In Love With Your Alter Ego

In love with your alter ego

Wally west x reader

Sumarry-

In a bustling burger joint, Wally West unknowingly gushes to his crush about his admiration for the hero Eclipse. Little does he know, Eclipse is actually his teammate, who struggles to reveal her true identity. A heated battle forces her mask off, revealing her secret to Wally. Amidst confusion and vulnerability, they confront their feelings, leading to a deeper connection and a promising future together as both heroes and lovers.

---------------------------------------------------

Wally West sat across from you at the familiar booth in Big Belly Burger, his eyes alight with excitement as he animatedly recounted his latest encounter with the mysterious new hero, Eclipse. He was practically glowing with enthusiasm, his usual speedster energy barely contained. You listened intently, trying to maintain a neutral expression, even as your heart raced. It wasn't every day you got to hear your crush ramble on about... well, you.

"I mean, you should have seen them!" Wally exclaimed, his burger momentarily forgotten on the tray in front of him. "They took down five of Count Vertigo's goons like it was nothing! I barely had to lift a finger. And the way they moved—so smooth, so precise. I mean, Eclipse is amazing!"

You hid a smile behind your drink, taking a long sip to buy yourself a moment. It was surreal, hearing Wally gush about your alter ego without knowing it was you beneath the mask. Since joining Young Justice, you'd managed to keep your dual identity a secret from your teammates, Wally included. But it was getting harder and harder, especially with how much Wally admired Eclipse.

"Sounds like they really made an impression on you," you said, trying to sound casual.

"Are you kidding? Eclipse is the coolest new hero around," Wally continued, leaning in closer. "And, okay, I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but I think I'm starting to have a bit of a crush on them."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nearly choked on your drink. Wally West, the boy you'd been harbouring feelings for since joining the team, had a crush on you. Well, on Eclipse. Same thing, right?

"Really?" you managed to say, your voice a touch higher than usual. "A crush?"

Wally laughed, running a hand through his unruly red hair. "Yeah, I know it's silly. I mean, I don't even know who they are. But there's just something about them, you know? They're brave, strong, and they have this aura of mystery. It's kinda intoxicating."

You smiled weakly, unsure how to feel. It was flattering, of course, but also frustrating. Wally liked you, but not the you he knew. He liked the mask, the persona, the hero. Not the everyday person who sat across from him, sharing burgers and banter.

Over the next few weeks, Wally's infatuation with Eclipse only grew. He talked about you constantly, recounting every mission, every fight, every shared moment. And you listened, torn between wanting to reveal the truth and fearing what might happen if you did. What if he was disappointed? What if he didn't like the real you?

It all came to a head one night during a particularly intense mission. The team was up against an unusually large contingent of villains, and things were not going well. You and Wally had been separated from the others, forced to fight back-to-back as wave after wave of enemies closed in.

"Hang on, Eclipse!" Wally shouted, his voice strained with effort. "We can do this!"

You nodded, gritting your teeth as you blasted another thug with a burst of energy. But there were too many, and even with Wally's speed, you were being overwhelmed.

"We need to regroup with the others!" you yelled over the din of battle.

"Agreed! On three!" Wally's hand found yours, a comforting anchor in the chaos. "One, two—"

Before he could finish, a powerful blow knocked you off your feet, sending you sprawling. Your mask slipped, and in the frantic moment of trying to recover, it fell off completely.

You scrambled to grab it, but it was too late. Wally's eyes widened as he stared at you, realization dawning on his face.

"Y/N?" he breathed, disbelief colouring his voice.

You winced, caught between fighting off attackers and facing Wally's shock. "Wally, I—"

He didn't let you finish. With a speed that left your head spinning, Wally dispatched the remaining enemies, then turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

"I wanted to, but I was scared," you admitted, your own voice shaking. "I didn't know how you'd react."

Wally took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "You should have trusted me."

"I do trust you," you said, stepping closer. "But I was afraid. Afraid that you wouldn't like the real me."

He shook his head, a small, incredulous smile tugging at his lips. "How could I not like the real you? You're amazing, Y/N. Both as Eclipse and as yourself."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "You really mean that?"

Wally's smile widened, his usual cocky confidence returning. "Yeah, I do. And hey, I guess this means I had a crush on you all along."

You laughed, a sound of relief and joy. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Before you could say anything else, Wally pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. You hugged him back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

When you finally pulled away, Wally's eyes were sparkling with mischief. "So, since you're Eclipse, does that mean we get to team up more often?"

You grinned, wiping away the last of your tears. "Count on it, West."

As the two of you rejoined the team, you felt a newfound sense of freedom. The secret was out, and it hadn't destroyed anything. If anything, it had brought you and Wally closer. And as you fought side by side, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you'd face them together.

Days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Wally blossomed. He teased you relentlessly about keeping your identity hidden for so long, but he also respected your reasons. The trust between you deepened, and you found yourself falling for him even more deeply than before.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a warm glow over Mount Justice, you found yourself alone with Wally on a rooftop. The others had retired for the night, leaving the two of you to enjoy a rare moment of peace.

"I still can't believe you're Eclipse," Wally said, his voice soft with wonder. He stood beside you, leaning against the ledge and gazing out at the city below. "I mean, it's like a dream come true."

You chuckled softly, leaning closer to him. "I'm glad you think so."

He turned to look at you, his eyes earnest. "No, seriously. You're incredible, Y/N. You're not just an amazing hero, but you're also... well, you."

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through you like sunlight. "Thank you, Wally. That means a lot."

He smiled, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "I mean it. And I... I really like you, Y/N. Like, a lot."

You met his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. "I like you too, Wally. More than I can say."

He grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Good. Because I was hoping... maybe we could make this official? You know, you and me?"

Your heart soared, and you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face. "I'd love that, Wally. I'd love that more than anything."

In the quiet moments that followed, Wally pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. And as you stood together, watching the stars twinkle overhead, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey together.

As partners, as teammates, and now as something more, you and Wally faced the future with hope and courage. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you were together, you could weather any storm.

Because when lightning and shadow intertwined, they created something beautiful and strong—something that could illuminate the darkest of nights and bring hope to a world in need.

And so, under the starlit sky, you embraced your destiny with open arms, ready to write the next chapter of your story—side by side, heart to heart, with the boy who had captured both your heart and your hero's soul.

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

weekly updates !

you find yourself suddenly thrown into a universe where the silly characters in the comics you read are real, living people. now you have to find a way back home, so try not to get distracted by all the characters you had a crush on growing up, or the fact that you know far too much about pretty much everybody. (and don't think about how this mean's your life is probably a comic book in another universe.) (description subject to change.)

(jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne, reader is a spider-man variant, read it on ao3)

1. we're not in kansas anymore

2. spidey luck (good or bad? you'll never know) 

3. debut 

4. way down we go 

5. good old-fashioned lover boy

6. make out fake out

7. inhibition (or lack there of)

...

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

CHAPTER TEN: NEVER WOUND WHAT YOU CAN'T KILL

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ Man, what kind of asshole robs a cafe? There's that familiar poking feeling in your gums. Your body leaps over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. Your fangs fully unsheathe and you make sure that the struggle blocks what you're doing from view. You yank his arm to the side, grabbing the gun out of hand as your teeth sink into his wrist. Your venom pumps into his body. The robber yelps at the pain, before his body gradually stops struggling, slumping. Paralyzing venom, Miguel had deduced, like his.  pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: gunshot wounds, mentions of being paralyzed (its not permanent) wc: 4.1k

While all your other classmates are nervous, you sit and hum to yourself as the final preparations commence. The back of the stage is dimly lit. The large red curtain hides you from the view of the audience. Your ballet shoes are tied snugly, the satin ribbons crisscrossing your ankles in perfect symmetry. You glance around at your fellow dancers, some of them stretching, others whispering last-minute encouragements to each other.

“Well, you seem fine,” says Victoria, coming to your side.

You smile at Victoria, her presence a welcome comfort in the dimly lit backstage area. She looks like the pinnacle of elegance, with her off shoulder ruffles and her sparkly romantic tutu. Her hair is pinned up with flowers. “I don’t really get nervous. Not for this, at least,” you say.

Victoria laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and nerves. "I wish I had your calm. Any tips for a nervous wreck?"

You think for a moment, then reply, "Just focus on the music and the movements. Everything else will fall into place."

She nods thoughtfully. "I'll try that. Thanks."

The stage manager's voice breaks through the hushed whispers, calling everyone to their positions. Victoria gives you a quick nod before heading to her spot. You take one last look around, feeling the energy and anticipation building among your fellow dancers.

As you step into your place, the familiar strains of the opening music begin to play. The curtain starts to rise, and the bright stage lights flood the stage, momentarily blinding you. You blink and adjust, finding your mark on the floor.

With a final deep breath, you lift your arms gracefully, your body responding to the music with practiced ease. The audience is out there, but your focus is on the dance, each movement a tribute to the countless hours of preparation and passion that brought you to this moment.

It’s been very long since you participated in a proper performance. You stopped taking classes shortly after you got bit. Occasionally you threw on a youtube video and practiced in your room, just to make sure you still had it. The stage lights feel different now, more intense, more real, yet there’s a comfort in the familiarity of the movements.

As you move into the first steps of the routine, you feel the warmth of the spotlight on your face. The audience fades into the background, and all that exists is the dance. You and Victoria move in perfect harmony, the countless hours of practice evident in your synchronized movements. Your hands find her waist, lifting her into the air with practiced ease. As you lift Victoria into the air, her form light and graceful, the audience gasps in awe. The spotlight glimmers off her sparkly tutu, casting shimmering reflections across the stage. The energy of your fellow dancers surrounds you, creating a powerful synergy that fills the stage.

With each leap, you feel like you’re flying, the exhilaration of the performance pushing you to new heights. Victoria matches your intensity, her face a picture of concentration and grace. The audience is captivated, their eyes following your every move, their applause growing louder with each passing moment.

As the final notes of the music play, you and Victoria come together for the concluding pose. You lift her once more, her body arching gracefully in the air before you set her down gently. You both hold the final position, breathing heavily but smiling, the audience’s applause roaring in your ears.

Your eyes trace the audience as you're held in your final pose. You take in the awed faces of the crowd, their clapping hands and their cheers. Then, you finally see it.

Damian and Jon, sitting among the crowd. Damian you get, but damn, when did you tell Jon about the show? Did Damian tell him? Damian sits comfortably in his chair, eyes half lidded with his hand over his mouth. Jon is leaning forward, eyes wide and sparkling, mouth agape. You chuckle.

With a final bow, the curtain falls, shadowing you and your fellow dancers. Applause follows you as you’re ushered backstage. Your fellow dancers surround you, their faces flushed with joy and accomplishment.

Victoria rushes over, grinning widely. “We did it!” she squeals, gripping your arms.

You laugh. “Thanks to you!”

The backstage is a flurry of activity, dancers congratulating each other, stagehands bustling about, and the stage manager giving everyone a thumbs-up. You take a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the wall.

Victoria comes to lean next to you. “I saw your friends in the crowd,” she says. “Damian and the blue-eyed boy.”

You nod. “Yeah, I didn’t know they were gonna come.”

She raises a brow, making you furrow yours. “What?” you question. She hums and shakes her head. Fine, she can keep her secrets. 

You glance towards the side entrance where you know Damian and Jon will be waiting. The thought of their presence in the audience fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Damian's cool composure and Jon's wide-eyed enthusiasm are a perfect contrast, and you can't help but smile at the thought of them sitting there, watching you perform.

The bustle backstage starts to calm down as everyone begins to change out of their costumes and pack up their things. You take a moment to stretch and unwind, the adrenaline from the performance still coursing through your veins.

When you finally step out into the lobby, Damian and Jon are waiting for you. Damian is leaning casually against the wall, his usual smirk in place, while Jon is practically bouncing on his heels, excitement radiating from him.

"That was incredible!" Jon exclaims, rushing over to hug you. "I had no idea you were so talented!"

“ I had no idea you were coming!” you explain, arms coming up to wrap around him.

“Of course I had to come,” he leans back and looks at you as if you just insulted his mother. “Damian said he’d gut me if I didn’t, anyway.”

You raise a brow, looking at Damian smugly. Surprisingly, he doesn’t shy away. He steps forward, holding your gaze with twinkling eyes. “You were impressive.” It isn’t much, but it means a lot coming from him. Even more so he said it to your face.

"Thanks, Damian," you say, feeling your face warm. "I'm really glad you both came."

Jon's enthusiasm is infectious, and he starts animatedly recounting his favorite parts of the performance, his eyes wide with admiration. Damian listens with a small smile, occasionally adding his own observations. Jon gasps suddenly, an idea having come to him.

“Let’s go get dinner!” he suggests, his excitement palpable. You and Damian share a look before you nod, making Damian nod.

“First, I have to say go say bye to everyone, take pictures, you know how it is,” you say. They nod and hold your stuff as you scurry back to everyone else. Hugs are shared and pictures are taken. You make sure to get in a couple of selfies with Victoria. Hurrying back to your boys, you find them waiting by the exit.

Cold air encompasses your trio. Damian and Jon seem unfazed, their excitement warming them against the chill. You start walking down the street, the city lights casting a warm glow on the pavement.

“So, where to?” you ask, turning to Damian.

“You ask me?”

“Well, you’re paying aren’t you?” you grin. “So you should choose.”

Jon chuckles as Damian scoffs, but doesn’t refute. 

“Why not go to Batburger?” Jon asks, smirking at Damian over your shoulder. You laugh as a look of offense crawls onto Damian’s face. “It’s a classic.”

Damian sighs dramatically, then his expression shifts to a more serious one. “I was thinking we could try that new Italian place that just opened up downtown. I hear they have an excellent menu."

Jon shrugs, a mischievous glint still in his eye. "Fine, but next time, it's Batburger."

"Deal," you laugh.

You’re driven to the restaurant, courtesy of Alfred. The energy from the performance still buzzes inside you, and the presence of your friends makes the night feel even more special. As you approach the restaurant, you can see the warm glow of the lights inside, casting a cozy ambiance. The hostess greets you with a smile and leads you to a table near the window, where you can watch the bustling city outside.

Settling into your seats, you glance around at the elegant decor. The restaurant is filled with soft music and the murmur of conversation, creating a relaxing atmosphere. The menu is impressive, filled with a variety of mouth-watering dishes.

“Really fancy,” you comment. “I feel out of place.” Jon nods in agreement, while Damian scoffs.

“Please, this is subpar.” You and Jon share a fond look over Damian’s antics.

As you peruse the menu, Jon begins to gush about the performance again. "Seriously, you were amazing! I can't believe you kept this talent hidden from us."

You laugh, feeling a bit shy from all the praise. "It wasn't really hidden. I just haven't performed in a while."

Damian looks at you thoughtfully. "It's a shame. You should do it more often."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you smile, feeling a warm glow inside. "Maybe I will."

The waiter arrives, and you all place your orders. The conversation flows easily as you wait for your food, the excitement of the evening keeping the energy high. 

“What got you into ballet?” asks Jon.

You can’t say that Aunt May and Uncle Ben enrolled you as a distraction from your parent’s death and to provide an outlet for your grief. “My dad enrolled me in some classes when I was a kid. He saw me getting… restless and said it was a good outlet for me. After that I also did a bunch of stuff on the side, like gymnastics and sports.”

Jon nods, his eyes wide with interest. "That makes sense. You really looked like you were born to dance."

Damian adds, "It's clear you have a natural talent. And you put in the work. That's a powerful combination." You smile, appreciating their words.

Then, Jon surprises you by saying, “I really like your smile.”

You blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. Sparing a look at Damian, you see that he’s staring at Jon. “Thank you,” you say, for lack of anything better to say.

Jon leans forward, his eyes earnest. "No, really. It's infectious. Every time you smile, it lights up the room."

You feel your cheeks warm, surprised yet flattered by Jon's compliment. Damian clears his throat, a subtle hint of amusement in his expression. "Jon's right," he says, his tone casual yet sincere. "Your smile is... captivating." Geez, where is all this coming from?

You chuckle softly, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth at their compliments. "Thanks, both of you. I appreciate that."

Jon grins broadly, clearly pleased with himself for flustering you. "It's true! You should smile more often."

The conversation shifts as your food arrives, and you all dig into your meals, enjoying the delicious flavors and the lively banter. The restaurant buzzes with activity around you, but your table feels like its own little bubble of warmth. Jon tries to recreate one of your dance moves from his seat, almost knocking over his drink, which sends you into a fit of laughter.

Dinner passes, and you all part ways as you head home. You smile at the picture you took at the diner, turning off your phone and changing into your suit for patrol.

On the last Friday before winter break, you and Damian stand before the class, ready to deliver your "Hot Takes" presentation. The room buzzes with anticipation as Ms. Varley introduces you both, her gaze sharp and expectant.

You take a deep breath, feeling Damian's steady presence beside you. Together, you launch into a compelling exploration of Batman's motivations, ethics, and impact on Gotham City. You start by outlining Batman's complex actions. Damian chimes in seamlessly, adding insights into Batman's methods and how they reflect a darker, more pragmatic view of crime-fighting.

The class listens intently, some nodding in agreement while others raise thoughtful questions. You and Damian feed off each other's energy, seamlessly transitioning between points and elaborating on each other's ideas. Your presentation is well-received, eliciting nods of approval and engaged murmurs from your classmates. As you near the conclusion, Damian takes the lead in summarizing your arguments, weaving together the threads of your discussion into a cohesive whole.

By the end of your presentation, you feel a sense of accomplishment wash over you. As you pack up your things and prepare to leave for winter break, Ms. Varley offers a nod of approval, clearly impressed by your thorough analysis and presentation skills. You and Damian exchange a satisfied glance, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. The two of you walk out, meeting the snow falling on your cheeks outside.

"Well done," Damian says, his voice low but genuine. "You held your ground well."

"Thanks," you reply, feeling a surge of pride at his compliment. "You were great too.”

Damian nods, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "It's a topic I'm familiar with."

"So, any big plans for winter break?" you ask as you walk through the snow-dusted grounds.

Damian shrugs. “I plan to refine my art skills. Nothing much.”

“Sounds like you,” you hum. “Well, I’ll be working. Unless, of course…” you pause, looking at Damian, “...you want to marry me and be my rich husband?”

Damian stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing slightly as he looks at you, processing your playful remark. His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, hinting at amusement. “Are you proposing?”

You lock your hands behind you back, rocking on your feet cheekily. “And if I am?”

Damian's expression shifts, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he considers your playful challenge. His gaze meets yours, intense and calculating as always, yet softened by a glimmer of something warmer beneath the surface.

"Well," he begins, his voice steady, "marriage is a serious commitment, not to be taken lightly."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Of course, Damian. I'm sure you've thought deeply about it."

His lips twitch again, a bit more pronounced this time. "Indeed. And what would I gain from such a union?"

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to maintain your composure despite the hint of nerves creeping in. "Well, my sparkling wit, unparalleled charm, and the pleasure of my company, obviously."

Damian lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound surprising yet strangely pleasing to your ears. "And in return?"

You pause for a moment, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in your eye. "Well your money is all I care about, but…” your finger traces his jaw, feeling it twitch under your touch, “...I guess your looks are a nice bonus.”

Damian's eyebrow quirks up at your teasing response, a mix of amusement and something else flickering in his eyes. His gaze holds yours, a silent challenge echoing in the air between you. You feel a thrill of exhilaration mingled with nerves, unsure of where this playful banter might lead.

"You certainly have a way with words," he finally says, his voice low and measured. "But I'm afraid flattery alone won't sway me."

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "Oh? What will then?"

He steps closer, his presence commanding and strangely inviting. "Actions speak louder than words," he murmurs, his breath brushing against your cheek.

"I believe in thorough consideration," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But some decisions are best made in the moment."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to maintain a playful tone despite the flutter in your chest. "And what kind of action are you looking for?"

Damian's eyes never leave yours, his pupils dilating slightly as he takes another step closer. "Perhaps a demonstration of your commitment," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You breathe, smile twitching as you look down. Huffing a laugh out, you pat his cheek. “You’re good, Dami.”

His brow twitches, looking at you as you distance yourself. You spare him a glance over your shoulder. “No need to give me a ride, It’ll do me good to stretch my legs.”

As you walk through the snow-covered grounds, you can't help but think about Damian's words. "Actions speak louder than words." What did he mean by that? Was he hinting at something more?

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. You're getting ahead of yourself. It was just a playful conversation, nothing more. You should remember your task.

Gar greets you as you step into the cafe. He’s been doing a lot better. He’s got a new apartment and picked up a second job. Things seem to be looking up for him. Carrie says the cafe always looks good in the winter. You think any cafe looks better in the winter, really. Something about the snow gives the place a cozy, aesthetic vibe.

The cafe looks busy today. Several people are stretched across the area, each of them in their own world. You make your way to the back, seeing Sam organizing some shelves.

“How’d it go?” they grunt, balancing some trays.

You help steady their load. “Good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah. I think the teacher was impressed,” you say.

“I know that’s right,” they grin, poking your forehead. “You’re the smarted person I know.”

You shrug modestly. “Damian helped.” Sam scoffs, but says nothing further.

As the afternoon rolls on, the cafe fills with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. You move through your tasks, enjoying the rhythm of work. The holiday season has brought a cheerful energy to the place, with twinkling lights and festive decorations adding to the cozy atmosphere.

During a brief lull in customers, you take a moment to sip on a hot chocolate, savoring the warmth. A man walks in, shrouded in a thick jacket. His head is down, his face covered by his hoodie and cap.

danger

Your fingers tense. “Sam? Can you go get my phone from the back? I think I left it on one of the shelves.” Carrie and Gar are back there too. As long as you're the only one the guy will threaten, it’s fine. Sam nods and goes to the back without questions. Good.

You put on your best smile as the guy approaches the counter. “Hello, sir. How can I–”

You don’t even get a chance to finish your greeting before the guy raises his arm, gun in hand, and shoots two bullets at the ceiling.

The sound of the gunshots reverberates through the cafe, sending a jolt of fear through the air. The customers scream and duck under tables, seeking cover. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you keep your composure, knowing you need to stay calm and think clearly.

The man's face remains obscured by his hoodie and cap, but you can see the glint of determination in his eyes. His gun is pointed at you now, and you raise your hands slowly, trying to appear non-threatening.

"Empty the register," he demands, his voice rough and desperate.

“A cafe, sir? I’m sure you’ll find a better score somewhere else?” you ease.

“I’ve alerted the authorities of the situation. I’ve also sent an anonymous tip to the Batcomputer.” Thank you, Karen.

The man's grip on the gun tightens, and his eyes narrow as he registers your calm demeanor. "Just do it. I don't have time for this."

You nod slowly, moving towards the register with deliberate, unhurried steps. "Alright, I'm opening it now," you say, keeping your tone even and composed. The register dings as it opens, and you start pulling out the bills, placing them on the counter.

As you work, you discreetly glance around, assessing the situation. The customers are still hiding, some peeking out cautiously. You catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye. Sam, Gar, and Carrie are peeking from the back, their eyes wide with fear and concern (except for Gar, he just looks pissed). You subtly shake your head, signaling them to stay hidden and safe.

“Nobody better fucking move or call anybody!” the robber yells, whipping his gun around. People whimper and cower, shaking.

You move methodically, placing the bills on the counter one by one, keeping the robber's attention focused on you. Your mind races, calculating the distance between you and him, and the timing required to make your move.

"Please, just stay calm," you say, your voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I'm almost done."

As you place the last bill on the counter, you see an opportunity. The robber's attention shifts momentarily to the pile of cash, his grip on the gun loosening slightly.

With a swift, practiced motion, you lunge forward, aiming to disarm him. The robber reacts quickly, pulling the trigger just as you reach him.

 gun gungungun MOVE

 The gunshot echoes in the confined space, and you feel a sharp, searing pain in your side.

You hiss in pain. FUCK. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten seriously hurt. Your senses couldn’t move you out of the way, you were too close. Your senses are going haywire, they aren’t sure what to do at the moment. There's that familiar poking feeling in your gums. Your body leaps over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. Your fangs fully unsheath and you make sure that the struggle blocks what you're doing from view.

You yank his arm to the side, grabbing the gun out of hand as your teeth sink into his wrist. Your venom pumps into his body. The robber yelps at the pain, before his body gradually stops struggling, slumping.

Paralyzing venom, Miguel had deduced, like his. 

You push him away, standing up, wiping away the blood and hot pink liquid around your mouth. You clutch your side where the bullet hit. The pain is intense, but you force yourself to stay focused. The robber lies on the floor, paralyzed and unable to move (not permanently, of course).

You take deep breaths, trying to slow down your heart in order to slow down the blood. The cafe is in chaos, with customers wailing and crying. You look down at the gun in your hands, unloading it and throwing the mag somewhere. Sam, Garrett, and Carrie rush out from the back, their faces filled with shock.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Sam asks, rushing to your side.

“Shit, kid. That was stupid,” scolds Garrent, putting pressure on the wound. Carrie quickly takes charge, calling the police and trying to calm down the customers. There’s a sudden rush of wind, sending napkins flying and causing yelps from customers.

Jon, no, Superboy is in the entryway of the cafe. He’s hovering slightly, cape billowing in the wind. His eyes are wide, looking straight at you. There’s an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Is that… Robin? Robin, hanging off of Superboy's shoulder. Wait, no, he’s hopped off of him, now he’s walking… oh, he’s right in front of you.

“I’ll take it from here.” His voice leaves no room for argument. He crowds you into his arms, leaning you against him. His hand presses into your wound, eliciting a grunt from you. He shushes you softly.

Police cars skirt to a stop outside. Officers rush inside, quickly getting the robber in cuffs. The hustle and bustle distract you from the pain momentarily. Superboy rushes over to you two.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he mutters, hands finding your face.

“No,” you and Robin say at the same time. You blink at him.

“What?” Superboy growled.

“I don’t trust them to deal with this,” is all Robin says. The reason you didn’t want to go to a hospital was because one, you have no type of insurance whatsoever and two, your physiology is not exactly normal. Ah shit, your vision is getting spotty.

You take a deep breath, trying to stay focused despite the pain and the spotty vision. "I can handle it," you say, trying to sound confident.

“No, you can’t,” scold Robin and Superboy in sync. Superboy scoops you up in his arms, looking at Robin. “Your choice,” he says.

Robin looks at you, snuggled in Superboy's arms. You're blinking slowly, vision getting blurry. He looks down at gloves, covered with your blood. It’s quiet while he thinks, the loud chatter of the scene fading away. Then, he nods.

“The cave.”

It’s the last thing you hear before your vision fades completely.

notes: man what is it with my readers and getting shot by an asshole robbing a cafe of all places LOL

The forgotten Twin’s birthday

L“Sorry, can’t make dance tonight busy with the boys”

You looked away from your phone and around your room annoyed at the fact that your father blew off your father-daughter date to train with the boys (mainly Damian) you shrugged and placed the phone back onto your bed.

This wasn’t the first time he had done this, hell even the boys blew you off but at least Bruce had the common decency to at least text you and not have you embarrass yourself.

So you decided to just go into the library and try to read to calm your thoughts which is what you did, on your way there you bumped into Alfred who was making his way down the hallway, probably to deleive bandages to Bruce or check on Tim to see how much caffeine he had had.

“Oh, Madam Wayne my apologies I did not see you” the butler apologies with a slight bow, you felt your lip twich up into a slight smile at the butler. Alfred was the only one in the family who actually cared about you no matter how silly or embarrassing the situation was.

“No no it’s fine Alfred i wasn’t watching where I was going, do you need help with anything at the moment”

“No Madam Wayne, I do want to wish you a happy birthday tho, I can’t believe you are now Sixteen” he said with a small smile which made you pause…Alfred..actually remembered?. You looked up at him with a small smile and thanked him before heading towards the library to do some light reading.

~later that night~

You were in your room scrolling through Instagram only to see a bunch of sappy happy family’s and other people celebrating their own birthdays or the girls at your school having fun at the dance with their own dads.

Shrugging and closing the app you threw your phone to the foot of your bed before getting up and stretching deciding to head downstairs to see if your so called family was back home from patrolling the shit city you lived in.

As you walked down the stairs you could hear voices…singing?, you quickly yet quietly continued down the stairs and peeked around the corner only to see the others along with Jon singing happy birthday to Damian, he was looking down to hide the small blush of embarrassment that appeared on his cheeks.

You just stood there…watching them sing to him before you felt something wet your cheeks, you lifted your hands to your face to feel what the wetness was only to realise it was tears…you were crying but you didn’t feel sad. You turned around and went back upstairs not seeing the confused yet concerned look that Jon sent your way.

“Kent? What is wrong with you why do you look concerned?” Damian questioned looking at Jon with a slight eyebrow raise

Jon looked at Damian, then to the others and that’s when he realised…did…did no one else remember it was also your birthday?, is that why why you had teary eyes. He looked at the entire family confused.

“Did you know..?”

“Know what Jon?” Dick said raising his eyebrow with confusion, the fact that he didn’t know pissed Jon off a little.

“The fact that it’s also y/n’s birthday?” He said in a tone that sounded as it should have been obvious what the thing they forgotten was.

When he saw non of them react to his words he stood up and sighed, he then turned to Bruce.

“Mr Wayne I have a lot of respect for you but…what you did was shitty, she’s your daughter and you Damian” he said turning to the now shocked Damian as Jon was never known for cursing

“She is your twin! I would have expected to you to have at least had the common decency to say happy birthday to her…but she’s not your sister to you is she..” he trailed off and started walking to the staircase.

He paused, turned his head to the Men in the room with a slight glare in his eyes and said

“She was never your sister, nor was she ever your daughter..at least not in your eyes because clearly in your eyes she was nothing” before turning back to the stairs and heading up them.

~With you~

You were sitting on your bed, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other only taking small sips of the the beverage that Alfred had left you with a small birthday note and a plate of his delicious home made cookies. You looked up hearing a knock on your door, you placed your tea down and put your bookmark in before going up to your bedroom door and unlocking it.

You opened it to see…Jon?, he was standing there with that same adorable awkward smile that you had grown to love, aside from Alfred Jon was also there for you when needed him to be even if it meant waking him up at the crack of dawn to get burgers with you.

“Hey Jon..what’s up?”

“Happy birthday Y/N!” He yelled and pulled you into a hug smiling, you felt yourself tense up at first not knowing how to react…he..he remembered..?, you slowly raise your arms and hug him back burying your face into his neck and softly began to sob letting out all the pain and frustration you had been feeling that day.

He tightened his grip onto you slowing rubbing your back with one hand while the other held onto your waist, he knew that sometimes they family would ignore you but to this extent..? He sighed and continued to rub your back letting you sob until he felt you go limp, he looked down and saw you had passed out.

He stared down at your face admiring your features, you had a slight redness to your eyes but he still thought you looked beautiful, he kept staring until his gaze fell to your soft lips slightly parted because of your staggered breathing.

“No…no stop it Jon she’s your best friend”

he scolded himself in his mind but…he couldn’t stop looking at your face and gently placed a soft kiss upon your forehead before bringing you to bed and laying down with you, he tensed up feeling someone grab onto his arm only to look down and see you cuddled up to his arm with a small soft smile in your sleep.

~back downstairs~

No one’s pov: (IK this is probably annoying but I can’t do personal pov’s yet lol)

The boys sat at the table saying nothing and just continued to stare at the staircase when Jon had previously stood and scolded them, had they really forgotten that it was also your birthday? No they couldn’t have…could they?

“I see you boys finally understood why Miss Wayne has been upset recently” Alfred’s voice spoke from the entrance way to the kitchen, no one looked at him simply confirming his statement.

“She…we…I-I..it’s not” Dick stuttered trying to come up with an excuse but stopped when he realised that they had indeed forgotten your birthday and they felt horrible. Damian stared at the cake feeling angry but not at you for once…he felt it at himself, he remembered the promise he had made to you…the promise to make sure he protected you and was an actual brother to you but instead he did nothing, he simply trained with Bruce and the boys never inviting you.

“Wait…her birthdays today and she’s Damian’s twin meaning she’s sixteen…didn’t she invite us to her to her play yesterday…?” Jason spoke up making them all realise…when was the last time any of them actually acknowledge you and that’s when they realise..

They never went to the play

Dick didn’t show you some of his old tricks like you had begged him to

Tim hadn’t come and watched Game of Thrones with you after training like he promised

Jason didn’t go to your lunch date that you set up

Damian…he couldn’t remember the last he was with you in this house doing something together like normal twins

And…

And Bruce realises..he had cancelled his plans of going to the father daughter dance at your school with you. None of them actually spent time with you since you arrived only focusing on each other.

They were horrible brothers and they were finally realising it which also made them realise that you might never forgive them and they couldn’t have it so they made a silent promised to make sure that tomorrow was going to be the best make up birthday ever.

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

CHAPTER NINE: WARMTH

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ Gotham's getting colder. You think your life is getting warmer. Nightwing grins, flipping his escrima sticks with practiced ease. "Couldn't miss out on Gotham's winter wonderland, could I? Plus, I wanted to visit my favorite bug.” “Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids.” “That’s literally the same thing.” “It’s literally not.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none, i think wc: 3.4k

Snow comes early in Gotham, so by December it’s mostly snowing everyday. It feels like you’re in New York again, when the Christmas lights start appearing on trees and snowmen litter the parks. Gotham, true to its nature, stays colorless for the most part. However, Gotham Square provides quite the merry site. Your suit reflects the bright lights as you swing by. 

Despite the holiday cheer, you can't let your guard down. Gotham's criminals have a knack for exploiting the city's festivities, and tonight is no exception. You notice a group of people gathered around a shop window, watching a live performance of animatronic figures reenacting a Christmas story. You land silently on a nearby rooftop, scanning the crowd below.

Karen’s voice crackles to life. "[Name],  there's been a report of suspicious activity near the old ice rink. It seems someone is trying to steal the charitable donations collected for the orphanage."

"Got it," you reply, already changing direction. You launch yourself into the night, the cold wind biting through your suit. The streets blur beneath you as you make your way to the ice rink, the glow of Gotham Square fading behind you.

When you arrive, you find a group of thugs attempting to break into the donation booth. They are armed and clearly not expecting any resistance on a night like this. You drop down silently behind them.

"Planning to ruin Christmas for the kids, are we?" you hum, voice distorted and menacing. The thugs spin around, startled, but it's already too late for them.

You make quick work of the first few, your training and instincts taking over. A punch here, a kick there, and they are down before they know what hit them. One of the thugs tries to flee, but a well-aimed web takes him down, his body hitting the wall with a thud.

As you tie up the last of the unconscious criminals, you hear the distant chime of church bells, signaling the hour. You look up, seeing the first flakes of snow beginning to fall from the sky. You feel a sense of childlike wonder as the tiny white stars fall from the sky. You secure the donation booth, ensuring that the funds will be safe for the children who need them.

friendly behind you

“Aw, you beat me to it.”

Nightwing leans casually against the wall, escrima sticks in hand. You give Nightwing a nod, acknowledging his familiar presence. "Just cleaning up Gotham's holiday mess," you reply. "Didn't expect you to be in town."

Nightwing grins, flipping his escrima sticks with practiced ease. "Couldn't miss out on Gotham's winter wonderland, could I? Plus, I wanted to visit my favorite bug.”

“Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids.”

“That’s literally the same thing.”

“It’s literally not.”

Whenever Nightwing is in town (which seems to be more than usual) he takes it upon himself to accompany you whenever he can find you. You mostly just let him do his own thing. "Semantics aside, looks like you've got everything under control here," Nightwing remarks, glancing around at the subdued criminals. “So… how have you been?”

You’re about to swing away, but his question confuses you. “What?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Well, how are you doing? Is work good? Or do you go to school?”

He watches as the eyes of your suit deadpan at him. “...Yeah? Life’s good, I guess?” you reply, appalled.

“That’s good.” he beams. Then he inspects your suit like it’s personally offended him. “Are you sure that thing can keep you warm?”

“Are you sure that thing can keep you warm?” you sass, gesturing to his skin tight uniform. “There’s literally a built-in heater, I’m fine.”

He nods, looking to the side. It’s silent for a while, leaving you with your thoughts. Is he seriously trying to… parent you? You’re used to Steve or even Bucky mother henning you, not Dick Grayson. Don’t get it wrong, you like and respect the hell out of him. But he literally has no business trying to coddle you into his arms. It just makes no sense to you

“Well… it’s been fun,” you cough, turning around and webbing a building. “Bye,” and then your off. Nightwing sighs as his eyes follow you. As you disappear into the Gotham skyline, he looks down, twirling his escrima sticks absentmindedly.

“I see B’s adoption tendencies are hereditary,” chuckles Oracle in his ear.

“Shut up,” he hisses.

“Maybe I should just get him a dog or something,” bemoaned Jon, laid dramatically across your couch.

“Pretty sure someone will do that already,” comes your reply.

Jon likes hanging around in your apartment. You wonder if his parents are curious as to where he is all the time. He’s even started leaving some of his sweaters around (that you definitely don’t steal, no way). He groaned dramatically, rolling over to look at you upside down. "You're supposed to be supportive," he mumbled, voice muffled by the cushions.

Jon has decided he needs your council in getting Damian a Christmas present. “Well, you shouldn’t get him anything to do with, like, chores or work.” You walk over and sit on his stomach. He can take it, he’s a big boy. He curls an arm under his head and rests on it. “That’s gift-giving number one.”

“What can I give him that he couldn’t just buy anyway?” he huffs.

“Something personal,” you hum, brushing his curls out of his face. “Something custom, even. He likes art. Make him something yourself.”

Jon perks up a bit at your suggestion, contemplating the idea. "Like what? I'm not exactly an artist."

"You don't have to be a Picasso," you reassure him with a grin. "Just something that shows you put thought into it. Maybe a sketch, or even a painting if you’re feeling bold. It's the personal touch that matters."

He considers it, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Yeah, I could do that. Maybe a memory or something, like the time he tried to cook and set the kitchen on fire."

You choke out a laugh. “What? You never told me about that!”

Jon blushes slightly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, it was… an interesting evening. Alfred wasn't too pleased."

"I can only imagine," you chuckle, picturing Damian attempting to cook. "That could definitely make something.”

“I’ll think on it,” decides Jon, sitting up and tugging you so you sit on his lap. After the whole Ivy situation, he was really awkward around you for a while. He kept stuttering over his words and wouldn’t look you in the eye. Eventually he got comfortable again, really comfortable. You can barely be around him without him having a hand on you or an arm around you. “What will you get him?”

"Something that doesn't involve kitchen disasters," you reply with a playful grin, settling comfortably on his lap. Jon rolls his eyes good-naturedly, his arm finding its familiar place around your shoulders.

"You're no fun," he teases, squeezing you gently. "But seriously, what are you planning to get him?"

You lean back against him, considering the question. "I haven’t really thought about it. To be honest, I didn’t even think he would expect one from me.”

Jon hums thoughtfully, running his fingers across your shoulder absentmindedly. "Why wouldn’t he expect one from you? You’re his friend.”

You guess he’s right. You and Damian talk, go out of each others way to spend time with one another (even if Damian would rather choke than admit it). It’s hard figuring out where you fit in this world.

"Yeah, we're friends," you murmur, more to yourself than to Jon. "But sometimes I wonder if I really belong here, you know?" You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Jon's fingers pause in their absent-minded tracing along your shoulder. He shifts slightly, turning to look at you with a gentle expression. "Of course you belong here, [Your Name]. You’re kind and funny and brave. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest and hug his. “I’m sure you’re just feeling homesick,” he reassures. Oh, he has no idea.

“I know Gotham is a tough place but… I’m here for you, and Damian’s here for you,” he pauses, “...if you want… I can take you up the Queens…?” Surely he doesn’t mean flying you there? It takes a couple of hours to get to Queens from here, but he can take you there in an instant. However, that also means revealing to you his secret. Christ, it’s like he’s not even trying to hide it.

Regardless, it wouldn’t be your Queens. Actually, seeing it might do more harm than good. “No, it’s okay. Thanks, though.”

He looks at you with the most earnest puppy eyes you’ve seen. It tugs at your heartstrings, his concern and offer of support clear in his gaze.

"Thanks, Jon," you manage, your voice soft with gratitude and a touch of wistfulness. "I appreciate it."

He nods, sensing your reluctance to delve deeper into the topic. Jon's hand finds yours, squeezing it gently in a gesture of solidarity. "Anytime, [Your Name]. You know that."

Jon's earnestness and the warmth of his hand in yours fill you with a mix of comfort and a slight pang of guilt. You appreciate his concern and the genuine offer of support, yet part of you hesitates to fully accept it. 

“I’ll figure it out,” you declare, referring to Damian’s gift. “And it’ll definitely outshine yours,” you tease.

Jon grins, and squeezes you close, making you squawk in offense. He blows raspberries in your neck, the feeling of it making you curl in on yourself, but regardless, makes you happy.

“Give me some tunes, Karen.”

Music starts playing from the speakers of your laptop, courtesy of Karen. You hum and rock as you turn a screw. The particle accelerator is looking good and proper now. It’s begun to take shape, winding around the space the more you build it. Sipping your death brew, you make sure the screw is tight before throwing the wrench somewhere.

“Explain to me one more time?” comes Victoria’s voice from your phone. You can see from the facetime that she’s in her pajamas, ready to go to bed.

“It’s a new element. It’s gonna power all my future creations,” you say. “Basically, this bad boy,” you pat the accelerator, “is going to synthesize it by accelerating charged particles to high speeds so that they collide with each other. The atoms will fuse, making the new element.”

“How… did you even come up with this?”

“I didn’t,” you sniff. “My dad’s dad did. He just gave me the blueprints.”

“And what will you name it?”

“Well… my dad planned to name it badassium. So that’s what it’ll be called,” you declare, grabbing your phone.

She raises a brow at the name but has no further comment. “Why don’t you… patent this or something?”

“The idea is to stay discreet, my dear.” You take a seat and kick up your legs. “Besides, I’d have a hard time choosing whether to patent it as [Name] Stark or Spinnerette.”

She snorts. "Right," she says, stifling a yawn. "Just don't blow yourself up, okay?"

"I'll do my best," you reply with a grin. "Sleep tight, Tori. I'll keep you updated."

"Goodnight," she responds, her voice already trailing off. You end the call and set your phone down, turning your attention back to the particle accelerator.

You stretch, feeling the strain of hours spent hunched over. Just as you're about to call it a night, Karen's voice breaks the silence. "Incoming message from ‘please get this boy some brown contacts’."

You wipe your hands on a rag and pick up your phone, opening the message. It's a selfie of Jon and Damian, both smiling (well, Jon is smiling, Damian looks mildly amused). You respond with a simple selfie you took earlier. He hearts the message.

As night falls, you suit up once again, ready for another patrol. The streets are quieter tonight, the snowfall muffling the usual sounds of the city. You swing through the air, feeling a sense of peace and purpose. As you land silently on a nearby rooftop, you hear a faint noise. Your senses sharpen, and you move cautiously towards the sound.

You find a small group of children, huddled together, trying to build a snowman. Their laughter is infectious, and for a moment, you just watch, a smile tugging at your lips.

One of the kids looks up and spots you. "Look! It's Spinnerette!" The others follow his gaze, their faces lighting up with excitement. You drop down to join them, your landing soft and graceful.

"Hi there," you greet them, your voice friendly and warm. "Need any help with that snowman?"

dark and brooding watching

The kids nod eagerly, and you spend the next few minutes helping them build their snowman. When it's done, they cheer, admiring their handiwork. "Thank you, Spinner!" one of the kids says, his eyes shining with gratitude.

"Anytime," you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. "Now, you little rascals should go home. It’s dark out.”

They whine but listen, scurrying off into the nearby apartments. You watch as they make it inside, they’re parents (who were keeping a vigilant eye) wave to you as they close the door.

You turn to look over your shoulder slightly. “You gonna come out or are you gonna stand there all day brooding?”

“You’re good with children,” comes a low gruff. The man, the myth, the legend himself; Batman steps out of the shadows, approaching you.

“They’re not very complicated creatures,” is your dry response.

Batman steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "No, but they require patience and understanding," he replies, his voice softer than usual.

You shrug, "Guess I've had some practice."

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable behind the cowl. "You've adapted well to Gotham," he finally says. "It's not an easy place to thrive."

"Guess I had to," you reply, matching his tone. "This city needs all the help it can get."

Batman nods, his eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before returning to you. "I saw Nightwing earlier. He mentioned you had things under control at the ice rink."

"Yeah, just some losers trying to ruin Christmas," you say, dismissively. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

He hums, saying nothing more. "You… handled it well," Batman acknowledges. Woah, this is a moment in history, take a picture.

You nod, having nothing better to say. Internally, you’re giddy at the praise. The two of you stand in silence, looking at the city as the cold air rushes by.

After a beat, Batman shifts slightly, as if considering his next words carefully. "I've been monitoring your progress," he starts, his voice low but not unkind. "You've shown potential. But Gotham tests everyone, even those with the best intentions."

You look at him, catching his gaze behind the cowl. There’s a weight to his words, a reminder of the city's relentless nature. "I know," you reply simply, understanding the implicit warning. Gotham doesn’t forgive mistakes easily, and the path you’ve chosen is littered with challenges.

Batman nods once, his approval implicit yet unstated. "Keep your focus. And remember, sometimes the greatest strength is knowing when to ask for help." His tone is almost paternal, a rare glimpse of advice from a man who often operates in silence and shadows.

You can’t help but snort. “Gee, Bats. If you wanted my secret identity all you had to do was ask.”

“Are you saying you’d tell if you asked?”

“I’m saying… we can be grateful for one another.”

Batman regards you silently for a moment, his expression unreadable as always. Then, with a slight nod, he turns to leave, disappearing into the shadows as effortlessly as he emerged. The night wears on, and you continue your patrol through Gotham's wintry streets. The city seems to hold its breath under the blanket of snow, a rare moment of calm amidst its usual chaos.

“It’s no wonder cats were worshiped in ancient times,” Damian muses, watching Nari stretch lazily on the windowsill. He’s decided to grace you with his presence this fine afternoon, claiming he had nothing better to do. He’s a welcome addition to your apartment.

Damian, reclining on your couch with an air of regal indifference, watches Nari the cat with a mixture of curiosity and mild wonder. His expression softens as Nari pads over to him, sniffing his outstretched hand cautiously before allowing him to scratch behind her ears.

You lean against the kitchen counter, watching the scene with a small smile. "He seems to like you," you comment casually, taking a sip of your drink.

"Hmph," Damian grunts noncommittally, but his hand continues to stroke Nari's fur with a practiced touch. "Animals are simple creatures. They respond to consistency."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his attempt at nonchalance. "So, are you here just to critique my cat's taste in company, or is there something else on your mind?"

Damian pauses, his gaze flicking briefly towards you before returning to Nari. "Tt. Jon was bothering me about the insipid holiday tradition that is Christmas."

You chuckle softly, knowingly. "Ah, Jon and his enthusiasm for festive cheer. What did he want?"

"He insisted on exchanging gifts," Damian mutters, as if the concept itself is offensive. "As if material possessions hold any significance."

"Well, it's the thought that counts, right?" you offer, setting down your mug and joining Damian on the couch. Nari purrs contentedly as you scratch under her chin. “You’re telling me your family doesn’t do Christmas?”

“Of course we do,” he scoffs. “But I do not care much for it. But Jon seems to think it matters.”

"Well, he's not entirely wrong," you say, keeping your tone light. "Gift-giving can be meaningful if it's done thoughtfully. It's a chance to show someone you care about them, to give them something they might appreciate."

Damian regards you thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what would you consider a thoughtful gift, then?"

You smile. "It depends on the person," you begin, tapping your chin in mock contemplation. "For someone like Jon, maybe something that reflects his interests—maybe a new comic he hasn't read yet, or something related to his hobbies. Or, you could make something yourself. That usually adds a personal touch." It’s similar to the advice you gave Jon.

He considers your words, nodding slowly. "I see," he murmurs, as if filing away your suggestions for future reference. “What would someone like you like?” he asks casually.

You think. What would you like? Any material stuff you’d want has no use to you now, and you can’t exactly ask him for stuff pertaining to your little project. Actually… it’s been a while since you’ve wished for something material. Tony catered to your every whim and desire, you never wanted for long.

“A memory,” you decide, nodding. “Something I can experience and remember fondly.”

Damian listens attentively, his expression thoughtful. He seems to mull over your words, considering how to fulfill your request for a memorable gift. After a moment of silence, he nods decisively.

Nari, sensing the relaxed atmosphere, curls up contentedly in Damian's lap, earning a surprised glance from him before he tentatively strokes her fur again.

“Perhaps it is a good time to mention that my father insists I invite you to Christmas this year.”

"Your father?" You blink in surprise at Damian's unexpected news. Bruce Wayne, inviting you to his family's Christmas celebration? It's a surreal thought (and probably not good news). "I... didn't expect that."

Damian shrugs nonchalantly, though there's a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "He's made it clear that you're... welcome."

"Are you... comfortable with that?" you ask cautiously, glancing at Damian for any sign of discomfort.

"I've grown accustomed to your presence," Damian replies evenly, his gaze steady. "Besides, Father insists."

The tension in your shoulders eases slightly at his reassurance. Bruce Wayne inviting you to join his family's celebration—it's a gesture that speaks volumes, even if Damian's demeanor remains somewhat guarded. You're not entirely sure what to make of it, but the prospect of spending Christmas with the Wayne's is undeniably intriguing.

"Alright," you finally say, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Tell your father... I appreciate the invitation."

Damian nods once, his expression giving away nothing more than a hint of curiosity. "Very well."

You lean back against the couch, content to let the conversation drift into a comfortable silence. Damian continues to pet Nari absentmindedly, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. As the afternoon light fades into dusk, you let the pressure of your situation dwindle away, content to live in the moment.

notes:

reader when dick shows affection: this is vile what is this

dick: :C

-

jon ready to risk it all for reader: hey so im superboy but nevermind that let me die for you pls

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

CHAPTER SEVEN: INHIBITION (OR LACK THERE OF)

SUMMARY ↳ The three C's (carnival, chaos, and cuddle pollen). Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words. "In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?" Fuck. Your. Life. warnings: mentions of having sex (as a joke/none is actually had), cuddle pollen (kind of non-con cuddling and kissing, but reader really doesn't mind) wc: 4.4k

Nari wakes you up by screeching in your ear. You groan and roll over, snatching him up and gently throwing him off the bed. You sit in bed and contemplate if you really have to get up and function as a normal person, but alas, you do. Grabbing your phone, your eyes widen a tad. Jesus, you slept till ten? Good thing it’s the weekend.

You have the day off from work, so it’s up to you to find something to do. You feed Nari, making sure to give him a bunch of apologetic kisses. Maybe you’ll swing by the Den today. It won’t hurt to work some more on the badassium.

You groan and stretch, doing some warm-up exercises. Nari perches on your back as you do push ups. He weighs nothing, but it’s the thought that counts. Karen pipes up from your laptop.

“I’ve done you the liberty of adding Victoria’s contact info on your phone.”

You release a fond sigh. “Bit of a meddler, are you?”

“I am simply saving us time.” You snort. You grab your phone, changing Victoria’s name and shoot her a text.

sugar mommy

whats good how we doing

i dont need anything just wanted to say hi

also its [name] btw

Her response comes a minute later.

[Name]???

How did you get my number?

karen did

shes kind of my guy in the chair

does all the super cool behind the scenes stuff yknow how it is

I thought I was your ‘guy in the chair’

fym ur my sugar mommy

Her only response is a money bag emoji, making you chuckle. She’s got personality and it makes you smile. A knock at the door catches your attention. Probably May coming to make sure you’re not dead. She’s gotten used to leaving early now. The lock clicks as you open the door.

Oh, it’s not May. It’s Jon .

“Jon!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, a friendly one. “Hi, [Name]. I was just visiting Dami, but he seems to be in a mood… so I was wondering if we could hang out?” he asks, hopeful. “If that’s okay with you?”

You coo internally. You’ll never get over how sweet he is. “Yeah, of course. Just text me next time, yeah?”

He nods, stepping inside as you open the door for him. Nari trots over to him and rubs against his ankles. “What time did you get up? I don’t think Metropolis is that close to GC.” You feel a little evil, putting him on the spot because you know he flew here.

He pauses, thinking of an appropriate answer. “Uh, I don’t know. Six, maybe?” he winces, hoping that answer makes sense. You don’t have it in you to do the mental calculations so early in the morning, so you nod. You wouldn’t actually out him like that, anyway.

“Got any ideas are we just gonna have hot sex the whole day?”

Jon, to his credit, only lightly blushes. He’s long gotten used to your sense of humor. “There’s that carnival that just opened.”

“Mmm, maybe later. Carnivals always look better when it’s dark.”

“Then…” he thinks, “...let’s just go for a walk. See what we find.”

You grab your keychain with far too many charms on it and your other essentials, hooking your arm in Jon's. “Lead the way.”

May doesn’t have any outward reaction save for a knowing look as you exit the building. You squint your eyes at her in response. The noise of the city greets you as you walk out. People around you go on with their days, each living their own complex life.

It’s silent for a moment as the two of you walk. You take the moment to just think for a moment. You thought life was crazy when you found out you had crazy spider powers, but then you turned it around and made it into something good. You thought life was crazy when you got asked to officially join the avengers, but then you found a family in them. You thought life was crazy when you found out about the ‘spider verse’, but from that you realized you weren’t alone. You should’ve known better than to think it couldn’t get any crazier than that, but here you are. Very far from home.

You just wonder what will come out of this .

“You’re quiet,” Jon notes, voice barely a murmur.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s not good,” he jokes. You scoff and consider flicking him, but it would probably hurt.

“Just thinking how hard it’ll be for Damian to look me in the eye the next time I see him.”

Jon raises a brow. “What… happened between you and Damian? Is that why he was in a mood?”

“So crazy story, he walked in on me making out with my kind-of bully.” Jon’s eyes widen incredibly. His pace stutters and he chokes on air. You grin as you watch his flail. “Making out might be generous, but it was pretty passionate.”

You continue, “God, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He genuinely stopped functioning for a sec! He’s a bigger virgin than I thought. Or maybe it was just that it was with Tori of all people. It’s okay though, she’s not all that she seems.”

Jon stops walking altogether, accidentally yanking you to a stop as well. You blink at him.

“Ok…” he starts, “first of all, you kissed your bully?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, like I said, she's not all that she seems,” you shrug. He nods, still looking at you in disbelief.

“So… what? Are you guys… dating?” he hesitates to say the word.

You scratch your nose, looking down. “Nah… we talked it out, she uh…” you trail off, “...it was a spur of the moment thing, we’re just friends. Now, anyway.” You feel bad saying you rejected the girl who was in love with you, but you also can’t say everything that went down.

You look at Jon, seeing him also looking down in thought. His brows are furrowed, you wonder how strange it is to Damian if it’s so strange to Jon. He nods after a bit, continuing his walk. His arm holds yours a bit tighter.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” he laughs disbelievingly.

Probably because this isn’t your universe. “Probably because I’m so awesome all kinds of people want a piece of me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” you grin.

For as drab as Gotham City is, at least this carnival provides a little bit of color. The vibrant lights provide an enchanting atmosphere. You can’t help but grin. Jon watches you with a smile.

“What do you want to do first?”

“Pie eating contest.”

He blinks. “Okay?” He’s a little confused by your quick and confident reply. Now don’t be alarmed, you usually eat three meals a day. The meals are just… well, some might argue if they’re actually meals or not. Tony estimated that you should be eating five proper meals a day to combat your increased metabolism. You’re not starving or anything as you are now, but if you ever get injured your increased healing won’t help.

“I wanna eat,” is your only explanation as you drag him to the stand.

Jon chuckles as you drag him along, his smile widening at your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll join you,” he smiles, matching your energy. The two of you approach the stand where a small crowd has gathered around a makeshift stage. A lively carnival barker stands at the front, rallying contestants and spectators alike.

“Step right up, folks! Who’s got what it takes to be the pie-eating champion of Gotham tonight?” the man announces enthusiastically, his voice carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd.

You and Jon sign up eagerly, taking your places at the contestant table. The rules are simple: eat as much pie as you can within a set time limit. The pies, piled high with whipped cream and fruity filling, look delectable under the carnival lights.

The contest begins, and you and Jon dig in with gusto. The pies are delicious, each bite bringing a burst of sweet flavor. The crowd cheers and laughs as you both devour your way through the pies, alternating between bites and glances at each other, each trying to outpace the other.

Jon manages to finish his first pie just as you’re halfway through yours. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, grinning at you challengingly. “You’re pretty good at this,” he remarks between bites.

You flash him a competitive smirk, determined not to be outdone. “I eat a lot,” you quip back, mouth full of pie.

The contest continues, the pace quickening as the time ticks down. Cheers and encouragement from the crowd spur you on, adding to the thrill of the competition. Despite the messiness and the rapidly filling sensation in your stomach, you keep going, driven by the desire to win and the sheer enjoyment of the moment.

Finally, the timer buzzes, signaling the end of the contest. You and Jon set down your forks, breathing heavily but grinning broadly at each other. The man approaches to determine the winner.

“And the winner is…” he declares dramatically, waiting. After a tense moment, he announces, “It’s a tie!”

You and Jon exchange a look of surprise and then burst into laughter, both of your mouths covered in pie and thoroughly satisfied. The crowd applauds, appreciating the spirited effort you both put into the contest. You fancy yourself smug, seeing as you kept up with a kryptonian.

Jon wipes his hands and face with a napkin, chuckling as he looks at you. "I can't believe we tied," he says, shaking his head in amusement.

You nod, still grinning widely. "Yeah, I can’t believe you kept up with me.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

The man hands each of you a small prize—a colorful ribbon that declares you both "Pie Eating Champions of Gotham City Carnival". You both accept the ribbons with good humor, pinning them onto your shirts proudly.

As you step away from the contest table, Jon nudges you playfully. "So, what's next on our carnival adventure?"

You glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling carnival. The vibrant lights of the rides beckon in the distance, and the aroma of cotton candy and popcorn fills the air. "Let's hit the Ferris wheel," you suggest, pointing towards the towering structure adorned with sparkling lights.

Jon nods eagerly. "Sounds good to me. Let's go," he says, grabbing your hand as you make your way towards the Ferris wheel.

The line isn’t too long. The worker wishes you a good ride as the two of you step into the brightly colored gondola, slowly ascending to the sky.

As the ride reaches its peak, you both fall silent for a moment, taking in the view. The city skyline looms in the distance, a stark contrast to the colorful and carefree world of the carnival. For a brief moment, you feel a sense of peace and contentment, grateful for this simple yet memorable night with Jon. 

"This is nice," Jon remarks, leaning back comfortably in his seat. You nod in agreement, admiring the view.

Jon looks at you, thinking. There are a million things he wants to say, wants to admit to you. He wonders how you would react to each and every one of them. With only positivity, he’s sure. You’re the type to go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. He’s certain he could trust you with his life, eventually.

He takes a deep breath, unsure what’s about to come out of his mouth. “[Name]–”

The Ferris wheel rocks violently for a heart stopping moment. For the other riders, mostly. You and Jon immediately stiffen to attention, because Ferris wheels aren’t supposed to do that. Jon crosses over to you, locking you in his embrace as he looks over the edge. You try to look as well, but a simple tense of his arms prevents you.

A threatening green is making headway across the carnival grounds, sending people running. Vines bloom, crawling over stands and attractions. Poison Ivy, looking as prickly as ever, strides in gracefully.

"This carnival is a blight on this land," Ivy declares, her voice carrying over the chaos. "You trample on nature for your own amusement, but no longer. Tonight, the Earth fights back."

Oh, great. You can’t do anything because you’re stuck in the air with Jon. Jon can’t do anything because he’s stuck in the air with you. You sigh, leaning back against him.

With a wave of her hand, flowers bloom amidst the destruction, a stark contrast to the panic around her. Ivy's plants begin to dismantle the carnival, reclaiming the area for nature. Her message is clear: the environment will no longer be taken for granted, and anyone who harms it will face her wrath. Vines crawl up the Ferris wheel, wrapping around the gondolas in a nightmarish display.

“Um. Any bright ideas?” you ask Jon.

He says pulling out his phone, he pulls it out of your view and begins to type furiously. You bet a hundred bucks it’s Damian and Jon is furiously texting him to haul ass and get here now .

A vine thrusts itself into the box, making Jon yank you both to the floor in the middle. It spreads slowly, hauntingly, slowly encompassing the gondola. Flowers bloom… ah shit—

Jon shifts the two of you, blocking you from the flowers. Also putting himself directly in front of them. “Jon don’t–” you warn, because regardless of his heritage, it can still affect him. Even more so since he’s only half. He presses your face into his chest right as the flower coughs, releasing the spores right in his face.

“Don’t breathe them in,” he growls. Thanks, you weren’t planning on it anyway. You hold your breath, anyway.

He’s getting antsy. “[Name],” he mutters gravely. “Please. Close your eyes and trust me.”

You internally sigh, preparing how you’re going to act like the most aloof fool after this. You nod and close your eyes. Jon picks you up, arms under your knees and around your back. You wind your arms around his neck and rest against his chest.

Jon, to his credit, doesn’t just fly down the ride. You feel him jump down the bars of the Ferris wheel, making sure to keep you secure in his arms. His landings are precise and calculated, avoiding the chaos below. You hear the gasps and shouts from the people around you as Jon navigates through the mess of vines.

Finally, you feel the solid ground beneath you as Jon gently sets you down. “Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says softly.

You open your eyes and find yourself standing amidst the carnage, the Ferris wheel towering above you. Vines continue to spread, and the air is filled with the panicked cries of carnival-goers trying to escape. Jon stands protectively beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Ivy.

“We have to stop her,” you blurt. He looks at you incredulously. You ignore it and look around, trying to find a way to do this without Spinnerette. Eyes narrowing, you spot something in the distance.

“There.” You point at a nearby water tower. “If we flood the area, it might disrupt her control over the plants.”

“Good plan. You should leave it to the professionals.”

You blink, turning around. It’s Robin who spoke, arms crossed and looking at you. However, it’s the sight of the 6’2 emo bitch dressed in a bat fursuit that makes you stiffen.

“Robin! You came!” Jon brightens, before coughing into his fist. “I mean. Of course you came, you’re Robin.” The urge to roll your eyes at his silliness is strong, but you resist.

Batman doesn’t react, though you’re sure he just sighed on the inside. “You should get to safety with the rest of the civilians,” he grumbles out in his Batman™ voice.

You nod rapidly. “Yup yup. Yessir Mr Batman.” You grip Jon’s wrist and drag him away. Fuck that, majorly. If he says leave it up to him, you’re perfectly fine with that. You’re pretty sure he’s gonna take what you said and connect some dots, and you don’t wanna be around when that happens. He can take his theories and shove it up his ass.

Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words.

"In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Fuck. Your. Life.

Jon is looking just a tad bit worse for wear (you’re lying, he looks haggard) when you arrive at your apartment. May, thank god, wasn’t at the desk, so you managed to get by without having to deal with that. You  shove Jon onto the couch, wincing with a small apology. Frantically typing, you google how to deal with cuddle pollen.

The number one suggestion is to visit Gotham General Hospital, but given Jon’s less than human nature, that's a no go. Other results suggest drinking lots of water and sweating it out to dilute its affects.

You throw your phone somewhere and quickly fetch some water for Jon. Nari meows at Jon, sensing something is wrong. When you make your way back you see that Jon has trapped Nari in his arms, cooing unintelligibly at him.

“Drink,” you tell him urgently, lifting his chin. He leans into your touch, obeying. You make sure he drinks every last drop. When he finishes you turn around to get some more water, only to be yanked back. You crash into Jon’s arms, watching as Nari trots away, happy to be free. You wish you were Nari right now.

Jon nuzzles into you, humming contently.

“Jon…” you warn.

“Yeah, baby?” he hums. Jesus.

“You’re under the effects of cuddle pollen. Your mind is scrambled. Just let me get you some water–”

He hugs you tighter at the mention of you leaving, standing up with you in his arms. You try to get free, holding your own for a bit. But alas, he wins. Stupid kryptonian biology. He carries you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed.

You blink. “Okay, hang on–”

Jon belly flops right on top of you, earning an ‘oof’ from you. He wraps his arms around you, snuggling into your collarbone. He sighs in content as he relaxes on you. There’s no hope for you to escape, is there?

“Jon, come on. Let’s… do jumping jacks or something. Sweat it out of your system. You can even hold my hand!”

Jon grumbles, burying his face in your neck. “I know something else we can do to get sweaty.”

You blink. Then snort. Damn, is that the cuddle pollen talking or is your influence taking effect? You feel Jon smile against your neck.

Sighing, you acknowledge that you’re not getting out of this situation. You hesitantly rest your arms around him. You feel his grin get wider, and then he surprises you even further by laying a goddamn kiss against your neck. You grumble and mutter, “I am going to make fun of you so hard after this.”

Laying there, you think. If you didn’t just compromise yourself to Batman, then hopefully you won’t be approached when you next patrol. Or worse, when you're just being a regular civilian. 

You blink, deciding you’re gonna be a little shit.

“Jon,” you say, “give me your phone.”

Jon reaches into his pocket, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. It’s got a couple cracks in it, and his wallpaper features a photo of a sunset over a vast farm. You scroll through his contacts, clicking the one that says ‘damian !! (stinkin loser)’. You click the call button, hoping he’s done superheroing and has time to answer.

He answers on the third ring. “Jon, you fool, what were you–”

“Damian,” you interrupt before he says something you’re not supposed to know. The line goes quiet on the other end. “I’ll keep it brief. Jon got absolutely fucked over with a face-full of cuddle pollen and he won’t let me go. We’re at my apartment, so if you can pull some rich people strings and get an antidote or something I would very much appreciate it.”

“...He won’t let go of you?”

You roll your eyes and snap a picture of Jon wrapped around you. “Help,” is all you say after you send it.

You hear him sigh. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” is all you hear before the call cuts. Jon yanks the phone away from you, throwing it somewhere in the room as he flips the two of you over. You lay on his chest now, feeling his chin rest on your head and his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingertips creeping up under your shirt.

Your phone is in the other room and you didn’t see where Jon threw his, so you’re left to stew in his arms until Damian comes. You begin to hum a song, for your own peace of mind, ignoring the way Jon’s hands rub your skin in a back-and-forth motion. Jon removes one of his hands and places it on the back of your head, pushing you into his neck. The bastard lays another kiss on your head, muttering comforting words.

Damn, you think you’re starting to fall asleep. Sue you for feeling safe in his arms, he’s literally Superboy. It doesn’t help that you're lying in bed and he's rubbing your back so softly you feel like he’s your boyfriend comforting you after a long day.

You hear your door kick open, and the only reason your fight response doesn’t kick in is because you’re still stuck in Jon’s arms, and because you know it’s Damian. Jon on the other hand, immediately sits up, glaring hard at your hallway. When Damian shows up in your doorway, bag in hand, he relaxes. He lies back down in the bed, snuggling in to you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

He ignores your weak greeting, digging into his bag and pulling out a syringe filled with what can only be the antidote. You pointedly make a note to definitely not mention how the needle is green.

“Just be careful he doesn’t grab you. He’s… really strong,” you mutter.

He grabs Jon’s head, pushing it aside to bare his neck. You’re surprised Jon lets him, but cuddle pollen does leave people without inhibition. Damian sticks the needle in, making Jon groan. You watch the fluid disappear, feeling peaceful knowing that this will soon be over. Damian finishes administering the antidote and takes a seat on the bed.

“Thanks for… coming through,” you say. You don’t know what else you can really talk about right now.

Damian just looks at you. “What were you even doing there?”

He means the carnival. You furrow your brows. “Hanging out? Sorry we didn’t predict that Poison Ivy was gonna be there. Maybe you should talk to Batman about that.”

“You could have been hurt. Jon did get hurt.”

“It’s just cuddle pollen, Dami,” you reassure, placing a hand on his arm. He grasps it tightly. “You gave him the antidote, he’s not hurt.”

Damian’s grip on your arm is firm, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lucky it was just that. It could have been worse.”

You nod, understanding his concern, but feeling a bit annoyed at the same time. “I know, I know. But we’re fine now. Jon’s going to be okay.”

Damian's expression softens slightly at your reassurance, though his concern is still evident. He looks at Jon, who seems to be coming out of the pollen's effects, his grip on you loosening. Damian then turns his attention back to you, his gaze intense.

"You shouldn't take unnecessary risks," he says, his voice low but firm. "Especially not with someone like Jon."

You raise an eyebrow at the implication in his tone. "Are you implying something about Jon?"

“Jon is… brave, but restless. Just be more cautious.”

You give him a playful smirk. "Are you worried about me, Damian Wayne? That's almost sweet."

He scowls slightly, clearly not amused by your teasing. "I'm serious, [Name]. This city is dangerous enough without getting caught up in avoidable situations."

“I promise to be more careful in the future,” you say, eyes earnest. It seems to settle Damian, for now.

Jon groans under you. He sits up, taking you with him. You fall to his lap as you look at him. He blinks for a moment, taking in his surroundings. You hear his heartbeat slowing, calming. He looks at Damian, looks at you. Stares at you, whom his arms are around, in his lap.

He freaks, shoving you out of his embrace and scrambling back. Damian catches you, growling, “You fool, Jon, careful!”

“I’m so sorry!” he cries. “I was… oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

You hold out your hands to placate him. “Jon, it’s okay! I’m fine, I don’t care. You weren’t in control. You didn’t do anything.”

“I should have left when I got hit,” he growls to himself.

You sigh, looking at Damian for help. “What’s done is done. No use in whining about it now,” he huffs, shifting you to sit up.

Jon purses his lips, looking like he wants to cry. You open your arms, “Come on.”

He hesitates, so you grab him and haul him into your embrace. He stiffens, before wrapping his arms around you. He melts into your embrace.

Damian clears his throat, making Jon pull back with a sheepish expression. “I should really get home before my parents worry.”

You nod, patting his arm. “Of course.”

He thanks Damian as well on his way out. You don’t hear the door open, so you figure he just got antsy and couldn’t stay in the room longer. You don’t blame him. You sigh when you see he left his phone, grabbing it and handing it to Damian.

“Thank you,” you mutter. You look into his eyes, he looks back. In a moment of weakness, you place a hand on his cheek and lean in, pressing your lips to his other one. The kiss is chaste, barely lasting for a second before you pull back. “You’re paying for my door.”

Damian says nothing in response, simply watching you. He raises his hand, clasping yours and gently bringing it down. He nods.

“It was nothing.” And then he and Jon are out the door. You sigh, laying down in your bed that smells like Jon now. No patrol tonight, again.