digital-marketing-daily24

[demonic0angel]

Happy Valentines Day! <3 Inspired by the Adoration statue (click for clarity)

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace

Jason x Death!Reader

His head is in your lap, the sun peeking through the black locks of his hair. He grumbles at the light interrupting his nap, and turns and presses his face into your thigh. You chuckle, carting a hand through his hair just like he loves you to.

He’s at peace. The world is at peace. He’s safe here, in your unending embrace, and he knows he’ll never have to leave it. He knows that’s the way it should be.

“You’re so clingy today,” you tease him, and he chooses to ignore your words. The quiet is peaceful, and he longs for more of it, even as he wants your words too. Of course, as always, you understand. Instead, you whisper sweet nothings to him, gazing out at the wheat fields surrounding the two of you.

There’s a book in your hand, the one that doesn’t pet him. It’s in a language he doesn’t know, doesn’t recognise. It’s probably as old as you are.

He didn’t know much about you. He didn’t need to. He understood who you were, what you were. He wasn’t stupid. He understood that you comforted billions of others, held them like you held him. Maybe once he would’ve been jealous, but he knew that feeling was pointless too.

Here, you wouldn’t let him feel anything but peace. Here, he needn’t want for anything but you, and you’d always give yourself over to him freely.

Your hand pauses in his hair. It tightens. Jason likes the feeling, likes anything you do to him, but he senses your tension, and opens his eyes. You’re not looking at him, instead staring up at the blue sky. Mouth pursed, you tilt your head.

You look back down at him, smiling softly. It’s the same as every other smile you give him, but he doesn’t like it. Doesn’t trust it. Something’s wrong, and he’s filled immediately with a sense of panic he hasn’t known in years.

“Fascinating,” you say, and Jason pulls himself up from your lap, grabbing your hands in his. You let him move you, let him pull you to your feet, don’t resist as he follows his instincts, running into the strands of wheat like hell is on his heels.

It might be.

“Jason,” you call his name, your voice calm despite his hurried breathing, “Jason, dear.”

He pauses just long enough to look back at you, to look at the blue sky cracking open in jagged edges, to see the reeds pulling backward into a gaping void. He can feel the sucking gravity, and he plants his feet against the wind. You’re unaffected by the tear in the sky, your hair calm, your clothes still.

“Jason, it’s a good thing. Not many get a second chance,” you cajole him, pulling on hand from his grasp to cup his chin. He leans into your touch, savouring it, needing it.

“It’s not. I won’t leave you, I can’t,” he whispers, his words almost lost in the roar of the wind.

“You have no choice,” and your eyes are almost… sad. He doesn’t think that’s right. He doesn’t think someone like you should feel sad. You’ve seen so much, know so much.

What does it say for his future? What does it mean, when Death looks at you with pity?

“Save me, please,” he begs you, and you shake your head.

“I have no choice, either. You must make the most of it, Jason. You must do your best. And I’ll be here when you come home, waiting for you,” you promise him, and he has to choke down a sob. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

He was supposed to have you forever.

“How can I when you’re not there with me?”

You peer into his eyes, and the void rips wider behind you.

“You won’t remember me, darling.”

The last thought, before it takes him, before it swallows him whole, is that that’s the worst part.

Part two!

[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Ch. 8

AO3

Prev

“No.” She says, her eyes burning, her throat tightening as she tries to register the words spoken. “No, tell me you’re lying. Tell me anything else, please God, tell me anything else!” Her voice breaks as she yells, collapsing to her knees in her apartment. The broken sobs on the other end are enough for her last hope to crumble. No, no, no, no, no- she doesn’t realize she’s sobbing until she’s choking on air, unable to catch her breath. She lets the phone fall as she stumbles to her feet, gasping for air. This had to be some kind of sick trick. Making a split second decision, she stumbles over to the Miracle Box and throws it open. 

“Marinette!” Tikki’s familiar voice rings throughout the room but she can’t answer. Can’t focus as she shoves her earrings on before grabbing Kaalki’s glasses. 

“Kaalki, full gallop.” She spits out, hating the way the light flows over her. She immediately opens a portal and steps through, resisting the urge to vomit at the sight in front of her. “Dismount.” She mutters, ignoring the kwami’s trying to get her attention. Rushing forward, she falls to her knees, shaking hand reaching out to push the hair out of Jason’s face. 

“Come on Jay, wake up. Come on baby, wake up.” She begs, her voice breaking as she shakily touches his face, stomach churning at the blood covering him. 

“Marinette-” Tikki says quietly. She shakes her head. 

“No. No, Jason come on baby, wake up. Come on Jay, please.” She repeats, tears flowing freely. But he doesn’t wake up. Doesn’t even move. She glances up at Bruce and the look on his face does nothing to calm her. 

“He’s gone, M.” He says lowly, shattering her heart all over again. There was no Miraculous Cure. No way to fix this. Her baby was gone. 

---

Marinette barely blinks at her ringing phone. It’d been ringing for three days. Of course it had. It’d been over a week since she’d checked in with anyone in Paris. But laying on Jason’s bed, clutching his cape as if it could bring him back, she couldn’t bring herself to care. How was she supposed to care, how was she supposed to get out of bed? She didn’t understand how Bruce was doing it. He was back on patrol, and she knew he was hurting, but he wouldn’t talk about it. So they didn’t. 

“Miss Marinette.” Alfred’s voice flows into the room and as much as she wants to ignore it, she knows she can’t. He’s hurting just as bad.

“Yes?” She asks, her voice scratchy from lack of use. 

“There’s a young man at the door.” He says, and for a minute her heart stops as she thinks the impossible has happened. She shoots off the bed and looks at him hopefully, but he just frowns and she has to take a second to ground herself. He wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t come back. 

“Coming.” She says simply, giving Alfred a tired smile and squeezing his hand gently as she walks past. She looked like a wreck, but she didn’t care. Surely whoever was at the door knew that the Wayne household was not doing well right now. Even though she wasn’t really in the public eye, everyone knew that Bruce was seeing someone. And they knew that his youngest son had just….

“Oh, uh, hi ma’am.” The boy standing in front of her is small, much smaller than she’d expected. 

“Hi, I’m Marinette.” She says, coughing lightly to clear her throat. She hadn’t done much more than cry the past couple of days. 

“I’m Timothy Drake, I live next door.” He says, and she nods, still not quite understanding why he was there. “I, er, well, I heard about Jason and wanted to offer my condolences.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. Tears prick her eyes and threaten to escape as she clears her throat. 

“Thank you, Tim.” She says, clenching her fists as she tries to ground herself. Swiping away the few tears that fell, she frowns at how small he is. “Would you like some cookies or maybe some croissants?” She asks, nodding towards the kitchen. Tim hesitates, but shakes his head. 

“I should probably go, actually. I didn’t exactly tell anyone I was leaving.” He says with a wince. 

“Just let me grab some for you really quick and then I’ll let you go.” She says, rushing to the kitchen to grab the cookies. She brings them back and hands them to him before frowning. “Make sure you tell someone when you leave next time, okay sweetheart?” She says, her throat tightening. 

“I- yes ma’am.” He says. 

“Thank you.” She says softly. He looks at her and just as she thinks he’s going to leave, that she’s in the clear, he’s launched himself at her and wrapped his arms around her. She freezes, willing her arms to hug him back. Just as she moves her arms to do so, he springs back and smiles sadly, leaving without another word. She sucks in a breath and stumbles back up the stairs, rushing back to Jason’s room. The second she’s over the threshold, she crumbles to her knees and breaks into sobs. Her baby wasn’t coming back.

---

Marinette shot straight up in bed, gasping for air and clutching at her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. She chokes, silently begging her body to take in air, to let her breathe!

“M, Mari!” Bruce’s voice tugs her out of her panic and she looks at him, eyes wide. She couldn’t tell him about her dream. Couldn’t tell him about the feeling, because what if she was wrong? What if it was just a feeling? Her mind skips back to the feelings she had before Jason died and the way she felt that something was going to go wrong, that something was going to happen. “Mari are you okay?”

“I-” She pauses, pushing her hair out of her face. “I think I need to go to Paris for a few days.” She lies, hating the way the lie feels. Bruce frowns. 

“Really?” He asks, and she nods, not trusting her voice. “Do you need help packing?” He asks after a minute. She shakes her head. 

“No, I’ve got it. I think I’ll just take Kaalki so I don’t have to worry about the whole TSA thing.” She says, biting her lip. Bruce’s eyebrows furrow together and she can tell he’s trying to figure out what he did wrong. She sighs before leaning forward and grabbing his face, turning his face so that she can look right into his eyes. 

“Bruce, I will be back. I just need to do this and I’m sorry I’m leaving so soon after-” Her voice cracks and she takes a breath. “So soon after Jay, but I have to do this now.” Pain flashes across Bruce’s face before he nods, leaning forward and kissing her gently. He tugs her back down so that he’s holding her and she cuddles into his arms, relishing in the feeling. She would truly be stepping into the lion’s den tomorrow, and she wasn’t sure how it would end. But she had to. She had to see if her feeling was right.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @ashbrea381writings @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo @galla02006 @ritacrow-blog

[jd-loves-fiction]

➤ Jason Todd x Reader

➤ Warnings: gun kink, unprotected sex [don’t be silly, wrap the willy ;)]

➤ @catxsnow @internalsealpanic​ @littleredwing89

[22:50] Your lungs burn as you leapt from one building to another, begging you to slow down at once. 

No chance of that, not with the sound of heavy footsteps thundering behind you as a grunt is heard after the man chasing you lands. 

So you keep running, despite the tightness of your chest, the soreness of your feet and burning in your muscles. 

But somewhere deep inside, something urges you to stop. Something more abstract than the discomfort you feel.

"Come on, princess. Stop and let's talk this out!"

"No way in hell, you glorified eyesore!" You yell back, jumping yet another gap between buildings almost perfectly. 

Almost.

You misjudge the distance and are unable to stick the landing, rolling across the roof until you stop on your back. You don't move, already hearing how his footsteps become slower. He approaches your defeated form, panting as your ankle throbs slightly. You know you can't run anymore at this point, so why tire yourself out.

Red Hood steps over you, placing his boots on your spread arms, barely applying any pressure, just enough to send a message. 

You can hear his heave, distorted, and you imagine him to be sweating bullets under his helmet, while you cool off with the cold, humid air of late night Gotham.

"Did you need to do all that? I just wanted to talk." Red hood protests, exasperated and still panting as you do the same with a skeptical look. 

"Seems it was more your gun wanting to do the talking." You bite back, feeling small under his gaze, so far up from you, but refusing to show it. 

You can almost see his red helmet contort into a frown as you both know what you said isn't true. He may threaten you but he'd never actually shoot you. No matter how much he tries to hide it, he enjoys this dynamic of yours. And so do you. 

The sexual tension, usually pointed out by others around you, could be cut with a meat cleaver. And it just keeps building. Every encounter or skirmish usually leaves you with sticky underwear and him with tighter pants. You excite him, keep him on his toes, and he does the same to you. 

Not to mention the more intimate moments you've shared. 

Walking the grey line of morality meant that your friends could be your enemies and vice versa. For you two, it meant that one day you could be bandaging each other up (still with the masks on) and the next day you could be the ones creating a need for the bandages. 

And that is fine. You both think it's fine.

Until the tension brewing comes to a head spills over from the cauldron. 

Red Hood takes his feet away from your biceps, stepping just below them to take the weight off and still keep close. He then takes his shinny, polished gun from its holster, not yet having been used on that night. 

His large thighs flex as he crouches over your chest, placing the gun under your chin as you stare into the white eyes of his hood, hoping to catch a glimpse of what's behind. 

"Well, if that's the only way I'll get you to talk." His deep voice, seemingly deepened by the voice modulator, rumbles through your chest as he speaks. 

"There are other ways…" You whisper suggestively, mask slits lowering as you smirk seductively. The complete switch from your feisty defiance to a velvety tone and alluring expression makes him pause. 

"Oh? And what would those be?" The gun feels cool against your skin as he presses it harder against you.

"You could start by taking off your helmet." You say confidently. And just like that, the gun's pressure leaves you as he pulls it away slightly. 

Red Hood sighs deeply, shoulders dropping, "You know I can't do that, princess." 

"Not for me?"

"Not for you, not for anyone I'm afraid."

"Won't even let me try to change your mind?" You purr. Your hands crawl up his tense legs, feeling the muscles quiver under your fingertips before they settle on his hips. 

"I can't promise you anything." His tone turns stern, almost cold, but his breathing wavers at the feeling of your warm hands on his cold body. 

"Then don't. Just let me do my thing and see how you feel afterwards." You suggest, nails scratching just above his belt. His hand flexes for a moment, contemplating, before he traces his gun down your throat and towards your warm chest. 

"Think you can change my mind, do you?" His free hand brushes your hair away from your face before he grabs your chin between his gloved fingers. "Let's see what you got."

You slip your legs out from under him, placing them around his waist and throwing him off balance to the side, following the momentum and sitting yourself over him. 

Red Hood's helmet hits the floor as he lets his head fall back. You lay your weight on his middle before gripping both his wrists while leaning closer to his face. 

"You sound quite cocky. Not much reason to, since you're the one on the ground while I could just get up and run. You'd be left all alone to take care of your little problem." You whisper while grinding your ass against said problem.

"True, but we both know you don't really want to. And it's not so little, princess." His voice is deep and raspy as you continue your hip movements, taking his gun out of his hand. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Then you better start working, doll face."

You scoff at his tone before realizing the safety was off on the gun. "The safety was off?" You ask, shocked, as you turn it on, placing it by your side. 

"Sorry, forgot about it. Had more interesting things to think about." His hands reach for you before you grab them, pinning them beside his head.

"You forgot about it? Not very professional of you, considering your impulses." Your chest meets his as you lean heavily on his wrists. You both know your hold on them means close to nothing and that he could easily get out of it, but he'd allow it if it meant having fun.

"Not the impulses you should be focusing on, sweetheart." His legs bend, urging you forward and making his crotch grind against yours.

“Ooh, I’m so scared of a man whose face I can’t even see. Not to mention the fact that you clearly have a very soft spot for me, sweetheart.” You tease, grinding your hips down firmly, reveling in the deep grunt that makes him chest vibrate against yours.

Red Hood lets out a slow breath, body relaxing completely as he stays silent, “Yeah, you’re right.” he finally says, quietly, absentmindedly. You stare deep into the whites of his mask as he stays tight-lipped and seemingly contemplating something. 

"Can I trust you? Completely?" He asks before you hum, taking your hands away and sitting up. You ignore his boner poking your ass.

"Yes, of course you can." Your expression turns soft and serious as you speak. You hope he can hear your honesty more than see it through the mask. 

He nods before reaching for his helmet, "Wait!" You exclaim as your hands stop him. "What are you doing?!"

"Listen, princess. I want this and I trust you. So I'm acting on all this fucking tension because honestly, I can't wait anymore." And so you let him reach for the back of his helmet, clicking it open with a hiss, before he takes it off and you're baffled by the image before you.

His hair is short and black with a white streak, just as messy and sweaty as you expected. His eyes are a startling, pale green, and they watch your reaction for a moment before his cheeks darken. There's the beginning of dark stubble on his jaw and chin. Even the small scars all across his face, from his cheek to the bridge of his nose, add to his rugged handsomeness that nothing your mind has ever conjured up could compare to. 

"Don't comment too much. We can leave the soft stuff for another time. Right now, I just need to be inside you." The heated look in his striking eyes makes your breath stutter, along with his words. Before you smile cheekily while trailing your nails down his hard abs. 

"'Leave the soft stuff for another time?' That better mean you'll be taking me out on a date, or I'm not having it." You tease, winking at him as he smiles fondly. You take off your mask and place it by his helmet, ego massively boosted by the immensely flustered look on his face as yours is revealed. 

"Do comment all you like. And you can call me Y/N." You whisper into the night, lips a breath away from his. 

"Jason. Nice to meet you, finally."

His soft lips crash against yours as months of tension come to a head while teeth scrape and tongues battle for dominance. You lose it and let Jason suck on your tongue as you rush to unbuckle his pants after raising his shirt slightly.

You feel his hands grip your waist tightly, meaning to flip you under him, before you hold him back by placing your hands on his, "Let me ride you, please." 

"Ah fuck, doll face." Jason's voice wavers as you reach past his boxers to grab his hot member in your cold hand. Your hand moves up and down, feeling him harden fully in your palm as your forehead rests against his. 

Your lips suck on his pulse while your other hand brushes a long scar in the middle of his torso, that you refuse to comment on. 

"Princess, you better stop or I'm gonna cum. And I just wanna do it inside you." He grunts, tugging at your pants while holding your wrist to slow you down.

You take your pants off, thankful for the roof's tall walls and the fact that, for once, it isn't raining like hell. The stone digs into your knees as you settle over him once again. 

"You ready?" Jason asks as you move his cock through your folds. You're not sure of the answer. He looks too girthy for you to take without prep painlessly. But with the burning ache on your core begging to feel him inside, your patience is quickly running out, so you're sure going to try.

You sink down instead of answering, slipping only the head of his cock inside you, making his eyes widen and nearly roll back at the unexpected pleasure, before they close tightly as he struggles to hold his own hips down as you adjust.

"Ah! Doll…" He sighs, hips twitching as they try to raise against the weight of you. You hold yourself up on his stomach as your walls are stretched to their limit, trying not to impale yourself too quickly.

You breathe hard and deep as you move down, the base being thicker makes it harder and not painful, but it's worth it for Jason's face as you finally descend all the way until your hips meet his and he gasps before moaning loudly and deeply. His cheeks become even redder than before, looking to the side at his loud noise.

You lean towards his ear to whisper, moving him inside you slightly which makes him groan again, "Be as loud as you like, nobody can hear you. Plus, not sure anybody cares."

“Fuck, princess, please tell me I can move. I just wanna fuck this pussy so bad.” Jason says, hands holding onto your hips. You nod desperately, already half gone with the feeling of his hard cock fully inside, raising yourself with a whimper and dropping again.

“Shit, doll!” He exclaims, hands helping you move as his hips raise while you drop, his tip hitting you impossibly deep as a layer of sweat starts to form on both of your foreheads, hair sticking to the skin.

“Ah, Jason.” You whimper, grounding your clit against his pelvis at the bottom.

“You feel so good, doll. So warm and wet, fuck…” He sighs, hand grasping your hair and pulling your lips against his as you set a hard and fast pace. 

Your lips barely connect for more than a few moments, kisses interrupted by moans and whimpers as you breathe against each other's mouths. 

Your toes begin to curl as sparks of pleasure travel all over your flushed body, breathing heavy as your heart pounds against your chest. Your body jerks as Jason’s rough and calloused finger starts rubbing firm circles on your clit.

“You close, sweetheart? You gonna cum all over my cock? Clench even tighter, shit!” He sighs, followed by a groan as you do clench tighter around him at his dirty words while the pleasure builds.

“Jason, please! I’m so close.” You moan desperately, muscles twitching as you allow Jason to do the most work with his powerful thrusts and rough fingers.

Your back arches as you finally reach that peak, shivering, nails digging into his stomach as you let him thrust into your pussy until he lets out a grunt once he reaches his orgasm, warm filling you as his cum drips out of you and down your thighs.

You open your eyes, gazing up into the dark sky, catching your breath before looking down. Jason lays back, sighing as the aftershocks of his high wears off slowly, leaving him sated and tired, pent up tension finally released.

You lean forward, ignoring the way your pussy twitches as he nudges the inside, and placing a kiss to his red cheek and smiling at his hazy, faraway gaze.

“So, about that date, you free on Friday?”

[themaribatpit]

Fiasco At The Wayne Gala

Author’s note: This story was written by DC Fanboy and proofread by Maribat fangirl, as a reaction to Style Queen.  Maribat fangirl has been hard at work on Chapter 6 of “Hanging by a Thread”, while DC fanboy needed a break from the angst.  This is the result, enjoy.

Content warning: A dash of Chloe salt, mostly Audrey managing to piss off everyone. Ships: Jason Todd / Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson / Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain / Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake / Bernard Dowd (mentioned), Bruce Wayne / Selina Kyle.

Fiasco at the Wayne Gala

Jason stood at the driveway to Wayne Manor, bored out of his mind as he waited for Marinette to arrive. Another Wayne Gala was underway, with Gotham’s elite pouring into Wayne Manor. Marinette said she would be arriving with her roommate, Zoe. He took out his phone and messaged his girlfriend asking where she was. He was interrupted from his thoughts when a rude woman cleared her throat in front of him.  Jason was just able to look up from his phone before he was berated for not paying attention to her. 

“You! Valet! How dare you play on your phone when you should be attending to us guests?” the woman screeched. Jason cringed and immediately placed his phone back into his pocket, just as he was about to argue with this banshee that he wasn’t a valet, he was rudely interrupted again with another screech. “How unprofessional! Notify Bruce Wayne that I, Audrey Bourgeois have arrived,” she waved her hand as if to shoo him away.  “Now go and park the car before I fire you.” She tossed her keys to Jason, before promptly walking away with her chin held snobbishly high.

Jason looked down at the keys in his hands. He looked at the woman walking away and then towards her car, a jet black convertible. He walked around the vehicle, admiring the exquisite European sports car. A mischievous grin grew on his face as he looked back at the keys in his hand, he jumped in over the door into the car and started its engine. It roared to life, Jason couldn’t resist stamping both his feet on the accelerator and brakes at the same time. The tyres screeched from the friction, spewing smoke behind him. He then spun around, performing a doughnut around the driveway. He left behind a trail of black tyre markings on the asphalt below. Jason stomped his foot onto the accelerator, all the way to the bottom. The engine roared in response with an immediate burst of power, rocketing him out of Wayne Manor, speeding off into the distance. 

Meanwhile, Dick waited for the cloakroom attendant to return. In his hands he held Barbara’s coat. Him being the gentleman that he was, he volunteered to bring it to the cloakroom for her. As he patiently waited at the counter, he heard a throat being cleared behind him. He chose to ignore it but then the voice grew louder. He elected to ignore it again, but the person behind him then shouted “You!”

Dick turned in surprise, he looked around to the source of the voice, a woman wearing a black, white and gold ball gown with a white fur coat in her arms. Beside her was, what he assumed to be, her daughter. She wore a matching dress and an entitled look on her face. He looked around, thinking and hoping she was trying to talk to someone else.

The woman then threw her coat at Dick, it draped over his head completely. He looked as if he was wearing an expensive ghost costume, as the coat hung over his head. The rude woman continued, “Now put this in the cloakroom, bring me the ticket when you are done and make sure nothing happens to it.” Dick didn’t say anything at that moment, he hadn’t fully registered what had just happened. “It is an expensive Arctic Fox coat, if anything were to happen to it I will make sure Mr. Wayne fires you.” She stomped off with her daughter in tow, the two walked past Barbara with Haley napping on her lap. The two scoff in disgust at the sight of the dog, “Disgusting, don't you think?” Audrey asked her daughter.

Chloe repeated the sentiment, “Absolutely, Mother.” 

Audrey nodded towards her daughter in approval before turning back to face Barbara, “Now get that mangy, misshapen mutt out of here before we file a complaint and get that thing put down!” she threatened before walking away. 

Haley whimpered from the scary lady’s yelling, Barbara’s eyes narrowed as her hands moved to cover Haley’s floppy ears, “Oh no you did not just threaten Haley.” 

“Where did she go? I can’t see.” Dick asked, the coat still covering his head.

Tim stood near the food table, enjoying canapés and several other hors d'oeuvre while waiting for his date, Bernard, to arrive at the gala. A loud voice caught his attention mid bite, “Is that you Timothy? Oh it is you.” He looked up from his plate to see an obnoxious woman wearing sunglasses indoors, at night. 

“Do you remember me? I’m your Aunt Audrey.” the woman spoke.

Tim cringed internally, remembering the woman from past events. A horrible woman if he remembered correctly, always sucking up to his parents, pretending to be their friend. Most of all he remembered the constant attempts at matchmaking, doing whatever she could to pawn her daughter off to the Drake family to gain their favour. He quickly swallowed the appetizer in his mouth and answered “Hello Aunt Audrey.” with a strained smile. His mind was in a flurry, trying to think of a plan to get rid of her. 

“Oh how handsome you’ve grown, why don't you spend time with my daughter? I brought her here today.” she suggested, her voice devoid of any sincerity. 

Tim slowly backed off, looking around the room hoping to think of a plan to get her to leave him alone. “Well...you see…” he tried to stall for time. He then spotted a familiar plume of blonde hair standing near the performing band and rushed towards her. “Steph! You gotta help me!” he croaked. 

She turned in surprise, “Tim? You okay? What's wrong?”

“Pretend to be my date” he blurted out.

“What?” she cried incredulously, “No, I’m dating Cass. What would Bernard say?” she responded angrily.

“Please, I’m begging you. At least until this crazy woman leaves me alone,” Tim explained, “she’s been trying to hook me up with her daughter for years.” Tim grabbed on to her arms and gave her a shake.

“What is this, some kind of fake dating storyline? Did I wake up in one of your K-Dramas?” She answered in a voice dripping with sarcasm. She then peered over his shoulder to see two women in hot pursuit, shoving guests aside. She was already feeling her mood sour from their presence.

“You owe me for this, understand?” Stephanie said, her fingers jabbed Tim in the chest before she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Thanks, I’ll pay you back some day.” Tim then held out his elbow for Stephanie, which she held on to. 

Tim and Steph slowly walked up to Audrey, “Aunt Audrey, I’d like to meet my girlfriend Stephanie Brown.” He gestures towards his friend. Stephanie then kissed Tim in the cheek, trying her absolute best to not show just how irritated she was at the whole situation. 

Audrey’s eyes twitched at the sight, but it was unnoticeable under her sunglasses. “Nice to meet you too Stephanie.” she greeted, venom dripping from her voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I will attend to other guests. It was nice meeting you again Timothy.” She then stomped away with Chloe in tow.  

The two then breathed a sigh of relief as they were left alone, “I need a drink” groaned Stephanie, as she held onto her forehead. “I just hope that Cass didn't see....that.” She turned around to see Cassandra Cain right behind the two, a frown on her face. 

Both Tim and Steph both held up their hands, attempting to placate the girl in front of them. “Tim needed a fake date to get rid of a crazy old hag.” explained Steph, as quickly and concisely as she could. Stephanie gave Tim the evil eye, thinking of all the ways she would hurt him if his fiasco cost her her relationship with Cass. 

Cass spun her finger on the side of her head.  Tim and Steph released a breath they both had been holding, worried of what Cass’ reaction would be. Fortunately for them, Cass was able to see the whole thing. From watching Tim’s desperate plea, to the subtle signs of discomfort as the two spoke to Ms. Bourgeois. 

Damian clung to the edges of the party, he detested these events. However, as the son of Gotham’s Billionaire he had no choice but to attend. He wandered around, hands in his pockets, he hoped he could find a familiar face in a sea of strangers. Perhaps Gordon or Grayson would let him pet Haley, it would at least help pass the time better. 

For someone unaware of who he was, one could possibly mistake him for a delinquent. Then again, he was the grandson of the Demon. He spotted the dog on Gordon's lap, and made his way towards her. He was then intercepted by a raging woman pointing her finger at him and calling him a trespasser and an intruder.

The gall of this woman, he clenched his teeth and yelled back. "Shut up you hag, I live here!" 

The woman expressed a loud gasp, "How dare you call me that? Do you know who I am? I am Audrey Bourgeois, director of Style Queen."

Damian rolled his eyes, "What? A magazine giving fashion advice to shriveled old hags like you?" he shot back.

Audrey Bourgeois snapped, she yelled at the boy at the top of the voice "How dare you!"

Damian shouted back "How dare YOU! Do you know who I am?"

Their shouting match had drawn the entire attention of the ball room, eyes drawn to the argument unraveling before them. Tim and Dick walked closer, hoping to get a clear view of what was happening, and to intervene if necessary. Who knows what would happen with Damian around?

Alfred ignored the chaos unraveling around him as he pushed a food trolley through the ball room. However, a young woman with blonde hair rushed in front of his trolley. "May I help you?" He asked.

"My mother is being harassed by some miscreant, go get rid of him." Chloe growled towards the butler.

"Very well." Alfred complied and began walking to the two shouting their lungs off.

Damian spots the two former Robins approaching and calls out to them, "Grayson, Drake, tell her who I am and get rid of her."

Both Tim and Dick narrowed their eyes, annoyed about how all attention was now on the two of them. The two looked at each other, annoyed at their younger sibling. 

Tim had a plan to redirect that attention and knock Hell Spawn down a peg, "Who are you?" he asked. 

This infuriated Damian, he roared "Traitor!" and was about to throw fists at Tim before Alfred stepped in between them.

"Please, let us all calm down and enjoy this fine evening." Alfred attempted to calm the entire situation. 

"Not until you get rid of him!" Audrey yelled, pointing her finger accusingly at Damian.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Madam." Alfred deadpanned.

Audrey stomped her foot in anger, then she pointed threateningly at Alfred. "You're fired!" she yelled.

Alfred sighs and answers in a monotone voice "Madam, with all due respect, I don't work for you. I work for Master Wayne, and in turn I also work for the young Master Wayne." He gestured to Damian, who stood there angrily with his arms crossed.

Audrey Bourgeois recoiled in shock, she attempted to come up with a retort. Alfred continued, "As per the young master's wishes, please leave the premises immediately."

Audrey gritted her teeth, "Fine. Call the valet to bring my car over." She commanded before marching off.

Alfred and Damian looked at each other, intrigued at the request for a valet. "Pennyworth, we don't have a valet for this evening, do we?" asked Damian.

"No Master Damian, though I suspect we may have a case of grand theft auto on our hands. I shall go check the cameras for our culprit.” Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and left for the Batcave.

Marinette and Zoe stood near a window. Marinette was worried, Jason was supposed to be at the party. He did not answer any of her calls or reply to any of her messages. She paced about, worried Jason was away dealing with an emergency. 

Zoe on the other hand was red with embarrassment and shame. She was unfortunately related to the two wrecking balls tearing their way through the gala. She hoped to any and every deity above that they would prevent her mother from noticing her. However, this was to no avail as Zoe was spun around forcefully.

"...Zoe! Why did you not greet your dear mother?" Yelled Audrey.

Zoe began sweating bullets trying to think of an answer while being berated by her mother and half-sister. "I-I uh, I just got here." She shakily attempted to explain herself.

"What are you doing here Marinette?" Growled Chloe, annoyed at how such a clumsy girl would be even invited to this event. 

Marinette put the phone back into her purse, "I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend, but I can't find him and he won't answer the phone."

Chloe laughed at the girl's plight, "Who would even date a loser like you? Any sane person would leave you."

Marinette gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, much to Chloe’s delight. Her contained rage and shame were interrupted as Audrey began complaining about a valet.

"Where is my car? Where is that damn stupid valet?" Audrey shouted. 

Zoe and Marinette looked at each other, confused at the mention of a valet. "There was a valet?" Marinette asked nervously.

"Of course there was." Audrey told her. 

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous," ranted Chloe, "He did not even dress properly and now he can't even deliver mother's car. Where is the idiot with the white streak of hair?"

Marinette and Zoe raised an eyebrow at the specific mention of a white streak of hair. 

"At least it explains what Jason is up to." Marinette thought to herself, "They won't be getting the car back for a while, if at all."

Alfred had reviewed footage of the driveway earlier that evening, and had discovered Jason was the culprit. Alfred sighed as he picked up the telephone and attempted to call Jason. Just like Marinette, Jason was not answering his calls. Alfred then contacted Jason through his Bat Communicator.

"What's the emergency, Alfred?" Answered Jason.

Alfred could hear the sound of a roaring engine and wind whipping through the air over the communicator. "Master Todd, you are the emergency. Please return the automobile to the manor.

"Alright, I will if you bake me two dozen cookies. Just for me and no one else." Negotiated Jason.

"Very well, Master Todd." agreed Alfred "Now please return the vehicle." Alfred closed the call and made his way to the ballroom.

Jason turned the steering wheel of the car harshly, sending it to a tight drift, making a turn back towards Wayne Manor. "Alright you two, we're getting cookies!" he yelled to his passengers beside him.

"Yaaaaay" cheered Roy along with Lian on his lap. 

Back in the ballroom, Alfred asked the guests to quiet down for he was making an announcement. "Esteemed guests, allow me to introduce Bruce Wayne.'' He stepped aside and gestured to Bruce atop the stairs with Selena Kyle. The two slowly walked down the stairs, and  thanked each of their guests for attending the gala. 

Audrey Bourgeois pushed past several attendees to get a closer look. Other guests gave her space, not wanting to incur her wrath. As she reached Bruce Wayne, she shoved Selena aside and wrapped herself around Bruce's arm. Taking extra attention to make sure her chest rubbed against his arm. 

Zoe sped to the bathroom in absolute shame after watching her mother attempt to flirt with Bruce Wayne. Marinette remained by the window, waiting for Jason’s return. She was then approached by Alfred, holding a small basket of fresh cookies. “Good evening Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I just spoke to Master Todd, he is on his way.” 

Marinette glanced at Audrey Bourgeois still attempting to flirt with Bruce, “the sooner he gets here the sooner she leaves.” she comments. She notices the cookies in the basket.  “Can I have a cookie?” she asked, salivating at Alfred’s baking.  Tikki peeked out from her small bag, enticed  by the smell of the cookies.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Master Todd, I made these in order to entice him to return the car. Undamaged, I hope.” Alfred explains.

Fortunately Jason arrived at that moment, with Roy and Lian in tow, their hairs were messy from the wind. Alfred gave Marinette the basket of cookies and asked her to give them to Jason while he notified Ms. Bourgeois that her car had arrived. “Jason, where have you been? I've been trying to call you all night!” Marinette yelled.

Jason scratched the back of his head, “about that, some crazy lady thought I was a valet.”

Marinette crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “I heard. But that doesn't mean you can take her car.” she huffed.

“ ‘Sup Little Wing,” Dick greeted Jason, “heard about your joyride from Alfred. How was it?”

“Awesome,” Jason replied, reaching into the basket of cookies. Roy, Lian and Tikki were already enjoying their share.

“Now that you’re back, that crazy woman can now go.” Dick said

“What did she do?” asked Jason curiously, hoping there would be a good story.

“For starters, she thought I was the cloakroom attendant. She threw her coat over my face, she pissed Babs off by calling Haley a ‘Misshapen Mutt’. Then she tried to hook her daughter up with Tim. On top of that, she managed to royally piss off Damian.” Explained Dick. 

Jason’s jaw dropped while chewing his cookie, a few crumbs landing on the floor. Before doing a spit-take with the cookie in his mouth, he burst out laughing.

Meanwhile Alfred walked up to Audrey Bourgeois, who was still clinging onto Bruce Wayne as if her life depended on it. “Ahem, Madam Bourgeois, your automobile has arrived. Please kindly leave the premises.” interrupted Alfred. 

“Come now, Brucie Darling. Are you really going to send me away after all we have been through?” Audrey asked coyly. 

Bruce took a deep breath, “Ms. Bourgeois, please leave. As you can see my date, Ms. Kyle, has been very patient with you.” He points with his thumb behind him towards a glaring Selena.

Audrey growled loudly, “Fine, we are leaving.” She stomped out the front door. “You, Valet! What took you so long?” she demanded an explanation from Jason. 

Jason spoke to her with his mouth full, spewing crumbs everywhere. “Having dinner, what's it to you?” 

Audrey and Chloe recoiled at Jason’s bad manners, as a force of habit Audrey yelled back “I’ll have you fired for this.”

Jason continued undeterred, still answering with his mouth full of cookies. “Well shit, too bad.” 

Frustrated at his aloof  response, the two quickly got into the car and drove off. Everyone but the two Bourgeois noticed a large scratch and several dents along the side of the sports car as it drove away. “Yeah, uh, forget you saw that. Let’s get back to the party shall we?” suggested Jason. Everyone laughed hysterically at the wild night, now that the human wrecking ball had left. 

As Marinette walked back into the manor, she pouted at Jason for keeping her waiting. “Come on now Pixie, are you still mad at me?” Jason asked.

“Yes, you stole someone’s car, drove off to who knows where. You didn’t answer any of my messages or calls. I was really looking forward to enjoying the Gala with you.” Marinette complained. 

Jason ran in front of Marinette, stopping her in her tracks. “Look I’ll make it up to you Pixie, I promise. How about a dance then? The night is still young.” Jason said, offering his hand to Marinette. 

Marinette contemplates for a moment before reaching out to hold his hand. “Fine, but this doesn’t mean I forgive you yet.”

The two then walked to the centre of the ballroom and danced the night away.

[wordsfromthesol]

Reconciliation

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: togasbetch @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You seek the help of an old friend when you accidentally end up in the middle of a blood bath. Word Count: 1.8k

It all started ages ago, when you walked into the same class as the infamous Timothy Drake. If it wasn't for the Wayne Grant, your parents would never have been able to send you to such a fancy school…not that you understood that at 5 years old. Since that day the two of you were inseparable. You had practically lived at Drake Manor, and when Mr. Freeze killed your parents, you did. Not that Jack and Janet had any idea.

A few years later Jack and Janet were gone and Tim was taken in by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. Thankfully, Tim let you remain in his house. At first, everything was normal, but after the first year, he started to visit you less and less. He became more distant and secretive with each interaction and eventually, he stopped coming altogether. You made the decision to leave once you graduated high school, after all, it had been over a year since Tim had bothered to come see you. What would he care?

You jumped on a bus, clutching a backpack full of your belongings…and a few things from the Drake Manor. Somehow you lucked into a full-time nanny job for some wealthy family a few hours away. You were afforded a small living quarters, a stipend, and access to anything already at the mansion. The little girl was only 3 years old at the time. It's hard to believe that was 2 years ago.

You and Kaylee were upstairs when you heard a large group of people force their way through the front door. As you peaked out of the room, you saw a parade of people with their guns drawn. Immediately you rushed back into the room and whispered, "We are going to play a game."

"Game?" The child's ears perked up. You nodded your head as you made your way to the window. Opening it, you slowly climbed out and motioned for her to follow. You had no idea how long you stayed up there, pressed against the side of the house praying no one came looking. Eventually, the noises had stopped.

"Wait right here for me, okay?" She nodded as you made your way back to the window. "Don't move a muscle until I come for you." Your mouth hung open as you descended the staircase. Bloodstained the room as bodies littered the floor. As you walked over to the filleted bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Barco, your vision blurred as you felt the back of a hand strike your face. Staggering backward, you opened your eyes to see a man grinning before you. His eyes trailed down your cheek and landed on the sizable ring that graced his own finger. You began to feel the warm blood drip down your cheek. A state of panic washed over you just as you felt your knuckles collide with his ribs. Dodging his next blow, you thrust your shoulder into him and grappled for the gun tucked in his waistband. He looked almost pleased as he stared down the barrel.

"Whatcha gonna do with that, hun?" When you refused to answer, he continued. "You know you're going to be dead soon. What's the point…" Your eyes locked onto his hand, which was slowly inching towards your own.

**

The ringing in your ears had just barely subsided when you reached the top of the stairs. You slowly climbed out the window and ushered Kaylee to come inside. Her feet had just touched the ground as the words lucidly fell from your lips. "I need you to promise me that you won't open your eyes. We are going on a surprise trip." If Kaylee could tell something was wrong, she wasn't letting you know. You walked as fast as you could with the small child on your hip.

Your mind had gone completely blank, your eyes glazed over as you drove. You didn't know where you were going, but your motions seemed instinctive. As you pulled up to the gates, everything began to wash over you. Pressing the call button, the only words you could stutter out were: "It's Y/N. I need Tim." Thankfully, the message worked and the gates began to open. You drove up to the ornate front door, but couldn't force yourself out of the car. A knock on the window shook you out of the trance. It was Alfred.

"Mx Y/N, welcome. Perhaps you and your guest would be more comfortable in the house. I have already summoned Master Timothy." You just nodded as you stepped out of the car. Every move your body made relied on muscle memory: opening the back door of the car, unfastening Kaylee's car seat, placing her on the ground beside you. Alfred led you inside to the kitchen before kneeling down and facing Kaylee. "And what is your name?"

"KAYLEEEE!" She gleefully screamed at him.

"Ahhh, Miss Kaylee. How would you like a snack?" Kaylee's eyes went wide as she furiously nodded her head up and down. Kaylee looked up to you for permission as Tim rounded the corner, already speaking.

"Alfred, what's so --" Tim froze as he saw you sitting at the kitchen counter.

"You my Y/N/N's friend?" Kaylee narrowed her eyes as she glared at Tim. Her eyes softened as Tim slowly shook his head yes. "Make sure they get ban aid. Prefably a princess one." Once satisfied, she turned her attention back towards Alfred and her snack.

**

You turned towards Tim, revealing the gash on your cheek surrounded by a newly forming bruise. Tim rushed to your side, grasping your hand in his, just as the words began spilling from your mouth. "Tim, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know where else to take her. They were dead..."You felt your body giving out, "all of them…"

"Calm down. We'll figure this out. You need rest." He refused to let you speak anymore as he scooped you up from the chair and carried you upstairs. Carefully, Tim sat you on his bathroom counter and began cleaning the wound. Once it was bandaged he brought you over to the bed. "Now what happened?" He looked at you, his heartbreaking as he watched the tears fall from your eyes.

"They're dead. So many bodies. Tim, I can't see anything but blood." You collapsed into his chest, trying to conceal the overwhelming panic.

**

You had no idea how long you stayed like that, all you know is you woke up with Kaylee cuddled to your chest and Tim sitting at the adjacent desk.

"Tim?" His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. You slowly got up and walked down the hall and into the study. You didn't check to see if Tim was following you, but you knew he was. Ignoring the unknown man already occupying the room, you continued onto the balcony. "I just don't know what happened." Your eyes glazed over as you stared into the distance. You knew if you looked at Tim, you would break down again. "People stormed in with guns. Me and Kaylee hid. Once I came back in, everyone was dead. Her whole family. Their security team. Everyone. And then this man came up and struck me. I thought I was dead. All I could think of was Kaylee, sitting on the roof, alone, confused. And I shot him." You turned around and stared into Tim's dark blue eyes. "They're going to kill me now. Aren't they?" The tears bubbled up, but you refused to let them fall.

"Y/N, how much did you know of that family?" Concern laced his voice. That voice that you hadn't heard in years. That voice that used to be your home.

"They were rich and needed a nanny." You looked down at your fiddling fingers, "I didn't have many options, so I didn't ask any questions."

Tim took a deep breath, pushing down his anger. "They are…were one of the biggest crime families in the country." The words rang in your mind as you forced your eyes back on the horizon. You didn't even realize Kaylee had woken up and walked into the study. Or that the unidentified man took her by the hand and led her from the room carrying a fairytale book. "You really didn't know?" Tim's brows furrowed.

Too many emotions were spinning around your head until one of them exploded. "Why the fuck would I know that?!" You made no attempts to sedate your anger.

"You worked for them for years, Y/N!"

"Well clearly you knew, so maybe an old friend should've warned me!" The anger wasn't geared towards him, not really. Though seeing him again, feeling all this again, that's something you never thought you'd have to do. And that was just the icing on the cake. An eerie silence blanketed the air. "I shouldn't have come here," you mumbled before turning to leave. "I shouldn't have put you in danger."

**

Tim stood stoic as your words played over and over in his mind. He never told you of his nightly activities for this exact reason. So you wouldn't be thrust into this chaotic world. And now here you are, begging for his help, and he let you walk away. Again.

A pillow slammed into his face, knocking him from the stupor. "Probably not a good idea to let them leave. Love of your life, Barco heiress, not a great combination."

"Shit." Tim pushed past Jason, ignoring his snide remarks because unfortunately, he was right. Tim grabbed your arm just as you opened the front door. "Wait!" Tim yelled as he pushed the door closed. "I can't let you leave."

"Wh --"

"Look," Tim cut you off and began pulling you through the house. "I need to show you something."

**

"Where…where am I standing right now?"

"The Batcave." His voice faltered as he stopped in front of his Red Robin costume.

"So you're a superhero? Are you kidding me?"

"I don't have any powers, so I don't think I would qualify…" Tim's voice trailed off as he watched your eyebrows raise and a disapproving smirk form. "Anyways. I can help. I want to help."

"I can't ask you to do that." You tried to turn away, but Tim laid his hands on your shoulders. His eyes lingered on yours.

"You were supposed to be safe. Away from me. That's the only reason I let you go. I was wrong. You're safer with me and I'm not letting you go again."

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Braaaaaaains...

Jason Todd is legally – and biologically – dead. His family noted his lack of pulse at three in the morning, inside the cave, his body laid out on a table with medical instruments.

No, really, tell him something he doesn't know.

What else crawls out of a grave moaning and groaning?

Or, Jason thought his family full of the world's greatest detectives was smarter than this. Apparently not.

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

It had been an ordinary night. Calm. The stage for very little costumed crime and barely more regular, non-insane crime as well. Half the menagerie that made up Dick's loving ragtag bunch of younger siblings had even taken the night off.

Nothing should have make him arrive to silence this thick, to this faint echo of sniffling.

He sprinted after the noise.

Damian's fine, left before me. Duke didn't go out, nor did Steph. Babs spent the evening with Cass in the cave, Tim swept the bowery and said he was going to stop by Jason's place to-

He collided with a shaking, tear stained Tim right outside the medbay.

There was a body on the closest table. Others around it, crying, pacing, muttering in denial.

Dick couldn't look.

No, no, please, please no. I can't do that again. I can't!

Scarred skin, too pale – to be Duke or Cass – by death. His breath hitched. No. He. Fuck.

He knew those scars. Those arms. That chest and that fucking Y from navel to shoulders.

“Dick! Jason... he was...  I found him in his apartment. And I brought him to the cave... but... Jason doesn't have a pulse. He's... cold...”

Dick stumbled.

No.

No, no, no, that... that couldn't be real.

He caught himself on his little brother. Brought himself into a hug too tight, as painful as the arms gripping his ribs and back. A grip meant for a lifesaving light at sea. For a safeline over a ravine.

Twice. He'd lost the same brother twice. And this time, he didn't even have the excuse of inexperience and unstable situations. He... he patrolled the city whilst his brother was dead, completely oblivious to the fact. How could he? How dare he not know?!

“Shh, Tim, I'm here. I'm here.” But not for Jason, whispered a vicious part of him.

“What's all this?”

Dick's heart just about stopped.

Damian stood at the entrance to the lockers' room, uniform folded under one arm, hair slightly damp from a shower and Bat-themed pajamas worn without shame. His mild annoyance was proof he had no idea of the drama that had happened not twenty feet from him.

With reluctance, he let go of Tim, a gentle hand lingering on his shoulder, before he took a few steps toward his youngest, most vulnerable brother.

“D-Dami, I... ”   Damn it, he had to be the one to tell Damian about this. Because otherwise, the person to break the news would be Bruce, and-

Shit.

Bruce.

Oh God. How could they possibly tell him- ? After all their fights, the goddamned shattering that had broken the man he had been, and their last conversations even being more admonishment about protocols that Jason had flippantly disregarded. Bruce would never recover. That was it. The end of Batman.

...But first, God he hated himself, wanted to just curl up in a corner and forget everything, first he had a young brother he needed to talk to. One... one little brother less than just this afternoon.

“Jason... ” He swallowed, his throat tight, his heart in denial, the words so damning, but needing to be said. “Jason did not make it. He... he's dead.”

Damian stayed thoughtfully silent.

Not... not the tearful reaction he had expected, but Damian had grown up surrounded by so much death and horror that he would obviously be guarded. And oh, Dick's heart went to his baby brother, and he truly wished he could

“I do not understand. Why such theatrics for the zombie?”

Dick gasped, knowledge warring with the flash of anger.

“Damian! He's our brother!”

“Did he lose his head?” Damian demanded, and Dick's mind buckled.

“Huh, no, but that doesn't have anything to d-”

“Then, why are you acting so weirdly emotional, Richard?”

Before Dick's temper could catch up to his mouth, the longest and most painful-sounding gasp erupted from the medbay, where, to the general shock of all, Jason's gray-ish body shot upward with both his arms raised.

Electroshocks didn't make you jolt like that.

Electroshocks, in fact, remained in their kit on the other side of the medbay, unused. Because Jason had seemingly been dead long before he had been brought to the cave.

That was roughly the moment when Dick's brain caught up with the first of many hints. Latched onto it with a fool's hope.

“... Damian... When you were calling Jason a 'zombie', what did you mean?”

Damian's brows scrunched up together, a look he meant to be intimidating, but had more in common with a disgruntled kitten. “Exactly that, Richard. Do we not have files on zombies in the computer? Dead bodies walking about animated by unholy powers?”

Jason's not- Dick forced the half formed thought to a halt. For once, he rather wanted to be very, very wrong in how he perceived his family.

“What's with all the noise? Can't someone try to sleep like the dead without screaming?” Jason groused. “Should have gotten myself buried ag-OOF!”

“JASON!” screamed the hysterical teenager that had launched himself at a very lively dead body.

“Huhh? Hi, Timmy?” Jason said blearily, ruffling Tim's hair, eyebags suspiciously prominent. “... Fear gas?”

The blinking slowed, the fog of sleep drifting away as he silently begged the rest of them for an answer.

Happily provided by a still crying Tim. “I thought you were gone!”

“What is dead may never die,” Jason quipped, his mouth twisting in that cocksure grin from his Robin days.

And Dick wanted nothing more than to stop right there, pass out from the relief and joy of his little brother being alive and kicking, but...

But... 

That joke. One of many morbidly unfunny jokes and puns.

Bone-deep fatigue crushed his back. A bitter curse for whatever higher forces messing with them echoed strongly inside his skull, before he gave in to the inevitable and inhaled a few times for patience.

“Jason. We thought you were dead-dead.”

With prickly, hedgehog style affection, Jason pushed Tim back and stood up, stretching. “Come off it, Goldie. I wasn't even decapitated. I mean, if you were really worried, you could have just called a necromancer or something.” His expression hardened. “But if you ever call a necromancer on my ass, I'll shoot your perfect glutes.”

Yup, yup, yup, this is happening.

Tim finally wiped the rest of the tears away, helped by one of Stephanie's handkerchiefs, when he froze. “Wait. Your skin's still pale as a corpse.”

The flicker of amusement in Jason's eyes killed it for Dick.

God, how could they have all been this idiotic? If Wally ever learned about this – Shit, did Roy and Kory know before him?!

They were going to laugh their asses off at him.

Jason, unaware of the world recalibration happening in his poor big brother's mind, shrugged and rolled his shoulders – who creaked suspiciously loudly, more like rusty hinges than normal body parts. “Eh, I'm just a bit hungry. Nothing a meal or two won't fix and get some blood flowing back under my s-”

“You're a zombie.”

They turned toward him.

“Way to cross the finish line on time, Mister Rabbit,” Jason drawled.

Barbara, for once, looked completely unprepared. “A zombie,” she repeated, dazed.

Stephanie's nervous giggle died out when she noticed the lack of humor. “... No!”

Cassandra furiously looked down, muttering in her fist. Duke, by contrast, had the expression of a person stuck in a very awkward nightmare.

Even Jason's good-natured ribbing faded in when faced only with the distant screeched of bats. “... Hm, guys, bats, roostery, parasites and octopi? This is old news. What's with all the... ”

He vaguely gestured at their faces.

“Old news?” Tim rasped like he was being strangled.

“I came back from the dead years ago! Come on! Am I in a parallel universe? Hey, Demon Brat,” Jason called, baffled, “you knew, right? I didn't imagine that, right?!”

“Of course, Todd. Mother informed me of everything. Besides, Grandfather's interest in your state of being was of interest for a few weeks. How could I have been ignorant about your zombified state of being?”

In the corner of his eyes, Dick noticed Tim's, Barbara's and Cassandra's expressions all pinching in displeasure. In a way, Dick was reassured. He hadn't been the target of a family-wide hoax to discredit him as an attentive and loving eldest brother. No, he was just naturally blind, apparently.

“He knew?” Tim growled, like it was a personal failing of the fabric of time and space.

Damian's tone was the exact opposite. “And none of you realized...?”

Dick squirmed. “I... huh... you see...”

His baby brother eyed him, completely unimpressed, and for once after years of partnership, Dick felt he deserved every single ounce of it.

“I see... I shall reevaluate the value of this 'detective training' I've been given if this is the result then,” he said, the nearest thing to completely disavowing his older siblings without saying so.  

In other circumstances, perhaps the others would have demanded that Damian stay and explain, but he suspected the quelling look it would have deserved prevented them. Not one of them spoke until Damian had disappeared upstairs and the elevator doors had closed.

“Jason, since when have you been a zombie?”

Jason blinked, jaw hanging. Juuuust enough for some of the scar tissue on his face to stretch past normal. Why did Dick only notice that now?

“Wait, you're all serious? How could you not know? I told you guys!”

And there was Dick's pride rearing its ugly head, because no, no he had not been told and maybe his deductive skills needed a very complete overhaul, but his memory was still excellent!

“You never said that. Heck, we weren't even talking until two years ago!”

“I literally told you all that I crawled out of my grave by myself, groaning the entire time. No experiment, no Lazarus Pit, just a body waking up in its own coffin and deciding to breathe fresh air. Does that not scream 'zombie' to you?”

They cringed.

“Not the only one that returned from beyond,” Babs mumbled. He could see her pull up the mental list right there.

“I greeted you all last meeting with a 'What's up, my bat folks? It's me, your favorite zombie!'. What did you think that meant?”

“That you're an asshole with a morbid sense of humor?” Stephanie quipped, and Jason momentarily paused his indignation to high five her. Fair's fair.

“Okay, but what about that time I got shot in the chest and I told you all not to worry about it?”

“I just figured you were going to get stitched up by Leslie or yourself, you know, regular bat neuroses,” Tim confessed.

Dick made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Tim's patrols for the next few months.

“From a bullet chest wound?” Jason asked with an incredulousness that was not at all earned, because he was a freaking zombie!

“I thought your armor had blocked it! The hole wasn't bleeding!” Tim protested, cheeks red and tone defensive.

“Well, yeah,” Jason replied. “I don't bleed. It's like some fruit pulp or something. Ain't coming out if you don't press. My heart's not pumping.”

That's a 'nevermind' on the smoothie I saved for after patrol.

“Well, I know that now,” Tim said.

“I feel like I should write it down on the plaque or something,” Jason still sounded amazed, and might have pinched his arm just to be sure he hadn't been daydreaming, “Like, 'a good soldier AND A VERY DISCRETE ZOMBIE!' in big flaming letters. With a spotlight. And a dictionary opened on 'Zombie' or 'Undead'. You know, just in case the next batbrat to come along needs a few subtle hints about my true nature. What'd you think, Dick?”

He could not have been blushing harder than he currently was. “I think shut up.”

“Of course. What about when I shoved my deadly cold toes at Tim under a blanket?”

“Cold feet.”

“Never eating around you guys?”

“Daddy issues with Bruce,” Barbara deadpanned, and got a sock thrown at her for her honesty.

However, Duke, poor kid, turned green. “Wait, so when you offered me some jellied brain... was that not a death joke?”

Dick's stomach spontaneously shrivelled.

By the grimaces and sharp inhales all around, that was a common reaction.

Then the worst possible thing happened: Jason grinned.

He strutted, all confidence and brashness, and viper-quick, snatched an arm around Duke's shoulder. “Narrows, Nightlight, my tiny bitsy bro, everything I do is a death joke. My very existence laughs at death.”

Inside the batcave, the groaning was long-suffering and shameful.

“But that was actually brains,” Duke countered.

“Yeah. Calf brains. It's a delicacy.”

Tim massaged his forehead. What a mood.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “It was purely for the joke, wasn't it?”

Jason patted him on the back so hard Duke faltered. “One tragically wasted on your obtuse mind. I prefer me some Tête fromagée instead. Less like grainy jello.”

Stone-faced, Barbara wheeled herself toward the batcomputer. There, upon a series of quick clicks, she opened up the Bats's files. “Alright, you had your fun. Do you need to eat brains or are you just the world's least funny meathead?”

“I'm the world's most misunderstood vigilante!” Jason loudly protested, milking their pain for all it was worth. And then some. “But yeah, I do. No grey matter in there” -- he tapped his belly -- “no thinking up here.” -- his skull.

“Need some better quality brains then,” Tim stage-whispered to Stephanie.

Cass pointed the finger at Jason. “No killing for brains.”

Jason's good humor flickered with a flash of green. “Ain't ever done it, never will. It's a matter of morals, not hunger, Cass.”

Dick swooped in that minefield before it exploded.

“Great! Proud of you, Jay! You're the good kind of vegetarian zombie,” he said, putting an arm around his ginormous little brother's shoulders.

Wait a minute...

“Hey, you're older than when you died! Zombies don't age.”

“No, I was thrown into a Lazarus Pit, and the evil waters cured the malnutrition-induced delay on my growth. Haven't aged a day since.”

“I just thought you had a weird babyface thing going on,” Tim said.

Jason's grin turned sardonic. “Quite the opposite, Timber.”

Dick put his head in his hands in some vain attempt to prevent his brain from leaking through his ears.  With his luck, his little brother would 'playfully' eat some of it. “There's no way you look this rugged at biologically sixteen! I refuse to believe that.”

“Can you imagine my power if I'd been allowed to reach my full potential?” Jason leered, eyebrows waggling like waves in a sea at storm. “So many heart attacks.”

Barbara and Cassandra exchanged a silent look, and, after a solemn nod, Cassandra reached up to slap Jason upside the head.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Barbara told her. “Jason, never do such a thing again.”

The disgruntled groan that followed must have been on purpose, because Jay was indeed an asshole.

“Besides, it's not like the world will ever know,” Tim said, cutting, a smirk hiding by his hand.

Dick really thought his little brother was far too relaxed upon learning that Jason was one with the undead. Sure, they had all encountered various levels of zombies during their missions, from all sorts of oral traditions and cultures, alien viruses and hidden nanobots piloting meat puppets. It wasn't even classified as a nation-wide crisis to encounter free-roaming zombies. But since the chronically unalive individual in question was one of their own, Dick felt he was owed at least a whole evening of frazzled panic and incomprehension for once.

“Oh?” Stephanie instead asked, sensing blood.

Tim shrugged. “Well, you know, no pulse, no blood flow,” he said with an angled eyebrow nodding at Jason's crotch

Stunned silence followed, their expressions varying from disgust, horror, unholy glee and, from Jason himself, wide-eyed shock that his shrimp of a little brother had had the balls to assimilate the zombieness fast enough to mock him for him.

Dick prayed for patience. For fortitude. And for an alternate timeline where he was an only child.

Why, for all the love of cotton candy and professional uncriminal clowns, did Tim put THAT image of Jason inside their brains? What had he done, him, a loving model for all of society, to suffer like this?

Maybe if he asked nicely, Jason would eat the image out of his head. He owed Dick that much after this clusterfuck of a conversation.

“Ooooooooh,” Stephanie crooned, miming getting dunked on. With acrobatics.

Jason huffed. “Like I was ever interested in the first place. I ain't Dick.”

“Okay, no slut shaming or virgin shaming, in fact, no shaming at all, please. In this house, we accept all sexualities, but we don't give out raunchy details about any of it, I only have so much brain bleach.”

“Share?” Duke pleaded in a whisper.

Oh, I wish I could, you young innocent soul.

A few beeps turned their attention back to Barbara and the batcomputer. “Well, that's one long overdue update to Jason's files. Anyone else want to share their 'obvious' medical condition?”

“Excuse you, being dead is not a medical condition.”

“I will make you wish for the peace of the grave, Jason.”

Droplets dripped from nearby stalactites.

A few bats flew overhead.

Jason turned to them like nothing had been said.

“Right. That was fun. Best night of my month. Can't wait to tell the Outlaws.”

Dick resigned himself to a series of unflattering texts by the absolute dickheads that were his second family. He could already tell the messages would blow up his phone to the Moon. 'You didn't know your brother that came back from the dead is a zombie?!'

“Have mercy and wait tomorrow morning?”

That smile could have been great or terrible. “You're lucky I'm in a spectacularly good mood, Dick.”

He had lifted his leg over his bike's seat when Duke was struck by genuine worry.

“Wait. Does Bruce know?”

Jason barked out a laugh.

“Of course he does! God knows he's got some massive blind spots, but he's obsessive, paranoid and I find subcutaneous trackers on me every week. No way he didn't get the hint before now.”

But, as his gaze went over the rest of them, his good cheer dimmed, his grin slipping off his face as surely as a bit of decayed flesh.

“... Right?”

[tickle-bugs]

Justice League Headcanons

So...yeah. Blame @fickle-tiction and @fanficsandfluff but I can’t get JL out of my head. I know next to nothing in terms of canon and I only enjoy a handful of DC movies, so this is the beginning of what I am calling the BEU (Bug Extended Universe). 

Essentially, in the words of Nick Fury, ‘I recognize your canon, but seeing as it’s a stupid-ass canon, I have elected to ignore it :)’. A mish-mash of everything I’ve learned about DC through osmosis and my own personal vibe checks :)

This is absurdly long so everything is under the cut:

Clark Kent

- Superman? NO, Superdork. 

- He’s extremely clumsy. If he wasn’t as fast as a speeding bullet he’d get his ass handed to him ten times over. He has two left feet. 

- He has a sweet tooth like no one’s business. Lois once found him perched on the kitchen counter at 3 am eating the donuts she brought home from work. 

- Super playful and affectionate! King of bear hugs! Country boy I love youuuuuuu

- Curses like a sailor. Do you really think Clark ‘Smallville, Kansas’ Kent is wholesome? He stubbed his toe once and yelled FUCK so loud that the windows vibrated. Everyone who isn’t in the league thinks he’s a boyscout but the league knows the truth. 

- Forgets about his powers a lot. He has been known to run through walls/take doors off their hinges when he’s excited. 

- Goblin. He loves messing with Bruce and roping Barry into his schemes. 

- Clark being ticklish is actually smth that can be so personal? His laugh is so loud and he always goes ‘sorry’ and tries to be quieter but it does NOT work. He has flight instincts more than fight instincts so he often starts unconsciously floating away when he’s tickled it’s so cute. He giggles a lot and he’s not particularly embarrassed by it.

- Do NOT get me started on ler Clark I could write a dissertation. He is SO playful and teasy but also sweet? He definitely is the type to laugh along with his lee. He definitely allows any sort of retaliation/fighting back like,,, if you manage to crawl away it’s because he let you, and if he wants too, he can be very mean and immovable.

- Bruce and Barry are his favorite targets. He doesn’t go after Diana because, frankly, he doesn’t have a death wish. He loves to cause problems on purpose by squeezing Arthur’s side and then blaming it on Barry. (Hal Jordan isn’t in the DCEU Justice League but I wish he was...they’d be partners in crime <3)

Bruce Wayne

- Okay let’s clarify some things: he’s not actually an asshole. He can be abrasive and snarky but he’s more towards the sarcastic gruff side vs straight-up mean.

- A lot of people think he’s genuinely an asshole/disconnected rich guy because he has a terrible habit of zoning out/interrupting people? Bruce actually just has intense ADHD that he refuses to get diagnosed, no matter how much Alfred pushes him. He doesn’t care what people think about him and he’s mostly learned how to manage it, so he leaves it alone.

- That being said, his friendship with Barry has me :’) Yes, he thinks Barry’s a pest (affectionate), but they share a few science-related hyperfixations (robotics, chemical engineering, etc). They can frequently be found holed up in the Batcave with a week’s worth of food and caffeine, and they’re just....tinkering. Watching them at work is amazing because as much as they annoy each other, they respect each other :)

- He’s 100% a cat person. He doesn’t have a problem with dogs, he just prefers cats. He feeds the strays that hang out around the Manor all the time...

-...which Alfred begs him not to do, because Bruce is severely allergic. He thinks he can power through the allergies until one of the stray cats does the face-headbump thing and he’s incapacitated emotionally and physically for the rest of the day. 

- He severely restrains his emotions but like...catch him on a good day or in a good mood and he’ll smile and laugh, especially in friendly company. He just generally believes in maintaining a poker face so no one can read him. 

- Not to be disrespectful but...thighs. I am Looking. 

- Bruce has a wonderful laugh. He’s not much of a giggler tbh but he has this open, clear, slightly scratchy kinda laugh (his voice is permanently hoarse from the Batman Voice). It’s so lovely. He has a habit of covering his mouth bc he’s embarrassed of his smile but if he finds something very funny he’ll laugh openly. 

- Thee Batman is ticklish and he...doesn’t hate it? Like of course he protests ten ways from Sunday but he more minds the ‘guys stop you’re ruining my dark and brooding facade’ bit. He hates being teased though and he will throw hands. 

- Circling back to the emotions thing, he’s very good at controlling his reactions, which means he has thoroughly convinced everyone he’s not ticklish. Except Clark, stupidly perceptive Clark, because he can hear Bruce’s heartbeat and see the way he clenches his jaw to avoid smiling. 

Diana Prince

- WIFEY!!!!! 

- Diana is hilarious okay? She’s just...so fucking funny. Her jokes never miss. You wouldn’t think she’s the quippy type, but she is, and she’s damn good at it. In a distant alternate universe, Peter Parker senses a rival. 

- Loves fresh fruit, but especially strawberries? She makes frequent trips to the local farmer’s market. 

- She also has a raging sweet tooth. She and Clark work together to steal sweets and buy snacks. 

- Will not back down from a challenge, ever. It’s kinda a problem.

- She has such a sweet laugh :’) It’s so bouncy and melodic and she scrunches her nose. She WILL snort and it’s the cutest thing ever. Yes she’s ticklish, but no one gets more than five seconds of laughter out of her before she turns the tables. 

- World’s meanest ler. Not only is she frequently on the prowl, she is near-ruthless, especially if she’s been baited. Once she sets her sights on someone, she won’t rest until she’s heard their laugh. 

- Diana is very mischievous and loves hearing her friends laugh. It’s impossible to be in her vicinity for more than five minutes without at LEAST a few pokes. She is not above just,,, random tickles either. 

- Nails. That is all. 

Arthur Curry

- Why are his tiddies always out? Someone please explain.

- The most targeted for pranks ever. Diana especially. Something about him just attracts goblinism. 

- He’s coming for Clark’s bear hugger crown. He picks people up so often that they’re just used to it now. 

- Playfighting and roughhousing is his love language. He absolutely loves wrestling with anyone who’ll humor him. He and Diana frequently tussle because they’re both good sports about it (Bruce is a little bit of a sore loser. Just a smidge). 

- Thinks he can get away with anything, which is decidedly not true. He just nopes his way out of the room and everyone’s like D:< get back here and atone for your sins!!! But Arthur’s already in the Pacific Ocean. 

- I like to think he’s ticklish, just not super ticklish y’know? He probably has a couple hidden spots that make him lose it though. Like he’ll definitely laugh and fall over, but he can and will fight back. Oh boy, will he fight back. 

- Batman: No fear.

Diana and Arthur sneaking up behind him:

Batman: One fear. 

- Y’know that picture of Jason Momoa sneaking up behind Henry Cavill on the red carpet? That is extremely relevant. Arthur loves to sneak up behind people and just...take them down. 

- Thinks Barry is annoying (affectionate) and the two of them are constantly chasing each other around. Barry is fast but Arthur’s strong (and wayy less ticklish than Barry)

- Physical affection!! He always has his arms around someone’s shoulders or something. He’s just a touchy kind of guy :)

Barry Allen

- Speedy boy! ADHD king! Sometimes his thoughts are also at superspeed, which means he talks way too fast and no one can understand him? But Bruce speaks fluent Barry and he translates often (though not without a labored sigh beforehand). 

- Physically affectionate but casual about it? He likes to play with people’s hands while he’s talking, bump shoulders with whoever he’s next to, etc. He doesn’t really realize he does it either. It’s not uncommon for him to be talking to Clark or Diana and they just...unconsciously give him their hand before he reaches for it.

- Okay so y’know how Bruce feeds the strays? Who do you think lets them in the first place? Barry has tried to adopt every stray he comes across, and when Alfred inevitably says no, Barry runs them to the shelter himself :’)

- Gifting is his love language!!! If he sees anything that remotely reminds him of his friends, he brings it to them. 

- He likes to hang out with Victor because he’s quiet, but doesn’t mind when Barry rambles, which he tends to do quite often. Barry will catch himself rambling and trail off, but Victor will encourage him to keep going, because he’s listening. 

- Thee Pillsbury Doughboy. Just these high-pitched, bouncy, frantic giggles that only get worse and eventually morph into cackles. He hiccups a lot too :’)

- Okay so he’s not a flailer but he’s super squirmy. Barry will cling onto his ler’s arms just to hold onto something. He kicks his legs too (he does this when he’s not being tickled either, if he laughs and he’s sitting somewhere he kicks). He also just constantly tries to crawl away. If he isn’t pinned down he will drag himself to safety. He also has a habit of curling up :’)

- Absolutely invented the speed-tickle. He actually doesn’t often use his powers (unless he’s chasing down Clark, because Clark isn’t above breaking the sound barrier to escape). He’s just got incredible hand-eye coordination and precision. His hands will be absolutely everywhere and he is so teasy about it. 

- Tries not to start fights he can’t finish, but he always gets roped into Clark’s mischief and gets targeted with revenge tickles. 

- He has tickled Clark once. It was incredible, amazing, showstopping, spectacular. Literally his crowning achievement. Did Clark absolutely destroy him afterwards? Yes, but it was so worth it. 

Victor Stone

- Quiet and stoic, but he’s always preferred listening and interjecting with a joke or two. 

- Closest with Barry and Diana, but he’s making an effort to bond with everyone.

- Unfortunately not ticklish :( I like to think soft touches on his face will make him smile and lean away, but it’s not going to get a laugh from him.

- Doesn’t often get involved in tickly shenanigans, but when he does, he surprises everyone with how much fun he has. A different, warmer side of him comes out when he’s among his friends.

- He’s a hugger! Definitely awkward about it, but he loves hugs and just...holding his friends. 

- He collects hoodies. He can’t really feel them when he’s wearing them, but he likes them and the idea of it. Barry seems to slip him a new hoodie every week. Victor has no idea where he gets them from but he’s not complaining. 

- He is an enabler. He will look at Bruce like :| “no, I don’t know where Barry and Clark are, nor do I no what they’re planning” But they’re literally right behind Bruce, about to squeeze his sides. 

- That being said, he won’t do that with Diana. If she asks where they are, he’ll subtly nod his head in their direction. Even in jest, he will never lie to her. Which makes him Thee person to avoid when Diana’s on her mischievous streaks.

[iphoenixrising]

How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh. 

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR: 

Mentions of child abuse 

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness 

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed. 

Extreme mental and emotional HURT 

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad 

You’ve been warned :D

**

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum. 

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.  

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

**

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

**

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em.  I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

**

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please,  don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he’d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

**

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

**

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.  

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself. 

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table. 

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything. 

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system. 

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least. 

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

**

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

[7soulstars]

Emerging of Kalon

Request: I need some new johnny depp fics in my life where I want a reader with insecurities and johnny reassuring her that he loves her the way she is.Maybe she is a bit more chubby than his past gfs and she has to wears glasses.Abd thanx so much for accepting it.

Yooo this imagine is soo important to me. As a person who had a lot of insecurities and has suffered through depression.It is really important for me to spread a certain message to others like me. I have this belief that you aren’t born with insecurities,you are made to have them.Don’t point out things to people that would make them uncomfortable in the long term guys it becomes quite scarring for them and it also makes you a damn bully. Also it is normal to have stretch marks, tummy rolls ,acne, scars ,body hair and all that stuff, Man or Woman or any other gender you identify as.That’s what makes you human.If people can’t accept you for who you are please cut them out of your life.Ya’ll beautiful and I love ya’ll. Hope you like this !!

................

Pairing : Johnny Depp x Reader

Warnings : TW,Nosy people who like putting others down for fun, Signs of depression,Suicide attempt,Angst,Swearing, Fluff, Johnny being the absolute sweetheart he is.

................

Kalon ;Latin for ideal beauty in all, physical ,spiritual and moral forms

1.Instigation.

“I still can’t believe THE Johnny Depp went for you after his past ones”,said someone snapping her out of her trance.”Pardon ?”,she asked as if to confirm whether she heard him right . “I mean look at you....His exes were all supermodels weren’t they? Not a single flaw..”,the man guffawed.”Well you have have a micropenis why did your wife choose you?”,her bestfriend snapped crudely making her cringe.”Let’s go Y/N “, Y/BF/N said dragging she out of the restaurant .Well this wasn’t how I wanted college reunion to end up like,thanks Nathan she thought. “Are you alright Y/N ?”, Y/BF/N asked. “Of course”. No I’m not. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” It bothers me too much. “Nathan’s a dick .Don’t let it get to your head EVER”. But he’s right, his words are already in my head. “Yeah...”

2.The disquieting

“Hey glasses ! Looking ugly as always.”

“Look at her hogging like a pig, hey fatty you want more?”

“Darling why don’t you try going on a diet.”

“Don’t watch telly, you’re blind enough already”

“Jason what do you think of Y/N ?” “Damn man she was not even my type”

“Please Stop !”, Y/N woke up with a jerk, breathing in short gasps .”Johnny-”,she stops cutting herself off as she looked at the empty looked at the empty side on her bed. He isn’t in the country she remembered . Silence. She stared at the framed picture of them together on the wall. Plip. A tear fell. Plip Plip. Two more,before she couldn’t control it any more. The past wouldn’t change.She knew it would haunt her forever. But they had stopped for a while. But since Nathan ,it came back harder than ever. She didn’t tell Johnny, she’d never tell him , the last thing she wanted to do is to become a larger burden. So she cried herself to sleep every single day.

3.Repressing

Y/BF/N frowned as she looked at Y/N’s lunch. “Since when do you eat salads ?Hell,that isn’t even salad it’s just *ugh* lettuce....”,she says looking at the leafy stuff with absolute disgust. Y/N looked at her as if she did not understand what she was saying “I love salads,you know what? I’m not that hungry.....better get back to work! See you later!”,she said leaving as she didn’t even let the other speak. Starving, Hurting, Looking into the mirror and hating herself. The cycle continued.This was going to be dangerous in the days to come and she knew that too. 

4.Avoiding

6 missed calls from Mom

19 missed calls and 87 messages from Y/BF/N

40 missed calls and 150 messages from Johnny 

3 notifications from Twitter. 

No one had seen her in 4 days .The telly changed channels at Johnny’s apartment .Things scattered around as a trembling hand set down the remote . Fat tears dampened the pillow as her eyes read the news headline. ‘Johnny Depp at a dinner date with ex wife Vanessa ? Is he finally done with his simple girlfriend ?’

5. Falling

This was it.She ended up the way she predicted she’d end up 10 years ago. Weak,Tired,Empty and Lonely. She stared at the bathtub as it filled itself until it was overfilled,water spilling out of its sides as it splashed onto her feet. She didn’t flinch at the coldness.She stayed robotically still, looking down at her palm. A blade. Without hesitating she got into the tub,the tap still running. She didn’t think anymore,tears wouldn’t fall even if they wanted to. She closed her eyes as she let her self go ,ignoring the frantic ringing of her phone and the banging on the apartment door.

6. Alerting

To say Johnny was concerned was an underestimation.Y/N wasn’t picking up his phone since several days .He was distracted, couldn’t concentrate and worry filled his entire existence.He didn’t know what to do,even going as far as asking his ex wife for advice.He decided to go back ,back to his girlfriend’s loving arms.

The moment he stepped back into the city he took his time.Picking out her favourie flowers ,the chocolate she always loved and a little something of importance. He ignored the notifications is phone was chiming with, his mind only full of thoughts of her....The thoughts were short lived , disturbed much to Johnny’s dismay by Y/BF/N’s call. He ignored once,ignored twice but after that he knew something was wrong.”Johnny !”, panicked voice spoke through the phone. A frown replacing the man’s smile “Did Y/N text you that absurd note too?” “No,wait Y/BF/N let me check”,he put the call on hold as his eyes skimmed over the words displayed on his screen. His phone now dropped on the car floor he wished all of it was a dream.They stopped as he stormed out, back to his apartment. He knocked wildly on the door but not a voice came nor a cackle. He threw his body on the door several times ,”Goddamitt Y/N OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR DON’T PLAY WITH ME RIGHT NOW !”.In his panicked feat he had forgotten he had the keys until they dropped out of his jacket pocket.He didn’t wait a moment as he fumbled it into the key hole ,kicking the door open as soon as it opened.

Silence. 

Splosh . The sound of water hitting the ground from the bathroom echoed in the whole house.

“Y/N ?”, Johnny softly whispered as he pushed open the bathroom door. A horrific scene unfolded before him.

7.Mourning

It had been two days and Johnny wouldn’t budge.He saw red that day and the site still wouldn’t leave his thoughts alone.He would neither eat,nor sleep as he sat beside his beloved girlfriend who lay on a hospital bed. Dark Enough by Amanda played on the radio. The text message, and the talk with Y/BF/N replayed in his head as if war replayed in a retired soldiers dreams. “I didn’t know you were hurting that bad”,he whispered, tears threatening to fall again. He place his head on her stomach as he let the silent tears fall,until her hand fell on top of his head.

8.Resuscitation  

Johnny jerked up ,his eyes as wide as saucers, as he froze with eyes full of pain and hurt.Y/N did not dare meet his gaze.She felt ashamed and disgusted. But those feelings were immediately replaced with shock as Johnny almost lunged at her,hugging her tight. “I was so scared I was so fucking scared when I saw that text and then you drowning in the red water filled in the bathtub ! I thought you’d left me ! I thought you died you weren’t breathing...How dare you think of yourself that way how dare you think you were not good enough !? You were the best fucking thing that happened to me since my kids goddammit !”. Y/N had never seen Johnny this mad.Hell, she had never even seen him cry. She didn’t know how to answer him, she was too ashamed.He wouldn’t break the hug, as if he would loose her if he did. He loved her too much. “Why ?”,he asked again,as if he was begging for an answer. Even a word. He just wanted to hear her voice. “I was scared...”,her voice cracked coming out much broken than she predicted. “ I didn’t think I deserved you, I thought I’d never reach the levels of those beautiful actresses and models.I was scared to tell you about my past..I was scared to bother you...”. Johnny’s heart broke. He never thought his Y/N would think that way. She was always smiling .Not even a little frown on her face. Always there for everyone. Yet no one comforted her. How could he never see it? Of course he couldn’t see it she was perfect to him.His Y/N was the most perfect person in the world. “I love you”, he blurted. He never said that.He was too shy. But he hugged her tighter ,” I love you so much. Even with scars,insecurities or that ugly face you make when you see things you do not like. You were, have and always will be the most perfect to me. Please....don’t do that again...”

9.Emergence

Y/N was discharged from the hospital in a few days. Johnny wouln’t leave her side. All his attention would be on her to see if ate well, and loved herself. Y/N felt safe. And she wasn’t wrong . Johnny was everything she deserved.

They sat on the rooftop of a cafe in Paris. A calm silence passing over them. “Y/N ?” ,Johnny asked. “Hmm?”,she hummed along, silence entailing after. ”Marry me ?”,he asked. That was the day Y/N was the most happiest, and did the beautifully emerged Kalon say yes? you’d ask. She said it without a second to spare. After all our Kalon had found her wings.

“No one is born ugly, we’re just born in a judgemental society”~ Kim Namjoon(BTS)

----The End----

Whew ! After all the procrastination and time I took brainstorming this baby is done! This was requested by the wonderful @anycsirp​ I really really hope you liked this ! Also I meant what I said before the start of this oneshot . YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. PERIODT. Please do like and comment your opinions! I really hope to read em ! I’m not that great of a writer but I did my best ! 

~Love, Hri

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

smut prompts #1, 9, 10 & 23.

ao3 request: Ok! Prompts 1, 9, 10, and 23 all combined into one request! So this takes place, if possible, in the movie, Under the Red Hood. Red Hood has a partner, who like him, has a deep grudge against Joker for killing her family and has decided to kill bad guys alongside him. His partner, the reader, is mainly a sniper, and they have spent a long time together, fighting side by side. But, during a mission, the reader screwed up badly, allowing not only some major baddie to escape, but abandoning her task of shooting him in order to save Red Hood. This angered him, so he decides to “punish” her. Could you also make the reader like a very quiet person? She’s basically like Sinon from SAO.

prompts:

1: “Don’t tell me what to do, unless it’s in the bedroom.”

9: “1, 2, I’m going to fuck you.”

10: “The cuffs stay on, until I say otherwise.”

23: “Stop talking and put it in your mouth already.”

smut prompts are from here

warnings: smut → use of handcuffs  // fem!reader // mentions of violence / injury.

word count: 1,482

Kinktober has finished, so the prompts are no longer in use, but thanks so much for participating!!

requests for normal fluffs and smuts are still open!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

You and Jason were the definition of partners in crime. You’re the snipper and he’s the fighter. Works hand-in-hand and anyone would say so themselves. Both having come from difficult pasts and a troubling trauma that resulted from the Joker brutally murdering both your family and Jason’s family, you and Jason were bound by souls.

Tonight is no different than any other night. As per Black Mask’s request, an assassin was send your way. It was an easy fight; both you and Jason put your forces together and fought like no other. Kicks and punches were thrown, grunts of pain from the asshole were heard, and profanities were hurled between all of you. You and Jason were winning. Right up until Jason got injured. Bad. You stand still, finger on the trigger, ready to shoot the asshole that you and Jason were fighting but you can’t. Not when you can hear him groaning in pain, fighting both hands around his leg to stop the bleeding. The asshole had manage to slice through Jason’s suit while gashing his leg open in the process.

“[y/n] shoot him!” Jason yells, noticing you completely frozen in place; torn between shooting or saving.  

“I-“ you stutter, eyes glistening with tears. But it’s too late. The assassin ran in the opposite direction and took a sharp right turn into a dark alley. Running over to Jason, you crouch down and wrap his arm around your neck to help him stand up. Jason, however, swats your hand away. He struggles to stand on his feet. Even though you can’t see his face through his mask, you new he looks like hell; eyes probably puffy, skin marked with defeated bruises, and blood boiling with rage. He limps to the car, ignoring your pleas for him to stop and just talk to you for a minute.

“Jason, I’m sorry!” You exclaim in a whimper. Jason doesn’t respond. His rage radiates off him and it feels even worse in the car; the confined space makes the rage ricochet off the inside of the car and strangle you.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Jason still hadn’t said a word to you even when you got back to his apartment. He slams the bathroom door shut and you can hear him rustling around the first aid box. You stand in front of the door and wait for him. Stings of curses and hisses can also be heard from him as he wraps a bandage around his leg. After a while of fixing himself up, he suddenly opens the door and both of you gasp lightly in shock. You notice how he took his suit off and he’s standing before you in sweatpants he had left in the bathroom.

“Jay, we should talk about this,” You say, but he just pushes past you. “Jason!” He turns around and looks you dead in the eyes.

“Don’t tell me what to do, unless it’s in the bedroom.” His tone is sharp and direct, and just from that, you know you’re in for it now.

“I’m gonna count to 3 and you’re gonna do exactly as I say,” J instructs.

“Or what?” you challenge, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason begins counting slowly, taking a step forward with each word he spoke. “1,2, I’m gonna fuck you.”  You swallow, looking into his eyes and watching as his eyes grow dark with lust.

“I want you to strip for me right here,” he instructs for the second time tonight. You do as you’re told and slowly strip out of your suit and panties.

“Good girl,” J says lowly, planting a soft kiss on your lips as a reward. Picking you up, he carries you to the bedroom and slams you down against the mattress, causing you to let out a yelp and a giggle. You sit on the edge of the bed and bite your lip as you impatiently wait for Jason to undress out of his sweatpants. You can feel both your mouth beginning to water as he positions himself between your legs. Hooking your fingers in the material of his boxers, you pull them down while making eye contact with him. Just from eye contact alone, not to mention the fact that the rage is still boiling from inside him, the atmosphere in the room was thick and intense. Fiery, yet ardent.

“J, I  still think we should talk about this,” you reiterated from before.

“Stop talking and put it in your mouth already,” Jason growls, snaking a hand around to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You don’t say another word and get to work; swirling your tongue around his tip and feeling wetter by the second with every grunt and groan that comes from his pretty lips. Your hands place themselves flat against his hips to hold yourself up and your mouth takes him as far as you can. Jason moans as your head bobs up and down his cock, his head rolling back and the grip on your hands growing tighter.

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he moans. Coming up for air, you swirl around his cock and lick up the shaft. Jason pulls you back and yanks on your hair so you could look up at him.

“Don’t you dare fucking tease me,” Jason shot angrily. Using your hair as leverage, he holds you still as he fucks into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag, but of course you don’t mind. Without warning, J pulls out of your mouth and orders you to lie down. You did as you were told and waited for him, watching curiously and almost wearily as he shuffles through the wardrobe. Jason pulls out a pair of handcuffs and your stomach nearly dropped. You’re in deep shit and he knows you know it. The smug smirk on his lips makes your eyes roll and a whine slip from your lips.

“Jason, I’ll be good I promise,” you protest.

“If you were good, you would’ve killed that asshole instead of helping me,” he retaliated back in a jarring tone. He grabs your wrist tightly and cuffs it to the bedpost.

“I said I was sorry,” you whine, trying to wriggle your other hand out of his grip despite knowing it was no use. He cuffs your hand to the other bedpost and shuffling down the bed to settle himself between your thighs.

“J, please, is this really necessary?” You ask, tugging on the cuffs.

“The cuffs stay on, until I say otherwise,” he directs before thrusting two fingers into your pussy. You moan almost instantly from how good his fingers felt; the way he’d switch between thrusting them fast to slow and how’d curl his fingers on the spot that made you scream his name. God he really knows how to work his fingers and he damn well knows it, judging by the way the snarking smirk is plastered on his face in this very moment. He takes his fingers away and  rolls on a condom before lining himself up and pushing in slowly.

“J, please,” you beg, rocking your hips against his. Jason sits up on his knees and wraps your legs around his waist while he holds your hips up. He takes advantage of this new angle and begins pounding into you; his cock slamming as hard as it can into you, making the headboard slam into the wall with each thrust. Moans and grunts, mixed with skin slapping against skin and the cuffs scraping against the bed posts create a hotter and more intimate atmosphere. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you’re still cautious of his injury. It almost seems the pleasure overtook the pain and he had forgotten about the wound on his leg.

You could tell he was close; the way his breathing quickened, the grip on your hips grew tighter and his thrusts gets messier.

“you gonna cum, baby?” You ask, feeling your own high approach you.

“shit, baby,” was all he can master up. Jason brings his hand down and his thumb begins circling your clit, making you feel like your on cloud-9.

“Jason,” you whimper and go to grip his wrists, but of course, you’re restrained by the cuffs which you almost forgot where there. “Fuck!” You moan loudly as you feel the cord beginning to snap from inside you. Your walls begin pulsing around his cock as you came, a string of moans and profanities spill from your lips. Jason thrusts harder and lets out a groan and a small “fuck” as he cums.

Jason slowly pulls out, wincing at the pain that has come back to his leg. He disposes the condom before lying down next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper against his chest.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll get him next time.”

[fandom-imagines]

Please.

Fandom: Friday the Thirteenth

Pairing: Jason X Reader

Warnings: Toxic relationship, non-con (not graphic, just mentioned), murder (of course).

Summary: Jason was ready to kill, but then he met her. 

Words: 1.7k

Camp Crystal Lake, the supposedly cursed lake, that’s where Y/N and her friends were currently headed. Not that she wanted to of course, her supposed friends, along with her boyfriend, often forced her to do things she didn’t want too.

They were around half a mile away from Damons, Y/N’s boyfriend, cabin that resided close to the camp. The five of them had never been there before, except Damon, and they were all excited; all except Y/N that is.

She couldn’t deny the fact that the place was beautiful, it was very beautiful, but she didn’t want to be here. Had it not been for the fact she had been threatened into it, she wouldn’t have come.

Damon was incredibly toxic, along with his three friends that she had been introduced to after their first date. He started off kind, but soon turned into a toxic piece of shit, to put it politely. He would often force her into doing things through threats of telling people secrets about her that she had trusted him with before he became toxic. She went from liking him a lot, to hating him a lot. A quick change.

“We’re here,” Damon’s voice sounded, striking a feeling of hatred in his girlfriend’s chest, “isn’t it amazing.” He said, signaling towards the cabin as he did so.

Narcissist too.

The rest of the group cheered in agreement, all except Y/N.

She watched as the other four clambered out of the van, waiting for them all to rush up to the cabin before following.

~

Jason was aware of the intruders the second they arrived. His body filled with uncontrollable rage, hand gripping his machete tighter than ever before.

He had been having a good day.

He knew what he had to do, and how he was going to do it.

~

“Babe,” Damon speaking ripped Y/N from her thoughts, “why aren’t you laughing?”

The two of them were currently seated on the porch outside, legs dangling over the edge.

“Huh?” She asked quietly, “What do you mean?”

Damon let out a deep sigh, “I mean I’ve been talking for the past ten minutes and you haven’t even responded.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was merely a whisper, being genuinely afraid of his reaction.

She heard Damon climb to his feet, not daring to look up at him.

“Whatever.” He spat, turning and walking away back inside to his friends.

She merely sighed.

~

Jason watched from outside the cabin as night-time grew closer.

He stared through the open windows as two of the group were drinking, the other two making out on the couch which simply made his grip on the machete tighten, anger rising up to his chest.

He was ready.

~

Y/N was still seated on the porch outside, this time nursing a bottle of alcohol, something that she rarely drank. She usually only drank when she was depressed.

Her Y/E/C eyes glanced up at the moon as she recalled all the good memories she had with Damon, tears filling her eyes as she did so. Closing her eyes, she did her best to conceal her sadness, not wanting to show weakness as she knew that he would take advantage of her sadness. That was something he did a lot.

She just wanted it to end; she needed it to end.

~

Jason observed the cabin once again, waiting for somebody to leave the building so that he could start his killing spree.

That was when he spotted her.

A Y/H/C-haired girl sitting alone outside. She was holding an alcoholic beverage tightly in her hand, something that disgusted him. As he observed her closer, it seemed as though she felt the same way he did about alcohol, face pulling into one of disgust when she took a sip, clearly not enjoying the taste.

Then why is she drinking it?

His thoughts wouldn’t be answered of course.

He was going to kill her. He was going to kill them all.

Or so he thought.

~

It was around 11pm when Damon’s girlfriend finally joined the party.

Everyone was drunk by now, dancing wildly as they continued to drink.

Y/N wasn’t though, she had only had one bottle and that wasn’t very strong. She was completely sober.

“Hey babe,” Damon reeked of alcohol, making her cringe, “where’ve you been?”

“Out.” Her words were quiet, something that happened often around him.

“Want a drink?” He asked, shoving another bottle in front of her face, basically demanding that she takes it.

“No, thank you.”

“Take it.” He spat, tightly gripping her hand, and forcing the drink into it, lifting it to her lips making her gulp.

~

It wasn’t long before his first victim left the cabin.

He was heading towards a small shack down from the cabin, by the river.

Jason observed the tall man as he entered the shack, searching for whatever it was he was after. Jason followed him, being as silent as possible despite his tall figure that lead to him nearly headbutting the doorway.

The victim found what he was looking for: more alcohol.

As he turned to leave the shack, the door slammed shut causing dust to fall onto both Jason and the unnamed man as it did so.

“Who’s there?” Jason cringed at the high-pitched voice which almost hurt his eardrums.

It was clear he was scared.

“C’mon, Damon.” His voice shook, “This isn’t funny man.”

Jason walked towards him, footsteps echoing throughout the small room.

“D-dude st-“his sentence was cut short with a scream as the killer shoved him against the wall, lifting him from his feet using the grip had around his neck.

He simply stabbed him, ignoring the desperate pleads for Jason the release his tight grip.

~

Y/N stood silently in the corner, witnessing her boyfriend flirt with his friend.

His hand was placed on her shoulder, his free hand holding a bottle of beer which he placed against the blondes’ wine glass, both raising their drinks to their lips quickly afterwards. She watched as the other girl laughed at, what she assumed to be, Damon’s joke.

It’s probably shit.

A sigh left Y/N’s lips as she noticed him lean down to the girls’ ear, whispering something that she couldn’t hear. She knew what it was, however. An invitation to join him in the upstairs bedroom. But the girl refused, shocking both Damon and his girlfriend. The taller boy simply nodded, stalking back towards the girlfriend that he had forgot he had, or simply didn’t care that he had.

“You okay?” Damon’s words were slurred as he pulled her tightly against his body, hands travelling down her back before reaching her ass, groping it much to the owners’ dismay.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gulped, trying to remove herself from his grip but the hold he had on her was too tight.

“Let’s go upstairs,” his words were demanding, leaving no room for refusal, “now.”

She simply nodded.

~

Jason finished up with another victim, dragging their body to his own cabin to use later.

He stalked back up to the cabin where he knew his last two victims were residing. He noticed that the upstairs light was on, lifting himself with ease to reach the platform beneath the open window of the room.

A male’s moan was the first thing he heard, shortly followed by some filthy and degrading words through another moan. He noticed that the other person wasn’t responding and, as he looked through the window, he saw that her body was stiff.

He dropped through the window, finding it comical when the man quickly moved from his position on top of her to face the killer.

“What the fuck?!” He screamed, jumping from the bed despite his naked form.

The girl remained on the bed, seemingly frozen in shock as she watched the masked man force Damon against the wall, pinning his body to it with his machete before turning to his final victim, ignoring the blood that was dripping onto his feet.

“Please…” He expected her to beg for mercy, beg for him to not hurt her, but her response left him shocked. “Please kill me.” Tears leaked from her eyes as she begged him to end her life.

Jason hesitated, noticing how she had moved towards him, moving her hand to grip his last machete before placing it in his hand which she then lifted to hold the weapon to her chest. He was about to push it through her chest when his mother’s voice stopped him.

“Save her, Jason. Don’t hurt her.”

That was enough to prevent him ending her life, dropping his arm to his side.

The girl in front of him let out a sob at the realisation that she was still alive and it placed a heavy feeling in Jason’s chest, something he didn’t like.

“P-please!” Her voice was strained, and he assumed that she was trying to not completely break down, “Please kill me, I don’t want to be alive.” Her words trailed off gradually as she spoke, eyes casted downwards as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Jason shook his head, despite knowing that she couldn’t see him.

“W-why not?” She asked quietly, glancing up at the taller man.

“Comfort her.” His mother spoke again.

Jason did what his mother said, sitting beside the girl whilst making sure that she was unable to reach his weapon in case she tried.

He wrapped his arm around her, doing his best to unstiffen his body. He was, once again, shocked as she leant into him, beginning to sob into his shoulder.

“Please.” She whispered, tears soaking his jacket. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The dead body of the man causing her pain behind them was forgotten, Y/N relishing in the killers’ gentle touch, gentleness being something foreign to her. Even though he was tense, she still appreciated the man’s gesture and attempt at comforting her.

Jason shook his head, releasing her from his arm to stand up.

She watched as he held out a hand to the seated girl, one she gladly took and stood beside him. She felt an odd sensation in her chest as he led her outside of the cabin, leaving the body behind as she was taken to his cabin. The cabin where she would learn true happiness, where she would learn true love.

(Kinda wanna write another part on this to show their relationship grow, but I don’t know.)

[dehydratedpercy]

Prompt: " Please.....dont make me hurt you"

For dark Frank maybe👀 but you Can also choose someone else

A Way To Hurt (2.5k)

Read on Ao3 | Based on this post

Summary: Hazel still has Frank's firewood, though they're enemies now. Even though she knows she could kill him, she can't bring herself to betray his trust-- that is, until he shows up one night intent on getting his lifeline back, no matter the cost.

TW: Home invasion, dark themes

Hazel had just finished getting ready for bed when she heard the noise. It came from the other room, so she picked up her spatha, hoping beyond hope that it was just the old house settling.

Sometimes, it was just the old house settling. She kept her spatha by her side at all times though, because she knew one day, it wouldn’t just be the house. And she refused to be unarmed when that day finally came.

Now, she had her sword, which gave her comfort even if she wasn’t wearing armor. Her sweats were oversized, her mouth still tasting like toothpaste. Her eyes had been drooping, almost falling asleep standing up.

She wasn’t falling asleep now.

She stepped into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway. For a moment, there was nothing. Then Frank materialized, landing with barely a step. It was almost as if he'd taken off Annabeth's invisibility cap, but Hazel knew the truth; that he'd simply been in the form of a bug, and had shifted back to his human form. It was a trick he’d started learning when he was still at camp, but clearly he’d perfected it since then.

Hazel let her spatha hang by her side, not raising it quite yet. Frank wouldn’t have shown himself if he was just going to attack her, which meant he must’ve wanted to talk.

This’ll be good, she thought, crossing her arms.

“Hazel,” Frank said, sounding on edge. He looked worse than the last time she saw him, like he hadn’t been sleeping. Despite that, his posture was straight, like he hadn’t been able to forget his Roman training, his hands in his pockets casually, like he hadn’t just broken in. “You look-- good. You look good.”

It came out as a stumbled complement, but it hit Hazel like an insult. They’d broken up directly before he’d left camp, but before that they’d been dating for nearly three years. He’d never gotten less awkward. At one point, it had been endearing-- but too much had changed for it to feel like anything but an insult now. Especially since she knew why he was here.

“That attack on Camp Half-Blood. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Frank shrugged non-committally. “I wasn’t there, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You just helped organize it.”

“Sounds like something I’d do, doesn’t it?” He said, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “Hazel--”

“And the attack on the questers? The bear--”

He huffed. “Might have just been a freak accident. Wild animals attack sometimes, Hazel.”

“Stop saying my name,” she snapped. “It’s not yours to say anymore. And that warship that was destroyed? The defenses that were destroyed? The supplies that were booby-trapped?”

Frank took a step forward, eyes darkening. He didn’t like being pushed, but Hazel didn’t care. He deserved to feel the impact of the crimes he committed-- crimes against demigods, crimes against his family. Hazel wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

They’d initially broken up when Frank started getting too radical, claiming that they were doing something wrong by taking in and training new demigods. He said they’d be better off left alone, where they wouldn’t be able to get too powerful, and thus wouldn’t attract as many monsters. Some would die, sure-- but he thought back to his mortal days with a fondness he didn’t hold for either camp. He thought it would’ve been better not to know.

He was wrong. But that didn’t stop him. He left camp, found beings willing to support his cause, and started a gradual campaign to dissolve both camps-- make them so unsafe demigods started fleeing, trying their luck in the mortal world.

Hazel and her friends had volunteered to be the ones to take him in-- or, if that didn’t work, bring him down. This house had been their mission headquarters. It was supposed to be secure. Then again, nothing seemed to be secure these days: there was nowhere Frank had been unable to go. He could turn into a bug and fly under doors, turn into a bear and attack innocents, turn into an elephant and take down buildings. His shifting was instantaneous, making him impossible to fight: he changed form before you could land a swing.

“You act like I’m a bad guy,” Frank said, voice low and dangerous. “Like I’m not doing all of this to help people. The generation after us will thank me when they are able to live among mortals again--”

“The ones who don’t die, maybe!” Hazel said, voice raising. “And fuck the next generation, what about the ones who are alive now? The demigods who have already started exploring their powers, who can’t stay in the mortal world without detection. What about them?”

“They’re a lost cause,” Frank said, sounding deeply saddened by this. “And I am too. I know my scent is as powerful as yours or Jason’s; this fucking curse has seen to that.”

“A blessing,” Hazel corrected, feeling the familiarity of their old argument like a frequently dislocated joint. “Shapeshifting is a blessing, a gift more demigods would die for--”

“I’m barely even human anymore!” Frank yelled. Hazel stepped back in horror as he shifted rapidly, going from human to bear to hawk to wolf to human again. It happened so quickly it just looked like a flicker, and then he was human again, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath. “Hazel, I wouldn’t wish this curse on anyone. And even if I was just a normal demigod, going to camp was the biggest mistake of my life. If I had never done that, my scent would have never gotten this strong. My family mansion would still be around, my grandmother would still be--” he swallowed with difficulty. “My grandmother would still be alive. Camp Jupiter took everything from me. And I can’t get it back, but maybe-- I could make it better for future demigods. That’s all I can hope for.”

“At the expense of demigods now,” Hazel whispered. “Frank, without the camps… so many people will die. Demigods need a safe place to train.”

Frank’s expression closed off, and Hazel knew he was done arguing with her. Early on, he’d hoped to get her to see his side, but he’d quickly seen that that would never happen.

“Fine,” he said, voice like a knife. “Then just give me what I came here for, and I’ll be on my way.”

Hazel felt her face heat up. Her hand twitched, wanting to move to touch the side of her thigh where his piece of firewood sat. All this time, and he’d never gotten it back. At first, Hazel thought it was a hopeful sign, since it meant he must still trust it in her care, but as his actions grew more and more violent, she knew it was only a matter of time.

She had used to keep it in a jacket pocket, but she wasn’t so naive anymore. Currently, the wood was duct-taped to the side of her thigh, so it never left her side. No one knew; her friends didn’t even know she had it. She’d considered telling them, but she just couldn’t betray Frank’s trust like that. She’d considered burning it-- especially after hearing about the deaths-- but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. How could she betray someone who had trusted her with everything? How could she hurt anyone like that?

Hazel had known, in her heart, that one day he’d show up, looking for the piece of timber. She had hoped it wouldn’t happen, but she’d known. She wasn’t as naive as people liked to think.

“I’m not giving you anything,” she said, raising her spatha. “For all you know, I don’t even have it anymore. I may have put it in a safe across the country, and you’ll never find it.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “Come on Hazel. Don’t make me ask again.”

“I told you not to say my name.”

“Hazel,” Frank snapped. “You’re acting like a child. I’m trying to make the world a better place, and it’s bad enough you of all people are trying to stop me. But that timber doesn’t belong to you. Give it here.”

“Do you remember who my father is?” Hazel challenged, baring her teeth. “I could kill you with the snap of my fingers. I’d be more afraid, if I were you.”

"You have my firewood, you could've killed me long ago," Frank argued. "You haven't. You're not going to try now."

Hazel felt her eyes blaze with determination. "You don't know that."

He started moving forward, and Hazel was reminded briefly how much bigger than her he was. "I do. Because I know you, and I know you'd never do anything to hurt a friend."

"Unlike some people," Hazel snarled.

Frank ignored the jab, still moving forward. “Hazel, I’m begging you, just hand it over. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

He got too close, and Hazel slashed with her sword. In an instant, he was gone, and then he was behind her, grabbing her around the waist. She screamed as he grabbed her hoodie pocket, feeling for the timber. She tried to elbow him in the face but he was gone again, and then she tripped over something and was on the ground. She swiped at him again but he was relentless, disappearing and reappearing again, attacking her like a wolf tearing at scaps. She couldn’t strike her, no matter how hard she tried.

Suddenly, she felt his hand on her thigh, and in a panic she kicked him away. He responded slower this time, barely turning into a bird in time to stop himself from slamming full force into the opposite wall. He dropped back to human form, panting, but his gaze was vicious. He’d found what he was looking for.

“You used to be a gentleman,” Hazel said bitterly as she stumbled to her feet, backing up. He had never so blatantly ignored her consent like that before, touching her like she was a means to an end instead of a person.

“I’m not going to be a gentleman when you have my lifeline tucked against your skin,” Frank said cruelly.

Hazel saw his muscles tense and just had enough time to say “No--” when he lunged, turning into a hawk. She slashed with her sword, but then he was a coyote, hitting her with so much force she fell again. There was a ripping noise, but she didn’t have time to react because then he was on top of her in human form again. They wrestled for a moment, but Hazel had never excelled in hand-to-hand combat, and he was twice her size with the upper hand. He threw her spatha to the side, then pinned her beneath him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, then there was a hand over her mouth. She lurched, screaming into it as he ripped the duct-taped timber off her leg, taking some of her hair with it.

As a wolf, he must’ve bitten off a hunk of her sweatpants, and now he had the timber back in his hand.

He looked at it in awe, as if he wasn’t didn’t even see her as a threat anymore.

She gritted her teeth and summoned her sword. It flew so fast it knocked Frank in the back of the head, and then she was able to throw him off her body, slashing at the same time. He turned into a hawk but wasn’t quick enough, and she sliced off part of his wing. He fell, rolling away in human form, and when he came to a stop Hazel saw the huge gash down his arm. He reached up to touch it, and it was then that Hazel realized he didn’t have the wood.

She spotted it, laying in the center of the floor, at the same time as he did. They both lunged, Frank’s image flickering through half a dozen transformations before he grabbed onto the timber with his thick human hand. Hazel almost took off his fingers as she swung. Instead of knocking the wood out of his hand, however, she cut it clear in half.

That was good enough for her. She dove, grabbing the wood and rolling.

She landed in a kneeling position, half of the piece of timber in her hands. Frank held the other, teeth gritted. He looked like he planned to launch another attack, but before he could Hazel did what she should’ve done a long time ago: warping the imperial gold of her sword, turning it to its liquid state in mid-air, and using it to coat her piece of wood. She raised it, triumphant, the metal-covered wood levitating an inch above her hand. It glowed inhumanly-- after all, she had her own curses to deal with. Frank wouldn’t dare touch it now.

The house shook. It took Hazel a moment to realize that was her magic, causing the very foundations of the house to tremor. There were shouts from the lower floor, the sound of pounding footsteps.

“Try me again,” she threatened, still levitating her trophy grotesquely. “I will end you.”

Frank looked pissed, but he also must’ve seen how serious she was. He swallowed, stuffing his piece of firewood back in his pocket. “Until we meet again-- Levesque.”

Then he turned into a bat, still able to fly despite his injured wing. The door opened and he swooped out, escaping into the rest of the house and eventually, into the night.

Jason and Percy lurched in, both looking panicked. They didn’t seem to have noticed the bat. When Jason saw Hazel, his eyes widened, and he backed up into Percy, nearly knocking him over. “Hazel-- your eyes--”

Hazel realized her eyes must’ve started glowing gold, like they sometimes did when she was filled with rage. With effort, she willed them to stop, calling on the house to still.

“What happened?” Percy asked as Hazel walked to the window. She watched as a bat darted out the front door, which was still open-- Jason and Percy must’ve just gotten back. She continued watching the bat until it was too far away to see, then sighed. She willed the metal to uncover the piece of tinder, revealing it as a piece of wood again, and holding it up for them to see.

She’d never told anyone Frank’s secret, thinking her loyalty to her promise came before anything else. She didn’t think that anymore, though, and she was done doing Frank favors.

(The wood still had Frank’s blood on it, and it made Hazel’s stomach twist uncomfortably.)

“I have something to tell you guys,” Hazel said, doing an impressive job of keeping her voice from shaking. “A secret I’ve been holding for Frank for-- too long. It may not be enough to destroy him, but at the very least, I know a way where we can hurt him very, very badly.”

Send me an ask | Read "Preserve or Raze" | Check out my AO3

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 13: To the Death (Death)

AO3

Prev

Their last few days in Gotham went by smoothly. No rogue attacks, no akuma tacks. The only negative was Mr. Wayne refusing to allow her on patrol again because she was “injured” and “could have died.” Gotham has been nice for the most part and was full of surprises, but Marinette was relieved when the plane landed in Paris. The entire trip moved to the back of her mind, almost like a dream. Like it hadn’t really happened. Until Hawkmoth sent out his next akuma.

---

Taking in a shaky breath, Marinette blinks back tears. Everything was suddenly real. Hawkmoth might win.

She despised akumas with weapons. Specifically, the lethal weapons. Creative weapons or blasters she could handle. No problem. Legitimate swords or guns? Not so much. Instead she was left with a feeling of dread and uncertainty.

Pushing forward, she’s just about to call her lucky charm when she feels it. Choking slightly on the blood- why is there blood- she looks down at the sword sticking out of her chest. Oh. That’s why there’s blood. Blood. She coughs, wincing as she watches the blood pour out of her mouth. Huh. That’s not right. She almost hears Chat screaming. But why? Why does he sound so upset? Why- Oh. OH. She’s dying. She realizes this with a start as the world around her darkens and she begins to sway. She’s dying, and Hawkmoth is going to get her Miraculous. Hawkmoth is going to win. Oh, no- please-

“Chat.” She manages to say, watching as he runs towards her and scoops her up, carrying her out of the way of cameras and prying eyes. A place she can stay. A place where Hawkmoth won’t take her Miraculous. He won’t. He can’t. She frowns, black spots covering her vision, but not enough to hide his tears.

“Take them. Save them.” She manages to say, shaky hands reaching for her earrings. His lips move, so she knows he’s saying something. She wishes she could hear it. Wishes she’d thought of this possibility. She thinks Chat will win. But it’ll be so hard. She should’ve wrote a will. Should’ve planned ahead. Should’ve been more like her father. She blinks at Chat- Adrien- and realizes he’s still talking. She hopes it’s not important, that maybe he could tell her later. Her thoughts continue to jumble, just like her vision. Shifting into one incoherent mess. Words become shapes, pain dulls until she’s numb. Until she can’t feel it. Until she closes her eyes and lets the darkness carry her away.

---

Immediately after finding out about his Parisian daughter, Bruce Wayne had installed the akuma alert system in the Batcave. And on his phone. He wanted to be absolutely certain that he would know what was happening when, and maybe even find some way to help. Do something. Stop the emotional terrorist that had taken over his daughter’s childhood.

Sitting in his study, he takes a swig of coffee, thankful for a relaxing Saturday. He wanted to avoid WE, stay as far away as possible. They’d been bombarding him with questions about Marinette and the (true) rumor that started when her class first arrived in Gotham. Wanted to know if it was true, what they could say, what the official statement was. He wasn’t sure. He wanted Marinette to be able to make that decision. But it wasn’t something you could just ask after only a week of knowing each other.

A shrill ring breaks him out of his thoughts and he glances at his phone. That’s odd, he thinks, looking at the screen. Until he reads closer and realizes why it looks different. The Parisian news stations, who had never seemed too distressed by attacks before, were urging people to hide. Not just shelter in place. But hide. Making up his mind quickly, Bruce makes his way to the Bat Cave. Sure he couldn’t jump over to Paris to assist his daughter in battle, but he had to know that she was safe. He had to know Marinette would be okay. Miraculous cure or not. Walking into the cave, he’s unsurprised to see Tim already there, the news feed pulled up on the largest screen.

“It’s not looking good B. Casualties have already passed fifteen hundred. LB and Chat both look exhausted and the fight just started.” Tim informs him, frowning into his unnecessarily large cup of coffee. Bruce simply nods, trying to ignore the sudden tension in his jaw.

“How’s she holding up?” Dick asks, arms crossed as he walks in, Damian trailing in behind him.

“She’s giving ‘em hell but she also took a coupla good hits.” Jason says, watching his phone as he walks in through another entrance. Bruce’ chest feels warm at the obvious concern and care his sons have for their sister. He had no doubt that Cass (who had returned to Hong Kong before Marinette returned to Paris) was also watching the stream. Although not necessary, it was still nice of them to check. To care. As the fight goes on though, Bruce becomes antsy. The cameras are too far away to pick up the conversation between the heroes and the akuma, but it doesn’t look good. Marinette looks anxious, nervous, almost frenzied. All emotions he’d never seen on her (as Ladybug).

“Call your lucky charm.” Damian hisses, glaring up at the screen. Bruce silently agrees. As odd as the power was, it hadn’t failed her yet. There’s no- his blood freezes. The world shuts down as he tries to remember how to breathe. To remember that it’s okay to breathe. Because standing in front of the akuma is his daughter. With a sword protruding from her chest. The entire cave is silent, everyone waiting. Trying to process. The sword is pulled back and Bruce watches, sick to his stomach as blood falls out her mouth. As she sputters, more blood falling out. The dazed look on her face as she sways on her feet, not quite seeing her surroundings breaks his heart. She stumbles, her legs giving out, and he stares, unable to look away as Chat Noir manages to grab her and swing away.

“Shit.”

“She did not even dodge! She could have-”

“She’s not- she’s okay, right?”

“Is she-?” Bruce is barely able to hear the chaos around him. Barely able to focus on the video in front of him. He lets out a shuddering breath, turning his complete focus to watch for her to come back. Surely someone would heal her. The Miraculous cure could heal her. It had to. He desperately watches the screen, waiting for her spotted costume to come back. She had to come back. He sees spots, but squints. Something’s wrong with the spotted costume swinging towards the fight. The colors are right, but the flash of blonde hair and distinct male figure- it’s not...it’s not her. Not Marinette.

“It appears Mr. Bug is on the scene. Ladybug is down. I repeat, Ladybug is down.” The news anchor reports, a distraught look on her face. But the look on her face is nothing in comparison to the agony that shoots through Bruce. How? Why isn’t she up? Why would Adrien use her Miraculous? Why not heal her now, let her finish her battle? Unless...could she not be healed? Was the Miraculous cure unable to bring the Ladybug holder back? No. No, he couldn’t think that. Couldn’t accept that. She had to be okay. He couldn’t lose a child. Not again. Never again.

“The Cure will save her.” Damian says stiffly, tugging Bruce from his thoughts. He looks over to his youngest, torn by how young Damian suddenly looks. How broken he looks, staring at the screen in front of them. Braving a glance at his other sons, Bruce suddenly feels sick. His phone rings suddenly, and Bruce jumps, hoping the name- but no. It’s Cass, requesting a facetime. He answers, giving his daughter (is Marinette okay? Will she be okay? What if he loses her right after finding her?) a quizzical look.

“Little sister is okay, right?” She signs furiously, a frown on her face. Bruce grits his teeth, trying hard to push down the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I’m not sure.” He answers, leaving his tone flat and without emotion. He couldn’t break. Not right now, not when his children looked so scared. Not when they all looked horrified. He couldn’t afford to be scared or horrified too. He had to hold it together. Even if he was screaming on the inside. Screaming and begging and pleading with whatever powers there were. Pleading for his daughter’s life. For her to wake up. For the Cure to work on her. He watches and waits. Wincing as Adrien is thrown around even more than usual. His hands twitch, wanting to do something, anything to help. Bruce finally stands, ready to put on his suit and just take the damn Zeta tubes to Paris. Who gives a damn about Hawkmoth, his daughter needs him. He’s just about to walk away when he sees it. The pure white butterfly flying out of Mr. Bug’s yoyo. Bruce inhales sharply, watching the wave of light and tiny ladybugs sweep across the city. He watches as Adrien slides the victim a card before swinging away. Watches as he doesn’t reappear. The camera zooms in to the area he’d flown off to, but there was nothing. Zooming back out, the camera focuses back on the news anchor.

“And that’s another akuma, taken down by our brave heroes. Back to you, Jean Marc.” She says with a tense smile. And the footage cuts out. It’s no more. No one moves. No one speaks. Everyone just stares at the blank screen. The screen where they’d watched Marinette be stabbed. Where they’d seen a sword go through her chest. Bruce clenches his jaw, trying desperately to stop himself from crying.

“I’ll be back.” He says gruffly, leaving his seat to go and put on his suit. There was no way she was gone. He wouldn’t accept it. So, he was going to go to Paris. He’d find her and wrap her up in some goddamned bubble wrap and make sure that his daughter didn’t get stabbed again. God, she has to be okay. His thoughts are frantic as he moves swiftly towards his suit, his thoughts only of getting to Paris. Getting to Paris, and finding Marinette. A sudden flash of light brightens the cave and Bruce instantly gets into a fighting position, watching the light turn into a circle. A portal, right in the middle of the Bat Cave. His breath catches as he watches two figures fall through the portal. Adrien, obviously still in spots. And the girl next to him….he frowns, not quite recognizing her.

“Kaalki, dismount.” The girl says, a soft light flashing over her. Bruce freezes, eyes scanning his daughter as she smiles awkwardly. Glancing over her, reminding himself that she’s there. She’s alive. He crosses to her in three large steps and drops to his knees in front of her so that they’re on eye level.

“Never do that again.” He begs, voice breaking slightly as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. She’s alive. She’s okay. She’s alive.

---

Marinette buries her face in her father’s shoulder, tightening her hold on him. He was the only parent that knew she was Ladybug. The only one who would be affected by seeing her stabbed on live tv. Coming to see him directly after the battle was all she could think of when she woke up. She knew she had to see her dad and her brothers. Reassure them that she was still there.

“I’m so sorry Dad.” She chokes out, tears running down her face as she remembers the pain of being stabbed in the chest. The way her vision went dark. The way the blood felt as she choked on it. She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing shakily as she holds onto him for dear life, barely registering when more warmth surrounds her. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know what it is. Her brothers, all hugging her. Surrounding her, making sure she’s there. She sighs in relief, glad that they’re all there. Glad that she’s able to hug them again.

Next

Master list

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @imarisvers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[redhoodieone]

I Want to Suck Your “C”

A/N: Hiiii everyone! I haven’t written smut in so long, so I thought…what the hell? Write something dirty for the hell of it! So, here it is! Hope you enjoy it! P.S…if this becomes a big hit…I’ll write a Part 2 where Jason Todd returns the favor for the reader and eats her…you know…hahahha!!!!

Warnings: Smut…language…just filthy stuff.

Plot: Reader wants to suck Jason’s cock so bad. He doesn’t mind one bit. Once they’re alone in church, she shows him how much she needs him. Two horny teenagers in Catholic school give into temptation and they soon learn being bad is so good.

  I Want to Suck Your “C”

I know I shouldn’t be proud. This revelation should be a wakeup call to get help, or go all our church services to beg for mercy and forgiveness.

Because what would my parents say if they found out I was secretly a cock slut? What if they think if I just came right out and said I’m a cum slut...

For Jason fucking Todd.

Here I am, an eighteen-year-old who is about to graduate from St. Mary’s Catholic School, sitting in the church with my other classmates and listening to Father Peter telling us stories about...wait for it...

Temptation.

I silently whimper, wiggling my ass in my seat to properly pull down my plaid skirt to my knees, but the length isn’t as long as it should be. I swallow hard when I chance a glance at the other side of seats where Jason Todd is sitting with his friends.

For an eighteen-year-old boy, Jason isn’t like the other guys in our grade who still look like they’re growing out of puberty. Already taller than most boys, Jason’s body is as masculine as I could imagine despite always wearing his school uniform of gray slacks, a white button down, blue blazer, and blue and yellow striped tie. I can’t lie and say I’ve never noticed how his pants really define his rather large bulge and how his biceps flex every time he’s reaching out to throw a football on the front steps of the church before and after school.

And don’t get me started on his dark hair and blueish/gray eyes. The guy could be a fucking model when he graduates, but the sexiest guy in school has already claimed he wants to become a priest.

If Jason Todd really becomes a priest, consider me his devoted believer.

Or sinner...

I can’t really say that I disagree with Jason’s future plans considering I do know for a fact that he had a very rough past. Details about his upbringing and parents have never been discussed amongst us peers as Father Peters and our other teachers have told us Jason’s past will always remain a secret. But they couldn’t blame us for being curious anyways since Jason was brought into the church and school when he was just fourteen years old  after getting into dangerous trouble. Father Peters actually saved Jason’s life, and in a way, he gave Jason a second chance at life.

And he gave him a home here in the church.

Maybe that’s why Jason is dead set on becoming a priest...maybe to help others and give them a second chance at life.

I’m completely staring at Jason now. He’s facing forward, listening to Father Peters ramble on and on, while I’m imagining the ways I would commit sin and give into temptation to Jason Todd.

I would suck his cock.

Fuck that. I WANT to suck his cock.

Damn...I bet Jason has a big, heavy, thick cock.

I mean, his hands and feet are huge, and I overheard from some other girls that the size of hands and feet could confirm boys’ dick sizes.

Even my best friend Bree had said her boyfriend Ryan’s dick size was accurate from just the size of his big hands and feet.

My mouth waters from just thinking about Jason’s cock. I bet if I sucked him hard and swallow his dick good that he’d shoot his hot, delicious cum down my throat and have such an amazing orgasm all because of me.

But then to my horror, Jason turns around in his seat and spots me staring at him like a psychotic, creepy stalker. Embarrassed and wanting to die in this church, I slowly sink in my seat and force my eyes away from him.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I suddenly losing my cool? How in the world could I be so fucking horny?

True, as a Catholic teenager, I admit I haven’t ever engaged in any sexual activities because of my vow to wait until marriage. But just because I’m saving myself until marriage doesn’t mean I have to ignore and suffer through the agony and war of my sexual urges. And it’s simple: I masturbate.

Most of the time it works. I’m no stranger when it comes to massaging and pinching my sensitive nipples or finger fucking my pussy until I literally explode through my wet release. But lately my uncontrolled horniness seems to be coming from my longtime crush Jason who has lately been hanging around my inner circle.

True, we do have mutual friends and we are in most of each other’s classes, but I can’t help but wonder why. Why is Jason always close by? Why does Jason always look like he’s watching out for me when I’m by myself?

And why is Jason staring at me right now during our church service?

From just the corner of my eye, I can see Jason staring at me with an unreadable expression.

Is he mad at me for staring at him first?

Is he wondering what my deal is?

Is he trying to tell me I need to get help or he’s going to file a restraining order against me?

The church bell soon rings, and we’re all dismissed to go home.

Standing in the hallway just outside the church doors, I slide my messenger bag over my shoulder. I then notice everyone had quickly taken off to go home. Skipping my way down to the doors, a hand grabs a hold of my elbow and tugs me backwards until my back hits against a strong chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Jason Todd.

I would recognize that deep, addictive, and unforgettable voice anywhere. 

I initially freeze. Is he really talking to me right now, after I made a complete idiot of myself for staring at him like he’s some sort of expensive prime rib?

“I said, where do you think you’re going, Y/N?”

I’m suddenly being turned around to face him. His hands move up from my elbows to my shoulders. I’m able to finally see how serious he is and how he wants me to answer to him.

So, I look up at him and squeak an answer out like a mouse because I apparently can’t speak like a human being. “Home.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to go home right now?”

His hands are still gripping me, and I swear his fingertips are rubbing hard through my blazer so I can feel him touching me.

“Well, everyone else has gone home so...I have to go, too,” I answer weakly.

Jason licks his lips and instantly smiles down at me. “That’s a shame...because I thought you wanted to stay behind and explain why you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me.”

You mean, eat your cock. I think to myself.

“About that, I’m really sorry I was doing that to you earlier. It was...very creepy of me to do that,” I apologize, feeling more embarrassed about how stupid I am, and how I can’t handle this stupid crush I have on him. “I won’t do it again. I know it bothers people, and I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“But you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” Jason speaks out fast and stares into my eyes. His pupils are blown. “In fact, you made me feel like you wanted to do something...”

“Something?” I whisper.

Jason leans in closer to me. I can feel his hot breath on me. He smells so fucking good. He must be wearing a woodsy type of cologne, and his breath smells minty from chewing gum earlier.

His lips practically touching mine, but there’s still that thin open space between us.

“Yeah...but what? What were you wanting to do...to me, sweetheart?” Jason whispers.

“I wanted to suck your cock.”

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

DID THOSE FUCKING WORDS JUST LEAVE MY FUCKING MOUTH?!?!

Holy shit, Y/N!

I stare at Jason; horrified and humiliated at how blunt I am, how I can’t keep my sexual thoughts to myself, and how I’m going to have to change schools because of this!

Jason is going to hate me now. Any chances I had with him before graduating school are now gone.

I need to leave. I need to get the hell out of here now. I need to leave town.

I force myself to look up at him after having my eyes shut tightly in fear from what I did. But Jason’s eyes are not angry. He doesn’t seem offended or even weirded out.

In fact, Jason looks...horny.

His eyes have darkened, and his pupils are huge. His hands grip my shoulders tighter and I can see he’s breathing kind of hard; almost restraining himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m so-so sorry for what I said. Please. Please don’t hate me,” I plead, after noticing he hasn’t moved or said a word to me. “Let’s just pretend this never happened. Okay? Let’s just pretend I never said that and I never meant it.”

I expect Jason to leave now. I even expect him to tell Father Peters what I said.

But no. What Jason does next is something I could have never imagined.

“No.”

I blink a few times. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. No, I don’t want to pretend this never happened.”

“But...but I seriously made you uncomfortable. I know you don’t like me, but-”

“That’s bullshit! Of course, I fucking like you, Y/N! I’ve always liked you!” Jason snaps, obviously angry at me for a reason. “Why do you think I’ve been hanging around you more? And don’t tell me it’s because of our friends, because if you watched me more, you would see I was the one staring at you the whole time.”

I softly smile. “Really?”

“Hell yeah, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful, and that completely confuses the shit out of me that you can’t or don’t see that.”

I open my mouth to speak but Jason beats me to it again.

“I want to eat your pussy.”

My eyes widen at Jason’s confession. I don’t know what startled me more: Jason having a dirty mouth and swearing, or him actually admitting he wants to go down on me?

Maybe both.

I feel like I’m dreaming. I’m probably asleep in the church from earlier. Oh yes. I fell asleep during Father Peters’ story.

Jason pulls me towards him until our bodies touch. I feel his lips against my ear. “Is that something you’d want, Y/N? Huh? Is that something you’d want me to do to you?”

I feel my pussy tingling with excitement. I know I’m getting so wet in my panties. I rub my thighs together but unknowingly rub myself against Jason during the process.

“Do you want me to eat that delicious, wet pussy of yours?” Jason whispers to me.

“Only if I can suck your cock, Jason.”

Jason quickly pulls back to look down at me with such heat and adoration that he kisses me hard. He wastes no time licking and nibbling my bottom lip for me to open my mouth. His tongue searching throughout my mouth, rubbing against my tongue, and just swallowing each other’s moans is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Breathless, we pull away from each other; but not for long.

“Father Peters won’t be back for another half hour. Let’s go to the church.”

Not even a second to think, I agree with Jason’s suggestion. We need to be alone now.

Jason takes my hand and leads me into the dark silent church. We stand behind the alter where no one could see us unless they turned on the light. But with the sun still out for another hour, we could see each other just fine.

He quickly brings me close to him so our bodies are touching. He slams his lips against mine and we fall back deeply into our kiss. I can feel his hands running down my shoulders, down my back, until he grabs a hold of my ass with both hands.

I moan into his mouth. I allow my hands to rub his hard chest until I move my hands down his abs and eventually down to his crotch area.

I pull my lips away from his only enough so I can whisper to him. “I want to suck your cock so badly, Jason. I want to suck so hard. I want you to fuck my mouth until you cum. I want to taste your cum so much. I’ll swallow every single fucking drop until you can’t give me more. I just want you, Jason. I want every inch of your masculinity, please,” I plead like a desperate little slut. And I literally feel no shame or embarrassment now.

I can see Jason’s hunger for me in his eyes. He’s panting so much right now that I know for a fact this won’t last long.

“Fuck...doll. Are you my cock slut? Huh? Are you my cum slut now? You want my cock and cum, don’t you?” Jason asks me breathlessly.

I grip his tie so hard. I’m having the hardest time controlling myself until he gives me the green light. “YES! Oh God, yes Jason! I’m your cock slut! I’m your cum slut! I want your cock and cum so much! Please let me!”

Jason grins cockily and unzips his pants. “Drop to your knees, Y/N.”

I fall to my knees. Hard. But I don’t care. I’ll handle the pain because nothing is more important than Jason’s cock.

Unbuckling his belt, I waste no time pulling down his boxers until his long, hard, thick cock slaps against his stomach. I stare in amazement. It’s everything I imagined it to be. I quickly reach up to grab a hold of dick just so I can lick the tip, sucking and swallowing his precum like I’m drinking from a ripe peach.

“Oh fuck...Y/N,” Jason moans out breathlessly. His hand quickly runs through my hair until he’s holding a good handful of it to tug. “Suck my cock good, sweetheart.”

I moan from just the smell and taste of him. Despite the natural sweat of his, his scent is pure musk and it’s just...so Jason.

Jason is literally all man. And I love that.

I then lick his cock from the base back to the tip while looking up into eyes. “Go ahead, Jason. Fuck my mouth. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Y/N...”

I wrap my lips around his cock while holding the rest I can’t fit into my mouth. Slowly, I begin to bob my head back and forth just to get used to Jason’s cock. I’ve never sucked a dick before so I just try to go along with what seems like could feel good and by the hot sounds coming from Jason.

Jason begins to pant hard; moaning every time I swallow his cock only to pull back and suck his sensitive tip just to get a response from him.

And that’s what I’m getting myself off on: Jason’s moans.

I grab a hold of his hips and begin to push him into my mouth: showing him he has my permission to thrust in my mouth. He starts off slow; gradually gaining speed when he sees that I can take his cock no matter what.

I could feel myself wetting more in my pantries. With one hand, I reach down under my skirt and rub myself against my underwear; feeling the juices I’m making because of this hot guy.

“Ah shit...oh fuck...Y/N,” Jason moans louder. “You suck my cock so good. Fuck...you like sucking my cock, don’t you? You like sucking my big cock?”

I nod my head and moan my answer; humming around his cock that vibrates and makes him whine.

God, I fucking love destroying this guy with my mouth.

I quickly glance up and see Jason with his head tilted back and eyes shut tightly when I begin to go faster. I start to jack him off fast, gripping his cock in a tight fist while sucking harder. I moan around his cock to encourage him to fuck my mouth with every hard thrust he’s giving me.

His hips colliding against me doesn’t bother me at all. The way his cock goes farther and farther into my mouth makes my eyes water, but his whiny moans and the thought of him cumming because of me is worth it.

I start to imagine Jason fucking my pussy. I imagine him fucking me with his deep, hard, and fast thrusts. I know he could make me scream his name and cum. I could cum right now just because of what I’m doing to him.

“Y/N...I’m-I’m gonna cum,” Jason moans and grips my hair tightly. He’s breathless. He’s whimpering because he’s going to cum hard. “Fuck...I’m gonna cum in your mouth. I wanna see my cum on your tongue.”

Just the thought of Jason cumming from me is what I want the most. I know once this is over that this can’t be the end.

It just can’t be.

Suddenly, Jason thrusts hard three times in my mouth; gasping and choking out my name as he cums hard into my mouth; spurting and coating my throat and tongue.

“Y/N...” Jason moans my name. “Fuck...”

It’s delicious. Jason gently pulls away from me as I sit up straighter on my knees and open my mouth for him.

There on my tongue. Jason’s cum. Hot and delicious, just for me.

“Fuck doll...do you like my cum? Does it taste good?” he asks, panting hard from his orgasm.

I swallow all of it. “I love it. It’s yummy.”

Jason’s eyes darken again from what I said. He growls. He immediately almost turns into a predator as he kneels down to the floor and crawls over to me.

Without any warning, Jason pushes me down onto my back. Lying down on the floor, he gets on top of me only to pull down my skirt and panties. I squeal when his hands finally settle on my hips only to hold me down.

My bare pussy is on display. Just for Jason.

 With a cocky grin, he looks into my eyes and licks his lips.

 “I want to eat your pussy.”

[froggywhumpy]

Punishment

- - -

>:)!!! finally some whump!!!! I thought this chapter was a bit longer than my others, but I checked the word count and- no. It’s not. I hope people enjoy the shorter style because all of my stories are kinda like that. I think this chapter is pretty good, too!! Enjoy our poor baby Ezra learning the consequences for his actions >:)

- - -

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump @whatwasmyprevioususername @myst-in-the-mirror @happy-whumper @abitefullofwhump @starnight-whump @cowboy-anon @whumpasaurus101 @fromtheo-withlove

- - -

CW: Whipping, knife mention, yelling, swearing, fear of heights, Drew is really mean and Damion is sadistic

- - -

Ezra had never been more terrified in his life than he had when Drew told Damion what he had done.

Drew’s brother was older, and stronger too. Drew- well, he was horrifying, but at least Ezra knew him. With Damion, Ezra never knew whether he would act calmly, or if he would snap his arm off.

However, when Drew told his brother that Ezra had made a call, Ezra knew he was in trouble.

“You’d think he’d have a bit of common fucking sense.” The older man snapped, closing the distance between himself and Ezra in but a second.

Ezra pressed himself further into the corner, trembling like a child. “Please- I’m sor-sorry, I swear, I swear, I’ll never do it again, please, don’t- please-“ Ezra dissolved into frantic pleading, begging as if his life depended on it.

“You didn’t think you’d get off the hook without any punishment, did you? In fact, I think you need to be taught a lesson.” Damion sneered.

Ezra shook his head. “No, no no no, no- please, please don’t-“ he looked up at Drew, desperation clear in his eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Ezra’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“Oh, wow. You’re so fucking stupid.” Damion grabbed Ezra’s wrist, yanking him harshly to his feet, eliciting surprised cry from the boy. “It’s really adorable how you still think he’s on your side, though.”

“Please, please please please-!!!“ Ezra continued to beg, his voice raising as Damion pulled him out of the living room, and down the hallway.

His pleas were completely ignored. Ezra was dragged down the hall, shaking as Damion opened the door at the end of the hallway.

The room Damion had brought him to wasn’t particularly terrifying by itself. It was somewhat small, and while the walls were covered in windows, the mountains weren’t visible, to Ezra’s relief. In the center of the room was a metal pole going all the way from the wooden floor to the ceiling. Against one of the walls was a long metal cabinet, running over a significant portion of the wall. Other than that, the room was empty.

Damion shoved him over to Drew, who had entered the room behind them. Petrified, Ezra whimpered as Drew brought him over to the pole in the center of the room. A moment later, Damion handed his brother a roll of rope, which Drew used to tie Ezra’s hands together, tying them to the pole over his head.

“I’ll never- never do it again, please, just don’t hurt me.” Ezra sniffed, his tears barely kept at bay.

“It’s far too late for that, love.” Drew’s frown deepened as he tied Ezra to the pole by his waist as well.

“Please, please please please- I’ll never ever do that again, I’ll- I’ll never ever..” Ezra rambled on, only somewhat coherent by this point. His pleas were ignored yet again, as Drew and Damion went over to the cabinet and began looking through it.

“Look over here.” Drew ordered. In Damion’s hands were two weapons; a knife, and a coiled whip. Ezra’s eyes widened. “Which one do you choose?”

Ezra shook his head. He didn’t want to choose- which one would hurt less? Ezra had never been whipped before. Just the thought of that being used on him sent chills down his spine. Defeatedly, he hung his head in resignation.

“The knife.”

“Great!” Drew grinned, taking the knife from Damion and approaching Ezra. Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for pain as Drew raised the knife towards him, but it never came. Instead, he felt cool air crawl across his exposed skin as Drew cut the shirt he was wearing off of his body. Ezra watched, not daring to move an inch.

Once Drew was finished, Ezra again prepared himself for the pain he was sure was coming- but after a moment of silence, he realized Drew had put the knife away, and had backed away from him.

Ezra stared at him for a moment, confused, before he saw Damion uncoil the whip.

“Wait- wait, I didn’t- I didn’t choose that one!!” The desperation was plain in his quivering voice.

“Life’s full of disappointments, isn’t it?” Damion laughed.

“That’s not f-fair!! Please, you can’t, you can-“

The next thing Ezra knew, the whip was brought down upon his bare chest, his skin instantly splitting the skin open. Ezra screamed in agony- The pain far exceeded Ezra’s expectations. He never even imagined it would hurt like this.

“Oh, stop screaming. And you might want to hold your head up, unless you want me to hit your face.” Damion began to smile, barely even audible over Ezra’s torment.

“Stop, stop, I can’t!!” Ezra sobbed. “I can’t, I can’t do anymore!!”

“Yes, you can.” Drew glared at Ezra, speaking with disdain. “And you will. I think ten lashes will be enough for you to have learned your lesson.”

“Ten?” His eyes widened further. “I can’t do ten, Drew!!”

“I guess you should’ve thought about the consequences before you disobeyed my direct orders, then.” He snapped.

Defeated, Ezra listened to Damion’s advice, holding his head up as he braced again for the incoming pain. He felt nauseous at the very thought of having to endure ten lashes.

The second hit was just as painful, if not worse, than the first strike. An anguished cry escaped his lips, blood now dribbling from his open wounds.

When Ezra heard the third crack of the whip, he was already anticipating the pain that would come soon after- that didn’t mean he didn’t still scream out in excruciating pain as the whip struck him. The phone call wasn’t even worth this. Jason would never find him. Trying to contact him was pointless. Ezra wondered if trying to escape was pointless, too.

Ezra didn’t have much time to contemplate that, as before he knew it, the whip was brought down on him again. Every time, he thought he knew what it would feel like to be struck by the whip, and every single time, he underestimated the pain.

By the time the whip cracked for the tenth time, Ezra’s world seemed to spin, distorted by pain and blurred by his tears. His body was completely limp against the ropes, and if it weren’t for them, he would’ve collapsed a while ago. Much to his relief, none of the lashes had landed on his face. Ezra was grateful for that much.

“No more,” The boy whimpered as Drew approached him yet again. “Please, Drew, I can’t do anymore.”

“There won’t be any more.” Drew sighed, still frustrated. “No more whipping. But your punishment isn’t over yet, so don’t get too comfortable.” Drew removed the ropes from his around his waist, and then his wrists.

Ezra collapsed, and he would’ve fallen to the ground if Drew hadn’t caught him. He let out a cry of pain; every tiny movement hurt.

“I’m tired, no more punish- punishment, please.” He whined.

“You deserve it.” Ezra never would’ve believed these words could’ve been spoken by his previous lover. Each word felt like a knife cutting through him. He had never felt betrayed like this ever before. Nobody could deserve this- Drew didn’t really think that, did he?

Ezra was dragged from the torture room, writhing in pain as he was lead upstairs. Ezra’s head was spinning. He was brought into a clean room. Ezra was able to make out a desk, bookshelves, a door to a balcony- oh gods, Drew was taking him onto the balcony.

“No- no, no, no, no, Drew, don’t!!” Ezra screamed, his desperation neglected as he was pulled out onto the rickety wooden balcony.

If Ezra thought the floor was moving when he was inside, it was nothing compared to how he felt on the balcony. Lightheaded didn’t even begin to describe how he felt as he stood on the poorly made platform, overlooking a 1,000 foot? 2,000 foot? drop.

Ezra was forced to his knees- he shrieked, terrified of getting closer to the cliff face, even if the difference was only a few feet. Drew pulled out a pair of handcuffs, cuffing Ezra’s hands around the wooden railing of the balcony.

Ezra gaped at Drew, petrified that movement of any sort would cause the balcony to just break. Drew didn’t seem worried in the slightest. “Now, you’re gonna stay out here until you can tell me why what you did was wrong. Understood?”

“I know why, I know why, you can- take me in now, I know-!!”

Ezra’s begging was abruptly cut off, Drew’s hand cracking against his face as he slapped him. “None of that. Shut up and take your punishment like a good boy.”

Without another word, Drew walked off of the balcony, taking time to lock the balcony doors and draw the curtains, leaving him absolutely and completely alone.

Ezra cried. He couldn’t take it any longer. This time he would die, he was absolutely and positively sure of it.