Ani The Mage

[youngirlfrom]

hidden confessions between the sentences

ɞ Damian gets injured on a mission, in a way, because of you. Consumed by guilt and fear, you try to stay away from him for days. But Damian has grown tired of this distance between you, and tonight, he’s going to put an end to it.

ɞ Warnings: Damian is kinda yearner, lack of communication skills, plenty of fluff

The city had long since fallen asleep. Not completely though, Gotham never truly slept. The frantic pulse that defined it during the day had quieted into something slower. The distant hum of traffic drifted through the night air. Somewhere below, a train rumbled beneath the streets. Rain earlier that evening had left the rooftops glistening beneath the moonlight.

Damian crossed them without making a sound. Robin's cape barely stirred behind him.

Normally, after patrol, he would return to the Cave, file his report, exchange exactly three sentences with his father, ignore whatever attempt Grayson made at conversation, and disappear into his room.

Tonight, however...

His feet had carried him somewhere else. To an apartment in a secluded corner in the middle of the city. He leapt skillfully from one roof to another and stopped on the top floor of the red-fronted building. He stopped outside your window.

The curtains weren't drawn. Amber-colored light from the dim room lamp was illuminating the room. He could see books stacked on the windowsill. On the table, there was a cup of tea you had likely made hours ago and chocolate wrappers scattered about.

And, you.

You sat beside the window with your back resting against the bed, one knee drawn close to your chest. Your hair fell loosely over one shoulder, catching the moonlight until it almost seemed to glow. Even though you ran your fingers over the cover, you weren't reading the book. The book lay open in your lap seemed to have been forgotten for a long time.

You were simply looking outside, toward the stars. You had always done that. Jon once joked that you looked at the sky the way other people looked toward home. Damian hadn't understood what he meant then. He did now.

You looked peaceful, too peaceful. The kind of stillness that wasn't calm at all. It was as if you could fall asleep at any moment. The moonlight wrapped around you like a mother tonight, helping you forget what had happened recently.

You hadn't smiled in over a week. Not really. Only those small, practiced smiles people wore when they wanted everyone else to stop asking questions.

His hand rested lightly against the window. He should leave. Damian had already tried speaking to you three times. Each attempt had ended the same way. The moment you saw him, your shoulders would tense up. And the moment he approached you, you would flee to the farthest corner of the room. Then you would politely excuse yourself before he could say a word. He had fought assassins with more courage than you had shown in looking him in the eye these past days.

No.

That wasn't fair.

Damian knew you weren't afraid by him. You were afraid of yourself. Of what had happened, and what could almost happened. He knew that, he hated that he knew it. Damian exhaled quietly. Then, with his gloved hand, he gently tapped the glass a few times. He didn't want to scare you.

Even though you were lost in your own silence, you didn't budge. With just a slight movement, you turned your head toward the window, to Damian. You simply stared, then you immediately looked away.

He frowned. You had already seen him, you knew he was there. Yet you made no move toward the window. Instead you closed the book in your lap, carefully placed it beside the table, and rested both hands together as though you suddenly found them fascinating.

A silent invitation for him to leave.

Damian stared through the glass. ‘Absolutely not.’ The uncomfortable silence between you was going to end tonight. He tested the window. Unlocked. Of course it was, he thought. He hated your habit of not locking the doors and windows. Damian slid it open with practiced ease.

Cool night air rushed into the room. You closed your eyes. "I knew you'd do that."

"You left me no choice." His voice was calm, almost gentle. It possessed a lightness ill-suited to Gotham's ruthless nights.

You still didn't look at him. "You could have used the door."

"You would not have answered."

"No." you said, shrugging your shoulders.

"You admit it."

"I wasn't trying to hide it."

Damian climbed inside, pulling the window closed behind him. The room immediately felt smaller and warmer. The silence between you weren’t awkward. It was heavy. Like both of you were carrying the same conversation in your heads but neither knew where to begin.

His eyes wandered across the room almost absentmindedly. Everything was unmistakably yours. From the posters on the wall to the colorful flowers you gathered to tuck between the pages of your books. Everything was you. And a tiny potted sunflower sitting on the desk despite Gotham's miserable weather.

His gaze lingered there. "It's alive."

You looked over instinctively. "The sunflower?"

"Yes. I did not think that was possible in Gotham."

"The window gets enough sunlight. I've kept it alive."

"Of course you do."

A faint smile almost appeared on your lips, but disappeared before it could fully form. Damian noticed that. He noticed everything when it came to you. You looked paler. The lack of sleep showed on your face, and the circles under your eyes had become more pronounced.

"You should be asleep," you said quietly.

"I could say the same."

"I wasn't tired."

"You have not been sleeping."

You blinked. "Did Jon tell you?"

"He did not need to." I can see everything related to you without any help.

You stood up as if to prevent whatever were about to happen. "I'll make tea."

"You dislike tea when you cannot sleep. You drink warm milk."

You froze halfway toward the door. Without turning around, you asked quietly, "How do you know that?"

"I pay attention."

It was neither too much nor excessive. It was four simple words. Perhaps it was because he was honest and sincere, but those four words had settled into a warm spot in your chest. You lowered your head. "I didn't realize.”

"I know."

You laughed once, but it wasn't a happy sound. "I guess I haven't realized a lot of things recently."

Damian watched you carefully. You still weren’t looking at him. You hadn't looked at him once since he walked in. Even now, you faced the bookshelf instead. As though speaking to worn leather bindings was somehow easier than speaking to him.

He took one slow step closer. Not enough to crowd you. Just enough that if you turned around you would find him there patiently. You could hear his breathing now. It was steady and alive.

Alive.

This word made you bite your lips. After all, lately, you had nothing else on your mind but this word. You hated how relieved that sound made you feel.

"Does your shoulder still hurt?" you asked suddenly.

"No."

"And your ribs?"

"They healed."

"The stitches-“

"I can move it normally."

You nodded slowly. As though checking items off a list you had repeated to yourself every night. You closed your eyes. "Good." Nothing else. Just, good.

Damian looked at you for a long moment. Then, quietly, he asked, "Have you been keeping track?"

You didn't answer, and there was no need to. Damian already knew. He knew you were aware of every injury and every detail of the treatment, down to the smallest procedure. And he also knew that this wasn't just a duty for you, it was because you were genuinely worried. Every single day.

He looked at the back of your head. His expression softened almost imperceptibly. When he spoke again, his voice was lower than before. "Y/N." Just your name.

You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. Because somehow... The way Damian Wayne said your name, with impossible care, as though it were something precious enough to break if spoken too loudly hurt far more than if he had come here angry.

And for the first time since the mission, you understood that this conversation could no longer be postponed.

The distance between them wasn't measured in steps. It was measured in nine days. Nine long days of averting his gaze and hesitating to speak. Nine days of pretending that if neither of you acknowledged what had happened, perhaps the memory of that mission would fade. It hadn't for both of you.

You were exhausted. He could see it. You had always carried emotions the way some people carried injuries; quietly, refusing to let anyone notice until they became impossible to ignore.

Normally, he admired that resilience. Now... He hated it. Because you were carrying something you were never meant to carry alone. He folded his arms.

"Do you know," he said quietly, "what Grayson asked me yesterday?"

You didn't answer immediately. "I assume he asked something irritating."

"He asked if we had argued." Your fingers tightened around one another.

"I told him we had not."

"You didn't."

"No." Another silence.

"Then he asked if I had somehow offended you. I told him I did not believe so. Then he asked why you disappear every time I enter a room."

"I'm sorry."

"I did not answer him. Because I did not know." His voice remained calm. There wasn't a trace of accusation in it. Only honest confusion.

"I still do not."

You lowered your head. "I know."

"No." He shook his head gently. "I do not think you do."

You finally turned, but not enough to face him completely. "I know I've been avoiding you."

"You have."

"I know it was unfair."

"It was."

"I know I should have explained."

"You should have."

You gave the smallest nod. "I just..." The words wouldn't come. Damian waited. He had learned, mostly because of you, that silence was not always something to fill. Sometimes people simply needed somewhere safe for their thoughts to land.

He would wait. Even if it took all night.

You laughed softly. A tired laugh. You took a breath, pressing your hands against your cheeks. "I've rehearsed this conversation so many times."

"Have you?"

"Every night."

"And yet?"

"And yet now that you're actually standing here..." you looked down. "I don't know how to begin."

"You are beginning."

"Am I?"

"You are speaking."

You smiled faintly. "You make everything sound so simple."

"It often is."

"It really isn't."

"For you?"

You nodded. "For me." Another quiet settled between them.

Then Damian spoke again. "I came here because I am tired."

You frowned slightly. "You are?"

"Not physically." His eyes never left yours. "I am tired of walking into rooms and watching you leave them."

Your chest tightened.

"I am tired of wondering whether I have done something you cannot forgive."

You immediately shook your head. "No."

He continued, "I came here because..."

He stopped. Searching for words was not something Damian Wayne often did. Words had always obeyed him. Commands and strategies, those were easy. This was not. “I dislike uncertainty and unfinished matters."

"I know."

"I dislike not understanding." His voice grew quieter. "And I do not understand this."

He looked at you, not as Robin, not as the heir to the League, not as Batman's son. Just as Damian. "I know what happened on that mission." His eyes softened. "I know why you blame yourself."

You looked away immediately. "I know," he continued, "because if our positions had been reversed I would have blamed myself too."

Your eyes lifted back to him. "I understand guilt Y/N." He almost laughed.

"I was raised by people who believed guilt was weakness, but it never disappeared. It merely became quieter." He looked toward the window for a moment. "When I was younger I believed every injury someone suffered beside me meant I had failed."

"I counted them."

"Counted them?"

"The mistakes." His expression remained unreadable. "The people I could not protect."

"The missions that went wrong or the lives that changed because I was not fast enough." He looked back at you. "I stopped counting."

"Why?"

"Because someone told me something."

You waited.

"He said..." Damian's voice unconsciously shifted, quieter, almost echoing Bruce's calm certainty. "'If you carry every wound forever, eventually you'll have no strength left to prevent the next one.'"

The room became still. "I did not understand him then."

"And now?"

"I do." He took another step, more close. Not enough to invade your space, but enough to remind you he wasn't leaving.

"I came tonight because..." He hesitated again. His next words were almost painfully honest. "...because I miss you."

As fractions of a second chased the seconds, your breath caught in your throat at his words. Damian is always honest, everyone knew that well. But the way he told you he missed you, with that look of longing in his eyes, was more than just a sign of honesty.

Damian continued before courage abandoned him. “I miss speaking with you. I miss you asking entirely unnecessary questions during patrol simply because you dislike silence. I miss the scent of your perfume that fills my nostrils every time you walk past me and freezes my brain for a few seconds. I miss gazing at your hair as it flows behind you with every movement, and imagining touching it.”

A tiny smile touched his lips. "I even miss you telling me to be polite." Your eyes shimmered.

"I have spent nine days pretending your absence did not matter." His voice dropped. “It does, Y/N."

More than you know. He didn't say those words, and he didn't need to. They were already there. Between every sentence. Between every breath. “I cannot continue pretending otherwise."

You stared at him. "You climbed through my window to tell me you missed me?"

"I climbed through your window because the door seemed inefficient."

Despite the recent low spirits, the absurdity of the situation made a small laugh escape your lips. The sound was soft and bright. The first genuine laugh he'd heard from you since before the mission. Something inside Damian loosened. He hadn't realized how desperately he'd wanted to hear that sound again.

"I wasn't sure you'd let me in."

"I wasn't sure either."

"So I removed the variable."

"You basically broke into my room."

"I entered."

"You broke in Damian."

"The window was unlocked."

"That's not the point."

"It seemed relevant."

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. "You're unbelievable."

"So I have been told."

In that brief moment, the smile on your face faded and gave way to something more delicate. "You really missed me?"

He looked at you as though the answer should have been obvious. "Every day."

You felt tears gathering again that wasn’t because you was hurting. Because those two words carried no hesitation. No embarrassment or attempt to protect himself. Just truth.

Every day.

"I thought..." your voice trembled. "I thought maybe seeing me reminded you of what happened."

"It does." You flinched, and that caused him to continued immediately.

"It reminds me that you were terrified. The sorrow in your eyes and the fear of losing someone. I remember that more clearly than I remember the pain."

His gaze never left yours. Another silence settled. It was gentler this time. The kind that comes when two people stop defending themselves. Damian drew one slow breath. "I did not come here to ask why you were avoiding me actually."

"No?"

"No."

"What did you come for?" He answered without looking away.

"I came because if something is hurting you..." His voice became impossibly soft. "I would rather stand beside you while you carry it than watch you carry it alone."

The words hung in the room long after he finished speaking. It was an offer to stay. Even if you couldn't yet tell him how to let him in.

Damian's words remained between them. A quiet truth he had offered you without asking for anything in return. You had spent days trying to convince yourself that distance was kindness. That avoiding him was a way of protecting him. That if you didn't see him, you wouldn't remember the sound of his breathing becoming weaker.

That if you didn't look into his eyes, you wouldn't have to face the impossible truth that he had almost died because of a choice you made.

But standing there now seeing and hearing him. You realized you had never been protecting him. You had only been running away from the fact that you were afraid. Afraid because he mattered too much.

"Damian..." His expression softened immediately at the sound of his name.

You took a step toward him. Then another. Damian didn't move. He had faced enemies who could tear apart buildings. He had walked into rooms knowing there was a chance he would not walk out. But somehow, watching you slowly approach him with tears in your eyes made him more uncertain than any battlefield ever had.

You stopped in front of him. Close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence. For a moment, you simply looked at him. Really looked. Not at Robin or at the warrior trained by the League.

At Damian.

The boy who always pretended he didn't need anyone and had come to your window because he missed you. Your hand slowly lifted. Damian's breath caught slightly. You reached toward his side, toward the place where the wound had been.

Even though the injury was healed, you remembered exactly where it was. Your fingertips gently touched the fabric over his ribs. Almost as if you expected him to disappear. Damian stayed completely still. Your touch was too careful, like he was something fragile. And that, more than anything, affected him.

"Y/N.” Your fingers moved slowly over the spot.

"You almost died." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Damian looked down at you. "I did not."

"But you could have." The answer came immediately. It was o ainfully honest. "You could have."

Your fingers trembled slightly. "I know you keep saying you recovered. You keep telling me you're fine, and I know you are."

You swallowed. "I know your heart is beating and I know you're standing here. But I..." Your voice broke. "I still remember when it wasn't."

This wasn't about the injury. Not really. It was about the moment after. The moment when everyone else knew he was going to survive. But you had been trapped in those few seconds where you didn't know. Where you thought you were losing him.

"I remember holding you," you whispered.

Your hand remained against him. "I remember seeing blood and I thought, ‘No.’" A tear slipped down your cheek. "I didn't even think your name."

Damian's brows tightened. "I just thought no."

You laughed softly, painfully. "Like if I refused to accept it, it couldn't happen."

You stopped Damian when he opened his mouth. "No, let me say this."

You looked at him with an expression he rarely saw. Guilt. "I need you to understand why I left." His jaw tightened slightly, because he directs all his attention toward you in order to listen.

"I wasn't angry at you and I wasn't avoiding you because I didn't want to see you."

Your fingers curled slightly against his side. "I was avoiding you because every time I looked at you I saw what almost happened."

A pause.

"And worse. I saw that it was because of me."

"No."

The answer was immediate. You looked up. "No?"

"No."

"Damian-"

"No." His voice remained controlled, but there was something beneath it. "You are not taking responsibility for my decision."

"I made the choice." He said.

"You did because of me. Because I hesitated."

"Because you saved someone."

"I made you have to choose."

"No." His eyes sharpened. "You are changing the facts Y/N."

You looked away. "I know what happened, and I know what I saw."

"So do I."

"I know you were hurt because you protected me."

"And I would do it again."

You looked back at him. The certainty in his voice almost hurt more. "Why?" The question came out quietly. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it is true."

"You don't understand. I was so scared." Your voice cracked. "I've never been that scared." You lowered your forehead against his chest.

The movement surprised him, but not because he disliked it. Because Damian Wayne was not used to people reaching for him without fear and expectation. But you weren’t taking. You were simply holding on.

Your voice were muffled against him. "I ignored you because I didn't know how to face you. I couldn't look at you and see that you were okay."

You gripped the fabric of his suit lightly. "Because a part of me kept thinking that I didn't deserve to see you okay."

Having such thoughts running through your mind for days broke something inside Damian. He slowly lifted his hand, then he placed it gently on the back of your head. A careful and protective touch.

"You are wrong. You are completely wrong."

"Damian..."

"You don't get to call yourself a failure because you saved someone."

"But you almost died."

"Yes." The fact startled you. He didn't deny it. Didn't dismiss it. He acknowledged it. "And I understand why that frightened you."

His hand moved slightly, gently smoothing your hair. "But my injury does not belong to you." You looked up. "It was not your burden. It was my choice. And I need you to believe me."

Your eyes searched his. "You really don't blame me?"

Damian almost looked offended. Hemade you focus on him by gently saying your name. "I have punished myself for things no one else even remembers. I would never do that to you."

"Why?" The question was almost childlike.

Why you? Why were you different?

Damian had an answer. He had always had an answer. He just had never allowed himself to say it. "Because you are you." He looked away for a brief moment, almost frustrated by his own inability to explain something so obvious.

"Everyone else..." He paused. "Everyone else I can separate. Mission. Objective. Risk, but you..." His eyes returned to yours. "I cannot."

The confession was quiet, but it carried more weight than any grand declaration. "You matter differently."

I know that is not logical and it is not strategic. I know someone like me is supposed to calculate everything." His thumb brushed away the tear on your cheek. "But when it comes to you I stop calculating."

You whispered, "I don't want to lose you."

His expression softened. "You won't."

"You can't promise that."

"No." He admitted quietly. "I cannot promise I will never be hurt."

"But I can promise..." His fingers gently squeezed yours. "that I will always come back to you if I can."

Tears had returned to your eyes, but this time it wasn't out of fear or guilt; it was out of relief. From finally allowing yourself to believe him. And Damian, who had spent his entire life learning how to fight learned something far more difficult that night. Sometimes the bravest thing a person could do was let someone love them.

You murmured while your arms wrapped each other in the darkness of the night.

"I missed you too."

I love Damian.

I haven't been able to write much lately; no ideas are coming to mind at all. I hope inspiration slaps me in the face soon.

English is not my first language! So please do not hesitate to politely point out if I make a mistake. I'm writing this story just to unwind, it's nothing serious. Please keep that in mind and enjoy it together! Thank you for reading! 🤍

[ilunaako]

damian wayne stood at the end of the aisle, waiting,

you had spent months planning the wedding, making sure every small detail was perfect. he had stayed by your side through each process. he has helped you pick a venue, theme, and wedding colors.

the wedding, truly, was beautiful. light filtered in through the stained glass windows, painting the scenery with golden light,

all of your friends and family were there, chattering softly, he was barely even listening to the other groomsmen chatter, he was just taking it all in.

he sighs, bouncing on his heels, and adjusts his cufflinks.

this was it, the day you were officially a married woman.

the orchestra began playing softly, signifying the beginning of the ceremony.

you walk out, and you look like the definition of grace. the veil covering you framed you like a halo. the white dress you had chosen fit you beautifully.

heavens, you were devastating.

damian fights back the lump in his throat as you approach, watching you look around and giving him a small smile.

his heart stops for a beat, and he wishes he could frame this moment forever.

but, maybe in another life, you're walking towards him, that he's the one you're about to marry.

so, for now, he'll watch as the love of his life marries his best friend, and he'll watch supportive as you will grow to raise children that aren't his.

he will babysit them, and he will painfully accept that they will call him, "uncle damian," instead of "dad."

so he turns towards the altar and will watch as he feels what is left of his heart break.

because, you always had his heart, and you were the one that got away.

[askboxmemes]

I wanna know what people assume about me because of my tumblr.

Put an assumption in my ask. I’ll confirm or dispute it. I’m not gonna be mean or anything, I’m just very interested.

[fsangelmaxingblog]

I saw someone on tiktok say “i need to be manhandled but in a way where he's scared to hurt me” and I get that i physically and mentally get that and I need that so fucking bad.

[fanofthebatfam]

I just know this a Jason Todd reference🙌🙌

[bluejues]

tfw you crawl out of your grave and get dunked in a vat of nickelodeon slime by your dad’s situationship

[vianawaits]

His Favorite Green Star

Summary: How do you break the news to your not-really-boyfriend that you’ve been reassigned sectors.

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Green Lantern!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warning:  Angst, open-ended ending, breakup?, Fem!Reader, situationship final boss, grumpy x sunshine if you squint, former figure skater!reader, second person, no use of y/n

A/N: bello!! I'm back with some more angst! this is for this request by @jasmineserag i hope it is up to par! As always, i hope you enjoy my lovelies <3

•───────•°•⭐︎•°•───────•

“Heya Spooky Jr! Wanna get some ice cream?”

Damian just stared, his signature expression of unimpressed plastered across his features. He didn’t even break a smile when you hovered upside down in front of him.

He never did like that nickname.

You found him on a rooftop that had definitely seen better days in downtown Gotham. He and Bruce had spent the past few weeks working on a case that split their heads in half. Maybe it was selfish to ask him of this, especially when you knew he wouldn't say no, but you don't know if you'll ever get the chance to do this with him again.

A smile broke out on your face when he shook his head exasperated. You're positive this night had its tolls- every night in Gotham did, yet he still agreed.

He'd never admit it, but there isn't anything he wouldn't do to keep you smiling. No task would ever prove too arduous, if it meant you looked at him like that every night.

You don't miss the subtle twitch of his lips when he tells Barbara he has something to take care of. There's a scoff and rolling of the eyes Damian partakes in, a response to whatever teasing his family has sent his way. He cuts the line after ensuring that "he'll be back shortly."

That’s how you find yourselves with two cups of melted ice cream on a hill at the Gotham City limits.

“I am going to assume you wanted to discuss something more than ice cream flavors.”

His words cut through the otherwise stillness of the night. There's a sharpness to them that gives him away. He knows there's something more, something you're hiding.

“What? We can’t just get ice cream like old times?”

“When have you and I ever just gotten ice cream.”

Your face heats from memories of late nights that held better news, and of early mornings when you thought the world was yours for the taking.

You don't look at him. A silence falling over you both. He doesn't miss how you've grown a sudden interest in stirring your melted ice cream.

“I’m assuming it has something to do with your recent meeting on Oa.”

He doesn't phrase it like a question. No, it's a statement. He's giving you the opportunity to be honest with him, to be as bare with him as he's allowed himself to be with you. It's not like you've lied to him; you just go around news and opening up in different ways than he does.

Over the course of whatever it is you have with him, you've learned how to meet him in the middle.

“You never were one to miss anything, were you Dami?”

It's almost heartbreaking to see his walls start to go up. It's as if he's picked up a trowel and started laying the clay and bricks himself. After spending years breaking down the fortress of Damian Wayne, you can't quite hold back the sigh at how quickly he manages to build them back up again.

He stays silent, giving you the space to speak the words that will destroy the night.

“I’ve been reassigned sectors.”

The words don't sound right as they leave your mouth.

You never were skilled at giving bad news. They land somewhere in the inch that separates your shoulders; not quite meeting him, but not staying on your skin either.

“Ah…" his voice comes out too quiet, too small for the man that's speaking them.

You swallow, “yeah.”

The silence is almost devastating. You want to take the words back, pull them back into your mouth, and bury them so deep in your stomach that they'll never see the light of day. Anything to avoid this air neither of you can breathe in.

“For how long?”

You knew he'd ask, you bet yourself ten dollars it would be his first question, but a selfish part of you hoped he wouldn't. The sick part of you hoped he'd be angry enough to scoff and stalk away, if only to make this easier for you.

“How long?” he asks again, when you can't bring yourself to admit it the first time.

“That’s the thing,” your eyes meet his devastating green ones with a bittersweet expression, “I don’t know.”

“I-" his eyebrows pull together, "I don’t understand.”

“The sector I’ve been reassigned too has been having some… " there's a pause while you try to figure out how to phrase the disaster the guardians filled you in on, "well, political instability to put it diplomatically-“

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, annoyance seeping in, “And when have you ever been diplomatic?”

You shoot him a look and he just about glues his lips shut. He knew there were only certain lines he could cross before you constructed scissors to cut his tongue off, and he was starting to get close.

“-And one of their green lanterns recently passed away. So I was reassigned to it until further notice.” You swallow before dropping the bomb, “Possibly permanently.”

He turns to you in an instant, barely succeeding in concealing how appalled he is, “Surely Jordan-“

“Has no say, Dami.” your lips pull solemnly on your face. “I volunteered anyway. It was supposed to be just until the political environment stabilized, but I offered to stay after as well. It all depends on the new green lantern they’re assigned, they need someone experienced for the time being.”

“And why would you do that?”

He didn't seem to register anything after hearing you volunteered.

“Why wouldn’t I?” now it's your turn to get annoyed, “What do I have here, Damian? Realistically? What's here?”

He’s silent at the rhetorical question. You place the cup of melted ice cream on the grass next to you, before turning to him.

“I have an associates degree I got with a 2.5 GPA, a washed up figure skating career I gave up for the Corps, and a shit retail job that gives me no PTO, despite being an Assistant Manager.”

It was the obvious choice to volunteer. There wasn't a lot you had going for you on Earth. The corps wasn't exactly a top ten paying career.

“You have me.”

His voice comes out impossibly small. It almost doesn't sound like him. If you hadn't spent the better part of most nights listening to him recount stories he'd never uttered before, you wouldn't have recognized it.

Despite the sentiment being sweet, you scoff. He at the very least, has the decency to not act offended at your reaction.

“You do.” he attempts to reiterate the statement, as if it'll make it any more true than it is now.

“Damian, stop." you shake your head, tears fighting to break free from your lower eye lid, "you’ve never had a habit of lying to me before, don’t pick it up now.”

“I’m not lying.”

“But you’re not telling me the truth either.” his lips clamp together, the protest dying in his throat, “I’ve never had you- not completely anyway, and that’s okay. I've accepted it. I knew it when I decided to get involved with you. The mission always come first, right?”

He looks as if he’s been shot when you repeat those words to him. The same words he said to you all those months ago, when you asked him why you couldn’t be something more.

“It’s what I’ve always loved about you Damian, your dedication to this city, to the cause, to the people. I knew you were never going to pick me." you swallow the lump in your throat, he looks more broken than you've ever see him, "If it came down to the mantle or me, it would be the latter.”

It was the truth. There was no way to disguise it, no other way to dress it up. Deep down in places he doesn't want to think about, he knew it as well it as you did.

He almost hates how easy you accept it. There's a part of him he attempt to not dwell on, that hopes you would fight for him. Had you fought him on the decision at all, he'd like to think he could've made it work; the same way father did for Selina.

“I wanted to pick you.” he whispers into the night, almost like a secret- or an oath.

And that, that you do believe.

Just for a second, you let yourself imagine what it would’ve been like. What it would mean to be a priority in the life of Damian Wayne- to be his North Star. His eyes are boring into you; and behind the storm drowning them, you know he's picturing the same.

“I think we could’ve been good together,” you match his whisper, “you and me.”

“It would’ve been nice,” he agrees.

You see it all in his eyes. They held the portal to a reality you'll never have- a reality you would've traded everything away for.

And Damian sees it in yours: The future that could've been. The future you'll never have.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks away before deciding to bite the bullet and ask, “When is the earliest you would be back, if the sector is assigned a competent lantern?”

“The earliest?” you puff your cheeks with air, exhaling with an unsure expression, “Two years probably?”

He nods dutifully while you kick your feet against the grass, your eyes cataloguing him to memory.

“I will wait.”

“Please don’t.”

The response is instant, and his neck snaps in your direction. You’re not sure who’s heart breaks first when he notices your eyes are glassy.

“Please don’t wait for me," you try not to think too hard on how your words sound oddly like a plea, "I don’t know if I’ll be back in two years or at all. The last thing I want is for you to be waiting for something that might not happen." you swallow hard, taking a deep breath before telling him, "I want you find someone.”

“I won’t.”

“You will Damian." and for the first time all evening, you touch him. Your palm finds his cheeks and he squeezes his eyes shut, leaning into you. "You’ll find some nice sweet girl who’s going to love going to galas with you, who’s going to patch you up at four in the morning, and who’s going to be smart enough to help you with those anatomy studies of yours.”

He shakes his head as if he can will the thought away, “I don’t want that, I want you."

“And there’s nothing more in the world that I would love, than for that to be true.” you can tell in the way his eyes crack open, he hates that you don’t believe him, “But if you did want me, really did, in that way, I would already be yours. You would have already asked me, and we wouldn’t be doing this dance that we’ve grown accustomed to performing in the dark.”

He doesn’t say much after that and neither do you.

The rest of the night escapes you on that hill. He doesn't go back to patrol and can't bring himself to explain why. Sunrise greets you like an old friend that's come too early.

He doesn't move for a good while after you leave. He can't breathe right either.

It isn't until Todd finds him, he manages to stand up again. He wasn't sure what state he must've appeared to be in, because Grayson arrives shortly after as well. And for once, he doesn't mind the company of his two older brothers.

Neither of them say much, just sitting with him until he can bring himself to move on past the hill. He'll never tell them that he only got the courage to leave when the smell of you vanished, and the imprint you left on the grass was gone.

He still has your spoon from that night. It sits on a cup on his desk, the same one that holds his pens.

He still looks to the stars every night on patrol, thinking of you. Almost as if can will you to come back to him.

Because he’ll prove it to you one day.

He’ll prove it to you that he can pick you.

He’ll make sure you never doubt how much he loves you again.

Whether it is in this life or the next, Damian Wayne will wait for you.

But for now, he will love you from afar. Forever waiting for his favorite green star to shoot across the sky and land in his arms one final time.

•───────•°•⭐︎•°•───────•

Taglist All: @gglouise23 @demigod-jack-hearth @nicndick @scissorhvnds @princessak @slut4hotppl @bat1nsignia @starr-jazz @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @mystiquevoid @patientofarkhamasylum @starkkat @loserinadress @leovaldez0924 @actualunicornn @kaiiii1009 @arfemiz @boombopbam @jasontoddismywifey @/jasmineserag Damian Wayne: @angelicwing @clownstheyreeverywhere @gusseppi @valinat @elysian-groves @kxkuma @jaydennicole @waltermis @moon-cakei @fanofthebatfam

[kentluv3r]

hello! may i humbly request this:

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

with jason todd and/or dick grayson

please and thank you!!

you miss THEM! [DICK, JASON, TIM, DAMIAN, DUKE, BARBARA, STEPHANIE, BRUCE] while they’re gone… so why not ask them for a simple favor; send a video of them doing push ups while saying your name!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 CONTENT WARNINGS: horny texts, flirting, multi-character, implied sexual content, MINORS DNI ノhorny! fem! reader, teasing, dirty talk, mentions of disabilities, obvious usage of y/n but not overly done!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: mhmmmmm, this request is so good, i luv it. instead of just dick or jason, i decided to do a lot of the bat family so there’s a lot of variety. if you can’t get the link, it’s a tiktok that says “life is too short. just ask him to send an audio saying your name while doing push ups.” hope i do this justice bc i loved the idea!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 DICK GRAYSON !

you: *link*

you: babe, look at this

my birdman 💙: the first text i get from u on patrol

my birdman 💙: WHAT do you want me to do?

my birdman 💙: babe, asking for a dick pic would be easier

you’re a little shocked that dick hasn’t seen the video; the fucker somehow knows every horny video out there, every single little thing you could ask your man to do… and yet this is the one that trips him up. it’s cute in a way.

dick was out on patrol with duke and wally— they’ve grown a great friendship and now dick is practically third-wheeling for them but he doesn’t mind, the more people out in the streets of gotham, helping out, the better. it gives him a chance to have a little bit of breathing room in between all the fighting going on. 

my birdman 💙: baby, i’ll do it, you know i will

you: then get to it, pretty boy

my birdman 💙: i just wanna know why?

my birdman 💙: we have god knows how many sex videos

you: because dick

you: sometimes a girl wants what a girl wants

you: now do it before i bite ur dick off

my birdman 💙: that would be hot

you: fine

you: cut it off

my birdman 💙: okay, damn babe

my birdman 💙: give me a minute to find a roof top 

and eventually, three minutes later... a video pops up on your screen, and you click on it without second thought.

the video loads without issue... and there dick is, in full nightwing costume, escrima sticks stuck to his back, domino mask still on as you see that he's on top of a building, looking out at gotham city. the phone is already propped up on one of the roof's electrical boxes.

"alright baby, since you need me oh so badly." he jokes as he gets into formation.

even through the nightwing suit, you can still see his big biceps, big thighs, and overall strong posture that you scratch at every night when he’s balls deep into you— but there’s something sexy about the nightwing suit that you love so much. you couldn’t put your finger on it.

but you don’t think too much of it as he begins to move, his arms flexing and the gotham wind blowing his black hair strands in different directions as he does the pushups… most notably with one hand behind his back.

“y/n… y/n, y/n, y/n…” he continues over and over again, that cocky fucking grin on his face as he speaks to the camera again. “you better like this shit, baby, making me do your horny little fantasies… not like i’m complaining.”

he just has a great way with words, doesn’t he?

you could feel your pussy clench around nothing, your free hand can’t stop itself from drifting downwards close to your pants as his words fill in your mind. just the implications make your mind melt… and the way he does it is so good.

“fuck, dick…” you whisper to your empty bedroom as you watch the video, his movements not slowing down for a moment.

“y/n… y/n… shit this is easy baby, but trying to not imagine you under me right now is what’s fucking me up baby.” he mutters, chuckling as he continues to push up and down off his left hand. 

you shudder at his words, body heating up at the idea of being under him in this current moment. he’s able to ruin you even from afar— and god you hate it as much as you love it. 

eventually, he reached up to 45 times, his arm working over and over again, his head looking behind himself to see gotham behind him. "they're probably handling it pretty good down there." he speaks, meaning wally and duke. "i'm too busy making my pretty girl happy..."

your hand strokes your own thigh at his words. "quit being such a sap..."

“y/n… y/n… y/n…” not knowing damn well that on the streets, wally and duke are fighting a bunch of joker goons— because of course he decides to try to fuck with them this night.

the heat in your stomach curls with need as dick finishes the pushups, standing on his two feet as he flexes his biceps in front of the camera, jokingly showing off his back muscles for you as well. he just has a phenomenal way of acting.

“there’s a few extra things for you as well.” he tells you as he picks up the phone, waving at the camera. “get a good’s night sleep girly, i’ll be home soon… like i never left.”

the video ended and you felt ten times hotter than you felt before the video.

you would eventually find him in your bed two hours later when you fell asleep, just like he said he would. but that’s a topic for another day.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 JASON TODD !

see; you found the tiktok at the perfect time.

because jason wasn't in bed with you sure, but you knew where he was at— currently in the gym, doing whatever core exercise he had on the agenda today because despite his denial of it; he has his work-out regimine on a piece of paper. at the beginning of the week? legs, get it out of the way. middle of the week? chest, arms, and back. and the last days of the week? his core and whatever he failed to get if he skipped a day.

you knew it because he always told you before he left— it's kinda sweet in a way... but you knew it would be a day where he'd answer.

you: *link* 

you: jason 

you: know ur lifting but watch this

jay: oh jesus baby

jay: ur always making me do this shit

you: complaining?

jay: nope

jay: just, simple observation 

you: good

you: now do it

jay: why u gotta be so mean

you: i’m not mean, i’m horny

you: now do it

jay: yes ma’am! 

soon enough, you see the notification and you click on it, the video loading up in no time.

there jason was, in the gym with his headphones around his neck, black hair sweaty and messy in the ways you only saw after-sex, with one of his stupid tank tops on and gym shorts— you only call his tank tops stupid because they're always so fucking sweaty and stink up your apartment for a good hour before going in the wash.

but jason waves at the camera as he puts it against the gallery of weights, nobody around him.

clearly, it's an empty day at the gym. not that uncommon at eleven pm on a friday night when everyone else is drinking or partying at this hour.

"hope all is well at home, baby." he begins as he gets in position, perfect push-up form as he begins.

jason starts off slow, going down and back up not too quickly. "y/n..." he mutters, loud enough for you to hear— you also hear the slight change in his breath, it's obvious he just got done lifting some heavy ass weight as seen next to him with a "125" pound dumbbell. "y/n..."

you get that feeling in your body in the same way he teases you when he touches you. trying to ignore it, you continue to watch, rolling on your stomach and putting your chin on your forearm. "jay..."

in the video, he speeds up. "y/n... y/n... fuck— y/n..." almost using your pretty name like a pushup counter to himself but god it sounds beautiful. "y/n..."

jason continued his fluid motions, so easily going up and back down then back up, his muscles showing every time he extends his arms.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” each time he says your name like that, it only works to drive you further and further into a horny mess, and this asshole knows it, that is what makes you even more happier inside and wetter in your underwear.

"god damn, jay... so good f'me." you whisper as you watch him push up and down, looking down to see his hand veins, just the way they look puts images to your mind.

jason almost loses track at how many he does in a row; just using your name is able to make him go further than his usual set reps of pushups. he loves hearing your name, even if he's saying it, so he keeps going.

"y/n... ngh, fuck, y/n... keep going for you, hun." he says, almost thinking about his cock with his hand stroking himself for you; the only reason he stops himself is cause he's not trying to have a boner in the middle of the gym... even if there's nobody else there besides the workers.

you keep your eyes on him, everything around you seeming irrelevant as the video continues till it's the last minute where you see him slow down finally; you don't know how many times he said your name, but it had to be in the sixty amount.

"y/n... y/n..." he's not out of breath but still, he catches his breath as he finally stops, standing on his two feet as he walks over to his phone and grabbing it; giving you a damn good look at the sweat beading down his face and the stupid white streaks in his hair falling in front of his face.

he smiles at the lens. "hope that fufills your filthy little idea, baby..."

jay: did u enjoy it?

jay: baby?

you: for fucks sake, jason

you: yes, i did enjoy it, god i loved it

you: you're hot, it's fucking irritating

jay: don't worry baby, i'm almost done

jay: then you can have me all u want, hun

you: good

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 TIM DRAKE !

you hated being away from tim, so obviously, when you saw the video on your for you page… it’s obvious what you were thinking about.

he was always doing some detective work; you loved his intelligence and his way of thinking about things… but one of the worst things about it? he was always gone at the worst times possible. he made time for you, but sometimes, when you really wanted him… no where to be found. 

you: *link*

you: tim.

you: timothy 

you: do this for me

handsome timmy: what happened to hey

handsome timmy: what happened to how was your day, tim?

you: not the time

handsome timmy: fine fine

handsome timmy: let me buy a second real quick

that’s the thing about tim that you loved; even when he was busy, even when he was away from you… the moment you asked him to do something? he would try to find the time and a way to do it.

meanwhile, in the inner city, away from you, tim was filing through paperwork one of his sources gave him.

the hotel room dim with both lamps on, tim’s eyes reading over the lines of text. it was a simple case of murder (well, simple to describe murder isn’t the best word to use… but it is the most accurate. it wasn’t convoluted in the “there’s so many suspects” way but more like “which gang put the hit out”) on a poor mailman who unknowingly smuggled another gang’s weapons to their biggest rivals. the more confusing part was just figuring out which member is apart of which gang because… of course members switch and betray and align.

it’s all tiring for one robin… so getting a text from you? wanting him to do pushups and say your name… he’s smart enough to know what that implies.

handsome timmy: you perv

you: yep!

you: you’re not here to do it… so this will do

handsome timmy: baby don’t u have other videos of us?

handsome timmy: you have that video in the bathroom

you: yeah and i love that video

you: but i’ve already watched it

you: i want something fresh, baby

handsome timmy: okay baby, since u need it so bad

he was busy, but he was willing to do it; for you and you only.

three minutes later, you got the video and laying on your apartment couch, legs sprawled out. you immediately press on it and it loads up; tim, in grey sweatpants and a tanktop, his stupid black hair messy but falling in front of his face gorgeously, eyebrows furrowed as he gets into pushup position.

“can’t believe i’m doing this… but only because you asked me for it.” he mutters before he begins to do the pushups, his grunts fill the room and the audio of the video as he continues.

“y/n… y/n… y/n— ngh, shit— y/n…” it’s not even hard for him to do a pushup, it’s just the entire thing about what it’s implying as well as his cock aching with need but who said that? his biceps flex, eyes on the floor before he looks over at the camera and winks at you. “hope you enjoy this, my filthy… perverted… pretty girl.”

“this is not perverted.” you defend yourself to him even if he can’t hear or see you, eyes dragging up and down to watch his hands and his biceps.

he repeats your name over and over again, taking deep breaths to try to calm yourself down while he takes deep and guttural breaths in between each push on his arms, a single line of sweat beading down his head.

“bet you’re enjoying this, i’m glad though…” he mutters, keeping his eyes locked on the camera. “y/n… y/n… y/n…” he looks forward, biting his tongue in between his teeth, trying to not think too hard about the implications… but how could he not? he loves the thought of you under him.

tim continued to push up and down until he felt his body burn, stopping at the thirty pushup mark, taking deep breaths as he sits on his knees, grabbing his phone and chuckles. “you probably look so cute right now… too bad i’m over here, doing paperwork… but i’ll be home soon.”

you laugh under your breath at his words, the video ending and you find yourself with a smile on your face.

you: god, you’re so hot

you: fuck the paperwork, come fuck me

handsome timmy: I WILL. TRUST

handsome timmy: I WANT YOU TOO

handsome timmy: but i gotta do this shit but…

handsome timmy: maybe send me a video… possibly?

you: you’re lucky i’m horny

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 DAMIAN WAYNE !

work has you travelling all over the world sometimes… the problem? none on the surface.

you loved to travel, seeing the world even if it was for work related stuff. you went to other states to talk to different people about work, you even got to go to other countries for your work— being a high ranking employee will do that, so obviously, you love the travel for work aspect of your job.

the only problem you seem to be dealing with? you miss your boyfriend.

damian is a great boyfriend, there’s no one else like him.

which meant traveling for work and being away from him sucked. hard. he sometimes went with you if gotham allowed him to leave for once and you loved that time with him— he knew it was important for you to travel so he never bothered you when you had to leave… but he definitely hates it as well.

thankfully, he has his family and jon to bother him when you’re gone.

so, obviously, when you get the video on your screen… your pussy acts first instead of being smart.

you: *link*

you: damian

you: watch this and do it

dami 💚: what happened to hi? hello? how was your day?

you: not important

you: need to see your body

dami 💚: this is what this is about?

dami 💚: HEY 

dami 💚: I HAVE THAT VIDEO SAVED 

you: good

you: you know me too well

dami 💚: shirtless or with a shirt on?

you: why do u even ask

dami 💚: just making sure, princess

you: do it shirtless, genius 

it doesn’t take long before your phone dings and you see a video on your screen. 

you click on the video without a second thought.

the video loads and there damian was; shirtless, in his bedroom at wayne manor. his tv paused at whatever he was watching as he placed the phone on the wood bedframe leg, backing up and seeing if it will fall as he gets on his hands and knees. 

“okay… you’re good? won’t fall and ruin this video for my girl?” he questions the phone, extending his legs and getting into the typical pushup position. “good. stay like that.”

he mutters as he looks at the lens with a softer gaze. “okay, i hope this is a good enough angle, baby… for your little fantasy.”

and right after that, he goes down and goes back up, doing what you wanted him to do slower but making sure you heard every single grunt, groan, and breath. “y/n… y/n…”

he can feel his hands shift as he gets more comfortable with his movements, letting you get a glimpse of his broad back when he goes down and his chest when he goes up, the light in the room being enough to see his muscles each time.

“y/n, y/n, y/n, pretty good form if you ask me.” he jokes midway through, not even counting how many he’s doing— he’s just going up and down and trying his hardest not to get a raging boner at the idea of you under him, on your stomach, and instead of pushups, he was thrusting.

you were also trying your hardest not to think about that too much, but how could you not?

here’s your sexy boyfriend, saying your name while shirtless and doing an exercise that comes close to replicating it— rivaling only hip thrusts with weights. “dami… fuck…” you moan oh so quietly.

damian chuckles as he shifts his form, putting his hands out wider as every time he goes down, he goes to the right then back up then he goes to the left downwards, pressing his lips on each hand as he goes down. 

deep down, he’s pretending it’s your lips or your head he’s kissing and not his own hands. “y/n…” he mutters into his right hand before going back up and going down to his left hand, kissing the top of it. “y/n…” 

his arms being extended shows off his triceps and forearms in all their glory; you love his forearms oh so much. 

"y/n, my love. y/n, my sweetheart. y/n, my horny ass girlfriend." he says as he comes to his final pushups, going back to the center for the final couple of pushups, this wider approach to his movements allows you to see his back and lower back as well, making your pussy throb only more.

"dami..." you whisper as he does his final one, letting himself fall to the carpet floor after he goes back down and grabs his phone from the bed's leg, fingers wrapping around the phone.

rolling onto his back, he moves the phone to above his head, letting you see his abs as he catches his breath. "here's what you're missing baby, 'cause you wanna be such a good employee." he jokes, then furrowing his brow as he brings his phone closer to him. "just kidding, baby... 'm glad you're good at the job and they can see that. love you, sweetheart."

and just like that, the video ends and you're here, wanting him only more than you did before this.

you: god you’re the best

dami 💚: ur welcome baby :) 

dami 💚: missing u!!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 DUKE THOMAS !

you loved vacation much as the next person.

you were lucky to have this… but with how hard you were working at your place of employment, constantly putting in overtime to get a little extra money… it was obvious this was close to happening.

you loved the location and the week that you’ve had; the only thing you didn’t like? being away from your boyfriend, duke, who was busy fighting crime in gotham.

he encouraged you to go— he loved seeing how hard you worked and get repaid for it, plus he knew as much as you did that you needed this vacation with a few of your closest friends, so he wasn’t mad about it; he had no problems!

but you hated being away from him. 

you loved the man and that showed, so of course, when you’re scrolling through your for you page, lounging around in your rented house… you knew exactly who to send it to; the only person you wanted to listen to.

you: *link*

you: duke, my baby

you: you better not be busy 

you: cause i need u to do this

duke 💛: wow, not even an update on ur vacation

duke 💛: but i’m not busy, sweetheart

you: just don’t die on me duke

duke 💛: i’m not gonna die sweetheart

duke 💛: not from the criminals at least

duke 💛: but the lack of pussy might kill me

you: you’ll fucking survive.

you: now watch what i sent you

duke 💛: bossy woman but sure

you: i am not bossy

duke 💛: yes u are

duke 💛: but jesus baby, just ask me for a video of my dick

you: where’s the fun in that?

duke 💛: true

duke 💛: give me a minute, pretty baby

and just like he said, not even too long later— maybe four minutes later, a video pops up in your text messages…

duke 💛: *video*

duke 💛: god i wish i could see u watch it 🫠

and you don’t hesitate to click on it.

in front of the camera is duke, wearing only pajama bottoms and a black shirt, a big smile on his face as he gets into pushup position. it’s clear that he just got done with patrol and just got out of his batsuit, a bandage on his forearm. “don’t mind that, sweetheart.” he mentions, his hands close together as he decides to do a diamond-style pushup. “now… you better enjoy this, hun.”

and without hesitating, his pushups begin; elbows close to his chest every time he goes down and comes back up, the veins in his forearms show clearly. “y/n… y/n… y/n… y/n…” 

you lick the inside of your cheek, watching with glee as duke pushes up and down, taking deep breaths in between each push of his arms— he always says to never hold your breath when doing pushups— and he’s clearly letting you get your mind going in the dirtiest of directions.

you could just imagine him right now, pushing in and out of you instead of pushing up and down, imagining it was his chest you were laying on as he fucked you— but of course, he wasn’t here to do it. so you took this, and you loved it.

“duke… fucking hell.” you whisper as he continues.

“y/n… y/n… y/n l/n, my love… my baby… making me do pushups instead of jerking off… quite creative if you ask me… y/n…” he mutters, letting his own mind go into places but he continues on the video.  

he’s able to do this so easily, feeding into your thoughts as he repeats your name over and over again, making your mind fulfilled at the same time yearning for him only more. 

“y/n… y/n… final one.” he says as he pushes up one more time, clapping his hands and just as quickly, putting his hands back down. “y/n…”

you giggle at his stupid little clap pushup. 

he remains in the down position before he kneels on one knee, reaching over and grabbing his phone with his left hand, smiling at the camera. “hope vacation is treating you the way it should, baby… you deserve it…” 

and just like that, the video ends, your mind a whole lot filthier than it started out as. 

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 BARBARA GORDON !

you know deep down, in your heart, sending your wheelchair-bound girlfriend this tiktok would be... definitely a little off the cuff, but you truly couldn't help yourself; you were lonely, a lil horny, and besides, she joked about her wheelchair more than you (including the time she let tim's dumb ass do wheelies in the fucking thing) but not in the self-deprecating manner people thought she would, just as a throw-away line, so it's not like it would be totally wrong.

you: *link*

you: barb, baby... watch this

you: you're always on that damn computer

you: answer me, babyyyyyyyy

barb 💻🫦: ???

barb 💻🫦: babe. baby. sweetheart.

barb 💻🫦: does it look like i can do that?

you: c'mon

you: you have to have done a push up once in ur life

barb 💻🫦: honey, i love you and you know that…

barb 💻🫦: and you’re far from blind

barb 💻🫦: but did you mean to send me this shit?

you: absolutely!

you: besides, who would i ask anyway? there's only one pair of lips i want saying my name that way

barb 💻🫦: good

barb 💻🫦: u don’t need anyone else to do it

you: u don't have to do it, just thought it was funny

you: i don't want you to hurt urself, baby

barb 💻🫦: no it's fine, baby. ain’t mad at it

you: busy dealing with bruce?

barb 💻🫦: happily

it's minutes before barbara texts you back. you took her words for granted— bruce, especially on missions as batman— drives her up a wall sometimes but it's not like it's hard work, she's the greatest asset on the team if anyone really thinks about it, so it's easy work for the oracle... it's just tedious work listening to the deep voice of batman asking for coordinates every ten seconds.

the thought did cross your mind: was it wrong? sure it was a joke but still… you didn’t want to cause barbara any actual trouble over a shitty little tiktok.

it’s not until seven minutes after barbara sent her last text that you get a notification on your phone.

you reach for it and click on the message without even thinking a second thought.

barb 💻🫦: *video*

barb 💻🫦: here you go, hun ❤️

the video loads without issue… and on your screen, barbara stares into the camera as she readjusts it on the floor, sitting on the floor with her wheelchair slightly veered to the left on the right side of the video.

she bites on her tongue as she balances the phone against one of the many computer desk’s legs. “c’mon you… these things are not stable at all.”

finally, the phone stays still and barbara keeps a close eye on it. “don’t you dare fall or else.” she threatens the device as she adjusts her position to get on her right side, using both arms to hold herself up as her palms press down into the floor of the computer room of wayne manor. “hope this suits your needs, baby.” she speaks to you through the video.

your eyes watch as she’s able to balance her self with just core strength, even if her legs don’t want to move for her. you knew from what shes told you about being paralyzed from the waist down that her legs feel limp most of the time even with physical therapy helping her balance when she does attempt to walk and with training, she has been able to put her toes down but never fully walk, so her legs are practically dead weight for her ninety perfect of the time.

and without hesitation and no issue whatsoever, barbara begins to push up and down, using her arms and core to balance herself even if those damn legs of hers wanna fall back to the floor even if barbara can’t control their actions.

“y/n— fucking hell.” she begins as she consistently pushes up and down with her core doing an insane amount of work to keeping her body up. “y/n…” she repeats, over and over again without issue.

you could see the veins in her forearms of her rolled up sweatshirt sleeves, there was something so fucking hot about it that you couldn’t describe simply because of how needy you got watching the video.

she continues her movements without issue, driving her palms into the ground to keep her balance. “y/n, y/n, y/n… shit, baby, you’re making me work for it.” god, you could just imagine her saying that in between your thighs, her fingers curling deep when you tell her to keep going. “y/n…”

by the fifteenth name call off her sweet lips that only drives you further up the wall, she gives her last pushup; getting back on her ass and grabbing her phone, smiling at the camera with the smile you love oh so much. 

“i’ll be done soon, hun, don’t stay up if you can’t.” she tells you, looking up at the monitors above her. “bruce probably wants me back on comms… this fucking guy.” she says it with love for the man. “see you sweetheart.”

and the video ends just like that. fuck this woman’s gonna be the death of you.

you: holy shit

you: you’re the sexiest woman ever

you: u actually did it

barb 💻🫦: baby, i do anything you want

you: men ain’t shit

barb 💻🫦: i know

barb 💻🫦: now let me get back to work

you: you’re eating my pussy when u get home

barb 💻🫦: yay! 

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 STEPHANIE BROWN !

you hated being sick, mostly because it didn’t allow you to do most things.

you were laying in bed, resting from a stupid sickness you got maybe three days ago. it sucks and you’re still kind of shocked that it’s still running through your system, but you’ve been doing everything in your power to feel better; called off work, only did things if you actually needed to, and knocked out a few things you actually wanted to get done.

you also had your girlfriend, stephanie, making sure you took care of yourself. 

which brings you to your current predicament; scrolling through tiktok and seeing a video that strikingly sounds like something you want stephanie to do… so you sent it to her not thinking much of it.

stephanie was a little busy right now; dancing in a club in downtown gotham with dinah lance and kate kane— stephanie only knew dinah because of a situation where both of them were on the same crime at the same time, as well as the very important factor that dinah was in a two year long relationship with barbara so she kinda had to be civil with dinah… but she wasn’t too bad.

she hesitated to go with them but you insisted, wanting her to go out and have fun and you’d join them next time… which is how you ended up alone but not sad… but you knew stephanie, if you sent her a text? she’d immediately answer it.

you: *link*

you: heyyyyyyy

you: hope the club is good, baby

you: do this when u get a chance

steph 💜: my baby

steph 💜: you feeling okay? 

steph 💜: yeah, i’ll see it, give me a moment

steph 💜: oh my god, kate is trying to climb something

you: feeling alright over here steph

you: just missing you :( 

you: miss your sexy ass

steph 💜: trust me baby, miss u too

steph 💜: but i’ll be home soon

steph 💜: now what the hell did you send me?

steph 💜: oh you freaky girl

you: yes, now do it

steph 💜: alrighttttt, lemme find a place!

it takes a few minutes, but eventually, your phone dings on the blanket as you finish your plate and put it on the coffee table, pausing the movie you were watching and look at the phone.

you open the video stephanie sent you, her long blond hair, curled slightly due to sweat in the front filling your mind as you hear the muffled sound of the bar she was at with dinah and kate— neither of them in frame but stephanine starts the video by yelling at someone behind the door as she sets up the phone against the shitty bathroom sink.

“hold up, dinah! doing something for my girlfriend!” she yells— it strokes your heart just hearing her call you “her girlfriend”, it’s mundane but god it’s so good.

dinah groans from outside the locked bathroom door. “oh my god! you better not be fingerblasting yourself there! this is not the place to do it!”

stephanie cackles out a laugh at dinah’s words but gets into pushup positon as she does it. “aye! me and my girl weren’t the ones who caught making out on the computer desk now were we?” stephanine bites back, giggling in front of the camera.

you get a good look at her; black canary shirt rolled at the sleeves (cause she knows how you feel about her arms), her blonde hair damp and sticking in different directions but not too messy, and her makeup slightly fucked up but in the sexiest way possible. 

dinah scoffs. “you’re lucky your sister’s hot, or else.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” stephanie says, finishing her little bout with dinah as she looks back at the camera— smiling. “now she’s gone… hey baby, bet you look so cute right now… bet you want me to come home… god you look so gorgeous and i can’t even see you.”

your heart flutters, this fucking girl. but you can’t think too much of it before she begins to do the pushups.

the thing? she’s already sweating. not even because it’s difficult or anything (you’ve seen this woman knock out 50 pushups with no issue) but rather the already built-up strain of her muscles dancing at the club and sweat due to moving her body to the music that’s got her sweating… but god she looks so sexy like this.

“y/n… y/n, fucking hell baby, you’re lucky this place even has a bathroom.” she jokes, looking at the sticker-covered wall of the right side of the bathroom, so many different stickers and sticky-notes with phone numbers and names, different pop culture references, even someone’s dick pic… but you’re too focused on your babe to look at anything else. “y/n… y/n…” 

you can feel a certain dampness in your underwear but you don’t pay it any mind— you try to not think about it but c’mon… who would blame you.

the way your name falls from her lips is incredible and you watch as she slowly stops her movements at the 35 range, your name said for every single one of them. “y/n… y/n… fuck— y/n…” the last three times before she looks over at you, in the up position as she gets on her feet.

catching her breath as she grabs the phone, she smiles and kisses the lens. “love you baby.”

and the video ends just like that; your underwear ten times damper than it previously was.

you: god you’re good at that

steph 💜: i’d hope so

you: if i wasn’t dying, you’d be between my thighs asap

steph 💜: oh baby

steph 💜: maybe in the morning

you: you’ll get sick though

steph 💜: death by pussy sounds pretty good to me

you: steph… 

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 BRUCE WAYNE !

asking bruce wayne to participate in any type of relationship trend or request was easy.

he loved you and you loved him... contrary to popular belief, the man knew pop culture and he knew his shit when it came to relationships— not in the same way his sons did but he knew things, he knows what tiktok and twitter and all these apps are— he's old but he's not that fucking old, get a grip. he doesn't have any social media accounts, just wayne enterprises accounts that he doesn't even manage, and he only shows up on occasion in one of dick's or stephanine's videos and that's in the background of 'em.

so when you text him the video while laying in your shared bed in wayne manor... it's not too long after that you receive a text.

you: *link*

you: bruce, baby

you: if you aren’t busy, look at this asap

bruce 🖤🦇: darling

bruce 🖤🦇: you’re serious?

you: of course!

you: i know you know how much i love those arms

you: so lemme see them work!

bruce 🖤🦇: dear god

bruce 🖤🦇: it might be a minute though

bruce 🖤🦇: busy right now but i’ll do it soon

you: i’ll be waiting handsome

bruce 🖤🦇: keep testing it

you: or what, bruce? gonna fuck me?

bruce 🖤🦇: at this point, you want that

you: i’m not dumb!

he may not understand most pop culture things… but when you talk about it? he pays the most attention to it, wanting to understand what you’re talking about.

and yet, the man is able to understand trends faster than most (when one of his kids try to explain it to him during patrol)... just the batman intelligence you guess.

it's just... he's nonchalant about it, which comes off as "he doesn't know anything about it" but instead, he understands…

bruce 🖤🦇: *video*

bruce 🖤🦇: here you go, sweetheart

bruce 🖤🦇: hope this is suits you, hun

you knew he was busy; you didn't know what but you knew he would be home soon and he's being safe. probably at a high-end gala or a philanthropy event. maybe even doing some detective work with gordon, but when you pull up the video... the place he's in... looks recongizable.

the brick as a flooring, the gates in the background with the bushes, the sun going down... but you don't pay attention to it when bruce begins to do the pushups.

positioned right on ground level, the phone leaned up against... something... bruce begins to do pushups just like you requested, veins popping out from under his short-sleeve shirt and his voice ringing out.

"y/n... y/n... y/n..." his deep voice makes your pussy flutter even under the sheets of the bed, his sleeves rolling up to show his biceps, neck vein showing up during one of the pushes up— god he's so good. "hope you're enjoying this baby..."

you smile. "oh i am bruce." you whisper into the room, licking the inside of your cheek as he continues, babbling your name about fifteen times until he's close to reaching twenty.

"y/n... y/n... almost there, baby... y/n... jesus baby, you better enjoy this." he says, looking at the camera. "trying to do push-ups in dress shoes is not a good thing, hun..."

you laugh at his words but you know damn well this man can get a new pair faster than anyone else could.

"y/n... y/n... y/n..." he repeats, his growl-like voice making your mind melt in the best way possible— he's just good like that. "y/n. y/n. y/n."

you're not shocked that he's this good at this. not only is he muscular than most men, but this was the playboy-in-his-youth billionaire you're dating, so he's used to doing shitty things for his girlfriends... but to you? he doesn't care about doing it.

he loves you so much he'd do anything.

"three more, baby, y/n... y/n... y/n..." he groans before finishing after his final pushup, doing about twenty-seven pushups, stepping on his two feet as he stretches his back out as he grabs the phone, and you get a damn good look at his background.

the front door of the wayne manor.

"hope you loved that, baby... be home soon."

and the video ends. just like that. before you could realize that he was literally a minute away from you.

you: bruce

you: my love

you: my handsome man

you: as if i couldn’t love you even more

bruce 🖤🦇: good

bruce 🖤🦇: now unlock the bedroom door

ADDITIONAL NOTE: prolly the only time i’m adding one of these but for anyone wondering why i did barbara… because i love her. decided to do a mix of pre-2011 and post-2011 treatment of barbara’s legs. i’ve always really loved oracle so whenever i write for barbara, it will be oracle! barbara, plus its my fic so my interpretation of these characters.

masterlist is here! click here for more!

ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!

[vetckkie]

girl get off that c.ai and embrace the 'x reader'

[orchidame]

[litttleprincess-deactivated2017]

Don't ever hesitate. Reblog this. TUMBLR RULE. When you see it, REBLOG IT.

[trappedinmyoldways]

Depression Hotline: [phone]

Suicide Hotline: [phone]

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: [phone]

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

If you ever want to talk, my ask box is always open

[jaydove-writes]

Please reblog this. I don’t care what your blog’s theme or aesthetic is. This is important.

[causalshapeshifter]

For the love of whatever you believe in,

[fanofthebatfam]

CAUGHT IN 4K I SAW THAT

AY SHUT YOUR TRAP BRO ! YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOUR SAYING!!!

[realmyth]

UHUH 🤨🤨

[fanofthebatfam]

DON'T 'UHUH' ME IMMA CATCH YPU TO ONE OF THESE DAYS TIME TO CHECK THE ALIEN STAGE FANDOM......

[fanofthebatfam]

CAUGHT IN 4K I SAW THAT

AY SHUT YOUR TRAP BRO ! YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOUR SAYING!!!

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

Got any tips to ask Damian wayne out on a date? ...I've come up with an art date idea so far.......

....You're asking me for advice on taking me on a date? Did you think this through?

[fanofthebatfam]

I DEFINATELY did ....so you+me +art supplies+food? I think i could call it a date.....we could draw gothan architecture together....or draw the different pets of different people.....or we could hang out with your pets! I'm chill and fine with any! ;)

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

I'd have to respectfully decline. However, I wouldn't pass an opportunity to sketch together, platonically.

[fanofthebatfam]

Ok...but why tho...is it because I'm a civilian?🤨

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

No, nothing of that sorts. I just don't want to date anybody right now.

[fanofthebatfam]

Ok then....friends...?

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

Sure.

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

Got any tips to ask Damian wayne out on a date? ...I've come up with an art date idea so far.......

....You're asking me for advice on taking me on a date? Did you think this through?

[fanofthebatfam]

I DEFINATELY did ....so you+me +art supplies+food? I think i could call it a date.....we could draw gothan architecture together....or draw the different pets of different people.....or we could hang out with your pets! I'm chill and fine with any! ;)

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

I'd have to respectfully decline. However, I wouldn't pass an opportunity to sketch together, platonically.

[fanofthebatfam]

Ok...but why tho...is it because I'm a civilian?🤨

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

No, nothing of that sorts. I just don't want to date anybody right now.

[fanofthebatfam]

Ok then....friends...?

[ do you still like flatline btw.....?is that the reason....?]

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

Got any tips to ask Damian wayne out on a date? ...I've come up with an art date idea so far.......

....You're asking me for advice on taking me on a date? Did you think this through?

[fanofthebatfam]

I DEFINATELY did ....so you+me +art supplies+food? I think i could call it a date.....we could draw gothan architecture together....or draw the different pets of different people.....or we could hang out with your pets! I'm chill and fine with any! ;)

[theoriginal-robin-ofgotham]

I'd have to respectfully decline. However, I wouldn't pass an opportunity to sketch together, platonically.

[fanofthebatfam]

Ok...but why tho...is it because I'm a civilian?🤨

[fanofthebatfam]

HIIIII HRU (we're on call while I send you this ask)

Yeah DEFINATELY bro......

[stuckinapril]

This is actually so real

[fanofthebatfam]

WHY IS MY TUMBLR GETTING TOO REAL THESE DAYS¿?