SUMMARY
↳ Jason Todd loves nothing more than the sight of you with a book.
The book's tension builds, your fingers gripping the pages a little tighter as the protagonist faces a crucial moment. You barely register the sound of the water shutting off or Jason stepping out of the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, shaking his head with an amused smirk.
He slowly takes steps toward you, right up until his knees hit the mattress. He leans down, his arms coming to cage you. Finally, you really take notice of him. “Hi, Jay.”
pairing: jason todd x fem!reader
warnings: smut
tags/notes: oral sex (fem receiving), domestic fluff, jason might be ooc sorry, lets just pretend its a less traumatized version of him
wc: 2k
You think Jason has a thing for you and books.
You mean together, of course. Jason Todd’s affinity for literature is well known, and so is his affection for you. But you can see the way his lips curl up when he sees you curled up on the couch reading, wrapped in his favorite blanket.
The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, highlighting the way Jason leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. He’s always been drawn to those quiet moments, watching you lose yourself in a world of words.
“Is that another tragic romance?” he teases, stepping further into the room. You glance up, catching his playful gaze.
“Not as tragic as your face.”
“Ouch,” he groans dramatically, clutching his chest. He falls onto you, plopping his full body weight and nearly crushing you. He buries his face in your neck and presses a chaste kiss there.
You huff and half-heartedly shove him away. “You’ll make me lose my place!”
“That’s why you should use those bookmarks I got you, honey.” He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “
You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Bookmarks are for amateurs, Jay.” You gesture to the stack of books on the coffee table, a mixture of dog-eared pages and hastily folded corners.
He grimaces at the sight. “I should break up with you.”
“Who would read to you, then?”
He narrows his eyes at you. “Touché.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips and shifts so as to pull you into leaning on him. He wraps the blanket around both of you, plucking the book out of your hands in spite of your protests. “Can’t let you ruin this anymore. Lemme read to you, hm?”
You rest your head on his shoulder. “You can’t do it justice.”
“I’ve got the voice of a poet,” he retorts, arm wrapping around you. His voice is low, intimate and for your ears only. You move to rest on his chest so you can feel the way his chest rumbles as he speaks.
As he reads, you let your eyes drift shut, the sound of his voice becoming a soothing backdrop. Jason leans his down, pressing a light kiss on your head and effectively muffling his voice. Each word he reads intertwines with his heartbeat, spinning a cocoon of intimacy that cradles the both of you.
You notice the way he plops a bookmark on the page you were on just before you fall asleep.
“You’re killing me, honey,” Jason groans over the phone.
The smell of a home-cooked meal fills your apartment as you shoulder your phone. “Come home, then,” you chuckle.
“I swear I can smell it through the phone. Why’re you always cooking something good when I’m away, huh?”
You move to grab a pan. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be away so much.”
“Gotta do my job, honey,” he sighs. “To keep my beautiful girlfriend safe so she can continue to spoil me with her delicious cooking.”
You laugh, stirring the simmering sauce. “It’s just pasta, Jay.”
“Yeah, but it’s your pasta. That makes it gourmet.”
You can’t help but smile at his praise. “Dork. I’ll save you a plate. Just don’t take too long, or I might eat it all.”
“Don’t you dare!” His voice rises in mock horror. “I’ll be home soon, I promise. Just a couple more things to wrap up. You got dessert for me?”
You scoff playfully. “Pick it up yourself. I’ve got a book to finish.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, then his tone softens. “I’ll get you your favorite. Only the best for my girl.”
You exchange sweet goodbyes before hanging up, the warmth of Jason’s words lingers in the air, wrapping around you like the blanket he often claims. You focus on the pasta simmering on the stove, the fragrant aroma filling the kitchen. Your mind drifts to Jason, as it does a lot, and you can’t keep the stupid grin of your face as you finish cooking.
After plating the pasta, you set the table, stealing glances at the clock as you wait for him to come home. You flip through the book, and allow yourself to get lost in the words. The minutes stretch, the kitchen filled with nothing but your muttered words as you read. You’re just about to take a distracted bite of your food when there’s knocks on the door, the specific pattern Jason went over with you.
Jason steps in, Red Hood helmets already off and perched under his arm, a bag carried by his other. You perk up, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. He steps in, shaking off the remnants of his day, and his eyes light up at the sight of the table set for two. “You’re making me fall in love with you all over again, you know that?”
You laugh, stepping forward to meet him in a kiss. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he greets back one you separate. He places the bag on the table, the logo of your favorite sweets brand greeting you. “As promised.”
“You spoil me,” you hum happily, parroting his earlier words. “Everything go okay?”
Jason nods, pulling out your chair for you before taking his own seat. He grabs his fork with an eager shine in his eye that makes you snort. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Jason, it’s that he loves to eat.
“Usual stuff.” He keeps it brief, for your sake. He doesn’t like you to hear about the stuff he deals with on patrol, once said, “pretty things like you shouldn’t worry about things like that.” Flattering, but it’s whatever.
“Dickhead mentioned this new bakery that opened up, though you might like it,” he mumbles, voice obscured by his chewing.
You smile. “Sure, let's make it a date.”
Jason goes on to mention little things about his day, and you do listen… at first. You love hearing Jason talk, and you love hearing about his day but… you also really wanna finish this book. It starts as subtle glances to the open pages. Then, it goes to skim reading while nodding along to his words. Now, you’re full on reading and have tuned him out. Whoops.
Jason pauses mid-sentence, a playful glint in his eye as he watches you. “Baby.”
“Hm?”
“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, smirking.
You look up, feigning innocence. “Of course. You just mentioned the arcade you went to with Roy.”
He raises a brow and you know he doesn’t believe you. Damn detective skills. If he feels any type of way because of it he lets it go and continues talking. This time you do better to try and pay attention, but when he leaves to go to the bathroom your eyes wander right back onto the pages.
“You’re killing me again, honey.” Shit, he came back fast. To his credit he doesn’t look annoyed, just fond. Still, you feel guilty.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you groan, shutting the book and throwing it across the room. Miraculously, it lands on the couch.
Jason raises a brow. “Nice throw.”
“Jay,” you whine. He snorts and comes around you, laying a hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “It’s so good. You’ll love it when I finish.”
“I’m not mad, honey.” He leans down and presses a kiss against your forehead, whispering, “Besides, I think it’s hot.”
You blink, watching him sit back down as if he said nothing at all. Well, that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him about it.
You are one of the many people guilty of not knowing when to put down a good read.
In your defense, however, it’s not bedtime yet. Bedtime is whenever you and Jason are in bed, and he still has to shower. Until then, you’re content to let him take his time, as you’re completely taken by your book. The gentle hum of the water running in the background almost becomes white noise to the whirlwind of words in your head.
The book's tension builds, your fingers gripping the pages a little tighter as the protagonist faces a crucial moment. You barely register the sound of the water shutting off or Jason stepping out of the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, shaking his head with an amused smirk.
He slowly takes steps toward you, right up until his knees hit the mattress. He leans down, his arms coming to cage you. Finally, you really take notice of him. “Hi, Jay.”
“Hi, honey.” His eyes sparkle with amusement as he takes you in. He smooches your cheek before his hands come to grasp at your hips, pulling you to sit at the edge of the bed. You don’t break your focus from your book (if we’re being honest, you’re kind of used to it…)
He knees at your shared bed and spreads your legs. You don’t pay too much mind, even when the feeling of your underwear sliding down your legs sends a familiar shiver down your spine. It is only when a hot wet feel slides against your core that you’re snapped back into reality.
Your body reacts instinctively, squeezing your thighs around Jason’s head. “Jay!” you yelp.
He responds with a hum that sends a buzz through your body. His hands massage your skin as he kisses around your thighs. Your heartbeat picks up and your chest starts to heave. Your fingers tremble around the pages.
A hand leaves your pressure book to grip Jason’s hair. Your hips begin to rock against his face. Your breathing becomes more labored. His thumb begins to swirl your clit, stimulating you to your very core. The room around you fades away, leaving only the rising tension in your body.
Jason's hands move up your thighs, his fingers digging gently into your skin as he holds you in place. His tongue darts in and out, teasing you with gentle licks and soft kisses. You moan, your head falling back against the bed as you give in to the pleasure.
Suddenly, the book slips from your fingers, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You don't even notice, too caught up in the sensations coursing through your body. Jason’s hands pull you impossibly closer, caught up in your pleasure.
"Jason," you moan, voice laced with desire.
It seems that your voice sets him off, because his tongue starts moving faster along with his fingers to bring you to your peak. Your body trembles, and your hips rock against his face, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you. Your toes curl, back arching against the bed as your moans get louder and louder.
White fills your vision, mouth falling open as a final whine leaves your lips. You take deep breaths as you come down from your high, thighs twitching. Jason’s eyes meet yours, slowly rising from his knees to meet you. His lips brush against yours in a gentle manner. You feel yourself melt once again, your body aligning itself with him.
“Good?” he mumbles against your lips.
“Good,” you affirm, breathing him in.
“Good,” he nods, breaking away from the kiss, before meeting you back for more. You smile against him as the two of you exchange chaste kisses. Your legs fall open to welcome him closer. You whimper at the feel of his bulge against you.
“Jay,” you moan, grinding against him.
You feel his smirk. “Yeah?”
“Please…” He’s only wearing a towel, all you have to do is hook a finger around it and pull…
You’ve never felt such disappointment like when he pulls away from you, tightening the towel. He bends down, picking up your forgotten book, and strolling out of the room.
“Wh- Jay!”
“You said I’d like it, might as well start now. Who knows when you’ll put this thing down again,” he calls from the hallway.
SUMMARY
↳ Link is a provider, through and through. It only makes sense for him to give you whatever you want.
It becomes a bit of a routine.
Not that it wasn’t really one before, but now you really notice it. Link takes pleasure in your pleasure, bending you this way and that over every surface he can take you. He takes his time with you, making sure you're satisfied before even thinking about his own release. And when it is time for that, he always begs to come inside, and your mind is so clouded with pleasure each time that you agree without thinking. Not that you really mind of course, but…
It is a bit sudden, isn’t it?
pairing: wild!link x fem!reader
warnings: smut. link is a freak
tags/notes: married life, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), link is a horny loser for his wife, talks of pregnancy, breeding but kinda
wc: 3.4k
Your husband is a hard working man.
He bought you a house, practically built it with his own hands. He tamed a horse for you, a strong and wild one that kept bucking him off, but he didn’t give up. He’s labored through hot days of tending to your little garden. His hands are roughened and calloused, a testament to his dedication to do right by you.
You’re wary to look at something for too long, knowing he will buy it for you without a second of hesitation. You’re not sure where he gets all his money from, clearly he has plenty of it, but it’s the principle of the matter. He likes to see you wearing things he bought. You’ve long since memorized the feeling of his hands running up and down your sides as he admires you.
You remember when you first saw the house in its entirety after its completion. All that stood were Link’s various weapons and a single bed. Of course, now it’s a rather domestic sight, with signs of your influence spread across it. There’s an assortment of pictures and paintings on the wall, two cups on the table, two pillows on a bigger bed, the smell of freshly baked bread fills the air.
Link’s dedication to making everything perfect for you shines through in every detail. His battle worn hands are always gentle. He smiles when he sees you enjoying the space you share. And while his gifts are always thoughtful and generous, it’s the shared moments—those quiet evenings, the laughter echoing through the home, the simple heartfelt conversations—that truly make your life together beautiful.
Despite the grandeur of his gestures, you find that you often prefer the little things; the way he fluffs up a pillow before you sit down, how he guides you by the hand when you’re walking, when he remembers small random details you shared off-handedly.
The way he brings you to your peak over and over again.
The home has been filled with your whines and moans for the past however long it's been. Your fingers feel sore from clutching the pillow so hard, back arched in ecstasy. Link’s fingers trail down the curve of your spine, suckling on your clit. You let out a contented sigh, eyes fluttering shut.
Your hand drifts down, gripping his soft hair in pleasure. He hums against your core, the sensation making your toes curl. His eyebrows furrow as he tastes you, entirely focused on the task at hand. He moves to gently kiss your inner thighs, his warm breath tickling your skin. You can feel his gaze on you, adoring and loving, and you know he’s savoring the moment just as much as you.
You can feel that familiar curl in your gut, and Link can tell you’re close from the way you buck up into his mouth. His arm holds your thigh over his shoulder. His tongue dances across your center, in a pattern, in a way–
Bastard’s spelling his name.
You can feel his grin against you as you huff, shoving his face closer and tightening your grip. Finally finding the strength to open your eyes, you see his eyes on yours. The sight of him worshiping you from between your legs sets you on fire. His gaze is fuel of passion and intent, only one goal in mind. His movements become more deliberate, more calculated to push you over the edge. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, and you feel the world around you begin to blur. The sound of your own ragged breathing fills your ears, punctuated by the occasional whimper of pleasure.
As the tension reaches a fever pitch, Link's tongue makes one final, sweeping motion across your skin, and you feel the dam break. Your body shudders, convulsing in a wave of pleasure that seems to radiate outward from your very core. Your hand releases its grip on Link's hair, and you feel yourself melting into the mattress, boneless and limp.
Link's mouth lingers on your skin, his tongue making gentle, soothing motions as he rides out the aftershocks of your climax. His eyes never leave yours, his gaze drinking in the sight of your pleasure-wracked face. As your breathing slowly returns to normal, he gently releases your thigh, his arm sliding down to wrap around your waist and leaving a single chaste kiss on you.
He pulls himself up, sliding across your body and into your waiting arms. He watches you with desire and adoration. Link trails kisses from your cheek to your ear, his voice a low, husky whisper. “I love you,” he murmurs, breath sending shivers down your spine.
You grin sweetly, pulling him into a deep kiss and tasting yourself on his lips. You feel a flutter in your chest as he wraps his arms around you, shifting you to lay on your sides. You reluctantly break away. “I love you too,” you whisper.
Link’s fingers gently brush against your skin, tracing the curves of your body. You snuggle closer, bodies entwined, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours. His scent makes your senses reel.
You fall asleep surrounded by his sensation.
Link has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. He lays them on your hips as you cook, fingers twitching and wandering. No matter how much you bat them away, they always find themselves back on you, like a magnet drawn to metal. He presses soft kisses to the back of your neck, humming contentedly. It’s both exasperating and endearing—how he can’t seem to resist you, even in the most mundane moments.
“Link,” you scold halfheartedly.
He nips at your ear, and you turn and whack him with your spoon. Try to, at least, he dodges. He damn near giggles and leans back in maneuvering around your attacking arms. "I'm just trying to help," he whispers, his hands drifting up to cup your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around your nipples.
You feel a flutter in your chest, your body responding to his touch, but you try to maintain a semblance of control. "Help?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "By distracting me?" Link grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hands continue to roam, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
Just as you're about to give up on cooking altogether, Link's stomach growls loudly, and he looks at you with a sheepish grin. His hands finally pause, calming their movements and calming pacing heart.
You roll your eyes, turning back to the meal and waving a hand. “Set the table, husband.”
“Yes, wife.”
You really like living in Hateno. The community is great, the food is great, and most importantly, the kids like you!
“I can’t play with you, hun,” you mourn softly. “I have boring grown up things to do.”
“Being a grown up must be boring.”
“Yeah, it sucks.”
You feel a bit bad leaving Link to fend for himself (read: go buy the stuff you need) but he huffed and puffed until you sat down and chatted with the children. He bid you off with a kiss on the cheek, much to the disgust of the little ones.
They like to pull and tug at your skirt to get your attention, full of small and silly stories about things they found or things they’d seen (Miss Cece’s been getting real cozy with someone special, apparently.)
“My mommy says I’m getting a little sister or brother,” one says. “Her belly is all big and round. She says they’re growing in there.”
“She’s right,” you smile, patting the little girl’s head. “They have to grow in your mama’s belly to get big and strong.”
She nods seriously. “My mommy’s really strong.”
“Not as strong as you, Miss [Name]!” says a small boy, leaping into your arms. You exaggeratingly groan, making a show of lifting him up, much to his delight if his squeal is anything to go by.
Footsteps are heard to your left, and you turn to meet those eyes you know so well, that know you so well. A smile finds its way on your face automatically, sitting the kid across your hips. “Link,” you smile. “Everything well?”
The child in your arms waves happily at your husband. “Hi, Mister Link!”
Link gives the child a warm smile, a rare but genuine one that seems to light up his entire face. He ruffles the boy’s hair playfully, his fingers gentle and careful as always. “Hi ,” he replies, his voice soft and warm. You can see the way the boy's eyes widen, caught in the moment of being acknowledged by someone he clearly admires.
Link turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even further. ‘Got everything,’ he signs, holding up a basket full of food. He steps closer, hand curling around your waist and smiling fondly at the boy in your arms.
You set the child down gently, giving him a little pat on the back. “Why don’t you all go play for a bit?” you suggest. “Mister Link and I have to finish our boring grown-up stuff.”
The children groan in unison, but they obey, scattering off in a flurry of giggles and shouts. You watch them go, a fond smile tugging at your lips. Link’s hand slips into yours naturally, fingers intertwining as though they were always meant to fit together..\
His free hand reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch is as gentle as ever, his eyes scanning your features as if committing them to memory once more. “Kids like you,” he says quietly, squeezing your hand gently. “You’re good with them.”
You smirk, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I have my charms.”
“You charmed me, that’s for sure.”
You chuckle and lightly shove him. You and Link stroll through the vibrant streets of Hateno, hand in hand, the basket of groceries swinging between you. The day's sunlight filters through the trees, casting playful shadows on the cobblestones. The townsfolk greet you with cheerful waves and nods, their friendly faces a testament to the warmth and acceptance you’ve found in this quaint community.
“So, you… like children?” Link’s voice has that hesitancy you haven’t heard in a while from him. If he had a hand free you’re sure he would’ve raised one to rest at his neck in shyness. You glance up at Link, catching the faint blush dusting his cheeks. His question hangs in the air between you, tinged with more than just casual curiosity. You squeeze his hand, feeling the comforting warmth of his calloused fingers against yours.
“I do,” you reply softly, watching his reaction. Link’s gaze flits to the children playing in the distance, a thoughtful look crossing his features. You can tell he's contemplating something deeper, something that's been on his mind for a while. “I feel like it’s quite obvious, no?” you smile, if only to lighten the mood.
He nods, but remains quiet for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. You’ve learned to be patient with him, especially in moments like these where his emotions are tangled with uncertainty. You lean in closer, brushing your shoulder against his in a gesture of reassurance.
“I always imagined…” Link starts, his voice trailing off before he catches himself. His blue eyes meet yours, and you see the vulnerability there, a rare glimpse into the guarded corners of his heart. “I mean, someday. Maybe.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, your heart swells with a rush of warmth. You smile softly, feeling a flutter of anticipation mixed with the joy of his unspoken wish. The idea of a future—a family, perhaps—with him is something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on too much. Yet, hearing him voice it, even in his own hesitant way, makes it feel more real, more possible.
“Someday,” you agree softly, voice barely above a whisper. Link’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and then his face breaks into the softest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. The kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and his ears twitch.
Link’s grip on your hand tightens in response, and you feel the unspoken promise passing between you. It’s not a grand declaration, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a simple acknowledgment of a shared dream, one that you both are willing to explore together, at your own pace.
Link’s pace is wild and desperate as he bucks into you. The bed creaks and groans and you’re almost worried it’ll break under the pressure. Your hands grasp his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you try to hold on. His eyes are closed, face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and concentration. You can feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his entire body straining towards release.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. The friction is almost unbearable, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Link's pace quickens, his breathing ragged and uneven. You can see the tension building in his face, the cords of his neck standing out as he holds himself back, trying to prolong the moment for both of you. His thrusts become more erratic, losing some of their rhythm as he chases his release. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your own breathing matching his, your bodies slick with sweat.
Link," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. He opens his eyes, looking down at you with a gaze that is both intense and tender.
“Can I–” he rasps, never stopping his brutal pace. “Can I come inside?”
You nod desperately, not even thinking. Link's face contorts in a mixture of relief and pleasure. Link's thrusts become more urgent, his body tensing as he throws his head back. His moans sound like music to your ears. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body responding to Link's movements. Your hands grasp his shoulders, holding on as the pleasure builds inside you. Link's breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exertion, and you can see the sweat dripping down his face.
Your body convulses with pleasure, your nails digging deeper into his shoulders as you cry out his name. Link's thrusts become more urgent, his body tensing as he reaches his own peak. His eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. A low groan escapes his lips as he finds his release. He collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and uneven. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both come down from your high.
You reach up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. Your touch seems to break the spell, and Link's body relaxes, his muscles releasing their tension. He takes a deep breath, his chest heaving with exertion. After a few moments, Link rolls off you, lying on his back beside you. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. You intertwine your fingers, feeling the warmth of his touch. You both lie there, breathless and spent, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.
.
.
.
It becomes a bit of a routine.
Not that it wasn’t really one before, but now you really notice it. Link takes pleasure in your pleasure, bending you this way and that over every surface he can take you. He takes his time with you, making sure you're satisfied before even thinking about his own release. And when it is time for that, he always begs to come inside, and your mind is so clouded with pleasure each time that you agree without thinking. Not that you really mind of course, but…
It is a bit sudden, isn’t it?
Link had never particularly cared where he finished on you. Whether in your mouth, on you or inside of you, he was just happy to have you. Lately, though, it’s every time. And while you very much enjoy feeling his warmth seep into you, you do wonder why the change of heart.
So, you intend to find out.
You wait until you're both lying in bed, Link's arm wrapped around your waist, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. He’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, and you know what he’s feeling.
Your eyes flutter shut when he begins kissing up and down your neck, his hands roaming further. He leans into you, nearly on top of you. His kisses are all taking, like he’s trying to devour you whole. Your breath catches in your throat as Link's mouth travels from your neck to your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses that make your skin tingle. His hands slide lower, exploring your body with a familiarity that’s intimate and electrifying all at once. You can feel the heat radiating from him, his need and desire mingling with your own. Your fingers curl into his hair, gently tugging him closer as his lips find yours, the kiss deepening with every passing second.
And then you feel it.
His hand caresses your stomach with a tenderness from him foreign to you. His thumb draws idle circles on your skin. His touch is different this time—more deliberate, as if he’s savoring every moment, every inch of you. The way he moves his hand, gentle and reverent, it makes your heart flutter.
“Link,” you breathe, breaking the kiss. You catch his eyes, searching them for answers, for confirmation of the suspicion that’s been brewing in the back of your mind. “What are you doing?”
He pauses, his expression softening into something almost vulnerable. His hand lingers on your abdomen, and he seems to be contemplating his next words carefully, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.
“You know I love you,” he says finally, his voice low and earnest. “More than anything.” His hand stills on your belly, and he swallows, as if steeling himself for whatever he’s about to say. “I’d give you anything you want.”
The pieces all fall into place. Curse Link and his martyr tendencies. “Link,” you sigh. You move to lean against your arm, sending slight panic in your husband as he thinks you’re moving away. “You can’t just give me kids because I want it. We both have to want it.”
“I–” He pauses, his words faltering as he looks down, struggling to find the right way to express himself. “Don’t you remember? I’ve been thinking. About us. Our… future. I want–” He looks up at you.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours once more. There’s a flicker of determination behind the uncertainty now, and he squeezes your hand in return. “I want a family,” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes flicker with a blend of hope and fear, as if he’s laying his heart bare before you, trusting you to hold it carefully. “With you.”
The weight of his words settles over you, warm and heavy. It’s a declaration, but also a plea—a shared yearning for a future that you both can create together. You feel your eyes well up, the depth of his love and commitment wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.
“Only with you,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His hand remains on your stomach, a silent promise of the life he envisions.
A gleeful grin spread across your face. You wrap your legs around his waist and flip the both of you so that you’re straddling Link. His hands automatically find their place on your hips. You lean into him, kissing him fiercely.
You rock your hips back on forth, pulling a strangled moan from Link. His hands tighten and he pulls back, letting you see that perfectly flushed face of his. Link's eyes glaze over, his pupils dilating with desire. He guides your movements as you grind against him. The friction between you is electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "I want that too," you whisper, your voice husky with emotion. "I want a family with you, Link."
Link's body tenses beneath you, his muscles straining with excitement. He pulls you closer, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce kiss. The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment.
The rest of the night is a blur of passion and excitement, the two of you lost in your own little world of love and possibility. As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Link's arms, you’re content. Link is hardworking, he’ll do anything for your little family.
notes: ending was kinda meh but im not gonna think ab it too hard lol
Do you already have an idea what the series gonna be about? Who you will paired reader with? Sorry if it was too much questions,I just love your writing soo much.
yup, but i feel like i shouldn't give any details bc im still on the fence ab writing it
➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)
EPILOGUE: SATURN
← back to chapter list
SUMMARY
↳ Welcome to your happy ever after.
pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne
warnings: implied/brief sexual content
wc: 2.9k
“What if they don’t like me?”
“Their opinion of us is pointless, Jon.”
“Are you talking about my friends, or the society as a whole?”
“Saying ‘society’ makes it sound like a cult. But, everyone.”
You sigh fondly at Jon. “Jon, there are, like, hundreds of us. You won’t even get to meet all of them.” Your hands brushes back his curls from his face. His head rests on your chest, looking up at you. “And my friends will like you. I promise.”
“This is scarier than meeting your dad,” he grumbles, closing his eyes at your touch.
It was only recently that Tony asked to meet your special someones. At first, he was quite against the idea of you spending time in the other universe when he had just got you back, but when you explained the situation (vaguely) he reluctantly let you go.
You jumped between universes for a couple of weeks before he finally asked to meet the two. You never thought you’d see Tony Stark give your boyfriends the shovel talk because of you, but you’ve lived through stranger things. To be fair, he only kept up the charade for a moment before leaning back and giving a casual smile.
“I trust [Name]’s judgment,” he had said. “If they see something in you two, then I guess that’s how it is.”
Damian, while having not said much the entire ordeal, had instantly and subtly relaxed at Tony’s words. Jon on the other hand, had obviously brightened up, feeling validated by Tony's acceptance. You remember that moment vividly—the relief and warmth that spread through you as Tony, in his own way, acknowledged and accepted your relationships with Jon and Damian. Not that you really had any doubt he would.
“Just wait till you meet Natasha. That’s the real final boss.” Maybe it was a little mean, but the way he gulped was cute. You turn over to Damian, taking in a moment to admire him. His bare skin glows under the rising sun. He’s on his side, head holding his arm up as he looks at you and Jon. You want to take the blanket covering him and pull it off.
“She’s actually a bit of an assassin. Maybe you’ll bond over that,” you tease.
Damian arches an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes despite his attempt to maintain a stoic demeanor. "Bonding over our own techniques, how charming," he remarks dryly, though there's a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth, betraying his amusement.
You chuckle softly, running your hand through Jon’s hair. “If anyone gives you trouble,” you say, referring back to the previous subject. “I'll swoop in and rescue you." You give him a reassuring smile.
"Or, you could just be yourselves," you reassured him. "That's all I ever ask."
His expression softens, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss on your lips. "I know, baby," he murmurs, a soft smile spreading across his face. You smile against Jon's lips, feeling a rush of affection for both him and Damian. Damian shifts beside you, breaking the moment as he stretches lazily. You and Jon break apart to oogle at the way his muscles shift under the blanket.
He gives you both a knowing look, as if he's aware of the effect he has on you. He gives you both a knowing look, as if he's aware of the effect he has on you. "I trust your judgment, [Name]," Damian says quietly, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "And I appreciate your reassurance." He sits up, the blanket pooling around his waist.
You smile, feeling a surge of warmth at Damian's words. His trust means a lot to you, especially given his typically guarded nature. You reach out to gently squeeze his hand before turning back to Jon, who's now grinning mischievously.
He shifts, moving his legs further between yours. Your thighs fall open around his hips, allowing him closer. “Jon,” you chuckle, feeling a familiar spark light up in your stomach. He grins as he tucks his face into your neck, nipping and kissing.
“We have a couple of hours,” he mutters.
“That last time we had a couple of hours, you two broke the bed,” deadpans Damian.
You chuckle softly at Damian's deadpan remark, recalling the somewhat eventful aftermath of your last encounter. Jon lifts his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You should've bought a better one," he protests with a grin, leaning in to kiss Damian.
Damian rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perhaps this time we should aim for a more durable surface," he suggests, his tone dry yet hinting at a subtle invitation.
You raise an eyebrow at him, a playful challenge in your eyes. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Damian Wayne?" Your voice is low, teasing.
“Counter sex?” pipes up Jon excitedly.
Damian inclines his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm merely considering practicalities," he replies, his gaze flickering between you and Jon.
“Counter sex,” confirms Jon to himself, hopping off of the bed and picking you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he takes you out of the bedroom.
Damian follows suit. “Lay a towel down. We still cook there,” he mutters. “There’s some in the bottom cabinet.”
You raise a brow at him over Jon’s shoulder. Damian smirks slightly, a glint of playful challenge in his eyes. "I'm always prepared," he quips, his tone light but tinged with a hint of suggestion.
Jon laughs, throwing an arm around Damian's shoulders. "He's not kidding," Jon says with a grin, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Damian's cheek.
You shake your head fondly at them, feeling a rush of affection for both of them. "Alright, you two," you say with mock seriousness, "let's not break anything this time, okay?"
Damian raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a grin. "No promises," he replies, his gaze flickering mischievously.
Jon chuckles, leaning in to kiss you again, his touch warm and reassuring. "We'll be good," he murmurs against your lips, his tone playful yet sincere.
As Jon sets you down on the counter (towel under you), you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a lingering kiss. Damian joins in, his hands sliding around your waist, his touch both confident and gentle. The moment is charged with anticipation and affection, a comfortable closeness that speaks of trust and shared intimacy.
You hope they don’t leave too many marks.
The expressions on Jon and Damian’s faces mirror the ones they wore when they first saw the portal. Awe and apprehension. You grab their hands and pull them in, letting the swirl of hue pull you in.
Nueva York is as beautiful as it is bountiful in technology. The cityscape sprawls before them, a blend of futuristic marvels and bustling streets. Jon's eyes widen in wonder, while Damian's gaze sharpens, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a mix of curiosity and caution.
As you lead them through the bustling crowds, Jon leans in closer to you, his excitement palpable. "This place is incredible," he breathes, his eyes darting around to take in every detail.
Damian remains more reserved, his instincts on alert despite his outward calm. "It's... different," he remarks, his tone measured yet intrigued.
Many Spiders spare them a small glance before moving on. Your boys aren’t in their uniform, per your request. A good majority of them will have DC content in their universe, and you figure Jon and Damian will appreciate less attention on them.
“Come along now, my dears,” you tease, pulling them into an elevator. You, of course, take your place upside down, sticking to the ceiling. You watch as their eyes take in the view from the large window. As the elevator ascends, Jon and Damian remain in awe of the breathtaking view of Nueva York, their eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. The blend of futuristic skyscrapers and bustling streets below creates a vibrant tapestry of colors and lights, a stark contrast to the familiar landscapes of their own universe.
“Right here,” you say, hopping down to walk out of the elevator. The doors opens to reveal many Spiders, mingling and lingering about. You guide them down the hall, exchanging some light greetings.
“This is crazy,” breathes Jon.
“This is the lobby,” you smile. You gesture out to the intermingling hallways and walkways, designed for only Spider’s to navigate with efficiency.
“Welcome to Spider-Society,” you sing. The sight of countless Spiders swinging through the air and conversing in their unique way seems to leave Jon momentarily speechless, while Damian's eyes sharpen, cataloging every detail.
As you approach a large, open area, you see a familiar face approaching. Jessica Drew, one of the senior members of Spider-Society, gives you a warm smile and nods to Jon and Damian.
"[Name], good to see you," she says, her voice friendly. "And these must be your guests from the other universe?"
“Hi, Jess,” you smile. “This is Jon,” you point at the smiling boy. “And this is Damian,” you point at the stiff boy. “Jon and Damian, this is Jessica Drew, AKA, Spider-Woman.”
Jon smiles brightly and extends his hand to Jessica. "It's nice to meet you, Jessica," he says warmly.
Damian nods politely, his posture still a bit guarded. "A pleasure," he adds, though his tone is more reserved.
Jessica shakes Jon's hand and nods to Damian. "Welcome to Spider-Society," she says. "We've heard a lot about you two. [Name] speaks very highly of you both."
“Where’s Miguel?” you ask.
Jess rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Brooding in his lair, where else?”
You chuckle at Jessica's remark, shaking your head. "Of course he is," you say with a hint of fondness. "Well, I'd like to give them a small tour before we dive into any serious business."
Jessica nods, a knowing smile on her face. "Take your time. I'll let Miguel know you're here." She gives Jon and Damian one last friendly nod before heading off.
“And that’s where I come in!” chimes LYLA, materializing next to you. Jon jumps slightly at LYLA's sudden appearance, while Damian's eyes narrow in curiosity, studying the holographic AI. LYLA smiles brightly, her avatar flickering slightly.
“This is LYLA,” you smile, watching her wave. “She’s the AI assistant Miguel created. She helps us all out.”
“What is it with you and AI’s?” mutters Jon as you’re led through the containment tunnel.
You shrug. “It’s less of a Spider thing and more of a genius thing.” The self flattery is not subtle. “Though, Spider’s and geniusness are kind of one in the same.”
“And these are…?” prompts Damian, eyeing the holographic cages.
“Anomalies,” you chime. LYLA glitches next to you. “The ones that ended up in the wrong place, like I said before.”
“That’s a straight up rhino,” points out Jon, looking at a straight up rhino.
“That’s like, the third one I’ve seen end up here,” you hum in acknowledgment. You spot a blue avatar humming away near the system. “That’s Margo.” You wave at her. “That’s her avatar. Her body is back at her home dimension.”
“And that’s–” you point at the Go-Home machine, “–the Go-Home machine.”
“Great name,” murmurs Damian, crossing his arms.
You feel the need to clarify. “I didn’t get to vote on it.”
“It detects what universe you're from using your DNA and sends you there,” hums LYLA. Jon and Damian follow you and LYLA through the dimly lit corridor, their curiosity piqued by the unusual surroundings.
“Good luck,” sings LYLA, disappearing from view as you stop in front of a door. It opens revealing Miguel’s little set up. Thankfully, his platform is already on the floor, so you don’t have to sit through it lowering to the ground.
Miguel looks over his shoulder, holographic screens surrounding him. “[Name].”
“Miguel,” you greet, raising an eyebrow at his attempt to remain mysterious. “This is Jon and Damian. The ones I told you about.”
He hums, turning back to the screens. Jon rocks back and forth on his feet awkwardly. Damian narrows his eyes. You sigh.
“He’s still just a little bit pissy about the whole ‘multiverse collapsing’ thing,” you stage whisper.
“The what thing.”
Miguel shakes his head. “I’m not pissy–”
“No, they’re right. You’re pissy,” comes a voice, steadily getting closer. A familiar pink fluffy robe comes into view, a high pitched laugh following.
“Peter!” you greet with a grin.
“Hey, [Name],” he smiles, Mayday in his arms. He turns to Jon and Damian. “Hey, [Name]’s boyfriends.”
“Hey, Spider with a baby,” greets Jon, raising an arm.
“That's Peter, and that’s Peter’s daughter, Mayday.” You point at each person accordingly.
“Nice to meet you, Peter,” Jon says warmly, his smile genuine as he greets Peter and his daughter.
Damian nods politely, his demeanor still reserved but respectful. "Peter," he acknowledges with a nod.
“Oh, you kids are so polite. I hope Mayday grows up to be as nice as you,” he quickly turns his attention to Miguel. “Don’t worry about Miguel, he just looks scary. No bite at all.”
“Peter,” Miguel grumbles as a greeting.
“He’s the only Spider-Man that isn’t funny. We’re supposed to be funny.”
“Well he is funny,” you hum. “Just not on purpose.”
“Anyway,” Peter waves his hands, “Miguel was wrong, the multiverse isn’t gonna collapse–”
“Is anyone gonna tell me what that’s about or–”
“–And we are happy to have you here,” he smiles. Jon and Damian exchange a glance, seemingly trying to process the whirlwind of introductions and banter. Peter looks at you. “The other kids are in the lounge. You know the one.”
“Thanks, Pete,” you nod, grabbing your boys’ hands and leading them out of the room. “Stop brooding, Miguel! It’s not good for your age.”
“I’m not brooding–” The door closes on your way out.
“You know, Miguel actually reminds me of Batman,” you chuckle. Jon smirks at the way Damian’s nose wrinkles at the comparison.
“Are we gonna talk about the whole multiverse collasping thing?”
“Maybe later, sweetie.”
You lead them to a familiar door. Behind it is the lounge you and the other ‘Lings dubbed your own, filled with personal comforts and commodities. The door opens, and you loudly announce your presence. “What’s up, bitches?”
Hobie raises an arm from his place on the couch. Pav drops down from a web-hammock and Gwen and Miles poke their heads out from the mini kitchenette.
“Ooh, is that who I think it is?” smiles Pav.
“Spiderlings,” you call, motioning to your boyfriends once again today, “Meet my boyfriends.”
Hobie gets up from his position, arranging his lanky limbs to walk over to your group. “These the youngin’s that are givin’ Miguel grays?”
“That’s Hobie. Hobie Brown.” you smile, fist bumping him. “He’s not a hero because calling yourself a hero–”
“–Makes you a self mythologizing narcissistic autocrat,” nods Hobie. “You get it.”
Jon and Damian exchange glances, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity. Jon's eyes light up with excitement, while Damian's remain guarded but intrigued.
“Nice to meet you, Hobie,” Jon says, extending his hand.
Hobie gives Jon's hand a firm shake, his grin wide and genuine. “You too, mate. Anyone who can handle [Name] must be somethin' special.”
Damian nods politely, his posture still tense. “Likewise,” he says, his tone measured.
“Hi, new guys!” grins Pav, waving. “Pavitr Prabhakar. Everybody calls me Pav.”
You point. “Gwen Stacy.” She waves. “Miles Morales.” He raises a hand.
“Robin. Superboy,” Miles states, pointing at each of them.
You suck in a breath, looking at your boyfriends. “Yeah, you also exist as comics in his universe.”
Jon chuckles nervously, exchanging a glance with Damian. "This is... surreal," he admits, his voice tinged with both amusement and disbelief.
“Go easy on them,” you warn your friends.
Hobie smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “No promises, [Name]. But we’ll try.”
The lounge is filled with chatter and laughter as your friends and boyfriends exchange stories and get to know each other. The initial awkwardness melts away, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. You watch as Jon and Damian slowly start to relax, their genuine interest and curiosity shining through.
After a while, Gwen gestures towards the large windows overlooking Nueva York. “Come on, let’s show you guys the view. It’s really pretty.”
Jon and Damian follow your group to the windows, their eyes widening in awe as they take in the sprawling cityscape. The blend of futuristic architecture and bustling streets creates a mesmerizing sight.
“It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie,” Jon breathes, his voice filled with wonder.
Damian nods, his gaze sweeping over the city. “It’s... remarkable,” he agrees.
You join them at the windows, slipping your arms around their waists. “I’m glad you like it. There’s so many beautiful universes I want to show you.”
As the sun begins to set, you bid goodbye to your friends. It’s time to go home. Jon and Damian seem to share the sentiment.
The comfort of your shared home invites you in as you settle into bed with your boys. You smile, “Thank you. You both mean a lot to me, and I wanted you to see this part of my life.”
“Thank you for sharing it with us,” mutters Damian, face tucked into your neck.
Jon leans in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. “We love you, [Name].”
“We do,” promises Damian.
You close your eyes, savoring the moment. “I love you both, too.”
notes: hey uh. dont know what to say LOL
thank you to everyone who stopped by and gave this fic a chance, and a special thank you if you've been here since day one! y'all invested fr lol
i know i don't always respond to comments BUT i do see them! and i appreciate everyone who leaves one :D and this goes for all of my works
➤ every stranger makes me feel safer (and every person seems more beautiful)
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SUMMARY
↳ Damian meets a stranger in the bathroom.
You grin. “Cool. So…?” You pat the space beside you again.
Against Damian’s better judgment, he steps closer. He is measured and deliberate, eyes scanning you for any sudden moves. There’s a mix of curiosity and resignation in his eyes. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectable distance and cringing at how dirty this floor could be.
pairing: damian wayne x gn!reader
warnings: references to drugs (molly and cocaine), blink and you miss it underage drinking.
tags/notes: pre-relationship, hiding in the bathroom at a party, conversations in said bathroom, soft & melancholic, inspired by this song
wc: 1.8k
Damian Wayne is a sort of… enigma, to his peers.
He is the son of Bruce Wayne. It is known. He carries himself a certain way. He possesses a level of discipline that far exceeds his age. To those around him, Damian is often seen as aloof and distant, his demeanor cold and calculating. He has little patience for the frivolities that occupy the minds of other teenagers.
He is the son of Talia Al Ghul. It is not known. He has been trained in the way since he was young. His lineage defines him. He is the sum of his choices, even if they never really were his in the first place. There is a constant battle in his heart. There is little that can take his mind off of it.
So, he tries to find things that will.
He isn’t one for parties. Sweaty, drunk teenagers aren't to his taste. He tells himself it is part of maintaining appearances. Like when he must show himself at his father’s parties, this can’t be so different. He can play by the rules. His posture is always straight, his expression impassive, a silent observer rather than a participant.
People avoid him. He is untouchable, closer to heaven than Earth. His peers might admire his skills, his intellect, and his undeniable presence, but they rarely try to breach the wall he has so carefully constructed around himself. Few try to understand the weight he carries, his burdens. Fewer succeed.
The party is at a low. The music is faded, people are leaning against walls and chatting lowly to each other. They smile at their friends and their “friends.” They lean into each other and whisper into each other’s ears. They interlock fingers and drag them away from the party, no doubt off to find somewhere more private.
…The air in here is suffocating.
His legs carry him away, passing hallways and doors and couples who don’t care about public indecency. He slips into the first slightly ajar door with the lights on and slams the door closed, sighing. This bathroom is quaint, for his standards anyway. He looks at himself in the mirror, bracing himself on the sink. The music is more muffled here, but the oppressive silence of the bathroom isn’t much better.
Until, that silence is broken by a mutter of, “Uh, hi.”
Damian’s head snaps to the side, one of the rare times he's caught off guard. How did he not notice you? You’re not particularly being sneaky, nor do you look like someone who is capable of doing so. You’re leaning against the bathtub, entirely relaxed and content. You look like someone who is completely satisfied with their circumstances.
You give a small, quizzical smile. “There’s room enough for two if you also got tired of everyone else.” You scoot a little and pat the space beside you invitingly. “Unless you’re looking for molly or something, ‘cause I don’t have any. Also, nobody does lines in the bathroom anymore. That's cliché.”
He deadpans. “I’m not.”
You grin. “Cool. So…?” You pat the space beside you again.
Against Damian’s better judgment, he steps closer. He is measured and deliberate, eyes scanning you for any sudden moves. There’s a mix of curiosity and resignation in his eyes. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectable distance and cringing at how dirty this floor could be.
You watch him, unperturbed. “I like parties, but I get tired of them fast. Too many people, too much talking,” you hum, stretching slightly. “I hide in here to get my bearings. What about you?”
Damian’s mouth opens before he can stop himself. “I don’t see the appeal,” he admits.
“Neither do I. Kind of,” you shrug. “I only ever go with my friends. Nobody else matters as long as I’m having fun with them.”
Damian’s gaze drifts away from you, focusing on a spot on the tiled floor as he processes your words. There’s a flicker of contemplation in his eyes.
“It is kind of… lonely, though. Isn’t it?” you ask tentatively. “Being around so many people, and still feeling like it’s just you. That there’s no one that really gets you.”
Damian's eyes flick back to you, face passive. His posture has untensed. His mouth twitches, considering.
You blink. “Okay, that was deep out of nowhere. I think the punch is hitting.”
Damian lets out a short, quiet laugh, the first sign of genuine amusement you've seen from him. His inhibitions have been lowered. From what? He hasn’t taken so much as a sip from any drink at this damned party. Is it you? Do you have that effect on him?
“I don’t usually waste my time with meaningless events if I can help it,” he mutters, foot knocking against yours.
You raise an eyebrow, looking at him with mild curiosity. “And yet, here we are. Funny how that works, huh?” Damian nods slightly, his gaze shifting back to the bathroom’s muted décor.
You let the silence stretch between you for a moment, both of you caught up in your own thoughts. The bathroom’s fluorescent lights flicker faintly, casting a soft, intermittent glow. The muffled thud of bass from the party outside makes its way into the room, but it feels distant and irrelevant now.
“So, Damian,” you start, trying to shift the focus away from the awkwardness of the situation, “what do you usually do when you’re not at these kinds of parties?”
“I didn’t tell you my name.”
You scoff slightly, rolling your eyes. “Don’t try to be humble, it’s not a good look for you.” He raises a brow as you turn to him. “Dude, you’re the son of Bruce Wayne. Of course I know your name.”
His eyes squint, a hint of amusement peeking out. “You’re bold.”
“It’s the alcohol,” you shrug. “I’ve already made out with a random guy a while ago. Not much farther I can fall from grace.” You look over to him, raising your eyebrows. “Unless you wanna make out?”
You laugh at how his expression turns sour. His eyes widen at your bold suggestion, the brief flicker of surprise giving way to a scowl. “I’m not here to indulge in such… frivolities.”
You chuckle, shrugging it off. “Fair enough. Just thought I’d offer.”
He seems to relax a bit more, a quiet calm settling over him. You lean back, crossing your arms behind your head and gazing at the ceiling. Damian remains still, his eyes fixed on the bathroom ceiling as if it holds the answers to his unspoken questions. The silence between you stretches out comfortably, filled only by the occasional distant thump of the party music.
“I like art,” he mutters.
“Art,” you hum. “Cool. What do you like about it?”
Damian’s gaze remains fixed on the ceiling, his tone soft and contemplative. “I find it… grounding. A way to disconnect from everything else.”
You nod slowly, processing his words. “What kind of art do you like? Paintings, sculptures…?”
He hesitates for a moment before answering. “All kinds. I appreciate technique and craftsmanship. But I also enjoy seeing how others interpret the world. A glimpse into their mind.”
“So you have an eye for detail,” you say, glancing at him with a thoughtful expression. “I get that. I think I like art too, in my own way. More abstract stuff, pieces that make you think.”
Damian’s eyes flicker towards you, a hint of curiosity showing. “Like what?”
You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know, really. Pieces that challenge conventions, make you question what you’re looking at. I guess I like things that have a story or provoke some kind of emotion.”
He nods, considering your words. “Do you have a favorite artist?” you ask.
Damian’s lips twitch slightly as he thinks. “Caravaggio.”
“Caravaggio?” you smile, nodding appreciatively. “Yeah, I can see why you’d like him. His stuff is intense and dramatic, definitely fits with your vibe.”
Damian raises an eyebrow. “My ‘vibe’?”
You chuckle softly. “Yeah, you know. Intense, serious. Not a bad thing. It’s just… who you are.”
He looks away, heat rising to his cheeks. “I suppose.”
The silence stretches again, more comfortable this time. The distant music has gone back to an upbeat pick, but in this private bubble of yours, you don’t notice it.
The conversation flows easily, surprising both of you. Damian, who usually keeps his thoughts guarded and emotions locked away, finds himself oddly at ease. He’s spent most of his life around people who either expect something from him or are intimidated by his background, but with you, there’s no expectation, no fear—just a simple, genuine exchange.
After a while, you shift slightly, getting more comfortable against the bathtub. "You know, it’s kind of funny," you say, breaking the silence. You lean your head back over the edge, turning to him. “I feel really comfortable with you, a total stranger. Feels like something out of a weird indie movie.”
Damian smirks at that. “Perhaps you’re just strange," he jests. His voice is softer now, less guarded.
You smile, pleased. “It’s one of my better qualities.”
"You've certainly made things more interesting," he replies, surprising himself with the admission.
The conversation drifts to other topics—books, places you’d both like to visit, even the absurdity of some of the things you’ve both encountered in your respective lives. Damian tells you as much as he can without revealing too much, while you share some of your own experiences.
There’s a comfort in the anonymity, in not having to be anyone other than who you are in this moment.
Eventually, you check the time on your phone and sigh. "I should probably get back out there. My friends are going to think I got lost."
Damian nods, though there’s a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "Yes… I should too." Not to mention he came alone.
You both stand up, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as you face each other. You extend a hand, for lack of anything better. "It was nice talking to you, Damian."
He hesitates for just a second before taking your hand. "Likewise." His grip is firm but not overly so, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a connection with someone that isn’t tied to his family, his legacy, or his duties.
You grin and give him a small wave before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts. He watches the door close behind you and then looks back at the mirror, catching his own reflection.
He doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him—not fully. For the first time, he’s allowed himself to step out of the carefully constructed persona he’s maintained for so long.
And maybe... he doesn’t mind that.
…You were quite beautiful, weren’t you?
notes: school started and inspiration dumped me on the side of the rode BUT,,,, it managed this so hope u like it :)
Literally sobbing the quote for the chapter, the whole fic matches with that and other parts of said poem. Spinnerette can have both cause the universe is kind and it loves them cause they -along with everyone else- is love.
"Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?... and the universe said I love you because you are love"
i love pulling things from different medias into my work cause it's putting things i love into something i made, and i thought the mc end poem fit pretty well :) im glad other people can appreciate too lol ❤️
unfortunately, i love it @cherrrydragon - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
