candybat89

[candybat89]

My broken teddy bear part 2

Content warning

Yandere Jason Todd X reader platonic Trauma, massive, massive of violence abuse death gore and disturbing content will mostly show up in alter parts after part one and part two

…………………………………………………………………………….

He took a step forward, drawn by an invisible thread, but then stopped abruptly as a loud ping went off on his phone. He flinched, the harsh sound snapping him back to the grim reality of his night. Fucking dammit.

It was Tim, of course,

the ever-vigilant 'replacement.' The message was terse: "Bruce wants you back at the cave. Says he found some new intel on the guy you hit earlier. And, for the record, your collateral damage estimate is off by 17%."

Jason stifled a growl. Typical Tim, always with the numbers, always the subtle jab. And Bruce, using a case as an excuse to drag him back for another lecture. Ugh.. this was going to be a long night.

The peculiar warmth in his gut, the strange, almost painful tenderness that Y/N's innocent wave had sparked, was quickly being drowned out by the familiar surge of irritation and weariness. Shoving his phone roughly into his pocket, he made a mental note - a stark, insistent promise - to come back to this shop. That weird feeling was still swelling, unresolved, in his gut. In his mind, he didn't understand why or what it was, but little did he know, soon he would.

He pulled his hood back up, the rain still drumming relentlessly outside. The antique shop, once a temporary refuge, now felt like a place he was being reluctantly torn from. He took one last look at the velvet curtain the man had disappeared behind, a faint echo of

"Byeeeeee!" lingering in the air. He didn't understand it, not yet, but the memory of those bright blue eyes and that unburdened smile had lodged itself somewhere deep, a splinter of light in his perpetually dark world.

With a final, lingering glance, Jason pushed the heavy wooden door open, the cheerful chime now sounding almost mournful as he stepped back out into the cold, chaotic downpour. The city swallowed him whole once more, the neon glow of Gotham a sickly smear reflecting off the wet pavement. Every step back towards the cave felt heavier than the last, his bruised ribs aching a dull protest.

The Batcave was exactly as he'd pictured it: an echo chamber of disapproval. Bruce stood by the main console, arms crossed, face a mack of disappointment etched deeper by every one of Jason's transgressions. Dick was leaning against a training dummy, looking utterly wrung out, his sigh already audible before Jason even fully entered the main area. Tim, predictably perched at a computer, offered a brief, assessing glance over his shoulder before returning to his screens, his silence more damning than any accusation. And Damian, the small, self-righteous gargoyle, was polished and pristine near the training mats, a smirk playing on his lips, undoubtedly thrilled to see Jason in even deeper trouble.

"Jason," Bruce's voice, gravelly and controlled, cut through the hum of the computers. "We need to talk."

Jason didn't respond, just peeled off his sodden jacket, letting it drop to the floor in a wet heap. The anger was bubbling, a familiar, acrid taste in his mouth, but strangely, it didn't feel as all-consuming as usual. There was a thin membrane, a faint echo of laughter and a tiny wave, between him and the raw rage. It was barely perceptible, yet it was there, a buffer he hadn't known he needed.

Another man hospitalized, Jason," Bruce continued, his voice rising slightly.

"Unnecessary force. You put him in traction, likely with permanent damage."

"He was running a human trafficking ring out of that warehouse, Bruce," Jason bit back, forcing the words out, trying to summon the usual ferocity. "He deserved worse."

He saw Dick flinch.

"Deserved or not, you are not judge, jury, and executioner," Bruce retorted, his voice hardening. "We have laws, a system-

"A system that lets bastards like him walk!" Jason snarled, the familiar fire flickering, but the edges felt dulled. He pictured Y/N's bright, trusting eyes, the fleeting image of her small, bruised cheek. Some weeds needed to be ripped out by the roots. But what if the roots entwined with something innocent? "You think that

'system' would have stopped him from hurting more kids, more innocents?" The word 'innocents' felt heavier on his tongue than usual.

"That's not your call to make!" Bruce thundered, taking a step closer.

Jason glared, ready to launch into his usual tirade about Bruce's naivety, about the ugly truths of the streets. But then, an image flashed: a threadbare teddy bear, a small hand reaching out in an offer of comfort. And a voice, pure and clear: "Not everything bad is really bad, Mr. Mister."

He bit back the retort, the scathing words dying on his tongue. He was raw, exhausted, and the thought of engaging in this cyclical argument again tonight felt... profoundly pointless. He was tired of the fight, tired of the endless disappointment.

"Whatever," he muttered, turning away, surprising even himself even himself with the lack of venom in his voice. He walked towards the infirmary, his shoulders hunched. The familiar lecture followed him, but something within him had subtly shifted.

The righteous fury was still there, but now, a fragile, unsettling question lingered beneath it. A question prompted by a small girl and a one-eyed bear, a question he didn't yet have the words for, but one that tasted suspiciously like hope - or perhaps, just the faint, bewildering scent of something he'd long since lost. He just had to make sure he got back to that shop. Soon.

Thanks for reading

[candybat89]

My broken teddy bear

Content warning

Yandere Jason Todd X reader platonic

Trauma, massive, massive of violence abuse death gore and disturbing content will mostly show up in alter parts after part one and part 2

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

The rain was an icy lash across Jason’s face, washing the blood from his knuckles, but doing nothing to cleanse the rage from his soul. Another fight. The hundredth, the thousandth, who was counting anymore? Bruce, ever the moral arbiter, had practically vibrated with disappointment. Dick, ever the peacemaker, had just sighed that familiar, weary sigh. Tim had watched, silent and judging. Damian, predictably, had sided with the old man, a tiny, self-righteous gargoyle

What did it matter if the scum he’d just put down had deserved to breathe? The world was a cesspool, and some weeds just needed to be ripped out by the roots. Bruce's high-minded ideals were a luxury Jason couldn't afford, not when he was elbow-deep in the filth they all pretended wasn't there

He walked, boots sloshing, the city lights blurring into watery streaks on the wet pavement. Every step was a dull throb in his bruised ribs, every breath a shallow sting. He was wet, pissed off, and utterly drained. He knew what awaited him back at the cave – more lectures, more silent disapproval. The thought of it made his stomach clench. It was a long walk, and he was too tired, too injured, too soaked to contemplate it that when he past by a few shops sexed to head in one temporary to get a little break

A small, amber glow pierced the oppressive grey of the downpour. An antique shop. He didn't care about dusty relics or forgotten histories, but it was shelter. With a grunt, he pulled open the heavy wooden door, the bell above chiming a surprisingly cheerful note

The air inside was thick with the scent of old wood, beeswax, and something faintly sweet, like forgotten tea. He pulled his hood down, water dripping from his hair onto the worn floorboards. He feigned interest, running a calloused thumb over a tarnished silver locket, his eyes scanning the shelves filled with forgotten curiosities – grandfather clocks, porcelain dolls with unsettlingly wide eyes, stacks of yellowed books. He just needed a minute, a reprieve from the storm outside and the storm brewing within him

Then he heard it. A soft giggle, like wind chimes in a forgotten garden.

He turned, his trained gaze instantly locating the source. Tucked away in a dimly lit corner, amidst a pile of what looked like old, discarded toys, sat a child. A small thing, with a riot of messy hair that seemed to absorb the meager light. They were utterly absorbed, cradling an ancient, threadbare teddy bear, its one button eye staring blankly ahead. The child’s brow was furrowed in concentration, lips parted in a silent conversation with the plush toy.

Jason felt a strange jolt. The child’s hair was a similar shade to his own, the small, slight frame, the way their brow was creased. It was like looking at a ghost of himself, a tiny, innocent shadow from a past that felt a million years away. A past when he was still young, still hopeful, still too innocent. He remembered that kind of pure, unadulterated joy, a joy unburdened by the weight of a gun or the stench of blood.

The kid giggled again, rocking the bear gently. He noticed then, the small, fading bruise high on their cheekbone, stark against pale skin. Their clothes, a faded old shirt and shorts , were a bit too big, hanging loosely on their small frame there hair was messy braided someone had tired to do it but made it look a weird bob as was meats snd tangled it would be a pain in the ass to fix later for whoever had done it and the braids were falling out

The child turned to look at him and held up the teddy bear She wasn't looking at him, but at the bear, whispering secrets to it. "And then, Mr. Snuggles, the dragon roared, but you were so brave!" She punctuated this with another delighted giggle, nuzzling her face into the bear's worn ear.

Jason found himself just watching. It was… disarming. Her pure, unadulterated joy in such a quiet, forgotten place was like a splash of vibrant paint on a monochrome canvas.

She then looked up at him Then, her head tilted, and her eyes a startling shade of bright blue, found his. She didn't flinch, didn't hide, didn't look away with the usual apprehension most adults felt when confronted with his intense gaze. Instead, her smile widened.

Hey Mr do u want to hear a story without waiting for his response she told him about how a big scary dragon attacked a town and used his fire to burn it down and had a fight with the lights who were trying to hurt him as he fly off back to his cave were Mr buttons found him ( her teddy bear) and asked why he attacked the town

That’s when Mr dragon said he did it cause they kept on coming into his cave trying to take his wife eggs

She then looked sad Mr dragon wife is gone so all he had left is the eggs

"And then Mr. Buttons told the dragon he was very brave, didn't you, Mr. Buttons?" she cooed, nudding the bear's head. She paused, tilting her own head as if listening intently, then giggled. "He says the dragon was just lonely! See? Not everything bad is really bad, Mr. Mister."

He blinked. He hadn't been expecting a story like that or at all his mind going blank for a moment before look at her ‘dies Mr buttons have any more stories kid’ he found her story interesting

Her eyes widened, shining with excitement. "Oh, Mr. Buttons has lots of stories! He's seen everything. He saw a pirate ship sail right through a wall! And a princess who turned into a squirrel! And he says..." she leaned in conspiratorially, "...he says you look like you need a cuddle, too."

She held up the one-eyed teddy bear, offering it to him. Jason felt a strange, unfamiliar jolt in his chest. A childhood he never really had, a warmth he hadn't known since before a crowbar taught him about pain, flashed through him. This child, so pure, so unblemished by the world's cruelty, was offering him comfort.

He knelt down, careful not to loom, to scare her. "Mr. Buttons is very wise," he said, his voice softer than he'd intended. He gently touched the bear's worn fur. "What's your name, kid?"

"Y/n ," she said, her smile widening. "And I'm five and a half! Mr. Buttons says that's a very good age for adventures."

He found himself smiling back, a genuine smile that felt foreign on his face. Luna chattered on, telling him about Mr. Buttons' latest escapade involving a runaway teapot and a very polite spider. Her world was so simple, so wonderfully imaginative, so safe. He listened, completely captivated, completely disarmed.

That when he heard a box is of the old wooden floor creek with age someone was coming behind him A shadow fell over him. He tensed, hand instinctively going for the knife strapped to his thigh

"Evening," a voice rumbled, calm but wary. The shop owner. A burly man with kind eyes, but his gaze was sharp, taking in Jason’s damp, blood-flecked clothes, the way he was built like a repurposed tank, the subtle bulge of concealed weaponry. Red flags, undoubtedly

"Sorry about that," the man said, his voice softening as he glanced at the child. "That's my kid. She sometimes comes in when it's quiet, likes to play with the old toys. Didn't expect anyone with this weather, you know." He moved around Jason, his movements deliberate, protective. He bent down, scooped the small child into his arms with practiced ease

Jason felt a flicker of annoyance. Did the guy really think he was some kind of child snatcher? But then, he looked at himself – a blood-splattered, rain-soaked mess, a grim reaper in civilian clothes. Yeah, he probably did look like a threat

"Alright, peanut," the owner murmured to the child, subtly turning away from Jason. "Time to go back upstairs

As the owner carried them away, the child, nestled securely against his shoulder, looked back over his father's arm. Their messy brown hair framed a small, innocent face. And then, a tiny hand lifted, fingers wiggling in a slow, sweet wave

"Byeeeeee!" a small voice chirped, bright and pure, echoing in the quiet shop.

Jason stared, unmoving, as they disappeared behind a velvet curtain. That wave. That innocent, uncomplicated wave. Something deep inside him, something he hadn't realized was still there, twisted. A cold, hard knot that had been forming in his chest for years, a shield against the world’s brutality, suddenly felt… different. Not gone, but reshaped. It was a strange, unsettling warmth, chilling in its intensity.

He glanced at the curtain that man had taken the child into he fingers icted to go in there tho he didn’t quite understand why at least not yet

He took a step forward but then stoped as a load ping went off on his phone fuking damit stupid replacement had texted him about the guy he liked easier and how Bruce famed he come back to the cave

Ugh..this was going to be a long night he shoved his phone into his pocket making a metal note to come back into his shop that werid feeling was still swelling around in his gut in his mind he didn’t understand why or what it was but little did he know soon he would

Thanks for reading

Here’s part 2