LADY STRONG
LADY STRONG
Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader
Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms
Warnings - none except not edited!!
Word Count - 3.1k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.
You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.
What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.
Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.
Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.
“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”
The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.
Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”
“I study!”
“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.
Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he is the heir to the Iron Throne. I am only the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”
And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.
Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.
Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”
“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”
His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”
Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.
Gods.
You hate it when he’s right.
“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”
Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”
“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”
“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”
Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”
All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.
Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”
Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”
You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.
An hour—that was all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.
How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one considers nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.
Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”
You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”
Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.
“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.
“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”
The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”
Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”
“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.
“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”
With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”
Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.
You miss home. Desperately.
You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.
But, even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.
Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.
Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.
Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.
As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.
You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.
He’s talented—you think, lips pursed as you study his form.
Talent was something you were familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself—and yet never before have you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.
He didn’t move like other boys.
He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.
Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.
Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.
He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.
Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.
“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”
The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.
Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”
You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”
His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”
You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”
A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”
Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.
Seven Hells!—he doesn’t know who you are, does he?!
Your jaw goes slack, a sudden speechlessness grabbing hold of your tongue.
You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you weren’t what many expected of a Targaryen princess. Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.
Even so, it was rare that you met someone who didn’t know who you were. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.
“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”
“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”
“Southern?”
Benji nods.
“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”
The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.
Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”
Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”
Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.
“Why not?”
He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”
Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.
“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”
I do find it endearing, you think.
Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”
Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.
“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to back her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.
He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”
“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”
Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”
The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.
“What of me?”
A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”
Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.
Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.
It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.
But this was different.
Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.
Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was far too forward and-”
You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal?”
You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”
Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”
“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”
In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.
“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”
Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”
“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”
The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”
You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.
“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”
Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent.
Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.
“Princess?” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”
You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.
“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”
You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.
“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.
Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”
You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.
“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”
a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??
and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.
anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot
benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus
More Posts from Jestersasphodel and Others
Found Family
summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.
pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader
word count: 8.2k
preview
a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)
reblogs are appreciated!
“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it?
“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back.
“Good. Nightwing?”
“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent.
“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for.
“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom.
“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.”
Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”
“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.”
Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”
He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read:
Attempt 1: G6B24
Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)
Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown)
Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision
‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass.
“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did.
Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.
His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick.
“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind.
“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.
Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him.
“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you.
The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.
You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file.
“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.
You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.
“Batman?”
Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.
Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.”
You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?”
Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised.
"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.
He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."
You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected.
When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.
They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”
“What’s going o-”
He hung up.
Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’”
Damian covered his laugh with a cough.
You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on.
Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.”
Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave.
Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.
Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.
You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.
He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?”
“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry.
Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?”
You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.”
He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”
You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.
Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well.
Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.”
You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different.
Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first.
“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile.
You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?
“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.”
Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.”
At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you?
Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.
Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state.
You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.
“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”
Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.”
You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile.
“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.”
“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.”
Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.”
“Wayne.”
He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”
“Wayne.”
This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”
The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares.
Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”
“No.” came their simultaneous response.
Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.”
Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…”
Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper.
Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”
Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”
Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”
You nodded, “I like it.”
Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”
Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose.
Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement.
Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”
Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you.
Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.”
You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.
You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain.
“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.”
“They’re fine…Thank you.”
He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.”
You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change.
You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over.
Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner
You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you.
You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase.
Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first.
Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.”
“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.
He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.”
You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own.
“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.
His eyes widened, was that why you were there?
“How?”
All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first.
“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.”
Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”
“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.”
Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.”
Bruce simply gave a nod.
Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all.
Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.
Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian.
Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe.
She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest.
Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”
“Hi!” he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you.
“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.
Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”
You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”
“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.”
Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?”
He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”
“Sounds about right.”
Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own.
The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.
The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.
Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.”
“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.
The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her.
“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.
“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.”
You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey.
Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.”
You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.”
Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.
Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front.
“This better be good.”
Tim mumbled, “Finally”
“Miss me Timmy?”
“Quite the contrary.”
The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away.
His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce.
“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.”
Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.”
“Holy shit, man.”
“Jason, will you shut up?”
“Never.”
“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.”
“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.”
“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.”
“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.”
“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.”
Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you.
“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her.
“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit.
“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-”
Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled.
Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.”
“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.”
Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone.
Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.”
“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied.
She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.”
“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.”
Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.”
“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do.
“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.
“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered.
“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.”
“I want time with her, Bruce.”
“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.”
Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer.
Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?”
You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”
She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”
You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”
Clark gave you a fond smile.
Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless.
The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face.
“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.”
You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away.
It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?”
You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.”
He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”
“I suppose so.”
“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.”
“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–”
“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news.
Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him.
A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated.
You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done.
Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.
Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.”
You nodded, “Yes, please.”
Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.”
“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”
Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”
Cass nodded in agreement.
“We’re just buying training clothes.”
“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.”
You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.”
“See?”
Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”
Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site.
When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.
Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that.
You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself.
The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.
He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself.
He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about.
The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings.
By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.
The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere.
When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off.
The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.
As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.”
You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.”
He nodded, walking away to change as well.
You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill.
“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”
You nodded.
“Let’s see it.”
You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.
Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.
Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”
He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”
You nodded. Made sense.
“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.”
You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.
Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”
You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing.
This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine.
Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite.
You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.
The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.
He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit.
And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying.
“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction.
You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.”
You nodded, “How are we doing that?”
He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?”
You nodded.
“Okay… and…. Go!”
You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds.
“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you.
You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner.
They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking.
That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case.
They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor.
The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother.
Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in.
Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there.
You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.
Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough.
Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.
Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled.
You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.
Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.
Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.
True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.
Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal.
You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.
Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it.
You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.
Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’
Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine.
Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.
These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.
These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.
And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.
You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow. Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.
Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)
I'm watching right now and the caption literally just said "ichorous tentacles constrict"
i need more needy megumi who js wants kisses :( i just read the halloween costume fic and i need moreee
pretty boy megumi just needs you to kiss him more
💗めぐみ
note : needy cutie pie gumi hot off the press 😘 i think if anyone would be needy and obsessed with kissing, it's mr pretty boy over here
content : fluff, kissing, bf megumi, fem reader
playme : kiss me more (of course lol)
"kiss me more..."
it's not a command, but a shy plea. he tugs at the hem of your shirt. he only looks this soft for you.
megumi has spells where he's insatiable and wants to kiss you over and over and over and— overrrrrr. until his lips plump up and tingle, until he's almost gasping and out of breath. until he's dazed. he's just... so in love with you. have mercy. he's never enjoyed kissing anyone before you.
your phone floods with messages from your best friend. megumi groans when you break from the make out session, he was putting his whole back into it, pouring his whole heart into it.
📨 nobara : where r u ??
📨 you : gumi's
📨 nobara : not emo boy again. didn't u two have an argument
📨 you : uh yeah... about which pizza is best lol.
📨 nobara : shopping. now.
📨 you : isn't yuji ur dedicated carry horse...
📨 nobara : yes but he's busy and also i miss uuuu 😘
megumi groans, "is it nobara?"
"yes, it's nobara. i'm gonna meet up with her."
he frowns. "but..." he pays glance to your lips. he doesn't wanna seem needy, or anything. gosh no, that would be humiliating. but the way your lips look so inviting, like a door opening to his home, he can't help it and —
"kiss me a bit more before you go..." he asks quietly. but truthfully, he wants more than that. he wants you to ruffle his hair. cup his cheeks. make him dizzy. drain his lungs. with a thousand kisses that turn into two thousand. he's a bit greedy.
you kiss him lightly, "you're so sweet... gumi."
"shut up... and kiss me harder. what are these baby kisses?"
you giggle, "so mean!"
he pulls you in, and kisses you. and the poor boy, he follows you to the door on your way out with kisses, too; he just doesn't want to let you go.
"okay, one more kiss."
"yes, just one more."
"seriously, only one more, gumi."
"yes yes, just one more..." he's itching to kiss you, you can feel his whole body buzz with desire.
he kisses you so hard he pins you to the door and it clasps shut with a click. you feel his weight press into your body, pinning you tighter.
and he cups your cheeks, thumbs back and forth on the crown of them. no kiss engulfs you quite like megumi's. he kisses you so deeply you feel it in your soul.
"megumi... this is more than one kiss."
he whines and curls his lips into a frowny grimace. "can't you just spare me... fifteen more minutes...?" he breathes heavily.
you laugh, "fifteen? nobara's been waiting for thirty minutes at the station..."
"yeah... sorry... but..." he licks his lips, then brushes them against yours. he gives you that deep look that shows off the dark beauty in his eyes. "...i just really need your lips today."
"feeling a bit crazed huh?" he feels your smirk against his lips and it makes his heart leap around in his chest like a frog.
"...yeah...a bit..." and he melts into another buttery kiss, feeling his stomach fill with butterflies.
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
(siren/mermaid reader x simon “ghost” riley written on a whim and a rush)
There’s a silence that only the sea understands; a quiet lull between the crash of waves and the breath of something other watching from below.
You rise just before the tide turns.
Water beads like silver across your shoulders, trailing rivulets down the curves of your scaled skin. The moonlight paints you in cold beauty- sharp and soft, haunting. Your hair drips with salt and secrets. Your tail, dark as the ocean trench and rimmed with glints of blue, curls beneath the surface like a big, lazy question mark.
The boat creaks as you settle on the edge of it, arms resting on the slick wood, claws tapping like soft bells.
And there he is; the one man you cannot drown. Ghost, you’d heard the other fishermen call him. Simon, the seas whispered to you.
You’ve tried. Not out of malice, not really. You’ve never spared the ones who drift too close- those ruddy-faced tourists with their cheap beer and loud mouths, hearts too full of their own importance to sense the predator beneath the waves even when the locals who’ve seen you sinking down whole ships are the ones to warn them. Their skulls now rest in coral nests far below. A song, a smile, a brush of your fingers on their dreams- that’s all it ever took.
But him?
The first time you sang to Simon, he didn’t blink. He didn’t bleed from the ears or follow you into the rocks like a lamb, did not give into the sweet song of death. He just looked at you- as if he knew your song already.
You wish it had ended there, but no. No. He did much worse, he had even freed you-
You can still remember the trap. Rusted iron strung between two forgotten pylons, slick with barnacles and hunger. It had snapped tight around your waist as you’d swum through a kelp forest, cutting into your flesh with a mechanical groan that still makes your bones ache. You’d thrashed, thrashed until your voice broke against the water, until your blood painted the reeds crimson. And then- he had been there. Still, unafraid, with dark eyes peering at you.
He didn’t speak. Just waded into the cold, metal snips in hand, and cut you loose. You had stared at him, weak and trembling, the tide lapping red around you.
That was years ago. And ever since, you come to him. Not always. Never with warning.
Only when the moon calls.
Tonight, it hangs low and red like an omen. The kind that makes fish leap onto shore and birds fly inland, and a different type of hunger coil like eels in youe stomach. Blood moon, the fishermen call it. She will be hunting, they had said. And most know to stay far away when it rises. When you rise.
But not Simon. Never him.
Simon stands on his boat, the Wretch’s Mercy, steady as stone. He doesn’t flinch when you breach the surface, eyes gleaming like polished bullets. Doesn’t reach for the knife on his hip, even if you think he should. He is too defenseless; it takes the taste out of food.
“Was wonderin’ when you’d show.” He says. His voice is low and dry as cracked rope, wrapped in northern smoke and salt.
He’s wearing the same black mask, the white skull painted across it like a silent threat. But his eyes- those ever-watchful eyes- glint amber in the dark. Not human. Not quite. How have you never noticed it before?
“I don’t perform on demand,” you purr, tail flicking. “There are no fools in the water tonight.”
“No,” he agrees. “Only monsters.”
You bare your teeth in something like amusement, too sharp to be called a smile. “… You’ve never feared me, sailor. Why?”
Simon shrugs, tugging gently at a net as it coils along the deck. “Yer not the scariest thing I’ve come across, love. Not by a long shot.”
You lean forward, hair dripping over your chest, your irises dark as shipwrecks. You swear your teeth ache with the need to bite into him. “Do they know what you are?”
Simon finally looks at you- really looks.
There’s no shock in his face. No hesitation.
“Who, the locals?” he says, low. “They think I’m just a fisherman that won’t bloody die.”
You study him, the way his broad shoulders roll with the boat, how his body moves with the tide instead of against it. Like you.
“You smell like the deep,” you whisper at last. “Like volcanic vents and whale bone. You’re not surface-made.”
Silence stretches between you. It’s the same quiet the ocean gives before it devours something.
He steps forward, towards you. “You’re not wrong.”
You blink. Your claws curl slightly into the wood. “Then why pretend?”
“Because monsters scare off the catch.”
You laugh- low, velvety, the sound of waves lapping at a sailor’s final breath. But your voice softens then. “You could have let me die.”
He’s close now. Close enough to touch. The net dangles loose in his hands. “Didn’t want to,” he says simply. “Didn’t feel right.”
“Why?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re mine.”
That words stir, primal in your chest. Something that snarls and sings and sinks ships into the bottomless ocean.
“You think you can keep me?”
His hand reaches up- not fast, not rough- just firm. His fingers trail along your damp jaw, calloused thumb stroking the corner of your lip. You don’t pull away, and you don’t bite, even though you should.
But your heart stutters like a dying gull anyways.
“I don’t think,” he murmurs, voice deeper now, trenches miles below. “I know.”
You stare at him, senses drinking him in- his scent, his heat, the thrum of something old and hungry beneath his skin. You lean in, then, lips nearly brushing his, your breath a chill against his mask.
“When the time comes,” you whisper, voice of broken shells and broken vows. “You’ll have to catch me.”
Simon’s smile beneath the mask is something no man should wear. It is something no man would wear- but another deep water monster would.
“Oh, I will. When you follow me down, you won’t want to come back up.”
What's the trope name for when someone finds out they're the Chosen One(tm) and is like "No, thank you" and goes and does something else
Continuation of this, go read every single fic of this lovely lovely writer ( ≧∀≦)
Summery: a young boy tries to steal things from your husband's room, you take him under your wing and get a personal knight in return.
Warnings: none!!!
Words: 1880
-----------------------------
It wasn't unusual for you to walk alone, especially in this household. While your husband is nice, he doesn't necessarily try to spend time with you. You've gotten used to the silence, being alone, the only sound being your heels meeting the floor.
But things are different now.
Trailing behind you is a young boy, no older than 12, he's admiring every single thing he sees and even takes a few things with him.
You caught him stealing from Johns office once, nothing important, just something he could sell for a bit of food. Since you didn't rat him out and instead helped him cover up his 'crime' he decided to stick close.
His walking speed picks up and he's dashing past you, towards a window. He looks out, mouth falling open at the sight. You fight the urge to smile, covering it up by looking away instead.
“It’s so big,” he murmurs, pressing his hands against the glass. His breath fogs up a small section, and he swipes at it with his sleeve. “Do you think they ever get tired of looking at it?”
You follow his gaze, even though you already know what he’s staring at. The city sprawls out before you, golden lights flickering like fireflies against the night. From up here, it all looks peaceful, untouchable. But you both know better.
“They don’t look at it,” you say simply. “Not like you do.”
He glances at you, brow furrowed. “Why not?”
You shrug. “When you have something your whole life, you stop seeing it. It just becomes… normal.”
He turns back to the window, mulling over your words. His fingers drum absently against the windowsill. You know that restless energy well—he’s already thinking about what else he could take, where else he could go.
“Hey,” you say, and he immediately straightens, wary. He still doesn’t trust you completely, not yet. “No stealing anything important.”
He grins, all teeth. “Define important.”
You sigh. “Nothing that will make John notice.”
"He won't notice this!" He calls out, rushing past you while showing something in his pocket. He passes by you and runs down the hallway, making a sharp turn to the left by the end of it. Hearing a small 'thump' makes you pick up your pace.
This was not what you expected to see.
The young boy was on the floor, rubbing his head slightly. While you would have checked on him your gaze was stuck on the person standing there.
Simon.
"Duchess." He mumbles, eyes moving from your face to the small boy starring up at him.
Like anyone would, the kid jumps to his feet, scrambling for cover. His safest option? You. He presses himself against your back, small hands clutching your dress, his head peeking out cautiously from behind you.
"Good evening..." You mumble, hand reaching behind you to pat the kids head.
...
Silence.
No words spoken, no sound besides soft breathing.
"What are you starring at?" The kid asks, glaring at the man in front of you. His words were definitely not a smart choice given the difference of their status but he still chose to say it. His glare could actually kill someone, if it wasn't for his shaky hands holding onto your dress.
"Excuse me?" Simon questions, raising a brow at the courage of this commoner.
"he didn't mean it like that!" You stutter out, pressing your hand over the childs mouth in case he wants to say something again. "Excuse us" You mumble and flash him a small forced smile.
Before Simon could speak again, you already turned around and hurried the kid away.
He just stares. Watching you disappear in the hall.
-----------
Two days later and you still have that memory in your head. You scolded the kid, Leo, for his bold cjoice of words.
His excuse?
He was protecting you.
You. From Simon.
With a sigh you place the book on the table, looking at the flowers in front of you instead. The flower garden is definitely your favorite place, people are rarely there. Leo is crouching by some flower, admiring them or something
You watch as Leo reaches out, running his fingers lightly over the petals. His expression is softer than usual, a rare moment where he isn’t scheming or watching his back. It almost makes you smile. Almost.
“You like flowers?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.
Leo startles slightly, as if he forgot you were there. He hesitates, then shrugs. “They’re nice, I guess.”
“You guess?”
He frowns, shifting his weight. “They don’t talk. They don’t take things from you. They just… stay.”
You don’t respond right away. You know better than to push him when he lets something slip. Instead, you glance at the flower he’s fixated on—a small, stubborn thing, growing slightly apart from the others.
“Seems like this one’s a bit of a troublemaker,” you muse, tilting your head.
Leo snorts. “Guess that’s why I like it.”
For a moment, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet you’ve started to enjoy since Leo’s been around. But then, the moment shatters.
A voice cuts through the stillness.
“There you are.”
John
Leo tenses immediately, his fingers twitching like he’s deciding whether to grab something or run. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart toward you first.
Protecting you. Again.
You inhale slowly, turning to face John, already bracing yourself.
"Good morning." You sigh and stand up, looking at your husband. Normally his eyes would be on you, watching - almost studying - you but not today, his eyes drift to Leo, whos holding the flowers so tight they might break.
"We need to talk..." He sighs and meets your eyes, after a short moment he continuous speaking. "...alone."
Leos eyes widen and he immediately jumps up and rushes over, hands reaching up to hold your hand tightly to his chest.
"No way!" he calls out, shaking his head. "You're not hurting her."
John freezes, looking at the kid with a confused expression. "Hurt her? Why would i hurt her?"
"You all do!" Leo accuses, cheeks turning red as his eyes start to water. "You all hurt her."
John blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something unreadable. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at Leo like he's trying to make sense of the accusation.
You can feel Leo trembling beside you, his grip on your hand like a vice. You squeeze back, a silent reassurance, but your own heart is hammering against your ribs.
"Leo," you murmur, but he doesn’t back down.
“They whisper about it, the maids,” he continues, voice shaking. “They think I don’t hear, but I do. They say she’s a ghost in this house. That she doesn’t laugh, doesn’t speak unless spoken to. That she flinches when—”
"Enough." John's voice is sharp now, cutting through the air like a blade. Leo stiffens but doesn't let go of you.
John exhales, rubbing his temple before looking at you. “What the hell has he been hearing?”
You don’t answer. Not right away. Instead, you gently pull Leo closer, shielding him with your body. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed.
With a small sigh you pick up Leo, who immediately hides his face in your neck. "If you don't mind, i think it would be wise to continue this conversation some other time."
Not waiting for an answer you turn around and walk back inside, missing the way Leo stares down John with a tiny smile.
-----------------------------------
Leo needs to protect you, and apparently that also means when you're sleeping. It started of serious, him guarding your door while you read a book in your bead. Then he sat down on a neaby chair, eyes still on the door. And after about 15 minutes, he's in your arms asleep.
That's how you go to sleep and wake up.
The knock from outside and then the door opening made you groan slightly, Leo aswell. After you don't hear a voice or a sound, you force your eyes open.
Johnny and Kyle are in your room, both carrying a tray of what you think is breakfast.
"Good morning..?" You mumble and sit up, pulling the blanket slightly over your chest.
Kyle blinks and forces a small smile while stepping closer, putting the tray of fresh fruits on your bedside table.
Johnny sets his tray down on the other side, a plate of toast, eggs, and something that smells sweet—honey, maybe. His gaze flickers to Leo, still curled up beside you, his face buried against your arm.
Neither of them says anything about it, but the look they exchange speaks volumes.
“You don’t usually sleep in,” Johnny comments, crossing his arms.
You rub your eyes. “Didn’t exactly have much of a choice.”
At that, Leo stirs, letting out a small, disgruntled sound before blinking up at you sleepily. The moment he realizes you’re awake—and that you’re not alone—his drowsiness vanishes. He sits up fast, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his too-big shirt, before glaring at the two men like they were the ones who did something wrong.
“What do you want?” Leo mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.
Kyle raises an eyebrow but doesn’t take the bait. “We brought breakfast,” he says instead.
Leo eyes the food suspiciously, like it might be poisoned. You roll your eyes. “It’s just breakfast, Leo.”
He doesn’t look convinced but leans into your side anyway, watching as you pick up a piece of fruit. Only then does he grab a slice of toast from the tray, biting into it cautiously.
Johnny exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “John wants to see you.”
Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression neutral. “Now?”
Kyle shrugs. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Leo tenses beside you. “She’s not going.”
Johnny sighs. “Kid, it’s not up to you.”
“Yeah?” Leo challenges, sitting up straighter. “Well, it’s not up to you either.”
Kyle mutters something under his breath, clearly regretting being part of this conversation. Johnny just pinches the bridge of his nose.
You exhale slowly, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder before he gets himself in trouble. “It’s fine, Leo.”
He snaps his head toward you, disbelief written all over his face. “No, it’s not.”
And the worst part is—you don’t know how to argue with that.
"Leo," You start and bring your hands to cup his face, his eyes soft as they look at yours. "John is still my husband..If he wants to talk, we talk."
He shakes his head before throwing himself into your arms, cheek pressed against your collarbone. "Then I'm going with!"
"Leo..." You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm sorry but no..but you can help me get ready?"
For a moment there's no answer, then he gets up and speed walks to your vanity. After a short moment he comes back, offering you a beautiful yet simple necklace.
"Thank you." You smile and put it on.
"Mama, you look pretty with that..." Leo mumbles as he takes another bite of his toast.
------------------------
Johnny and Kyle burst into Johns office, not surprised to see Simon already there.
At the same time the men speak, out of breath from running.
"He called her mama."
-------------------------
a/n: we're not gonna talk about the missing post from this weekend. take this silly thing and enjoy!! ヾ(≧▽≦)ヾlike always, not proofread!!!
Theo Nott's eyes. That's it. That's the post.
Masterlist! <3
My Favourites♡ Full Stories (OC) 📖 NSFW* Requests 📝
You Can't Do Everything♡
Like a Podium
Pluvial
What Was I Made For?♡
The Elevator♡ | The Carnival
8/9/19♡
Good Evening
Birthday Plans*♡
You OK?♡
A Million Times Over
The Pleasure is All Mine*
Embarrassment*♡📝
Scheming♡📝 | Steps Towards♡
29th♡
The Taste of Champagne
Victory Tastes Damn Good*
Picture of Perfection♡📝
Just Friends♡📝
Wonderland♡
We Can Share📝
Called You Again
Rough*
Not Like Me | Not Like You ♡
Live on Air
Prettier With You♡
Shut Up And Cuddle Me
Baby Fever♡ | My Girls♡ | Save A Dance
Watch Your Mouth
You're Late
Birthday Buddies
An Ego Thing
Du Lernst Nie
Kiss It Better
The Sound of Rain📖
Hell Yeah*📝
Lights Out♡
It's Loud
What A Shame♡
Whatever You Like♡
How They'd Come In Late After A Race (1)
Five Seconds Flat
One of the things I resent most about being Animal Brain Apex Predator trapped in Maximum Productivity Society is that I have to work when the weather is gross, instead of following my natural instinct to burrow myself into something dry and soft and sleep until Optimal Foraging Conditions
Found the room with many rats
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