Find Something Worth Saving (it's All For The Taking)

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE TALK(S)

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SUMMARY ↳ You get some insight from some friends. And not friends. It's you. Despite everything, it's been you. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 3.5k

New York welcomes Spinnerette back with open arms.

Several articles span over night, questioning the disappearance and sudden return. They’ll have to keep questioning, because there will be no official statement from you. You’re Spinnerette, not Tony Stark, aka Iron Man.

One of the first things you do is go pick up your order at Delmar’s. It’s been far too long since you’ve tasted heaven.

Pepper comes up with a simple cover story as to why [Name] [L.Name] was gone from public eye. It’s elegant in its simplicity: during the time [Name] [L.Name] was absent from the public eye, they were undertaking an extended philanthropic research expedition abroad, focusing on humanitarian efforts and technological research in developing countries  in order to prepare for when they eventually take over as CEO to Stark Industries.

Delmar doesn’t ask too many questions, anyway. He only says how he’s glad you’re back and gives you your order.

You happily munch on it as you watch New York’s sunset. The view from Avengers Tower is always nice. It casts a warm, golden glow over the skyline, a picturesque reminder of why you love this city so much. The gentle breeze carries the distant sounds of traffic.

“Why are you having these thoughts?”

Wanda’s voice is soft but perceptive, her presence a comforting familiarity. She moves gracefully, even in her casual pajamas, and joins you by the edge, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“What thoughts?” you ask, knowing it’s futile. You can try and pretend all you want, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Even without Wanda’s powers, she could’ve easily figured you out.

Wanda turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “You know exactly what thoughts,” she says gently.

You sigh, taking another bite of your sandwich, buying yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. The flavors are as delightful as you remembered, but they do little to distract from the weight of Wanda’s words.

The sky turns darker, with the sun sinking lower, casting long shadows across the city. Wanda waits patiently, her gaze never leaving you. The silence stretches, comfortable and familiar, but charged with unspoken words.

"I missed this place," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I missed the people, the energy... but…" you hesitate, unsure if you want to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Wanda reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's okay to feel conflicted," she says softly. "You’ve been through much. It's natural to question things."

You nod slowly, absorbing Wanda's words. The city below seems to hum with a life of its own, oblivious to the inner turmoil tugging at your thoughts. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"I guess I just didn't expect everything to feel so... different," you admit quietly, gazing out at the skyline. "I thought coming back would be like slipping into an old pair of shoes, but it's more like trying to break in new ones. I got so used to life over there.”

Wanda nods, humming. Her expression softens, voice gentle. “Jon. And Damian,” she echoes softly. “They’ve been on your mind since you came back.” You nod slowly, acknowledging Wanda's insight. Her ability to grasp the complexities of your thoughts is both comforting and unnerving at times.

"Yeah," you admit, a faint smile touching your lips. "They have." You pause, considering how much to share. "It's like... being torn between two worlds," you continue, your gaze drifting back to the skyline where the last vestiges of daylight paint the buildings in shades of amber. "I've grown close to them in ways I didn't anticipate. Jon's warmth and openness, Damian's... well, his complexities," you chuckle softly.

Wanda listens intently, her presence a calming presence amidst the bustling cityscape. "It sounds like they've left quite an impression," she remarks softly, eyeing your bracelet.

"They have," you affirm, a hint of wistfulness in your tone. "And now, being back here, it's like I'm standing at a crossroads, unsure where to go."

Wanda's eyes are filled with empathy. "Sometimes, the heart knows things before the mind can make sense of them.”

You look at her. "I remember when Vision and I were navigating similar feelings," Wanda begins softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic undertone. "He was... different, not just because of what he was, but because of how he made me feel." Her gaze drifts to the skyline, memories playing across her features like shadows dancing in the fading light.

"It was challenging, trying to reconcile our differences and the worlds we came from," she continues, her tone thoughtful. "But in the end, what mattered most was the connection we shared, the understanding that despite everything, we chose each other."

Her words resonate with you, echoing your own internal struggles. "Did it ever get easier?" you ask quietly, seeking reassurance in her experience.

Wanda smiles softly, expression tinged with fondness. "Not easier, but... clearer," she replies, her gaze returning to meet yours. "Love has a way of guiding us through uncertainty, showing us what truly matters." You don’t know about love exactly, but maybe…

"It's like they've opened doors I didn't even know were there," you confess, a sense of revelation settling over you. "And now, I'm standing here, wondering which ones I should go through.”

Wanda nods understandingly, a soothing presence in the midst of your introspection. "The paths we choose often define us," she muses softly. "But sometimes, it's not about choosing one thing over another, but finding a way to integrate both into who you are."

“What would we do without you, Wanda?” you say in lieu of thanks.

She returns your smile warmly. "Anytime."

With a final glance at the city below, you finish your sandwich, savoring the flavors that remind you of home. Whatever lies ahead, you know you'll face it head on.

You find Tony tinkering away in his lab (because where else would he be?) He looks up as you enter, a small grin spreading across his face. “Pass me that wrench, will you?” You pass Tony the wrench, settling into a comfortable silence as he continues his work. The hum of machinery and occasional sparks fill the air, a familiar backdrop to your thoughts.

Tony mumbles lightly, adjusting a few components on his latest project. "Pepper told me about the cover story," he mentions casually. "Philanthropic research expedition, huh? Not bad."

You chuckle softly. "Pepper has a knack for making things sound believable," you comment, recalling how she effortlessly crafted the narrative to explain your absence.

Tony grins mischievously. "She's got a way with words," he agrees, his gaze flicking back to his work. "So, how was it, really? Did you make friends with Superman?”

“No, I made friends with his son,” you jest.

“Well, of course you did,” he nods seriously. “You have a certain effect on people.”

You place your arms on his desk, leaning. “You know, you were my dad there.”

Tony looks up, eyes boring into yours. For a moment it’s silent. “Made up an identity for myself. Had to, of course. Listed you as my rich dad who was on vacation and had left little ole me all by myself.”

"Ah, playing the absent but wealthy father role, I see. I hope I lived up to your expectations as the neglectful billionaire." He leans back, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. “Though a vacation does sound nice.”

You grin. "They bought it though, surprisingly enough. I think they were more curious about figuring out if I’m Spinnerette or not than my supposed absent father." You lean back. “They did, by the way. But it all worked out.”

Tony chuckles, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, that's my kid—always keeping them guessing."

“You’ll also be pleased to know that I did a "Tony Stark" while I was there,” you grin, coming up next to him.

“That’s not good.”

“I remade your new element.”

Tony raises a brow, but doesn’t look all that surprised. “You’re becoming just like me. Pepper won’t like that.”

“I was gonna use it to power my way home, put it in my watch somehow, but I didn’t get to use it,” you shrug. “Figure it’ll help their world, anyhow. The blueprints you left in the suit really helped.”

“Gotta take care of my own,” he shrugs.

You smile, the warmth of familiarity easing the lingering tensions from earlier introspection. "You did," you reply sincerely, a fondness in your voice. "It was... comforting, having you there in spirit."

As you watch Tony continue his tinkering, a thought tugs at your mind. You take a deep breath  "Tony, can I ask you something?" you venture, breaking the silence.

"Shoot," he replies, not looking up from his work but clearly attentive.

"How do you know when you're ready to make a decision that could change everything?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Tony looks up from his workbench, his expression thoughtful. He sets down his tools and turns to face you fully, his gaze assessing yet warm.

"You're asking the big questions, aren't you?" Tony remarks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Decision-making is a blend of gut instinct, logic, and experience. You weigh the risks, consider the consequences, but ultimately, it comes down to what feels right deep down."

You nod, absorbing his words. "But what if both paths feel right in different ways?" you press further, needing clarity on the conflict within you.

“Why should it be two paths? It could be just one.”

Oh. Hm. Guess so.

“Sometimes life’s about finding a way to blend them together, creating a new path that's uniquely yours."

You ponder his words, the gears in your mind turning as you consider the implications. "So, instead of choosing between them, I should look for how they complement each other?" you venture, seeking to clarify your thoughts.

Tony nods approvingly. "Exactly. Integration rather than separation. You're a smart cookie, kid," he says with a wink. “Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

His words echo Wanda's earlier sentiments, reinforcing the idea that perhaps the answers you seek lie within your own intuition. You smile gratefully at Tony, feeling a bit of the weight lift off your shoulders. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime, kid.”

The two of you fall into a companionable silence, the hum of machinery and occasional banter filling the air. As Tony returns to his tinkering and you reflect on your journey, a sense of belonging washes over you, grounding you in the familiar embrace of family, wherever they may be.

Later, you leave Tony’s lab, a sense of clarity guiding your steps as you navigate through the halls of Avengers Tower. Thoughts of Jon and Damian linger in your mind, their presence like gentle echoes urging you forward.

You find yourself drawn to the training room, a sanctuary of sorts where you’ve honed your skills and found solace in the rhythm of combat. The familiar scent of sweat and metal greets you as you enter, the training mats beckoning invitingly under the soft glow of overhead lights.

You start with basic stretches, letting muscle memory guide your movements as you flow through familiar routines. Each stretch and strike brings a sense of  familiarity, a reminder of the strength and determination that brought you here.

As you spar with imaginary opponents, the echoes of Wanda’s words linger in your mind. Love, uncertainty, and the paths that lie ahead—all intertwined in a tapestry of choices and possibilities. In the midst of your training, Jon’s warmth and Damian’s complexities come into sharper focus. Their presence in your life has been unexpected yet undeniable, each offering a different perspective and a unique connection that resonates deeply within you.

You spar with renewed vigor, channeling your thoughts and emotions into each movement. The clang of fists against pads and the sound of your own breath become a cadence, a rhythmic heartbeat of determination and contemplation. Hours pass unnoticed, lost in the flow of training and introspection. By the time you finish, exhaustion mingles with a sense of satisfaction.

A week passes. You find yourself hanging out in one of the numerous lounges at Spider-HQ. You and Hobie wrangled some consoles, bean bags, fairy lights and other cozy things in (in spite of Miguel's exasperations) and dubbed this specific one yours. It's a place where you can unwind and escape the responsibilities that come with being the Spider.

Gwen, Hobie and Pav have taken to playing a ferocious game of Mario Kart. You and all your kindness have decided to help Miles with his Spanish homework. Miles listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with questions or sharing anecdotes about his latest escapades.

You sit down next to Miles, flipping open the textbook with a grin. "Alright, buckle up Miles.. ¿Listo? you ask cheerfully, ready to dive into the conjugations and vocabulary with him.

Miles chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, thanks for helping out with this. Spanish isn't my strongest subject."

You tsk. “Shameful.” He shoves you playfully in retaliation. As you guide Miles through the homework, laughter and banter fill the air, mingling with the sounds of Mario Kart battles and friendly debates over strategy. It's a relaxed atmosphere, a welcome break from the weightier decisions and reflections of the past week.

You sigh eventually, leaning your face into your hand. “How do you do it, Miles?”

“I don’t,” he scoffs, thinking you're referring to the Spanish. “That’s why you’re here.”

You snort, sliding away his assignment. “I mean, how is it so easy for you to just… be you?”

Miles looks at you quizzically, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Being me? It's not always easy, you know," he replies with a hint of sincerity beneath his playful tone. "But I guess I just try to focus on what matters to me, you know? Like family, friends, and doing what's right."

You nod thoughtfully, considering his words. "Yeah, I get that," you say, a small smile forming. "It's about staying true to yourself, even when things get complicated."

"Exactly!" Miles exclaims, his enthusiasm infectious. "You've got to figure out what works for you and roll with it. I mean, look at you—you've got this whole dual life thing down don’t you?”

You chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. "Maybe not always as smoothly as I'd like."

"But you're doing it," Miles insists, his gaze earnest. "And that's what counts. You're making it work. Just, do your own thing,” he trails off, looking at Gwen. It’s no secret that there is something going on between them.

Well, if that is testament enough, then what is?

“...There’s a first time for everything.”

Later, as the night winds down and your friends begin to disperse, you linger in the lounge for a moment of quiet contemplation. With a final glance around the room, you rise to your feet.

There is one more person you’d like to talk to.

This New York isn’t so different from your own. It looks the same, sounds the same, and feels the same. You even spot a Delmar's while you swing around. The nighttime lights blur into streaks as you move. The rhythm of your movements, the thwip of your webs, and the distant sounds of the city create a symphony of familiarity.

You land gracefully on a rooftop, taking a moment to survey the skyline. There’s an Avengers Tower, standing tall and proud in the distance, a beacon of strength. As you catch your breath, you feel a presence nearby—a silent observer, familiar and comforting.

familiar

“Never thought I’d see you here,” they hum. Coming to a stop beside. The spider symbol on their chest is the same since you last saw it. When they visited you to give you the catalyst back in the other universe.

The Spider that threw you there in the first place.

Strange times, huh?

“I guess you found your way?” they ask, fiddling with their web-shooters.

“I guess I did,” you hum. You gaze at them for a moment, the shared history and intertwined destinies palpable between you.

“So, to what do I owe the visit? Not that I’m not grateful that you’re not body-slamming me on sight, because I am.” That gets a chuckle out of you, and they seem to relax a little.

“I’m not so angry these days,” you explain. “Other things on my mind and all.”

“Fair enough,” they concede, their tone softening. They lean against the ledge beside you, their gaze fixed on the city below. “Seems like you've been through… a lot,” they observe quietly, their voice carrying a hint of understanding.

You nod. Silence settles between you, comfortable yet charged with unspoken questions. You study their profile, noticing the subtle shifts in their demeanor, the echoes of shared experiences between your worlds.

“I’m sorry,” they finally say, their voice tinged with genuine remorse. “For everything that happened back then.”

You turn to them, meeting their gaze with a mix of forgiveness and acceptance. “I know,” you reply softly, acknowledging the weight of their words. “We both made choices, good and bad. It’s... part of who we are.”

“As Spiders?” they question hands reaching up to hook under their mask.

“As Spiders,” you agree, eyes watching as their mask slips up.

It’s you.

Despite everything, it’s been you.

Your double, or perhaps you can call them your alternate counterpart, nods in understanding, their expression mirroring the mix of determination and conflict you feel within yourself.

“I’ll be damned,” you mutter as your own suit gives away to reveal your face.

“I suspected, when we had that talk. The one where you were probably gonna kill me,” they chuckle softly. “You said you were the only [Name], and it could’ve just been a dumb coincidence…”

“Dumb coincidences don’t really happen to us.”

They shake their head. “No, they don’t.”

You lean against the ledge, feeling tired all of a sudden. “So, who is it? Who captures the heart of [Name] [L.Name]? An MJ? Gwen Stacy? Black Cat?” Maybe you secretly like to suffer, and that’s why you ask.

They snort, head hanging. “Not sure who they are, but since you're asking…”

“...there’s these guys,” they grin softly, sheepishly, “named Jon and Damian.”

And your will completely gives away.

“Jon’s real sweet, complete cutie. Ball of sunshine, and really pretty eyes. Damian’s a rich piece of work, but he’s honest and loyal. Also really pretty eyes.”

You look into their eyes, wide and disbelieving. “Are they… so do… Superboy and Robin exist here?”

They look at you confused. “Batman? Superman?” you implore. “Not even.. the comics?”

They purse their lips and shake their head. “They’re just normal guys,” they mutter softly.

Your counterpart's words hang in the air, mingling with the cool breeze that sweeps across the rooftop. You can't help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. "Can’t believe it," you mutter, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m the one who isn’t normal,” they smile dryly. “They didn’t know anything about me until I got back. They were so worried sick, and I realized how much they care about me. What better time to tell them everything?”

“And it was worth telling them?”

“I love them, of course it was,” they shrug, like it’s just that simple. “They see me now, as both [Name] and Spinnerette. I wouldn’t give that for anything.”

You feel a surge of warmth and hope at their words, realizing that perhaps your own path can lead to a similar sense of acceptance and belonging. "It's good to hear that it worked out for you," you say sincerely.

Your counterpart smiles, a glimmer of understanding in their eyes. "It can work out for you too.”

You guess no one would know you better than you.

“Thanks,” is all you say.

“Anytime,” is all they say, nodding at you with a gentle smile before shooting a web swinging away into the night, disappearing amidst the glowing cityscape.

You remain on the rooftop for a while longer, lost in thought. The skyline stretches before you, a tapestry of lights and shadows that mirror the complexities of your own life. The pieces of a puzzle are slowly coming together, guiding you towards a path that feels uniquely yours.

With renewed determination, you take to the skies once more, letting the rhythm of your swings carry you forward. The night air is crisp and alive with possibility, each movement a step towards embracing yourself and your desires.

As you land on the familiar (familiar, but not yours) balcony of Avengers Tower, you take a moment to savor the view. The city stretches out beneath you, a testament to home. You made it back to a place that feels like home, where friendships and connections intertwine to create a tapestry of support and understanding.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Jon and Damian are waiting for you.

“Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

“I’m ready,” you whisper to yourself, a quiet affirmation that echoes in the night.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

You input a location into your Web-watch.

"It can work out for you too.”

You step into the bright amalgamation of light.

notes: does that parallel i mentioned in chap 14 make sense now? lol

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

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HOME

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SUMMARY ↳ Home is where the heart is. Tony's eyes study you carefully. "You sure you're okay?" "I'm home, Tony," is all you say." pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 3.2k

all of your replies from last chapter really made me chuckle, glad to see that the writing hit like it was supposed to lol

Miguel refuses to let you go anywhere without getting checked out by somebody. A Spider-Doctor looks you over, poking and prodding at you. She asks you a bunch of questions, some miniscule and some strange.

“Does it hurt when I press here?”

“Is your vision blurry?”

“Does your body feel different on an atomic level?”

She deems you good to go. Your friends are all waiting for you outside the office. Miguel immediately hands you a Web-Watch before stalking off somewhere (grump, you swear). It feels heavenly in your grip. Man, how you missed it. You quickly wear it, placing it just under your web-shooters. The weight of it is reassuring.

With a glance at your friends, you feel a surge of gratitude for their unwavering support. “I should…”

Peter smiles, waving you off. “Go, kid.” The rest of them nod encouragingly. You almost want to cry at their understanding expressions. The watch beeps as you put in your destination. That familiar hum of the universe greets you as the portal opens up. With one last wave to them, you enter it.

Earth-143258

Queens, New York.

Home. You’re finally home.

You breathe in the air. It’s night time now. Avengers tower stands tall, a lighthouse providing a way home. The cool night air swirls around you, carrying with it echoes of past memories. You decide you’ll walk there.

As you walk through the familiar streets, the city feels simultaneously unchanged and yet subtly different. The sounds of the city—distant traffic, people chatting, the occasional siren—blend with the comforting hum of all that New York is.

The familiar sights and sounds evoke visuals, reminding you of the countless times you've swung through these very streets, fighting crime and protecting the innocent.

Passing by old haunts and familiar landmarks, your heart swells with a mix of nostalgia and determination. You catch glimpses of everyday life—families out for an evening stroll, street vendors closing up shop, and the occasional patrol car passing by. Each step feels like a reunion with a part of yourself that you've missed during your time away.

Avengers Tower looms ahead, its imposing silhouette against the night sky serving as a beacon of hope and security. With each stride, you feel more grounded, more connected to this world than ever before. As you approach the entrance to the main lobby, you pause for a moment, taking in the scene before stepping inside.

“Welcome home, [Name],” greets FRIDAY. It sounds like she’s smiling. The warmth in her voice is noticeable, almost as if the building itself is happy to see you return. The spacious, modern interior of the lobby feels like a sanctuary, a place where you've spent countless hours.

“Where’s… where’s everyone?”

“Would you like me to tell them you’re here?”

You swallow. “No, can you just. Can you tell me where they are?”

FRIDAY's voice, smooth and comforting, responds immediately, "Of course. Tony is in his lab, working on a new project. Natasha and Clint are in the training room, sparring. Steve is in the gym, and Bruce is in the kitchen.”

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. It’s been too long since you’ve seen them, but you need a moment to gather yourself before facing even one of them. After a few moments of reflection, you stand up, feeling more grounded. It’s time to reconnect with your team, your family. You decide to head to the lab first. You have to see Tony first.

The lab is a hive of activity, filled with the hum of machinery and the soft glow of various screens. The familiar sights and sounds embrace you like a well-worn glove. Tony is hunched over a workbench, tinkering with what looks like a new piece of tech. For a moment, you simply watch him, the flickering lights casting shadows on his face.

“Hey, Tony,” you call out softly, your voice carrying a mix of emotions.

Tony freezes, pausing his work. He turns around slowly, and for a heartbeat, his expression is unreadable. “I’ve officially gone crazy. I’m seeing things.”

You step further into the lab, your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Tony's gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to discern whether you're real or a figment of his imagination.

You chuckle softly, trying to ease the tension. "If you're seeing things, then we both are, because I'm definitely standing right here."

Tony sets down his tools, his eyes scrutinizing. "Well, I'll be damned. Look who decided to drop back in from the multiverse." His sass seems infinite.

He strides over, and before you know it, you're enveloped in a bear hug that speaks volumes of relief and genuine affection. "You’re here," he murmurs, his voice gruff and wavering. “You came back.”

You smile, eyes watering. “Miss me?”

“Every damn day,” he replies fiercely. “It’s been months, kid.”

Your heart tightens at his words, and suddenly the dam breaks. A choked sob escapes you without your permission. You bury yourself deeper in Tony’s embrace. Tony only holds you tighter. The weight of everything comes crashing down on account of you finally letting go of everything you’ve been holding in for far too long.

Tony feels like a lifeline, grounding you in a flood of emotions built up. You’ve longed to feel this safe since you first landed in the other universe. His silent reassurance speaks volumes. There is no need for words in this moment, only the warmth in familiarity.

Tony doesn’t pull back until you do, brushing a hand down your face to wipe away your tears. “You wanna go see the others?”

You nod, feeling a rush of gratitude for Tony's understanding as you sniffle. Tony asks FRIDAY to gather your folk into the common room. He fills the silence with mindless chatter about what’s happened since you’ve been away—small little missions here and there, new tech he demanded Miguel to learn about.

“Oh, I’ve gotta let Wanda and Strange know you’re back. Wanda especially has been a little restless.”

“You asked them for help?”

He looks at you. “You were suddenly stranded in the multiverse. Why wouldn’t I?”

Your legs feel so numb you’re not sure how they still work. “Right.” A realization overwhelms you with a sense of belonging. It’s a feeling you haven’t felt in a while.

When you enter the common room, a wave of nostalgia hits you. You just want to sink into the comfy couches and take a three year nap. It feels like stepping back into a cherished memory. Natasha and Clint are already there, looking up as you and Tony walk in. Natasha’s eyes widen imperceptibly, you’re surprised you catch it. Clint’s usual expression breaks into a warm smile.

“Hey, stranger,” Clint says, voice barely above a whisper. His smile is warm, genuine, and it feels like coming home.

“We were starting to think you were avoiding us.” Natasha’s steps toward you are careful and coordinated, everything about her is. But her eyes are softened.

You manage a watery laugh. “Missed you guys too.”

Natasha is the first to move, closing the distance between you with her characteristic grace. She wraps you in a hug that is both gentle and firm, conveying unspoken words of relief and joy. It surprised you greatly, her willingness to openly show affection like this.  Clint follows suit, patting you on the back with a warm hand.

“Steve’s on his way,” Natasha says, stepping back but keeping a hand on your shoulder. “He’s been worried sick.”

Bruce arrives next, hair messy. His eyes dart around the room, landing on you. He breathes a sigh of disbelief, crossing the room to get to you. Bruce's hug is tentative at first, as if he's afraid you might disappear. But when he feels the solid warmth of your form, his grip tightens.

“Hey, kid.” It’s all you need to hear. You smile and wrap your arms around him. 

“Hi.”

Before long, Steve bursts into the room, his expression a mixture of disbelief and joy. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, and for a moment, he seems rooted to the spot. Then, with a few long strides, he closes the distance between you.. “You’re really here,” he says, pulling you into a hug that almost lifts you off your feet.

You return the hug with equal fervor, feeling the tension and weight of your absence melt away in the embrace of your friends, your family. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Currently breaking several traffic laws to get here,” he chuckles, letting you go reluctantly. 

“And Pepper?” you ask Tony, looking over Steve’s shoulder at him.

Tony blinks. “FRIDAY, please tell Pepper [Name]’s back.” You roll your eyes, not really surprised. “She’s out right now,” Tony says, giving a winning smile. “Nevermind that, let’s throw a party.”

Chuckles fill the room as Tony rounds behind the bar. Typical Tony, ever the partygoer. “Can I drink too?”

Tony squints at you, so you pull out the puppy eyes. “Come on, I deserve it. I was so far from home,” you pout. 

“One drink. One,” he points at you, turning to grab you a bottle to pour.

“They’re not legal, Tony–” cuts in Steve, because of course.

“Don’t be a party pooper, Cap.” Tony passes you your drink. You grin at Steve as you sip it. “You’re a bit of a rule breaker yourself.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head in mock disapproval as he takes a seat nearby. You imagine a warm blanket settling on you after a long night. Everyone gathers around, sharing stories and catching up on what has transpired during your absence.

Sam shows up with Bucky, walking towards you with a grin and his arms out. You don’t think you’ve ever received so many hugs in one night before. Bucky awkwardly pats your head, then pokes it for “leaving us so long.”

Wanda shows up next, dragging Vision behind her. She smiles widely upon seeing you, looking a little wistful. You kind of wish the drinks you’d been sneaking could take effect. Cursed super metabolism. Too many emotions have been felt tonight.

"Wanda," you say warmly, reaching out to embrace her. She returns the hug with a heartfelt squeeze, her voice tinged with relief. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Vision nods, a faint smile on his lips as he greets you warmly. Wanda’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she embraces you tightly, whispering how much she missed you. “Strange sends his regards,” sniffles Wanda, fondly brushing her fingers against your forehead.

The doors to the common room slide open again, and this time, it's Pepper who walks in. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of you standing there, and she rushes forward, enveloping you in a tight hug. "I can't believe it," she murmurs, her voice trembling with emotion. "Welcome home."

You feel your heart squeeze. You would’ve thought she wouldn’t be able to meet you tonight, since she had prior plans, but here she is. For you.

Throughout the night, amidst the laughter and shared stories, you find yourself reconnecting not just with your friends (read: family), but with a part of yourself that had felt lost. Tony asks FRIDAY to play your favorite song. 

Tony's eyes study you carefully. "You sure you're okay?"

“I’m home, Tony,” is all you say.

He seems to relax at that, nodding slowly. “You are, and we’re not letting you out of our sight anytime soon."

The night outside is calm, New York’s lights twinkling like stars. The moment feels precious. You wish you had your camera to capture it.

Your camera that was gifted to you back in the other universe.

Hm.

You're fingers start to fidget with your green and blue bracelet.

Eventually, the revelry winds down. Everyone bids their goodnights, and you find yourself standing on the balcony of Avengers Tower, gazing out at the cityscape that stretches before you.

The night air is cool against your skin, carrying with it a sense of peace and contentment. You take a deep breath, letting the moment wash over you. In the quiet of the night, with the city bustling below, you feel a renewed sense of self.

You will all your worries away. You’re right where you need to be. You’re heart must truly lie here.

You find that your room is the same as you left—comfortable, familiar, and filled with reminders of your life here. Pictures litter the walls, ones of you, of your friends, you with your friends. The bed is inviting, and you collapse onto it, exhaustion mingling with the exhilaration of being back home.

You reach for your Web-Watch, now resting beside you on the bedside table. It's a tangible reminder of where you've been and where you are now. In the other universe, you felt like you were constantly flying. Never a moment’s rest. At the very least, you were flying with people you liked.

But here, in this room, surrounded by mementos and the quiet hum of the city outside, you feel grounded. This is your home, your family, and they've welcomed you back with open arms. 

No matter, now you just want to sleep. You nestle into the softness of the pillows, allowing the weariness of your journey and the emotional release to finally catch up with you. Your thoughts are a jumble of faces and voices, memories and new beginnings.

Sleep comes easily, cradling you in its embrace as you drift off into a deep, restful slumber. 

Gwen’s Earth has always been pretty. Soft hues captivate you. It’s a world where the sky seems perpetually painted in pastels, casting a serene glow over the city below. Since you dipped on them last time to go home, they’ve decided that today is hang out time.

It’s always a sort of dance, swinging with the others. You and Gwen are more effortless in your grace, Pav comes close. The two of you twirl around each other, feeling the rush of wind and the freedom of the swing. The cityscape blurs past, a vibrant tapestry of lights and shadows.

“Show offs!” yells Miles, a ways behind you. Gwen's laughter rings out beside you, a melody of happiness that lifts your spirits even higher. The two of you share a glance, matching grins under your masks.

Miles zips past with a playful whoop, joining in the aerial dance with his own unique flair. He’s getting faster with his swinging. Hobie passes by as well, bumping you with his shoulder teasingly. You all swing through the cityscape, weaving between skyscrapers and navigating the intricate web of New York's skyline. 

As the night winds down, you find yourselves perched atop a familiar rooftop, looking out over the city sprawled beneath you. The lights of the city twinkle like stars, a breathtaking sight that never fails to inspire awe.

"I missed you guys," you admit, the words carrying a weight of sentimentality. "Being here, with all of you."

“Awe,” coos Pav, hands squishing his cheeks.

Miles grins, nudging you playfully. "You’re the one that disappeared on us.”

You laugh, feeling a surge of gratitude for these friends who have become your family across dimensions. "I promise, no more disappearing acts without warning."

With a final glance at the city below, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. In this moment, you’re surrounded by friends who care about you. Who could ask for more?

Together, you watch the sunrise paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, a new day dawning over the city that never sleeps.

“So…” hums Gwen, hands behind her back. You raise an eyebrow at her. “What was it like?”

You shake your head good-naturedly at her. Pav nods at her, looking at you. “Yeah, what did you do there?”

“Well for starters,” you clap your hands together, turning to face them all. “You guys got DC comics in your universe?”

“Like, Superman and stuff?” ask Miles.

You nod. He blinks. “No way.”

“Yes way,” you chuckle at their reactions, enjoying the disbelief on their faces. “Yeah, and guess where I landed.”

“Central City?”

“Themyscira!”

“Metropolis?”

You suck in air through your teeth dramatically. “Gotham.” They share a wince. Seems about right. "It's like someone took the grittiest, darkest parts of New York and turned them up to eleven," you explain, gesturing animatedly. "Never a dull moment. You've got Batman and the whole Batfamily running around. Don’t go to a carnival because Poison Ivy will attack it.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow. "Wait, you hung out with the Batfamily?"

You nod. “Yeah, I got like, initiated. I got myself enrolled in school, and Damian Wayne got involved. That snowballed into me getting involved with their superhero world, ‘cause you know, I wasn’t gonna stop being Spinnerette.”

Hobie fist bumps you in agreement. “Met Superboy, he’s a real sweetie. Consequently met his parents, and holy shit, Lois Lane is so cool.” Gwen nods hard in agreement. “I also technically made history when I remade Tony Stark's new element.”

You shrug at their stares. “I was trying to build a watch to get back home!” you defend, then turn to Hobie. “Which, by the way, you have to teach me how you did it. I’d rather not get stranded again, thank you.”

“Sounds like you had a blast over there,” teases Gwen, hooking her arm around you.

You scoff. “Once I got past the looming realization that I could be stuck there forever and never see my friends and family again, sure.” It’s a joke, but not really. “It was a bit unfair, I guess. I knew just about everything about them and they knew nothing about me. But I did… make friends there.”

“Just friends?” Pav leans in. You gulp, remembering what happened just before Miguel found you.

“Just friends,” you huff, shoving Pav back playfully. “Damian’s about as complicated as you’d expect, but he’s a good friend. Touchier than I thought he’d be. Intense, blunt, but still kind. And Jon’s… Jon’s Jon,” you continue, thinking back on your life in Gotham. “Real sweet, like I said. Earnest, kind, and desperately needs some brown contacts,” you chuckle fondly. “They’ve got a dynamic going on. But they’re also… just people. Like us.”

“Sounds like a really crazy telenovela,” hums Miles.

“Trust me, it was,” you agree, thinking of the rollercoaster of emotions and events you experienced. “But it was also… eye-opening. I learned a lot about myself, about what I’m capable of, and about what really matters to me.”

You lean back on your hands. “I just hope everything's okay. I kind of just… left.”

“You wanna go back?”

You hesitate, considering the question carefully. “Part of me does. I left things unfinished. But another part of me…” You glance at your friends, feeling a swell of warmth in your chest. “Another part of me knows that this is where I belong. With you guys. With my family.”

“Damn right,” says Gwen, punching you lightly in the arm.

“They don’t need me, anyway. I just hope they’re not too worried.” The sunrise bathes the rooftop in golden light, casting long shadows and warming the cool morning air. You take a deep breath, feeling at peace with your decision. For now, in this moment, you’re exactly where you need to be.

notes: if you don't know, '143' is slang for 'i love you', each number corresponds to the number of letter in each word of the phrase. reader's universe, earth-143258 means 'i love you in every universe', same rules.

BYE BYE, MISS AMERICAN PIE || JASON TODD X WIFE!READER

master-list || CHAPTER 1: i always feel like…

summary: a life as a vigilante and someone who comes from a life full of surviving, pain, and death. everyone deserves to be happy. with jason, he got lucky. for the first time. and with that luck, he keeps it a secret. far from everybody.

pairing/mentions: jason todd x fem!reader, bruce wayne, dick grayson

warnings! - nothing but implied sex, paranoia, feeling like being watched.

author’s note: hi my loves! here is an mini series! i kind of wrote this as i was hungover too…hehe. i have so many ideas now so I’ll be updating the up coming works page! if you wanna be tagged let me know. enjoy~

next

how do you protect the people you love?

by keeping them as a secret.

well, according to JASON. he was a man, a man who had enough demons and monsters who want him dead. no one expect some people know who he is underneath that red helmet. but none of them know of his true secrets. ones he swore to never tell anybody else, not even his family. as much as he loves them, he just can’t risk losing someone he is madly in love with.

sometimes, it’s a cost. if he told anybody, the more dangerous he is.

a monster he thought he was until he met her. an angel. a bliss from heaven. a kiss of love and trust. his younger self would melt from the sight of her. anyone would.

everyone in his family know of his past flings, the unserious ones. as much he also appreciates his family that want him to have someone, he’s just fine doing so by himself. and all of them just stopped asking him later on.

not far from Gotham, just about an hour away is a quiet and small neighborhood. with trees in every lawn and lighten old streets light, families with a family dog and children. the nice and free parts of the damned city. a life to be finally happy. that neighborhood had a two story house, bought by jason about two years ago. he knew she just had to have it. memories they created over time. he really wants to see her. and where jason was you may ask…back in that very damned city.

jason sat on the bench of the gym in the batcave, sweat pouring from forehead as he wiped it away with a clean white towel. in his hands was his personal phone, he always kept it safe from anybody with a difficult password. sometimes he even forgets it himself.

the text message stared back at him and an attachment of a photo beams at him.

AMERICAN PIE

when you coming back?

1 attachment

jason lifted up his lips into a small smile, a photo of a huge black dog with it’s eyes closing sleeping onto of someone who wore a white top. he uses his thumb scratching the itch above his scarred eyebrow.

YOU

TONIGHT. DON’T WAIT UP FOR ME PLZ

AMERICAN PIE

why are you typing in all caps?

YOU

sorry. was texting dick a while ago and we had a disagreement.

AMERICAN PIE

…huh. okie. you want anything to eat for dinner?

2 attachment

his thumb pressed on the photos, his blue eyes analyze the precious pictures that was sent to him. this time the photo consisted of the same dog on it’s back, a goofy look as it stared at the camera. it was pressed up against it’s nose as the dog looked crossed eyed. the other photo was a mirror picture. what looked to be a woman posing with her phone covering her face, the dog sitting in between her legs as they both sat on the floor with makeup scattered around.

YOU

what you have in mind?

jason pressed ‘send’ before going into his camera roll, selecting two photos he previously took when he was working out. when he sent them, a word ‘read’ below that attachments.

AMERICAN PIE

we have some steak? maybe some mashed potatoes for dinner too? and that guava juice you like so much i can make.

dayum you look good handsome

he lets out a chuckle at her switch from suggesting what for dinner to straight compliments and heart emojis.

YOU

sounds good doll. thank you beautiful. I’m gonna get ready. see you soon.

AMERICAN PIE

okie. see you.

sighing, jason shuts his phone completely. it was a long few weeks with his family. a mission that consisted in his help and a few of his brothers and barbara. god, he was tired. as much as he loved gotham and visiting the homeless shelters, he was tired as an old dog.

reaching down next to him was his water bottle he took from the cabinets in the kitchen. uncapping the kid, he drank straight from the cold bottle. a soothing and freezing water runs down his throat and into his stomach. a few gulps he could hear from his ears. as he finished the entire thing, he pulled his water bottle away from him before letting out an ‘ahh’. a small burp heard.

“excuse you”, bruce walks in the gym room in some grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. “sorry”, he says nonchalantly. jason gets up and on his feet, standing up straight the height difference between son and father was quiet funny. the second oldest was almost taller than batman himself.

the towel wrapped in his hand makes it’s way to jason’s neck. once wet piece of skin now moist from some sweat. bruce sat down on the same bench jason was sitting on. ready to get a head start in some exercise for the night. “you headin out?”, bruce questions him.

and here comes the questions. jason turned his head slightly to his father, giving a curt nod. “yea, ill be leaving in a couple of minutes. got some work to do tonight”, he lies. praying his adoptive dad would just take the false information, instead bruce stared at him blankly. “what’s tonight?”, his father pushes more.

man, his dad was really up his ass about everything. you see, ever since him and bruce ‘sort of’ made up…bruce wants to fix their relationship. jason really loves bruce. but after that whole traumatic past years and the two fighting, it was hard. even though they have times when it feels normal again.

“oh star needs my help with her sister again, maybe needs me to go on her planet for a while”, jason lies straight through his teeth.

bruce looks at jason’s back, scars of torn skin ragged all over.

he knows he’s lying..cause bruce lies like it’s a high paying job. as much as he wants to continue his relationship with his son, he decides to back down. the guilt still sitting in his heart and stomach. bruce slowly nodded. “alright, let me know when you come back”, bruce says now getting up from the bench as it squeaked from the sudden weight lift.

jason nodded, his messy wet hair flopped a little. “will do, see ya bruce”, he excused himself away from the gym. leaving behind his father you gave him a longing look.

‘what secrets you’re hiding?’ bruce wonders.

the sun has gone down faster, jason finally showered and gotten himself ready. once he tied his shoe and shrugged on his black leather jacket on his broad shoulders. a sudden kick to the door opens to dick who has his arms crossed. jason curious as he stared at the golden boy. “hey dick, what’s up”, he greeted the blue clad hero.

“you’re going to see kori?”, dick goes straight to the point.

jason rolls his eyes, grabbing his duffle bag on his bed. it was stuffed to the max as it looked to be suffocating.

“yes dick, she is my friend. and an ex team member”

“don’t forget you kissed her”, dick grumble.

“oh here we go again. she kissed me you dick”, jason annoyingly says to him, duffle bag strap on his shoulder. already walking out the door and into the hallway. dick scoffs lightly, “is that supposed to make me feel better?”.

from the hallway to the white marble stairs, dick tailed behind jason. “no, im just saying. i already told you this, get over it dickie”, jason says continue his walking in a faster pace. he really just wants to leave.

dick stops in his tracks, his arms drop before dramatically going up in the air. “get over it? get over it?! you kidding me? I’ll have you know she is MY ex girlfriend”, he yells out offended by his little brothers words.

impatiently, jason practically runs to the front door where alfred stood waiting for him. in his white clad finger was jason’s motorcycle keys. the old butler raised an eyebrow at the two grown men, before handing jason his keys. “thanks alfie”, jason whispers. a firm nod the older man gave him before walking off to go back into the batcave.

and out the door he was.

his long legs jogged down the stairs, shoes hitting the pebbled floor. the sounds of a fountain springing water. by the stairs was jason’s favorite motorcycle. an 1969 honda cb750.

jay is a sucker for old designed motorcycles. he loves them.

hopping on his motorcycle with no helmet on, come on..he doesn’t. his starts the engine, turning his head to dick who stood on the top of the steps still with an offended expression. “sorry dick, but at least i don’t go hopping to one ex girlfriend to another”, jason says with a teasing smile before zooming off from the manor.

in the distance, he could hear dick yell out “I DO NOT HOP FROM ONE EX GIRLFRIEND TO ANOTHER”.

jason chuckled mischievously, his motorcycle zooms past the gate and down the hill out of the Wayne Manor.

an hour away from the city, jason could feel his shoulders droop from tense of just being there. relief. this part of gotham was peaceful. something he wouldn’t know when he was kid. so used to life of crime and the loud sounds. he feel like he could breathe again.

with his duffel bag strapped on his shoulder tightly, he leaned on his side to turn on a street. there it was. a familiar neighborhood with some lucky people who live there.

beautiful trees greet him as they swished back and forth in the darkness. street lights buzzed with energy. the road was big for a neighborhood. cars were parked with an amazing space capacity.

to his luck, only some of the neighbors were out this late.

some of them waved at jason with such kindness, he in return gave them a wave.

it wasn’t long before he finally reached the house he’s been waiting for so long to be at. slowing down his motorcycle, jason turned a sharp left. now on cement ground. in front of his was the garage.

kicking his foot up to park his motorcycle and turning off the engine, he unswings his leg.

his blue eyes wander around the house, still looking good. the tree in front was old. a few crickets could be heard.

bringing up his heavy scar hand to his hair, fixing it to look more presentable. not before he reaches in his front pocket, grabbing a small circle shape. out from his pocket…is a wedding ring. inside, is words engraved ‘MY HEART IS, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, YOURS’

jane austen, sense & sensibility

jason slides the wedding bang on his ring finger, feeling the cold metal hit his warmth. he smiled just by looking at it. full of love and promises.

not wasting anymore time, jason walked around his motorcycle and to the front door. the door, a nice polished red brown color two windows on each side. fishing out his keys, he fiddles around finding a familiar key hanging. inserting it inside the keyhole, turning until hearing a click. jason opens the door.

entering the house, the first thing he smells is a warm scent of vanilla and almond. something he loves to smell. and not to forget, the dog smell.

speaking of dog, jason closes the door behind him. making sure to lock it. the sound of nails and paws hitting the wooden floor, rushing excitedly towards him. he takes off his shoes by the side of the door and his duffel bag. jason let’s out a whistle signaling he was here and it was him.

that caused the nails to immediately start running towards him more faster.

jason chuckled, he squats down. knees bent forward with his hand out. and in his sight, is a eight month old black german shepherd. it’s eyes two different colors. one a soft brown color and the other, blue like jason’s.

a pink tongue lolls out, panting heavily as it stared at jason. he smiled at the sight of the very excited puppy. “ hey girl, you missed me?”, he spoke softly.

the puppy whines lowly before trotting over to jason, her snout hits his hand before moving it on top of her head. awaiting for the best head scratches. his hands glide over her soft puppy fur, smooshing her cheeks together before giving a small peck on top of her head. “missed you to girl”, he says getting up from his position.

jason walks over to where the living room is, only to see it was empty with the flat screen TV black. pursing his lips in hoping to see someone. maybe kitchen?

kitchen was empty, he stood by the doorway. eyes searching for a figure to greet him but fails. in between jason’s thick thighs, was the puppy. it stood in the middle, looking up at him with the cutest puppy eyes. jason looked down in question, “where’s ya ma? she upstairs?”. a low whine with ears pinned before leaving his legs. leading him to where the stairs are. stretching his limbs a little, jason reaches the upstairs.

in one of the rooms, was lightened.

the pup sits by the door before scratching at it with a saddened look. jason looked at it with worry. his hand grips the gold knob before turning it. trying to stay quiet only for him to fail as the pup impatiently went inside the master bedroom. from the light, jason could see a small lump on the huge bed. pillows surrounded that lump, it moved once it heard the door open.

until, a head full of hair in a ponytail popped up from the lump.

jason smiled tiredly, “hey baby”. blankets shrug off the lump, showing a woman laying on the bed. she had (h/c), eyes clear of (c/e). and those eyes contained excitement just by looking at him. her body was clad in his pro-club black shirt with some shorts underneath.

“baby! you’re home!”, she greets him now jumping up on the bed running towards him. jason held out his arms as she jumped into him catching her with ease. large hands landing on her ass to steady her, his forearms hooked under her legs.

she wraps her arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his lips. god, he missed this. he could smell that vanilla and almond smell. one from her body lotion she always uses. pulling away from his lips, she leaned back with a beautiful smile. “i missed you baby”, she says.

“and I missed you. has ginger been good?”, he asks shifting her in his arms.

she sighs at him before turning her head to where the pup lays on their shared bed. the pup lays in between it’s paws looking at the couple with guilty eyes. “she tore my heels again”, she grunts at jason.

ah, those heels. jason held in a laugh before rubbing his hand on her bum. “im sure she didn’t mean to, I’ll buy you new ones”, he suggests only for her to turn her head back to him with eyebrows furrowed. “uh no, im buying new ones”, she says now wrapping her legs around his thick waist.

“what? why?” “because I know you jay, you’re going to say that I should buy two when I don’t want to”

jason frowned at her before raising his eyebrows knowledging she was right.

“mm yea you’re right. what I can’t spoil my wife?”, he sends her a teasing smile.

she rolls her eyes before letting her self down back on the ground. “you can. but you’re wife doesn’t want you to. you hungry?”, she asks him pulling down the shirt to cover her appropriately. jason’s tall figure towers over her, he shrugged his huge shoulders. “yea, you cooked?”, he asks his wife.

“not yet, I was waiting for you to come home so we can cook together”, she says looking up at him. her arms wrap themselves around his waist, breathing in his scent. jason nodded, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. “alright, let me get changed and I’ll meet you downstairs”, jason says before giving her smack on her ass.

his wife yelps from the tender slap, she playfully shoves him before giggling. heading to the door, she whistles for the pup. “ginger! come girl!”, she yells out before disappearing from frame. the said pup, perks up before running off following the woman.

jason grinned, his large hands on his hips taking in the room. cozy it was..

the walls were a soft beige color, everything was schemes of white, brown and gold. taking off his black leather jacket, jason starts walking to the huge bathroom where the closet was in as well. inside the bathroom, was neatly placed makeup and expensive creams laid out.

he takes off his shirt, the fabric sliding off against his chiseled chest. now in the closet, jason than takes off his jeans. leaving him only in his briefs. his figure passes by a photo laid perfectly onto of the drawers in the middle of the closet. that photo, was on the day him and his wife had gotten married in secret. it wasn’t at the wedding but it was after the ceremony. they were in greece. stating how much his wife loved greek history and mythology, it would be perfect to get wedded there.

the photo had his wife, in a beautiful summer dress with a white orchid flower in her hair. she smiled at the camera with delight as jason in a white button with a few of those buttons down, a gold chain around his neck. instead of looking at the camera, he was looking down at her with the most loving smile. literally giving heart eyes.

he’ll never forget that day. now, he knows he said he doesn’t see himself getting married. jay felt he was too damaged. doesn’t have a lot of luck with love or even being happy. but it changed when he met his wife, y/n l/n.

loving him for his so called flaws. not treating him like he’s so fragile when he isn’t. overall showing him love and that it’s okay to be vulnerable and angry. a bonus on her liking red hood. y/n is a civilian.

her family was involved with the military, and with y/n also finishing college early and working from home as an artist and a small business of making jewelry.

making jewelry helped her anxiety and depression is what she told him. and with the money she gets after, she would donate it to charity. one of the things jason loves about his wife. deep within, she was overall the kindest woman. that’s exactly why he married her in the first place.

carefully, jason steps down the stairs in his plaid pajama pants and a plain black t-shirt. he walks in the kitchen to see y/n already setting up the food to cook meanwhile ginger, the cute canine, was busy playing with a lamb chop squeaky toy. hearing him, ginger stops what’s she doing. the sad little lamb toy hanging from her mouth. the pup trots over to jason in excitement, using her back legs to give her support in jumping on him. “hey girl, what you got there?”, he asks lightly grabbing the toy in her mouth.

ginger gives out a playful growl in response as jason started rocking the toy back and forth, her head moving along.

“she insisted on having it the other day, practically begged me”, y/n says with a grin on her face. her hands prepping the food taking out the piece of meats and setting them on the cutting board. jason laughed, he always knew she would spoil ginger the minute he got her.

almost as if y/n knows what jay was thinking, she says “and no, I do not spoil her babe. that’s all you”.

finally, the sad looking lamb toy lays in his hands.

ginger sits on her butt looking at him ready to go and play. jason turned the toy and only to see some of stuffing almost gone. “yeesh, you already torn the poor lamb ging. you have to be more careful or else your mama won’t buy you anymore toys”, he says raising his eyebrows at the pup. with the words ‘won’t buy’, ginger’s big ears droop.

those sweet puppy eyes, jason knew he couldn’t resist them. the same ones that looked up at him when he found ginger in the city as red hood one night. an abandoned puppy. more so something happened to the mother and left ginger to fend for herself. jason bends down once more, his hands that held the toy start to scratch the dog behind it’s ears before whispering “I’ll buy you more later”.

a simple response of ginger giving jason a lick on his cheek. the spoiled puppy.

y/n stopped what she was doing, a hand on her hip as she watched her two loves with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “babe?”, she asks. jason stood up so quick. he turned to his wife to see her looking more smug. “what?”, jason smiles lightly.

“nothing, nothing. can you pre hear the oven for the pies please”, y/n says going back to seasoning the huge pieces of steak. pie?

ah yes, his wife’s famous pies. now, he loves alfred. he’s like a grandpa to him.. but he will have to say and he will never have the old man listen. but his wife’s pies…are too die for. the richness. the sweetness. the glazed top of the crust. jason loves the pies. especially apple pie. who doesn’t like apple pie?

with that mention of the pies, that made jason quirk up. “pie?”, he asks now walking over to his wife not before giving ginger a small head rub. y/n giggled, cute seeing her husband get so excited to have some pie tonight. “yes jay, pie. you’re favorite too”.

mentally jason high fived himself when his wife said she made him his ultimate favorite pie. jason now behind y/n, he wraps his arms around her waist. his chin rested on top of her head, gently he rubbed her. y/n leans back into his warmth as she left the steaks on the board to marinate.

there was many times he had missed this. just being with his wife, and dog.

and in those times, he was in awe of how he could be lucky for once. jason was full of anger. so many hurt. he’s a dangerous man for sure. well not JASON TODD.

but RED HOOD.

when y/n found out his line of work, she didn’t go and run off in fear. why? because there was a night he saved her from getting murdered one night. she wasn’t afraid of him or the demons he always had. he would always give her a reason to hate him or think he’s a monster. but those reasons turned into more reasons to love him.

“what you thinking over there handsome?”, y/n questions him from his sudden silence. jason blinked, he shifts his arms around her waist a little. he hummed in response. his chest rumbled like a purr.

“just, how lucky I am to have you..and this part of my life”, he mutters. as he talked, his chin would rub harshly against her head. it made her itch a little. y/n stopped her moving around on the counter, wiping her hands free from seasoning. her head tilts up to look at jason leaving his chin from having an balance.

her body turns in his big arms. his hands now wrapped around the small of her back. from the slight height difference jason had to lean down his upper body a little to even look at y/n. “lucky? I think I’m more lucky to have you jay”, she whispers tenderly. wrapping her arms around his neck standing on her tippy toes. always a sap. jason leans down, both of their lips almost touching. “and how are you the lucky one?”, jason asks. he could feel y/n smile.

“maybe because, im married to someone who is doing the people of Gotham a favor. saving people, beating the system, taking out criminals. you give back to the people…you give them a sense of hope and security no one could give them…”

and as she said those words, jason couldn’t help but feel…disappointed. not with y/n. but with himself. he may help his people. but doesn’t mean everyone else thinks he is the good guy. he’s not a hero for damn sure to most people. but that’s only because, jason is someone who gives people a chance and a reality. and that reality fucking sucks. that’s how he turned out. he shakes his head a little, leaning his forehead against hers. “im not a good person”, he says.

y/n frowned, his words made her sad.

he would always doubt himself, he wouldn’t of done it before but when they had gotten married he opened up a bit more. time. that’s what they had.

her arm moves away from his neck to lift up a finger. running it against the faded ‘j’ scar on his cheek. he closes his eyes leaning just into the small touch. “not everyone gets to decide if they are a good person or not. we let fate and our decisions determine that…and you, I know your a good person. cause if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have saved me that night and let me die”, she spoke softly. her finger moves up to his eyebrow that held another scar. jason opened his eyes, the blue color flashes with some green.

green like the lazarus pit.

a reminder of what brought him back to life. the memory of when he saved y/n, unknowingly that she would be his wife two years later. how crazy life could be.

pressing his lips against hers, the two locked lips. the space between them closing as they embraced one another. with a few pecks in, y/n leaned her forehead forward once again. jason locked eyes with her beautiful (e/c) eyes. “and im glad I did save you. cause then I wouldn’t have you with me”.

y/n grinned a little, she presses her lips against jason’s. a soft smack as it lands. pulling away from him, y/n gives his chest a small rub. “and i wouldn’t. now enough of the sad stuff, I’m hungry”, y/n says playfully turning back to face the counter with the readied steaks. jason silently chuckled, he shakes his head before rubbing his hands together. creating some heat in them. his heated hands fall, quick and hard. jason smacked y/n’s ass creating a rather loud ‘SMACK’.

jumping from the sudden violation, a small ‘aah’ y/n let out as she touched her burning cheek. she bends down in pain before laughing. jason laughed as he watched his wife who took that hit like a ‘champ’. “why?!”, y/n groaned with a laugh. jason shrugged his shoulder a little with a shit eating grin, “eh don’t act like you aren’t used to it babe”. with a wiggle of his eyebrows, y/n grabs a wet napkin near the sink ready to attack him with it.

the kitchen now filled with childish laughter, the husband and wife run around like two kids playing tag. ginger watched with her lamb toy in her mouth. her fluffy head tilted to the side curious as to what they were doing.

⋆˙.☾. ⋆˙

the night was more quiet than ever.

in the master bedroom contained the sleeping couple and a tired pup, and a ruined lamb toy. sounds of soft snores and tv background noise. something jason had on due to him not fully being used to the quiet ambience. from earlier events from dinner and teaching ginger new tricks, both y/n and jason decided to retire for the night. of course not before having some adult fun to themselves. what felt like a sahara desert in the room, y/n awoken.

thick muscular arms wrapped tightly against her bare waist, one hand touching her breast. her ring touches against his warm skin letting y/n know why it was rather hot in the room. jason radiated that warmth. her half opened eyes shift to his side to see the alarm clock. letters bolder in red as they read 2:45 AM. it was still pretty early. usually, jason would be awake doing patrol. she wasn’t complaining though. feeling parched, y/n decided to get some water downstairs. ‘should of convinced jay to get that hundred dollar mini fridge in here’, she thought to herself. her hand carefully unwraps jason’s arms from her body, the sleepy husband of hers groans from the lack of holding someone. to be extra careful to not awaken him, y/n uncovers herself.

shivering, as the Gotham’s cold air hits her. y/n slowly leaves the bed, and as she left. using her tippy toes to create little no sound to not disturb jason, her bare form skids to the where her fluffy grinch robe was.

wrapping the cozy robe on her form she was instantly met with softness and warmth. y/n ties the wrap around her waist making to secure it nicely. she turns her head to see if her husband had awoken only to see he was knocked out like a light. on the floor was ginger who lifted up her head to see where her mom was going.

y/n walks over to door turning the golden knob slowly and steady. and once it opened, y/n was quick to leave the bedroom and out in the hallway. her arms crossed against her chest going down the stairs, eyes not fully opened and tired yawn escapes her. making her way at the bottom of the stairs, y/n looked around the living room.

it was tidy and always clean before going to bed with y/n always complaining it has to be clean or she would procrastinate later on and do it in a month. unbothered by the lack of mess, y/n watched as the winds blow over the trees in front of the house. creating a scary shadow that lighten the living room. and for some reason, y/n felt…uneasy. like a monster was going to come up from behind her and kill her brutally. but only, nothing did. she shrugs off the silly thought before going to the kitchen. on the dish rack was clean cups and plates, grabbing one of the clear mason jar in her hand.

she walks over to the fridge where an water distillery was a part of, pushing it light alooms the fridge and the kitchen. cold water springs out and onto the mason jar. and about five seconds, an already full cup is filled the brim.

pressing her soft lips against the cold glass, y/n took big sips and gulps of the cold temperature water. it ran smooth down her throat and freezing into her body. three a.m. water was just different and better when you wake up in the middle of the night. chugging her drink, y/n swallowed last bits of it before placing it in the sink to be washed later.

using her fluffy sleeve to wipe at the water that dropped down on the side of her lip. y/n stretched her limbs a little. nights like this was simple. drink water, stretch, then head to bed. but tonight, it felt more…scary. after her stretch break, y/n looked around the kitchen and the backyard. blackened curtains hiding any view inside.

it was too quiet. more quiet than a library.

what feels like voices telling her to just go back to bed with jason and sleep till the morning sun comes. but in her gut, she felt like something wasn’t right. eyes glued onto y/n. and never leaving. her breath hitched as she tried to listen to something. just something to let her know she wasn’t overthinking it. almost like the curiosity was stopping her from going back upstairs.

that was until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist instantly.

y/n lets out a scream at the sudden attack. ready to scream out for her husband or to try and wound the person, a sleepy chuckle is heard by her ear. quick to realize who it was, y/n relaxed into the arms and chest she loved so much. “jay”, she whined out annoyed.

jason laughed, feeling mischievous at the successful attempt in scaring his wife. “sorry. why you out of bed?”, he asks her. his voice was rough and tired. he wasn’t there for that long it seems. y/n leaned her head back into the croak of his shoulder. “just thirsty was all”, she says. her hand reaches up to jason. rubbing at the side of his neck with reassurance.

“well you were taking long babe”, jason says bending his neck down to meet hers.

she lets out a giggle before biting her lip. “oh? well it wouldn’t BE taking so long if you just said yes to the mini fridge in our room”, she teases him.

jason rolled his eyes knowing his wife won’t stop pestering him about that damn mini fridge that was a good deal for a pretty good sized shape. tighting his grip on her waist, jason playfully bites her neck causing her to squeal.

wiggling away in his grip jason grinned in the crock of her neck. one of her ticklish spots that jason likes to mess with. “okay okay! im sorry. but we should of gotten it”, y/n admits truthfully. jason lets out a sigh already wanting to head up back to bed where ginger was probably in his spot by now. he gently grabs onto her sleeve, pulling away with him.

“alright I get it, you are right and I’m right. come on lets get some sleep”, he mutters to her. y/n follows jason out of the kitchen and back to the living room. she pauses, standing next to the stairs looking around the clean living room as if she was searching for something. nothing…only there was the shadow of the tree on their porch. jason noticed this.

she was paranoid. but why?

jason stands by the stairs looking at y/n and back to the empty living room. “what’s wrong?”, he asks her. he was worried. paranoid, was something y/n wasn’t like. he was. only time she would when jason was injured or not responding and has been away for days. y/n blinked furiously, shaking her head now bringing her ringed hand up to tuck in her messy hair. “nothing. nothing just making sure”, she says to him. it wasn’t nothing at all.

he slowly nodded his head still not believing her though. tugging on her sleeve to go up the stairs. y/n followed her husband, not before taking a look at the living room once more and back up to her bedroom.

“babe? baabee? babe!”

y/n turned her head in a flash to be faced with jason who was holding up two different tubs of ice cream in his hands. cookies and cream, and chocolate brownie. giving her a raised eyebrow in question, jason walked over to her with worry. “you okay?”, jason asks her placing the two tubs in the grocery cart.

no. she wasn’t.

lying straight to her husband’s face, she nodded her head with a tight lipped smile. “yea, yea just tired I guess”, y/n lies.

and that she lied to him again. jason knows. knowing her too much as much as she did about him. he looks down at her shorter height, unconvinced and waiting for his wife to tell him. something was off. “is it the nightmares again?”, he bluntly asks. y/n widened her eyes with her mouth agape shaking her head before replacing the expression into an offended one. “what? no no! im fine jay. just tired, you know? I haven’t gotten any sleep when you left”, she half lies to him.

already wanting to quick the conversation and end it just at that. y/n grabs the cookies and cream ice cream walking over to the freezer and placing it back.

on her way back to the hunk, jason had his mouth opened more offended than she was. “why you put back the cookies and cream?”.

“uh because that one isn’t good? the chocolate brownie mix has REAL brownie pieces babe” “and so does the cookies and cream!”

y/n giggled at the silly childish argument. glad the serious talk was over. she kisses jason the cheek before scrolling away with the cart with jason on her tail. “wha- babe don’t tell me you don’t love cookies and cream! the cookie parts are the best parts! stop walking woman!”, jay tries to reason with her only to be ignored.

exiting the large grocery store, jason pushed the full cart of food and necessities as y/n walked beside him hopping in her boots as she held up a long white receipt. “woah! see that babe? eighty seven dollars worth of groceries with fifty dollar worth coupons, we scammed the government”, y/n says proudly shaking the receipt in the air. jason laughed at her pushing the cart. “scamming the government by having coupons and saving money? oohhh babe you’re dangerous. someone put a wanted sign for this woman”, he teases her only to receive an small shove.

“I cracked the system babe” “oh I’m sure you did”

“well I think we did an amazing job. you know we can always save up more coupons and buy stuff for the woman’s homeless shelter? anna from next door said she would be on board with that”, y/n tells jason giving him a note to go to the homeless shelter in Gotham in a few weeks and give them some supplies. jason hummed in agreement stopping the cart as they reached the car. “want me to do the loading or you do it?” “I’ll do it, just check the back please”

her figure hops to the right of the car opening the back seat door only to be faced with a teddy bear with a red hood t-shirt on strapped in his seat. y/n smiled remembering when jay got her the cute bear as a Valentine’s Day gift. she shuts the door before moving on the passenger seat. empty. “clear!”, she yells out.

jason opens the trunk door, lifting it up he was met with a note.

a note? why the fuck is there a note in his car? it was folded into two. blank on each side. now the creeping feeling up on his spine and in his throat, anxiety pitted in his stomach. he grabs it, and as he did he opens it…

only to see a random doodle recognizing y/n’s handwriting. the drawing was of jason as a stick figure with his signature red hood helmet on with a smile and y/n and ginger drawn in a funny way. ginger had the little lamb toy in her mouth. he snorted before shoving it in his pocket. now loading up the car with the groceries.

once jason had finished loading the groceries, he grabbed the end of the cart scrolling away to put it away. y/n walks over to the passenger seat door, as she opened it she slid right in. buckling herself up she shuffled in her seat to get more comfortable as she waited for jason. a force habit she did, y/n looked up at the view mirror. her hand moved it to face her, fixing her makeup.

a pinkie slide against her glossed lips, wiping away at the corners. rubbing her lips together to smear more of the product. y/n moved the mirror back to it’s original place. and when she did, a man in a car with sunglasses and his hoodie up stares right at her.

y/n froze.

staring back at the man through the mirror, she could see he was parked right behind them. the man had stains on his hoodie, they were dark and moist looking. his hands were bloodied. eyes were bloodshot. beard unshaven and uneven. what terrified y/n more, the clown mask laying on his dashboard.

clown…clown…

he didn’t blink. all he did was stare. just staring. so deep into her eyes and into her soul.

her fingers grip onto the arm rest. the staring contest between them two was intense. it was almost like he was there, for her.

the drivers door opens fo reveal jason who ruffled his hair messily. “ehh do we still have any hair dye babe? …babe?”, jason looked at y/n. he watched as she stared not at him but at the mirror facing the back.

“jay…that guy is staring…”, she whispers.

jason shoots up but not enough to alert the watching man, slowly he sits in his seat leaning back. he turns his head to the rear view mirror, trying to get an angle of who was staring at his wife so creepily. not seeing anything, y/n made a call to let him know where. “the car right behind us…”, she says.

but before jason could take a proper view of the said man, y/n watched from mirror as the man moved quickly and drove off.

y/n groaned disappointed. jason looked at her as she fell in his seat relaxed now and not so tense. “he’s gone…”.

ready to comfort her, she continued. “he was right there jay, he just stared at him like a fucking creep”. jason reached over letting his hand rest on her cheek rubbing slowly to comfort her.

“what’s his description”, he states. his tone was serious and cautious. knowing tonight he was going to lock his doors, put on the security system on and get a gun out in case. y/n sighed, taking a minute.

she felt like somebody’s watching her.

“I- he, can I just tell you when we get home? I just want to go…”, she whispers. the hand on her cheek slides to her hands, jason gave her a firm grip before nodding. “yea, of course…I’ll just tell Samuel to keep watch of any passes by the gate”, jason consoles her. y/n breathed out heavily nodding in agreement.

jason let go of y/n to turn on the engine, having the radio play a familiar song y/n has grown to love dear to her heart. and a song jason would say he thinks of his wife when he hears this..

“The day the music died

So, bye, bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to The Levee, but~”

“perfect timing”, y/n muttered under breath sarcastically. jason grinned a little in agreement. normally y/n would start singing along, but after being stared at by a dude who has a clown mask in his car was something she was more shaken up by. her intuition knew she was being watched. something she always, always trusts.

but how DO you really keep someone safe?

you don’t, not when different pair of eyes are on you. but not just on you, but those you love when you leave every few weeks.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

author’s note: hi loves! so I rewatch black widow and this song has been stuck in my head for a while so why not. and I do have some sad intentions with this song by the way so be prepared! im sorry i wasn’t as active yesterday! i was hungover and threw up 💀 but since i saw one of my loves say they would love a secret wife!reader might as well write this! I hope you all enjoy let me know if you would want a second part!

BINX

vii. 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, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Mentions of overdosing, Pills, Non-sexual intimacy, Mentions of death AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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 ༻⊰───⋅

The blood drained from Damian’s face, leaving him ashen and hollow. The horrifying truth sank in—you thought he was going to kill you. And he had nearly done it.

“No... no, no, no...” The words tumbled from Damian in a panicked whisper.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, but hesitating, afraid to touch you and cause more harm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, guilt choking his voice. His fingers hovered near your skin, close enough to feel your warmth but hesitant to make contact.

“My sweet girl, you’re safe with me.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

DANGER. 

Instinct screamed louder than thought, flooding your veins with raw, primal fear—a visceral, choking terror that clawed at your chest.

Panic clawed its way up your spine, gripping your heart in a vice, as if every nerve in your body had been doused in ice. The sound that followed, the sickening lurch in your stomach, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe— 

The blade pressed closer, its cold edge grazing your skin. White slits, the only features visible on Robin’s shadowed face, stared down at you from behind the blur of your vision. The edge of a rain-soaked cape trailed down, droplets mingling with the blood pooling on the floor. 

You couldn’t breathe. You were staring up at your own death, and you couldn’t breathe. 

“Don’t—” 

With a breath that felt like a desperate gasp for air, you crawled away from the blade, pleading for your life in ragged, broken whispers. 

Each inch you moved felt like wading through water, the crushing weight of fear dragging you down. Your helmet had long since uncloaked, and the remnants of your damaged suit clung to you, cracked and broken. Some pieces of the shattered armor lay scattered around. 

That white gaze slithered over the spider emblem on your chest piece, coiled around it, heavy with unspoken realization, before slowly unwinding to meet yours.

“Habibti?” 

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

“It was you?” Damian’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with horror and disbelief. 

But then his expression shifted, confusion and hurt twisting into something darker. His brows furrowed, and his mouth set into a hard line.

"Why did you hide this from me?" Damian growled, voice rough as if dragged over gravel. His teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound. As he advanced toward you, his hands shook, the katana gripped tightly in his trembling fingers. His knuckles were white with the strain.

“Why didn’t you trust me?!”  

Your head spun, confusion and fear intertwining—what was he talking about? You couldn’t—didn’t—understand. 

Damian’s boot came down on your chest with a bone-jarring thud, the impact forcing a violent flinch from you. Your torso buckled under the pressure.

“Stop—” you croaked, your fingers digging desperately into the worn leather and scuffed rubber of his shoes.  “What—what’s this about? I—I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but don’t—don’t you dare lay a hand on me!”

Damian hesitated for a fraction of a second, but his anger remained tightly coiled, ready to snap.

With a choked, anguished apology, you summoned your strength and swung at him. The punch landed solidly on his jaw, causing Damian to stumble back in shock. 

Seizing the moment, you scrambled away, but he surged forward with a swift, diagonal slash. The katana sliced through the air with a high-pitched whistle, narrowly missing your shoulder as you ducked and recoiled.

“Ngh!” you grunted as you hit the ground hard on your chest. Turning quickly, you saw Damian drawing his sword up. You paled and curled into yourself.

DANGER. 

Heaving, Damian held the sword up, his breath coming in ragged bursts. Anger consumed him, his entire being trembling with the force of it. But amid the storm of rage, flashes of clarity began to pierce through the haze. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way you shrank away from him.

The katana slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor with a cold, final sound.

CLANK.

The fury that had burned so fiercely began to crack, replaced by dawning horror. Damian stumbled back, eyes wide, chest heaving. What was he doing?

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice cracking as he knelt before you, reaching out with trembling hands. But you recoiled, pressing yourself against the floor, the fear too fresh, too consuming.

“Please, don’t,” you gasped, voice shaking. “I’m not—please, just don’t... I’m begging you—”

The blood drained from Damian’s face, leaving him ashen and hollow. The horrifying truth sank in—you thought he was going to kill you. And he had nearly done it.

“No... no, no, no...” The words tumbled from Damian in a panicked whisper.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, but hesitating, afraid to touch you and cause more harm.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, guilt choking his voice. His fingers hovered near your skin, close enough to feel your warmth but hesitant to make contact.

“My sweet girl, you’re safe with me,” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He pressed the emergency button on his watch, and an urgent alert blared out, sending a distress signal to the nearest Bat-vigilante.

You wanted to respond, to reach out, to say something. But the panic had you in a vice grip, squeezing your throat and chest, rendering you mute.

“Habibti, you need to breathe,” Damian urged gently.

You shook your head, the motion making the pain flare up again. 

“I—” you choked, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, but it only seemed to make it worse. The fear clawed at your chest, leaving you gasping.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, every breath a battle.

“I know it does, but you have to breathe. Breathe with me.” His tone was calm, grounding you even as you looked up at him through a blur of tears.

Damian’s hands numbed as he started to assess your injuries, pushing down his rising panic to focus on the task at hand. His training took over, and he methodically began an examination. 

He gently tilted your head, inspecting the gash on your brow. Blood smeared across your face, and the cut was deep—likely requiring stitches. He checked your pupils by shining a small flashlight from his utility belt into your eyes to assess for a concussion. Thankfully, none. 

When you shifted and winced in pain, Damian’s attention fell on your leg. He carefully palpated around your ankle, noting the swelling and deformity. 

“Broken,” he murmured.

The tense moment shattered with a metallic clang and the sharp sound of a grappling hook. Damian looked up to see Nightwing’s silhouette framed by the window. Dick’s face turned grim as he took in the scene, his eyes locking onto Damian’s with a look of horror.

“No time for explanations,” Damian said, lifting you from the ground. “We need to get her to the Cave—now.”

“No...” you murmured weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Both men turned to you, concern etched deeply into their brows as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your head lolled back, and the darkness around you seemed to thicken, fueled by the poison coursing through your veins. “The Batcave... it’s too far...”

“Then we’ll bring the supplies here,” Damian grit out. He tightened his grip on you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. “I’m not letting you go. Not now.”

The conversation between Nightwing and Damian became a muted blur. You felt yourself being carefully lowered onto the couch, strong arms guiding you down. A hand threaded into yours with a reassuring grip.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to muster the strength to reach for the comm link in your ear. Your hand trembled as you raised it, fingers just closing around the device when the door burst open. Morgan stumbled in, breathless and disheveled, clutching a bag tightly in her hand.

Your eyes locked onto hers, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Y/N.”

The moment she spoke your name, Damian paused.

The warmth in his eyes slowly hardened, replaced by a chilling coldness. 

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, moving with terrifying speed. He grabbed Morgan and slammed her against the wall with such force that the impact stole the breath from her lungs.

“Damian! Wait—” you winced, trying to lift yourself off the couch, but Dick was quicker, gently but firmly pushing you back down.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Damian snarled. The words dripped from his lips like venom as he rammed his forearm against Morgan’s ribs. “You shouldn’t be—”

“Holy shit,” Morgan sputtered, cutting him off with a heave. “Did—Did she just say Damian? You’re Robin?”

Damian’s arm pushed harder, his anger unabated.

“Answer me,” Damian snapped. The white slits in his mask glared at her like twin spots of ice. “You’ll explain what you’re doing here before I ensure you regret ever stepping foot in this place.”

“What the hell, dude?” Morgan shot back, pushing against his arm. “What’s your problem? I’m here trying to help!”

Damian’s grip tightened, suspicion deepening. “Help? How did you even find us?”

Morgan met his gaze without flinching. “I followed the signal from her comm link. I’m not here to mess with you, Batboy. And I sure as hell don’t have time for this bullshit! She’s seconds away from dying from poisoning!”

The word struck Damian like a physical blow. His shoulders stiffened, then faltered slightly, revealing a flicker of genuine panic. “Poison?”

Morgan rolled her eyes, exasperation lacing her voice. “Yes, genius. That’s what I said. Now, unless you want her to die on your watch, you need to get the hell out of my way and let me work.”

Damian staggered back, momentarily off-balance as Morgan forcefully shoved him aside. Without missing a beat, she moved to your side, setting her bag on the floor and beginning to unpack multiple bottles and syringes. 

“Hey,” she said, glancing at you with a frown. “How’s it going so far?”

“Trying not to die,” you croaked. 

“Well, try to hold on a bit longer. I haven't even started saving your ass yet.”

Damian and Dick hovered nearby, their eyes following every movement as Morgan set to work.

Her fingers moved quickly as she wiped down your arm with a sterile antiseptic, the scent of alcohol wafting up your nose.

“This is a batch I made following the journal I found,” Morgan explained. She drew a syringe filled with the antidote, the liquid swirling inside. As she gently pierced the needle into your arm, you felt a brief, sharp sting followed by a wave of coldness spreading from the injection site.

Gradually, the haze of disorientation and the crushing weight of nausea began to lift. The world around you came into sharper focus, and a soothing numbness slowly spread through your limbs.

“Stay with me,” Morgan said, tapping your cheek. “Need some painkillers?”

You nodded weakly, struggling to grasp the sudden clarity returning to you. The pain was still present but had dulled.

“Please,” you said, holding out a hand. “I think... I think the toxin’s affecting my healing.”

Morgan reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of fentanyl, dropping it into your hand. Clutching it tightly, you fumbled with the bottle of pills, your hands trembling. 

Twisting the cap off, you quickly poured a handful of tablets into your mouth. The sharp, bitter taste assaulted your tongue, making you grimace as it spread across the inside of your cheeks.

Both Dick and Damian reacted with strangled shouts.

“Stop!” Damian snapped. He lunged forward, his hands clamping onto your wrists in a desperate, vice-like grip. The pill bottle slipped from your grasp as Damian hurled it away, sending the remaining pills scattering across the floors. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You tried to speak, but the words were lost in a hacking cough that wracked your body. Dick’s face turned ghostly pale as he scrambled to pull some of the pills from your mouth, his hands shaking as he dropped them to the floor.

Morgan, now holding a syringe filled with a second dose, glanced between the two men, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. To her, it seemed as if they had completely lost their minds. 

You and Morgan exchanged looks of disbelief.

“How many did she take?” Dick demanded, his voice trembling as he grabbed the pill bottle and frantically scanned the label. His eyes widened as he read the text, shifting from confusion to horror. “Holy shit! I think I counted ten! That’s way over the safe dose!”

“That’s far from her limit!” Morgan snapped back. “She needs more, not less! The dosage for her is higher.”

Damian’s face flushed an alarming shade of red, his anger boiling over. A rapid stream of Arabic curses burst from him before he switched back to English with a snarl. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Just pumping her full of drugs and hoping for the best?!” 

Damian swatted the syringe Morgan tried to bring closer, snapping, “Your incompetence makes it a miracle she’s still alive!”

“Don’t lecture me, you oversized Boy Scout! She’s not a regular patient. You don’t get the dosage she needs. She’s not like you—” Morgan cut herself off, and shakes her head with a frustrated groan. “Look! Either you help or you get out of my way!”

Damian’s hands twitched at his sides, his fingers trailing dangerously close to the blade strapped to his utility belt. 

Cursing under your breath, you reached out, your hand grasping his wrist. 

“Dames, it’s fine,” you whispered, your fingers resting on his pulse point, feeling the rapid thrum beneath your touch. “Let Morgan do her job.”

“Beloved,” he glowered. “I will not allow this—”

“I’m a meta,” you cut him off.

A meta. You’d never said it out loud before—not like this, not even with Selina or Morgan. The word felt alien, a part of yourself you couldn’t quite embrace or accept, even within your own mind. It was as if naming it made it all too real, too undeniable.

The argument that had just moments ago filled the space with heated voices and frantic movement came to a halt. 

The apologetic look Morgan sent your way stung, intensifying the ache in your chest. She had known, of course—known what you were and had still stuck by your side.

That meant something, didn’t it? That maybe not everyone would see you as a threat. But Morgan wasn’t Batman. She wasn’t the one who held the city’s safety in his hands, who made decisions that could alter lives in the blink of an eye. 

"Fuck," Dick heaved a sigh and began to pace the room, a tense set in his shoulders. Damian’s face twisted into something unreadable as he stared at you. 

Meta. The word bounced around in his head.

Raised in a world of absolutes—right and wrong, justice and vengeance, friend and foe—Damian had little experience with gray areas. 

Metas had always been... complicated. Potential threats, variables that couldn’t be controlled. And now you, the person he cared for most, were one of them.

'What would Father say?' Damian thought as he edged closer, his movements hesitant, as he extended the pill bottle to you. His fingers trembled over the label. The bottle was just a vessel for what you needed, and you took it, swallowing the remaining pills.

As he sank to his knees beside you, his head bowed, his bangs falling over his eyes, he stared at his gloves, now darkened with the blood that had flowed from you.

Batman’s code was clear—protect the city, maintain control, and apprehend threats. If Batman found out—no, when Batman found out—what would Damian do? If Batman decided you were dangerous...

Damian tips his face into your side and sighs.

With the human barrier out of the way, Morgan resumed her work, administering the dose. The sting of the syringe was a distant sensation, barely registering through the fog in your mind.

“So...” Morgan murmured, the words heavy like syrup and lathered with forced lightness as she finished administering the tenth and final dose. “You guys into birds or something?”

You managed a small, tired smile and nudged her shoulder.

Damian lifted his head, meeting Morgan's gaze with a blank, white stare.

“What?" Morgan frowned. “You two show up with bird costumes and expect me not to ask questions? I need to know if this is some sort of family tradition."

The tension in the room began to ease, the atmosphere shifting from the intense panic of moments ago to something almost resembling normalcy—as normal as two vigilantes and one spider person could get.

You took a deep breath and slowly sat up, despite the weariness pulling at your limbs. Damian immediately moved to stop you, but you waved him off with a tired sigh.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Fast healing.”

Your eyes scanned the wreckage of the room, taking in the damage. The shattered window was a jagged lattice of sharp edges, with fragments scattered across the floor like deadly confetti.

“Mom’s gonna kill me,” you muttered, the weight of it all finally hitting you.

“Let’s focus on getting you back on your feet first,” Morgan said, shrugging. “The window can wait. Plus, I’m pretty sure we can come up with a good excuse. Maybe blame it on a freak bird accident?”

You glanced at the two men in the room. 

“Oh, it’s definitely a bird accident,” you quipped, the double meaning not lost on them.

Morgan rolled her eyes playfully, though her gaze softened with genuine concern. She moved toward a nearby closet, retrieving a broom and dustpan. “I’ll, uh... start cleaning up.”

The room fell into a quiet, contemplative silence. Dick stood there for a long moment, his eyes lost in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with an emotion that was hard to pinpoint, his gaze flicking between you and Damian.

“So...” he began, the word hanging in the air. “What happened?”

Damian seemed to collapse inward, his shoulders curling as guilt bubbled up within him. He grumbled softly, moving to slip off his domino mask. As it came away, vibrant forests met your gaze with smudged black eye paint still clinging to his lids. 

Turning away, you sighed and ruffled your tangled hair, finding the motion oddly comforting. The persistent itching in your ankle and ribs was a constant reminder that your healing factor was still at work, not yet finished mending the damage from your earlier crashes.

"A lot," you replied, biting your lip as you addressed Damian. "Why did you...? I... I thought you were coming after me because of, uh, what I’ve been doing at Ivy's, but... I just don’t understand. Why? Why did you—"

Damian's head whips up, his jade eyes blazing. "What? I—You never told me you were a vigilante."

You blink at him, stupefied. "I did! I told you the night of the dinner!"

Damian’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

“No, you didn’t. You mentioned—” He stumbles over his words. “You only said you were—” His voice trails off as his expression turns grave. His lips press into a thin line, realization washing over him.

“Oh.” The single word is barely audible.

“You—” he stammers, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words but failing. “I— I can’t believe this.”

Beet-red, he shakes his head vigorously, trying to dislodge the weight of his own mistake. 

“It’s my fault. I misunderstood. I didn’t realize...” As he trails off, his face flushes a deeper shade of red, blotchy patches spreading across his cheeks and forehead. He’s clearly mortified, his eyes cast downward as if he could sink into the floor to escape this. 

“What?” you sputter, completely bewildered.

Damian groans, burying his face into his knees. “I thought you were being hunted down...”

You jump in surprise and let out a soft scoff, placing a soothing hand on the back of his head and gently running your fingers through the scrape of his undercut. “Damian, seriously? You thought I was being hunted by my own... what, my secret identity?”

He nods against the kevlar of his suit, voice muffled and strained. “I thought... you were in danger. I didn’t realize— I didn’t make the connection.”

Dick, watching this whole exchange, finally lets out a huff and nods. “We all thought you were in danger. Guess we jumped the gun a bit. We were convinced you were being targeted by some rogue vigilante. Not exactly our finest hour.”

You turn to Dick with a weak, unintelligible croak. “And what, you didn’t think to double-check?”

“I am aware of how ridiculous we look right now.”

You wince as you lift your fingers to your temple, massaging it gently. Peering down at Damian through your lashes, you glare. “Ugh. You know... you threw me against the floor pretty hard...”

“I did not mean to hurt you,” Damian seethes, mouth dry and throat tight with regret. “But please, help me understand. What’s really going on?”

“You didn’t exactly make it easy to talk about everything when you slammed me into the ground,” you mumble, a hint of petulance creeping into your tone.

You know you’re being petty, but you feel justified. You rub your temple a bit harder, trying to chase away the pain.

His eyes flash with hurt, and you instantly taste bitterness in your mouth.

“I did not intend to be so forceful,” Damian says, his voice strained. “It’s just... with everything happening, I’m scared. I need to know what’s going on, Y/N. Please.”

Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, you lean forward, pressing your hands together. “Okay, let's go over everything, yeah? ”

You start to remove whatever was left of your armor, letting it clatter to the floor with a dull thud. Rolling up the sleeves of your undershirt, you extend your arms, revealing the small dots on your wrists.

“I got bitten by a radioactive spider,” you begin. “Trained for a while. Months, actually. Been Spidey ever since. Lately, the media’s been calling me Nightcrawler. I’ve been stopping muggings, robberies, saving Morgan—twice, by the way. She saved me after I got shot. Then blackmailed me into letting her be my ‘guy in the chair. Then I infiltrated a shipment tied to Black Mask. Morgan built me this new suit. I got interviewed while lifting a helicopter with one hand, and... yeah, I ended up getting velocity edits on TikTok. Then, we hit up Poison Ivy’s old warehouse tonight, and Damian tried to hunt me down. And... here we are.”

Damian stares at you, his expression unreadable. Dick remains frozen, caught off guard. Morgan shifts awkwardly, reaching into her pocket and slowly pulling out her phone, waving it in the air.

“Do you guys want to see the edits?”

You shoot her a withering look.

“Shut up,” you groan, throwing a piece of your armor at her.

Morgan ducks, her phone clattering to the floor. Pouting, she picks it up with a scoff. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

She shoves the phone back into her pocket with a huff. “No more distractions.”

“So…” Dick crosses his arms. “You’ve been doing this alone? All this time?” 

“Not alone,” you clarify, glancing at Morgan. “Morgan’s been helping me. Keeping me sane. And... I’ve had Selina’s guidance.”

“And good thing too,” Morgan adds, her voice taking on a more serious note. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, sleek device—a handheld scanner designed to detect injuries.

You straighten up, already familiar with the drill. Morgan’s device emits a soft, rhythmic beep as she runs it over your body, her eyes flicking to the screen.

PEPPER’s voice begins to speak, calm and clinical. “Regenerative healing is in progress. The antidote is fully effective, expected to take effect in about 30 minutes. Current injuries: broken ribs, fractured ankle, head gash, deep abrasions, and internal bruising. Estimated healing time: 7 hours. A bath is recommended for disinfection.”

Morgan, visibly relieved by the update, ruffles her hair and shuts off the device with a satisfied click. She looks around, trying to gauge the mood. 

“Well,” she says, “you heard her.”

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing PEPPER,” you smile, wincing slightly as you toe off your flats

Morgan rolls her eyes but manages a small smirk. “You hear her every week,” she retorts, shaking her head.

Footsteps thud heavily across the wooden floor as you stride across the room. The blood has been wiped off the floor, and the shards of glass are gone, but the broken window still gapes open. Explaining that to Selina later is going to be hell.

"You guys should head out," you murmur, glancing back at them. "Mom will be back soon."

Damian’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer. “I’m not leaving.”

Morgan huffs, crossing her arms. “Mm… No way. I’m staying put.”

Blinking slowly at the two of them, you grumble, “Yeah, I expected that.”

Turning to Dick, who’s been standing off to the side, you raise an eyebrow, silently pleading for some backup.

“I’ll… go,” Dick finally says, holding up his hands in surrender. “It makes more sense if both of them are here, but not exactly me.”

You nod appreciatively, a flicker of relief crossing your face. 

Dick moves toward a non-broken window but pauses, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

“I won’t tell B.”

“I know,” you murmur, offering him a faint, resigned smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“But… he’ll know eventually.”

“… I know.”

Dick’s nod carries the weight of the unspoken, a silent agreement between you. He steps onto the sill, the night air brushing past him, and the curtains flutter gently in his wake. The soft rustling of the fabric is the only sound as he disappears into the darkness.

You take a step towards the window to close it, but Damian strides over, cutting you off as he shuts it for you. His movements are quick, almost too quick like he’s trying to protect you from even the smallest of tasks.

You raise an eyebrow at him, caught between amusement and exasperation. 

“You’re still injured.”

Oh boy. You can already feel the arguments bubbling up, ready to spill out—reasons to defend your choices, to insist that you’re fine, that you can handle it. But the fight drains out of you before it begins. You’re too tired, too worn down from everything that’s happened.

“Alright,” you murmur, opting for a softer approach, hoping to defuse the tension before it flares. Your eyes drift to the remnants of your suit, lying crumpled on the floor, torn and battered. “Hey, Morgz. Can you handle… that?”

Morgan follows your gaze to the suit, then nods. 

“Sure thing,” she replies, already moving toward it in fix-it mode, likely running through a mental checklist of what she needs to do to patch it up.

Turning back to Damian, you step closer, slipping your hands over his shoulders. His muscles are coiled tight beneath your touch, like springs wound too tightly. 

You give his shoulders a gentle squeeze, your fingers pressing into the solid muscle, trying to ease some of the tension, even if just a little.

“As for you… we really need to get changed,” you say, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “We’re soaking the floors here.”

Damian nods silently, his gaze softening as he follows you into the apartment’s bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing off the rest of the world.

With gentle hands, Damian reaches for your undershirt, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helps you peel the damp fabric away. The material clings stubbornly, but he works patiently, careful not to rush or cause you any discomfort. Finally, the shirt comes free, and he lets it fall to the floor.

He kneels down, his hands steady as he slips your leggings down your legs, his touch light and deliberate, as if he’s handling something fragile. Once the clothes are off, he lets them drop with a soft thud, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours.

Without a word, he turns to the shower, twisting the knob until water rushes out in a steady stream. Warmth seeps into the air, the foggy mirror reflecting the both of you in a hazy outline. 

Damian wastes no time unclasping his cape, letting it fall to the floor in a dark, heavy pool. He then quickly strips out of his tunic, the fabric clinging stubbornly to his skin before he pulls it off with a yank. 

The tunic lands in a crumpled heap beside the cape, and your gaze is drawn to the red "R" emblazoned on his uniform. Your eyes lift to find Damian’s bare chest revealed—bronze skin etched with hard-earned muscle and a long, faded scar that traces a path across his ribcage. 

Tugging his hands up, you began to slip off his gloves, the dark stain of blood transferring to your own skin. The crimson smear seeped down your fingers, dripping onto the bathroom floor and forming dark, splotchy patterns on the tiles. 

When the blood was gone from his hands, you didn’t let go. Instead, you held onto his hands, feeling the slight tremor in them. 

You stayed like that, holding his hands until the shaking subsided, until the tremors ceased and the strength you knew he had began to return to his grip. 

Damian tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you under the shower with him, the warm water cascading over your bodies in a soothing wave. It’s a relief, the heat working its way into your sore muscles, washing away the grime, blood, and sweat from your skin. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks. 

Silently, you trace a nail along a scar on his collarbone. The only sound is the steady patter of water against tile.

"I'm going to start patrolling with you."

You feel a muscle twitch in your jaw as Damian says that.

"Damian, you're not patrolling with me."

"Yes, I am."

"Damian, no."

"Damian, yes," he insists. “I'm coming with you. I've seen Gotham, and I've been doing this much longer than you have."

“Rub it in. Okay,” you scoff. 

“Beloved, I’m trained for this.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t predict every danger.”

He’s not backing down. And you know, deep down, that this isn’t a battle you’re going to win.

With a strangled groan that rumbles up your throat, you lean into his chest, the warm, solid presence of him offering a small comfort. 

“Ugh. Fine, but I’m the one who gets to pick out the patrol routes.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 3:02 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

A whip drags across the crumbling floor of the rooftop, its leather coiling and uncoiling with each step, like a serpent following its master. The sharp clicks of heels against the roof echo through the stillness of the night.

A bag, stuffed with Selina’s latest haul, is slung casually over her shoulder, the weight barely slowing her down. The contents shift with each step, the muted clink of stolen treasures singing to her. 

She hums a low, sultry tune, the sound barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the city’s quiet. Her gaze sweeps across the rooftop and lands on her apartment building. Her eyes narrow at the sight of a broken window. 

The playful melody dies on her lips, her steps slowing to a halt. “Seems a stray found its way in.”

With a quick flick of her tongue against her teeth, she leaps down to the fire escape.

The faint creak of metal under her heels is the only sound as she crouches. The sight that greets her sends alarms ringing in her head—the door to her apartment is kicked open, the metal railing bent and dented, signs of a struggle or a forceful entry.

Selina creeps closer, moving silently as she readies herself. But suddenly, she freezes. The sound of voices drifts through the walls, muffled yet unmistakably clear.

"—f we like... cut off your hand, do you think it'll grow back?"

"I dunno. Wanna try cutting my hand off, Morgz?"

"What?! Habibti. No. Absolutely not."

"But think about the science! What if her arm grows back, like, full-on lizard style?"

"Yeah, but what if it grows back all freaky? Like, what if I end up with two thumbs or something?"

"Or better—what if you grow back a tentacle?"

"Oh my God. I could totally kick ass as a walking calamari."

"Are you two out of your damn minds? I forbid it. We're not amputating anything."

"Killjoy."

Selina walks in, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene. The three of you are curled up on the sofa, with a ridiculous TV show playing in the background that no one is actually watching.

Her gaze locks on Morgan, and she quickly realizes she needs to keep her presence discreet. With a swift glance around, she silently slips into her bedroom.

Moments later, she reemerges in civilian clothes. She steps back out of the apartment, pretends to head down the hallway, then doubles back and quietly slips inside once more.

Damian is the first to notice her, and he immediately tenses, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?" Selina asks, one eyebrow arching as she looks at the three of you.

Damian straightens up, attempting to look composed.

Morgan smiles sheepishly, "Hello, Miss Selina."

You shift uncomfortably, letting out a sigh. 

“Hey, Mom.” You nod towards the broken window, and Selina’s gaze follows. “So… um, things got a little out of hand tonight.”

Selina's eyes flick between the broken window and the three of you. "You think?

She tries to shut the door behind her, but it barely clings to the frame, tilting awkwardly on its splintered hinges. The wood creaks in protest, a low groan that echoes through the room as she shoves it into place.

Damian flushes, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself smaller, knowing full well he’s the one responsible for the damage. You place a reassuring hand on his thigh, tapping gently, hoping to ease his embarrassment. 

The knowing look Selina sends him suggests she’s already pieced together what happened.

Moving toward you, Selina gently cradles your face in her hands, her nails lightly tracing over your injuries.

“Hey ma,” you murmur.

You lean into her touch, feeling the exhaustion of the night seep away as her warmth envelopes you. She meets your gaze with a tender, concerned look, her eyes brimming with both worry and motherly affection.

"What happened to your face?" Selina starts. Her eyes flick from the bruises on your arms to the bandaged cut on your forehead, then to the dark circles under your eyes. "And what the hell did you do to my apartment?"

You wince a bit under her touch but try to shrug it off nonchalantly. “Oh, this? Yeah. Yeah, I was… uh, fixing the window.”

“Fixing the window?” she repeats. “Why? You do know we have repairs scheduled monthly?”

“Whaaat?” you gasp, playing up your confusion. “I mean, I’m sure it needed it. Maybe.”

“It wasn’t even broken before I left. Did you break it on purpose just to fix it?”

You blink, looking baffled. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Um, hi! Mrs. Selina,” Morgan chimes in, her tone awkward. “Actually, you see, we’ve got this event at Stark Industries coming up. We were, uh, testing some new tech, and it didn’t go exactly as planned.”

You jump in, nodding vigorously. Morgan discreetly hands you a small gadget, which you hold up for Selina to see. “Right. I didn’t expect it to work as well as it did. We were hoping for a few tweaks, but it kind of... overperformed.”

Selina eyes the gadget and shakes her head. “Overperformed? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

Morgan hums. "Yep, pretty much. The tech’s still in beta, so it’s got some quirks.”

Selina just nods, clearly unimpressed. "Still. Did you have to experiment in my apartment? I still remember that time you overcharged a set of batteries for a project and nearly blew up the kitchen."

You cringe, rubbing the back of your neck. “That was in fourth grade.”

“Ten-year-olds don’t typically run experiments on household electronics and nearly blow up the kitchen. That’s when I knew something was wrong with you,” Selina says, her gaze drifting to Damian, confusion gradually clouding her features. “And why is he here?”

“I’m helping with the project and the funding,” Damian quips, the lie slipping off his tongue like honey as he glances at you for confirmation. “Isn’t that right, beloved?”

You nod, playing along. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Selina’s eyes narrow as she processes this. “Isn’t Stark Tech rich enough to cover all of this?”

Morgan shrugs casually. “Oh, sure, Stark’s handling the main tech stuff. But Damian’s covering the extra costs—like her decorations and outfits for the semi-formal event.”

Damian steps in, his tone polite but firm. "Precisely why we came to your apartment, Miss Kyle. I was hoping to ask for your permission to take her out tomorrow. We’ll be shopping for her gown. And if you’d like, you could join us."

You blink, caught off guard. "Uh..."

Selina considers Damian’s question for a moment, then shakes her head with a sigh. "No can do. I have a... job arranged tomorrow. And I need to get that—" she points to the broken window with a frown—"looked at."

Ruffling her hair in frustration, she turns back toward her bedroom. "You have my permission, though. Just please—don’t turn my apartment into a lab next time."

"Okay! Thanks," you rush out, your voice a bit too eager. "Love you, Mom!"

Selina pauses at the doorway, humming in acknowledgment. She casts one last, assessing glance at the mess, her eyes narrowing slightly, before slipping into her room and muttering about needing to call a repair service again. 

As the door swings shut behind her, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling the tension slowly ease from your shoulders.

Morgan turns to you. "That was close."

“Too close,” you agree, then turn to Damian with a scowl. “What the hell? You realize we actually have to go shopping tomorrow, right?”

Damian hums, his gaze settling on you with that infuriatingly charming smolder—dark, intense, and undeniably attractive. “Yes, I do.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Are you doing this to try and make up?”

Damian’s expression shifts, a flicker of something dark crossing his face. It boiled his blood to think about this, but he had a habit of torturing himself over mistakes.

“It’s the least I could do,” he murmurs. “I almost…”

He trails off, lost in thought. His gaze turns distant, haunted. “I thought, if I could at least do something—anything—to make up for it, maybe it would help... even a little.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm. 

“Nope. None of that,” you hush him softly. “We’re moving forward. We both are.”

Damian nods slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. You rub his arm soothingly, then turn to Morgan with a raised brow. Morgan shrugs and holds up her hands in a mock surrender.

“The tech event is a real thing,” Morgan says, her tone matter-of-fact. “You didn’t think the internship was just a cover-up for all of this, did you?”

“Seriously? You guys actually have an event planned?” you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

“Yep. It’s the real deal and going to be a big deal. The whole fancy gown and decorations? Totally legit. We just had a few... detours so I couldn’t tell you.”

“What?” you groan, frustration mounting. “You didn’t tell me about this. I don’t even have a project ready to show!”

Morgan waves a dismissive hand, her grin widening. "Don’t worry, I’ll help with that. You still got a week and you’re a genius. The event’s about showcasing potential, not just completed projects. We can work something up, no sweat."

You roll your eyes. "Great, so we’re officially winging a multimillion-dollar internship offer that every single press outlet in Gotham is covering. No pressure, right?"

“Yep.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 4:13 AM - Stark Tower, Gotham City.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft whoosh, revealing the dimly lit tech area of Stark Tower. You and Morgan step out, with Damian trailing behind, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. 

Despite your protests about your healing ankle, he supported you the entire way here. The pain is mostly gone, but Damian’s insistence on playing nurse seems stronger than your actual injury.

Though you can’t help but notice the way he’s gripping you—a bit too tightly for comfort.

The three of you step out of the elevator and begin walking down the corridor. The air is crisp and slightly cool, carrying the faint scent of metal and polished surfaces. 

“Dad wants you to give the opening speech, by the way,” Morgan says, threading her fingers through her hair as she leads you both around a turn in the hallway. 

“Seriously? I’m not really a speech person,” you reply, knocking your shoe into hers. “Why don’t you do it instead?”

Morgan flashes a knowing smirk as she turns to walk backwards, facing you. “I’d love to, but Dad’s adamant about it. He’s all about that ‘new face of Stark Tech’ thing.”

A shudder of disgust visibly ripples through Damian.

“A marketing ploy,” he sneers. “Stark’s fully aware the media will devour the drama between our rival companies and turn it into a spectacle. Of course, Wayne Tech never needed such gimmicks to maintain its edge.”

Morgan chuckles, shaking her head. “Nah, I think he just wants to adopt her.”

The three of you turn a corner and enter a grand space where the hallway opens up into a wide, two-story room. Despite the hour, the floor-to-ceiling windows flood the area with a soft, muted glow from the city lights outside. 

At the center of the room, Tony lounges casually on one of the plush sofas. Gadgets and tools are strewn about him, and he’s engrossed in tinkering with a small device. He looks up as you approach, adjusting his glasses.

“Hey, kids. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Fancy meeting you here,” you murmur, trying to keep the mood light despite your exhaustion.

“I live here, kid.” Tony wipes his hands on a rag, tossing the gadget onto the coffee table in front of him. Crossing his arms, he leans back against the couch. “Who’s your little boy toy? You cheating on Morgan now?”

Damian’s face flushes with irritation, his jaw tightening. You can’t help but snort and rest your cheek against Damian’s shoulder, your grin widening at his discomfort.

“This is the famous Daryll,” you snark, giving Tony a sidelong glance.

Tony’s gaze bores into Damian, taking in the dark, brooding aura that seems to cling to him like a second skin. The kid looks like he’s stepped straight out of a Twilight movie, with those piercing green eyes smoldering beneath furrowed brows, carrying a weight far beyond his years.

It didn’t help that Damian was also the son of a billionaire. Tony remembers him from his younger years—back then, he was a pipsqueak, a sharp-tongued brat who acted like he owned the world.

Now, he’s taller, lean, and strong, with a coiled tension in his frame. That same intense, self-assured vibe still lingers, but it’s darker now, more honed like he’s seen too much and come out the other side more dangerous for it.

“Nice to meet you, Twilight Reject,” Tony says, pushing himself up and extending his hand to Damian. "Put 'em up."

Damian’s eyes flick to Tony’s hand with a look of absolute revulsion, as if it were some particularly vile insect. He hesitates for a moment, then grudgingly extends his own hand. His grip is firm, almost painfully so, as if he’s trying to crush the perceived insult out of Tony’s hand.

“It’s Damian. Damian Wayne,” he says, drawing out and emphasizing his last name, the irritation barely masked.

"Yeah. I know who you are," Tony scoffs, turning to you with a raised brow. “What’s the deal? Did you lose a bet or something? You're dating someone with all the personality of a damp towel."

“It’s called having standards, something you might not be familiar with,” Damian snaps back, his tone biting.

You sigh, sliding Damian's arm off of you and wincing slightly as you put weight on your uninjured foot. Stepping between the two of them, you raise a hand in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright! Let’s not turn this into a pissing contest.”

“It’s been a rough night, and we all need some rest,” Morgan interjects, her tone weary as she empties her jacket pockets, gadgets clattering onto the table. She tosses her backpack across the room, where it lands with a heavy thud.

Gesturing toward the sleeping quarters, she adds, “Can we save the bickering for later? They’ve got somewhere important to be tomorrow.”

Tony squints. “And where exactly are you two going?”

“Tt…” Damian tilts his head towards the man. “We have a dress appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Naturally, I’m covering all the expenses.”

“A dress appointment, huh?” Tony steps closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Well, someone’s got to make sure Sneakers here doesn’t end up in a ditch, so I’m coming along, Daniel.”

“It’s Damian,” he corrects. “And no, that won’t be necessary. We can handle it on our own.”

“Zip it, Dylan. I’m the one organizing this shindig, so I’d like to ensure my top intern doesn’t end up looking like a rag doll.”

Damian’s lip curls slightly. “If you insist on being there, then I’ll have to bring my father along as well. As her top donor, he should oversee it too, don’t you think?”

You blink, caught off guard. That’s a stretch. Bruce Wayne’s never actually thrown cash at your extracurriculars—though he’s tried, insisting on it more than once. Even tried to sneak you and Selina money through some probably illegal wire transfer, but you never took it.

“Oh, please. Anyone can throw money around,” Tony retorts. “He’s not special.”

“Well. If you have a problem with that,” Damian murmurs coldly, “you’re welcome to voice it to him. Tomorrow.”

Tony coughs, barely stifling his laugh. “Oh, I’m sure I can handle some prissy playboy,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Your brow creases in concern.

Oh, you really don’t want to see how that goes.

 ༻⊰───⋅

IM SO SORRY ITS LATE! HAD TO REWRITE A SCENE BC THE DRAFT GOT LOST :(

Next chap out soon </3 It's the weekends so it'll be quicker

Also I'm gonna rework some of the earlier chapters :P (Just tweaking writing a little no plot changes at all)

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |2| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This chapter is a flashback. So are the others. Enjoy! It's super long lmao

Story Guide

It was the Summer of 1972 when you first met Stanford. You remember it almost all too well. You went to a college for the arts, majoring in music composition. Oh! And you were in a band! It was not good by any means, you all were figuring this out as you went but you were all having fun so it didn’t really matter to you. It’s kinda funny looking back on how the two of you somehow became a couple considering how different the two of you were.

You two only met after you accidentally stumbled in his room one night after you partied too hard at someone else's dorm. You thought his room was your friend's room. His dorm had books scattered around, posters of some scientists on the wall and an absolute mess of notes on his desk. Stanford did not want to spend his night with some random drunk girl in his dorm, but he knew he had to let you in, not trusting what any of the other men on the campus would do if they saw you like this. He didn’t know why you made him so flustered, maybe it was your vulnerable state, or just because you were a girl, talking to him.

It was probably both.

“You know, I never wanted to go to this, it was some promotional stuff for my band. Did I tell you I was in a band? We are amazing!” You were laying on the floor staring at the ceiling smiling goofily, flipping onto your stomach to look at the flustered man whose dorm you broke into. He took a glance over his shoulder to look at you, trying to tell you he was listening, even if you didnt care if he was or not. “Okay so that might be a lie, Gabs is super pitchy, Jamie is still figuring out the drums but that's besides the point..I met you by going to this!” you finally sat up running a hand through your hair “You're so dorky it's kinda cute” you let off a soft giggle pointing at him.

This made Stanford physically freeze, his breath hitching slightly “Thank you I suppose, Are your friends looking for you?” He quickly changed the subject, turning around in his chair, looking at you “I think, I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here with you” you smirked. “Well I-” he started before he heard a female voice yelling in the hallway “Y/N! We gotta go!” “Oh that's Gabs! She’s my friend!” You stumbled up before heading towards the door, pausing before going back over to the man kissing his check with a giggle, causing Stanford's face to turn bright red “Thank you for saving me! I’m Y/n by the way!” “Um… It's Stanford, Call me Ford..” he managed to get out, quickly writing the phone number to the telephone that was in his room, down on a piece of notebook paper. “Just.. Call me when you get to your dorm safe..” he quickly turned back to face his textbooks he had his nose buried in hours ago “Aw you care about me… Okay loverboy. Seeya around!” you poked his shoulder before leaving, yelling at your friend ‘Gabs’ to get her attention

Ford had no idea why he did that, he never had the balls to do this sort of thing. Especially with someone as beauti- No why the hell was he having these thoughts? You weren't going to call him. He has to forget about this encounter, he concluded, going back to his uneventful night.

He got a call the next day, it was you. There was some sort of music in the background, he couldn't place what it was, some pop music maybe. “Oh my gosh is this Ford? I kinda crashed at your dorm last night, I am sooo sorry I am super embarrassed.” you rambled on before Ford let off a slight chuckle “No it's fine. I’m glad you're safe, you seemed very out of it last night” he leaned back in his chair slightly as he spoke “Ugh don't get me started about the hangover” you groaned causing him to laugh.

After that was the beginning of a relationship, you spent your off time together, he helped you with classes and you expanded his music taste, well tried to at least.

It's been 4 months since you two started dating. Ford even told his brother about this, and to say Stanley was shocked was an understatement, he rushed over surprising Ford “So you finally found a girl who doesn’t run off screaming? Tell me all about her” Stanley smirked looking at his twin brother, noticing a photo of you on his desk in a frame, you had a microphone in your hand giving a peace sign to the camera with your other hand. How the hell did his brother score you? Ford went off to ramble about you, he was a love sick mess, but the way his eyes kept shifting to the photo of you when explaining you made Stan confused, why did he have to keep looking at it to talk about you?

He noticed a few flyers to some music festivals, they looked untouched. “Who gave you these?” he picked one up, the show was for tonight, in a few hours. “Oh Y/n did. She’s in a band” Ford looked at the flier before directing his attention back to the textbook that was in front of him “You plan on seeing her right?” Stan raised an eyebrow looking at his brother “Too busy, I have an exam tomorrow” Ford shrugged it off flipping to the next page in his book “You’re joking right? Have you been to any of her shows?” Stan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, Ford didn't say anything “Some boyfriend you are” He muttered looking down at the flier in his hands. He knew what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let Ford ruin the only potential relationship he would probably ever have.

Taglist: @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 1

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

Warnings: no proof reading, sexual activities, language, neglecting husband and father, kinda angst/comfort

Imagine Bruce Wayne with no child, no wife (you), no friends and no more Alfred. He was all alone, making his life even harder, more cruel, more violent.

He didn’t adopt any child - not even Dick - because Alfred died quickly after Bruce became an adult. Thus, Bruce needed to take care of himself, and he didn't feel like he could look after a child. He was too tired and too depressed. He didn't want to bring any child into such a dark life.

His hands were full with Wayne Enterprises and his Batman way of life, so he also didn't make time for the Justice League. He sometimes helped them when it was about Gotham but nothing else.

And he never succeeded in getting you. He knew you. Oh yes, he knew you. He always thought that Batman would be his sole obsession, destroying him and his body. But then he met you, and he grew half insane. He needed you in his life so badly; he didn't care about anyone else. You were such a ray of sunshine in his dark existence. But you didn't want him. He was too desperate for you. You were scared of the darkness surrounding him, and you hated that rich man who wasn't trying hard enough for Gotham's poor people. He would have loved to cover you in affection and gifts, but you always escaped him.

Imagine this same Bruce Wayne being switched from places with another Bruce Wayne from another universe. This other Bruce had children, was married to you, and was friends with the Justice League. Alfred was still around. But this Bruce was neglecting everyone a little bit. This man thought he was entitled to get everything. His relationships were just alright with everyone. You more than once thought about getting a divorce actually, but you loved your life too much to let it go, even if Bruce could be a disappointment.

Imagine the lonely and desperate Bruce Wayne waking up one morning with you in the same bed as him.

At first, he believed it was all a dream, so he happily pulled you against his chest and snuggled up against you. He kissed the top of your head. When his alarm sounded out, he simply turned it off and hugged you tighter. He felt good and warm for the first time since his parents died. He completely melted in pure joy when you gently kissed his chest and neck, stroking his scarred stomach. He leaned into all your touch. He had no idea when he was going to wake up, so he wanted to enjoy this as much as possible. He didn’t want to think of the cold and empty bed that was going to greet him soon enough. He just wanted to stay there forever, cherished by you. Your scent was bringing him such comfort. He was relaxed, feeling safe and at home. This was what heaven must look like, he thought.

"Not running to work already?" You softly asked, a little bit surprised you didn't have to beg your husband for morning cuddles

"I'm good here," Bruce mumbled into your hair, his eyes closed in bliss

"What have you done to my husband?" You laughed as you straddled the man, looking down at him.

Husband? Fuck, it sounded so sweet to his ears. Bruce opened his eyes, drinking into your form. He loved how the sun was softly shining against your skin. He moved his hands on your thighs and stroked your skin. You were a goddess to him

“You’re beautiful” He whispered

You hummed and leaned to hungrily kiss him. He almost moaned against your lips. He had dreamt so many times of the feel of your mouth against his. But it was different than usual, it was better than he expected. He felt so whole. You were his soulmate. He always believed it. And feeling you like that… He promised himself that once he would be back to reality, he would find a way to seduce you. He needed you. You teasingly bit his bottom lip, and he smiled. Bruce's hands greedily moved around your body before settling on your ass. He gently squeezed it.

“Naughty” Ypu giggled, and he smiled even more

“Not my fault. You’re a goddess of love and light” He whispered

You didn’t reply. You weren’t too used to your husband talking to you like that. Your Bruce was good to you, but he never called you such things. He never watched you with such devotion in the eyes.

You sightly moved away to remove your nightgown under his watch. This Bruce had no idea how gorgeous you were naked, on top of him. He realised it was his favourite sight from now on. Gosh, what he wouldn’t do to be allowed to be greeted like that every morning of his life? He had dreamt so many times to be allowed to see you like this, to touch you like a lover and to take care of you. He was happy he was shirtless when you leaned back against him so he could feel your skin against his. He gently switched positions with you so he could get down on you. He kissed your neck, breasts, stomach, and inner thighs before settling in between your legs. He would have taken the time to kiss your legs and feet if he hadn’t been so hungry for you. It was such a vivid and nice dream. And he wanted you so badly. The way your fingers moved into his hair and tightened their hold whenever he was making you moan in pleasure became his favourite sensation. After the second orgasm he gave you this morning, he started to wonder if he truly was dreaming. You felt so real. 

He didn't have time to think more about it as you brought him closer to you. You were softly panting, as he was happily kissing and stroking your skin. You were made to be worshipped, he thought. And he would love to be your most obedient and caring servant.

A soft knock at the door startled the two of you.

"Master Bruce, do I need to cancel all the meetings you had this morning?" Alfred's voice sounded out.

Bruce froze for a few fractions of seconds before regaining his composure. Was it truly Alfred? His dream was getting nicer and nicer. However, it was hard to think when you were affectionately kissing his skin and playing with his hair, looking at him with such tenderness in your beautiful eyes. He needed all his willpower to answer Alfred back.

"I'm on my way to Wayne Enterprises, Alfred," He finally replied, and you laughed because he really didn't look like he was. 

The sound of your laughter made his chest blow with a warm feeling he didn't know. He was so deeply in love with you. He was so happy. And yet, the word “happy” didn’t feel strong enough to describe how he felt in this instant. He leaned to kiss you with pure affection before getting up, even though he would have loved to stay in bed with you.

You decided to be a good wife who cared about your husband’s work and duty, so you didn't follow in the shower, knowing Alfred would indeed need to cancel all of the meetings. You wondered what you did last night for Bruce to treat you with such passion and love this morning. You wished things would be more often like that. 

You were still lying in bed when Bruce came out of the shower. Before looking for some clothes, he went back to you, like a magnet attracted to you. He kissed your naked back before kissing your lips.

"Time for some lunch with me, hon?" you asked, clearly pushing your luck, but Bruce seemed in a very good mood today.

You were ready for him to say no, though, like he always did.

"Of course, anything you want," He whispered, smiling.

He was excited you seemed to want to spend more time with him.

You didn’t add anything, truly wondering what you did last night. He kissed you again before dressing up. You enjoyed the view from the bed. Bruce loved the warm feeling of your eyes on him. He couldn’t get enough of your attention.

He reluctantly left the room after having stolen another kiss from you. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He properly greeted Alfred and thanked him for having checked on him.

Bruce was a little bit surprised to discover so many young adults and teenagers eating breakfast in his living room, but it was giving some life to his old manor. And in a dream, you couldn’t expect everything to make sense, right? So he simply greeted everyone and asked if they all slept well, like his father did when he was a child. They all seemed stunned by the question, but they still answered. What amazed them even more was that Bruce actually listened to their answers. He waved them all goodbye, wished them a good day, and went to work.

It was time for lunch, and Bruce hadn't woken up yet. His meetings were now done, and he could take some time to think. Everything felt so real so far. Usually, in dreams, when you read something, lines are blurry or the words mean nothing or the words change all the time... But it didn't happen. Apart from the people he didn’t know in his living room, everything seemed to make sense?

He typed away his name on his Internet browser and started to read about how he was dealing with Wayne Enterprises, how he was married to you, how he adopted or took under his roof many children. Bruce Wayne seemed quite… popular. He looked for Batman's work as well. It seemed he was often with the Justice League, and he had some vigilantes under his lead. He started to think about what happened last night - before he woke up with you in his arms.

He could now remember a very bright light engulfing him while he was fighting off some criminals.

"Where are we going for lunch?" You texted him, and the notification brought him back to the present

"That Italian restaurant near Wayne Enterprises?" He offered.

He always wished he could invite you there because he quite enjoyed this place. He hoped the place existed here, but with your answer it seemed it did.

"Oh yes, it's been a while!" You quickly replied. "I'll meet you there in a few. Love you <3" You added

"Love you too, wife" Bruce sent back.

Gosh, he never thought he would be allowed to send you such words and it was making his head spin.

But Bruce was a smart man, so he started to understand that he must have taken the place of the Bruce Wayne of this world. It couldn’t be a dream because it was too detailed and realistic. It couldn’t be an illusion, because something would have felt off to him. It wouldn't have been the first time he was trapped in an illusion, he would have been able to feel it. This place... everything felt true, real.

There were only two possibilities: someone brought him to a parallel universe or he died and went to heaven. 

He hurt one of his fingers to draw blood. He couldn’t be dead if he was still bleeding, could he? So if he was going with the parallel universe, it meant… It meant that the other Bruce Wayne had this perfect little life. Fuck, he felt a deep and raw jealousy stabbing his heart: why didn't this Bruce suffer like he did? Why did this version of himself get everything he ever wished for himself? Alfred, children, you? Even Batman seemed to be doing better here. Wayne Enterprises were thriving, the biggest and most powerful firm of Gotham. 

He needed to understand what happened... So he could forever stay here. There was no way he was going back to the Hell that used to be his life. He would kill himself at the instant he would get back. How could he survive being alone again? The other Bruce was a problem because if he was alive, he would want to get back here. But fuck him. Everyone seemed so surprised by how he was acting, so he was certain that the Bruce of this world didn’t deserve their love. And he would do anything to deserve it. It was his chance to finally be happy and he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

--

PART 2