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prince-septimus · 3 years

Text

the run-in

pairing : jason todd x detective!reader

summary : 3 times you run into the red hood, and the one time it’s jason todd

word count : 1.8k

warnings : mention of blood & violence

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?”

You spin around quickly, your gun pointed at the chest of a man you had never met but had heard all too much about.

The Red Hood.

“Sounds more like something the Commissioner would tell me,” you speak calmly, but don’t move the gun away.

There are bodies lying around you – some brought down by your own hand and the others brought down by his. Groans of pain fill the air, but you know some of the men are dead.

“Commissioner Gordon—” his voice is mechanical, any real traces of what he sounds like hidden by the mask he wears, “—how is he doing these days?”

Your gaze turns into a glare. “He’s fine. Would you like me to call him up? I bet he’d love to talk to you.”

Under the dim streetlights of Gotham, the Red Hood is a startling figure. He’s almost terrifying as he stands in front of you, but in a city full of heroes and villains alike, you don’t let his imposing structure intimidate you.

“I’ve actually got places to be,” he quips, before turning his attention to one of the men lying on the ground.

They were all members of a local drug ring you had recently been trying to bust. You know the names of a few, recognized them from photos you had found, but now they were just bodies to fill the jail cells, or for some, the morgue. You had been on a stakeout, trying to find some last bits of evidence you would need to finally make the bust, but you were ambushed.

The Red Hood had appeared out of nowhere.

He kicks at the body closest to him. There’s no groan of pain. Letting out a huff of air, it’s almost masked by the static of his mask. “Looks like you have a lot of paperwork to do.”

“No thanks to you.”

His head turns. You briefly wonder what he looks like under that mask, wonder what he sounds like.

“I’ll make sure to leave a few for you next time.”

You can practically hear the smile hidden away underneath the false voice he carries with him. Finally, you drop your gun. “I’ll let the Commissioner know you say ‘hello’.”

“It’s not like you to sit up on roofs. That’s more of my kind of thing.”

You sigh, bringing your camera away from your face to look at the man who’s saddled up next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“What? Can’t stop by to see how my favorite detective is doing?”

“You hate the police,” you reply flatly.

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen the Red Hood. He had popped up occasionally, always when you were working alone. You figured he had found some sort of trust in you, helping you out on the occasional case by offering information if you turned a blind eye to his criminal activities. You had a sort of trust in him too, you had decided, trusting him to never lead you on a wrong turn when it came to the leads he gave you.

You still bickered with him, though, almost treating him like an old friend rather than a deadly vigilante.

“I only hate the police that don’t do their job.” He leans against the concrete barrier surrounding the roof, the one you had been hiding behind as you spied on the gangsters in the window across the street. “That doesn’t include you.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be here if it did.” You scroll through the photos you had taken so far on your camera, making sure you have what you need before turning to the man standing next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“Heard your name from some of the men you’ve been scouting.” He nods toward the building. “I think you need to be a little more careful.”

“Isn’t that what I keep you around for?”

This is one of the moments where you wish you could see the face beneath the mask. You want to be able to read him, be able to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Instead, you’re forced to look at the masked man in front of you and be completely unaware as to who sits beneath it all.

“Just be careful. Keep someone with you when you’re out here doing these kinds of things.”

You shake your head, turning to bend down and grab your equipment from where it’s spread out on the roof. “I’ll be alright, Red. Now, how about you walk me home, hm?”

You stand back up, but he’s nowhere to be found, almost as if he was never there.

A bullet flies past your head, planting itself into the man who had been pointing his gun at you.

You don’t need to turn around to know who the bullet belongs to. Instead, you let your arms fall to your side as a huff of air falls past your lips. “I had it.”

“Sure, you did.”

He appears next to you, sliding his gun back into the holster strapped to his hip. You feel the anger rise up in you as you turn to look at him, and without thinking, you’re shoving at his chest.

“I had it!”

“I told you not to do stakeouts alone anymore—”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and cannot do.” You lower your voice, trying to calm yourself. “This is my job. I shouldn’t even be talking to you—”

“But you need my help.”

You rub your hands across your face. “I don’t need your help unless I ask for it, and I didn’t ask for it this time.”

A mechanic scoff. “You could’ve died.”

“I needed more information out of the guy.”

“You could’ve died. Do I need to keep repeating it?”

“Well, I’m fine. And now I have to find an explanation of why this guy is dead.”

“Better than finding you dead.”

Sirens sound in the distance. Someone must’ve called the cops before you ever got the chance to call it in.

“Go,” you say quickly, “get out of here so I don’t have to explain to my coworkers why I’m talking to a man they’re actively hunting.”

By the time the patrol cars arrive, spotting you with your hands raised in the air, the Red Hood is long gone.

The lights above you hurt your eyes. You try to lift yourself off the ground, but the pain stops you. You’re not sure where it stems from, but it’s spreading like a wildfire. Your whole body burns. It hurts to turn your head, but you manage to do so and almost let out a sob at the sight of your partner laid out on the ground.

Blood drips out of his nose, and his eyes are lifeless.

You cough, suddenly feeling like you can’t catch your breath at the realization of everything that had just happened. You had convinced your newest partner – a newer recruit, almost 30 – to do a stakeout with you. It was supposed to be a simple watch, one to get more information on one of the newer crime families in Gotham.

Instead, the two of you had been ambushed and laid out. Your partner was dead and you were close enough to it.

You don’t hear the footsteps or the panicked shout of your name until there’s a man standing over you. It’s hard to see anything but his shadow under the streetlight, but you would recognize the voice hidden beneath that mask anywhere.

“Red,” you manage to get out softly before your throat begins to burn and you’re coughing out any next words you have.

“Stay still,” he orders. He reaches for your side, his gloved hand covered in blood when he pulls it back before immediately pressing it back against your side in order to stop some of the bleeding. "You've been shot.”

You hiss at the pain that shoots through you, your eyes shutting . “Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Hey, hey,” he pats at your cheek, “keep your eyes open for me.”

“At least I didn’t come alone.”

He looks over at the fallen body of your partner, letting out a sigh. “Look at how well that worked out for you. Where’s your phone?”

“Don’t know. Car maybe.”

“Fuck it,” he spits out, keeping one hand pressed against your gunshot wound while the other digs his own phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

You watch through blurry vision as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Commissioner,” he speaks into the phone, quickly explaining what’s happened and where to find you. When the call ends, he looks back down at you. “Help is on its way.”

Beneath his mask, the Red Hood has a confused expression etched onto his face as he listens to the soft laugh you let out. “What are you laughing at? You’re bleeding out in an alley and you’re laughing.”

“You called the Commissioner to help me.” Your voice is broken, breathy words falling from your lips. “You’re risking the police finding you here in order to get me help. You’re doing all this, and I don’t even know your name or what you look like.”

A turn of his head towards the end of the alley, looking to see if there’s anyone watching. There’s sirens in the distance. He only has a few minutes.

With a click, he removes the helmet and tosses it next to him. His black and white streaked hair falls onto his forehead, and his face is still partially covered by the domino mask he always wore underneath, but he’s all-too-familiar even without revealing everything.

You smile. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And Jim knows?”

“Yes.”

You try to sit up again, attempting to ignore the pain, but Jason’s free hand finds your shoulder and holds you down.

“Don’t move. It could make it worse.”

“What’s next? Is Nightwing about to appear from the rooftop?”

Jason laughs. “We’re not exactly speaking at the moment, so I assume no.”

You shake your head as best you can. “Jason fuckin’ Todd. Back from the dead. Can’t believe I made friends with a zombie.”

“Real original.”

The sirens are closer now, too close.

Jason lets out a sigh when he hears a car door slam shut. There’s blood on your face and he reaches up to smear some of it away with his glove. “I guess that’s my cue.”

Gordon appears first, clearly keeping the other officers away to give Jason time.

You watch the two nod at each other before Jason grabs one of your hands.

“Almost there,” he tells you softly, removing his hand and placing yours over the gunshot wound in your side. “Keep pressure there, help is here.”

Jason reaches for his helmet, slipping it back on before taking off into the shadows.

You realize he never said goodbye, but as the Commissioner and the EMTs reach you, you know that you’ll see him again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #3+1 #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #my fics #recently got back into my batman phase and im having a grand time #also lemme know if you like the new format #i have another writing blog where i use this format and i just happen to like it better

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly.

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight.

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed.

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp.

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes.

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table.

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian.

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.”

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts.

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here?

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world.

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run.

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian.

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now.

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins.

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest.

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously.

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation.

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs.

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look.

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain.

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring.

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes.

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs.

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says.

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in.

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason.

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes.

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies.

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks.

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics?

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine.

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse.

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful.

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud?

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd.

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest.

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears.

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’.

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris.

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him.

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods.

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him.

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise.

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere.

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath.

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps.

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne.

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two.

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien.

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again.

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car.

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts.

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs.

“Yeah right.”

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right?

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason.

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-”

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks.

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.”

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns.

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs.

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again.

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness.

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement.

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

#daminette #maribat #maribat fanfiction #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #maribat platonic adrienette #platonic maribat adrienette #damian x marinette #maribat damian wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #maribat jason todd #maribat dick grayson #This Side of Normal

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ayamari-no-goshi · 2 years

Text

To Join the Whispers (4)

AO3

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

Summary: THIS IS A CROSSOVER A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that the League of Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity Park. The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual paranormal activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it wasn’t just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that haunted, for lack of a better word, the town were actual ghosts. If there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on, it was ghosts.That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d never recommend to anyone else.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr. Jason Todd-centric

Well, Bruce was the one who took Danny home. According to everyone else, he would jostled the kid too much while carrying him. Just because he doesn’t particularly like using grappling hooks, it doesn’t mean he can’t move smoothly.

But, he’d been tasked to work with Tim and Dick to review the information they took from the assassins’ bodies while the other three would return to the warehouse to see if they could find any more information. Bruce didn’t want him anywhere near an area where the G.I.W. could possibly be, at least until it was certain the organization’s equipment wouldn’t detect him. If anti-ghost equipment could harm him, it was possible various scanners could detect him.

They wanted to check it first with the one they got from the Fentons. Maddie had gone over how it worked, but due to Danny being in the house, she explained it would end up giving false readings. Might have been a good thing in the long run. As much as he was curious to see how badly the Fentons would react, making a public scene was currently a bad idea. They were trying to be discrete after all.

However, Jason decided to stay true to his promise to himself and get that shower first. He was not going to continue to stink like ghost bear spit for the rest of the night.

He tried to keep his mind from wandering too much during the shower. He knew full well that he shouldn’t have been able to physically attack a ghost, but he didn’t have much time to question it at the time. Had he been able to do that since he came back from the dead? What else did the Pit do to him other than the obvious body enhancement? Knowing he wouldn’t get an answer from his own thoughts, he decided to finish up and rejoin Dick and Tim.

“Find any… never mind.” He was going to ask but seeing as Tim already had two empty coffee cups and Dick was hanging halfway off the bed reading something, they didn’t have anything just yet. “What do you want me to start with?”

“Can you look at the readings of the assassins?” Tim didn’t even look up from his laptop.

He grabbed his own computer, specifically supplied by Bruce for this mission, and began sorting through the information Babs organized for them. She also might be looking through the same information, but it was also possible her focus was on something else, like the Fenton’s research or looking into Masters.

Duke’s abilities suggested the assassins died shortly before they arrived to take them out, and the reading verified it. However, there was an odd temperature reading around the chest on the first one he checked. After death, the body cools down over the course of several hours, but it doesn’t heat up. There was somewhat circular spot much warmer than the surrounding tissue just over the heat. A quick check showed the other four had the same spot.

“I might have something.” His brothers crowded around as he pointed out the discovery.

“Could it have been a heat ray or something like that?” Dick questioned. “No, that wouldn’t make sense. There’s no evidence of the heart or any other organ being cooked, and the skin doesn’t seem to have been burned.”

“Could it have really been a ghost, and that’s where it, or a hand at least, entered the body?”

Tim frowned as he turned his attention back to his laptop. “But aren’t ghosts supposed to be cold. Phantom’s readings are insane, and I have no idea how he’s still alive… well, at least partially alive. How does that work?”

“We’d probably have to ask Phantom that one,” Babs answered over their communicators. “However, some of the Fenton’s and even the G.I.W’s research suggest that some ghosts do have abnormally warn temperatures. The ones I can find have obvious fire related abilities, but it does appear most of them run cold.”

“I guess we can’t rule out ghosts.”

“Babs, do you have any data about a ghost named Plasmius?” Jason had a sinking suspicion that Masters was somehow involved, especially after the appearance of the mutant ghost animals.

“Honestly, I don’t have a lot,” Babs replied accompanied by some tapping. “We only have a few hints from the Fenton’s research. There’s nothing in the G.I.W.’s database, but there seems to be some evidence of tampering. If they previously had anything, it’s long gone.”

“Any chance of restoring it?” Dick questioned as he maneuvered himself between his brothers.

“At this point, I doubt it, but I’ll look to see if I can find the hacking signature.”

Jason absently rubbed the large scar on his chest as he leaned away from Dick. “So, what do we have on him?”

“I’ll send you the files, but honestly, it’s just the basics like appearance, approx. height, noted abilities.”

“Phantom wasn’t joking when he said Plasmius looks like a vampire.” After a quick review, Jason was disappointed that there wasn’t a temperature recording for Plasmius. However, there was a note mentioned that either fire or electrical abilities were suspected. While it didn’t confirm anything, other heroes and villains with those types of abilities did tend to be warmer than the average person.

After a moment of debating, he added, “You know… the Pit did react to something when we reached the perimeter of the warehouse.”

“You said you didn’t sense anything,” Tim glanced over at him.

“Once we were inside, I didn’t until Phantom showed up.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It stirs a lot, and I thought it was just that. But maybe it wasn’t. It’s not like I really understand how this works.”

Dick attempted to pat his shoulder, only for him to bat it away. “We’ll talk to B about it. You might have to start letting us know when that happens until we get to the bottom of this.”

“If you want false alarms all day, sure, because it happens all the time, especially here.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you can tell when it’s Phantom though,” Babs noted.

“Yeah… it’s…” he frowned for a moment as he tried to find the word, “…like a greeting? It’s stupid when I try to explain it, but it really didn’t like those ghost animals.” If he wasn’t mistaken, his brothers wanted him to elaborate further. Too bad he wasn’t going to. “I’m going to review those images again, but unless something jumps out at me, I’m pretty sure a ghost is our best bet for a culprit.”

About an hour later, the rest of them returned to the hotel room. Although it wasn’t obvious to the untrained, the Batman was irritated. The G.I.W. contaminated the entire scene with their equipment. This included driving a tank through one of the walls and, judging by scorch marks, destroyed another one with some of their weaponry. Some of them were also still lingering around the fencing.

They quickly exchanged information. While they couldn’t eliminate another force dealing with the League, as of right now they agreed the current most likely suspect was Masters. While Tim shifted back to working on the belts, Bruce took over for him. Jason, on the other hand, decided to investigate Masters.

On the surface, everything seemed normal. However, with a little help from Babs, they found a lot more than they expected. “No wonder why Danny calls him a Fruitloop,” he mumbled. Weapons, ectoplasmic composition, ectobiology, cloning, and something referred to as ecto-acne were just the tip of the iceberg. He had to recruit Duke and Dick to help sort through all of it.

After a few hours, Tim announced that he thought he had isolated Phantom’s ectosignature from the samples he took from the kid when he was bandaging him. And with a caffeine-fueled grin, he demanded a blood sample from Jason.

“You have that on file already.” He narrowed his eyes. The most recent sample had been personally provided by him when he revealed himself to Bruce after his resurrection.

“Yeah, but I need a fresh one to try to figure out your ecto-signature. If I remember, there were some abnormalities in it.” Of course, the little nerd remembered that without checking. “We believed that was residue from the Pit. I’ll have to double check, but we might be able to label it as ectoplasm now.”

After rolling his eyes, Jason used one of his knives to cut the back of his hand and held it out to his brother. With the sharpness of the blade and the enhanced healing the Pit gifted him, it’d be mostly healed within a few hours. He’d still have to wrap it just to prevent any chance of it getting on anything prior to that. Leaving as little trace as possible was figuratively beaten into them.

The regular chatter soon filled the room as they continued to work on their projects. While they still had little to go on regarding the assassins, they slowly uncovered a great deal about Masters. If what Babs uncovered was correct, Masters had spent a great deal of time trying to cover up what was happening in Amity. There were several files regarding various events in the town and what was provided to outside sources.

On top of that, there were several documents regarding Danny and his family. The man was absolutely obsessed with the Fentons, particularly Danny and his mother. And if the files were accurate, the man tried to clone Danny several times but stopped after catastrophic damage to his equipment. That’s probably what Danny referenced when talking about the experiments. The oddest thing was the apparent lack of interaction with known supervillains outside of regular business deals.

“Was it really just a fight over turf?” Duke yawned as he flopped backwards on the bed.

“Until we have evidence to prove otherwise, it seems that way,” Bruce agreed.

With no other obvious motive, it really seemed Masters was trying to keep others from interfering in the town. What surprised Jason was the man only seemed to make a tentative move against them. Perhaps he wanted to see if they were only interested in the assassins? Or were mutant ghost animals retaliation for befriending Danny?

Damian tutted. “I still find it unlikely men trained by grandfather would lose in such a battle.” Cass silently nodded.

“You couldn’t detect Phantom, could you?” Tim glanced away from his tinkering for just a moment.

The brat huffed and glanced away. “That’s different.”

With a stretch, Jason popped his back. “If it was Masters, he can sneak in undetected and his multiple foes at once. He’s a new type of enemy with unusual tactics. Anyways, did someone want to see if that Fenton device worked?”

Dick’s grin could only be considered childish as he flipped over the bed to grab the device. Show off. “I call dibs!”

Within moments, the device was booted up and a pleasant but robotic voice spoke, “Welcome to the Fenton Finder. There is a ghost four feet in front of you. You would have to be an idiot not to see the ghost in front of you. Thank you for using the Fenton Finder.”

Jason tried to suppress his desire to punch Dick in the mouth for the stupid shit eatting grin currently plastered on his face. “Don’t even say it.”

…

They slept in shifts. Tim was forced to sleep on the first shift. He tried arguing, but a threat of bodily harm helped convince him. Jason was not above pistol whipping his brother. He had kneed him the groin before. Or was that Dick? He was dealing with both of them at that particular moment.

He slept on the third shift. Why their hotel had a presidential suite baffled Jason since Amity wasn’t considerably important compared to say Gotham, Metropolis, or Star City, but it was nice having a place big enough that they could go into a separate room to sleep. It reduced the likelihood he’d be rudely woken up with Tim zapping him, but it didn’t completely get rid of the possibility.

If Tim pulled that crap, he would punch the idiot in the mouth.

Sleeping didn’t come easy. His dreams kept throwing him back in the Pit, complete with the unimaginable pain of being forced back to life. His psyche must have been sick of the reminder as he jolted awake.

But he didn’t wake up in a bed. Instead, wooden planks filled his vision. Was it a coffin? It better not be a coffin. Someone was going to die if it was. For years, he had nightmares about waking up in one. It hadn’t been something brought up to his family, but he did mention it in passing to Roy once.

However, after a quick glance. He realized he was just under the bed. Cussing out his family for playing such a stupid prank on him, he began the very annoying process of trying to get out from under it. His body type made it more difficult than it needed to be.

How the heck did they pull it off anyways? He’d heard of some of the pranks between Dick, Tim, and Damian, but those didn’t usually involve physically picking someone up off a bed. They were all trained to be light sleepers, and unless sleep deprivation took over, being jostled usually was enough to wake them up.

Grumbling after finally getting out from behind the bed, he glanced up to see Dick staring at him from the other bed. “What’s your problem?”

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “Was the bed that uncomfortable?”

“If I find out you put me under there, I’m going to break your leg.”

“That’s enough of that,” Bruce warned as he appeared in the doorway.

“Judging by your scowl, I’m going to bet we don’t have any new information.” Jason glanced at the clock on the nearby desk. It was just past seven a.m.

“Correct. Both Masters and the Fentons have already contacted me.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “The Fentons are already done with our order? I’m actually impressed. You said they’re an entirely independent operation, right?”

“That’s what it looked like. That basement of theirs is a lot like a smaller version of something you’d see at Star Labs or Cadmus,” Jason crossed his arms as he shifted his weight. “What did Masters want?”

“Business meeting, or at least that what it sounds like. He wanted to meet in neutral ground at a local restaurant. I was going to bring Tim and Damian with me while Cass and Duke search his manor.”

“That leaves us to talk to the Fentons.” Dick frowned as he went over the plan. “Why would you have Damian come with you?”

Bruce gave an almost smug smile. “Masters doesn’t seem to know how to handle him.”

….

After getting ready, Bruce pulled him aside. “I’d like you to see if you can get a clearer picture of Danny’s homelife while you’re there.”

“Was already going to do that,” with how Danny’s parents acted around his ghost form, making sure the kid was safe at home was already at the top of Jason’s list of things he needed to do while still in Amity, “but are you sure you want me at the Fenton home?” It did have what they could basically call an artificial Lazarus Pit in the basement.

“You have the best rapport with the children. We still don’t have a clear picture of what Masters wants.”

“And you want me to see if Danny will be willing to give me more information. Got it.” Before he could move, Jason noted that Tim was approaching with Spector Deflector. “Guess you want me to test it before I leave?”

Tim held it out. “I think I finally figured it out.”

He heard that one before. After a needed eyeroll, he grabbed it. However, instead of the intense shocking pain of before, this was more akin to an unpleasant buzzing similar to using certain types of power tools. “Still feel it, but it’s nothing like what it was. I wouldn’t want to wear it for any length of time, but I’d love to hear what happens when Masters touches it.”

“I might not have enough time to tinker with it and fix the other belts before tonight so you might have to deal with it.” Tim then grinned at him. “I’ll tell you how Masters reacts when we get back.”

“Jay, you ready?” Dick called from near the door. He seemed almost giddy to leave. He hadn’t seen the Fenton household yet, so maybe that’s why he was so excited?

Shaking his head, he moved to grab his jacket. “Just need this…?” He thought he grabbed his jacket, but somehow his hand was sticking through it. Pulling his hand out of the leather, he found it appeared as a pale shadow of itself until about midway up his forearm. “Well, that’s new.”

Immediate alarm spread through the room. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay, and that involved touching and more than a few scans. Sometime during the scuffle and trying to keep Dick away from him, his arm went back to normal.

“Back off! It’s fine now,” he snarled as he grabbed his coat.

“But, but you don’t know that,” Duke spoke up. “You said this wasn’t normal.”

Tim hummed for a moment as he checked the scans. “Vitals look normal, but didn’t you say the entire town feels like a toned-down version of the Pit? Maybe it has something to do with that?”

“Until we know what’s going on…”

Jason bristled Bruce’s attempt at concern. “Bruce, don’t finish that statement. If this is because of the town, do you really think staying here is going to change anything? It’s even more reason to talk to Danny. He’s probably the only one who might be able to explain what that was or if it’ll be a problem.”

…

“You know he’s worried about you.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “He certainly likes to pick and choose when he cares. Dick, you know how he is. Right now, he’s only worried about whether or not I’ll compromise the mission. Maybe if we were on our way home, I’d buy it, but not now.”

Dick stood in front of him, forcing him to stop walking. “Little wing… Jay… what happened to you affected him, badly. You didn’t get to see it. On top of that, you’re the only one we know of who seems to be permanently affected by the Pit.”

“Yeah? Well, it sucks.” Jason pushed past his brother and continued forward. Dick wasn’t wrong. The effects of the Pit were supposed to dissipate after a while, but they never did for him. “I had heard Cass was resurrected in it too. But she’s clearly not crazy.” He left out the obvious, ‘Like I am.’

“The only thing I think makes you crazy is your dislike of grappling hooks.”

“I don’t dislike them. I just don’t need them as much as you do.” He smiled despite himself. It was true. He had gotten so use to being able to bounce off the side of a building or catching himself with a ledge or flagpole that grappling hooks just weren’t as appealing as when he was younger. Made a great trick when trying to catch the attention of a Kryptonian. He still had one, just in case.

His brother nudged him with his elbow. “Now you’re smiling. None of us are still really sure what happened to you once you came back, but we’ve started seeing glimpses of the old you. That’s probably thanks to Kori and Roy more than anything we’ve done to help.”

When he didn’t respond, Dick took that as an invitation to continue. “We’re in new territory when it comes to ghosts and the like, so we’re all a bit on edge.”

“Meaning you’re worried I’m going to go on a killing spree.”

“What? No!”

“You don’t have to hide it.” Jason glanced up at the sky before taking a cigarette out of his jacket and lighting it. “The need… desire… obsession? I don’t know how to explain it… for taking them out, permanently, hasn’t been as bad for a while now.”

“Except for Joker.”

“Can you blame me on that one?”

“No, not really.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they continued to walk until Dick pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. “What the fuck?”

“You know these will kill you.” Dick just grinned in a teasing way as he stomped out the cig.

“Been there. Done that. I think I’ll take my chances, especially if it helps me deal with nosey assholes like you.”

“You wound me, brother.” He dramatically placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “So, what’s the Fenton Portal like?”

“You know, if you ask them, I have a strong feeling they’ll show you.” Jason had no doubt the Fentons would do that. Glancing up, he caught sight of the metal monstrosity on the roof of the Fenton household. He gestured to it. “And that’s our destination.”

“How on earth is that even allowed?”

….

As predicted, the Fenton adults were more than happy to show Dick the portal after being introduced to them. Jason opted to stay in the kitchen while that occurred which was code for he was going to take a look around. However, he did make sure to ask two questions, one about the security system they had and the second about the hunk of metal they called the ops center.

Like Tim had found on his preliminary surveillance, their security system did include lasers. And after the quick demonstration via Jack, they quickly found out there were a lot of them. Who in their right mind did that in the main part of the house? He could see them doing that in the lab, but the staircase too? There were even metal claws and ecto-weaponry that appeared out of, well, everywhere.

After turning off the internal security, Maddie casually mentioned that the weapons vault under the stairs could withstand almost any attack. Who in their right mind mentioned something like that to a virtual stranger?

Moments after that, both Jazz and an exhausted looking Danny hurried down the stairs. After Jazz reprimanded her parents for turning on the security, she greeted him and introduced herself and Danny to Dick, followed by an apology about having them see that.

“Oh, Jazzy-pants, now that you’re here, can you show Jason the Ops Center? We were going to show Dick the portal, but he’s already seen that,” Jack requested while wearing his signature grin. Apparently, he was a morning person. If he wasn’t, how in the world was he so excited so early?

“Are you seriously going to open that thing again?” Jazz demanded.

“It’s perfectly safe. Besides, we’ll be there.”

“Your mother is right. If any ghost scum bursts through, we’ll be there to take care of it!” Jack puffed his chest out. He was certainly sure of himself, but Jazz and Danny just shared a look.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll just be a few minutes, and then we’ll met you up in the Ops Center.” With that, Maddie led the way down the stairs to their lab. Jack wrapped his arm around Dick’s shoulders as he escorted him while talking about ghosts.

Dick looked back at him in mild concern. Jason just smiled and waved.

“You’re not worried?” Jazz questioned, noticing his reaction.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “Dick can take care of himself. Anyways, sorry about the rude awakening. I asked about the security, but I wasn’t expecting a demonstration.”

Danny grumbled something before speaking up. “They’ll show anyone basically anything if they think there’s interest.”

“With how advanced some of this stuff is, I’m surprised they’re so lax about it.”

“Up until more recently, ghost hunting really wasn’t considered anything but quack science. Both of them are brilliant, but not being taken seriously for years has made them a bit enthusiastic about sharing information.” Jazz then turned to the coffee maker while Danny sat at the kitchen table and started nodding off again. “Let me make myself and Danny some coffee then we’ll take you on the tour.”

A few minutes later, coffee was made. Jason decided to tell a few harmless stories about his siblings, such as one of Dick’s disastrous attempts at using a chandelier as a trapeze, while Jazz and Danny slowly became more alert.

Things were going well until the Pit decided to, for lack of a better word, violently flare. It could feel the portal in the basement calling to it. While trying to hide it, the hand that had been keeping him steady while he leaned against the counter slipped causing him to stumble.

Danny was by his side in a moment, now wide awake. “Are you okay?” When he nodded, the kid added, “The Portal is pretty intense when it gets opened. You get used to it after a while. Is your hand okay?”

“What do you mean…?” He glanced at the hand that caused him to slip and found it had that strange washed out look from earlier. “Oh… That just started, and I think you’re the only person who might have an idea of what’s going on. But…” He nodded towards Jazz.

“Don’t worry, I know about Danny’s situation,” she explained as she moved towards a section of the wall and pressed an unassuming panel. A staircase appeared. “We’d probably move the conversation to the Ops Center though. We can at least get a few seconds of warning before someone bursts through the hatch with some sort of ecto-weapon.”

“I’m assuming that happened?”

“A lot. They’ve destroyed my bed a few times, attacked one of my teachers…” Danny frowned for a moment. “How many times was the mailman attacked before the post office started forcing them to come to the station to get it?”

“I think it was five.”

“How haven’t your parents been arrested?”

===================================

Notes: Firstly, I seriously can't find evidence of Jason using a grappling hook as an adult. I first noticed this in "Under the Red Hood", both the animated film and the comic. And after attempting to search for an instance myself and checking with other DC fans, it's apparently very rare to see him use one.

In the comic version of “Under the Red Hood”, Jason cut the back of his head to provide Bruce with a blood sample. In the movie, Bruce got it off of the sword of an assassin.

There is a wonderful panel of Jason fighting both Dick and Tim. One is being kneed in the groin and the other is being punched in the mouth. This was during what I affectionately call his bat shit crazy days.

I previously mentioned the two different variations of Jason's resurrection. Which version is canon can vary between DC reboots. And for some reason, my mind has decided that as an effect of that, some of the characters might have nightmares about alternative versions of bad experiences. In this case, it's Jason waking up in a coffin.

There is a fan comic I saw years ago which had Bruce occasionally doing normal businessman things to annoy the crap out of supervillains. The one I particularly remember is him putting a giant billboard of himself in front of Luthor’s penthouse view. I accept this occasional pettiness as a personal head canon.

One last note. Cass was killed by her mom and resurrected in a Lazarus Pit (I think this is still canon?), but she didn't have the so-called 'perfect' resurrection Jason did. As of right now, I don't think we have a proper explanation for why he did when others didn't. I'm going to make the assumption it either dealt with how he died or the length of time it took between death and the dip in the Pit.

#To Join the Whispers #Danny Phantom #DP #DP crossover #danny phantom crossover #Danny Fenton #dp au #This is still completely self-indulgent

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rheannaaaz · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Visitor (Part 3)

Jason Todd X Fem!Reader

Summary: When Jason gets kicked off the Titans because of his actions with Johnathan Crane, he goes to his old “friend” who was once in the same situation.

TW: !TITANS S3 SPOILERS! Angst, character death, fluff at the end (it's so small I'm sorry I broke your guys hearts☺️..)

WC: 591

A/N: H/N is hero name!

——————————————————————————-

Y/N’S POV

It’s been about 3 weeks since I let Jason stay here for a bit, he’s been really trying to get me back into the “vigilante” lifestyle but I left that when I was with the Titans he’s been saying stuff like “Hey! Y/N, remember that knife move where you throw it under your arm and catch it can you teach me that!” Fun fact, that was just yesterday..This has been going on since week 2 of him being here but something about getting back out there doesn’t feel so bad I think Jason was able to tell I was thinking about it when I was reading articles saying “Where did H/N go? Will they return?”

I always sat in my room and thought about it but when I walked into my extra closet with my suit and weapons, it clicked for me.

I need to get out there and help Jason. After our first time out again which I wish hadn't happened, we were in our suits and it was about 3 to midnight. Jason was in his Red Hood suit which I have to say looked really h- besides the point. He had said he was meeting Dick somewhere since he's been messing with him I decided to go with Jason for some reason I wish I hadn't.

I went above a building and watched the whole Nightwing Vs Red Hood fight go down but that was when everything just stopped, there was a gunshot and it wasn't from Red Hood nor Nightwing but a local Gotham citizen had grabbed the gun and shot Nightwing in the neck. Since Jason’s mask had been flung off I could see the horror on his face, he knew that if someone gets shot in the neck it was game over. I backed away from the edge of the building and jumped down somehow landing, then Jason and I went back on our motorcycles to the loft.

-3 HOURS LATER-

Me & Jason had settled down after the shooting, he sat at the window just starting and kind of crying but just a few tears Bruce always told Jason that real men don't cry so when he held back his tears he always thought of that but me being Jason's ex I could always tell when he was upset or had something on his mind. “I got him killed,” Jason stated, “You didn't kill Di-” “I wanted to be better than him and now I caused his death, he's dead.” Jason had cut me off with that response his voice was hoarse and he looked tired, it was midnight and he still didn't sleep. He told me I could sleep but I didn't want to I wanted to stay by his side cause god knows what he could do if he was alone so instead, we sat and watched Do Or Die a random James Bond movie Jason chose.

It was something about the way we were sitting that was weird, last time we watched a movie we were cuddling and doing stuff you know a normal couple would do? I looked at Jason just to see he was falling asleep, he fell slowly to the side towards me so I got my blanket and put it over him while his head was on my stomach and his hands were around my waist. This wasn’t anything new to us it happened a lot when we were together, you know I never realized how cute Jason is when he's sleep!

Wait, oh shit.

------—————————————————————

A/N: hey guys! So I made this after my practice today so my mind was kind of everywhere, you guys can send me messages of like ideas I should do for this story if you want I’d highly appreciate it! Which leads me to my last thing I’m making a master list with lots of prompts and stuff so you guys will be able to request things! 💗 I do DC, Marvel, Vampire Diaries etc just depends so yeah!

#bruce wayne #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #teen titans #dc titans #titans s3 #titans tv #nightwing #dick grayson #red hood angst #red hood fluff

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littleredwing89 · 3 years

Note

Jason + Slasher movie

***

One, two, The Hood’s coming for you,

Three, four, better lock your door,

Five, six, grab your crucifix,

Seven, eight, gonna stay up late,

Nine, ten, never sleep again.

——

72 hours. Your hand was shaking as you reached into the bathroom cabinet for the pro plus. You couldn’t go back to sleep. Not unless you wanted to die. No.

You grabbed the bottle and slammed the cabinet closed, staring at your gaunt face in the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot, dark bags framing them. Your skin was pale with a sheen of sweat covering it. You looked like death but felt worse.

You unscrewed the cap off the bottle after five attempts. When did something so simple become so difficult?

You could do this. Just another few pills until you figured out how to stop The Hood. He’d already slaughtered three of your friends in their sleep.

BANG.

There was a loud hammering on the bathroom door causing you to drop the bottle into the sink. The tablets disappearing down the plug hole.

“Y/N!! What are you doing in there?! Other people need to use the bathroom too you know!!”, your roommate's voice boomed through the door, laced with irritation.

You sobbed silently as you picked up the bottle realising it was empty. You were completely and utterly fucked. It was 11:30pm. The nearest chemist was at least 45 minutes away. Oh god.

——

12:45am. You laid on your bed, every light in your room was on. You couldn’t fall asleep. Several books were laid open around you. Desperately seeking answers about The Hood. Your laptop propped your thighs, the brightness of the screen burning your eyes. All you’d found was a few newspaper articles about a local trial back in the 80s. A young man was accused of murdering sorority girls in their rooms in the dead of night. Jason Todd. Your eyes flickered over his features. He was handsome in a roguish way. Jet black hair falling into his ice blue eyes. If only he wasn’t a maniac. You sighed deeply and rubbed the heel of your palms into your eyes.

“I wasn’t bad looking, was I princess?”, a husky voice filled your room.

You froze, an icy feeling spreading over your skin. You didn’t dare pull your hands away from your eyes. This couldn’t be real. You were awake. Weren’t you?

***

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader insert #jason todd x you #red hood x you #nightmare on elm street au

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Ms. Bodyguard - Codename Sweetheart

Summary: Jensen is used to be the hero on his show. He’s not a coward, not at all - but when he gets attacked by an unknown man the studio insists on a full-time bodyguard. Specialist in protecting people while living with them - you agree to protect Jensen but he doesn’t like the fact a ‘small’ girl shall protect him. Will you be able to protect the unwilling actor?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Bodyguard!Reader

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Clif Kosterman

Warnings: angst, mentions of stalking, mentions of blood/murder, characters death tension, slow burn

A/N: A shorter chapter to get to know more about Y/N's past and the case.

Ms. Bodyguard Masterlist

“Yeah, I know. I have no authority, and that this is your case, but my client got attacked. The girl stalking him got brutally murdered and you are telling me shit.

Now we can play nice and you tell me if you found, the same fingerprints the attacker left at Mr. Ackles trailer, at the crime scene of the latest murder or not.

I want to clarify if it’s the same perpetrator. I know you couldn’t identify the man and I know you wouldn’t tell me a name.

All I want to know is if the person killing the poor girl is the same man trying to kill my client.”

Jensen listens to you yelling at the cops. He can imagine your hands on your hips, a dark look on your face and your lips, oh your lips contorted in anger.

“Phew, she will kill those guys if she won’t get information.” Jared snickers.

Clif shrugs not hiding the grin on his face. “Y/N can get the information in no time from someone else but, she tried to play nice and exchange information with the local police.”

“They won’t give her shit,” Jensen grumbles while your voice gets louder. He presses his ear to the door when the cop’s mumble something and you finally snap.

“Keep your information. I’ll call someone above your pay grade to get the needed information to save my client’s life. Thanks for nothing.” The door gets ripped open and Jensen bumps into your chest, nose-first.

“Care to explain?” Smirk on your lip you look at Jensen who tries to part his face from your breasts. “I know they look inviting, but this doesn’t mean you can just throw yourself at me.”

“Sorry, I was just trying to hear what’s going on.” When he finally manages to get up Jensen sheepishly looks at you. “I didn’t try to…I mean.”

“I get it, Jensen.” Looking at Clif you give him an eye-roll. “Waste of time but at least this way they can’t blame me for not sharing information. We will have all we need back at Jensen’s house. A friend of a friend owes me one.”

Jensen still doesn’t know how to react around you. Again, you have to take the lead and grasp for his hand. “Arm around my waist, no talking to any reporter. We will use the front entrance.”

“Isn’t the back entrance better?” Jared rubs his arm nervously, not wanting you to press him against the wall again.

“Let’s say someone leaked that Mr. Ackles and Padalecki will leave the police station using the back entrance.

The front entrance will be crowded too but at least most of the reporter will be at the backside of the building.” Clif snickers, watching Jensen glance at you, impressed.

“Good. I’ll use the back entrance, act as if I am waiting for you and we’ll meet at Jensen’s place. Do you need help with your equipment?” You smile but shake your head. All your belongings are already in the trunk of your bulletproof car.

“I got everything I need. Let me bring sweetheart home and we can talk about the shit going on here. I got no clue why the guy should kill the poor girl.”

Leading Jensen away from the office you try to wrap your mind around the case.

“Maybe she was part of his plan. A confused young girl with mental health problems. If he was gaslighting her – maybe…fuck…”

“Something wrong, Terminator?” Jensen grins, looking at you while his hand squeezes your waist. “You know, everyone will believe we have an affair.”

“No, they will believe we are deeply in love if you can put on a great show. Whoever is after you wants one of two things.” Humming Jensen glances at your lips while trying to follow your explanations. “He wants you, or he wants you dead.”

“Honestly, both options don’t sound appealing. I mean, not that I would have anything against a nice guy flirting with me, but that guy is ten times flying above the cuckoo’s nest crazy.”

Now you chuckle and Jensen gives you a cocky smirk. “Knew I can make you laugh.”

“Stop acting, sweetheart. I know you are scared to hell and back. Just relax and trust me. I will not let anyone hurt you, Jensen. All you need to do is following my order.”

Not convinced by glad you agreed to protect him Jensen nods silently. “This situation is hard; I know but we need to outsmart whoever is after you.”

“Okay…”

“Good, now back to the Batcave, sweetheart.” Smirking you lead Jensen out of the police station.

Your skilled eyes search the area for any threat. You know, sometimes five seconds decide if your client lives or dies. “Just relax, Jensen. I am with you…”

“Good. Cameras are on; the alarm system too. Not too bad, Jensen. I will have a friend come around tomorrow to check on the windows downstairs and the security. He’s an expert in breaking and entering.” Eyebrows furrowed Jensen watches you built up your equipment.

“A lot of monitors and…” When Jensen tries to touch your equipment, you slap his hand away. “Ouch, what’s that over there?” Pointing toward a strange device he gapes at you.

“Movement detector, newest generation. While you were sleeping like a princess, I checked on your house and prepared everything.

Any movement outside the house, I’ll get alerted. Any movement inside the house, I’ll get alerted so…” Patting Jensen’s chest you smirk. “No late-night dates or girls sneaking into your house.”

“You’re a freaking…I got no clue who you are. I mean, you look like a cute girl, but then you push Jared against the wall as if he weighs nothing. You could take anyone down and…” Humming you activate the last monitor. “Who are you?”

“Sweetheart, if I ever tell you who I am, you are as good as dead. Let’s say a friend of a friend offered me a job during my time at a university which’s name I will not drop.

It was a good offer, an interesting one but sometimes – the things sounding too good to be true are nightmares.” Your voice is steady, your face stoic but your eyes betray you this time.

“CIA? NSA? Someone we do not know about?” Jensen tries but all he gets is a gentle pat to his cheek. “I get it, top secret. The thing with the girl and the knife, Yakuza…”

“I can only tell you that I had missions and I always accomplished them. I was their good soldier, the one they sent when everyone else gave up. Like with the little girl I told you about. I was loyal…until…I wasn’t…” Now your voice cracks and you turn your attention back toward the monitors.

“Someone fucked you over…huh?” Jensen looks over your shoulder, laughing as Clif and Jared walk toward the house. “Dudes look awful on those monitors.”

“Not someone fucked me over. I fucked them over after getting a mission I did not want to accomplish. They didn’t give me a chance…you know.

When you are in, you are in. Or you are out and no one gets out alive…” Walking toward the front door you turn around to watch Jensen frown.

“I don’t know you, but I guess they wanted you to do something immoral.”

“All I did for them was kinda immoral, Jensen, but that’s part of the job. They do not send you to save a girl. They send you to save the girl to blackmail her powerful father to cooperate.

Not that this ever happened, of course…” A blink later you fall silent, remembering Jensen is only a client, not a friend. “This was all hypothetically…”

“Sure…pure fiction…”

“The friend of my friend sent me the file. Let’s see…shit…” Your eyes narrow and you feel the pit in your stomach grow.

“This is too perfect. I mean…fuck me…” Tossing the folder onto the table you get up to shove Jensen's shirt upward.

“Whoa, buy me a coffee first. What are you...?” When you rip the band-aid off his wound your frown deepens. “Something wrong? Terminator?”

“I guess someone tries to fuck me over once again. The wound, it’s like I would’ve attacked you to make sure everyone believes I wanted to kill you, without killing you.”

Jensen watches you carefully check on the wound while his heart beats a mile in a minute.

“You mean, a Terminator tried to kill me?” Chuckling Jensen tries to lighten your mood, but you don’t have nerves to laugh now. “Y/N?”

“The girl, whoever killed her was an expert. The cuts were precise like a surgeon slit her throat open. She must’ve been dead in the blink of an eye without pain.

This wasn’t a crazy fan’s doing, that guy is skilled…” Putting a new band-aid onto Jensen’s wound you try to wrap your mind around the new information.

“He had to get rid of her, Jensen. This was an execution hidden behind a murder. I don’t know what’s going on, but I suggest you stay close to me and do not meet up with anyone.”

Looking at Jensen you take a deep breath. “Tell me who you fucked over for them to send a killer sending you more than one message…”

More tags in reblog. Maybe this way they work...or not.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2

@supernatural-bellawinchester

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A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

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

Ms. Bodyguard Tags

@healojane, @bitchwhytho, @marvelouslysherlockedhunter, @mimzy1994, @couldabeenamermaid, @abbessolute, @vicmc624, @fantasydevil2002

#Ms. Bodyguard Masterlist #Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x bodyguard!reader #jensen x bodyguard!reader #bodyguard reader #jensen ackles x you #rpf #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural RPF #angst #mentions of murder #blood

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cetaceans-pls · 3 years

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Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Attempted Kidnapping, Date Night at an Aquarium, Gone Terrifically Wrong, Dom/sub Undertones Series: Part 4 of Third Thursdays

A plainclothes mission at the Gotham Aquarium quickly goes off the rails when Jason and Bruce find themselves on the wrong end of a kidnapping attempt. A billion-dollar target out of the Batsuit, Bruce gets taken.

Jason comes fetch.

Happy late Lunar New Year + Valentine’s! Why do I keep forgetting to post things to my tumblr! Life’s full of mysteries!

Anyways, please enjoy the weird result of me thinking too much about aquariums and helmets that look like jackals, and have a good week 🙏

Fic also available below the cut:

Jason studiously doesn’t mess with his cuffs, tug on his necktie, or pull off his sunglasses. He hates being forced to manifest in a suit and tie; it’s a misery every single time he has to. However, knee-deep in the bowels of a pandemic that just won’t freakin’ quit, needs must. Sometimes a man’s got to cosplay as a high-tier bodyguard to fit in a date night on a Thursday, so sometimes a man will.

He fiddles with his earpiece, expression serious even though he’s really just trying to get the volume up on his audiobook. It adds to the aura of stern, scary bodyguard man, and it means that the wobbly-lipped, handsy director cuts short his long, long thank you speech to Bruce and waves them inside for their all-access tour of the Gotham Aquarium after dark. It’s a performance he and Bruce have repeated for most of a year now, and it’s the main avenue for Jason to work through his massive collection of audiobooks. Once a month or so Billionaire Fuckboy Bruce Wayne will get it into his head to book a library or a park or a zoo or a planetarium all to himself for fuck knows what, and he’ll be good and won’t break any social distancing rules or any furniture because it’s just him and his bodyguard staying through the night. Come morning the establishment will find themselves the recipients of a donation generous enough to keep their heads above water, while Brucie floats away on a cloud of expensive scotch to find his next flex.

Bruce has more money to his name than anybody ever, ever should, and these days he uses it to buy literal breathing space for much of Gotham’s public facilities struggling to stay afloat.

This is their first visit to the aquarium, because the social media intern-turned-manager here had managed to keep finances fiercely healthy by selling videos of aquarium creatures with personalised messages. Dick himself had commissioned a 30-second video of an aquarium worker whispering ‘wiggle wiggle wiggle’ into a microphone while the camera zoomed in and out from the moon jelly exhibition, and the number of Gothamites keeping their spirits up exclusively thanks to a video of a gently floating manatee quietly murmuring “You’re doing your best” is alarming.

That’s why it’s taken them a while to work their way here, but Jason has to admit he’s looking forward to a relaxing night walking around in mood lighting with B, heckling the occasional fish. Their last date night keeping Gotham’s ‘non-essential’ attractions open had been at the rec centre in the Narrows that’s been shut for months. Romance was thin on the ground there, because mid-date the Bat had taken over Bruce and decided that they owed it to the people of the city to make a few simple adjustments to improve water quality in the swimming pools.

Elbow-deep in an ancient pump and filtration system, Jason’s hand had gotten tangled in something while pulling out the filters. It had turned out to be a tangled, sopping wet mass of human hair the size of a cat, and for the first time in a while, he had wished he was dead and actually kind of meant it.

Tonight, though, promises to be smoother sailing. The aquarium’s not in dire disrepair, the staff have been instructed to keep out of their way and respect their privacy, and he has burritos and two bottles of mini-Merlot tucked in holsters that would hold guns on a lesser man. It’s perfect prep for a relaxing supper in front of the open water tank.

The director leads them in through the main entrance, still talking Bruce’s ear off while he gestures nervously around them and swipes at his thinning white hair. Jason follows after them, hand to his ear as he says a bunch of menacing gibberish into empty air. He and Bruce are incredibly dull on nights out like this, and have by Alfred’s decree been cut-off from work comms to decrease the chance of anyone on duty being rude jealous assholes. No one’s listening right now, but growling ‘Code Esper’ into his jacket has the director sweating even harder, which is the intended outcome. With a messily-babbled “Goodnight and goodbye Mister Wayne!” and an unwelcome pat on the small of Bruce’s back, the man disappears the way they came, heavy glass doors swinging shut.

Finally, the night’s starting to look better.

First thing Jason does is rip off his stupid sunglasses. It’s certainly an Expected Look for a bodyguard, but it’s 11 PM on a weekday night and on top of it being a hideous accessory, it sets his teeth on edge to have his vision obscured even while off-duty.

He also whips his tie off, because there’s a time and a place for choking and it’s not here, not yet. Jason runs his hand through his hair to break through the gel and scowls to see the black residue on his fingers. Makeup on his face, makeup in his hair, makeup pasted on to hide him in plain sight when other people get to go to Wendy’s barefaced and hand-in-hand as they pleased, urgh.

The world’s extra rough on the legally dead, even if he’s immediately mollified by Bruce sidling up to him, close enough that their hips bump and their fingers tangle.

Christ, rich man shampoo smells a whole lot different to the stuff you can get by the half-gallon in your local bodega. Jason is tempted to bite Bruce, find the closest cleaning cupboard and get up to some defilement, but it's a big aquarium and it’s a long night, so there's no rush.

The CCTV cameras aren't live, no red lights blinking, and it's supremely helpful how much privacy gets afforded to a billionaire and his potential debauchery in return for a big cheque. Jason slings an arm around Bruce's waist, because these are hard rights hard earned, and just grins at Bruce's long-suffering sigh. "Shut the hell up, this is crazy romantic. What do you want to see first?"

The answer is, inexplicably, the tropical freshwater exhibit, where they spend a solid half hour with an arapaima swimming up-down up-down a false river designed to look like the Amazon, their tiny bottles of wine in hand. Jason loses his mind first, pacing along the tank to follow the path of a fish longer than he or Bruce are tall, but within a minute Bruce is in lockstep with him as they stalk an innocent fish while they talk about not very much at all.

Bruce looks at the murkiness of the water and the cinematic dead leaves floating all over, expression gravely concerned. “They could do with a bigger aquarium.”

Jason groans, thumb absently picking at the label on his bottle. “Stop communing with the fish. It’s only barely cute when Damian gets really intense about animals, and the charm’s completely gone once you crack 6 feet.”

In his head, though, he can’t help but feel that yeah, more space for the arapaima would be nice, but hey.

Jason’s singularly terrible with small, tight spaces, so.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Bruce so hard it’s mostly a shove. “Time to find out what sharks look like after-hours.”

“What’s normal operating hours for a shark?” Bruce asks just to be a pain, easily going where lead.

“Keep at it and I’ll shove you in the tank so you can find out.”

There’s a loose ceiling tile near the information counter in the main hall, right by the entrance leading to the enormous, floor-to-ceiling open water exhibit. There's a loose ceiling tile there because Jason had cased this joint a week ago, the way he checks out every place Bruce decides to take them to on nights like this, and that’s where he had decided to hide his kit. While Bruce walks from end to end of the tank, committing to pointless memory the names and traits of a hundred fish, Jason climbs up and into the ceiling to grab their party pack.

Tepid beer, pretzels, spicy chicken-flavoured chips, wet wipes. A heavy blanket, a bottle of hand sanitiser, Alfred’s cold-brew tea that could grow chest hairs on a rock. He’s even got a bottle of antacids to cover burrito-related maladies shoved into a first-aid kit so complete it could maybe, just maybe, regrow a limb. He dusts the heavy blanket off before he spreads it across the floor, where they have the best view of the most unbearably beautiful manta ray that could possibly exist.

Jason maybe preens a little when Bruce comes back from the edge and greets the spread with a bit of a smile. “Hurry it up already, dinner’s gonna get cold.”

The burritos get pulled out of their holsters as Bruce settles on the ground in the exacting, ginger manner of a man of a certain age whose knees have unfortunately passed their prime. They sit and eat while inoffensive jazz plays quietly over the speakers and fish go up and down and all around.

Ah, beats the ball of human hair by a country mile.

“This is nice,” Bruce says quietly, shrugging out of his coat and loosening his tie. There’s a sharp, bright gloss to him when he’s in Bruce-Wayne-Public-Performance mode, but Jason likes dishevelled, run-down Bruce who’s a little absent-minded and a lot human the best.

He likes this Bruce he’s earned.

“One of our better dates.” Jason holds up his bottle of beer expectantly, and feels profoundly smug when Bruce raises his to knock in a gentle toast. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I came to the aquarium. Must have been before.”

“Same,” Bruce says, and Jason wonders for a brief, harrowing moment if this holds true for the zoo and the planetarium and the rec centre and the public library and the-

He doesn’t get the time to linger on the thought and ponder, check to see if this is Bruce on a mission to form new memories in places that had held some from before a death in the family, because they’re interrupted by the sudden scream of a fire alarm.

They both tense where they’re sat, at the ready to fly into a fight in a suit and tie, but wherever the emergency might be it isn’t in here with them. Jason looks around, tries to catch smoke on the air, but it’s all stillness and the scent of disinfectant spray. Weird, that there’s no quiet stampede of night-time crew rushing to rescue their watery wards, no security guard sent on a quick mission by the director to save their cash cow.

Jason’s got a bad feeling about this. He gets to his feet and hauls the bag containing the first aid kit and other supplies up on his shoulder. “What the hell is going on?”

Bruce is fiddling with his phone, working through the security system of the aquarium. “All the cameras are down, so we have no visuals. The fire alarm in the deep sea exhibit was tripped manually, not by the smoke detector.” He frowns. “Carbon monoxide monitors didn’t register anything, and the sprinklers haven’t been triggered either. Could just be a fluke.”

Bruce doesn’t sound convinced, and neither is Jason. Assuming harmlessness is a great way to incur harm, and that’s something you learn damn early after starting up a vigilante lifestyle. Jason can only assume foul play of some sort, likely relating to Bruce, but there’s no way that an aquarium as big as this wouldn’t have night staff; civilians might be in danger.

Fuck, give him gross filters jammed with 27 years worth of dead skin cells over this. “I’ll go and check on the deep sea room.” If there’s no trouble, Jason’s mighty tempted to create some. “You should head back to the entrance, meet up with the sweaty director dude and evacuate. I’ll catch up with you after everything’s handled.”

Bruce looks pretty irritated to be asked to meekly make his way to safety, but pulling a Bat move right now would be incredibly bad optics. They both know his hands are tied, and Bruce sighs and climbs to his feet. “If I don’t get an update from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in,” he tells Jason, crumpling the foil of his burrito and fastidiously stowing it away in the pocket of his slacks. “Comms check.”

They both tap at their discreet earpieces, and both wince at the screech of feedback when the comms activate and pair.

“Fifteen’s plenty.” Jason hikes his kit bag further up his shoulder, and pretends he’s not embarrassed when he tries to activate night vision on a mask he isn’t wearing.

“Jason,” Bruce says, calm, commanding, and quiet.

“What?”

“Be good.” It’s said like an order no one could want to refuse, but before Jason can get over his shivery shock and snap something back, Bruce is waving and disappearing out the hall, pulling on the skin of a simpler man.

Jason rubs at his neck and misses his helmet more keenly. This unbearable transparency of being; almost thirty whole ass years old and it’s astonishing how underneath it all he can still be so hideously eager to please.

“Please let there be a fucking crime,” Jason murmurs to himself, and disappears.

There is a crime, but it’s not even a good one.

Jason breaks into the deep sea exhibit through a utility hatch designed to access the cooling pipes for an elaborate sea sponge display. He’s quiet and mostly invisible when he surfaces in the room, and after a minute of letting his eyes adjust to the curated darkness, it’s easy to spot a man in a balaclava with a gun trained on the only door leading to the room.

He also quickly spots the terrified hostages huddled together under a display of what looked like demon jellyfish made of LEDs and blood. It’s easy to see the shape of the crime now; set off an alarm in an isolated area with only one known entrance and exit, and subdue people as they arrive. As long as the alarm kept blaring, staff would keep on coming, and by not triggering any of the smoke or carbon monoxide detectors the fire department remain clueless.

Excellent plan, great for catching anyone who hadn’t, oh, spent a solid 12 hours going through the schematics of the entire building out of an obsessive desire to create a space a Bat could relax in. Jason counts 11 hostages and just the one gunman, and tries not to groan.

There’s not much money to be had by robbing an aquarium, and judging by the degree of weaponry this isn’t some anti-aquarium demonstration organised via Facebook groups, powered by pandemic blues. No one’s liberating a shark or freeing Willy or anything nearly as fun. Ringing the alarm’s just an excellent, excellent way to control the movement of people.

There are only two ways to go; towards the fire or towards safety.

If you’re looking to net yourself a big fish, two small teams with a couple of free-roaming agents would be enough to ensure a catch rate of almost 100%. Jason highly, highly doubts that this whole song-and-dance was designed to abduct a frazzled researcher wearing a fuzzy sweater in radiant orange, or a stern-faced woman in a janitor’s uniform who looks alarmingly close to hulking out and breaking out of her bonds. He highly, highly suspects that there’s a reason outside of billionaire-envy to explain why the director of the aquarium had looked so dodgy and sweaty when he had welcomed Bruce.

Jason’s proven unfortunately right when the radio at the gunman’s hip crackles to life.

“We got Wayne.”

Of course they did. Bruce could hardly go to town and take down a bunch of armed kidnappers, especially if there are civilians near him. Jason tugs out his phone to update the Cave while the gunman grunts his reply and moves to turn off the fire alarm. Alfred asks Jason if he needs reinforcements as the guy tells the huddled terrified masses that he’ll kill them if they move, and Jason texts back a ‘no thank you’ as the goon strides out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The group of tied-up people burst into panicked chatter as soon as the gunman’s gone, and Jason uses the noise as cover for unzipping his bag and getting changed. Unlike Bruce, pulling on his second skin takes a lot longer, but once Jason tugs his red hood up and shucks off the bodyguard suit to stretch in his skin-tight armour, he feels twice the man and thrice as happy.

There’s no gun in the bag, there’s no gun anywhere near him, because it’s a self-imposed rule Jason has recently given himself for date nights. Bruce has been known to use anything from a screwdriver taped to a plank of wood to his literal bare stupid hands to pry things open in a whole-hearted effort to avoid having a crowbar anywhere in the Manor or in his life, and Jason wanted to repay like with like.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to not have his go-to weapon, though. He sighs as he straps a taser strong enough to knock God unconscious to his thigh, and sighs again when he pulls out a sickle in its leather holster. Alfred’s gotten terribly creative with what he packs for their nights out, but who is Jason to stand in the way of a man’s artistic expression?

Fully kitted-out, hood drawn and mask glowing, Jason shoves the bag back down the hatch and vaults over the top of the aquarium he was crouched behind, landing to the wild, panicked screams of the assembled staff.

His flashy entrance is totally unnecessary, and he knows the lights on the new helmet make him look less like a human and more like an abstract cryptid with a muzzle lined in blood. It’s spectacularly dramatic, but it releases some of the tension that’s been building in his body ever since he and Bruce split up.

He holds his hands up, forgetting the sickle in his fist, and the screaming hits a crescendo any opera would be proud of. It’s a little fucking hysterical, but Jason’s on the clock right now so he can’t savour this situation as much as he would have liked. “Calm the hell down, it’s just Red Hood here to save the day.”

The screaming eases up, though a gentleman in thick glasses and a threadbare labcoat does give a good ol’ screech when he comes closer towards them with the sickle set free. Jason ignores him and crouches down to cut the janitor lady free first. She spares a second to presumably calculate the chances of her beating him in a fight before she comes to a conclusion, shrugs, and turns to immediately start picking at the knots of the person next to her. Within a couple of minutes everyone is free, and everyone is scrambling to grab at things to arm themselves with. Jason eyes the selection of brandished pens and water bottles with mild delight, and nods respectfully at his lady and her bottle of bleach off the janitor’s cart because real recognises real. He does a quick scan to make sure there are no serious injuries or emergencies, and gets to his feet.

“All right, so this is apparently an attempt to kidnap Wayne, and you guys are just collateral. They’ll be clustered towards the main entrance, so get out through the most secret employees-only door you know. Stay together and stay quiet, and it’s gonna be fine. The Bat knows what’s going on, if that makes anyone feel better.” He considers how much he does and doesn’t want to share with the people assembled, before he decides that fuck it, being a shit-stirrer is pretty fun. “Pretty sure your big boss is in on it too, so if there’s an exit that guy won’t be familiar with, use that one.”

There’s a sharp intake of communal breath, before a young woman wearing waders and rubber gloves up to her shoulders raises her hand. “Do you mean Dr. Stevens?”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe?”

“Uhm. Short, all white hair, super skinny. Looks like someone you wouldn’t trust in a lab alone with a stressed-out postdoc of any gender because he gives off the vibe of a creep with varied tastes?”

Jason frowns at what the girl is saying, and the grim looks of much of the rest of the room. “Sounds about right.”

At least three separate people hiss motherfucker under their breaths, and three more say some version of I fucking knew it. The aquarium might not have had any severe financial issues, but oh, they’ve found a mess worse than too much human hair, looks like. Jason’s keener than ever to murder this Stevens dude, but he really, really doesn’t have the time to chair a HR complaint for the aquarium right now.

“Look, whatever goes down tonight I’m gonna give a Red Hood guarantee that the guy won’t be your boss anymore. Hell, Wayne’s going to be so grateful when I rescue him that I could get him to elect a different person to be in charge of this place even if this guy isn’t in cahoots with the kidnappers. So consider it handled, okay?” He straps the sickle back at his waist. “Now get the hell out of here. I’m counting on you.”

He nods at his bleach-wielding lady, and she nods back like the truest sort of comrade-in-arms.

Reassured, Jason kicks the door down and moves the fastest anyone’s ever moved in an aquarium, a red-faced wraith on a hunt.

Bruce courteously gasps when a hood is thrown over his head and secured, even though he had guessed the shape of the night’s events the moment he had reached the lobby and seen the half-wobbly half-cocky look to the director’s face from across the way. “What are you doing?” he demands in a shaky voice as he puts up token resistance, enough to look panicked but not enough to tempt someone into knocking him out and hauling him away.

Far too many questions to answer as to why a loafer coasting on generational wealth has more muscle mass than your average highly-trained mercenary, after all.

He counts his steps and tries to carve little signs into the pile of the carpeting with the toe of his loafers as he’s marched off, though he doubts Jason will need this trail of breadcrumbs to find him. “Let me go!” he yells, navigating the blueprint of the aquarium in his mind. Everyone ignores him, and his captors are none-too-gentle as they force him up some metal stairs.

Forty steps from the entrance to the lobby, a right, thirty steps, a left, a quiet beep, and now stairs. My, my, my, seems like they’ll be paying Dr. Stevens’ sea slug lab a visit. It’s a good location for a quick regroup, tucked away and locked behind several layers of security. Bruce imagines they won’t be here long; a good kidnapper doesn’t keep their victim where they found them, after all.

He’s roughly shoved into a chair and tied to it, rendered immobile by cuffs on his hands and rope round his legs, but it’s a cheap office chair and there’s give in his binds. He’s immobile, but only theoretically. Bruce keeps tugging at his bonds and cursing under his breath while he hopes that Stevens doesn’t bother to ask where his bodyguard has gone, has thought the worst of Jason and assumed that he had just run off.

It would make a rescue attempt much easier, though Bruce isn’t particularly worried. It’s a kidnapping force of, oh, five? Maybe six? Carpet muffles footsteps more than wooden floorboards do, but Bruce is pretty confident of his estimate. Six at most, with at least another team responsible for the fire alarm, so a worst-case scenario of twelve. As long as his measure of their competence isn’t too wrong, Bruce doesn’t anticipate anything worse than a couple of through-and-throughs if he has to fight through this himself.

He knows he won’t have to, though.

The people around him fall silent when their radio comes to life, a panicked man shouting “There’s someone here with us! It’s the Red-” before there’s a loud bang! followed by a terrifying silence.

“Ten,” someone yells tersely back. “Come in, Ten. What the hell was that?”

There’s a general rumble of unease in the room now, and Bruce is allowed a vicious, nasty smile because no one can see him under here. At least ten people are in on this, and about half of those are in here with him while the rest are out there with Jason. He considers making an effort to tap out in Morse how many goons are with him right now, since Jason has half a dozen ways to track his location with all the kit Bruce has on him, but decides against it.

Let the boy have some fun.

“Let me go, I’ll do anything you want,” he calls out half-heartedly, but no one gives a shit because there’s another panicked broadcast by another panicked man that cuts off abruptly. The tension in the room is palpable, feels more solid than the sack on his head, and it goes frizzy with electricity when the Red Hood’s terrifying static growl comes through on the radio.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jason’s mangled voice croons through the line. Bruce feels goosebumps ripple up his arms, and feels oddly, hideously proud. “Two down, a few more to go. Hope you’ll put up more of a fight.”

Then there’s a sharp crack, and the line goes quiet.

“You promised me this would be just in-and-out! You said that Wayne would be out of here as soon as you got him! You didn’t say anything about a vigilante running me down in my own building!”

Ah, that’s Dr. Stevens losing his nerve. His tirade is cut short by a hard slap, it sounds like, and the voice Bruce thinks of as One is the only thing to be heard above the quiet whimpers of a panicking doctor.

“You agreed to do anything that needed to be done as long as you got a cut of the pay,” One says coldly. “Too late to get cold feet now, doctor.” There’s the sound of the walkie-talkie being turned back on. “Transport is incoming. Disappear and make your way out, regroup in safe house Gamma. It’s just one man against all of us, so don't lose your heads and we’ll get our money.”

Nobody responds verbally, probably because radio silence is golden when trying to beat a hasty retreat. Bruce feels his ropes come loose, and he’s forced to his feet as the kidnappers discuss their plans with more discretion than Stevens shooting off his mouth. He catches bits and pieces of conversation, mentions of the docks and allusions to the highest bidder, but everything goes instantly, deathly silent when the radio comes to life again.

“Three down, four down, five down. Be seeing you real soon, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce doesn’t need to pretend to take in a shaky breath.

God, code names are an absolute necessity when carrying out this sort of dirty work, but Jason wants to have a sit-down with whoever decided to go with numbers for this little shindig. First man taken out and he already knows this goes at least ten fuckers deep. The leader’s figured out that yelling the number of men he has in his employ down a radio the enemy has access to isn’t a great idea, but somebody with an army of a hundred wouldn’t have been so concerned with the downing of one, so Jason’s pretty much got confirmation that this is a small-scale, quick-in quick-out kind of affair.

They’ll be looking to move Bruce, with that whole ‘transport incoming’ message. Jason’s got Bruce’s location pulled up, B’s comms actively recording vitals and transmitting its location, and from the lack of movement it’s easy to tell they’re planning a getaway through the front entrance.

He’s also happy to note that Bruce’s resting heart rate’s still at an insulting 45 beats a minute mid-kidnapping, though boy it sure did spike every time Red Hood sent out a message. Good to know, real fucking good to know.

After taking out the fifth guy, Jason doesn’t run into anybody else on his way to the main entrance, and he doesn’t particularly care if some small fry are getting away. The priority is getting Bruce to safety, and then doing clean-up on the kidnappers and Dr. Creepazoid. A showdown within the lobby is endlessly preferable to a showdown outside, if only because it’s easier to keep track of people if they can’t run away from you. Double-checking that Bruce actually is being slowly moved towards the main entrance from wherever they stashed him, Jason happily beats them to the front doors and barricades them in with him, stacking tables and chairs and cupboards into a heavy, impenetrable mess.

Sure, whoever’s coming to pick them up might be armed enough to break on through, but Jason has intimate knowledge of what mercenaries are like. Thoughts like ‘I sure as hell am not paid enough to deal with this’ are common and powerful enough to dissuade most mercs in this situation. It’s what you get when you team-build on money instead of insane, intangible things like love and loyalty, losers.

Jason looks around at the arena of his making and makes a quick decision to climb up a display case stuffed full of the toys kids can expect to see in the gift shop. It’s sturdy enough, though the thin metal frames groan a little under his weight. Jason sheathes his sickle and powers down the lights lining his helmet, lies in wait like a hungry dog in the dark as he calms his breathing and imagines what it will be like to beat the living daylights out of people who think it’s cool to disrupt a well-earned date on a much-anticipated night.

It’s another ten minutes or so before he picks up the sound of heavy feet trying to be unnaturally quiet on cheap carpet. They haven’t rounded the corner and they’re still out of sight, but with his helmet enhancing his hearing Jason’s already getting plenty of information. At least five people with heavy, careful steps, likely the assailants heavy in their armour and weapons. One set of footsteps shuffling along the carpet, all hesitance and distaste, and that’s got to be Stevens.

And in the middle of it all, walking in a weird off-kilter rhythm like a man who either has a stone in his shoe or is determined to make as distinctive a walk as possible, is Bruce. Up and walking of his own power, which is excellent. Jason doesn’t need to go into this fight concerned with keeping an unconscious Bruce safe. This is going to be an activity with full participation by all parties, hell yeah.

Speaking of participation.

Jason taps the side of his helmet and connects to Bruce’s comms. “B,” he says, low and sweet just to unsettle Bruce. “I’ve got altitude on a cabinet on the eastern wall of the entrance. I’ll see you right as you come in, and I’m gonna attack before anybody knows what’s happening. Get behind the reception desk if you can. Do you copy?”

As per the training handbook for situations when you’re too deep behind enemy lines to do much of anything, Bruce registers his acknowledgment with three sharp clicks, teeth clacking against each other in rapid succession.

Jason arches his back, loosening his muscles before he curls up again, ready to literally pounce. The footsteps are drawing closer, and they have just a few seconds before shit is going to hit the fan. He unhooks his sickle, and grins at absolutely nothing.

“Oh, and B?”

A click.

“Be good for me.”

Bruce’s heart rate spikes just as the group of men round the corner, and Jason’s laughing like a loon as the lines of his helmet burn back to life and he descends on the kidnappers, a hound out of hell.

There’s something primordially terrifying about seeing a fury in red and black descend on you from the sky. Bruce knows what the plan is, knows exactly how menacing a figure Jason can cut when he wants to be dramatic, but even then he couldn’t stop instinctively reaching for the handy, wicked little pocket knife in his pocket the second he saw the lines of the helmet glowing through the dark of his hood.

In the panicked yelling as Jason leaps into the fray and starts systematically annihilating a group of heavily armed men who can’t fight back without shooting each other, it’s easy for Bruce to break free of his captors and rip the sack off his head. He ducks under the flailing butt of a gun and takes a moment to shatter someone’s kneecap with the metal cuffs on his wrists before he’s rolling out of the way, belly-crawling towards the sturdy reception desk.

Dr. Stevens is yelling and trying to run away but Jason keeps plucking at him and pulling him back into the brawl with a vengeance Bruce grudgingly admires. By the time Bruce has climbed up on a chair to get a better view of the fight while staying mostly out of sight, half the men are already a groaning pile on the ground.

By the time Bruce has freed himself from his handcuffs, Stevens is an unconscious mess on the ground, and by the time Bruce has texted home and requested that Alfred call the police, it’s just Jason and One circling each other, both their faces hidden, blades in their hands.

Bruce notes with some interest that where Jason had kept his sickle sheathed and mostly used the blunt outer curve to knock people unconscious, the wicked edge is now out and gleaming as One strikes at him with a nasty Bowie knife. The hand-to-hand is quick and brutal, both of them trading hits and jabs. Whatever armour One is wearing is holding up well against Jason’s sickle, which is fair enough.

Bruce would need to get closer to know for sure, but it certainly looks like the sickle Alfred uses to carefully weed the tulip bed. No point in sharpening a gardening tool to be sharp enough to bite into flesh.

Less pleasing is how One’s knife doesn’t seem to struggle much with cutting through Jason’s costume. The new mesh Bruce had designed in response to Jason’s irritated demand for a slimmer, sleeker costume was supposed to be able to withstand most edged weapons, but even in the dark it’s easy to see where the black fabric has been cut and Jason’s skin and blood are visible instead. Trust Jason to do quality testing in the absolute worst times.

Back to the drawing board it is. One is taunting Jason, allowing Jason to swipe ineffectively at him before laughing and slashing back. “Is this all you got?” the man crows from behind his balaclava, radiating smugness. “I don’t know what I was worried about. I’ll have you and Wayne brought in for sale, and I wonder who the highest bidder will be.” Another quick jab, and Jason’s forearm is marked. “Wonder which of you Mister J would want more as a playmate.”

At that, Jason goes stock still. It’s so sudden that it clearly startles One, who retreats a little, knife up and ready to go. Bruce finds himself with his jaw clenched shut, teeth grinding so hard it’s like lockjaw in three seconds or less.

Of all the things some no-name budget kidnapper could have said. Bruce taps on his comms, opens a line to Jason, because if One keeps push push pushing like this, he won’t live to see morning.

One might not live to see the next minute, if Jason’s slow, terrifying stride towards him means anything.

“Jason,” Bruce whispers into the comm. “Jason, enough. You’ve done enough. Stop playing with your food, come here and let me check on you.”

Across the lobby, Jason once against draws to a halt, but it doesn’t stick. One figures out that actually, the Red Hood had been getting sliced up into ribbons more as a weird exploratory experience than because of a lack of skill, and he figures it out by way of Jason coming right up to him in the blink of an eye, disarming him by snapping the wrist of the hand holding the knife, and grabbing him by the throat with a grip tight enough to kill.

One is currently absolutely sure that he’s about to die.

So is Bruce, who knows that he cannot reach the man faster than Jason can snap a neck. “Jason!” he damn near bellows down the comms, damn near shouts across the room. “Enough. You come when called. You come when I call.”

And like a miracle, like the time Jason came back all those years ago and all the times Jason’s come for him ever since, it works.

One is dropped to the ground, unconscious and foaming at the mouth, and Jason’s barrelling towards Bruce.

As Bruce is swept up and back into the depths of the evacuated aquarium, he finds himself thinking we’ve had worse.

Jason isn’t sure why his first instinct after being called off of the murder of a singularly horrible man is to haul Bruce up and run to the deep sea exhibit, but he’s willing to admit to himself that calm only comes back to him when they’re finally buried in the quiet dark of a room of things softly bioluminescing.

He’s got no love lost for the Joker, has fought the bastard enough times since that it’s not residual fear that snapped him. Here, far far away from the wreckage, it’s easy to identify that his trigger had been superimposing the many, many horrors Jason has personally died from and lived through onto Bruce. Bruce who in many ways has the worst luck of any person he’s ever known, Bruce who would sooner rip into himself than be put into a Pit, Bruce who has to be careful with his burritos and his knees, put under the loveless purview of a madman with a crowbar.

Being protective of other people is generally a good thing, but trust Jason to wield care like a bludgeon. He scoffs, and drops Bruce unceremoniously next to the trapdoor. He could take off his helmet, no one and nothing could see him here, but the mortification of being seen out of control makes it really fucking unappealing.

Bruce sits up and looks around, acting like not a single weird thing has happened this entire night. “I’ve never seen the deep sea exhibition,” he says, like he’s having a normal conversation, like this is just the middle of a perfectly pleasant, perfectly average date.

“I saw a poster, they only built this section after I died,” Jason says dully.

Bruce hums like that’s information enough. “I’m glad we’re getting to see it then.” He tugs at Jason’s leg. “Sit.”

And Jason does, his legs folding underneath him before a thought’s even fully formed. He remembers when he was redesigning the helmet and was struggling to pick a look that was both menacing and just plain cool. The one he settled on had been one of Damian’s designs, all geometric shapes and the suggestion of creature. It had reminded him of a jackal, of Anubis, like death come in the shape of this thing with a muzzle and teeth.

Right now it feels like he’d chosen the look of a dog, a dog with the brand of bat to describe its master, and he feels like a mangy, wild thing desperate for Bruce, just for Bruce.

He takes back every mean, unkind thought he’s ever had about the date at the rec centre. Let him bury his hands into a dozen masses of gelatinous hair than force him to think about things like this, think about himself like this.

Jason’s tight with tension, but Bruce doesn’t push him to talk. Bruce doesn’t force him to do anything, just has a hand wrapped around the nape of Jason’s neck, thumb rubbing at the seam where metal helmet meets skin. They sit in this weird, tingly silence even as Alfred’s pings requesting an update become more urgent, and Jason realises that they’ll stay in this weird, tingly silence until he makes a move.

“What the fuck are we doing, B?” he says at last.

“Whatever we want to, Jaybird.” Bruce is ignoring a lot of his own damn rules about names in uniform, but he still seems remarkably unconcerned about everything. “How are you?”

Jason groans, giving up and tipping over so that he’s sprawled uncomfortably over Bruce’s legs. “Feel fucking awful. I can’t believe I’m the kind of guy that loses his shit just because some asshole said something vaguely threatening to you.”

“I think it shows good character.” Bruce rests a hand on Jason’s shoulder, the other still carefully cradling his head. “But I’m not a good judge of character, so take that with a grain of salt.”

Jason barks out a laugh at that. “You sure fucking are. I knew that director guy was skeezy the moment I saw him. Can’t believe he didn’t set off alarm bells in your head within the first thirty seconds, B.”

Bruce just shrugs. “If I reacted badly to everyone that I thought I couldn’t trust, I’d rarely get to stop.”

Well, the man’s got a point. “Still. He’s apparently shitty with staff too, so at least we’re solving a bunch of problems all at once with this night out.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Jason.”

Jason forces himself to sit back up, a little alarmed by the little note that’s appeared informing him that the police are about five minutes away from the aquarium. “That’s a damn lie and you know it.” Even the strongest of the kidnappers wasn’t anything much above average for a night out on patrol, and Bruce is nothing if not ruthlessly efficient when the fight’s in a public place.

Bruce gets to his feet, careful and ginger, and Jason can’t help but just stare at his stupid wholly-human knees. Bruce doesn’t mention it, doesn’t draw attention that renowned vigilante and crime boss the Red Hood has his head not a foot away from his legs, and just holds his hand out to him instead. “How about, I wouldn’t have enjoyed this night without you?”

Jason takes a moment to pretend to think about it, but he knows his answer. “I”ll take it.” Like he takes Bruce’s hand, like he takes things from Bruce because it’s what he wants and it’s what he’s earned. “I should get out of here before the pigs show up.”

“See you back at the Manor?” It’s only half past midnight, which means this date’s ended a good three hours earlier than their usual. Bruce looks like he’s asking only as an afterthought; of course Jason’s coming home with him.

Jason struggles to think of anything more pleasant than sitting out on their balcony in the dark with a hot drink in hand, electric blanket doggedly trying to keep them warm even as the outlet threatens to explode from the snow that’s supposed to start at 2 AM.

He also struggles to imagine how he’s going to be good company when his head is in as much disarray as it currently is. How open is Bruce to some heavy petting outdoors if Jason can’t convince himself to take his helmet off the whole time? How likely is the night to devolve into them sitting awkwardly in frigid silence until someone snaps and starts an argument just for the sake of a change of pace?

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s not a good idea.”

That gets Bruce to stop shabbying himself up to look like an actual kidnapping victim, cuffs already locked again. “I see. Why is that?”

Jason shrugs, and is glad that his face is still unseen even if it feels like his whole damn body is letting B in on the secret. “It’s a 'feeling kinda feral' kinda day. I’m going to go blow off some steam.” Run a couple of laps around the lake in the memorial park, and if he gets close enough to hypothermia he might start forgetting the quiet kshkshh sound of delicate neck bones grinding under his hand.

He feels violence wiggling just an inch under his skin, and that’s another self-imposed rule for nights out with Bruce. Any time his grip on himself feels even a pound looser than it should be, Jason’s going to take time for himself because this deep into this relationship he’s surer than ever that there’s a hell of a lot of brutality he could let loose and Bruce would just take it and take it and take it.

Jason will not bite his mas-

He’s forcibly taken out of his thoughts by a sharp rap against his helmet. He strikes out instinctively, and catches Bruce's hand in a tight grip. “What the hell, B.”

“You weren’t responding,” Bruce tells him matter-of-factly, not pulling away. “I said, you can go and run yourself ragged. After that, you come home.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

Bruce smiles a proper smile, sharp and smug and sweet, and leans over to press a kiss to Jason’s hand wrapped around his own. “Because, Jason, I listened when you told me to keep away and keep safe. Isn’t it your turn now?”

It’s all about that give-and-take baby, and Jason just might fucking howl.

He releases Bruce in a flash, and his helmet’s unlatched and crashing to the ground not a second later. Bruce could have aikido’d him over his shoulder and flung him clear across the room because Jason’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been right now, but instead the man just widens his stance and wholly and easily accepts Jason throwing himself at Bruce face first.

It’s a maddening kiss, because Jason’s just shoved Bruce against the blood jelly tank so that he can get into position for a good grind when an alert goes off from his helmet, and Alfred’s too-loud voice calls out to tell them that “The police officers have arrived, sirs.”

Jason groans and pulls back slightly, trying to catch his breath as he digs his teeth into Bruce’s shoulder despite the three layers of expensive fabric in the way. “I hate everything,” he says, half-heartedly groping at Bruce’s chest.

“Hate it in your free time,” Bruce mutters into his hair, before choking a little because he caught a mouthful of semi-permanent dye. “On our nights, be good.”

Relationships are a contract, and Jason’s willingly agreed to these terms for, ah, close to a year now. It doesn’t mean he won’t grumble, or mess up Bruce’s perfectly styled hair just to make him grumble too. “Yeah, yeah, old man, I know what I’m about. Go and distract the cops already, I need to get away.”

Bruce lazily salutes him, looking dishevelled and mussed and suitably victimised. Jason is one damn inch away from dragging B down to the ground and reinstating his territory, god. Instead, he grabs his bag and picks up his helmet, and dawdles a little by the hatch. “You gonna be okay, old man?”

“Of course,” Bruce says confidently, ripping buttons off his coat and toeing one shoe off to look extra pathetic. “I have a hot date to keep. I’ll see you at home, Jason.”

What’s a man to do when given an order like that?

Jason obeys.

A/N: i’ve literally had ‘king tide come through’ listed as a title i wanted for something since last year?? it doesn’t even really mean anything i just love that the highest high tides are kings and it’s got such a nice ring to it. my approach to titling things is that it has to slap, thanks for coming to my TED talk ;9

#brujay #bruce wayne #jason todd #whale writing #i haven't been to many aquariums at all but #generally my idea of a good time is me being close to a Big Body Of Water #as long as i don't obsess on the survival rates of the lads in the tanks #being that close that much water is inexplainably soothing #and bc feb has been all sorts of miserable for me personally #i wanted some soothing

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Waiting for the Worms - Empty Spaces

Part 2

Please heed warnings of part 1. Added warning of suicidal tendencies. If Anything about suicide makes you triggered, don't continue reading this particular story. Please be mindful of yourself. This WILL get worse.

Tag list of known masochists (I'm playing, you guys are amazing):

@northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @wuvpancakes @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @lysslovsanime

~---~

Coming to in Marinette's body was jarring to say the least. Moments earlier, pain was all he could register and now he was leaning back on a bench in the back of a classroom.

Leaning forward and hiding his face in his arms, he focused in on the tug in the back of his mind, trying to bring it forward. To force the switch back, only to be met with harsh resistance.

"Dammit Mari, don't do this. Let me back!" He whispered under his breath, panic starting to lurch to the forefront. He started to shake all over, the longer the connection lasted and the longer she resisted.

"Marinette, please stop, please? You can't keep doing this," he murmured, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing with all he had at the bond.

"God, how pathetic can she get? Faking a breakdown for attention," a voice from the front spoke, pitched just right to be intentionally heard by him.

"Why don't you mind your own damn business," a haughty voice exclaimed from his left, before a body drew closer, arm wrapping around his shoulder. He held back a flinch, trying to tune into her normal reliance on others for comfort, instead leaning into the body, vaguely recognizing it as Chloe.

The resistance dropped and finally the tug calmed down. He still couldn't switch back, but she wasn't fighting him anymore either. He let out a sigh as the shaking calmed down. Bruce must've found her. She was safe, but likely exhausted and unable to switch back. As much as he hated her taking the pain for him, all he could do now was wait for the bond to pull again and leave a letter detailing exactly what he thought of her little stunt here.

This time Jason did flinch. He felt the first few blows Joker landed, he could only imagine how much pain she must be in now.

"You okay there, marzipan?"

That was a new one. Glancing up into worried baby blues, he gave one soft nod and slumped into her side, paying attention to the lesson. Mari would be upset if he let her fall behind in her studies while she was gone.

…

It had been four days since then and Jason couldn't help feeling like something was horribly wrong. It wasn't the first time they switched for an extended period of time, by any means, but his gut told him this time was different.

Sure she had claimed his body for well over four days before to wait out an injury or get more extensive training with Bruce before and he had held her body hostage for over a week once when she was in the hospital with pneumonia, but normally a tug or two would tell him that one of them was holding out on the swap.

This time, nothing came. His mind was achingly devoid of her and as the days passed, he feared he might end up here longer than planned. It would make sense. Multiple broken bones, blunt force trauma, and the sheer force of their swap could easily have overwhelmed his body and dropped it into a state of unconsciousness.

He took to her computer, trying any combination of words related to the accident to see if anything had been reported only to come up empty handed.

That couldn't be right, if she were in the hospital, if his body was properly reported as a Joker victim, the report would be made public, even if the identity was kept under wraps for being an unknown minor. Anything to indicate someone was caught up in the accident. Surely Bruce wasn't relying solely on Alfred to patch them back up?

It wasn't until a week after the incident that he received his answer, buried in a tiny little notice in the back of a Tuesday local newspaper. Like an afterthought. Amongst the obituaries. A tiny note that the late Jason Peter Todd had died.

His soulmate died in his body and didn't even make it into the citywide Sunday paper. Just a local midweeker with barely more than two sentences.

Disbelief struck first.

This couldn't be real, right? Soulmates weren't able to just. Die in the other's place. That wasn't a thing. It was his body, if anything, he would have immediately been evicted the second his body died and moved on while she returned to hers. So how the fuck was he still here?

Next came anger.

How dare Marinette die in his place. How dare she end her life for his mistakes! And by the Joker! The fucking Joker deserved to die for torturing and killing his sweet little soulmate. He deserved a life worse than death. To be strung up and peeled apart inch by inch until he begged for death. And Batman... How dare he not make it in time to save her. It'd be okay if it were him, but not her! She didn't deserve this. Mari had her own life, her own desires and dreams, her own villain to hunt down, and that was torn away from her because Batman let them down. But even worse, Bruce barely cared enough to be open about his death. To mourn the loss of her like he did, even if the man didn't know it was an innocent in that body and not him. And even if it had been, it hurt knowing that he alone wasn't worth more than a barely there acknowledgment that he was once alive in an unseen back page.

Last came devastating grief.

She was gone. Marinette, the girl who never even really met him, cared so much for him, she sacrificed her own life for his. Forced him to stay in her body and took his as her own to the grave so he could live as her. With her loving parents and colorful room and warm heart. She gave him everything and wanted nothing in return. Slept on the streets for him at times, took brutal fights on as Robin so he could have a reprieve, skipped meals so he could taste something he'd never had before that her parents made that night. Learned English from an early age so they could talk and he wouldn't be alone in the world. And now that one of them had died, she ensured that he would be left in the best environment she could provide him, even if it had become rougher around the edges from when they were younger. And now she was gone. Dead. Never to return. And as he turned towards the mirror and looked into her beautiful, glowing blue eyes, he saw the tears trail down her face before he collapsed into himself, cursing anything and everything in the universe for allowing such a cruel fate.

…

For the next month, he moved through life like a zombie. As much as he hated her classmates for treating her the way they had, he couldn't help but feel grateful that no one wanted anything to do with him. They still muttered under their breath and glared and purposefully manipulated situations against him, but no one tried to ask what was wrong.

Everyone but Chloe and Juleka avoided him like the plague, which felt accurate in a sense. He didn't have to fake a smile or pretend to be okay like he had when the class still loved her. He could sulk and cry and grieve and it went unquestioned. The others hated him and the two girls, while worried, knew that sometimes she needed the reprieve of just letting her negativity go unchecked for a little while to make up for bottling so much of it all the time, so they let it go as well. The teacher barely glanced his direction. If it weren't so beneficial to him at the moment, Jason would be pissed at the obvious neglect his soulmate had endured at the hands of this lot. As it stood, he just cried a little harder at night in his grief, Tikki curled to his neck with tears of her own.

The two quickly bonded over their mutual loss and the inability to talk about it to anyone else. Despite the stress of it, Jason refused to let anyone else know that Marinette had died. Her parents didn't need to suffer her death while looking at her living, breathing body, knowing she wasn't in it. That it was his fault she had died in the first place. And he couldn't even imagine having to tell them how she died.

So he resolved himself to live in her stead. To live as she would for the sake of her loved ones and in her honor. He had enough practice in the past to pull it off. It helped that they had both learned to suppress their emotions to the point of nonexistent in the light of facing Hawkmoth.

That was another thing entirely, though. While he resolved to fake a smile and play the happy designer in her civilian life, Ladybug took a turn from that day forward. He warned the cat off him, not playing into the teasing and banter, becoming stoic and professional. And when the kid got too brash, too pushy, too unreliable, he stripped the ring from him and moved on. Built a team she would've been proud to lead.

Over the next three months, he slowly adjusted her mannerisms to be more natural for him. Not enough to be noticeable or seen as anything more than growing older and slightly more jaded, but enough to make it a touch easier and less like he was living a lie.

…

Six months had passed and everything was different.

The rest of the class didn't bother him. Didn't make accusations. Throw insults. Acknowledge his existence in any way. And maybe that was meant to be punishment. To be treated as a ghost haunting an unknowing audience. But it was pure bliss. He couldn't thank them enough for their continued silence.

At least this way he could pretend her last days of life were happy and surrounded by people who cared for her. That they were grieving her just as he was.

There were still mornings he forgot. Times he'd walk by a mirror and smile, seeing her looking back and thinking it just another of their sporadic swaps where he'd wake as her and find a note waiting for him.

Then reality would crash around him as the little kwami would come out and look at him with those sad eyes, nuzzling his neck (her neck, this was her body god dammit). On those days it hit him differently. Sometimes he'd shut it all down, going through the motions for the rest of the day. Other times he'd break down and cuddle the small being as close as possible and share in her despair, not bothering to leave the house. Usually anger would coarse sharp and deadly through his heart, urging him to seek vengeance. On those days, any remarks made his way were brutally rebutaled, until the remarks stopped entirely. Ladybug fought with just a little more violent intent; he couldn't avenge her until Hawkmoth was defeated. Those gorgeous blue eyes set into her face turned into a deadly storm of promised danger.

It all kept swirling and cycling through him over and over until one day, the desperation and grief and hurt all hit a little too hard and he laid on the floor, staring up at the dark ceiling, wishing he could be by her side. That he could join her and not have to feel like this anymore. That it could all just go away and he could be happy for once in his miserable life.

That night he wished for nothing more than to die. If it hadn't been for the absolute heartwrenching sight of her little, pale hand wrapped around a too big knife, he has no doubt he would have gone through with it.

Afterwards he could only thank his cowardice for preventing him from destroying her body like that. She wanted him to live and who was he to deny her?

That night, he curled up on the cold, hardwood floor and begged her forgiveness, promising to do better. To be better. He knew she couldn't hear him, would never respond, but he begged all the same.

#jasonette #ml x dc #maribat #part 2 #WFTW

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year

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Local Oldest Child Takes Time Away From Family

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/836DMOz

by tipsytogglebutton

Dick sighed. “Did Dami try to stab you again?” “Yep.” “For real this time? He wasn’t just participating in non-consensual sparring practice?” “It was unclear, but based on previous experience-“ “Yeah, yeah.” Dick rubbed his temple. “I’ll talk to him.” “Wow. Thank you so much. I’m in your debt. I’m sure talking to him will initiate an immediate and heartfelt change in his wretched heart of darkness and lies.” Tim was flawlessly monotone.

Dick gets tired of being mature and snaps at Bruce. Then fucks off to have a hipster vacation while rediscovering performance art.

Words: 7570, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Nightwing (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Original Character(s), Dick Grayson & Wally West

Additional Tags: Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, or at least he's trying, Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Protective Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Sibling Tim Drake, the teen rating is for language, Fluff, Family Dynamics, sibling dynamics, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Dick Grayson takes a vacation, Sort Of, He just really needs a break from Bruce's bullshit, and maybe the rest of the family's bullshit too, but he won't admit that, because golden children don't find fault in their siblings, until the repressed anger comes out and you throw your phone, boring Dick Grayson staying in an air bnb and accidentally becoming a theatre kid, the original characters are not important I promise, Young Justice Spoilers, Dick Grayson & Wally West Friendship, Wally West is dead, it's been years and Dick Isn't over it, PTSD, Dick Grayson Has PTSD, and worries a lot, the sunglasses make several appearances, there are puns, dick really needs a hug, M'gann briefly appears, no beta we die like robins

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/836DMOz

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

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ali-kitkat · 5 years

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Adrien followed the boy who sabotaged his plans to Chloe’s hotel. He assumed that he just left Marinette’s home before leaving for the night. His newest strategy was to show Marinette the error of her ways by hurting her friend, before he re-did the wish. She should have told him about her new friend, he should’ve met him before they were even alone together. She made her choice. She’s going to live with it now, he mused. When he re-does the wish, she’s going to remember her friend was injured, but only because she was going to have inkling of his actions, she should know that he wasn’t going to put up with insubordination. Altering her memories wouldn’t be difficult, she’s going to believe her friend was beaten because he was dangerous, which he is. That her friend was going to hurt her, Damian did, he took her away. He was going to be her hero again. Damian, he recalled, was checking in and headed upstairs to sleep for the night.

Having all the information he needed he headed to the bakery to get the ring. He loved her but she wasn’t exactly the smartest, hiding the ring in her diary box was a huge mistake on her end. He remembered that box very well as she had to unlock Sabrina’s hand from it. Since she wouldn’t open the box for him, he needed to delay her. Knocking her out was the smartest option, she wasn’t going to remember he hit her either.

*~*~*~*

Damian wasn’t surprised that the blond idiot couldn’t even hide on the roof tops very well. He spotted Adrien, pun intended, instantaneously. His was in a bright, obnoxious red suit, and he was sitting on the edge of a roof top watching the street, only moving when he had walked into his line of sight. He was easy to divert as well, all Damian had to do was walk into the Grand Paris hotel and Adrien left as feigned checking in. He left as quickly as he entered.

*~*~*~*

Adrien stared at his room in bewilderment, it was a mess. Marinette had destroyed it searching for the earrings.

“Spots off.” He muttered. Tikki flew out of the earrings and floated in front of him.

“What’s your plan now? Marinette has the ring and her memories; you can’t win her back and you can’t beat her either.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Teeks. I’ve got the ring right here,” Adrien taunted, holding out the diary box in his hand. “and you’re going to open it for me.”

She phased through the box and barely contained her giggles at the ring inside. She recognized Mari’s craftsmanship. A fake, she gave him a fake ring. Adrien snatched the ring out of the box. Slipping on the ring, he stood waiting for Plagg to appear and when he didn’t, he glanced down at the ring to see it hadn’t changed.

“Marinette gave me a fake.” He sighed infuriated, he ripped the ring off and threw it across the room.

“I’m going to show her the error of her ways, starting with her friend. Spots on Tikki.” He shouted as he leapt out the window.

*~*~*~*

His family didn’t worry about where he was all day, they did wonder why he was going out in his suit when all they were supposed to be doing was research on the botched timeline.

“Why are you going out as Robin? You know we’re not supposed to be seen, right?” Tim questioned, not looking up from his laptop.

“I have a friend who knows why the timeline was changed.” He replied, putting the ring in a false wall. He hoped his brothers wouldn’t question him about it.

“Wait what?” Dick asked, shock written on his face. Bruce looked up from the document he was reading and raised an eyebrow in question.

“You have a friend!” Jason and Tim yelled; the shock on their faces was quite amusing to him.

“Focus idiots, the timeline. You know why we’re actually here. Magic users and speedsters felt the change and my friend knows why. I’m going to check up on her because the person responsible happens to be obsessed with her.” He snarked exasperated, at the rate they were going to make him late and he was worried about Marinette. Damian had left immediately after.

He knocked on the balcony window waiting for a response. The interval of silence was too long for it to be normal, sure she could be asleep, but she knew he was coming back after he hid the ring. Carefully climbing in through the window he could see her on the ground, unconscious. She was still breathing, that much he could see. When her side he was enraged, her jaw was starting to bruise. Adrien knocked her out, and Damian was going to skin him alive. Lifting her into his arms, she shifted closer to him. He slipped out the window back to where he and family were staying.

When he got back, his family was waiting for him, Bruce and Drake sat while Todd and Grayson stood. They were all wearing shocked expressions.

“Damian, what the hell? Did you kidnap her?”

“What? No! Fucking Adrien Agreste knocked her out.” He defended, his rage rising. He attempted to set Marinette down on one of the sofas, but she wouldn’t let go much to his family’s amusement. The snickers behind him were setting him off further.

“Come on angel, you have to let go.” He muttered; she didn’t let go much to his annoyance and relief. He shifted her around enough that he had eventually woken her up. She froze in his arms before letting out an unholy screech.

“Who in the hell are you?” She yelled, flailing out of his arms. His family let out snorts and chortles at her bewildered expression.

“It’s me, Damian. Did I forget to mention that I’m a vigilante?” He replied dryly. She shot him a glare while rubbing a hand across her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just peachy. My ex-partner punched me in the face after he got what he wanted. Add that on top of the fact that he’s been manipulating me for the past year and that he caused my mother’s death. Yeah, I’m doing fucking swell; I’m going to tear him into pieces Damian.”

He could hear his family making noise behind them, fairly certain he heard Todd mutter Holy shit there’s two of them and decided to bite the bullet and introduce them motioning Marinette in the direction of his family.

“Marinette this is my family, unfortunately.” Damian presented, waving a hand in the general direction of his family.

“That’s rude baby bird.” One of the men standing spoke in a teasing voice.

Marinette didn’t bother to muffle her laughter at Damian’s disgruntled expression. He glared down at her and she stuck her tongue out at him in return.

“I’m Jason Todd, the old man in the chair over there is Bruce Wayne. He’s Demon Spawn’s father.” A man with the white streak in his hair introduced himself.

“I’m Dick Grayson. How did baby bird meet you, because you are too cute to have just made friends with him?” The shorter man beside Jason spoke. “The one on the laptop is Tim Drake, don’t take his silence for rudeness though.”

“Right, Damian said you know why the timeline is screwed up. Can you tell us?” Tim interrupted, turning to face Marinette and Damian. Marinette raised an eyebrow in question. “Magic users and speedsters have experienced the backlash. They’re saying it originated from Paris, but they can’t place why or how.”

“A year ago, Paris was under attack by a magical terrorist named Hawkmoth and his accomplice Mayura. He wanted the miraculous from the local heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. A set of earrings and a ring, together those two miraculous can make any wish true. Adrien Agreste the son of Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste, took the earrings and wished his mother never fell into a magical coma.”

“There’s no evidence of anything like that anywhere. How do you know that?” Tim questioned; wariness etched onto his face.

“I was Ladybug. Adrien betrayed me. He used them to wish for his mother back and magic comes with a price.” Marinette responded. She paused a moment. “That price was my mother.”

“Isn’t Agreste your boyfriend? Why would he betray you? Or knock you out?” Dick inquired.

“That asshole is not my boyfriend.” She snarled. “he’s the bastard who wished for me to love him and made me lose my memories of the last year.”

Dick stared at her in shock. “He made more than one wish?”

“Yes. He wished for me to love him and manipulated me into being his.” She sneered. “Not long after my mother died either.”

“What happens when you get the earrings back? Are you going to wish the timeline back to what it was?” Jason asked, curiosity taking over the shock. “Do you have the ring to do so?”

“No, I’m not going to wish for the previous timeline. I’m not stupid enough to abuse magic like that. Damian hid the ring for me, speaking of which. Could I get that back? I want to go rip Agreste a new asshole.”

*~*~*~*

Tag List: Let me know if want to be removed or added.

@bluerosette23 @thepeacetea @noirdots @tv-zombie-blog @2sunchild2 @vivilakitty @northernbluetongue @kurogaya913 @xxmadamjinxx @ayuchan07 @asianfrustration13 @poshplumcot @saltier-than-the-dead-sea @ladylb @littleredrobinhoodlum @mewwitch @winter-gardenflower @sonif50 @mooshoon @crazylittlemunchkin @captainmac6 @wookiestephen @octoberscorn @eliza-bich @dani-ari @theatreandcomicfreak @rikku052 @lysslovsanime @creator-josie @segajr @my-name-is-michell @luciferge @friedchickening @graduatedmelon @nomiegnome @kitten-rouge @beaversuenightly

#maribat #maridami #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #daminette #slow burn #ali-kitkat's writing #my writing

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