’s in the car,” Damian grumbled, frustration evident in his voice as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ll stay here and start helping with evacuations,” you said swiftly, already moving to slip out of your heels, the shoes clacking against the floor.

Damian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, shaking your head firmly.

“No,” you said firmly, your scowl sharpening. “None of this again. I make my own decisions.”

Damian’s expression hardened, his concern evident despite his frustration. “You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not supposed to be in harm’s way.”

"It's just evacuations. I’m not going to be fighting," you met his gaze as you stood up straight again. “And I’m not going to stand by while others are in danger.”

Damian hesitated, clearly torn. “Fine,” he said begrudgingly, “but stay hidden and keep away from the villain.”

With a nod and a quick, reassuring kiss, you turned and plunged back into the chaos. The corridors were now a frenzy of frantic students and faculty, desperately trying to evacuate.

Damian shot you one last, intense look before sprinting back toward the parking lot.

You slipped back into the ballroom, your heart pounding. Through the swirling smoke and shattered remnants of the once-elegant room, you spotted a girl pinned beneath a toppled table, her muffled cries barely audible. Bundling your dress in your hands, you rushed over.

“Come on! We need to get out of here!” you urged, pushing through the debris and wrestling with the heavy wood. Once she was free, you helped her to her feet. She stumbled slightly, but you steadied her with a firm, reassuring grip.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Everyone’s heading for the exits. We need to move quickly,” you replied, guiding her toward the nearest emergency exit. The sounds of the villain’s rampage echoed through the room, punctuated by the distant wail of sirens.

Once the girl was able to get back on her feet and run on her own, you rushed to assist another group, directing them towards the exits and making sure they stayed calm.

There was a sudden, sharp slice, and you turned your gaze back toward the ballroom. Damian had reappeared, now clad in his Robin suit. The clash of his sword against the villain’s mechanical arms echoed through the room, each strike a precise blur of red and black.

As you watched, a figure huddled in the far corner caught your eye. The student, paralyzed with fear, was frozen in place, eyes wide and fixed on the chaos.

Without a second thought, you sprinted back into the fray, deftly weaving through debris and toppled tables. Reaching the student, you crouched beside them and placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Alright? We’re going to get through this, but you need to move—now!” you urged, your voice firm yet reassuring.

The student’s terrified eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope as they slowly began to rise with your help. You grunted, slipping your arms beneath their shoulders and lifting them to their feet.

"Keep moving!" you urged, guiding them toward the doors. As you pulled them along, you felt a peculiar tingling sensation creeping up your leg.

Unbeknownst to you, the prickling came from a small spider, glowing an eerie green. Its tiny, pulsating body was nearly hidden against your emerald dress. Oblivious to its presence, you continued leading the student toward the safer part of the ballroom, focused on ensuring their escape.

The spider’s glow grew more intense as it crawled up your arm. Just as you pushed the student to safety, it sank its fangs deep into your skin. A piercing scream escaped your lips as searing pain surged through your body. You instinctively slapped at your bicep, nails digging into the skin.

Damian’s head snapped in your direction, his eyes widening in alarm. In his distraction, the villain took advantage of the moment, slamming a mechanical arm into Damian’s side and flinging him into the air. The impact sent Damian crashing into the wall with a grunt, the force of the blow causing him to crumple momentarily.

The spider’s venom surged through your veins, bringing with it a searing, unbearable pain. Your vision swirled, dark spots dancing at the edges as you collapsed to the floor. Struggling to stay conscious, you crawled toward a nearby pillar, clutching your arm where the spider had bitten you. 

Through the haze of pain and fog, you saw the villain's figure looming closer, advancing with a menacing snarl. His mechanical arms whirred ominously, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light as they reached for you. It was the last thing you saw before darkness claimed you.

"Get away from her!"

Damian's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fierce anger. Ignoring the throbbing in his side, he propelled himself forward with a roar, his sword cutting through the air with lethal precision. The blade met the villain's mechanical arm with a thunderous clang, a spray of electricity erupting from the impact. The force of the blow staggered the villain momentarily, his mechanical limbs jerking erratically as sparks flew from the damaged joint.

Damian slid across the debris-strewn floor, coming to a stop with a practiced skid on his knees. He positioned himself between you and the threat, his katana poised in a defensive stance. 

“Is this all you’ve got?” Damian spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “A pathetic tantrum because your grandiose plans fell apart? You’re nothing more than a washed-up has-been clinging to your failures.”

“You think you know what it’s like to sacrifice everything? To watch your life's work crumble? You have no idea what I’ve lost! My research was going to change the world!”

The villain’s mechanical arms flared up in response, their whirring growing louder as he prepared to strike again. Just as an arm was about to land, the piercing whir of a batarang sliced through the air. It struck the villain’s mechanical arm with precision, a bright explosion erupting from the impact. Damian grunted as he braced himself, holding firm against the shockwave. The villain recoiled in surprise, momentarily disoriented by the sudden blast.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in darkness. The lights flickered and died, plunging the space into a pitch-black void. Shadows danced along the walls, punctuated by loud bangs and the crackling of debris.

Through the darkness, Batman emerged, his imposing figure cutting through the shadows. The sound of his cape rustling was almost like a herald of doom as he got into a fighting stance.

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was a low, commanding growl, “take the girl. I’ll handle it from here.”

Damian wasted no time, swiftly scooping you into his arms. The icy chill of your skin against his own drove a spear of terror through him. He pushed aside the panic clawing at him, focusing instead on keeping you as stable as possible despite how limp you felt in his arms.

He sprinted out of the ballroom, skidding into the hallway with pants. 

He ran. Faster and faster. His breath came in ragged gasps. The entrance was ahead. He could see it.

Slamming through the doors, he barreled into the open air. The parking lot sprawled before him. Parents were screaming. Kids were crying. Ambulances flashed, their lights a blur.

Outside, he spotted a group of paramedics. Without hesitation, Damian handed you over to them, his hands trembling slightly as he gently laid you down on a gurney.

“She’s unresponsive,” he said urgently. “Pale skin, cold to the touch. Vital signs are unknown. She needs immediate attention.”

As he spoke, Selina rushed over, her fur coat billowing around her with each rapid step. 

She bent down to your level, her breath visible in the cool night air as she placed a trembling hand on your forehead. Her fingers were warm against your icy skin, and she winced at the clammy coldness that met her touch. Her brow furrowed deeply, her eyes narrowing as she assessed your pallor.

“What happened?” she asked. The usual confidence in her gaze was replaced by a deep, unsettling worry.

"We think she's in shock," one paramedic concluded after a quick assessment. "We’ll get her stabilized and see if there’s anything more to address."

Selina gave a brief nod to the paramedics, then turned to Damian. “Go,” she urged him. “I’ve got this under control. Go take down that bastard and make him pay for what he did.”

Damian hesitated for a heartbeat, his gaze lingering on you. Every muscle in his body screamed to stay, but there was still a threat that left no room for hesitation. He nodded and without another word, turned and sprinted back toward the building. His cape flared out behind him, a dark streak against the night sky.

Selina's eyes followed Damian's retreating figure momentarily before refocusing on the paramedics. She watched them with sharp eyes, taking in every action and every word. Her hand never left your forehead, each pass of her thumb trying to provide comfort that her heart couldn’t.

As you began to regain your bearings, the haze of unconsciousness lifting, you slowly became aware of your surroundings. Wincing, you raised a hand to your arm. The pain from the bite had receded and there was no scar, leaving only a dull ache. Was that just a dream?

Before you could think about it anymore, your aunt's face was already in your peripheral. 

Selina's voice caught in her throat as your eyes began to flutter open. Her grip on your hand tightened involuntarily, a mix of relief and worry playing across her features.

"Hey, there," she said softly. "You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart."

You stared at her in confusion, shivering from the biting cold. Selina’s eyes softened and she quickly moved to remove her coat. With a flick of her hands, she draped the fur around your shoulders, its warmth a stark relief against the icy chill of your skin.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, the words more for her own reassurance than yours. 

The night was supposed to be a celebration, a rite of passage, a milestone to cherish. Instead, it had turned into yet another harsh lesson about the brutal nature of Gotham’s streets. God, this city was shit. She pushed those feelings aside for the moment, knowing that the priority was to get you home and into dry clothes.

"How are you feeling?" Selina asked softly, her fingers tracing a path along your cheek as if trying to reassure herself that you were truly okay. Her brow furrowed deeply as she took in your still-pale complexion and shaky breaths.

You groaned softly, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping open again.

“Dizzy,” you mumbled, your voice weak and wavering. As you attempted to sit up, a wave of disorientation washed over you, and hands quickly pressed you back down. “Damian—where—”

“Whoa, easy there,” Selina said with a calming urgency. Her hands were firm but gentle on your shoulders, guiding you back onto the gurney. “Don’t strain yourself. The paramedics said you’re in shock. You need to stay still for now.”

“And Damian is… with his father,” Selina said, her voice trailing off as she glanced at you, making her meaning clear. She turned to the paramedics with a decisive nod.

“Is there a chance I could take her home?” she asked.

The paramedic, a no-nonsense woman named Helen, gave Selina a critical once-over before looking down at you.

"Well, she's stable enough for transport, and we've done the basic stabilizing procedures. But she's still in shock, and it could be risky to move her too quickly. Are you sure you can handle her?" Helen asked.

"She's my kid. I’ve dealt with worse, believe me," Selina replied, a hint of her usual confident tone seeping in once again.

Helen nodded, accepting Selina's assurance, but her voice remained stern. "She'll need monitoring for the next 24-48 hours. Light meals, plenty of rest. And no strenuous activity. She should see a doctor as soon as possible, though."

Selina's fingers idly traced patterns on the back of your hand as she listened intently to Helen's instructions, her eyes never leaving yours, silently reassuring you.

"I'll make sure all of that’s taken care of. Thank you," Selina said, her voice sincere for once. Helen gave a nod, seemingly satisfied with Selina's response. She handed Selina a card with basic instructions and a phone number to call if any complications flared up.

Despite your reluctance to leave while Damian was still knee-deep in the battle, your hazy mind and Selina's insistence eventually led to you being pushed into the back of your aunt's sleek convertible.

The drive was a blur of city lights and concerned glances from Selina. You leaned back, your head resting against the cool leather of the seat, feeling the gentle hum of the engine beneath you. 

"Don't worry," Selina murmured, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to check on you. "Damian can handle himself. And the Bat will make sure he's safe. You rest. I'll tell you if anything happens to him."

You nodded weakly, closing your eyes and trusting her words as the city sped by, a blur of neon and shadow. Despite the dull ache at your neck, the exhaustion finally took over, and you slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You woke up the next day to a persistent, dull throbbing in your arm. The pain was sharp, a relentless pulsing that seemed to echo through your entire body. It jolted you from sleep, your eyelids fluttering open to the soft, golden glow of early morning light filtering through the curtains. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city waking up outside.

You tried to shake off the fog of sleep, but the pain in your arm was impossible to ignore. With a groan, you reached out to silence the blaring alarm clock, but as you swung your arm towards it, something unexpected happened.

The clock, along with the wooden table it rested on, broke beneath your touch. Your hand slammed through the table, splintering the wood into fragments that scattered across the floor. Startled, you yanked your arm back, staring in disbelief at the destruction.

“What the—?” you muttered, your voice trailing off as you inspected your hand. It appeared normal, but the sensations were far from ordinary. The pain in your arm had faded, replaced by an unsettling, unfamiliar tingling that radiated from within.

Carefully, you climbed out of bed, your gaze sweeping over the debris that littered the floor. The unexpected surge of energy was disorienting, but before you could process it further, a sudden, sharp tingle ran through your arm. Instinctively, you snapped your head to the side, your hand darting out to catch a fly that had buzzed too close.

To your shock, your fingers closed around the tiny insect with a reflex you didn’t know you possessed. You stared at the fly, trapped gently between your fingers. Carefully, you opened your hand and let the fly go. 

It darted away, disappearing into the room. 

“Okay… That was new,” you muttered, shaking your head as if trying to clear away the confusion.

The tingling in your arm surged back, sharper and more insistent this time. You winced, the sensation both foreign and unsettling. Instinctively, you extended your hand, watching with growing confusion.

Your fingers curled involuntarily and suddenly, a web shot out from your wrist. It glistened with a strange sheen as it snaked through the air, before firmly anchoring itself to the wall in front of you. The webbing glistened in the morning light, stretching and sticking with a consistency that seemed almost organic.

“Holly shit,” you muttered, your voice barely more than a whisper. You approached the wall, eyes fixed on the webbing with a mix of awe and confusion. Hesitantly, you reached out and tugged on it, testing its strength. The webbing held firm.

You tried to pull it away, but it stayed stubbornly in place. Grunting, you pressed a foot against the wall for leverage and yanked harder. The webbing resisted with surprising strength, and a series of warning cracks echoed before a chunk of concrete broke away, crumbling under the strain.

The sudden release sent you stumbling backward. You lost your balance and fell hard onto the floor with a sharp gasp. For a moment, you lay sprawled across the hardwood, catching your breath.

When you finally moved to stand, you continued experimenting. Aiming your hand at different parts of the room, you sent out another web. This time, it shot out with precision, latching onto a nearby lamp. You pulled the web back, drawing the lamp toward you.

Taking a deep breath to calm your racing thoughts, you slowly retracted the web. As it drew back, the strands dissolved into nothing, leaving no trace of their presence.

There was a sudden tingle, and you perked up. The sensation was almost electric, a ripple of anticipation that seemed to focus on your bedroom door. As you turned toward it, the door swung open and Selina stepped in, dressed in her pajamas.

"What's with the noise…?"

She trailed off and froze in the doorway, her eyes widening as they took in the chaos of the room. Broken wood and scattered debris covered the floor, interspersed with strands of glistening webbing clinging to the walls and lamp.

“Oh,” Selina murmured in surprise. She stepped cautiously over a particularly large piece of broken wood, her eyes darting around the room. Her gaze lingered on the webs, her brow furrowing as she raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Uh, good morning?” you offered weakly, trying to give a casual shrug despite the mess around you. “Mom, this might sound insane. But, I think I might have accidentally discovered superpowers.”

Selina stared at you, blinking slowly as she processed the scene before her. Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hold back a laugh or perhaps some form of disbelief.

“Accidentally discovered superpowers?” she echoed. “I think you've been around your boyfriend and his family too much. Baby—”

Before she could finish, your hand instinctively reached out. With a flick of your wrist, a web shot from your fingers and latched onto the door behind her. In a heartbeat, the door was yanked from its hinges, splintering as it flew across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud.

Selina’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the now doorless doorway. She blinked at the empty space where the door had once been.

“Well,” she said, “I guess that’s one way to explain things.”

You stood there, face heating up as you tried to pull your hand back. “Y-Yeah, I think I need to work on my control.”

Selina shook her head, a frown on her lips. “Okay. First… Let’s get this mess cleaned up before the landlord starts asking questions. And maybe—just maybe—try not to redecorate the whole apartment with your… spider silk.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

A warm mug of coffee was placed in your hands as Selina settled beside you. You took a sip, but your knee continued to bounce in an anxious rhythm. She had called the school earlier to inform them that you would be taking it easy for the week, citing sickness as the reason.

You cast a glance at the puncture marks on your wrists with a mix of disgust and unease.

Oh, you felt sick alright.

"Alright," Selina said, taking a sip from her own coffee mug and setting it down with a clink. "We need to figure out what’s going on and how to handle it. The sooner we get a grasp on this, the better."

You nodded absentmindedly, flexing your fingers around your mug.

Selina sat with a laptop positioned between the two of you, its screen a chaotic mosaic of open newspaper articles and news websites. Humming softly to herself, she clicked through the pages, her eyes darting across headlines and images. The rhythmic clatter of her clicks was punctuated by occasional pauses as she focused on key details.

“Am I a meta?” you blurted out, staring at your reflection in the dark liquid of your coffee.

"Well," Selina began, her tone measured, "based on what we've seen so far, you're likely displaying meta-human traits. Though," she added with a wry smile, "I'm pretty sure I’m human despite the whole cat shtick. Same goes for your mother. Your father…well, that’s a different story."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by that?"

"Secretive guy. Kind of insane," Selina murmured to herself. "He did genetics research—"

She paused.

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice trailing off as she seemed to piece together something significant. "Your father was involved in genetics research…"

Selina licked her lips before grumbling and typing into the laptop. The screen flickered, and she pulled up a dense academic paper with your father's name prominently displayed. The title read: "Genetic Enhancement through Arachnid DNA Integration: Potential and Pitfalls."

She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of disbelief and concern crossing her face. "Total nutjob," she muttered, shaking her head.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the technical jargon. "So… what’s it say?"

Selina’s fingers danced over the keyboard, scrolling through the dense paragraphs. "It describes experiments involving spider DNA to enhance human traits—strength, agility, and reflexes. Medical use too."

You stared at the screen, your mouth agape, until the sharp ring of your phone cut through the silence. Startled, you fumbled, nearly dropping the mug. Instinctively, your foot shot out, catching it just before it hit the floor. Selina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she quickly grabbed a notepad, scribbling furiously.

“Fast reflexes,” she muttered.

You scrambled to set the mug back on the table, your hands slick with sweat as you snatched your phone off the couch.

"Hello?" you answered, trying to steady your voice despite the tremor in it. "W-Who’s this?"

"Are you well?" Damian’s voice cracked through your speakers, sharp and tinged with worry. Arabic curses followed his words, adding an edge to his tone. “I am sorry for the delay. I did not mean to call you so late. I was rendered unconscious after the confrontation."

Your heart skipped a beat. “You got knocked out? What happened?”

"Just a minor inconvenience for someone of my skillset," he said, his tone dismissive yet reassuring. "I’m alright now. However, what of your situation? Father mentioned that Selina had told him of your impending absences from school."

You hesitated, glancing at Selina, who shook her head vehemently. She pressed a finger to her lips, urging you to stay silent about what you just discovered.

"Fine!" you squeaked. "Totally fine. Just… family matters."

"Family matters?" Damian repeated, clearly skeptical. "Are you sure you’re alright?"

"Yep," you replied, your voice a bit too high-pitched. "Absolutely. Just… You know, the explosion rattled me a bit. Paramedics said I had to rest for a few."

"I can head over to care for you—"

Selina rolled her eyes and reached her hand out for your phone. You hesitated, then handed it over.

"Damian," she said, her tone firm and tinged with annoyance, "this is Selina. Everything is under control here. There’s no need for you to come breaking into my apartment."

There was a grunt before Damian responded, "Miss Kyle, I insist. It’s no trouble. I should be there to assist. As any partner would."

Selina sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Damian, I appreciate your concern, but it’s really not necessary. She’s fine."

"I think I should be there," Damian persisted. "Recovery after such an incident can be complicated."

Selina’s patience snapped. "Damian," she cut in sharply, "do you doubt my abilities as a guardian?"

There was a pause.

"With all due respect, Miss Kyle…I do—"

"I've got this!" Selina hissed. "She's safe, she's resting, and you're not needed here right now. Understood?"

There was another pause before Damian reluctantly agreed. "Understood. But if anything changes—"

"You'll be the first to know," Selina assured him, her tone softening slightly. "Now, go take care of yourself. I have got this handled."

"Fine," Damian said, still sounding begrudging. "Take care."

Selina handed the phone back to you, her expression exasperated. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“He’s very overprotective,” you snorted as you pressed the phone back to your ear. “Hi, baby.”

"Hello," Damian grumbled, his voice carrying a hint of irritation. You couldn’t help but snicker.

“Don’t be mad,” you sighed. “I’ll only be gone for a week. You’ll survive. Mom's right—I’m in good hands. You need to focus on recovering too.”

“Please, let me know if you require anything," Damian's voice came through, slightly strained but softened by concern. "Anything at all. Father and Alfred have confined me to my bed, but the window to my bedroom remains open. The sheer ignorance of their restraint measures astounds me—they have failed to account for my capabilities in evading such confinement.”

"Please, do not attempt to escape through your window on my behalf. I do not need Bruce lecturing us again,” you groaned, your tone warm despite the circumstances. “Rest for now. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Very well,” Damian said with a hint of a pout, “but do remember, I am at your disposal if you should require anything.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Just make sure you’re resting and not causing any more trouble.”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone slightly resigned. “I will attempt to abide by the constraints placed upon me, though it seems a rather cruel jest on their part.”

“Good,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself, Dami.”

“And you, my beloved,” he said, his voice softening. “Until then.”

There was a beep, and the call ended. You sighed, letting your hand drop.

Selina smirked, shaking her head with a knowing look. “He’s just like his father—equally obsessive and protective. Must run in the genes. That or we just have a knack for ensnaring emotionally constipated men.”

You laughed, a light, nervous sound that filled the room. As you tried to drop your phone back on the couch, you were met with an unexpected resistance. The phone stubbornly adhered to your hand, as if it had decided to become a permanent accessory.

“Uh…”

Squinting, you wriggled your fingers, hoping it would simply detach, but the phone remained firmly in place.

Selina raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she glanced down at the notepad in her hand, now filled with scribbled notes and observations. “Sticky hands?” she suggested, jotting it down with a touch of amusement.

Grumbling under your breath, you made a few more attempts to pry the phone off your hand. “Looks like it. Just another thing to add to the list of weird,” you huffed.

Determined, you took your other hand and grasped the phone, trying to twist it away. However, in your distracted state, you forgot about your newfound strength. The device crumbled under your grip, shards of plastic and glass scattering across the couch.

Selina’s eyes widened in surprise. Without missing a beat, she quickly scribbled down “Enhanced strength” on her notepad.

You grumbled as the remnants of your phone fell to the floor, a mix of frustration and embarrassment washing over you.

"Can't we—can't we call Batman for this?" you asked, tangling a hand in your hair. "Why'd you stop me from telling Damian anyway?"

Selina’s expression turned severe. Her hands gripped your shoulders firmly, guiding you to face her.

"Listen to me. Batman, Damian, or anyone else cannot know about this right now."

"What—Mom—"

"Not a word," she cut in sharply. "This is meta-level stuff we're dealing with. The Bats don’t handle metas well. We need to keep this under wraps until we fully understand it. The last thing I need is Bruce doing something to hurt my daughter."

Your face crumpled at her words, the actual weight of the situation now pressing heavily on you.

Selina’s gaze softened just a fraction, her voice taking on a gentler tone. "Power frightens people. When they encounter something they don’t understand, especially something as extraordinary as this, their confusion quickly turns into fear. And fear often leads to seeing it as a threat."

She took a deep breath, her expression grim. "Batman, in particular, has contingency plans for every potential threat, even for his closest allies. We—I can't risk him viewing you as one." Her fingers tightened on your shoulders, a silent plea for understanding.

"Alright," you said quietly, trying to steady your voice. Lying to Bruce was one thing. But Damian… Damian was different. The thought of deceiving him felt like a weight pressing heavily on your chest.

Selina seemed to sense your hesitation. Her gaze softened, and she placed a hand gently on your shoulder. “I know it’s not easy,” she said, her tone soothing. “Damian is—”

“Different,” you finished for her, the word catching in your throat. “He’s always been there for me, and now… I’m just lying to him.”

Selina nodded. “I understand. But you know, that boy looks up to his father. There’s no telling he won’t spill something. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

"I get it,” your lips pursed. “But… what do we do now?"

Selina’s expression shifted from intense to thoughtful as she took a step back, her grip loosening. She glanced at the scattered remnants of your phone, then at the notepad filled with her hastily scribbled notes.

"Well," she sighed, "we need to find another space. I think you've done enough damage in our apartment."

 ༻⊰───⋅

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter." 

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor. 

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare. 

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you." 

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal. 

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur. 

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase. 

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak. 

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to." 

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

"You're Peter?" you ask. 

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–" 

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask. 

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?" 

"Not so, you know. Daunted." 

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye. 

"Oh, you think so?" 

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap. 

"Let's get you to the car, baby." 

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up. 

"Home." 

"Together?" 

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy." 

"Thank you," you say shyly. 

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again? 

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?" 

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly. 

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty." 

"You're my boyfriend?" 

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–" 

"You want to get married? To me?" 

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–" 

"We did?" 

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it." 

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me." 

"I love you," you say quietly. 

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession. 

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?" 

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober. 

Which reminds him. 

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!" 

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TWELVE: PICTURE PERFECT

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SUMMARY ↳ You think you understand why people say "Happy Holidays." You are happy. A busy household during Christmas is something you’re familiar with. You distinctly remember waking up in the tower on Christmas morning to find Thor standing above you with a big stupid grin, not even having changed from his asgardian armor. This time, however, it’s Jon floating above you, a silly Santa hat on his head. “Merry Christmas.” You roll over, pulling your pillow over your head. “Nothing merry about waking me up so damn early.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none, none at all wc: 4.3k

sorry for the late-ish post! totally forgot it was upload day woopsie

The next day, you're awakened by the sound of Alfred entering the room with a tray of food. You sit up, feeling much better already, and gratefully accept the meal. "Thank you, Alfred," you say with a smile.

"You're quite welcome," he replies, his tone warm. "Master Bruce and the others will be here shortly. They have a few more questions for you."

You nod, taking a bite of the food and feeling your energy start to return. True to Alfred's word, Bruce, Damian, and Jon enter the room a few minutes later.

Bruce starts. "We've been discussing your situation. We’d like to better understand your abilities. You've explained your origins, but we need to see what you can do."

You nod, setting the tray aside and standing up. "Fair enough. What do you need to see?"

"We'll start with a simple demonstration of your web abilities," Bruce says. "Show us what you can do with and without the bracelets."

“Not inside the room. Go downstairs,” Alfred cuts in firmly. You all nod and scurry downstairs. Bruce shows you how to access the Batcave via the clock. You pretend to pay attention, as if you didn’t already know. Once inside, he takes you all aside into a quaint little training room, where all the other batkids are waiting. The mat feels like home under your feet. He prompts you to show them what you can do.

You nod and raise your wrist, shooting a web towards a nearby wall. The organic webbing shoots out with precision, sticking to the wall firmly. It’s a simple web, straight and true. Equipping the bracelets, you decide to send out a web-net. The size of it covers a great deal of the wall.

“My organic webs are really only good for swinging and grabbing stuff,” you explain.

“[Name] has 576 possible web-shooter combinations,” Karen pipes up helpfully from the computer. Bruce’s slight frown suggests he’s not used to her yet, and probably won’t be for a while. “Much more versatile than their organic webs, of course.”

Tim looks impressed as he glances at Bruce. "576 combinations? That's... a lot."

You grin and nod. "Yeah, my dad loves over-engineering things. The web-net is just one of the many tricks up my sleeve."

Damian steps forward, eyes narrowed in thought. "What about your strength and agility? We need to see how you compare to us."

You nod, understanding the need to prove yourself. "Sure thing. What do you want me to do?"

Bruce gestures to a nearby set of weights. "Lift that."

You walk over to the weights, easily lifting a barbell that looks like it should be far too heavy for your frame. You then set it down and leap onto a nearby platform with a single bound, showcasing your agility.

"Not bad," Damian admits, though his tone is still cautious. "But can you fight?"

You smirk. "Why don't we find out?"

Damian raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge. He steps onto the mat, and you both take your stances. The others  watch closely as you and Damian circle each other.

Damian strikes first, his movements quick and precise. You dodge and counter, your enhanced reflexes allowing you to keep up with his speed. The two of you exchange blows, each testing the other's limits. Damian's skill is evident, but your enhanced strength and agility give you an edge.

He’s got all the tells of a trained assassin. His eyes dart around your figure, looking for openings and weaknesses. He adapts seamlessly, each of his movements controlled and calculated. He aims to control the flow with every jab, kick and punch. Unfortunately for him, you’ve been trained by one of the deadliest assassin of your world, Natasha Romanoff.

You decide it’s time to up the ante. You feint to the left, then quickly spin and sweep his legs out from under him. Damian lands on the mat but rolls back up to his feet instantly, eyes blazing with determination. He’s not used to being bested so easily, but he respects the challenge.

“You’re good,” Damian admits grudgingly, adjusting his stance. “But let’s see how you handle this.”

He lunges at you with a series of rapid strikes, forcing you to focus entirely on defense. You block and parry, your reflexes barely keeping up with his speed. You notice an opening and take it, landing a solid punch that sends him skidding back.

Before he can recover, you shoot a web at his feet, sticking him to the mat. He struggles for a moment before smirking and cutting himself free with a small blade.

“Me! Me next!” exclaims Stephanie, waving her hand around in the air. You take turns sparring everyone—save for Jon, who has just been watching a bit stiffly—, winning every time (not to brag or anything). You get a few hearty laughs when you manage to lift Jason with one hand and gently slam him to the mat. 

Then your final opponent steps up, Cassandra Cain. You gulp slightly. She’s written off as one of the best fighters in the Batfamily, and probably the DCverse. You’re supposed to be holding your strength back to show your skill, so it’s a matter of being smart, not strong.

You start cautiously, circling each other as you assess her fighting style. Cassandra doesn't waste any movements, each strike calculated to test your defenses. You rely on your agility and strength to keep up, blocking and countering her attacks with equal precision.

As the spar intensifies, you find yourself impressed by Cassandra's skill and adaptability. She adjusts her tactics based on your responses, probing for weaknesses in your defense. You're forced to rely on more than just brute strength, using strategy and technique to gain an advantage. Damn, she’s really good. It’s a blessing you’ve been trained by the goddam Avengers.

Your fighting styles are similar, fluid and dance-like. You’re impressed but not surprised by her ability to read your movements and react almost instantaneously. Natasha’s words replay in your mind.

“Predict every possible movement of theirs.”

You huff, arms hanging by your side, tired. “What, like Garou?”

Natasha raises a perfect eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and slight amusement. You wave your hands in dismissal. “Forget it.”

Natasha steps forward, her movements fluid and controlled. “It’s not just about predicting every move, it’s about understanding your opponent’s rhythm and intent. You need to see the fight a couple of steps ahead. Every slight movement can give away their intentions."

She demonstrates, moving with a fluid grace that you've come to admire. "You have the strength and agility. Now you need precision and awareness to make them truly effective."

In front of Cassandra now, you truly do feel like Garou. Your mind paints images of every way she could go, every move she could make. You feint to the right, then shift your weight and spin to the left, aiming a kick at her midsection. Cassandra blocks it effortlessly, but you expected that. Using the momentum from your spin, you drop low and sweep her legs.

Cassandra jumps, avoiding your sweep with an almost inhuman agility. But you're ready. As she comes back down, you grab her wrist and twist, using her own momentum against her to flip her onto the mat. She lands softly, rolling to her feet with a small smile.

"You're very good," Cassandra says quietly, her tone filled with genuine admiration.

"You're incredible," you reply, equally impressed.

Dick claps to be dramatic, initiating a round of applause from everyone else (except Damian, the stinker). You grin and bow dramatically. “Kicked our asses,” mumbled Jason, rubbing his jaw.

After the applause dies down, Bruce steps forward, a thoughtful look on his face. "You've shown us your abilities, and it's clear you have the skill and strength to be a valuable asset. Now we need to focus on integrating you into our ways."

Alfred clears his throat politely. "Perhaps, Master Bruce, our guest would benefit from a proper rest before diving into further training and mission planning."

Bruce nods. "Of course. We'll take a break for now. You've done well today."

As the group disperses, Jon approaches you with a friendly smile. "Hey, that was awesome. I can't wait to see what else you can do."

“Well thank you… Superboy,” you grin as he rolls his eyes playfully. Hooking your arm in his, you begin to walk out the cave. “Seriously thought, I bet if I was a normal person I still could’ve figured you out.” He raises a brow in challenge. “I mean, the Ferris wheel thing? Seriously?”

He groans. “I was trying to get you to safety!”

“My hero,” you smirk.

He drops you off at your room, exiting from your window with a wave. Nari is happily cuddling with Alfred on your bed, the sight making you coo. You gently sit by them and run your hand down Nari’s back.

Your door opens without as much as a knock or warning. Damian pauses when he sees you on the bed.

“Now, what would you have done if I was naked?” you ask sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Tt,” he scoffs, eyes looking away. “I was merely looking for Alfred.”

“Might have to get in line somewhere, Nari’s holding her hostage,” you hum, looking down at the pair. The sounds of purring cats fills you with calm. You see him still standing in the doorway. “Well? Come on, come sit.”

He hesitates to move, before stepping forward and shutting your door. He sits on the other side of the cat pile. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

You shrug nonchalantly. “I just mean you’ve been weird since I revealed my totally awesome alter ego.”

“I have not.”

You roll your eyes. "Oh please, Damian. You practically scowled through our entire spar. You mad ‘cause I kicked your ass or something?”

He crosses his arms defensively. "I am not upset."

"Right," you say skeptically. "Then what is it?"

Damian looks away, his expression unreadable for a moment. "It's nothing."

You raise an eyebrow. "You don't usually act like this. Come on, out with it."

“You…” he grumbles, clearly annoyed at being pushed, “...everytime I think I have you figured out, you surprise me.” He leans back, lying down on your mattress. “I don’t know anyone like you. And now, to find out you have been parading around as the new vigilante we’ve been so preoccupied with…”

You lean back as well, listening as Damian tries to articulate his thoughts. His demeanor shifts from guarded to contemplative, and you sense a rare vulnerability in his words.

“Not to mention you’ve known who we were since then…” he muttered, eyes on the ceiling. “

You listen attentively, sensing Damian's struggle with his thoughts. His words reveal a complexity you hadn't fully anticipated. "It must be strange," you offer quietly, "to have someone come into your world who knows so much and yet is still a mystery to you." 

“Are you mad because I kept it a secret from you…? Technically, you kept Robin a secret from me,” you offer.

Damian shifts slightly, his gaze flickering to meet yours briefly before returning to the ceiling. "It's not just that," he admits quietly. "You're skilled, strong, and you fit into our world seamlessly. It's..."

He shifts closer, his expression unreadable but his eyes holding a mix of curiosity and something deeper. "I want to understand you better," he says, his voice low.

You reach out, cupping his face with your hand. His eyes bore into yours, earnest. "I want you to understand me better too, Damian," you say softly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "I know I've come into your life in a pretty unconventional way, but I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

Then, you add shyly, “if you’d have me.”

Damian's lips quirk in a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You've certainly managed to keep me on my toes."

You chuckle softly. "Likewise. But hey, that's part of the fun, right?"

He nods, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as his eyes grow half lidded. "Fun... yes, I suppose it is."

Your heart slows in its beats, relaxing. You take in the mattress against your cheek, taking in the calm and gentle atmosphere. You feel a rush of warmth as Damian's hand finds yours, his touch surprisingly tender. The air around you feels charged with a mix of uncertainty and possibility. You squeeze his hand gently, a silent reassurance that you're here, you're present, and you want this.

"I didn't expect this," Damian admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turn your head to look at him, meeting his gaze. "Neither did I, to be honest. But sometimes unexpected things turn out to be the best."

He nods slowly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "You're not like anyone I've ever known."

"And you're not like anyone I've ever known either," you reply with a small smile. "But I think that's a good thing."

Damian leans closer, his face now just inches from yours. "Perhaps..."

Before either of you can say anything more, the door creaks open slightly. You both turn to see Bruce standing there, a faint hint of concern in his eyes.

"Ahem," Bruce clears his throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Damian sits up abruptly, his demeanor shifting to a more guarded stance. "Father, what is it?"

Bruce steps into the room, his eyes briefly scanning the scene before focusing on Damian. "I need to speak with you about something. Come down to the cave."

Damian nods, the serious look returning to his face. "Understood. I'll be there shortly."

Bruce glances at you, his expression softening slightly. "Thank you for your cooperation today. Your skills are impressive, and we look forward to working with you." Ever the most formal guy in the room.

You nod, feeling a mixture of pride and nervousness. "Thank you.”

Bruce gives a curt nod and leaves, the door closing softly behind him. Damian turns to you, his expression thoughtful.

"I should go," he says, his tone reluctant.

You nod, understanding the demands of their work. "Of course. Duty calls."

As Damian stands, he hesitates for a moment before grabbing your hand and pressing a light kiss on your pulse. "We'll talk more later," he promises. You can say anything, so you nod.

Damian leaves the room, and you find yourself alone with your thoughts. Nari, sensing the shift in mood, nuzzles closer to you, offering silent comfort. You stroke his fur absently, your mind replaying the events of the day.

A busy household during Christmas is something you’re familiar with. You distinctly remember waking up in the tower on Christmas morning to find Thor standing above you with a big stupid grin, not even having changed from his Asgardian armor.

This time, however, it’s Jon floating above you, a silly Santa hat on his head. “Merry Christmas.”

You roll over, pulling your pillow over your head. “Nothing merry about waking me up so damn early.”

Jon chuckles, his laughter light and carefree. "Come on, Scrooge. Get up and go downstairs." When you don’t move, he pounces on you. His fingers wiggle across your stomach as you shriek and fight to get free.

“Okay, okay! Jeez,” you concede. He rolls off of you, not without placing a hard kiss on your head. 

Damian pokes his head into your room with an annoyed expression. "What’s all this nonsense?"

Jon turns to him with a bright smile, "Just spreading some holiday cheer. Get in the spirit, Dami!"

You stretch and sit up, rubbing your eyes. "Yeah, Dami. It’s Christmas. Let’s be cheerful and merry."

He scowls slightly but steps into the room. "Tt. Christmas is just another day."

You and Jon share a knowing look before you hop out of bed and tackle Damian in a hug. "Oh, come on. Even you can't be grumpy on Christmas!" Damian sighs but doesn't push you away. 

The three of you head downstairs to the living room where the rest of the Batfamily is already gathered. The faint scent of Alfred's cooking wafts through the air, and you can hear laughter and chatter echoing through the halls. The tree is beautifully decorated, and presents are piled high underneath it. Bruce is sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, looking surprisingly relaxed.

Alfred hands you a steaming mug of hot cocoa as you join the group. "Merry Christmas," he says with a warm smile.

"Merry Christmas, Alfred," you reply, taking a sip of the rich, delicious drink. You glance around the room, your gaze landing on Damian, who is sitting quietly by the tree, watching the proceedings with a thoughtful expression.

You join the rest of the Batfamily in the living room, enjoying the festive atmosphere. Jon is already diving into his presents, enthusiastically tearing off the wrapping paper. Dick and Barbara are sitting together, exchanging gifts and laughing. Tim is deep in conversation with Stephanie, who is trying to guess what he got her. Even Jason seems to be in good spirits, joking around with Duke and Cass.

You decide to approach Damian, holding your mug of hot cocoa. You sit down beside him, the warm and festive atmosphere contrasting with his contemplative demeanor.

He glances at you as you settle beside him, his expression softening slightly at your presence. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral.

You take a sip of your cocoa, letting the warmth spread through you before answering. "Yeah, it's nice. Reminds me of home," you admit softly, thinking back to the holidays you spent with your family and the Avengers. Damian watches you quietly, seeming to consider your words.

"Your family must be... different," he finally remarks, his tone almost curious.

You nod, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, definitely different. But they're good people. Just like yours." You gesture subtly towards the rest of the Batfamily, who are now engaged in lively conversation and laughter.

Damian follows your gesture with a small nod, his gaze lingering on his family for a moment. "They're... unique," he admits quietly, a hint of something warmer in his voice.

Finally you sigh, “Well.” You dig into your pocket and pull out a box, handing it to him.

“Merry Christmas.”

He takes the box, opening it gingerly. Inside lies a sleek looking ring. Damian raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting from surprise to intrigue as he takes the ring in his hand.

"What is it?" he asks, turning the ring over to examine it.

“A ring,” you smile. He rolls his eyes so you elaborate. “It’s something I made. Karen is built into it, so she can help you personally.” You tap it twice, pulling up a hologram. “Here’s all the stuff she can do.”

The hologram reflects in Damian’s eyes as they flutter left to right, reading. “Happy to help, Damian,” Karen says.

“It also works as a communicator, so if you’re ever in need of me to save you from getting your ass-kicked, she’ll let me know,” you grin.

Damian ignores your little comment in favor of sliding the ring over his finger. He examines the way it shines under the light, nodding. “It’s adequate.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re welcome.

He gets up abruptly then. “Stay there,” he commands, walking off into another room. He’s gone before you can blink, so you clasp your hands together awkwardly and observe the room. Jon has gone and went to his parents (which, oh my god, Superman and Lois Lane are here, holy shit. You wonder if Bruce told them about you.) and is talking animatedly to them. In his hands is a small canvas in his hands, you can barely make out the portrait of Jon on there. Must be Damian’s gift to him.

Speaking of, you hear his footsteps come back. You turn to see Damian returning with a small, elegantly wrapped box in his hand. He sits back down beside you, his expression more relaxed than before. He holds out the box towards you.

"Here," he says simply, his voice quieter than usual.

You take the box, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a.. camera! It’s a nice one, definitely expensive. It fits perfectly in your hands, just the right size for travel.

"You said you like photography," Damian explains quietly, his gaze flickering to meet yours. "You also said you’d like a memory. Now, you can capture them.”

You feel a rush of warmth in your chest as you realize the significance of the gift. "You remembered.” It comes out as a whisper. “Thank you, Damian," you say softly, touched by his gesture. You attach the strap of the camera and hook it around your neck.

He nods, seeming satisfied with your reaction. "It suits you," he remarks, his tone almost approving.

You smile, reaching out to gently touch the lens. "I love it."

“[Name]!” Jon exclaims, crossing the room to get to you. His hands grasp yours and pull you off the couch. “Come meet my parents.

Oh dear. You send a look to Damian for help but the bastard just smirks at you. You chuckle softly at Damian's smirk before allowing Jon to lead you over to where Clark Kent and Lois Lane are standing. They both turn to you with warm smiles, Clark's eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Hello, [Name]," Clark greets you warmly, extending a hand. "It's good to finally meet you. Jon has told us a lot about you."

Lois nods in agreement, her expression friendly yet keen. "Yes, Jon's been quite excited to introduce you to us."

You shake Clark's hand with a smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at meeting such iconic figures. Shit, you thought you would’ve had the fan behavior under control by now. "It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Jon has been wonderful to be around.”

Jon beams proudly, standing beside you. "They're really nice, right?"

Clark chuckles warmly, his gaze flickering briefly towards Jon before returning to you. "He speaks very highly of you, [Name].” He pointedly looks at Jon as he says this.

Lois’ eyes flick down to your camera. “Interested in photography?”

You nod eagerly, feeling a little more at ease with their friendly demeanor. "Oh, yeah. I like capturing moments. It’s a small passion of mine.”

“Well if you ever get tired of superheroing call me. I’m sure we could use an excellent photojournalist,” she winks.

“Mom,” Jon complains. Lois shrugs innocently.

You laugh warmly, feeling more comfortable with Lois' playful banter. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss. Thank you." In another universe, maybe.

Jon tugs at your hand. "Come on, I want to show you something." He drags you towards the Christmas tree where a beautifully wrapped gift waits for you. You hear the chuckles of his parents as you’re pulled away.

You smile at Jon's enthusiasm, kneeling down to unwrap the present. Inside a bracelet. The beads make up a beautiful image of green and blue. There’s a spider charm hanging from it. Jon beams up at you, clearly proud of the gift he chose.

“I saw a video online about making bracelets for each other's eyes,” he mutters shyly. “I made one for you out of me and Damian’s eyes.”

The bracelet feels like gold in your hands. "It's perfect, Jon," you say genuinely, feeling touched by his thoughtfulness.

Clark and Lois watch the exchange with warm smiles, clearly pleased by Jon's happiness and your appreciation.

You thank Jon again with a hug, feeling a surge of warmth at the bond you've formed with him and his family, hearing his heartbeat speed up before his arms wrap around you. “Oh, before I forget.”

You pull out another box, handing it to Jon. “I know you were listening to me and Dames earlier, stinker.” It’s cute to see how his face turns red after being caught. “It’s the same thing I got him. Connects to this–” you tap the nano-earpiece where Karen speaks to you. “–and his. Our own little channel.” Jon's eyes widen with excitement as he takes the box from you, eager to see what's inside. He opens it carefully, revealing a similar looking ring. His grin widens as he realizes what it is.

He slips the ring onto his finger, marveling at how it fits perfectly. "This is so cool. I can't wait to try it out!"

The rest of the Batfamily gathers around, curious about the new gadgets and gifts being exchanged. Dick claps Jon on the back. "Nice one, Jon! Now you can bug them anytime."

Jason chuckles. "Or maybe they'll bug you."

Duke eyes the camera around your neck. “Ooh, family photo time?”

Groans echo the room as your hands come up to grip the camera. With everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, you snap a few photos, capturing moments of laughter and camaraderie. Jon is grinning widely, Damian is trying to look nonchalant but can't hide a small smile, and even Bruce cracks a rare smile at the camera. The rest of the Batfamily, along with Clark and Lois, join in the festive spirit, making silly faces or posing dramatically.

“Now you,” Cass says, waving you over. You huff good-naturedly and set the camera up, scurrying to squeeze between Damian and Jon. You hold up your hands in the ‘spidey’ pose, grinning. Jon squeezes you and Damian to him, cheeks mushing with each others.

The pictures turn out perfect.

notes: jon watching reader and damian spar: am i into this

yeah damian felt a little thrown finding out he doesn’t know you as well as he thought. i figured he’s the type to not like knowing things, and well, reader being spinnerette? and knowing he was robin before he could ever think to tell them? yeesh. its okay now though :)

Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here!

Personal circumstances have me thinking of Bruce Wayne’s ex-wife who was around when the kids were younger, but when they got divorced Bruce didn’t really like her interacting with the kids anymore, and so when Dick turns 18 he gets a call from an unknown number and lets it go to voicemail.

“Hi, this is (Y/N) I used to be married to Bruce Wayne, I don’t know if you remember me but—”

He’s never hit re-dial faster.

“Of course I remember you, how have you been?”

You both talk for nearly three hours after that. Catching up on all the things he’s done and how his life is now.

“Why’d you leave?”

You sigh, a hand tangled in your hair. “I couldn’t deal with him getting hurt all the time.” You loved Bruce, in some ways you still do. Which is all the reason why you couldn’t bare to watch him kill himself.

“Is that why you left me behind too?”

“I didn’t want to.” You were leaving your marriage, but that didn’t mean you wanted to leave the children behind too. “He didn’t want me seeing you, any of you, not while you were minors.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He’s not completely in the wrong Dick,” you scramble to cover for him, even now you can’t bring yourself to betray Bruce Wayne. “I never legally adopted any of you, if I—”

“You’re my mom, of course you had a right to see me.” And the fact that he used present tense and that he still sees you like that means everything.

“Can I see you some time, maybe for coffee?”

“Of course.”

Word spreads amongst them, and every Wayne, official and honorary, stays up past midnight on their eighteenth birthday, looking at their cellphone with eager eyes.

And you never disappoint them.

A/N: if you like my bat mom content check out my fan zine here, it has two different bat mom stories!

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: AND THE WORLD KEPT SPINNING

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SUMMARY ↳ Jealousy, jealousy! "I thought you weren't dating anyone?" You blink. "I'm. Not. I told you, we agreed to be better off as friends." Jon furrows his brows. "But she kissed you? And you guys facetime?" pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: jealousy? wc: 3.7k

You wake up to barking in your face.

Blinking away sleep, the first thing you see this morning is Titus. The cute little guy is barking right at you. You smile under the blanket and reach out to pet him. It quiets him down, thankfully.

“Tt. Finally, you’re awake.”

Damian standing behind Titus with his arms crossed, looking down on you. He has this look of this disdain, but you’ve been around him long enough to know it’s not genuine. You sit up slowly, giving Titus one last gentle pat on the head before focusing on Damian. "Good morning, Damian," you say, your voice still slightly husky from sleep. "What's got you up so early?"

He shifts slightly, his arms still crossed, but you notice a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, almost a suppressed smile. "It’s not early. You overslept," he remarks dryly.

You stretch lazily under the blanket, feeling the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the window. "I guess I did," you admit with a sheepish grin. "What time is it?"

"Almost mid-morning," Damian replies, unfolding his arms and stepping closer. "Jon and I were starting to wonder if you'd decided to sleep through the entire day."

“Jon’s here?”

“He stayed the night.” Oh. Hm. “Pennyworth has food for you downstairs.”

You nod, processing the information. It wasn't entirely surprising given how tight-knit Damian and Jon are. Really tight-knit. "Thanks, Damian. I'll head down soon."

Damian nods once, eyes assessing your figure  before he turns to leave the room, Titus following obediently at his heels. You swing your legs out of bed, stretching again before grabbing some clothes and heading downstairs.

Alfred is already in the kitchen when you arrive, setting out a simple but hearty breakfast (brunch?) spread. "Good morning," he greets you warmly, his eyes knowing, always knowing.

"Morning, Alfred," you greet back with a trying smile. You settle into your seat at the table, feeling more awake as you take in the delicious smells wafting from the food. As you settle at the table, you notice Jon standing off to the side, his eyes glued to his phone. He looks up, eyes widening when he sees you. He quickly makes his way over to you. “[Name]! Hi.”

You chuckle. “Hi, Jon.”

Jon grins, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that makes you feel instantly more awake. “I was starting to think you’d never wake up,” he teases, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Well I’m here now,” you hum, taking a sip of tea. “Did you sleep well?”

"Yep," Jon says, stretching. "Damian and I stayed up talking for a while. You know how he gets." You only hum, taking a longer sip of your tea.

Damian walks into the kitchen just then, having changed into his usual training gear. He gives Jon a quick nod before turning his attention to you. “I see you made it downstairs without collapsing,” he remarks.

"Yeah, well, I figured I’d save Alfred the trouble of finding my body," you reply with a smirk, taking a bite of the warm, fluffy pancakes Alfred has prepared.

"Smart decision," Damian says, grabbing an apple from the counter. "Jon and I have training planned for this morning. Care to join us?"

You glance at Jon, who looks equally enthusiastic about the idea, then back at Damian. "Uh, sure. Why not?"

"Don't take too long," Damian replies, already heading out of the kitchen with Jon following closely behind him.

You finish your breakfast, savoring the last bites of Alfred's delicious cooking. With a satisfied sigh, you head back to your room and change into your training gear—a simple tank top and sweats will do. 

When you make your way to the training area, you find Damian already warming up, his movements precise and controlled. The sound of fists hitting the punching bag and occasional grunts bounce around the room. Jon is next to him, stretching and chatting animatedly. They both pause when they see you enter.

Jon grins widely. "There you are.”

Damian nods in acknowledgment, his expression serious but his eyes holding a hint of amusement. "Took you long enough," he remarks, a touch of teasing in his tone.

You roll your eyes playfully. "I had to savor Alfred's cooking while I could."

Jon laughs, clapping you on the shoulder. "Can't blame you there. Alfred's food is the best."

Damian gestures towards the sparring mats. "Enough chatter. Let's begin."

You join them on the mats, stretching briefly to loosen up. Jon takes his position opposite you, while Damian circles around, observing with a critical eye. "We'll start with some basic drills," Damian instructs, his voice firm. "Jon, you remember the routine?"

Jon nods eagerly. "Of course.”

You shift, widening your stance like Natasha showed you. To normal people, you don’t look ready for a fight at all, but a trained eye can see the way your shoulders are squared, the way your arms are tense. A trained eye like Damian’s.

Speaking of, he is making his way over to you. His hand lays on your back, forcing you to straighten your posture. His touch roams your body as he makes small little adjustments. His touch lingers for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a silent communication. Jon, meanwhile, waits patiently, his focus shifting between you and Damian, gaze intense.

You pray that he lets go soon, because his kind-of boyfriend (the one that can split you in half, and not in a good way) is looking really hard at you both right now. Damian nods once he’s satisfied with your form, hand sliding off of you. He steps back, arms folded and ready to assess.

“We’ll start with some basic striking drills,” Damian suggests, stepping back to give you space. His demeanor is focused, precise, as he guides both you and Jon through the movements. The air in the training room fills with the rhythmic sounds of punches and kicks, each movement honed through years of practice and discipline.

Jon moves with an infectious energy, his enthusiasm palpable as he encourages you and offers pointers. Damian, ever the perfectionist, corrects your form with a sharp eye and occasional terse comments that carry more encouragement than criticism.

After what feels like hours, Damian calls for a break. You sit down onto the mat, breathing out of your nose but feeling exhilarated. Jon flops down next to you, not looking tired at all and grinning. "You’re getting faster," he remarks, wiping sweat from his brow.

"You too," you jest, giving him a friendly nudge. "Though I still think I could take you in a real fight."

Jon laughs, the sound light and infectious. "We’ll see about that."

Damian and Jon exchange a look, their expressions softening as they glance at each other and then back at you. Jon leans in closer, his voice low but playful. "Careful, [Name]. Damian might get jealous if you start favoring me over him."

Damian scoffs. “[Name] would be a fool to not recognize the superior combatant.”

“Yeah, that’s me, right?”

You smile at their banter, eyes bouncing between them. They bounce off of each other so seamlessly, effortlessly. They know each other. What’s that one saying? To be known is to be loved. Suddenly you feel suffocated.

“Well.” You get up and pull your arms up, stretching. It’s a good stretch, one that makes you groan. You feel their eyes on you. “I should go back to the Den. I really gotta start calibrating the badassium,” you pause just outside of the door, thinking, “and make more, actually.”

Damian and Jon exchange a quick glance, their banter trailing off as you mention leaving. Jon's playful demeanor softens into a more earnest expression, and Damian watches you with a hint of curiosity.

"Already?" Jon asks, sitting up slightly as if to keep you from leaving just yet.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of their attention on you. Jon's expression shifts slightly, almost as if he's disappointed by your decision to leave. Damian, ever composed, watches you with that familiar intensity, his gaze unreadable but observant.

"Yeah," you reply with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Work doesn’t get done itself, you know."

Jon looks over at Damian, who is watching you carefully. "Well, if you need any help, just let us know," Jon offers warmly, his tone genuine.

Damian nods in agreement, though his expression remains somewhat guarded. "Indeed. Our resources are at your disposal."

With a final nod and smile, you leave the room. Your hearing picks up and bickering as you walk. Back to their regularly scheduled programming that fast, huh. You shake your head, quickly making your way outside the manor. You won’t bother Alfred, so you’ll catch the subway.

“[Name]!” Or not.

Jon jogs over to you, who is just steps outside of the manor’s grounds. “Let me take you there.”

You shake your head. “Jon, it’s fine–”

Jon decides that it is not fine, apparently, because he wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and taking off. What the hell, not even a warning?

You wrap your arms around his neck so as to not fall out of his grip (not that he’d ever let you go). “You’re in civvies–”

“No one will see.” You scoff at his assuredness. The wind whips past you, biting at your arms. Ah shit, you should’ve changed before going out. Jon notices your miniscule shiver, tightening his grip around you.

"You know, you didn't have to do this," you remark, raising your voice slightly over the wind.

Jon grins, his expression playful. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to carry you," he teases, his tone light but sincere.

You sigh, letting the conversation die. You arrive at the Den in record time thanks to his super speed. Jon sets you down gently, touch lingering. "There you go," he says with a smile, stepping back to let you stand on your own.

“Thank you,” you say, despite yourself. You smooth down your clothes, batting away his hand (gently and with a smile so as to not hurt his feelings) when it reaches out to help. “You should start charging for your services.”

“Nah. You’re my only customer anyway,” he hums. God, can he not do that? “Well, you and Damian.” Right. Right right right.

You chuckle softly. "I feel so special." You turn and enter the Den, Jon having moved the rocks already.

With a nod, Jon watches you for a moment longer before turning to leave. "Take care, [Name]. See you soon."

"Yeah, see you," you reply, waving as he heads back towards Wayne Manor. You stand there for a moment, watching him go wistfully before turning to your work station.

You make three more duplicates of the badassium, just for now. The first one will power your nanite chamber, which you can now start building, finally. The sound of metal bending under your hands fills the space.

“Wait, so, does that make you a Bat?” You lied, Victoria’s voice also fills the space. It had been a while since you two had talked, so you thought a facetime would be nice. She’s in a lavish lounge dress, surrounded by even more lavish decor.

“Nah, I still got my own thing going on. We just work together. Like co-workers.” You’re not sure if you’re supposed to tell her these things, but if Bruce has a problem with it he can kiss your ass. Victoria is the reason you were able to make the badassium so fast. Besides, it’s not like you’ll tell her the identities of everyone or anything.

“Well, any juicy details about your ‘co-workers’ you can share?”

“Ha ha.” You roll your eyes. “I’ll leave the ‘figuring out their identities’ part to you, since you’re so good at that.” She gives a small innocent smile at that.

You focus back on your work, hands moving with practiced efficiency. Victoria's image on your screen watches with mild curiosity as you assemble the components of the nanite chamber.

"You've always seemed good with your hands," she remarks, a hint of admiration in her tone. "What exactly are you building now?"

"It’s like a big charger," you explain, pausing to scratch your brow. "It’s to charge my suit.”

She hums. “Still can’t believe you just casually made a new element that fast.”

"Well, you did provide most of the materials," you remind her, smiling. "Couldn't have done it without you, hun.”

Victoria chuckles, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Well, of course.”

You continue working on the nanite chamber, the rhythmic sound of metal being molded and fitted together creating a soothing background hum. Victoria's voice keeps you company, her questions and comments providing a pleasant distraction from the intense focus required for your task.

"So, any new developments on the romantic front?" Victoria asks, her tone teasing.

You roll your eyes, even though you can't help but smile. "Ugh, Tori.”

"Just curious," she replies, feigning innocence.

“Well sorry to disappoint,” you huff, punch a piece of metal into place. “This spider is single and not ready to mingle.”

“I’m just saying, you’re probably the only person Damian pays any attention to.”

“Well, other people outside of our school exist.”

She leans forward. “So, there’s someone else?”

You groan as she laughs. “Well, what about Robin then? The news says you guys are pretty chummy.”

You snort, because who’s gonna tell her? “No, Tori. I don’t have time for relationships, hun. I’m busy with… heroing and stuff.” You turn to face the phone. “But if anything happens, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

"Uh-huh," she replies, clearly unconvinced. "You should just go after what you want.” Oh, Tori, if only it was that simple.

The conversation continues, shifting to lighter topics as you work. Victoria updates you on the latest gossip, her voice a comforting presence as you focus on assembling the nanite chamber. The hours pass quickly, the steady rhythm of your work and Victoria's chatter creating a comfortable routine.

You take the phone, opening your messages with Victoria. “Can you get me these things? It should be simple.”

Her face gets closer to the camera as she picks up her phone to look at the list you sent her. “Of course. Same place?” You nod.

“[Name]? Is there someone here?”

You look to the side, seeing Jon standing at the entrance, rubble around his feet. Oh, what the fu–

“I thought I hear–”

You reach out a hand, motioning for him to zip it. He shuts up, thankfully, eyeing your phone.

Victoria snorts. “Who is that?”

“A dumbass,” you answer dryly. “I gotta go, Tori.” Jon’s identity is vulnerable, so she shouldn’t be around right now. Probably.

She rolls her eyes but blows a kiss. You blow one back and end the call, putting down your phone and sighing. You put a hand on your hip and turn to look at Jon. You gesture for him to speak. “Well?”

Jon’s eyes stay on your phone for a bit, before looking into yours. “What?”

“Jon, I was on a facetime. You could’ve leaked yourself or something.”

“Who was that?” he asks, stepping closer. “Does she know who you are?”

“Oh please, not you too. I would’ve thought Damian would care about that.” You step around him, looking for a wrench. “But yeah, she does. She’s the friend that helped me get all of this,” you smile, arms spreading to gesture to the whole workshop.

“She’s also the person that was kissing me when Damian walked in.” You’re not sure why exactly you said that, but the way his eyes almost blow out of his head is pretty funny.

“Oh, wait, I can tell you the whole story now! Long story short, I accidentally called her ‘Vicky’ as Spinnerette—I call her Tori now, though—so she figured out it was me because I was the only person that called her that. Rookie move, I know, but in my defense I would’ve never guessed she would be able to put together the pieces. Anyway–”

You find the wrench you’re looking for, yay, “–Fast forward a little. She confronts me about it. I thought she was gonna, like, try to blackmail me, but no. She just wants to help. Shocker, right? She grabs my wrist to check out my web-shooter bracelets, and Karen shoots out a web. Just because she felt like it. It sticks onto Tori and before I can get it off the door opens.”

You tighten a screw. “I found out Tori’s a bit of a quick thinker that day, because she quickly jumps into my arms and kisses me. Kisses me! Since, you know, the web was stuck on her and since she was on me you couldn’t see it.”

You smile once you’re satisfied with how tight the screw is. Turning back to Jon, you furrow your brow. He looks… constipated. Like he just ate something sour. He steps closer, closer and closer until you’re back up against the desk. He invades your senses with his presence, his eyes wide and searching yours.

“I thought you weren’t dating anyone?”

You blink. “I’m. Not. I told you, we agreed to be better off as friends.”

Jon furrows his brows. "But she kissed you? And you guys facetime?”

You narrow your eyes. “She kissed me once, and then we agreed to be friends. Only. And friends facetime.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. Then, it seems like he remembers himself. "Right, sorry. I just... misunderstood."

“Are you okay, Jon?” Did he and Damian get in a fight or something?

Jon's expression softens, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…” He bites his lip, gaze meeting yours for a second before turning away. “I don’t know. Thinking too much, I guess.”

You nod, not having anything to say. “Well, what did you come here for?” You hope he’ll appreciate the subject change.

He scratches his neck. “Nothing, really. I just wanted to…” he glances at your phone, “...bother you I guess.”

“Well, you’re always welcome here. Just, call ahead, or something,” you chuckle, turning back to the nanite chamber.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Well, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. So. Bye.” And then he’s off. Wow, one moment he’s here and one moment he’s not. You shrug, deciding that for your own peace of mind you won’t dwell on the interaction.

Jon Kent has control over his emotions. He has to, given the power he has. However, the teenage experience might just kill him.

He’s never felt quite like this before. He can feel his hormones all over the place. And it doesn’t feel nice. Whatever Jon feels is amplified by ten. Jon flies back to the Manor, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He lands softly on the grounds, his thoughts still tangled with the image of you… kissing her.

He wishes you kissed him.

Damian looks up, noticing Jon's arrival. "Took you long enough," he remarks, his voice steady and cool.

Jon doesn't respond immediately, his thoughts still swirling. “Did you know?” he asks.

Damian doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because why would he? He tilts his head and Jon elaborates, “About… Tori?”

Damian pauses, thinking. “Victoria?”

“She’s who you… walked in on. With [Name].”

Jon watches as Damian’s eyes narrow before he scoffs. “Yes, I remember. What about her?”

Jon comes to sit next to Damian, seeking out his comfort. “She’s, well. Apparently she knows that [Name] is Spinnerette.” Damian’s brows furrow. “She’s the one who helped get them all their materials and stuff. They were facetiming when I went over there and…”

Damian’s eyes darken, but he says nothing, letting Jon continue.

Jon sighs, leaning back. “It just threw me off, I guess. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

Damian's expression remains unreadable for a moment before he speaks again. "Did [Name] say anything else about her?"

Jon shakes his head. "Not really. Just that they're friends and that she's been helpful."

Damian nods, his gaze distant as he considers this new piece of information. "I see."

Jon sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he tries to sort out his thoughts. "It's just... weird, you know? I didn't expect [Name] to have someone like that in their life."

Damian raises an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Jon shrugs, his frustration evident. "I guess I just thought I knew them better."

Damian studies Jon for a moment before speaking. "People have layers, Jon. We can't expect to know everything about them, no matter how close we are." Damian would know..

Jon huffs, still not entirely satisfied with that answer. "Yeah, I know. It's just... I don't know. Maybe I'm…” he purses his lips, half-amused with himself, “...jealous.”

Damian's eyes narrow slightly, but he keeps his tone measured. "Jealousy is a useless emotion, Jon. It clouds judgment and makes you act irrationally."

Jon shoots Damian a wry smile. "Yeah, I know. You've mentioned that before."

Damian nods, his expression softening marginally. "Just focus on what matters.”

Jon nods slowly, taking in Damian's advice. Silence settles between them for a moment before Damian speaks again, his voice quieter. "If you need to talk... about anything, Jon, I'm here."

Jon smiles at him, eyes flicking to his lips before returning to Damian’s. Damian meets Jon's gaze steadily, his expression unreadable but his intent clear. Jon's heart skips a beat, the intensity of Damian's presence washing over him. There's something unspoken between them, a bond that goes beyond words. Jon swallows, trying to find the right words, but Damian speaks first.

"Come, let's head inside," Damian says, standing up and gesturing towards the manor. Jon follows silently, still grappling with his thoughts.

Jon takes a deep breath, finally breaking the silence. "Damian, I..." He pauses, trying to find the right words. "I don't know what I'm feeling. It's just... confusing."

Damian says nothing, but Jon has known him long enough that Damian isn’t condemning him or anything. He’s chosen to stand with him, wholeheartedly. Jon grasps Damian’s arm as he leads him deeper inside the manor.

Damian Wayne and Jon Kent kissed on New Years, right as the clock turned midnight. Jon Kent really hopes he can kiss you too.

notes:

reader to jon: you’re the most jealous guy i know

jon: you know other guys

-

jon, hearing reader talking to somebody and immediately booking it to the den: im not jealous how preposterous