#Bruce sighing inwardly

[medusas-graveyard]

Youngest adoptee!Danny (Alt ver)

Same concept of finding out ur adopted family isn't normal but different approach:

"Uh... Jason, can you get my screwdriver...?" Danny hesitantly asked the older male as he tinkered about on his new invention. "I— uh... Sorry, I'm a bit preoccupied right now."

Jason looked up from the couch (which was conveniently placed in a second workshop Bruce had specifically for his new ward, since, you know, the kid's by all means just a normal teenager. He doesn't even know their double life.) And shrugged, "sure, kid. Where's it?"

"My room, just on the desk, I think. I used it last night."

"You tinkered with your stuff in your room? At night?"

"...please don't snitch on Mr.Wayne"

"Stop doing that, then."

"*sigh* dully noted.."

Jason languidly made his way to Danny's room, clicking the door lock open. He flicked the lights on to see his brother's room; filled and decorated with stars and all things space. The younger male was definitely better at keeping things clean and tidy, that's for sure. Despite the various small inventions, books, and papers on the desk, his room was definitely tidy in a way.

He peered his eyes to the desk beside Danny's bed to see the very object he was looking for....and knocking it off the moment he wanted to grab it, great.

The thing rolled down the bed, causing Jason to inwardly groan on the fact that now he had to crouch down to reach for the screw driver.

He huffed and looked down to the bed, fully expecting to see the screw driver down there... Only to have his sight blocked by a news article.

He blinked, before squinting his eyes at the piece of paper, trying to read what's inside of it.

'Jason Todd pronounced dead by billionaire play boy Bruce Wayne.'

His eyes snap open as he immediately sat up. "What the hell..." He muttered as he eyed the bed suspiciously.

Jason hauled himself up, before prying the bed out of the frame and flipping it so that it leaned into the wall beside it and—

—"What the fuck?"

Danny thanked Alfred happily as the butler handed him his share of Dinner; it's a full table today, something quite rare within their hectic schedule.

He eats the dinner comfortably as his siblings chatter away... except for Jason who has been staring at him for the past 15 minutes.

"Todd, it's rude to stare." Damian chastised, to his rescue as always.

Jason seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in, before leaning back to his chair.

"You know, don't you?"

As if a pin dropped, the room became suffocatingly silent; everyone's tense from that one sentence alone, while Danny merely blinked in surprise.

"Damn, you saw my conspiracy board, huh?"

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 198

Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly. 

But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance? 

So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever. 

He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib. 

Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib. 

Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway? 

His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest. 

“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring? 

Oh. 

He wasn’t human this time around. 

[envysparkler]

“Got Scarecrow,” Nightwing chirped through the comm, accompanied by a stream of mad rambling about worst nightmares and reliving terror that thankfully cut off when Crane was passed off to the police.

“Everyone, report,” Bruce ordered, finishing with the zipties around the hands of the last of Scarecrow’s thugs.  The battle had been hectic, and Bruce had lost sight of all his children during the melee.

“Nightwing, heading away from the police, no injuries.”

“Robin, southwest corner, no injuries.”

“Robin, you have a sprained wrist,” Nightwing chided.

“No injuries,” Robin snapped.

Bruce suppressed his sigh and dropped down to the alley where his eldest and youngest were bickering.  “Red Robin, report,” Bruce reminded across the comms, before kneeling to check Robin’s wrist.

It was sprained, and Bruce called the Batmobile to their location instead of letting them grapple back to it, ignoring Damian’s pointed huff.

“Red?” Nightwing said warily, and Bruce felt an icy curl of dread in his stomach.  “Red Robin, check in.”

No response.

“Who last had eyes on him?” Bruce asked, heading back into the warehouse and ignoring the police picking over the scene.

“I lost him at the start, I was trying to stay close to Robin,” Nightwing said, following him.

“I saw Red near Crane,” Robin huffed, “The next time I looked, Crane was alone.”

“Red?” Bruce called again, scanning the warehouse for any hint of red-and-black in the shadows, his unease growing stronger.  Crane had been raving about the prototype of his new toxin, had Red Robin—

A ping sounded, and Bruce pressed the button to connect to whoever was trying to reach him—had Red Robin’s comm been accidentally disconnected during the fight?

“Will someone,” Jason’s growl cut through the comms, “Tell me how the hell—” he sounded furious, and an alarm started blaring in back of Bruce’s head—“The Replacement knows where I live?!”

“Hood?” Nightwing froze, twisting to look at Bruce—he didn’t need to see past the mask to know that Dick’s eyes were wide and worried.

“What is Red’s status?” Bruce asked, wincing when it came out more like a demand—Jason’s temper was fickle at the best of times, but if he was already in a bad mood, then Bruce was one misstep away from waking up to see half of Gotham levelled.

“He broke into my safehouse while I was sleeping,” Jason snarled, “What do you think his goddamn status is?”

Not good.  Very not good.  They had all breathed a sigh of relief when Jason decided to stay off patrol due to his broken ribs, and doubly so when they received word that Crane had broken out of Arkham.

“Hood,” Bruce tried as they exited the building—Jason had safehouses scattered all over Gotham, and Bruce was sure he didn’t know about half of them.  “Where are—”

“Robin?”  That was Tim’s voice, echoing oddly through the line.

“The demon brat’s bedroom is on the other side of the city,” Jason snapped, and Bruce registered the too-fast breathing and desperately wished he was standing between his sons.

“Hood, Red might’ve been hit with fear toxin,” Bruce managed to get out, but it didn’t do anything to calm Jason down.

“So, what, he came here to finally finish off the big, bad Hood?” Jason sneered, and it was difficult enough to talk Jason down when he was standing in front of Bruce, Bruce had no idea how he was going to do it over the comms.

Jason, stop he discarded.  Wait, Jason listen except Jason wouldn’t definitely not listen.  Jason, please but Jason would take offense at that.  Don’t murder your brother was unlikely to be received well.

“Hood, just tell us where you are,” Nightwing tried, “We’ll get him out of your hair, I promise.”

Jason inhaled sharply and Bruce inwardly winced, waiting for the diatribe—

“Robin,” Tim sounded distant and choked, “Help.  Please.”

Damian jolted forward, visibly surprised.

Jason’s connection closed with an audible click.

Bruce stared at Nightwing and saw his own trepidation reflected in his son’s face.

~#~

It took them twenty minutes.  Twenty minutes of Oracle hacking the security cameras to figure out where Tim had fled, twenty minutes to confirm that one of the prototype vials of fear toxin was missing, twenty minutes to listen to Crane’s cackling about trapping people in one of their worst memories.

Between Tim and Jason, there was enough past trauma to cause several murders.  Everything about Jason’s past was a landmine, and while Tim was usually good at navigating it—better than Bruce, at any rate—he would be oblivious while trapped inside his own head.

Finally, Oracle managed to catch Tim slipping into a side street in Crime Alley, and not appearing out the other side.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Nightwing murmured as they followed the coordinates, “You know how protective Jason is over his safehouses—”

“When Hood stops being an insane murderer, he can have his privacy back,” Robin snapped.

“Come on, baby bat, Jason won’t actually hurt Tim,” Nightwing said quietly, “He just needs some time to calm down and get out of his bad mood.”

“Drake is currently drugged and vulnerable, it would be the height of foolishness to place your faith in his continued survival in the hands of Todd,” Robin sneered, taking the fire escape down, and Nightwing shot a startled glance at Bruce before following after him.

Jason’s apartment was the third one Bruce checked, and he felt the tension in the air as the window slid open with a near-soundless squeak.

“Get out,” Jason said, voice low and rough, before Bruce had even cleared the threshold of his room.

“Jason,” Bruce started, slow and quiet, but Jason cut him off.

“Get out,” Jason snarled, but his voice cracked halfway through and Bruce stepped inside the bedroom, alarmed.

“Jason?” he called out, finding the curled up figure in the shadowed corner.

“You found him,” Nightwing said breathlessly, and Damian shoved past him with a terse, impatient sound.

“Get. Out,” Jason snapped, his breath…hitching.  He sounded like he was crying.

Bruce immediately turned to find the lights.

Jason was sitting, back pressed to the corner, with Tim in his lap, head pillowed against his brother’s chest.  The mask was gone, as was the cape, and Tim blinked open half-closed eyes at the sudden emergence of the light.

Jason was hunched protectively around him, a glare already forming on his face, but there were splotches of color on his cheeks and his eyes were suspiciously shiny.

“Robin,” Tim breathed out as soon as he saw Damian, reaching out a hand.  Damian stared at him, clearly taken aback, but shuffled forward until he was close enough to touch.  Jason watched them both with narrowed eyes.

Tim made a half-lunge forward, snagged Damian’s cape and dragging the younger boy into an embrace as he curled back into Jason.  Damian squawked, but Tim was holding him too tightly—Damian would have to break something to get out of his grasp.

They could all see the exact moment that Damian realized this and subsided with a scowl.

[skirter01]

DP x DC Pilot/Engineer Danny AU

I saw this idea somewhere, but I cannot for the life of me find out who came up with it, so apologies, but if someone knows, do what you need to. But basically, it was Danny working in the aerospace department for Wayne enterprises, getting close with the Waynes etc. I dunno. But I thought about it today and *throws this at you*. It’s got my own spin to it, but yeah. 

---

Tim hadn’t slept in days, Bruce could tell and the sight was unnerving. So instead of scolding his second youngest, as he normally would, he decided on a... less hypocritical approach. It was probably the safest option, because Tim looked just about ready to throw himself at a wall, or the next available person.

“What are–"

Tim startled, and shot from his desk chair in a flurry of paper and limbs. Bruce heard the shink of metal as Tim drew the batarang from some hidden place on his person, and his sons careless, sleep deprived throw was the only reason Bruce still had his right eye.

The clipped thunk of the weapon sinking into the wall behind him had Bruce arching a brow at his son. Tim was a damn good shot, not the best in the family (Jason held that title, unfortunately), but he was skilled enough not to miss a target as big as himself. That spoke volumes of how exhausted his son had to be.

“B?” Tim questioned, stumbling backwards to lean against the desk as he rubbed at his blood shot eyes. “Don’t do that Jesus.” He groaned. “I was in the middle of something.”

“My apologies”, Bruce frowned at his son. “Clearly it had all your attention.”

“It did.” Tim grumbled snippily, reaching down to pick up some of the papers he’d disturbed. “What was it you wanted again?”

“Just checking in. Alfred was concerned. You missed dinner last night, and I didn’t see you for breakfast this morning.” Bruce hastily took note of the multitude of empty coffee cups that littered the room, stained brown by the liquid residue.

“I ate.” Tim stated, then, as if on que, his stomach let out a loud keening groan. His son flushed, and wrapped his arms defensively around the offending body part. “Er...okay maybe I missed one meal.” It rumbled again, this time even more convincingly. Tim snarled at it, clearly angered by the betrayal. “Maybe two then.”

“I can see that.” Bruce chuckled, “What are you working on? Need a fresh set of eyes?”

“No.”

Bruce glanced first at the pile of papers on the desk, and then the multitude of tabs open on Tim’s browser.

His son made a face like he’d just eaten a lemon. “You’ve got better things to do.”

Bruce smiled inwardly. Like most of the manors inhabitants, (himself included), Tim hated asking for help. It was a trait that Bruce shared with all his children, as unfortunate as it was, but Tim was by far the worst. Especially, when it came down to a case.

The boy was independent incarnate. Hell, he’d singlehandedly discovered Bruce’s alter ego with nothing but a camera and a brain. It made even more sense when you considered just who he had as elder siblings. A detective and a crime lord. As much as Bruce hated it, he knew that Tim tried his absolute hardest to match up with Dick and Jason.

But Bruce liked the way Tim worked, his brain was interesting.

“I assure you, I don’t.” He replied, moving over the desk to take a peek at what exactly his elusive son was working on.

Daniel Fenton: Employee Profile, NASA

Monthly Progress Report: Daniel Fenton

FENTON, Daniel: Casper High, Report Card

Birth Certificate: Daniel James Fenton

“What, exactly are you doing?” Bruce frowned, “Tim, I thought I warned you about accessing peoples private information without a plausible reason.”

Tim sighed and drooped into his chair, “I know how this looks, but I promise I do actually have a good reason.” 

“Mhmm. Get explaining.” 

His son leant over the table to pick up a headshot of one Daniel Fenton. “This is Wayne Enterprises newest employee, Daniel Fenton, or Danny as he introduced himself.” 

Tim cleared his throat, “About six months ago, I sent out a letter to NASA on your behalf – after we lost Jeremiah, the head engineer from the aerospace division – enquiring if they had any employee’s they would be able to loan out to us until I could organise a replacement. This is the guy they sent. I’ve got a problem with him.” 

Bruce grabbed at the page, stealing it from his sons grip (It was quickly replaced by a cold cup of coffee from the dresser). 

The man pictured was young, probably around Jason’s age (early twenties at the most) with shaggy raven hair, styled into a neat undercut, and bright blue eyes. A sly, lopsided grin was spread out across his face – a typical troublemaker smile if he’d ever seen one – that reminded him eerily of Dick, and a black NASA lanyard was drooped around his neck, hiding under the collar of his navy dress shirt.

He looked up at Tim, and then back down at the photo and then back at Tim. “Is your problem that you’ve got a crush on the guy?” 

Tim choked on his coffee, spluttering on the dark liquid and whacking his chest to relieve the pain. The coughing fit didn’t last long, but Tim’s face had gone completely red (with embarrassment or pain was debatable) and he was heaving in heavy gulps of air. 

“What?” He wheezed in disbelief, face scrunched up. “You did not just say that.” 

Bruce crossed his arms, offended. “It was an honest question. He’s a well-presented young man, and you are...single, are you not?”

Tim just stared at him, uncharacteristically lost for words for once before he slapped a hand aggressively into his forehead. “No! God no, B, that’s not how bisexuality works.” He rushed, slowly getting his breath back, “Actually, well it sorts of is- wait, no, my point is that I do not have a crush on him. Fuck, ok. Yikes.”

“My apologies then.” Bruce admonished, trying and failing to hide the smile at his sons flustered words. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

Tim glowered at him. “Stop that. I’m interested in someone else, you know this.”

“Just get on with it.” Bruce smirked, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “What’s your problem with him?”

Tim huffed, “I don’t actually know, there’s so many problems, I really can’t narrow it down but he’s suspicious, I dunno...” He mumbled, picking up the progress reports Bruce had spotted earlier and running an eye over them, “He’s a model employee and I mean that seriously. The guys a genius as an engineer, knows his stuff better than most, and the guys working in the department practically worship him as a supervisor. I can see why NASA only loaned him, because seriously, there were conditions they gave. He’s a serious asset.”

“I still don’t see your point Tim.”

“I’m getting there!” His son hissed, pinching his nose as if to quell an oncoming headache. “Sorry, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.” He apologised, “Anyway, point is, he’s too good. At, like, everything. He’s an engineer, and a pilot, and he’s been involved in practically every community project we’ve done and-and... ugh. I can’t figure it out, but there’s something about him. The way he does things, the way he acts, it’s all just...wrong.”

He gestured aggressively to the desk where he’d been working, “I’ve been trying to dig up some stuff on him, anything really, to try and figure out what it is, but so far I’ve found nothing. The dudes a total ghost! There’s nothing on him. It’s frustrating as all hell.” Tim slumped down into the chair, arms crossed and glaring at the papers. Defeated.

Bruce took a moment to process the information. Originally, he’d laughed it off, thinking Tim was generally attracted to the guy – that he could understand. But seeing how worked up his son was about it... there had to truly be something wrong.

Sure, Tim was a known workaholic, it was just how he operated, but he didn’t just obsess over random people and cases without reason.

“What do you mean by wrong?” He inquired, leaning up against the desk.

Tim waved his hands in frustration, “I don’t know! Everything! His presence, the way he does things, his stellar record. It just– I’ve had this feeling, ever since I first met him in the office that day. It’s not a good feeling but I can’t figure out what it is. I feel like there’s something I’m missing, something I’ve overlooked. It’s just strange, there’s something off about him.”

Bruce took a good look at Tim’s face then, noting the worry lines starting to crease into his forehead and the bruises beneath his eyes. This was obviously something he needed help with, and although he may not have asked for it explicitly...well, Tim’s problem with this Daniel Fenton, also just become Bruce’s problem, or alternatively Batman’s, if it came to that.

The teenager planted his face into his hands, and Bruce put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I get it.” He started, “I know the feeling, I’ve had it – still get it actually. Some people rub you the wrong way. You aren’t wrong to trust your instincts, it’s the first thing I taught you, right?”

Tim nodded into his hands, rubbing them down his face and pulling the skin unattractively downwards, showcasing the extent of his eye-bags as they contrasted against his pale skin. He really needed Tim to go outdoors for a little.

“You’re working tomorrow, right? In the office?” He questioned his sleep deprived son.

“Yeah. What about it?”

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I was thinking I’d drop by. I heard the aerospace division was due for an inspection.”

Tim side eyed him from where he was cradling his head in his hands. “It was inspected last month.” He stated dully.

Bruce rolled his eyes at his sons bad humour, “Then I suppose it’s about time for another.”

Tim groaned and shrugged his hand off, “They’re going to hate me. So, so much.”

“Maybe.” Bruce chuckled, making his way to the door, “But that comes with the territory. See you at 10:00am.”

“Yeah. Whatever”

“Oh, and Tim,” He stopped himself just before he left the room. “Get some sleep, please. Alfred’s lost enough hair already.” He swung the door closed, although, not without hearing Tim’s last comment.

“Yeah! Raising you!”

What lovely, considerate children he had.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Tim acquires siblings:

Tim watched the January snow drift lazily down, a façade of calm punctuating a truly horrendous 24 hours.

He glanced down at the cast on the arm, and then at the towel that wiped off joker makeup and blood.

Tim relished the brief moment of peace in between being mother henned by Dick and Alfred. Bruce was down in the cave writing up the report.

He closed his eyes, how he managed to survive 10 hours of torture was beyond him. 

He knew that he should be furious, terrified, or a crying mess, all normal responses to being tortured, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. All he felt was exhaustion and relief that the ordeal was over.

That's fine, he didn't need to address this trauma today, right now, all he had to do was rest. Tim drifted off to sleep.

Underneath the manor, Bruce finished typing up the incident report.

He nearly lost another Robin, and to the same villain no less. Had Joker been able to complete his plan, Bruce wouldn't have known what to do with himself.

First Jason, then Barbara, and now Tim.

Bruce called Barbara, just a check in with Oracle and his job would be done for the day. He could then go to sleep on the armchair next to Tim's bed.

He brushed the hair out of his face, "Oracle report." 

Barbara's face popped up on screen, in a flat tone, she blandly stated, "There's nothing to report."

Bruce groaned inwardly, he knew what that tone meant. 

He pleads, "Barbara please."

Barbara groans, "How could you let him get away again?"

Bruce starts, "Barbara we can't kill-" only to be cut off by Oracle. "I didn't say that you had to kill, I'm not even going to question why you resuscitated the Joker, but why on earth did you send him back to Arkham?"

Bruce rubs his eyes, " There wasn't any other option."

She scoffs, " Bullshit, you could have sent him to Blackgate or even to Belle Reve if you had pulled a couple strings. But no, you had to put him back in Arkham, where he lays low for a few months, only to break out and cause mass casualties all over again."

Bruce averted his eyes.

With a sigh she says, "Goodnight Bruce." and the feed cuts off.

Bruce stares at his reflection on the black screen. He swallows his pride and prepares for his vigil next to Tim's bed.

In the living room, Dick sat on the couch, cereal bowl in hand, watching some sort of game show. 

The scene was in such stark contrast with how his day had gone so far, that he had to choke down a hysterical laugh.

Finding it impossible for him to focus on the show, he turned off the TV.

It was fine, they got Tim back safely and the Joker is still alive, and locked up in Arkham. He'd probably break out in a few months but they can deal with that then.

Dick didn't kill anyone, Bruce made sure of that.

No matter how hard he tried, his mind still lingered on the thought, "I could have killed him". But he didn't, and if there was ever anyone in the world who deserved to die, it would be the Joker.

If anything, he should be relieved if Joker died, after all that he'd done to Jason, to Barbara, and now to Tim. 

Dick shuddered, a flash of shame jolting through his body, what would Jason think of him, putting his own sense of self righteousness over doing what needs to be done?

Dick got up and went to the kitchen to wash up. Those thoughts are best left for later. Right now, he has a baby brother to care for.

He saw Alfred ever dutifully cleaning up. The only sign that the usually stoic butler was drained were his bloodshot eyes. 

Alfred reached out for Dick's bowl, only to be greeted with an apology.

"I'm sorry Alfred." They both knew that he wasn't referring to the bowl.

Alfred just sighs, "Not everyone is made to kill lad. I'm proud that you didn't break your oath." He paused, then said, "Although if the Joker and I ever crossed paths, it would end with a bullet between his eyes."

Dick nodded. Alfred looks up at him, "Get some rest lad."

Dick moved up to Tim's room and Alfred went back to the dishes.

It was going to be a long night.

[ggomos-maribat]

2 | in which Damian Wayne wakes up to an odd breakfast

Part 2 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Saturday. Bruce's only schedule for the day? An interview.

But inside the Wayne manor.

It wasn't Marinette's first visit to the house, but she still couldn't get used to how humongous it was. She readjusted the box in her hands and the coat hanging from her arm as Bruce himself welcomed her at the front door and guided her to the drawing room.

A drawing room that indeed looked expensive but was extremely messy at the moment.

"Where's Alfred?" she asked.

"He's out for groceries and a few other errands," replied Bruce, which explained the state of the room. Which also explained the Batarangs and a utility belt lying out in the open which Bruce didn't seem to notice.

Marinette inwardly sighed one of her many sighs for the day. Her boss was lucky she came over early in the morning on a weekend. She wondered how his identity hadn't been discovered by the public yet. She took the chance to give Bruce a once-over to examine his outfit: polished shoes, blue blazer, blue tie, hair gelled to perfection.

"Is it too formal?" he asked hesitantly.

"They will only take one photograph of you but you have to at least leave the impression that you're not 'all work, no play' in your own house." She crossed her arms. "May I suggest your waffle-knit sweater with a collared dress shirt underneath and light-colored pants?"

What is that expression . . . is Bruce actually pouting?! "Yes, okay. I'll change now."

Just as he was about to turn around and retreat upstairs, Marinette stopped him. "Mr. Wayne, may I tidy up this space for our guests?"

He appeared a shade paler, pinned under her stern gaze. "Yes, of course. Thank you Marinette."

And off he scurried to his bedroom.

With his permission, the PA got to work. Ms. Sinclair and her assistant will be here at eight-thirty. We have around fifteen minutes to prepare. She picked up the papers scattered on top of and underneath the coffee table, stored away the blankets draped on the chairs, and safely hid the Batarangs and other identity-incriminating objects behind some knick knacks on the shelves. Armed with a duster and a lint roller, she moved around to clear the cushions of fur and get rid of the dirt between spaces. Finally, she pulled the curtains open to give a lively view of the courtyard (and to introduce some much-needed sunlight into the area).

When Bruce returned downstairs wearing the outfit from her recommendation, he blinked and looked around as if it was his first time seeing the room. "This looks much better," he hummed in approval.

Marinette topped it off by placing a flower centerpiece on the coffee table. "Anything else you need me to do, Mr. Wayne? Should I sit in during the interview?"

"No thank you, I have another request for you." Bruce's eyes flickered towards the kitchen. "You see, some of my children might already be awake at this time and Alfred's not around to take care of breakfast."

". . . I don't believe this fits my job description."

"I'll add to your pay this month."

"I'll get started on breakfast right away, sir. Any preferences?"

"Anything will do."

Marinette nodded and immediately put away all the cleaning equipment as the doorbell rang. Bruce told her that he would be the one to greet Ms. Sinclair, so she headed for the kitchen instead.

***

Upon entering the new room, Marinette noticed that there was already an occupant inside. A short-haired woman sat on top of a barstool on the kitchen island, cradling a mug. Marinette halted in her tracks, bowing slightly.

"Hello. Miss . . . Cassandra." She smiled softly. "I'm Marinette, Mr. Wayne's assistant. I don't believe we've met before. Your father's currently entertaining a Gazette reporter at the moment and asked me to cook breakfast."

Cassandra, or Cass as Bruce would often refer to her, tilted her head. "Nice to meet you."

Marinette unhooked an apron near the refrigerator. "Would you like me to make you another cup of tea?"

Cass' eyebrows raised, perhaps surprised at how perceptive she was. She gazed down at her mug, thinking, and met Marinette's eyes again. "Sure."

With a one-month raise in mind, Marinette prepared the teapot and collected the ingredients. Thanks for not telling me which children are home, she frowned as she went over the contents of the pantry. Very helpful, Mr. Wayne. She settled on playing it safe: simple but numerous choices.

"Have you got any preferences for breakfast, Miss Cassandra?" She asked as she tipped the teapot over Cass' mug. Cass merely shook her head 'no'.

"Very well."

Marinette had just preheated the pans when footsteps sounded. In rushed another Wayne kid, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Mr. Thomas," she chirped. "Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?"

Duke looked like he was caught off guard seeing her there. He looked back and forth between her and Cass, eyes filled with confusion. His sister only motioned for him to reply to Marinette.

"Uuh, coffee please," he responded, walking up to a barstool to sit down.

"I'll brew a cup for you right away." Marinette took the empty coffee maker, suspiciously containing remnants of the drink. Mr. Drake's doing, no doubt. "Mr. Wayne had me get started on breakfast since Mr. Pennyworth isn't here at the moment."

"Ohh," said Duke. "Marinette, right? It's a Saturday today though. Bruce called you in just to make breakfast? He's incompetent but not that incompetent, you know."

"He does require my presence for the interview he's doing." Marinette motioned towards the direction of the drawing room. "I have nothing to do while he's currently conversing with Ms. Sinclair, so he thought I could cook some food for you."

"Pretty sure his main problem was breakfast though."

Marinette slowly nodded in agreement, stirring the contents of one pot. "I didn't object because he promised to compensate me fairly."

"As he should." Duke brought out his phone to check his reflection on the camera. "By the way, do either of you have any tips for an internship interview?"

Cass shrugged and patted his hand. "You'll do well."

"Really? I almost couldn't sleep last night because of it." Duke huffed. "Then Tim told me to just wing it after I caught him making coffee."

Marinette contributed two words while still moving around to cook: "Your cologne."

Duke sniffed himself. "Does it smell bad?"

"It's best to go for a more subtle scent." She wrinkled her nose and momentarily reached for her bag to toss him a bottle that she brought. "Here, this might be more suitable."

"You brought men's cologne?" Duke stared at the glass sprayer in disbelief.

"You'd be surprised at how many things Mr. Wayne unexpectedly needs." The reply drew out a little laugh from Cass.

Duke took a whiff and lit up. "I'll go change and put this on. Thanks, Mars!"

As he raced back up the stairs, Marinette checked the time. She untied her apron, poured out four cups of coffee, and prepared them with differently: the first two (one for Duke), she used only creamer and sugar; in the second one, she added just the right amount of sugar; and in the last, a vanilla flavoring, tower of whipped cream, and a dash of cinnamon. Next, she quickly set up the three drinks on a wooden tray, plus three plates of pastries from the box she brought.

Thank kwamis Alfred has a good kitchen arrangement system, she thought.

"Please excuse me for a moment." She told Cass as she picked up the tray.

She was granted impeccable timing when she slipped into the drawing room—Bruce and Ms. Sinclair had paused their interview, with the latter's eyes immediately gleaming in delight upon seeing the snacks and drinks. Meanwhile, Sinclair's assistant-slash-photographer gawked.

"Excuse me, here's some refreshments." Marinette beamed at the journalist, setting down the tray. "Mr. Wayne picked these pastries just for you, miss. I hope you enjoy them."

"Goodness!" Excitement was practically radiating from the woman. "Aw, Bruce you didn't have to!"

Ms. Sinclair wasn't a difficult person to please. A quick research told Marinette that she had a sweet tooth. A much deeper (totally not borderline stalker-ish) research revealed her favorite coffee blend and pastry shop.

Marinette definitely read a hint of surprise from Bruce, even if he did a good job of concealing it. Because Bruce, in fact, didn't prepare the pastries and is seeing them for the first time. He directed a charming smile at Ms. Sinclair. "It's the least I can do. Please enjoy."

"Such a dear," the woman gushed. "Now I might do three pages of the magazine for you, not two!"

And when Bruce glanced at Marinette, she sent him a look saying 'you better thank the heavens you have me.'

***

When she returned, Duke was back, happily sipping his coffee but along with him was a newcomer.

The youngest son.

Marinette had met Damian Wayne only a few times before and only when Bruce was around. Bruce had introduced him fleetingly, so she had only managed to exchange simple greetings with him, not anything more.

But despite their lack of interaction, Marinette knew a lot about Damian from Bruce's ramblings during lull time at work. He'd tell her 'Damian tried to adopt another cat', 'I think Damian's mad at me', 'How can I get Damian and Jason to bond together?', 'Damian threatened to go back to his mother if I don't agree to let Titus come on vacation with us', or 'I think Damian just used a slang on me. What does this mean?'

Marinette would give her best advice to her boss during those times, but she couldn't help but wonder if the resolutions ever worked with Damian since Bruce never relayed follow-ups.

"Good morning, Damian," she greeted, "Breakfast is almost ready. Would you like a drink?"

"Thomas filled me in." He set his bag on top of the counter. "Father really shouldn't be calling his PA for this. And no, I don't want a drink. I have to go soon."

Duke eyed his brother's outfit. "You have school today?"

"I asked my art teacher if I can come in today to work on my painting as we're not allowed to take our artworks home." Damian replied.

"No need to come in on time," Cass pointed out. "Come eat."

Damian narrowed his eyes at the pans on the stove. "I cannot eat—"

"Vegan kimchi fried rice and tofu scramble," Marinette said, "I cooked something else for you."

". . . Tt. Fine." And he begrudgingly took his seat.

The three siblings watched as Marinette served a feast—the delicious aroma of breakfast wafted around the room as she carefully plated the dishes in perfect portions. She didn't know if her cooking was on par with Alfred's, but she should at least impress them for the good pay she was getting from Bruce. She set down the plates in front of them with a simple 'bon appétit!'

Duke shoveled up the food quickly. "This is so good!" He took another bite.

To this, Cass nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Damian quietly chewed his meal, paying no compliments.

But he gazed up at Marinette. "You're not going to eat?"

"Oh, no thank you," Marinette declined, "I wouldn't want to impose, and I already ate before I came here."

It was a full-on lie. It was taking all of her strength to not let her stomach growling be heard. Although she was inside Bruce's home, she still had to act professional. Luckily, Damian only raised an eyebrow skeptically and continued eating.

***

"Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce seemed stunned for a second after seeing Marinette hand a packed lunch to Duke before he rushed out. He even taste-tested her cooking and remarked how delicious it was.

He blinked at her. "Nothing else. You've done so much already, thank you."

"I should be going home then."

"Wait." Bruce spun around to face his son. "Damian, you're heading out too. Can you drive Marinette home?"

"But Father—"

"I can commute on my own, it's no problem at all." Marinette stepped forward.

"Her residence is on your way to school," Bruce insisted. "And please let him take you, Marinette, as thanks for breakfast."

When her gaze landed on Damian, he didn't seem too happy about it. But how could she deny a free ride?

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She bowed slightly. "I'll see you on Monday."

***

Suffice to say, the walk to the car and most of the ride was full of awkward silence. Marinette tried not to look at Damian every second or so. She went over her mental notes about him. Damian Al Ghul Wayne. The current Robin, who's attending university. Likes animals, broody, formerly extremely violent. If she remembered correctly, he was around her age.

"Take the next right over there and my apartment's in the second building." She offered a small smile. "Thank you for the ride again."

He didn't reply.

He only followed her directions and stopped in front of her building. As a last attempt at communication, Marinette took the box with pastries left over and held it out to him.

"Here, you can take these last two. They're vegan." Marinette watched as his gaze dropped down to the box before lifting up to meet hers.

"No thank you. You should have them instead—you're starving, aren't you?" He tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Besides, you're the one who bought that."

Her eyes widened. Had she been obvious the whole time? "Um, er . . ." She retracted her arms. "Okay. Thank you."

She unclasped her seatbelt and sneaked another glance at him. She was close to opening the door when she stopped. "Hey, can you take off your seatbelt for a sec?"

He frowned. "What?"

"It won't take long, Mr. Wayne."

"I don't—" He cut himself off and sighed, most likely remembering one of their first encounters. He'd ask her to call him Damian, not 'Mr. Wayne' like his father, so she'd only use his last name when he wasn't being cooperative.

Damian did as she said and she reached over to undo his tie. He didn't say anything as she redid the lopsided knot, tying his necktie neatly and smoothing over the creases.

She didn't notice how small the distance between them had become until she felt his breath on her forehead.

"There you go." She pulled away and opened the door. "Alfred usually helps you with that, doesn't he?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

She smiled. "Good luck with your painting, Damian."

Again, silence. But Marinette pretended not to notice him fumbling with his seatbelt as she got out of the car. 

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick was not having a good night.  Well, he hadn’t had a good week, too little sleep and too many cases and a draining day mediating the aftermath of Bruce and Jason’s latest blowout, and all Dick wanted to do when he got back to Bludhaven was sleep.

But no, there was a new trafficking ring he had to go investigate, and he had to do it tonight because Slade had a contract to steal something from them, and Dick wasn’t letting him operate solo in Bludhaven.  Well, the sprawling base was outside city limits, but it still counted.

Slade, of course, had taken the excuse to get all his entertainment in.

“Having trouble?” Slade’s voice appeared right next to his ear, and Dick suppressed the urge to flinch.  For a man carrying that many weapons, Deathstroke sure was silent when he wanted to be.

“I’m fine,” Dick said levelly, fiddling with the locked door and trying to ignore the mercenary pressing against his back, “I’d be done a lot faster if I had some room to breathe.”

The chuckle was accompanied by a warm breath of air on his ear, and Dick couldn’t help the instinctive shudder.  “You have plenty of air, little bird,” Slade murmured, and fingers curled around Dick’s shoulders, “Though maybe it’s something else you’re lacking…”

The fingers were rubbing tiny little circles into Dick’s shoulders and Dick set his face into a scowl and violently shrugged them off.  “Stop it,” Dick snapped, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when the lockpicks clicked into place.  Fucking finally.

He threw the door open and stalked into the next corridor—his immediate priority was to get away from Slade, he wouldn’t have accepted the mercenary’s deal if he’d known Slade was going to be hovering over his shoulder the entire fucking time—and froze.

“Agent,” Tiger smiled, dressed all in black and clearly in the middle of breaking in himself.  “What a pleasant surprise.”  His voice dropped and his gaze lingered on Dick’s costume in a way that made his throat go dry.

Dick fought the urge to scream.

~#~

There was much less posturing than Dick had expected.  Tiger and Slade had confirmed that they weren’t after the same thing—turned out that the traffickers had a lot of stolen goods in their large, maze-like base—and agreed to temporarily working together.

“Nonlethal,” Dick reminded them both, something twisting inside of him at the realization that he was now outnumbered.

Slade grunted.  Tiger rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’ll spare your delicate sensibilities, princess.”

Dick set his jaw and ignored the mocking tone.  “We’re heading to the vault first,” he told Tiger, “And then you can both find your own way out while I find the main office.”

“Oh, you trust us to be unsupervised that long?” Slade raised an eyebrow.  Dick took a deep breath and didn’t respond to the bait.

“I trust you know the consequences if you don’t play by my rules,” Dick said evenly.  Slade’s expression shifted to something dark and inscrutable as Tiger let out a low whistle.  Dick fought the urge to shiver, and turned on his heel.

Goddamn fucking mercenaries.  Dick just had one simple job—find the main computer, download the data, and then get out.  He could run the analysis later, when he wasn’t so drained, and especially when he wasn’t so tense.

“Fuck me, that suit gets tighter every time I see it,” came Tiger’s low voice as Dick stalked down the corridor.

But no.  His mission had to get interrupted, and now Dick had to play babysitter.  Again.

They reached a T and Dick glanced down both paths.  Empty, with no identifying markers.  Was it too much to ask for a sign to the basement vaults, or at least to some stairs?

“So, which way, agent?”  Dick had to hold himself perfectly still to avoid jumping at the arm that casually slung itself over his shoulders, the crook of the elbow pressing too close to his neck to be an entirely friendly move.  Dick had to push away from the arm and into Tiger to avoid it, which was precisely what the man wanted.

[demonic0angel]

The Stalking one-shot is out! Read it on AO3 here or here

CW: creepy behavior, stalking, voyeurism, invasion of privacy, delusions

Jason gave a sigh of relief as he finally entered his home. He opened up the window to the bathroom and slipped inside, taking off his clothes as he inwardly grumbled to himself at the mud and blood sticking to his boots and gloves. He rinsed off his hands and face when he finished, brushing his teeth with the toothbrush he kept under the sink and then slinking into the bedroom.

There, as a quiet lump underneath the blankets, was his girlfriend.

Jason smiled at the sight of her and didn't wake her up, only slightly lifting the corner of the blanket to slide inside and hold her. He kissed her forehead and then fell asleep peacefully.

In the morning, he woke up earlier than her. She gave a sleepy murmur and he chuckled to himself at her cuteness, using a hand to stroke her hair back and then went out of bed. He brushed his teeth, made himself breakfast, and then neatly cleaned up after himself.

Then after that, he went back to Gotham, hoping that by the time his family was finished with their morning business, he could hurry up and finish patrol with them to get back to Jazz.

He had only separated from her for a moment, but he already missed her.

When he put his helmet back on, he was met with a slurred, "Hood? What're you doin'?"

"Hey, RR. Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He said.

"Mmm. Yeah, but a new clue that came in with the recent murder case gave me a breakthrough so I'm tryna finish the report before I go to sleep." Timothy mumbled. He yawned and then said, "You sound happy."

Jason gave a hum.

"Ah," Timothy said. "It's Jazz, isn't it?"

"Yep." Jason loved her so much. It wasn't a surprise that with Jazz's ability to calm him down, his family also adored her.

"So when are we gonna meet her?" Timothy asked. He gave an audible yawn through the comms.

Jason hummed. "I don't know. She's shy."

"Even Damian wants to meet her. And you know that Bruce has barely been containing himself from searching for her himself, right? You should bring her home so we can meet her."

"Mm. Maybe some other day," Jason said. "She's really shy."

Timothy sighed. "How are her siblings by the way? Are they alright?"

A few days ago, Jason had mentioned to his family about Jazz's problems within her own family. Her parents were criminally neglectful and while she could get away from it all, she had left a little sister and a little brother at home and was very worried for them.

"I think so." Jason said. "Both of the Dannies are fine, Jazz is thinking of ways to collect them and bring them here without their parents knowing."

Timothy hummed. "I'm glad to hear that. Tell her that if she needs help, we'll help her, alright? We have more than enough room and you know that Bruce would never turn down a kid."

Jason said, "Yeah, I know." He checked his phone and then put it away.

"Well," Timothy took this moment to yawn again. "I'm going to bed. Damian needs to be picked up in the afternoon and tonight, Steph and Cass will be with you."

"Got it. Night, Tim." Even though it was technically early morning.

"Goodnight." There was an audible smile in his voice.

He left the comms and soon enough, Barbara arrived to take over.

"Hey, Jason." She greeted.

"Hey, Barbie."

Jason finally found his motorbike and pulled off the tarp he had put on it to hide it. "What needs to be done today?" He asked, mounting it and beginning the drive back to his own apartment.

Barbara yawned and said, "I hate how you've been waking up too early these days. Is it because of Jazz?"

"Yeah. I don't want to disturb her in the mornings. She has long hours at the asylum and she needs her sleep."

"Well, you should take her out on a date soon. I promise you, flowers, a nice dinner, and attention from the one you love— there's nothing better." Barbara dutifully gave him advice.

Jason rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Alright, I'll think about it."

He took his phone out of his pocket again. He pocketed it after looking at what he needed and finally arrived at his apartment. He went inside to get his cleaning tools for his guns as he continued to chat with Barbara.

"So you're sure that you don't want us to meet Jazz? I know she's shy, but surely you can convince her..."

Jason laughed. "You're all so desperate to meet her."

"Well, duh! You never let us meet her, we can't spy on her, she can't know about us being vigilantes, we can't even look into her..."

"It's fine," Jason said. His tone was relaxed, so casual that Barbara shut up immediately.

He knew it was because they were worried that Jazz's positive influence on him wasn't enough to keep him calm. He knew all of this, but he didn't get angry.

Now that he had Jazz, someone to watch over, to carefully guide and protect, he really couldn't even muster up the energy to go and search for the Joker as desperately as he had before he had Jazz.

Time passed, before primary school was finally over. Damian was surely out now, so Jason took his bike to go and pick him up. Jason arrived at the front of the school, drawing attention from all of the students there as they whispered and pointed at his bike.

Damian immediately strode out of the gate, furious and glaring at him. Jon, who followed behind him with an awkward smile, waved at Jason.

"Bye, Damian! See you tomorrow!" He said, before running off to find his mom.

Damian turned around and said, "No! Come to my house!" He turned back to Jason and glared with faintly flushed cheeks, as if it was his fault that he had witnessed him maintaining his friendship with the w youngest superboy.

Jason raised an amused eyebrow.

"You are embarrassing." Damian hissed through clenched teeth. "I wish you dropped dead." He paused and then smirked. "And then maybe we can meet that Jazlyn of yours too at your funeral."

"Her full name is Jasmine, not Jazlyn," Jason said with a roll of his eyes. "Don't just change her name because you don't like it."

"Jasmine, tt. What a weak sounding name."

"It's a beautiful name," Jason chided, handing a helmet to Damian.

If it was any other time, Jason would've left him to fend for himself, but since they were in public, it was best for him to wear a helmet so he wouldn't get pulled over.

"You are disgusting and sappy. Thankfully, with this woman's presence in your life, you will soon grow weak enough that I can easily kill you." Damian said, sliding onto the bike and wrapping his hands around Jason's waist.

Jason laughed. "So you're saying that you can't beat me unless I'm weakened?" He started the bike and began driving off.

Damian paused and then jabbed him in the side roughly. Jason yelped.

"Stop that! I'm driving!"

"Crash it." Damian hissed.

Jason laughed louder. Damian was always so violent around him, knowing that the two of them were the only two who could stand each other's dark and pessimistic humor without the urge to kill one another— ahem, Timothy and Damian— or calling the cops— ahem, Barbara— or immediately being concerned and signing them up for therapy, AKA everyone else in their family.

So Jason let him have his fun before he dropped him off at the manor.

Like everyone else, Alfred told Jason, "Be sure to give your girlfriend a compliment today. Lord only knows that you spent all of your luck getting such a lovely woman as a girlfriend. Do your best to keep her and treat her well. If you can, bring her to the manor."

"Of course," Jason laughed. He checked his phone for a quick moment and continued, "I'll let you know when you can meet her."

Jason bought a croissant and a caramel latte before sneaking into Arkham Asylum to drop the treats at Jazz's desk. He unlocked her phone to make sure that the tracker was still connected to his phone, and then he left to walk through the asylum, idly staring at the captured patients there before he spotted Jazz in one room, where she was chatting with the Scarecrow.

The two of them were chatting amicably, with Jazz waving a hand to emphasize her words.

Jason smiled at the sight of her, watching her for a few more moments before he finally left.

Night arrived quickly, as criminals and thugs found the courage to leave their hiding spots and cause trouble within Gotham. Thankfully, there were the Bats ready to put them back in line.

Stephanie and Cassandra joined Jason in his patrol the moment it became dark.

"Hey! Wanna leave Crime Alley now?" Stephanie asked, and Jason nodded, all three of them taking out their grappling hooks to swing across Gotham.

After some swinging to observe the state of Gotham, they took a break.

Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket, taking a glimpse at the screen before he pocketed it again.

Stephanie rolled her eyes and smiled, a little bit of teasing in her eyes. "Was that Jazz? You need to stop checking up on her. She's an adult, she can handle herself."

They began to move again, walking slowly to chat. If anything happened, there would be Barbara to tell them.

Jason smiled. "Sometimes, I feel like she's too independent. When I come home late, she's already in bed."

"You expect her to wait for you?" Stephanie said, raising an eyebrow.

Cassandra, who had been walking in front of them, gave the sign for 'men' and then exasperatedly shook her head. Stephanie laughed with her as she nodded and agreed, “Men are so entitled.”

Jason laughed and said, "Fuck you."

They didn't seem too bothered by his cursing, just happy that he hadn't brought out his guns just to shoot them to death for teasing him. A look of odd relief and happiness crossed Stephanie's face. Jason didn't point it out and continued to patrol with them.

The night ended once more and once again, Jason came back home to Jazz asleep in bed. Jason smiled at the sight and then finished his daily routine before crawling into bed with her.

The next morning, it was only rinse and repeat.

Jason liked these sort of days. Jazz was always comfortable to hold and she never complained about long hours that he had.

Though, to be honest, she probably didn't know about them.

Days passed, just like this. Simple, sweet, and gentle. Jason enjoyed his time with her and his family, and otherwise, was using his time wisely to protect Gotham in a fulfilling way.

But everything changed one day.

Jason had finished a hard day on patrol.

He arrived at Jazz's apartment, intent on relaxing in bed with her while she slept. He had went inside of the bathroom, finished his duties and cleaned himself up, when he entered the bedroom.

The lights suddenly turned on, blinding him for only a moment before Jason blinked his eyes and his vision adjusted.

Jazz stood wide eyed behind their bed, with a bat in her hands and a tremble in her limbs.

A look of fear and indignation crossed her face as she pointed the bat at Jason.

"Who are you?! And what are you doing in my house?!"

||||||||||||||||||||

If anyone’s confused, Jason is Jazz's stalker who completely invaded her life without her knowing. That’s why he doesn’t want anyone meeting her, while he knows all of these facts about her and her life, has a tracker on her phone, and is never seen actually talking to her.

Once again, thank you to my beta @meditating-cat for editing this!

[zaceouiswriting]

The good Dad

Character: Bruce Wayne (father), male reader (son)

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Fluff

You've never been more nervous than you are right now. Asking your father to talk was nerve-wracking enough, but sitting in his imposing office? That was something completely different. There are only two reasons anyone would set foot in it. Firstly, to do business with your father. Or secondly, to get yelled at. Which, unfortunately, Dick and Jason had to do many, many times.

For you, however, it was a first. Your hands were sweating, and your left leg was jumping as if you were preparing to break a world record while sitting across from your father, waiting.

Your father hasn't looked at you once. Yet your heart is beating ten times faster than it should be. Even a strange pressure affected your ears, making them unable to hear. The only thing that pops into every corner of your brain is: "What if he's gonna hate me?"

“So!“ 

The sudden, booming voice broke the self-imposed silence in your head. His gaze had lifted from the papers he had been working on, his mouth moving, but you couldn't hear anything else, terrified out of your mind.

"Son?" His voice sounded worried, which somehow had a calming effect on you.

"Y-Yes?" Your voice cracked with nervousness.

"Why did you have to talk to me?"

He didn't mention his busy schedule as he does with your brothers - to make them hurry - which made you smile inwardly as they always whine that you're the favorite, even if you don't see it that way.

"Uh-I-I..." When you tried to say it, you panicked again. Your eyes widened and even winced slightly as you imagined what might happen if you actually admitted what you were there for.

Your father rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Calm down. It can't be that bad."

"I fell in love," you suddenly blurted out. As soon as you understood what you were saying, you clasped your hands over your mouth and immediately looked away.

The older man looked at you confused and even tilted his head slightly. His two hands now lay relaxed on the table. He was worried because you've never been so nervous, especially in front of him.

"So? What's the problem? And why are you telling me this? It's not like I thought you'd never fall in love. Rest assured that I'll support you with whoever you want to be together because-"

"It's Conner. We've been doing so much together lately and-"

Without batting an eyelid, your father's calm, cheerful demeanor soured, "Absolutely not!"

Suddenly a silence fell over you both. Finally, you looked up again and stared at your father in shock. He gazed at you in disappointment, even slightly angry.

"But you just said you'd support-"

"Everyone except the Clark boy! He's bad news and would only break your heart!"

You were shocked. Conner was so sweet and caring. How could your dad even think he would do something like that?

“But Dad!“

"No buts, young man! I would care less if you wanted to be with one of your brothers!"

"First of all: Eww. Second, why? What has he ever done?“

Your father banged his hands on the table in anger. "I said no! Everyone except that boy!" He screamed. "I'll buy you the perfect boy if you want, but I won't let you date the Clark boy! Does he even know about your feelings?"

A bright red blush began to glow on your cheeks. Your father had brought up a subject that was uncomfortable for you. Even though Conner was touchy and slightly lewd, neither of you had said or done anything in particular.

Seeing the sudden sadness in your eyes, your father sighed heavily, got up from his office chair, walked around the desk, and sat on the edge right before you. He carefully lifted your head with one of his hands. "I mean it. You can be with whoever you want: I don't care if it's a boy, his age, or his ethnicity. Everyone except the Clark boy and, by extension, Clark himself."

"Why Dad? Dick and Jason never had restrictions like that!” you blurted out, getting angry yourself.

But your father just sighed. "Because they didn't want to get into the pants of people who weren't good enough for them."

"But Conner is a hard worker. Yes, he still has a lot to learn, but-"

"Little sprout!" he said sternly, silencing you immediately. "I'm just warning you this once. Don't even try to get together with Conner, do you understand?"

Defeated, you suddenly stood up. Forcing your father's hand off of you. "I understand," you mumble sadly.

"That's my good boy!" Your father said happily, pulling you into an unwanted hug. Out of nowhere, he put a kiss on your temple. "You will find someone far better, little sprout. Someone who truly deserves you!"

When he let go of you, your heart was pounding in your throat. It hurt like never before. Your father was always relatively distant. That he was like that made you wonder if it was still your father. What was refuted in the second moment, he sat behind his desk again. He ignores everything that happens around him, as he always does.

You left the room in silence, not wanting to disturb him again. With tears in his eyes, barely able to hold back the sobs, dangerously close to breaking free.

[Masterlist]

[instacarma0798]

Title: i will never be satisfied (High School AU)

Ship: Natasha R x Peggy C (Background/Past Natasha x Bruce)

Warnings: Implied SA, but it doesn't actually happen. Alcohol

Steve and Natasha were going on 4 years of friendship, having known each other since the start of freshman year. Ever since Steve and Natasha had first started talking, she could read his face and see he had a crush on Peggy Carter - one of the most wanted women in the school. Carter was perhaps one of the most well known women in the school aside from a few. It was easy to see why, with her long, brown curls and chocolate colored eyes that sparkled when she laughed and deepened to a black when she threatened the boys.

When rumors spread Carter had hooked up with another girl in the school during junior year, Steve had sulked over to Natasha with puppy dog eyes and bright red ears. The redhead laughed at him, patting his shoulder gently before returning to her homework.

Peggy Carter seemed to have no interest in Steve Rogers. The woman avoided him in the halls, didn't react to his approaches, and always had a scowl on her face when she was around. Carter did seem to hate anyone on the football team, which Steve was on, but Rogers had redeeming qualities. His baby blue eyes, soft blonde hair, and charming attitude - if Natasha wasn't lesbian she would be into him.

In contrast, Steve was infatuated with Carter. He had attempted to ask her out at least 5 times from the start of sophomore year - them now being seniors. Every time she said no with an upturned nose, but Natasha caught her lips twitching upwards from where the redhead watched in the background. Every damn time they 'accidentally' crossed paths Steve would blush and smile like a puppy.

What the football team captain was oblivious too was the fact that Peggy Carter was not straight. She probably wasn't even bi. It was a bold assumption to make, even for Natasha after all the years she spent training herself how to read other people's expressions. Peggy Carter curled her lip with a crinkled, upturned at every attempt of flirting if it came from a male - no matter how kind or how much of a gentleman he was. When a girl did it however, the softest, barely noticeable, blush would dust Carter's cheeks and she would quip a flirty comment in return.

Steve didn't seem to get that, and Natasha didn't have it in her to tell him.

"Hey Nat?" Steve looked up from where he doodled in his notebook - a monkey on a bicycle, "Do you think if I ask Peggy out she'll say yes this time?"

Natasha inwardly rolled her eyes as she twirled the pencil between her fingers and thought over her answer, ignoring the bubbling pit of envy in her stomach. The answer she wanted to say was 'no', but Steve unintentionally gave her those big eyes again and with slight downturn of his lips.

She raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug before scribbling down the answer to her math problem, "Maybe."

The blonde across from her sighed and sagged his broad shoulders with his head tilted towards the ground. His head jerked up when pounding footsteps sounded behind them. Natasha didn't have to look up to know who it was. Two arms were thrown around her neck, jerking Natasha forward. She rolled, shoving her offender off with a grunt.

"Ow.." Clint groaned from where he lay on the grass, "That was rude."

Natasha huffed and raised her left brow at Clint who gave a sheepish smile.

Clint Barton had been her best friend ever since Natasha moved to the small little town. Her stuck with her through thin and thick. When she had to change foster homes and move to a different school, Clint risked his father's anger and moved schools with her. When her foster parents beat her black and blue, Clint trudged through the rain to find her sniffling under a tree after a frantic text. After she got herself emancipated and lived on the streets for a while, Clint cleared out his action figures from his closet and bought a spare mattress for her to sleep until she got on her feet.

In return, whenever Clint's father drank one too many beers - Natasha would sooth him. Soft smiles and gentle touches of the daughter he always wanted rather than two rouwy boys. The man would take to telling her soft stories with a far away look in his eyes while Clint snuck off into the night. When Clint struggled with him homework, Natasha stayed up late into the night to finish it for him - pretending he did it himself in the morning. When Clint met a pretty girl named Laura with brunette hair and kind eyes who spoke in the softest voice with a western accent, Natasha played matchmaker.

It was a dynamic that worked well, but unfortunately it meant Clint knew nearly all of her tells - the ones that Steve didn't. Which lead to him raising a skeptical eyebrow in return with a silent question in his eyes when he noticed the bleak forlorn look in her eyes.

"Clint," Steve propped himself clumsily on his elbow, "Do you think Peggy will go out with me if I ask her once more?"

The captain fiddled with his pencil and separate eraser, missing the knowing glance Clint tossed Natasha. The redhead silently cursed Steve for giving away the reason she was upset.

"No." Clint answered bluntly, always the loyal friend.

It was no secret to Clint that Natasha had a crush on Peggy. He knew before she knew herself - the way she accidentally stared at Peggy with hearts in her eyes, her smile turning dopey for a moment where only Clint was watching.

Steve sagged at Clint's response and harshly, but still ever so gentle with the paper, scrawled on the paper. Clint winked at her with his signature smile that meant trouble. Natasha gave him a glare and slight shake of the head, a silent response telling him not to cause trouble. But Clint being Clint just smiled wider and plucked her math textbook out of her lap.

"Clinton." Natasha warned, her voice a low tone.

The dirty blonde waved the textbook teasingly before taking off, his legs carrying him far and fast. Natasha spared Steve a speedy but apologetic glance before chasing after Steve. He may have longer legs, making him faster, but Natasha could run further for longer.

She rounded a corner, barely seeing the tail of his purple blouse sticking out like a duck tail. Her feet skidded against the halls a hand outstretched as Clint came in to view. She stretched her hand further into her command. Her legs braced as she prepared to tackle Clint, the muscles locking up and knees bending.

Then a door smacked her in the face, leaving a searing red mark.

Her back hit the ground with a thump and she dully registered Clint stopping and another voice crying out in concern. Natasha took a moment to groan in pain before hauling herself up, whoever opened that door was hella strong. Placing a hand to her head she attempted to steady her vision, Clint's calloused hands steading her body.

"I am so sorry," a voice said with a distinct British accent.

Of course if was fucking Peggy Carter.

Natasha waved Clint before plastering a semi-sweet smile onto her own face.

"Don't sweat it, I'll live."

Carter bit her lip with worry, brown curls bouncing as she scanned Natasha up and down, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course," Natasha ignored the fact that her heart was rapidly thumping in her chest and not because of the fall.

She also ignored the fact that her nose was probably broken and her face felt like it was on fire, but Carter didn't need to know that. The brunette woman gave her once over once more, her eyes shinning with concern.

"You sure?" she asked once more, it sounded like she wanted to reassure herself more than Natasha.

Flapping her hand in a dismissive manner, Natasha gave a one shouldered shrug, "I've had worse."

That didn't seem to settle Carter any more, but it did satisfy her and the brunette spun on her heel heading down the hall.

A sharp exhale left her the minute Carter rounded a corner, her boots echoing through the hall. Natasha groaned at the pounding in her head and pain in her nose. Beside her, Clint looked torn between letting the goofiest grin cross his face and frowning at her in concern and regret. Smartly, he chose the later.

Snagging her elbow Clint dragged her down the hall and back outside, school bells ringing dismissing the last class of the day that Natasha had ditched (ultimately convincing Steve too). Students flooded the halls, some accidentally bumping into her despite Clint's vicious glare that told them all to back off.

He brought her outside where Steve was still waiting, but now the same brunette woman that Natasha could not shake stood next to him - her stance tall and imposing with her crossed arms and chin tilted upwards. The blonde captain had a rosy pink blush dusting his cheeks with his eartips red as he undoubtably asked Peggy Carter out once more. Natasha rolled her eyes, hearing Clint give an exaggerated exhale beside her.

Steve was just finishing saying something when they got into hearing distance, but they managed to catch Carter's response.

"Fine. Tomorrow, cafe on third at 11." her tone left no room for argument, making it clear if Steve wanted this date he would have to comply.

The football team captain looked as surprised as Natasha felt at the fact that Carter was going out with him. Despite her repeated refusals and blatant fact that she was not straight, Natasha never expected her to fall in love with Steve. Maybe she was getting rusty.

Steve did a little bounce on his heels before nodding eagerly like an over excited puppy. His eyes lit up further when he saw them, waving both Natasha and Clint over as Carter walked away.

Natasha was totally looking at Steve rambling as Carter sauntered away.

<_______________>

One date morphed into two dates, two dates morphed into three dates, three dates morphed into four dates, and well you get the point. Everyone in the school expected Steve and Peggy to stop after the first date, but no. The two went on more and more dates, thus integrating Peggy into their small friend group and getting Natasha a new girl friend - emphasis on the space between the two words.

Their small little group, minus Clint because he had his own work to do, sat inside the small underrated diner that was settled down the street from Natasha's apartment. It was meant to a be a friend celebration for finishing the school year, but it felt more like Natasha was third-wheeling a date.

Both of her companions made heart eyes at each other with dopey grins - Carter's slightly less dopey and more serious. Meanwhile she sat in the background twirling her past around her fork with sagged shoulders. While this scene wasn't uncommon - Carter and Steve turning their friend outings into personal dates - Clint was usually here to endure it with her. A forkful of pasta was angrily shoved her mouth, Natasha yelping a little when she stabbed her cheek with her fork.

Flushing red with embarrassment, Natasha shook off both of the other's concern. She mumbled out an excuse around her mouthful of food and swallowed thickly. It seemed to pacify Steve and Peggy because the two went back to chatting with each other.

She lost track of what they were talking about, vaguely catching the word 'crush' but stupidly delegating to ignore the conversation and get lost in her head. A finger poked her arm, shaking her a tiny bit, and she looked up from her plate to see Steve staring her expectantly.

"Hm?" she raised an eyebrow in question.

"We asked if you have a crush," Carter intercepted Steve with her british accent.

A light blush dusted the british woman's cheeks, presumably because of something Steve said, as her head tilted adorably at Natasha with brown eyes filled with curiosity. Natasha trailed her eyes down Peggy's face, all the way down to where she held Steve's hand on top of the table, fingers interlocked and twisting together like the ugly feeling in Natasha's chest. Clearing her throat, Natasha forced a laugh out of her throat.

"No," she shook her head, "I don't do those sort of things."

The blatant lie flew right over Carter's head, the woman offering her a charming laugh that made her eyes shine in the lighting and her curls bounce as her head tilted back slightly. Natasha could hear that sound all day. Steve gave her a suspicious look, one with underlying concern but let the topic drop.

<___________>

Natasha started to pull away once Carter integrated more into the little rag-tag friend group the redhead was apart of. At least she intended to. Previously it only consisted of her and Clint before Steve shoved his way in there and adopted the two introverts in a very extroverted style. With Steve, Carter eventually came, which was fine. It was fine, Natasha liked Peggy. She liked her. But with the newest addition came so many others. Tony Stark, the "rich kid" came with Carter - despite the woman's apparent annoyance with him. Carol Danvers, a person Natasha rarely saw because the woman skipped classes so often. Bruce Banner, who actually Tony Stark seemed to drag along, but they all came with Carter.

Now her small safe little bubble was filled with people she didn't know and it didn't feel safe anymore. There were four new people, four unknown variables that she didn't know well beside the fact that most of them were popular.

On top of that, Bruce Banner seemed to take a liking for her and wouldn't leave her alone. Natasha had taken to using some diversion tactics she learned when she wanted to lose an angry foster parent or from the various times she ran from CPS. It didn't work very well, the shy man oddly persistent, so Natasha gave in. She wasn't going to get the person she liked anyway.

The next time Banner stumbled over a pickup line, Natasha crossed her arms under her chest - pushing her breasts up, and gave a flirty comment in return. The man clearly wasn't expecting it, based on his flushed cheeks and wide eyes, but he returned it in kind. Her plans to pull away from the friend group were temporarily put on hold.

Natasha ignored Clint's piercing gaze that bore into the back of her skull with disagreement every time she flirted with Banner. It tore at her heart the way he looked at her, he was her partner. Despite having his doubts, though never voicing them, Clint stuck with her - as always. Opting to ignore Bruce or address him with a brash attitude, Clint didn't not outright support her.

Steve was a whole different story. He clapped her on the back with a laugh and told her he was glad that she found someone - she deserved it. A few comments were tossed her way about how she once claimed, "she didn't do that stuff," but Natasha ignored them.

The last person she expected to be suspicious of her relationship with Banner was suspicious. Carter gave her a smile when she informed everyone she was with Banner, but the woman didn't seem keen on it. Mumbling something indecipherable, Carter shook her head at Natasha, which only served to tighten the knot in her chest.

To top add a cherry on the top, she got fired from one of her three jobs and now wasn't making enough money to pay the rent. If she didn't scramble some together or get another job then Natasha would be kicked out of her apartment and living on the streets once more. That was a stress she didn't need to deal with. She just had to make it through high school then she could focus on making money - collage wasn't really in the question.

Bruce Banner - 4:30

Can I come over tonight? Watch a movie?

Natasha glanced at her manager who was flipping a burger in the back as she glanced at her phone sneakily. Breathing out heavily she debated the answer, fingers hovering over the keys. Tonight was her only night off from the night job - working in a bar which technically wasn't allowed, but a forged ID went a good distance if you got it done right. Banner, however, had some issues with rejection. His face turned a little red the first time she told him 'no' and he stormed off in a rage.

So reluctantly she typed out a response.

Natasha Romanoff - 4:31

Sure. I get off work at 5, so be there around 6.

He reacted to her message with a thumbs up before Natasha shoved her phone in her pocket to focus on work.

<___________>

Bruce showed up at her door at 5:30 while she was still in the shower. He shot her a text, a few actually when she didn't reply to the first one, and Natasha hastily threw some clothes on - workout pants and a tanktop along with under garments, before drying her hair and opening the door for Bruce.

He stood dressed in a simple cardigan and casual pants holding a bag of italian takeout. His smile was unapologetic as he stepped through the door and placed the food on the coffee table with a crinkle. Grabbing the remote like it was his home, the man now comfortable after their 5 months of dating, he turned on a show - one that Natasha didn't bother to take note of. With heavy feet she dragged herself over to the couch and plopped down next to Bruce.

Partway through the second movie he slung his arm around her shoulders, ignoring the way they tensed, and scooched closer. Natasha froze, her body locking in place as she was reminded of a previous foster parent. Bruce gradually moved closer, oblivious to the way Natasha was locked in place, until their bodies were pressed together. Eventually she felt his hot breath on her neck and curls itching her chin. That was the only warning she got before Bruce pressed his lips to her neck.

Every single part of her wanted to run, run far away from the situation, but she forced herself to stay still. Bruce kissed up her neck and to her chin. Sensing he wanted more, the redhead turned her head to reincorporate (Despite all her senses screaming at her to not) and met his lips with hers halfway. He pushed her downward, straddling her lap - both of them blocking out the movie in the background.

Cracked, dry, lips trailed down her neck. Her body wanted to shiver in disgust but Natasha forced herself to stay compliant as she had done before. Banner's hands trailed down and down until they started reaching up under the hem of her shirt. Natasha was only willing to tolerate so much and slapped his hands away with a warning. Banner complied, continuing their sloppy, one-sided makeout session, before his hands started inching up her shirt again. Natasha slapped them away once more and shoved Banner off.

The screaming match started then. Banner getting angry and not understanding why, and Natasha upset he didn't listen (not that she wanted the kiss in the first place). In the end Natasha fled from her own apartment, her bare feet carrying her down the street and ignoring Bruce's rushed pleas for her to stay.

She pawed around for her phone, digging it out of her pocket and her cold fingers fumbled to dial Clint. The phone rang and rang as she walked down the the cold New York street, the sidewalk biting into her skin and wind wiping around her face. It rang and rang, but no one picked up. The realization struck Clint was out of town, visiting his brother for the weekend. She cursed herself and plopped down next to a tree.

Her head shoved between her hands she debated who to call. Realistically she could return to apartment, but Bruce knew where to find her there and she didn't want to talk right now. Against her rational thinking she dialed Peggy Carter. It rang a couple times before a groggy voice answered the phone.

"Natasha?"

"I-" the russian's voice came out strangled for the first time in a long while, "Uhm-"

Carter sounded a lot more alert when she answered, "Are you ok?"

It took a moment for Natasha to formulate a response before she reluctantly responded, "No."

"Ok," there was some shuffling on the other end of the phone and a small jingling, "Can you share your location, I'll come get you."

"You- it's alright I just-"

"No," Carter said, her voice insistent, "I'm coming to get you. Share your location."

There was the sound of a door opening the sounded as Natasha shared her location on her phone.

"Do you want me to stay on the phone?" Another door slamming and the reving of an engine.

"Yeah," Natasha croaked, her voice sore from screaming.

"Ok."

Breathing echoed through the phone, presumably on both ends, as Carter drove towards her location. Eventually humming reached Natasha's ears as she heard Carter turn on the radio. The woman hummed a song the redhead hadn't heard before, but it was oddly soothing.

It wasn't long before a car pulled up in front of her and Carter stepped out, still dressed in night clothes. Nearly in an instant the woman spotted her and rushed over.

"Are you okay?" Carter gave her a once over, checking her over for injuries.

Natasha nodded, not fully registering the words, but let Carter guide her toward the car. She thinks the british woman asked a question, but the moment Natasha was in the car - a mostly safe space - she allowed herself to zone out.

Once they arrived to the house Carter helped her out, gently guiding her towards the house. The brunette toed off her own shoes before leading Natasha up stairs and into a bedroom. She was placed her on a bed, her brain elsewhere, before Carter disappeared and returned with a change of clothes.

"Put these on, I'll go get you a warm drink. Tea or hot cocoa?"

Natasha dully registered she was being talked to, but her mouth wouldn't open.

"Natasha," Carter bent over so they were eye level, "Hey, Natasha, c'mon, why don't you change and the wash up. The bathrooms just next door and I'll make you a hot drink."

Natasha nodded but didn't make a move to change into the pair of sweatpants and oversized shirt. A heavy sigh came from Carter and the woman dug her hands into Natasha's biceps, hoisting her up.

"Can I help you get changed then?"

Her head nodded of it's own accord, red curls falling into her eyes. Carefully, Peggy lifted her shirt over her head - eyes lingering on the small dotted scar that looked like a small star-burst on her torso. Next cam her pants, the brunette woman removing them with a small blush as Natasha stood dead to the world.

"Lift your feet."

Carter tapped her feet and Natasha lifted them so that the brunette could slip the new pair of pants on.

"Alright," Peggy clapped her hands, the sound startling Natasha, "Sorry, do you want a warm drink or just to sleep?"

"Sleep," she croaked.

"K, you take the bed, I'll my parents room."

Natasha momentarily snapped out of her dazed state with a shake of her head, "It's your house, I'll take the couch. You're nice enough to even let me stay."

"Nope," Peggy sounded firm as she shook her head, "take the bed."

The woman didn't give her a choice to argue because she strided out of the room leaving Natasha alone in the vast room. She took stock of Peggy's room. Soft white sheets laid underneath her with the slightest tint of gray and matching pillows. Polaroid photos were pinned to the wall, mostly of Steve and Peggy together, but a few with two people who Natasha assumed were her parents. A couple featured Stark and Danvers, plus a few with her and Clint. A dark colored night stand housed an alarm clock and a red candle. Everything about the room gave off a vintage feel, comforting in some way.

Delicately, afraid to ruin anything, Natasha laid back on the bed - still above the covers. She thought about what had just happened. Bruce had- she wasn't sure what he had tried to do. He would never rape her, she knew that, but he took it a step too far and she wasn't ready. It wasn't knew, that forceful nature was something she had grown up with during various times in her life. She wasn't a scared eight year old anymore, she was a grown eighteen year old who lived by herself and could make her own decisions.

Automatically, as if she was still in that one home, her hand raised towards the headboard, highlighting the thin white scars encircling her wrist. She closed her eyes slowly, always on edge at a new place before sleep carried her away.

<________>

Neither of them spoke of that night again. Natasha had left early in the morning, before Peggy had awoken, and crept back to her apartment - embarrassingly still barefoot and wearing Peggy's clothes, which she returned the following school week.

Now, Natasha really retreated from the friend group and returned to just hanging out with Clint once more. When the young man saw her after visiting his brother, she told him the whole story while fiddling with her shirt. Clint sighed, pulled her into a hug, and muttered in her ear, "I told you so." She slapped his shoulder with a laugh and Clint glared at Banner in the hallways from that point onward.

School was almost over, and now Clint dragged her to a pizza night at Carter's house - her parents out of town - where he assured Banner would not be there.

Dressed in simple jeans and a hoodie, Natasha munched on a piece of pizza and stood in the corner. Various people milled around, most of which she did not know. Glancing at her watch, the time indicating she had been here for an hour, it was deemed a reasonable time and she decided to slip out. Her body weaved through groups of people as they chatted with each other. As she was about to leave, a voice called out to her.

"Hey Natasha!" Steve was waving her over, a bright smile on his face. Despite his cheery expression from where he stood, Natasha could see the hurt in his eyes at the fact she had been avoiding him in an attempt to avoid his girlfriend.

Steve was standing with an unusual gaggle of people. One man, shaggy brown hair and a jean jacket stood next to Steve - arm slung over the blonde's shoulder. Another woman stood, her brunette hair pulled into a tight bun as she wore jeans and a plaid shirt. Finally one more, a woman with brown hair typing on her phone stood there.

"Guys," Steve turned to face the others as Natasha reluctantly walked over, "This is Natasha. Nat, these are Bucky, Maria, and Daisy."

Bucky and Maria gave a small greeting, both of their voices quiet and short, meanwhile Daisy remained on her phone - typing away. Maria kicked her shin with a cough and the girl looked up from her phone.

"Oh, 'sup," she greeted Natasha before returning towards her phone.

"Ignore her," Maria said, "She's always doing something on there."

"So you're the Natasha I've heard so much about," Bucky commented, his eyes scanning her up and down - not in a bad way, just a "I want to know more."

"Only good things I hope," she replied smoothly.

Conversation mingled in that group for a while. Turns out the trio were a group of Steve's friend from another state, they all had military parents - thus moving around a lot, but had come to visit. Maria spoke the least about her parents, seemingly clamming up at the mention of it. Despite seeming the have a rough past, Daisy threw out that she had been in foster homes casually - the fact seeming to have no consequence to her.

Bucky seemed especially chummy with Steve, and it the blonde wasn't dating Peggy then she would think Bucky and Steve were dating. Deep down she thinks that she was offended she had never heard of these friends before, but Natasha waved that feeling away.

Clint eventually joined them, a drink in hand. He stumbled just the tiniest bit and if you looked close enough his pupils were slightly dilated. Most people wouldn't notice but Natasha assumed his drink, which looked like kool-aid, was spiked.

"Heya," Clint said, his southern accent coming out just the slightest bit - another sign he was drinking, "You guys want some?"

He gestured his cup up, some of it sloshing over the sides.

"Are you drunk?" Steve asked, ever the nobleman.

"Alcohol?" Daisy raised her head, eyes wide with excitement, "Where?"

Clint smiled at her, "No idea who you are, but it's over in the back," he vaguely gestured behind him before snatching Natasha's wrist and dragging her back there, Daisy bolting ahead of them ignoring Steve's protests.

Her best friend filled her a cup of spike punch and pushed it into her hands. She took it without protest, sipping on it carefully. There was a strong amount of alcohol in there, she wasn't sure which kind, but there was a lot.

The party flew by after that, Natasha wasn't sure how many cups of punch she drank, but the world spun as all the highschoolers gathered in a circle on the carpet, lazily sprawled over each other. Steve and Maria were probably the only ones sober.

"Natasha," Stark slurred, he had the most alcohol out of all of them, "truth or dare?"

The game had been going around for a while and Natasha was secretly hoping she would be ignored from her spot on the armchair.

"Truth," Stark had already come up with some crazy dares, resulting in Bucky being shirtless to reveal his prosthetic arm.

"Are you gay?" He smiled dopily at her, the smile morphing into a smirk.

Her cheeks heated as everyone eyed her, particularly the girls and she could feel Carter's gaze piercing her skull.

"Yes," normally she would lie, but her tongue disobeyed her brain and answered of its own accord.

A round of 'ooohs' echoed around, Stark opening his mouth to further question her, but Natasha cut him off - asking Daisy a question. It went a few more rounds before it landed on Stark again and he called on Natasha.

"Dare," she replied reluctantly after the past several people having chosen truth.

Stark pumped his fists in the air, "I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room - other than me of course." His chin tilted up arrogantly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but stayed in place.

"C'mon," Clint urged, his southern accent clear now, "Choose someone, 's not that hard."

Her feet carried her over to where Carter laid draped across Steve, her head resting on his shoulder. Slowly, Natasha bent down and gave Carter a soft smooch on the kiss. Steve lightly slapped her, but laughed as she sauntered back to her seat with faux confidence.

Carter herself blinked owlishly, not totally present.

The game continued on, Natasha's mind still on that. She had just kissed Peggy. She kissed Peggy Carter. On the cheek, sure, but she kissed her - totally exposing herself. Oh gosh. Natasha wanted to sink into the couch and continued on with the game until it died out. Some people drove home, those sober enough, and others had already fallen asleep.

Natasha was sober enough to drive home, snatching her keys out of her pocket and heading towards the door. She cast her gaze back towards where Carter was passed out, drool slowly seeping out of her open mouth, but she still looked perfect . But she was also Steve's, the fact accented by Steve's arm draped over her shoulders.

Heavy hands turned the doorknob and Natasha drove towards her house. She decided one thing that night, she would graduate high school then leave Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter behind.

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter five: sanity in the honeymoon phase [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 4937 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

You woke up the next morning, somehow with Jonathan still beside you sleeping soundly, a newfound clarity in your thoughts. Like your mind had organized all of your thoughts while you slept and in doing so created a plan.

Snatching a T-shirt off the floor, you pulled it on as you left your bed. You gently opened the door, glancing backwards to make sure you hadn’t bothered him. But before you left, you grabbed your bookbag, needing something from inside it but not wanting to rummage through it with Jonathan still asleep.

The apartment was cold, the chill morning air seeping in through the cracks between your door and the floor, from in between window panes. Throwing a glare at the apparently useless radiator in the corner, you grabbed a worn cardigan off of your couch. You slipped it over your still tired limbs before sitting at your kitchen-catch-all table, moving the empty take out bag to the other side. You’d throw it out later.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pen and notepad- the notepad, the one you’d had glued to your hand all through the Riddler’s crime spree last year. Flipping to a blank page in the notepad, you wrote at the top of the page, in all capital letters, EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT THE SCARECROW.

Skipping down a line you began scribbling some bullet points of what you knew about the criminal. It wasn’t much yet, but you were confident in your ability to find more information. For fun, of course. Targets Pharmaceuticals and chemical manufacturers- drugs? Out of public eye- motives unknown-- FIND OUT SOMEHOW?? Burlap scarecrow mask-- why?? What symbolism? Fear?

As you sat, staring at your minuscule list, trying to think of anything else that was applicable, the bedroom door opened again. Jonathan crept out, pausing when he saw you at the table. You wondered what he thought you’d be doing when he left the bed.

“What are you doing?” His voice was husky from his sleep, the lowered timbre of his voice sending a bolt of electricity over your skin. He moved closer, peering over your shoulder. You didn’t bother covering up your notepad.

“Just writing.” You slowly looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling softly before turning back to your work. “Things I need to get out of my head.”

“About the Scarecrow?” He cleared his throat quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

You didn’t know where this research- because that’s what you intended for this to become- would go. At the worst, you’d chalk it up as personal practice, a pet project. It would sit gathering dust in a folder, tucked away in a drawer like your other abandoned project.

You didn’t even allow yourself to consider what the research would be at best. It was barely an idea, anyway, dreamt up by your unconscious mind. Something to keep your mind occupied when you weren’t trying to finish your schoolwork.

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with what you were talking about last night?”

“I’m not becoming a vigilante if that’s what you’re asking me.” Cringing inwardly, you sighed. “I have no dreams about heroism, personally. You could say I’m just engaging in current events.”

Investigating. That’s the word for what you wanted to do.

“You should be careful where you stick your nose.”

An involuntary chill ran down your spine at his warning. He’s just looking out for you, you thought. But still, you shrugged the chill away, putting your pen down and slipping off the chair. You fitted yourself between Jonathan and the table where he had left just enough space for your body.

You could worry about the Scarecrow finding out about your investigation when it was more than words in a notepad. At that moment, you were more interested in Jonathan.

“And why is that?”

He was toying with a loose string on your cardigan, again throwing you that wry smile before he responded.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You smiled back at his use of the tired cliche.

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

The kiss started gentle this time, a delicate joining of your mouths. But Jonathan soon leaned against you, his open mouth coaxing your own wider as he pressed you backwards. You threw a hand backwards, grabbing for purchase against the table and landing on your notebook. Involuntarily you clench your hand, crumbling your notes about the Scarecrow in your desperation to steady yourself against Jonathan.

Your hand traveled down his body, brushing over his slowly hardening length in his pants. He groaned against your mouth as you rubbed the heel of your hand against him, smiling into the kiss until he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away, holding it by your side.

“If I didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d fuck you on this table, right now.” He muttered in your ear, his voice low and grinding.

“Then don’t go.”

“I have to.” With what seems to be incredible self-control, he pulls away from you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown. He was still as hungry as he had been last night.

If you were more confident in your abilities to seduce a man, even one that was two inches away from taking you on your kitchen table, you would’ve pouted. Made yourself irresistible so that he wouldn’t leave you, aroused and waited. But you still had an inkling of insecurity that kept you from pulling that trick out of the bag, so you let him step away from you with a sigh.

“When can we see-”

“I’ll be out of town this weekend, and have a pretty busy next week. But the week after is spring break so we can do something then.”

“Alright.” You did your best to hide your disappointment.

“Are you going to be okay, today?”

“I still have a class today, you know.” You sighed, thinking about the cipher assignment you still needed to complete for your intelligence history class. “I’ll be fine. I’m beginning to think I didn’t even see anything last night. Maybe I just… imagined it. I was really tired from the library so it makes sense.”

A brief moment of confusion flickered across his face before it disappeared behind his composed mask again.

“Hallucinations aren’t good, either.”

You don’t tell him that it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d seen someone who wasn’t there, that day of the mayor’s remembrance ceremony flashing in your mind. But even though you’d said you imagined seeing the Scarecrow, you didn’t actually think it. You just didn’t want Jonathan to worry about you. It had been an impulsive lie, born from guilt at seeing his face mired with concern.

“I’m all good, trust me.” You looked down at your hand, the notes crumpled on the table before slowly turning back to him. “If you don’t want me to look into the Scarecrow, I won’t.”

Again, you were lying. You fully intended on gathering as much information on the Scarecrow as you could before he was caught, essentially heading up your own personal investigation into Gotham’s newest masked weirdo.

You’re sure that he didn’t quite believe this lie either but he didn’t call you out on it. You were only lying to get him to stop worrying about you, to stop thinking that you were intending on going out and hunting the criminal down.

Of course you weren’t going to. For one, as far as you or anyone else knew, he’d just committed a few robberies and frightened a few citizens (yourself included). For another, you weren’t exactly the type of person who could survive hunting someone else down.

You would leave that to Batman.

The week leading up to spring break was busy, though not because of work or even the few midterms you had to take or essays you had to turn in.

“Just this, thanks.” You placed the new, fresh notepad on the office supply store’s counter, watching as the teenage girl working the cash register popped her gum and lazily rang it up.

You’d bought a notepad for the Riddler. It only made sense to give yourself a fresh start for the Scarecrow. Because even though your initial notetaking session had been interrupted, you had the strangest desire to figure out the Scarecrow before everyone else.

But you weren’t planning on doing anything reckless. Nothing at all like what Jonathan had said that night. It was just research, after all. You had no dreams of heroism, no desire to become a vigilante or even do anything with the information you’d find. You were just going to write down some headlines, scour Gotham social media, keep an eye out for anything weird. Nothing that required you from leaving the safety of your home.

You would be smarter, this time.

You’re sure of it.

But maybe you were just kidding yourself.

If you had gone to college in a small town with a population of 80% college students, you probably would’ve noticed the absence of people during spring break. The streets would be practically empty, the stores like ghost towns.

But in a city of Gotham’s size, three-quarters of the student body leaving for tropical destinations or to return to a safer home for the week did nothing to relieve the claustrophobic population. Crowds still swelled the streets, the constant honking and screeching of cars still reached you from stories above it all.

Not like you would have really noticed, laying on top of Jonathan’s lithe body, breathing in his scent for the third day in a row, tracing random patterns on his chest. The first few days of your spring break had been bliss, tangling your limbs with his, mixing your breaths together for hours on end.

You both had other things to be doing. Yet the idea of separating from one another was blasphemous. And, as you had quickly learned, Jonathan would not stop until he was completely satisfied, though his desire was apparently insatiable.

Eventually, you would have to free yourself from his hold, escape from his bedroom back into the real world. You had school work to do, shifts down at the store to attend. But they were so easy to forget when his mouth traced open kisses along your body, when he was able to set your body alight with a flame you hadn’t known existed inside of you.

Slowly, you sat up, running a hand over your hair. You could feel Jonathan’s eyes on you but he made no moves, simply content to watch you.

Pulling the comforter back, you placed your feet on the cool floor, not bothering to grab a blanket as you left the bedroom. Jonathan didn’t follow or call after you.

You grabbed your work bag- which was what you had intended on working on when you’d come over to his apartment three days ago but had been quickly distracted by Jonathan’s fingers and tongue. And you had stayed distracted, too enraptured by his attention to focus on anything else.

Instead of sitting at his table to get your work done, you walked back into the bedroom and settled on the bed with your papers. You could feel him watching you as you pulled out the first paper and a red pen, beginning to grade.

You remained like that for a few minutes before you heard him moving around behind you. He pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, and you could sense the smile he pressed against your skin, the curve of his lips stinging until he pulled away. He rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at the work you were doing. The work he could, technically, be helping you with.

“I am trying-” You threw a glance back at him, unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face, “to grade the assignment that you had due the class before break!”

He hummed, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew that he would be disappointed if you slacked off. Even if the reason was his own warmth beckoning to you from behind, a constant temptation to drag you away from the work you had to get done.

“I’ll take you down to Arkham tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question and it was barely a suggestion. There were no if that’s cool with you-s from him.

You put your red pen down, turning to look at him fully, your eyes roaming around his face.

“Are you sure?” It was redundant. If he was uncertain, if he was ever uncertain about anything, he wouldn’t bother telling you he was doing it. If you knew nothing else about him, it was that he was not the type to act when he was unsure.

He nodded, slow, his eyes dragging down your own face to your lips. You knew what the look on his face meant but you still put a hand on his shoulder to keep him at bay.

“I need to finish grading this.”

“It’s Tuesday, you have time.” It was a whisper against your lips, his hands moving to pull you closer to him from the waist.

“Hmm. I’m going to an asylum tomorrow, so I’m not sure if I’ll be available to work on it in the future.” But as you said it, you moved to straddle his thighs, linking your arms around his shoulders. You figured if you joked about heading down to Arkham, you’d forget to be nervous when it came down to it in the morning.

“Well, I know one of the doctors who works there. Maybe he can help you out.” Smiling at his response, you grinded down against his cock, which was quickly becoming hard from your sudden bout of attention.

You leaned backwards, grabbing your work and tossing it off of the bed, not caring when the papers scattered around his room.

“Oh, I’m sure he can.”

It was funny, you think, that the sky should decide to be bright and beautiful on the day you were visiting the darkest building of Gotham City. The waves crashed upon the rocks below as Jonathan’s car rolled through the main gates, gorgeous yet horrifying trees lining the drive to the main building. From your understanding, there were a few different buildings on Arkham's campus, including the old mansion and botanical garden. That was something the general public could come up and visit, situated far enough on the other side of the island that there was enough space to separate it from the asylum.

Staring out the window as the building slowly came into view through the trees, you fiddled with the visitor’s pass Jonathan had given you before you’d climbed in his car thirty minutes ago. Thankfully, it was labeled as RESTRICTED ACCESS, meaning he couldn’t take you into any questionable corners just for the sake of taking you there.

You should be flattered, you think. He wanted to show you his other workplace, let you see another side of his world.

But really, you were just nervous that this was going to somehow go completely wrong. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard of anything going right at the asylum, which was a dark blot on the city’s already dark canvas.

Arkham Asylum loomed over you like a giant, its gothic visage intimidating even in broad daylight. Maybe moreso, seeing that all the horrific elements of the asylum you saw in photographs weren’t due to nighttime shadows and rain. It was just what the buildings looked like, their entire presence spine-chilling. Worse when you considered who was locked up inside, perpetrators of some of Gotham’s worst crimes.

Finally, Jonathan pulled into his parking space, which was nestled behind the building.

You were torn between wanting to yank the seatbelt off of you, eager to get the visit over with, or to lock yourself inside so you didn’t have to leave the safety of the car. As you got out of the car, you looked over the roof to Jonathan.

“And you’re sure I’m allowed to just… visit? This isn’t just a trick to somehow admit me?”

Jonathan just hummed from your side, but you’re sure that your constant questions on the subject were becoming annoying. “I wouldn’t have brought you if it wasn’t allowed.” He began walking towards the door, briefly looking back at you. “And you’re not insane.”

“Thank you for the reassurance.” You responded dryly, fingers toying with the strap of your purse like someone would appear out of nowhere to snatch it from you.

You began the short walk across the wet parking lot, the smell of damp pavement and grass heavy in the air. Despite what you had expected, you heard nothing from inside the building. No screaming or shouting, no alarms or blaring announcements. It was absolutely silent, the only sound you could hear was birds chirping and waves hitting the lower rocks. And that was somehow worse than if you had heard everything that was going on inside the stone walls.

Jonathan pushed the door open, holding it aside as you stepped into the building before he followed you in, firmly closing the door behind you. It latched with finality and you took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm down.

You were officially inside Arkham Asylum.

The entry room was small, a metal detector preceding the doorway into the next room, a guard sitting in a chair by a table with a radio that was playing a loop of guards calling in. Faintly, you could smell anti-bacterial spray underneath the overpowering scent of something sweet and floral from the air freshener on the table. A security camera was mounted in the corner, aimed directly at you. You looked at it for a moment before wrenching your vision away, allowing yourself to be escorted through the metal detector with little flourish.

“I’m not going to meet any of the inmates, right?” You whispered after grabbing your bag from the plastic box they’d put it in as you’d gone through the door.

“No.” He smiled wryly before he spoke again. “Not unless there’s a breakout just as we get in there.”

“Please don’t even joke about that.” It was a well known secret that Arkham was prone to the occasional bout of hemorrhaging its inmates but you really didn’t want to witness it first hand. It was nerve racking enough when you were in the city and got the alert on your phone, you didn’t fancy being stuck on the island while an escape was happening.

“I’ll just take you to my office, show you around the visiting areas… nothing that’s too restricted.”

“I would hope not, my visitor’s card isn’t good for that.”

“I’ve told you. People don’t say no to me.” He pushed open another door, this time leading you into a dimly lit hallway. “If I wanted to take you somewhere, I would find a way.”

Jonathan’s tour of Arkham consisted of nothing more than walking through hallways and pointing out various points of interest. The door that led to the cells, the door that led to the rec rooms, the door that led to the intensive treatment wing, the door that led to the medical wing. Oh, look, a window that overlooked the exercise yard where there were a few orange and white clad inmates shuffling around, if they were moving at all. That’s a change in scenery.

“Why did you want to bring me here, anyway?” You asked as you walked down another hall that was identical to every other one you’d been brought down. Most of the hallways were lined with dated tile, bars over any windows and cracks in the flooring. Lights were yellowed and flickering, dust and dirt gathered in the corners. His only response was a non-committal noise from the back of his throat. He was saved from further questioning when he stopped by an archway that led into a small room with an empty desk and two doors leading off of it. He brought you to one of them, a non obtrusive wooden door. His name was on the plaque that was attached to the door, followed by his credentials.

Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door, revealing his office.

His office in Arkham was pretty similar to his office in the university, a dark wood desk sitting in between two large windows overlooking the asylum grounds and, in the distance, Gotham’s skyline.

“I have another one, in the basement. For obvious reasons, I will not be taking you down there.”

You looked at him from where you’d been observing a framed painting on the opposite side of the room from him.

“Why do you need two offices?”

“It’s a large asylum. Sometimes it's easier to keep patient’s records closer to where they’re kept in the building than here. And this office is better for visitors. The other one doesn’t have windows, which makes it well suited for sessions with the inmates.”

“Why-” But he quickly moved on, not letting you ask what he meant by his comment. From what you’d heard, direct sunlight was good for those struggling with their mental health, was it not? But, then again, you weren’t the one with a doctorate. You didn’t even have your bachelor’s, what do you know?

“The windows are nice, aren’t they?” You moved across the office to look out the windows, which were covered by half opened blinds which filtered the light into small lines across the room. His office, it seemed, overlooked the river, offering a decent view of the city. You knew that he was just pointing them out because he wanted to distract you from the question you’d wanted to ask. But you indulged him anyway.

“The view is good.” You moved away from the window but instead stepped right into Jonathan, who had moved to stand directly behind you. You adjusted your position slightly, allowing yourself to lean backwards into Jonathan’s body.

Then his hands were on your hips, brushing over the modest shirt you were wearing. For a brief moment, you regret wearing it, wishing you had instead worn something else, something more revealing or tantalizing. Then you remembered that you’d picked it out in the morning, knowing you were being smart by covering yourself up for the day’s visit. It wasn’t a club. It was a hospital.

With this in mind, you stepped away from him. Don’t fuck in his office, you reminded yourself. And when you turned and saw the familiar hungry look in Jonathan’s eyes that you’d been trying to sate for the past week, you simply ignored it. You knew that if he really wanted to bend you over and take you there, he would do it. But it looked like he also knew it wasn’t smart to try anything, because he simply took a deep breath and turned, leading you outside of his office again.

But instead of continuing back into the hallway, he stopped in the small room that connected Jonathan’s and another’s office to the hall. The desk that you’d noticed earlier was the only real furnishing in the room, but there was a dead plant in the corner. Nothing much to look at.

“Here is what I really wanted you to see.”

You craned your neck around his body, trying to see what he was looking at. You certainly couldn’t see it from where you were standing. But even when you looked around him, there was nothing else in the room. You looked at him, meeting his eyes before he pointedly looked at the desk.

The empty desk that was pushed against a wall. Its surface was covered in illegible etchings and it had clearly seen better days, the metal legs splotched with rust and the wood discolored.

You stared at it for a moment before looking back up at him, not getting the joke. But he was already looking at you and your breath stuttered before you caught it again, swallowing the sudden lump of nervousness that had sprung up in your throat.

“You brought me here to look at a desk?”

“The asylum has recently decided that I needed, or deserved, a… secretary. Receptionist. Assistant. Whatever you want to call it.” He prattled off the different names for the same job. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant by telling you this but you needed him to ask you.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He admonished, so quickly after you’d finished speaking that for a moment you thought you imagined it. Heat blossomed in your cheeks and you’re not sure if your reaction was entirely because you were embarrassed at being chided like a child. “You’ve proven yourself a good assistant. You hate your current job. Come work with me here.”

You pursed your lips, a litany of questions springing up in your mind at his suggestion. Some completely rational questions, like what is the pay and what exactly would my duties be, and some a bit less rational.

“Would you be my boss, then?”

“Of sorts but not quite.” He leaned against the desk, which groaned slightly from just the light amount of pressure he was putting on it. If you accepted the job, you decided, you would need a different desk than the one in front of you. “Your superior, of course.”

How many different power dynamics did Jonathan want the two of you to be arranged in? You were almost tempted to ask if he wanted to also be your psychiatrist, just to get that one off the table as well.

“Does this count as an interview?”

“This is a job offer.”

“I’d at least want to finish the semester before starting up here.”

“That’s-” He put his hand on the small of your back, leading you back into the hallway and away from his office and your potential desk, “-fine.”

He began to lead you back through the maze of hallways he had taken you down when you’d arrived, clearly signaling that the tour was over.

“Is there anything else you’re interested in seeing?”

“I don’t think so.” You smiled, wanting him to see that you appreciated him taking the effort to show you around the asylum, that you weren’t just trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. You were still confused as to why he had brought you into the asylum to offer the job instead of doing it over dinner like any normal person would.

But, you thought, if you accept the job offer, you’d be coming up here all the time. So maybe it was to get a brief feel for the asylum before you accepted or denied him?

“Not unless you can show me the records room.” You laughed to show that you were joking, that you knew that no civilian would ever be allowed anywhere near the records of Arkham. Not to protect the patients, of course, but rather to protect the asylum and any of its secrets.

If you accept the job, you might get to go down there one day…

He pushed open the doors, leading you into the next hallway. He wasn’t speaking now, obviously content to take you out of the building and back home- he’d done what he came for. But maybe, you think while trying not to linger on the thought, instead of taking you back to your place, you’d go back to his apartment and you’d spend the rest of the day under his worship.

In the hallway next to the one you were walking down, separated from yours with a half-wall and row of windows, a line of inmates were being escorted in the opposite direction.

Don’t look, your mind whispered. But like there was something else you couldn’t quite hear beckoning you, you slowly turned your head just as an inmate on the other side of the glass raised his.

A startled gasp broke away from you, your eyes now locked on the very real figure of the man who had occupied your thoughts for the past year and a half. But where you would have expected to fall into your usual symptoms of anxiety upon seeing him, you almost felt disappointed. Like you were walking past an exhibit at a museum, realizing that the thing you had built up so much in your head was really, horribly… mundane. The man you had been so afraid of, had nightmares about, was just a man. A round-faced, almost boyish looking man, hair limp and lifeless, his clear glasses cracked on the left pane. But behind the glasses, his eyes were bright and intelligent, narrowed slightly at you as he examined you much like you were observing him.

Your foot moves, stuttering against the linoleum floor briefly, like it wanted you to step closer to the glass, to get a closer look at Edward Nashton.

It wasn’t until Jonathan called your name, clearly not seeing what had happened, that you tore your eyes away from the inmate’s and practically ran down the hallway, your visitor card swinging on your neck. Your heart was racing, yes. Not because of seeing the Riddler in the flesh, but because the moment had felt… intimate and the idea of someone- Jonathan, especially- seeing it was somehow mortifying.

But if you had turned around at any point in your dash down the hallway, back to the safety that Jonathan’s proximity lent to you, you would’ve seen that he was still watching you, only turning when you were completely out of the hallway, the door swinging shut behind you.

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane Chapter Six part 1

SURPRISE MF lol I thought I would show some mercy, annnd there is a few surprises in here for you all tonight. MAKE SURE TO CHECK THE A/N AT THE END. ;) It's not very long.

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention? 

Parings: Quinn Fabray x G!P Reader / eventual Natasha x G!P Reader

Warnings: NOT PROOF READ also Drug use!

Avenger Lane Chapter Six: Part 1 "Vogue"

“Sam Evans, what are you doing?” Kurt glared.

“Uhh, helping you by modeling these skirts for you.” 

“How are you going to help me by wearing it backwards!?” He yelled.

“Hey now, don’t yell at my baby cause your skirt is confusing.” Mercedes pointed at her best friend before walking over to Sam fixing his skirt for him.

“Sweetheart?” Blaine called out hesitantly

Kurt whipped around.

“Here, I brought your favorite.”

“Oh honey! Ugh you’re so sweet!” Kurts mood drastically changes from furious to sweet.

“He’s normally not as… stressed out.” You mutter to Natasha as you both change.

“Oh that’s normal in this business.” She winked over her shoulder as she took off her shirt. You inwardly gasped seeing a large bruise on her lower back.

“Whoa! Nat what the hell?” You ask now behind her placing your fingers on her lower back not even noticing the way she shivered.

“Oh that.” She muttered before pulling up her dress.

“Did Bruce hurt you?” Your steamed eyes ablaze with rage. 

“Oh no! No, no, no, no!” She turned around. 

You weren’t convinced and she could tell.

“Y/N, I promise Bruce didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

“Then how-“

“I’m in Krav Maga.”

Your brows furrowed. Noticing you weren’t convinced she took out her phone scrolling to a video of her and the blonde you recognize from her family photos sparing.

“Wow.” You chuckled seeing her sparing. “You’re a badass.”

“Believe me now?” She grinned, poking your stomach.

“Yes.” You chuckled as you placed your tie around your open collar.

“Zip me?” She says innocently.

“Sure.” You gulp, placing a palm on her hip as you slowly zip up the dress careful not to knick her. You never noticed how intimate something as simple as zipping up a dress could be. The glint of your wedding band glimmered under the light reminding you what it meant.

“You were so upset.” She teased you as she turned around, slapping your hands away from your tie.

“I'm sorry.” You gulp looking up avoiding her eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s sweet.” She smiled and brought your chin back towards the front. “It’s sort of nice to have someone want to fight for me even though I can do it myself.”

“I really wanted to kick his ass there for a minute.” You chuckled as she smiled, focusing on the tie.

“And why would you do that?” she questioned after fixing your tie.

“Because… you’re my friend and I care about you. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you if I can help it.”

Emerald eyes snapped to yours. She was reading you and you let her. Before Natasha could get a word in, the photographer's assistant rushed in.

“Okay he’s ready for you both.”

“Oh me as well?” You furrowed your brows you already shot with the unholy trinity. You thought you were gonna model solo now.

“Yup.” She said before scurrying off.

“Y/N!” Kurt yelled.

You jolted in place hearing his frustration and you looked for an exit. 

“Come on.” Natasha rolls her eyes at you playfully.

“What!? No way! I don’t want to be yelled at like Spam.”

She huffed and dragged you out of the fitting room.

“There you are.” He sighs.

“Okay I’ll do a few shots of Natasha solo then with Y/N then solo Y/N.” The photographer announces towards you, Kurt, and Natasha.

“Natasha, let's start with you first.”

Her heels click as she walks towards the set.

“Kurt are you insane you’re gonna have me model with Nat? Quinn is going to kill both of us!” You hiss.

“You’re married.” Kurt huffed with a roll of his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Did you forget who I married.” You kinked your brow.

“Don’t tell me she still has jealousy issues.” Kurt furrowed his brows. He gasped when you made no attempt to correct him. “Wow, a decade and she’s still jealous? Blaine doesn’t even get jealous anymore!” He huffed.

“So then I don’t have too?”

“Psh, no you’re doing it. If she gets upset I’ll take care of it. The photographer wants you modeling with nearly everyone. Quinn left with Santana and Rach to grab something to eat since I didn’t have the time.”

“Y/N he’s ready for you.” The assistant popped up causing you both to jump.

You nodded before following her to the set.

“Alright first I want both of you by the window.” You walked over towards her.

The photographer Aaron walked over towards both of you, camera in hand.

“Fuck you both look scrumptious.” Aaron grinned. “So for this shot I want you both acting like this is your first and last night together. Got it?”

You both nod as he begins snapping photos.

You reach up with your left hand to caress her cheek.

“Yes Y/N look deep into those green eyes. Alright now go to bed.” He said.

Natasha took you by the tie leading you to the bed. 

“Ugh yes Natasha lead the puppy where you want her.”

“Did he just call me a puppy?” You ask her.

“Shh puppy’s don’t speak.” Natasha smirked, placing a finger on your lips, causing the photographer to laugh. You gulped before nervously letting out a chuckle.

She sits on the bed as if she’s going to lay down. Your tie is still in her hand.

“Why Y/N Y/L/N you’re blushing.” Natasha grinned

“Yesssss!” Aaron moaned snapping shots.

“I can’t help it. You smell nice and look nice and yeah.” You cleared your throat.

“Kiss her.” Aaron smirked at your shocked face.

“Wait what?”

“Kiss the girl!” He huffed, rolling his eyes at you. He cursed in French when his camera stopped working.

“I’ve… I’ve never kissed another woman… I mean I have, but not consensually on my part.”

“Well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Natasha said softly.

“Alright I’m back up and running.” The photographer Aaron announced.

“Why are we kissing again?” you asked.

“Cause it’s hot.” He scoffed.

“He wants to capture the suit, the dress and the lingerie set under the dress.” The assistant explained.

“Oh.” You say nodding.

“So now you understand why this must be sexy, yeah?” Aaron huffed.

Nodding you turn back towards the redhead who unbeknownst to you was having a bit of an internal melt down. On one hand she desperately wants to kiss you, and on the other she’s terrified that she’s going to want you to do it again.

“We don’t have to Y/N.” Natasha says softly, sensing you were nervous. 

You knew if you bowed out then Santana would get to take your place, and you just couldn’t have that. You knew she’d find a way to torment you about it. 

“I’m good.” You grinned. “What’s a kiss between two friends?” You shrugged playfully causing her to laugh.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur, but you remember thinking how green her eyes looked. It was like looking at a sea of pine trees. The moment your lips touched hers felt like your lips were on a cloud. You swore she sighed against you when you gripped her hips. Her hands laid against your abdomen slowly moving up your chest before slowly running up your shoulders to cup your face.

You don’t really remember the moment you both pulled away, but you remember feeling a pull to dive back in.

“Make it look like you’re ripping the dress off.” Aaron broke your trance.

“Do not rip that dress!” Kurt, snapped pointing at you.

“Fine.” Aaron sighed. “Natasha, go ahead and strip.” The photographer made sure to snap photos as the Russian beauty turned for you to unzip her dress. 

You gulped once again in the same position as earlier. You began pulling the zipper down and soon the dress was lying against the chaise, and Natasha was straddling your lap. Your arms wrapped around her looking up with her inches from your lips. She leaned down slowly, her nose touching yours when your lips met once again. Her body hummed against yours as you brought her closer.

Natasha’s fingers scratched at the back of your neck breathing you in as she kissed you. You suppressed a groan as she ever so gently rocked her hips back. You squeezed your eyes shut trying to think of the mailman, a trick Finn told you about back in highschool. 

“What in the fresh hell is this?!” You hear Quinn yell. “Get off of my wife!”

“Scandalous.” The photographer cackled, capturing everyone’s surprised face.

“Quinn, they're just modeling my line.” You hear Kurt huff.

“Why do they have to be all over each other making out to do it?” Quinn furrowed her brows gesturing to you.

“Sex sells Quinn you know that.” Your shoulders tensed up immediately hearing that familiar high pitched voice.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks, trying to control her heart beat, noticing your change in demeanor.

“Berry.” You grumbled.

“That’s her?” Natasha furrowed her brows. She was almost the complete opposite of you. You growled watching the short brunette place her hands on Quinn’s arms, calming her down.

“Short little hobbit like annoying piece of-“

“Y/N.” Natasha brings your attention back to her.

“Sorry.” You cleared your throat. “She just instantly makes me upset.”

“You two are good.” The assistant said walking over with two robes.

Natasha looks down at your arms still wrapped around her.

“Oh right.” You chuckled letting her go and helping her off your lap.

“You!” Quinn snapped, pointing at Natasha who merely raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m just gonna let you kiss my wife?” The blonde was now taking her earrings off. 

“Whoa Q calm down.” You say getting in front of her holding her back.

“And you! You just let her!” She slapped your chest before shoving you.

“Babe, it was for the photoshoot.” 

“Photoshoot my ass I bet the two of you couldn’t wait for this to happen!” She yelled glaring at you finger pointed.

“Okay… come on tubbers lets lower that blood pressure.” Santana muttered as she and Brittany dragged her outside.

“Well she was thoroughly upset.” Natasha raised her brow at you as you entered the dressing room to put your clothes on.

“Yeah, that seemed about right.” You sighed taking off your tie.

“Didn’t you kiss Brittany and Santana like an hour ago?” She huffed, as she changed into her clothes.

“Yup.” You sighed looking at the wall.

“Got it, so she just doesn’t like me nor trust me.” Natasha nodded with a rueful smile on her face. She honestly doesn’t blame Quinn, she does have a thing for you, but it’s just that! A thing! She understands you’re married.

“Nat-”

“It’s okay Y/N.”

“It’s not and don’t worry I’ll talk to her I promise. Onnnn another note, wanna come with all of us to dinner? My treat.” You smiled sweetly.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

Santana and Brittany used 3 edibles and a pen to calm Quinn down enough for her to see you and Natasha again with out trying to murder you both. 

“So Y/N, Q, We all got Finley’s invitations. What are our jobs for Finley’s birthday?” Santana asks.

“You didn’t tell me her birthday is so soon.” Natasha smiled. “She’s a summer baby?”

“Hmhm.” You grinned. “My little August baby.”

“Our August baby.” Quinn’s brow ticked. “I carried her for 9 months, and was in labor for 18 hours.”

“How could I forget when you throw it in my face constantly.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Well it seems sometimes I have to remind you since you like making out with other women.”

Before you can snap off Berry butts in.

“Okay guys please don’t fight again.” Rachel pleaded.

“Shut up Berry.” You hissed. “We aren’t fighting. This is between me and my wife.”

“Don’t tell her to shut up!” Quinn growled, nudging you.

The old glee clubbers awkwardly shifted in their seats as you and your wife bickered. 

“Do they get this way a lot?” Natasha found herself asking Blaine.

He sighed, shaking his head negatively. “No, they don’t… Although I have noticed they only get this way if Rachel is around, or… Sersi.” He opted out of saying Natasha’s name in fear of you kicking his ass.

“Anyway! We were talking about my God daughter and her birthday so let’s get back to that so we can spoil the shit out of her.” Santana huffed.

“Alright so Young Wild & Three is the theme.” You spoke up. “Figured jungle theme, bring in some exotic petting zoo animals, maybe get some fun booths going to win prizes, and the food could be simple sliders,-“

“Ooh! I can design the cake!” Sam beamed it took him a long time to figure out who he was outside of Lima. Outside of the halls of Mckinnley high. He was very supportive of Mercedes following her dream and while doing so found he loved to bake.

“Thanks Sam!” You grinned.

“Ooh one of the games could be ‘Swinging from the Threes’ we could make some monkey bars or an obstacle course?” Natasha chimed in.

“Maybe we can make a ball pit too.” You add on to her idea.

“We can’t forget karaoke!” Brittany added.

“I’ll bring my karaoke set.” Rachel nodded.

“I’ll bring the piñata. It’s my job as tia.” Santana shrugged.

“This party sounds fun.” Kurt mused before turning towards his husband. “We can not forget to wear the rain ponchos.”

“A rain poncho?” Natasha asked, turning towards the couple.

“Best way to keep your clothes clean around kids.” Kurt explained.

“Want us to bring you one?” Blaine asked, raising his large brows.

“No, that's okay.” Natasha chortled.

“Question.” Mike raised his hand. “Would this also technically be your housewarming party since none of us have been there yet?”

“Ohhh yes so I expect a gift for Fin and me- I mean for us.” Quinn smirked.

“Quinn.” You rolled your eyes.

“Your wedding gift was my housewarming gift, bitch.” Santana snorted, causing Quinn to roll her eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t know if this would help, but you can use my pool if you want? I’m sure the kids would love it.”

“Oh we don’t wanna put you out like that.” Quinn shook her head.

“Oh it’s no trouble at all. Y/N you could make a mini door on my fence-”

“I was joking about that.” You chuckled, earning an eye roll from Quinn.

“I know that!” She laughed. “But it actually makes sense now, and I bet Clint would let us borrow his slide.”

“You really don’t mind?” You furrowed your brows.

“Of course not.” She shrugged.

“Thanks Nat.” You grinned.

“When are my tio and tia coming into town?” Santana questioned.

“Couple of days.” You grin.

“Along with my mother which means we are cleaning.” Quinn muttered.

You internally screamed you did not like cleaning with Quinn.

“Aha! Sucker you gotta clean like a little bitch fool!” Santana laughed, punching your arm.

You glared rubbing your arm.

“Are you two related?” Natasha squinted looking at you and Santana.

“Nah, but our parents are like best friends.” Santana explains.

“Ohhh, I think it's really cool that all of you still keep in touch from Highschool.”

“It’s important we all stay connected.” Rachel smiled, squeezing your wife's hand. The blonde looked over, eyes glazed over, a lazy smile on her face. Natasha’s eyes flickered over to you, but you couldn’t move your eyes from their hands.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

As you all walked out onto the streets of New York City.  you out of habit took Quinn’s hand only for her to snatch it back.

“Don’t touch me.” She snapped, giving you a glare that would turn Medusa to stone.

“Qui-”

“No, I'm still pissed at you Y/N.” She grit before walking away from you. “Like I’m so upset with you I can’t even look at you right now!” 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Natasha says, walking up next to you as you watch your wife speaking with Brittany and Rachel.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah she’s just being… Quinn, but to be honest if a hottie like you was mackin’ on my wife I’d kick your ass too.” Santana interrupts laying her arms around both your shoulders.

“She can try.” Natasha shrugs.

Santana cackled letting her go before turning to you. “Don’t worry Q can stay with us tonight. I’ll talk with her tomorrow when we fix up the party favors and all that shit.”

You sighed nodding before the Latina walked away.

“Damn dude.” Mike's eyes widened. “Quinn has literally never changed.”

“Hey come on it was my fault-“

“Dude you did the same thing with Santana and Brit! She’s being unreasonable-“

“Mike!” You whined.

“Fine, fine, but she is.”

“Mike? Are you ready?” Tina smiled walking up.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat.

“Bye Y/N.” She said, hailing a cab. “Nice meeting you Natasha.” 

“You as well.” Natasha smiles.

“Bye Tina!” You say before standing in front of Mike mouthing. ‘OH MY GOD!’

He quickly mouths back ‘I KNOW!’

“See you on Fin’s birthday?” He asks, pointing towards you as he walks backwards.

“Well, I am the father. So yeah. I’ll be there.” You furrow your brow condescendingly.

“That is, if Quinn doesn’t kick you out first.” He smirked as you flipped him off.

“Bye Nat it was great meeting you!” Mike waves getting in the cab.

“Likewise!” She laughs, shaking her head.

“Sooo it’s 10 PM and we’re in New York City. My wife is contemplating the idea of leaving me, and for a hobbit no less. Wanna get up to some shit?” You ask, turning towards Natasha with a smirk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you…” Natasha smirks at the mischievous look on your face. “You’ve piqued my interest Y/L/N. I’m game.”

You grinned taking her hand before taking off on an adventure.

A/N: Thought I'd make it up to y'all by letting you guys decide what they get up too (within reason lol)! Let me know in the comments!!!

[blackbat05]

Burnout

Jason Todd x Reader (University AU)

Plot: It's the last semester of school, but you're feeling out of sorts. Jason provides the moral support that you need.

Genre: PG-13, comfort.

A/N: Yet again, for self-indulgent purposes. It's my last sem in uni but why am I so listless lmao. Feedback always appreciated!

With a loud sigh, you find yourself sinking into the big bean bag, belongings long abandoned at the side.

The last semester had just started, but you were already feeling like a deflated balloon. Maybe it was the fact that half of your university life was blighted by the pandemic. Not that you didn't mind at the start.

You didn't have to wake up at an ungodly hour to squeeze in the rush hour. You didn't have to deal with boring professors or obnoxious classmates. Taking a break meant walking to the fridge to pull out your favorite drink.

But as time went by, you felt the online fatigue. You wondered if what was supposed to be the most exciting time of your life would have changed if not for the pandemic.

Things were better now. People moved around freely. Friends reunited, eagerly chatting about having lunch at the new cafe two blocks down.

Not you. You were lost. So very lost.

You groan inwardly, realizing the essay that was due in less than a week. Opening your eyes, you finally see a figure looming over you, his signature smirk plastered on his face. Oh were you glad to see your best friend, your savior on this bleak university campus.

"Well if this ain't a sight."

"Hello to you Jason. Get a bag and sit down before I sprain my neck you giraffe."

Jason chuckles at your wise-cracking, doing as you say. Long limbs splayed on the carpet, he lays beside you, staring into the fluorescent lights of the library. With the sounds of students clacking away at their laptops filling the air, the day finally hits both you and Jason. He turns to you slightly, sees the tensed muscles on your face, and frowns.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." You mumbled. As always, Jason was the perceptive one in this relationship. You were grateful for someone as sensitive and caring as him but today, you just weren't in a talking mood.

You feel some movement beside you and you see Jason getting up. He extends a hand, much to your confusion.

"Let's get out of here."

"But we have one more elective class." You pointed out.

Jason shrugs. "If you're worried about the assignment, I can help you." He pulls you up and grabs your bag. "But from what I see, what you need is self-care. Let's grab something to eat - your choice."

You can't help but smile at his effort. "You treating?"

He pulls out a black card, an impish grin on his face. "Yes, and no. Today's lunch will be sponsored by Bruce Wayne. And maybe we can talk about that graduation trip you really wanted. I'm sure Bruce won't have any issues."

You laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. Jason was right - it was no use trying to drag oneself on an empty tank.

Your school life may not have been exactly ideal, but there were also upsides. From beginning to end, through thick and thin, Jason Todd was there with you till the very end.

And he was willing to walk with you further.

[envysparkler]

gift giving

Richard John Grayson, age ten

“We’re going to the zoo?” Dick asked excitedly, peering at the tickets in his hand.  Alfred had just barely managed to stop Bruce from buying the zoo.  “Asterous!”

“And I made you a cake,” Bruce said, nervousness plainly visible.  Dick’s excitement muted to skepticism, clearly aware of his foster father’s failings in the kitchen, but Bruce had been determined to get this right, and the resulting cake was quite gorgeous.

Dick’s eyes widened as Alfred set it on the table, until the boy looked like he would fall over in a breeze.  “Bienenstich,” he whispered, his face beginning to scrunch up, “I—you remembered—”

“I know this birthday can’t compare to your last one,” Bruce said quietly, “But I wanted you to have a piece of your old home.”  Bruce had done more than that—he’d tracked down the exact recipe of the Bienenstich cake that Dick had admitted was a special treat for him in the circus, and mixed together pasty cream and dough and honey-almond glaze with the same concentration he brought to fear toxin antidotes.

Dick was definitely crying now, and Alfred had to nudge Bruce to go and hug him, the man looked panicked that he’d done something wrong.

The cake was every bit as delicious as it looked.

~#~

Richard John Grayson, age eighteen

“I—have a gift for you,” Bruce said awkwardly.  The tension in the room was stifling, but Dick made a good show of ignoring it, tapping away on his phone and distractedly eating the rest of the cake Alfred had made on very short notice.

Dick had informed them yesterday that he would be spending his birthday at Titans Tower, with his friends, and wouldn’t be returning for several weeks, and the resultant argument was still simmering in the air.  Only Alfred’s intervention that Dick would be either leaving on the weekend or in a week, but in the latter case he might not come back, had stopped Bruce from grounding Dick.

“Great,” Dick said flatly, not looking up from his phone, “What is it.”

“It’s—downstairs,” Bruce said, and Alfred knew that the dispassion in his tone was a way to avoid sounding anxious.  “Come join me when you’re done.”

Again, haste turning the request into an order, and Alfred inwardly sighed as Dick bristled, expression turning to a scowl that only grew deeper once he realized that Bruce had already fled.

Dick ate the rest of the cake in ill temper, and stayed in his seat when he was done, still doing something on his phone.  Alfred cleared his throat when he finished cleaning the table, and that hostile expression snapped his way.

“I believe Master Bruce wanted to show you something downstairs,” Alfred said, light but firm.  Dick’s expression twisted tighter as he pushed out of the chair, but at least there were no further histrionics.

“What could he possibly have waiting for me here?” Dick said coldly as they descended the stairs, “He made it clear that Robin’s done, and I’m not interested in getting another lecture.”

Because all of them were aware that Dick was going straight back into vigilantism with the Titans, regardless of what Bruce wanted.

[abyssal-ali]

There is Just no Stopping this Thing Called 'Love' - Chapter 3: The Beginning

Pairing: Jaysteph

Rating: T+ (M?)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: Jaysteph Weekend 2023 Day 3: Kissing for a Mission | Hair | PTSD Thanks as always to my beta, Esme! See Chapter 1's notes for more information<3 I think this is my favourite chapter that I wrote for this work.

NOTE: In this AU, canon says that Dick, Jason, and Tim were all living together on the streets before Bruce found and adopted them. In my AU here, Jason did die and went through the majority of his canon experiences, but he was closer to his family when he came back to Gotham. Batman and Red Hood are still on the outs because they disagree on the use of lethal force, but they've been working on overcoming it. RH has been active for just under a year, and is already working on reconciling with the Bats.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Steph looked up from her toilette, startled, as a man jumped into her room through the window and pulled the drapes, peering out past a small gap at the city night.

“Er, excuse me, sir-”

He turned to look at her and she caught her breath. The infamous Red Hood had just broken into her room.

He raised his hands placatingly. “Sorry for dropping in on you like this. Terribly ungentlemanly of me and not my usual actions, I assure you.”

She pushed her stool away from her vanity and stood, assessing him. In this line of work, it paid to read men’s body language.

“What do you need, Mr. Hood?” she switched into her work persona, Effie. Her voice and lashes lowered alluringly as she approached him carefully, adding a little more sway to her strut. “I’m sure you had a good reason to come this way…perhaps you night heroes want some secrecy?”

“No-I-” he glanced out the window again. “I was being followed and this was the quickest way to throw him off my scent. I didn’t realize this was your private room; I apologize.”

The Red Hood was well spoken-of by her friends deeper in Crime Alley, who were now under Hood’s protection, and the months since his brutal takeover appeared to be producing better and better results. Steph decided to trust her gut and let some of her guard down around Hood.

“Oh, detective work, how fascinating,” she flirted, though she truly did find it interesting. “Can I help throw someone off your trail?”

There was a knock on her door and Crystal poked her head in, missing Hood’s remarkably quick duck behind the bed. “Steph, Bella said the Ripper got another one and the Batman is out hunting him. Be careful.”

“Oh no! Was it anyone we know?!” Steph gasped. Jack the Ripper, as the police were calling him, was on a spree of killing lower-class women, specifically targeting girls like her.

She idly wondered if that’s what Hood was out doing, tracking down the murderer.

“No, I don’t think so. Are you almost ready for your number?” Crystal changed the subject.

“I already have a guest tonight, Mama. There was a last-minute change of plans.”

Crystal eyed her suspiciously but nodded and closed the door.

Steph stepped around the end of the bed and put her hands on her hips. “Care to explain anything now, Mr. Hood?”

“I was being followed by the murderer,” he groaned, extricating himself from the uncomfortably squished position he’d been in. “I was checking on the street-walkers, gonna offer some protection and ask them to spread the news, but I got there too late. I left the scene when Batman showed up a moment later, and then I found someone following me. I’m pretty sure he’s the killer.”

She grasped his hand and yanked, jerking him to a stance. “I didn’t ask for your life story,” she tsked. “Ain’t it a bit dangerous to go blabbing Hood business to random girls? I know ya hire some of us for information we get from our clients.”

Hood dusted himself off and pushed his deep red cape back from his face and wow, he was unfairly good-looking, even with a domino mask covering half his face. Why couldn’t her clients look more like Hood, she sighed inwardly.

“I didn’t say anything useful to anyone, and I don’t blab.”

She crossed her arms and eyes him, leaning against the post at the foot of her bed.

“You hiding out here for a while?”

“If you’ll let me intrude.”

“I’ve already told my mother I have ya, so ya might as well.”

“She was your mother? Ya did look similar,” Hood noted. “You…work here together?”

“Yeah, we do. She’s more in charge of us girls, she talks to the owner for us and takes care of the other girls. I’m, well, just one of the attractions.”

“How long ya been workin’ here?” Hood stretched out on her bed, taking care to leave his boots hanging off the edge of the bed, but laid his head on her pillow, his hands tucked behind it.

“A while. I was gonna be a nurse with my mama but my father died and left us nothin’. Mr. Sionis was our only option for the short term,” she shrugged. “Ya really just wanna talk?”

He shrugged and nodded. “A nurse, huh. I could use a nurse sometimes. Gets awful messy after some bad fights.”

“Well I ain’t a nurse now, so don’t think of crawlin’ in like this again if you’re injured,” Steph wagged her finger at him warningly. “I can only take so many nights off.” She perched on the end of her bed, swinging one leg over the edge.

“So you’re sayin’ I can come crawl in like this again if I’m not injured?” he grinned, a devastatingly handsome grin that made her heart skip a beat, and she frowned reprovingly at him.

“I said nothin’ of the sort. Ya wanna see me again, ya come in the front door and pay like the regulars.”

Hood chuckled, and Steph felt something in her melt at the sound. “Alright, Feisty. Oh, we never exchanged names, did we? I’m the Red Hood, but you can call me Hood like my other girls.”

Other girls, huh, Steph scoffed. Well, it would be strange if Hood protected the others for free, she supposed. Or maybe he had plenty of girlfriends in his civilian life.

“My stage name is Effie, but ya can call me Steph.”

He shook her hand solemnly. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Steph.”

They spent a good while chatting, and Steph found herself with a teeny tiny crush on Hood by the time he swung his legs off her bed and stood to leave.

Look, he was stupid good-looking, respectful, funny, and had a good reputation with the people whose opinions mattered to her, so why not?

He pulled his hood up halfway, then hesitated, looking at her.

She blinked up at him, uncertain why he had paused.

“May I kiss you?” he asked suddenly, and she blinked again.

That was not what she was expecting him to say.

“For the mission?”

“I don’t need to kiss you for the mission; no one’s here. I just want to kiss you. May I?”

Steph blinked a third time. If someone turned him down they were an idiot, she thought, nodding. “You may.”

His hands dropped from his hood to her face, his hood dropping back to rest against his back with a soft thump. Hood’s thumb brushed her cheek softly as he stared at her in silence, his eyes doing something she didn’t understand.The hiss of her gas flame by her vanity sounded loud in the sudden quiet as they stayed there, wrapped up in their own world. 

“Are ya gonna kiss me or not,” she whispered, the words coming out hopeful instead of with the sass she was going for. Steph closed her eyes, cringing at her uncharacteristic vulnerability.

They flew open as she felt a presence directly in front of her, and she stared into the bright green eyes looking back at her. “I am. But it’s gonna be the best kiss of ya life, so I want ya to savour it,” he grinned lopsidedly, his voice surprisingly soft, too.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she scoffed, but was cut off by Hood’s soft, soft lips on hers as kissed her tenderly. She moved her lips against his, opening up for more, and he took it gladly, sliding his hands from her jaw to her neck, and hers wrapped around his shoulders, holding him closer to him.

He pulled away a scant inch, breathing roughly, and she opened dazed eyes to him. He grinned cockily and ran his hand through her hair, straightening. “The defendant is leaving, Your Honour. Hold court another day.”

With a last quick, stolen kiss, he slipped past her drapes and into the night.

She found a small purse with the equivalent of a week’s wages tucked under her pillow when she went to sleep.

~~~~~

“Effie,” called one of her co-workers, grabbing her from the backstage mirror before she could finish applying a fresh coat of lipstick.

Steph was dragged out to the front of the house, to a young man in a suit, holding his hat in his hands and surveying the bustle of the evening– her profession’s busiest hours.

He looked to be a couple years older than her, but already a shock of white showed through his forelock. 

Steph led him to her room, wondering why he seemed so familiar to her. She had never seen this man here before, either for her or someone else.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, and she startled a little, the phrase she had replayed in her mind hundreds of times over the last couple months sounding just like Hood had said it that night.

“Hood?”

He grinned, and she immediately knew it was him. “You catch on quick, Feisty.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on a mission,” he replied, tossing his hat aside and pulling off his gloves.

Of course he’s not here to see you, she scolded herself. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Pretty important, too. I haven’t failed a mission yet, and I don’t intend to start now. Of course, someone may stop me,” he drawled.

“Who?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“You.” He chuckled at her confused look. “Ya still haven’t answered me, and considerin’ that tonight’s mission is to kiss you, it isn’t goin’ well.”

“Yes, absolutely. In fact, if you don’t kiss me, I will ban you from ever coming back here again unless you pay–with interest.” She lifted her chin challengingly.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I’m interested,” he replied, pulling her into his arms.

Taglist: @jaystephevents

[charlieeenby]

i'll give you my half life so you'll see tomorrow

whumptober day 8 and a part 2 one person asked for

bruce finds someone raping dick. they deal with the aftermath and the aftermath of my day 8 whumptober entry

warnings and tags: underage rape, hospitals, medical inaccuracies, angst, hurt no comfort, stalker tim, sibling bonding, referenced child prostitution, good dad Bruce, non explicit murder

title is from half life by livingston

Bruce sighed as he rounded the corner, startled when he tripped over something. Looking down, he found a suit jacket.

Picking it up, he realized it was the one Dick had been wearing that night. Bruce frowned. He hadn’t seen Dick for a couple hours now, so why was the boy’s jacket here?

Bruce looked up and saw another suit jacket laying a few feet away, this one much bigger than Dick’s.

Dread dug it’s icy claws into Bruce. He moved forward, stepped past the second jacket and listened, though he wasn’t sure what he was listening for.

Then he heard a soft cry further down the hallway. He moved closer to it and noticed the door to his study was cracked.

A thud came from the room, followed closely by a whimper. Bruce moved much quicker now, practically jogging over to the room and throwing the door open as he reached for the light switch and flipped it on.

The sight in front of him was horrifying and made his stomach churn, but it took him only a moment to react.

Dick, sweet 14 year old Dick, was pinned to the desk, with a man double his size over him, pants around his ankles.

Bruce lunged, grabbed the man’s collar and yanked back hard, finding a sick satisfaction when the man gagged.

He threw him to the side, his head slamming into a bookcase and went to Dick, who had fallen to the floor, tears streaming down his face with a white substance.

Bruce winced inwardly, but didn’t let Dick see, not wanting to upset him.

“Dick, chum, can you look at me?” Bruce asked softly.

The boy looked up. “B,” he croaked. “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

Dick flinched.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay. Please, tell me where it hurts so I can help.”

“I – it – I’m sorry.”

“No, chum, don’t apologize, this isn’t your fault.” Bruce paused, trying to figure out what to say. “Do you want to go to the ER, chum?”

It took him a moment, but Dick nodded.

“Okay. Can you stand up?”

Dick shook his head and reached out to Bruce. Very carefully, Bruce put his hands under Dick’s arms and lifted him up gently.

His pants were gone, and there was blood running down his leg.

“Okay. Do you want me to get your pants?”

Dick shook his head. “Hurts.” he whispered and Bruce knew exactly what they were going to the ER for, knew why Dick didn’t want to tell him.

“Okay, chum. How about a blanket?”

That got a nod. Bruce stepped over to the couch where he kept a soft blanket and then went back over to Dick.

Gently, Bruce wrapped Dick up.

“Alright. I’ll have Alfred meet us there with a pair of pants and underwear, is that okay?” Bruce asked.

Dick nodded.

“Okay. Are you ready to go?”

“Can – will you carry me? Please?” Dick asked so quietly that Bruce could barely hear him.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

When they got to the ER, it was overcrowded and Bruce held Dick close to his chest as he made his way to the front.

The nurse there was speaking loudly and Dick flinched closer to Bruce.

When she saw them she waved them closer and Bruce stepped up to the counter.

“What’s your emergency?” she asked, and Bruce noted how tired she sounded.

“My son was…” for the first time that night, it really hit Bruce what had happened to Dick. Sure, he know what was happening, what he needed to do, but reality set in right there, in the ER.

“Sir?” the nurse asked.

“Sorry. Um, my son was raped.” the word tasted like poison in his mouth.

The nurse’s eyes went wide, then looked at the bundle in Bruce’s arms.

“O-okay. How old is he?”

“Fourteen.”

“Okay. Did – jesus. Was the assault penetrative?” the nurse winced as she spoke.

“Yes.”

“Was there any damage? This is worded horribly. I’m so sorry. I think it means was there physical damage internally?”

“I – he didn’t want me to look. I saw blood running down his leg.”

“Okay, and how long ago did the assault happen?”

“Twenty, thirty minutes. We came straight here.”

“You’re sure?”

Bruce ground his teeth at the question. “I pulled the fucker who did this off of him, yes, I’m sure.” he gritted out, trying not to snap at the nurse. It wasn’t her fault, she was doing here job.

She gave him look that was both empathetic and horrified.

“Okay. I can get him in right away, but protocol states that we’ll have to separate you two and have and investigation done since he’s a minor.”

“That’s fine. I just want him taken care of.”

The nurse nodded again. “I need patient name and date of birth.”

“Richard Grayson. March twentieth, 1995.”

The nurse typed in the information. “Okay. I’m going to have you go sit down and a nurse will be out in a minute to get you. Do you have a preference on gender?”

Bruce sighed. “A woman, if possible.”

“That’s why I asked, hun.”

Giving her a nod, Bruce turned around and looked across the ER for an empty spot, but found none. Resigning himself to standing, he moved over to the wall where there was an empty spot and leaned agains it, still holding Dick to his chest.

“How are you doin’ chum?” he asked quietly.

“It hurts, Dad.” Dick croaked.

Bruce’s heart ached for Dick. “I know, chum, I know.” he whispered into the boy’s hair.

part 2

Dick started sleeping in Bruce’s bed and he only slept when Bruce was there, which made going out as Batman difficult.

So instead of forcing Dick to adhere to his schedule, Bruce called Clark. They weren’t very close, more acquaintances than anything, but Bruce needed to take care of his son.

He invited Clark over for lunch one day, rather out of the blue, and when Clark arrived, it was clear he was concerned.

Bruce had Alfred take Dick out to the garden and he and Clark sat at the table, but neither of them ate.

“Bruce, why did you invite me over? Are you okay?” Clark asked finally.

“I’m fine. I do, however, need your help.”

Clark blinked in shock. “Oh, of course. What do you need?”

“I need you to be Batman.”

“What?”

Bruce sighed. “Something happened to Dick. I need to be here for him and he’s having a hard time sleeping without me being there, which means I can’t be Batman right now. So I’m asking you to fill in for me.”

“Dick? What happened?”

“That’s not relevant.” Bruce said, gritting his teeth. Dick didn’t know he was doing this, and Bruce wasn’t going to tell Clark without Dick’s permission.

Clark frowned. “It’s preventing you from being Batman, it seems rele-”

“It’s not.” Bruce interrupted. “And if it’s going to be a problem, you can leave.”

For a minute, Clark was quiet, and Bruce thought he might leave, but then he nodded. “Okay. I wouldn’t be able to go out every night. I still have to be Superman.”

“I know. And that’s fine. It’s just a few times a week.”

“I can do that. I’ll need a suit.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll adjust one of mine. If it ends up being long term, I’ll make you one.”

“Hey, B.”

Bruce hummed, glancing at his son.

“I wanna – I have a question. Request?” Dick said, frowning.

“What’s up, chum?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Bruce froze. “What?”

“My – him.”

His rapist. That’s what Dick was talking about. Bruce didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he didn’t agree with murder. It’s illegal for a reason. But this was is baby’s rapist. He couldn’t forgive that and he doubted that a beating would stop the monster or even feel good.

And it wouldn’t do anything for Dick.

“Okay.” Bruce said, because he didn’t really have anything else to say. Then, “Will you let me… supervise?”

Dick looked confused, shocked. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you can do that.”

“Ward of Bruce Wayne Assaulted at Charity Gala”

“Batman’s Violence Increases”

“Richard Grayson’s Rapist Found Dead”

Tim flipped through all the headlines, frowning. Batman wasn’t supposed to kill. But he was pretty sure that he’d killed a man. Granted, said man was a child rapist and had raped Batman’s son, but still. That wasn’t something Batman did.

He was also pretty sure that Batman was a different person.

As he sat on the roof, waiting for Batman to appear, he heard footsteps behind him. Tim froze, then looked behind him.

There was a kid there, maybe a few years older than him. He looked like a street kid.

“Hey.” Tim whispered, wanting to make sure the other boy knew he was there. The boy jerked, looking over at Tim, who waved. “Hi.”

“Who are you?”

“Tim. Who are you?”

The boy hesitated, then said, “Jay. What are you doing up here?”

This time, Tim hesitated.

“Are ya doin somethin bad?” Jay asked.

“No, I’m waiting for Batman.”

“Batman?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. I need to talk to him.”

Jay’s face scrunched up. “Why would you want to talk to Batman?”

“I have some questions for him.”

“You’re weird.” he said, but it was too soft to really be an insult. Jay looked around. “Um, do other people come up here?”

“No, just me, and now you.” Tim said. “Why?”

Jay shrugged, but Tim could tell he was a little uncomfortable. “Can I hang out here with you for a while?”

“Sure.” Tim said, excited to have someone with him. “I can show you my pictures if you want.

“Pictures?”

“Yeah, I take pictures of Batman and Robin.”

That made Jay roll his eyes, but he walked over and sat down next to Tim. “I guess, but they better be good pictures.”

Tim grinned and pulled out his camera. “They are.”

And for the next hour or so, he showed Jay all his pictures. They didn’t stop until there was a very soft scraping sound behind them. Both boys jolted and turned around to see Superman.

“You’re not Batman.” Tim said, a little confused.

“No, I’m not.” Superman said with a smile. “I’m helping Batman out, though.”

Beside Tim, Jay, glared at Superman.

“Oh. Well, would you mind telling Batman that I’d like to talk to him? And the real one, not the fake one.”

Superman tilted his head. “What do you mean, the fake one?”

Tim huffed. Adults asked stupid questions. “For the last three months, there’s been a different Batman. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Why do you think there’s a different Batman?”

“Because I know what the real one looks like. This one’s different.” Tim said, very annoyed. Jay smacked him, and then shushed him.

Superman frowned. “You know what Batman looks like?”

A hand clamped over Tim’s mouth. “He’s only six. Kids say silly things, ya know?” Jay said, and Tim thought he sounded a little panicked.

“Right. What are your names?”

“I’m Mark and he’s Tom.” Jay said, and Tim tried to glare at him, but Jay wasn’t letting him turn his head, so it didn’t really work.

“Okay. Well, why don’t I take you two home? Are you brothers?” Superman asked.

Tim shoved Jay’s hand off his mouth and said, “Yeah, we are.”

“Okay, where do you live?”

“I’m not supposed to tell strangers that.” Tim said. He wasn’t sure why Jay was scared of Superman, but he didn’t want to make his new friend uncomfortable.

Superman smiled. “Well, that’s right. But I’m Superman. I’m someone you can tell that to.”

Tim shook his head. “No. Mom said not to tell anyone.”

That was apparently not the right thing to say because Superman gave them a strange look, then said, “Are you homeless?”

“No.” Jay snapped.

“So you want to see Batman’s secret base? I can take you there.” Superman asked and Tim knew he didn’t believe them.

“No thank you. We need to get home or else our mom is gonna worry.” Tim said.

Superman frowned. Then Tim saw a blur and then realized that he and Jay were in Superman’s arms and being flown across Gotham.

Tim screamed.

Then Superman descended into a forest that looked familiar. It took Tim longer than he wanted to admit that they were in the forest behind his and Bruce Wayne’s houses.

There a was a well hidden cave and Superman flew into it, arriving a few minutes later in what Tim was pretty sure to be the Batcave, as Robin called it.

Superman set them down, but kept a hand on their shoulders, holding them in place. When Tim looked over at Jay, he realized that the other boy was terrified, looking around frantically.

Bruce Wayne was glaring at Superman. “What is going on?” he asked, clearly unhappy.

“I think they know Batman’s identity.” Superman said.

“So you brought them here?”

“Well-”

“Why are there kids down here, B?”

Tim looked over and saw Dick Grayson standing on a staircase. He waved, excited at seeing Robin. Dick smiled and waved back.

“Superman kidnapped us!” Jay yelled, and everyone froze.

“What the hell?” Bruce asked, moving towards them.

Tim got nervous and said, “It’s okay, we live next door.”

Everyone froze again.

Bruce walked over and knelt in front of Tim. “What’s your name?”

“Um, Tom?” it came out like a question.

“Okay. And where do you think you are?”

“A cave.”

Bruce smiled a little. “You live next to a cave?”

“No, I live next to Wayne Manor.” Tim said, then his eyes went wide. “Shit.”

This time, Bruce laughed. “Uh huh. And are you Tim Drake?”

Somehow, Tim’s eyes got wider, jaw dropping a little. Beside him, Jason flinched. Bruce looked over, concerned. Then he looked back to Tim.

“Are you Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.” Tim whispered.

“Okay. And who are you with? Because I know you don’t have a sibling.” Bruce said gently.

“He’s my friend.”

Dick suddenly said, “Wait, Tim Drake? The neighbor kid? Bruce!”

“Yes, Dick, the neighbor.” Bruce said, looking over at Dick, who had run over to them.

“You know me?” Tim asked, eyes going wide again, this time in wonder.

Bruce smiled. “Yes, Tim, we know who you are.”

Tim didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Tim, how did you know where you were?”

“Well, when Superman flew us in, I recognized the forest.”

Behind them, Superman coughed. “Oh.” he said quietly.

“Hey, I have a question.” Tim said, remembering why he’d been on the roof tonight.

“What’s that?”

“Why did you kill Dick’s rapist? I thought you didn’t kill. I mean, I get why, and I think it was the right thing to do especially considering his history, but you always say you don’t kill.”

Bruce looked more than a little shocked, but then he looked over at Dick. “Do you want to tell him?” he asked softly.

Dick shook his head. “You can.”

Bruce nodded and turned back to Tim. “I didn’t kill him. Dick did. I just made it look like it was me.”

“Wait, what?” Superman asked, letting go of Tim and Jay. Jay immediately stepped closer to Tim. “You let him kill a man?”

“I let him kill his rapist.” Bruce said firmly, standing up. “If that’s a problem, then I suggest you leave.”

Tim looked over at Dick, who looked a little pale. “Hey.” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

Dick looked at him, then shook his head.

Jay moved, and punched Bruce in the ribs. “Hey, asshole. Your kid need you.”

Bruce looked down at Jay, then turned to Dick, kneeling down, and reaching out, though he didn’t touch him. “Dick?”

“Why’s he so angry?” Dick whispered, eyes darting between Bruce and Superman.

“He didn’t know, sweetheart. He’s a little shocked.”

“No, I’m-”

“Shut up, fuck face.” Jay snapped, glaring at Superman. “You’re a kidnapper.”

Superman blinked.

Tim giggled, then looked over to Dick and Bruce. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” he said to Dick, feeling bad.

“No, that’s not why I’m upset.” Dick said, giving Tim a small smile. Then he looked at Bruce. “Can Tim and…and his friend come upstairs with me?”

“That’s fine, chum. I don’t know how long they’ll be able to stay.”

Dick nodded, then hugged Bruce, who returned it, a half relived look on his face.

When they pulled apart, Dick, offered his hands to Tim and Jay. Tim took it eagerly, but Jay hesitated, eyes darting between Tim and Dick.

“Hey, it’s okay. Do you wanna go play on my xbox?” Dick asked gently.

After a moment, Jay nodded, though he still didn’t take Dick’s hand, but Dick just smiled, then led him and Tim up the stairs he’d come down earlier.

At the top of the stairs, he pushed on the wall, which opened, revealing a sitting room. Once they were all in the room, Dick turned and Tim realized that the wall they’d come through was actually a grandfather clock.

“Wow…” he whispered quietly. Dick turned and smiled.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Tim nodded.

“Alright. I have Mario Kart and… actually that’s all I have right now. Do you wanna play that? Or we can find something else to do.” Dick said, looking between Jay and Tim.

Jay shifted on his feet. “I don’t know how ta play tha’.”

“I can teach you. But if you’d rather do something else…”

When Dick crawled into Bruce’s bed that night, he hadn’t expected him to sit there and glare at him in silence.

After a couple minutes, Bruce asked, “Is there a reason you’re giving me a death stare?”

“Yes.”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. “And would you like to tell me what that reason is?”

“I have a… demand.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“And what is your demand?”

“That you adopt Jay. And maybe Tim. But definitely Jay,”

To say Bruce was caught off guard would be an understatement. “What?”

Dick shifted. “Jay’s homeless and I think he – I think he’s a prostitute. But he’s only 13.” there was pain and heartache in Dick’s voice and Bruce couldn’t help but pull him close.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“He doesn’t have anyone, and we have so much space and -” Dick was talking fast and his breathing was picking up, so Bruce interrupted him.

“Dickie, breath, baby.” Bruce said gently, rubbing Dick’s back.

Dick pressed his head against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. In the morning, we can talk to Jay about being adopted and figure out what’s going on with Tim.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Dick said quietly.

Bruce smiled. “Of course, chum.”

Bruce adopts Jason and Tim. Dick goes to therapy and gets better over time. Superman comes to his senses and gets over the fact that dick killed his rapist. When Jason finds out his mother wasn’t his bio mom, he tells Tim, who makes him talk to bruce. Bruce believes him and helps him figure out who his real mom is, then reaches out to her. When she responds negatively, he’s able to gently explain it to Jason. Jason doesn’t die.

Bruce adopts Cass and Duke, Damian joining the family. And then batman retires, works with his kids to make Gotham a safer place via Wayne Enterprises.

They all live happily ever after.