#i want dick to defend bruce and explain it to jason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cas-backwards-tie · 1 year

Text

Chapter Two: Cruel New World

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: It's your first-day living life in Wayne Manor. A new house, a new school, and of course there's the new siblings thing too.

Warnings: Negativity, Damian's Jealous, Talks of Death, Numbness, Depression, Disassociation,t Misandry, Crying, Suicidal Thoughts (if u squint), Existentialism, Cursing, Yelling, Outbursts, Anti-Police Rhetoric, Injury, Blood, Catcalling

Mentions of: Suicide, Body Fluids (mucus),

Words: 6.7k

A/N: POV kind of switches in some points, but I think it's fine. You know when it's the reader and when it's more of a third-person pov.

"Please take a seat, Miss Wayne," Alfred suggests as he pulls out a chair directly center of the long black cherry wood table. Your father sits at the opposite end of the room at the head of the table, while a smaller black-haired child sits with his back to the kitchen doors. There's one other person who sits directly across the table from where Alfred stands behind the chair meant for you.

"Are you serious? We really have to do this today of all days?" The child whines.

"I thought I told you no technology at the table this morning, Tim," Your father tells the person you're meant to sit across from. Ipad propped up on the table beside his plate, the teenage boy's grayish-blue eyes remain on the screen for a few moments as he shovels forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. In a tacit conversation, they make eye contact for a moment before he flips the cover back over the device and shoves it into the backpack by his feet. "Thank you.”

"You know, Bruce, I really need to get this essay done by this afternoon.” Tim—as you now know—explains.

"Oh? And what's it on?" Always wanting to get more involved in the kids' lives, Bruce attempts some sort of civil conversation other than indulging the begrudging eye-roll Damian throws him from across the table.

"It's on-" Tim begins to explain.

"You're really making us eat breakfast all together at-" Damian interjects.

"-the table like the nice, loving family we are? Pssh, you're lucky everyone's actually here this morning!" Dick cuts Damian off in an attempt to dissuade the boy's frustrations and some of his, perhaps just, points. Walking over to his chair he pulls it out enough to plop down.

"Everyone's coming?! Just for her?!" Damian, as you now know, complains.

"I'm afraid Stephanie has a doctor’s appointment, and Jason is... well," Bruce doesn't finish his explanation as he glances around the table.

"Jason," Dick defends, even if he's still somewhat suspicious of the man's current motives. "You'll meet them later, I'm sure," he tosses toward you as he sits at his chair between Tim and Damian still tying his tie.

"Why are you even here? Don't you have work? It's a Tuesday!" Damian chastizes Dick.

"Well if you must know, I have a few suspects I need to bring in for interviews today. They're extraditing a few people since the uptick last week."

"But I thought that-" A look from Dick makes Damian's thoughts linger in the air for a moment as he cuts himself off. Right. Next subject.

"I'm a detective over in Bludhaven," he explains to you, "Luckily I don't live here anymore, so... hopefully that lessens the overwhelming sense of a constant presence of people," he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

With a nod, you finally reach for your fork. It’d been bad enough that it seems more and more people are continuing to engage you when really, it’s been hell enough to process all the transitions currently taking place in your life. While it’s nice in some sense that you’d have breakfast with your Mom on school days like this, having someone cook for you, let alone push in your chair is… well… strange.

“Hello? He’s talking to you,” the sassy child spits at you, garnering your attention. Eyes flitting from him to the person sitting across from you beside Tim, you offer what you can in an attempted smile. It comes across more as a grimace than anything. The Detective politely calls your name, finally tightening his tie as he finishes dressing.

“It’s okay, I get it. This is all a lot. I asked if you ate breakfast with your—“ he spares a quick glance at your Father before it settles back on you, “—Mom, often before everything?”

Though he smiles and has a jovial and pleasant attitude, you can’t bring yourself to really return the favor. While he’s extending an olive branch of friendship, one you’d usually take up, you’re unable to. “Yeah. Nothing like this though,” you mutter, voice surprising even you with the quiet quality to it.

While the rest of breakfast is filled with questions and trivial conversation, you feel off, with a weary sense of the world. It’s almost like everything is a dream. Once you’ve finished your food, your eyes raise to take in the vase of flowers and candles on either side of it in their ornate silver holders sitting in the middle of the table. “Can I be excused?” Suddenly turned toward your Father, you await his hesitant permission before getting up and heading back to the room they’ve deemed yours just last night.

“She didn’t even look up at me when she answered any of my questions. That’s not good,” Dick points out. There's a hint of concern in his voice as he eyes Bruce.

“She’s probably still grieving her Mom. It only happened yesterday,” Tim proposes with a shrug as he looks up at Dick, who sits to his left.

“Shit,” Dick whispers.

“Do we even know how it happened?” Damian asks from the end of the table, hands clasped in front of himself like a miniature businessman.

“Damian,” Tim whispers with hostility, eyeing him for the inappropriate nature of his comment. Though he’s also curious, as it seems Dick is too, as they all look toward Bruce.

“What? I mean, her Mom dies and suddenly she’s a Wayne? No way,” Damian speaks with confidence.

With a clearing of his throat, Bruce stands. “It’s true. I… hadn’t-“ he begins, though hesitates as this wasn’t really a conversation he’d wanted to have with his teenage son of all people. “It wasn’t planned. It was a one-time thing back when I was a little more reckless with keeping up my image.”

“So during your Party Bruce years? Oh my god,” Dick quietly laughs with incredulity. He’d known about it, sure, that ‘phase’ of his Father… yet he hadn’t anticipated him to be that reckless. The look of guilt upon Bruce’s face is all it takes for them to know it’s true.

“I did the math, I looked into her mother’s history, and… it all adds up. I wouldn’t have taken custody of her yesterday if I wasn’t certain.”

“So she was an accident? Ha!” Damian laughs as if he wasn’t technically an accident on his Father’s behalf as well.

“Hey! I will not hear any jokes or have any information imparted on her with dislike. It wasn’t her fault, and I won’t see anything but acceptance and welcoming from you three, will I?” His stern voice sends chills down their spines to some degree. While Bruce doesn’t often take up a fatherly role in terms other than the awful jokes and rare wistful advice, this is a side none of them have ever gotten quite used to.

“Fine. But I’m not changing my entire life around for her. Jon is still coming over after school,” Damian announces with a click of his tongue and a cross of his arms over his chest.

“Good. Now I know this absolutely will not leave the room but I looked into her cause of death last night and it was a car crash.” With that, Bruce leaves the table.

“Sometimes things are just life, I guess,” Dick thinks aloud, still processing the information.

How cool is it that this room has a window seat? Absolutely awesome! Unfortunately, that’s not something you can fully appreciate as everything has already started to feel numb. They’d explained at the hospital that it’d been a car crash. You know the number of stitches they’d placed, the degree of burns she’d taken as they attempted several grafts to save her life… yet it wasn’t enough. There was nothing they could do. A frown overtakes your expression as a pinch of immense sadness pricks your heart.

“I’ll do it-“ you hear his voice from outside the door, “-I’m sure.” With three knocks and no response, it creaks open. Unbothered to check who it is, you watch as the rain droplets roll down the leaves on the tree outside your window and slowly drip toward the ground below. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet before speaking. “I really hate to do this to you. I know everyone processes things in their own time, but I’ve got to make arrangements on top of work today and so the best thing I can think to do is get you into a routine.” A look in his direction is all it takes; uniform neatly folded in his extended arms, your Father presents it to you with a sympathetic look on his face.

“What about Melville High?” The question leaves your lips, and all he can think is that you’re too innocent for this world. He doesn't even know you, but already the world has taken too much from you.

“It’s… too far, I’m afraid. Gotham Metro Academy is where Damian goes, and it has a lot of better opportunities from what I’ve seen. I’m sure you’ll like it once you get settled in.”

It isn’t the end of the conversation. While you’re barely responding, he imparts as much wisdom and comfort as he’s able, but it goes in one ear and out the other. All too soon you find yourself running your hands over the lapels of your navy uniform’s blazer. A prep school with uniforms was something you’d never imagined in your future—in fact—it’d been far from it! Growing up with enough money to keep you comfortable was fine, but prep school was never in the cards. You and your Mom knew that. Without too much thought to your hair and any accessories or makeup, Alfred is rushing you downstairs and into the awaiting Rolls Royce.

“Had you ever been to Gotham prior, Miss?” Alfred asks from the driver’s seat as you pull away from the infamous Wayne Manor. It looks much more opulent and welcoming in the daylight, yet it still has an intimidating air of aristocracy to you.

“Um… just once, a long time ago.” It hurts your chest to think about; there’d been a weekend you’d gone with your Mom a few years back when she’d wanted to show you all the sights. From the shows to the Financial District, to the historical sights and monuments, it’d been a weekend to remember, truly. If memory serves you right, you even still have a sweater and baseball cap tucked away somewhere from that trip.

Expecting some sort of snarky remark from the child you’ve deduced is Damian, you finally take him in. Sure, everyone’s heard of him. He’s a celebrity for what it’s worth: ‘Bruce Wayne’s Secret Son’ the headlines read. It was national news at the time, his Mom still remaining a mystery. His skin is darker than yours, and while his eyes are a striking green, you can’t deny that he has a resemblance to your Father. Neither can you deny your resemblance, either, really.

“What?” Damian finally bites. With a quiet, automatic ‘sorry’ and a shift of your eyes out the window and away from the kid on his phone, you can’t help but think about it.

Was Bruce Wayne really as much of a playboy as the media made him out to be? Yours and Damian’s mom would surely proffer the confirmation. Yet, having met the legendary man behind the technological empire, you aren’t sure he really seems the type. As much as your mother tried to keep you from boys and men, you’d met more than your fair share of assholes. Womanizers, scumbags, misogynists; no matter the differences in look or personality, there were always a few similarities they’d have in common, usually in their speech, behavior, or beliefs.

Nevertheless, it’s odd that you’ve been able to place the term ‘Father’ in his grasp so easily. Your mother had feigned a forgetful memory oftentimes when you’d ask during your childhood. Only offering the slightest of details and assuring you that he’d left the both of you as a baby. It was only as you grew that she eventually let you know that whatever relationship the two of them had, it wasn’t as serious as one would expect of a mother and father. She’d never named him, exactly, having always told you it wasn’t important. He wasn’t worth searching for, seeking out, begging for some answer you surely didn’t want to hear. Why? Why did you leave us? Why don’t you care about us? It was all a waste of time. That much, you knew. Never, even in your dreams would you imagine it’d be the Bruce Wayne.

Before you know it, the trees and streetlights are turning into buildings and stoplights. While you're nervous about going to a new school, it also provides a bit of excitement at the thought of reinventing yourself and making new friends. Surely with the funding from Wayne Enterprises, it'll have more clubs, activities, and maybe more sports, too. You'd always wanted to try out for sports or even be on the varsity squads if possible. As the car slows along the street, Alfred meets your anxious eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Damian, I expect you'll be there if Miss--" he says your name, "--needs anything. I'm going to park the car and escort you inside, as there happens to be a bit of preliminary paperwork your Father has requested I accompany you to fill out."

Surprisingly, Damian doesn't refute Alfred's sentiment, though as he parks the car, your half-brother hastily exits, headphones still in his ears as he scrolls through his phone. A quiet 'see ya later' is heard before the door slams shut. Soon enough you've filled out the registration forms and are given a schedule and tour. Alfred offers you a courteous nod and a lingering hand on your shoulder before he departs for the day. "I'll be here to pick you up when the school lets out. You can do this, Miss," he assures with a warm smile.

It was somewhat embarrassing that you'd had to interrupt class to join in on eleventh-grade, American Literature, yet upon introduction, it doesn't go past your observation that many of the kids start whispering to one another. While a few people attempt to talk to you, for the most part, you feel overwhelmed with all the information and the way the lesson quickly continues. Trying to catch up and take everything in, it all feels like too much, and the unintentional tendency to disassociate naturally begins to happen. You zone out for most of the classes, the day passing in whirlwinds and sympathetic smiles from the teachers.

When school lets out, you find Alfred exactly where he'd parked this morning in front of the school. Leant against the car with his hands clasped in front of him, you begin making your way down the steps to meet him. Two boys quickly pass you, both laughing as they playfully smack one another's arms and talk in hushed voices. As you approach the car you realize it's Damian and some boy. He has friends? Who would be friends with him? He seemed so rude earlier, you can't help but think. Maybe he's just upset because you came along.

"Who's this?" The boy in the blue jacket asks as he watches you join Alfred.

"Mister Kent," Alfred greets the boy, "I take it you'll be joining us tonight?" When the boy flashes a white smile full of bright teeth up at him with an eager nod, you take it this is a family friend.

"She's... apparently Dad's daughter," Damian reveals, eyes slicing across the space till the intimidating green orbs land on you. "Don't mind her. I planned a few things we could maybe do when we get to the Manor! I just got Mario Kart Ten and it's supposed to have a bunch of new maps and characters!"

Upon Alfred opening the car door, all three of you slide into the vehicle, the boy separating you and Damian in the backseat. "So... your sister, you mean," He laughs. Despite what he'd said about ignoring you, the boy turns his smile your way with an extension of his hand. "I'm Jon! Damian's best friend. I actually go to West Reeves but I got out early so I could catch a ride to your house. You are..?"

Revealing your name, he repeats it with a fondness as you shake his hand. "I don't know that I'd say best," Damian groans with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh hush it! Yes, you would," Jon argues, nudging your half-brother with his body as the two laugh.

"How was your first day, Miss? Did it go alright?" Alfred asks in the rearview mirror before pulling off the school's sidewalk and onto the street.

While this question was unexpected, you can't answer it. Was today good? You're unsure that any sort of sentiment could capture what today was like, truly. With your mother's death, the move, the new school, new people, and the luxury of it all... you feel unable to describe it all in one simple response. Sufficing for a nod, you purse your lips before opting for a quiet "Thanks." If nothing else, you can't deny that this old man has been kind to you since the moment you arrived. It seems he cares, but... isn't that also his job? You're not sure how butlers work, exactly, but surely that detail encompasses part of his job description, you think.

With the car parked in the driveway, you all exit the vehicle and head inside. Alfred asks if anyone wants a snack, however, you shake your head and point upstairs, signaling your destination.

You aren't sure what comes over you, a wave of hurt--sadness-angst, pain... there are endless synonyms for whatever it is that washes over you. It winds up there, lingering in your chest like a weight you hadn't realized was weighing your shoulders down. Maybe it was the attention, the comments, the questions, the energy it took to put on a 'fine' facade, yet it all finally comes crumbling down. With the click of the lock on the door, you make the final steps toward your unfamiliar bed. Letting the backpack fall from your shoulders haphazardly on the carpeted floors, you flop onto the bed face first, chest hitting the plush comforter before the rest of your body follows, the rebound sending your body bouncing slightly. Face screwing up into one of pain, you do your best to hold it back, and you're not quite sure why. No one's around, no one cares, so why won't you let yourself cry? Would that make it all real? Would that mean you're accepting her death? That she's really gone? That you're letting go? Moving on with your life? Thoughts of guilt consume you as you feel as though you should've known, you should've called her, said something, asked her to pick you up that day. Anything would've changed the chain in the course of events, right?

It's then, with the realization of the butterfly effect that a sob wracks your chest and tears stream down your cheeks. Like rapid fire, the sting of hot, salty tears cascade down your skin leaving streaks of mascara in its wake, you're sure. Screaming into your pillow, you can't help but struggle to breathe as you're not sure what to do. How do you move on from this? Where do you begin? What's left in your life, really? What does anything matter if she's gone? Your mom? The only person who's been there through your whole life from the beginning till... well, now. She was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime, your... everything. At the end of every day you always knew you'd have her to go back to. Never has the fear of being alone crossed your mind until right this second. Now you understand why so many people commit suicide each year. If their pain feels anything like this, then you understand. All you can think, wish, and mentally pray for is this to stop. For the tears to stop falling and your breath to stop coming in quick bursts of panicked, hyperventilating heaves. Snot runs down your lips and it's hard to see with the blurriness of the tears in your eyes.

After a while, the crying eventually dies down and you lie--wishfully--lifeless on your bed. A small hand towel you'd grabbed from the bathroom is folded under your face where the tears would fall and you've folded it over the few times you'd blown your mucousy snot into it. Silence consumes the room, and you've found yourself simply staring up at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Constantly caught in your thoughts, between crying and being eerily silent, you're unsure if all this was destined to happen. Or maybe it was supposed to come out sooner. Maybe it's only because you've been pushing everything down into a deep dark place that only feels safe for you to express once you're absolutely sure you're alone.

In the midst of a quiet moment, your eyes and throat sore, head throbbing, there's a knock at the door. "Dinner will be served in just a few minutes." It's Alfred. You hope he hadn't heard your crying, though if he had... what can you really do? Nothing... just like everything else in life. You can't do anything.

With a quick splash of cold water on your face, hands combing your hair down, and making sure you look as presentable as possible, you're ready. Aside from the slight red tinge that lingers around your eyes and the dark circles beneath them that are impossible to get rid of, you head downstairs. While you're sat in the same spot as this morning, you're joined by many more people this time. Bruce and Damian both sit at the ends of the table again, Tim sits across from you, though this time he's flanked by the Detective, and another man you don't recognize. He has a white stripe in his hair and a longer face than the others, but it suits him with his angular features. On your right sits a very tall and broad man clad in a business suit and glasses. Past him, sits Jon--who you'd met this afternoon--and across from him there's one more person who makes the table uneven in terms of people. It's a blonde girl, with an enticing sparkle in her eyes and a charming smile from what you can see from the other side of the table.

"This is my good friend, and Jon's dad, Clark Kent," Bruce introduces, gesturing to the man beside you. Said man holds out his big hand and offers a friendly smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," he recites your name and you reciprocate the handshake. It's good to know that not everyone in Damian's association is a complete asshole, you suppose.

"Nice to meet you too," you respond quietly. With the meal served, everyone dives into eating, leaving you a little unsettled. While your mother had come from a very religious upbringing, she hadn't forced it on you. Yet, you'd still find yourself and your mom praying before dinner to whatever God or higher deity might exist. In a way, it was more to give thanks each day for being alive and having food on the table. Sometimes it was a conversation starter when someone would mention what their day entailed, the good things they'd seen, or maybe the bad things they'd ask for protection from. Nevertheless, it's clear that this family operates differently; digging your fork into the fancy black-peppered pork roast, you use your knife to slice a piece off for yourself. Not in the mood to talk at the moment, you simply listen to what everyone's discussing.

With the lack of response they'd gotten from you, Bruce opts for talking to Clark about business and how things have been. Dick and Tim fill in the mysterious man on the little they knew of you. The blonde girl talks with the younger boys at the end of the table at moments but also butts into the other conversation among the young adults diagonally across the table from you. Stabbing multiple string green beans onto your fork, you don't make eye contact with anyone as you simply try to get through this dinner. Maybe then you can go upstairs and try to relax away from everyone.

"-something we shouldn't really talk about too much, but I can guess the funeral will be by the end of next week with all the arrangements I made today," Bruce speaks to Clark.

"Wait, what?" Your voice is quiet, only drawing the attention of those sitting closest to you. Butting into their conversation, you raise your eyes to meet your Father's surprised blue eyes.

"The funeral will be at the end of next week, I'm presuming. It'll take a little while with all the arrangements," he repeats. Though he seems hesitant, he doesn't keep himself from speaking it again. After all, he's someone who stands behind his actions.

"What? Why?" Your fork clanks against the chinaware, lips parted in shock as you dropped it. "You made the arrangements without me?"

"Yes. It was important that you go to school and it was all right there in the will." Forkful of mashed potatoes lingering in the air as his blue eyes bore into yours, you find your breath beginning to rise and fall at a faster rate.

Of course, none of them know your buttons and what it looks like once they've been pressed, but if your mother was here right now, she'd know. With a screech of the chair being pushed back hastily and a quiet slam of your palms on the table to stand, you're livid. "Why would you do that? How could you do that?!" Hands shaking, you begin to gesticulate, any former semblance of masked placation now fallen. All eyes are transfixed on your figure. "She's my mother! Mine! You don't even know her- I do! I know what she would've wanted, and this isn't it. What, just because your name was on my birth certificate that means you get to take over my life? You, who doesn't even know anything about me, and yet you act like we're best friends! Your children call you 'Bruce' and you have no problem with it! You don't get to just come into my life and fuck everything up! You sleep with her once, what? Sixteen years ago and now you come in and take everything?" A wry laugh leaves your lips, "Well, more for you, I guess! Did you ever stop to think that there's a reason I had no idea who you were? Let alone, why she never told me? She never once asked for your money or your help, and now I'm just here. All my stuff? Gone. All my friends and family? Gone, a-"

"-We can go get your-" The Detective begins.

"-Oh, shut up! You really think anyone wants to hear what you have to say? You're adopted, you're not even related to me! You don't know me. None of you do! The only good thing about this is I don't have to put up with being interrogated by the BPD every goddamn time I walk down the halls of school. But I'd at least take that over never seeing my friends again!"

"-What do you mean?" He follows up, commenting over you. Everyone else looks around the table silently, taken aback by what they're witnessing.

"You want to 'Bring Justice to Bludhaven', I guess, when everyone already knows what happened to Perdy Chapman! Everyone except the BPD, I guess!"

"How dare you?! You can't speak to my brother like that, you-"

"Finally! The only person I'm actually related to here. My half-brother, the mysterious 'Wayne Boy' who doesn't have a mom! You have no fucking empathy for me, you've been giving me shit all day! And yet you're the only person I would've expected to actually give a damn! So sit your ass down, pendejo twerp!"

Without asking for permission you storm out of the dining room and through the living room toward the staircase.

"I'm guessing you're done with your dinner?"

The voice stops you in your tracks, hand on the banister, you let out a loud sigh, shoulders falling before you try to maintain a jovial demeanor when turning to him. "I don't need you to do anything for me, Alfred. I think it's fucking ridiculous to have a servant when it's the twenty-first century, for crying out loud!"

"It's my job. I assure you he pays me, if that makes it any better," Alfred speaks in a calm tone, unfazed by your words or behavior.

"Great! Well, I still don't need you doing things for me that I can do myself. Thank you, though," while the words come out through tense, grit-together teeth, you turn and head upstairs. It doesn't take long to get to your backpack, slinging it over your shoulders. Luckily, this was the one thing you knew you could do with the advantages of not only your room but a backyard. Opening the window, you climb out onto the tree branch a few feet away.

Soon enough, you're on solid ground, out of the boundaries and gate of Wayne Manor. With a heaving chest and shaky hands, you speedwalk down the road toward where you know the bridge will be heading into Bludhaven from the transfer point on the Eastern Seaboard. This time for whatever reason, you can't bring yourself to cry. Maybe all the tears had already flooded from your body this evening, but nothing emanates from your tear ducts. Eyeing the blood that's already starting to dry on your palms from the splinters and the last little drop you'd had to take from the tree, you scraped your palm.

It'd been silent upon your departure from the dining room. Bruce insisted that everyone return to eating, that everything was fine, and that this wasn't unexpected. While things returned normal for the most part, Jason excused himself with a look toward his father. It wasn't until an alarm rang from Bruce's phone that he groaned and pulled it out only to find the surveillance outside capturing your figure leaving the premises. Announcing what the 'emergency' was, at everyone's persistence, Jon ran out of the room before Bruce could elect Clark to go check where you were headed.

It's a lone road, cypress trees lining it and gravel-filled sides. With it only being garnered by private property of the elite, and no real intersections for miles, no cars pass in either direction. As the sound of a faraway motorcycle approaches, you don't let it deter you. It'll be at least an hour or more before any of them realize you've left the property. They all think you're just upstairs crying to yourself, most likely. Rage still swirls in your gut, however, it's drained somewhat, being replaced by the determination to get home. A billionaire, his family, servants, and even a few splinters won't stop you. It doesn't strike you as odd that the sound of the nearing motorcycle slows; after all, not many people hitchhike on this road, you're guessing, and with the speed limit being higher in this area.

Jon had been faster, intrigued for some reason--his justification upon later questioning--to find out where you were going. Clark trails behind him, neither of them bothering to change clothes as they fly above the closest road, trailing you from a distance silently. It's only when they spot the motorcyclist approaching you that they hold their position.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice is unfamiliar. While being catcalled isn't a stranger to you, it's still annoying that it'll happen in the middle of fucking nowhere. Ignoring the motorcycle that now stalls to your left, you continue walking with determination, eyes ahead and fists wrapped around each strap of your backpack upon your stiff shoulders. "Really? You're gonna ignore me and play it that way? Get on the motorcycle," the man calls your nickname, which elicits a reaction from you.

Eyes widening and lips parting, and eyebrows shooting upward, you finally look at the man. You don't remember his name, but he'd been sitting at the table across from you between Tim and that Detective. Expression immediately turning into one of anger, your jaw setting, you feel reinspired to make your way to Bludhaven. "I'm not going back! I can't," you argue, "plus I don't even know you. Why would I go with you?!"

A chuckle leaves his lips and you hear the shifting of plastic before the motorcycle revs in a way that elicits an automatic jump from your body. The motorcycle speeds a few feet down the road before it does a loop and skirts into a stopped position just a few feet in front of you. Legs on either side of the vehicle, the man flicks the visor of his helmet back up and reaches into the back compartment, producing another. Before you have time to react, he throws the helmet your way. Hands instinctively reach out to catch it instead of letting yourself get hit with the speed of it. You wince; it pushes the splinters further into your palm. You come to a standstill a few feet away from him as you lift the helmet slowly only to see the blood starting to pool around them again.

"I'm Jason," he reveals, "I don't know where you plan to go, running away like this, but you don't think the old man will notice you're gone sooner than later? What's your plan then?"

Irritation and a desperate anger linger in your chest as your eyes finally raise to meet his. "Well, Jason, it's none of your business! Regardless, it doesn't matter. You can't stop me." Approaching him, you're about to shove the helmet in his hands when he raises one of his own, palm facing you.

"Truce? Look, I know you don't know me, but I was like you. I grew up in Crime Alley and had to steal tires for a living. I tried to steal the-" he stops himself, another chuckle escaping his lips, "the old man's, and that's how we met. I get it... it's not easy, and, no one expects you to just go along with everything, alright? If you're thinking about going home, well, that'll take what-? Hours? You really want to walk for hours to... where are you from, again? Bludhaven? What part?"

"Canaveron District, yeah," you respond gruffly, some of the tension leaving your shoulders.

"You won't get there for another three hours walking, at best. If you just want to get your things, well, I can take you there. But we'd have to get everyone else-"

"No! no, I don't want-"

"-If you let me finish," he warns, "I was going to say get the others to help tomorrow or this weekend, we can get the rest. Alright? Just essentials, and I bring you right back here. Got it?" His eyes search yours for a moment before he adds, "That's the best I can do for you, kid. Otherwise, I've gotta drag you back to the Manor kicking and screaming, which I really don't want to do."

"He sent you?" You weren't too surprised, only that if anyone was coming, you figured it would've been Bruce, himself. It's only when Jason notices you looking around and contemplating your decision that he cocks his head toward the Manor, signaling the Kents to leave. He's got this.

"No. I came, because... unlike those other dicks, I actually know what it's like to come from, well, somewhere that's not the greatest," he admits, a look of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

"And this isn't some scam? You just tell me this, get me on the bike, and then take me back to the White House?" This elicits a laugh from the man, and he runs a gloved hand through his black and white hair.

"Look, I don't know how much they've mentioned about me, but... let's just say I'm not exactly in Bruce's good favor if you know what I mean." Reading the look on your face, he expands. "I'm not exactly the goody-two-shoes of the family. If you want your stuff, I'll take you, but only because I know he wouldn't do that."

"Why?" Standing in silence, the two of you search one another's eyes for any sense of understanding. It's tacit, the question that you both know you were really asking, yet he doesn't make you voice it: why would you do this for me?

"Because I know what it's like to have everything taken from you." A sigh leaves his lips, and you can tell simply from his stance and demeanor that this man has been through much more than he's letting on. "If you wanna do this, we should get going. I can't be out too late tonight. You coming? Or should I call the old man and let him know what your plan is?" With a raised brow and eyes flicking toward the helmet in your hands and back to your eyes, he awaits an answer.

"I'm coming." Sliding the helmet over your head, you approach the vehicle. "Just... don't tell him, please! At least don't tell him for another... fifteen minutes?" The request elicits a questioning look before a smirk replaces it.

"Deal. Hang on," he requests. Shifting the bike to stand upright, he leans closer and reaches under your chin to clip a strap in place you hadn't noticed. He tightens it, checks with you, and then gets onto the bike. "You ever ridden a motorcycle?"

With a thick swallow, your eyes shift from his to the bike. Sliding over the seat, you're unsure where to place your feet, but Jason instructs you, making sure you're comfortable before you slide your arms around his waist and brace for takeoff. Visor flicked down and everything in place, he revs the motorcycle before speeding down the road.

Beneath the helmet, the ends of your hair tickle your arm as it whips through the air. Cool breeze wooshes past your body, arms able to feel the chill through the blazer, your legs gaining goosebumps through the exhilarating experience. Cypress trees turn into willows, which become more and more sparse as gates and brick walls slowly fade with the elitist properties into cemeteries and then into more forest before turning more industrial. As different plants and factories appear, so do the cars. Jason weaves in and out of traffic as he maneuvers his way down the highway and onto the bridge that winds around Gotham and finally goes into Bludhaven. The lights and sights passing this fast is intimidating at the thought of crashing, however, it's thrilling in a way you've also never experienced. Skyscrapers line the island, lights, signs, and monuments only add a sort of fascination and exuberant liveliness to it. As the Wayne Enterprises sign passes, you finally feel comfortable enough to remove one hand from Jason's side for a moment, long enough to flash a quick middle finger at the sign before fearfully grabbing onto his jacket again.

With a laugh and shake of his head, he removes a hand from the handlebar to flip a bird alongside her, eliciting what he thinks is a laugh. Nevertheless, he can feel the fear in her grip so he returns his hand to the handlebars and makes sure to keep his focus on the road. It's not likely they'd crash, not unless someone was out for him and knows his bike, and his civilian identity. Not that he goes too far out of his way to hide it, but it's not impossible. He's confident in his abilities, but considering they don't know each other the best, he doesn't do anything to further scare her.

As he draws nearer to the Canaveron District, he slows down enough for her to give him directions. Parking the bike outside the apartment complex she's identified, Jason helps her off the bike and stashes the helmets in the back. "Lead the way, little lady," he encourages.

~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

312 notes · View notes

zeroducks-2 · 1 year

Text

I was thinking of something my gf said about Under The Red Hood, about the whole "did Bruce hit Jason in the neck or shoulder" conundrum.

I hadn't really wondered about it too much previously, I just assumed Bruce is a fucking asshole because he threw a batarang at this boy who supposedly was like a son to him, after getting him back from the dead, at the very high risk of killing him. Like idgaf of the circumstances okay? Fuck off Bruce. So it's not like I really cared if that was the shoulder or the neck (even if it does look like the neck) because it's the principle that's fucked up.

But anyway, recently my gf said something and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went back to UTRH and looked for panels and GODDAMNIT SHE'S RIGHT-

So, the answer to the question "did Bruce aim for Jason's neck or shoulder when he threw that batarang?" can be answered with BOTH. Let me explain.

The scene is Bruce and Jason's last confrontation in UTRH, and they just started to fight. It's a brutal fight made even more desperate because chemo has just been dropped on Bludhaven and Bruce cannot physically go check on Dick because Jason is preventing him, so they're both desperate, no one is pulling the punches.

it starts out like this:

With a batarang thrown behind Jason that bounces back from a close distance, and which allows Jason to choose his wound, because it's aimed to his shoulder and head.

Sounds familiar? Basically this blow is thrown in a way that takes away someone's balance, forcing them to move from a spot if they want to avoid a potentially fatal blow. Jason dodges of course and gets hit on the side of the shoulder, giving back with one of "his tricks", and the fight continues.

Now take a look at how the fight ends:

with the same opening blow, a batarang thrown behind Jason, aimed at his shoulder and head. Clearly aimed to destabilize Jason and make him let go of the Joker, but Jason does not move and does not let go until after he's been hit.

The implications of this are huge. It's a known fact that Jason does not think he's going to walk out of this alive, but here he actively chose to let Bruce hit him in the neck, solid on his position until the end.

There's also a bit, a few panels prior, regarding how both Jason and Bruce wouldn't fall for the same trick twice:

Never twice.

Bruce used the same move twice with that batarang throw, and again it implies that Jason should have seen it coming and he did. Bruce won, in the sense that he managed to not do what Jason demanded - shoot him through his face or watch the Joker die - he "managed to find a way to win" and keep his conscience relatively clean because he didn't shoot a gun, and it was Jason's decision not to move and to let that batarang hit him in the neck when he could have dodged it. And everybody still loses.

DC writers do have a tendency to depict Jason having suicidal tendencies. I'm pretty sure at this point that it comes from this, and that whatever the fuck happens in RHATO when Bruce beats the living hell out of him, and Jason does not defend himself, is supposed to be some kind of parallel to this particular dyamic of UTRH (a bad parallel but still).

I rest my case.

#long post #I am indeed pretty sure this is what Winick intended when he wrote this scene but somehow it was lost on most readers #me included #jason todd #bruce wayne #under the red hood #when I see Bruce acting all concerned dad around Jason (in canon) I get the heebiejeebies #HE SHOULD STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM YOU HEAR ME #LIKE #DON'T YOU EVEN DARE TOUCH HIM YOU PIECE OF SHIT #AHHHH

205 notes · View notes

thealtoduck · 2 years

Text

Being raised in the same circus as Dick and being reunited with him…

Dick Grayson x Male Reader

Warnings: Superhero violence, fluff, death of parents, reader and Dick are dumb…

Summary: You were a firedancer as a child at the same circus as the Flying Graysons and years later you reunite with your childhood best friend in odd circumstances…

(A/n: The Batfam lineup in this is only Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Barbara, Jason and you. The others are not there yet. + Not based on the Titans show, this version of Dick is just hot.)

——

You were the child of a fire breather and a acrobat at Haly’s Circus so you were raised to know pretty much both of those skills and became the circus firedancer and the occaisional helper of the Flying Graysons, that would be how you met Dick.

The two of you were inseperable as kids, you always showed each other new skills your parents taught you as part of their acts. Which would lead the circus director to make you helpers to each others performances, because what’s better to make the audience say ”Awww” than two wholesome kids being best friends.

The two of you even planned to make an act together but it never came to be…

After the death of his parents Dick was taken away and the two of you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

After that the director trained you and some others to become the new trapeze artists but none of you could ever match the skills of the Flying Graysons, though you came somewhat close having trained and performed with them before.

Tragedy would strike the circus again during one of your parents performances leading to you becoming orphaned.

So you left the circus at 16 years old to get away from the pain and moved to a small apartment in Gotham using the money your parents left you. You got a job as barista and a side job as a gymnastics teacher for kids.

Though the barista job didn’t last long, one of the parents of the kids you taught wanted to hire you as a model for their clothing magazine which just so happened to pay a lot more than a barista, so you took it.

A year later it would be revealed to you that one of the children’s family you taught had their house broken in to and burguled, their dad had been stabbed and the mother and child had been tied up.

So you loving these children as much as you did started to learn boxing so you could defend them if ever necessary.

After a year of training in boxing you took a page out of Batman’s book and became the vigilate known as ”Flamebird”. Taking name inspiration from you’re training as a firedancer/breather and trapeze artist.

You would end up teaming up with Batman, Robin and Batgirl, though at first Batman was rather suspicious of you but he came to trust you. There was only one member of the batfam who you hadn’t met, which was Nightwing, who had started around the same time as you (or at least so you thought).

You wouldn’t meet Nightwing until Joker had set up three time bombs spread out in Gotham. Batman teamed you up with Nightwing to find one, Batgirl and Robin to find another one and he’d find one himself.

You met up with Nightwing and introduced yourself ”I’m Flamebird, it’s nice to finally meet you”. ”Likewise, Batman has told me a lot of good stuff about you” he said sweetly. ”Really? I’d assume he dosen’t like me” you stated honestly. ”Well, most people assume he hates them so i guess your doing better than them” he explained.

After the quick introduction you two got to work to track down the bomb, you managed to find Joker’s thugs trying to unload it and sneak it in to a hospital. So the two of you started taking the thugs down.

Suprisingly you and Nightwings skills seemed to compliment each other very well as if you’ve been training together for years. When he went right, you went left. When you went over, he went under.

When there was only two goons left Nightwing got to work on disarming the bomb, while you had his back and focused on taking out the henchmen. You finished them off and checked if you could help Nightwing disarm the bomb.

The two of you managed to disarm it and grappled away from the crime scene as the GCPD arrived on the scene. Batman, Robin and Batgirl had also managed to disarm their bombs and Batman had also managed to capture the Joker himself. So you and Nightwing didn’t have to stress to get anywhere else that night.

”How are your flips so effortless and easy? That took me years to perfect” Nightwing commented.

”Oh, i just copy the technique a friend taught me a long time ago, once he perfected his he taught me everything he could so i could perfect mine” you said as your memory drifted back to Dick, Nightwing nodded with an interested face.

”How did you learn to be so efficient with the batons? It’s like your dancing” you commented. ”Honestly same goes for me with the friend thing, he taught me to do it through firedancing” Dick explained.

”Wow, firedancing, that’s really cool” you said as if you weren’t a firedancer yourself. ”Yeah, it’s awesome, me and my friend used to want to put together an act, where we firedanced, while swinging trapeze and we also wanted the trapeze to be on fire” Dick told you which suprised you.

”Really? Me and my friend wanted to do literally that exact same thing” you said suprised. ”Really, God, what a coincidence…” Dick said amazed. The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds until it clicked and you stared eachother deeply in the eyes.

”Dick? Is that you” you asked and Dick eyes widened and he asked ”Y/n?”. You reached up and pulled your mask off and Nightwing did the same and he revealed the face of an older Dick Grayson. ”Dick, it’s you” you said happily and jumped in to his arms.

After hugging for a full minute Dick said ”God, do we have a lot to talk about?”.

He took you to Wayne Manor at the approval of Bruce who after the night full of terrors, had decided you could be trusted with their identities. + Dick had already revealed himself so the rest wouldn’t be so hard to figure out, so he may as well save face and act as if he wanted you to know.

Dick borrowed you some clothes so you could change out of the suit, while you changed he got Alfred to make you both some tea and cookies for the long night of explaining that was ahead.

Once you both had finished the teapot had been emptied and refilled about 3 times and there wasn’t even any cookie crumbs left. It was also very late so Dick offered you to stay the night, which you gratefully accepted.

The two of you decided to have a sleepover like the ones you used to have when you were kids, which meant that the two of you were sharing the bed.

As you lay down next to each other Dick said quietly ”I’m so glad to have you back”. ”Couldn’t have said it better” you said with a smile, then the two of you fell asleep close together as if you hadn’t been seperated for 10 years.

#dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x male!reader #nightwing x male reader #nightwing x male!reader #batfam x male reader #batfamily x male reader #batfam x male!reader #batfamily x male!reader #batboys x male reader #dc x male reader #dc comics x male reader #justice league x male reader #x male reader #x male reader fluff #x male reader headcanons #male reader #x male!reader

1K notes · View notes

visionofhope04 · 2 years

Note

Hey, stumbled on to your neglected batsis story (I love it)! How would the rest of the Justice league react to the news. Like will they slowly distance themselves from the batfam or would they kick Bruce out of the league?

What about the Titans, will they treat Dick any different?

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoyed my series!!! Thank you so much for reading it! Also, I kinda got carried away with this ask... (713 words)

TW: ED MENTIONED (ANOREXIA)

The Justice League would definitely be shocked, especially Diana and Clark since they're closest to Bruce. Due to the loss of his company, he'd no longer have as much money as he used to. The guy was literally constantly making money and then it all came crashing down. He probably wouldn't be as willing to fund certain things that the Justice League required, which would cause a rift in the league's relationship with him.

The Justice League (besides Clark, who didn't want to assume Bruce actually did those things if he didn't and hadn't had time to ask Bruce yet) would probably find out about everything when they had to work with the batfam for one reason or another (probably an alien invasion or smth) weeks or even months after it all went down. Jason as Red Hood would be acting colder towards everyone, including the League since he'd assume they knew about it because it was all over the headlines.

Someone makes a comment on his behavior (most likely Green Lantern) and then he'll say something like "Well someone has to be mad.". The batfam's like "uh oh". They're all confused and then it hits Jason. They didn't know. So then he's like "Of course, he wouldn't want to risk his reputation with the only group of people that can stand being in a room with him that aren't his "family". Ask Bruce about his daughter.".

By this point, Clark knows what he heard was true and he's enraged. Everyone else turned to Bruce questioningly. Clark spoke up before they could ask though, "So the news was true? You all treated her that way?". "What do you mean. Bruce?" Diana called, wanting answers. However, Bruce didn't know what to say. The whole batfamily remained quiet, unable to come up with a lie. "Oh, well let's see, he neglected his daughter, she developed anorexia, and then fainted because of it before a gala. When she woke up, she was yelled at, insulted, and ridiculed for developing an eating disorder and damaging his damn reputation, because he didn't even care about her health!" Jason was fuming, even though it had happened a while ago, it still made him furious.

The batfamily was glaring daggers at him, and he glared back, all while the Justice League was still processing this information. After all, he was Batman, he LOVED kids, how could he do this to one of his own? "Bruce?" Diana questioned, still wanting to give himself an opportunity to explain himself. They all hoped this was a misunderstanding. However, he could say nothing to defend himself. For once in his life, he wasn't prepared. He did do those things, but he didn't think he was in the wrong. After all, his daughter had been trained alongside Damian to be perfect, it was her fault she wasn't. His silence was an answer nobody wanted.

After much heavy discussion, it was decided Batman could stay in the league, but could no longer lead and would be considered a distant ally. He would only be called upon for emergencies.

The Titans would never be able to look at Dick the same again. He was always so welcoming, so nice. He treated everyone kindly, or so they thought. Apparently, this kindness didn't extend to his sister. How could he be so nice to Damian, but so mean to her? And she wasn't even like Damian, she was so nice! They'd briefly met her when they went over to the Manor for Christmas. She'd quickly left after introductions. This concerned the team, but Dick reassured them this was a normal occurrence, she hated crowds.

How didn't they notice? Dick's hesitance to talk about her, to let them meet her, hell, he probably didn't even remember her existence until she was brought up in a conversation! How could the whole family do that to a child? One of their own? The worst part, they didn't feel a speck of remorse for it. How could the Titans interact with Dick normally, knowing what he'd done, taken part in, and did nothing about? Every time they interacted with him, they could tell they weren't quite able to hide the disgust in their gazes, and they always knew they'd never be able to.

#batfam #batfamily #batfam x batsis #batfamily x batsis #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #justice league #justice league x reader #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily #batsis!reader #thanks for the ask!

482 notes · View notes

bluejaysandblackbats · 4 months

Text

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Two: One and Oh

I'd almost gotten through my first day without a hitch before I got into my first fight in months. I'd just come out of the bathroom when some genius decided it'd be funny to shove the door into me as hard as they could. The force knocked me back, and I hit my head on the tile. I could've walked away from anything else. I know I could've, but that was too much for any human being to take. I feigned laughter with him and all his friends.

The weird kid, Tim, was the only one who wasn't laughing. "Hey, Jason, are you—?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I interrupted, still forcing the same smile I'd been faking all day. He helped me up, and I thanked him before taking my crutch and swinging hard enough to hurt my shoulder and crack my assailant's skull. Then I dropped to my good knee and tried to kill him with my bare hands. Tim pulled me up and held onto me, clutching the doorknobs to one of the locked classrooms so we wouldn't topple over. "How does it feel?" I screamed as tears streamed down my cheeks. I kept screaming it until security came and took me to the office. Tim followed closely behind. I think he felt sorry for me, and I hated him because he felt bad for me.

"Jason, what you did was unacceptable—."

"He might be concussed... Besides, you didn't see what happened, that kid shoved him to the ground, and he hit his head," Tim defended me. I still hadn't stopped crying or shaking. It was the most humiliating feeling I'd ever experienced. I didn't even realize I was bleeding until the EMT came to check the wound on the back of my head. Tim spoke for me, and I realized he'd been watching me all day. I was too distraught about the fight to say anything, let alone accuse him of following me, so I stayed silent. Bruce rushed into the office soon after that as if he'd been in the area all day.

"Jason," Bruce called as he grabbed me by my shoulders and checked my face for bruises. "Are you alright?"

I finally managed a few words, but they weren't helpful. "Is Alfred mad?" I asked. Bruce sighed and shook his head. "Do you want me to go to the hospital?"

"Yes," Bruce answered, "I'll take you... Mr. Ames, I hope we can discuss this once I know Jason's okay. He's not usually—."

"Three days on-campus suspension, and that's only because of the brutality of his response. Most kids I would've suspended for a week, but Jason's had a stellar reputation at this school, and his classmate explained the whole situation," Mr. Ames replied. Bruce nodded and thanked him as he escorted me to the car. I thought Bruce would yell at me, but nothing happened. He didn't say a word.

I still hadn't stopped shaking. "You don't have to go back there—."

"But I can... I might hate being back, but I can't hide at home anymore," I interrupted, "I have to control myself better next time." I chastised myself because no one else would. Barbara would've given me an earful if she could've been there. I liked that she never pulled her punches with me. I wished everyone was more like her.

"Master Jason, what were you thinking?" Alfred asked. His voice was colored with more concern than anger.

I wanted to tell them that I wanted to beat him near death. I wanted him close enough to demise to be both relieved and disappointed. I needed him to feel how I felt every day. I didn't say that, though. "I wasn't thinking, Alfred... I'm sorry," I apologized. Bruce touched my shoulder, and I winced. I almost forgot I'd overextended it when I struck him. The adrenaline rush finally waned, leaving only feelings of exhaustion and pain in its wake.

"Is it bad?" Bruce asked. I shook my head. I wanted to sleep, but that wouldn't be allowed until after my hospital visit. The drive to the emergency room felt endless.

Maybe I would've made a joke under different circumstances. I tried to open my mouth to tell one, but it didn't feel right. The sad part was the fight wasn't enough to quiet my rage. I was a bottomless pit of anger and pain. I woke up drowning in it every day. Bruce took me in, and I explained at the front desk that I'd hit my head at school. The doctors moved me through quickly, but it all felt like an average appointment. CT scans, MRI, bandages, full-body check-up that I didn't want or ask for. It all felt routine. Bruce sat outside for most of it.

He hated taking me to the doctor. Part of me reveled in that small bitter victory. At least I wasn't the only one suffering in silence. I was cruel, but that was all I could do to keep my sanity. I had to have someone to share my pain with, even if it wasn't productive. At least he could return to his life. His lives. I was stagnant. Trapped in an endless explosion. Permanently benched. We hadn't talked about Robin, but I knew. Robin had to die so that Bruce Wayne could live with himself.

I hate to say it, but the man I thought loved me most was memorializing me since before the accident. I saw it every day before I left, and it hasn't changed. He looked through me sometimes like a mortal would look at an apparition. I wasn't supposed to be there, but my presence was a source of comfort and pain.

Before we got home, three hours passed, and Bruce allowed me to fall asleep. I attempted to skip dinner, but Alfred woke me. He let me eat in my room because I had a long day, but he warned me that I wouldn't get off that easy after school the next day. He changed the dressing for my head wound and pleaded with me, asking me to behave myself in the future. I nodded.

Dinner was dull; it wasn't that I couldn't taste it. I was too depressed to care about what it tasted like. I ate quickly and went back to bed. I didn't dream. I preferred not to dream because dreams led to nightmares.

When I woke up for school the next day, I had dried blood on my hands and under my nails. I hadn't noticed the blood on my hands and shirt until then. It must've been frightening for Bruce to see all that blood on me.

I showered, scrubbing the blood from my flesh until my skin was raw. I started shaking again, and my phone rang. I turned the water off and got dressed. "Hello?" I answered. The call dropped, and I stepped into the hall.

"Hi," Dick waved. I rolled my eyes.

"Bruce called you, didn't he?" I asked.

"A fight on your first day? Really, Jason?" Dick asked. "He wants me to babysit you today..."

"Hard pass," I replied as I pushed past Dick and hobbled down the stairs.

"Could you be any more difficult?" Dick asked. "Use the stairlift."

"Only if you use the door," I replied. Dick mocked me.

I grabbed my crutches and headed toward the kitchen. "Alfred, where's Bruce?" I asked.

"Away on business, Master Jason," Alfred answered. Away on business. That was everyone's polite way of saying he was on a case. They all knew how it made me feel. I grabbed my things and rushed to the garage. Dick followed close behind and grabbed a set of keys.

"Jason, you shouldn't bottle your feelings up... You're gonna make yourself sick," Dick whispered.

"Where'd you get your psych degree? Clown college?" I snapped.

"Jason, I'm serious," Dick whispered.

He wouldn't drive me to school until I let him win. "You want my honest feelings?" I asked.

"Yeah, Jason," Dick answered.

I took a deep breath. "I don't have any optimism left... All I can manage most days is rage. I don't wanna live, don't care if anyone else lives or dies, and I'm sick of people telling me I'm lucky to be alive," I replied, "Is that honest enough for you?"

Dick started the car. "Jason, do you ever think about hurting yourself?" Dick asked.

"I wake up in pain every day. I'd never hurt myself... But I sometimes pray for the sweet release of an aneurysm," I half-joked. Dick didn't laugh with me. "You just hate when I win."

"It's not funny, Jason," Dick replied, "You know, we're all worried about you? I get that you're mad, but you don't have to take it out on everyone that tries to be understanding-."

"You can't be understanding! You just can't! You don't know what this feels like, Dick! No one knows what this feels like! So, if I wanna crack a few jokes about wanting to die or be a complete asshole, I should be allowed to! You said you wanted my honest feelings... Well, they don't feel so good, do they?" I lashed out. I just wanted someone to punch back. "You guys don't want me to be honest with you because the truth is, I have nothing but nasty things to say."

Dick started driving in silence, and I turned to stare out the window. All it took was his silence to make me cry bitter, childish tears. Even when he didn't play the game, he won.

#Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Barbara Gordon #Sebastian Ives #Jack Drake #Janet Drake #angst with a happy ending #fic #batfam #catch and release fic

23 notes · View notes

pixelgirlsworld · 2 years

Text

Luthor’s Soldier (Jason Todd x Reader)

Joy’s notes: hellooo my loves, welcome to my first one shot on this account, actually first work ever on this account. I’ll be fixing my blog and navigation soon, so sorry if everything looks a little wonky atm, hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader! Titans!verse, angst, fluff, possible grammar and writing errors, trauma, detailed descriptions of trauma, inspired by the winter soldier concept, no collision of DC and Marvel universes.

WC: 7.1k words, oneshot

“He’s quiet. I should’ve gone with them, maybe the mission would’ve gone smoother” Dick said, staring at the ground, kicking at nothing in particular.

“You can’t blame yourself for a mission that never went through in the first place. Tim and Jason always put saving civilians first, stop stressing, we’ll try again in a few days.” Bruce responded, putting his hand on Dick’s shoulder.

Jason was in the far corner of the bat cave, messing with his guns, fingers swiping over the blood that stained his chest holster. Touching it gave him flashbacks, made him think back to that morning.

“Jason! The girl!” Tim shouted, shoving off a goon that tried to overpower him.

Jason whipped around, eyes darting, searching for the girl in a blue sweatshirt that was in trouble. He saw her, in the alley, struggling against a large man who attempted to subdue her. Jason quickly jumped down from the rooftop, kicking down the attacker and knocking him out in one swift motion. He turned to the girl, wanting to make sure she hadn’t suffered any injuries, but he froze in his tracks. She was almost the spitting image of you. She stared at him, wide-eyed. He wanted to flinch, to touch her, to cringe back, to hug her, to ask if she was okay, hell anything. He wanted to do anything, but he couldn’t.

“Jason!” Tim shouted, watching as six more goons had shown up, three of them in front of him.

Jason heard Tim, but not really. His voice was muffled, the sound of loud, messy footsteps racing towards them becoming white noise. A ringing in his ear started. He couldn’t react when the world went blurry, the girl was getting attacked in front of him, rough hands were gripping his jacket. Only when a harsh blow landed to the side of his face did he manage to somewhat come back to Earth, but not in time to save the girl. The girl in the blue sweatshirt. The girl who looked like you.

Tim jumped down from the rooftop, slightly battered and bruised from fighting. He fought off the last men who kept attacking Jason, running to his brother in worry.

“Jason. Jason! Jason, talk to me, what happened? Are you okay?” Tim grabbed him by the shoulders.

Jason was out of it, quite obviously. Tim dragged him out of the alley, calling out to Dick on their comms. Jason kept looking back, looking at the girl in the blue sweatshirt, now dead and it was all his fault. Just like last time. Just like how you were his fault. He looked down and saw her blood that had splattered on his chest holster. The deep red tinting the dark brown leather.

“Jason.” Dick said.

Jason looked up, startled that he’d been pulled out of his thoughts.

“It’s unlike you to get in your head while on a mission. What happened out there?” Dick pried, sitting across Jason with his hands folded in his lap.

Jason could only shake his head; how could he defend himself? Was he supposed to say that he saw someone who looked like you and froze? That he let her die because he couldn’t keep it together? He knew that having this conversation with Dick would only end in an argument, nasty, with harsh words that neither party would mean to say. Dick stood up after waiting a few moments, walking to the tunnel of the bat cave, where Tim waited for him. In the distance, Jason could hear Tim explaining the situation, but he tuned it out, knowing that listening would cause him to have another flashback, and that weight was just something he couldn’t bear any more of at the moment.

Later that night, Jason took one of Bruce’s jets to RC-14, RC referring to a remote center which held the most dangerous objects that Bruce had ever encountered as a result of his endeavors on the field as Batman. Jason was checked and scanned, his handprint on the door opening to a lab. He entered, the steel structure making him feel claustrophobic. He stepped closer to the center of the room, holding onto the railing in front of him. He looked down through the glass window, seeing doctors and scientists in white coats, surrounding a girl on a lab table.

You, still as beautiful as ever, your hair much longer since the last time he’d seen you, your body much thinner, your face much paler. The doctors were connecting more wires to the sides of your head, the scientists were putting something on the metal that was your left arm and right leg. He assumes they’re trying to figure out if the metal was coating your actual skin, or if they were just your limbs now. He smiled a bit to himself, he knows exactly what you would say if you were awake, with all those people surrounding you. ‘Ah, what the fuck! There’s too many people near me, guys I feel crowded, can everyone move a bit?’

Alas, as much as he could imagine it, you were not going to wake up while still on the gas that the scientists had manufactured specifically to keep you asleep. He wonders again, for the nth time, if you’ll ever wake up, and if you’ll even wake up to be the girl he had fallen in love with when he was just 18 years old.

He still remembers the day you were taken from him, how it was all his fault, how it should’ve been him. Lex Luthor was determined to get his hands on Red Hood, he wanted to test his latest experiments on Jason, whom he thought would be the perfect test subject as a result of coming out of the pit. You two were on a date, celebrating your 2 year anniversary. You were inside a fancy restaurant, golden walls, with some fancy name Jason couldn’t pronounce, but he loved the way you laughed when he tried. The waiter was just about to bring your food over, but the sound of metal plates hitting the ground caused you and Jason to be on your feet quickly. Jason’s eyes scanned the restaurant, seeing many of Luthor’s men circling the restaurant and knocking out many of the customers.

“I don’t see him here boss!” One of them shouted.

“He’ll be there, he was seen scouting the area earlier.” Luthor’s voice was heard over the earpieces of his men.

Shit. Jason had been in his costume to scout the area earlier that day, he wanted to make sure no bad guys were around to ruin your perfect date together. He wanted your anniversary to be perfect. You didn’t miss a beat when he gave you that look, taking his helmet out from your purse and tossing it over to him. He was ready to fight them as Red Hood if it meant you and the rest of the people in the restaurant could make it out safely. You called to Dick over comms while Jason did his best to fight off anyone who tried to make their way to you two.

In almost no time, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all in the restaurant, fighting with Jason. They had never seen so many of Luthor’s men in one place before.

“There’s too many of them boss!” One of the goons shouted, three of them attacking Bruce.

“Grab the girl.” Luthor said.

You were hiding near the table, although Jason insisted that you trained with him a few times, you were nowhere near combat ready. Luthor’s men made a play to overpower Jason, Dick, Tim, and Bruce to make sure they wouldn’t realize that their new plan was to kidnap you. Jason was being held by six men at once, feeling their weights crush him, he felt as though he might crack under the pressure. That was, until he heard you scream.

“Jason!” You reached for him, your red dress being torn and grabbed at by multiple men

He instantly broke free and fought though many men to get to you, you kept calling out to him but more and more men barricaded him from you. Bruce, Tim, and Dick were also being pulled away, Luthor had really exhausted his resources trying to capture Jason.

“(Y/N)! I’ll find you, I swear, if it’s the last thing I do!” Jason screamed, so loud he felt his throat tighten up.

He could only watch as the men dragged you out of the restaurant, he’d never forget the fear in your eyes.

Jason and his family did indeed try to find you. Jason exhausted every day and night for months tracking Luthor’s men, following small leads, interrogating men, all of them leading to nothing. He remembers when Dick called out to him on comms, his voice was chilling, almost frightened.

“Jason. Get down to the bridge, now.”

He was quick on his feet, he’d only heard Dick use such a voice in dire situations. He made his way to the bridge, only to see Dick, Bruce, and Tim all standing, frozen. Their jaws might as well have been dropped too with how wide their eyes were. He questioned them, hearing the distinct fighting noises from below them, but seeing that his family had not been in on the action. Dick could only point towards the bridge below them, the action almost comic.

Jason scoffed a bit, thinking that their foe on the bridge would prove to be no big deal, that his family had just been overreacting. Jason follows his finger which directs his line of sight to a girl on the bridge, her left arm completely made out of metal. She was fighting a policeman on the bridge, clearly winning with ease. He immediately recognized you, he was already quick on his feet to run to you, but not before Bruce put his arm out on his chest to stop him.

“She’s been fighting off the Gotham PD since she broke one of the streetlights and swung it into a car.” Bruce said.

“What? Was anyone hurt?” Jason asked, his voice full of concern, his eyes clouded in disbelief.

You? Break a streetlight? Injure people? Hit a car? You could barely throw a punch. You would never hurt anyone.

“Thankfully, no. I was able to get to the car before it swerved off the bridge, Gotham PD tried to bring her in but she was quick to put up a fight.” Dick said, his eyes still fixed onto you.

“You have to let me try to talk to her.” Jason said, he knew that if anyone could get you to come to your senses, it’d be him.

Bruce and Dick exchanged a look, knowing they had already tried but Jason would have a much higher chance than they ever did. Bruce nodded, giving Jason the green light to jump down from the bridge and make his way to you.

“(Y/N)! God, I thought I’d lost you.” He called out, still making his way closer to you.

You knocked out the policeman you had been fighting, turning your attention to him. Your eyes glared into him, it was as if you hadn’t recognized him at all.

“(Y/N)? Honey, you’ve gotta come home. If you stop now, we can help you fix it, we’ll make it better, Batman will work something out with the PD, but you need to stop and come back home with me so we can do that, okay?” Jason said, noticing your demeanor.

You disregarded his words as he walked up to you. Jason put a hand up to try and touch your face but you were quicker, grabbing his wrist and twisting it back. He parried your movements until you both were gripping each others arms.

“What are you doing? (Y/N), stop!” Jason didn’t want to fight you, he couldn’t bear the thought of doing such a thing.

You ignored him, but he managed to pull you close while continuing to dodge your movements.

“I. Don’t. Know. Who. That. Is. And I don’t. Know who you are.” Your voice was almost robotic, free of emotion.

As soon as you broke free of Jason’s hold, the rest of the team had jumped down from the bridge, ready to use force to bring you in. Jason pleaded to Bruce not to harm you, but it was quite clear you would harm them. As Bruce denied his request and said they would try their best, Jason bit his tongue, he knew you weren’t going to stop. He didn’t know what Luthor did to you but he would damn well find out once they were able to bring you in.

Dick was the first to go after you, with you parrying his movements effortlessly. One by one they went after you, Jason being last, obviously. It hurt him to see his family land a few blows on you once a while, way more than yours on them. It hurt him to have to fight with you, to have to inflict any pain on you. Jason tried to pull his punches, but one miscalculation led to him punching you in the nose, your head flinched back and you looked back at him with blood dripping from your nostril.

“Baby, I did not mean that, I am so, so sorry.” He started, immediately softening to reach for you again.

“(Y/N). Come in. Fall back. That’s an order.” Luthor spoke on your comms.

You listened and took one last look at the team, at Jason. For a second he could’ve sworn that you recognized him, but you turned and disappeared, quick as the wind.

“Are you liking my new toy, Hood?” Luthor teased over the phone.

Jason fought the urge to scream, scrunching his fist against the table. Luthor had been sending you on multiple missions to destroy parts of the city. Each time, you were too quick for the team to catch up to you.

“Cut the act Luthor. What did you do the girl?” Bruce said, his voice hard.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Batman? Aren’t you the clever one, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Jason sneered.

“Getting a little irritated, are we, Hood? I’ll admit, going for your girlfriend wasn’t my first choice, but she is quite stylish, isn’t she? Don’t worry, all in due time fellas, for now, you’re busy.” He laughed.

A red dot beeped on the map that was on the console of the batcave. Luthor’s low chuckle could be heard as the team ran off to see what had been happening at the location of the marker.

There you stood, slamming various objects into the windows of a bank, causing a complete ruckus. It must’ve been your third attack just in that week. The shattering glass left you unfazed, Luthor’s men circled around you to wreak havoc on the inside of the bank. Jason leapt from the top of the building, landing on his feet at the entrance of the bank; or least, what had been left of it. The rest of the team had followed shortly, nervousness rising in their veins as they took in the damage of the bank. They wondered if you had killed anyone. If you would really go that far.

Jason found you, your metal arm slamming a wooden table in half, you were angry with one of Luthor’s men, ordering him to do something. You were obviously fuming, and it made Jason nervous. He couldn’t let you hurt anyone. The team stealthily made their way closer to you, waiting for all of Luthor’s men to leave your side. Dick, as per usual, went in on you first. You put up a fight, parrying his movements almost as perfectly as you had the last time. They knew you wouldn’t be able to take all of them at once, so they quickly overpowered you. It took all four of them to subdue you, with Jason having the last hit on you. As Jason put pressure onto your shoulder, you looked at him, eyes wide.

“J-Jason?” You said weakly.

He could’ve melted at that moment. He could’ve frozen, he could’ve fallen for you all over again.

Could’ve.

“Jason!” Bruce shouted.

He lands a blow into the right side of your face, hard enough of knock you out. Dick carried you out of the building over his shoulder. Jason had lagged, looking at his hand, unclenching his fist and feeling like a monster had taken over his body because never would he have imagined having to hurt you on purpose.

You were laid out on a table in the batcave, large steel cuffs holding down all of your limbs. You were still knocked out, sporting a purple bruise that had blossomed over your cheek. Jason could barely look at you, unsure if he could handle whatever was going to happen.

“Rachel, I know you’re not exactly comfortable with this but we need to know what happened to her, she’s been missing for 8 months.” Dick pleaded, following Rachel into the cave.

“You know this could hurt her, right? What if you don’t like the truth? What if I don’t?” Rachel basically threatened, knowing her emotions could cause her powers to take down the entire building.

“That won’t happen, we need to know so we can save her. The (Y/N) we know wasn’t even capable of hitting someone, but we saw her in full combat.” Dick pleaded again.

Jason watched quietly as Rachel sighed in defeat, walking over to where you rested. She looked up at Jason as if to ask ‘are you sure about this?’ But he could only give her a slight nod. She proceeded to put her hands on either side of your head, letting her magic allow her to see into your memories. Everyone watched as Rachel’s blackened purple magic surrounded the area. Suddenly, Rachel started screaming, her hands shaking.

“She’s resisting me, I can’t do it!”

“Yes you can. Talk to her, the real her.” Dick exclaimed.

Rachel frantically called out to you, asking if you remembered her, remembered when you had first met. You were laughing at something Jason had said and dropped your ice cream but she had used her powers to keep it from hitting the floor. Jason smiled hearing Rachel retell the story, boy would you have let him hear it to the end of his days if it was his fault that your favorite strawberry Nutella ice cream covered in sugar had fallen to the floor, even though he thought it was disgusting.

Rachel calmed down, her eyes turning red as she opened them. She gasped periodically for a few minutes before pulling back, wincing at the strain she felt from having exhausted her powers.

“Are you okay? Tell us what you saw.” Tim said, rushing over to hold her arms up for stability.

Rachel looked to everyone’s longing faces in horror and shock. Jason worried, his chest tightened so much he thought he might explode at that very moment. Rachel explained what had happened to you in the last 8 months. Lex Luthor had kidnapped you, and injected you with multiple serums as a result of not being able to capture Red Hood. He thought you would’ve died from the agony, as normal human blood shouldn’t have been able to take the effects of the serums, but Luthor was itching for a test subject and settled for you. When you had passed the first few trials of the serums, you began to change, and Luthor was able to control you just with a few commanding words. You were complete with enhanced abilities such as a super-memory, which was how you were able to fight off Dick, Bruce, and Tim so well, Luthor had you watch videos of them in combat. You were battered, fought against, weaponized, trained, and brainwashed.

“But why are her arm and leg covered in metal?” Bruce questioned.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see that part.” Rachel looked down at the ground, disappointed.

“Brainwashed? She doesn’t…remember us? Remember me?” Jason asked, studying your face for anything he could find.

“I don’t think so. She remembers bits and pieces but Luthor injected her with more serum every time her conscience would surface.”

“Oh God, if that serum did this to just her, imagine how much he can do with it if he keeps making it.” Dick said, running his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“(Y/N) has the last of it in her blood, Luthor needed her alive to test her blood to perfect the formula. Without her, he can’t make a perfected formula.” Rachel said, hopeful.

Bruce explained that you would have to be kept safe and away from the world in order for the team to take down Luthor’s entire serum operation, all while they also searched for a way to cure you.

Months later, though they had taken down Luthor and his scientists, they still could not find a cure, Rachel came in daily to keep you in a constant dreaming state, you laid on the table, sound asleep, although Jason couldn’t talk to you directly, he still talked to you on most days, talked about everything you had missed in the last year, his 21st birthday, Tim breaking his ankle, Bruce buying Dick a really small, ugly car. He knew you probably couldn’t hear him, but on the off chance that you could, he wanted to make sure you felt like you hadn’t missed a thing. Every time they had tried to talk to you while you were awake, you would only try to break free, nearly breaking the cuffs and your limbs just to try and destroy the place.

Bruce came in one day, Tim, Dick, Jason, and Rachel all in the room. Rachel had her hands near your head, stabilizing you as Bruce spoke. He said he had a temporary solution to you having the serum in your body. It wasn’t a good solution but he managed to develop a gas to keep you under while he worked on an anti-serum that would slowly bring you back and help you regain your body.

“How is that a solution at all? Have you tested the gas? We don’t even need it, we have Rachel!” Jason yelled.

“It’s a solution because Rachel is exhausting her powers everyday, it’s affecting her in the field, and her power constantly going into (Y/N)’s mind is causing her memories to drive further and further away. Do you really want her to end up waking up with no recollection of you at all?” Dick drove into Jason like a screwdriver, immediately regretting his choice of words.

Jason was silent for a long moment, shaking his head as tears stung in his eyes.

“How long?”

“I can’t answer that.” Bruce said.

“How. Long.” Jason repeated.

“I. Can’t. Answer that! It could be months, it could be years, it could be forever!” Bruce shouted.

The team watched as the young son and his father exchanged harsh words at loud volumes. Eventually Jason agreed, it took him a long time to accept the fact that you’d really be gone, possibly forever, and at a remote facility just so you couldn’t hurt many people if you did wake up. He remembers the day they used the gas on you, you were awake in a tube-like container, and he spoke to you as the gas entered the chamber.

“Hey baby, so, you’re going to go to sleep for a while, but we’re going to work day and night to cure you, and you’ll be good as new, even better, alright? You just rest up, I promise when you get back, I’ll tell you all about it. I swear.” He forced a smile, seeing you panic as the gas caused your eyes to shut.

He broke down into tears once you were under, Dick and Rachel hugging him tightly as the young man gripped on the railing in front of him, slamming his fists down onto the console. He would just have to believe in you, and that Bruce would develop an anti-serum that would wake you up eventually.

That was 3 years ago. Jason was 24 now, a bit taller, voice slightly deeper, he looked grown up but still felt like the same kid Bruce picked off the streets. He stared at you, you were beautiful now. You were beautiful then. You’re still as beautiful as the day he lost you. He knows you’ll still be beautiful on the day that you find him.

“Figured I’d find you here.” Dick’s voice came through.

Jason looked over his shoulder, seeing his brother slowly walk up to be next to him.

“I take it Tim told you everything?” Jason scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dick only smiled and looked at the ground, easily forgiving his younger brother. Hell, if it had been him, he would’ve frozen up too.

“They’ve been injecting her with multiple forms of the anti-serum, the wires are to see how her brain reacts to them, and if they’re helping her regain her consciousness. They’re getting closer Jay, don’t worry.” Dick said, sounding hopeful.

Jason had a hard time believing him, people always said that to him, that you’d be fine, that you’ll be back soon. Not that he had given up on you and seeing you again, he knew you were strong, but he also knew you wouldn’t want him to stop living his life, to stop seeing the world. He tried to live everyday for you, most days he wondered what you’d order at new shops that opened up in Gotham, how long you and Rachel would’ve stayed up playing new video games, how much whining Dick would have to do to get you to train with him. He even made friends with the nice old lady who opened a coffee shop around the corner, Mrs. Bennett. But above all, he wondered what it would be like to be in your arms again, and have you in his. He misses watching you sleep, kissing your head and dragging his hands mindlessly up and down your back.

He gets so lost in his reverie he doesn’t realize Dick is pulling at his shirt and calling out to him.

“Oh my god, Jason, look. Jason!”

There you were, on the table, eyes opening, squinting at the bright lights that shone on you.

“Fuck, that is bright, can you guys turn that down?”

Gasps could be heard from all the scientists around you, all of them crowding up to you, pulling the wires at your head, adjusting the cuffs around your wrist, drawing needles into your skin.

Jason had never moved so quickly in his life, he ran down to the lab entrance, Dick following him suit, trying his best to stop his younger brother. Jason pounded on the door, calling out to you through the soundproof glass.

“Dick, man, you’ve gotta open this lab, I need to see her, I need to.” Jason turned around, practically begging.

“I can’t, we need to let them run some tests, just because she’s awake doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.” Dick explained, overwhelmed, looking at you as you studied the room you were in.

You were obviously confused by your surroundings, but Dick could not let Jason see you if you hadn’t been completely analyzed yet. It took a while to convince Jason to give it a rest, go back to the tower with him and wait for Bruce’s updates.

Jason bounced his knee up and down, anxious. It had been days. Days since he saw you wake up. Days since Dick told him Bruce would come back with news about you. What if you had gone back to sleep? What if you didn’t remember him? What if you went berserk and destroyed the lab? What if you died? What if-

“Jason.” Dick called out.

He stood up immediately, running over to where he was called. Everyone was gathered near Bruce, anxiously waiting for the man to speak.

“She’s stable,” everyone sighed, letting out a breath they didn’t know they held. “All the tests were run, her blood, some memory tests, her strength, her control over her body. She’s completely fine, but some trace of the enhanced abilities the serum Luthor gave her is still there, and we are unsure how much or how little she remembers, if that memory will come back over time, and how it’ll affect her.”

“Where is she?” Rachel asked.

Almost as if on cue, you walked into the batcave, the metal no longer on your limbs. Your steps were delicate, your hair way outgrown, your black boots heavy on your feet. All eyes were on you as you came in, jaws slack in disbelief. Tim even stood in slight alarm that you were going to try and kill all of them.

Jason ran to you, hugging you in a bone-crushing deathgrip and lifting you off the ground. You giggled a bit, holding onto him as he put you down quickly to put his hands on either side of your face to get a good look at you.

“Hey handsome,” God, your voice, he’d almost forgotten what you sounded like. “You look good.”

“I’ve been way better.” He responded.

He kissed you, hard and sweet, forgetting about everyone in the room, melting into the touch you returned. When Dick cleared his throat, Jason parted from you, apologizing quietly while still looking at you and running his hands over your face and hair. He shed a few tears but wiped them away quickly as to not look weak in front of everyone. He had kept it together for so long. He let go of you so you could hug everyone, greeting them with a small smile on your face.

“So, (Y/N), what powers do you have now?” Rachel asked.

“I, um. I can still fight, I remember all my combat training, I still have super-memory, and super strength.” You said, unsure of what else you may still have.

The giddy looks built up on Tim and Dick’s faces, so excited to be able to train with you, and add you to the team, even if that was wishful thinking or them moving way too fast. Everyone’s faces were lit up as they took your presence in, you felt appreciated, albeit still confused from not remembering much, you only knew that you had caused some serious damage as Luthor’s soldier.

The team gathered around the console, the projector showing footage of you wrecking the bank and throwing entire cars across the street. You winced as you heard the screams of people. You caused their pain, their suffering. Jason watched from behind the projector as your eyes began to glass over, he stood up.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” He said, walking up to you and wrapping his entire frame around you.

He wishes he could shield you from it all. Although you don’t remember any of it for now, it didn’t change the fact that you had done it. You both knew that. He rubbed his hand up and down your back, you could practically feel the stress off of everyone in the room.

“How are we supposed to fix this?” You blurted.

“(Y/N)-“

“No, Jason. Really, how are we supposed to fix this?,” You pulled away from him. “I don’t remember doing any of this, I don’t remember anything past being grabbed at that dinner, yet somehow, I can fight like you guys, I hurt so many people, I destroyed entire buildings with my own hands, how are we supposed to fix this?” You rambled, voice getting quieter towards the end.

“I’ve set up with the Gotham PD to obtain all footage of the attacks, if you wanted to go back to your normal life, by changing your hair and the fact that you don’t have metal limbs anymore, you could get away with it. But if you wanted to use your abilities to help people, to be on this team, then other measures need to be taken.” Bruce offered.

You were left speechless, how could Bruce want you to be part of the team after everything? Could you really do something like that? You didn’t even recall any of the attacks, it felt like you were a stranger in your own body.

“I-I, um. I-I need some time, if that’s okay. I-I j-just need to think.” You managed to get out.

Bruce and the others comforted you, telling you to take all the time you need while they make preparations and continue shielding any knowledge of your actions as Luthor’s soldier. Jason took your hand and led you to his room in the manor, it was emptier than it had been before, much cleaner too. You walked in and sat on the bed while Jason stood at the door, eyes on the floor as if he couldn’t believe his eyes if he looked at you.

“It’s…clean. Which means you don’t really spend much time in here.” You laughed airily.

“I guess I just couldn’t really be alone after what happened, needed to be outside as much as possible.” He said, honestly.

His honesty had you taken aback, it was unlike Jason to be so…straightforward, and honest with his feelings. I suppose things change, especially when you’ve been gone for 4 years.

“So, 24, huh?” You asked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“24.”

“What’s 24 like?”

“Like 20, 21, 22, and 23, but just 24.” He said, putting his finger to his chin as if he were thinking.

You giggled a bit, and he closed the door to walk over to you, wanting to hug you and feel you as if he’d lose you all over again tomorrow. He laid down and you moved to lay on his chest, feeling the anxiety wash away with each stroke of his hands on your back. He was calming, soothing, just as he’d always been. You take a good look at his face while he’s holding you, he almost looked the same as that night you were taken. The bags under his eyes more prominent, the crows feet at his eyes deepened slightly.

“Do I look different?” He asked, noticing how you observed his features.

“A bit, but it’s not a bad thing, handsome. After all, I haven’t seen you in a few years. What about me?” You asked.

“Still beautiful,” He mused. “I like your hair.”

“You always like my hair.”

“I think I just always like you.”

You spent a long time talking, you weren’t sure where you began, but you ended with talking about Mrs. Bennett, the nice old lady who owns the coffee shop down the street. He spent a good chunk of his time swinging by as Jason Todd, buying coffee and pastries from the old woman while she sat with him and listened to his stories about you.

“You gushed over me to an 80 year old woman?”

“She’s 65, and yes. She makes a mean chocolate chip cookie, how am I supposed to say no to that?” Jason responded, as if it was obvious.

You laughed. And he missed it. He wished he could freeze this moment with you, forget the entire outside world existed because his entire world was right in front of him. You questioned if he had ever found someone else while you were under. Even if you didn’t admit it, a tinge of jealousy swirled in your chest. You knew it was somewhat unreasonable though, you were literally asleep for years. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay with you after all this time. You decided to keep quiet, now really wasn’t the time to discuss that.

There was an alarm that sounded over the speakers throughout the entire house. Jason was on his feet in an instant, fear overtaking him. He asked you to stay put, safe in the manor with Alfred. You couldn’t help but feel benched, even if you hadn’t exactly accepted Bruce’s offer to join the team. It was probably best you don’t go with them, you didn’t want to distract Jason any more than you already had.

Jason’s desk had been littered with pictures from over the years, him smiling in birthday photos, him at the lab with Dick and Bruce, him half asleep with Tim startling him awake. He had lived his life without you here, and that thought made your heart clench, so happy that your lover had such good memories. You’d laid down in Jason’s bed, falling fast asleep after the alarms stopped, clutching a picture of the entire team together in your hands, the family you’d missed so much.

Jason returned hours later, the Joker made a play to open up Arkham Asylum, but it proved to be a hoax when the team had arrived. Jason made his way up the stairs to his room, in full surprise to see that you weren’t there.

“Alfred, do you know where (Y/N) is?”

“I assumed she was in your room, Master Todd, she never left.”

Jason’s head whipped back around to scan his room, now noticing that the window was open. He pulls out his communicator to call out to everyone, letting them know you had escaped. But why would you leave? You were just fine when he had left, maybe you got worried about him and left to see if you could find him? He knew you wouldn’t have just left for no reason.

The team scoured the streets of Gotham, the dead of the knight leaving no trace of shadows, the flickering streetlights causing an uneasy, eerie feeling.

“Look out!” Rachel gasped.

Dick ducked on instinct, a car flying over his head and crashing into a wall near him. Jason ran in the direction from which it came from, seeing you stumble around the street, pushing things out of your way and throwing your arms in every direction. The team tried to call out to you but as they approached you, they noticed you had been completely asleep.

“Is she…sleep walking?” Rachel asked, almost incredulously.

“More like sleep fighting.” Gar snickered.

“Easily and completely not the time, Gar.”

The green haired boy shrugged and transformed, running to subdue you, but you easily flung your arm out, colliding with him and sending him backwards. Dick snapped his staff in half, ready to fight you. Rachel opened her arms to let her shadow flow from her body. Jason stuck his arm out and shook his head. He ran up to you and parried your movements, eventually pulling you to his chest and grabbing a hold of your face. You were muttering, mumbling, fighting something in your own head.

“You’re safe, honey. I’ve brought you home, you found me. We are home, you’re safe. He will never get to you again, I promise.” He whispered into your ear, clutching you so closely to his chest so that you couldn’t break free, try as you might.

He kept whispering words of comfort, of your safety, of how you were his family. Eventually you stopped mumbling, and woke up confused, rubbing your eyes.

“Jason? God, where are we? My arms are killing me.” You said, rubbing your arms.

You looked around and saw the team staring at you.

“You kinda, sorta, definitely slept walked your way into the city and started destroying shit.” Gar said.

Rachel nudged him with her elbow and he gave her a ‘what-did-I-do’ look. You panicked, dropping to knees, you thought you were fighting, you saw Luthor in your dream, he chanted the words to put you under his command again, you thought you were fighting to see Jason again.

“Oh god.”

You were silent for a long time when the team brought you back home. You sat silently on Jason’s bed while he walked around, changing, cleaning up, distracting himself. He finally sat down next to you when he heard your weight shift.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“Okay.”

You told him about the dream, more like nightmare that you had when you had fallen asleep. Luthor had you in his grasp again, chanting the words that would put you under his command. He prodded that you would never see the team again, never see Jason again, and this time he’d inject enough serum for you to not even remember your own name. It had felt so real, and you assume it must’ve triggered something in your body that made you sleep walk.

You cried as you told him. You worried for yourself, for the team; you questioned if you were a danger to yourself, to him, to his family, your family. He held you tightly, listening and thinking to himself, wondering if there was anything he could do to make your life easier, to take all your pain away. You feel sudden fear of how Bruce will react, no way he’ll let you stay with Jason with you sleep walking.

“I think I should sleep in one of the suit capsules in the cave tonight.”

“No, what the hell, no. That’s not happening.” Jason immediately retorted.

“Jason, listen, what happened tonight was lucky. Do you get that? It was lucky. I could’ve hurt someone, I could’ve killed someone, I could’ve- what if you- what if I-“ You lost your words, unable to fathom the possibility of you injuring Jason let alone killing him.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

You both walked down to the cave, Jason told Bruce you were on your way and that this would be your solution until they were able to run more tests on the remnants of the serum in your blood. You gave Jason a quick kiss before stepping into an empty suit capsule, the air pockets at the top making it breathable, but still small. Jason held his breath when he saw you step into it, flashbacks of having to watch the gas put you to sleep coming back to him. His breathing got faster, his heartbeat raced quicker. No. No. Keep it together. Keep it together.

“You know, handsome, it’d be rude not to stare when your favorite person ever is literally on display.” You teased.

“Right, because it’s not like I stare all the time anyway.” He laughed.

You were both clearly masking your fear for what was to come, and maybe it would be distrastrous, but for now, Jason had you back, and that was more than enough for him.

#jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd #Jason todd x female reader #titans x reader #red hood

258 notes · View notes

nibordereht · 11 months

Text

The good brother | Tim Drake & Dick Grayson

Tim gets into a fight and then pierces his own ears. For some reason, that leads him to come out of the closet with his older brother.

✧.

Tim banged the spoon against the kitchen island and exhaled in exasperation.

"You're kidding," he suggested.

"Tim, listen to me, all I'm saying is that there is no need for you to engage in this behavior. I understand that it's Bruce's duty to talk about this with you, but I'm just trying to help you and save you an argument when he gets back...", Dick explained, with all the patience in the world and fiddling with the cereal on his plate. "We know you don't want to go to school, but it's only a few months, you've been through worse than having to study a little after so many years. You don't have to look to get expelled..."

"You're kidding," Tim sentenced. His own cereal no longer looked as appetizing as it had minutes before. He suddenly felt nauseous. "Dick, I'm not trying to get myself expelled. Agh, I don't know what they told you, but it's a misunderstanding... Shit, I wish Jason had gone in your place."

That seemed to stir something in Dick, who frowned and let his spoon slip from his hand.

"Oh, yeah? Right, because Jason would be very condescending if your principal called to say you beat up a student. Or since when are you guys that close?"

"For God's sake, Dick, that's not what this is about!" exclaimed Tim, bewildered. What the hell was wrong with his brother to be being so jealously childish? "Aren't you the one who keeps talking about family bonding? Shouldn't you be glad I'm getting along with Jason?"

Dick sighed and took a seat on the stool across from Tim.

"I-, yes, Tim, I'm glad. I just wish you didn't need to get away from one person to get along with another."

Tim felt his stomach contract as he came close to retching, luckily he managed to disguise it. He patted his chest once and then turned away from his breakfast, unable to continue eating. He wanted to tell his brother he was projecting, like when you walked away from me to get along with Damian, he wished he could add.

Instead, he said:

"That's not the point, Dick. What the hell, seriously, what's the matter with you today?"

"I'm sorry, Timmy, but you can't blame me for being appalled. Not after having to go to a meeting with your principal because you beat up a defenseless civilian for no reason or you telling me that you would have preferred Jason, of all people, to show up as your proxy, as if you didn't care if he went and made a fuss."

Tim pursed his lips and stared at the floor, he pushed himself away from the table and made the first move to stand up.

"First of all, I know how Jay is, but maybe you should stop and think for a second about how he would feel if he heard you have so little faith in him over something so trivial. Secondly, you could at least ask me why I hit him before you assume I didn't have a reason, don't you think?"

"Tim, I'm just trying to save you a hard time, better tell Bruce we talked this over already before he scolds you himself and decides to, I don't know, bench you. Your principal said you didn't want to explain yourself, what do you want me to believe if you won't even stand up for yourself? I know how good you are at self-punishment, little brother. I wouldn't be surprised if you felt you deserved your principal's scolding for what you did without even trying to defend yourself, but keeping secrets from us? If you did something I'd like to find out from you rather than, from your school, I thought you trusted me?"

Without standing and still staring at his shoes, his head between his outstretched arms, Tim bit his lower lip until it ached and he was sure he had broken the thinnest of skin. He squeezed his eyelids tightly shut and rocked his head.

"Do you listen to yourself? Maybe I have a reason for not wanting to justify myself in front of that decrepit old man, can't I?" he snorted, and soon felt his cereal want to slip down his throat again. "If you want... if you want me to trust you like the old days, maybe you have to earn it... again...", his voice wilted at last and he rose quickly from his chair. "I have nothing more to say."

He ran up to her room and into the bathroom to the side of her, stamping his knees hard on the floor and hugging the toilet to vomit.

His breakfast escaped with ease. Leaving all the anger he felt to be replaced by exhaustion.

He repeated to himself that it would be okay, after all it wasn't the first time Dick didn't want to hear it.

✧.

There was a time when Tim felt miserable. Everything around him seemed to fall apart. His family, his team; his whole life. The love of his life was gone, dead; his father was dead, gone. No one believed in him except an obsessive megalomaniac and the older brother he most admired had turned his back on him.

Tim hated his life. If he was honest with himself, he had hated it since he was a little boy, when he became accustomed to material things as tokens of affection, to a cold and lifeless house and later to a mentor who often reminded him that he was unwanted.

Tim hated himself. From the moment he convinced himself that he was selfish because there was hot food on his table, albeit in a boarding school; a mother who looked at him with love, even if she was not by his side every day; a teacher who became his replacement father who taught him to defend himself against the worst adversities in the world, even if against his will at first.

However, there was a light in his path. Something he had never had before: a big brother. A guide in adolescence, a backup in the world of heroes, a friend to hang out with and unconditional love along with great loyalty. He had a net to catch him when he fell. Literally.

Then that vanished. It was just words, a few actions, wrong choices and determined eyes, that drove him away. Strong choices he couldn't deal with.

Dick Grayson had not chosen him over others as he had always believed he would. As he had once chosen him over the orders of his own father and mentor. Dick Grayson had made the decision to protect another younger brother even when Tim was at his worst. And Tim still couldn't get over it.

He couldn't understand. What had he done wrong? Where had he gone wrong? Why did no one ever choose him?

Tim wanted to hate Dick Grayson.

Tim could not.

✧.

Dick had screwed up many times. Especially with Tim. Well, actually he had screwed things up many times with his friends, his father and his girlfriend, but mostly with his brothers. He'd once failed Jason by turning him down, then he'd failed Tim by passing him along, taking away everything he cared about at the worst time while convincing himself that you always had to choose the greater good over any one person. He believed that by choosing Damian he was saving lives without wanting to accept the collateral damage that would be Tim.

He was not at all remorseful. He loved his three brothers equally. He made tough decisions that only the man behind the dark knight's cowl could make. Now however, he was no longer Batman. He was just Dick Grayson again, the man behind the Nightwing mask. Big brother, not surrogate father. Not mentor, but friend. And he had to get his little brother back.

"Tim?" he knocked on his brother's bedroom door. No one answered. "Little brother? I know you're mad at me, but it'll be worse if we avoid the problem..."

It was strange that they did not go around the problem and instead confronted it when it came to family. Bats had bad habits stemming from the man who had raised them. Luckily, Dick's best friend had been raised as a bat herself and had a father who had taught her a different way than the Waynes.

Barbara counseled him on the phone and through communications during the patrol. And by counseling, Dick meant she yelled at him a little and scolded him. He deserved it, he had to admit. Barbara had learned the hard way the difficulties of mentoring after making blunders with Cassandra and less bad ones with Stephanie, but never so bad as to take them on a trip around the world believing themselves rejected and helpless. So Dick had decided to listen to her.

He and Tim needed to talk, urgently.

"Tim, come on, do it for me...please?" No answer again, but he heard a loud hissing sound from the other side of the door. "Tim?"

This time, Dick couldn't stand it any longer and decided to trespass on his little brother's privacy, ready to take the consequences.

"Shit, it's bleeding...", Tim's voice sounded from the bedroom bathroom.

Before, when he had just moved into the manor, Tim used to sleep in Dick's old room, which he himself had given to his younger brother. However, over the years, when Damian had just joined the family, Tim had opted for a larger one, one of the few that included an indoor bathroom, usually used by visitors in the older Wayne family days. Dick hadn't been affected, he too would have made that choice growing up, but he left home before deciding he needed more space in his own home rather than out of town.

"Tim, what's going on, why are you bleeding?" asked Dick, striding to the bathroom. His eyes met Tim's, who was looking at him in fright as he held a cotton ball to his ear.

"Dick? Why did you come in?"

"I wanted to talk to you... What's going on, why did you cut off your ear?"

His lip pulled upward, tempted to make a joke about Van Gogh. His concern won out.

"I didn't cut myself, I..." Dick watched as his brother swallowed spittle. "Nothing...?"

"Tim, I'm looking at you, what happened to you?"

Tim clicked his tongue. His older brother's brow furrowed and he folded his arms. Now somewhat annoyed.

"What happened, Timothy."

"What are you, Janet Drake?" scoffed the younger boy.

"No. I'm your older brother and I'm worried about you, can you explain to me what you were doing?"

"Now you're interested in listening to me? You're a hypocrite," Tim mumbled.

Dick ignored him when he noticed a glint in the boy's non-bleeding ear. The silver earring glowed in the lamplight and reflected in the mirror. Oh, by the gods. Dick groaned.

"Did you pierce your ear?" Tim frowned.

"No."

"You pierced both your ears," Dick corrected himself.

He wanted to die. This was going to be a disaster, worse than when he himself had tried to make a single earring to be fashionable next to his mullet. Bad times. Bruce was going to kill Tim and somehow the blame was going to fall on Dick because his younger brothers somehow always managed to make that happen.

Rule number four hundred and fifty-three, or something like that, no recognizable markings, no accessories. Nothing that could be held against you. Mullet, long hair? Despite what the girls thought, it was easy to grab during a fight. Same with earrings, if they didn't fall out they could still slit your ear with a simple tug. Tattoos? Visible or not, in a kidnapping they could help reveal their secret identities. That among other things.

All that according to Batman, of course.

Jason didn't give a shit, so said the tattoo on his arm. Dick had his rebellious age and his hair grew long enough to allow him to put it in a ponytail. Stephanie had a cape that covered her hair and used it as an excuse. And they all really liked to get in Batman's face.

Except Tim. He was the good guy in the story. The obedient boy.

The boy had finally entered his rebellious age and it was probably Dick's fault. No, it definitely was. He had encouraged him with his bad decisions to run away from home and travel the world, albeit for good reason. If he was getting horned after their little fight, just for scolding him a little, did that mean it was his fault too? On the other hand, Tim was acting weird, it wasn't like him to beat up kids at school and not want to explain himself to the authorities. Maybe he was just entering late adolescence.

Jeez, he should have let Bruce tell him off directly even though he would have ended up benching him. All for wanting to help his little brother. He was just being nosy.

"T? Are you still there?" Dick recognized Conner's voice from Tim's phone on the side of the sink.

"I'll call you back, Kon," and he quickly cut off, holding the absorbent cotton with one hand and putting the phone away with the other. His ear was no longer bleeding, so he threw the cotton in the trash and folded his arms. Now two earrings glistened in the artificial light in the bathroom.

Dick inhaled deeply.

"Listen, Tim, I don't want to keep butting in, but I want you to understand that I'm trying to help you. What do you think Bruce will say about all this? First you hit your partner, you refuse to talk to your principal, and then you put earrings in your ears, which I'm sure will be a problem at school and..."

"I don't even want to go to fucking school, what do I care what they think!" shouted Tim, his jaw clenched and his brow furiously furrowed.

Dick grimaced. He'd heard that one before, more times than he could count.

"Tim," he sighed.

"No, Tim nothing. Stop patronizing me, Dick! I'm practically an adult, even though they'd have me believe otherwise. I've done and seen more than anyone my age, I've saved your life, by the gods, and Bruce's too! I've seen people die in my arms! I'm not going to let them keep treating me like a baby off the field, I'm doing everything they ask me to do, damn it, then why won't anyone listen to me!"

"Tim, if this is about the school..."

"No, Dick, it's not! It's because you don't want to listen, because you keep accusing me of not knowing, not understanding and not wanting to listen when it's all of you who ignore me! I hate school, I hate being here! And sometimes I feel like I hate you!"

Before Dick could add anything above the initial shock, Tim had already left his room. It was the first time Dick had ever heard Tim talk as much as someone his own age. It was too shocking to even react. Gods, how he wished he had his dad here instead of with the stupid Justice League.

"Good talk," Dick muttered. "Shit, I'm an idiot." But he didn't know where he'd gone wrong.

Was it just Tim's rebellious age or was Dick still screwing him up as a big brother?

✧.

Tim's principal had called again. Luckily, Tim's earrings were not involved. As bad luck would have it, Dick was the only one available for the meeting and he acted as Tim's proxy most of the time anyway. Nevertheless, he didn't feel like going to listen to a decrepit old man complain about teenagers or fight with his younger brother without resolving their earlier conflict.

"Mr. Wayne," the older man greeted. Dick gave him a gala smile and shook his hand. Tim was sitting next to him with his arms crossed and his lip swollen and slightly purple. He, too, had a cut on his eyebrow and a slightly scratched cheek.

"Grayson-Wayne, please. I respect my origins and my upbringing at the same time," he explained charismatically. He was so tired, though. First he was going through meetings about Damian's bad behavior, albeit at another school, while Bruce was supposedly dead, and now he had to deal with his other younger brother who was apparently going through his rebellious age. One part of him was saying "finally!" but the other was sulking that his father should be dealing with this and not him.

"Of course. Mr. Grayson-Wayne, then, it's a pity we have to meet again under these circumstances, but your... pupil, he keeps getting into trouble. This time he hit one of our most outstanding athletes. The poor boy sprained his ankle due to a bad fall during his fight and now he won't be able to participate in the interscholastic basketball tournament," he said raising an eyebrow in disgust. "He will understand that his actions must be punished."

Dick sighed.

"I understand, sir, however, I would like to understand why this happened."

"Sure, we have Nathan's version of events, but Timothy still refuses to explain why he hit him in the first place..."

"I didn't hit him first!" exploded Tim. Dick was amazed, it was rare for his brother to reply in exasperation or be so quick to get carried away with his emotions. He was the analytical one, Jason the emotional one; Dick was both. The principal and Dick watched him waiting for the rest of his argument, but Tim sank back in his seat. "He... I was just talking to Conner and he... plus Jason said I had to defend myself!"

Dick snorted.

"Jason again? What, were the earrings his idea too or is it just you drawing attention to yourself, Timmy? Please, just explain..."

"Jason, your brother? What about Connor? Who is Connor and what does he have to do with any of this, Mr. Wayne? I don't remember any Connor at the school..." Spoke the older man over Dick.

The noise was annoying and Tim bit his injured lip making it bleed.

"Conner," Tim muttered, but did not respond.

"And if this is a fight on behalf of your friend, I'd like a better explanation, young man, or is this a matter of more than friends?" the director added in a serious tone.

Tim gritted his teeth. Dick looked at the director in amazement. How and why on earth did he come to that conclusion.

"Excuse me, but I don't think that...", Dick tried to accentuate.

"Forgive me, Mr. Grayson-Wayne, but I can't help but feel that this is all suspicious. I can't allow Mr. Drake-Wayne to maintain this aggressive behavior, plus with all these rumors circulating, I can't help but think this has to do with more than mere bravado..."

Tim turned white, Dick shared the nausea he saw coming in his brother.

"What rumors are you referring to?"

The director ignored Dick's question and stared at Timothy.

"Timothy, are you planning on giving us an answer? Did you get into a fight just because or are you being harassed? Because if this is about your sexuality, we can..."

But Tim ran off.

Dick's mind went blank.

No. Tim was so cheerful and perceptive, he was good-natured and made friends with everyone. No. Tim was so cheerful and perceptive, he was good-natured and made friends with everyone. Why would anyone harass him? And what did his sexuality have to do with anything? It all came at once, but Dick was a detective.

Oh, shit.

✧.

Tim ran.

Shit, that's why he wanted Jason to go to his appointments with the director. He understood, he would help him. He already knew his secret, he wouldn't judge. He needed to talk to him, to Conner, to whoever. He just needed to get away. Get out of school, out of Gotham, anywhere but with that damn old man who analyzed him and was too aware of what was going on in his school, up to date with every rumor, including the ones that said Tim was gay and he was being bullied for it, until he couldn't stand it anymore and fought back, like his older brother had suggested months before, like his boyfriend had offered to do for him. Away from Dick, who would no longer listen to him. Who would no longer understand him. From whom he wanted attention, but wasn't getting it as he wished.

Tim refused to cry. He felt ridiculous, behaving like a child, back to yelling at Dick as if he was to blame for everything, interjecting his body so that his brother would finally pay attention to him like in the old days.

He missed his big brother. Jason was cool, but maybe too cool. He wanted the brother who coddled him and made him feel warm, the one he could tell his most embarrassing secrets to and knew he wouldn't use them as blackmail. He wanted Dick Grayson back in his life, but he was only succeeding in pushing him away.

"Oh, Drake," someone spat behind him, just as he rested from his flight to the side of the gym, where he was sure Dick wouldn't find him quickly, at least the principal would slow him down with some stupid unnecessary chatter. Or who knows, maybe he'd bring him out of the closet with his older brother. Although he had practically just suggested it in front of a detective, which was the same thing. "You dared to show up, you piece of shit. Have you been expelled yet for what you did to me?"

Tim held his breath for three seconds to calm down and then turned to look at Nathan.

"You fell down, asshole. How it's my fault."

Nathan snorted.

"I can sue you for assault, you son of a bitch."

That was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard said. And his classmate loved to say idiotic things, especially about Tim.

"Give it a try. I'll be waiting for you."

Luckily for him, the boy's foot was bandaged with a thousand wraps of gauze and his body as sore as Tim's. He couldn't hit him, and Tim was already fighting back. He was holding back a lot, but he was no longer letting himself look like the poor gay nerd who was bullied at school.

"You fucking faggot!" snarled Nathan, clearly helpless at not being in a position to physically counterattack. "I'll make you sorry!"

"I've heard that so many times," snorted Dick Grayson in all his glory, crossing his arms from beside Tim and Nathan.

Tim's heart pounded hard in his chest. He wanted to cry with relief.

Nathan bit his lip and panicked, he seemed to think it for a moment, then walked silently back to the gym. Two against one and him injured, he wasn't that dumb apparently.

"Whew, that was too easy," Dick sighed. "I didn't want to hit a fifteen-year-old."

"Eighteen, bro. He's eighteen."

Dick dismissed it with his hand.

"It's all the same, you're still twelve."

Tim smiled and in a second was in Dick's arms. He sobbed a little without shedding tears.

"Sorry," he murmured against his older brother's chest. "And thank you."

"No," Dick sighed again for the umpteenth time and squeezed the boy in his arms. "You forgive me. I should have asked you to explain before I assumed." They broke the embrace, but were still close to each other. "Are they really bullying you, Tim? I'm sorry, but I heard what he said to you and... you know, I can put two and two together."

This was not how Tim wanted to come out of the closet. Or reveal that he was being bullied at school. Like, ever.

Tim wiped his wet eyes.

"Kon and I...," he slurped the snot out of his mouth.

"You don't need to tell me, little brother," Dick whispered.

"But I want to, Dick! I wanted, and I want, to tell you, but you weren't listening to me again."

Dick's heart shrank. It was true, he had gotten himself into this trust problem. He had shown Tim that he had other priorities, he hadn't let his little brother talk and had raised his voice to him without letting him answer. He loved Damian, but he had acted so much like a father to him that he had almost forgotten to be a big brother.

He was there to listen to his brother and support him, not to judge his decisions and try to guide him. They were to make mistakes together and let Bruce scold them. Laugh at their mistakes, repeat them because they were young and should learn from them. They had to have fun together, not tense the room every time they got together, avoid their stares and fighting when they tried to converse.

Dick should have been the one to suggest piercing his ears (because he looked great with rings!) instead of freaking out about it because it wasn't like his brother. They should joke about getting matching tattoos and helping him run away from home to party with his, apparently, boyfriend. Listen to him complain about school instead of scolding him for how he behaved in school.

Dick failed as a big brother since he tried to behave like a father, but his father had returned and it was time to get back on par with his little brothers.

"It's okay, Tim. Talk. I'll listen to you."

✧.

Tim felt like it had been a thousand years since he last drank a milkshake together with Dick. He was nothing short of exploding with excitement to spend time with his brother again, just the two of them as civilians, pretending they were normal brothers and spending time together while gossiping about their friends, i.e., other superheroes.

"Chocolate and marshmallows is not a milkshake, it's like, cold hot chocolate or something," Dick explained as he set Tim's glass in front of him and took a sip of his own milkshake.

"Yours has popcorn on it, Dick, you can't judge me."

"I guess."

Tim didn't know where to start, there was so much he wanted to vent to his big brother about that he didn't know where to begin. He wanted to yell at him, he wanted to hug him, cry and hit him, apologize and thank him.

Dick wins him.

"Can you let me get started?" quietly asked Dick, after downing his milkshake by half.

Tim nodded, trying to concentrate on his drink instead of the person in front of him.

"Look, I want to start by apologizing. I've been doing a lot of thinking and I never apologized for everything I implied while Bruce was, well, missing. I want to make something clear, Timmy. You should never let people pressure you to do things you don't want to do; not to confess to liking someone, not to accomplish missions you don't agree with, not to grow up when you're not ready and leave a stage you haven't outgrown," Tim felt his eyes getting wet, but he took a long sip of his milkshake and popped a marshmallow in his mouth, swallowing the urge to cry with that. "I shouldn't have taken Robin away from you like I did, Tim. I should have talked to you... You're my equal, gods, you're my brother, and even the stupid cowl didn't have to change that. I wanted you to be like Nightwing and Batgirl are to Batman, independent allies who don't dance to his tune; I wanted you to be more than my sidekick, but I did everything wrong. I'm sorry for that. I'm really sorry about that. And I don't think you did everything you did out of spite, I'm grateful you brought our dad back. I never thanked you either. I'm proud of you, little brother, and that you trusted me to catch you despite how badly I failed you."

Tim sniffled through his snot and let a tear fall, wiped it away quickly and laughed a watery laugh.

"I love you, Dick," he sobbed.

"Aw, I love you too, little brother. You're part of the best part of my life."

"Sorry for being a spoiled brat," Tim insisted.

"If I have to, I forgive you. Anyway, the earrings look great on you," he laughed. "And, if you'd told me you were being picked on, I'd have gone to bully those guys a lot sooner. Nightwing may be a hero first, but Dick Grayson is a loving brother before anything else."

Tim wiped the remnants of mucus on his lip with his sleeve and laughed again. Gods, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so light next to Dick, not afraid of Damian coming along and hogging him or feeling angry at his brother's condescension. He was happy.

"I was so mad at you, I swear," Tim admitted. "I thought you wrote me off as a brat in his rebellious age and nothing more, unhappy with everything and everyone. I guess we just had to communicate, but gods, that's so hard in this family."

"It's okay, I guess I'm a little hard-headed too. Kori says it all the time, also that I'm a bit dramatic."

"A little? Sometimes I think you didn't tell me about Damian taking Robin just to make it more shocking on purpose."

Dick grimaced uncomfortably and finished drinking his milkshake.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that too. I think it was great for Damian to be Robin, but I forgot that it gave life to you as well. I should have planned it better. Although I think, now more than ever, little brother, maybe the time has come for you to find your own hero, hasn't it?"

"Mm," Tim sighed. "Yes. Anyway, I couldn't be Robin forever. Who I am is already a problem for another day. Maybe by the time I graduate. If I do graduate this time..."

"Don't talk nonsense," Dick rolled his eyes. "Third time's the charm."

There was something Tim didn't know how to bring up. It was easy with Jason, he manipulated the situation and confessed before Tim, but everything was different with Dick. Despite what the rumors said, he was sure that Dick was straight enough that he didn't quite understand Tim, after all, he had seen him talk to Kori and he was either too much in love or too straight; unlike Jason, who was very gay, especially after coming out to his younger brother; he was the tough guy but soft on the inside, very different from the outgoing lover that Dick was.

He did not know the extent of his older brother's good perception and intuition. "So...," Dick began. He snapped Tim out of his own thoughts. "Connor."

"Ugh, I hate that old man," Tim growled. Somehow, he felt more comfortable now. "I..." He knew Dick had told him he shouldn't tell him if he didn't want to, but he really wanted to. He just didn't know how. Dick's hopeful look encouraged him without pressuring him. "Conner is my best friend, like Wally and you," his brother nodded and waited. "But I love him like you love Kori," Tim said in a whisper. He swallowed audibly and exhaled all the air he'd been holding during his statement.

Gods, was that so hard?

"Then you must love him very much." Dick smiled so much that his eyes disappeared and his face flushed.

Tim smiled back and began swinging his feet under the reserved seat.

"Yes... Yes. I love Kon very much."

"And you are...?"

"Am I?" asked Tim curiously.

"Uhm, are you bi or...? I mean, you dated Steph and Ariana, but..."

"Oh."

Good. Tim had thought about it a lot actually. He loved Ariana so much, she was his first love, she was sweet, very pretty and she was fucking in love with him. He wasn't in love with her though. He loved her, he just didn't love her back enough to call it a mutual romance. Similar with Stephanie, just a little hotter... He loved her a ton, loved her as a best friend, however, he wasn't sexually attracted to her. And he tried so hard to convince himself that he was attracted to her, even though she was the one who forced the relationship a bit at first, because he grew to love her and wanted to have her around in almost every way. He just didn't... He couldn't reciprocate her in everything she wanted. In the end, not in love either.

But Conner was a lifeline he wanted to hold on to. He wanted to touch him, kiss him, love him, laugh with him, hold his hand and never let go. He wanted a future together, a forever.

"I... I think I'm gay, Dickie."

Then he began to laugh. Dick followed him.

"Point for Jay, I guess," he snorted. "He...?"

"Well, yeah. He knows, I'm sorry."

"No wonder they were so close, conspiring against me," Dick snorted.

"Wait, he told you?"

"Tell me what, that he's gay? No, no. It's more my gut... and his obvious crush on Roy when we were young, before the Joker and all that, you know. Unless he's bisexual or something else and I'm not aware of it. I doubt he's aroace, if you ask me: too much of a crush and romantic."

"Gods, let's not discuss their sexuality, please, ew." Dick's smile widened maniacally.

Oh. So Dick didn't know Roy and Jason were together. Interesting.

"By the way, are you as straight as you look?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow and topping off his chocolate milkshake.

"Well, I had a stage of questioning whether I liked Wally, but I think it was because we got along too well and he reminded me a bit of Barbara. Of course, then there was Kori and my world was turned upside down by one girl," he admitted proudly. "Sorry, little brother, but Richard Grayson-Wayne is straight and cis. Don't be grossed out by me, please. Heterophobia and all that," he joked.

"You were already grossing me out anyway," Tim guffawed. He hoped no one, who didn't understand the sarcasm, heard them, besides the waitress who had just passed them and let out a small chuckle.

Finally Tim could breathe in peace. No more nausea, no more tears, no more frustration and helplessness. He could now talk to his brother like in the old days. At least for now.

"By the way, Dick, have you actually tried weed?"

Uh. Dick was in trouble.

59 notes · View notes

15minlatewithbatbucks · 5 months

Text

no choice but to love you pt. 11

AO3 Link (a little behind, but better edited)

“Normal schools have summer break, Bruce.”

Bruce hummed at Jason’s greeting, shuffling papers around his desk with his free hand. There were a number of budget reports that technically needed his signature even if he only played a minor role on the board. He had no intention of signing them until Thursday when Lucius would be hovering over his shoulder to explain them.

“Normal schools don’t let their students take off weeks at a time to go on lavish vacations. Normal schools care when students come back with strange, unlucky skiing injuries. I would be more than happy to transfer you.”

“Normal school is for chumps,” Jason admitted begrudgingly, hearing the subtle threat for what it was: he could have his summer break or he could continue running around Gotham at night. Bruce would miss having a partner, but it would be safer by far.

“Glad we agree. Do you have plans after school today?” he asked, lifting a tray on his desk and cleverly shuffling the reports under it with his elbow.

“I’ve got a hot date, actually.”

“Oh? Any author I would know?”

“Fuck off,” Jason said. “Yeah, you would know them. Somehow you’ve read like everything in the world.”

“Not everything,” he defended. “I was talking with Janet Drake earlier and-”

“How’s the new baby?”

“And we talked about doing something for dinner together so that you can meet Tim.”

“Oh, okay. You want me to be the tester kid to see if your whoopsie baby will fit in, got it,” Jason said and Bruce choked as he went for another sip of coffee. As he spluttered, Jason continued, “I mean I’m not going to turn down actual food. Your lettuce sandwiches are worse than Alfie’s cucumber sandwiches.”

“They were supposed to be turkey.”

“Then maybe you should have forgotten the turkey,” he advised. “Dickie would probably be a better choice, but I guess he’d be working, right?”

“He’s working, yes,” Bruce cleared his throat. “But his opinion matters a little less right now since he doesn’t live in the manor.”

“Would you say that in this matter Dick doesn’t know dick?” Jason asked, a smile obvious in his voice. Bruce rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t force back a smile of his own.

“Swear jar.”

“It’s his name, Bruce!”

“Only in the first case and we both know it. Don’t make me tell Alfred,” Bruce said, aiming for stern and missing.

“Man, your house is a nightmare and I’m definitely gonna tell Tiny Tim,” Jason threatened. “I’m down to meet him, but I get to pick where.”

“I’m amenable to your terms. Where did you want to go?” Bruce asked, remembering to finally send Janet the directions.

“I demand Louie’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, following up with a text about how Jason couldn’t wait to meet Tim. Janet didn’t respond immediately, so hopefully she managed to get Tim to take a nap.

“You knew I was going to say Louie’s, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” Bruce hummed. “But, hey – Tim told me that his favorite hero is Robin.”

After a beat of silence, Jason asked, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well shit, old man.” Jason sounded bashful. “You should have led with that. I need to make a stop at the manor before dinner now.”

#jason todd #bruce wayne #my writing tag #fic: no choice but to love you

21 notes · View notes

samgirl98 · 1 year

Text

Cain and Abel Wept 14/?

Prev | Next

Special thanks to Kuraichi on AO3 for letting me know of the phrase 'bitch the pot.'

A lot of exposition in this chapter, but don't worry; it comes with slides!

Bruce watched as all his children blearily entered the parlor. They all sat in their usual places. Bruce lingered half a second on Damian, Dick, and Tim. They didn’t seem to notice his scrutiny. Hmm, he would have to do a refresher course on situational awareness.

Bruce waited for the kids to get comfortable before talking, “Before I begin, is there anything anyone wants to confess?”

Tim and Dick squirmed a bit but said nothing. Surprisingly, Jason did.

“Don’t know if Danny mentioned this to you already, but I saw Talia earlier.”

Damian balled his fists at the mention of Talia, and the rest of his children tensed.

“Do you know what she wanted,” Stephanie asked.

“She wanted to know where Danny was in Gotham and why he was here. I didn’t tell her and called Danny as soon as I got a bit of distance away from her.”

Bruce thought for a moment, “Danny contacted me earlier about the situation. I’m already looking into it.”

Bruce let silence reign for a moment before talking again, “Anyone else?”

Everyone stayed silent. Bruce sighed in disappointment.

“Dick,” his eldest looked at him, surprised, “you want to explain what you were doing last night?”

Damian turned to look at Dick with a severe frown on his face, “Richard,” he barked out, “What did you do?”

“I just wanted to make sure they were safe!” Dick defended himself while putting his hands up in surrender, “How was I supposed to know she knew I was going to be there?”

“Grayson,” Dick flinched at Damian saying his surname, “how could you? What if you had jeopardized the little progress I had made?”

Damian frowned, “That’s what Danny meant when he said not to be too angry at them.

Damian’s frown deepened, “Wait, he said ‘them.’ Which other of you degenerates bothered my brother?”

Tim squirmed. Damian immediately zeroed in on the action, “Drake, I’m about to finish what I started when I first got here.”

“Okay, enough. No one is attacking anyone. Dick,” his eldest, “I expected better from you and Tim, don’t spy on people. Especially people I told you to leave alone because we are trying to gain their trust to enter the family.”

“Oh, leave me alone, B. You’re being a hypocrite; I learned to spy on people from you,” Tim yelled, defending himself. “Plus, I know for a fact that you spy on us and know where we are 24/7. Hell, you literally sow trackers into our suits and clothing!”

“Yeah, how come you can do those things to us, but we get yelled at for ensuring the safety of our newest family members!”

Damian punched Dick and Tim in their arms.

“Ow, what was that for, baby bat,” Dick asked, sounding betrayed. Tim grumbled as he rubbed his new bruise.

“Let me and Jason deal with my brother; you idiots stay out of it.”

Bruce sighed, “I know I haven’t exactly given the best example in respecting other people’s privacy,” all his children snorted.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Duke murmured. Bruce ignored the feeling of betrayal from having his newest child call him out.

“But this is different. We’re used to expressing our love by invading each other’s privacy, but Danny and the Fentons aren’t used to that and feel it’s an attack on them. They come from a different background that isn’t only from human culture but ghost culture.”

Bruce let his children digest what he said.

“I understand I am not the best person to lecture you, which is why I brought an expert.”

All his kids groaned.

“Don’t tell me it’s that British drunkard,” Damian asked.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here either,” Constantine said as he walked in with a projector, “But I don’t want you nosy Bats to accidentally start a war with the Infinite Realms because you can’t keep your nose out of their business, so here I am.”

Alfred came in with snacks and tea (coffee for Tim). He turned to Constantine and looked at him with an expression of disapproval.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Constantine?”

“I don’t suppose you can get me some booze, now, Jeeves?”

Alfred frowned.

“Fine, in that case,” Constantine got a China cup, “bitch the pot for me, old chap, this is going to be a headache.”

Everyone gaped at Constantine, unbelieving that the man had the gall to curse toward Alfred. Alfred raised an eyebrow, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard that expression, sir.”

He poured the tea for Constantine, “May I remind you that you are in my house. Therefore, do not disrespect me.”

Constantine gulped at Alfred’s prolonged stare. Now he knew where Batman got his glare from.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” the butler stood in a corner as the other family members looked amused. Never mess with Alfred.

“Right, well, now that everyone’s settled, I’ll begin my presentation.”

Constantine took a sip of tea and then looked at the cup as if it had the secret of the universe.

“Damn, this is the best cuppa I’ve ever had, Alfred.”

“Thank you, sir. I suggest you continue with your presentation. I imagine you would rather not spend more time with us than you have to?”

Constantine knew when he was being chased out. Damn, was the butler scary.

“Yes, well,” Bruce had set up the projector and loaded the plainest-looking slides he had ever seen on the computer.

“Listen up, Batbrats, today, I’m going to teach you and Daddy Bats not to insult and possibly start an interdimensional war accidentally.”

The youngest bat took out a notebook from God knew where and was poised to take notes. Good to know that at least one of them will pay attention. (John noticed Bruce was typing away, too.)

Constantine clicked to the next slide.

“First most important rule: NEVER ask a ghost how they died. It’s like asking a person what underwear they’re wearing but worse.”

Everyone turned to look at Bruce. John sighed; of course, of course, they had broken the most sacred rule already. And it had to be from the father of all the Bats. Why did John even bother?

“Second most important rule: do not enter their territory, or haunt as they call it, without permission. They will fight you, and you’ll only have yourselves to blame if you get your asses handed to you.”

This time they all turned to look at the eldest sibling. Constantine felt a migraine developing. He wanted a cigarette, but the butler's glare made him rethink his decision.

“So, Dick,” one of the middle ones asked; he had a white streak and reeked of death, “did you get your ass handed to you?”

“No,” he answered defensively while crossing his arms. Ha, he had.

“It would serve him right if he did get defeated,” the youngest said while writing notes. Dick looked betrayed.

“Baby bat, how could you?”

Baby bat (?) (John should probably learn their names) glared at Dick and stared at Constantine as if giving him permission to continue.

“The next two go together, in a way. Do not start a fight with a ghost unless you’re confident you’re gonna win. They love to fight; it’s in their nature, especially since they’re dead they have few other options to settle arguments. If you start a fight with one or they start a fight with you, for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT HOLD BACK! They will think you’re insulting them, which can worsen things.”

“Do not go after their family members,” he was interrupted by one that looked as if he needed to sleep for a month and stank of coffee, “Why do you have that twice?”

“You’re a bat; I thought you bats were supposed to be smart.” The kid slumped in his seat while his siblings snickered.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but ghosts are very territorial. They will start fights over their obsessions, haunts, and their family. They go feral if they feel anyone of their kin is in danger, whether they are blood-related or not.”

“From what I could come up in the little notes I could find, many of these rules also bleed over to liminal people.”

The same kid asked, “What’s a liminal?”

“A person who has been touched by death. The more exposure to death, the more abilities they get. I don’t know the full extent, but it ranges from being able to see the dead, talk to them, super hearing, to other abilities like empathy and minor mind reading.”

“The fuck does ‘minor mind reading’ even mean,” a blond girl asked. She was ignored.

“You think Jazz is liminal, and that’s why she knew I was there,” Dick asked.

“Oh, most definitely,” John answered once more, wishing for a cigarette. All this exposition bullshit was getting to him. “I popped over to Amity, and everyone, and I mean everyone, has been touched by death. The whole town reeks of it.”

The bats were quiet as they digested that new tidbit.

“They said I was a revenant,” skunk head said, “what does that mean for me?”

“Aww, so that’s why you stink of death, skunk head.”

“Excuse me? My name is Jason, and I don’t stink!”

“The boy doth protest too much,” John murmured, “It means you died for a long period of time and were brought back, probably with some anger issues and stronger. Maybe you noticed you heal quicker. You’re part of the living dead. Congrats.”

“Wait—” John went to the next slide before the kid could ask another question.

If a ghost asks you to spar: say yes. It’s how they greet each other, and if you think you can’t fight with them, just let them know you are willing to compete with them some other way. Maybe a game or something; I don’t know.”

The youngest was furiously taking notes, and then he raised his hand. John sighed, “Yes?”

“Is it proper if I start a spar with him, or should I wait for them to start one with me?”

John was about to take a puff of a cigarette when he remembered he couldn’t smoke in the fancy mansion. He took a sip of tea instead; damn, but was that good.

“It depends if you’re in their haunt or not. If you’re in their haunt, wait for them to engage. If they’re in your haunt, it’s up to you if you want to spar or compete in some other way.”

More notes were taken down.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but many cultures are about offering food to the dead. There’s a reason for that; the dead love to eat. If you’re in their haunt, bring food. It makes them feel better.”

Skunk head Jason perked at that tidbit.

“If you spar with a ghost and they ask you to come back to spar again, take it as a compliment. That means they think you’re strong, and they enjoyed fighting with you.”

This time Dick straightened up, “Hey, Jazz said to come back if I ever wanted to spar with her. She just wanted some heads up. Does that mean I’m in?”

“Essentially,” John answered.

“Doesn’t mean I’m happy with you, Grayson.”

Dick pouted.

“Anyway, any more questions before I go to the next slide? No? Okay.

John clicked before anyone could ask another inane question. He couldn’t wait to leave. Maybe he should drink one more cuppa before he left….

“These are things that are normal for ghosts that aren’t for humans.”

“What’s an obsession,” Bruce asked, “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“It’s a ghost’s reason for being. Without an obsession to keep them anchored, they disappear. It’s unclear where they go, but it’s called a ‘permanent fading’ in their terms. Obsessions are a good thing for ghosts.”

John poured himself another cup of tea, drank it in one go, and then went to the last slide.

“Any questions? I sent all my notes to Batman. Leave me alone, sod off, and goodbye.”

John teleported out of the mansion before the bats asked any more questions. He was glad to be gone.

____

Danny woke up suddenly as he felt multiple people invading his temporary haunt. It wasn’t any of the bats; that much he could tell.

He left his room at the same time Jazz did. His parents were at the bottom of the stairs, weapons ready; their eyes almost, almost glowed.

Danny had been able to tell them about Talia, and he had a feeling they were about to see her.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw his mother standing on the porch. She raised an eyebrow at him and ignored his very armed family. Rude.

“Hello, habibi. Is that any way to greet your mother?”

Fuck.

Link to the slides if you want to see them for some reason

I spent very little time on the slides, which I feel goes with Constantine's character. Not because I was lazy

Apparently, "bitch the pot" was a way to say to pour tea in Victorian times.

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @luer-mirin @mur-ururu @insufferablecrab @skulld3mort-1fan @meira-3919 @aethernorwood @mimilikey @marshmelloe @latheevening226 @ahyesanerd @lexdamo @chrysanthemum9484 @spooky-fm @gmkelz11 @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @supershot73199 @starscreamlover @booberrylizard @pastalavistamf

#cain and abel wept #dc x dp fan fic #dc x dp #dp x dc

110 notes · View notes