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akairawrites · 5 months

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Born for conflict | Jason Todd mini series

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A few days later, following the Joker's kidnapping of Black Mask and a near-fatal encounter, he found himself in police custody. However, despite the severity of the charges, he managed to secure his release on bail.

Word of Y/n’s encounter with the Red Hood circulated, adding another layer of complexity to the city’s volatile atmosphere. The information reached Black Mask’s ears, sparking a storm of frustration and resentment within him. The notion that Y/n, seemingly under his employ, had faltered against the Red Hood didn’t sit well with the crime lord.

Amidst the chaos, Black Mask’s legal battles intensified. The courtroom became a battleground, but the scales of justice tipped against him. Convicted, the once-powerful figure found himself on a journey through the grim corridors of Arkham Asylum.

Months after Black Mask's incarceration, Gotham appeared to settle into an uneasy calm, with only petty crimes and the sporadic Joker antics, challenges that Batman effortlessly handled.

Freed from the shadow of Black Mask, Y/n embraced a newfound sense of free will. It was a realization that dawned on her after a long period of submission. Uncertain of where to begin, she took a page from childhood books and secured a job at a popular coffee shop. Money wasn't a pressing need, but this marked the beginning of her journey toward a life unfettered by the constraints of the past.

"Good morning, Claire," Y/n chirped, gracefully removing her sweater and hanging it on the rustic coat rack before clocking in with her time ticket. The soft hum of the coffee machines and the rich aroma of freshly ground beans enveloped the cozy space.

"Good morning, Y/n." Claire greeted her with a smile from behind the polished counter. The coffee shop, adorned with exposed brick walls and vintage-inspired decor, exuded a warm and inviting ambiance.

Claire, a petite, middle-aged woman and Y/n's co-worker, shared a warm exchange. Most days, it was just the two of them working, a dynamic Y/n found comforting. The subtle jazz playing in the background added a touch of serenity to their morning routine, making the shared workspace at this charming coffee haven all the more enjoyable.

Claire meticulously counted the money in the register when Y/n approached from behind, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I got this," Y/n said, gently taking the money from Claire's hands. Claire looked up, a smile gracing her face, but it slowly faded.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"Could you check on the kids again for me tonight? I’m working a late shift," Claire asked, fiddling nervously with her hands.

Y/n glanced up from the money, concern in her eyes. "Sure, but why not let me cover your shift?"

Claire looked down at her shoes and shook her head. "Money is a little tight right now; I need all the hours I can get."

"Oh, Claire, I can lend you some money if you need it."

"No, Y/n, please. It's okay." Claire met her gaze with a mix of gratitude and reluctance. Y/n understood Claire's financial struggles, especially given her situation with her late husband, and despite the refusal, she intended to help.

Y/n sighed. "Okay, but if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

Claire nodded appreciatively and excused herself to attend to the tables. The coffee shop buzzed with the rhythmic sounds of the espresso machine and low conversations, a quiet understanding lingered between the two women.

The bell above the coffee shop door jingled softly as it swung open. Y/n, engrossed in her tasks, looked up to see a tall, brooding figure entering. It was Jason Todd, a familiar face among the regular customers.

Claire, noticing the entrance, greeted him with a warm smile. "Good morning. The usual, Jason?"

He nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes briefly meeting Y/n's before shifting away. Jason, aware of Y/n's presence, observed her from a distance, the familiarity in her face tugging at the strings of a history she was oblivious to. As Claire prepared his order, the air in the coffee shop held a quiet curiosity, with Y/n unaware of the complex connection that lingered between them.

"Can I help you?" Y/n inquired, her focus on her tasks, not bothering to look up. She sensed his lingering gaze. Jason straightened up, suddenly aware that he had been staring.

"No, sorry," he replied, turning away and pretending to search for Claire with his coffee. Y/n finally looked up and frowned. "Hey, don't I know you?"

Turning back to her, he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I come here a lot, so that might be it," he shrugged.

She shook her head, her suspicion evident. "No, I don't think that's it. Your voice sounds so familiar." Y/n squinted at him, trying to unravel the mystery that lingered in the air.

Jason maintained a composed exterior, masking the turmoil beneath. Y/n's probing gaze hinted at a recognition he wished to keep veiled.

"Well, I'm not from around here, so it's probably just your imagination," he said with a nonchalant smile, attempting to divert her attention.

Y/n, however, wasn't easily dissuaded. "I don't know. It's strange. Maybe I heard your voice somewhere else," she mused, her curiosity unabated.

Claire returned with Jason's order, breaking the tense moment. "Here you go, Jason," she said, oblivious to the undercurrents between the two.

As he took the coffee, Jason nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Claire. Have a good day," he said, sparing Y/n one last enigmatic glance before exiting the coffee shop, leaving her with an unresolved sense of familiarity and a lingering question in the air.

Y/n watched him leave, a perplexed expression lingering on her face. Claire, noticing the exchange, couldn't help but inquire, "Everything okay, Y/n?"

Y/n shook her head, still lost in thought. "I don't know, Claire. There's something about him. It's like I've heard his voice before, somewhere."

Claire chuckled, dismissing it lightly. "Probably just a regular customer. Don't let it bother you. We get all sorts here."

As the bell above the door chimed with Jason's departure, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the encounter than met the eye. Little did she know, the echoes of a shared history lingered just beyond her reach, a mystery she was unwittingly drawn into.

I am so sorry for feeding your delusions also this chapter was very boring I just wanted to get something out before the end of the week

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akairawrites · 5 months

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Born for conflict | Jason Todd mini series

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"You want me to do what?"

"Find the Red Hood and rip out his throat!"

Y/n stuck her hands inside her hoodie, furrowing her brows, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Why would I ever do that?"

Black Mask returned the intense gaze, and Y/n could sense he was losing his composure, which amused her. "Because you work for me," he said through gritted teeth.

Y/n smirked, relishing in getting under his skin. She had heard about the Red Hood disrupting Black Mask's supply, but frankly, she didn't care. In a few months, he wouldn't be her problem anymore.

She looked around at the construction workers fixing the aftermath of the explosion that took place a few hours ago. She took a step forward and leaned on his desk which somehow managed to survive.

“What's in it for me?” her face was only inches away from his the look in her eyes told him she was dead serious.

“Extra pay until your deed with me is done.”

Y/n straightened up from the desk, a sly grin playing on her lips. “Consider it done.”

As she left Black Mask’s office, her mind began to strategize. She knew Gotham’s underbelly well and understood that hunting the Red Hood required finesse. The city echoed with rumors about his movements and haunts, and Y/n was determined to navigate the tangled web he wove.

Her journey took her through dimly lit alleys and hidden meeting spots. She spoke with informants, listened to whispers in the shadows, and pieced together the puzzle of the Red Hood’s elusive presence.

Days turned into nights as Y/n relentlessly pursued her target, a dance of shadows in Gotham’s treacherous landscape. The city’s pulse thrummed with secrets, and she moved through it like a silent predator, closing in on the Red Hood’s trail.

Finally, a lead pointed to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Y/n approached cautiously, aware that the Red Hood was not to be underestimated. As she entered the dimly lit space, the tension in the air grew palpable.

And there he was, the Red Hood, a figure clad in crimson and black, standing defiantly in the center of the warehouse. Y/n sized him up, her gaze meeting the unmistakable red helmet that concealed his identity.

"I assume your daddy sent you?" Of course, he already knew that.

"You're foolish if you think that man is my father." Y/n took a step forward, a deliberate move.

He chuckled "You're good, you know. Found me quicker than I expected." Y/n tilted her head in confusion, a detail the Red Hood noticed.

"Yeah, I knew you were coming. Do you really think you'd find me if I hadn't allowed you to?"

Y/n's jaw clenched; the guy was undoubtedly a character, much smarter than he looked

"I know you hate Black Mask as much as I do. Join me, Y/n, we could run this city."

His offer was tempting, and under different circumstances, she might have considered it. However, her focus was on completing the job at hand. She had no desire to align herself with him; she wanted to finish this task like all the others.

"I have no interest in joining you. I came here to get a job done."

Jason sucked his teeth. "I was afraid you'd say that."

The air crackled with tension as Y/n and Jason circled each other in the dimly lit warehouse and without warning, Jason lunged forward, blades glinting ominously. Y/n sidestepped with a dancer’s grace, quipping, “Careful with those, wouldn’t want to ruin your manicure.”

He smirked, countering, “I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Y/n countered with a series of quick strikes, her fists a blur. “Like what? Maintaining your mysterious bad-boy image?”

Jason parried with a fluidity that showcased his own combat prowess. “You think I do this for image?”

The echoes of their banter and blows reverberated through the empty space. Metallic clangs of weapons colliding punctuated the silence.

Their fight danced between offense and defense, a symphony of skill and determination. Y/n’s hands blurred as she executed a lightning-fast combination. “You really think you can take on the entire underworld on your own?” she teased.

He smirked, dodging with acrobatic finesse. “Just getting started, sweetheart.”

Y/n’s confident facade wavered for a split second, a subtle blush creeping across her cheeks. “Don’t get too cozy with endearments; you might not live long enough to enjoy them,” she retorted, trying to mask her flustered reaction.

Jason chuckled, catching the momentary vulnerability. “Sweetheart, you’re not the first to threaten me, won’t be the last.”

She rolled her eyes, but the unexpected flutter in her chest lingered as they resumed their agile dance. The echoes of their banter and blows reverberated through the empty space, creating a unique rhythm in the midst of the fierce battle.

In a sudden burst of energy, Y/n unleashed a powerful kick. “Time to wrap this up, Red.”

As the battle intensified, the clash of fists and kicks echoed in the warehouse. Y/n’s agility matched Jason’s strength, creating a dynamic equilibrium and it showed.

Jason had finally met his match.

Their faces mere inches apart, the intensity of their locked gaze mirrored the struggle for dominance.

Jason found themselves locked in a desperate struggle. Blades met fists, and the air crackled with the sound of their duel.

Exhaustion painted their faces, yet determination still burned in their eyes. A risky move from Y/n left an opening, and Jason seized the opportunity, disarming her with a swift kick. With her weapon clattering to the ground, he held her at a momentary disadvantage.

Breathing heavily, Jason surveyed the situation, the adrenaline of battle still coursing through his veins. Instead of capitalizing on his upper hand, he took a step back, releasing Y/n from his grasp.

Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. In that moment, the intensity of the fight transformed into a strange, unspoken connection. Jason, despite having the power to end it all, chose not to deliver the final blow.

“You’re good, Y/n. Maybe we’re not that different after all,” he said, his tone carrying an unexpected depth.

She looked at him, her guard still up, but a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Don’t read too much into it, Red. This doesn’t change anything.”

With that, he nodded, choosing not to pursue the confrontation further. The dimly lit warehouse remained a witness to their clash, a silent testament to the complexities of their entwined destinies. Jason vanished into the shadows, leaving Y/n to collect herself in the aftermath of their intense encounter.

“Mask is going to kill me.”

Let's be real Jason Todd would destroy you if he wanted to

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akairawrites · 5 months

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Born for conflict | Jason Todd mini series

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"Again!" The instructor's command echoed through the training room, prompting Y/n to forcefully strike the punching bag.

"Again!" he repeated, and she delivered another powerful blow.

"Again!" This time, her hit caused the punching bag to nearly fly off the hook, ripping open as sand spilled out. Stepping back, she released an exhausted huff, her eyes seeking the instructor for further guidance.

His usual expressionless glare met hers. "Get cleaned up. There's someone I want you to meet over dinner." Nodding in acknowledgment, she watched as he exited the room, leaving her to tend to her bruised and bloody hands on a nearby bench.

Seated, she unwrapped her hands, clenching her fists as she observed the bruising forming over her knuckles. Not wanting to keep her Instructor waiting, she stood and headed for the door, determined to clean up and face whatever awaited her.

After a soothing shower to ease her sore muscles, she dressed and made her way to the dining hall. It exuded an unusual elegance, hinting at the significance of the impending meeting. The dimly lit room, adorned with candles, filled with the aroma of cooking food. Taking a seat at the far end of the table, she prepared for the encounter, usually beside her instructor, who occupied the end of the table.

Mere seconds after settling into her seat, the instructor entered, flanked by three men—one adorned with a black mask, presumably his two bodyguards. Y/n refrained from lifting her gaze from her plate, avoiding eye contact with the skull-like masked man who took a place at the far end, while her instructor occupied the other end beside her. The remaining two men positioned themselves behind the Black Mask.

A silence enveloped the room until the instructor finally spoke.

"Y/n, meet The Black Mask."

Huh.

"This is the sweet girl I’ve heard so much about."

His words sent a shiver down her spine; there was an ominous undertone, a hint of death in his voice that resonated clearly in the quiet dining hall.

Turning to meet The Black Mask's gaze sent shivers down Y/n's spine; his intense stare already fixed upon her.

"Y/n," her instructor's voice broke the unsettling eye contact. The look in his eyes tried to conceal an emotion.

"The Black Mask will be taking you. He has offered a great deal of money because you are one of the best."

A lump formed in her throat. While she anticipated this eventuality, the abruptness caught her off guard. At fourteen, she still had much training ahead.

"As of tomorrow, you will be working for him," he declared. She looked down at her untouched food, her voice steady. "I understand."

"Pack your things. You leave in an hour."

Without hesitation, she rose from her seat and swiftly exited the dimly lit dining hall, leaving behind the weight of an unforeseen destiny.

Exactly an hour later, Y/n stood before the place she once called home. The memories flooded back – the awe of arriving, the enormity of the building, the initial sense of feeling like a princess for a moment.

Handing her bags to a guard from before, she observed as they were tossed into the trunk of a black limousine. Just as she was about to follow, a familiar hand rested on her shoulder. Looking up, her instructor met her gaze.

"Be safe," he advised. "Remember, leaving home opens a new journey for you. Each step is a new chapter in your own story."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Y/n proceeded toward the waiting limo, where The Black Mask awaited. Through the window, she watched her instructor disappear from sight. Once he was entirely gone, she sank back into the seat, exhaling a sigh, unprepared for the long journey ahead.

5 years later

Black Mask seethed with rage at his desk. “Are you telling me the scumbag stole my guns? Again?” he bellowed, surrounded by his assistant and four henchmen.

“No, sir. He destroyed them. Blew up the truck and the drivers,” his assistant calmly explained. “He was enlisting anyone under our province, now he's just killing them,”

Black Mask slammed his hands on the desk, frustrated by his inability to stop the mysterious Red Hood. "So what is he, Batman?"

“No, sir. He's not Batman,” she replied, maintaining a calm expression. “He’s still taking cuts off the streets but eliminating the competition. He's targeting you.”

Fuming, Black Mask growled and flipping his desk over. “You wanna tell me why this guy isn't dead?” he demanded, he walked up to his henchmen and punched each one in the face out of anger.

“We're trying. We sent the Fearsome Hand of Four,” she stated, though she knew it wouldn't be enough.

Looking out at Gotham, Black Mask turned to his assistant. “You don't know Batman. He won't let this lunatic run wild. He can't catch him, or it's something else.”

“Can't you feel it?” he asked, but before she could respond, a red dot appeared on his neck. Panicking, he saw Red Hood on the building, holding a rocket launcher.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, before turning around and bolting out of his office his assistant followed right behind him. Mere seconds later he pulled the trigger and sent an explosion through the building causing the fire exit to fly off the hinges and crash into the wall. Black Mask ducked just in time.

He stood up and held his neck which would have been taken off by the door if he hadn't moved in time “Okay time to change up the ground war.”

“How so, sir?” his assistant inquired.

“I’m being forced into negotiating with a psychotic,” he admitted. “And there's one person in mind who I think can take on this Red Hood. Bring me Y/n.”

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akairawrites · 5 months

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Dear Diary, pt2 | Damian Wayne image

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𝖸／𝗇 𝖫／𝗇 𝟣／𝟣𝟣／𝗑𝗑𝗑𝗑 𝖯𝗀𝟧𝟤

Dear Diary,

Damian and I have been dating for a while now. Despite the time we've spent together, there's still a lot I don't know about him. He's not very open, especially about what he does outside of work. This leaves me with a nagging feeling that he might be hiding something.

When his phone rings, he often leaves to answer it, claiming it's work. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but the secrecy raises concerns. I find it hard to believe he's cheating, given his busy schedule, but the uncertainty lingers.

★

"What are you writing?" Damian inquired. You looked up from the pages in your diary, noticing the towel wrapped around his waist. Another towel was in his hand, used to dry his hair. You hadn't realized he had come in.

You quickly shook your head and closed the book. "Nothing," you replied, placing the book on the nightstand. Rising from your spot on Damian's bed, you walked up to him, catching the fresh scent of soap. You reached up and planted a quick kiss on his lips before heading to the bathroom to freshen up before bed.

Damian observed as you left, and once you were out of sight, he took your place on the bed. His eyes focused on the book he had often seen you writing in. Despite knowing it was wrong, an intriguing impulse led him to pick up the book and slowly skim through the pages, eventually reaching the most recent and unfinished entry.

Reading the few lines, guilt immediately washed over Damian. He hadn't intended to be distant, but his responsibilities as Gotham's new Batman left him with no choice but to maintain secrecy. The idea of you suspecting him of cheating pained him deeply. Closing the book, he carefully returned it to its place.

Before you emerged from the bathroom, he swiftly pulled on his clothes. As you walked back into the room, he met your smile and joined you in climbing into bed, silently grappling with the weight of the secrets he carried.

He switched off the light beside him and pulled you loser to his chest a sigh left his lips as he did so.

“Whats wrong?”

He hesitated before speaking. "I'm sorry if I seem a little distant; I've just been busy with work." Pausing for a moment, he debated whether to reveal his secret identity. "And other things..."

You rolled over to face him you caught a glimpse of his green eyes in the darkness “Other things like what Damian?” you so desperately wanted him to open up to you and let you in.

Damian gazed at you, evident conflict in his expression, revealing a desire to share something. Another sigh escaped through his nose, and he closed his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, he gently reached up, caressing the back of your head with his hand.

Uncertain of how to broach the subject, he grappled with the idea. While he had contemplated telling you before, the realization that the moment had arrived sooner than expected weighed on him.

Without another thought Damian muttered the words “I’m Batman”

You felt a mix of surprise and disbelief wash over you as Damian revealed his alter ego. The pieces began to click together, connecting the dots of his mysterious behavior and late-night disappearances. Silence lingered for a moment before you responded, "Batman?" Your mind raced with questions. It definitely wasn’t what you expected him to say.

The room held a quiet understanding as you reached for his hand, a silent acknowledgment that your connection had transcended ordinary boundaries. You closed the gap in between the two of you. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

In that vulnerable moment, the barriers between you melted away. You embraced him, the shared secret deepening the bond between you. Together, you faced the challenges of Gotham, knowing that beneath the cape and cowl was a man you had come to love even more deeply.

Pt1

I really didn’t want him to say “I’m Batman.” Because of the memes :(

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akairawrites · 5 months

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Dear Diary, | Damian Wayne imagine

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𝖸／𝗇 𝖫／𝗇 𝟣𝟣／𝟤𝟨／𝗑𝗑𝗑𝗑 𝖯𝗀𝟤𝟨

Dear Diary，

Damian mother fucking Wayne

The son of the famous billionaire Bruce Wayne. I remember attending high school with him, but I kept my distance due to his apparent cockiness and his status as Bruce Wayne's son.

Recently, I landed a job as Bruce's assistant. While running errands for Bruce at the manor, I unexpectedly bumped into Damian. To my surprise, he remembered me, despite our lack of prior interaction. He invited me to join him for lunch, an invitation I gladly accepted.

I had a great time; he took me to a fancy place and graciously covered the bill. Spending time with Damian, he didn't appear as bad as the rumors suggested. We caught up on life after graduation, and his father's influence landed him a well-paying job.

Curious about his love life, I discovered he didn't have time for a relationship due to work commitments. He inquired about my own, and I shared my desire for someone special. After lunch, we exchanged numbers, and before I knew it, we were going out again.

After a few dates were established, he finally kissed me. It sort of just happened. It didn't shock me, nor did I see it coming, but at the same time, it wasn't what I expected. It wasn't magical; it didn't make butterflies appear in my stomach or make my leg lift up like in those cheesy rom-coms. Nevertheless, I did enjoy it. I found myself enjoying it even more when he asked if I wanted to do it again.

On the walk back to his car, hand in hand, I couldn't help but think about the kiss and found myself craving more.

The city lights painted a romantic backdrop, and I found myself lost in thoughts of the kiss. It may not have been a scene from a fairy tale, but there was an undeniable connection that lingered.

Once seated in the car, the atmosphere was charged with a newfound tension. Our eyes met, and it was as if a silent agreement passed between us. He leaned in for another kiss, and this time, it sparked a warmth within me that I hadn't expected. This kiss lingered longer than the last, our lips dancing together. As we pulled away, I was sure he could see the tint in my cheeks illuminated by the moonlight.

The night ended with that sweet, lingering kiss at my doorstep, leaving an anticipation in the air. As he bid me goodnight, I couldn't help but smile, realizing that what had begun as unexpected encounters had blossomed into something promising. I closed the door, carrying the warmth of the night's moments with me, eager to see where this newfound connection might lead.

Pt2 is out now

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akairawrites · 5 months

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Hal Jordan & The Star Sapphire

(preview)

You glanced down at your hand, finding a violet ring with a star design on your nightstand next to a pink lantern. The ring had occupied your middle finger just moments ago, but in a panicked realization, you removed it. Perplexed, you had no idea how or why it ended up on your finger. The last clear memory was tearfully succumbing to sleep the previous night, leaving a void in your recollection of the hours before... somewhat.

Balancing a cake on your knee, you searched through your bag for the key to your boyfriend Malcolm's apartment. His birthday had passed over the weekend, and due to work commitments, you hadn't been able to celebrate with him. Deciding to surprise him, you finally entered his apartment, placing the cake on the counter and hurriedly searching for candles. Despite texting him before your arrival and receiving no response, you assumed he was asleep and tried to be as quiet as possible. As you approached his room with the cake, the shuffling sounds from inside made your heart sink.

He laid under a girl whose head was thrown back in pleasure. They both looked over at you surprised the girl quickly climbed off and covered herself with the duvet. As he stumbled through explanations, your mind couldn't process his words. In a blur, the cake you held ended up on Malcolm's face and scattered across the once-shared bed.

Reflecting on the events from yesterday brought tears to your eyes. You believed nothing could have prepared you for that moment. Your heartache deepened, and confusion reigned – first, Malcolm, and now this mysterious ring and lantern appearing out of nowhere. It seemed like there was nothing you could do. Suddenly a violet light illuminated from your balcony. Wiping away tears, you noticed a figure in the light – a woman with long black hair and green eyes. She landed gracefully, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Are you Y/n L/n?" she asked.

"Uhh...yes?" Confusion deepened as you questioned, "And you are...?"

"I am Carol Ferris, leader of the Star Sapphire Corps, also known as the Violet Lantern Corps," she introduced herself.

Looking at the lantern on your bedside table, the pieces started to come together. "You mean... you're the one who gave me that?" you gestured toward the ring and the lantern.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No, darling, not exactly." She went on to explain the lantern, the ring, and their powers, along with the existence of other color lanterns. The revelation that the ring chose you due to your sudden heartbreak hit you with overwhelming intensity, emphasizing the need to protect it at all costs. It was a lot to take in.

I just wanted to see how well this would do before I posted the whole thing

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akairawrites · 5 months

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Can you write Grayson x Reader where the reader was a villain in her past and Dick knows but what she didn't tell him is that she helped Joker and was the reason why the Joker shot Barbra who was still his girlfriend at the time and one day she finally admits to him because it's been eating her alive

Finally, someone requested something!

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The lump in your throat grew as Dick's voice approached. You couldn't discern if he had been talking to a sibling; not that you cared. Your focus shifted when he opened the door, surprised to find you on his bed. Understandably, you hadn't given your usual heads-up.

"Hey... what are you doing here?" His concerned tone mirrored the situation. With your head bowed into your lap and legs pulled close, guilt gnawed at you.

You hadn't planned how to confess that the burden on your mind was consuming you. Sitting in the middle of his bed, the weight of being the reason for Barbara's wheelchair haunted you.

Dick joined you on the bed, pulled his shirt over his head, and pulled on a new one. "Are you okay?" he asked, sensing something amiss.

"I need to tell you something," you uttered.

He turned, sensing the gravity in your eyes, and shifted to face you, taking your hand for reassurance.

"What is it?" he asked as you drew a deep breath, your eyes welling up, aware that your next words could jeopardize your relationship.

"Y/n?"

"It's my fault," your voice nearly whispered, but it carried enough weight for him to hear.

"What's your fault?"

You shook your head, a sudden wave of denial sweeping over you. "It's my fault Barbara is in that wheelchair."

"What?"

"I'm the one who handed her over to Joker. I'm the reason he did what he did to her. I only realized my mistake when it was too late."

When Dick remained silent, you pressed on, "I was just so angry and jealous. I'm so sorry, Dick."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you finally revealed the long-held secret. Dick stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, his expression unreadable.

"Dick?" you squeezed his hand, and it seemed to break him from his trance. Abruptly, he withdrew his hand, surprising you with the unexpected action.

His gaze remained fixed on the floor, the silence between you stretching into an uneasy void. Your heart pounded with regret, and you longed for him to say something, anything.

"I never meant for things to spiral out of control," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I let my emotions get the best of me..."

Dick finally looked up, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of pain and betrayal. The weight of his unspoken emotions hung heavy in the room.

"I trusted you," he said, his voice edged with disappointment.

You struggled to find words, grappling with the magnitude of your actions. The shattered pieces of your confession lingered in the strained air, leaving the room fraught with tension.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Sorry isn't gonna help, Y/n!" He stood up abruptly, his once unreadable expression now clearly etched with anger.

"What else am I supposed to say?" You followed his lead and stood up. "How was I supposed to tell you? Telling you about my past was hard enough."

Dick paced the room, his frustration palpable. "Telling me about your past is one thing, but keeping this kind of secret? Do you even realize the consequences of your actions?"

You swallowed hard, grappling with the weight of his disappointment. "I didn't want to hurt you. I thought I could handle it on my own, but it's eating me alive."

He stopped pacing, fixing you with a stern gaze. "You should have trusted me enough to share this burden. Now, because of your silence, Barbara is suffering."

The gravity of his words hung in the air, and you felt the full impact of the rift your actions had caused. The room felt smaller, suffocating under the weight of the truth that had finally surfaced.

He was right. It was your fault. it was all your fault. You reached out for him desperate to bridge the growing gap but he pulled away clearly disgusted with you

Dick's expression hardened, and without a word, he walked towards the door. The silence between you intensified as he opened it, gesturing for you to leave.

"Dick, please," you pleaded, but he remained resolute. His actions spoke louder than any words.

"I need time to process this," he finally said, his tone distant.

Feeling a sense of helplessness, you gathered your emotions and, with a heavy heart, walked out of the room. The door closed behind you, leaving you alone with the consequences of your choices.

As you walked away, the realization sank in that some mistakes couldn’t be undone. The path ahead was uncertain, and the echoes of regret lingered in the spaces where trust and love had once thrived.

Keep the request coming i’m running out of ideas

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akairawrites · 6 months

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Barbie to my Ken | Dick Grayson imagine

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@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39 @420sprite @stvrfir3 @instabull @lumineliax @rukia-uchiha-98 @1lellykins @skyesayshi @imarimone12 @mysticalhills @deliciousfatblackcat @4arancia @bat-h-tic @luvelyxp @urmomsbananabread @strawberrycreamb @dollceesstuff @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @bbiaa420 @godknows-shetried @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @cascadingbliss @lilupie @scribegrl @batfamlover @roxanne-loves-luffy @breadbrobin @solaris-love @Crystals-faith

"What are we planning to dress up as for Halloween?" Dick passed you a cup of coffee while you placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. Walking out of the coffee shop, Dick courteously held the door open as you both strolled down the bustling Blüdhaven sidewalk, hand in hand.

Pausing to consider his question, you suggested, "How about Morticia and Gomez?" He took a sip of his coffee and asked, "Who?" You looked at him in disbelief, saying, "The Addams family?"

He shook his head, still clueless. "We watched the show on Netflix," you reminded him. His eyes widened in realization, "Oh yeah! I fell asleep watching that, didn't I?"

As you continued walking down the lively Blüdhaven sidewalk, you playfully elaborated on your Halloween costume idea. "Picture it – black dresses, eerie charm, and dark humor. It could be a blast," you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Dick, now catching on, chuckled at the imagery. "Ah, got it. The spooky, mysterious couple."

You both shared a laugh, the prospect of transforming into Morticia and Gomez adding a playful vibe to the bustling city atmosphere. The scent of coffee lingered as you meandered through the crowd, discussing potential details for your Addams family-inspired Halloween adventure.

Then realization struck. The exact reason you couldn't go as Morticia and Gomez dawned on you – someone you knew had already chosen that iconic duo. The thought of two sets of the Addams couple at the party seemed awkward. Desiring something more unique, you explained the situation to Dick as you both crossed the street. He understood and agreed that opting for a more original costume was the best course of action.

While you both crossed the street, you and Dick brainstormed costume ideas, but none seemed to strike a chord. As you reached the steps of the Blüdhaven police department, Dick suddenly gasped, stopping in his tracks. You followed suit, halting your steps.

"What?" you asked, curious.

"I just thought of the perfect costume," he declared.

"Which is?" you inquired.

With a hint of cheesiness, he suggested, "You could be the Barbie to my Ken!"

You couldn't help but cringe at the line, but it didn't stop you from bursting into laughter.

"Why didn't I think of that?" you exclaimed, still amused by the Barbie and Ken idea.

Entering the police department, you and Dick received warm greetings from your coworkers before settling down at your shared desk. Reflecting on Dick's suggestion, you smiled and said, "I'd love to be your Barbie, Grayson."

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akairawrites · 6 months

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The Color Violet | Miles Morales imagine

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@luvvvjada @urmomsbananabread @bat-h-tic @1lellykins @cascadingbliss @lumineliax @mysticalhills @420sprite @jackierose902109 @skyesayshi @roxanne-loves-Luffy @scribegrl @Bunnyqueen25 @deimks @rukia-uchiha-98 @strawberrycreamb @deliciousfatblackcat @luvelyxp @crystals-faith @godknows-shetried @mess-in-side @lumineliax @instabull @lilupie @stvrfir3 @breadbrobin @bbiaa420 @harleycao @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @solaris-love @4arancia.

Song key: ★

The rain caused the black and red suit to shimmer in the moonlight as you stood at the building's edge. Looking over your shoulder, you observed him with his hood pulled over his head to shield from the rain. As you glanced back at him, you noticed his bored expression—almost unreadable, a rarity for this Spider-Man.

Leaning forward, your body dove over the edge of the tall building without hesitation. Skillfully, you maintained a practiced form, keeping your arms and legs together as if you had done this a million times. Within seconds, he fell alongside you, mirroring your form but with evident inexperience. Without uttering a word, he grabbed your arms, and the two of you descended in perfect synchronization. From a distance, it appeared as though a red and violet blur were in pursuit.

Both of you noticed how close you were getting towards the ground. As you both neared the ground, you gripped the Spiderman just like he did you before. Your palms began to glow violet effortlessly, causing Spider-Man to react with visible astonishment. In mere seconds, a bright violet sphere enveloped both of you, and in another instant, you were no longer falling, escaping the rain.

★ The traffic noise and rain hitting the pavement were replaced by a steady beat, and within seconds, people joined in singing along with the song. Without hesitation, you skillfully maneuvered around the dancing crowd. Glancing back, you noticed another Spider-Man closely trailing you amidst the vibrant lights. In the midst of the crowd, you swiftly lost him, taking the chance to remove your mask, enhancing visibility. Spotting a jacket on the back of a chair, you snatched it, putting it on to block out the overwhelming scents of booze and weed. Pulling the hood over your head, you continued blending into the lively scene.

As the music pulsed and the crowd swayed, the rhythm of the night enveloped you. The neon lights painted the scene in vibrant hues, and your steps synchronized with the beat. Amidst the dancing throng, you glimpsed the persistent Spider-Man still in pursuit.

With the hood pulled low, you seamlessly blended into the sea of revelers, your true identity veiled. As the song carried on and the night embraced you, you navigated the pulsating energy of the crowd, leaving the pursuing Spider-Man lost in the kaleidoscope of lights and music.

Spotting a distant door, hopeful it led to the exit, you made a beeline for it. Pushing the metal door open revealed a dim back alley, rain still cascading. Undeterred, you stepped out of the lively party, greeted by the brisk air.

Inside, Spider-Man noted the door's movement, swiftly following your path into the cold, rainy night. The creak of the door opening and closing prompted you to halt and face him. Moments stretched as you both assessed each other—his mask concealing, rain staining your cheeks. Silence lingered; neither moved nor uttered a word the only sound coming from the muffled lyrics to the sound playing inside. Breaking the stillness, you continued down the muddy alley, vanishing into the obscurity of the night leaving Spiderman standing in the rain alone.

Miles is aged up in this anyways,

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akairawrites · 7 months

Text

His Personal Nurse | Jason Todd imagine

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The cool breeze brushed across your cheek, prompting a shiver as you shifted beneath your duvet. A sudden thud from the open window made you jump, and you sat up in bed. Squinting in the dark, you scanned the room and, reaching over, switched on the desk lamp for a better look.

The sudden brightness caused you to turn away until your eyes adjusted. When they did, you noticed a hunched figure—someone familiar.

Jason.

Quickly climbing out of bed, you rushed over to him. You observed him holding his bicep tightly as crimson leaked through his fingers.

"Jason..." He looked up at you through his hair, maintaining a playful smirk despite the pain. How could he smile at a time like this?

Despite his smirk, you regard him with a grim expression. His late-night entries through your window were becoming a routine. Helping him up from the floor, you both headed to the bathroom. Seating him on the toilet, you searched the medicine cabinet for your first-aid kit. Once found, you settled at the edge of the tub, ready to tend to his wound.

He lifted his shirt, allowing you to examine the not-so-deep but bleeding stab wound. Stitches were necessary.

As you started stitching, he caught his breath, grunting as the needle and thread moved through his wound.

"Sorry," you said.

"You say that every time," he remarked, and you looked at him with confusion.

"Because I don't like hurting you," you clarified.

Jason's eyes softened as he observed your focused efforts in patching him up. He felt remorse for waking you in the middle of the night. "I'm sorry for waking you up and everything... I know you have work in the morning."

You shook your head, nearly finished with the stitching. "It's okay. Without me, who knows where you'd be right now."

"Probably dead somewhere."

You chuckled, recognizing the truth in his words. Finally completing the last stitch, you cut and tied the thread. After washing your hands clean of the blood, you returned the first aid kit to its place. Placing a large band-aid on the sink for him to apply after his shower, you climbed back into bed. The sound of the running shower began to lull you to sleep until a pair of arms wrapped around you.

"Thank you for everything," Jason whispered, placing a small kiss on your neck.

"You're welcome."

As the warmth of Jason's arms enveloped you, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of exhaustion and relief. With a whispered goodnight, you both surrendered to the embrace of sleep, grateful for the unspoken understanding that bound you together.

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akairawrites · 8 months

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★ ° . *. Master list ★ ° . * ★

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒂’𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚

Marvel

Spiderman

Andrew Garfield

Not Your Gwen Stacy → slow burn

Toby Maguire

Tom Holland

Miles Morales

The Color Violet → song based

Red hood

Jason Todd

Dissimulate → angst

I cared, I remembered → request/angst

His personal nurse → fluff

Born for conflict → enemies to lovers

Nightwing

Dick Grayson

Practice makes perfect → fluff

Headcanon → request/fluff

Barbie to my Ken → fluff

The truth → request/angst

Robin

Damian wayne

Curiosity Killed The Cat → enemies to lovers

Cats Out The Bag → enemies to lovers

Dear Diary, → friends to lovers

Dear Diary pt2 → friends to lovers

Green Lantern

Hal jordan

Hal Jordan & The Star Sapphire → enemies to lovers

Request

Jason Todd

↳ I cared, I remembered → angst

Dick Grayson

↳ Headcanon → fluff

↳ The trust → angst

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akairawrites · 8 months

Text

★ ° . * Not Your Gwen Stacy|Masterlist ★° .*

pt.1|

↳ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 [𝐘/𝐍] 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧.

Pt.2|

↳ 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞, [𝐘/𝐍] 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝.

Pt.3|

↳ 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐞, [𝐘/𝐍] 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦,𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧.

Pt.4|

↳ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, [𝐘/𝐍] 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬, [𝐘/𝐍] 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

Pt.5|

↳ 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞, [𝐘/𝐍] 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐈𝐭,𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

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akairawrites · 8 months

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✩𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

⇨ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤

yes, I am still alive :)

#Spotify

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akairawrites · 8 months

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✩𝐴𝑘𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑎’𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦

Welcome to my library! These are stories from other writers that I think you should check out if you haven’t already.

| 𝑀𝐶𝑈

sᴛᴇᴘʜᴇɴ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

➤ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴀsᴋ -ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 @brunchable

| 𝐸𝑢𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎

ꜰᴇᴢᴄᴏ

➤ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ ꜰʟᴀᴠᴏʀᴇᴅ ᴡʀᴀᴘs @stxrkiss

➤ sᴛᴜɴᴛɪɴ’ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ @likedovesinthewindd

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akairawrites · 8 months

Text

Cats Out The Bag | Damian Wayne Imagine

Curiosity Killed The Cat part 2

Taglist

@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39 @lumineliax @420sprite @stvrfir3 @instabull @rukia-uchiha-98 @1lellykins @lilupie @deliciousfatblackcat @skyesayshi @imarimone12 @mysticalhills @4arancia @bat-h-tic @luvelyxp @urmomsbananabread @elebeleb @strawberrycreamb @princessofhope0 @itisjustagirl @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @Ginger24880 @godknows-shetried @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @kierancaz @Crystals-faith @cascadingbliss

You could feel the cool night breeze against your cheeks as you gracefully leaped through the air. It was a tranquil night in Gotham, the perfect backdrop for criminal activities.

Upon descending from the side of the building, you headed toward the front entrance. Naturally, the door was locked. You reached for a bobby pin from your hair and crouched down to examine the lock. Inserting the pin, you heard a satisfying click as the door unlocked. A self-satisfied smile crossed your face as you returned the bobby pin to its place. Inside, you inhaled deeply and exhaled, a smirk forming as you dropped your duffel bag. Rifling through it, you retrieved a homemade C-4 like device. With practiced ease, you entered a password on the screen and affixed it to the wall near the safety deposit boxes. After a few seconds, the device beeped, and the boxes popped open with a hiss. Your first-time trial was a success, and you couldn't help but smile.

Swiftly, you went through almost every box, finding mostly deeds and divorce papers. Fortunately, you stumbled upon some jewelry, and someone even carelessly stashed a wad of cash inside, which you promptly pocketed.

Once your bag was stuffed, you exited the building unnoticed. Scaling the side of the building, you reached the rooftop to survey your surroundings, ensuring no heroic intervention was imminent. As you counted the money you had collected, a pair of feet landed behind you. You sighed in annoyance and slowly turned around, still clutching the cash.

To your surprise, it was Robin.

A few years back, after robbing a jewelry store, Selina had persuaded you to take a break from a life of crime, deeming it too perilous and unpredictable. Only recently had she allowed you to return to your illicit activities. You took a moment to observe him, noticing his increased muscularity and shorter hair. With his mask on, he would be unrecognizable anyway. "You got taller," were your initial words.

Little did you know that Damian was scrutinizing you as well. The last time he'd seen you, he was just 14 years old. Normally, he wouldn't care much about his adversaries, let alone think about them as much as he did about you. Even though you had bested him the first and only time you'd crossed paths, he couldn't help but think about you.

"And you got curvier," Damian blurted out, unable to prevent the words from escaping his mouth. He mentally scolded himself for succumbing to his intrusive thoughts.

You gave him a quizzical look, unsure if he was attempting to flirt with you. He didn't strike you as the flirting type. Shaking your head, you slapped the cash against your palm and rocked on your heels. Slipping the money into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I gotta go." You turned to walk in the opposite direction, but a force struck you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground, landing on your stomach with your chin scraping against the pavement. You groaned and rolled over, just as Damian unsheathed his sword in a graceful forward roll.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to hit a girl?" you taunted.

"No, she threw me into the League of Assassins, where I was trained to be a cold-blooded killer," Damian replied.

Damn.

Damian rushed toward you, his sword slicing through the air. Swiftly, you rolled out of the way, but he managed to slice open your bag instead. You stood up as he charged at you again, the absence of your bag making the fight a fairer match. You assumed it would be easier to defeat him this time, just as you had when you first faced off.

As you prepared to throw a punch, Damian seized your wrist and struck your elbow, simultaneously sweeping your leg from under you. You crashed to the ground, landing hard on your back and knocking the wind out of you. He threw away his sword and grabbed you by the collar of your suit, cocking his fist back and delivering a punch to your face. The ringing in your ears intensified as the blows continued.

Foolishly underestimating Damian, you realized he was much stronger than he had been four years ago. He was giving his all, determined not to stop until you were defeated. Gathering enough energy, you managed to kick him off you. As you wiped your nose, feeling the blood trickling from your lips, you stood up, reminding yourself that you were not your mother.

You landed a few punches, but Damian's strength remained a significant advantage. He kicked you in the stomach, causing you to tumble toward the edge of the building. He slowly approached you, grabbing you by the hair to lift your head off the ground. He surveyed your bloodied and battered face, sighing as if regretting what he was about to do. With nothing left in you to fight back, you braced yourself as he delivered a final blow that sent you over the side of the building, hurtling towards the ground.

⋆

You clutched your book tightly to your chest as you navigated the bustling hallway. Skillfully, you maneuvered past the people blocking your path, making your way to your locker. After shoving your books inside, you retrieved the ones needed for your next class. However, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone's intense gaze was fixed on the side of your head. You glanced to your left and found yourself locking eyes with a pair of piercing green ones. Damian stood only a few feet away, next to his own locker. You let out a resigned sigh, anticipating that he might deliver another one of his lectures.

A few weeks ago, Damian had been assigned as your tutor for the rest of the year, given your struggle to keep up with your classes due to frequent absences. Neither of you had welcomed this arrangement, but your slipping grades left you with no choice but to accept help, even if it meant being tutored by the most arrogant person you'd ever encountered.

As Damian approached, you couldn't help but speak up, "What do you want, Damian?"

"I want you to meet me at my dorm once classes are over," he stated, his tone more commanding than inquisitive. You arched an eyebrow and closed your locker. "For what? We don't have anything scheduled for today."

He merely sighed. "I just need to have a word with you," he said and walked past you without further explanation. Your eyes tracked his retreating figure as he disappeared down the hall. You couldn't help but mutter, "Who does he think he is?"

After the school day ended, you complied with his request and made your way to Damian's dorm. You knocked and waited for a few moments, unsure of the reason behind this unusual request. Damian seldom engaged with you outside of tutoring, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with you ever since you'd punched him in the face.

Once Damian finally came to the door, he said nothing when he saw it was you. He just stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter. You walked into the small dorm room, which was plain but tidy. The walls lacked decorations, reminiscent of how your dorm looked when you first moved in. Damian's tie and blazer lay discarded on his neatly made bed, leaving him in his half-buttoned dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” you asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, being careful not to disrupt the bedding.

Last week, when Damian came to your dorm to study, his eyes caught sight of something on your nightstand—an emerald green necklace that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. It had looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. A few days ago, it finally clicked in his head where he had seen it before. Too much evidence pointed to you being someone he desperately did not want you to be. He would never admit it, but you were growing on him, and he secretly enjoyed your company. To confirm his suspicions, he needed one more piece of evidence.

"Let me see your hand," Damian abruptly requested.

"What?"

"Your hand, let me see it." Without waiting for your response, he took hold of your hand and examined your palm. He noticed a scar running diagonally across it, he remembered when you came to school with it bandaged up. You had told people it resulted from a kitchen accident, but he knew the truth. Damian was piecing everything together like a puzzle. It would explain why he often caught you sneaking into the dorms late at night, as well as why you were frequently late to class and tutoring.

It was you.

He just couldn't figure out how you were alive. He had believed he killed you. His heart ached at the thought.

You watched as Damian traced the scar on your hand with his thumb, his touch sending a tingly sensation through your skin.

"Damian...?" Your voice came out softer than intended. When he heard his name, he looked up at you, his eyes conveying a mixture of fear and regret, emotions you never thought you'd see from him.

"I know," he simply stated.

Confused, you shook your head. "You know what?"

And then it clicked. He KNEW. Why else would he be so interested in your scar? You thought you had done a good job of keeping it hidden. In fact, you had done a good job. The only way he would know was if he had been there.

You withdrew your hand from his. "You're Robin?" You didn't receive an immediate response, which confirmed your suspicion. You sighed, unsure if you should be upset or not. After all, it's not as if the two of you were best friends who had promised never to lie to each other. You did feel somewhat guilty for beating him up, but he had almost killed you in return.

"I'm sorry," he finally admitted, looking away, as if he couldn't bear to make eye contact while apologizing. It was a momentary lapse of his ego.

"Damian Wayne apologizing?" you said, a smug grin on your face.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

You laughed and playfully nudged him. You noticed a small smirk tugging at his lips, and it made your own smile grow wider.

Surprisingly, you both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Damian decided to break it.

"How did you survive that fall anyway?" he asked.

You chuckled. "No one told you? I'm like a cat, Damian. I have nine lives."

If you couldn’t tell I tried to avoid having to come up with a alias for Y/N…anyway,

Add yourself to my taglist here

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