#he starts at gotham university but then the clench comes back and he has to stop attending

[paradiseprincesss]

need a jonathan story where reader is bruce wayne's sister with similar morals about fixing gotham so she's a psychiatrist at arkham. her and jonathan butt heads a lot as she doesn't like how inhuman he is to his patients (he has a secret obsession with her). however she starts getting in the way of his plans and que the "this is where we make the medicine" scene. batman comes to save her and even though jonathan is high on fear he hears batman call reader his sister, so he plans to kidnap and/or blackmail the reader. Can be pure dark or dark with a change of heart?

love your work, but you already know that xoxo

all your fears are interwoven | jonathan crane

materlist

this is dark which i dont usually write so please...bare with me okay? IM SORRY IF THIS ISN'T GREAT LMFAO !! trying to write dark for u pookie <333

summary: you're a psychiatrist in the first year of your residency at arkham, working alongside doctor jonathan crane himself. however, you two are constantly butting heads due to your different beliefs in the treatment of your patients, amongst other things. one day, jonathan finds out that your the little sister of the batman himself - and he decides to act out on every sinister thought he's ever had about you.

word count: 3k

warnings: [NON-CON], 18+ mdni, smut, dark as hell, p in v, forced breeding, kidnapping, stalking, obsession, literally just all around terrible, terrible things

"it's inhumane," you argued, "no wonder your patients are terrified of you."

"because i don't feed into their delusions and paranoia?" jonathan scoffed, "i keep them medicated because they're mentally ill. if you haven't noticed, were in an asylum for the criminally insane."

"see, that the problem when it comes to you! you're not treating them like people, but rather prisoners." you sneer, rolling your eyes at his distasteful way of speaking about his patients.

for a moment, he's silent. he doesn't say a word, but you can tell you've hit a nerve with the way he physically reacts. his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrow at you, and he takes a short but sharp breath through his nose to try and appear composed.

"i have something i'd like you to see," he says calmly, "i think it'll help you understand my 'unorthodox' methods, as you like to call it."

you were a new grad from gotham university, specifically from their medical department. you'd graduated top of your class in medical school, and you'd matched in psychiatry for your residency. hence why you were working alongside doctor jonathan crane - the renown psychiatrist of gotham city himself.

when you first met him, he was cold towards you - and nothing changed. even a year into your residency, he was still cruel towards you. actually, that's a lie because he seemed to hate you even more than he did before. you two butted heads constantly over anything and everything under the sun. you thought he was heartless, but he thought you were too cynical. you believed his methods were 'unorthodox' as you liked to say, but he thought your methods were mind-numbingly boring. you two clashed in every possible way.

nobody liked working with him. you knew that already, though. it didn't take long for you to figure out why after you first started, as for starters, none of his employees hid their distaste towards him, and he didn't hide how much he disliked them back. he often called the other nurses, doctors, or medical professionals working there an array of insulting things, including but not limited to: imbecile, idiot, braindead, and painfully stupid. that was actually a few of the nicer things he called people - we don't talk about what he's called you.

you contemplated switching over to a different speciality because of jonathan crane many times, as working with him was exhausting. you still had three years of your residency and training left! how were you supposed to stand three more years with him? your brother, bruce wayne, always listened to you vent about jonathan - he didn't like him either. he always said that man was up to something, and he didn't know what but that it was bad news.

"are you incapable of forming a proper response, doctor wayne?" jonathan sneered, bringing you out of your thoughts, "you really are dense. the fucking lights are on but clearly no one's home."

"what are you, twelve?" you bark back, "i don't fucking-"

"i'm working on a new psychopharmacological drug," he cuts you off with a smirk, "i know, you're too stupid to understand anything about medication-"

"i went to the same medical school you did, jonathan." you retaliate, but he pays no mind to your words.

"like i said, i know you're too dumb to understand such complex specialities such as internal medicine and psychopharmacology, but i think it's something you'd benefit from learning about." he explained flatly.

as much as you wanted to punch him in his face, he had a point. you weren't dumb by any accounts, you were probably just as smart, if not smarter than him. however, as a training physician in her residency, it wouldn't be such a bad idea to get some hands on training in prescribing and dosages for mentally ill patients. it would help you in your career, to be fair.

"...fine," you huff, "tell me about it."

"this way, please." he says, ushering you to follow him into the elevator.

with annoyance, you follow him silently, not wanting to talk to him or give him any form of a verbal response at all. jonathan looked at you with a hunger in his eyes; unbeknownst to you, the brilliant but sociopathic psychiatrist had a deep, twisted, and disturbing obsession with you. he had your pictures plastered on the walls of his house. he knew where you lived as he'd broken in a few times unnoticed, and he knew pretty much everything about you - down to the smallest details.

for someone as brilliant as him, he had yet to figure out you were bruce wayne's sister, though. he knew your last name was wayne, but he didn't really put two and two together because he didn't expect you to be the sister of bruce wayne himself.

once you two reached the basement of the asylum, he led you through a series of dark, eerie hallways and you made note to shoot your brother a text about how crane was being extra strange and creepy at work today. in an attempt to slip away from jonathan, you clear your throat and try to come up with a feasible excuse.

"um, doctor crane," you say to him, your tone starting to become shaky, "i-i'm not feeling too well, i think i'm going to go back to my office to grab some advil."

the trembling of your voice doesn't go unnoticed by jonathan, and he knew that you knew where this was going. he grabs your arm harshly, and drags you through a door in which you're met with a distressing sight - multiple inmates of arkham mixing up chemicals in a makeshift lab, and pouring the liquids into what appeared to be a sewerage of some sort that seemed to leak into gotham city's plumbing and piping.

as your eyes were fixated on the scene in front of you, you failed to notice jonathan putting on his scarecrow mask and when you did - it was too late. a white, potent gas was sprayed in your face, and you immediately started to gag and cough on it as it felt like you were suffocating from the inside out. your lungs started to burn and your head was clouded, along with your vision.

"awe, having trouble?" he cooed as he grabbed you by the neck, choking you harshly.

before you could even formulate a response, a loud bang echoed in the lab. jonathan released his grip on your neck instantly, and though all your senses were disturbed, you could still articulate a few of his words through your current state. he said something about "the batman," and you knew that bruce was here to rescue you. internally, you thanked every higher power you could think of for having your brother come to your rescue.

not long after you heard jonathan say that, you looked up from the ground to see bruce with his hands gripped on jonathans face, his pale blue eyes widened and crazed. it appeared that bruce - the batman - had sprayed crane with whatever he had sprayed you with, and he was definitely seeing some shit while on his own drugs.

bruce's words were unintelligible at this point as you were just as drugged up as jonathan was, but you managed to hear jonathans voice meekly say something along the lines of "she's your sister?" bruce threw jonathan onto the ground, and the sound of police sirens could be heard in the background before your words were starting to become heavily slurred, and finally, your vision went black.

as your eyes fluttered open, you noticed that you were back inside of your own apartment. as your vision adjusted to the light, you noticed bruce calling your name softly as you sat up on your bed groggily.

"you're awake," he said quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of your bed, "how are you feeling?"

"what happened?" you ask as your head started to spin.

"long story," he sighed, "but i've been looking into crane for a while - all his experiments on his patients and such. it's inhumane, like you said, but it turns out he's been slowly trying to poison gotham city as a whole."

"what?" you say with surprise, "wait, i...what?"

"gordon had him arrested," he explained, "he had him locked up in arkham, but there was a mass escape. he's on the loose again."

everything that bruce was telling you was making you sick - what did he mean jonathan was just prowling around the city again?! with a deep breath, you look down and shake your head, tears welling in your eyes.

"i don't understand..." you whisper, and bruce reaches a hand out to your shoulder.

"i think you should stay at wayne manor for a while," he says softly, "it's safer for you there, i don't want you to be alone in your apartment."

"yeah, i think so too." you agreed.

"great," he says, "i'll grab us some food, and then we can start packing and head over to mine. sound good?"

"okay, can we get takeout from that chinese place i like?" you ask with a soft smile, and your brother nods.

"yeah, i'll go pick it up right now. do you think you'll be okay for about half an hour alone? maybe we should just head to mine first..." he says, looking at you with concern.

"bruce," you say softly, "i'll be okay. the sun is still out, it's like, mid-day still. don't worry."

it takes some convincing, but bruce eventually agrees and leaves to go pick up the takeout a few blocks down from your place. after a few minutes, you hear your door being unlocked. you get up from your bed inquisitively, unsure as to why bruce was back so soon. knowing him, he probably forgot his wallet or something. however, once you entered your living room, you were met with a sight that made your heart drop.

jonathan crane himself, standing there in your living room, with his scarecrow mask on. his unsettling but strikingly blue eyes met with yours as he looked at you through the small cutouts of his mask, and he smirked to himself.

"are you feeling alright?" he asked with a sickeningly sweet tone, "i'm sure my fear toxin had you feeling quite...disoriented."

you stagger backwards, gripping onto your bedroom doorframe as fear consumed you once more. you swallowed hard, and continued to backup as he stepped forward menacingly.

"m-my brother is going to be home soon." you whimper.

"oh, batman?" he chuckles lowly, his voice seemingly distorted with his mask, "i wouldn't be too sure of that, sweetheart. i thought i heard him say he was going to be at least half an hour."

your mind went stagnant as he told you that, and you wondered with panic on how he would know that information. jonathan seemed to have picked up on what you were thinking, as he took a step closer and lifted his wrist up to show that he had some sort of contraption that could gas you with his so called "fear toxin" at any given moment.

"you really are brainless, aren't you, sweetheart?" he cooed, "silly girl, i can't believe you didn't notice all the little cameras and recording devices i've been planting in your home."

"wh-what cameras?" you say as you felt tears run down your cheeks out of sheer panic and fear.

"i've been breaking in for months, i can't believe you haven't noticed," he snickered, getting closer and closer to you, "i want you so bad, sweetheart. and to think, i almost had you before the batman had to come and ruin things for me."

"please," you whimper, "don't...d-don't hurt me."

"don't give me a reason to." he shrugged, before lunging at you and pinning you against the wall with his hands wrapped around your neck. "it'll be easier if you don't struggle. otherwise, i might have to dose you with my medicine again."

"please, n-no-" you gasp, as his hands tightened around your neck.

"maybe i will, you look so beautiful when your fears are interweaving themselves with your reality. isn't the nightmare just to die for?" he asked dramatically, before throwing you onto your own bed harshly.

your lack of response must have set him off, though, because he decided to harshly grab at your hair. he cranked your head back so roughly that you could feel the strain in your neck, and you would rather he just strangulate you right now rather than put you through whatever he was about to.

"say you love it," he growled, "say you love me."

"f-fuck, no." you weakly whined, and he was lifting his other hand up before you started talking again, "i-i'm sorry, yes - i love you!"

you immediately rushed your words out, even if they were forced and untrue, because you really didn't want to be dosed with his fear toxin once more. the effects were worse than any fucked up nightmare you'd ever had.

"good girl," he cooed as he started to forcefully undress you, making you choke back a sob, "ugh, i can't wait to absolutely fucking ruin you."

the smell of his cologne flooded your senses, and you felt more tears drip down your face as he continued to undress you with zero resistance. you tried to tell yourself that maybe you were just having a nightmare, a side effect from the drugs - but you knew that wasn't true. bruce wouldn't be back for at least another half hour, giving jonathan free range to do whatever he wanted to you.

you had zoned out so deeply to cope that when you finally stopped dissociating, he was already fumbling with his belt buckle. as you tried to grab his wrist to force him away from you, the pressure from your hand accidentally triggered his wrist band to spray his fear toxin directly at you. you choked and sobbed as you heard him chuckle lowly through his mask, and at this point - you'd given up.

you stopped trying to fight it because it was no use. he had already won. his fear toxin was seeping into your every sense. the fears that were interwoven in your subconscious were now playing out right in front of you. it was like watching your worst nightmare, only fifty times worse, on repeat. at this point, you thought you were going to lose your sanity permanently.

jonathan had pulled your panties off of you with ease, as you were too high on the toxin to even understand what was going on in this very moment anymore.

the less you fought, the better.

with a groan, he forced himself into your cunt, breeching your hole painfully. obviously, there was a struggle because one, you weren't even in contact with reality right now and two, he was forcing himself onto you.

he spat down onto your cunt after a few moments, and that seemed to work. he let himself sink into you slowly, stretching you out painfully as you laid there in tears, unintelligibly whispering and pleading. he didn't bother to prep you or even try to make this enjoyable for you, since it was never really about you in the first place. it was about him; his pleasure and sick, disgusting, twisted obsession with you.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're so tight i think i might fucking break you, sweetheart."

he continued to fuck himself in and out of you, his length reaching places inside of you that shouldn't be reached. you couldn't tell which one was worse: the terrifying nightmares being fuelled in front of you or the pain in your lower region from his fat, veiny cock breaking your cunt in.

the tears never stopped, continuously pouring down your face as you tried to beg him to stop - but the words never came out. they couldn't. you were starting to feel every ounce of sanity you had left slip away from your body, leaving you in a permanent state of living hell.

"it's a concentrated - mm, f-fuck,- dose, my love. you're slipping away, i can feel it in the way your squeezing me." he groaned as he continued to split you open on his cock, rocking his hips back and forth as he held your waist still with an iron grip.

"s-stop." you weakly whispered, but he laughed lowly at the sad attempt.

you knew that you'd never recover from this, whether it be the assault or the effects of the fear toxin - both were things that would cause you to never live a normal life again.

"m'gonna take you away from here," he huffed, already close, "shit, you feel good- gonna fuck you every god damn day and fill you with my cum 'till you have my babies. keep giving you my cum over and over again."

that almost sounded worse than the disturbing, mind-rotting imagines that were flashing before your eyes right now from the toxin. you couldn't imagine a life that hellish - but you couldn't exactly object with the state you were in.

"don't worry," he says as he kept talking to you, "you're not going insane, sweetheart. fuck - like i said; it's a concentrated dose. you'll be back to your stuck up, whorish, braindead self in about twenty four hours."

twenty four hours? how were you suppose to survive for twenty four hours like this? how? you didn't know, but jonathan didn't seem to care. he did not care at all - all he cared about was kidnapping you and stuffing you full of his cum. all he craved for months was to give you his babies. get you nice and full, pregnant by him.

you didn't even notice when his hips stilled and his cum poured into your abused cunt, filling you with every drop he had. he let out a satisfied groan, and hesitantly, he pulled out.

you lay there as still as ever, tears still pouring down your face as you tried to remind yourself that the shadows, the whispers, and whatever other hellish things you were hallucinating were not real. jonathan then threw your pyajamas back on you in a hurry, and picked you up bridal style.

"c'mon," he says softly, as if he cared about you - as if you liked this, "let's go home."

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[ladyeckland28]

Batman: Shadows Of Madness (Part 2 of the shadows saga)

A fan fiction by Ecky

**Disclaimer:**

"Shadows of Madness" is a non-commercial fan fiction story created by and for fans of the Batman franchise. This work is not affiliated with, endorsed, or approved by DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment, or any other official entities associated with Batman and related characters. All characters such as Batman, Joker, Penguin, Riddler, and others from the Batman universe are the property of their respective trademark and copyright holders.

The original characters of Ms. Racey Rhymes, The Chimera, Revan (Samantha Faith), Hannah, and Sarah are creations of the author and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or other fictional characters, is purely coincidental.

This story is intended solely for entertainment purposes and is not for commercial use. No infringement of copyright or trademark is intended.

The Characters:

Batman as himself

The Joker as himself

@raceyrhymes as Ms Rhyme's

@solesofwonder as Hannah and Sarah

@samcrosfaith as Samantha Faith aka Revan

And introducing @smallzster as Chimera

The cold, sterile room buzzed with an undercurrent of malevolent energy. Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham, found himself strapped to a chair, his utility belt gone, surrounded by an array of ominous machinery. Before him stood Ms. Racey Rhymes, her eyes gleaming with a manic intensity that sent chills down his spine.

"Welcome to the grand stage, my caped muse," Ms. Rhymes purred, her voice a discordant melody. "Are you ready for your starring role?"

Batman's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing behind his cowl. "Whatever you're planning, Rhymes, it won't work. Gotham has faced worse than you."

A giggle escaped Ms. Rhymes' painted lips. "Oh, my dear Dark Knight, you misunderstand. I'm not here to face Gotham. I'm here to remake it. And you, my brooding bat, will be my masterpiece."

She snapped her fingers, and a figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and lithe, with features that seemed to shift between masculine and feminine, the newcomer exuded an aura of calculated menace.

"Allow me to introduce my collaborator," Ms. Rhymes said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "The Chimera. A true artist of the mind."

The Chimera stepped forward, their face hidden behind a mask that seemed to morph and change with each passing moment. When they spoke, their voice was a disorienting blend of tones and pitches.

"Hello, Batman. I've been looking forward to our session."

Batman's mind raced, trying to place this new threat. "You're one of Crane's students," he growled. "I remember the files. You disappeared years ago."

The Chimera tilted their head, the gesture unnervingly birdlike. "Very good, Detective. But Dr. Crane was merely the beginning of my journey. Now, I'm something... more."

Ms. Rhymes clapped her hands together in delight. "Enough chitchat! Let the performance begin!"

The Chimera moved to a control panel, their fingers dancing across the keys. Suddenly, a fine mist began to fill the room, and Batman felt his senses beginning to blur.

"What... what is this?" he gasped, fighting against the rising tide of disorientation.

"Consider it a cocktail of my own design," The Chimera replied, their voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. "Fear toxin, mixed with a dash of hallucinogens and a sprinkle of my own special additions. We're going to peel back those layers of sanity, Batman. One by one."

As the mist thickened, Batman's vision began to swim. The room around him warped and twisted, melting away into a nightmarish landscape. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the hallucinations was Ms. Rhymes' singsong voice:

"In shadows deep and madness vast,

Gotham's hero breathes his last.

A mind once strong, now torn apart,

Welcome, Batman, to your new start."

* * *

Across town, in an abandoned warehouse that served as their temporary base, Hannah, Sarah, and their unlikely ally Revan – now revealed as Samantha Faith – pored over maps and documents.

"We've checked every known hideout," Hannah said, frustration evident in her voice. "Where could Rhymes be keeping him?"

Sarah placed a comforting hand on her partner's shoulder. "We'll find him, Han. We have to."

Samantha, her mask off but still cutting an imposing figure, studied the map intently. "Rhymes is theatrical. She'll want a stage for her 'performance.' Somewhere significant."

"Like what?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowed.

"Wait," Hannah said, her eyes widening. "What about Arkham, not the new one? The old asylum's been abandoned for years. It's perfect – isolated, symbolic..."

Samantha nodded slowly. "And with a history of madness. It fits Rhymes' MO."

As they began to plan their assault on Arkham, Sarah couldn't help but voice the question that had been nagging at her. "Samantha... why are you helping us? You were working for Rhymes."

Samantha's eyes hardened. "I was hired to do a job. To test Batman, to challenge him. Not... this. There's no honor in breaking a warrior's mind."

Hannah studied the woman before her. "And the whole Revan persona? The baseball bat?"

A small smile tugged at Samantha's lips. "Every warrior needs their weapon. And sometimes, the best disguise is one that plays into people's expectations."

As the trio finalized their plans, the air was thick with tension. They all knew that time was running out for Batman – and for Gotham.

* * *

In the depths of his toxin-induced nightmare, Batman found himself in a twisted version of Gotham. The sky above was a sickly green, and the buildings seemed to breathe and pulse with malevolent life.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice cackled. "Look who's come to play!"

Batman spun around to find himself face to face with the Joker, his grin wider and more manic than ever.

"You're not real," Batman growled, his fists clenching. "This is all in my head."

The Joker's laughter echoed off the writhing buildings. "Oh, Batsy! Don't you know? The stuff in our heads is the realest thing there is! Now come on, let's have some fun!"

Suddenly, Batman was surrounded by a horde of grinning, laughing maniacs, all wearing the Joker's face. As he fought them off, each punch seemed to make two more appear.

"You can't win this one, Batman," the Joker taunted. "Why not join us? Think of the laughs we could have together!"

Batman gritted his teeth, fighting against the rising tide of chaos. "Never," he snarled. "I'll never become like you."

But even as he said it, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, "Are you so sure?"

* * *

Back in the real world, The Chimera monitored Batman's vital signs with clinical detachment. "Fascinating," they murmured. "His mental resilience is truly remarkable."

Ms. Rhymes peered at the screens, her eyes glittering with malicious glee. "But he's cracking, isn't he? I can almost hear the fissures forming in that rigid psyche of his."

The Chimera nodded slowly. "Yes, but we must be cautious. Push too hard, too fast, and his mind might shatter completely. We want to remake him, not destroy him utterly."

Ms. Rhymes waved a dismissive hand. "Details, details. Just keep pushing, my dear Chimera. I want to see what lurks in the deepest, darkest corners of the Bat's mind."

As they spoke, neither noticed the small drone hovering outside the window, its camera capturing every moment of their sinister collaboration.

* * *

Hannah, Sarah, and Samantha crouched in the shadows outside the old Arkham Asylum, their eyes fixed on the crumbling structure before them.

"I'm picking up heat signatures on the top floor," Hannah whispered, consulting a handheld device. "Looks like that's where they're keeping him."

Sarah nodded, her grip tightening on her escrima sticks. "So what's the plan? We can't just burst in there. Who knows what they've done to Batman's mind by now."

Samantha's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "We need a distraction. Something to draw their attention while we extract Batman."

Hannah's lips curled into a grim smile. "I think I have just the thing. But you're not going to like it."

As she outlined her plan, Sarah and Samantha exchanged worried glances. It was risky, borderline insane. But then again, in a city like Gotham, sometimes insanity was the only sane response.

* * *

Deep in the labyrinth of his own mind, Batman stumbled through a nightmare version of Crime Alley. The walls seemed to weep blood, and every shadow held a pair of gleaming, malevolent eyes.

"Why do you keep fighting, Bruce?" a voice whispered on the wind. Batman turned to see his parents standing before him, their forms flickering like old film.

"Mom? Dad?" he croaked, his voice breaking.

Thomas Wayne's face twisted into a sneer. "You've failed us, son. Failed Gotham. Look around you – the city is as dark and corrupt as ever."

"No," Batman protested, shaking his head. "I've made a difference. I've saved lives."

Martha Wayne's laugh was cold and cruel. "Saved lives? Oh, Bruce. How many have died because of your crusade? How many have suffered because you refuse to do what's necessary?"

As his parents' accusations rained down upon him, Batman felt something inside him begin to crack. A small part of his mind screamed that this wasn't real, that it was all a toxin-induced nightmare. But the doubt, the guilt, the fear – it all felt so terribly, painfully real.

* * *

In the control room, The Chimera's eyes widened as they studied the readouts. "Remarkable," they breathed. "He's accessing trauma so deeply buried, I doubt even he was fully aware of it."

Ms. Rhymes leaned in close, her breath hot on The Chimera's neck. "And what do we do with all this delicious trauma, my dear?"

The Chimera's fingers danced across the controls. "We amplify it. We twist it. And then, when he's at his most vulnerable, we offer him a way out. A new identity, free from all that pain and guilt."

Ms. Rhymes' grin was positively feral. "A new Clown Prince of Crime. Oh, I do love poetry in motion."

Suddenly, alarms began to blare throughout the asylum. The Chimera's head snapped up, their eyes narrowing. "We have intruders."

Ms. Rhymes' face darkened. "Deal with them. I don't care how. Just make sure our performance isn't interrupted."

As The Chimera hurried from the room, Ms. Rhymes turned back to the monitors, her eyes fixed on Batman's twisting form. "It's just you and me now, my dark muse. Let's see what other horrors we can conjure up, shall we?"

* * *

Outside Arkham, chaos reigned. Hannah's "distraction" had taken the form of a series of explosions around the perimeter of the asylum, each one timed to draw attention away from their true goal.

As Rhymes' goons scrambled to respond to the perceived attack, Samantha, Sarah, and Hannah slipped inside through a service entrance.

"Remember," Samantha whispered as they made their way through the asylum's twisted corridors, "we don't know what state Batman will be in when we find him. Be prepared for anything."

Sarah nodded grimly. "Let's just hope we're not too late."

As they ascended to the upper floors, the sounds of conflict echoed through the building. Hannah's lips curved into a small smile. "Sounds like our diversion is working."

Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows before them. The Chimera, their mask seeming to ripple in the dim light.

"Well," The Chimera said, their voice a disorienting blend of tones, "it seems we have some uninvited guests. How... intriguing."

Samantha stepped forward, her baseball bat held at the ready. "Stand aside. We're here for Batman."

The Chimera tilted their head, the gesture unnervingly birdlike. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. You see, we're in the middle of a very delicate procedure. Any interruption could be... catastrophic."

Without warning, The Chimera lashed out, a spray of some unknown substance erupting from their sleeve. Samantha managed to dodge, but Hannah and Sarah weren't as lucky. As the mist enveloped them, their eyes widened in horror.

"Run!" Samantha shouted, charging at The Chimera. "I'll hold them off! Find Batman!"

As Samantha engaged The Chimera in a fierce battle, Hannah and Sarah stumbled away, their minds already beginning to cloud with hallucinations.

"We have to... have to keep going," Hannah gasped, her vision swimming. "Batman... we need to..."

Sarah gripped her partner's hand tightly. "Together," she said firmly. "Whatever happens, we face it together."

As they staggered down the corridor, the walls seemed to breathe and pulse around them, The Chimera's toxin taking full effect. But still, they pressed on, driven by a determination that ran deeper than any fear.

* * *

In the depths of his fractured psyche, Batman found himself standing atop Wayne Tower, the city spread out before him like a diseased corpse. The sky above was a roiling mass of green and purple, punctuated by flashes of sickly lightning.

"It's quite a view, isn't it?" a voice said from behind him. Batman turned to see the Joker standing there, but this time, the clown's face was a perfect mirror of his own.

"What... what is this?" Batman growled, his voice hoarse.

The Joker-Batman grinned, the expression grotesque on the familiar features. "This is liberation, Brucie! This is what happens when you finally let go of all that guilt, all that responsibility. When you embrace the joke that is existence!"

Batman shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "No. This isn't real. I would never..."

"Oh, but you would," the Joker-Batman cackled. "You will! Think about it – how many times have you been one bad day away from becoming just like the monsters you fight? How thin is that line you walk?"

As the Joker-Batman's words washed over him, Batman felt something deep inside beginning to give way. The weight of his mission, the endless parade of tragedy and horror he'd witnessed – it all came crashing down at once.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Batman began to laugh.

* * *

In the control room, Ms. Rhymes watched the monitors with growing excitement. "Yes!" she crowed. "Yes, that's it! Laugh, my dark knight! Embrace the madness!"

She was so engrossed in the spectacle before her that she didn't notice the door opening behind her. Hannah and Sarah, their minds still reeling from The Chimera's toxin, stumbled into the room.

"Stop... stop this," Hannah gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ms. Rhymes spun around, her eyes widening in surprise before narrowing in anger. "You! How did you get past The Chimera?"

Sarah raised her escrima sticks, though her hands shook with the effort. "It doesn't matter. We're here to stop you."

A cruel smile spread across Ms. Rhymes' face. "Oh, my dears. You're far too late for that. Batman is already falling. Soon, he'll be reborn as Gotham's new agent of chaos. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."

As if to punctuate her words, Batman's laughter echoed through the room, growing louder and more unhinged with each passing moment.

Hannah and Sarah exchanged a desperate look. They were running out of time.

* * *

In the corridor outside, Samantha and The Chimera continued their fierce battle. The Chimera's fighting style was a disorienting blend of techniques, their body seeming to flow like water around Samantha's attacks.

"You're good," The Chimera said, their voice a mix of admiration and malice. "But you're fighting for the wrong side. Can't you see the beauty in what we're creating?"

Samantha's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "There's no beauty in breaking a warrior's mind. Only cowardice."

The Chimera laughed, the sound echoing off the asylum's walls. "Oh, my dear. We're not breaking his mind. We're setting it free!"

As they fought, the sounds of Batman's laughter grew louder, more manic. Samantha felt a chill run down her spine. They were running out of time.

* * *

In the twisted landscape of his mind, Batman stood on the edge of Wayne Tower, teetering between sanity and madness. The Joker-Batman stood beside him, arm draped over his shoulders like an old friend.

"Come on, Brucie," the Joker-Batman cajoled. "One little step. That's all it takes. One step, and all the pain, all the responsibility – it all goes away. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Batman looked out over the nightmare version of Gotham, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Part of him knew this wasn't real, that it was all a toxin-induced hallucination. But another part, a part that had been buried deep for so long, whispered that maybe, just maybe, this was the answer he'd been looking for all along.

*****

Batman stood on the precipice, both literally and figuratively. The Joker-Batman's words echoed in his mind, a siren song of chaos and release. For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he teetered on the edge.

Then, with a laugh that started low and grew into a manic cackle, Batman stepped off the ledge.

As he fell through the nightmare cityscape, his laughter echoed off the twisted buildings. The world around him began to blur and shift, colors swirling together in a dizzying kaleidoscope of madness.

* * *

In the control room, Ms. Rhymes watched the monitors with growing excitement. "Yes!" she crowed. "Yes, that's it! Fall, my dark knight! Fall into the abyss of chaos!"

Hannah and Sarah, still fighting against the effects of The Chimera's toxin, struggled to make sense of what they were seeing.

"We have to... have to stop this," Hannah gasped, her vision swimming.

Sarah reached out, gripping her partner's hand tightly. "How? We can barely stand..."

Ms. Rhymes turned to them, her eyes glittering with malicious glee. "Oh, my dears. You can't stop this. You're witnessing the birth of a new era for Gotham. The fall of its greatest hero... and the rise of its most terrifying villain!"

* * *

Outside in the corridor, Samantha and The Chimera's battle had reached a fever pitch. Both combatants were showing signs of fatigue, but neither was willing to give an inch.

"You're fighting a losing battle," The Chimera panted, their mask seeming to ripple with each breath. "Even if you defeat me, you can't undo what's been done to Batman's mind."

Samantha's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "Maybe not. But I can make sure you pay for what you've done."

With a burst of speed, Samantha feinted left, then brought her baseball bat around in a vicious arc. The Chimera, caught off guard, couldn't dodge in time. The bat connected with their mask with a sickening crunch.

The Chimera stumbled back, their mask cracking and falling away in pieces. As it did, Samantha's eyes widened in shock.

"You... you're..."

But before she could finish, The Chimera lashed out with a hidden blade, forcing Samantha back. Taking advantage of her momentary surprise, they turned and fled down the corridor.

Samantha hesitated for a moment, torn between pursuit and the need to help Batman. With a growl of frustration, she turned towards the control room. Batman had to be the priority.

* * *

In the swirling vortex of his mind, Batman continued to fall. As he did, he felt his very identity begin to unravel. Memories flashed before his eyes – his parents' murder, his years of training, his countless battles to protect Gotham. But now, each memory was tinged with a manic hilarity, as if every tragedy in his life had suddenly become the punchline to some cosmic joke.

"That's it, Brucie!" the Joker-Batman's voice echoed around him. "Let it all go! Embrace the madness!"

As he fell deeper into the abyss of his own psyche, Batman felt something fundamental shifting within him. The rigid moral code that had defined him for so long began to crack and splinter.

And still, he laughed.

* * *

In the control room, the tension had reached a breaking point. Ms. Rhymes stood before the monitors, her arms spread wide as if conducting some twisted symphony. Hannah and Sarah, still reeling from The Chimera's toxin, struggled to formulate a plan.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Samantha charged in, her baseball bat at the ready.

"Step away from the controls," she growled.

Ms. Rhymes spun around, her eyes widening in surprise before narrowing in anger. "Revan... or should I say, Samantha? I must admit, I'm disappointed. I thought you understood the beauty of what we're creating here."

Samantha's grip tightened on her bat. "There's no beauty in this. Only madness and pain."

As they faced off, the room filled with the sound of Batman's laughter, growing louder and more unhinged with each passing moment.

Hannah, fighting through the haze of the toxin, stumbled towards the controls. "We have to... have to shut it down..."

But before she could reach them, Ms. Rhymes pulled out a small remote. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "One push of this button, and Batman's mind is wiped clean. Everything he was, everything he believed in – gone in an instant."

The room froze, the tension palpable. Samantha's eyes darted between Ms. Rhymes and the monitors showing Batman's writhing form. Sarah, supporting a still-woozy Hannah, glared at the madwoman before them.

"What do you want?" Samantha asked, her voice tight.

Ms. Rhymes' smile was all teeth. "Want? My dear, I want what I've always wanted. To show Gotham – to show the world – the true face of chaos. And what better way to do that than to turn its greatest protector into its worst nightmare?"

As she spoke, the monitors behind her flickered. Batman's laughter had reached a fever pitch, and suddenly, it cut off. The silence that followed was deafening.

All eyes turned to the screens. Batman's body had gone still, his face hidden in shadow.

"No," Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

Ms. Rhymes' grin widened. "Yes. Watch closely, my dears. You're about to witness the rebirth of a legend."

* * *

In the depths of his fractured psyche, Batman stood in a void. The swirling chaos around him had stilled, leaving him in a space of perfect, empty blackness.

"So," he said, his voice echoing in the emptiness, "this is madness."

The Joker-Batman appeared before him, but now, instead of a mirror image, it was a swirling, ever-changing figure – sometimes the Joker, sometimes Batman, sometimes a nightmarish blend of the two.

"Not madness, Brucie," it said, its voice a cacophony of laughter and growls. "Clarity. You've finally seen the joke that is existence. The futility of your crusade. The utter absurdity of it all."

Batman looked down at his hands, watching as his costume began to shift and change, colors bleeding and swirling.

"And now?" he asked, his voice utterly calm.

The figure before him grinned, the expression stretching beyond the limits of a human face. "Now, you become what you were always meant to be. Gotham's darkest knight. Its clown prince of crime. Its harbinger of beautiful, perfect chaos."

As the words washed over him, Batman felt the last vestiges of his old self falling away. In its place rose something new. Something terrifying. Something... free.

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing through the void and beyond, into the world of the waking.

* * *

In the control room, all eyes were fixed on the monitors as Batman's body began to stir. Slowly, he sat up, his movements fluid and unnaturally graceful.

"No," Samantha breathed, her bat slipping from nerveless fingers. "What have you done?"

Ms. Rhymes' eyes gleamed with triumph. "I've given Gotham its new god of chaos. Behold, the birth of a legend!"

On the screen, Batman turned towards the camera. As his face came into view, a collective gasp filled the room. His cowl had split and peeled back, revealing a face that was a nightmarish blend of Batman and the Joker. His skin was pale, almost white, with streaks of black that mimicked the design of his cowl. His lips were stretched in a grin that was too wide, too full of teeth to be natural.

But it was his eyes that truly chilled the blood. They burned with a manic intensity, swirling with colors that shouldn't exist in nature.

When he spoke, his voice was a blend of Batman's gravelly growl and the Joker's high-pitched cackle. "Gotham," he said, his grin widening impossibly further, "your Dark Knight has fallen. But fear not – a new protector rises. One who understands that the only way to save this city... is to embrace the madness."

He stood, his costume rippling and changing. The blacks and greys bled into purples and greens, while still maintaining the silhouette of the Bat. The result was a terrifying fusion of Batman and the Joker, a creature of nightmare made flesh.

"The joke's on you, Gotham," he continued, spreading his arms wide. "You thought you needed a hero. But what you really need... is a little chaos."

With that, he threw back his head and laughed. It was a sound that contained multitudes – the deep, restrained chuckle of Bruce Wayne, the gravelly growl of Batman, the manic cackle of the Joker, and something else. Something new and terrifying.

In the control room, Ms. Rhymes drank in the sight with undisguised glee. "Beautiful," she breathed. "Absolutely beautiful."

Samantha, Hannah, and Sarah watched in horror, the full weight of their failure crashing down upon them. They had come to save Batman, to stop Ms. Rhymes' plan. Instead, they had witnessed the fall of Gotham's greatest hero and the birth of its most terrifying villain.

As the newly reborn Batman-Joker hybrid continued to laugh, his voice echoing through the asylum and beyond, a chill ran down the spines of all who heard it. For in that laugh was a promise – a promise of chaos, of madness, of a Gotham reshaped in the image of its fallen hero.

The Dark Knight had fallen. And in his place rose something far deadlier – a creature of shadow and laughter, of justice twisted into madness. Gotham's new Clown Prince of Crime had arrived.

And the city would never be the same again.

As the screens went dark, plunging the control room into shadows broken only by the eerie glow of emergency lights, Ms. Rhymes turned to her stunned audience, her eyes gleaming with triumphant madness.

"And so," she said, her voice dripping with malicious glee, "the curtain falls on this act of our grand performance. But fear not, my dears. The show is far from over. In fact..." Her grin widened, becoming something feral and terrifying. "It's only just beginning."

The asylum echoed with the sound of mad laughter – Ms. Rhymes', the newly reborn Batman's, and perhaps, most chillingly of all, the laughter of a city teetering on the brink of total chaos.

In the growing darkness, as the weight of their failure pressed down upon them, Samantha, Hannah, and Sarah exchanged grim looks. They had lost this battle, but the war for Gotham's soul was far from over.

The question now was: in a city without its Dark Knight, who would rise to face the coming storm?

[rattle-em-spooky-jones]

Complete List of All My WIPs

You know when you’re bored and simultaneously procrastinating. Yeah.

Anyway, here’s a comprehensive list of my WIPs which are sorted by fandom. In order, it’s Gintama, DC, Jujutsu Kaisen, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and then some misc. fandoms. It’ll be updated as I get more WIPs. Few have playlists that I made for the fic specifically, or for the general ship/ characters.

(Edit: adding a Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure section because I started it like a week back and already know I Will be having WIPs)

If any of you guys want to know more about any of the fics, just send me an ask. I’d be happy to answer. (*´▽`*)

Gintama:

1. The Misadventures of Mutsu and Sakamoto

Self explanatory, just a little comedic thing.

2. Everyone’s crazy about a sharply dressed man, or in this case… an idiotic merchant?

The only thing I've written for this is 'Essentially the story of different people realizing that Sakamoto is actually really hot.' I can't even say anything to defend myself, Chief.

3.Copper veins, Hands clenched tight

Kouka on Kounan fic. Follows different epithets she has throughout her life [The Blessed, The Cursed, The Lonely, The Master of Kounan, Kouka]

4. Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep 

Premise has huge spoilers so I’ll just give a sparknotes version - Takasugi fakes his death, manages to piss off Sakamoto, Zura, and the entirety of Kabukicho.

5. Digging too Deep 

Sakamoto thinks about his childhood, realizes its more messed up than he thought.

6. As Winds Pass By 

Also has huge spoilers in its premise. Sparknotes version is that this takes place in a world where the canon ending of Gintama happened, and then the second movie's premise of the epidemic happens. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, Sakamoto realizes that he's now immortal.

7. For all the stars in the universe (I was entranced into orbiting you) 

 Atmospheric 2nd person fic following Sakamoto and his unrequited love towards Gintoki. Lots of space metaphors.

8. A person by any other name would still be just as stupid 

Absolutely no clue what's it about, I have written a page though.

9. You know you have cool friends when you guys would be considered an invasive species

My Hero Academia crossover where the Joi 4 get dropped into the MHA universe, get annoyed at the league of villains and decide they're gonna create a better one. A very crack-y fic.

10. Star Eater 

Sakamoto isn't quite human. follows his life from birth to just after the end of the war. I have been half-jokingly calling it my magnum opus.

11. Kakashi’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (Posted, will update)

Naruto crossover where Kakashi gets dropped into the Gintama universe. No I have not abandoned it, yes it has been like 3 years since I last updated.

DC:

Gen:

12. Unfridged (Reforged)

Alexandra DeWitt’s journey as a ghost through Greek lands, with Nyx (?) wanting to her to be their presence in the real world, but she has to go through trials before she can do so.

13.  Mirror Mirror On the Wall

A Hal Jordan angst fic grappling with identity. Written in second person and has the style of ‘Bluets’ but focuses on green.

14.  It Will Come Back

In the 25th century, the wards around Gotham keep out creatures that for some reason only Booster's family can see. The 21st century doesn't have those kind of wards.

TimKon:

15. Fingers Entwined, Hearts in Beat

An Orpheus and Eurydice TimKon au. Angst is at full throttle.

16. Top Gun Superboy (working title) Top gun AU with Kon as Maverick and Tim as Iceman. 

Boostle:

17. And I’d Make A Deal With God

Booster Gold grieves over Ted in their shared apartment.

JayKyle:

18. Fire of Unknown Origin

A Bioshock au. Jason and Kyle are trapped down in Rapture. Separately, they both figure out that someone is acting as 'Atlas', a freedom fighter who is supposed to be long dead. After a chance meeting, they decide to work together to figure out what the hell is going on.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3rWWOrT7LDGM0wggI9Zl9D?si=43ce8e0a98a8463e

19.  New Wave Starhunters

A Cowboy Bebop AU. Both Jason and Kyle were cryogenically frozen after two separate accidents years apart. Kyle loses all his memories when he wakes up. Jason remembers, but it has been long enough that everyone he's ever known and loved is dead. They both end up as bounty hunters, and this is their story.

HalBarry:

20. Fleeting Touch 

Hal's a ghost stuck in the apartment he used to live in. Barry moved into his new apartment two weeks ago. Can I make it anymore obvious?

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6kM0uBYmqeVAEW7VCQwsHO?si=edb27b2977a14853

21. It's Gettin Hard, this Holdin' back

Just a fluff piece where Barry notices how often Hal touches him, and starts to become hyperware of it because he has a crush on Hal.

22. In the Cracks Beneath Our Feet 

 A Pacific Rim au set in the early days where Jagars where piloted by one pilot. Hal witnesses the destruction of Coast City by Cyborg Superman, but the whole thing is covered up by the board of directors. Hal lashes out at the, and as a result he is put on increasing dangerous missions to get rid of him. They also get Barry (who figured out the one person system is severely harming pilots but isn’t allowed to go public with the findings) to monitor his health and to attempt to ‘spy’ on him. They both ending up slowly realizing the other also hates the Shatterdome and try to fight the corruption of the place. 

23. Wasted Sunset, Forlorn Sunrise [Complete!] A 'the summer hikaru died' au. Hal as Yoshiki, and Barry as Hikaru. Worked on this for the HalBarry Big Bang 2023 in collaboration with @chocolateteapotsvis ! You can see the accompanying art here.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1pB2LnhyaO6bAYAIloLVVr?si=0723f6ab9caa4741

Bonus [Complete]: And One Day Closer to Death Fic I worked on for the Superboy Superzine. It's late at night. Kon contemplates.

Jujutsu Kaisen:

24. AFTER HOURS

Museum au - gojo is a new museum curator (for art pieces) and geto is the ghost that haunts it (with no memories of the past).

25. At the Tip of Your Tongue, In the Back of Your Lungs

Second person Gojo POV, following the timeline from when Gojo and Geto meet for the first time till the end of the Jujutsu Kaisen 0 movie.

26. An Endless Sea

A SatoSugu Pacific Rim Au. Also set in a time before the two pilot drift technology was developed. They’re the greatest pilots in the world until Riko and tengen’s mission where they had to protect Riko goes wrong. Gojo becomes even more stronger with his Jager after the mission, but Geto seems to find his limit and has to have a specific number of missions he can go per day. Geto centric.

27. Jujutsu Textin’ (Posted, but still updating)

A modern day twitter fic where most of the characters are in college.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure:

28. La Ciruela

It’s late at night, yet both Caesar and Joseph are here on this balcony outside. Joseph hides his heart well. Caesar pines.

29. You Gonna Do Something Killer?

....this is so embarrassing I can’t believe I’m adding it in. Caejose smut fic based on that tequila joseph tiktok and art. Joseph bets that he can seduce Caesar. Caesar- very stupidly, and already in love with Jojo - agrees to it.

30. Distant Dreams, Distant Hearts

Kujo family dynamics (Holly-Jotaro, Jotaro-Jolyne) centric fic with a focus on cards.

31.  Before My Body Is Dry (working title)

A Spiderverse au with a twist, with Jolyne as Miles and Jotaro as Jefferson Davis. 

Miscellaneous: 

32. Red Heaven, White Hell

A Daredevil exploration fic based on colours: red blood, red fights, red justice – white hospital, white crimes, white grief.

33. Time Wounds All the Heals (working title)

An Alex Rider (show) fic. A timeloop story where Alex keeps returning back in time, usually after he finds out Ian dies. Card games will be definitely used as some sort of metaphor.

34. The Oddball Blues

A comedy/ romance Giant Killing fic centered around Tsubaki and Kubota’s spare time in Abu Dhabi.

35. Biohazards, Ballistics, and Global Political Tension: An investigation into the impact of bio-organic weapons on modern society (Posted, but still updating)

Collab with @fangirl-on-fire3 ! A collection of accounts about different events in the resident evil universe in the format of a draft of a PhD report. 

[ziracona]

[ Been very interested by Harvey Dent recently, so I wanted to write some scenes that may turn into a full story that’s essentially an exploration of him and his relationships to Big Bad Harv/Two-Face, and to Judge, and himself, but is also a kind of typical action adventure. Anyway I have an outline building itself in my head but here’s a few scenes I wrote somewhere in the middle if you want to read some character exploration for them and a fight and some angst fluff hurt-comfort because that’s like half of what I write/enjoy writing let’s be real. Basic story/scenario setup is a new villain is attacking Gotham, has expansive mental superpowers. A number of people team up to fight back since it’s a universal threat to them. During a fight, big bad transports Batman, Catwoman, and Two-Face to a mind plane to have a home-turf advantage. But up there, Harvey is everyone in there in their own body, so he ends up with an unexpected numbers advantage that keeps him alive during the initial attack. Batman, Catwoman, and the Harvey group get separated from each other after the initial fight, and are trying to find the big bad and deal with it, get out, and stay alive (and probably finding each other again would be advantageous). So yeah, this is a little bit after the first fight and getting wildly lost in the mind plane.]

-

-

This place was a little plateau, some trees and grass, a kind of mental jungle almost, minus the expected mugginess, with a chasm and some rushing water far, far below not far ahead of them now. Harvey could see more traversable flat land past the precipice ahead, if there was anywhere to cross.

He wasn’t sure where they were going, and he was sure Harv didn’t either, or Judge, but onward was…better than anything else.

I don’t see a way forward from here, though, he thought, glancing to the left and right as he followed Two-Face quickly toward the edge of the plateau. It wasn’t a wide chasm, at least. They might be able to knock down a tree and cross. Or something. I guess we could also circle back.

“Wait.”

Harvey stopped and turned, and a few paces ahead and much more irritated, so did Two-Face.

“This is a rare opportunity,” came the voice always so confusingly clear for the vocal chords he had in reality. Even here, where it made sense to hear, and he looked like his old self and had been given his own old vocal chords back again, he couldn’t even really get used to the sound of hearing himself out loud.

Clearly very exasperated by this detour, Two-Face turned around completely. “For what? If you hadn’t noticed, we’re not exactly walking around without a time limit.”

“For separation,” said Judge collectedly, drawing his sword so calmly, and leveling the massive thing at them.

No. Not at me, realized Harvey on a stunted delay. He was just standing between them. At Harv—a-at. …Two-Face.

Dazed almost, still somehow not quite getting what should have surely been obvious, he looked behind him at Two-Face, then back at Judge.

Two-Face took a step back. “Are you kidding me?” he asked with anger and disbelief, “We don’t event know what would happen! If one of the others dies here, they’re dead out there too! For all we know, any ONE of us three bites it, and we all drop dead!”

“A calculated risk I am willing to take,” replied Judge, unmoved.

“Yeah, big surprise, coming from you,” shot back Two-Face, clenching his fists, “Killing all three of us has never been a problem for you!”

“We appear here as unique individuals,” commented Judge, “I do not feel pain when you are injured. You did not become injured when Harvey was cut. To the best conclusion of reasonable logic, we are each only a representation of and container for ourself. Therefore, it stands to reason that if we are each a segment of Harvey Dent’s mind, separated completely for the first time, a segment being lost would reflect, in reality, only a loss of that segment, forever. Not a death of the whole.”

Livid, Two-Face extended his arms and started making sweeping gestures as he spoke. “And you have no idea what a huge fucking chunk of brain death might MEAN for the whole!”

“No,” agreed Judge, sword still leveled, “But it is a risk I am willing to take.”

“So, what, you’re going to kill me?” snapped Two-Face in disbelief, “We’re stuck in here fighting for our life already, and you’d risk all three of us to get rid of me permanently? What gives you the right-!”

Judge turned his attention to Harvey. “-With two of us, it would be quite efficient and easy a task.”

Two-Face stopped.

“This will likely be an opportunity you are never given again,” continued Judge calmly to Harvey.

“You can’t be serious,” said Two-Face, but his voice was different this time.

Harvey wasn’t looking at him. He was still staring at Judge.

Opportunity? It echoed in his head. He had wanted this for so, so long. All he had wanted for years was to be free of Harv again, forever. To be himself. Again. Free. To try. To…

He turned to look at Two-Face, time feeling stilted around him.

“No,” said Two-Face like he couldn’t process it either, taking another step back, “It could kill you.”

“We are fighting either way,” said Judge calmly, sword still perfectly leveled, as if the insanely oversized thing weighed nothing to him, “We are not both walking away from this space. If he is doomed to a risk either way, there are no questions left to be asked.”

“Hell there aren’t!” shouted Two-Face, something in him snapping, “I’m a much bigger part of him than you are, and I always have been!”

Judge was silent. Immovable. So massive. Why was he so big? Here, he and Big Bad Harv were identical except his lack of the acid scars. Judge was two or three times the size of either one of them, floating there in robes like a concept, not a person. Maybe that’s what he’s meant to be, thought Harvey with a sickened feeling in his stomach. Had he always been so big? Had they always been so much smaller?

I think I’m afraid of you, thought Harvey. A stupid thing to think. He was. He always had been. Why…was it crippling him now?

Maybe, for a moment back there when they’d all three been fighting side-by-side, it was because he’d felt…powerful, and safe. Untouchable, between the two of them. Strange. That wasn’t a way he could remember ever having felt at all with them before. Of course it wouldn’t last more than a second. Of course it…couldn’t…

Getting no response from Judge, Two-Face turned to Harvey. “You know this is insane. We’re not even out of here yet! Who can you count on?”

“You know what must be done. You have always known,” said Judge coolly, continuing to ignore Two-Face, “I exist because of your hatred of him.”

“You exist because of his hatred of US!” snapped Two-Face. Turning away from Judge, he took a few steps towards Harvey, trying to appeal. “Fighting each other here at all-”

“—This is simple.”

Judge moved with the words. Harvey hadn’t been looking at him, and by the time he was, the figure was so much closer, like it had apparated. How fast could he move? God, he was so big.

Two-Face hesitated and looked at Harvey again, then uneasily took a step back. Agitated, his hand went for the gun slung over his shoulder and rested there.

“You wanted a life without him,” said Judge, looming over them for all the world like a god of this little cosmos, “Desperately, more than anything. You wanted to be like me, and failed. You let him ruin you. He took your life and plunged it into crime and sin and evil so deeply you have been lost out there forever. For all your feeble struggling, you have let this thing BECOME you. It snuffed you out when you were weak, and has walked too long in your shoes, destroying every part of who you used to be. You have fought for years to take your life back from this monster. Aid in killing him now, and take it.”

“I’m not a monster; I do what has to be done!” shouted Two-Face, snatching his gun and gesturing wildly, fingers so tight around the grip even through the scar tissue Harvey could see them turning white, “For justice, for chance, for fucking making it from one breath to the next! I’m the one willing to do what you two can’t, so you don’t have to! I’m the ONLY one in here who has EVER looked out for another part of us! I protect him! You never have! Even when we were kids! You blamed us! I protected us! I took it, I fought back, I was everything wrong about us we were blamed for, so he didn’t have to be!” He whirled on Harvey. “You think you’ll be safe with him? He’ll kill you too! He’s been ready to cut you down for the crime of existing since you were six years old!”

No, thought Harvey, I’ve been failing my whole life, but I could be better. I could be free of you.

He turned towards Two-Face and took a step back, hand slowly going to rest against the little letter opener blade in his pocket.

Two-Face’s expression fell.

It surprised Harvey that it would be…unexpected.

Two-Face looked from Harvey, to Judge, and the momentary hurt burst into anger.

“You’re both idiots! You want to try?! Fine!”

The Tommygun flashed, and Harvey dove to the left before realizing the shot had been aimed very wide of him, at Judge. On his right, the massive black-clad, faceless figure swiped its sword up and the bullets clattered aside, off the blade in a flash. It was impossible. But everything here was.

And then Harv—Two-Face—was dashing at him, and he had to snap into the moment, ducking under a swing at his head with the body of the gun, and trying to go for a knife swipe of his own to Harv’s side.

Harv kicked him away, knocking him far enough back that the swipe only ate air, and almost took Judge’s sword between his shoulder blades, barely sensing it at the last moment, and throwing himself prone and rolling.

Harvey was back up first, about five feet from H—Two-Face, whose back was to him. He was scrambling back from Judge on his elbows, one hand digging into his jacket and producing a grenade.

It went flying at Judge before Harvey could reach him to try to stop it, and he slammed into a surprised Two-Face and they rolled, grappling on the grass at the edge of the area, as they heard the explosion from the bomb behind them. Worried, Harvey looked to see if Judge was still up, and saw him standing, unmoved, only the sword singed with soot, in a cloud of smoke. The imposing figure turned its head toward them.

A fist rammed into the side of his face, and Harvey went back down, struggling for a hold on Two-Face’s hand to keep the gun back as they landed side-by-side in the grass now, and the almost twin figure opposite him tried to rip the knife out of his own. He took a knee to the gut, hard, and answered with an elbow to the side of Two-Face’s head, and they struggled and slipped and rolled again, a mad tangle of knees and arms and cheap shots; a forehead slammed against his nose; his fist ripped at acid bleached white hair, and suddenly they were slipping for real—fast—too fast, too far.

In their struggle, they’d been getting dangerously close to the chasm and the tiny river far below, and the last grapple had landed them a little too dangerously close this time. They’d hit the edge of the slope to the fall.

They went from sliding to falling in an instant, and Harvey shot a hand out for the roots of a tree as he skidded past, and and it ripped free in his hand and came with him. Harv got a foot wedged between a slightly bigger tree trunk, and an arm around another almost as fast, a half second before Harvey’s momentum slammed him into Harv, stopping them both, breathing hard, about three feet from the edge.

Fight forgotten to the near death experience, they looked as one at the monumental fall. Even here, with the way injuries and healing seemed a concept instead of a medical reality, it would have to be a grim and certain death hitting ground below. Even the water must be like concrete.

“Aaahg!” The shout from Two-Face startled him, and he looked just in time to be grabbed by the collar and flung bodily back onto the plateau.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, and he had barely had time to understand where he was before Harv had scrambled up and thrown himself back on top of him, raising the gun butt to bring down on his head, and Harvey barely got his hands up in time to try to keep it back.

There was a sudden sound like wind whipping around a building, and Two-Face’s face paled and he hurled himself bodily backwards, narrowly avoiding Judge’s massive sword.

He rolled back and up to a knee, gun out, and fired. Bullets sprayed into the grass and up along Judge, somehow cutting through fabric and air along the edge of his form, like there was no one inside, and the sword swept upwards, deflecting bullets from Judge’s head and chest.

Snatching the opportunity, Harvey drew his own pistol on Two-Face. It should have been an easy shot; he was distracted by Judge, almost unmoving, close. But Harvey missed completely just the same, and the man whipped around furiously and returned fire.

Adrenaline pumping at jet fuel levels, Harvey dove to the side of the tommygun’s spray of bullets and made it to a knee in time to see Two-Face back up on his feet, ignoring him again in favor of running at Judge—ducking under a swipe from the massive sword, and getting two shots in past it at Judge’s torso, that connected this time. The sword came back fast, with an angry sound from Judge, and Two-Face leapt over it, falling back a step unsteadily as the sword came again, too fast, slicing him across the chest as he tried to move too late, and back at him again with a massive two hands swipe from above, and it was all he could do to get the tommygun up and between them to catch the sword and hold it back as he struggled against Judge’s strength.

Somehow, he wasn’t scared. Harvey could see it on his face. It was crazy, but he wasn’t afraid of Judge at all. He was angry. It seemed impossible to him, but he supposed for Big Bad Harv, it must not be.

Remembering to move then, Harvey made it up too, not much worse for the wear, and haltingly took another shot at Two-Face, grazing him in the arm this time as he saw the shot coming and tried to break the grapple and jerk out of the way, making it just an instant too slow. Judge immediately made another pass with the sword, trying to catch him off balance, and Two-Face ducked narrowly under it, returning fire as he did with his gun. Judge fell back to parry shots what looked like effortlessly, and Harvey made a mad dash for Two-Face while his focus was off him again, knife in his right hand, gun in his left, making a swipe for Two-Face as he got in close.

Two-Face saw him coming and stepped back out of the way of the swipe, and then another, trying to keep most of his attention on Judge. He dodged a third swipe from the letter opener, and got the tommygun leveled at the towering figure of Judge, but Harvey shot the barrel, knocking the aim off and sending a spray of bullets into the trees.

Furious, Two-Face swung the gun over and took a shot at him finally, and Harvey swung left just in time, feeling bullets pass by in the air.

Out of his peripheral, he saw Judge close in again with the sword, and Two-Face jumped back to avoid a swipe and twisted past another, returning fire, and Harvey dashed to the side, trying to get behind him.

Two-Face saw the move, and turned his head to look for just a second, and caught the sword in his arm for it, cursing and turning his back on Harvey to chuck a grenade at Judge, face lit with anger and disbelief as the huge figure knocked the grenade aside effortlessly, and it exploded off behind him, out of range. He opened fire with the tommygun again, trying to get back a little room, and Harvey made a mad dash for him from behind.

Two-Face saw it coming, and caught him in the chest with the butt of the gun, ducking under a swipe from Harvey’s knife, and to the side of a second swipe, then leaping off to the left to avoid one from Judge, firing back as he did, and Harvey caught an opening just as he pulled the trigger and slammed into him at the waist, sending them both down hard, Harvey on top, and he slammed the barrel of his pistol down against Two-Face’s forehead as they hit the ground.

The impact hurt. He saw Two-Face’s hands freeze halfway through a fumbling attempt to turn the tommygun on him, and his eyes met Harvey’s, wide with fear like a hunted animal, and with anger, and hurt, and Harvey knew he was supposed to pull the trigger, but he didn’t.

He felt sick and wrong suddenly.

None of this was supposed to—he—

Judge’s sword came carving through his back, and through him, down into Harv, and he heard Harv scream.

“No!” Faint, in a voice that wasn’t his.

He was just looking. Down, limply, at the massive thing through his body.

He went up then, lifted, Harv pinned on the tip of the sword above him, gripping the blade with both hands to try to keep from sliding deeper into it. Harv was looking at him. The way someone looked at an oncoming car hitting someone else.

Shouted…something. As Judge raised them both heavenward. And then there was an awful force applied, and they were flung off the blade, to the chasm.

He knew he was skidding, falling, but he couldn’t move, or think, or feel. React.

Everything was cold, and far away.

He vaguely registered Two-Face hitting the slope ahead of him, slamming against a tree just before the edge, dazed for a second on impact. Harvey’s limp body wasn’t so lucky. It hit the ground past him and rolled down the slope towards the drop.

Seeing him go, Two-Face let out a shout and scrambled after him, fingers catching a sleeve just as Harvey hit the edge and went over. Harv threw himself after, dragging the limp form to him in midair and wrapping himself around it as they took the free fall towards the water below.

-

-

Pain. Aching, seeping, deep. It coursed along him in sheets. He was…c-cold too. Wet. Confused. What-?

Struggling, Harvey opened his eyes, blinking weakly in a failed attempt to focus. Everything was blurred and unsteady.

Where?

Th-there. Movement. Up…above him. S-something…

Trees. Rock. He could hear…rushing water. On his back?…s-somewhere…it all—

Trying to move sent ripples of pain along his gut, and he remembered the sword.

Sh-shit.

He couldn’t…see. Anything but blurry red, looking down at his chest. He couldn’t. Couldn’t move.

I-I’m dying…?

Moving. Something was…

There. Above h-him, on the left. Something was stand—Harv. H-He was. Was standing just a few feet to the side, with his back to Harvey, looking for something.

Hand trembling, Harvey dug in with all his might and tried to raise it towards him. Tried to say his name.

He didn’t think any sound had come out, but Big Bad Harv turned, eyebrow raised, and glanced down at him.

“H-Help,” he managed, voice a cracked whisper.

“Oh?” asked Big Bad Harv, rasping voice steeped in superiority and anger, “You think I’m going to help you? After you wanted to kill me?”

His strength gave out, and Harvey couldn’t keep the hand up anymore. He let it fall against his chest and slide back limply to the ground, body shuddering under the stress of trying, and enduring this much damage and pain. He couldn’t…keep his. e-eyes open… it was..

“All right, all right. Jesus. Just try not to die so fast,” said Big Bad Harv in the voice of someone who had been planning to kick someone around more, wildly diverting plans in the face of a sudden crisis. He moved quickly beside him and knelt down, and Harvey couldn’t get his eyes open anymore at all.

He heard movement, felt hands, heard fabric rip, and muttering words he couldn’t make out, maybe…maybe his name a few times? And then he was gone again.

-

-

When he came to again, Harvey had forgotten where he was. Where he had been. It all came back slow, as his blurry eyes made out the same forms of trees and rock above him, felt the cold of wet clothes, and registered the sound of moving water. It, and the twenty-four hours before it.

It was hard to think. He felt feverish, and half awake, even as he remembered. It was so cold, and he felt sick, but too weak to vomit. I wonder if I’m still dying…

It seemed likely.

He struggled to blink and focus more. Find some change in the light to guess at how much time had passed at least, but he was too weak, and it was too much to do.

“Finally,” came a rasping voice he knew.

It took him a second to find Big Bad Harv, because he was kneeling almost behind him. “Almost thought you weren’t going to wake up this time.”

Weakly, body shuddering from the cold and the effort, Harvey turned his head, trying to get a look at him.

“Am I dying?” managed Harvey.

Big Bad Harv shrugged. “The bleeding stopped, but he got you pretty good. Which I told you he’d do.”

Harvey tried to look down at his torso. Flat on his back, that wasn’t easy, but he could faintly see stained cloth wrapped around what had been a massive smear of red last time his eyes were open. Recognizing the jacket, he turned his head back towards Big Bad Harv and registered his jacket was gone.

“…You saved me?” he asked weakly.

Harv rolled his eyes and looked off to the side.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” asked Harvey.

“Why didn’t you?” snapped Harv, glancing back.

I…?

He swallowed, and it hurt. It hurt to breathe, and he coughed weakly on impulse, and the feeling it shot along his torso was agonizing.

“Easy,” reprimanded Harv, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and stop the involuntary spasms the cough had set off, “You’ll die and leave me with Judge.”

It took a second for the convulsions to settle down, and it had zapped so much energy from Harvey by the time they had, it was all he could do to turn his head again and look up. “I’m sorry,” he managed, almost pleadingly. His voice was the ghost of a voice.

“Good. You should be,” snapped Harv, “Can’t believe you’d rather be stuck with that thing, than me.”

Harvey coughed again, a bad, wet sound deep in his lungs, so deep it sent shudders along his limbs, and he could feel the pain in his ribs from it. He couldn’t stop coughing for several seconds, and when it finally ended, he tried to gasp out a breath, and it was hard. He kept fighting to fill his lungs, and failing, like a fish on a bank. They felt like they weighed too much to move. It started to panic him, and he gasped faster, coughing again, then he felt hands on his shoulders, and Harv carefully dragged him up a little so his torso was propped against his lap.

“…You okay?” asked Harv after a second of looking down at him and listening to the gasps and coughing ease.

“…Thank you,” said Harvey.

Harv made an assent flavored grunt.

“For saving me,” he managed, throat feeling raw now and terrible, but determined nevertheless. Harv started to answer, but Harvey noticed too late and kept going, still struggling weakly to breathe evenly again. “I’m sorry. I. never. never said that…” He swallowed, closed his eyes against the pain in his gut that was overwhelming him. Opened them again, shaky, and looked out at the blurry outline of the river they must have fallen into nearby.

Harv said nothing.

“…You know you…you ruined my life,” continued Harvey quietly after a few seconds, “My…”

He wanted to cry, for so many reasons, but it felt like there was no point to any of them at all left.

“…I lost so much. To you. I… … …But. You saved my life, too. You did. P-Protect…me. You’re right. And I never—never thanked you for that. Any of it. I…” It hurt too much to keep going, and he shuddered and sucked in a breath, eyes squeezed shut, trying to deal with the pain of existing in the moment he was in.

“…It’s what I do. I told you,” said Harv after a moment, no easily discernible emotion tied to his voice, “Ever since we were kids.”

Wearily, Harvey turned his head to look up at him the little he could. “Really?” he asked weakly, “I don’t…remember…much.”

“Yeah, I kind of think that was the idea,” replied Harv with the hint of a grin.

“You must despise me,” said Harvey quietly, looking away at nothing.

Harv was quiet a second. “…That’s a strong word, ‘despise.’ You’ve always been annoying, and weak, and kind of fucking exhausting, but…no. I’ve never ‘despised’ you.”

Harvey made himself look back up. Harv was looking down, meeting his gaze, face hard to read.

“If you’ve been…” He tried to swallow. “Taking my beatings for me, since we were a child, I don’t see how that could be possible.”

It was why he’d never wanted to think of it this way. Never let himself try. Making someone else to suffer in your place? Was so unforgivable. If he was really even worse than Harv, what could that possibly make him? It was beyond him. It had always been too much to bear trying to consider.

“Why do you think I decided to exist and take them?” asked Harv, in a tone Harvey could not remember hearing from him before. Almost an attempt, from something that was never meant to be, at ‘soft’.

Harv glanced away then, at the steadily darkening jungle around them. “Get off your high horse, Harvey. You didn’t make me. We made me. I made me. You haven’t been able to force me to come out and do anything a day in your life. I’m not a part of you you control. Thought you at least grasped that much.”

Harvey didn’t know what to say to that.

He thought, instead, aching and cold and wounded, running things through one by one, with the little energy he had to do it.

“I’m sorry, Harv,” he offered finally, overwhelmed with sadness suddenly, only when he had already said it.

“I told you-” started Harv.

“—that I never valued it,” said Harvey. He shut his eyes.

Above him, Harv was quiet. He heard him shift a little, and for a long few seconds, nothing.

“You did once,” said Harv quietly, almost to himself, “it was just a long time ago.”

Harvey tried to remember, and wished he hadn’t.

“Don’t worry,” said Harv carelessly above him, “You’ll be fine. We’ll get moving in a little and find somewhere safer to hole up for a few hours, before your ‘better’ half catches up with us.”

“I don’t think I can walk,” said Harvey automatically, looking blearily up.

“Really? I hadn’t guessed,” replied Harv, voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm, “Do I look like I can’t lift you?”

Harvey smiled a little, and let himself shut his eyes again and try to pass out. It had been more than two decades since he remembered it feeling safe in the way he did in this moment, to let himself do that.

-

-

[[Next]]

[ragingbookdragon]

A Heart That's Been Broken Is A Heart That's Been Loved

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I saw a video of a young man at his wedding listening to the heart of his deceased brother still beating in the woman's chest who received it. This idea sprung from it. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She paced nervously on the front steps of Wayne Manor, heart leaping up and down her throat as she mentally repeated the conversation in her head. The documents in her purse felt like bricks and she hefted the bag higher onto her shoulder, swallowing her anxiety as the lock flicked and the door opened, revealing an older man, probably late fifties early sixties.

Smiling anxiously, she greeted, “Good morning, sir. How are you doing today?”

He returned her smile with a polite one of his own. “I am doing well this morning, thank you. And you?”

“I’ve seen birds more calm than I am,” she laughed, probably a little too hard, and stuck out her hand. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I was wondering if I could speak to Mister Wayne? If he’s in?”

The man frowned. “Master Bruce is in the breakfast room with his family at the moment. May I ask your business with him?”

(Y/N) reached into her bag and pulled out the documents, handing them to him. “It involves his mother, Martha Wayne. More importantly the organ transplant she gave some three and a half decades ago.”

He met her gaze and handed the documents back. “Please follow me.”

She nodded and entered the manor, the scent of cinnamon and fresh linen wafting up her nose. Shutting the door behind her, she let the man escort her through the foyer and through the hall into the kitchen where she was met with the sight of Bruce Wayne and all six of his children.

Their forks stopped when the man entered with her and he said, “Master Bruce, this young woman is here to speak with you. Her name is (Y/N) (L/N).”

Bruce wiped his mouth on his napkin and rose to his feet, shaking her hand. “Good morning, Miss (L/N).”

“Oh, please, call me (Y/N),” she smiled.

“(Y/N),” he corrected, matching her expression. “Alfred doesn’t usually let people into the manor, so I’m assuming you’ve something important to speak to me about?”

She nodded, clearing her throat when she felt the weight of the children’s stares. “Um, yes, Mister Wayne.” Reaching back into her purse, she pulled out the documents once more, but held them in her hands. “I don’t know how to say this lightly and I wish I did, but I felt like you should know.”

She handed them over, watching as he took them with a confused look and started reading. “Thirty-six years ago, your mother Martha Wayne donated her organs after she perished.” (Y/N) reached up, unbuttoning the first few buttons of her shirt, a healed scar peaking through the top of her bra. “Thirty-six years ago, I was severely wounded in a home robbery at nine. I received your mother’s heart.”

Bruce’s hands started to shake around the paper, and she murmured, “I’ve spent a long time trying to get the documentation, so I could come here and show you.” (Y/N) stuck her hand into her purse and pulled out a stethoscope. “Would you like to listen?”

He nodded, swallowing thickly, not trusting his words to accept for him and she handed it over, watching as he put it in his ears then lifted the chest-piece to the center of her chest; she didn’t dare make a sound as she breathed and his eyes suddenly went wide, filling with tears, then snapped shut and he brought a hand up to his face, covering his eyes.

(Y/N) felt tears of her own grow in her vision and she grasped his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as she could, whispering, “I know your parents dying was traumatic, but your mother gave me life again. I’m alive because of Martha Wayne.”

“I never thought I’d hear mother’s heartbeat again,” he cried softly and wiped his eyes, though the tears kept coming; he sniffed harshly as he looked at her, a wobbly smile coming over his lips. “Thank you,” he breathed, a choked laugh escaping him, and he couldn’t help but shift the chest-piece, placing his palm right beside it.

She felt her heart rate pick up, thumping strongly against his hand and the two of them smiled at one another, tears running down their cheeks. “Of course,” she replied. “You have every right to hear her heart again.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched slightly as he tried to keep more tears at bay, and he shook his head. “It’s your heart. It’s both your hearts.” His thumb brushed tentatively over the scar. “I never knew mother’s organs had been donated…I’m glad they were. It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“She and your father saved many lives with their donations,” (Y/N) replied. “I’m sure you could find out who, but I know they were the saviors of many.”

She watched Bruce remove his hand and the stethoscope, pulling out the earpieces; he wrapped it up and handed it back to her, along with the documents and she returned them to her purse, finally wiping her face.

“Thank you for letting me come here, Mister Wayne,” she said. “Thank you for giving me your time.”

He shook his head. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’ve given me a great gift.” When she looked at him curiously, he murmured, “My mother lives on. Her heart beats strongly in another woman just as beautiful and wonderful as she was.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm and she replied, “I hope I do her justice like you’ve said.” She reached out, intent to shake his hand, but Bruce pulled her into a strong hug; a smile crossed her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly, whispering, “If you ever want to listen again. You can find me at Gotham University English Department. You’re welcome anytime.”

Bruce pulled away, hands still on her shoulders. “I might take you up on that offer.”

She smiled, eyes still a bit damp, and glanced at his children, some of whom had shed tears, and some had unshed tears in their eyes; she nodded at them, waving at a particular one. “Good morning, Timothy.”

He weakly waved, cheeks tear-stained. “Morning Professor (L/N).”

Smiling at them, she hugged Bruce once more and turned, heading for the door, though she briefly paused and faced the family once more. “There is no love like that of a mother’s. Whose love is everlasting, even after she has long been reclaimed by the earth. She exists in all she created, in all she touched. We are never without her, for she is ever with us.”

(Y/N) tipped her head, “Have a wonderful day,” and left.

[liquid-luck-00]

Red Shadows

Pets

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette really didn’t know what to do.

On one hand she severed any and all ties to not just the Red Room, but to the League of Assassins and her grandfather. On the other hand, her biological brother doesn’t want anything to do with her, her father has had no contact with her, while being with her brother, and her other brothers didn’t care enough to help her. Maybe they know her past, but even then, she knew they were there, and they just stayed there and watched.

She wasn’t originally planning on taking the plane she booked, but maybe it was wrong to come back. She hoped her brother could help her transition out of her past but the way he looked at her.

When he told her he thought she was dead, that he didn’t want to ‘end up’ like her. His face said more than his words. His eyes darkened, resolution clear. And his face at a glance was pleasant, but just underneath he was clenching his jaw, burrowing his brow, while trying to relax his features. Telling her that being like her that she is, nothing, that meeting was a mistake. That hurt her so she left, not looking back. When he found her after the attack, he almost looked like he cared, but she can’t forget his eyes, so she’s leaving Gotham.

Which brings her back to the airport. She had gotten a plane ticket for any destination that was the next flight out that had an opening. But first she needed to lose this tracker, she already had to deal with being tracked her entire life she didn’t need to continue being monitored. She noticed it in one of the pockets of her vest, on the way to her hotel to get her bag.

So, while waiting for her flight to be called, she went for coffee. While in line, she slipped the tracker from her pocket, kneeled down to tie her shoe, and tacked it on the nearest suitcase (that wasn't hers). Got her coffee then got on her plane

As luck would have it, she was going back to Paris. So, she started over.

She had a contact that set her up with a new identity, Amira Morningstar, the irony was not lost on her.

After a week, she decided to apply to university. Forging report cards wasn't that hard, given they were all homeschooled.

After a month, she needed to get out. She had some custom handguns that shot rubber bullets. However, she prefers her escrima sticks, that also happen to pack 50,000 volts. She added a mask that covered the bottom half of her face and red contacts.

That was how Black Widow became Paris' resident vigilante. Adrien Agreste vouched for her, saying she's the reason for Hawkmoth's downfall. That alone granted her their unwavering trust.

A few days after going out as Black Widow, she heard a soft thump on her balcony. There she found a little kitten, as an owl dove for it.

She opened the sliding door, shot out her arms, to protect the little kitten. Her arms got cut up by the owl’s talons, but she didn't care.

"Your all alone huh?" She took the kitten in, and immediately looked up what she could feed the kitten until the morning. She found a recipe that she had all the ingredients on hand, made it, and fed the kitten using a syringe for oral medicines.

Only after the kitten fell asleep did she treat the gouges on her arms.

In the morning she fed both her and the kitten then went to the vet. Where she got quite the surprise.

Turns out it wasn't a kitten but a newborn European Lynx cub.

So, she did the logical thing and went to the zoo. Where she got help from the big cat handler on how to raise the little guy, turns out its a boy. So, she called him Небо (pronounced Nebo), because it means sky in Russian, seeing as he fell from the sky.

The handlers at the zoo fell in love with him and looked forward to when they would visit, either for pleasure or a check up.

She soon found a passion for fashion design, and soon her designs were being sought after.

Once Jagged Stone saw her work and found out about her "Rock'n" furry friend, he officially named her his personal stylist.

Her commissions were so sought after it attracted the attention of one Audrey Bourgeoise. Who offered her an internship under her. Which she would be crazy to refuse, so she and Hебо got packed, and went to New York.

Was it a bit difficult to find a place that allowed not just pets, but a six-month-old Lynx cub, absurdly hard. Did she eventually find one, yes, on the outskirts of Metropolis, meaning she has to commute, but that’s not too bad. Seeing as she was fortunate enough that the zoo in Paris called the one in Metropolis and explained the situation. She was going to go the next weekend so that they can meet in person and not just over video.

Yes, she usually rode the subway for work, but because of Небо she got a small compact car, to not have to hassle for check ups. Yes, it was normal to see her walking him all over Paris, but Metropolis is different. When they got there, she placed him in his harness, attached his leash and he jumped into her arms. Luckily, he was still small, and she could still do so.

They walked up to the front gate, and the girl luckily seemed to know who they were. “You must be Amira and Небо?!” She smiled brightly.

“That’s us.” Amira smiled as she responded.

“Here are your badges, make sure to always have them, and bring them back.” She put the lanyard around her neck and clipped the badge to Небо’s harness. “A handler is on their way to show you around.”

“Thank you.” Shortly afterwards like the girl said a handler came and gave them a tour of the facility and then they went to the big cat’s area.

Just like in Paris, they all quickly fell in love with the lynx cub. After the check up they decided to walk around the zoo, as it was a slow day.

She was letting Небоclimb a tree off leash, away from and exhibits, when someone noticed the leash in her hands and the badge on her neck.

“Hey!” He spoke and it was so bright and bubbly that she turned towards him.

“Hello.” She responded.

“Are you a caretaker?” He asked.

“Of one very mischievous cat.” She grinned. “Небо брифинг (pronounced brifing) [briefing].” He climbed down and sat on her left side. She crouched down and reattached his lead. “This is Небо, my European Lynx Cub.” She introduced.

That got the two of them talking. And when he found out this was her first time in the Metropolis Zoo, he of course had to give them a tour. Then she had to take a call, unfortunately, someone messed up several gowns for the next show case and she was the closest designer on call.

“I’m so sorry.” She walked back over. “But I have to go. See you around?!” She smiled, for the first time in maybe forever, she genuinely smiled. They were halfway home when she realized not only did, she not get his number, she also never got his name. Oh well it can’t be helped now.

---

“Sorry I’m late, Kent, there was an unforeseen delay.” A rogue decided that it was a good idea to take hostage of W.E. yet again, and he happened to be the first on the scene but had to wait for one of his siblings.

“No worries, Damian. I didn’t even realize you were late.” Jon answered him.

“And why would that be am never anything but!?!”

“I met someone with a pet lynx cub. You just missed her actually. She left maybe ten minutes ago.”

“That is a shame, I missed the cub.” Damian informed. “You didn’t happen to get her number so I can see the lynx, did you?”

The half Kryptonian’s face fell. “Nope, I didn’t even get her name.” He informed.

That was when a caretaker passed by them. “You’re talking about little Небо, right?”

“Yes.” Jon instantly shot up.

“Amira has to bring him back in six weeks for grooming and some vaccines.”

“Thank you so much.” Jon waved as the caretaker walked off.

“Why is she bringing in the lynx?”

“Well, the lynx cub is her pet.” He answered with a shrug. “You two would get along, I think.”

“That depends on how well she is treating that Lynx cub.” He grumbled.

next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[taggingtim]

Why I love Pre-Boot Tim Drake and why the Reboot has ruined him

I love Tim Drake.  He is my favorite comic book character of all time.  I’ve been really upset the past few days about what DC has been doing with him lately, and I thought it would be cathartic for me to write something up about it.  (No, this isn’t a rant about Tim being bi/gay; it’s a much larger problem than that. But I’ll get to that in a bit.) Bear with me for a bit of history, first.

When I was a kid I loved the Batman Animated Series.  I know this will lose me a lot of internet cred, but I always preferred the fourth season. In particular, I loved Tim Drake. He was fun and funny and I absolutely adored him.  I used to beg my mom to take me to the mall so I could buy issues of Gotham Adventures. For my birthday one year my parents got me a subscription to the comic, and I was blown away by the idea that I could have comics MAILED to my HOUSE.

Around middle school I started collecting Marvel comics, mostly X-men stuff.  I loved them, but when I started college I quit the hobby for financial reasons.

 Fast forward a few years, and I felt I was financially stable enough to start buying comics again. Rather than going back to Marvel, I decided to give Batman comics a chance.  I had no idea where to start, and when I found out my beloved Tim had his own comic series, I thought it was a perfect entry point into the Batman universe. I bought the complete series from a local comic shop and dove in.

 Tim’s Robin series was exactly what I was looking for in a comic.  He was very different from little Timmy Todd from BtAS, but I loved him. I built the rest of my comic collection around him, grabbing up every book that he was featured in, from Young Justice to Teen Titans to Batman, Detective Comics, Nightwing, Red Robin, and many others.  I have random books from series like The Demon just because Tim was in them.

 So why did I like Tim so much?  What about this character made me so excited for more?  I found in Tim something that I had never seen in a comic book before: character growth.  Somehow, though he was written by many different authors over many different years, Tim managed to have a character arc that is consistent and makes sense. Sure, there were a few small bumps along the way, but on the whole Tim has always stayed true to his character, and he’s developed in a way that the big name characters, like Batman, never can.

 When we’re first introduced to Tim, he’s a young teen who has been neglected by his parents growing up. He’s smart, healthy, and strong, but he lacks so much self confidence and has little sense of self worth.  Tim notices Bruce’s increasing violence as he grieves for the loss of his son, and Tim knows he needs to step in and help.  Batman needs a Robin.

 For most characters, this would be the part where Tim put himself forward for the job.  But he doesn’t.  He seeks out Dick Grayson and begs him to come home instead.  It’s only when Batman and Nightwing are in danger and there is literally no one else to help that Tim steps up and dons the cape. And once he does, he’s constantly plagued by self-doubt, terrified he will screw up and leave Batman worse than ever before.

 From there, Tim undergoes intense training.  He never begs to be in the spotlight, doesn’t push to go out on the streets before he’s ready.  His goal is to help Bruce as much as possible.

 Here’s where I started to fall in love with him.  All that self-doubt, the constant need to be useful?  That’s exactly what you would expect to see from a child whose parents had ignored and neglected him.  He finally has a parental figure who sees him, who values him, and Tim does everything he can to make himself worthy in the hopes that Bruce will keep him around.

 This is the first example of character consistency that we see with Tim.  And it continues.  When his mom dies and his dad is put in a coma, you see Tim struggle to come to terms with losing the people he loves, but never had a relationship with.  Tim almost never mentions his mom after her death, because she just wasn’t present in his life.  When his dad recovers and decides to stick around, Tim struggles to build a relationship with him.  He’s plagued with guilt because he’s finally found the father figure he needed in Bruce, but he thinks that he’s supposed to feel that way for Jack.  It’s a running undercurrent in their relationship that creates distance between them for years.

 This is already so long, so I’m going to try to summarize a bit more.  We get to watch Tim grow up.  We see his awkward relationship with his first girlfriend, Ariana.  He doesn’t know how to treat her; he’s never had the opportunity to observe a healthy relationship.  But he tries so, so hard.  All of Tim’s relationships are awkward, because he’s never had a model of a good one. Steph is a great match for him, because she’s very vocal about what she wants and needs, and she isn’t afraid to call Tim out when he messes up, which is exactly what Tim needs.

 Big things happen to Tim. He’s stuck with Jean-Paul Valley, who slowly goes insane, leaving Tim to try to keep the city in one piece.  He’s infected with the Clench, a plague that sweeps over Gotham and kills everyone it touches, and barely escapes with his life. His girlfriend is sexually assaulted, leaving him to deal with the fallout.  His family moves out of Gotham, and he has to sneak back in during No Man’s Land to help.  His relationship with his dad has intense ups and downs, resulting in him being sent to boarding school, punished in a variety of ways, and generally caused a lot of trouble in his life.

 Then people start dying. Over the course of about a year in his life, Tim loses his girlfriend, his dad, a close friend, and his best friend, each of whom dies under tragic conditions.  Tim’s grief is intense, and he is understandably traumatized by the losses. We see fundamental changes in his character.  He changes his costume from something bright and cheerful to something darker that reflects his emotional state.  He’s more subdued, his adventures a little more serious.

 When Bruce first tries to adopt him, Tim literally creates an uncle and hires an actor to play him, just to avoid dealing with the situation.  Bruce has viewed Tim as a son for years, so to him the adoption is an obvious step.  For Tim, it feels like a betrayal of his father, and it takes a while before he’s ready to accept Bruce’s love, home, and a place in his family.  

 When Damian shows up on the scene, Tim really struggles with him, and not just because early Damian is a horrid brat who tries to kill Tim on multiple occasions.  Tim has always felt the need to earn his place with Bruce, and Damian constantly throws all of Tim’s biggest fears in his face—he’s not wanted or needed now that the “real” son is here, he’s not worthy of a place in the family, he’s not good enough.

 Tim tries to clone Conner, his best friend.  He’s lost so many people, and he’s desperate to get them back.  Conner was cloned to begin with and fully matured over a very short period of time; the technology clearly exists, so why can’t Tim use it to get his best friend back?  And if he can get Conner back, why not the others he’s lost?  He eventually gives up, but when he eventually gets access to a Lazarus Pit, he immediately wants to incorporate the waters into his process so he can revive his loved ones.  With Dick’s help, Tim eventually decides to let it go, but it’s such a poignant moment for the character.

 Then Bruce dies, and Dick takes Robin away.  Tim switches to the Red Robin persona as he travels the world, alone, trying to prove that he was right.  He has to deal with the trauma of losing another father, finds out that his girlfriend never died but let him hurt so much for so long.  His brother and the only close friend he has left both think his grief has overwhelmed his sense and that he’s gone crazy.  He’s utterly alone.

 The Red Robin series is such a great culmination for Tim.  He finds a place for himself as a hero, as a CEO.  He gets parts of his family back—Bruce, Steph, Bart, Conner.  He finally figures out who he wants to be and creates a place for himself.

 This overarching character development is what I love about Tim.  His many, many traumas impact his decisions, and you can clearly see how he changes over time as a result of them.  I didn’t even go into his development as a leader from his early fumbling with Young Justice to his strong leadership of the Teen Titans, or how his relationships with Conner, Bart, and Cassie develop so fluidly and realistically over the years.

 This is why I love Tim. Characters like Batman are static; nothing that happens to them will ever have a lasting impact, because in the end the character always returns to what they were.  Tim, on the other hand, has changed and developed A LOT since his initial appearance.  His growth has always been consistent and logical.

 When the reboot happened, all of that character growth was lost.  Tim was replaced with a jerk who betrayed his friends and cheated on his girlfriend.  DC has basically retconned all of this and tried to turn Tim back into who he was, but by taking away all of the things that have happened to him over the years, Tim has lost SO MUCH.

 I keep looking for my Tim in recent comics, and I just can’t find him.  It breaks my heart, because I love him so much, and it feels like he’s lost to me forever.  The most recent Young Justice comic series actually gave me hope; I felt like maybe, finally, someone was going to write Tim correctly.  He had his primary friendships back, his relationship with Steph was developing (even if they seem to have completely dropped all the development around Steph’s decision to let Tim think she was dead).  The actual book itself wasn’t fantastic, but it felt like they were headed in the right direction.

 Over the last few days, I read the Batman: Urban Legends books.  I actually read the Batman/Red Hood story first, which was fantastic.  I was really excited to read Tim’s story (though I already knew how it ended).  Jason’s character was handled so well, and he seemed to actually have some character development that will hopefully last.  I anticipated the same for Tim.

 But Tim’s story was awful. The plot was all over the place—kids are being kidnapped, so Tim has to join a pain cult to get them back?  He’s somehow helping Oracle with computer issues while simultaneously questioning witnesses?  He’s broken up with Steph, off camera, shortly after telling her how much he loves her, but Steph somehow thinks that they should have a caring relationship where Tim tells her what he’s feeling?  Bernard has somehow become a good enough fighter to stand side by side with Robin?  Tim STILL doesn’t have a code name?  Why is everyone suddenly hounding him about what he wants to do with his life?

 It’s just such a mess of a story.  If it didn’t end with Tim agreeing to go on a date with Bernard, no one would ever have even mentioned it.  There’s nothing particularly re-readable or enjoyable about it.

 I actually liked that they brought Bernard back. I really enjoyed him in the original Robin series. It’s been a while since I read that part of the series (I’m actually working my way back through it now).  I know Bernard always read as gay to me, yet somehow I felt like he was out of character in these books.

 And then, the climax of the story.  Tim is bi, or gay, or has at least agreed to go on a date with a boy.

 If this had happened in the pre-boot, when Tim was Red Robin and had an actual character arc, I honestly wouldn’t have had an issue with it.  I do think it would have needed a LOT more build up than it was given here.  Tim has always been a very introspective character, and we’ve been party to so much of his internal monologue over the years.  It seems very strange to me that such a huge thing just sneaks up on him out of nowhere when he’s never even thought about it before.

 But more than that, this story just feels like the final death blow for the Tim I loved.  The whole arc is about how Tim doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be.  What will his hero name be?  Will he go to college?  What is he going to do with his life?  These are all great questions, and his answer to all of them is… date a boy?  

 Is this going to be his defining characteristic going forward?  From here will we just see Tim exploring and discovering his sexuality?  The Tim we have now doesn’t have a family, a team, a purpose, or even a code name.  Why was this the thing that DC decided to give us?  It feels like they wanted to make a gay Robin and decided it would be Tim because they didn’t know what else to do with him.

 It’s stupid, but I honestly feel like I’ve spent the past few days grieving the loss of a loved one. The Tim that DC is presenting now is just not the person that I knew.  Tim would never break up with Steph that abruptly for what he admits is no apparent reason.  He would never say “just call me Robin, since Damian’s out of town.”  Everything that I love about Tim seems to be gone, and in its place DC has given me a date with a boy.  

 Again, it’s not Tim being not-straight that I have an issue with.  I’ve never read the character that way, but it’s something I can live with. My issue is the way it was handled. Why not make Tim an actual person first, and then explore his sexuality?  Send him off to college!  He’s obviously thinking about it!  It’s the perfect opportunity to give him his own book.  He can move to a different city, choose a new name, and DC can introduce a whole new set of characters.  Figure out which parts of Tim’s backstory are still canon, and which have been dropped. Make him a person again, and then let him explore his sexuality.

 I know this post is all over the place, and I don’t have time right now to go back and edit it.  I just really needed an outlet for my frustration.  Right now it feels like there are so many people who are so excited about Tim being bi/gay, but they don’t know anything else about him.  I keep seeing people comment how DC has been “dropping hints for years!” with no evidence other than “he and Superboy were really close!”  I guess I’d just really like to have some dialogue with other people who are fans of Tim, rather than fans of Tim-as-bi/gay or fans of Tim-as-straight.

 Does anyone else feel this way?  I’d honestly like to have a dialogue about it with other long time fans.

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Enemies to Lovers

For Maribat March day 23 theme enemies to lovers

Master List

“Kent’s coming over.” Damian stated at breakfast, none of the other Wayne’s seemed phased by this, none but one. 

“Again?” At Damian’s nod she continued, “I’ll be in my room or the Batcave so don’t bring him there.” 

"He will also be bringing a friend over from that exchange program his school did with the one in London." Damian added, Marinette tensed a little bit but didn’t say anything else.

"Is Jon bringing a stranger over a good idea?" Tim asked.

"Tt, Kent said that he would make sure the boy wouldn't wander." Damian answered, after 9 years in the manor he still hadn't gotten rid of his tt habit. 

"I'll be in my room then, I don't want Jon or his friend bothering me." Marinette announced to no one's surprise.

“Marinette,” She turned to look at Dick, “Why don’t you like Jon? This has been going on for almost a year now. Surely you could give him another chance. Or at the very least his friend?” 

“Not interested.” And with that she finished her breakfast and went to go help Alfred with cleaning the dishes, like she did every morning. 

Damian watched his younger half blood sister go, frown evident on his face. Marinette Wayne had been living with them for over a year now. While she was now 16, her opinion of one Jonathan Kent still had not changed. 

After Bruce had a one night stand with her mother she had been born 9 months later, Sabine having no intention of telling Bruce. What she did not expect was that 15 years later she and her husband would be guilty of negligence and emotional abuse of Marinette and custody would be handed to her bio father. Aka Bruce Wayne. 

Marinette changed her last name to Wayne and left her life in Paris behind. There was not much left for her there anyways. But she had never told her new family why she was so insistent on leaving Paris behind. More specifically who she was leaving behind.

The Waynes had gotten used to her bubbly personality in the manor, so they were shocked that when they sent her off to Gotham Academy she was dubbed the ‘Ice Princess’ the next morning.

Turns out after what happened in Paris, she refused to open up to anyone. Most days she was found sketching in her sketchbook, always alone. She still got straight A’s and even participated in a few clubs but never made one friend. It was concerning, how much she resembled Damian in that sense.

One day after patrol, after Marinette headed off to bed they started discussing Marinette's social life. Tim had joked that since she's such a ray of sunshine around them that she should meet Jon. 

This idea was met with positive reactions, all of them agreeing that Jon would be a good influence for her. He was also her age so that was a plus. And he was Damian's first friend, perhaps he could be Marinette's.

That weekend they were proven wrong. Very wrong. Marinette refused to be in the same room as Jon, and when trying to gently push the boundaries she had set, she grew hostile. Something they had never seen from her for as long as they had known her. 

One of their first thoughts was that she was scared of Jon, since he was half Kryptontian. But that idea was quickly shut down after Jason brought up the time she roasted Superman to his face. And had no regrets. 

Then they figured it was because he was still a stranger to her. So they had him over more often. But after 2 months they realized that wasn’t the case either. Yet, none of them had the slightest clue why she was so against Jonathon Kent. 

Not even Jon knew. All Jon knew was that whenever he walked into the same room as Marinette she grew annoyed. He knew she disliked him but that wasn’t what he was confused about. What made him confused was that he could sense her fear. She was scared of him, and he had no idea why. 

He thought about telling the Batfamily, thought about telling Damian, but how would it go over that the latest addition to the Batclan was scared of him. Especially knowing how paranoid and protective they could be. So he just stuck to avoiding her at all costs, it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. 

Marinette didn’t see Jon as an enemy per se she saw him as an enemy, but he was just someone she strongly disliked, she had her reasons. And while Jon definitely didn’t see Marinette as an enemy, the more she ignored him, and he would need to ignore her, started to grate on his nerves. If she was in a room that he was going to enter he would have to wait for her to leave and vice versa. It was getting tiring and he was starting to dislike her more and more to the point she almost became his enemy. 

Today would be no different except for one detail. That detail being a blonde haired, green eyed, sunshine child that reminded Jon of himself. While Adrien was a little too naive for his taste, they had gotten along great and he wanted to introduce him to Damian. 

Adrien had seemed intrigued by the idea of meeting a Wayne. Apparently his father used to be a businessman and despite the fact he was from France and only moved to London a year ago, he knew of how famous the Waynes are. 

Now here they were, in his dad’s car going to Wayne manor. 

“Okay, you remember what I told you right?” Jon questioned Adrien, he was making sure the boy was prepared and didn’t accidentally stumble upon the Batcave or anything relating the Waynes to the Bats.

“Yes I know, no wandering around the manor, it’s too big and I’ll get lost. No staring in awe at the Waynes, they’re not the celebrities the press makes them out to be. And if I see a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and looks to be a head shorter than me, I am to walk away immediately in the other direction and pretend I didn’t see her.” Adrien listed off. 

“Perfect!” Jon, exclaimed he was going to add more but his dad interrupted him. 

“Okay boys we’re here, I hope you have a good time Adrien.” 

“Thanks Mr. Kent, I will!” Adrien cheerfully replied as he followed Jon out of the car. Sometimes this boy reminded Jon too much of himself. 

“Master Jon, lovely to see you again. Is this your friend?” Alfred greeted them at the door.

“Yep! This is Adrien Graham de Vanily, Adrien this is Alfred, the Waynes butler but is more like a surrogate grandfather if anything.” Jon introduced. 

“Nice to meet you Mr. Alfred.” Adrien stuck out his hand to shake. 

“It is nice to meet you too Master Graham de Vanily, please just call me Alfred.”

“Then you can just call me Adrien, Alfred, my last name is such a mouthful.” 

“Of course Master Adrien, now will you two be staying for dinner?” 

“I don’t know, is it okay if we do?” Jon answered, secretly asking if she would be okay with it.

“It’ll be okay Master Jon. I will inform the others we will be having two guests stay with us for dinner.” Alfred led them inside, “Master Damian should be in the gaming room.” And with that he left. 

“Come on, Damian is probably setting up some games for us to play.” Jon grabbed Adrien’s hand and started dragging him down a hallway. 

Marinette could hear when Alfred had opened the door for Jon and his friend, she didn’t have super hearing but she had trained her ears for listening for certain things. Like the front door opening. 

After a few minutes Alfred had come to tell her the two would be staying for dinner. It wasn’t ideal but she could live with it, all she had to do was give Jon and his friend the cold shoulder for at most an hour. Nothing new to her.

Now a whole hour had passed and she was getting hungry. She still had another hour till dinner so a small snack would be fine. But leaving her room posed the risk of running into Jon or his friend, and she didn’t want to risk an interaction with either of them.

Both of them are with Damian right now. There are no bathrooms near her room or the kitchen. If she hurries it will only take her 10 minutes to get to the kitchen, grab the cookies she made earlier, and come back to her room. And since Damian was banned from the kitchen this week, and both of his new friends are stuck with him, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the kitchen. 

Of course when was the universe ever on her side. She was about to open the kitchen door when someone she thought she would never have to see again uttered her name, “Marinette?” 

She knew the voice. It was the same voice that told her to stay quiet all those years ago when a vicious liar ran her mouth. The same one that said he was on her side then abandoned her the second things got too tough for him. The same one that didn’t speak up whenever she tried to defend herself, instead saying not to rock the boat. And now the owner of that voice was in her home. 

She steeled her face into something cold and emotionless, despite the fear she felt in her stomach and turned to face him, “Agreste.”

“It’s Graham de Vanily now.” He corrected, both forgetting/not noticing the two other people there. 

“Pretty sure it’s Agreste, you know, just like your father.” She bit back, venom laced into every word. 

“He’s not my father, not anymore.” He replied, fists clenched at his sides, staring her straight in the eyes, confusing the other two boys.

“You sure, because you’re exactly like him, you know.” She raised an eyebrow and matched his gaze. 

“I am nothing like him.” Adrien took a threatening step forward and that’s when Damian immediately stepped in front of Marinette, wanting to protect his little sister from this person who just threatened her. Damian was about to ask something but was cut off when Marinette moved around him to face Adrien. 

“Really? Both of you put your own wants and desires above the well being of other people. Your father the people of Paris, and for you it was me.” Jon saw she was visibly shaking, from fear or anger he wasn’t sure. Both emotions were pretty strong for her, and when he focused on Adrien all the boy felt was guilt. 

“Look Mari I’m-” He was cut off by Marinette’s angry shout. 

“You would think that after all you put me through you would at least have the dignity to not call me by a nickname that friends are only allowed to call me. You know, people who actually care about me!” 

“Marinette, I’m sorry okay, that was really dumb of me!” Adrien shouted back. 

“Save it! You can pretend to regret your actions all you want, but people like you don’t change! That’s something you taught me!” Snack forgotten, Marinette ran back to her room and slammed the door. Locking it, she slid down the back of it and just cried. 

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do Graham de Vanily. How do you know my little sister? Why did she react to you like that? What did she mean by ‘all you put her though?’...” As Damian kept spitting out question after question Jon followed Marinette. Her cries were the only thing he could hear right then and there. 

As he made his way closer to her, the cries stopped, only tiny sniffles coming out. “What do you want Kent?” He could hear the shaking in her voice no matter how much she tried to cover it up. 

He sat down, his back resting on the closed door thinking about what he should say. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“I find that hard to believe. You wanted answers didn’t you?” She hiccuped in between words.

“A little bit.” 

“Well once upon a time there was a teenage girl who wore rose colored glasses all the time. She saw the world in rainbows and sunshine, never knowing of the darkness. Then one day a lying fox came into her life, spreading her tall tales. The girl tried to warn her friends and family but they didn’t listen. The fox ripped off the girl’s glasses and forced her to see the world for what it really was. The girl’s love at the time came to her and told her to keep silent, after all the fox’s lies weren’t hurting anyone. It was then she noticed that the boy wore the same glasses she did, only his were much stronger than hers had ever been. But she loved him, so she believed him, that everything would turn out okay, that if it didn’t he would be by her side. 

Slowly those around the girl turned on her, despite her doing nothing wrong. The boy who she once loved left her the second things got tough, never letting her stand up for herself. Soon the lying fox had gotten to her parents, things escalated from there. Now the girl moved to live with her bio family and everything was fine for a time. But then a boy who saw the world in sunshine and rainbows came around, and she was reminded of her past all over again.” Marinette finished her tale, her hiccups had faded away. 

“You don’t like me because I remind you of Adrien?” He hesitantly asked. 

“You don’t just remind me of him. Every time I see you I see him. But you’re also different from him. I don’t know. When you’re all happy and optimistic you're like him, but you also know how to be serious, which is something he could never do. I don’t know how to explain it but I thought if I kept you away from it would be alright. I really messed up didn’t I?” Marinette tried to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. 

“Kind of. But if you want we can start over.” Jon suggested, he wouldn’t mind getting to know the Marinette Damian talked so fondly about, not that Damian would ever admit it. 

He heard the lock unlock and he stood up as the door opened. He turned around and there was Marinette, her eyes were a little red and she had tears stains on her cheeks but she looked much better than before. 

She stuck her hand out, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Marinette Wayne.” She looked up to look in his eyes and wondered if they were always so blue. And oh god please say she didn’t start blushing!

“Nice to meet you Marinette. I’m Jonathan Kent, but you can call me Jon.” Jon took her hand and shook it, his eyes looked into hers and he couldn’t help but think they looked so beautiful when they weren’t glaring at him. Unfortunately, Damian’s scream broke them out of their daze.

“ANSWER ME!!!” 

“We better go help him.” Marinette pulled her hand back. 

“Yeah we probably should.” Jon replied but Marinette was already racing to where they left the boys. Jon ran to catch up with her, mentally berating himself for thinking his friend’s sister was cute. 

Marinette on the other hand was mentally berating herself for thinking that someone she used to dislike so much was now cute. Not to mention he’s her brother’s best friend. Well, Damian doesn’t have to know she thinks that.

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I’m back from the dead! As I said before in What If... (which you can find on my master list day 22) school sucks and has been burying my grave so I had to focus on that for a while. But I have this and What If... done and am planning on doing the other days I have not crossed off on my Master List. 

This took so long to write and I’m already planning a part 2. Anyways hope u enjoyed!

@maribatmarch-2k21 

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.

Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D

Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.

**

Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.

Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.

Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.

For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.

But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.

Case in point:

The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.

The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.

Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.

He knows them.

He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.

He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.

This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency–

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.

It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.

The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.

The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–

–the Batman.

The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.

It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.

None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.

The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.

A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.

It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.

Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.

O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.

She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.

After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.

O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.

B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.

It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.

The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.

**

And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.

Natch.

For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.

O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.

The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.

Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.

A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.

Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.

The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.

B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.

Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.

Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.

"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.

"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.

"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.

– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.

Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.

First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.

The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.

But.

The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.

The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.

His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.

"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.

The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"

The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.

The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.

When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.

Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.

Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).

And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.

The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.

Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.

"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.

They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.

A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.

The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.

The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.

The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”

For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”

And then he lunges.

**

The fight happens very differently this time.

The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.

He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.

“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”

“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”

“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”

“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”

“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”

“Lies. All of it lies!”

Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”

And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.

It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.

When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 3 (6-15): “That wasn’t supposed to happen” | Reconciling with Tim | Autistic!Damian

Note: at this point, this is just "Damian cries and Dick hugs him" week. Someone send help. I love these two so much.

Warnings: angst and tears and Damian being a ball of separation anxiety.

---

The smell of sea salt mixed with the pollution of Gotham's coast is almost close to nauseating. If Damian hadn't already been feeling anxious and sick to his stomach, he would definitely be now.

And the thing is, he doesn't even know why.

It's been this way all night. It started before tonight, even. He's convinced himself it's probably something he had for lunch, but even a child would know that's a weak grasping of straws. No one ever gets sick from the food made in the Wayne Manor, not when Alfred is there to cook it.

But he tells himself it's because of that anyways. He feels sick to his stomach because the lettuce in his sandwich must have been old. Not for any other reason. And certainly not because his father has been off-world for the past month and Richard is once again holding the mantle of Batman while he's away.

"What do you say about heading home early?" Richard asks from where he stands besides Damian. The word home grates on Damians nerves for reasons that he... cannot bring himself to comprehend.

Damian nods his head, not saying anything. It's been a quiet night in Gotham anyways. His nerves feel fried from the constant anxiety pressing in his chest and he's sure the moment he gets to his bed he'll pass out.

Or at least stare blankly at the ceiling until he does.

The ride back to the manor is silent between Damian and Richard. Almost a month ago, it used to be loud with banter whenever he and Richard had a minute to themselves. They'd get back at the manor and Alfred would be there to pester them into taking care of themselves. Cassandra and Duke would enter and leave as they wished with the occasional appearances of Timothy and Jason. The only time they had to themselves was inside the batmobile, as there's not much private banter you can have while defending the streets either.

But it's silent now. Damian's chest and stomach hurts and no words seem to want to come to his throat, but he's not usually the one to start the conversations anyways. Something is keeping Richard silent as well. The thought that, for whatever reason, Richard doesn't want to talk to him makes his anxiety spike just the same as the thought of conversation.

It feels like the second they pull into the cave Damian's jumping out of the car and stalking towards the changing rooms. Alfred let's him stride past, lifting an eyebrow as he does, but he doesn't stop him. Alfred simply walks over towards Richard and offers him a cup of tea from the metal tray he's been holding.

Damian can hear the low rumble of words beginning to be exchanged between the two, but he's already too far away to make sense of them. He doesn't care to listen anyways. He just wants to get dressed and go to bed without anyone talking to him.

Without anyone asking him what's wrong. They must notice something is wrong, right? What would he say if they do ask? No. No one knows anything is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. Everything is okay.

He dresses into a clean pair of pajamas that feel fresh from the dryer and heads straight towards the exit of the batcave, not sparing Richard or Alfred a glance as he does so.

Everything is okay. He ate something bad for lunch.

That's all.

He manages to get all the way to his bedroom without running into anyone. Cassandra and Duke must be busy tonight, and he can't think of any reason why Timothy and Jason would be here at this hour of night. It's not surprising he didn't run into anyone. Why does he almost wish he had?

He shakes his head and closes the door behind him. Whatever is making him feel this way, it will go away if he rests. He's sure of it.

Wordlessly and single-mindedly, he removes the decorative pillows from his bed and pulls down the sheets. In a few practiced and fluid movements, he's under the covers and glaring at the ceiling, his stomach clenching.

There's glow in the dark stars above him, made of plastic and held to the ceiling with fun-tak. His eyes drift to a bigger glowing figure, it's circular and there's swirling patterns that mimic the global storm of Jupiter's surface. Another has two rings, like the planet in Treasure Planet.

Richard put them up the second month after Damian first came here. Damian had expressed... desires... to study and learn how kids who weren't raised in the League of Assassins lived. Glow in the dark stars was something Richard very much enjoyed getting off of Amazon that night, saying they were all the craze when he was younger. Every friend he visited had them in their bedrooms. His own childhood bedroom still has some old and dim ones hanging on the ceiling from when he convinced his father to get him some.

He didn't understand the appeal of them then. Nor does he now. Perhaps it's something to do with children in Gotham never seeing the actual stars because of the light pollution. All he knows is that in the desert he grew up in... these fake green plastic decorations do not compare to the galaxy he used to see as if the only thing separating him from the universe was a single pane of glass.

He turns away from the fake stars, closing his eyes, before they open again to glare now at his bookshelf, filled to the brim with books of all kinds and Cheese Viking figurines. There's a collectable coin there too, one Richard accidentally won way back when he decided to buy a mystery box from some website. It turned out to be pretty rare. He gave it to Damian and Damian got curious enough to look up the game.

It's his favorite game now. Because Richard found him a random gold coin.

Richard. His stomach clenches. Why won't it stop hurting? He has no reason to be this anxious.

No reason at all.

There's a soft knock on his door. Damian shifts so he's holding himself up on his elbows, watching as the door opens to reveal none other than Richard. His hair looks damp from a shower, which makes Damian wonder how long he's been glaring at random things in his room. He's dressed in an old Gotham Knight's tee-shirt with mustard stains around the right breast. Damian went to a game with him when he was wearing that shirt. He accidentally got shoved into Richard in the crowd, looking for their seats, when Richard was holding a hotdog. It got all over him, but the mustard is the only thing that persisted multiple rounds in the washer.

"Dami? You up?" Richard asks. Damian reaches over and turns on the dim lamp by his bedside.

Richard's eyes settle on him, and he smiles. It looks strained though.

That festering, lingering anxiety spikes.

"What is it?" He asks.

Richard walks into the room, then sits down on the side of Damian's bed. Damian bends his knees to allow room for him. He brings his pillow in front of his body and hugs it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question shocks Damian, as he didn't mean to ask it. It seems to startle Richard as well, because he goes stock still and looks at Damian with wide eyes.

It shocks them both, but it must be the reason if a bad lunch isn't.

Then, Richard breaks into soft laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was about to ask the same thing, actually," he says, once the laughter dies down.

Damian frowns. Has Richard done anything wrong?

No. The answer is immediate. Richard hasn't done a single thing wrong. He's been nothing but his usual annoying and loud and pushy and kind and loving self since his father left and he came to keep the suit warm.

It almost feels like the beginning all over again. Waking up in the morning and smelling sweetened mocha instead of straight black coffee. Sketching in the afternoons by the fireplace in the family room and being interrupted by Richard barging in with a portable speaker, blasting the newest trending pop song. Going to bed with a goodnight hug. Bandaids snuck into Alfred's first aid supply that have cartoon and Disney characters designs. He's wearing a Frozen 2 bandaid now, on his knee.

If his father hadn't left with the rest of the Justice League, the band-aid would be a normal tan color and the day would be close to silent and alone.

It's feeling normal again, he realizes with horror. Because whatever mood Richard brings into the manor isn't normal. Normal is Bruce Wayne silently checking up on him throughout the day and calmly helping him with homework and giving tips on sketching techniques. Normal is leaning against the strong shoulder of his father as he tests those tips while his father reads a book, the only sounds to interrupt them being the ticking clock on the wall and the crackling of the fire.

Normal is... Normal isn't...

It's not this. He likes the time he spends with his father. He enjoys the wordless love and reassuring squeezes to his shoulder.

Normal isn't the loudness and silliness of Richard's affection.

And just like that, he finally knows what's wrong.

It feels the same as it used to be. Back when they thought his father was dead. Back when Richard seemed to be the only trusted adult in his life, and the daily interactions he had with him almost promised to be infinite.

And then they found out his father was still alive, just stuck in time. With the help of Timothy and others... They managed to bring him back.

And.

And.

And Richard left.

And Damian was left.

And.

And that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

He hasn't allowed himself to think about much. It was something neither of them had acknowledged or mentioned. Richard once said he considered adopting Damian if his father was dead. Damian didn't stop himself from taking comfort in that.

And it feels like history is repeating itself. His father is away. Richard is Batman.

However, now Damian knows that the second his father returns, Richard will be packing his bags and leaving. This isn't normal. He can't get used to this again. He loves his father. But Richard...

It hurt enough the first time, watching him go.

And it will happen all over again. He'll get comfortable with Richard and his daily hugs and laughter, and then he'll be gone.

Separation anxiety. He has separation anxiety.

"Oh buddy," Richard coos, wrapping his arms around Damian and bringing him to his lap to hold him better.

He's crying. Tears are running down his face and it's stupid, because he knows that when Richard leaves again, it won't be like he'll never see him again.

But he's crying, and it hurts. Hurts more than if he had eaten something bad. He clutches to the pillow between them and let's the tears fall.

"Tell me what's wrong," Richard soothes, probably the only person in the entire universe to not freak out when he cries. Probably the only person in the entire universe Damian would allow himself to cry like this to. "What can I do to help?"

"It's stupid," Damian says, through it's through a hiccupping sob, which makes it sound very not stupid to someone like Richard. He sniffs and rubs his eyes on the pillow, forcing his breathing to go normal and to stop crying. "It's nothing. Father will come back, and- and you'll go back to Blüdhaven, and everything will be normal again."

Richard stills, then sighs. "So it's about that," he says softly. Of course he immediately knows what Damian means. He tightens his hold on Damian. "You know when your dad comes back, nothing will change between us, right? Even if we're on the opposite side of the world."

"I don't want to be on the opposite side of the world," Damian snaps, shoving himself away from Richard and glaring. "I want- I don't-" he presses his face into his pillow and groans.

Dick is silent, then he shifts closer and wraps his arm around Damian's shoulder gently. "I know. I don't either. But... it's just the way things have to be. You know this. Just like you know that... that if you ever really want to, I can clean out my guest room."

Damian shakes his head, his feelings feeling so all over the place and raw. "I just- when father came back, I didn't expect you to just leave. I don't want to choose. I-"

"I know," Richard whispers. "I know. I love Bruce. He's my dad too. But, you know us. If I move back in, we'll be at each other's throats. I'm a grown man now, Dami. I have to be on my own. He's... Protective. He still sees me as seventeen years old. And he's your father. You should be with him."

Damian sniffs. He doesn't nod. He doesn't shake his head. Agree nor disagree.

Simply understands.

It's just the way things are.

He stays silent as Richard continues. "And you know that I'll always be there for you, if you need me. I'll drop everything for you. Just say the word. I'll be running, even if I'm on the other side of the world."

Now Damian nods. Let's the cotton of his pillowcase soak up his silent tears.

He doesn't feel much better, but he doesn't feel so awful anymore either. He supposes that's the best it will get in this situation.

So he just sits there until his head begins to dip with exhaustion and Richard pulls him in so he's laying against his shoulder. His eyelids droop, and they stay there, together, like they used to.

It's scary to allow himself to become attached to things, but he can never help himself with Richard.

The best that he can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of it.

Richard will be gone when father comes home, but for now he's here, and he's warm, and he's solid.

Damian falls asleep, and Richard doesn't leave that night.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 1

54 parts, approximately 86k words

Next

~~~

After four years of fighting, at age 18, they defeated Hawkmoth.

Ladybug sat on the rooftop, watching Gabriel Agreste get pushed into a police car with his assistant Nathalie. She thought that she would be excited when she finally defeated him but all she felt was numb.

There was nothing left for her in Paris.

Of course, this could just be taken in the sense of her running out of bad guys to catch. This was bad, obviously, it had taken away her major hobby and basically what had become her purpose in life.

But, on a far more personal level, she had nothing left in Paris.

Lila had swayed all her school friends to the other side.

Adrien was the last one to go. Despite knowing that everything she’d been saying was false, he’d continued to refuse to speak up about it. They’d stopped talking.

After a while she’d formed a temporary alliance with Chloe over their mutual hatred of Lila but then her mother had whisked her away to America so they could bond more.

Now her school days were spent all alone, telling herself to take it one day at a time.

Luka was off at university. He was swamped in schoolwork and she was lucky to facetime him twice a month.

Kagami had, unfortunately, not talked to her since Adrien had last done so. There wasn’t any hard feelings but with so little overlap they grew apart naturally.

Her parents were the only things she had left but they had recently been insisting she should go out for university. Had she been hiding what was going on so poorly?

Though, recently, she’d been lacking in school. Obviously there was the whole ‘every person in class is against her’ thing but, beyond that, she’d been spending most of the past year investigating Hawkmoth. Her grades were too low for most high-end colleges to accept. Her best bet was to get some experience and go back to school at some later date.

She didn’t know where to start, though. Working at her parents’ bakery would likely end in her working there for the rest of her life (she liked baking but not enough to make a career out of it!). Being a professional gamer was unlikely. All that was left was designing but getting a big break would be difficult...

But then she’d gotten a call.

Chloe.

Her eyes widened as she picked up the phone, bringing it to her ear. She hadn’t talked to her in ages, so why...?

“Is this Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Not Chloe.

“Yes, Mme. Bourgeois. Why?”

“You’re looking for a job, preferably in the style industry, is that correct?”

She nodded a bit, then realized she couldn’t see. “Yes,” she said hastily. She didn’t bother asking how she’d known. Rich people powers included the ability to know way more than you’re comfortable with.

“How would you like to come work for my magazine?”

Her eyes widened. This was the big break she was hoping for--!

“Before you answer, you should know that you will be coming here. To America.”

Marinette hesitated here. Sure, nothing was left for her in Paris outside of her parents, who were already anxious for her to leave, but..

This was her home. This was where she had grown up. She’d never seriously considered leaving.

“Where exactly will I be?” She asked, feeling a bit lame.

Audrey hesitated for the first time ever. She had clearly hoped this question wouldn’t come up. Still, she told her: “Gotham City.”

Gotham City... where had she heard of that before? She wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder and turned to her computer. A simple search of the name said exactly why.

She broke into a grin.

“I would love to go.”

~

She was finished packing her things. She’d sent a couple of cookies to her old classmates to say ‘no hard feelings’ (even if, maybe, there was). There was only one more thing to do.

When she’d reached the rooftop, Chat Noir was already there.

“Little kitty on a roof...”

He cut himself off when he heard her footsteps.

She took a seat next to him.

“What’s the call for, My Lady?” He said, that Cheshire grin as prominent as ever. A quick glance at his eyes showed it was fake, though. The question was merely a formality. They knew each other’s identities, he must have gotten the cookies by that point.

“I’m leaving, Chaton.”

His eyes fell to the ground many stories below. “You don’t have to go yet, Paris still has crime and --.”

“You and I both know it’s nothing compared to him.”

Adrien didn’t answer. It was true. Petty crime could never hold up to Hawkmoth. But you know what could? Other supervillains.

“Would you consider staying for me?” He asked, his voice so quiet she barely managed to hear it. But she did.

Her fists clenched.

“We didn’t talk for years before our reveal, Chat! Even if we are friends, you clearly don’t care about me for me! All you care about is Ladybug!”

“But you are Ladybug!” He said.

She shook her head. “Ladybug isn’t the real me. Just like ‘Adrien Agreste’ isn’t the real you.”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t. How was he supposed to? She wasn’t wrong about him lying about who he was to appease his father, Chat Noir was the closest to his real personality as he got. And if she said that Ladybug was for her what Adrien Agreste was for him...

He stared at the ground. “I don’t want to give it up. Chat Noir is me.”

Her face took on a softness he hadn’t seen in a long time. She reached out and took his hand. “You don’t have to hide who you are anymore, Chat. You have money now and you can do whatever you want. It’s time to be yourself, no?”

Adrien didn’t say anything as Marinette slid the ring from his finger. Plagg popped out.

“May --... can we have a minute?”

She nodded and left. Plagg would come to her on his own eventually.

And he did. She decided not to say anything about the fact that the small god was crying. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. He wasn’t, and she would respect that.

The next day, she kissed her parents goodbye and promised to write every day.

She stepped onto the Bourgeois private jet.

And she was off to Gotham.

[lady-literature]

ayy, so ya’ll know that Miraculous/DC crossover I screamed about a while back? I found plot for it.

It is not quite finished yet, but it’s also so much longer than I originally planned on it being. (me: I’ll just write a fun little thing to get this out of my head!

me, 13k words later: oh no)

SO! Here’s a little sneak peak!

(or, find the finished product here!)

***

There is an unspoken rule, kept by any outsider who’s ever set foot in Gotham, that you should only ever visit the city once. Most find that visiting even once was already too much.

The most dangerous city on earth isn’t kind to its residents—much less strangers who don’t know how to watch their pockets or keep off the streets after dark. It’s gotten better, perhaps, in recent years since the Bat started lurking on rooftops, but that doesn’t mean the city is good.

Normal people stay as far from Gotham as they can get.

Marinette, (un)luckily, is far from normal.

***

The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.

She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Kagami was in the middle of training season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings. Felix hated traveling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.

Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…

She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.

Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon, but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.

Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She thinks she much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.

She’d been doodling about it since they left the marina yesterday. She also had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes and thinks she might even print out to put up on her wall at home.

She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.

“Oof!”

Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate. 

Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred pounds of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. From there, there was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”

If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.

The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.

“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”

“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”

Both her and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.

“Uh, why? Exactly?”

“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”

Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”

“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”

“Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.

“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”

Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he’s clambering up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?

Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.

He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.

Or at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.

Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.

“And who are you?”

Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He does not look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the almost glare he’s giving her, very attractive.

When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.

Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—super models, she still acts like a spaz. Why is she like this?

The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.

She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume your his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”

Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.

The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”

Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.

“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.

He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”

She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man. 

***

Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today

MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.

the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.

ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie

dearest

the evil twin: Okay first of all-

ShutUpTurtleMan: sunshine

light of our collective lives and reason I breathe

what the fuCK

YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?

The Betrayal™

GottaGoFast: ew

Queen of Salt: ew

sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen

give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Queen of Salt: wait

I was with you all day when did this happen?

was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?

ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT

Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!

chloe stop spreading misinformation!

titus was a sweetheart!

YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect

he was, in fact, a menace

give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild

ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?

Colonel Bug: shut up adrien

all animals are great

stop being elitist

give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it

the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?

GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously

keep up

Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually

And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance

MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized teen

GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!

ARE GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES?

Colonel Bug: no alix

did you not read the part about how rude he is

YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,

Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him

ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe

YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino

Colonel Bug: i hate it here

i spoke to him for like 2 seconds

Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-

YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?

Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare

i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you

YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT

ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT

GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!

sneaky snake: but ya didn’t

***

I have every no regrets. stay tuned for more!

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 3)

If he knew that he would be blamed for murdering someone the moment he got back to Gotham, then Jason would’ve waited another week or two before returning.

No matter what a lot of people said, Jason wasn’t stupid. He knows not to expect things that were unlikely to happen.

Jason couldn’t risk raising his hopes when it came to the bats.

He knew that he wasn’t gonna receive a warm welcome filled with hugs and cupcakes. Honestly, the most he expected was a nod of acknowledgment. And if he was lucky, then maybe- maybe he would’ve gotten a smile with the quiet whisper of a welcome back.

It made his heart twist in all the wrong ways to know that his family didn’t trust him as much as he thought. Jason genuinely believed that he and the bats were on good enough terms to earn him the benefit of the doubt.

He forced himself not to flinch as he met Batman’s harsh, distrustful gaze.

“I wasn’t even here when he was killed,” Jason tried to say as calmly as he could, knowing that if he loses his temper, everyone would use it against him. “I was following a case up in New York.”

He couldn’t go back to Arkham! Not again. Not with the Joker only a few cells away from him, taunting him with his laughter— his voice filled with cruel exhilaration as he continuously promised Jason that they would play together once again. How he would soon be reunited with his favorite playmate.

His favorite Robin.

He heard someone suck in a breath behind him.

Jason didn’t expect anyone to defend him. Not against Batman. But still-

He didn’t expect them to just stand and watch as Batman tore him into shreds once again. Batman threw accusation over accusation, yet he never once provided a single piece of evidence that proved it was Jason that did it.

He took a step towards Jason and he had to force himself not to flinch. Batman wouldn’t… not with his kids in the same room.

He ignored the rising panic in his stomach. Jason was safe.

He was safe.

Bruce wouldn’t beat him in the cave. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Damian.

Jason would be able to walk out of the cave with his ability to walk. He was gonna be okay.

“Look, B. You can even ask them,” he pointed at the spot where Dick and the others were standing. “I told them that I was leaving Gotham for a while.”

Batman turned to where Jason was pointing. “Well?” he asked expectantly.

The cave was engulfed in eerie silence before Tim opened his mouth, faltering a little when he met Jason’s pleading gaze. “He’s not lying Bruce. He told me that he had a mission out of Gotham while we were hanging out a few weeks ago.”

Jason could feel his chest loosen up for a few seconds, thankful that Tim confirmed his statement.

He remembered the day that Tim was talking about. The bats were getting even clingier than usual. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were following Jason anymore.

Tim asked Jason if he wanted to watch a movie and Jason agreed.

The bats were gonna be watching him anyways— they didn’t even try to hide the fact that they bugged him and all the known safehouses he has.

At this point, Jason didn’t know whether he should feel offended with how much they underestimated or relieved.

They already viewed him as dangerous and unpredictable. If they ever find out that Jason’s been holding back, even if it was just a little-

He won’t let them throw him back to Arkham. Jason would rather go back to the League of Assassins.

If Jason wasn’t watching Batman so closely, he would’ve missed the sliver of a nod the man-made.

Jason tried not to think of the fact that Bruce immediately accepted Tim’s answer without hesitation.

For the millionth time in this conversation, he wished that he was wearing his helmet. Instead, he forced his expression to remain calm. To remain bored as turned back to Bruce an eyebrow raised.

“Is that good enough proof for you, old man?” he couldn’t help but spit out, bitterness clear in his voice.

Batman remained unaffected, not even bothering to verbally answer Jason’s question. Instead, he just nodded.

Jason’s heart clenched, of course, he wouldn’t get an apology. Batman was too prideful for that.

“Truth.” Cassandra’s voice rang across the cave, breaking the heavy silence. “No… not lie.”

Batman nodded once again and Cassandra’s eyes met his. It took everything in him to stop a retort from coming out of his mouth.

Couldn’t she have said that a few minutes ago? Before Batman ripped him apart like he was nothing but flimsy paper.

Still, he guessed he should be thankful that she defended him. Even though it was too late.

After a few seconds of no one saying anything, Dick broke the awkwardness with an annoying smile on his face. “Now that that’s settled, why don’t we get that movie started?”

It was only because of all his training that Jason didn’t break down right there.

Of course this was just another thing that they’d sweep under the rug. Something that they would never want to speak off again.

Discussions of what movie they were supposed to watch erupted the room. It didn’t take long for an argument to break out between Damian and Tim.

Jason watched the scene for a few seconds before looking away.

They looked like a real family.

He turned away, these things happened frequently enough for Jason to know that he wasn’t welcomed.

He blocked out all the noise as he walked towards his helmet, eager to put it back on.

It was only a matter of luck that the universe hated him so much that he knocked something down, the thumping noise alerting everyone that he was about to leave.

Jason couldn’t help but feel relieved that he put on his helmet as soon as he got his hands on it.

At least he didn’t have to go to all the trouble to force his expression to remain impassive anymore.

Batman could use it against him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed, “Where are you going, Jay? I thought you were joining us tonight.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not in the mood to watch a stupid movie tonight.” Jason spits out.

Was Dick being serious right now? There were so many things wrong with that question.

One: Why would Jason want to spend more time with the people who thought he murdered someone and didn’t even bother to defend him.

And two-

No one invited Jason.

Before anyone could say anything else, Jason hopped on his motorcycle. He needed to get out of the cave.

He could feel their eyes on his back but no one bothered to stop him.

The last thing he heard was Cassandra’s voice assuring the bats. “Be back,” she said with enough confidence that one would think that she could command Jason to turn around with only her words. “He will be back.”

Jason held in the harsh remark that threatened to leave his lips.

Plus, it wasn’t like Cassandra was lying. He knew it— and hell, the rest of Bats probably knew it too.

Jason would come back. He always did.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

But for now, he needed to get away. He thought that one week would be enough to calm the pit.

It wasn’t.

In fact, he feels like the interaction with the bats today just made it worst.

He’ll stay away from them for two weeks. That should be enough time for the pit to stop screaming at him.

But who would he stay with?

Jason had enough experience to know that the best way to calm the pit was to surround yourself with people you trust.

Kori and Roy were still in space.

And Talia was busy with the civil war against Ra’s.

Jason had no one else.

Except-  

His phone grew heavier in his pocket and he remembered that an Avenger owed him a favor.

Clint said that Jason could text him whenever.

And the more he thought about it, the more Jason decided that he did trust the archer in some way.  

Jason soon found himself staring at the side mirror of the vehicle and poisonous green eyes stared back.

He quickly averted his eyes.

Clint was his last choice. And Jason couldn’t risk being in the peak of a pit episode without anyone to keep him in his place.  

He could do this.

It wasn’t like he had another choice.

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

notes:

Balancing out school and volleyball was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Only one month has passed and I am swamped with work.

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. It’s not my best work but I wanted to put something out for you guys!!

I hope that you liked it.

I’m gonna spend this weekend to try and get my life together so hopefully, that means that next week will be easier for me.

Especially since I still need to finish my permit course. (If you couldn’t tell, I’m kinda hating sophomore year of high school right now)

Like always, please leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! And they would help an extra ton these days.

And once again, if you have any fanfic requests, questions, or just suggestions for a specific fanfic i’m writing, just leave it in a comment down below or you can just message me here on tumblr.  

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 3

Word count: 15k+ LMAOOOO

TW: Sex, ptsd, abandonment

A/N: I KNOW I DELAYED MY PUBLICATION!! So i’m very thankful for all your support and patience!!! I will be posting outfit pics after this, heheh. You guys are honestly the best. I love your enthusiasm. Keep it coming!! 

Masterlist

Ao3

The deep heat that penetrated your skin and into your muscles was a relief as you rubbed Tiger Balm onto your shoulders and the back of your stiff neck. The mentol of the ointment smelled strong, yet it made you feel relaxed.

Your muscles were feeling tense for a while, largely contributed to the fact that you patrol much more often now that you were done with highschool and was waiting for when University lectures started. Perhaps you could go for a spa or massage. Bruce would definitely pay for your indulgence.

Even though it had been over a year, you were still the relatively new Robin. Such a drastic change in lifestyle wasn’t easy to get used to. The training, the patrols, the constant vigilance, constant analysis. You still felt like it was your first week.

Standing in front of your window, you tried to look for the full moon. But the night was too cloudy, and you sensed a storm was coming soon based on the way the trees outside swayed brutally in the wind. It was three in the morning, and you had returned from patrol.

Jason waited for you like usual outside his room in the Cave, but this time, he didn’t follow you up to your room. It must have been a rough day for him. Dick had told you that Jason went a little bit too hard at the Cave gym that evening, almost injuring himself if Dick hadn’t stepped in to help.

So there you were left alone with your own thoughts that night. You were so used to having Jason in the room with you, that now you felt a bit lonely without him.

You frowned. You thought you had heard footsteps in the distance, but now they were gone. Shrugging to yourself, you concluded that must have been Dick returning to his room for the night.

The door slammed open and you jumped in surprise.

But before you could turn around in response, you felt a pair of arms around your waist, pulling you close to a hard, warm body.

Jason sobbed silently into your back, his forehead resting on your right shoulder. You didn’t ask him why, you didn’t say any words of comfort. Instead, you put your hands over his and squeezed tightly, as tight as how your chest felt.

After fifteen minutes, he finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “It’s just- it’s been haunting me more these past few days.”

“What has?”

“The nightmares,” he gave a watery reply, “Or- I just can’t stop thinking about it. Even during the day.”

You pursed your lip. “Is it the same one?”

“It always is,” he whispered solemnly, “All the time.”

***

Again, your hair was soaking.

During any other nights of stakeouts in the pouring Gotham rain, you would have complained or wished you brought a shower cap with you. But that night, you were silent.

On the rooftop of a warehouse in the loading bay of Dixon Docks, you and Batman were crouching low near the edges of the roof, using the cement wall that rose to your hips when you were standing as a shield from the two other armed guards on the roof of the building across from yours.

The informant had told Batman that a load of weapons were coming in that night, but he didn’t know what time. So there you were, waiting in the cold wet weather, slowly going into your second hour already.

Anxious and bored, you clipped open your cape and dropped it to the ground for you to sit on. It was drenched and that made it even heavier than it already was.

“Bruce,” you spoke up.

“Batman when we’re in uniform,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you said, “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, water droplets running down from the sharp tip of his cowled nose.

“Have you ever thought of- of killing Joker?”

The sound of water against concrete provided much cover for your voice, and you weren’t sure if Bruce had answered or not.

“All the time,” he finally did.

“But…?” you prompted.

“But that would be the start of something much worse,” he said solemnly, gazing in the distance.

You waited for him to explain, but he never did.

“What does that mean?” you probed, “I’m not saying all of them, Bruce. Just him.”

“Batman.”

“What?”

“It’s Batman when we’re out.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay. Batman. Just Joker. Just for what he did. All the things he did.”

He answered you with silence.

“Look, I know your rationale, and I understand it, I really do. A lot of these people, they didn’t ask for this. They didn’t ask to be desperate enough to have to choose to be a criminal. Hell, even Pyg can’t help it. He’s got.. Schizophrenia or something, right? But Joker… He’s got no excuse. The man is plain evil. And he’s better off dead.”

“We don’t know enough about Joker to rule it out as plain evil,” Batman tried to rationalize with you, “And we don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. That’s not our job. That’s not anyone’s job.”

The rain came down hard, and it sounded like white noise as you registered what Batman told you. He was still defending Joker.

“What if I told you I wanted to kill him?” you whispered, so low that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to catch your words.

“Then I’ll stop you.”

“No,” you tried to keep your voice from breaking, “You wouldn’t. Not if- not if you knew. Not if you truly knew what he did to Jason.”

You saw him clench his jaw, but he left you with no reply.

“I want him dead, Bruce,” you grit, “I want to rip him apart and scrape every single cell in his body against every surface of this planet, Bruce. I want him to feel everything that he did.”

“Robin, for the last time-”

Oh, no. Don’t you dare.

“When we’re on patrol, it’s Bat-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” you yelled, standing up on your feet in anger, forgetting where you were at that moment.

“Robin, down!”

You felt it first before you heard it.

A sharp pain that vibrated through your bones. You felt the pain power through you from your back, just a few inches below your shoulder, and then you fell forward. You tried to break the fall with both your arms, but your right arm couldn’t move, so you fell almost flat on your face into the ground.

And then you heard it, the loud BANG of a gun, Batman yelling something in the distance and then disappearing, more gun shots, and then footsteps rushing towards you.

“Robin,” he said with urgency in his voice, “Are you okay?”

“Can’t- breathe- pain- ow-” you gasped, trying hard to manage with shallow breaths, because every time you inhaled, the pain became more intense.

“We need to get you back. Can you move?”

“I- I think so-” you tried to move your legs, wincing when you moved your upper body. Batman lifted you up by gripping onto your left arm, pulling you to your feet.

“I’ll carry you to the Batmobile,” he stated, “You can’t grapple like this.”

You nodded, shame and guilt burning into you as he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry.

***

“Alfred!” Bruce’s voice boomed loudly in your ear as he carried you out the vehicle, echoing back at you in the Cave.

He rushed you to one side of the cave, where there always was a bed and a very complete first aid kit- that shouldn’t even be called first aid anymore. It was where Alfred would perform emergency medical interventions straight after patrol, and then only after that, the said patient would be moved to the infirmary upstairs in the manor for recuperation.

You were hanging upside down over Bruce’s shoulder, ass jutting out in the air. Honestly, the embarrassment would have been the most painful thing about the whole ordeal if you were used to getting shot like Dick or Bruce was.

From the countless times you saw them injured, you always thought getting shot was no big deal. They handled it well, and then even a week later, they would be back in uniform.

That was miscalculation on your side. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt, they just got used to the pain.

Because the bullet shoved into your shoulder blade right now hurt like a mother fucker. You knew it didn’t even hit your lung, but you couldn’t breathe because of the pain. You felt lightheaded, and your current position was not helping.

Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw Jason stand up from his box, rushing to you.

“What the fuck happened?” he demanded.

Bruce put you down gently on the bed, the change in position making you cry out and groan as you sat upright.

“What the hell happened, Bruce?!” Jason yelled.

For the first time ever since getting to know Bruce Wayne, you saw him stunned as he looked at Jason.

“Well?!” he pushed.

Bruce took off his cowl, and set it aside. “She got shot.”

“How?” Jason hissed, “Where?”

“Shoulder blade- I don’t think it’s fatal. You can calm down.”

“Calm- calm down?” Jason’s nose flared in anger. “This happened on your watch, Bruce! Need I remind you what happened the last time something went wrong with a Robin on your watch?!”

Bruce didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he clenched his jaw tight, eyes looking down.

“It- it was my fault,” you panted, “I took off my cape. I practically asked them to shoot at me. Was being stupid.”

“What’s the cape got to do with anything?”

“It- yours- yours wasn’t bulletproof?” you asked out of curiosity. Anything to distract you from the pain.

“No,” Jason grit.

“Oh my- what happened?” Alfred finally arrived, immediately opening the first aid kit that was the size of a goddamn cabin suitcase.

“BW to right scapula,” Bruce turned from Jason to assist Alfred, “.22 calibre.”

Alfred sighed in relief. “Very well. We are well stocked on Lidocaine, so this won’t hurt.”

“Okay,” you squeaked

Using a special pair of scissors, Alfred cut through the back of your uniform to expose the injured area.

“Why were you being stupid?” Jason walked over to stand in front of you.

“I just- we- we got into an argument,” you avoided eye contact and played with your thumbs.

“What about?”

“No- argh!” you felt a burn in your back. “A little warning next time, Alfred. It’s my first bullet wound, you know.”

“My apologies, Miss.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer.

You locked eyes with Bruce for a moment, who was hovering behind Jason.

“Nothing. It was stupid. Something about my cape and how it was too cold,” you lied.

Jason stared deep into your eyes intensely.

He definitely was not convinced.

“I will be injecting the anesthesia now. It will hurt for a moment or so.”

“Okay, Alfred.”

“Take deep breath… Hold.”

“Hnng,” you whimpered as you felt another sharp pain.

Jason let out a heavy breath, and muttered, “Jesus.”

“We shall wait for a few minutes for the anesthesia to start its effects before I attempt to extract the bullet.”

“Sit next to me, Jay,” you smiled, patting the space next to you.

“I’m fine where I am,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Then, his eyes softened, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve survived worse. You’ll… Get through this.”

“Is that an attempt to comfort me?” you laughed.

“Maybe,” he frowned.

“Well, I’m all good. Anesthesia is kicking in. I don’t feel it much anymore,” you told him.

“Good,” he gave you a stiff nod, “You shouldn’t have to feel any sort of pain. No one should.”

His eyes fluttered away from yours as your heart sank.

Bruce pursed his lips in hesitation before he attempted to say anything. “Jason…”

“Only she gets to call me that,” his snapped at Bruce.

You felt a little bad, but at the same time you couldn’t help but a feel a little happy the way you were the special one.

“Okay, son. I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly, “For… For everything.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jason choked.

“I should have been better,” Bruce continued, “God, I should have done more.”

“I said I don’t care anymore,” Jason grit, “But I swear, Bruce, I will murder you if you let another one of us slip through your fingers again.”

“I assure you, you wouldn’t have to. I would… myself...” Bruce sighed, “But duly noted. I’m sorry.”

This time, the apology was directed to you.

“No,” you shook your head, “It was my fault. I kept… I kept accidentally saying your name, and I was emotional… I’m just a newbie, Bruce. It’s not your fault. I acted rashly.”

“You did,” Bruce agreed, “Which is why I’m taking away your patrol privileges. Only twice a week now until I think you’re ready again for more responsibility.”

“Twice a week?” you groaned, “I mean I understand, but even when I was starting out it was three times!”

“Yes, you have been demoted,” Bruce smirked. He fucking smirked, “For calling me by name in the field three times, and sabotaging a mission. Now there are dozens of illegal and untraceable weapons in Gotham’s black market. Or do you not think this is an adequate disciplinary action?”

“It’s adequate,” you grumbled.

“No more taking off capes during patrol,” he added, “Even during storms.”

“Well, maybe you could make it lighter or waterproof then,” you retorted.

“I will see to it,” he nodded, “That is all. Let me know the damage, Alfred.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I used to get way worse,” Jason muttered when Bruce walked away.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred chimed in, getting started on extracting the bullet lodged in your back. “I remember many arguments. And broken china.”

“You broke things?” you chuckled at Jason.

“Yeah,” the corner of his lips twitched upwards, though it was tough to tell whether he was actually smiling, or it was because of the scar that twisted his lips upwards.

“Actually,” Alfred interrupted, “Master Bruce would also break things. When you’re gone, that is.”

“Did he?” Jason blinked in surprise.

“Oh, yes,” Alfred hummed, “You created much ruckus in the household, Master.”

You didn’t miss how Alfred too avoided his name.

“Bruce has always been nice to me,” you defended.

“Maybe because you never caused trouble,” Jason said, “Not the way I did.”

You now felt Alfred digging into your back. It was an odd sensation, but at least you didn’t feel pain.

“He still very much loves you despite it all,” Alfred said quietly.

Jason didn’t reply to that, and now an uncomfortable silence hung over the three of you.

“Hey, at least now we all got matching scars, huh?” you grinned, trying to break the tension. “I’m pretty sure each and every one of us has a gunshot wound. Or two. Or three. Or-”

“I have more than just gunshot wounds,” Jason stated.

“Yes, yes, torture and all that,” you waved your hand in dismissal, earning a small chuckle from Jason. “But really, though. It’s like a right of passage for us vigilantes, huh? It’s like I’m finally official now. Do you have one, Alfred?”

“More than one,” he informed you.

“Wokay, buddy, it’s not a competition,” you rolled your eyes, “Talk about a cut throat.”

“You’re really irritating,” Jason commented.

“But you love me anyway,” you grinned. “Do you love me, Alfred?”

“I suppose I have no choice but to say yes, Miss,” Alfred retorted.

“Aww, don’t be like that.”

“It’s finished,” Alfred announced. “Bullet has been extracted, and your wound sutured.”

“That was fast.”

“The bullet is in one piece,” he said, “Would you like me to make a necklace from it? That’s what Master Dick did with his first.”

“Hell yeah!” you looked at Jason, “What did you do with yours?”

“I dug it out and threw it back at my dad,” he monotoned.

“Wait… what?” your smile fell. You knew his dad was a criminal who went to prison, but you didn’t know anything about their relationship.

A rustle of plastic. Alfred kept himself busy.

“Just get some rest,” Jason sighed. He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Don’t strain yourself.”

His hand lingered there on your cheek, going downwards to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t like the idea of you getting shot at,” he whispered.

“You and I both,” you snickered.

“I’m serious,” he frowned, “Be more careful. You’re too much of an idiot.”

“Okay, I will,” you smiled. It was nice to see that he cared. That he showed he cared.

“You get the bed all to yourself tonight. You’ll want the space,” he informed you, dropping his hand.

“I don’t mind if you-”

“Sleep facing down, keep a glass of water close,” he interrupted, walking away to his cube. “Goodnight.”

He closed his door.

You waited for a second, thinking of what Jason had said earlier.

“I take it his relationship with his dad was not good?” you asked Alfred.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Jesus,” you let out a breath, “He’s been through so much, hasn’t he? Guy can’t catch a break.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agreed. “It would be nice for him to be at peace. Perhaps, for once in his life.”

***

“There’s a stack of pancakes, amazingly greasy bacon, berries, cream, butter, maple syrup, waffles- and you’re eating cereal?” you judged.

“Why, my naive sister, don’t you know?” Dick replied, “I need to stick with my reputation, for I am the known cereal killer.”

“That joke has lost its charm after the first thousand times it’s been said, tweeted, and shared online,” you brandished your fork at him.

Dick was over at the manor that Saturday morning, two days after your injury. He had arrived the night before to visit and congratulate you on your first gunshot wound. As expected, he had tried to hug you. But Jason was there, and when Dick rushed towards you, he had stuck out his leg and tripped him over.

“She’s still in pain, you idiot,” Jason had snorted before descending back downstairs to hide away in his box.

Dick on the other hand, had looked up at you from the floor- despite how he obviously should have dodged or maneuvered- with tears in his eyes. “That was the longest thing he had ever said to me.”

Rolling your eyes, you had helped Dick back up.

“I started it!” Dick shouted at you, “No one believes me! I updated my facebook status all those years ago, some reporter reported it, and then suddenly everyone was tweeting it as if they made it up themselves.”

“I’m sorry, Dick, but that’s just not true,” you shook your head. Dick had been trying to convince you he was the trend setter for a lot of things in the past.

“I’m so disappointed in your lack of faith in me. I swear, man, I-”

Dick broke off and looked behind you.

Turning around, you saw Jason standing there with a hand in his hair. “Room for one more?”

“Of course,” Bruce said first, “I’ll have Alfred get you-”

“No, I’m on it,” Dick scrambled to his feet and dashed to the kitchen.

Jason pulled up a chair next to you. His movements were stiff. He was obviously nervous to be joining everyone for breakfast.

“Here,” Dick passed a plate and utensils to him.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered.

“No problem,” he grinned wide, like a kid getting his head pat after winning a trophy.

Jason stacked pancakes and bacon and everything else on his plate.

“What?” he grunted at you.

“Yo- you- you planning to finish all that?” you gaped.

“This?” he looked at his plate, “Yes. And then I’m gonna go for seconds.”

“Okay,” you laughed disbelievingly.

You, Dick, and Bruce made very brief eye contact with each other, and then smiled into your respective plates and continued to eat.

“Uh, Bruce?” Jason spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Can I… Can I move back into my old room?” he asked.

Bruce blinked once. “Yes. Of course. When would you like to move in?”

“As soon as we finish here, I can get my stuff from downstairs,” he informed Bruce.

“The room hasn’t been… cleaned,” Bruce said, “I can ask Alfred to prepare it for you. I left it… the way you left it.”

You only went into Jason’s old room once, out of curiosity. It was the first month you were there. After Alfred found out, he had strongly advised you to keep out because Bruce wanted to preserve it the way Jason had left it, all those years ago.

Out of respect, you stayed out of Jason’s old room and never went back in again after that.

“Then it’s fine,” Jason insisted, “I’ll change the sheets myself.”

“It’s probably dusty,” Bruce pointed out.

“I’ve had worse,” Jason shrugged.

“Indeed,” the older man nodded, “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

Silence again. But after ten minutes, Bruce asked, “Does this mean you will be sleeping in your own room instead of…”

Bruce glanced at you.

That was surprising, coming from Bruce. He usually would never ask about things that weren't his business. The fact that he did must have meant that he was either really curious, or he strongly opposed it.

“Bruce,” you hushed.

“Why?” Jason smirked now, though there was no humor in his eyes, his mouth twisting upwards into a distorted smile. “You worried about your little princess sleeping with the mentally fucked up son?”

“No,” Bruce stated, “I just realised that I never got around to having the talk with either of you. I was wondering if I should.”

“Bruce!” you gasped, cheeks heating up. “Come on!”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Jason grit, stabbing his pancake with his fork almost too violently, “Joker fucked me up in more ways than one.”

Silence. Longer than it should have been.

“What do you mean by that?”

Dick was the one to break it, his soft warm voice attempting to coax and comfort.

You glanced at Bruce. On the surface, it seemed that he was showing no reaction, but you saw the way he gripped his knife, his knuckles white.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason scowled.

Bruce rose from his chair, more robotic than usual. “Just… tell me if you need anything. I’ll be at the computers.”

He left with an odd expression on his face.

***

“Tired of walking up the stairs to come see me?” you teased, leaning against the door to Jason’s room.

He was wiping his bedside table with a piece of wet cloth when he glared at you.

“I came in here once,” you told him, looking at the books aligned neatly on the shelves, the photos he had arranged on his desk. His laptop opened but not switched on, with a stack of papers next to it weighed down by Bruce’s fountain pen he probably stole. “Then never again when I found out that Bruce was kind of anal about people coming in here.”

You remembered that the bed was made, and that the sheets were blue. Now they were maroon.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Oh, forgive Bruce. He was suffering the whole time, too,” he mocked.

“Dickhead,” you retorted, “No. I just noticed that you must have had your laptop on the last time I was in here. I was wondering what you were doing when Alfred came in and told me to get out.”

“Hmm,” he frowned, looking towards his desk, “I don’t remember what I was doing on it. Maybe my essay?”

A smile crept on your lips. You walked over to the desk. “Switch it on,” you grinned.

He narrowed his eyes and came over. It took a minute for the laptop to show the homescreen. The icon was a picture of him from when you assumed to be two years ago , with Dick next to him. Both grinning at the camera.

His smile was different back then. So were his eyes.

“Huh,” you observed, “It was on sleep this whole time? Charging? The battery’s gotta be destroyed by now.”

Jason quickly typed in his password, and then logged in.

The screen showed exactly what Jason had been up to on his laptop two years ago. He slammed it shut, but not before you got a glimpse of the screen.

Porn. Jason was watching porn.

A kinky video too, now that you were thinking about it.

You laughed out loud. His eyes were wide in horror, and- holy shit. He was blushing! His ears went red, and a tint of pink appeared on his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he scowled, looking away embarrassed.

That made you double up and laugh even louder.

“I was sixteen, come on,” he groaned, “Every sixteen year old was horny.”

“No- it’s - it’s not that,” you gasped for air, tears in your eyes, “All this while- all this while, I’ve been so fucking curious. And now I know- it was- it was on PornHub. Jason! Your laptop was on PornHub for two whole years!”

You continued your fit of giggles, before- “Ah! Ow, ow,” you suddenly winced. The injury on your back was pulsating pain while you laughed hard.

“Are you okay?” Jason rushed to your side, panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Tell me!”

“I’m fine, Jesus, calm down,” you straightened up and took deep breaths, “It hurt when I laughed, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” he worried.

“I’m okay, Jason,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s no big deal.”

His eyes searched your face for any hints of pain, and then he sighed. “I… Came back up here so I can be closer to you… Just- just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” you frowned.

“If anything happened to you,” he muttered, looking away again.

“What’s going to happen to me up here?” you asked, “It’s perfectly safe.”

“I don’t know… What if you.. Fal in the shower or something,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“Fall in the- Jason, I’m not a grandma!” you chuckled, “I’m Robin. Trained vigilante. I can handle myself in my own home.”

“I was a trained vigilante too, and look where that got me,” he grit.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

“Look,” he sighed, “I just. You got shot. If you had moved a couple of inches to the right, the bullet would have hit your spine. I kept on thinking about that, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nodded. He was thinking about you dying.

You couldn’t blame him. Death and pain seemed to follow him everywhere. It was probably the only thing on his mind.

“But you don’t have to worry, okay?” you added, “I’ll be careful. Promise. Plus, now that Bruce is limiting my patrols, I get to spend more time with you at night! And I won’t be so tired in the morning. What do you say, you wanna go out later? Maybe somewhere aside from the park?”

“I, uh, I’m actually following Alfred to the grocery store later,” he said, “He says I should pick out ingredients since I eat the most in the house. It’d be easier for him to plan my meals if I were there for him to ask as well.”

“Oh!” your eyes widen in surprise. “That’s great, then.”

You grinned widely. Now that he’s going out with Alfred, it was also one step closer to him going out alone.

“Yeah,I guess,” he shrugged, “I’m just gonna clear out a few more shit from here.”

“You mean delete your browsing history?” you teased.

“What for?” he snickered, “Not like you’re coming anywhere close to my computer.”

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t judge. Much,” you winked. “I need to change my bandages. See ya.”

You found yourself worrying less and less about Jason lately, and he found himself worrying about you more and more.

Despite being more independent now, he had started to get clingy.

At first, you would have thought that Jason Todd and ‘clingy’ were two things that would never coexist together. On the contrary, ever since your injury, he wouldn’t leave your side unless it was to go out with Alfred.

You stayed home for the next two weeks for recuperation, and it was basically two weeks of Jason. You woke up, he was there next to you. You ate, he was there finishing your food. You watched TV, he was there fighting for the remote control.

But when you finally did heal and got to go out for patrol- that was the worst.

“He has been anxious the whole night,” Alfred had whispered to you once you came back. Jason had approached you with a serious look on his face, examined you up and down, nodded, and then went back upstairs.

“Hurry up, I’m sleepy,” he had grumbled, leaving you in shock.

You would have been annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Jason and he showed that he cared enough about you to be worried. So you were actually quite pleased.

So with all the clinginess and worries and occasional outings with either you or Alfred, you weren’t ready for when he suddenly disappeared while you were sending out some emails to the Gotham University staff.

“Uh, have you seen Jason?” you walked up to Bruce who was down at the Cave computers.

“No,” he frowned, “He doesn’t come down here much after he moved upstairs unless he’s waiting for you. Has Alfred not seen him?”

“I haven’t asked, but he wasn’t in his room, or mine, or the gym, or the kitchen either,” you bit your lip anxiously, “I texted him but he hasn’t replied. I’ll go find Alfred and ask.”

“Let me know.”

You found Alfred in the study, taking and dusting books to give to Jason.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he answered your question, “The last time I saw him was during breakfast. I have been up here since.”

“Shit, I can’t find him,” you started to panic.

“I’m sure he is fine,” Alfred tried to reassure you, “He’s been much better lately. He knows how to take care of himself.”

“I’ll call him or something,” you worried, going down to wait in the living room.

He never picked up, so you waited there anxiously for the next two hours, barely paying attention to whatever documentary that was playing.

Then at around five, he came waltzing in from the front door, fucking whistling a low tune.

“Jason!” you stood up.

“Hey,” he greeted you casually. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s- what’s wrong?” you repeated, “You just disappeared. For hours. You didn’t answer my texts or calls. Where were you?”

“Out,” he told you.

“O-out?” you asked, “Like, alone?”

“Yeah?” he frowned, “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, I just- I was just wondering where you were,” you breathed and sat back down, “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere interesting,” he shrugged, taking a seat next to you on the sofa, “The park at first. Then the grocery store. Then I parked somewhere and walked around Central Gotham.”

“You drove?” your eyes widen.

“Yeah, your car,” he grinned, “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t,” you smiled, “How was it? Your day out?”

“Fine,” he simply said, “No big deal.”

He said that and tried to look modest, but you could see from his expression that he was pretty proud of himself. You had learned how to read his emotions better, and that was definitely a genuine, non-sarcastic, non-mocking smile he had on.

“No big deal, huh?” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smirked at you. “Why? Were you worried?”

“No way,” you rolled your eyes, “Why would I be?”

He narrowed his eyes and took out his phone. “Nineteen missed calls. Six text messages. ‘Jason, where are you?’ ‘Jason, I’m serious.’ ‘Why aren’t you picking up your phone? Are you in trouble?’ ‘Please call me back, I’m worried.’ ‘Don’t be an asshole and pick up you massive prick.’ And last but not least- I think this one is the best, by the way. Just ‘Dickhead.’”

“Well, why didn’t you pick up? Or text me back?” you demanded.

“Had it on silent. Didn’t want any distractions,” he pocketed his phone, “Wasn’t worried, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, “I thought you… Left or something.”

“Left?” he frowned.

“Yeah, I thought you packed your bags and left us,” you looked away.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

You simply shrugged.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you heard him softly say, “Not anytime soon, anyway.”

“Good,” you huffed, “Because I’d be super pissed off.”

“And I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, huh?” he nudged you lightly, “Or I’d lose sponge bath privileges.”

“God, that was one time, and it was because you stank!” you groaned, “Never again.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You looked into his eyes then, twinkling playfully at you.

“What if I got sick?” he smirked, “Or shot? And I couldn’t get to the shower? And I started to stink so bad you wouldn’t want to stay next to me?”

“Then Alfred can give you your sponge bath,” you rolled your eyes.

“But what if I want it to be you?” he breathed, his voice a mere whisper.

“Then,” you leaned in closer, “I’d make you beg for it.”

He chuckled and left it at that.

***

The soft sheets wrapped around your almost bare legs, gently caressing your smooth skin. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness already, since you’ve been laying in bed for about half an hour, staring at the ceiling.

“Has Gotham always been so bright?” Jason grumbled from next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“The city. It was so bright,” he complained.

“No, Gotham is gloomy, Jason. It’s a whole Gotham thing. Gloomy, rainy, cloudy, shithole,” you went on, “Streets are sticky for some reason. And then there’s always that weird smell going on. You ever notice that smell?”

“Seemed bright to me,” he ignored your question.

“That’s,” you turned on your side to face him. You could see the silhouette of his side profile looking upwards. The bump at his crooked nose bridge, the dip of his deep set eyes, even the length of his thick eyelashes. “Because you have been cooped up in the house for too long.”

“I’ve been out with you,” he mumbled, turning to face you as well. “To the park. The grocery store. It’s just the city. Seemed brighter.”

“Maybe because you’re looking at it from a new point of view?” you guessed, “Changed person and all, yada yada.”

“Maybe,” he snorted, “Doubt it. But whatever. It’s not important.”

From the new position, you were now closer to him. You could feel the slight brushes of his skin against yours whenever he took a breath.

“You don’t always have to dismiss something,” you told him softly, “Just because you can’t find the answer, doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“Who the hell cares if Gotham is brighter or not?” he argued, “It doesn’t affect anyone. Not even me.”

“The questions you ask say a lot about the type of person you are,” you reasoned.

“And?” he breathed, “What type of person am I?”

You bit your lip when you saw his eyes flutter to your lips for just a second. “Perceptive. Introspective. Kind of an asshole, but that’s okay.”

He let out a breathy laugh that fanned warm breath across your face. Taking a deep breath, you sighed as you looked back at him, for no reason at all. You looked down at his lips for just a second and noticed it was ever so slightly parted. Relaxed.

“If you kiss me, I’ll bite your tongue off,” he stated.

You blinked. And then burst into a fit of giggles. “What makes you think I was going to kiss you?”

“You had that look in your eye,” he smirked, “The one that says that you wanted to kiss me. Don’t. I’m not joking. I’ll bite your tongue off.”

“You’re such a scary man, Jason,” you smiled at him endearingly.

“Really? I thought I had charm.”

“Charming people don’t say that they’re going to bite someone’s tongue off,” you laughed, “Dick would never do that.”

“Dick,” he snorted, “What does he know?”

“He knows not to say something like that to someone,” you grinned.

“But you kind of like it when I threaten you,” he pointed out.

“What? Since when?”

“Sweetheart, I technically choked you,” he reminded you, “I keep on saying that I’ll kill you over the smallest things. It’s either you’re dumb or kinky. I think I know which you’d rather be.”

“I’m not dumb, but the kinky one here is definitely you,” you insisted, “I saw the title of that video, Jason. Girl gets-”

“Stop,” he interjected you, “Don’t even. Ever.”

“My point exactly,” you grinned proudly at your win. “You’re the one with the kinky porn videos. You’re the one with the boner almost every night.”

“Can you blame me,” he groaned, “I’m a sexually frustrated eighteen year old who can’t bring himself to come. Give me a break.”

“You’re dragging me down with you,” you whined, “You think I’m not hormonal, too? I’m at the peak of my hormonal mess and my monthly cycles don’t help either.”

He let out a long sigh. “You can kick me out any time you want, you know. I won’t threaten you. Much.”

“I don’t mind you sleeping here,” you told him honestly, “I mean, it’s got its pros and cons. Cons like getting me all hot and bothered is the same category as you taking up all the space and stealing the covers.”

“And the pros?”

“You get to sleep peacefully,” you shrugged.

“But there’s nothing in it for you.”

I get to sleep next to you. I get to feel your arms around me.

You didn’t say that out loud. You were open with him, but not that open.

Instead, you turned around to face your back towards him. “I like cuddles. I used to cuddle with Dick when I was the one who had nightmares. So just shut up and cuddle me.”

The bed shifted, and you heard rustling, then Jason’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, flushed against his front.

“Jesus- Jason!” you whined.

“I told you, I can’t help it!” he defended himself.

You squirmed against him, unintentionally grinding your ass against his crotch, boner poking directly into your flesh.

“Hnng. Fuck. Stop moving so much, you’re making it worse.”

The sound he made and the ‘fuck’ he dropped sent shooting heat directly to your core.

Fucking hormones.

“You fucking stop sounding like that,” you shot back at him.

“What? Sounding like what?”

“All moany and breathy and- and swearing and shit.”

“What? Breathy?” he breathed.

“Yes, like you ran a fucking mile,” you said. “You’re panting like crazy, Jason.”

“So are you.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am- fuck you,” you groaned, pushing back against him in reflex.

His grip on your waist tightened, but he chuckled. “If only.”

“Shut up,” you panted. “Ugh. This is literally peak horny teen phase.”

“Dry humping? Definitely. Just- just stop for a sec, Jesus.”

Your heavy breaths filled the dark and silent room. But only for a few seconds.

“Okay- I’m sorry- I can’t,” you sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom to… Relieve myself,” you winced at how bad that sounded.

“Like, to pee? Or..?”

“To fucking come, Jesus Christ,” you pressed the top of your nose bridge. “You may be able to hold it in, but I can’t.”

“Stay,” he instructed, catching your wrist.

“I said I can’t hold it in, you piece o-”

“Then don’t. Make yourself come. But do it here.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it back, looking at him perplexed. “Like… The other day?”

He considered it for a second. “No. Not like the other day.”

“Then what?”

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gave you a mischievous grin. “I’ll drag the chair to face the bed and watch you.”

You immediately felt yourself blush, though the heat also went to your belly. “W-what? No way. That’s too embarrassing.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” he shrugged.

“You haven’t seen my… That,” you winced.

“That?” he smirked.

“Yes, that,” you repeated, “You haven’t seen it, and it’s embarrassing if you watched.”

“Sure, I haven’t seen yours,” he went on, “But a pussy is still a pussy, sweetheart. Not that I wouldn’t think yours is special- I’m sure it is.”

You pursed your lips, thoughts running quickly through your mind. On one hand, it was the first time you would bare yourself to someone else and you were nervous and shy about it. On the other hand, the thought of Jason watching you get yourself off was hot as fuck.

“Fine,” you conceded, horniness taking over your shyness, “But on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” he whispered, sitting up and leaning in closer to you.

“You gotta take out your dick and show it to me too,” you grinned.

“That,” he got off the bed and walked across the room to pull a chair from your desk, “I can do.”

He switched on the lamp on your desk, illuminating the room dimly with warm light and positioned the chair to face the foot of your bed and sat down, grinning so unbelievably wide for his standards that you were sure his cheeks would start to hurt soon.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled down his sweatpants to his knees, revealing his cock with a small slap on his pubic bone- erect, thick, long, hard, and judging from the way the light from the little light of the desk lamp reflected on it, wet at the tip with precum.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of him smirking away, leaning comfortably back into your chair, legs now slightly parted. Shirtless Jason was something you had trouble getting used to, your imagination running wild whenever you saw him in that state.

But your view of him right now? You made sure to burn it into your mind because that would be your permanent spank bank material.

How you wished you could ask if you could take a picture.

“I know I’m a sight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “But you’re the one who said that you couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

He was right. Since Jason took off his pants, you were already dizzy with heat that spread from your core.

“Jesus, Jason,” you breathed, hand cupping your own cunt and grinding it to relieve some pressure. “You’re insanely- just- Jesus.

He smiled at you softly, his hands both on each respective arm rest, not touching himself at all. “You don’t have to take off anything if you don’t want to. You can just do it under the sheets if you want.”

“Hell no, you changed my mind,” you shook your head, proceeding to take off your sleeping shorts, “Now I’m just horny as fuck, I don’t care anymore.”

You threw your shorts to the floor and leaned back onto some propped pillows. Spreading your legs slowly, you welcomed the cold air that brushed softly against your folds.

“Holy shit,” you heard him gasp.

And then out of nowhere, you started to get nervous again. Your hands went between your legs and hid your pussy from his view.

Jason must have noticed your change in body language, because he sat up straight and tried to reassure you again. “I know it’s your first time showing yourself to someone- hell, it’s mine too. But you don’t have to worry. You’ve already seen me at my worst. I have way more reason to be embarrassed than you do. And right now you’re showing your best to me. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and what do you know? You felt yourself easing back into the mood again.

“O-okay,” you nodded, and then slowly spread your legs wider, removing your hands from obstructing his view.

You noticed him lean forward, his heavy breaths audible to you in the silence of the room. With much more confidence than before, you started to slowly circle your clit, breathing out a small moan.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe.

You were wet, wetter than you thought you would be, and Jason cursing while watching you touch yourself did wonders to your body.

Increasing the pace to one you were most used to, you let out another moan, louder than before.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he gasped, “I can see how wet you are from here.”

“It’s your fault,” you whined, “You made me like this.”

“Well, you made me like this,” he groaned, gesturing to his raging erection. It was twitching against his lower stomach, leaving a trail of wetness on his skin as it oozed precum.

“Jason,” you purred, slipping a finger inside of you while you rubbed on your clit.

“Fucking- hnng-”

Glancing back at him, you saw the way he gripped the arm rest, knuckles white, muscles taut. He looked like he was being tortured.

You let out a laugh.

“What?” he angrily bit at you.

“You look like you’re in pain,” you giggled, fingers still working at your cunt.

“I am,” he grit, “My cock wants to be touched so bad, it hurts. You make my cock hurt, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” your eyes fluttered close at the sudden spark. You really did like it when he talked dirty to you.

“I swear I’ve never been so hard in my life,” he groaned, “You make me so hard, baby.”

Baby.

He had never called you that before, but you didn’t want it to be the first and last time.

It wasn’t like his ‘sweetheart’, where he would call you that even in front of Alfred or Dick or Bruce. It wasn’t an innocent nickname or term of endearment that he threw around just for the sake of it.

It was the way it just naturally came to him as the word rolled off his tongue, the way his voice husky and laced with lust made it sound dirty, a secret that just both of you shared.

It was the way he breathed it out, the way he almost stuttered when he pronounced the consonants, the way it was a mix of a small whine and a groan.

It was enough to drive you to the edge of your climax.

“Jason,” you let out a breathy whisper so soft you didn’t know if he heard it.

“You want to come don’t you, baby?” he coaxed you, “I’m not going to come, so you better come for me in my place, sweetheart.”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me hard. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

The finger that you had fucking your own cunt was dripping wet as you fucked yourself harder, as you rubbed yourself faster, as you watched the way Jason bit his lip hard enough to draw blood while he watched you with hooded eyes, cock twitching and begging for attention that he wouldn’t give.

His eyes locked with your own.

“Come for me, baby.”

And you did. Your breaths stuttering, your mouth opened in a silent scream, your toes curling at the white hot sensations that spread from them to the rest of your body as your pussy clenched and fluttered over your single finger.

“Holy fuck-”

“Fuck,” you panted, a wave of fatigue crashed over you as you came down from your high.

You looked over at Jason, and to your surprise, he had his head in his hands, his elbows on his knee. Silent, but obviously filled with tension.

“Jason, are you okay?” you voiced your concern.

“Yeah- just- give me a minute,” he answered with a strained voice.

Watching Jason with worry, you saw the way his hands were also fisting and tugging slightly at his hair.

“Jason-”

He got up and pulled up his pants, and then walked to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of ice cold water to stick my dick in,” he snapped, “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re going to fucking kill me.”

***

There were a number of scenarios that you felt were so ridiculous, you didn't think it would actually happen in real life- until it did.

One of them was the fact that you got adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, whom you later found out was the Batman himself- accurately confirming the online conspiracy theories you had laughed at on Reddit at four in the morning- and then you becoming Robin. It was so utterly ridiculous, that even then you were questioning whether or not it was all a dream and you were going to wake up in your bed that had springs poking into your back and sheets that were definitely infested with dust mites.

Another scenario was the current president becoming president in the first place- which was a shock to everyone else as much as it was to you at the time.

Which brought you to the current scenario you never thought would happen. In fact, it was so random that the thought itself never even crossed your mind.

Jason Todd sitting across the dining table from you with a murderous glare in his eyes, holding a plate of red velvet cake, wearing a bright pink glittery party hat that only slightly ruffled his gelled hair, a sequined pink tank top that oddly suited his physique and bright pink eyeshadow that brought out the blue in his eyes. His stare was directed to both you, and Alex who was sitting next to you.

How did you get there?

It wasn’t a party party, but more like you inviting your three friends over to the Manor in celebration of your birthday. Natalie had chosen a theme which she demanded everyone follow.

You were just finished setting the table with Dick when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Am I invited?”

Turning around, you saw Jason with his arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked up.

“Well, yes,” you blinked, “Of course. I just didn’t think you’d want to be downstairs with strangers around. I’m sorry, I should have asked anyway. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes, “How many people are coming anyway?”

“Just my three friends.”

“I can handle three people.”

“But can you handle pink?” Dick interrupted, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“We have a theme, Jason,” you laughed, “You have to wear pink.”

Dick himself was sporting a tight baby pink t-shirt that had the words MY ASS IS TIGHTER THAN THIS SHIRT in black, bold, capital letters. He paired it with fuschia pink shorts that did in fact make his ass look tighter than the t-shirt.

“I don’t have anything pink,” he frowned.

You looked at Dick just as Dick looked at you.

“Fuck, I know that look,” Jason started to shake his his head, “No. No way.”

“I was in between outfits, so I brought them both,” Dick started to chat excitedly, “Let me go and grab it.”

“I don’t want to wear anything you think is nice, Grayson!” Jason yelled at him when he rushed to his room.

“Oh, his style isn’t that bad,” you defended Dick.

“Sweetheart, you weren’t around to see that God awful Nightwing suit with the frills,” Jason shot back at you.

“Hey, I was just discovering myself then,” Dick came back, “Here.”

He threw something at Jason.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No way in hell.”

“Jason, you have to!” you whined and pouted at him, “Please? It’s my birthday.”

“Fucking- fine!”

And that was how you convinced Jason to put on Dick’s pink sequined tank top. The party hat and eyeshadow came next. You learned something pivotal that night.

Jason couldn’t resist it when you pouted and batted your eyelashes at him.

The doorbell rang, saving you from the argument Dick and Jason were having.

“I think the pink eyeshadow brings out the blue in your eyes-”

“Your eyes are blue, too, dumbfuck!” Jason was yelling, “Why aren’t you wearing any?”

“I’m already too pink! You’re wearing black pants- you can handle a little more.”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna-”

“We need to take a picture-”

“I will fucking murder-”

“Hey guys!” you opened the door to reveal your three pink and sparkly friends.

“Babe, you look so amazing!” Natalie squealed, “See, I knew pink was your color!”

“Pink is everyone’s color, Nat,” Sarah interjected, “But I agree, you do look good in that.”

“You guys didn’t compliment me that much when you saw me,” Alex grumbled, nudging you aside to enter without waiting for an invitation.

“Because she slays, and you don’t, Alex!” Natalie followed suit.

“I worked hard on this outfit!” Alex argued back.

You closed the door behind Sarah as your friends made their way into your home towards the living room. They have been there countless times, already familiar with your family.

“Hello there, Dick,” you heard Natalie purr.

Sarah, Alex and you rolled your eyes.

“Nice to see you again, kid,” Dick chuckled.

“Oh come on, Dick!” Natalie whined, “Stop calling me that. I’m not a-”

“Good evening Mr. Wayne,” Alex cleared his throat at Bruce’s arrival, going in for a handshake.

“It’s Bruce, lad,” Bruce smiled warmly.

You didn’t have any inappropriate thoughts for your adoptive father, but he looked good in pink.

“Thanks for having us, Bruce,” Sarah shook his hand as well.

“Yes, Bruce, thank you for- oh, hello there.”

Jason had just walked in from the kitchen, pouting and blushing over how he looked, but was caught unaware at Natalie’s greeting.

“And who are you?” she grinned, throwing a knowing look at you.

“Ah, this is my cousin’s son,” Bruce said, “He’s been staying with us for a while.”

“Jason,” Jason fucking smiled charmingly at Natalie.

Expecting the worst, you were impressed by how relaxed and at ease he looked. Shaking your head to yourself, you thought about how truly skilled and trained Jason was to be able to blend in when he tried.

“Oh,” Alex gave a sound of recognition, “So you’re Jason.”

You were also expecting Jason to throw punches the moment his name left Alex’s lips, but he only narrowed his eyes at Alex. “You.”

“Am I missing something?” Sarah asked.

Alex was grinning, and you recognized that grin. It was the grin he made whenever he was up to no good.

Oh, god.

And surely enough, he threw his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to his side.

“You’re the one I sent that selfie to,” Alex chuckled, “You should thank me. She would never have sent you a picture of herself half naked otherwise.”

“I don’t need a picture of her half naked when I’ve seen everything in real life.”

In the distance, you heard Dick spat out a drink you didn’t realise he had.

“Okay, I think dinner is ready,” you quickly interjected, prying yourself from Alex’s grip, paying close attention to the way Jason clenched his jaw.

You settled to sit down at the dining table, Sarah taking a seat next to you, Natalie taking a seat next to Dick. The other seat beside you was empty- until Alex rushed to sit down, beating Jason by a beat, who ended up sitting across from you in between Natalie and Bruce.

“What are you doing?” you hissed at Alex.

“You’ll thank me later,” he whispered back with a wink, leaning in a little closer than he usually did.

Sarah had gotten into a conversation with Bruce regarding New York, Natalie was flirting with Dick who seemed to enjoy the attention, which left you, Jason and Alex.

“So, Jason,” Alex spoke up.

Again, you winced internally when he said Jason’s name, but Jason merely looked up from his food and raised an eyebrow. Was this it? Did he not care for it anymore?

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Oh,” Alex blinked, “I thought you were older.”

“The scars make me look older,” Jason’s mouth twisted into a grin, “Want to know how I got ‘em?”

“Jason,” you warned.

“I don’t want to pry,” Alex said.

“I was in a gang,” Jason smirked, “I got caught by a rival gang one time, and they shoved a knife in my mouth. That’s how I got this one.”

He pointed to the scar on his lips that twisted his smirk upwards even more. You frowned to yourself, asking the silent question. Was that what Joker did to him?

“How about the one on your nose?” Alex asked excitedly.

“Alex!” you smacked his arm.

“It’s fine,” Jason shrugged, “Someone hit me with a crowbar, broke my nose too.”

“The one near your eye?”

“Slammed my face against a wall.”

“Stop it,” you whispered.

“Cheek?”

“Huh, I don’t remember. I have so many. I think it was-”

“Stop it,” you said louder, glaring at Jason.

You didn’t want to hear how he got his injuries, you didn’t like the way he took it so easy.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jason’s eyes turned soft, “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

You felt Alex’s stare on you, probably trying to read your emotions. He was always good at that.

“Anyway,” Alex changed the subject, “You got a girlfriend?”

You groaned internally. You didn’t know why Alex thought you would thank him later.

“No.”

“Badass guy like you, I’m sure you have a few lining up,” he coaxed.

“Hmm. Maybe just the one,” Jason smirked, looking at you.

“Oh, God,” you groaned out loud this time, feeling your ears burn with embarrassment.

“What, her?” Alex scoffed, “Nah. She doesn’t usually go for guys like you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

“Then what kind of guy does she usually go for?” Jason grit, clenching his fists around his knife a little bit too tight.

Alex snaked his arm around your waist and looked at Jason straight in the eyes before answering, “Guys like me. We used to date.”

You were going to fucking murder your best friend- if Jason didn’t murder him first.

Ever since finding Jason in that cell, you had seen many sides to him. The white hot rage that borderline insanity in his eyes for the first few weeks, the empty glassy look he had whenever he stared into space, the panic when you brought him out the first time, the lust he showed only a few nights ago, the laugh and comfort and ease that was slowly brought out which he showed not only with you anymore, but with Alfred and Dick too.

So this was the first time you got to see another expression on him.

Calm, cold and focused anger. A look that sent shivers down your spine, much scarier than when he lashed out at you and choked you a year ago when he was still unstable.

Shit.

You looked over at Alex, thinking that he would start cowering as well and finally put an end to whatever he was planning.

But Alex, the stupid dumbfuck, was still smirking at Jason with a challenging look on his face.

You were going to say something to correct him, but Alfred brought out the cake.

And that’s how you found yourself in that unbelievably dumb scenario.

The rest of the night, Jason was relatively quiet, only answering questions coming from anyone except Alex. Not like Alex was trying to talk to Jason anymore. No, he opted for a more physical approach that even raised eyebrows from Sarah and Natalie.

He started touching you, squeezing next to you on the sofa, leaning in closely to your ear to whisper unintelligible words.

And whenever you pushed him away and tried to scold him, he simply answered with a “You’ll thank me later.” or “Trust me.”

Finally the night came to an end, and with lots of tears from you, Sarah and Natalie- as it was going to be the last time you saw each other for a while. It wasn’t really a separation issue, it was just symbolic.

The four of you had been friends since elementary, and now you were finally going your own way.

You felt Jason and Dick watch your teary goodbyes from afar.

It was Alex’s turn to say his goodbye, but instead of opening his mouth, he just went in for a bone crushing hug. The two of you stayed that way for a minute, and then Alex released you.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said again, and then leaned in unexpectedly to give you a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth.

In the background, you heard Dick chuckle.

You felt yourself flush. He stepped back, winked at you, and then left.

***

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you smiled at your reflection while combing your hair at the dresser. Jason was sitting on your bed behind you- cleaned and changed. “I’m going to miss them a lot.”

“Yeah.”

You frowned. Jason had been grouchy all night.

At first you thought it was the choice of outfit for him, but he seemed to not mind it in the end. And then you reckoned it was the fact that he had to be around strangers the whole night, but even now he was sour with just the both of you in your room.

Alex must have gotten to him real bad. You were definitely going to give him a piece of your mind later.

You set down your comb and walked to stand in front of him. “You okay there, buddy?”

His frown was deep when he looked up at you, and his lips were in a pout. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” you coaxed.

Suddenly, he stood up, towering above you. “You told me that there was nothing going on between you and Alex.”

“There isn’t,” you reassured, “He was just messing with you. He likes to do that when... “

“When?”

“When he thinks I like someone,” you carefully said, “He tries to make them jealous. It’s not the first time he’s done this.”

“The two of you used to go out?”

“In middle school, Jason!” you sighed exasperatedly, “For like two months before we realised we were better off as friends. He still brings it up to mess with people.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m still frustrated.”

“Why?”

“Because it worked,” he stated. “Because I get jealous whenever he touched you. Because I wanted to murder him when he kissed you.”

“It wasn’t even on the mouth,” you rolled your eyes, “It was just for show.”

“Well, it fucking worked, didn’t it,” he growled, his hands flying to your hips. “That smug little bastard. Am I really not the type of guy you’d go for?”

“I haven’t met anyone like you, Jason,” you smiled, resting your hands on his chest.

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer to you, a breath away from touching his lips to yours. “Are you going to bite my tongue off if I kiss you?”

“I’m not a fucking savage like-”

And then he did it, finally, after months of sexual tension, he finally kissed you. Soft and gentle at first as if testing the waters. And then as both of you got the hang of it, his kiss turned into one that was heavy and hard and desperate, as though you were going to run away from him if he didn’t make you stay with his mouth.

He pushed you against the wall, his hands roaming all over you, gripping and squeezing and massaging, while he forced his tongue inside your mouth to explore.

“I want you,” he gasped, going down to your neck to leave love bites, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You wanted him too, more than just his body, more than what you had, but you stopped yourself. Because you weren’t supposed to.

“Jason,” you panted, “St-stop.”

And just like that, he did. He wrenched his hands away from you as if he was shocked by electricity and looked down at you with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t… You don’t want me,” you said solemnly, “Not in the way I want you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just… I’m just the first person you opened yourself up to after a traumatizing event,” you explained, “It’s natural for you to develop a dependency, and I don’t blame you for it, but-”

“You think that’s what this is?” he hissed, “Dependency?”

“It’s like when a patient falls in love with their therapist. It happens and it’s normal and-”

“Fuck you,” he seethed. “You think I can’t tell the difference between wanting you and- and needing you?”

You pursed your lips and simply looked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t fucking need you,” he sneered, “And I’ll fucking prove it.”

In a blink, he left the room.

“What? Wait- Jason!” you followed after him.

He was in his room, throwing his things into a duffel bag.

Your heart sank at the realisation.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“Why?”

“You think I’m so fucking helpless?” he aggressively shoved his clothes into the bag, “You think that I can’t fucking be like a normal person? Well, I’ll just show you how fucking independent I can be.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jason,” you tried, “It’s not about trying to prove your point! This is about your mental health and wellbeing and-”

“STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!” he yelled, causing you to jump. “Stop fucking babying me. I’m not a patient and you’re definitely not my therapist. You’re just a stupid girl who thinks she knows me better than I know myself!”

“Jason, I-”

“How can I be normal again when you’re scared of being normal with me!” he continued, “You didn’t even tell me that you had people coming over to celebrate your birthday because you were worried that I couldn’t handle it! Did you think I was going to strangle anyone who said my name tonight? Did you think I was going to suddenly flip a switch and break down because they were strangers?”

“That’s because I actually care for-”

“I know!” he shouted, before taking a deep breath. “I know you do. And I know you mean well. But this was bound to happen sooner or later. I need to get back on my own fucking feet without you offering your fucking hand whenever I fall down.”

“But, you’re not-”

A warm but firm hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see Bruce looking at Jason with his eyebrows knitted together, his lips downturned- he was the Bruce underneath the mask.

Jason stood up straight and looked at him in defiance.

A moment’s silence. And then-

“Do what you need to do. But don’t forget that you are always welcomed here. Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

You gaped silently at Bruce.

Jason nodded at him, giving a small smile.

“Bruce, you can’t just let him leave! This is irrational, and spontaneous, and uncalculated-”

“He’s his own man,” Bruce stated, “He knows what he needs. And I trust him enough to know he will be okay. You should too.”

And with that, Bruce left.

You couldn’t do anything but silently watch Jason resume his packing, and when he was done, you watched him carry his bag to the Manor door.

“I’ll see you again. Whenever.”

And you were left there alone, on the night you turned eighteen, heartbroken over a man who deserved more than what the world gave him.

***

“He hasn’t slept for more than four hours ever since… Ever since he escaped,” you told Dick who had just arrived.

It had been two months after Jason left. He never contacted you once, and if he did contact Bruce, you wouldn’t have known about it.

“And you? How are you doing?” Dick sat down on the sofa next to you.

“The usual,” you shrugged, “Tired. I’d worry more about Bruce.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time Joker’s escaped from Arkham,” Dick stated, “Bruce knows what he needs to do.”

“But it’s the first time he’s escaped with zero evidence,” you explained, “No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. Even Harley doesn’t know what happened. And we have no idea where he is now. I think that’s what’s bothering Bruce the most.”

“Well, it’s only been two weeks since the escape,” Dick sighed, “He’s bound to appear sooner or later.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To help?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Hey, have you seen the news lately? About that guy who’s running around beating up criminals?”

“The vigilante wannabe?” you snorted, “Sure. He’s a joke. Zero class whatsoever.”

“Do you think it could be..?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’ve thought about it, but no. He’s just another thug.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Jason wouldn’t rub me off the wrong way like this Red Hood does,” you crinkled your nose, “There’s just something I don’t like about this guy. I think it’s the way he thinks he’s so good. Challenging us like that.”

“Challenging us?”

“Dick, he’s got a blood red bat-symbol on his chest!” you threw your arms up, “It’s insulting- and obviously a mockery.”

“He’s clearing the streets though,” Dick gave you an amused expression, “He’s doing good.”

“He’s an asshole who uses guns to threaten people.”

“He hasn’t actually killed anyone.”

“Yet,” you grumbled, “When you’re that armed, you probably mean business. People are afraid of him. They don’t respect him. Not the way Batman earned his respect.”

“What does Bruce think of him?”

“Nothing. I’m telling you, Dick, he’s just another thug. Besides, Bruce has bigger problems to worry about. Like a lunatic clown that kidnapped his son and tortured him for years being on the loose.”

***

Another two months passed since Joker broke out of Arkham, and Bruce was still obsessing over him.

You couldn’t blame Bruce, obviously. The way he spoke about Joker had never been the same ever since Jason came back. You suspected that he pieced together what that sick bastard had done to Jason, not that Bruce ever said anything about it.

The last time it had rained that heavily while you were on patrol, you had gotten shot. Since then, the bullet wound scar on your back tingled slightly every time you were out in the rain. You knew it was all in your head.

Separated from Batman, you were patrolling downtown, looking down at the alleyways from the rooftops of run down shopping lots. Bruce had made your cape lighter and waterproof after your accident and complaints, so at least you weren’t completely drenched.

But it was still cold.

It was a slow night- as slow as any rainy night would be. A shiver ran down your spine violently. Anyone who was out that night were either crazy, or desperate. The wind was howling, the rain left thunderous pelts as it hit the ground.

And then you heard it, a loud BANG of a gun being fired.

Your head snapped to the direction of the sound, and you grappled- only a few blocks over before you saw the source.

It was the man they called Red Hood, big and bulky, wearing all black except for a leather vest that had a red hood attached to it, pulled up. The red bat symbol on his chest looked as if it was glowing angrily at the whimpering man on the floor.

“Get out of here before I shoot your other knee, you fucking sick pervert,” you heard him growl.

The man scrambled up and limped away.

You saw it as an opportunity to finally confront the asshole, so you dropped down to the alley, right behind him.

That close, you could see how big he was. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, tight fucking ass-

“And who gave you permission to wear that symbol on your chest?” you sneered.

You had expected him to jump in surprise at your voice, but he didn’t. He just stayed there, his back towards you, his smoking gun in his right hand.

You frowned angrily. You made sure to be quiet, and with the rain, it was almost impossible for a stupid thug like him to hear you.

“I’m talking to you, asshole!” you yelled heatedly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He slowly turned to face you, revealing an odd red metal mask that covered his whole face except his forehead.

“They call me Red Hood,” he answered, voice muffled. “Haven’t you been reading the news?”

You clenched your jaw at his teasing, arrogant tone.

“That symbol is reserved only for people who deserve it,” you scowled.

“Is that why you don’t wear the symbol, then?”

“I- you-” you gaped furiously, “I’ll fucking rip it off you.”

He chuckled. “If you wanted me to see me shirtless, you could have just asked, sweetheart.”

You were going to throw another round of insults at him, until you recognized his words.

No. No fucking way.

Dick was right?!

“Jason?” you whispered.

He pulled down his hood, and took off his mask to reveal a grinning Jason. “Miss me?”

“But- you- no- but-” you stuttered, “You’re huge! What the fuck?”

“Let’s get out of the rain, and I can show you how huge I really am,” he winked at you.

You felt your face burn despite the cold. So he was extra flirtatious now, too?

“Where?” you asked.

“My safe house.”

“I need to tell Batman.”

“So tell him.”

You pressed onto the gadget in your ear. “Batman. I found Red Hood. He’s… Him. I’m going with him. Is that okay?”

“Affirmative. I’ll see you back at the Cave.”

You looked at Jason. “Lead the way.”

***

“This isn’t your safehouse, this is Batman’s!” you gasped when you walked down the small staircase that led you underground.

“Yep,” Jason replied, taking off his glove to key in a passcode and scan his thumbprint. “I found out he added my print to all his safehouses in Gotham.”

“So he knew where you were the whole time?”

“Yeah. He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumbled, walking into the familiar looking space.

All of Bruce’s safehouses looked the same. The small emergency ones, at least. It was a small room with nothing but a bed, a first aid station, a toilet with a shower, and a small armoury. He had bigger ones for bigger emergencies, but this was more like a safe stop for when he needed to quickly recover.

“This was the only favor I accepted from him,” he suddenly said defensively, “I’ve been getting by without his help for everything else. Even my weapons are my own.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

You took off your mask and clipped off your cape, but your vision was suddenly gone. Jason had threw a towel on top of your head.

“Dry yourself off, you’ll get everything wet,” he grunted.

You scruffled your wet hair with the towel and then proceeded to take off your boots and gloves.

“So when were you planning on coming back?” you sat on his bed and watched him take off his weapons and the vest.

“I don’t know,” he simply shrugged.

“So you just didn’t really have a plan?”

“I did. And I went through with it. Now I’m not sure.”

“Not sure about- Jesus, do you really have to do that here?” you asked.

Jason was peeling off his skin tight black undershirt. “My safehouse, my rules.”

“But you have a bathroom, don’t you?” you desperately asked. He was unbuckling his belt, and you forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah.”

“So go change there. I’ll wait here.”

“Are you blushing?”

“No, just go!”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving closer to you to stand right in front of you. You felt his grip on your chin, forcing you to turn your head up towards him. There, you met his eyes, intense and bright- brighter than they were before.

“Is it distracting for you?” he smirked, “I worked hard, you know.”

You gulped at the sudden closeness. It had been months since you last spoke to him, and the unexpectedly close contact didn’t help with your nervousness.

He bent down and took your hand in his free one, bringing it up to place it flat against his bare chest, his hot skin burning into yours.

“Can’t you feel the difference?” he muttered, bringing your hand down his chest to his stomach, now sporting a fucking defined eight pack. You refused to look anywhere else but his eyes. “No? Well, how about here, then.”

He pushed your hand down to his crotch, and you definitely could feel how hard he was already.

“Jason!” you gasped, widening your eyes.

He let out a chuckle before crashing his lips against yours, his weight causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. Climbing over you, he started licking at your lips, gently prodding his tongue into your mouth. All the while, your hand didn’t leave his crotch, even though he had released you from his grip.

And you felt him get harder and larger by the second.

“Jason,” you moaned, heat tingling at your core.

You had missed him. Missed his laughs, his glares and insults, his arms around you at night, even his boner poking you annoyingly in the ass.

“Baby.”

And there it was, his baby.

You started to palm his length through his pants, earning a gasp from him that you swallowed.

“Have I proven myself to you?” he panted, going to nibble your earlobe. “I don’t need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, holy shit, fine!” you conceded, your hands travelling up his body to caress him, to feel him. “I… I want you to. I’ve wanted you for so long, but…”

“But you didn’t want to take advantage of my emotional instability,” he scoffed. “I know. And I appreciate it. But how about right now?”

“Right now I just really want you to fuck me,” you breathed.

“Fucking hell,” he chuckled, “Okay, sweetheart.”

He started kissing you again, nipping at your lips while he tried to take off your uniform- but failed.

“Why the fuck is this more complicated than mine was?” he complained.

“Because I’m the new and improved Robin,” you winked at him, helping him find all the hidden zips and clasps and buttons. Soon enough, you were in your underwear.

“Fuck, you look better without some fucking guy’s arm around you,” he started kissing your chest, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

“Are you still not over that?” you laughed.

“I get pissed every time I think of it,” he grumbled. His hands went to your back and unhooked your bra, which he pulled away. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

And then he attacked your nipples. Biting and sucking on one side with his mouth, and squeezing and twisting and tugging the other with his fingers.

“Jason, please,” you whined, raising your hips to meet his for any kind of friction. You could feel his heavy length on your inner thigh.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, a hand snaking down your body and underneath the band of your underwear. “It took me so long before I could even come, baby. Remember?”

“Hnngh,” you groaned when he started to run his finger up and down your wet folds, “And you still haven’t?”

He paused and looked at you with a grin.

“Oh my god, you have?” you exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, giving you another peck on the lips. “It was about a month ago. Slow night. Excess energy. I was lying in bed.”

He slid off your panties with little trouble, and now you were completely exposed to him. You thought you would have gotten shy at one point, but you were so excited to have him there, to have him do things to you, that you didn’t care.

“And I was thinking of you,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling, “I was thinking about what you were up to. Whether you went out for patrol, because it was raining that night.”

He started circling on your clit slowly with a consistent pressure, causing you to squirm in his arms.

“And I never told you this, but one of the reasons why I waited for you to come back after patrol is because I fucking love seeing you in your uniform,” he continued, “Sweaty, disheveled, flushed with adrenaline, blood pumping. And wet when it rains.”

He stopped working on your clit, but then gently inserted a finger into your hole, making you groan as he went in knuckle deep and then started to slide it out and in and out and in.

“And I just imagined you in your room taking off your uniform. Piece by fucking piece, I could see it in my head, you sighing and frowning because you’re so tired, and just want to shower. And then my cock started to get hard, because I’m thinking of you naked with water running down your skin.”

He curled his finger upwards, pressing against that spot inside you that made you breathless.

“And before I know it, my pants are off and I’m fisting my cock,” he went on, his voice husky, “For the first time, I was actually touching myself and I wanted to come. And all I could think about was you, baby. I thought about how you looked like when you presented your pussy to me that night. I thought about how wet you would be if you were touching yourself at the same time I was.”

With his thumb, he circled on your clit while he fucked your pussy with his finger. It was a little uncoordinated, but it felt amazing all the same.

“And that just opened a lot of doors for me,” he chuckled, “Not that I never thought about it before then, but I was really focused on how you would look like underneath me while I fucked you. I thought about how you would look like with your lips around my cock. I thought about how you would taste.”

He increased his pace, and your eyes were closed then, rolling to the back of your head.

“And then I just knew it, baby. I had to come. Then and there. So I did.”

Fuck, you were on the edge already.

“I fucking came all over myself, moaning your name.”

“Jason.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come.”

And you did. You felt your pussy clench around his fingers, your breath stuttering as he made you come.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“Let’s just hope I’m as good at fucking as I am at fingering you,” he grinned, taking off his pants finally to reveal his hard and leaking cock.

“Fuck, Jason, I want you inside me. Right fucking now,” you whined, spreading your legs for him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he tapped your clit with his dick, “We gotta take it slow. It’s- it’s my first time too so I’m not sure- I just- fuck, just let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’m gonna-”

“Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” he panicked, “I haven’t even put it in yet!”

“Yeah, I know, I was just joking,” you giggled.

“Sunnova- fuck you,” he growled, “It’s not funny. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Jason,” you reassured, “Just take it slow. I’ll let you know if it hurts.”

He nodded, and fuck, you could see him gulp in nervousness. It was fucking adorable.

“I’m going to put it in now.”

You nodded, bracing yourself.

Feeling the tip of his dick press into your entrance, you moaned in pleasure at the slight stretch. It felt rubbery, and you didn’t even notice when he put the condom on.

He pushed in slowly, checking to see if he was hurting you.

“Ah!” you gasped out loud, “Wait, just stay there for a bit.”

“Shit, okay, I’m sorry,” he replied.

“It’s fine, it just stings a bit,” you breathed in deeply. “Need to get used to it. Your cock is huge.”

“And your pussy is tight,” he groaned, “Fuck, I could just come right now.”

You waited for a few more seconds, and then nodded at him. He pushed in a bit again, and you could see how hard he was holding back.

“Pause, pause,” you gasped, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck, “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

“And your cock is massive, Jason, Jesus,” you laughed, “Okay, you can put the rest in now.”

And finally, Jason bottomed out, leaving you feeling full and stretched, and fuck. It still hurt a bit, but for some reason, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted him to move.

“You can move now, but slowly please,” you requested.

You felt him nod against your neck, and then he started moving his hips extremely slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out until just the tip, and then pushing it back in.

Jason’s cock filled you up in a way that your walls were already clenching around him. He was already hitting every fucking spot inside of you, which was what made it feel so good in the first place despite the stretch.

“Baby,” he choked. You never heard him like that before. He almost sounded like he was in pain.

“You can go a little faster now, Jay,” you told him.

“I- I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you breathed.

“Shut up,” he groaned, continuing the slow and steady pace that already had you nearly spilling over again.

“Jason, fuck,” you moaned. “Please. Faster.”

“No.”

“Jason,” you almost sobbed, “Please.”

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna come,” he growled in your ear.

“Then come, Jason, please,” you cried, “Please fuck me faster and come with me, please.”

“Fucking- fine!” he gave up, and then increased his pace, knocking the breath out of you.

You didn’t feel it approaching like all your previous orgasms. There wasn’t a build of heat that shot sparks to your toes.

No. It came in suddenly, like an attack of sensations that made you writhe and scream while being fucked steadily for the first time by Jason Todd.

“Fuck, baby,” Jason groaned into your neck, burying his face in your skin while he moved his hips, “Fuck. Fuck. Baby.”

And with a long moan of your name, you felt his dick twitch inside of you, his breath stuttering, a hand that was supporting his weight went to grip your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” he sighed, and he collapsed on top of you, cock still inside.

“Jason, you’re heavy,” you giggled, trying to push him off.

“Lemme get myself outta you.”

“Ah!” you moaned when he slid himself out slowly, still sensitive.

“Fuck, sweetheart, don’t go making those sounds or you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“I can’t help it,” you sighed, watching him tie the condom and tossing it. “Your cock feels good.”

“Don’t,” he groaned, landing on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his face close to yours. “Don’t say anything dirty.”

“Okay,” you giggled, snuggling in close to him. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come back now? Please?”

He hesitated before he answered. “I don’t know if Bruce would take me back.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“You guys never found Joker, did you?”

You stiffened. “What did you do?” you whispered.

“I gave him what he deserved,” Jason answered, “And more.”

You stared at him in shock. “You broke him out of Arkham. That’s why there was zero evidence.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “It wasn’t easy, but I did. And I made him pay for everything.”

You reached out your hand to caress his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he smiled at you, “They all say that revenge wouldn’t make you feel better. That you’d still feel empty inside. But not for me. It- it gave me closure. It healed me because… Because I know that he can’t get his hands on you and do to you what he did to me.”

After you got over the shock, you genuinely felt happy for him. You would have killed the fucker yourself eventually, but Jason deserved to do it. He deserved to end the life of the person who made his a living hell.

“Bruce doesn’t have to know,” you said quietly.

“He will eventually,” Jason sighed. “It’s Bruce. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t figured it out already.”

“He wouldn’t blame you, Jason,” you told him, “Not- not if he knew. Not if he knew what Joker did to you.”

“He would throw me out,” Jason denied.

“He loves you,” you said, “He loves you, and he will forgive you. Maybe he’d get angry at first, and even then I think he’d be directing his anger towards himself rather than you. He’s changed, Jay. More than you know.”

Jason frowned, mulling over your words. “Fine. I’ll give it a try. But if he kicks me out, I get to say I told you so.”

“He won’t,” you smiled, “I won’t let him. If he does, I’ll go with you.”

Jason blinked at you, surprise etched on his face. “You would do that?”

“Of course. How could I not? I don’t know how obvious it is, but I kinda like you.”

He laughed out loud, “I like you, too.”

“So come back, okay?”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “Besides, now that I’m functioning sexually, it’d be pretty hard to stay away from you.”

“I knew you were a perv,” you laughed, “You have to show me that video. Girl gets-”

“Don’t even. Ever.”

“Jason Kinky Todd has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

[littleoddwriter]

Hiya! Your prompt list interested me and I would like to request you a Zsaszmask story with Dialogue Prompt n°5 "I wasn't sure your remembered me". Plot: During a fight with a rival gang, Victor gets knocked out and suffered amnesia. It hurts Roman who tried everything to help him. Angst+happy ending would be nice. I am sure it will be brilliant as always! Thanks in advance and have a nice day!

Remember Me | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hiya! <3 Thank you so much for this delightful request! It's totally run away from me, istg (it's over 4k words long, rip). I really hope you enjoy what I've done with it!

summary; see above.

notes; Angst with Happy Ending; Amnesia; Hospitals; Recovery; Mentions of Murder and Fantasies of it; Mentions of having been stabbed and shot; probably bad depiction of how hospitals and such work despite the medical dramas i've watched.

Stupid fucking rival gangs. He wished he could kill them all over again.

Stupid fucking Victor Zsasz. He was always so fucking loyal and protective.

Fucking hell!

Fuck!

Roman was fuming; his blood was still boiling, thrumming through his body in high speed, making him tremble. Although to be fair, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was only shaking because of his rage. It might have also been caused by the fear that’s settled deep into his bones.

Fear! He, Roman Beauvais Sionis, the notorious Black Mask – scared! It was laughable, really.

It would’ve been laughable if it hadn’t been for the fact that Victor’s blood was all over his clothes.

It would’ve been laughable if it hadn’t been for the fact that Zsasz was lying on the hospital bed, wires and tubes attached to him, looking so lifeless.

Because yes, it was scary, indeed.

Roman thought even the cruellest people in the world would agree that the uncertainty of whether or not the person you cared about the most was coming back to you at all or not, warranted such feelings of fear. It was perfectly fine.

If only it didn’t feel so wrong.

If only he didn’t feel like ripping his own heart out, so he could make these emotions stop.

That’s one of the many reasons that he despised just how close he was to Victor, how close he let him get.

He’s always known that someday, he may as well lose him one way or another.

And then what?

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

The strangest thing of all to him, in this very moment that he’s been sitting on the hospital chair next to Victor’s bed, was that he hasn’t left that spot even once so far. He was too scared to move. He felt as though the second his eyes left Zsasz’s shape, he would suddenly disappear. Because right now, he was still here. He was still alive, if only just barely, but he was still here.

He hadn’t even dared to change his clothes, the dried blood making them crusty and uncomfortable. It was disgusting and under any other circumstances he would have gone to change the second he had been out of danger.

Yet, here he was.

If only Zsasz knew just how much he actually cared about him.

Thinking about it though, he probably did. He seemed to know Roman better than he knew himself. Sometimes that scared him, but most of the time it only lit this raging fire inside him. He couldn’t stand the way he depended on this one person.

It was dangerous.

He couldn’t help himself, though. He’s tried before, but every time it led him right back to Zsasz. A strange pull kept hold of him, not letting him get out of Victor’s magnetic field under any circumstances.

Roman knew that Zsasz would probably say that it was some kind of fate thing. Destiny. They were meant to be together from the day they’d been born, only to wreak havoc on Gotham the way they’ve been doing ever since.

It was kind of charming, really, that Victor was so set on his theories about the universe. Sionis never questioned that Zsasz might have a point, considering that his purpose was to free all these birds from their cages, but he often failed to extent his belief in Victor’s theories to themselves.

Until now, at least.

The way he’s been feeling since Victor got knocked out, stabbed, and shot made him unsure of everything, now.

Because it truly felt as though with the very real notion of possibly losing his Victor, he’s suddenly felt so lost. Incomplete. It was as though with every action the rival gang’s taken, another part’s been ripped out of his body, his heart – his very soul.

It was absolutely horrific and now he could only hope that Zsasz would wake up again, without any permanent damages. He didn’t know what he would do if there were any at all. Would he rage? Mourn? Kill? He just hoped he’d never have to find out at all.

Several weeks later – fifty-six days, in fact – Roman sat in his chair beside Victor’s bed, like he’s done day and night since it had first happened.

Of course, he had changed out of his clothes after the first night, showered and slept, but he’s done it all in Zsasz’s hospital room. He didn’t dare leave him.

All business was done over the phone, or by meetings in Victor’s room. It wasn’t the most convenient situation. It also left him exposed, seemingly weak, and he’s made certain that they all knew that if they so much as thought of him as any less dangerous and cruel, they’d be dead faceless men. They seemed to have taken his threats seriously enough. At least nothing has come up so far.

After a while, Roman has started to hold Victor’s right hand in both of his, stroking his thumb over his palm, his wrist – tracing the only scar he found there. He even talked to him. The doctors have said that often times it helped to talk to a coma patient, that they’ve woken up earlier than expected – or at all – when they’ve been spoken to. So he had muttered about the incident that even got them there in the first place, but as time has passed, he just started talking about everything and nothing.

In rare moments of sentimentality, he’d even go on about how much he missed Victor, how scared he felt, even after weeks. Maybe especially because it’s been weeks – almost two months– now. He was so afraid that perhaps Zsasz wouldn’t wake up after all. The doctors have certainly never given him a clear answer.

Lost in his musing, he felt Victor’s hand, which has been still enveloped by both of his, twitch.

He immediately held completely still, not even breathing, as he looked at Zsasz curiously, expectantly.

“Zsasz?” he rasped, sounding so small to his own ears that he cringed internally.

The hand twitched again, fingers clenching and releasing around Roman’s hand.

“Victor, hey. Come back to me, hm?” he spoke softly, a nervous smile twisting his mouth upward.

After a few more moments, Victor’s eyes fluttered open. Slowly, he seemed to adjust to the bright lights in the room. Clearing his throat and groaning quietly, he sluggishly turned his head to the side, his eyes meeting Roman’s.

As soon as he had taken him in, Victor’s eyes widened.

Roman felt confusion coursing through him.

Zsasz looked – scared? Confused as well? He certainly didn’t look very happy to see Roman alive and well next to him.

“Who are you?”

The world seemed to stop around Roman; his heart was pounding, feeling it in his throat. He was kidding. He had to be.

“Excuse me?” Roman inquired instead, giving Zsasz a chance out of this uncalled for joke.

“Who are you?” Victor repeated, his voice still hoarse and broken, but louder. He looked so genuine, too.

An icy chill settled in Roman’s stomach, spreading through his entire body.

“Now’s really not the time for jokes, Mr. Zsasz,” Sionis reprimanded him, trying once more to make Victor react differently and say he’s only been kidding after all, before he called a doctor in panic.

But then Victor pried his hand out of Roman’s tight grip and said, “I’m really not joking, sir.”

Okay, maybe he really wasn’t, because Victor’s certainly never called him ‘sir’ outside of sex; even then, it was a rare occurrence.

Sionis took a deep breath and then leaned over to press the call-button, hoping the doctors – who were all on his pay roll, of course – would have an answer that was at least mildly satisfactory.

No such luck, though.

The doctors came in and asked Roman to step outside first, so they could check Victor over.

In front of his room, Sionis started pacing, running his hands through his hair in frustration, anxiety, and rage. He was trying so hard not to explode; it made him tremble all over again. He felt exactly like he had when they had first come into the hospital nearly two months ago.

This was just a really bad fucking nightmare. It had to be.

When the doctor and his nurses were done checking him over, they asked Roman back into the room. He’s kept his distance now, not daring to come any closer to Victor, his Victor.

“You said you don’t know who this is?” the doctor – whatshisname – inquired calmly, looking at Victor, but pointing at Roman.

“Yeah, no idea,” Victor replied, his voice started to sound clearer, which only made it so much worse for Roman when he couldn’t detect any underlying inflection that may have told him that this really was just a prank after all.

“But you do know who you are, correct? Do you know your name?” the doctor continued, looking at Roman, a hint of fear in his eyes. He hated it. He wanted to gouge them out, so he didn’t have to see the fear anymore. Instead, he just looked away, staring at Victor intently.

“I know who I am, yeah. Name’s Victor Zsasz.”

“Alright. Could you tell me what year we have, Mr. Zsasz?”

His brows furrowed, deep in thought, and then, “2002.” Fuck.

The doctor stopped short, Roman’s hands clenched into tight fists, the leather of his gloves squeaking audibly in the all too quiet room.

“I’m sorry to say it, but it is actually 2019. Do you have any idea why you’re in the hospital at all?”

Victor’s eyes widened again, just like when he’s spotted Roman for the first time a little while ago.

“That can’t be right. No, I don’t remember that. What the hell’s going on, Doc? What did you do to me?” The last part was directed at Roman, who felt as though his heart’s been stabbed, ripped out and stomped on with those words and the accusatory delivery of them.

“Mr. Sionis, I’d have to ask you to wait outside until I’m done here, please,” the doctor said.

Without another word and as if he was on autopilot, Roman let himself out of the room and sat down in the chair in front of it, burying his head in his hands. This couldn’t possibly be true. He had to wake up from this horrible nightmare, soon. He just had to.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back outside.

“Mr. Sionis, it looks as though Mr. Zsasz suffers from amnesia. It was most likely caused by the blow to his head.”

“But he’ll be fine, right? Amnesia is only temporary. Right?” Roman hated that he couldn’t hide the anxiety he felt, the utter dread.

“Not always. We’d have to do some more tests, CTs and such, to make sure. After that I can disclose more certain information to you. Would that be alright?”

Sionis sighed, frustrated, “Yes. Do whatever you’ve got to, as long as it’ll help bring him back to normal.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll go and order the tests right now. I’d suggest that you go home now. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got any new information, but it certainly wouldn’t do any good to confuse Mr. Zsasz even further now, when we barely know what’s really going on. Alright? I promise to be fast.”

“You better be,” Roman muttered and turned to leave the hospital, his driver waiting a couple of blocks away from it.

Normally, he’d have been raging now, throwing things, spitting into doctors faces, cussing them out – but he couldn’t.

He was in shock.

He could barely process the reality of what was even happening.

He felt so alone.

Two days later, in which he might’ve gone a little mad, really, his doctor finally called him. When he’s come in to see him, he’s told him that Victor did indeed only suffer from temporary memory loss. Unfortunately, such amnesia was quite unpredictable and it could be a few days, weeks, months, or even years until all memories were back.

Still, the good news were that the doctor has managed to warm up Zsasz to the idea of going back to living with Roman, after assuring him that it’s been this way for many years, now. To that Victor had first asked if he was gay, because apparently at that point in his life, Zsasz hadn’t had a clue about his sexuality, or that he could truly like anyone at all.

All of this was utterly ridiculous to Roman.

How can a person just lose access to such a big portion of their life, of their identity, essentially?

The same day that Roman’s received the news, he was also allowed to take Victor back home with him, already. Apparently his wounds had healed a great deal, while he’d been out, and so the rest could be done from home. Additionally, it’d be extremely beneficial to bringing his memories back if he was surrounded by things so familiar to him.

Roman hoped it worked fast.

“I had your old room prepared for you,” Roman commented when they’ve finally arrived back at the penthouse.

Victor was holding himself up with a hand on the wall. He hadn’t liked when Roman touched him and offered him to support him. Sionis couldn’t really find words for just how much he’s hated that.

“’Old room’? What’s with my new one?” Victor asked, almost looking like a caged animal, when their eyes met.

“Well, I had thought you wouldn’t want to sleep in one bed with me, right now,” Roman replied, hoping he’d catch on without needing him to spell it out for him.

Realisation dawned on him quickly, a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “Right.”

“Exactly. Anyway, so this is your room, there’s an en-suite bathroom, through that door,” Roman explained, showing Victor around. He was glad that he was such a natural at these things, it eased him a little, bringing back some much needed familiarity.

“Huh, compared to the shithole I used to live in, this is really luxerias.”

“Luxurious,” Roman corrected him without thinking.

“Uh-huh, whatever,” Victor just muttered darkly.

“Dinner will be ready at 6pm sharp. Until then you can- I don’t know, stay in bed, I suppose. If you should need anything, or you’re having an emergency you can either call for my staff, or me; whichever you prefer.” Fuck, Roman really hated just how much he cared about this asshole. He’d never do this for anyone else. If it had been anyone else, Roman would have dropped them – killed them – the second they had to have been rushed to the fucking hospital.

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Sionis,” Zsasz said, gingerly sitting down on his bed.

“Just call me Roman, Zsasz.” Or boss, he added in his mind, but didn’t dare to speak it.

When he left Victor’s room, he stalked into his own, silent tears gathered in his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

He just wanted his Victor back.

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Victor sat in his usual place at the head of the table, to Roman’s right, and he ate just like he always did – like a fucking pig. But he didn’t talk to Roman at all, even when he had tried to start up a conversation. Instead, he only side-eyed him, looking suspicious of him. It enraged Roman.

In the morning, Victor didn’t show up for breakfast.

After a few minutes of waiting for him to come, Roman got up to look after Zsasz. His first thoughts had been that perhaps something’s gone wrong and Victor died in his sleep, but when he opened the door to his room – after knocking first, of course, he wasn’t a savage after all – Zsasz glared at him so darkly that an unpleasant shiver ran down Roman’s spine.

So he didn’t try to force him out if he didn’t want to. His doctor had told him to give him time and be patient with him, so he tried his fucking best to do exactly that. It was really fucking hard, though. He hoped that Zsasz would at least appreciate his efforts properly, when he was all his again.

In the end, Victor hasn’t come out of his room at all that day. It was extremely frustrating to Roman, who proceeded to trash his own room at night, when it had all just come to a head for him. He didn’t care if Victor could hear him scream and throw things, destroying them.

The day after, Victor sat at the breakfast table first, to Roman’s surprise. Sionis didn’t say anything, even though he so desperately wanted to make a snide remark, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk of having Zsasz lock himself into his room, again.

“The doc said that showing me some things could jog my memory,” Victor rasped eventually, when Roman had been ready to get up and leave.

“I know. So you’re willing to do that?” He only received a nod in response.

For a moment, Roman mulled it over, thinking about what he could show Victor to help him remember his life the best and the fastest.

Then it hit him.

Zsasz didn’t remember him. Well, maybe he would if he saw Roman wearing his Black Mask in the club they’ve first met, when Galante introduced them to each other.

“Alright, I’ve got something to show you. I’ll just make a phone call and we could go, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Roman had made sure that Victor wouldn’t see him in the Black Mask until they were to re-enact their first meeting – only that this time they’d be all by themselves.

He really hoped this worked.

Roman told Zsasz to stand in the same spot he’s stood when Black Mask had first stridden in to greet Galante. Just like he’s done with Sionis since, he’d stood leaned against a pillar. Usually his arms would be behind his back, but it would put too much strain on the still tender wounds on his abdomen, so he just let them dangle at his sides. Roman felt a painful tug on his heart strings. He had missed seeing Victor like this.

“Wait here,” he instructed Zsasz, who just nodded.

Then Roman went back to the car and got out his Black Mask and put it on.

“If this doesn’t fucking work…,” he muttered gloomily, before he opened the empty club’s door to walk in, like he’s done all those sixteen years ago.

As much as he hated admitting it, he was lucky that the mask gave him such a sense of security and protection, so that whenever he wore it, he practically became a different person. It made it a lot easier to hold himself with all the extravagance and intent that he’s displayed over a decade and a half ago (and every other day before all this), too.

He watched Victor like a hawk as he marched up to him, and Zsasz’s gaze was just as sharp and piercing as was his.

Black Mask stopped right in front of Zsasz, only a few inches away. He tilted his head a little, and gruffly inquired, “Anything at all, Mr. Zsasz?”

Victor swallowed thickly; Roman could see the way his throat worked around it. Then his eyes widened again, just like in the hospital, but this time recognition lied underneath his sharp gaze.

“Black Mask,” he whispered, a grin spread on his face, showing off his two beautiful golden teeth.

Sionis inhaled sharply. “I wasn’t sure you remembered me,” he rasped, a soft, sad inflection coming along with it.

“I’m so sorry, boss.” Victor lifted his hands and cupped the mask with them, oh, so gently. He’s always known to be careful with it. Then he stroked his thumbs over the seams and the roughly textured leather, a wonder in his eyes that Roman’s missed seeing more than he’d ever dare to admit.

“It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Zsasz,” Black Mask said, his voice strained from holding back. He didn’t know just how much Victor remembered now. They obviously haven’t been more than employer and employee from the get-go.

But fuck, he wanted to hold him close and kiss him so badly. It’s been far too long since and all the hospital stress has made him desperate for the assurance that Victor wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Still, he just stood there, watching Zsasz marvel at his mask for a while. Victor’s always loved his mask, and Roman couldn’t ever deny him from admiring it, when it was such a boost to his ego as well.

When it felt as though fifteen minutes must have passed, Roman got a little impatient, though. Victor’s not said anything since and he needed to know what other memories he’s gotten back; so he asked, “What else do you remember?”

Zsasz’s eyes were glazed over a little, having gotten completely lost in his own little world.

Under the mask, Roman smiled.

“Hm, I remember the Bertinelli Massacre,” the way he talked – it was a testament to just how far away into his mind he’s just gone, his voice sounded so light, pondering, Roman loved it, “And I remember you coming to Galante afterwards and buying my contract from him. How I became your exclusive assassin and later right-hand man. I remember how nervous you were about opening the club after your parents had just kicked you out. I remember how ecstatic you were when it had all started to work out in your favour, the way it should have.”

He paused.

Roman almost thought that had been it. They would have to wait for everything else to come back, too. And then who knew how long it’d take?

But then Victor continued with a smile on his face, “I remember the first time we’ve gotten each other off after I freed someone for you. And how you avoided me afterwards for a little while, so angry that you’ve given in to your urges. Then I remember how we just went from there. How we share a bed now, even though you hated it so much at first, but you can’t sleep anymore when I’m not there. And I remember just how close you are to owning Gotham the way you were always meant to do.” Zsasz ended it by kissing the mask’s teeth, like he would do so often.

Roman’s breath audibly stuttered. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist, careful not to squeeze, just holding onto him gently.

“Take my mask off,” he commanded.

With a cute little pout, Victor did as he was told and gently took off Roman’s Black Mask, setting it down on the table beside them. As soon as he’s done that, Roman captured Victor’s pretty, plush lips in a searing kiss that conveyed all the emotions that have plagued him for almost two months then. Zsasz reciprocated it just as enthusiastically, cupping Roman’s face in his hands. They both groaned into the kiss.

Their mouths open, Roman immediately plunged his tongue into his partner’s mouth, tasting and exploring him again after so long. It may have been the most amazing and intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced.

After a couple of minutes, they separated, although their noses still brushed against one another, their lips just barely apart at all.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby,” Roman murmured, pressing another small kiss to Victor’s slack lips.

Zsasz smiled, “I know. I missed you, too. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“Shut the fuck up, it wasn’t your fault, ‘kay? I’m just glad you’re back and all mine again. You are, aren’t you, Victor? All mine?”

“I sure am, boss. All yours. Only yours.”

Roman smiled, kissing Victor once more, a relieved sigh leaving him. He was beyond happy he’s gotten him back. He truly had no idea what he would have done if that hadn’t happened. Those past two months had been the worst of his entire life, he was sure of it.

“Never do that to me again. You hear me?”

“Never. I promise.”

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[lovecinnatwist]

So I know you wrote a star sapphire Dick au, but I raise you a star sapphire Jason au—he always seems to love everyone around him a lot more than they seem to love him and he just wants to be loved so badly poor baby

Hello Anon! I loveeee this idea! You didnt specify a pairing so I've made it gen. Let me know if you have a pairing in mind. I've left it open for ideas.

All are welcome to slide into my DMs with ideas for star sapphire!Jason.

Lanterns Lead Home

The first moment of consciousness Jason Todd has after being beaten to- not death apparently- is warmth. 

The fuzzy feeling of being held by what must be twenty different pairs of hands pulls him back as he wakes. Every broken sob and desperate scream that wants to rattle free of his chest melts away into nothing. The air itself seems to vibrate with something sweet that he can’t put a name too. Every draw of breath fills him with kindness until he can recall the feeling-

love.

Tender touches chase away the bruises and scars until he can’t remember if they were ever there. Soft and caring caresses cup his cheeks and soft lips kiss away his tears. It’s too much and something that he’s been without for so long. For a moment he thinks of Catherine. Who she had been before the drugs. The thought of her breaks something in his chest. He cries and what seems like dozens of voices echo out validations. They sing back welcoming calls to release and let go.

So Jason does but he’s still floating. Still in the warm embrace of what he realizes must be his sisters. They must be because they call him that over and over and over again. A cup of something sugary comes to his lips and he gulps it down greedily. It coats his insides sweeping through him like a scolding saccharine syrup.

Consciousness starts to slip again but insistent slaps to the face jolt him awake. 

‘ Not yet. ‘

He knows what the words are but his ears don’t actually hear them. The woman over him has blue skin and gorgeous eyes that see into everything he is. He wants to turn away from it but she holds him steady. There is another cup. She makes him drink and this time Jason feels like he’s suffocating. 

He swallows more cups until he feels like he's at his limit. Then the hands are moving him and the rocking motion makes him feel sick. He passes from one hand to another until someone is bringing him to his knees in front of a huge glittering basin. 

“ Purge Ja’s Purge and be reborn. “

He feels dizzy and sick. Like he’s still rocking. He clenches onto the cool surface ahead of him. He tries to collect himself but memories start surfacing like bile in his throat. He remembers everything in startling detail. It all flashes before him until he flies forward and purges. 

He shakes and shudders through it. The loud cheers after every heave grounds him in support. Many hands hold him to stop him from falling in but no one stops him from emptying everything that he is into the quickling filling basin. 

He trembles and they replace that one for another. He can’t believe there’s more to give but everytime he feels peace a vile memory twists up and sends him face first into the bucket. By the time he’s thoroughly wrung out and empty- gentle hands pull him up. He doesn’t fight as he’s taken by many hands to a cool pool that bubbles against his skin. It fizzes and sizzles but doesn’t burn as his body is submerged. His eye lashes flutter. 

He gets a vague glimpse of blue skin and pinks and then someone tells him to hold his breath. 

He does and goes under. Everything goes black. 

Most Pink Lanterns don’t need to go through the rebirth. At least that is what Ja’s has heard from the others. The ring finds them before anything bad can happen. Usually during high emotions of love or joy something Ja’s has felt little of. Or well maybe that isn’t quite right. 

He does love, he loves everything. He loves hard, fast, passionate and ferociously but sometimes it feels like there isn’t any left for him. Sure he’s had people care for him, but to choose him first? To love him first…. Wilis loved money, then Catherine loved the drugs, then there's Bruce who loved the Crusade and Alfred… well Alfred could never love him more than Bruce. 

It had been that that drove him to Ethiopia in the first place.

He remembers everything in startling clarity now. His birth, his life, his death and of course both rebirths. It’s hard to forget the feeling of splitters digging into your fingertips and the taste of mud as you dig yourself out of your own grave. Who knows how long he had been wandering Gotham in a fuzzy haze? No one found him, no one had been looking for him. At least that's what he thought until he saw a pink glow.

The star sapphire. His star sapphire to be precise. 

Lost in the memory he gently touches the gem. It’s a wonderment, meeting the sisters of the lanterns corps and of course… getting permission to be- well who he's always known himself to be, Ja’s as they call him.

It had been freeing to be allowed to be nurturing. To be allowed to be tender and to care. Despite the changes that he’s gone through he feels more like himself than ever before. Like his body suddenly fits and he is grateful for the Zamarons for allowing him the ceremony. They honor his pronouns, as they all honor and celebrate femininity as its essence and not as sex or gender. Ja's has learned nothing if not the suffering of smothering his divine feminine in his last life. 

Now he is free.

( He tells himself that's why he hasn’t gone home to Gotham. Not because the existence of the third Robin Bruce has replaced him with. )

He does a good job at ignoring his old life and memories for the most part too. The few indulges he allows are watching digital transmissions of different versions of pride and prejudice with his sisters. Even in space nothing seems to beat human literature, something that Ja's gets to share with the others. He learns how to love deeper. Not only himself but more importantly everyone and everything. Mostly in the emotional sense… while the others- well Ja's isn’t quite ready for the sexual sense yet. 

Like many of the Pink Lantern Corps he has yet to meet his soul mate. 

The thought flutters low in his stomach. While he could easily show someone their love in his ring, the power didn’t work for star sapphires themselves. They simply had to wait for the pull and circumstance when they would feel the electricity in the air. Other members in the corps said that the feeling is indescribable. Like swallowing lightning or crashing into a planet with nothing to cushion the fall.

Though unfortunately, most of his sisters felt that with every good looking creature they came across. 

Ja's takes a drink, lounging about in the Green Lanterns station. They’re taking a short interlude before heading back home. One that the others are taking full advantage of.  It’s kind of embarrassing how the revealing costume and reputation of his corps makes others stare. He hears the whispers and feels the eyes on him just as clearly. 

It’s stupid because he isn’t even the best looking of them all. In a universe full of aliens most lanterns find humans rather dull. He hears the giggles as the others flirt. That’s all it is sometimes, flirting. While other times- Ja's turns the blind eye to Nadia’s wink as she disappears with a lantern down the corridor. He doesn’t flush long familiar with their games. Still a little part of him feels empty.

If only he could give as freely as they did. 

The chair next to him creeks making him sigh. Great, another lantern trying their luck. Couldn’t they tell he just wants to finish his drink in peace? He turns around to give the person a piece of his mind, anger already hot on his tongue. 

That is until playful green eyes fall on his. Ja's immediately tries to escape but Ryner grabs his wrist.

“ Well if it isn’t my favourite Star Sapphire. “

Ja's knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to pull the other off without causing a scene. He gives one more futile tug while Kyle just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He groans just as the lantern orders himself his own drink. 

“ What do you want Ryner? “

The green lantern only lets go when he’s sure Ja's won’t run. Which is funny considering the fact that he's always running. Whether it be from bad guys, suitors or most times his sisters. It’s something that comes from growing up on the streets. The only place he’s ever felt safe had been… warm memories of the manor and Bruce's smile tug at his heart.

“ What makes you think I want something Ja’s? “

The very clear inflection of his voice Ja's wants to say. The other human has always made himself a pest whenever their corps comes to visit. It’s probably because they are both humans and around the same age. Not that they’ve really spoken about how they both ended up here. 

He doesn’t answer Ryner and takes a sip of his drink instead. The playful smile on the green lantern holds no matter how long Ja's ignores him. 

“ So I'm going down to Terra thought maybe you’d like to come? Apparently Batman could use some extra hands. “

At the mention of Batman Ja's interest piques. It’s rare to hear about anyone from his former life. Of course he does look through mission logs from time to time. It’s public access in the lantern corps library after all- but otherwise it's uncommon for Bruce to ask for help. The last thingJas's saw was Batman, Nightwing and Robin rescuing Hal from a villain he didn’t recognize. 

Ryner is either ignorant to his inner conflict or ignores it. 

“ It’ll be fun. You know Bats never lets us in his city. Could be nice? We could get a burger afterwards. Maybe catch a movie. “

It sounds like a date. Ja's would think it’s one too if he hadn’t told Ryner exactly how he feels about those things. He’s a nice guy, not bad looking from what he can see… but still he needs- well he wants the spark. 

He meets the boyish smile with a frown but it does nothing to make it go away. He shouldn’t. He’s done pretty well ignoring both earth and the bats. Still the big huge heart in him wants. He wants to see Bruce again and help him. 

A tiny part of him wants to go home and pretend like his dad still loves him even though he’s gone and gotten a new kid. One who’s probably in Ja’s room with all new clothes that are fitting of a good son. A loved son. 

Ryner bumps shoulders with him pulling him out of his head. His ring had begun to flicker a bit from the emotional distress. The other human places a hand over it to block the light and Jason let’s him. It’s a distraction. 

“ C’mon Ja’s Earth isn’t like you remember it. Let me show you a good time? “

That stupid hopeful smile and the shy way Ryner really looks at him hurts. He’s weak to things like this. People actually caring about him. He’s practically starving for it. He swallows down his protest. After all it would probably be nice to see his family again. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him. He could go and help and then maybe take up Ryner on his offer for a burger. 

Something light. Something Casual. 

“ Fine.. That sounds ok- I’ll go. “

Ja's wishes he could ignore the stupid happiness radiating off of the other lantern. 

“ Swear to God Ja’s this is going to be so much fun- You aren’t gonna regret it. There’s this one place that serves burgers like the size of your head and the art on the wall is just so hilarious- “

Ja's rolls his eyes as he finishes the last of his drink. 

“ Shut up Ryner and don’t make me regret this. “

The green lantern mims zipping his mouth shut and Ja's laughs.

Turns out he’s actually right as well. 

Jas's hasn’t been to Earth in years and it really shows. The place looks different. Even Gotham in all its dirt and grime feels foriegn to him. He joins the other lanterns in their job of catching and sending the aliens back to a prison at the corps. It’s fun with the little quips the Green Lanterns seem to toss back and forth between one another. Jason isn’t used to it but it’s a vibrant kind of energy that leaves a smile on his face even while he’s fighting. 

With the group supers the battle is over quickly. Quick enough and Ja's finds himself disappointed. He doesn’t know why but ever since they’ve been back in Gotham he has been positively vibrating. It’s new and exciting and maybe it’s because he caught a few glimpses of familiar capes and blue. 

When they all land on the roof for briefing Ja's feels like he’s about to burst from the excitement. 

This time when Ryner bumps into his shoulder it isn’t quite as annoying and he bumps back. It’s playful and light which seems to be the mood with them all. That is until Batman comes down with his dark dramatics.Jas's goes stone still at the sight of him. A blue and Black shadow follows behind before the bright colors of Robin pop up the edge of the building. 

It’s- strange to him. Like being on the wrong side of a mirror. He takes in what he can see of Bruce’s face from under the mask. The worn lines seem just too deep to be on the man he thought of as his father. Even Dick’s posture feels different and the new Robin… Well Ja's wishes he could say he feels anger but if anything he just feels- strange. There’s also something else. It’s slow and thrumming in his mind like he’s running on outdated software. His entire body itches all over and all he wants is to get closer. He needs to be closer. Close enough to touch, feel and just make sure they're real. That they are who he remembers and not just a figment of his imagination-  

Ryner nudges him and Ja's hisses under his breath. 

“ We gotta go. Didn’t you hear the man? “

Ja's had not heard him. The soothing quality of Bruce’s voice always made it hard to focus. The dark timber of it has always been more relaxing than menacing in his opinion. Just- being so close to them but not with them feels so strange. He knows he has to go over there. It’s been years and he probably doesn’t even fit in space left. There's anxiety at the thought, to go home he'd be willing to cut away any parts of him that he needed to. He swallows. It’s a sad and small mindset, something that he’s supposed to be better than by now. 

“ Heard him say what? “

Someone clears their throat and now there’s all eyes on them. Apparently they weren’t being as quiet as they thought.

“ That your help has been appreciated but you are not welcome in my city. “

Hearing it and knowing it are two different things. While Ja's always knew how Bruce felt about metas and supers, actually being told to leave is equal parts hilarious and frustrating. The itch that has been nagging him turns into an entire rash. He takes two steps forward but Ryners hand stops him from closing the distance. He shrugs off the touch, it doesn’t feel right. 

“ Yea? And who decides who comes into Gotham. Last I checked I have a birth certificate sayin i’m Gothamite and that means I can come to this cesspool whenever I want. “

He spits the words in the accent to prove a point. He’s giving away too much- too much information. He knows how Bruce obsesses over identities. It's not like the corps where everyone knew everything. A few people look around and Jas's suddenly feels even smaller. Ryner pulls him back and he can’t get himself to move. He just stares at Bruce hoping- wishing that the man will know it’s him. That he’ll close the distance and hug him and hold him. That he’ll smell like home like he always did when Jason could fit on his lap. 

Because as many sisters as he has now he only has one living father, brother and grandfather. He only has them and Jason wants so badly to be told that he could have them again. Space has never felt like much of a home. As much as the others made efforts they’re versions of love and his are different. He clung to the idea of meeting a soul mate and being full but now that he’s actually in front of Bruce he just wants to be here. With his dad. 

The shush on the roof is eerie. Ryner pulls harder and this time Ja's stumbles back. 

“ Ja’s lets go. “

The hardness of his voice spurs him into action. Bruce doesn’t move. He doesn’t move an inch and it hurts so badly he thinks he might die. When the lanterns take off he hesitates for just a moment. His eyes find Dick’s hoping for…. He doesn’t know what. When their eyes meet his heart pounds and his blood rushes in his ears. The blankness he gets back makes him flinch.

His eyes flicker to the Robins and the innocent wide eye stare is just- too much. He feels like a spectacle. His eyes flutter around and soon he realizes just how out of place he is. Not like he ever fit to begin with. 

Shame rolls over him. He staggered back a few steps. No one moves and his throat goes dry. He turns and flies after Ryner in mortification.