#after jason... we'll see

[wrydd]

when you remember the old things you watched and start looking at them with the new glasses you've got and now you're suffering on the floor because of course you'd crave the rarest of the rareships (kid bruce x alfred the fucking enabler)

[saedyne]

Batman (2016) #160

batman. are you fucking stupid??? is that even in question?!!??!?!

[starry-bi-sky]

Having thoughts about your #CFAU (it lives in my head forever) mostly about how Jason would react if he saw Danny in his ghost form and just realize the literal empty space he left when he died. And just also somehow knowing about Rath and realizing "That could be Danny... that is Danny"

me 🤝 you constantly plagued by CFAU thoughts

MAN he'd be gutted. Overwhelmed by emotions. Cuz, assuming this is the first time he's seeing Danny's ghost form + this is him just now finding out about Danny being a (half) ghost, he's got to grapple with the fact that:

his best friend died

he died because of Jason

Jason's death had such a huge negative impact on him that it's been permanently engrained into the physical representation of his soul

Danny's grief over his death was so great that it turned him into a banshee in death, and for my CFAU ghost lore, that's rare. Most banshees are Zone-born

It also turned Danny into a vengeful spirit but only on Jason's behalf

god, imagine being so loved. Jason would have to grapple with that too once it hits him, and I genuinely believe that would knock him off his feet. Imagine being so loved. He needs to go lay down, and also maybe erect a grave for Danny

AND RATH. Rath my baby <3 you're so right. Jason would be so horrified and guilt-ridden, especially if he learned that in Rath's timeline, the same time Jason that was revived was the same time Danny lost everyone. He'd blame himself so much for that.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Rent is a terrible musical and Jason will not be the first person in Gotham to voice this opinion

it's a musical that while having the backdrop of the story being about revolution against an upper class that refuses to make anyone uncomfortable. The status quo is not rocked so people with money can still relate.

The entire character cast are assholes, even the kindest of the main cast still murdered a dog and sang a catchy tune and had no remorse afterwards.

the show never really goes anywhere, character 's don't change and frankly don't care to.

It idealizes drug use and being poor, while there is a subplot for the homeless, there is no care shown for them and kind of implies a choice to be homeless.

That being said he was in the main cast as angel.

Jason is a hypocrite but is well aware of the fact unlike the rest of his family.

He doesn't choose the musical, the director did, and when he had a role time seems to slow down.

Being a vigilante, everything is fast paced, you need to get ducks in a row before one of the ducks takes out an third of the alley.

But to be able to shelf that mindset, even if only for the rehearsals it was nice.

That being said, artistic liberality is a thing.

To hell with angel going into the light peacefully, it ain't right for someone dying of a disease that can be treated.

If you wanted a show about romanticizing dying from a disease than you should go to the opera they tried to be with La bohème and tuberculosis.

No Jason is going to lasso his rage and put a pretty mask on it until he feels the need to put his own twist on a scene.

[marionluth]

The Batfam rabithole engulfed me.

Exactly what I needed. A fandom I haven't touched in more than ten years (and that has accumulated a ton of great art and writing since then) claiming half my brain space.

As if I didn't have enough WIPs going already 🫠

Yes, I'm writing an angsty, heavy, fresh-outta-the-pit-Jason-centric fic.

If that is wrong, then I don't wanna be right

[fightwing]

me scrolling the dg tag

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

Fridayz Live has such a good lineup this year that I'm heavily considering attempting to go even though I know getting tickets will be hell.

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][arranged marriage][friends to lovers][loss of virginity][unprotected p in v][just the tip][oral f! receiving][fingering][aged up][nipple play][UNDERSTAND by keshi for the fluff (trust)][petnames][ra's you little matchmaker you]

"I'm sorry, what?" Bruce's brows raise, nearly meeting his hairline as he stares at Jason, who only nods his head enthusiastically.

"Damian had a bride. Like.... They were married, had a ceremony and everything. It was actually really beautiful, I cried." Jason hums softly before extending his legs out in front of him, booted feet crossing at the ankles.

"And you want us to get this girl, why?" Tim questions, a brow raising.

"Damian's lonely." Dick states. "So... It would do him some good to be around someone he knows. Like... Properly knows."

"For his birthday." Barbara chimes in. "He's turning 19 and he's a virgin. And he's definitely not gay."

"The turtlenecks could've fooled me." Jason snickers softly, before glancing at Bruce's turtleneck, and raising a brow, almost suspiciously.

"We'll get the girl." Bruce hums.

—♱—

"Is this... a house?" Your voice is quiet, almost meek and timid as you look around at the architecture of Wayne Manor, before your eyes move towards the light switches. And you gasp.

"Lights?" You breathe out. "You have magic within your walls?"

They don't know how to react. They don't know if you're joking or if you're serially disadvantaged.

Until you let out a snort of laughter.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you." You snicker, your hands tucked into the pockets of the oversized hoodie you're wearing and you look around.

"You have a lovely home, Mr Wayne. It's lovely to see that there aren't a lot of staff." You smile. A polite, and genuine expression and Bruce damn near melts because shit, maybe Ra's picked good for Damian.

"That's the opposite of what Damian said." Bruce hums and you feel your heart nearly stop in your chest as you repeat the name.

"Damian?"

"Beloved?"

Damian's voice is a quiet murmur, the thick, wooden spined book tumbling from his limp hand as he stares at you, emerald pools wide and pink lips parted to let out the shakiest of breaths.

It feels like time stands still.

You hadn't seen him in so long. The last you can remember is waking up to the sound of screams and clashing blades, blood seeping into the Egyptian rugs that covered the floorboards and you'd found assassins slain.

Body after body after body.

He looks older. Boyish features remain but tinged with the sharpness of maturity, broad shoulders and muscles in place of lean, slender limbs. But that couldn't be anyone else.

The scent of oud and cinnamon musk clings to the air as he takes tentative steps towards you, shaky hands cupping your cheeks and making you look up at him.

You have the same mischievous eyes, your iris flecked with that metallic hue that always seemed to suit your eyes, your face still fits so perfectly in his hands. You're taller than you were, you weigh a bit more, your hips are fuller. Grabbable. There's a sensual dip in your waist that he'll be sure to explore later.

And Damian's forehead rests against yours, feeling the contact of your skin and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"I missed you." You whisper quietly, your voice filling the silent air of the foyer and Damian nods his head.

"As have I." He murmurs quietly. "More than you could imagine."

—♱—

You sit anxiously on the edge of Damian's bed and you watch as he steps out of the ensuite bathroom, steam rising from his tanned skin and rivulets of hot water dripping between the cords of his muscles. His hair is damp, a towel low on his waist before he moves towards you, standing between your thighs and he looks down at you, a hand lifting to cup your cheek.

Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, tilting your head ever so slightly, capturing his thumb between your full lips. And you watch the way that slow blush creeps up his features.

"Still so easy to fluster." You tease him softly and you watch as his eyes narrow.

"Still such a raging asshole." He retorts, before leaning forward, pressing the softest kiss against your forehead.

You lean back against the headboard, Damian's head resting on your lower belly, fingers idly tracing patterns on your hips, exposed by where the T-shirt had ridden up.

"Your head is still fat." You murmur, your voice a soft sound against the sound of Gotham's pouring rain, streets and sidewalks soaked with rain and slippery to the touch.

Bruce had given Damian the night off, and it would be a lie to say Damian doesn't intend to make the most of the night.

Whether it be losing his virginity or falling asleep in your arms like when times were... Ridiculously simpler. When his focus was taking lives and not protecting them.

"I can see the hair on your forearms." Damian mocks, and he watches as you tuck your hands behind your back, a snort of boyish laughter tumbling from his lips. He reaches behind your back, pulling your arms forward before pressing the sweetest kisses to your palms.

"I'm just kidding." He reassures quietly. "I like that you're a Sasqua—" Damian's words are cut off when you push his head back into your stomach, and you can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he's going to argue.

So you card your fingers through those raven strands, scratching his scalp lightly and you watch the way the muscles in his back relaxes, and a minty sigh leaves his lips.

"You're lucky I love you." Damian mumbles, his voice muffled by the slight pudge of your belly and your fingers halt just a bit in his hair.

"Still ?" You question, almost incredulously and Damian lifts his head, staring up at you from beneath furrowed brows.

"The years apart doesn't diminish the fact that you're my wife." Damian murmurs. "My grandfather may have been a dick but he made a good choice to make my best friend my bride."

Your heart swells and thuds. Your eyes feel the tiniest bit misty and almost immediately, your free hand reaches for the bedside lamp, switching off the light and shrouding the bedroom in shadows and silvery moonlight.

"Are you crying?" Damian asks, a tinge of humour in his voice as he sits up, your thighs tossed over his and his hands move to your cheeks.

"...no."

You sniffle, tears dropping down your flushed cheeks in fat droplets, rolling until Damian's thumbs brush them away. His hands are warm against your cheeks, palms just a bit rougher than they were and you feel the way his lips press sweet kisses to your eyelids.

"You complete me." Damian whispers. "Emotionally, not physically." He adds, almost like it needs clarification and you let out a teary snicker.

"Wow, thank you so much for clarifying that." You answer sarcastically, before your hands move to cradle his face, just like you used after a particularly hard day of training and you watch the way the moonlight illuminates his features, and you watch his eyes soften at the action.

Eyes closing to commit the sensation to memory once again and he lets out an almost unsteady breath.

Leaning forward to rest his cheek against your chest, before feeling the familiar feel of a ring that you've chosen to keep on a chain instead.

"It's felt rather... Peculiar without it." Damian murmurs under his breath, reaching for one of the drawers of his bedside table, and tugging it open, and he rifles through the bits and bobs until he finds the tiny satin satchel he was looking for.

And he opens it up, turning the light on but on a dimmer setting, before he pulls the ring out of the baggie.

A tungsten carbide wedding band, two thin gold strips on it, divided by flakes of gold and emerald, encapsulated.

Reaching for the clasp behind your neck, you slide the necklace off and remove the ring. Your wedding ring.

An ornate gold band, the centre stone being an upside down, pear-shaped emerald, accented by two diamonds on either side.

The rings had been too big for either of your fingers, so you'd simply held onto them. But now, you're both old enough.

Old enough to know that the arrangement could be nullified, and old enough to know that neither wanted that.

Damian slides your ring onto your left hand, the act so intimate as he stares up at our face, scanning for any hints of hesitance but he only sees adoration. A hopeful expression of love.

And you mimic his actions.

And there isn't a lick of doubt in his expression, not even a flicker of hesitance, just pure... Relief. Contentment. Adoration.

Damian interlocks your hands with his, enjoying the warmth of the metal against his fingers and he presses his lips against yours in a sweet, adoring kiss that lingers for far longer than one of the friendly pecks you'd give back then.

He savours the feeling of you near, his bare chest pressed against yours, only kept apart by the soft, cotton fabric between you two and he pulls back.

Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, kiss-reddened lips parted to let out sweet symphonies of quiet breaths.

And you see his pupils dilate even more in the dim light, as his hands disentangle from yours, moving to rest on the swell of your hips.

You pretend that you don't notice his shaking hands as he reaches for the edge of the T-shirt you've snatched from his closet after your shower, and you pretend that you don't notice the way those same shaky hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble while his knee slots between your thighs, kisses slowly pressed against the soft skin of your neck.

Your hands move to rest on his biceps, manicured nails tracing over the faintest of scars in his perfect flesh and you feel him gently guide you to rest back against the thick, Egyptian covers, his hands anxiously roaming along your sides.

"Does this feel good?" Damian questions softly, his lips sucking a mark into the sensitive skin right over your pulse and you swallow, nodding your head.

You wet your lips when he lifts his head, looking down at you and his muscular thigh presses against your core, feeling the way your pussy throbs against the stretchy fabric of his boxers that you'd stolen.

Damian's sweet when he's guiding your legs to rest over his broad, muscular shoulders.

Pressing sweet kisses along the flesh of your inner thighs, hands gently kneading the fat of your hips with so much reverence that it makes your toes curl.

Especially when his hands move to aid him, thumbs pressing against the puffy, plump flesh of your pussy and parting the lips, watching the way your slick and slippery folds twitch and Damian takes a deep breath.

"How much teeth do you suppose I use?" Damian questions softly, and the amount of stress that runs through your body is insane.

"None at a—or..... Oh..."

Your lips form the cutest little 'o' shape when Damian drags his tongue through your folds, juniper gaze locked on your expression that he finds as a mixture of surprised and aroused.

Your hands move to his hair, fingers carding through them affectionately. And Damian takes that as a sign that he should keep doing that. Long strokes of his tongue have your fingers clutching at his hair, brows knitting into a twitchy frown, your hips nearly bucking.

And you need to stifle a loud and pitchy gasp when he circles what he assumes to be your clit.

"Is that it?" Damian asks softly, before you nod your head, swallowing down every sound that possibly threatens to spill in the quietness of the manor.

And Damian lifts his head, locating the exact spot he just licked and committing it to memory.

"But.... Not all girls' are like... On the exact same spot.." You breathe out quietly, still trying to teach him while he's slowly flicking his tongue along your needy clit.

"I only need to know where yours is." Damian hums, the low vibration causing the pleasure in your belly to build like an accumulating wildfire. And your lashes flutter, a whine slipping past your lips as Damian sucks at your clit, teasing the little button before he lifts his head.

His chin is wet with your slick, and he spits at your hole, watching the way your pussy pulses the tiniest bit before he goes back to lapping at your clit. And one of his muscular fingers slowly push past the ring of muscle, and his brows furrow at the way you twitch around his fingers.

And your toes curl just as his finger crooks.

"Shit, shit, shit..." You whimper, your chest heaving as you feel your orgasm building and Damian adds a second finger, slowly fucking you with his digits, eyes watching the way your body shivers and shudders.

And you grab a pillow, muffling your moan as you cum around his fingers, and Damian swallows, licking up any of the mess and keeping your hips anchored with one of his forearms, resting across your pelvis.

Damian slurps, the sound is lewd and it makes your hips buck harder.

He's gentle. Licking at your clit, teasing the bud until it peeks out from beneath the hood, oversensitive and slippery against his tongue, before he lifts his head.

His chin is shiny in the moonlight that pours in and the low light of the lamp beside the bed. He peels off the towel around his waist, tossing it to the carpet into a fuzzy puddle before he watches your bleary gaze lower.

He's... Thick. Perfect in literally every way. A flushed tip, leaking beads of precum down his long shaft, a pretty and prominent vein on the underside and Damian gives himself a few shy strokes.

Not to excite himself, obviously. Just so the sound fills the silence, and he lets out a shaky breath, before he brushes his tip along your sloppy folds.

The feeling is... Surreal.

Your toes feel like when you put your lips against a TV, a muffled gasp slipping from your lips everytime his slit catches against your clit and Damian shifts, resting your legs against his thighs.

"Are you ready?" Damian asks quietly, his free hand fiddling, thumbing your clit sweetly and you nod your head.

"I'm ready." Your voice is a soft murmur. "Are you?"

And he nods his head, before notching himself at your entrance.

"Tell me if hurts." Damian instructs, before he slowly pushes into you. It's... Uncomfortable. The slightest pinch of pain, but not unbearable and your hands fist at the sheets, before Damian stops abruptly.

Taking your hands and placing the on his tightly toned lower belly, the faintest and thinnest sliver of dark hair between your palms.

"This is so you can.... Control the depth." Damian mutters.

Control.

Damian's never given that to anyone. Especially not over his own body.

And slowly, Damian pushes until his whole tip is nestled snugly inside you.

"H—...How is it?" You mutter shyly, your gaze locked on where the two of you meet, and he swallows.

"Tight... Warm... It's so wet..." Damian shudders, a cool sweat prickling across his skin. "You're so perfect."

"Would you rate it 5 stars?" You question teasingly and he lets out a laugh. A cute snort of laughter and he leans forward, his hands moving to rest on the mahogany headboard, fingers absentmindedly tracing the decadent carvings in the wood.

"4.5." Damian answers. "Because you asked me to rate it."

You watch his stomach muscles flex, his abs rippling beneath his tawny skin before the watch on his wrist beeps. And he lets out a quiet groan, looking down at you with those sweet, adoring eyes.

"I'm sorry— I—" "You don't need to explain." You reassure quietly, kissing Damian sweetly when he leans close enough and he pulls out of you.

"I'll be back before you know it, beloved."

—♱—

"Why do you smell like pussy?" Jason questions over the intercom, his voice staticky over the connection.

"How dare you?" Damian scowls, bringing his hood over his head, obscuring his face in the shadow of the fabric.

"I smell like my wife's pussy. Get it right."

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

De-aged Danny shenanigans with an adult Damian taking after his father.

Danny, about 6: *drigging through the trash*

Damian, 26: Hello? Are you alright?

Danny, whips around to look at him with glowing green eyes: hissssss

Damian, blinks: Oh, dear....Are you hungry?

Danny, suspicious:... yeth

Damian, nods: If you come with me, we can either go to a batburger down the street or my apartment a block over. I have a washer and dryer I can run your clothes through while you bathe.

Danny: Are you trying to kidnap me?

Damian: If I was, I'd be a fool to say so

Danny: mm twue...why else would you want to help me though?

Damian: one. It would be irresponsible of me to level a toddler alone, in an alley, in Gotham.

Danny, pouting: I'm not a toddler

Damian: Two. I will never hear the end of it from my siblings whether or not I help you, but it'd be more teasing than lecturing if I do help you.

Danny: Why would they do dat?

Damian: If you don't have any place to go, I might just tell you. But only if I can make sure you don't tell the wrong person.

Danny: I'm good wif secrets!

Damian, amused: We shall see. And now third and final reason. Are you aware your eyes are glowing green?

Danny, gasps and slams his eyes shut: You're not supposed to see!

Damian, softly: It's okay. I understand what that means. One of my elder brothers' eyes glow the same way. It must have been very scary for you to die

Danny, sniffling: It was... does his eyes weally glow green?

Damian: They do. His usually glow when he gets angry, is it the same with you?

Danny, now blinking blue glowing eyes at Damian: mmm? No? Green is too much bad emotion

Damian: Bad emotion?

Danny: Mad, um, strezz? No, the bigger one!

Damian: Panic or anxiety?

Danny, points at him with a bounce: Yeah!!

Damian, amused and concerned: I see

Danny: mmm let's see, um, and scared?

Damian: Interesting. Jason's eyes are usually an indicator of angry, but I know he likes to cover his fear and concern with that same anger. I shall look into it. On that note. And what does glowing blue mean?

Danny, blinks: Blue?

Damian: Yes. Did you know your eyes are glowing blue now?

Danny, shocked: No! They didn't do that before!... At least I don't think they did?

Damian: Well, they're a very pretty shade of blue.

Danny: Maybe... Maybe that's how my parents noticed...

Damian, trying not to frown: What did your parents notice?

Danny, turning his big teary eyes on Damian: That I'm not fully human anymore. They didn't notice. They never noticed!

Damian, slowly reaching out to the kid to see if he'd accept a hug: Sounds like your parents didn't deserve you.

Danny, giving into his childish instincts and flinging himself into Damian's arms to sob his little heart out: They didn't even know I died! It's not fair! I'm not weally human and it's their fault! I hate their stupid po-po- THING! It shocked me and it hurt and now I'm dead and it's their fault!

Damian: *gently rocking Danny til he tires himself out*

Danny, sniffling: It's not fair...

Damian: Something I've found is, it never is. Every stray my father has housed has had an unbearably harsh life, and I, being his blood son, was no different. My mother and her father raised me for the first ten years of my life, and I've come to understand that my childhood was not a good one. It took me a long time and a lot of patience from my eldest brother to come to realize what I was missing.

Danny: Like, Jazzy?

Damian: mm? Who's Jazzy?

Danny: My big sister. She's a big know it all, but she tries...

Damian: Well, that's-

Danny, jolts in Damian's hold: Tried! *GASP* Jazzy doesn't know mom and dad didn't kill me!! *pause* um, kill me again?

Damian: Well, we'll have to tell her, won't we? You wouldn't happen to know her full name? I can ask my family to contact her while we get you cleaned up

Danny: Yeah! Her name is Jasmine Fenton! She goes to a big big school here! That's why I came here! I just... I got lost..

Damian: That won't do

Damian, pulls out his phone and calls Barbara while starting to walk to his apartment: Gordon. I have a request.

Barbara: Yeah? Whatcha got, baby bat?

Damian: Can you look up a Jasmine Fenton? I have something she will probably want back.

Barbara: Holy shit! Is that a child??

Damian, sighs: Yes, it's her little brother. He ran away from a bad situation with his parents and got lost trying to find his elder sister.

Barbara: Alright. I'll check out her entire life to make sure she's safe to- wait. Damian, is that kid's name Danny?

Damian, realizing he never asked: One moment.

Damian, looks down at a sleepy, but curious Danny: Is your name Danny?

Danny, beams: Yeah!!

Barbara: Caught that, but, uh, Damian, Danny is supposed to be 20, not...4? 5? Not a tiny child

Damian: umm... Danny did you used to be older?

Danny, shrinks into himself and his eyes turn green: Ye-yeah... I don't know why I'm little... mommy did something and it Huuurt and hurt til suddenly I was free and I ran and hid in a bus

Damian, soothingly petting his back: Okay, it's okay, we'll figure it out.

Barbara: Take care of him for the night, we'll contact his sister tomorrow at a reasonable time. I'm not finding anything too concerning on her yet so she's probably safe

Damian: Copy that. Goodnight, Gordon.

Barbara, teasing: Goodnight, mini-Bruce!

Damian, flushes, but doesn't deny it before hanging up and glancing towards Danny: That was Barbara Gordon. A family friend. She'll help us find your sister, but you'll be staying with me for tonight.

Danny, sleepy: Okay..

Damian, slipping into his apartment lobby and going straight up the stairs, ignoring the gaping attendants: Don't fall asleep just yet. You will be fed and bathed first

Danny, huffs, but straightens up: What food?

Damian: That depends, I only really have vegetarian food so I suppose we'll have to find something you'll eat

Danny: Sam is vegetarian! I eat vegetarian sometimes with her!

Damian: hm? Very good, then it should be easier for me to feed you

Damian and Danny have a wonderful time. Danny is fed, watered, and cleaned up before being set up with a quiet sound machine to sleep. Damian has a crisis over wanting to keep Danny and suddenly understands his father's adoption habit. He sets alarms to check on Danny throughout the night, but it's otherwise uneventful.

[wrydd]

i know i shouldn't make impulsive decisions but i think i need more wally in my life

[charlotteking27]

Hi! Can I request a batfam x batmom. But batmom's not that quick to catch on, but it comes to a point where all the boys know she's pregnant, they are all treating her different. Damian (#1 momma's boy) is sucking up to her even more. So when she does announce it, everyone's like "Um we've known for a long time now..."

the secrecy

Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: You're not quick to catch your family's sudden protectiveness. So when emotions run high, you're left with a test.

Warnings: the feeling of sadness... and that's it.

"Hmm, hmmm,hmmmm, mmm"

They watched as you danced around in the kitchen, slowly humming a melody you adored and sang to the kids when they were little.

"It's kind of bittersweet, you know," Dick grinned, watching you all happy, unaware of your stalkerish kids.

"Yeah, and demon spawn here is no longer going to be the baby of the family," Jason smiled devilishly, seeing Damian frown. "How does it feel?" Jason hinted mockingly before cooing at Damian.

"Stop... teasing him," Tim bantered hysterically, trying to catch his breath, punching Jason in the arm jokingly. It was as if he didn't want him to stop, but he had to show some type of empathy, even if it was fake.

"Look, we can all agree that we need to take care of Mom," Dick interrupted, hoping to shift Jason's teasing off of Damian. They all collectively agreed for the first time ever.

𐙚

It began as a simple task, you know. Helping out more around the house.

Which also included becoming a personal chauffeur and suffering through many hours of shopping, making sure you were okay. Because they would do anything for their mom.

You arrived back at the Manor after the long and intensive grocery shopping. You parked the car inside the garage next to your husband's vast collection of cars he liked to collect. You open the trunk, glancing at the number of grocery bags there are.

Jason heard the garage opening being so close to check to see if his mother was home. On the walk to the garage, the first person he saw was Tim, and like any normal circumstance, he dragged him to the garage without any warning.

"Damn it, Jason, a little warning next time", Tim shouted out before harshly yanking his arm out of Jason's grip.

Both Jason and Tim walked out of the garage towards their mother. "Here, Ma, we'll help you.",

Jason smiled at you before gently grabbing the bags from your hand, and Tim, who took more bags from the car.

"Oh umm...thanks", honestly in that moment you didn't know how to react. I mean, your kids were usually busy saving the world or with their own lives, but you were thanktul nonetheless.

𐙚

"gosh, my feet are killing me", you groaned quietly to yourself before sitting down and rubbing your feet. "I should probably do some stretches in the morning", You coaxed on the idea. "Ugh I'm too lazy for that", You whined in the throw pillow next to you.

Dick came down from his room, it was as if he had some supersonic senses whenever you were in assistance of help. Also, he had decided to stay in the manor for an extra couple of weeks and then return to the Teen Titans.

"Here Mom, I will massage it for you", Dick grinned, making your heart melt, at the thoughtfulness of your son.

"Thank you baby, but you don’t have to do that", you assured Dick, not wanting to take so much time out of his busy schedule. But all those thoughts quickly melt away when Dick started massaging your feet…you were in paradise.

As quickly as Bruce entered, his mouth was agape at the sight before him. His son massaging his wife's feet free…what is he playing at?

"Son, why don’t you-"

Bruce began but was quickly shut down by Dick's interruption. "Dad, I am fine", Dick finished with a glare at his father. Bruce watched his wife be completely oblivious to this interaction. What can you do? Bruce sighed before leaving somewhere…anywhere but there.

𐙚

Alfred was already a big help around the manor. There was really no difference except...

As usual, everyone had dinner together as a family, you set the rule so everyone can talk about their day and get some quality time together.

"This was delicious, Alfred, thank you," You happily exclaimed to Alfred beside you. He made your favorite food.

"You're welcome, Missus Wayne", he politely said as always, refusing to call you by your first name. No matter how much you tried to convince him, these were the times he would refuse.

You had persuaded Alfred to eat with you all, because Alfred was family, no doubt about it. Although it took a long time to convince him to eat with you, because of his constant refusal. But you were not going to take no for an answer this time.

You saw Alfred getting up, so you as well stood up from your seat, hoping to return the favor.

"No Missus Wayne, there is no need to perform such duties", Alfred assured you. But you didn't listen and continued to pick up the dishes and help clean the table.

The kids could not watch you and Alfred do it all by yourselves. "Alfred where do you want these dishes", Jason asked seeing Alfred point in that direction. It became some kind of a family bonding.

Dick and Jason washed and dried the dishes, Tim was moping, Damian decided to you clean the table, and Bruce even helped sweep around.

𐙚

Finally, it was just you, I mean, can you blame yourself, your kids had become a whole new level of weird and protective.

The wonderful movie of Cinderella, you have absolutely adored the movie ever since you were a little girl, hoping to become a princess. You sighed as your favorite part came into the scene. "Gosh, so beautiful", you breathed as Cinderella twirled around and forged a magnificent dress that you only dream of wearing,

Nothing can ruin the moment; you can hardly take your eyes off the screen.

"Hello, ummie."

"Holy fuc-", you let a scream of terror, putting a hand on your chest to regulate your breathing. "Damian, what...what are you doing here?" you asked in between breaths, "we need to put a bell on you", you muttered, groaning slightly.

"I'm here to give you company", Damian flashed his teeth, sitting next to you on the couch.

"Oh baby, I um...you don't have to do that", you assured Damian, hoping he would give you some much-needed alone time. You tried to go back to your movie, already missing some scenes, but the piercing gaze watched, calculating your every moment. You found it impossible to pay attention.

"Ummie, would you ever replace me?" Damian whispered. It hurt even more when he whipped his head around, closing his eyes, afraid of seeing your reaction.

You were speechless to think that one of your kids could ever think about getting replaced. You gently grasp Damian's chin, turning it towards you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the same eyes that tried to mask that pain with fierceness.

Why would you ever think that, baby?" you sobbed, holding his hand while trying to keep the tears at bay. But nothing could ever prepare you for this moment. You grasp his body, crushing him towards you, you want to bury him in your chest, to comfort him and you.

"Why do you love me?... I am the offspring of my father and my other mother", he muttered, the pain of hiding the secret longed to leave his body, but the fear of being true weighed more. He couldn't hold it anymore and let the tears fall, sobbing uncontrollably; it was finally the breaking point. The point where he tried to hide it so hard and be the warrior that was expected of Talia.

"Dami, I have loved you since I first met, and nothing will change that", you tried to stop crying but you couldn't because of the pain he felt, he has been living with and holding the burden of not feeling loved. You held more tightly, the movie left forgotten in the night.

Despite your legs and back pain, you carried Damian gently through the Manor, stopping by your boy's room, the feeling of pain and defeat, wondering do any of your kids feel this way as well.

You joined Damian in bed, not wanting to leave him after the heartache you went through. You couldn't let down your children, not again.

𐙚

In the morning, you walked towards Bruce with a mission; you were determined to talk to him no matter his busy schedule.

"Come in".

Bruce was on the side of the room next to your vanity, in front of him a long mirror showcasing his body, as he tied his tie. Bruce saw through the mirror your anger radiating through the room, the tie forgotten as he went to you.

"Bruce, we need to talk, now." Your voice reaches its peak of authority, demanding his attention.

Bruce grasped your hand, hoping to comfort you when you needed it. "Honey, what-", you sobbed out, interrupting him before pulling your hand away, hoping to hide your face from the shame and misery you had encountered yesterday.

Long, warm arms embrace your figure, drawing you away from the floor and onto the bed. Bruce rubbed your back up and down, hoping to ease your sobbing. "Honey, what happened?" One thing Bruce had learned after being married to you was that he had to be patient.

Patiency was key between you too. He waited till your cries calmed down, only comforting you with physical touch, no words.

"Damian felt like he was replaceable", you broke out after gathering your emotions together.

You held Bruce's hand, clenching his hand as tightly as possible, waiting for his reaction. You could feel your tears running down your face slowing, wiping them away before they could drop.

"I never knew he felt like that", Bruce spoke out in disbelief, his son had felt like for god-knows how long. What kind of father was he?

You both sat silently, knowing the outcome of this situation. Although neither of you spoke, it was almost like a bond was going through you both. You both knew you had to spend more time with the children and understand them. No matter what, they had to be there as parents.

You felt your legs carry you to the bathroom, crouching down towards the toilet. Your face was stained with tears as you vomited, trying to surpass these feelings.

Bruce followed you before crouching with you as he held your hair out of your face. His face was etched with worry, hoping nothing serious was happening. You stopped vomiting, and the sound of the toilet being flushed made its way into the bathroom as you grabbed your toothbrush and started brushing.

Bruce looked under the cabinet hoping to find something to help, his eyes suddenly landed on a pack of tests. Pregnancy tests.

Bruce took out the box, inspecting it, before looking at you. He couldn't help but wonder about the signs he had missed. The vomiting, for one, is emotional, and the cravings.

You could feel Bruce's stare from a mile away, fearing the box he had in his hand did not instigate those stares. "Baby, you don't think...do you?", You were hesitant and all those whirlwind of emotions were coming back.

Bruce took your hand grasping it, assuring you. "Hey just try okay. no harm right", Bruce whispered in your ear before taking your body close to him in an embrace easing the tension.

You only nodded, the words failing to come out. You quickly grab a test before making a beeline for the bathroom. You were anxious, your hands were sweaty, and your nerves were building up as you anxiously waited for the timer to go off.

Bruce held you as much as you would allow him, trying not to show any doubt in his face in fearing of disappointing you. The timer felt slow, a pace so small, 30 seconds left but it felt like the longest 30 seconds of your existence.

Ding

Moment of truth, were you pregnant? As you flip over the test, the breath you were holding left upon seeing positive. Positive.

"I am pregnant," you cried out, happy tears, sinking to the floor and feeling Bruce try to hold you up. The tears were running wild on your face, as you held the test to your heart.

Bruce could not believe he was going to be a father again. Bruce could not stop his tears from flowing as he smiled so happily, his mouth starting to hurt.

"Oh, baby, we have to tell everyone, you were gasping between breaths at the thought of everyone's reactions, especially Damian. Would this make him angrier? More unloved? If you told the news to everyone.

As much as you wanted to question your decision more, Bruce was already calling out to his kids for a family meeting.

Your arms were crossed to your chest as you whipped your head back in forth, annoyed that Bruce couldn't have at least waited 5 minutes. The only reaction he gave upon seeing the annoyed look was a scratch on his neck before dashing out of the room, like a child.

" A Child", you mumbled to yourself, hearing Bruce laugh from the hallway.

𐙚

All the kids sat in the living room, anxiously waiting why their father to call a family meeting. Which of the kids screw up, who would take the blame, and who would get grounded.

"Alright Jason, you might as well confess", Dick accused Jason. He roughly shoved Jason's shoulder, knocking him off the couch.

In crazy hand gestures, "Why do I always get blamed?!!" Jason yelled out in anger, believing he was being targeted by his brothers again.

"What do you mean...you cause the most trouble?" Tim nodded his head at Jason, knowing it was a fact that Jason caused the most fights and stress for his parents.

"Well...Well, demon-spawn has been silent this whole time, who to say he did not cause this mess-", Jason pointed his finger at Damian hoping to divert the attention away from him.

Damian barely acknowledges him, the silence weighing on the situation at hand. The boys were concerned to stay the least, it was unusual for Damian to be so quiet, but for him to show this rare emotion of sadness, it was strange...

Before the boys could ask any questions regarding Damian's state, their parents walked.

"The fuck-", Jason spoke out letting out a audible gasp at the sight. His father was...smiling. "Yeah, Dad, hate to break to you, but you look really creepy with your smile, so please stop", Jason demanded, covering his face with his hand. It was a sight to see for sure.

The kids were all shocked to see their parents all smiley and happy.

"Could have sworn someone was going to get in trouble", Tim pointed out with his arm crossing over his chest.

Bruce put his hand out in front of him, silencing the kids.

"We have some news", You smiled practically bouncing on your toes. You couldn't wait to see their reactions, You wanted all the kids to be comfortable with this change, especially Damian after the conversation from last night. It was still replaying like a broken CD.

"I AM PREGNANT!!!"

You looked at the kids seeing some mixed reactions. Jason's face was neutral not a single emotion you could hinder on his face. Dick grinned joyfully at the news clapping his hand excitedly. Tim smiled but the look behind his eyes portrayed many emotions including happiness. Damian was the last face you saw, not because he was the youngest or how he sat farther away from everyone else. No, you were petrified of the emotions displaced on his face.

Damian flashed a quick smile before rushing up from the couch, standing, racing towards you in a bone-crushing hug. You wrapped your arms tightly around your youngest, never wanting to leave this fleeting moment. The sight of Damian's tears running freely down his face stung your heart, letting out a quiet sob.

You felt many pairs of arms around you, and Damian, the arms of your kids and your husband, like a protective embrace, blocking out the evils that dare to impair you.

But the moment was quickly interrupted, "Ma, I...no we have to tell you something", Jason nervously wiped his hand on his pants hoping to get rid of the sweat that was building on.

Dick felt a pair of eyes on him, he looked around the room and behind the wall was none of them...Alfred. Alfred looked him dead in the eye, signaling him to confess the secret. Dick looked back at you, pretending he didn't just see Alfred side-eye him.

"Mom we-", Dick began but quickly stopped looking for some help.

"Ummi-, Damian began to speak before...

"Mom, um, we've known for a long time now...," Tim finished telling the secret to his brother. Can't count on his brothers to spill the secret to their mother, so you have to do it yourself.

"What..how?!", you exclaimed loudly, tearing your arms out of Bruce's embrace. How could the kids have known before you? Is that why they've been acting differently?

Bruce struggled to comprehend the boy's secret. How could they have known before him? He is the best detective, and he couldn't even tell his wife was pregnant before his own kids.

"The fuck", Bruce spoke out, finally having some kind of reaction and then staring at his kids with all these mixed reactions. It was the first time you had seen Bruce portray so many emotions.

"Master Bruce, please mind your language," Alfred said, coming out from behind the walls like nothing had happened and continuing to dust the manor.

[petalbcrnes]

﹅ WRAPPED IN RED ◞ j. todd ✗ gn!reader | 1.2k

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend's wish of seeing you in his clothes finally comes true!

✹ ꕀ MASTERLIST ; AO3

A/N: This is a re-write of an old piece + v dear to my heart and I couldn't let it go c: still figuring out the layout of my posts, we'll get there<3 there's a little something near the end for you guys!

In the tangled web of a relationship, the couple shows and tells their affections in all kinds of different ways. Sometimes, it's the soft but sickly sweet way their touch lingers on one's skin. Sometimes, it's the saccharine taste that is left in one's mouth after a shared kiss.

Sometimes, it's as simple as a piece of one's clothing on their partner.

It's something Jason never gave a single thought to. Until you showed up. With your honeyed gaze and sunshine grin, the delicate touch grazing his skin as you handle him like glass. The thought of you in clothes that belonged to him lit a fire on his skin. In every crevice, thoughts of you reside. Thoughts of you wrapped in his signature color, red.

Unfortunately, he hasn't had the luck to see you hugged by that ruby-red. Not even a sweater in cold weather, not even a t-shirt on lazy days when both of you stay at home, tangled in one another.

Even now, as the marigold rays of the sun peek through the vanilla curtains, hitting the cloud-like softness of your shared bed, he stares at you getting dressed, waiting for something he knew he needed but couldn't even muster the courage to ask you.

It's the everyday domestic tenderness he takes comfort in. Your brows furrowed, focused as you sift through different pieces of clothing that lay messy around the room. His own red leather jacket barely covers his frame.

“Maybe something more light,” you murmur, turning on your heel to show him the two blouses hanging from your hands. “What do you think?”

In his mind, you could wear either of them; you'd still look flawless. He could say that, but he knows you need an answer.

“Ditch them both,” he answers as he props himself in the palm of his hand, “that's my expert opinion.”

A mix of shock and embarrassment floods your flushed face. “You’d have me ditch the pants too, wouldn’t you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Never mind,” you click your tongue as you finally choose the rosy-colored blouse, bringing it close to your torso.

Not yet close enough.

He moves closer, wrapping his arms around you. You melt into his hold but panic as he leaves pecks at the corner of your lips. You can't help but give him a dopey grin.

“Jason, c’mon,” you giggle, trying to break free from his grasp, “you’ll smudge the lipstick!”

He settles you in his arms as his head lays on your shoulder, holding your gaze. It doesn’t seem like he plans on letting you go soon.

You shuffle again, hand reaching for the peach-colored lipstick. A glint of light reflecting from the lampshade twinkles in your eyes. A sight he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from.

The outfit you chose lays undisturbed on the bed. The light rosy-colored silky fabric contrasts with the milky white of the sheets.

You had picked your outfit for the night after many hours of contemplating, and glares sent his way after another failed try of voicing his opinion about your outfit of choice.

Much to his dismay, you don’t plan on going out with him naked on the date you both planned for weeks.

“I’m still sticking with my suggestion,” he shifts to lay on the bed, mindful of the silky fabric of your clothing.

You huff, cheeks flushing a deep red, a look he enjoys and basks in seeing.

A little closer.

♥︎ ♥︎

♥︎

Maybe it’s the way you cling onto him for warmth, or maybe how your hands dig into his pockets, searching for his hands, but he doesn’t even feel a tinge of the rainy and cold Gotham weather. The single touch of your hands on his has him hungry and starving for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you and your frustrated tries to keep warm. The cold air hits his face, but he doesn’t feel it, the warmth rushing to his cheeks, protecting him.

Walking down the road, lit with neon signs and a few lampposts, you two finally reach the destination of your long-awaited date.

Moving into the small but cozy café, both of you take your seats. He leaves his jacket hanging from his seat. The scarlet-colored leather looks out of place at such a place. Jason gives you a quick peck on the cheek, moving to take your orders.

Coming back, he spots that his jacket is gone, not left on the seat but wrapped around your shoulders.

Your shoulders. Your hands grip the jacket closer as you curl into the leather even more, taking in the warmth and feel of him.

Red. On you. His red.

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckle. “It’s still cold, even in here.” You notice his gaze on the fabric hugging your frame. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh,” he stammers, “no—not at all.” Taking a seat opposite you, he listens as you go on about the last few days. He can’t help but give all his attention to the red that you bring closer to yourself—the red you tangle yourself in.

Jason doesn’t respond much, letting your voice settle over him like a lullaby. The words become secondary, drowned out by the soft sound of your voice. His focus remains on the way your fingers absently run along the lapel of his jacket, the way you unconsciously pull it closer around yourself when a draft rolls through the café.

His jacket never looked so good.

And it’s so simple, so small, yet he feels something settle deep in his chest, like an ache but not quite pain. More like a longing, like a silent plea.

You’re his.

The thought strikes him like lightning, making him sit up straighter. He’d always known it, in a way. It’s in the way you kiss him, in the way you fit against him in sleep, in the way you argue with him but never walk away.

But seeing you in his jacket—his red, his mark, his silent claim—feels different. It’s a primal, gut-deep kind of satisfaction that he’s never quite experienced before.

You must feel his eyes on you because you pause mid-sentence, tilting your head. “What?”

He shakes his head, clearing his throat, looking down at the coffee he barely remembers ordering. “Nothing.”

Your brows furrow in suspicion, but you let it go. For now.

The rest of the evening passes in a comfortable blur of conversation, laughter, and stolen glances. You wear his jacket the whole time.

And when it’s finally time to leave, stepping out into the cool Gotham night, you don’t return it to him. You just snuggle further into it, fingers tightening around the worn leather as you shiver.

Jason doesn’t ask for it back.

He wouldn’t dare.

Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. The city lights cast a golden glow on your face, highlighting the softness in your eyes as you glance up at him.

It’s then that he decides he wants to see you in his clothes more often.

A hoodie, maybe. Or one of his t-shirts, worn and soft from too many washes. Maybe even the sweatpants he keeps shoved in the back of his dresser.

Maybe even—someday—his ring on your finger.

But for now, the jacket is enough.

For now, red suits you just fine.

© petalbcrnes | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified.

[sangunary]

- Hush now crybaby.

Yandere batfam x ghost Reader!

IMP: Little scenarios that happened after your death. This is a little scenario from my previous story 'Hush now crybaby' :3.

It was around midnight, Tim was still awake as he was trying to ignore his guilt by over working himself.

*Tim who was drinking coffee for the sixth time after dinner*

GhostReader: "I already told you to not substitute water for coffee!"

Tim screaming at the top of his lungs because not only did his dead siblings suddenly appeared infront of him to scold him... Their voice was.. extremely unpleasant and he was high on coffee.

After Tims award winning scream the whole family was awaken from their slumber, hurriedly went downstairs just to see Tim in a fetal position on the ground.

Dick: "Oh God! Little bird what happened?!"

Tim: "It's not my fault coffee taste better!"

Jason: "This is likely the result of being high on coffee, meth is better"

Damian inside his room, a ouija board and your favourite teddy besides him.

Damian: "Listen carefully, You will get inside this Teddy and make us happy again"

GhostReader: "Why can't you just start a conversation like a NORMAL PERSON??"

Minutes later Damian was playfully bullying Reader to go inside the Bear.

Dick who was weeping on his bathroom floor for dramatic effect holding Reader's clothes in his arm's.

Dick: "Oh God, im a terrible older brother... I don't deserve to live... My baby im so sorry it should have been me instead of you..."

GhostReader: "I can't tell if he's mourning me or using this opportunity to rehearse for his acting career...."

Dick who was still mumbling and crying really hard leaving a very visible wet stain onto the dress.

GhostReader: "Even for you this is really pathetic and hard to watch... Im getting uncomfortable I must leave"

Jason introducing the whole family to the outlaws because they kept on insisting.

Jason: "And my favourite rat... Reader"

Arthemis: "Aw, she's cute... Im so sorry for what happened. I wish I could see her"

Jason: "Oh don't worry... Cause she's right here"

Jason pointing at a random corner of the room with full confidence.

Arthemis whispering to Roy.

Arthemis: "I didn't knew mourning makes you delusional"

GhostReader: "Im actually over here Jay"

Roy: "Oh my fucking God! That is the BIGGEST rat I've ever seen in my life!"

During any celebration or event Reader love's to ruin the photo one way or another... She found it hilarious but it's really creepy.

Bruce: "Perfect... We'll hang it on the wal- We need to retake this"

Reader who ruined the picture by merging with Bruce in the picture.

Tim: "THAT was the sixth time! We're going to die if we have to keep smiling like this!"

GhostReader: "I thought I looked really good in the picture..."

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

The manor is cold, silent as a tomb, and for once, it feels like a fitting home. You lie still on the bed, too small and fragile in the heavy, towering room. They all gather around you, each staring in shock, faces pale, breaths shallow—as if hoping that, by holding their breath, they might somehow trade their own life to coax warmth back into your cold form.

Bruce’s hand hovers over you, hesitant. His calloused fingers, so accustomed to war and violence, seem clumsy when they brush against your cheek. He trembles, silent, fighting against the whirlwind in his chest, his stoic mask cracked beyond repair. “I promised to keep you safe,” he whispers, his voice breaking in a way none of them have ever heard before. “I promised… and I failed you.” His hand, heavy with the weight of every failure, drops to his side, useless.

Dick’s hands cover his mouth, choking on a sob that won’t stay hidden. He’s the eldest, the one who was supposed to know better, to set the example. But he looks at you now, his eyes red and raw, remembering each time he walked past you, too busy laughing with others to notice you slipping away. “Why didn’t I tell you…?” he whispers, agony etched across his face. “Why didn’t I show you that you were loved?” The words fall into the silence, lost, and he knows you’ll never hear them now.

Jason kneels beside the bed, clutching your lifeless hand in his, as if he can pull you back with sheer force. His shoulders shake, his body radiating rage, despair, regret. His lips tremble as he remembers the countless times he shrugged off your gaze, ignored the quiet plea in your eyes. He thought he was sparing you from his darkness, protecting you from the world. But now he sees it for what it was—neglect, cold and unkind. He bows his head, the unbreakable Red Hood shattered, silent tears falling onto your still fingers.

Tim stands back, his face white, hands trembling as he presses his fists to his sides. The detective, the genius, who noticed everything—except you. He let the days slip by, assuming there’d always be more time, that you’d understand he was busy, preoccupied with saving the world. But now, as he watches the life drained from you, he feels a pang in his chest sharp enough to cut through bone. “I should’ve been there,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “I should’ve been a brother to you…” He stares at you, eyes rimmed with despair, the guilt hollowing him out from within.

Damian’s usual steel has melted into something unrecognizable. He doesn’t know how to touch you, where to place his hands, and the hesitation makes him feel powerless in a way he’s never known. He’d prided himself on being stronger, colder, above such weakness—but now, faced with your absence, he finds himself wishing he’d let you in, softened just a little. “You… you weren’t supposed to…” He can’t even finish, his words broken. He reaches out, almost unwilling, to touch your hand, flinching when it’s cold. His lips press into a thin line as he tries to hold back tears, but they fall, betraying the ache he’d been too proud to acknowledge.

They stay by your side, each of them reliving every lost opportunity, every moment they could have held you close and didn’t. Days pass, blurred, and they linger in the same room, surrounded by memories of what should have been.

When Alfred brings them food, they push it away. They can’t bear the thought of comfort while you lie there, untouched by life. They whisper to you, sometimes out loud, promising things they can’t ever deliver: "We'll make it up to you…we’ll fix this." But no voice answers back.

Driven by desperation, Bruce turns to ancient books, rumors, magic, anything that offers a hint of hope. He works night after night, chasing the impossible. The others follow him, each digging into their own corners of madness, driven by the need to correct what they destroyed. But every ritual fails, every lead falls cold. And the bitter truth gnaws deeper: there is no cure for regret, no resurrection from guilt.

The night finally falls silent, and they’re left alone with you, as if the universe itself mourns. Each of them curls beside you, their heads on the bed, hands on your arm, your hand, your chest, wherever they can cling to you, trying to pretend for one last moment that you’re still there. They hold on, eyes shut, whispering prayers to a god who’s deaf to their pain.

When morning breaks, none of them rise. They stay beside you, unwilling to face a world that doesn’t have you in it. They’ve lost you, their last chance to be the family they should have been, and they know now they’ll never be whole.

(A/n: no one asked and I also didn't but INSPIRED BY DIS IDEA FROM @steor-ra ILY BESTFRIEND BUT PLEASE UPDATE 💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

[justaz]

I beg. Please. Reread the books. I need the reliance on fanon to stop. Canon is right there.

No one “debated saving Nico”. They all agreed immediately to save him:

When Percy was dreaming of Nico trapped in the jar he said: “‘Nico,’ Percy said, ‘where is this place? We'll save you....’” - Literally the first time he sees Nico, he decides that they’re going to save him

Then after Percy tells everyone at the table, their reaction is: “‘The giants are trying to lure us," Annabeth said. ‘They're assuming we'll try to rescue him.’ / ‘Well, they're right!’ Hazel looked around the table, her confidence apparently crumbling. ‘Won't we?’ / ‘Yes!’ Coach Hedge yelled with a mouthful of napkins. ‘It'll involve fighting, right?’ / ‘Hazel, of course we'll help him,’ Frank said. ‘But how long do we have before... uh, I mean, how long can Nico hold out?’” - Of course Hazel agrees immediately, as does Coach Hedge and Frank

After discussing the seeds, Piper says: “‘That's not much time,’ Piper summed up. She put her hand on Hazel's shoulder. ‘We'll find him. At least we know what the lines of the prophecy mean now. 'Twins snuff out the angel's breath, who holds the key to endless death.' Your brother's last name: di Angelo. Angelo is Italian for 'angel.'’” - Piper agrees immediately and brings up the prophecy which reaffirms the importance of Nico and a key part he plays in the quest, which means they need to save him

Percy introspection and final vocal agreement: “Percy stared at his jelly donut. He had a rocky history with Nico di Angelo. The guy had once tricked him into visiting Hades's palace, and Percy had ended up in a cell. But most of the time, Nico sided with the good guys. He certainly didn't deserve slow suffocation in a bronze jar, and Percy couldn't stand seeing Hazel in pain. ‘We'll rescue him,’ he promised her. ‘We have to. The prophecy says he holds the key to endless death.’” - Which is the set up for what people are actually in such an uproar about, the questioning of Nico’s loyalty even though the question is completely valid as Percy points out here. Nico is more a rogue agent, he does his own thing like when he lured Percy down to the Underworld to receive information about his mother. Sure he didn’t know what Hades would do, but Percy didn’t know there was a deviation to the plan in the first place - a plan in which he was already risking his life, trusting in Nico only to be betrayed even if Nico didn’t mean for it to be one.

Argo II scoreboard right now is 5/8 vocally agreeing to save him, no matter what the rest say, the votes are in favor of a rescue mission, especially with the importance the prophecy places on Nico. The only ones who haven’t vocally agreed to save him are Annabeth, Leo, and Jason.

Leo starts the vocal questioning of the safety and security of the plan: “‘Uh...’ Leo shifted in his chair. ‘One thing. The giants are expecting us to do this, right? So we're walking into a trap?’ / Hazel looked at Leo like he'd made a rude gesture. ‘We have no choice!’” - Leo is simply questioning the plan and Hazel reacts viscerally because she’s so focused in on Nico being in danger that the slightest hesitation seems like a worse problem than it is. Nothing against Hazel, I’d react the same way if it was my brother, but still Leo never said “let’s not save this emo loser” he’s just saying that there is a clear threat posed here that they’re walking right up to

Leo and Jason voice the same opinion: “‘Don't get me wrong, Hazel. It's just that your brother, Nico... he knew about both camps, right?’ / ‘Well, yes,’ Hazel said. / ‘He's been going back and forth,’ Leo said, ‘and he didn't tell either side.’ / Jason sat forward, his expression grim. ‘You're wondering if we can trust the guy. So am I.’” - They don’t question saving him, they question the plan and Nico’s loyalty. For good reason. Again, Nico is established more as a rogue agent. Who’s to say he didn’t side with the giants and is in cahoots with them to lure the Seven into this trap for Gaea to bring Bianca or his mother back? They’re pointing out concerns and questions, it’d be idiotic to go into this situation with a half-baked plan and no backups if they don’t consider all possibilities and Nico’s loyalty has always been up in the air which is a huge red flag in this situation

Climax of the “debate”: “Hazel shot to her feet. ‘I don't believe this. He's my brother. He brought me back from the Underworld, and you don't want to help him?’ / Frank put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Nobody's saying that.’ He glared at Leo. ‘Nobody had better be saying that.’ / Leo blinked. ‘Look, guys. All I mean is-‘ / ‘Hazel,’ Jason said. ‘Leo is raising a fair point. I remember Nico from Camp Jupiter. Now I find out he also visited Camp Half-Blood. That does strike me as... well, a little shady. Do we really know where his loyalties lie? We just have to be careful.’” - And then Hazel blows up and storms off. Frank reassured Hazel that no one was saying that then gave Leo the push to make it clear that wasn’t what he was saying and that’s what Leo was going to do (clarifying his point) before Jason cuts in and defends Leo from the offense that Hazel is on. He reaffirms that they’re just questioning his loyalty, they have to be careful when going to rescue him, they never said they would leave him to suffocate and rot.

Please stop this propaganda and reread the books or at least the wiki. I swear fanon has y’all in a goddamn chokehold.

Anyways, here’s the apology scene so y’all will maybe shut up:

“‘…Sometimes demigods make bad choices.’ He looked sheepishly at Hazel. ‘Like sometimes we're too suspicious. And we speak without thinking.’ / Hazel stared at him. Slowly it seemed to dawn on her that he was apologizing. / Jason elbowed Leo. / ‘Ow!’ Leo yelped. ‘I mean, yeah...bad choices. Like not trusting people's brothers who, you know, might need saving. Hypothetically speaking.’” - Apologizing for being suspicious and not trusting Nico, not apologizing for not wanting to save him, apologizing for their suspicious words against Nico’s loyalties hurting Hazel

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 03.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, mention of blood, inaccurate medical talk, not proofread

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: i finally got the time to finish this, once exams are over I'll make the necessary edits. enjoy :)

wc: 5.3k

fic masterlist. previous. next

dividers by @cafekitsune

"that is not a wound."

"its a cut."

"not deep enough to come to me!"

"i thought you said we were friends— is that how you treat your friends hm?" red mused, though his modulated voice is supposed to be monotonous and blank, you've learned to really listen. and you could hear the amusement rolling off of him just like the easy sarcasm that trickles from his tongue.

its been more than a month since red hood came stumbling down your balcony, literally, and from then he's been coming too often. well too often for someone like him. you had thought that would have been the end of your interactions with the infamous vigilante— but life has a need to always prove you wrong.

sometimes he comes twice a week, sometimes he doesn't come a whole week— it was never steady. he came whenever he felt like it. about now you're certain that instead of 'help' , that he could basically get from his other vigilante... colleagues, he simply uses his injuries as an excuse. sometimes his wounds aren't even that bad! just a scratch or a graze, something he could so easily fix himself.

but, in the past days you've gotten to know him, he'd rather die than admit he enjoys your company.

"now you wanna admit we're friends huh?" you scoffed as your rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath as you walked to the bathroom to get the kit. you were in a particularly ruined mood since you were just about to head to sleep when he rudely and loudly jumped into your apartment through your balcony.

he's more relaxed on your couch now, one arm on the arm rest while the other rested on the back of the couch, his legs spread. you paused infront of him then scoffed before glaring, kicking his feet lightly.

"is a wounded man supposed to sit that relaxed? at least pretend it hurts." you sit beside him and wait with an impatient frown as he rolls off his jacket. the cut is on his bicep, which he deliberately flexes when you look at the cut.

"it doesn't hurt, i have a good tolerance for pain, sunshine." he utters the pet name mockingly and your glare deepens, "it just needs medical attention. you're the one who always says to 'take care'."

you're almost baffled at how teasing and sarcastic he's gotten, he was guarded in the beginning, still sarcastic but more short and reserved. though you'll admit, it feels nice that he feels comfortable enough around you now.

the same goes for you too, you were cautious around him. mindful of your words and tone, barely commenting on the daily shit that goes in gotham, scared that you'd somehow offend the vigilante with a wrong opinion.

now you glared outright, you scolded more— but you even smiled more, treated him normal enough... like an old friend. it felt refreshing, this sense of normalcy with you. maybe because you weren't a vigilante which most people were in his life, or maybe because you were still untainted from the worst horrors of gotham— he doesn't know. all he knows is that he intends to hide this little something he's found, he cannot leave it he knows, far too selfish for that. so he'll keep you hidden from the people from his world, keep you safe from the claws of the crimes.

"right." you rolled your eyes before cleaning the wound, being more firmer than you should and he simply smiles under the helmet. his lack of response, not even a flinch irriates you further so you dress the wound tight, trying to be aggressive.

"you do know its morally wrong to torment a patient." he murmured and you gave him a pointed look, acting like you're done with him. "it is about to be 3 in the morning red. i have work." you remind him, hoping he catches the hint to not irk you further.

"you never told me about your job. what do you do?" he skirts right past your thinly veiled threat and you sigh before tucking in his bandage properly.

"neither have you." you said pointedly before sighing, "animations. its an entry level position right now. but i also do personal projects on the side." you reply still as you clean up, moving around the apartment.

he leans ahead, intrigued to get to know more about you finally, "and you like it? your job i mean."

"well... its hectic yeah, sometimes too much to make me wonder if its all worth it." you shrug as you head to the kitchen and opened your fridge, "but i think everyone with a job thinks that at one point. so its normal. animation is something i loved so it evens out the frustration of work."

you put the tub of ice cream on the counter before fetching a spoon. as he watches from the couch he realises he never steps in your apartment further than the living room, only till the couch and then out. at first he was... simply keeping distance, the rational self in him telling him to keep himself as untangled as possible.

but now he wants to delve deep, to see your life, to see when you're happy— or sad, what you do when you have nothing better to do. its a curiosity he convinces himself, just that.

and even though he knows it dangerous to keep crossing the boundaries he set for himself, he can't help but say why not just this once? blind leap of faith, something that has always disappointed him, something he never does yet he still wants to try.

he gets up and walks in your kitchen and you gulp down the ice cream quickly before waving your hands to stop him and he immediately freezes, wondering if he made a mistake.

"red! your boots!" you pointed out with a grimace, that were caked with dust and mud, "i didn't say anything about them before because you're always hurt and in a hurry— but not in the kitchen please." you plead as politely as possible, you hoped you didn't come off as too nitpicky or high maintenance but you just can't stand shoes in your apartment.

for a minute he just stares, and you try to discern what he's feeling from those slits in his helmet. then he barks out a laugh, leaning a hand against the wall and doubling over.

"shit– my bad." he does not sound apologetic at all though, and your brows furrow as you fail to see how its so funny, "what?"

"nothing. you just—" he paused as he stifles another laugh, taking off his boots carefully before walking to the balcony and keeping them there. he walked back in the kitchen and leaned against the counter beside you, "i wouldn't have been offended even if you said that when i first came here."

he saw how bothered you looked to see him walking with his dirty boots in your apartment, like literally appalled and he just wonders how had you kept in that request for so long?

"it felt a bit wrong to ask a bleeding man to take off his shoes first." you shrugged before digging in the tub, licking the ice cream right off the spoon and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to not follow that action.

"if you don't mind me asking-" you began as you paused, pushing a stool towards him before sitting on one yourself, "you might. since this might be encroaching all that secret vigilante thing." you said hesitantly, giving him an unsure smile before looking away as you carefully worded the question.

"so do you know all the vigilantes? like personally?" you questioned and he released a breath because he honestly thought you'd ask about his identity and he'd have to leave, "like i do see the news time to time, hear things but you're the source so....?"

you looked genuinly curious, no ill intent. just someone who's curious about his life like that of a friend's.

he shuffled on his seat, clearing his throat and you feared you asked wrong, "its not necessary to answer of course."

"i know." he reassured quietly before shrugging, "yeah i do. our interests, kicking gotham's criminal's ass and keeping citizen safe aligns so yes i do know them." he explains as vaguely as possible, carefully wording it and you know it.

"so who's better?" you ask and he blinks.

"what? in who?"

"you and nightwing."

now he's the one who's appalled. the simple question makes him spiral to a whole world of overthinking. his ego might not be able to handle the unfavorable answer.

"wha— the hell is that question?" he scoffed and you shrugged, taking another spoon of ice cream, unbothered. "of course im better!"

"are you sure?"

he knows he doesn't need to take off the mask to get the glare through, you know he's glaring by the way you cheekily laugh, "geez what a fragile ego."

"what, you his fangirl or something?" he scowls and you heartily laugh at that, shaking your head.

"im no vigilante's fan, red. but you can't blame me for wondering you know?" you teasingly nudged his leg with your foot, "alright another question."

"since when did this become a one sided 20 questions?" he grumbled as he folded his arms, wishing for once he did not have the helmet on so he could actually glare at that innocently charming face.

"since you decided to be a little wuss." you cheekily retorted before leaning in towards him, taking the sleeve of your tshirt in your fingers, you rubbed the grime off his helmet. you don't know why but you liked to see it spotless.

while you went back to being unbothered, eating your ice cream like a fucking brat, his heart damn near exploded. did you just do that? it felt more on his skin than it was on the metallic helmet. he forgot to even breathe for a second, still processing— and then getting mildly irritated at the fact that somewhere in his heart he yearns for you to do it again. its stupid, he tells himself, someone he's known for a just a month— someone innocent.

again, painting himself as the darkness that would snuff out the light in you.

"don't do that." he said, sharper than intended, letting his own overthinking get him. you freeze, your hand suspended in air before you awkwardly yet quickly drop the spoon in the almost empty bucket and tuck your hair behind your ear.

"ah my bad."you said, and suddenly it was harder to smile. and he realised he did it again, pushed someone away again. its for the better he tells himself, this would have happened anyway.

"im sorry—"

"its fine." he cuts you off before getting up, "i should probably leave— city doesn't save itself now does it?"

you were a bit stunned, he hadn't acted like this yet in the times he's visited. it was unnerving to not know how to act, how to tackle this side of him because you didn't quite like the distance that suddenly found its way between you both. you know he is a vigilante, has enemies— tons of 'em, and there's always a good chance that prolonged association with him could get you wind up in all that. it could get messy, it could get dangerous. you wanted nothing to do with danger. you just wanted to lead a simple life which was already too much to ask from gotham.

"take care." and yet you called out behind him, even though he already disappeared. the idea that you somehow offended this new friend of yours, someone you had steadily grown to like— didn't sit quite well with you. you suppose he doesn't like to be touched, of course. that was a bit creepy maybe.

you sighed as you went back to kitchen, putting away everything. you push red to the back of your mind, convincing yourself with that shitty saying that— everything happens for the best.

its a pitiful attempt at consolation, but life moves on.

you sigh as you open the door to your apartment, taking off your heels before walking in. blind dates really don't work for you anymore, not that it ever did actually. you never click with the other person, and somehow they always turn out to be somewhat of an asshole.

today was yet another failed date, boring one. the man chipped away at your braincells one by one as he literally chattered away about his 'big shot position at that big shot firm'— you don't know what it was, you stopped paying attention twenty minutes in.

sometimes you blame yourself, that maybe your standards are too high, you're being the one who's too reserved or shallow— but then your father's voice rings in your ears, 'never ever in your life settle for someone who doesn't make you feel seen and heard from day one.' your parents really had set the bar high for you.

you went into your room and threw your purse on the bed before taking off your coat, it drizzled a bit. your hair's a bit damp but somehow it makes you look more pretty.

sigh, all that effort down the drain.

oh wait! you remembered you were supposed to call your friend, fill her in about about this disaster. you quickly dialed her number in, tapping your foot as you waited, your eyes mindlessly checking your nails.

"it didn't go well did it?" she groaned lightly into the phone and you huffed out a smile, she was so quick to catch on. not that it was hard to, you ended the date pretty quickly.

"yeah.. im sorry but god he was just— not it." you explained with a scrunch of your nose as you press the phone in between your ear and shoulder while taking off your bracelet.

"there's nothing to apologise for, if he ain't it, he ain't it. there's always more to choose from. endless fishes, pretty." she tries to weasel a joke and your lips quirk up fondly, of course she's trying to make her feel better.

"im not sad so you can drop it. he wasn't an eye candy either that I'd feel bad."

"he was loaded."

"i'd be too one day." you retort with a chuckle pretending to be offended when she snorts. you get to your earrings, unclasping one and you gather it in your hand, about to keep it on your vanity—

CRASH!

you jolted, almost dropping your earring and unfortunately dropping your phone too. you cursed loudly, that phone is really gonna die on you at this point.

suddenly two sharp knocks rattled through your house, and they sounded less woody. they came from the balcony you realised. you hurriedly pick up your phone before running to your living room.

that sounded hurried. he never even knocks! but why was he literally banging on the glass?! its not even past midnight—

"hey are you okay?!"

"uh- i— yeah im—"

your breath catches in your throat as you stop dead in your tracks to see the glass sliding doors of your balcony with a bloody handprint, really selling the horror element right now. red hood was knelt down and you could see how hard he was heaving— his body was literally shaking with each breath he took.

your voice closed up in your throat for a second, all the air vanishing into the black hole that suddenly appeared in your lungs.

blood. blood. blood. blood—

you blink your eyes to tear yourself out of it, taking an inaudible deep breath. small wounds and trickle of blood do not unsettle you, not anymore. but anything beyond a cut, beyond mere drops of blood— it brings back the broken little girl in you.

"i— i'll call back yeah?" you hurriedly whispered before hanging up your phone, throwing it on the couch before rushing to slide open the door.

"red? red— fuck are you—" you bite your tongue as you physicslly stop the stupid question from getting blurted out as you knelt down, your hands immediately on his shoulder as you tilted your head down.

christ— even his helmet has a fucking crack.

"red? red say something please." all you got was his haggered breathing and a lousy gesture to the couch, you heard him mumble something but it sounded more like a grunt.

you pull back and your gaze scrutinize him, well as best as it can in the minimum light provided. he is bruised black and blue, you don't see it over all that armour and jacket, which by the way, is ripped, he is also losing blood. way too much.

blood. blood. blood. blood—

"alright no pressure at all." you whispered, voice tight with anxiety as you hawl him up on his feet, his arm over your shoulder while your hand held his waist.

"ugh— easy!" he scolded in his haggard voice and both of you almost stumble due to his overpowering weight on you.

"im trying!" you hiss back, taking a deep breath as you drag him inside. you were gentler, but really the situation had you freaked out, you were almost blanked out and mostly working on autopilot. "don't you die in my apartment. i can't handle the fucking gcpd and batman on my ass." that was your attempt at some humour. to lessen the burden of your anxiety or his, you weren't really sure at the moment.

he had noticed your attire, even in the moment of haze and fatigue, he noticed the singular earring hanging from your ear, dressed up with make up on rather than the oversized he's used to see. it doesn't take a genius to guess it was for a date. maybe that put him in an even more foul mood.

but then he realises the time, its early to be back home from a dinner date. he visits at ungodly hours but today, due to unsavory altercation, he had to turn up so early and unexpected. so he summarizes, all on his own, the date didn't go quite well.

and despite the pain he is in, it puts a fucking smirk on his face. he even leans more on you, he knows he would need to unpack whatever he's feeling, but thats a tomorrow problem.

you slowly put him down on the sofa and stagger back, panting heavily as you put a hand on your hip. that took out a lot of energy from you and you realised just how inactive you are, which is concerning considering you're a citizen of Gotham. you need to be prepared to run for the hills at the slightest hint for danger.

hearing him cough snaps you out of your reverie and you immediately get about your apartment, closing the draps, turning on the light before dashing to the bathroom. you really, really hope its not something out of your limited experience. you don't even care that he ghosted you for two weeks— you just want him alive, probably intact. you honestly do not have the stomach— or the mental state for something bloodier than a graze right now.

but surprise, surprise— its a wound on the shoulder. stab or bullet— you don't wanna know.

"jesus fucking christ red.." you whisper, your skin going a little pale and green as you look at his blood seeping under his hand that he has kept pressed on the wound. "is that— oh shit—"

"yes it is. now come here with that." he sounded more firm and annoyed than he ever did in the frequent interactions you've had with him, and that is understandable. he sounds like he's on his last breath with all the panting and huffing.

"right. sorry." you immediately walk and stand beside him, running your mind through whatever red told you about it. luckily, red had filled you in about different wounds, since you were currently playing nurse. he had mentioned shoulder wounds, hurts like hell and bleeds a lot but it can be patched rather easily, his words.

he lays himself down and you drag the coffee table closer to sit on it, your hands rummaging through the kit which had expanded. you may have had restocked and bought more— obviously for this certain vigilante.

"okay so uh— clean?" you repeat the steps to yourself as you watch him remove the small cloth from his shoulder— you almost puke from how messy it looks. its one thing taking care of cuts and bruises and its another thing to take a damn bullet out of a bleeding, ugly wound. "then remove the—" your brows raise as realisation dawns on you.

for fucks sake you can't fucking take the bullet out—

"you can. you can." he was facing you, and somehow you could feel the resolute stare through the helmet, "i know it'll be hard— but you can—" seeing him wince makes you gulp down whatever doubts you have down to your gut. let it worsen.

you let the adrenaline take over, push the tremors away that threaten to wreck your body. hide. hide. hide.

"if i kill you accidentally don't you fucking dare haunt me." you murmur to yourself as you look for a pair of tweezers, the jab makes him crack a laugh enough to hurt and he instantly winces again.

you clean the blood off first before grabbing the tweezers, taking your sweet time to drag it out— but then he grabs your wrist and pulls it slowly towards his shoulder. "eyes on here. focus, you can do it sweetheart." he murmured, and for a second he even sounded okay. you almost believed this all to be a facade.

"oh god—" you grimace as your fingers shook around the tweezers, you wished he went to some legal doctor who had actual forceps and all those medical instruments, instead of tweezers, but vigilantes are nuts. you have come to understand and accept that. "i will kill you if you die i swear— im so mad at you—" your quivering grumbles simply amuse him more, knowing its a way to distract you enough to dig in and take the bullet out.

and you did, after all the gagging and hurling a myriad of insults at him— you finally did. you slouched back as if you were the one that endured that pain.

"sweets you still need to stich, ya' know."

"no im not doing that." you snap as you sit up again, "i dont even know how to— do you honestly want to die??" you gape at him in utter exasperation, wanting to smash the remaining of his helmet.

"honestly? it sounds better than hearing all that noise from your mouth." he retorts with a scoff and you scoff back at his audacity, "i fucking helped you— and that's how it is huh? when the hell are you going to get proper care from someone who knows their shit?" you scold, your eyes momentarily shifting to the open wound.

seriously what the hell are you doing with your life?

"for that I'd need to go to someone i trust wouldn't yap away about me to my enemies or worse, tattle to the media 'bout me." he stated as he tried to shift, probably uncomfortable in the small couch where his legs fell off the other side. "and you haven't yet done that. so, you're the better choice here."

your lips simply pull into an annoyed frown, looking him up and down with clear exasperation. "should have left the damn bullet in..." you muttered to yourself, annoyed at the fact that his words got to you again. he may sound rational and logical right now as he wants to, you know the underlying meaning. he has come to trust you a bit— and his emotionally constipated self wouldn't accept that.

the stitching was done.

you looked far more exhausted than the poor guy who had to help you navigate through the steps and endure the pain.

you leaned forward with your arms resting on your knees, head dipped forward as you tried to calm yourself down. you've never been good at processing things, your mind has a habit of shoving everything in a box and let it rot in the depths of your mind.

"you okay?" he asked quietly, poking your arm with his gloved finger to get your attention and you blinked before nodding. "yeah. yeah of course."

you took a deep breath as you began gathering everything, while he simply stared at you. he knew for a normal person, seeing blood— a lot of it, can be overwhelming. he lets the guilt wash over him, lets his mind question his heart.

was he ruining you in his selfishness to see you? how long would you tolerate it till you break? how long till you kick him out of your life?

"red?"

"hm?"

"you'll pay for my new couch right?" though you weren't looking, he could see the tug in your lips that you were trying to hide. and just like that, he let himself be selfish.

"why do i have a feeling you'll buy one of those ugly couches that cost a fortune?"

"great idea, red." you smirked dryly and he scoffed, his eyes travelling down that red dress of yours and he poked the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing as he debated whether to thrust himself in your personal life or not.

the glint of the earring caught his eye, like a glare straight to his heart.

fuck it.

"so how was the date?" cool, calm, nonchalant.

your brows furrowed for a moment and that was when you registered the weight on your ear, and looked down at yourself with a soft huff, "right. nothing escapes your eye, detective, even when you're dying." you take a tissue and cover your hands with it before taking off the earring.

"it isn't late yet. so i guess it was some boring prick hm?" he teased smugly and you raised a brow at him, turning your body slightly.

"maybe i just like to stay safe and return home before gotham's street turns rabid. it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with my date."

"but it is."

"it wasn't."

"that so?"

the illuminated slits of his helmet stared at you, and you could feel the amusement and challenge oozing off of him. you maintained the stare, but something about his confidence made your skin tingle and warm.

"kay fine! he was just like any other arrogant corporate asshole." you relented as you broke the stare, brows furrowing as you got up, his lips pulling into a triumphant, cheshire smile. again, this was something to be unpacked tomorrow.

"why'd you even go?" you rounded the table as you threw the bloodied cottons and clothes, walking to the bathroom and turned the tap on to scrub your hands clean. you angled your face away so he doesn't see the momentary quiver of your lips at the sight of blood pooling in the basin as water sloughed it off.

"why does anyone go on dates, red?" you quipped with a sigh, "besides it was a blind date. i was just trying my luck." you unknowingly dug your nails too hard while scratching the blood away, "which, like always, sucks."

you wrung your hands dry before patting it dry on the towel, clenching your hands under the cloth to calm the tremors. you cannot possibly let him see that, you won't. your weakness is your own secret, like his identity is his, and the mere possibility that someone knows even a peek about it... it rattles you deeply.

you maintain the facade. thats all you've ever done.

but in a way, him and you were alike, and he recognised the eyes that didn't seem as bright, the subtle signs of putting up a front. he noticed it, the signs transparent to him.

"do you do this?" you questioned, diverting the attention back to him, which he noticed but let it slide. "dates i mean."

"sure." he shrugged, "i mean i do have all the time in the world to prance around gotham with a beauty in my arms." he added, his tone turning sarcastic and you rolled your eyes, the corner of your lips twitching up.

"come on don't be shy. you must have dated a ton of people in your circle. superheroes and vigilantes." you tacked with a grin as you walked in the kitchen, rummaging around cabinets and fridge. you let out an exaggerated dreamy sigh, "i wish i could date them. just once. way better than those asshole i get."

his gaze narrowed while his lips pulled into a thin line. them? who's them? he is one of them too. you could date him too, he thought quite pettily before freezing up. where the fuck is his mind going?

"what the hell are you even doing there?" he called out, he couldn't hide the irate in his voice but you brushed it off. "to feed your dying ass. you might be built like a truck but even you would need something in you after all that blood."

he couldn't see much except your back and hear the sound of knife cutting against the board. he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help his eyes lingering on your back, how the dress fits your body.

"a sandwich will work right?"

"mhm."

to add fuel, the domesticity of this sudden situation has him by the throat. his mind lost, voiceless in his daydream and admiration. he may be a tough guy with walls no one could ever break, even land a scratch— but deep in the pitt lays his heart that is soft and craving. he may never tell a soul, but the thoughts of loving and being loved, no matter how far fetched it sounds, it always tugged at his soul. the idea of sharing a life, the idea of simply caring, of giving— he has a soft spot for the niceties of life that he knows he doesn't deserve.

"red?" you're holding the sandwich infront of him and he snaps out of his haze, looking at the plate on the table and then at you. he simply looked back and forth, and you sighed at the point he was getting at.

"i'll be in my room so you can have the privacy to eat." you murmured before putting down a glass of water with a pair of wet wipes and walking away to your room, closing the door.

for a moment he simply stared at the plate, not sure if he should eat it. things are getting too familiar between them, too easy— too nice. and he has a bad habit of getting attached. he has an even worse habit of getting his heart broken.

he looks back at your door, the quiet shuffling audible to his ears.

but reasons unknown to him, he takes off his helmet.

he doesn't let his lips smile, doesn't let his eyes soften. doesn't let his heart get smothered when he bites into the sandwich. doesn't let his eyes linger on the silver earring. doesn't let his eyes imagine how you'd have looked with both of them on, all pretty and mesmerizing.

he doesn't.

by the time you walk out, he's gone.

the following night comes and you don't wait for him.

morning comes and your eyes are barely working, but your sight isn't that blurry to not see the small red box on your coffee table. you paused and froze, hands slowly taking it and pulling the satin ribbon off.

a pair of dark ruby earrings stared back at you, intricately designed like it was made for the royals. and a tiny note with a quite neat handwriting.

this is an apology for all the inconvenience caused. and a thank you for the sandwich.

red.

p.s you looked beautiful.

and just like that he sweeped the ground right off your feet.

reblogs are appreciation! :D

taglist : @bmyva1entine @itzmeme