#damian is so sure that shes a vigilante but has never dared to cross that line and ask

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Dani has a too many break-ups for Danny’s heart to handle as an older brother- So he gives her a criteria that her next boyfriend needs to fit for Danny to approve of their relationship. 

Dani was really excited about her new boyfriend. He was witty, and charming, knew how to sword fight and was absolutely stunning. He loved his family, was passionate about animals and social justice causes, and he was an artist! She had a thing for green eyes, and hey, he was actually super chill about them having flexible schedules to see each other (she had vigilante shit to do that she couldn’t explain)! It’s been going on for a few months and she’s honestly ready for him to meet Danny & Jazz but... 

The last time she was home it was for a broken heart and Danny was beside himself with worry over her. He made the guys recently deceased ancestors come forward to speak on his behalf and it was Mortifying- Danny was ready to throw down. And Dani had to admit, it was super sweet that her big brother cared so much. He’d happily given a shovel talk to each of her partners when she brought them home and he’d happily tried to bond with them and integrate into their lives. Danny always allowed her to make mistakes but respected her choices to only ever ask two questions when a new partner came into the picture: Do they make you happy? Do they treat you well? 

This last time he made a simple request, just could they please fit this one criteria? 

The thought comes to her unfortunately when she’s making out with her perfect match, her soul mate, this beautifully stabby man Damian Wayne, that she should bring up the deal breaker. Her brother gave her literally one request for her next partner, and by the ancients she didn’t want to disappoint Danny. 

Pulling away from her boyfriends kiss for just a moment, Dani quickly asks “Sorry, Sorry, it’s just...Have you ever died before?” 

Damian’s look of confusion and then concern grew on his normally collected face, which told her more than enough. 

“Okay great!” And she leaned back in, only to realize that he’s pulled back. 

“Would... Would you care to explain why you just asked me that?” Damian was doing his best to not jump to conclusions.

“Sorry, I just got in my head a bit about how you’re like, the light of my life and I want you to meet my family and then my brain wandered, before you did that thing with your teeth, to the fact that my brother kind of requested... um, well, he just asked that my next partner be, uh, don’t freak out if this sounds weird, but uh, be dead.” 

“He...He wants your partner to be dead.” 

“Well, Dead adjacent is perfectly normal in my family! It’s not like a whole thing! You’ve died before, so he’ll absolutely love you! And he’ll love you even more because you love me!” She smiles as brilliantly as the stars.

Damian isn’t sure for a second, but eventually asks: “Your family is ‘dead adjacent’ and you want me to meet them?” to which she happily confirms. 

“Do you... Wish to know how I-” Damian begins but she cuts him off “No! Never, I would never ask that of you. He won’t ask either! He actually has a better vision for these things so it probably won’t even come up! How does next Tuesday work?” 

“That should be fine, however, well...On the subject of family expectations ... Is it even possible that you might be a vigilante?” Damian’s worries melt away when his girlfriend smiles and lunges forward to kiss him. 

Families could have such weird expectations, you know? 

[catxsnow]

BRUISES D.W.

Request: Hey honeypot! how are you darling? are you comfortable with writing older damian kinda smut? because i just had this idea where he has this super sweet girlfriend and one day batfam sees her with bruises on her neck and they think mayb damian hits her or something? and Tim mentions that he has seen bruises on her hips as well and they confront him and her and they tell the fam that's from sexy times and they are like "two days ago you were a baby. how are you an adult now?"

Warning: mentions of sex, bruising from s e x, Older!Damian

A/N: since someone wanted a requested post, here ya go :)

Word Count: 2.1k

Damian's brothers always saw him as the child of the family, even when he had grown up to be a fully functioning twenty-two year old. He was still treated like a kid when he saw his family and it drove him crazy. His whole life he had been just as old as them mentally and now that he was, they still treated him like a twelve year old.

When you came into his life, it was refreshing to have someone treat him as the adult he was. You respected him and he always showed the same to you. Your friendship was grand and always full of surprises. The biggest was the night that you no longer realized you wanted to be just friends, you wanted to be lovers.

Damian met you at the library on a cold night in Gotham. You were studying for an exam and he was looking for literature that his father didn't already own. He bumped into your table by pure accident and was thankful for his single moment of being a klutz.

You were a kind, quiet girl. Most people over looked you while those who got to know you knew that you were nothing like your facade. Damian of all people learned that the most. The more he got to know you, the more he saw that you were hiding a whole other side of you. You could be wild but only around those you trusted.

When you began dating, he saw yet another side of you. Damian thought you were wild when he got a few drinks in you - but in bed? He was amazed.

When you learned about Damian's secret life as a vigilante, he made sure to start training you. There was no way that he was going to leave you defenseless in case he wasn't there to protect you. So, at least once a week he would bringing you back to his father's home and teach you everything that he knew.

Most times the two of you worked in the background while Bruce did his own thing on the computers. Sometimes his brothers and sisters would show up and tease him. You never understood the nick names - demon spawn, baby bird, even little D. They must have been from when he was younger.

His family liked you. Dick was always excited to see you and had some sort of conversation to spark. He came to visit you and Damian quite often. Jason found you to be kind, reserved - not the kind of person he expected Damian to be with. Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph thought you to be the sweetest person they had known.

You held a shy smile around them, hesitance in yours eyes. They were all so tough, it was hard not to be intimidated by them. Even Damian at first was difficult to look past his height and muscles. They never saw the other side of you that Damian got to see all the time. He always teased you for it.

For the first time in a long time, both Dick and Tim were at the Manor. They were supposed to be helping Damian and Bruce with a case but kept reaching dead ends. To pass the time, Damian got you back on the sparring mat to continue your skills. You came a long way since you first started, but no where near ready to take any of them down.

This was the third day in a row that you were down there, sweating your ass off and learning what it meant to truly have sore muscles. Damian had been staying at the manor all week and by the second night there he asked you to join him. He missed you in his bed. Of course, you couldn't deny his request.

You had already shed your shirt, the material was drowned with sweat. Damian was much the same with only his shorts and his ankle being tightly wrapped in a tension bandage. He always feared bruising you when you dueled like this, but with the litter of blue and purple already on your skin he couldn't do much about it.

Damian had suddenly kicked your ankle out from under you and you landed against the mat with a thud. He stuck his hand out to help you up, but you only tugged him down. Damian acted fast and instead of letting you get the upper hand, trapped you below him. A smirk was on your face.

Damian gazed down from your sweat beaded face, to the small bruises he had given you the night before. Five faint little circles were on your neck, all lining up perfectly with the pads of his fingers. He matched your smirk, thinking about your incredibly hot sex from last night. He was sure that there were still residual scratch marks down his back.

"Another round?" You toyed, knowing exactly what was running through his mind. He knew that you meant another spar, but his mind was stuck on the idea of dragging you up to his room and giving you more marks for him to admire. "Or did I tire you out this time?"

"Try to keep up, beloved," Damian narrowed his eyes. Teasing him like that wasn't fair - especially when his brothers were right across the room. He peeled himself off of you and bounced back up for another fight. You followed his lead, arms up and light on your feet.

Dick and Tim were watching from afar. The computer was running in the background and there wasn't anything that they could do until them. Bruce was at work and Alfred was somewhere in the Manor doing things. Titus napped by the mat where you and Damian were, his snores could be heard from where the two men stood.

Tim narrowed his eyes at the couple. You had been around for years, keeping to yourself and never really speaking up until necessary. It made him wonder about you; not in the fact of your loyalty, but if you were maybe too loyal. Every time you were over, some sort of bruise was visible on your skin.

At first, he chalked it up to you bruising easily - or that you were just a klutz. Then, they got more common. They were darker, bigger, often times in the same places that should have been hidden by your clothes. You never talked about them, and if someone brought it up, you changed the subject.

Tim was worried about you. Damian had always been a violent person, he was raised that way since birth. Sure, Bruce had changed him, Dick too, but old habits ran strong. It made Tim wonder if it was Damian purposefully leaving the bruises on you. Was he taking all of his hate and anger out on you?

"If you squint any harder you might get stuck like that," Dick joked. Tim turned away from you and Damian and up towards his older brother. "Damian's a good teacher, maybe she'll be as good as us one day."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Tim confessed. Dick raised his eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. "You ever notice how (Y/N) is always covered in bruises? Her legs, her wrists - she has bruises nearly every time we see her. I just... I wonder what Damian does behind closed doors. I'm not saying Damian would do anything terrible, but he was raised by Talia. Restraint hasn't been his strong suit."

"You think he hits her?" Dick suddenly became worried. Tim hesitatingly nodded. It wasn't something that he ever wanted to accuse Damian of, but the thought had crossed his mind more than once. "Damian would never do that... would he?"

"I would rather be safe than sorry," Tim decided. Their attention went back to the two of you. You had Damian's wrists pinned and the both of you were laughing so hard about something that tears streamed down your face. Looking at them, it never seemed like Damian would do such a thing. Tim also knew that you were too quiet to ever speak out about it if he did.

Damian pecked your lips and the two of you called it enough for the time being. You wiped a towel down your face before slinging it over your shoulders. Hand in hand, you walked over to Dick and Tim who were looking nervously between each other. There was no good time to ask such an intrusive question.

You wished to jump straight into the shower, but Damian insisted to check in to see if there was any process. "Is the computer done downloading th-"

"Are you hitting (Y/N)?" Tim blurted out. Your eyes widened at his sudden question and you felt Damian tense beside you. How dare he accuse him of ever laying a hand on you? Even when sparring he made sure never to hurt you. There were accidents, sure, but never intentional. To have Tim assume something like that? It was unfathomable.

To try and explain himself, Tim pointed towards the bruises on your neck that he had just noticed upon your approach, as well as the ones visible right above your shorts. Damian grunted beside you, understanding why Tim thought the way he did. You on the other hand, felt your face flare up with embarrassment.

Dick and Tim looked between themselves at your unexpected reaction. Damian gave them a look, hoping that they would understand without having to say it out loud. Unfortunately, they didn't pick up on it. Damian wiped a hand down his face, not believing that he actually had to explain this to his older brothers.

"I got them during sex," you muttered out. Their eyes widened at your answer and a flush filled their cheeks. However, Tim still wasn't satisfied with the answer of the bruises on your neck. There was no way that they were hickies - they weren't the right color or shape. Damian sighed, cringing as he perfectly placed his fingers were the bruises were.

"Oh I think I'm gonna throw up," Tim made a disgusted face. Damian had a smug look on his own. Not only did he prove him wrong, but he also made him extremely uncomfortable. Two birds, one stone.

"You're like twelve," Dick exasperated. Damian was still the same little boy in his mind. In no way should he be old enough to be having sex, especially by the looks of it, frequent sex. Seeing the two of you dating, it always seemed like a cute middle school couple - in no way did he think about you as adults.

"I'm twenty-two, Richard. You're a decade off."

"Decade or not, I still know too much now," Tim shuddered. You were thankful that Damian tugged you away from his brothers. You were still flaming with embarrassment from the encounter. Now, every time you would see them that would be all they could see: the bruises that Damian left around your neck.

Even if you were adults, like Damian said, you still didn't like the idea of his brother's knowing what happened between the two of you behind locked doors. Damian didn't seem to mind. Maybe because it showed how old he really was or that he got to prove that he was getting laid consistently.

All you knew, was that you were grateful that they didn't bring Bruce into this little theory and him finding out what you did to his son - or what his son did to you. Though, as the world's greatest detective, you feared he already knew the truth.

"Join me in the shower?"

"You're seriously thinking about sex right now? After that?" You raised your eyebrows. Damian's sex drive was impeccable - sometimes a little too impeccable. Dragging you from Gala's, pit stop on patrol, he even caught you between classes one time. Now, after his brother's teased him, he was still ready to go.

Damian shrugged. "You're saying you aren't? After all that teasing while we trained? I felt your heart rate when I showed them what the bruises were for, beloved. You got excited." You glared at him, knowing damn well that it was true. He squeezed just enough to get you thinking about your previous night.

"You're game better be good if you want to distract me from that shit show that just happened."

"When is my game ever not?"

[stressedoutcanary]

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 2]

WORD COUNT :- 2.3k

Warnings ⚠️: I don't even know if there are any...Swearing maybe?, mentions of kidnappings, actual kidnapping oh and also violence and angst :)

A/N 😋: I got lost while writing this so judge accordingly people. Also forgive me for any mistakes. I TRIED.

Part 1 , Part 3

•°•°•°•°

“JASON STOP!!!!!”, your voice echoed in the silent warehouse.

Jason stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard your voice, his mind was brimming with thoughts, questions and worst of all, emotions.

“Well, well, well, look who crawled out of her little cave”, He said smugly as he finally turned around to face you. The voice was his, you’d recognize that voice anywhere but it felt cold, devoid of emotions, hearing him like that sent a shiver up your spine. You could feel your determination slipping.

Even though you had your cowl on, Jason could still see how much his rampage was hurting you but he couldn’t stop now, not when all he had left to do was to capture Joker, beat the living shit out of that asshole and show Bruce how much of a failure Batman’s moral compass really is.

“Well? Got nothing to say now?... Why am I not surprised?”, Jason scoffed.

You took a deep breath, you were breaking down inside but you sure as hell weren’t going to let that stop you. You spoke, voice barely above a whisper,  “Jason...Jay...Stop all this...Please, come home, come back to the--”

“Manor? Home? Did you hit your head (Y/N)? Why in the hell would I ever go back to a place where NOBODY GAVE A DAMN ABOUT ME, WHERE HE REPLACED ME AS IF I MEANT NOTHING?!”, Jason didn’t want to lose control of himself, not in front of you. So with visible effort he calmed himself down, took a step forward and gave you a deadpan look.

“You all left me”

Your blood boiled at that statement.

“How dare you?! We lost you! We mourned for you! I mourned for you!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, listening to him you wondered whether he truly believed the words actually coming out of his own mouth.

“The Jason I knew was a roughed up street boy who still cared when many didn't, who called Bruce out every step of the way, who had this ridiculous favoritism for bread, who had the guts to take out a tire from the fricking Batmobile”, despite the dreadful situation you smiled remembering those sweet memories.

You looked him in the eye, pleading in a way, and you spoke softly, “The Jason I knew was The Robin to my Batgirl. This-this is just not who you are Jay, not really...So can you just stop?”

He looked unfazed by your words and cocked his head to the side.

“Princess, the only way you can stop me is if you fight me, knock me down real hard, make sure that I won't get back up again. Tell me Batgirl, can you do it? Do you actually have what it takes?”, he waited for an answer he knew wasn’t coming. As expected, all he was met with was silence.

Long, Painful Silence.

With that Jason knew what he had to do, he put on his red helmet and swung out of the nearest window, you couldn't stop him, for all your big talk, you just couldn't. He was right you failed him.

•°•°

You jumped awake with a start, bolting upright and immediately regretting your subconscious decision, the throbbing pain made you clutch the back of your head with your palm and you closed your eyes again to achieve some semblance of reality as a way of grounding yourself.

‘It was just a dream (Y/N)…just...a...dream’

You tried to lie to yourself knowing deep down that it was a memory, something you have already lived through, something you regret everyday. You swallowed the lump in your throat. It felt dry and your whole body was sore. You really should've called in early and then maybe Dick would've been the one stuck in this crapy situation and not you.

Pushing past your perplexed state you got up and took in your surroundings, there were vines hanging from the open roof, a LOT of flowers and some Venus flytraps by the corner. It wouldn’t even take being a detective to figure out where you were; The Botanical Gardens.

“How the hell did I end up here”, you muttered under your breath. This was getting out of hands.

“See Pammy I told ya Girl-Bat would rise and shine by now”

“I can see that Harls”

‘Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, just great, is nobody in Arkham these days’

The duo descended down from the open roof through one of the vines and stood in front of you. Harley looked as happy as a 10 year old about to get their favorite toy and Ivy seemed to be interested in anything and everything that did not concern you. Classic.

“Why the hell did you both kidnap me?”

You jumped forward and grabbed Harley by the collar of her dress, in retrospect it wasn't the best move but it's not like you were thinking straight at the time anyway.

A vine wrapped itself around your waist and you were tugged back by such force that you were sure there was gonna be a big bruise there tomorrow. You skidded across the floor and finally stopped when your back connected with a bench. You were just too drained to fight back so instead you just crawled up and sat on the bench with a grunt.

‘Not fighting my way out of this one so for once let’s try talking’

“Whoa, should ya really be this obnoxious when ya got a concussion?”, Harley burst your thought bubble as she looked you over.

“Wait, Did you just call me obnoxious?!”

“But don'tcha worry I am a doctor and I got a PhD”

“In psychology!”

“I will fix ya in no time”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Just like that you saw Harley leave the room to go get some medical supplies, or well at least you thought that that's what she was going to do, you turned your face towards Ivy hoping that she can fill in the blanks.

“So you both finally done babbling? And here I thought it was never going to end.”, She looked at you from where she was petting her plant, and made her way over to you, something about her seemed genuine. You got the feeling that whatever she had to say, it won't be a lie.

“Try and not mind what Harley does, she's just happy to make new friends for girls night.” She sighed before continuing, “As for your question, last night we were near the Gotham Central Park when we saw a masked man dragging your unconscious body out of a building and into a van parked in the alley, so we kil-- we took care of him and brought you here”, She shrugged as if that explains why the Poison Ivy just saved your life.

"Wait that means Red isn't here", you whispered more to yourself than to others.

“Pam is Red!”, Harley said cheerfully as she came back out nowhere with a bunch of boxes which would've made you very uneasy if your mind wasn't already preoccupied.

“What Harley means to say is that if you are trying to ask about that gun loving leather jacket vigilante who wears a red helmet, then no we don't know where he is”

Her words sunk in and yesterday's memories flashed in your mind, your eyes widened under your mask as the realization hit you like a bus.

The missing people, the creepy mannequins, the medical journals regarding surgeries, the weirdo in the white mask instead of a face, the poster of some Pretty Dolls parlor; Now it all makes sense!

“Pyg!”

"Huh?", the women in front of you almost jumped at your sudden revelation.

“Lazlo Valentin aka Professor Pyg that's the son of a bitch who is behind all this mess, he's the one who has got Red Hood And it's all my fault! Now, He might be dead already! I should've known, I-I should've figured it out quicker, I should've done something, DAMN IT!!”, you buried you face in your hands due to the building frustration within you.

“Don't be like that”, you heard Harley's voice as a hand was placed on your shoulder, she sat down on the bench next to you, you turned your head and eyed her warily, seeing nothing but concern.

“Don't give up. Clearly this Hoodie person means a lot to ya so you get off your ass and go get him, don't you Bat People always find a way”, you looked at her for a moment, then jumped up on your feet.

“Can't believe I am saying this but you are right Harley, I need go and I will find a way to save him, but before leaving I wanna know something”, you looked Ivy in the eyes as you worded your next sentence, “Why save me?”

“It was just my way of replaying you for saving Harls from that clown once”, instead of elaborating Ivy just crossed her hands over her chest waiting for you to leave. You gave her a warm smile, something they are not used to seeing, from a bat of all people.

“Thank you Pamela”

With that you were out of that detour and onto finding the path leading up to Jason.

•°•°

Somehow you reached the safe house without running into some kind of trouble, with how your day has been going, you were completely expecting something else to go wrong. Thankfully it didn't. You took out a spare comms unit, keys for your bike and some aspirin to dull the headache.

Soon you were whizzing past vehicles at full speed triying to contact anyone available at the moment.

“Come on pick up, pick up, pick up! What's the meaning of giving us an emergency button when no one picks the damn thing up”, you spoke into a dead line, wishing you could just bang your head against a wall, on second thought not a good idea.

Two minutes later the call was finally picked up and a screen appeared on the dash of your bike, it was from the batcave and you could see Dick, Damian and Bruce in sitting in front of the computer, Tim was connected from what you assumed to be the titans tower. However Dick was the first one to pop the question.

“(Y/N) what's the emergency? Are you okay? We haven't heard from you since last night”

“Look no time to explain. Jason's been taken by Pyg and I need you guys to give me a location. Now”, you said gritting your teeth as you narrowly missed a truck for the second time this evening.

“Todd's captured? *tt* his incompetence precedes that of Drake”, Damian's snarky remark made Tim snap his head up.

“Hey!”

“Boys”, Bruce's stern voice made them quiet enough for the time being, “Batgirl you are injured and your emotions can compromise the whole rescue, go back to the safe house and let us handle this”, Bruce ended the transmission and it made you angry.

'He said that they are going to handle it, that means they know where he is, so now all I have to do is to get Dick to spill it out'

You dialed Dick back, hoping he would understand what you are trying to do.

“I know why you specifically choose to call me back and No I am not letting you go head first into danger without any of us with you especially when you are compromised”, Dick's tone was stern but laced with concern.

“Dick the last time Bruce said he will handle it, Jason died, look I know what he is trying to say, I get him, I can't blame him for wanting to look after me but you have to understand I have to be the one to get him back”

“Why?!”

“Because I can't lose him again! The last thing that I said to him was that I might never forgive him! Never forgive him for something that's not even his fault! You are my only hope at getting him back, please don't take that away from me, please”, you pleaded with him as you slowed down the bike to a stop.

The line was silent for a while, the thought about saying more to him crossed your mind; what you are feeling about Jason, how much he matters to you, how you've failed him more than once, but ultimately decided against it and instead you just waited for his reply.

You deflated as soon as you realized that the line was cut but the ping of a notification caught your attention; The map to the possible location of Jason.

“Dick Grayson, you big softie”, you smirked, your bike roared as you made your way on to the free way heading fast towards the Gotham outskirts.

Meanwhile at Professor Pyg's 'supervillain headquarters' :

Jason slowly woke up, assessing the situation he quickly came to the conclusion that he messed up and now he is tied up to what seems like dentist's chair.

“Great, there has got to be a new record I've set in this family for messing up and getting kidnapped”, Jason muttered under his breath, he tried to tug at his restraints to get free but it turned out to be fruitless. A blinding light was switch on above him and he grunted due to the intensity.

“Man, what is up with you people and light?! Turn it off already!”, Jason said as he tried to adjust his eyes accordingly, when he came to, he was met with his captor himself.

Jason just stared at the man in front, moving towards him, wearing a pig mask and holding a butcher knife. He has seen enough crazy but this guy might just rival the Joker himself.

“Pyg know you broken. Pyg make you perfect”

“WHAT THE F--”

°•°•°•°•

(I like to think I am funny)

Cute little extra note: Yes it is the second time I'm leaving you guys hanging and NOPE I do not regret my decision.

Tagging: @ladyperceval

[imaginationjunkie]

Say the word

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda heartwarming

I tried to control my fast breaths, lifting my head from the crook of Jason’s neck to give him a lazy kiss. Deliriousness coursed through our veins, minds hazy from the aftermath bliss of an intimate climax.

Being apart for weeks for his mission and my conference clearly had one gigantic perk- the mad intense I-missed-you-so-fucking-much sex.

It doesn’t matter if it was the first or the thousandth time, the feeling of his body against mine never failed to weaken my limbs to mush and warm my heart, like it’s soup being heated up on a stove.

A smile split my lips as I tried lifting my naked body up from his chest, and failing. The thick, muscular arms that were tightly wrapped around my waist stopped me from doing so. It made me smile wider and lean down to put my lips on Jason’s.

“You know you’re gonna have to stop doing that right?” I murmured, running my fingers through his dark raven locks. A chaste kiss was placed on my cheek by his smirking lips.

“Hmm? Doing what?”

I leaned down so that our bare chests pressed against each other, lips hovering over his. My whisper was naughty as I answered him.

“Why should I? We both seem to like it so very much,” Jason nuzzled his nose against mine with a mischievous smirk.

“Because if by any chance I get preggers before marriage, my parents will chase you to the ends of the earth and decapitate the crap out of you,” I whispered jokingly, but meant every word. “And then after they’re done with you, they’ll feed me to the demons.”

My ever-so-daring boyfriend’s reply was to lowly chuckle and simply kiss my shoulder. 

Affection came naturally to us now, especially since Jason had been touch starved practically since birth. The first few months of our relationship, I had to have a mental debate every time before touching him; how far I should go with the cuddling, to hold his hand or not, put my legs on his body while cuddling or not...

Unlike his brother Dick, who much to Jason’s irritation loved pulling me into a tight hug every time we met, Jason just wasn’t the affectionate type.

After a few months, I understood how badly he needed to be touched- to be loved, to be comforted. When he got the message that it’s okay to hold me as much as he wants, that there’s finally someone he can lose himself in, someone he can love, he found a way to touch me every spare moment we spent together. Kissing my neck, nuzzling his nose, holding my hips, putting his large hand on the small of my back or around my waist, constantly lifting me onto his lap- the list’s never ending.

“I’m serious, a child out of wedlock is beyond just a sinful taboo in my family,” I booped his nose, leaning my forearms on his chest to hold my upper body up.

Jason pretended to be lost in thought for a while before suddenly rolling our bodies over to our sides, the ridges and sinewy muscles of his defined chest flush against my back. He tucked the messy portion of my hair out of the way before kissing from my neck up to the back of my ear. 

“Well since marriage is out of the question, I’ve no option than to not make my pull out game weak,” his tongue darted out to lick my ear teasingly.

Ignoring the pang that hit my heart at his statement about marriage, I turned to swat his chest teasingly. My lips were unable to hold back a grin at his reference to WAP .

“What? You’re the one who keeps dancing to it every morning,” Jason grinned back at me.

“It’s 4 am, we should sleep,” I shook my head at him, turning to face forward again. Jason and my shared bedroom turned dark as he flicked the dim bedside lamp off, making the glow of moonlight our only source of light.

The warmth from having his arms encased around me brought a serene feeling, making me think about how impossible it’d be to live without Jason Todd. 

“I love you,” he murmured against my neck.

My eyes closed shut, senses overwhelmed with the depth of my feelings.

“I love you,” I whispered back.

I had an amazing life- loving and supporting, albeit sometimes overbearing, parents, a great job, a pretty apartment, and a man I’m certain I’d love and be loved by for the rest of my life. For the entirety of my existence, I’ve had the one thing Jason never did- stability. 

But when it’s meant to be, it’ll always be. 

God, fate or whatever higher force is up there looking over us made sure to let our souls find each other. Cherish each other. 

I knew Jason’s views on marriage and children. It was hard enough for him to indulge himself with something as normal as a committed relationship, that too for two and a half years; but it’d actually be impossible for him to be a husband, a father. He didn’t have a basic job in the least, and thus didn’t think tying the knot and being a family man would be suitable for him. 

Ever since I was a little girl, one of the things I’ve wanted greatly was to be married to the man I loved someday. But for Jason I could give it up. I could give up the hopes of having a ring on my finger and a baby on my belly, because he means more to me than anything ever will.

¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡

*2 months later, New Year’s eve night at the Wayne Manor backyard*

“Damian, those aren’t fireworks, they’re explosives!”

At my alarmed exclaim, Dick quickly snatched the big box from his younger brother’s hands, waddling his finger as if to say ‘no no’.

“They’re fireworks,”  Jason assured from behind. “The kid and I labelled it explosives so Dick doesn’t steal it,”

Dick’s face scrunched up in confusion, “”Why would I steal your fireworks? I’ve better things to do for fu-”

“Miss, the barbecue is ready. Would you like to add the last bit of sauce on top?” The always-polite and everyone’s favorite Alfred smartly interrupted Dick from saying the curse word.

Every time I practically forced my boyfriend, his brothers and father into having a family night, Alfred let me help with the food; and since I suck beyond words at cooking, he always gave me the easy tasks to do.

Now if you’re thinking that prevented me from considering myself as the world’s second Martha Stewart, you’re wrong.

I clapped my hands together in delight, “I’d love to!”

“No she wouldn’t,” Jason, Dick and Tim said at the same time.

I turned to them, perplexed at their concurrent interference. 

Taking note of the unusual shiftiness in the boys’ stances, I raised a brow- “And why is that?”

Out of the three suspicious-looking brothers, Dick replied- “Because there’s only 20 minutes till midnight and you have to help us set the fireworks off!”

Now both my eyebrows rose, and I crossed my arms against my chest.

“So you’re telling me,” I said in slow amusement, dragging the words sarcastically. “That three of the strongest night vigilantes of Gotham, one being a violent nutcase once,” a look was thrown in Jason’s direction, “Needs an ordinary girl to set off fireworks?”

This time Tim responded, “Well you see, we’ve never set them off. None of us has ever had the chance to have a normal new years with fireworks and a countdown,”

“Really?” I deadpanned, voice turning into a shrill by the end of the question, “So have I been planning and working my ass off every new year’s for the past three years to make robots happy?”

Tim realized his mistake, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head before trying to redeem himself. “But we’ve never had a family new years, y’know, with the barbecue and fireworks,”

“Also, you’re nowhere near ordinary,” Jason added in a low voice as he came to stand behind me and kissed my temple. I rolled my eyes at the cheesiness, wrapping an arm around the middle of both the boys’ backs.

Right then Damian piped in, surprising everyone. “Plus you’re not a girl, you’re a woman,” he emphasized on the last word, making Jason scoff with a smirk and everyone else laugh.

It didn’t take long for me to grow on Damian, making him accept and like me. From what I heard from his brothers and Alfred, he didn’t like most people and never went easy on newcomers. I was especially concerned about getting Jason’s family to like me, since he didn’t have much of a good relationship with them and I wanted to change that. In the end everyone ended up accepting me; and gradually even treating me as one of their own. Dick and I were practically best friends.

Despite what he used to say, I knew Jason loved them all like they were his own blood; so I knew that it meant a great deal to him to rekindle his relationships with them.

Bruce Wayne’s voice spoke for the first time that evening, “Good evening, my apologies for the delay,”

An awkward silence took over our so-far cozy night. All of the boys looked other directions, not acknowledging their dad who never bothered to show up to any family days on time. I tried my best to knit the boys together, help them get close and create a bond; and saying that I succeeded wouldn’t be a lie. But the fact that Bruce couldn’t even take one day off from his billionaire/ vigilante duties sort of upset me every time.

Jason scoffed, his mouth opening to say something undoubtedly snarky to his father. But before he had the chance to I stepped on his shoe and gripped his hand tightly, silencing him.

“It’s okay Bruce, at least you made it,” I smiled.

The excruciatingly tense atmosphere was cracked by Dick, “I still need help with the fireworks, anyone up for it?”

“I’ll come!” I was quick to squeak and walk towards him.

“Me too,” Damian grumbled, following me.

Tim was the last one. “Yeah, me as well.”

“Great, so you guys do the fireworks and Jaybird and I will be right back!” Dick clapped his hands together in perky delight, pushing Jason’s back forward as they walked into the manor. From the distance, I saw Jason shrug Dick’s hand off before glaring at him. Again, confusion filled me at their strange behavior tonight.

“What was that about?” I asked Tim.

He smiled, “Nothing, probably just vigilante stuff.”

As the minutes passed by, the new year came nearer and nearer. The three of us successfully managed to set off the first batch of fireworks, looking up at the sky and laughing freely. Even Bruce had a small smile as he took a sip of his drink, looking up and the lit up sky with a hand in his pocket.

When it was about 10 minutes to the clock ticking 12:00 am, worry started to cloud the excitement I was feeling; but Tim and Damian were quick to distract it.

“Now can we do the grand purple one?” Damian gave me a rare pleading look.

“Yeah we can, but where’re Jason and Dick? They’re gonna miss new year’s,” I voiced my concern. 

Right then, my phone started ringing. 

Incoming video call from mom.

I answered, knowing that my parents were calling to say Happy New Year like they did every year. What rendered me surprised after receiving the call was that almost my entire family was on the frame of my mom’ video- two of my aunts, uncles and all the cousins I’m close to. Which are a lot.

I’m a family person, if you couldn’t tell already.

“Hi baby!” My mom grinned.

I grinned back, glee taking over the initial confusion.“Hey y’all! Are you having a New Years party without me?”

One of my younger cousins replied, “Sort of, now show us!”

My brows furrowed, “Show you what?”

A string of ‘oh shit’s sounded from mom’s side, further increasing my confusion.

Out of the blue, Dick intervened from behind me, “The fireworks of course!”

A sudden bang! took us all by surprise, and I looked up to see the huge purple fireworks lighting the dark canvas of the sky up. A wide grin split my lips, along with all the other boys as they whooped at the different shades of purple. It happened to be my favorite color. 

I felt the familiar warmth of Jason’s body against my back before hearing or seeing him. The digital clock on the top corner of my phone read 11:55 pm. Not being able to contain my excitement, I subconsciously shoved my phone to Tim, who was beside me, while my family was still on video. I raised a hand to point at the sky.

“Jay look, it’s all so purple!”

And then something happened. Something I wouldn’t even dream of imagining.

Jason’s larger hand rose to the level of mine, which was still pointing up at the sky. He spread my fingers out so that my hand was displayed open. I turned to look at my boyfriend, not quite understanding his intentions.

His eyes were trained on mine, a golden and purple reflection from the fireworks and balcony lights visible on the glossy blue orbs. 

Our eyes stayed on each other’s as I felt something cold graze the top of my ring finger.

In the background I heard Dick harshly whisper, “Tim, the song!”

I wasn’t dumb. I knew what my boyfriend was holding on top of that finger.

Jason’s lips were an inch away from my ear as he spoke clearly, not a hint of hesitation in his voice, “Just say the word, and I’ll put a ring on you.” 

I couldn’t even look at it as I tried to get over the giant bucket of emotions that was thrown over me. Shock, flabbergast, sheer happiness, disbelief, excitement, a rush of adrenaline. My heart threatened to beat the crap out of my chest.

“Jason,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering shut as he put his chin on my shoulder, inches from mine. “What. Are. You. Doing??”

He bit his lip, smiling before cryptically answering. “I love you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get married?” I questioned again. “Do you think I’m pregnant? Are you doing this cause-?” my voice was breathy.

Jason smirked, his unoccupied arm going round me from behind to rest on the other side of my waist. “No baby, I don’t. The twenty something negative pregnancy sticks on the bathroom trash sort of made it clear that you aren’t pregnant.”

I couldn’t hold back my own grin from his teasing. For the first time, I turned my head to look at our hands. The sky was phenomenal in the background of them, a swirl of blue, red and purple as Damian and Dick continued setting the fireworks off. Tim was holding my phone up to where Jason and I were standing, undoubtedly showing the scene to my family. Now I knew why they were all gathered together to call me.

“You asked my parents?”

Jay rubbed his nose on my cheek, his smart-assery coming to action as he quoted my words from that night two months ago- “Of course, wouldn’t wanna be chased to the end of the earth and be decapitated the crap out of now, would I?”

The boys all had blinding bright and hopeful grins on their faces; even Damian! Alfred’s expression could only be described with one adjective- delight, and Bruce had an odd smile as he saw the straight-out-of-a-movie scene unfold.

I turned my head to the side to look at Jason again, grin faltering to a small smile.

This time nervousness coated his expression and words as he asked once again, “Will you marry me?“

I heard my mom speak through the phone, “Oh come on, stop torturing the poor boy! Answer already!“

Taking a deep breath, I leaned my head even closer to Jason’s. His blue eyes pierced into mine with their intensity, and my lips touched his as I said the word softly. 

“Yes.”

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch.4

In Which: exposition for exposition's sake exists, and Vlad looks way more suspcious than he ought

| AO3 | Prologue | 3 | [4] | 5

VLADIMIR MASTERS. Human male in his mid-forties, and most notably the founder and CEO of VladCo, a billion-dollar industry that mostly specializes in manufacturing weapons and technology. Graduated summa cum laude from the University of Wisconsin despite having to drop out due to a lab accident in his second year, landing him in the hospital. Despite being based primarily in Wisconsin, he made an unexpected move to Amity Park Illinois shortly after reuniting with his college friends Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton.

Not even a year later, Masters ran for mayor of Amity Park and won the election by a landslide. Suspicious, considering Masters being an unknown and the former mayor Montez being quite popular. It’s during Masters’ tenure in office that reports of ghost attacks to the Justice League steadily died down.

“Why?” Damian asked.

Barbara shrugged, pulling up a few files on the screen. “I originally had a theory that related to VladCo’s buyout of Axion Labs—a technological research and manufacturing company that’s mostly local to Amity—being a factor. Within the last couple of years, they had been experimenting with highly volatile chemicals with hallucinogenic properties. Amity had always been known for being extremely superstitious with its ghosts, and if Axion Labs had somehow accidentally released that chemical into the city, well…” She leaned back into her chair, hand twisting in the air. “You could bet how that ended up. The hysteria around ghosts only grew worse in the last two years, with suspected sightings from once every few weeks to multiple in a single day. Early attempts to capture sightings were unsuccessful, and soon enough Amity Park was just written off.”

Much like the mass hysteria surrounding the urban legend of the kuchisake-onna in Japan in the late 1970s, Bruce thought. He pulled up some news footage from Amity Park dated a few years back of citizens being interviewed about their ghostly encounters. Beside these videos were a few photos taken by a shaky camera, showing bright blurs of light streaking across the sky or vaguely humanoid shapes rising from the ground.

“So VladCo., bought out Axion Labs, improved its security, and slowly helped detoxify the town?” Damian shifted his weight onto his other leg and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought, but—”

“But the ghosts ended up being real.” Bruce pulled up a video of a field reporter-slash-weatherman taking cover as a figure dropped from the sky, breaking through the walls of a building. The figure—features distorted by an eerie glow—shot out of the rubble just in time before a green blast hit it.

Oracle enlarged other news footage with a few taps on her keyboard. Beings zooming through the air. Massive plants erupting from the ground. Technology coming to life. Each video more worrying than the last, and most showing some footage of a figure bathed in a white glow. “I’d be hard pressed to call any of these faked.”

It begged the question as to how Amity Park survived this long unscathed. Since, if he remembered correctly, even the Dark Leaguers tended to avoid Amity Park like the plague. “They have their own heroes, then?”

“Think along the lines of vigilantes with unofficial support.” A few more files popped up on screen. One showcased a female in a full-length black and red body suit on top of a hover board. The other was a male; young, perhaps a teenager, with white hair and a black and white suit. Hazmat? “The Red Huntress and the Phantom of Amity Park.”

“Partners?”

“More like enemies working on the same turf. Sources place Phantom as appearing first, though it seems Red Huntress has more government support in the end despite there being no official statement. They seem to be the most effective ghost hunters in town, though far from the only ones. The Fentons of Fenton Works are also acting as ghost hunters, though their track record of success leans more towards their anti-ghost tech than any hunting. The town’s even attracted visitors from the Ghost Investigation Ward; a side branch of Cadmus though a now defunct organization.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Damian said. “If anything, this should be more than enough reason for a League intervention. Why the Justice League didn’t come sooner is the real question here.”

Bruce’s lips thinned. “That’s because we were warned off it.”

“What?”

While there was no rule against heroes entering another hero’s city, there were certain unspoken rules that demanded that JL members avoid claimed cities or stay just outside of city lines until given permission to enter. Some were especially strict about it such as Batman’s ‘no metas or outsiders’ rule. Others were more lenient, simply requesting a warning before entering.

Amity Park, despite having no listed heroes in the database, was marked with heavy ‘Do Not Interact’ warnings for humans and metas alike.

“Justice League Dark said that under no circumstances should the League interfere in Amity. The situation was never explicitly laid out for us except to say that everything was being handled.”

“Oh yeah,” Oracle chimed. “Constantine even had it bolded, underlined, italicized, and in all caps. The occult community was very clear about everyone staying away—and apparently this decision had support from Amity Park too.” She pulled up another document. “That’s probably what led to the decline in their ghost reports, actually. Amity’s claims were considered bogus and brushed aside. No one outside their town—not even their sister town of Elmerton—believed them, so they simply stopped asking for help.”

Strangely, it reminded Bruce of Gotham. Both cities existed in its own isolated sphere, unwilling to let any outsiders interfere in its business.

“It’s safe to assume, then, that whatever Ra’s al Ghul wants with Amity, it has to do with these ghosts. Do we have anyway to contact the town’s vigilantes?”

Oracle shook her head. “Ghost attacks within the past few months have slowly died down along with sightings of Phantom and Red Huntress. Your best bet is asking Masters directly.”

Damian glowered. “Masters blatantly sent out an invitation for Batman to my father. How do we know that Masters hasn’t somehow found our secret identities?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “Vlad Masters, despite his wealth, has done well to keep a low profile. He’s met Bruce Wayne a total of three times within the last decade and Batman not at all.” That, and with the kind of spyware Batman has, he’d be able to tell when, where, and who was trying to dig deep into Batman’s past. Masters hadn’t even registered as a ping.

“Besides, there’s always a few rumors of Wayne Enterprise’s involvement with Batman. All this tech has to come from somewhere, no?”

“How long is Masters staying in Gotham?”

“Umm…” Oracle leaned forward in her chain and flipped through a half-dozen windows. “Going by his reservations at the Gotham Royal Hotel, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

Bruce pivoted on his heel, heading deeper into the Cave. “We better make this count, then.”

------

According to Oracle’s intel, Vlad Masters was staying at one of the executive suites in the Gotham Royal Hotel. A titanic structure with forty-eight floors, two towers, and the gothic aesthetic that never seemed to leave Gotham’s architecture.

Scaling the building as well as entering the suite proved no challenge for Batman and Robin. But upon entrance, it was abundantly clear that the room was vacant.

“Are you sure you guys are in the right room?” Bruce could hear the clicking of Oracle’s keys through their comms. “Masters had reserved the suite on the west tower.”

“Yes we’re in the correct room, Gordon,” Robin hissed.

“Codenames only, Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, sweeping the common room for any hidden bugs or cameras as Batman scouted out the rest of the room. The bed was made to hotel standard and the bathroom towels all completely replaced. There were no clothes in the hotel closet or dresser.

The only thing left that indicated occupancy of the room was an unmarked manila envelope unsubtly tucked within a pillowcase.

Robin tensed at the sight of it. “A detonator of some sort?”

Batman rotated the package, holding it up to his scanner. “Doesn’t seem to be. Regardless, it might be better to take it back to the Batcave and locate Masters ag—” The envelope started ringing. A standard ringtone found in most phones. Quickly, but carefully, Batman opened the manila envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed. A ringing burner phone and a flash drive came tumbling out.

Batman threw the flash drive at Robin before answering the phone, holding it up against his ear but saying nothing.

Silence. Then, Masters’ voice filtered in through the phone with a strange echo-like quality. “Good evening, Batman! I’m so glad my invitation managed to get passed along.”

Batman growled into the speaker, “What do you want, Masters?” He signaled Robin to do another sweep of the room for any signs of Masters they might have missed.

“I sincerely apologize for not being there to meet you myself; incredibly rude of me, I know. But it cannot be helped, the shadows are growing ever bolder.”

“So, you are aware then, of the League of Assassins’ presence in Amity Park?”

“A league of assassins? What a terrifying notion that is.” Batman frowned. It was unlikely that they had misread his words at the gala, so why was he acting unaware now? Could he be watched? “Why such a group would appear in my little town, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.”

Robin came back into the room and signaled back ‘negative.’

“Why did you call for us, Mayor Masters?”

“Do you know what is so very tragic, Batman?”

“This is strange,” Oracle said. “I can’t pick up his signal. He’s not appearing on any of my cameras, either.”

“When someone so young dies much to soon.” A pause. “Could you even imagine such a thing? A parent burying their own child.”

Batman could. He had no need to even imagine it because he lived it.

“Some very close friends of mine have been weighed down by the shadows of death and I require help in providing them the closure they need.”

“Are the Fentons the targets, then?”

Masters paused. Then let out a breathy laugh over the phone. “Oh, if only it were that simple.”

“So a different target.”

“Everything you need to know is in the flash drive I’ve enclosed in that envelope Whether you take up the case is entirely up to you—though I do hope you take it. Regardless, if he is not returned soon then I assure you that a disaster unlike any you have seen before will arrive.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Masters?”

“No,” He laughed. “That was no threat. That was promise.”

The phone line disconnected just as Oracle exclaimed that she finally found Masters boarding his flight back to Amity Pak.

[hollyharper]

At first, I was going to post this fic as one peice. But for the last month, I’ve had the worst case of writers block. I do intend to fhish this, but for now here’s part one of my dickbabs fanfic: Time Bomb.

Part 1

Barbara shook her head again. It couldn’t be true.

She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. She clutched her knees to her chest and suffocated a sob.

It wasn’t true. It was impossible.

Street lights slowly flickered to life under her. It was. Deep down she knew it. Her heart felt it.

But her brain?

It fought to find every fault in the information. Barbara couldn’t find any. Barry wouldn’t lie, especially about something like this.

Would he? Of course, she questioned.

She wanted any reason to believe it wasn’t true. Was she really going to die? Everyone did. But by the end of the year? It was only November. The leaves had dropped, and winter’s wind was already bringing the foretaste of snow.

That’s what Barry had said. During a trip to the future, he had seen her gravestone and the year of her death.

This year.

No. Again she fought the reality. There was no escape. The end was coming. All she could do was prepare. She heard a small thump.

“Babs?” She didn’t have to look up to recognize Dick. “Are you okay?” His voice was flooded with worry. “Bruce is looking for you. He said it was important.”

“I don’t care,” she growled.

“What’s wrong?” Now he was even more concerned. Concerned enough to cross that unspoken barrier. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She brushed his hand away and stalked off. “I’m going home.”

“Barbara!” He called after her, but she had already disappeared.

Swing through her bedroom window, Barbara collapsed on the floor. Thoughts ran through her mind at hyper speed. Everything blurred tighter into an intangible mess.

She sighed, trying to reorganize her thoughts. What was the most important thing? Her family. She would need to talk to her father eventually. When she- died, Stephanie and Cass would be without her guidance. She would have to teach them as much as possible before-

The Birds would need a new Oracle, as would Batman. Her gear would have to be moved and- her mind flicked back to Nightwing.

They had been each other’s lifeline since childhood. Without her, he… she didn’t really know.

Maybe he’d be fine, or he would be like she had been after he was shot. Every memory of him came flooding back. The way he held her the night Ainsley died. His tears soaking her blood-stained shirt as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

How he held her hands every time she was put under for surgery. His encouragement and patience as she learned to navigate life from a wheelchair. His gentle presence in a night that was haunted with nightmares. He had always been there.

All of her life, he had been caring for her. And this, this would drive him to insanity. This would push him off the edge. And after everything he had done for her, she couldn’t cause him more pain.

--------------

If there was anything Barbara did that drove Dick crazy, it was this.

When she went into a workaholic mode to distract herself. It had been three days since he last saw her. Within twenty minutes, she had gone for extreme break down to 24/7 vigilante.

He doubted she had even refilled her Batarang stock. Her anxiety was unlike anything he had ever seen from her.

Worse, she refused to respond to him, and from what he could find no one else. He knew better than to allow her actions to affect him, but they did anyway.

The only way Dick could find to calm down was far different. He resorted to curling up in bed watching chick flicks and eating junk food. It was only after he ran out of potato chips, that he ventured out of his apartment. Even then it was only to the closest convenience store.

He could tell something was off the moment he stepped through the door. An unusual floral scent wafted through the apartment. He quietly closed the door and tip-toed to the kitchenette. A redhead was seated on his couch.

“Babs?” He whispered inching over.

She was in full costume and shaking. Her head lifted enough for him to see her dilated pupils. Cautiously, he reached a hand out.

“N-n-no.” She pulled farther away.

“What’s wrong?” Dick dropped to his knees.

“Ivy.” Barbara’s voice wavered. “Out of…”

“...Antidote,” he finished.

That wasn’t good but explained her reaction.

He crossed to the bathroom. The cabinet creaked open. After a moment of confusion, he found the right basket and rifled through the bottles.

At the bottom was the dark blue vile. He tried to hook it into a shot. The bottle refused to screw in. Babs scrambled to the other side of the couch as he sat down. By the time he got the vial in place, she had crawled back to him. Her head nuzzled against his back. Dick stilled while she settled. Her entire body shook. He swept her hair to the side and eased the needle into her neck. Barbara winced. When the last drop had been injected, he removed the needle. She gave a shaky sigh.

“You need to take a break,” Dick whispered.

“Mph,” was her only reply.

She shifted, scooting closer to him.

“What happened out there?”

“Ivy sprayed me with her love pheromone. I was out of-“ a yawn cut through the middle of her explanation. “-Antidote.”

It would take a while for the cure to take effect. He could tell simply by how affectionate she was. Barbara wasn’t a very cuddly person, except at the moment. Not that he was complaining.

Even if he wasn’t sure where they stood, he knew how he felt about her. Neither believed in soulmates, at least he didn’t use to. She was making him rethink that.

It took some coaxing for her to move on enough for him to settle. The moment he had comfortably sat down, she was back in his lap. The tv remote sat on the coffee table. With one hand, Dick reached for it, all while holding her steady. When offered the remote, Babs simply batted his hand away. He rolled his eyes and started to scroll through options.

“No chick flicks,” she mumbled.

At least the poison had worn off enough for her pickiness to show. Every suggestion he made, she shot down. All of hers were rejected. Even through the bickering, the two remained cuddled. Eventually, Dick gave way. With a pleased expression, Barbara flicked the movie on. He closed his eyes and focused on her breathing.

Barbara continued to keep her distance from Dick. The ache was strong, but her will was stronger. Cassandra and Stephanie knew something was wrong but never spoke a word. Tim and Jason whispered behind closed doors. Damian had attempted to confront her but was brushed off. Bruce was the only one who knew. She avoided him too. Barbara rehearsed responses until it was impossible to tell she was lying when she said she was alright. It was a lie so deep and dark, that she had to lie to herself to keep it. And eventually, she tricked herself into believing the same lie she kept telling the others.

“You have to tell them.” Bruce was never one to beat around the bush.

“I will,” she fibbed, not turning her eyes from the computer.

“Tonight.”

That caused her to jerk her head up.

“No.”

“I called everyone together. You’re going to tell them.”

Her face still showed resistance.

“And if you don’t, I will.”

“It’s my life. My decision.” Her voice held a fit of contained anger, only a breath away from breaking free of her control.

“Bruce?” Dick’s voice echoed through the cave.

Barbara ducked her head. Footfalls approached.

“Hey, Babs.” He didn’t know what else to say.

With her face hidden there was no way to tell what she was feeling. To his surprise, she didn’t even jerk away when he causally laid a hand on her shoulder.

She stayed slumped over as all the others filed in. Tim stood as if in an army lineup. Next to him, Steph chattered nervously, her hands fidgeting. Cass stood solemnly. Her saddened gaze was focused on Barbara, even as Jason fought for her attention. Damian, as always, simply looked grumpy.

Bruce cleared his throat. Everyone stilled, except Steph, whose nervous fingertips were now playing with Tim’s cape. Instinct told Dick to stay by Barbara’s side, as she stood in front of the group. Bruce nodded to her and stepped to the side. A knot formed in Dick’s throat. Whatever this was, it caused his stomach to feel empty. Barbara seemed to panic. One look from Bruce though, and she cleared her throat.

“Barry has brought news from the future.” Dick’s hands closed into fists. Her face remained emotionless. “During his last visit, around three weeks ago, he saw my gravestone.”

Murmurs spread like wildfire. Stephine’s nervousness had escalated. Tim wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to calm her. Jason stared, barely breathing. Damian appeared concerned, and Cass seemed to know exactly what Barbara was about to say.

“The date of death was, is…” Her breath caught in her throat. “This year.”

The room erupted. The monstrous claws of fear gripped Dick’s racing heart. Jason’s face was empty and paler than death. Damian was gripping his father like a lifeline. Tim stood motionless, except instinctually comforting a sobbing Stephanie. Cass was still for a moment. She threw herself into Barbara. Babs hugged her back. The young girl had always looked up to Barbara. Their bond was far deeper than teacher and student.

A single tear trailed down Barbara’s cheek. Without letting go of Cass, she lifted her head. Her eyes welled with emotion. A deep dark fear. He didn’t know what to do. Her eyes begged. Her entire face was red, even though only a few tears had escaped. Dick took a cautious step forward. With no negative reaction, he dared to pull both girls into an embrace. Cass remained with her head pressed into Barbara. Babs rested hers on his shoulder. Stephanie squashed into Barbara’s other side. Tim trailed after her. Comfortingly, he placed one hand on Steph, the other on Barbara’s back. Jason copied, one hand on Babs, the other on Cassandra. Damian squeezed in next to Dick, who hugged his younger brother. Bruce made no move to join the sibling hug.

Barbara broke. She started to sob, bottled up emotion coming out in a tidal wave. Her knees gave way. Everything blurred tighter behind a curtain of tears. She was pulled into a tighter embrace as she fell. Six pairs of hands rested against her back. Large ones, familiar ones, hugged her. The other fives simply rested on her. One more, larger and stronger, rested on her shoulder. The comfort of family slowly started to calm her. She dried her eyes on the closest she could find, which turned out to be Dick’s shirt. The others, including Bruce, knelt beside her. Jason wiped away her last tear, and Damian crawled into her lap. He had never been very attached to her, but when death is looming things change.

Big thanks to @snapdragon76 for helping with the editing and formatting.

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the Street Siblings au by @a-sketchy-character | @streetsiblings without which I may not have had the motivation to write this much.

Drizzle | Deluge | Squall | AO3

Chapter 4: susurration

The world is dark.

Somehow, she knows how many marks and cuts criss-cross her body; how many bruises decorate her like a canvas. But she can’t feel them, not even one.

Instead, all she can do is listen, tuning in to the rain as it pours, as red droplets fall in time off of Mad Dog’s blade. If she really listens to the sound, it almost sounds like a different boy’s laughter.

She focuses on the noise and it alone, her body so perfectly still.

Mad Dog thrusts his blade to her chest, and Cassandra’s eyes open.

-- 

They’ve only been in Gotham for a week, yet, it feels like he never left. At least for Park Row, the “Crime Alley”, the city has never changed. Slowly, the Red Hood and Ravager make the area their own. He does everything to make sure that the Bat never catches a whiff of what he’s doing. He knows it is pointless; even if Bruce knew, he would be too much of a coward to venture into the evil heart of the city.

It infuriates him, the remnants of the old argument. If Batman was ever truly needed. It would be - no, should be - here. In the black, beating heart of Gotham, where crime and cruelty channel through its citizens as if it were in their own blood. Yet for all he prattles about his crusade of justice, Bruce will never set foot into Crime Alley; too hung up on the ghosts of his past to banish the ones that haunt others.

It’s why he’s wearing the original persona of the man who murdered him. Jason had lived these streets, born and raised and died because of them. Deep down, Jason understands what Bruce simply refuses to believe. Some people simply want to watch the world burn, and they can never be stopped, only carefully controlled, managed or otherwise taken out. He never wants what happened to him to be inflicted on someone else. Not if he can help it.

Now, Red Hood is here, slinking through the darkened hallways of Arkham. Past every guard and camera until he arrives at one particular cell. He knocks on the door, and a mop of neon green flips upwards.

The madman beams; his eyes are whirlpools of chaotic energy.

“What’s this? Birdy clipped his wings!” The Joker begins, guffawing like a howling hyena. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me, little Jay.”

To his credit, Jason doesn’t react. The pneumatic seals of the helmet hiss as it comes off. The Joker never takes his eyes off his face.

“There you are, my boy. Just like your uncle Jay” The lunatic says without tone, feral grin seeming plastered. “Say, you seen Cass anywhere?”

That makes him shift uneasily on his feet. The Joker leans in close, almost conspiratorially.

“You think the Bat ran her out? That he…” Something morbid flashes in the eyes of his monster. “Killed her just like I did you?”

Jason wants to drive his fists into the man’s back. Stamp on his legs until the bones shatter. Bludgeon him over and over with whatever is on hand until the madman’s flesh is nothing but paste. Instead, he stands frozen as the cackling echoes around the room and in his ears.

“I’m not doing this for you,” Is what he says. “And I’m not doing this for me either.”

His hand lifts the pistol from its holster.

“I’m doing this because someone has to do what Batman can’t.”

The Joker takes the words in stride, nodding to himself. To Jason, it’s the calmest he has ever seen him.

“Not a fan of the whole motorcycle fetish style, but to each his own,” The madman’s eyes, still rotting in their own insanity, meet his. Something about the gaze seems so clear despite the instability. “You’re going to be wonderful for the Red Hood name.”

He sighs.

“When you do it, boy, make sure you get as much of the colour out of me.”

Jason nods and presses the barrel into Joker’s forehead, closes his eyes, and everything is silent.

 --

He presses his hand to the glass, the rain sliding down the pane on the other side, its streams the same lengths as the rivers that flow from his red crown.

--

Fact One, a statement: Roman Sionis is the Black Mask, one of Gotham's most powerful crime lords with connections running deeply in the underground drugs and weapons trade.

Fact Two, an amendment: Roman Sionis is the Black Mask, arguably one of Gotham's most powerful crime lords with sizeable connections in the weapons trade.

Fact Three, a truth: He is absolutely livid with the Red Hood and the Ravager.

Roman stares at the text on the notepad; he picks it up and throws it across the room.

In the space of two nights, the new duo had taken over his entire drug operation and cut off every tie Roman had to Crime Alley. Internally, he thinks ‘cut off’ is still too lacking a description. Half of his thugs breathing through tubes for days. Pimps found castrated and dangling from lampposts. Drug dealers with their mouths frothing as they dissociated. If the rumour mill among villains is anything to go by, Red Hood had killed the Joker in his own damn cell. Roman shudders. He’d seen the images from the crime.

The pair are definitely a threat, and Roman needs him gone as soon as possible. Hiring the Joker would have been one of the best choices: effective, relatively cheap and definitely motivated to take on whoever dares don his previous mantle. Alas, reality disagrees.

Black Mask picks up the phone, ready to dial the more expensive alternative. He sighs and hopes they don’t call Deathstroke the ‘Terminator’ for nothing.

 --

Cassandra dives away at the last second, adrenaline flushing through her body and lifting the fog from her mind. Her opponent’s blade impacts with the ground, firmly planting itself the whole way. Mad Dog, clearly thrown off, becomes an easy target with her renewed energy.

She does not hold back, unleashing a flurry of blows to the assassin’s chest, even as he tries to hold his defence together. With renewed focus, she redirects every strike he makes and strikes him back thrice as hard.

It is not long until Mad Dog is at Cassandra’s mercy, nearly a bloody pulp under her hand.

“Finish it,” Shiva calls suddenly, and she almost complies. But, with her hazy vision, the images of Faizul and the assassin blend together. The vertigo Cassandra is feeling becomes sharper, and she’s drowning in it.

In her hesitation, Shiva tuts and stabs her own blade into Mad Dog’s heart, crimson fluid spraying in all directions.

Cass doubles over, desperately heaving, and liquid green purges from her body.

 --

Bruce stares up at the readout on the Batcomputer. There are new players in Gotham, but there’s something that makes them stand out from the others. They make headway faster than he’s ever seen it, clearing out and claiming Park Row as their own territory in a week.

Twenty-seven confirmed kills and thirty-four hospitalisations. He would have stopped with his investigation then and there. Yet, the detective in him tugs the back of his mind. He checks through the names again and finds that each one is attached to a laundry list of crimes that become more appalling the further he reads.

Then Red Hood killed the Joker; and for the first time since the madman’s debut, Gotham is quiet.

Bruce rubs his face in his hands and turns to the screens entirely dedicated to monitoring his daughter Cassandra. (The memorial makes itself known in his peripheral vision.) Her work in Hong Kong as Black Bat had been phenomenal so far. Every story he can find of her weaves the same story: Black Bat, hero of the Forgotten. Of the waylaid and the oppressed.

What would they think? Bruce finally turns to the statue, mouthing the words on the plaque to himself. 

“Can you promise something for me, Bruce? Just one thing?”

  “Anything for you, Jaylad.” 

He tears his eyes away.

Damian becomes cagey whenever either of the three vigilantes come up in conversation. It is suspicious, but he has had the lesson very solidly ironed in his mind how unconducive to understanding he can be. So, he gives his son his space.

Despite the child's refined nature, little pieces of him remind him of Jason, far beyond the boy's temper, pride, or even his cursing. Bruce had seen Damian in the library once, his fingers tracing the spine of a newer copy of Huckleberry Finn.

Red and orange flash by his primary monitor, and Bruce pulls himself from his thoughts.

Batman rises, ready to confront whatever ghosts will taunt him in the shadows.

-- 

The world roars in her ears, and no matter how hard she tries, Cassandra can’t stop the erratic sequence of deep breaths that claw out her throat. For once she’s glad she’s not wearing her old costume. The mask reminded her too much of smoke inhalation and chains and-.

“Why?” She rasps in a throaty, breathless voice that has not escaped her for years. “Why would you do this?”

“Can’t a mother test the progress of her daughter?” Shiva replies coolly. Her stance gives off nothing, so Cassandra does not deign her a response.

“He went looking for me, you should know.”

Her head snaps up.

“He was curious. A unique girl who can read the body as if it were a book and a unique woman who can do the very same? An unlikely coincidence,” Shiva turns her head away, ducked down as if she had already admitted too much. “He asked me, if it was my choice to leave you with your father.”

“It wasn’t.”

Sandra nods.

“He told me that was, and I quote, ‘a load of shit’.”

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass mutters under her breath. A hush falls between them, not comfortable but not unwelcome either.

“It is not me you came here for,” Sandra says with such conviction that Cass can’t help but gape in her disbelief. Of course, she did. Shiva gave birth to her.

Before she can voice her thoughts, Sandra grasps her shoulder and wraps her arms around Cass.

“You’ll find your brother soon. I can promise you that.”

 --

Gotham rumbles, her shock snaking through the crown of her scalp. She knows that tonight is the night; when events will pass and tear the whole city asunder. For better or for worse, she cannot tell.

But she is eager to find out for herself.

 --

“Think that’s a wrap for tonight?” Jason asks quietly, almost inaudible over the Gotham rain. It’s the only coherent sentence he’s made in days, so Rose takes what she can get.

“Probably, you’re not shanghaiing me into grabbing groceries, right?”

“Maybe,” He chuckles, but even though his voice is filtered by their comms, she can tell it’s forced. “Anyone ever tell you how similar some of our problems are?”

“Really? You realised this just now?” Rose rolls her eyes because, honestly. “I mean, at least your dad isn’t some psycho assassin supervillain.”

“Aww, Rosie, making your old man sad. Truly, I’m hurt,” Hues from orange and blue armour melt from the shadows as Deathstroke emerges, eyeing her. “You don’t wear the uniform like Grant did.”

“It’s not meant to and either way, I barely knew him or Joey.” She draws her blades, trying to hide how much her arms are shaking. It doesn’t help. “No thanks to you.”

“Is that Slade?” Jason’s voice is like music to her ears, relaxing her muscles in the ways she needs.

“I made your brothers stronger,” There’s an edge to Slade’s voice, sharp as the glistening blade he brandishes. Ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “I suggest you come with me so you can be the same.”

“What, dead because of problems you caused?” She laughs shakily, grimacing under her mask. “I suggest you fuck off.”

“I’m coming, Rose.”

“No can do. There’s a hit on the two of you, and its fait accompli,” Deathstroke makes a ‘what-can-you-do?’ gesture and Rose darts forward, her tears faster than the raindrops that dance on her skin.

 --

Batman has followed the Red Hood for hours now, and he has no idea what to think. He expected someone wielding the Joker’s former identity to be as insane as the Clown Prince himself. Yet, the red helmet only bobs up and down as if it were in conversation rather than rotating listlessly.

Despite how antithetical the new face in Gotham is to his beliefs, some actions catch him off guard about the man.

While he has seen no deaths on this patrol, with every bone the criminal breaks, the same hands offer food to street children and escort working girls to their homes. Bruce is thrown, viscerally, into a memory of the bird that flew beside him to do the very same.

The Dark Knight watches him stalk through Park Row, freeze and then take off in another direction.

It is time.

He pursues the criminal, sprinting across the rooftops of Gotham, gliding above catwalks and fire escapes. Within minutes, he overtakes and blocks the path ahead of Red Hood, who curses and vaults over his body.

Or at least, he tries to as Batman grips the man’s ankle and slams him back into the pavement. Hood never misses a second, drawing a knife and swiping at his limbs. He lets go; the man faces him again, twirling the knife round and round.

“B,” A modulated voice hangs in the air, but there is a quality to it that tickles his conscious, like an old ghost whispering in his ears.

“Red Hood, I suggest you surrender peacefully, or I –.”

“Cut the act, alright? You think that just because you’re Batman, nobody can be above you,” Red Hood laughs. Through the modulator of his helmet, it comes off as hollow. “The truth with a saying like that –.” The knife is stowed away. “– It just means nobody is beneath you either.”

The criminal grapples him; kick, jab, punch, kick again in a rapid dance of attacks that Bruce can barely keep up with. Some of the criminal’s movements are achingly familiar yet so foreign that the composite form nauseates him. Red hood strikes over and over until he actually has him, the Dark Knight, pinned.

“And some of us can’t wait to drag you all the way down.”

Jason had always had a gift for speaking. His sister’s hands may be knives, but his words were bullets.

Breaking out of the Red Hood’s hold, that is what Bruce muses in his mind.

 --

They’ve been at a game of cat and mouse for so long now. Locked in a chase of diving and darting around a maze of alleyways and rooftops. Jason drops on one of them and turns to face his pursuer, who draws short away from him.

“What, can’t work it out?” He triggers the seals on his helmet as he lifts it off. Without the lenses he can see, even in the rain, the second Bruce recognises him. “You really didn’t care enough to remember my name or something?”

“Jason,” Bruce’s tone gives off nothing and everything. “W-Why are you doing this? How are you –.”

“I’m doing this because you refuse to do what needs to be done.” Jason snarls, venom laced in every word. “You want to rule them by fear, but you never go any further with the ones who aren’t afraid.”

“Jason, I don’t under-.”

“I died for your cause, and in less than a year you shove some other kid in the uniform so he can die too!” He is raving now. He also doesn’t care. “You let my murderer run wild and slaughter thousands and when someone finally steps up to do what needed to be done, you cut her out?”

“I had to –.”

“Had to what? Isolate her? Run her out of the only family she’s ever known? She was my sister, my whole fucking world; who believed in you and you left her like she means nothing to you! Cass is gone now, and that is your fault!”

“If you would –.”

“Do you even remember? That the only thing I ever made you swear to me, that you vowed on your life, was that you’d never let her down?” For once this night, his voice isn’t angry or vicious. It is a void, detached from any feeling. “Guess I should have known better.”

He knows, almost intrinsically despite the years, that if there is one thing that Jason has said tonight, those are the words that pierce Batman’s defences. It’s why he lets Bruce rush forward like he wants to. Allows the chase to continue. When he jumps, Jason lands in an apartment that carries the same bloodstains that leaked down his mother’s arms a lifetime ago.

 --

Black Bat arrives in Gotham, and superficially, it is empty. She almost hails Barbara when bright flashes shine in her peripheral vision. Lo and behold, Deathstroke and an unknown are locked in a duel below her.

Cassandra drops from above, and at that moment, she kicks Deathstroke into a wall hard enough to knock him unconscious. His opponent, she notices, stops immediately.

Before her is a girl, hair silver under the moonlight, garbed in orange and black.

Then the Batmobile rounds the corner, a small figure rising from the hatch.

"Black Bat," Robin says, "You have not responded to Oracle, she was-."

Damian's eyes bug out once he notices the girl beside Cassandra. She fully expects him to snarl or draw his ridiculously long katana. Instead, uncharacteristically rushes forward and embraces the girl tightly instead.

"Wilson. A-are you finally assisting us in Gotham?" Damian says, even with his head buried in a shoulder. "Drake may be intelligent, but his incompetence with the sword is impossible to rectify."

"Missed you too, D-man," The girl chuckles and ruffles the boy's hair. "I would help, but what’s up with tall, slim and broody over there?"

Cassandra crosses her arms expectantly at Robin, who obviously only just remembered her presence when he unlatches himself immediately. His cheeks may be red, but Damian still raises his chin proudly.

"I found her, Rose," His body language and eyes seem to sing. "I found his ukht."

The girl spins sharply, wolfish eyes drawn wide. “You’re her,” Rose breathes, awe rippling off her body. “You’re Cass.”

She would have flinched, but the body language is so familiar. Cass tilts her head.

“Yes.”

Rose grabs her arm so hastily that she almost rips it back in shock. But something is so honest about her body language that Cass relents, letting the girl lead her where she is needed.

 --

He kneels, tracing the dark stains. Behind him, Batman pauses. Not even he would dare to disturb the sanctity of this room.

“Jaylad, please -.”

“Don’t call me that. That isn’t who I am,” Jason rounds on Bruce. He gestures to the shattered window, the ripped upholstery, and the bloodstained floor. “This is what I grew up being, what I never wanted anyone else to.”

He taps the insignia on Bruce’s chest with his pistol.

“That, right here, was your promise to people like me. People that needed help and protection,” He spits. “And you couldn’t even do it for the ones closest to you.”

"I just want to-."

"Want to what? Parade your antiquated sense of morality to hide, while the rest of the world suffers for what you refuse to do? Or cast out others from taking it in their own hands?"

Tears are building in his eyes, but he wipes them away while Batman stands ramrod straight.

"I don't think you understand. That you've never understood," The man begins, and Jason gapes because what the hell does that mean? "If I let myself cross that line, even for Joker, I won't ever come back."

"You know what I think about that, Bruce?" Jason breathes deeply, feeling the whispers of the Pit roaring with the heavy rain in his ears. "I think that's a huge self-aggrandizing load of bullshit."

He charges forward, knocking Batman's legs from under him and ramming his face into the ground. Batman is down to his knees before either can even blink.

"And I'm so fucking tired of hearing it."

Jason levels the barrel at Bruce’s forehead, torbernite lining the edges of his vision, engulfing him in an absence.

“What’s the use of you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right?”

 --

Then, her voice shatters the tension in the air, gripping his heart and silencing the susurrations of the rain that suffocated his ears.

“When it ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same.”

-- 

“Cass?” The boy in the alleyway says. A gun. An apple in his hand. The girl falters in the doorway, her fist tongue clenches, and she nods.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Instead — Jason Todd x Reader (x Ex!Dick)

  SUMMARY: She talks about Dick Grayson like he is the sun, and she is the moon, starred-crossed lovers; her eyes light up whenever he is brought in a conversation, and she talks fondly of him (“Why? He broke your heart, dumbass” he asks one night, a little bit drunk on his couch. She is dancing all on her own, gorgeous like never before bathed by the moon. “Because I treasure him”, you answer, simplistic and yet raw, full of feeling). And if someone dares bad mouth him? She is the first one to stand up for him, say he is not like that, not like everyone thinks he is; she knows him better than anyone, and that no one can fight her about. They have history, and someone should make a study on them, because there’s chemistry whenever they go.     

   WORD COUNT: 3661.

  TW: Angsty with smut. I’m sorry ¿?¿?

  A/N: I tried writing something else, but this week has been particularly hard due to personal circumstances and this is all that came out. It started out as angst, and I was planning to take it to someplace even darker, but then the smut came along and-I’m a sucker for coming to love baby Jason. I don’t know if it should have a second part or not (maybe angst bc she goes back to dick or a fluffy and smutty one where they spend christmas together, idk). ENJOY!

 “You can come still.” Dick timidly almost adds, amidst the reigning silence of the living room.

           Everything has stopped moving. Jason was playfully sparring with Damian, Tim and you trying to help separate them in the chaos that was now the sofa. It was normal, familiar, a habit. But the moment the Thanksgiving lunch was mentioned, everyone stopped moving since it is the first year Dick and you are not together for the festivity. Everyone lowkey knew about it, but they tried to avoid it as much as possible. Specially the little birds, who you knew were fonder of you than they would ever admit. Not long before Dick and you had started going out, Jason and you became close (you were the two cynics, dark-humored and quick on the feet), so it was given that you were friends. The problem was now how to deal with your second favorite holiday of the year with the Wayne’s. The first always being Christmas, of course.

           “Oh, are you-are you sure?”. You are very confident, but this is something that you are very unsure about. Your voice trembles a bit at its end, but you cough like it’s because of the weather. It had always been special, since your family lived far from Gotham; you weren’t planning on visiting them, since they live across the ocean and the holiday wasn’t as popular in Europe.

           “You are part of this family, (Y/N); of course you can come.”

           “Good, because otherwise we were planning on moving lunch to hers.”  Jason interrupts, smirking almost, making Damian scoff, almost.

           “But she’s a mess in the kitchen!”

           “Well that’s what the catering service is for, you big-!“

           Everything goes back to how it was before, like nothing has happened; except that it totally doesn’t. Dick smiles, like everything is fine and that hurts you more than ever, because you know why he is okay with it, maybe as much as Jason. You getting back in the Manor had been a complicated task, but neither Jason nor Damian had given up, with simple excuses, white lies and “mandatory Netflix and chill sessions” (Jason, Tim and you had been laughing all evening when Damian had proposed so without actually knowing the meaning behind of it. He was so adorable with little things like that).  It’s not like you were still hurt because of the breakup, after all, it was quite mutual (even when it had terribly hurt once more, you were kind of hoping it anyways. This was the fourth time, after all). The thing was that there were one too many memories in the walls of Manor, as well as its rooms and dark corners. Sometimes, when you went alone to the guest bathroom, you could still feel his sneaky and cold hands in your waist, making you shriek – and his quick hand to your mouth, to shut you up, closing the door of the place as he trapped you against it.

           But what were you expecting really? This was the fourth time you had broken up. You had been at it since he confessed his real identity (the cause of your first breakup when he had not confided in you. With time, understanding came, and you tried again), and at this point, Jason, Tim and Damian just hoped it wouldn’t bring more “awkward” scenes like those whenever you saw each other at the Manor after the breakup. Dick tended to take refuge in Blüdhaven the first week, but then he always came back.

           And that always bothered Jason. It was like he wanted to see her, he needed to encounter her and still talk to her, as awkward as it could be. There was always probably there will always be, some kind of love in their eyes whenever they talked. And that he envied. (Y/N) had never looked at him like that, except with lust and with too many shots on.

           But this time it seemed different. (Y/N) seemed too uncomfortable and she could never quite look at him, which Jason didn’t understand. She had been so bold, so daring with him always; it as like he transformed into an entirely new person when he was with him. He hated it. Except this time, as well, he quickly understood why she was so sheepish: Barbara had entered the frame. He discovered it almost by accident, when you both were going for some drinks: you liked getting wasted in a famous bar in Gotham, maybe being hit up by different men, just as he was by different women. People used to think they were together until one of them started giving back attention to said person. Those were nights of whoring out, unless previously accorded that no one would leave the bar with someone else. Sometimes they liked having small chats in less frequented bars (Jason definitively did) and-and you had left the phone unlocked, staggering almost to the toilet. When he saw Dick’s last text, two weeks after you had broken up, he couldn’t resist: and yes, they had keep in contact, with shorter texts… Of course, to the exception of one. One fucking long one from Golden Boy himself explaining to her that he and Babs had given each other a go after some time… Followed by a sweet “I’m just giving her a chance. I still think of you at nights. Wanna call like yesterday?”.

           So of course, she feared the day, because that meant he was bringing Babs on. Between you and her honestly, he’d rather have you a thousand time more than her. She followed the rules too much and had little to no confidence in her own missions and action plans. She was too much of a follower and Jason resented her because of it: it was something personal, seeing as Timbers seemed to like her a bit more, given her ability to execute whatever actions were needed. But it wasn’t after all something he could decide on his own, and thus they were now both stuck with that knowledge.

           Dick had some girl problems of his own, but he had managed to keep them down for long enough. It was the first time, actually (that he knew of) that these both were going to encounter each other. And it was something Jason, personally, wasn’t looking forward to. He treasured his only ally in the house; since Roy and him had parted ways, (Y/N) had been the only one for him. And he had been trying really hard, seeing as he thought feelings would get in the way: but he has kind of come to accept that it’s never going to be that way with him.

           She talks about Dick Grayson like he is the sun, and she is the moon, starred-crossed lovers; her lights light up whenever he is brought in a conversation, and she talks fondly of him (“Why? He broke your heart, dumbass” he asks one night, a little bit drunk in his couch. She is dancing all on her own, gorgeous like never before bathed by the moon. “Because I treasure him”, you answer, simplistic and yet raw, full of feeling). And if someone dares bad mouth him? She is the first one to stand up for him, say he is not like that, not like everyone thinks he is; she knows him better than anyone, and that no one can fight her about. They have history, and someone should make a study on them, because there’s chemistry whenever they go. Everyone always thinks they are flirting, and they are just as surprised to find out that they are no longer together (Such a pity! They look so good, Jason once heard Kane murmur under her breath).

           But this time is different, she is left behind.

***

           “I mean, the worst is over.”

           “I know, just take me far, Jay. I want to go.” And nothing else needs to be said once lunch is done and everyone is settling down on the sofa. They are not staying, and they made so apparent by taking a red helmet; not for him, of course.

           Dick presses his lips into a fine line.

***

           “No, what I’m saying is…! What-What if I never find anyone like him, Jay? What if he IS the One?”

           “You know the concept of “The one” is just made up so that girls-“

           “Yes, Jason Peter Todd, I know very well the patriarchal concept of it, it’s just-! They look so good together. And Dick was so calm, they were so chill. They were not bothered, like it had been happening so long… I know Dick would never cheat, but we’ve never had that.”

           “Babs has always been really close to the family. Their breakup was horrible, that’s why you two never cross paths but before she used to spend Thanksgiving with us as well. Then she met someone else and-you know” He makes a simple motion with his hands, like all is said and done, but it’s not enough for her it seems. “I’m just saying that she was a wreck as well her first year, but we are family. Vigilante stuff and everything.”

           Yeah, the one thing she has always been kind of resentful about. Not because she wanted to be one, but because she never belonged to that interior and private group. Even Jason, as close as they were, kept her at an arms distance from details. He was not fully incorporated into the troupe, but he had been patrolling on their side for some time now. It made her really happy.

           “Yeah, yeah. It’s just that, and I know that you don’t believe in it, but what if Dick is the one for me but I’m not the one for him? You’ve seen me, I was… Wrecked the first time we broke up. And the second and third, hell. This last one I… I knew it was going to happen, eventually. I just didn’t know it would still hurt as much.” She clicks her tongue, both hands up quite quickly, like in a peace sign. “Okay, yeah, maybe not as much, but it definitively stung. And I know he hasn’t been with Barbara since before me but…”

           “Well-“

           There’s a silence, a beat. Jason’s heart drops. What is he doing? It’s like a babble, and he feels mean. He wants to hurt, he wants her to know. What good will it do now? Still, the words come out before she can mutter a thing, too in shock or maybe waiting for him to talk.

           “I mean, there was just THIS ONE time where I saw her early at dawn. I think it was your second time, I-“

           “Oh, fuck, I KNEW IT!”.

***

           “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.” She mutters, drunk, maybe too drunk. Who gets drunk on Thanksgiving? They are both splayed on the floor of his apartment, instead of the carpet, mere inches from their bodies. But moving takes too much movement, and they are not going to do that. “I’m always talking about him, I must sound like a broken record, it’s just that it helps.”

           “What helps?”. He asks, sluggish.

           “You. You always help.”

           She turns around, lazy and with difficulty like a seal, until her cheeks are against the coldness of the apartment. He imitates her, looking at her closely, both faces separated just by centimeters.

           “You help me without hesitation. I know you, I see you, Jason Todd.” She confidently says, even when he can swear some of her words are gibberish after that. He thinks she might be listing the times he has helped. “… And most importantly, I love you. I love you a lot.”

           There’s silence in the apartment. They are not particularly fond of hugs or cute things; (Y/N) has had a childhood where she was not given much affection, and Jason as much as he loved her mother, can understand that. They are not used to caring, sweet or strong words like that. But he surprises himself as he says it back like it’s natural, and he repeats it. Again and again, like it’s a prayer, something that must be said. And she corresponds.

           They lock lips and he knows it’s over.

           Whatever thing they might have it’s over, because the only way this is ending is with a broken heart. He is not the one with good things, beautiful things that stay; he is not the golden boy or the understanding one (like Dick, with whom (Y/N) had a dream a couple of days ago. They were still together, happy). He is not the calm and logical, collected (like Tim, who he came to slowly understand, admire, as much resent as he had once for him. (Y/N) always goes for him for “practical” solutions). He is not like Damian in the least, particular and much more mature than he was at his age. So why would she choose him, if not by pity, being the closest one?

           Jason is twenty, and she is twenty-two. It is thrilling in a way, while he takes off her clothes with a regained force, almost desperation in her movements (what if she is sober again and stops moaning like that, offering him her neck like a female to mate?). He loves to unravel her, discover the timid place in her thighs which he almost has to open by force; he never quite imagined her shy, not in his wildest fantasies, but red is an adorable shade in her cheeks, and he only gets turned on by the slight resistance of her thighs, the way she is on her back, legs opened and trying to cover herself, her core. Her fingers are small, like everything else in her body, but they manage to hide his precious Eden from him, which he doesn’t appreciate.

           If it’s going to be a night followed by an awkward distancing, he is going to fucking get it.

           Pushing her legs back to her chest almost, slightly, trying to see resistance, her core gets discovered by the surprise, and he launches onto it like a hungry man: he laps, tongues it inside and discovering it. It is tight, drenched and slightly salty: he discovers to his own surprise that the more he seems to eat, the wetter it gets, until it’s absurd almost. She is covered in her own lubricant, and he is amazed by the taste, the wiggling, the moans and the pulsing of his own cock, strained in his pants.

           She is completely naked, and almost mewls for him to do the same, to which he teasingly obeys. He makes a slow striptease, and her hands are all over him, clearly making him know that he wants it as badly – he could cum alone from the sound she makes as his fingers open her, on fours on the floor with her legs as far as they can go so he has space to discover, touch.

           “Jay, Jason!”. She pants, almost too gone from that alone, his fingers rediscovering places he thinks she might not have reached before. Or even Dick. He is quite proud of that, seeing her state against the floor, moving her hips towards him and struggling almost to breathe. “Jason please! I’m so horny, I want you so bad!”

           Her forehead sticks to the ground, moaning against the floor: he thinks his neighbors will forgive him in due time. It’s been long since he brought someone else home, and thus, he can’t be as dedicated as he would like to. More so when her own lubricant is dripping from her thighs and her back arches perfectly against him. They fit, like a perfect puzzle, as he on his knees grabs her by the hips and presses his own hardness to her wet entrance. It almost slips inside at times, almost making her completely bent over. She needs something to grip onto, and after a couple of times giving up on the air and floor, Jason takes her by the neck, not leaving an inch between their bodies as he slides inside. And then she feels it and her arms, like flowers to the sun, wrap themselves around his neck.

           They kiss like they have been doing it for ten years, but they fuck with the desperation of a one-night stand, swearing and sweating together, body against body, and moaning each other names from time to time. Profanities, skin slapping sounds, wet drips – all that’s heard until one of them comes. They change positions and again they go, until one of them crumbles to the floor just so that they don’t have to force their own knees as much. She gets dragged onto his mattress, and they keep at it until they can’t anymore. There’s a blue glow in the city outside, and they are both panting, still slowly rutting against each other: he is inside her, too sensitive to move, almost keeping it warm. His hand slowly grabs her thigh, the fat on it, caressing it like it’s art. She kisses him slowly, tensing up as he gets out and lets it all spill onto the bed. They fall asleep like that, looking at each other’s eyes, like they are in love. But the night is done, and the first warm ray enters the room. It’s time to wake up.

***

           It doesn’t stop there. There are no rules, no limits. They are having breakfast and she is taken again against the cold marble counter, nipples hard and leaving her own underwear wet, uncomfortable. He fingers her until they can’t anymore, and they forget to eat, too much of a secondary task. She takes him in the shower, entering and against the wall, water covering both of them (It gets risky, but they are both very much into it, gasping and clenching on each other like they are the last people on Earth, they will vanish. She thinks she might as she cums with him inside, relentless and making her squirt. He has never been more turned on.)

           They say goodbye with a sweet kiss, like they are finishing it – but three days later, at the Manor, they silently fuck in the sofa, which is in direct view with the entrance if one is to open the door. They don’t close it at all and she cums three times (once laid on the floor as he drinks her, and another on top of him, completely nude and bracing him, looking the door directly, too nervous and too excited at the same time. The third is brutal, and is when they think they hear keys, too involved in their pleasure, too far gone from rationality. Like they want to be caught.) They promise each other that is it in public spaces, but then they fall right into it as they are having an improv dinner on the roof one of Gotham’s highest buildings. It’s exhilarating, and it’s been a guilty habit of hers since she discovered their identities. She loved tall buildings, looking down and feeling the adrenaline in the tips of her toes as she leans over the border (Jason has always been the one to let her go as far as she pleased. Dick always grabbed her by the waist). They fuck against one of the corners, lights underneath them alive, bright, just as his eyes as he looks at her. She feels safe in his arms. Nothing will happen.

           Until they do get caught by none other than Tim Drake himself.

           It really isn’t something big or scandalous, as naked as they feel they are (her in a satin pajama, him in some grey cotton sweatpants); they are just making out in another sofa, almost near the entrance, too lazy to go up the stairs; the angle is different, and instead of the entrance, it goes directly to the kitchen. The only thing on is the fire, and it’s almost romantic if not because of his hard-on and your obscene moans – that is until two blue eyes catch her. She has to cover her own mouth to stop herself from screaming.

           “F-!”. It’s the only thing that leaves her, his body instantly acting as a blanket from the world, pinning her against the sofa. If they were naked, that would have do it. “Fuck, fuck fuck!”. She repeats herself over and over in a low voice, as Jason looks over the sofa and locks eyes. You will never know what look Jason gives Drake, but it seems to scare him off.

           “I’m not going to say anything to anyone!”. She is too embarrassed to look over the sofa, but the way his voice trembles doesn’t escape her. “But fuck, you should tell Grayson. He’s not-oh, fuck, he’s not going to be happy. And please, please tell me you haven’t-haven’t-you know, the sofa-“

           “Just go, voyeur!”

           ***

           You should, you know you should but not talking about it with Jason and just murmuring into each other lips “I love you” works; it makes you happy, less anxious and relaxed like never before. You fuck, you have small dates and everything is simple with him. You laugh into his neck, and his big arms make you feel protected at night when he stays (he isn’t going on patrol as much, and that makes you incredibly happy). He is sweet and caring; you spent nights with your legs intertwined under the duvet reading different books, but reading out loud your favorite quotes, or something you find funny. You are drugged on the feeling of happiness he gives you, but are you really giving it back to him? Do you love him like he does? Because you know he does, when he looks at you with his gorgeous eyes, when he grows anxious in big crowds and immediately grips your hand like it’s home.

           You turn around in bed.

           “Hey Jaybird?”

           “Hm, what?”

           “I have to tell you something.”

[aliynavenus]

DamiRae Fanfic: “Vulnerable”

part one || part 2 : “Frustrated” || word count 2K+

------------------------------------------------------

“You guys look like death.”  Dick couldn’t believe what he was seeing, Jon and Beast Boy with their uncontrollable hair following with stains of god knows what on their clothes, and might add the clear view of dry drool on their cheek with huge bags under their eyes.

“Sorry, we didn’t have time to get cleaned before this conference.” Jon rubs his eyes giving a sound of guilt. 

Kori shakes her head in disbelief that they had barely woken up from their little party. Before another word could come out of either of them she spoke, 

“Now that everyone is here let me begin with the standard mission I mentioned.” automatically a rather large screen appears before her, “We have had an increasing number of meta-humans encounters but what’s strange is that these past meta-humans we’ve faced have turned into ash once we defeat them. What’s even stranger is that all reports show that these meta humans never even showed a record of powers before meets with them.” 

“These are criminals. What should it matter to us what happens to them.” Damian cuts in tauntingly knowing that this didn't sound like another skirmish mission to fight them. 

Of course Kori knew where Damian was going with this, “Actually, Damian this concerns us now. Firstly with the question of why they are turning into ash towards the end. It has come to our attention that recently every meta-human that we have faced have all been in this exact location, ‘21 and over,’ 2 days prior before we encountered them. As well as witnesses claiming that they never saw them leave or make it to a cab home.” 

Raven raises an eyebrow, “Could it be coincidence?. It’s a nightclub what's so threatening there than the reek of alcohol.” She had to admit she was more persuading Kori that it was a coincidence considering she wanted nothing to do with this mission.

“Which is why this place needs to be investigated. The league and I have concluded that these vigilantes designate more as victims. We believe something is going on inside this club that could be making them act out considering their clean criminal record.” Kori nodded to her team for reassurance. “The mission tomorrow is simple. You four will go in under cover to this club to find any insights that could help us understand the increase in these attacks. Terra, Beast Boy you will go on patrol tomorrow instead implying that since it’s the first day of this mission we just need to make sure something is genuinely going on, we will alert you until further notice. You all are dismissed.” the teammates nodded in agreement knowing their roles for the next day as they strayed away from the couch. 

Damian knew this mission wasn’t going to test his abilities in the slightest; it made him almost groan in disgrace by how unimpressed he was by it.  He couldn’t help but notice as Raven still settled across from him on the couch picking up the book beside her. His heart began to race faintly as he watched her delicate fingers wrap around the story. Her radiant violet eyes wandering each word she read with her soft lips in a small pout. Any little thing she did could make him weak, staring at her like she was art. Art that he wanted. 

His thought began to drift imagining her on this mission. Being able to see her in something he’s never witnessed her in. A tight hugging dress that would display her magnificent figure before him. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip absorbing the image that he wanted to burn into his mind forever. Fingers lingering down her body savoring every part he caressed, needing to do every little thing to make her feel cherished. The need of wanting to claim her could nearly destroy him, wanting to be able to satisfy her. Not with words but with pleasure and admiration.

No…! Shaking his head deliberately, feeling a sinful pleasure coming from below his navel. Dammit. Like a hormonal wreck of a teenager. It was frustrating. He lifted his body from the couch careful to not bring the attention towards him and his -- now -- guilty pleasurable sin that was arousing in his pants. 

Gods he really needed to train himself better at keeping his hormonal thoughts restrained. 

~~

In its final hours of the day when the sky became an empty nightfall the titans prepared to go to sleep, except the young empath in the amazon’s room. 

Raven rolled her eyes watching Donna destroy her closet looking for the perfect outfit for their night of clubbing tomorrow. “It’s only a day we’re going we might not find any hard evidence to stay another day.” 

Donna whips her head back scoffing at Raven’s nonchalant words, “One day Raven? That’s exactly the point, it's only one day we’re able to dress all cute yet still be badass heroes we are. Besides can you actually see this is a great opportunity for Damian to see....your body.” she smirks, eyeing raven seeing color ride up her skin. 

Dropped her body back into the bed running a hand over her face biting back a groan. That was exactly her point; she didn’t want Damian to see her like that. She felt pathetic. A hero who has literally dealt with a demon is scared what a boy would think of her all dressed up. It was humiliating. 

“Here you can wear this.” Raven’s sight replaced with black as a piece of clothing was thrown on her face. She raises her back from the bed pulling the item away to get a full sight of what it is.Her lips part forming a small ‘o’ Are you kidding? She couldn't believe what she was seeing. 

The low too low V of the sold wine colored dress attached with spaghetti strap gold chains that later cross one another revealing an open back. The dress naturally shaped in an hourglass form just by holding it up with her fingers. Would this dress even pass her behind just by looking how incredibly short it was. She had to admit it was a stunning dress but it also pulled all her miseries and feasted it in front of her eyes. It was like looking at a goddess mess that she oddly felt dare she say….intrigued. 

“How’d you get this” her head questioning every aspect as to why Donna had this in her closet. 

“Diane led me her credit card to buy it when I had to go to one of her banquets that she was hosting” 

Gods what kind of banquet was this. 

She feels the soft fabric beneath her fingers, it felt comfortable and breathable at least.

“Thanks Donna. I’ll give it back after” 

“Anytime! Now i gotta find what I’m going to wear.” her voice in a mufle with her head deep in her closet, legs dangling outside as if she was swallowed by the depths of it. 

Looking at the clock next to Donna’s nightstand, 11:43. She knew that was cue to leave, “Goodnight, Donna.” 

Beginning to walk to her proper room her eyes widened when she saw Damian. Standing in front of her door with a hesitant knuckle close to the frame. It was unusual, rare even to see him at her door at this hour. A memory hit when the last time he was here this late at night was when those nightmares would take over her that he would come barging into her room.  

“Um, hey. You need something?” His attention was brought to her voice that was nearing him, seeing a piece of clothing neatly folded in her arms. 

Crap. How long has she been standing there? Embarrassment filled his body. He bit the inside of his cheek narrowing his eyes, truth be told he didn’t know how to respond to her question, considering she caught him in the midst of his thoughts on what to say to her when he did get the guts to knock on her door. Not like he could simply just say, I couldn’t sleep. But I miss being with you. Holding you. I wanted to keep you company, can i stay for the night?  

God he needed to act quick, how stupid could he be. 

“I wanted to, to borrow a book of yours. I was wondering if you had it.” he cursed at how indecisive he sounded but only prayed that she brought it. 

Raven’s eyebrow raised, that's what he wanted? A book? For some reason she wished he wasn’t there just for that. “Uh yea, what book.” She walked to his front, opening her door entering inside to head towards her bookshelves she had in the corner of her room.

“Macbeth.” his voice far as she noticed he didn't step foot in her room. 

‘You can come in, you know.” 

In an instinct it was like his body pulled him inside, taking a full view of her familiar room that has always been on his mind. The warm comfort that this room brought to him. Looking towards the bed remembering the one place where he had her in his embrace. The only person he allowed to touch him. But dammit He wanted to touch her skin again. So fucking bad. 

The dim lighting coming from the street lights luminating her lavender theme room. He watched her knees land on the carpet looking for the stupid book. His tongue traced his bottom lip seeing her in that position fuck his sexual thoughts always overriding his mind. Her clothes were changed into a small denim skirt that did her well with an off the shoulder black top. 

“I know i have it, it should be back here.” His eyes widen seeing her body lean forward lifting her hips off from her heel to now being in the air. Holy shit his cock twitched by the sight. This was torture for him. The small clear view of her white panties, that he wanted to rip off and burn his fingers deep into her hips. Damian was already thinking of the countless ways he could take her. He wondered how long it’ll take to make her scream -- fairly not long -- with this lingering tongue deep inside her making her feel good, making her beg for mo-

“I found it here you go” his view now gone and thoughts vanished into thin air. As she rose from the ground holding the book in front of her. 

That damn book, the only thing separating them from his wanting touch. His eyes gazing at hers worshipping them as he always would. Automatically he placed his hand on the book, lifting it up to shorten the distance between them, as her grasp was still on it. 

His jaw tightening as he leant forward, “I didn’t come here for a book” his words were sharp inhaling the clinging scent of her chamomile with vanilla fragrance. 

“W-what did you--” 

Stars bursted when Damian grabbed the back of her head luring his lips onto hers in a rough desperate kiss. His mouth moving slowly against hers savoring every part. Hearing the book fall to the floor, he felt gracious when he sensed Raven lean forward, gripping the front of his shirt vigorously. Her knees becoming weak, when she felt his hand relocate from the back of her head to her cheek. Fingers tangled into her hair gripping her soft skin tenderly into their hot messy kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance feeling the lost of control each time they touched.

Her breath hitched when she felt his teeth sink into her bottom lip. Her winced caused him to run his tongue smoothing down her plump lip, he caused pleasurable pain to. Breathlessly sighing, tipping forward matching the rhyme of their lips to be in sink once again. He took that as a sign and gripped her velvety thigh pulling it towards his hips.

 This felt like possession. 

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t need an advantage or the perfect moment. If he wanted her then so be it. He wanted her more than ever, before she could go out tomorrow where everyone could see her beauty. 

The loss of contact was given when the need for air came in. Raven loosened her grip from him as her stare fell to the ground. She was flustered, sexually, not wanting to look up at him, feeling bashful about what she just experienced. her fantasy- a dream come true. 

“Raven'' his voice low yet gentle, desperately wanting her eyes to meet his. Yet she couldn't. She was too embarrassed even if she enjoyed it. 

Shit. Worry started to consume him when she didn’t look up after a few moments. Did he make pathetic mistake? Thoughts being filled with negativity, being a fool who threw his lustful wants onto her. Putting the women he cherished the most in an experience that he wanted to fulfill unknowingly knowing how’d she react. A stupid child he was. 

He released his grip on her body feeling utter emptiness from his fingertips. Her head finally lifting to see his expression only to be left with Damian turning his back reverting to the door, “My apologizes. We’re teammates. I shouldn’t be here.” 

with that the room became absent of his being. 

Raven brushed her fingertips onto her throbbing lips still yet shocked that Damian Wayne, her best friend. The person she felt most vulnerable with. Her entire body shut down when he took a sudden action to do so and he just left, like that? Perhaps she did something wrong to cause him to leave, did he not enjoy it as much as she did. She was so overwhelmed that when she tried to identify his feelings with her abilities that she was only able to detect hers. 

“We’re teammates.” 

It felt like a sharp needle piercing through her heart when he referred to her as that. Making her feel like that and leaving, what kind of game was Damian playing, toying with her emotions. 

How dare he kiss her, making her feel frustrated…..it hurts her. It doesn’t just hurt, it breaks her. 

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“You know what? Fuck you.” and “Fuck you batman”

Word count: 2070

Warnings: Physical Abuse, pretty much child abuse (but lightly, i promise), vomiting

Notes: Okay, so this work needs some rather long notes, I think. If you don't want to read this, you can totaly skip it though. This is... pretty much the only angst thing I ever wrote that turned out actually good. And if the ending seems kind of... unfinished, in a sense, it's because it kind of is. Most of it was written when I was really down, and I can't give it a good ending. If anyone has any clue on how to make it better than this, by all means, go ahead. I'd love for this to have a happy ending instead of this. Also, I wrote this as some sort of catharsis for me? Most of my writing has some very personal element, but this is one of those pieces that if I handed my therapist, she'd laught at how obviously I'm projecting, so if anyone seems a little bit poorly characterized, that's probably why. Aaaaand this was written waaaay before I recieved my bingo card. But one of the two slots was filled by it, and the other fit so very nicely, that it pushed me to post it. Lastly, thank you for clicking this! And final warning to my emetophobic friends to walk away from this one. Good reading, and stay safe out there, it's a crazy world.

It was a stupid argument. They were yelling their faces off in the batcave, angry, nearly foaming at the mouth, over some serial killer. (It might seem like that’s a big deal, but c’mon, this is Gotham we’re talking about) It’s not like it had never happened before; both men were strong-willed, stubborn and hot-headed, they were bound to argue all the time.

“I’ve had enough!” Batman shouted “You’re staying out of this!”

“Are you insane?!” Nightwing shot back “You’re so deep into your own empty hopes you’re gonna get everyone killed!”

“I know what I’m doing Nightwing! And you’re staying on the ground tonight!” He pointed at the other’s face.

“You seriously think that I’ll just stay put, like a good little dog?!” He seemed incredibly offended. The volume of the conversation kept getting louder.

“You are gonna do as I say.” Now the man’s voice was lower. Dangerously so.

“No! I don’t give a damn about your skewed view of this city, and if you want to walk straight into a compromising position because of it, fine, go ahead. But if I let you go out there with them, following this stupid mindset, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You think they can’t protect themselves?” He said, before shouting “You think I haven’t taught them well enough?!”

“I think you can’t protect them from what you refuse to see!” Nightwing shouted back. And then it happened.

The arguments were regular, sure. But this? This was unexpected, to say the least.

Batman slapped Nightwing across the face.

Except... That isn’t what happened. Or at least, it wasn’t all that happened.

It’s not as simple as that.

No, those weren’t simply two masked heroes getting caught in an argument that had gone physical. It wasn’t just Batman hitting Nightwing.

That was Bruce hitting Dick.

The silence that fell over everyone’s ears was deafening. No one in that cave even dared to breath, everyone waiting for the other’s retaliation. A retaliation that never came. Dick stared at the floor in the direction his face had been forced towards, breathing heavily. No, not heavily. He let out shaky breaths, although Damian was certain he was the only one able to tell the difference.

Nightwing then shook his head slightly, still looking at the ground, smiled sadly and let out a little huff that resembled a laugh. He left, walking past all of the other masked heroes, his brothers, with his eyes fixated on the ground. Damian never though he’d see Dick Grayson, the personification of confidence, staring at the ground. Now Bruce had a room of vigilantes staring at him in a way none of them ever did before. Even Red Hood seemed horrified. Robin scowled at him, before leaving to chase his brother.

“You know what? Fuck you.” Red Hood let out, before leaving the cave too, headed for the city “Don’t...” He stopped, gun in hand, pointing it up at the sky as he spoke “Don’t contact me. Just... Fuck you, Batman. And fuck you, Bruce.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with him.” Red Robin said “I’ll check on the Titans. Good luck with the case.” He jumped out into the night as well.

Bruce turned to Steph, slightly.

“No.” She said turning to Cass “Look, you wanna stay, that’s your decision, but I can’t.”

“I’m not staying.” Cass stated, pulling her own cowl on.

His comm was static. Oracle had left too.

Bruce breathed in. He pulled out the cowl. Alfred stared at him from the door for a minute, and left before being noticed, heading for the kitchen.

...

Jason was sitting on a rooftop, looking down, when Red Robin landed next to him.

“You should go check on him.”

“Don’t you think he’d rather be alone?” He asked, looking up “Also, Gotham needs our patrols.”

“To the second point, sure, but me, Spoiler and Batgirl can cover the city for tonight, and we don’t know for sure that Batman’s not coming. To the first, maybe.” He sighed “But Damian went after him. He’s probably talking to Dick as we speak, and that’s not exactly a bad thing, but Dick won’t be able to drive him away, and we both know that tonight it’s gonna get ugly. Real ugly.” Red Hood turned to look at him, wondering what was his point “Damian looks up to him. He’s a parental figure, whether they like it or not. He shouldn’t have to see Dick like that, he won’t have the proper tools to handle it. You on the other hand...” Jason sighed too.

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” He nodded “I can handle it.” The Red Hood slowly stood up “By the way, you see him tonight, put that bo staff to good use and shove it up his ass. Then tell him I send my regards.”

...

Dick stormed into his room, slamming his door shut and hurling his mask against the wall. He pulled off the top of his costume, but that was all he managed to do before he broke down sobbing, sitting on his bed, hugging himself. He had taken many hits in his life. He handled all of them. This one... He didn’t know how to handle it, didn’t know where to start. His cheek still burned. It was probably red, maybe there would be a perfect mark of his palm and fingers on it.

He screamed, rubbing his face harshly in a fit of rage. He woud have scratched the skin off his arms if he didn’t keep his nails so short, but he had to settle for rubbing instead, fingertips digging into the flesh without breaking it. It went on for a minute, before he managed to calm down.

“I know you’re there.” He said trying to keep some composure “Leave.”

“It’s not him.” Damian answered from behind the door.

“I know. Leave.” Dick heard a ‘-tt-.’, followed by the sound of his door opening. He had his back turned to it.

“No.” He answered, closing it behind him.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dick turned to face the wall, keeping his back to Damian.

“Then don’t.” He replied, sitting on the floor, infront of him “I’m here to make sure you won’t do anything stupid.” Dick knew that was his way of saying ‘I care about you’. He did a piss poor job at showing affection, but no one could blame him.

Damian slowly lifted a hesitant hand, setting it on the other’s shin, stroking his leg. Dick offered a weak smile, looking down; once again, this was a code. It was Damian saying ‘I know I don’t like hugs, but if you need them right now, it’s okay’. The boy looked down at his boots and helped him out of them, watching as Dick instantly curled in on himself once he was barefoot, pulling his legs to his chest, hiding his face between his knees. Damian sat down next to him, placing a hand on his back as he cried once more.

“It’s just...” He tried “I never thought...”

“I know. None of us did.”

Dick felt sick. He wanted to thow up. Maybe he would throw up, if he kept sobbing like that. Damian rubbed circles on his bare skin, trying to calm him down, to no avail. There was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Bird Brain.” Jason’s voice came from it, soft and wary “Can you open the door for me?”

Damian looked at his brother, who nodded. The boy got up and slowly cracked open the door, already scowling at Jason, who raised an eyebrow but kept quiet.

“Hey,” He kneeled in front of Dick “Calm down okay? I’m sure Alfred is knocking some sense into him as we speak.” Dick nodded weakly, and Jason pushed some strands of hair away from his forehead.

There was another knock on the door. This time Bruce’s voice was heard.

“Dick, I...”

“Leave.” He replied, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“Leave!” He yelled. They heard footsteps, walking away from the room. He turned to Damian “Dames, you should go too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He crossed his arms.

“Seriously, thank you. But... I just... Jason’s here and... I need to cry. Really cry and I don’t think I should put you through that.” Damian stared at him, unsure on what to do.

“It’s okay Damian. I got him.” Jason reassured. It wasn’t worth much for the kid, but he thought it best to give his brothers some space, so he walked out of the room.

Dick broke down again, and Jason held him through it. He held his brother for almost fifteen minutes. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make any of this better, so he kept his mouth shut, listening when he eventually gathered the strenght to speak.

“I can’t... Why did he do this? I’m- I was worried. I just wanted to protect you.” He cried against the other’s shoulder.

“I know Dickie.” Jason stroked his hair.

“He was just so – so blind. He’d walk you straight into the crossed fire, and-and... Oh God.” He pulled himself away from Jason and tried to run into the bathroom, covering his mouth, but there was no time. He threw up on the floor, and the only reason he didn’t fall face first into it was Jason’s fast thinking, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist “Fuck.” He murmured, spitting on the ground “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Dick. It happens. I’ll get Alfred.” He said, setting him on the bed.

“No, it’s fine, I can clean it...”

“Don’t be stupid Dickie,” He handed him some tissues “Look at your state. It’s okay, he can handle it just fine.” He shot out of the door, dashing through the stairs, finding the butler in the kitchen, making some kind of chicken soup “Dick puked.” He stated, going for a glass and filling it with water.

“Oh dear.” Alfred exclaimed, lowering the heat on the stove. He turned around throwing his apron on the marble balcony and grabbing cleaning supplies. Both of them ran to his room; and after all these years, Jason still wasn’t used to the idea that Alfred could run through the manor just as fast as him. He slowly opened the door “Master Dick?”

“I’m sorry Alfred.” He murmured from the bed.

“It’s quite alright, my boy.” He said, kneeling down to clean up “It’s not your fault.” Jason handed the man a water glass.

“Thanks.” Dick whispered “I feel awful for putting you two through this.”

“Nonsense, master Dick.” Alfred said from the floor “My job is taking care of this family.”

“Besides,” Jason sat down on the bed “You’d do the same. You have done the same.” He grabbed his bare foot, squeezing it before letting go. Alfred soon left, as quickly and discreetly as he came “C’mon,” Jason said, standing up “Let’s brush those teeth.”

“Yeah.” Dick let himself be led out of bed, going into his bathroom. His brother stood next to the sink, leaning against the wall.

Jason followed him back into the room, where he put on his pajamas but didn’t slip into bed.

“I don’t really want to sleep yet,” Dick said “Maybe I should go patrolling with you.”

“Dick, no offense, but you are the king of bad ideas.” Jason responded “And I’m not going on patrol, Replacement said they’d cover the city for tonight.”

“Okay then.”

“Are you hungry?” Jason asked “Alfred was cooking, maybe we can have some.”

“Yeah, let’s go pester him.” Dick answer, smile lacking the usual life.

The next morning, Dick didn’t go down for breakfast. Bruce tried finding him in the manor, but none of it’s inhabitants and usual visitors were anywhere to be seen. Even Duke, who wasn’t even in the cave when it happened, seemed to be avoiding him, not answering his calls. He decided to leave a letter for his son, but when he sat down in front of the paper, he didn’t know what to write. He was overwhelmed with guilt, and knew that he had crossed a line he couldn’t come back from, not entirely.

He had been so worried about deaths and killings as Batman, that he neglected the lines he shouldn’t cross as Bruce Wayne. And now that he crossed one of those, he had no clue on what to do about it.

[hhhellish]

“Time discovers truth”, Seneca.

The part where you confirm your suspicions, but reality is hard to handle sometimes, a pill hard to swallow for everyone that keeps a secret.

P. 27 / ??

Maybe you should have thought it over for a minute before heading out to the most dangerous part of Gotham. But rage filled you like it never had before. How dare they? How dare they? Lying to your face and acting as if you were stupid enough to believe a word they said? Ha, as if. Still, you knew something was off for a while. Canceling plans last minute, the badly covered bruises, and you were no expert, but the dark bags under their eyes that seemed to never go away were a clear sign that they spent their nights awake. But for what? Well, maybe you were no genius, but take a wild guess.

When you asked Damian, you expected him to say it. “I'm Robin”, it was easy, right? It's not that you were happy about it, who would? The boy you loved risked his life every night to protect Gotham, that hellhole of a city. But if he said the truth, you would understand, of course. You would freak out, and argue a bit perhaps, but in the end you would understand. But he lied, shamelessly, and smiled at you, the fucking bastard. But then again, so did Jason, trying to pacify you as if you were just a fussy child throwing a tantrum.

The Narrows was a bad place to be anytime, but at night the posibilities of coming out unharmed were slim to none. To be honest, you were terrified of being there alone. But your position was way too obstinate to back down now. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”, you know. So you kept on pushing past your fear, and ignored what your gut told you. Every step took you further into danger's jaws. As immersed as you were fighting Damian in your head, you walked into an alley, but when you were to turn around, your exit was blocked.

Three guys, all of them over forty at least, showed you their teeth in a poor attempt at a smile that resembled a wolf's vicious snarl. They whistled, and stepped closer, cornering you against the brick wall. “Such a pretty little thing”, the one in the middle said, so you knew he was the “leader” right away. “What are you doing here all alone, baby?”, you didn't utter a word, looking for an escape route. “Cat's got your tongue? Don't worry, I like them better when they know when to keep their mouth shut”. They laughed, and advanced towards you, hands reaching out.

But before they could touch you, a shadow descended upon all of you, right behind the offenders. When they were running for their lives before you could blink, the shadow turned to you. Black Bat. “You need to get out of here”, she said, and you felt your blood boil. “I'll scort you back home if—” “No”, that seemed to stop her, and she turned to you, “What?” “I said no”. You wouldn't admit it, but now you did look like a child. Hands fisted, arms rigid at you sides, shoulders stiff. The only thing missing was the pout. You saw her typing something. Then she turned to you. “You really should—” “I know who you are”, the words died in her throat, “I know who you all are”, you sounded bitter, betrayed, and undeniably sad. “You, Nightwing, Red Hood... Robin”.

As if on cue, said vigilante dropped next to Black Bat, landing soundlessly and staring you down. Now that he was so close... How did you not know before? The hair, the jaw, the nose... the frown. He was looking at you as if he was utterly dissapointed in you, but instead of backing down you stood your ground, arms crossed, head held high. “What happened?” “Oh, please, not the clueless act”, your words cut through the air, and earned you a wide-eyed look from both of them. “You know what? Fuck this”. Then you started walking, pushing your way past them. “I'll take care of it”, you heard Robin say.

“Take care of it?”, you thought, scoffing. Conceited bastard. Hearing the noise his boots made while trailing behind you annoyed you after five blocks, so you turned around. “What do you want?” “Make sure you get home safe” “I don't need it” “You do, habi—”, he stopped himself mid-sentence and your mouth pulled down at the ends, fighting back tears, “Habibti? Is that what you were going to say?”. You were tired, emotionally and physically, so you just let tears fall freely then, not even bothering to wipe them away. You turned back, walking again, but Damian stopped you. “I'm sorry, Y/N”, you laughed, a broken, uneven laugh that put his heart in an iron grip.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”, he looked down, softly taking one of your hands into his gloved one, “No”. The sob that came out of you then threatened to shatter him like glass, leaving a lump in his throat that he knew he could not swallow down. “I wanted to protect you”, he confessed, “What I do... What we do is too dangerous, we wanted to keep you safe”, you looked at him, red-rimmed eyes condemning him as you ripped your fingers away from his. “Protect me? Protect me?”, you yelled, enraged, and Damian was thankful that the streets were void of people “Is that how you comforted yourself after lying to my face?”, taking a step back you hugged yourself, and gave him a once over, “«I have business to attend to, Y/N» «The bruises come from my self-defense classes, habibti» «It's just a bit of insomnia, don't worry»”. You rubbed your eyes furiously, and he knew he couldn't do anything to stop you, you would push him away.

“What would have happened if you died?”, your voice was but a tiny whisper, “Or Steph, or Jay, or...”. You shook your head, unable to even imagine it. “Would you tell me that it was an accident? One of the many misfortunes that happen daily in Gotham?” “Habibti, don't do this” “No, Damian, you did this”, he released a pained noise, like a wounded animal. You took a step foward, and then another, and cupped his face in your hands. You kissed him, even through the taste of your own tears, and he cried too. When you stepped back, his eyes stayed closed for a second too long, as if he could escape the pain he inflicted, and take back the lies. “I'm so sorry, habibti” “I know”, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your shirt, sniffling. “What does it mean? «Habibti»”, he smiled sadly, his eyes begging you, but you were looking right through him, “It means «beloved»”. You nodded, eyes full of tears once again. “Goodbye, Damian”, and you turned around, and left. The though of Cass making sure you got home safe soothed his worries, but not the splitting ache inside his ribcage.

tags; @reclusive-chicken-nugget @carolinawindsay @a-random-queer-kid @thefightingfangirl @no12worryabout @the-sweetest-dragon @randomdcfangirl @zero-nightshade @axa-vega @bookish-and-shy @bodapenguin @patyreadee @allpowerfuloracle @wayablack @allpowerfuloracle @loxbbg @local-fandom-trashcan @ohswald

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [2/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47630773

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire--for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there's more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time. 

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #gods in disguise

First Chapter

_______________________________________________________________ 

Predictably, Jason is the first to respond to that.

“Bullshit.”

Tim sighs and rolls his eyes because he’s sure the reaction is more Jason being oppositional than actual doubt. They’re staring at a guy that until a few minutes ago had giant black wings sprouting from his shoulders, who’s been collecting suggestive art and carving a swath of hedonism across the city. They’ve dealt with stranger things and less plausible explanations.

“God of Love?” he inquires. “You mean, like Cupid?”

“Gaia, I hate that name. Stupid little Valentine’s Day mascot. I blame the Romans. The Hellenistic was great, except for that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I mostly go by Steve these days. Cuts down on the explanation time.”

Which just…what?

“Steve, the God of Love,” Jason deadpans. “Because that doesn’t sound like a cringy mascot at all…”

“Why are you in Gotham?” Tim asks, more direct this time.

“And what the hell are you dosing people with that they’re all down to fuck without remembering it? I don’t know how it works wherever you came from, but here that’s assault.”

“I’ve never assaulted anyone!” Eros protests, all wounded integrity. “If anything, I’ve been the one people keep jumping ever since my bow and arrows got stolen.”

“Your bow and arrows? That’s seriously the defense you’re going with?”

“How does one steal from a god?”

“You wait until he’s stoned out of his mind in an Amsterdam coffee shop and knock him out,” Eros grouses. “It’s either brilliance or suicidal madness. I’ll decide which one after I track down the bastard that did it and give them a reminder that I’m Ares’ son as much as Aphrodite’s.”

“Right,” Tim says, raising an eyebrow. “On that note, if you’ve got all these divine connections, why don’t you just get new weapons made?”

“If it were that simple you think I’d have dragged myself to this armpit of the universe? The bow and arrows act as a constant diviner for my abilities. It focusses them or controls them if you will. Otherwise, my powers veer wildly out of control.”

“What powers?” Jason snorts. “If you had anything beyond your feathers, you wouldn’t have been so useless with those mob assholes and made us do all the heavy lifting.”

Eros’ eyes turn hard and his lips pull into a cold smile. He reaches for Jason’s face and wriggles his fingers threateningly. “Would you care to find out?”

Not wanting to give Jason a time to respond by breaking the digits in his face, Tim places himself in front of him.  

“Both of you, knock it off—”

His move manages to divert the Olympian from losing fingers, but it also puts him straight in his path. Impossibly soft finger pads graze his jaw, and it is as if a current of electricity has been passed through his spine.

Tim seizes up, his brain going cloudy and his stomach suddenly hot and trembling. Sight and sound vanish or rather sharpen to a single point, the figure in front of him, and a visceral want edges out every other thought and impulse.

He is dimly aware of moving, of being rivetted at the individual motions that bring him into Eros’ personal space, and which have him fixing his upon the other man’s shoulders. Then he’s dragging him forward and crushing their mouths together.

The taste and smell of pomegranate and ozone overwhelm him, and he doesn’t wait for reciprocation before he’s shoving his tongue into the Olympian’s mouth, harshly trying to chase the unique flavor. All other intent vanishes in the single-minded pursuit of that goal, and he wonders if it’s not just his mouth that tastes like this, if the rest of him—

“What the fuck?!” Hands grab him roughly and he’s being jerked backward, stumbling into an unyielding armored chest. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Tim whines at the loss. “No—I need— he—”

Words aren’t really a workable thing right now, not in the face of the fact the world suddenly seems colder.

There’s a clicking sound, and then Tim’s world tilts as if he just stood up too fast. When his wits return, he realizes that Jason is holding him up with one arm, practically lining them up from ankle to armpit. His other hand is elevated, semi-automatic pointed at Eros’ forehead, glaring him down as if daring him to get closer.

The Olympian raises in slow surrender.

“Just making a point,” he tells them with a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression that could do Dick proud. His voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater.

“Try it again. See how it works out without a head.”

Every passing second brings reality back into sharp relief, and with it a mounting sense of dread.

“I…please tell me I didn’t just do that,” Tim says, mortified and still punch drunk. He was never even that forward with Steph.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a flash of irritation flicker across Jason’s face, and then the older vigilante fixes Eros with a look of utter loathing that Tim’s only ever seen when he goes up against one of the crazier rogues. Black Mask or Scarecrow, maybe. That usually precedes extreme violence, which they don’t need right now. They need detachment, to look at this clinically.

(And he needs to focus on something else to erase the fact he just tongue-kissed the God of Love in front of his childhood crush.)

“What was that?”

“I project a field across the surface of my skin that causes instant sexual arousal and frenzy in any living creature. The longer you’re exposed to it, the stronger and longer-lasting the effects—and the more the out of control you get.”

“So basically, you’re a walking Viagra date-rape drug,” Jason sneers.

“It’s not supposed to be like that…”

“Again, I call bullshit. I remember all the stories. Whenever you’re involved, someone ends up falling for someone else without having a choice and bad shit happens. Helen of Troy ringing any bells?”

Eros crosses his arms, resembling Damian at his most petulant; meanwhile, Tim stares at Jason, who notices and scowls back. “What?”

“How do you know that?”

“I have depths,” he replies, tone mildly defensive.

“The stories get so much wrong. Blame primitive writers and centuries of telephone for that,” Eros mutters. “Here’s the deal—my mother, she’s got the make-people-fall-in-love juju. The overwhelming, powerful, love-at-first-sight thing that basically causes the honeymoon period of a relationship. You know, that point where you only see the good qualities in a person?”

Tim exchanges a perplexed look with Jason; he’s never been in a relationship with anyone where he saw only their good qualities, and judging by the older vigilante’s blank expression, neither has he.

“Right, forgot who I’m talking to. You cape types aren’t exactly the hallmark of romance, are you?”

“Yeah, well, you deity types aren’t exactly the hallmark of not getting punched.”

“We’ve already established why that would be a bad idea,” Tim mutters, his ears burning.

“I’m wearing gauntlets.”

“In a healthy relationship,” Eros goes on, ignoring the byplay, “sure, you spend a bit of time totally enamored with your boo. They’re your world. But after a while, that starts to fade. Some people, okay, they’ve stuck together for the getting-to-know-you period and decide to keep going. But others—they get a very real sense of buyer’s remorse.”

“Like Helen did. Or Phaedra or Atalanta,” Jason suggests, and Tim frowns; he only recognizes one of those names.

“Exactly. They realized they’d compromised themselves and ruined their lives for some petty asshole without even knowing it. And they couldn’t exactly do anything about it—in the old days, you were stuck with the guy and you had to make the best of it since, you know, no divorce. Nowadays, it’s not so bad—those whirlwind romances don’t last, but it’s not the end of the world. Celebrities are famous for them. Literally.”

“I don’t understand what all this has to do with you being here and now,” Tim says.

“I’m getting there. I was giving you guys context, geez! Anyway, with me, it’s a little different. It’s more than just that love-at-first-sight, quick and dirty thing. It’s about desire. That bone-deep connection, all need and hunger and slow-burning.” His face relaxes, mouth easing into a fond smile. “It was a deeper thrall than anything Mom had the patience for. With my tools, I could awaken that—in a controlled fashion—and focus it. But now—well, you saw what I can do with just a touch.”

Tim’s cheeks flame.

“The longer I don’t have my tools to temper me, my abilities will become more unstable. You ever see people literally fuck each other to death?” Eros challenges. “Trust me, you don’t want to. And it’s not just sex people desire. This one guy pissed me off once and I made him develop an unhealthy desire for corned beef—”

“If you know your power is about to go Chernobyl, why the hell are you running around town robbing people? You’d think you have more important things to worry about.”

“It’s because I’m losing control that I’ve been doing that.”

Tim narrows his eyes, even if no one can see it. “Explain.”

“Over time, artists pour their souls and creative desires into their work—into the canvas, the clay, the paint, whatever. There’s a magic in the creative act that turns a medium into a vessel. I’ve been having to bleed off my power into these vessels so I can get out and search for my diviners without causing riots. The process takes hours, though, and people generally don’t like me standing in a museum touching the merchandise.”

“So you steal it.”

“It eventually finds its way back. And their original owners usually find that the pieces seem somehow more—magnetic—once I’m done with them.”

“I don’t know how you made that sound dirty, but you did,” Jason grumbles.

“Are you kidding? I created innuendo. And the double entendre.” Eros makes a dismissive gesture. “Anyhow, it’s all moot. I won’t be capable of bleeding off my powers for much longer. As you just saw, my control is slipping. So, you two are going to have to find my bow and arrow for me.”

Tim blinks at the sudden turn of the conversation. “What?”

“Right. Because we don’t have enough of our own shit to deal with, we’re going to go on a scavenger hunt for some entitled godling? That’s not how we operate.”

“You won’t have much of a choice,” Eros replies, and there’s a cruel edge to his smile now. “Not if you want to save your life.”

“That a threat, buddy?”

“Oh, I’ve no need for threats. It’s already done.” Eros points at the still bleeding wound on Jason’s shoulder. “When you saved bird-boy here, you got tagged by the same bullet I did; my blood’s in your veins now. And unless it’s because of the horizontal tango, there are some really nasty side-effects when Olympian blood gets in your frail systems.” His smile remains cold and cruel. “Mine’s particularly nasty.”

Jason crosses his arms, radiating skepticism. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been poisoned. Probably won’t be the last.”

“It’s not poison, per se,” Eros muses. “More like a virus that manifests as an intense, increasingly growing desire that will turn you mad and cook your brain unless you find a way to stop it. And the only cure, I’m afraid, is to be, heh, pricked by one of my arrows.”

“And who the hell am I supposed to be desiring? Because if it’s you, I’m going to claw my eyes out now and get it over with.”

“Thankfully that’s not the case. While I’m sure you would look amazing splayed out in my bed, that doesn’t exactly give your friend here any incentive to help me.” He considers Tim a moment, and his smile turns knowing. “Or perhaps it would.”

“Why me?” Tim asks, trying to keep his voice level. A sudden spike or worry shoots through him at one possibility. “Anyone else could do this.”

“Uh, you’re the first person Helmet Head set eyes on after being infected? Honestly, it’s right there in the myths.”

“I was never into the classics,” Tim mutters, breathing a sigh of relief; none of this has anything to do with his ill-advised crush, which means Jason doesn’t have to know about it. “If it’s just me being around him, I can stay away from him. It’s not like it’s hard.”

I wish that weren’t true.

Jason is staring at him oddly and Tim’s stomach jumps at his inability to interpret anything through the lenses of his mask.

“Okay, princess, let me know how that goes,” Eros chuckles.

Tim swallows.

He knows that Olympians have power—that their relics do, as well; how could he not, considering he’s known Cassie and Diana for so long?

Still, it’s laughable that Jason could ever desire him.

(There’s only a little pain and bitterness in that knowledge.)

Jason appears to be on the same wavelength.

“I call bullshit. I’m not in the habit of lusting after people I’ve tried to kill. Bit counterproductive, you know?”

“You might resist it for a little while,” Eros allows. “Looks aside, you capes have a lot of restraint. And it’s not like I was feeding you my blood or anything, so it might take a little longer still. But even that will fade as the infection spreads.”

For the first time since Eros’ threat, Jason shifts uneasily.

“Now,” the Olympian says, rubbing his hands together, “while watching you two get down and dirty in front of me would be good entertainment—” he leers at them both in a way that makes Jason tense like he’s going to punch him again and Tim consider letting him, “—I don’t have the time. I need the two of you on your game as much as possible if you’re going to help me.”

“Who says we’re going to help you? We could just hand you over to Wonder Woman and have her deal with this. Gods and mythological relics are more her areas of expertise.”

“Ah, but my dear cousin won’t have the same…motivation that you do, darlin’. Unless you want Prince Charming over here to get to the point of losing his mind over you?” Eros tilts his head toward Jason. “I mean, I guess that’s your choice. He is a bit of a douche—”

“I will rip off those wings of yours and stuff them up your—”

Tim grabs Jason and pulls him back a few feet so he can speak to him quietly, but keep an eye on Eros. Almost instantly Jason shoves him off as if he’s just been burned, and Tim raises his hands in surrender.

“Arguing with him obviously isn’t going to do anything,” he informs him.

“He’s obviously lying—trying to mess with us to do his bidding.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Until we know if this is truth or a bluff, we need to put him in a safe location. He needs to be tried for the thefts, regardless of his reasons. And since he has abilities, we’ll need a facility that can cancel-out meta powers.”

“Just keep him the fuck out of Belle Reve,” Jason grumbles. “We don’t need him ending up as one of Waller’s not-so-secret projects.”

“And in the meantime, we monitor your condition,” Tim goes on. “Back at the Cave, B has—”

“I’m not going to the damn Cave.”

“J—Hood, if he’s telling even part of the truth, you could be in trouble.”

“Because I’m going to lose my mind over your scrawny ass? I don’t think so.” He turns away. “Screw this, I’m out. You can figure this out. Gods are above my paygrade.”

He has his grapple gun out and an instant later vanishes into the night. And it’s like any other patrol; barely an acknowledgment of their team-up or thanks or farewell.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Eros says, shaking his head. “Bad things happen when you repress your desires. It comes out in ugly ways.”

Irritation sparks in Tim.

“That bullet that went through your wing—has it healed yet?” he asks tersely, rummaging in his utility belt as he approaches the Olympian. “I can’t see since they…disappeared.”

“It’s not gushing blood anymore, but there’s still a dirty great hole there. Why?”

Without warning, Tim turns around and sticks a syringe into his neck, careful not to brush any skin accidentally as he pushes down the plunger.

“What the fu—” Eros’ words cut off with a gurgle.

“Just need to know how much time I have before the sedative wears off,” Tim replies. It was designed with Wonder Woman in mind, so he really hopes it’s strong enough.

The Olympian pitches forward. Tim catches him, and curses at the weight he hadn’t expected; wherever those wings are, they still contribute to the body’s overall mass, it seems.

⁂

Jason makes a beeline for his safe house on the Upper West Side; the events of the night have been such a disappointment that he figures he deserves to crash at one of his more comfortable properties. Somewhere with good heating and decent water pressure and a few of his favorite books tucked away.

“Not the leftover pizza I was looking forward to, but it’ll do,” he murmurs to himself. To be honest, his appetite’s all but disappeared in the wake of tonight’s revelations.

Not that Jason is concerned about whatever Eros or Steve or whatever-his-name-is told them. Some guy calls himself the god of love and informs Jason he’s been infected with an unholy desire that’s going to drive him mad and kill him?

“Been there. Done that. And for Drake of all people? Pfft. Please.”

The Condiment King had more credibility.

Besides, even if it was a believable threat, it’s not as if he’s going to just accept it. Jason’s always had issues with other people telling him what to do, and he’s been on the wrong end of Poison Ivy’s concoctions far too often for that. If there’s a chance something’s going to impact or impair his control over his own actions, he’s got a problem with that.

And it’s just…it’s Tim Drake.

Jason has been carefully trying to reconfigure his mental categorization of the guy for years, from ‘Replacement—Must Beat To Death On Sight’, to ‘Timbers—Ally-Possibly-Friend-Kinda-Brother-Sort Of?’. It’s still a work-in-progress figuring out which category he fits in, and Jason doesn’t need to add more complications, such as those that will no doubt ensue if he considers adding any other relationship dimensions.

Not like the kid’s a terrible catch or anything. Jason saw that long before he figured out he isn’t one hundred percent straight. But that was his own discovery, born of conscious choice. Not from someone telling him in plain English that he’s got no choice but to develop a thing for a workaholic pretty-boy Bat with self-esteem issues.

Which means on principle, Jason’s damn well going to fight that. It doesn’t matter that Tim’s intelligent, sarcastic and the right kind of risky, or that he isn’t repulsive or even unattractive—

Jason adamantly cuts off that line of thinking when he realizes where it’s going, touching down on the roof of his building a little harder than necessary.

“Nope. Not going there.”

Talk about a mind-fuck. Asshole Steve got me thinking about it, and now I won’t be able to not think about it whenever I run into the kid.

And isn’t that a keen bit of psychological manipulation?

Luckily, Jason’s been trained by more than one master in the art of avoidance. He forces his attention onto the routine of checking the perimeter and disabling his security system, then slipping into his apartment through the roof-access.

“Hello, safe house,” he mutters out of habit, heading for his bathroom. Once inside, he methodically checks himself for injuries, which are overall minor. The bullet wound in his shoulder is scabbing over already.

He tries to ignore the uneasy clench in his stomach at that and the prevalent thought of that is not a good sign.

He heads for the shower and turns the water on as hot as he can stand, letting it distract him, unwinding the knots and tension holding him together. Once he’s out, he throws on a pair of boxer briefs and settles in the center of his bed to meditate. It takes longer tonight to get his brain and still-racing heartrate to ease, to remember his All-Caste training and seek acceptance in the darkest part of his soul, and the possibility that that will be enough to counteract whatever real or imagined threat was made by the so-called god of love.

Dawn is peeking over Gotham’s horizon when he finally manages to calm himself down and pass out. For once, he sleeps; for once he doesn’t dream of Glasgow smiles and green sludge.

When he wakes up, it’s with odd energy that borders on manic. He powers through his morning workout at full intensity and still has energy left over, which he uses to cook breakfast and a few advance meals that he can stick in the freezer for the next time he holes up here. All his safe houses include have decent food storage since he never knows when lying low is going to translate as ‘disappear completely off the grid for a while.

When he’s still buzzing and raring to go, he decides he can’t put it off any longer. He’s not stupid—has been in the game long enough to know it’s pointless to ignore something completely until you’ve investigated the hell out of it.

Which is how he finds himself down in his would-be-Batcave beneath One Police Plaza running a full set of blood panels and other diagnostics to see if there’s an actual sign of contamination from the tainted bullet. And when everything comes back negative, he even checks in with Doc Thompkins for her two cents worth that nothing is the matter with him. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you, Jason, everything’s coming up normal,” Thompkins tells him. “The only thing I can recommend is the same thing I always do—stop smoking.”

“But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to come see you so you can scold me,” he grins at her, earning an arch look above the rim of her glasses.

Still, he remains antsy even after leaving the clinic and decides he needs to calm his nerves.

There’s a coffee shop on Winchester he’s taken to because they do tea as close to Alfred’s as possible, at least what he’s found in Gotham. The teenaged girl at the counter blushes and laughs nervously at him when he smiles and flirts a bit, and he makes sure to tip well because kids in the service industry are paid nothing for being treated like crap.

Still, it’s hard to stop himself from drumming his fingers against the counter, his innate impatience ratcheted up today. He knows the place is busy and they can only go as fast as they’re going, but—

“An Americano, please. Double shot.”

Jason’s looking before he even realizes it, and for a split second he expects to see Tim there, sleep-deprived and sheepish, but only finds a blond skater kid and he’s—

Not disappointed.

He’s not.

That’s all he needs, is someone in the Family finding out where he goes to get his tea. That might encourage them to try to hang out with him. Especially Dick.

So, no. Not disappointed. Relieved. He’s relieved.

(He avoids wondering when he memorized Tim Drake’s coffee preferences.)

Jason doesn’t stick around the shop like he originally planned, and the tea isn’t as calming as he intended after he practically chugs it and heads out. He spends the day running around town, checking in with his informants in the shadier parts of the city and restocking the medical supplies in his safe houses.

He’s coming out of the one near Robinson Park when he hears a kid shouting— “Mama, look at the baby bird!”—and his head whips around so fast his muscles scream in protest, and what the hell?

Jason turns in the opposite direction and takes the subway.

He’s tense and angry as he returns to the base beneath the police station and spends longer than usual letting out his feelings on the punching bag in his gym. Halfway through, his phone rings and Roy’s face blinks up from the screen.

“Please tell me you have a job,” Jason says in lieu of a greeting.

“What? No. I’m still on vacation.”

“Your life is a vacation.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s so great.”

That’s said with a bitter twist to his mouth.

“What do you want?”

“I’m working on camouflage field projector, but missing a key component that happens to be in Gotham.” Jason closes his eyes, somehow knowing what’s coming next. “And I figure, you’ve got an in—any chance you put in a good word for me with your little brother? The pretty one on all the TV commercials.”

“Ask him yourself, I’m not a fucking messenger,” Jason growls. “And he’s not my brother.”

He hangs up and glares at his phone, contemplating whether throwing it at the wall will make him feel better.

This is not happening…

The punching bag no longer cutting it, he throws on his gear and heads out for patrol, hoping that will quell the sensation of fire in his blood. Throws himself into it with brutal abandon, the only goal being to take his mind off everything. Violence is the best way to bring him back to the very basest mind frame, where he is focussed only on the thrill of the fight.

It works, for a while.

He hauls a few johns to the curb when they get too rough with the girls, gives a bunch of teens robbing a bodega in his neighborhood something to think about, puts an end to a bar fight when a customer gets handsy with a waitress, stumbles into a domestic dispute with a guy smacking around his kid—

Jason relishes in the sound of broken bones and the reminders of the fact he’s the one in control. It almost seems like he’s getting back to himself by the end of the evening. He feels more himself, less uneasy; there's still something buzzing beneath his skin, but it’s negligible.

See? It was total bull. God of love my ass, he was just messing with my head.

He takes a moment to rest, gazing out across the skyline and digging for a cigarette. One more loop around the neighborhood, and he’ll head home. He’s just turning his back against the wind so he can light the cigarette when he finds himself face to face with Tim Drake.

Or rather, a giant billboard with his face on it, advertising the Neon Knights initiative.

The cigarette drops from his hands.

“This is not happening,” he murmurs, and he’s said that at least once today already, hasn���t he?

But it’s getting ridiculous. Like he’s being shadowed wherever he goes by the specter of Tim, and all because someone else decided to play mind games with him.

Well, screw that. My head’s been messed with enough.

He takes a running leap off the roof, deciding to forgo anymore patrolling. It might be an idea to get out of Gotham for a few days if only to take a break.

But no, he’s not being chased out of his own damn city. No one chases the Red Hood out of Gotham, except on occasion Batman, and that’s not chasing so much as Jason telling Bruce to fuck off and making a pointed exit. And Steve is no Batman.

I’m going to take off a few days. Been wound up the past few weeks anyway, it’s getting to me. Things will go back to normal as soon as I—

His shoulders tense as he recognizes the sensation of eyes on him.

Someone’s following him.

It’s reflex to melt into the shadows of the next building, slipping around so that he can get a good vantage point. If someone’s planning an ambush, he’s more than happy to turn it around on them. And the mood he’s in tonight if it’s someone that can give him an actual fight—

There’s a sound of someone landing on the rooftop, and the whirring of a grapple line retracting. And then Jason zeroes in on the familiar figure in black and red. That strange knot of anxiety he’s been carrying around the whole day lets go as he recognizes him, and in its place, something else springs up, almost like…relief?

Which, no, he should not be relieved to see Red Robin. The only time he should ever be relieved to see the Tim is if he’s in the middle of a duel to the death with the Joker and needs back-up from someone capable of thinking a dozen steps ahead.

Relief is replaced with anger, and Jason lies in wait until Tim alights on the same roof, and then slips forward to grab hold of him. He neatly dodges the other vigilante’s attempts to free himself from the hold and drags him over to the edge of the roof.

“Jason? What the hell—?”

He ignores him and dangles him over the edge, forcing Tim to grasp at his wrist and hold on tight.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop you for not following the rules—you remember, the ‘no bats in my territory’ rule? I get that it’s unofficial and all, but it’s still there,” he snarls.

“I—I wanted to check on you!” Tim grunts. “It’s been twenty-four hours, and—”

“And what? Wanted to check if I was ready to jump your malnourished bones yet? Wouldn’t looking for me be a monumentally stupid thing to do if that were the case?” Jason yanks Tim back over the edge and tosses him back onto the roof, gratified to see him stumble as he tries to regain his balance. “I don’t need you pretending you give a shit to ease a guilty conscience of because you think checking up on me is something B would want you to do. Go back to California, Replacement. If I need help, I’ll ask. And chances are, I won’t be asking you.”

Tim’s fists clench, and he’s tense like he’s priming to argue, but after a beat, his shoulders droop and he huffs.

“Fine,” he says in a neutral voice. “Just as long as you ask someone.”

And then he’s grappling off without another word, and it isn’t as cathartic to see the back of him as Jason figured it would be.

Like he has any right to sound concerned…

He should feel better, now that he’s gotten his message across, but he doesn’t. The foul mood continues for the rest of his patrol, which he ends up cutting short because his head is just not in it tonight.

He is deliberate in choosing his safe house in Coventry, figuring he’s less likely to run into Red Robin on patrol there or in general. It’s nowhere near his usual patrol route, or the apartment he owns on Park Row—and fuck him for making Jason want to avoid his own stomping grounds!

It’s just for one night. Until I calm down and can be trusted not to shoot the kid.  

But the nervous, frustrated ball of discomfort in his gut doesn’t go away as he settles in for the night. He doesn’t bother with a shower or cigarette, or—well, his normal way to wind down when feeling like this, because he doesn’t trust himself not to let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t while his hand is on his dick.

It’s more difficult to meditate tonight, and he remains aggravated and angry as he drifts off to sleep.

It should be no surprise that that night, he dreams of Tim for the first time.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[shishidoryofan]

Only If You Add Honey: Dickkory AU

This story is meant to be funny and for my own amusement. Just a cute Superhero AU story where Kory sucks at being a villain and does not know her boyfriend is the famous hero, Nightwing.

For @lightdusk96 and @nightglider124 because you two are amazing.

–

Her plan was suppose to be fool proof.

As Starfire the Terrible, she was going to go up to her favorite Greek food place in the mall, and demand that they give her free food…or at least a huge discount. While that happen, she planned on stomping on stuff in the mail to get rid of her anxiety she had been feeling.

Of course, she would take her anger out on minor things. Starfire the Terrible did not hurt the people who got involve in her rampages.

That was the plan, and she was doing so well until actual robbers decided to come and steal stuff from some stores. That was when the screams and shouts started as the robbers started waving their gun.

Starfire was slightly jealous because people never really scream or panic when she does something evil. They usually just tolerate her or call her cute.

But she did slap that one guy who tried to squeeze her butt and he cried.

Starfire the Terrible thought about stopping the robbers, to get the attention back on her, when suddenly Nightwing appeared on the scene. A gun went off and more people started the scream.

“Everybody stay whelmed!” Nightwing shouted as he did multiple back flips to dodge the bullets. The robbers were stupid, so they only brought with them one gun. That meant once they were out of bullets, Nightwing quickly knocked them all out, just in time for the police to arrive.

Then came the cameraman and reporter.

Starfire the Terrible tried to get the attention back on her, to prove that she also caused damage to the mall, but Starfire was quickly forgotten as people swooned over Nightwing.

She saw that as her cue to leave.

♥♥

When Kory got home, she quickly discarded her costume in the carefully hidden evil lair… which was really just a secret closet concealed behind the white walls of her bedroom closet. Honestly, now that she thinks about, she is surprised her boyfriend has never noticed it.

“Ahh!” Stripped clearly of all her clothes, saved her underwear, Kory jumped upon her bed and started kicking and punching the mattress. “Stupid Nightwing! Stupid Nightwing! Always getting in my way!”

While Starfire the terrible was still an up and coming villain in Bludhaven, Kory saw that it was getting difficult to act out her evil prowess as long as that tights wearing vigilante hanged around this city. Since moving to this crime ridden city a few years ago, that stupid Nightwing kept stopping her from causing mayhem and striking fear into the hearts of the people.

(P.S. No one was scared of her, and she was starting to lose her little credibility as a villain.)

Nightwing was a really good hero to say he does not have any powers. In fact, he even has his own billboard as the “Welcome to Bludhaven” sign.

Starfire wanted her own “Welcome to Bludhaven” sign.

After a couple more minutes of kicking and punching her bed, Kory decided to just give up for the night and freak out tomorrow.

Kory Anders story started off just like any other person. Her home planet was about to be destroyed, so her parents sent her flying through space in a mini ship for survival. That ship then proceeded to crash land on Earth where she was found by a couple and raised just like a normal human. It is not until Kory was a teenager that her adaptive human parents would reveal the truth about her heritage and tell that her powers would make a big impact on society.

And Kory was making a big impact by trying to strike the fear of aliens into the hearts of others or blowing up stuff when she is frustrated, inconveniencing everyone. As Starfire the Terrible, her mission is to simply scare people and cause a little property damage.

See! She was totally not copying from another super powered alien at all.

Despite being a villain though, Kory really did not want to hurt anybody or take over Bludhaven. She also did not believe that her profession meant that she was crazy and needed to be locked up in the Arkham Asylum. It’s just that being a villain was an easy way to blow off some must needed stress. And besides, earth already had another super powered alien protecting earth.

She did not want people to think she was following the leader.

The ‘S’ on her costume totally meant nothing but Starfire.

As Kory let out a silent yawn, she could hear some footsteps creaking on the floors. In a matter of seconds, she heard the bedroom door close

“Kory I’m home.”

She quickly sat up and crossed her legs. Despite Kory’s earlier frustrations with Nightwing (and life in general), the view of her wonderful boyfriend made her heart fill with butterflies and willed Kory to put on the widest grin possible.

“Dick, you are home early!” She followed her boyfriend every moment as he began to strip out of his uniform. “The station usually keeps you overtime…or you volunteer to put extra patrol hours in.”

Dick smiled at her as he unbuttoned the last button of his uniform shirt before throwing it on the carpet floor. He then reached for the buckle of his belt. “Chief thinks I need a break. Says I work too much and,” he winked at her. “he thinks I should spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend.”

Kory mentally cheered in her head, but she did not know if it was because of what Dick said or because he was now only in his briefs. “So that means we get to spend a little more quality time together?”

Dick chuckled as he sat on top of the bed. He reached over towards her and connected his lips to hers. There was no tongue entry though, just a soft peck. “I thought we could start the weekend together early. I’m off tomorrow and you had a short day at the aquarium tomorrow.” She felt his fingers playing with the hook of her bra. “I thought we could get some time alone before we have to drive to Gotham tomorrow evening.”

There goes the headache again.

Her boyfriend pulled back. He grabbed her bottom and picked her up gently so that Kory was now sitting on his lap. “Alfred says to call him if you think of anything special that you want to eat. I was thinking some kind of chocolate cake for desert since since it’s always your favorite. Since it’s Alfred, we are already going to have an extravagant dinner. Oh! Jason said he will attempt to show up but...”

Kory started to drown Dick out as missiles started going off in her head. A Wayne Family Dinner at the Wayne’s manner where she would spend a few painfully long hours socializing with her father-in-law, eh, she meant her boyfriend’s adoptive father.

Bruce always had this small habit of mentally judging her every time they had to be in the same room together. When they first met, she thought he had flawlessly figured out her identity as Starfire the Terrible, but later she realized it had more to do with her dating his son.

He never really said anything, but his looks were really intimidating. Like if he was not a billionaire playboy, Kory would really suspect that he was Gotham’s vigilante Batman.

Kory wrapped her hands around Dick and kissed his chest. “How about we just stay home tomorrow. We can lie and say I ate some really bad chocolate and now have a stomach virus.”

Dick kissed the temple of her forehead. “Baby, we can’t do that. Bruce is already expecting us. Plus, I haven’t seen my brothers in a while. Of course besides Damian.” Dick’s little brother always finds a reason to come visit them.

Kory sighed. She should of terrorized an ice-cream place tonight. That way she could of ate her way through her frustration. She started to get lost in thought again before she felt the snap on her bra disconnect and her bra slowly pulled off her.

Dick wrapped his arms around her as his way of connecting them together. Her chest was smashed against his chest in an attempt to bury any space between them. He whispered, “Just stay whelmed and you will do fine tomorrow.”

That is when Kory’s eyes widened.

For some reason, Dick’s words reminded her of that unfortunate “encounter” with Nightwing earlier, but she could not understand why though. It’s not like her boyfriend was secretly Nightwing or something.

Dick came from a rich adoptive family. Rich Families never become superheroes because they are rich. It would not make sense. It would be like finding out some minor reporter was actually Superman in disguise.

Just doesn’t happen.

Kory rubbed her head against Dick’s chest. “Don’t worry about it.” She told herself. She was just tired and stressed out, so she was starting to imagine signs that were not there.

Dick smiled down at her. He shifted his head so hat his mouth was against her ear. “How about we have  some fun in the showers and call it quits for the night? We will deal with Bruce when we see him tomorrow.”

Now that Kory could deal with.

♥♥♥♥

That night Kory had a dream that she was in her Starfire the Terrible costume on top of a Bludhaven building. She was not alone though.

No. In fact she was with a superhero… with his arms wrapped around her body, holding her tight as their lips connected together.

It was Nightwing.

It was weird because she would like to say that she never experienced any unresolved sexual tension for Bludhaven’s vigilante before. Nightwing was just there to always make sure her evil (because they were evil!) plans were ruined. Also, she always pegged him as being too righteous to associate himself with a villain like her.

Sure he had a bad habit of treating her like minor threat, and was reasonably nice to her, but he was still her arch nemesis!

When Kory felt his hands start to go lower, she panicked and backed away. “How dare you?!” Her hands started to glow as she got her star bolts ready to fire at him.

Nightwing held both hands out, signaling for her to halt. “Just stay whelmed okay!” He reached for his stupid domino mask and started to slowly peel it off.

That was when Kory woke up from her nightmare.

She placed her right hand to her chest. She could feel her heart beating fast and her body was drenched with sweat. She turned to her left to see Dick sleeping peacefully with just a slight hint of a snore. His face looked like he did not have a care in the world.

Kory reached down and stroked her boyfriend’s face. She circled the area around his closed eyes as if she was drawing a mask. She woke up before her unconscious would tell her who Nightwing really was, but a part of her truly believed she was just over reacting.

There was no way Dick Grayson was a superhero. He was a cop who came from a rich family. He was a beautiful (ordinary) guy who just happened to be (unknowingly) dating a villain.

That was all.

The next morning started off with Kory hastily trying to get her work uniform on while Dick tried to find them quick to eat for breakfast. He said he had made a reservation at some fancy Italian restaurant for lunch, so something small for breakfast should do.

“Cereal?!” She heard him yell throughout the hall. “We still got some cheerios left!”

Kory poked her head out of the bedroom door to answer back. “Only if you add honey.”

Dick laughed at her statement. Kory always did have a knack for combing strange things to her food. Even now, Dick still looks at her funny whenever she adds a big amount of mustard to pizza. He did throw the line when she suggested pancakes taste better when they were only half way cooked.

As she walked down the hall, fully dressed and starving, Kory could hear faint noises from the television. When Kory walked into the living room, she saw her boyfriend sitting down on the couch, watching the news.  

Bludhaven’s news always ranged from the typical things like murder, robbery, and when do girl scouts cookies season start.

So basically another Gotham City.

While Kory hated being compared or leveled to the same category as the other crooks in Bludhaven, she always felt proud when even they mentioned her in the news. Starfire the Terrible should always be a villain people recognized and fear.

Kory poured milk into her cereal bowl and walked down to sit next to Dick.

Secretly she was waiting for them to mention her, but as it got closer to the end, Kory started to get worried. Starfire the Terrible was an evil genius, so they had to have mentioned her somewhere in the news.

“And on top Nightwing’s heroic feats, he even saved the local mall from a minor inconvenience.” There was only one short second view of her before the cameras starting showing Nightwing catching the robbers that were trying to steal from the store.

Kory started choking. Minor? Not Bludhaven’s best super villain, but a minor inconvenience?

Dick turned to her and started patting her on the back. “Kory are you okay? I always tell you not to rush and chew your food properly.”

That brought her back to reality. She jumped up. “I’m going to be late for work!” With the quickness that only the Flash or Superman could rival, Kory ate the last bit of her cereal and grabbed her stuff.

She felt embarrassed that the news team was not taking her seriously, but she could not let that worry her today. Today was day she got to spend quality time with her boyfriend’s father for dinner.

She would just have to prove to the people of Bludhaven that she truly was evil next time.

Before Kory could stand up all the way, Dick grabbed her arm and pulled Kory close to him. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Dick connected his lips to hers.

“Have fun at work today, Kory.” He then moved down to kiss her neck. “I love you so much. You know that right?”

It was a rhetorical question, but she still answered him back. “Of course I know. I love you too Dick. Nothing can change that.”

And she meant that… right?

♥♥♥♥

By 12:45, Kory was ready to skip out the door.

Dick had just texted her that he was waiting outside, ready to take her to that restaurant he wanted to try out. He also hinted that he brought her roses and a surprised present.

Kory looked at the lady next to her who was putting on her name tag. The lady was Kory’s replacement tour guide since Kory had permission to leave early today.

When she was not Starfire the Terrible, Kory worked as a guide for Bludhaven’s Aquarium. Initially, she wanted a job that involved feeding and pampering the sea life, but her boss told her she had a beautiful face that everyone deserved to see.

So most of Kory’s job entitled guiding school kids that were on a field trip, brave souls that actually wanted to visit Bludhaven, and small groups that just liked having a guide tell them facts about the sea life at the aquarium.

It was always a very fun job…unless a kid sneaks off or tries to get in the water with the penguins and dolphins without permission.

That was when her work life was stressful because she always had to file out a report when that happened.

Today was smooth sailing though. Most of people that showed up today were couples on a date. Bludhaven Aquarium was discounting tickets for couples. There were dolphin shows happening throughout the day and the new Shark 3-D virtual game was now ready, so they had a reasonable attraction today.

But Kory did not care much for that. All she wanted to do was spend quality time with her boyfriend before they had to make the struggling hour long trip to Gotham later on today.

That was the plan, and Kory was almost out the door when she heard an explosion coming from outside the Aquarium. She could hear screams and suddenly all of the Aquarium’s security guards were blocking the front exit.

“No!” She heard a woman scream from the outside. “Orca is attacking!”

That is when she saw the whale-hybrid woman attack the front entrance to the aquarium as the guards started shooting at her. It did not seem to have an affect on her as she bent down to grab the door and throw it at a crowd of people.

Some people got hit by the doors, the others were flown away by the aftermath of the winds Orca’s actions brought. As Kory tried to peak through the police, she spotted her boyfriend. Rather than looking scared, Dick actually looked determined, like he wanted to do something, but as Orca got closer, he decided at the last minute to run away.

That was normal because her boyfriend while her boyfriend was a cop, he was also just human. Kory suddenly got scared at the thought of him getting hurt.

Sure Starfire the Terrible was a villain too, but she never caused harm to people. Hurting innocent people just was not part of her evil job description.

That did not make her any less evil though!

That being said, Kory still had to get out there some kind of way to protect her boyfriend. Since the front entrance was being blocked off, Kory quickly ran towards the staircase. The first exit she got, she took it and leaped out of the window.

Since she was still Kory Anders and not Starfire the Terrible, she made her flying powers just look like she just made a really high jump from the second floor. Kory quickly ran up to Orca and started punching her with as much force as possible.

Orca quickly caught one of her punches and threw Kory across the field, landing her all the way by the parking lot, straight into someone’s car. “You are one of these aquarium workers who thinks it is nice to lock such precious sea life up in these overgrown fish tanks.”

If she still wasn’t pretending to be a human, Kory would of defeated her by now, but she could not use her starbolts or super human strength. She had a fast healing process, but being thrown towards a car still hurt.

As Kory struggled to get her head together, she suddenly felt herself being lifted up from the ground.

“KORY ARE YOU OKAY?! SAY SOMETHING!” She strained a little at first, but when she opened her eyes, Kory looked up to see Nightwing staring right down at her. He looked worried, but also relived that she was responding to him.

At first Kory was a little confused that her nemesis was worried about her, but then she remembered she was still Kory Anders right now, the brave human that was trying to rescue her boyfriend.

“Dick!” Kory started pushing away from Nightwing’s embrace. “Let me go! I have to go fight her!”

Nightwing’s grip on her tightened. “No, you are going to stay here and call an ambulance so you can get yourself looked at. I’m going to fight Orca.”

“You don’t understand!”

“There is nothing to understand! Kory just listen to me!”

Kory got down and turned her attention to Nightwing. “My boyfriend was one of the people who got caught in Orca’s path. Once I find him, we’ll leave while you do your hero thing.”

There were more screams being heard.

Nightwing placed his hands on her shoulders. “You stay here, and I’ll find your boyfriend. I’m sure he would not want you getting hurt.”

“No.” She said. They were wasting valuable time Kory could be looking for Dick right now.

“Kory please.”

“I’ll fight with you.”

Nightwing sighed and grabbed Kory’s right arm. Before she had time to process everything, Kory was handcuffed to a car.

Now Kory was literally burning. Nightwing was running back to where Orca was. “Just stay here until I get back.”

Kory mentally cursed at Nightwing as she turned her attention towards the handcuffs. She used her available hand to make a mini starbolt that broke the cuffs on her.

She was so going to kill Nightwing next time they fought, but if he was so eager to defeat Orca, she would just get her boyfriend and get out of here. She was still a villain. Kory did not have worry about anyone else here except Dick Grayson.

The problem was trying to find him though.

While Nightwing and Orca fought, everyone else was being safely evacuated. Kory knew her boyfriend like playing the hero, but literally could not find him anywhere. She know he did not run away because Dick would never leave without knowing she was okay.

They both had that problem, but that is what they loved about each other.

Once Orca was defeated and was being carried away in some police van, Kory started getting worried. Dick was still nowhere to be found and Kory was starting to fear for the worse. Despite police warnings to not touch any damage in fear of getting hurt, Kory ignored them for any signs of Dick. Kory wanted to call him, but she had lost her phone somewhere in the chaos.

While Kory was lost in her thoughts, she felt a finger tap her shoulder. “Could it be my wonderful girlfriend Kory Anders not listening to authority and potentially getting herself in danger.”

He had said in a joking manner, but Kory could tell he was slightly mad. She decided it was better to just ignore it and jump into his arms.

Besides him being mad at her, she could take. Dick being dead would completely end her.

Kory rubbed her face against his shirt, dampening it from her tears. “I was so worried about you! I was trying to save you-I really was- but that stupid Nightwing kept getting in my way!” The more she yelled, the faster the tears started falling down. “I’m just so happy that you are okay.”

That’s when Dick grabbed her by her shoulders to pull her back. Kory slightly protested, but she understood Dick was angry… at least that was what she thought at first. Her boyfriend looked more guilty than mad, like he had done something he was not proud of.

“Kory,” He took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Can we go talk somewhere private? In fact, let’s forget about our lunch reservation and just go straight home.”

Not knowing what to say, Kory just shook her head as an agreement.

♥♥♥

When they got home to their apartment, Kory admittedly went to go sit on the couch. Dick had shut and locked the door behind them, but he did not dare try to sit down next to her. There was a weary silence between them before her boyfriend let out a cough, bringing her attention straight to him.

Kory’s instinct was telling her that Dick was mad at her for going off on her own to fight a villain. Her second instinct was telling her that some kind of way Dick found out about her being Starfire the Terrible.

Maybe today was the day he was going to break up with her?

Dick walked next to her and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “Kory,” he took he deep breath “You know that I love you and I’m really serious about this relationship. No…I’m serious about us having a future.”

Kory started to smile. It did not sound like he was breaking up with her, so that was good. But why the serious tone?

“Kory there is a secret I have been holding from you?”

“A secret?”

Dick then reached down again to kiss her nose. Kory slightly rubbed against his face. Dick’s voice got low. “I kept this a secret not because I didn’t love you, but because it was simply ingrained in me for so long that I just forgot about it.” He bent down to the floor, slightly pulling Kory with him. “Do you know the hero Nightwing?”

Kory blinked. The one who is always messing up her evil villain time. “Bludhaven’s beloved Superhero? The one who saved the aquarium today?”

Dick nodded. He slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a domino mask. “Kory, I’m Nightwing.”

No. No. NO. NO!

Kory pushed Dick away, causing him to slightly hit the bottom of the couch. “But you are a cop?!” A normal human that she constantly worries about every day.

“Yeah, what Officer Grayson can’t do Nightwing can.”

“But you come from a rich family? Rich people don’t become superheroes!”

Dick chuckled at her statement. “Bruce taught me a great deal about protecting the innocent, helping those who are powerless.”

Now Kory found herself chuckling. “You are powerless as well.”

“I have been studying and mastering multiple martial arts since I was eight. I’m also the world’s greatest acrobat known to man.” Dick winked at her. “You have seen me.”

Kory stayed silent. Suddenly her anxiety was rushing back to her, causing her chest to hurt. If her boyfriend was Nightwing, that meant that he was against villains. If the person she loves the most in this world was also her enemy, that meant Dick probably secretly hated Starfire the Terrible.

“Can I tell you something too Dick?”

“Yes honey, go ahead…As long as you are not breaking up with me of course.”

Maybe it was because of the moment everything was happening, but Kory found herself forming words that she had said she would curse herself before admitting.

“I am Starfire.” She had said.

“What?”

Kory started laughing. “I’m Starfire the Terrible and you are Nightwing. We are sworn enemies.”

She expected Dick to flair up and yell at her, tell her to get her things out their apartment. She half expected Dick to call the cops.

Instead, Dick crawled over to her and wrapped his arms around her. “That’s such a relief.” He laughed. “You know Kory, I been having a crush on Starfire the Terrible for a long time. Maybe since the day you moved to Bludhaven.”

“You have?”

“Starfire sucks as a villain, but it was always cute when she tried to do something mincing. I think I was first attracted to you so fast was because you reminded me of her so much.” His embrace got tighter. “Of course, I ended up falling for Kory Anders more than Starfire the Terrible.”  

Kory wrapped her arms him as Dick’s last statement got to her. “I’m glad you said that because last night I had a dream I was kissing Nightwing. Now I don’t feel so disgusted.”

Dick pulled back so that he was facing her. “You thought kissing me was disgusting?”

“I think kissing any guy that is not Dick Grayson is disgusting, but…making out with Nightwing knowing I have a boyfriend would prove I do not suck as a villain.”

Dick smirked as his eyes started to shine. “Is that right?”

Kory slowly got up and dusted any dirt on her uniform. “I am such a good villain that I would not even think about it if were to take a shower right now and come out with Nightwing sitting on my bed.” She started to walk towards the bathroom, unbuttoning her blouse. “Because I am a villain, I will get Nightwing to kiss me wherever i want.”

“Sounds really evil.”

“Well, I am evil.”

That day, they really did not talk much about the whole secret identity dynamic they had going on. Dick and Kory did, however, spend the rest of day with their Nightwing and Starfire uniforms on and off (mostly off) having fun.

In fact, Kory would say they were having so much fun that they forgot they needed to be in Gotham that night until they got a very angry call from Bruce. It was worth it though.

[damian-lil-babybat]

Damian: Batman and Son (Re-imagined)

Summary:

'Father,' the tip of Damian's sword ran slowly across the caped man's neck, the pressure has all the intent to kill and yet was never enough to break the skin, 'I imagined you taller.'

AN: Highly based on the first appearance of Damian Wayne in the issue of 'Batman and Son.'

Inconspicuously, his head tilted towards the driver's seat. Damian's eyes shifted under the blindfold securely placed on his eyes. Ballistic nylon, double stitched with 90% rayon and 10% silver, anti-EM/RF radiation cloth. Impressive, to say the least. Even if he could easily take it off, he let the constraints stay to appease the man whom his mother claimed to be his father.

The title came too easily, so natural that it felt—right, in its own way.

His mother, after all, had briefed him extensively and exhaustively about his biological father, both as Batman, and Bruce Wayne. No, not Bruce Wayne. Mother was not much interested in the man behind vigilante crusader. But only a few minutes of searching on the League's connections was all Damian needed to know everything about the billionaire philanthropist playboy of Gotham City. And, of course, the Batman.  

He scoffed as he remembered the menacing cowl, entirely theatric, the cape, again overly dramatic, and the symbol of a silhouette of a bat on his chest, in case an idiot would not get the reference, perhaps?

Being under his mother's tutelage and Al Ghul's brand of education, Damian had seen his fair share of worse and crazy. A full-grown man with no augmentation or mutation, wearing a costume every night would be on the lowest end of the spectrum, in his book. And after all, he had never expected his biological father to be normal to begin with. Any man who gets the attention of Talia Al Ghul should be nothing if not—exceptional.

It is interesting, he thought as he continued silently sitting in the passenger's seat of the Batmobile.

Typical of mother, to leave him on irritatingly amusing situations with nothing but clothe on his back and his sword. She gave him one statement and one statement alone before ushering him to follow his father. He clicked his tongue. He had stopped questioning every and all of his mother's actions at age four, he'd rather not start now. But this time, he could sense something momentous.

To study and learn from his father, the boy can't help the smirk that works on his lips.

Damian had proven himself worthy of the heir of grandfather and had received his mother's approval. Should it not only be natural to have father's too?

 'You can open your eyes,' Damian felt the tension on his blindfold loosen and finally saw the scene before him, 'We're here. This is my cave,' father continued and the older man made a poor show not to mix the pride in his voice.

Granted, Damian would have quipped a comment or two about the lack of utility of space, but the boy held back, still trying to capture the overall inexistent layout of the place. A looming dinosaur on one end, a joker card hanging from the ceiling, and the 'toys' for lack of better term to use on his father's gadgets. Months of studying the Bat meant he has garnered data and information that needed only a few seconds of cross-referencing.

By the time the boy had already devised five escape routes, ten to infiltrate and another six methods to disable their alarms and servers (the ones visible were boringly modeled around Wayne Tech), the man in the cowl had already finished his topic about 'his new home.'

Damian was too preoccupied that before the boy could act, his father was already kneeling in front of him with two firm hands placed on his small shoulders. The gap on their size had never been more evident at that moment. The gauntlets precariously resting on Damian had even covered up to his collarbone.

One simple maneuver and it was enough to break bones.

The image put alarm bells on the young assassin's head but he stifled the urge to retreat. Doing so would mean he saw Batman as a threat, and that would defeat the purpose of why he was here.

Then in one breath, his father offhandedly gave him a role to play with, and orders to obey.

'If you intend to stay with me, we'll put that training to good use in the fight against crime,' he heard him announced loud and clear and Damian did not appreciate it.

But when he looked up, in a split second, Damian finally felt that he was face to face with the man, Bruce Wayne, and not the vigilante superhero. The few features that can be gleaned from his mask shows clearly a pair of eyes that mirror his own with the only difference in color. Damian had his mother's eyes, he could see that now, however, the ones directed at him looked...disappointed, and full of pity.

What is that? Why is that?

Damian snapped, flinging away from the unnatural intimate gesture and those sad looks. 'Fight crime? Hah!' don't make me laugh. What exactly is so great about fighting crime? He wanted to retort but clamped his mouth shut as he felt his temper rising again.

There's this growing impulse to drag this person on the ground and wiped that look on his face.

How dare him mock me. Pity? What part of me should be pitied?

Damian tried to change the subject to mundane stuff, things he had no time to think about as he tried to reign in his unjustified indignation. It's been years since he received such condescending stares, and the last time it happened, that very same person had begged with his own eyes as tributes.

'Damian, your mother said she sent you here to learn,' Bruce continued without masking the irritation in his voice, emphasizing the word 'learn' as if Damian himself was lacking. Two hours flight, thirty-three minutes in Batmobile, and this was the first time Damian heard him said his name. And it felt nothing, it meant nothing.

'My mother was never there for me...' Damian said in an even voice as he tried to remember his mission. He turned his back on his father and continued mouthing off a useless justification for his mother's decisions. Decisions, he once tried to understand. But what is the use?

Before long, he was already having his way at the Batcave. Half of what the boy was saying was lost as to what he was actually thinking. 'Is this your new Batmobile?' he callously remarked as he flung the blanket away from what he supposed to be one of his father's pet project.

'It is not finished yet,' the boy felt Bruce loom behind him disapprovingly. There was an undeniable finality on those words that simply irritated Damian. It's been such a long time since he heard that tone from anyone, it filled him with such a jarring nostalgia that he was gritting his teeth. 'We need to talk,' the man added, a clear dismissal of his behavior as childish. Him? Damian Al Ghul Wayne, the rightful heir to League of Assassins, the same ruthless blood of Al Ghul was coursing through his veins...childish?

They might be of blood, but they have not met more than a day ago, and the man has the gall to use a high handed tone as if he knew him. But when Damian saw that unwavering stare of his father, he had enough.

And with this range, it was more than enough.

'Fight me!' Damian almost growled and leaped at the man, grabbing the chance to lash out. He hated how it sounded shrill on his ten-year-old voice when the challenge was an honest duel with his life on the line.

'Don't be ridiculous,' a simple backstep was all it took to counter his kick. He had good reflexes, Damian thought. And when Damian's jab connected, he knew the older man had enough brawn to overpower him, and yet his father pulled back and had even stubbornly refused to draw weapon.

Why?

'Show me respect and fight!' he shouted, going low and landed a solid one on Bruce's stomach.

'You're good...but,' was that a compliment, funny how it sounded sarcastic. Damian was too busy figuring out how to take Batman down that the next statement was drowned in his anger. And just as Damian was trying to calm himself, it was followed by words he had heard all his life, 'you're not good enough.'

You're not good enough. Ra's Al Ghul used to say that. And he had made sure all his life that he would be immune to such remarks, and yet...damn it.

Damian continued his assault.

  'My weekend in the mountains was pretty uneventful,' all of a sudden, a stranger's voice cut through their duel. Cheerful, nonchalant words without a hint of hostility, echoed throughout the cave. And there standing a few boulders away from them was an equally ridiculously, albeit less monochrome, dressed masked teen, 'What did I miss?'

'It gets worse,' Damian muttered under his breathe, as he spied the young man behind his father.

'Robin. I'd like you to meet Damian,' the relief of his father was too obvious, it was stuck ringing in his ears. 'He'll be staying for awhile.'

So this is the third Robin. Timothy Jackson Drake. Instantly, a list of background checks clicked on his mind as he retrieved his brass knuckles back under his glove.

Drake walked closer, all smiles and friendliness. From where he stood, Damian already found the intruder insufferable. 'Hey, how are you?' Robin asked while giving a knowing look at his father as if saying, 'again? You've brought another lost boy, somewhere?'

Damian could almost hear Bruce sigh as an answer.

This is wrong. What is wrong with this man? Why is he not protecting father? Aren't I obviously trying to kill Batman, so then why is he simply standing there on a sideline?

Damian's gaze moved up and down on the newcomer. The will to fight left his small body in tension. The exchange of blows now seemed to have been discounted as nothing more than a 'ridiculous' with no one taking his challenge seriously.

On instincts, he studied Robin meticulously and ended up staring at Tim's outstretched hand in deep thought. The fourteen-year-old had his shoulders slouched, stance relaxed, feet unbalanced...too many openings, too many weaknesses to exploit, and not enough vigilance. A liability. And this adopted prepubescent runt is supposed to be the partner to father? This 'thing' was what father deemed to be 'good enough' to stand at his side? Preposterous.

'Umm,' the teen added, his extended hand awkwardly kept hanging in midair, 'here in my world, we call this gesture a handshake...'

'Don't patronize me or I'll break your face,' it was not a warning, it's a statement. A threat this Robin should take heed if he had a functioning brain.

'Enough! Alfred will help you unpack,' that tone again. What is with these people? 'It's been a long and difficult journey. You should get some rest.'

'Don't tell me what I should do!' Damian declared with as much authority as he was breed to have since he had learned his destiny. And yet, why is no one listening to him? He had been used to people hanging over to his every word, his every utterance the same weight as mother, and just as revered as grandfather, and yet these people can't seem to take anything he says seriously. It was exasperating! 'Mother let me do what I want!' he added sharply before he could stop himself, and Damian knew all too well how petty and petulant it sounded that he cursed inwardly.

'Things are different here,' his father made his ultimatum, and for all its worth, he has to agree. Things are very different. Nothing seems to work on common sense.

Bruce repeated his command. Before he could say anything more, Damian walked out bitterly. And with the old butler following behind his heels, muttering some servile perfunctory sentiments, Damian finally left off the curse that was stuck in his throat.

 This is aggravating. What did I do wrong?

Damian looked at his surrounding, the soft four-posted bed, the nightstand with its lamps and vases that would not be out of place on any museum or art gallery, and an entertainment set immaturely designed for underdeveloped youth. He was standing at a table, stubbornly refusing to take a seat with a plate of roasted pheasant, grilled potatoes, and rigatello cheese placed in front of him, and a promise for more from a butler, named 'Alfred' who was content to stand guard behind Damian.

With the way the butler was looking down on him, Damian won't be surprised if the man was contemplating whether he had seen enough of civilization to know how to use a fork and a spoon.

He had dined with princes, and broke bread with sultans and oil magnates alike. This home-cooked fine dining was a joke in comparison. Add the room's obvious modern youthful exterior made him heavily feel like they were gravely treating him as a kid.

Pathetic. The boy returned the servant's scrutinizing stare, equally, and frowned at everything the butler and this room represented.

Comfort. Silence. Safety. With no one attempting at his life for half the night.

How is this supposed to educate me?

Comfort breeds complacency. Silence is suspicious. Safety is an illusion. Unless it was taken by your very own hands, one should question all. And not once did Damian had felt this emptiness to his surroundings that it creeps to his skin. Instead of helping him rest, it simply made his guard on so high alert that it was putting him on edge.

'Pennyworth, isn't it?' Damian said. Loathingly, even at his full height, he could only reach up to the servant's pristine white waistcoat.

'How may I serve you?' Alfred Pennyworth, butler to Bruce Wayne and his appointed babysitter, said courteously. Too courteously, it was almost an insult.

'I want my sword,' Damian said, dragging the words as he picked up the butter knife and twirled it expertly between his fingers. If their form of torture was to bore him to death, then they are gaining grounds.

'It is in my opinion that children should stay away from sharp objects,' Damian raised an eyebrow, he would have added how contradictory that was when his father had a literal line of boys armed, but the butler was quick to add, 'Awfully true to those reared to maim and kill, young sir.'

The boy scoffed, 'An unsolicited opinion from a servant. Father's management of his properties must be crippling to hire one of you.'

'I was not hired by Master Bruce.'

'You must have come with the inheritance then. Tell me, butler, exactly how am I expected to train without a weapon?' Damian clicked his tongue, 'Unless father wants me to be creative, that is.' The boy threw the knife across the room and struck, base deep, at a bust of a historical figurehead he would not waste time to learn. The rebuke was plastered all over the old man's expression.

'Yes, the arts of silver cutlery, impressive, if not extravagant," he shook his head and added monotonously, 'If I may, Master Damian, if you wish to train, a gym had been installed within this room,' and the butler gestured towards a punching bag hanging beside the window.

Damian frowned, 'you meant these decorations?' he strode towards the punching bag and started testing the boxing equipment—with test, he meant beating the bag with all the temper of a grade schooler. The restraints rattled like trinket.

'I prefer the cave—somewhere I could break things,' he exclaimed.

'A flair you seem to share with Master Timothy, no doubt.'

'To compare me to a future road-kill, you must have a death wish, Pennyworth,' Damian made a series of high kicks and jabs at the thing as an example. Despite his efforts to be menacing, the bag proved to be well-made and sturdy, and the only reaction he got was the old man's mouth twitching.

Still, the butler must have sensed that his concentration was elsewhere and mechanically offered the boy a towel. The motion seemed to have been practiced so many times that Damian could see the moment it dawned on the old man what he just did. That was, until his usual cold professionalism sets in once more.

Damian shrugged it off but did not refuse the towel.

'I also require a laptop, and a working net access, get to it, or do you need to demonstrate to me again how useless you are?' Damian demanded, taking care to make his voice as sullen and testy as he could.

The old man's calm facade seemed to crack.

To his defense, Damian was patient enough to let the old man pester him with more than the adequate amount of lectures which included a full explanation (with footnotes) about the stately Wayne Manor's rules on how not to raise a budding tyrant.

Satisfied he had the butler distracted, Damian scrutinized the plan again on his head while trying to work out his evening session without damaging any more properties.

It was careless of his father and that sorry excuse of a Robin to discuss a case within his earshot. They might not know that he could hear exceptionally well, but that was still unacceptable if they would prioritize security. Though standing for a lapse of time at the door long after the butler had closed and entered the passkey might have been unsafe, still, he had deemed it as a necessary risk.

And Damian found his eavesdropping to be fruitful.

He doesn't care if they talk behind his back. Though he can't help but frown at his father's supposedly obligatory 'love and respect' due to their filial relations. How archaic. The lip service on his behalf, that, he could also disregard.

If he needed to prove his worth, then there was only one way to prove it. How was it again? Vigilante work, is it not? Being a hero? Would that be too hard? The city is small, and there seems to be no end to criminals. Maybe a few initiative on my part wouldn't be too bad.

And he had to thank Drake for giving him that initiative. 'Spook'. 'Blackgate Prison'.

Now if only he could get a hold of more information and his sword.

Just to make sure, Damian continued to torment the servant and made an extra effort to his role as the demon spawn they all seem to equate him with.

'Why can't I get a laptop!?' Damian yelled once more, with his fist leaving a deep impression on the bag.

Just as he expected, Bruce came barging to the room.

At the sight of his father, Damian can't help but recall those shadowed eyes that seem to bear down on him. This time—it was filled with regret.

'He's all yours, sir,' Pennyworth dragged his exhausted body towards the door, 'My tolerance for colorful insults is wearing a little thin, I'm afraid.'

Perfect, he thought derisively, 'What have you done to my sword? Where are we?' the boy asked, straining his ears at the sounds of Pennyworth typing the key pass, while strategically spying at his peripherals as the butler made his way out of their father-and-son talk.

And while we're at it, why not torment father, too?

'This is part of my home, where I grew up. And you'll get a computer and the sword when I decide it's safe,' Bruce, still in his Batman suit, declared, 'I still don't know much about you, Damian.'

Then let me rectify that, for one thing, 'I hate it here!' Damian complained, not dropping the act.

'Too bad. You'll still be staying until we figure out what you mother's up to,' Damian opened his mouth to say something, but his father unceremoniously advised, 'you should eat.'

His mood dropped, which seemed to be the norm whenever he attempted to talk to his father, 'Eat? You call this food?!' Damian flung the plate and the sound of breaking porcelain was grating.

'It's actually pretty good...when you don't mix it with the wallpaper,' just hearing his father talk made Damian lose his calm. Somehow, the act became reality with every punctuation from his father pushing his displeasure.

Complaisant, disdainful...what exactly does...

'I suggest you rest.'

'Rest'. This was the second time he had ordered Damian to rest. As if his father was shooing a cat, or any domestic animal, out of his way. A burden he wanted to be tucked away to bed and out of sight.

Something gave way inside Damian. The fury came like hot metal searing him into a numbness that he simply blurted out his anger unthinkingly.

'I've been sent here against my will!'

Damian didn't choose to be here. But he is. Now. Here. And the first thing his father wanted was to play 'house' and leave him with a bumbling servant who has no sense to heed orders, and consequently preserve his own life!

'You can't make me do anything I don't want to do!'

His father won't even test him. Won't even give him merit. Or a trial to show what he was capable of! And he wanted Damian to call it a night?

He's still not finished with his outburst, when his father bellowed, 'Enough!'

The fires fueling his emotions ebbed just as instantly when he saw his father's unreadable expression.

Batman had mastered intimidation to perfection and he seemed to have no qualms to unleash all of it to his son, 'You dishonor your sensei with this loss of composure! Your rage is born of fear and is unbefitting in a student of martial arts!'

The older man stepped closer, the dark cape cast a shadow as dark as the deepest of abyss, and the boy didn't realize that his body has reeled back until he felt the corner of the table pressing from behind. The threat from those eyes was real that Damian could feel the sweat forming in the palm of his hand.

'You'll be given opportunities to prove yourself to me. Until then, Boy...Patience is a virtue!'

Damian gulped. He could feel goosebumps from his spine.

'Yes, yes father' he repeated his answer automatically, a natural response only his mother could pull out of him.

When he raised his eyes once more, his father was already gone. And he heard the unmistakeable locking mechanism of the door, shutting him in, indefinitely.

 He paced the room. The butter knife he had retrieved a while ago was now tight in his grip.

Nothing changed, the boy thought while replaying the scenes with his father. If he had to take his father's words into consideration then that meant he was on the right track.

And Damian, of course, had drawn only one conclusion, it was a challenge.

He must proceed with the plan.

With that in mind, Damian took a deep breath and shifted on his seat in front of the television. A number of the latest playing consoles were sprawled on his feet and an audio system at one end. He took on the remote control and started clicking away, like a person going over his groceries.

He waited and skipped a few news channel.

Gotham's cable reception apparently was filled by hourly crime reports of the mean and the gritty and accentuated with base gossips and distasteful luxury.

But even so, Damian would find himself pausing a few seconds more whenever a channel would feature Batman. He had to admit, seeing things on a screen was different from seeing it in person.

He had watched and rewatched his father on footages going on nights on end, with his vigilante works, and it does not take half a brain to know that Batman was out there doing just that.

Despite their bouts, Damian was—is 'excited' the correct word for it?

In fact, the first time he saw his father's nightly escapades, under the supervision of his mother of course, he initially found it...cool. A man dressed as a bat, stalking the shadows for justice, ah yes, he would be taken to his grave before he would confess such thoughts.

He glanced at the mess of his dinner still left untouched and sneered.

Another chess piece.

It would take a miracle for that old man NOT to came checking up on him. The butler might not act like a servant, but Damian can recognize the pride in which Pennyworth carries himself as a caretaker of the Wayne family.

He was surprised at the confidence he had at the butler, but he was sure Pennyworth would definitely clean up after him and for that, he had Damian's regards if nothing else.

After a while, the boy found himself lost in his own thoughts. The changing visage of the monitor toss dancing lights on his face. The frown was gone and despite the intense look on his hazel eyes, Damian had looked exactly like any harmless innocent child lounging lazily in front of a screen.

But all of it changed when he saw his target. The assassin's mind instantly took over as his whole body became taut with precise sharpness drilled to him from countless training.

Spook.

It took considerable restraint on Damian's part not to roll his eyes. Questionable aesthetic both on the criminal name and on his wardrobe. Such a small fry was not even a blip on his radar when his data consisted of international threats and contingencies. He sighed when the news anchor zoomed in to show the hostage-taking. Granted even the minions had it bad. Blanket with cut holes for eyes? What a cheap preference only fitting for children stories.

Oh, how he would just fit right in.

With the name and face of his mission acquired, and the butler's timely, unmistakable, British drawl announcing his own intrusion, Damian took off the towel from his shoulders and silently slipped behind the door.

'Now, let's hunt,' he whispered to himself.