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kandadiff · 8 months

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Taste of Venom : Ball (2)

It wasn’t hard to find Robin when looking for him. He easily towered over most of the people here at 6'4 and whether it was in intentional or not his mask matched mine, the only difference was shiny obsidian and had fangs where the mouth began. Instead of a simple black suit, he resembled our mother with a dark navy suit stitched with white jester-style diamonds. I couldn't help but smile, he seemed to be taking more from Harley than J.

I floated through the crowd moving towards where he was smoking standing just outside the ballroom. When I finally made it, his back was to me and he was chatting with a man wearing a pure white suits with highlights of green. His red hair stuck out from behind his cloud like mask - something about him felt familiar but I couldn't' quite place it.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t taken after Joker much.” I traced the patterns of the diamonds on his suit jacket. He stiffened and relaxed when he realized who it was. I saw the necklace that Harley gave us all when we were children, still proudly displayed around his neck, though a new red jeweled ring covered his finger. “Mom would have loved this.” He says nothing, instead looks at the red head incfront of him. “What you’re not going to wish your little sister happy birthday? Maybe you have taken after J after all.” My tone might have been playful but the words were bitter. I had asked Negan to ensure my 'father' wasn't present, which is how I assume Lloyd got in with Robin instead.

His lips curled into the tiniest smile. “Happy birthday.” His tone was cold with just the tiniest bit of affection. I sighed but the redhead stepped closer calling my attention to him.

“Happy birthday!” The red head was clearly more enthusiastic then my brother who gently pushed me to him.

"Thank you." I said politely looking up into the gray eyes behind his makes. A flicker of recognition ran across my eyes and it hit me “Jerry?” Undoing the green ribbon that held his mask on, the face of my older brother was revealed to me. His mess of red hair as bright as the last time I saw him. Thats when I noticed Harley's necklace tucked into his collared shirt. His smile was shy, as though his emotions for this moment would hinge on my own - like he was scared of rejection.

"Oh my god" I threw my arms around him and his arms wrapped around me in a tight hug. He sighed happy into the hug and tightened his arms around me. "Oh my god!" The scent of hospital still lingered on him like it was his permanent scent. “I’m so happy to see you again!” I asked Negan to extend an invite to all my siblings but I knew if anyone would come it would be robin.

"Me too, Ace." he whispered and pulled back to look at me. "You look the same. You didn't age since the last time I saw you." I thought about the last time I did see him. Jerome had always been in and out of mental hospitals growing up. CPS or the police would commit him and it was up to the family to get him out. After a while, it became a game - for a while - none of us were sure what exactly what was wrong with him. Until he lashed out on one of J's men, slicking there face clean off with a switch blade, and Harley sat us down and told us. He was a schizophrenic with bipolar disorder, though it was fairly contained when he was on his meds but when he wasn't - it could get bad.

"Are you- are you okay?" I asked, my heart falling when I released. If he was with J then I doubt the man would care enough about his heath to keep him on his meds. It's not like Harley is around, and when we all did live together he turned it into a game.

"I'm keeping an eye on him." Robin assured me. I hated how cold things were between us now though I was happy to see Jerome. We chatted about everything under the sun for a bit until Jerome got something to drink.

"Should he be drinking on his meds?" I asked looking up at Robin. He nodded, lighting up a cigarette.

"A drink here and there won't hurt him." I nodded and we stood in silence for a bit until we both tried to speak.

"I'd wish you leave here-"

"I had another dream-"

We said at the same time. We eyed each other but I spoke first. "What?"

"Your safer with us, J, Jerome, me...Lloyd." he gave me a side eye. "Yes, I do know."

"How am I safer? I've handled myself here for three years without any of you."

"Things are changing." he said cryptically and I rolled my eyes pouting.

"Why is everyone speaking in riddles?"

"I don't want to hear about your dream." He said seeing G walk towards us.

"Can I borrow the birthday girl?" G's smile is clearly fake not matching the shine in his eyes, maybe he was on something. His eyes did look a bit dilated. I knew him and I could tell he was upset. I looked at robin salient pleading for him to brush g off but instead he nods. "Do you have a place we can talk?"

"The library I guess," I sighed as we walked though the party back into the quiet library. Once I closed the large doors, his smile faded and his words cut like sharp little knives.

"The rumor better be fucking fake" He warns stepping up to me. With the small heels I was wearing we looked eye to eye - though his intense, accusatory stare made me feel two feet tall. "You better not be pregnant." His hand shoots to feel my stomach for himself and push him away.

"What?!" I shoot back at him. "I'm not!"

"If this party is to announce any fucking heirs to that old pig in there tell me now!" He spat, his breath smelled of hard liquor. He was drunk and high a terrible combination when your in a bad mood.

"I haven't been with Seunghyun in years!" I push him again and he grabs my wrists tightly. I jerk out of his grasp. "What does it matter if I have a child? the deal was marriage." He laughed and shook his head.

"The deal was you marry my right hand man and I marry your partner. You go missing for weeks and break his heart and tell her to break mine as well-"

"You're fucking drunk." I scoff and turn to leave but he yanks me back my dress. "Get off of me!" Instead he threw me on the couch.

"I am not drunk! You took her away from me! Then she goes missing!" He spit and grips my face in his hands.

I push his hands away from me and got up. "we have this goddamn argument every year. Get over her! You have a mountain of fucking mistresses at your disposal - don't act like they weren't here when she was still alive!"

"I never cheated on her!" He growled stalking towards me.

"Save it for your fucking priest!" I spat back at him. "You are all the same. Men with power who want a woman to stick by them meanwhile they stick there dick in everything else! She did not belong to you because you showered her with gifts and money! She would not still be with you now if she was alive! She'd be with Edward like she was before she died!"

"STOP!" He violently threw himself into me and was slammed into the brick of the walls. He quickly reached into his jacket pocket and took out a sharp switchblade, pressing it hard but not hard enough to break the skin "How about I cut that fucking abomination out myself? Huh? Take you away from Negan like his son took my wife away from me. Ill even gift him the fetus-"

"Get off of me, Jiyong." I tried to keep my voice steady but with a blade pressed into my lower belly and the crazed look in eye made me start to shake. The animosity between us had grown exponetially since I left TOP but seemed to skyrocket after your disappearance. The only thing that was keeping the Red Dragon alliance alive was my relationship with G's father, but with the old mans sickness - it wasn't going to last. And he was about to start the war right now - in an intoxicated rash stupor heightened by anger. "I'll scream, there are guards just outside this door, you can cut me but you can't outrun them."

""I don't need too." he said pressing the blade closer I felt it cut into the fabric of my dress.. Then he moved it to my mouth. "Maybe I'll make you like your dad, a permeant smile."

"Don't do that." A raspy deep voice made us both jump, his knife cutting slightly into my mouth. It came from the corner of the room, deep in the shadows casted by the moonlight coming in through the windows and small lamps that illumined their immediate area.

"Who's there?" G asked pushing into me while looking into the corner. He quickly removed the knife pressing his open palm to my mouth and then blade back to my stomach. "Who's there?!"

"Release her." the voice growled again. It echoed throughout the room and sounded like it was now coming from every corner - every shadow heard the mystery man. G yanked me forward and I stumbled on my heels falling on the floor while G yanked a lamp off the table and pointed the lights at the corner.

A long limbed horrifying creature lurked over the bookshelf. Wide green eyes sunken into a midnight sky colored body looked at him, the long fingers curling over the books and itching closer to G. The man blinked his yees, as though trying to blink away the terrifying creature from the room. The creature dashed towards him yanking him up violently by the suit jacket until his head reached the high celling and he was suspended in the air. He let out a terrified scream for it to stop and let me go. I stayed frozen on the ground unsure if I moved would the creature come at me. "Okay." The creature sounded amused and released the Red Dragon leader from the ceiling. G fell straight down, crashing into the wood table in the middle of the room. The table cracked under him with a loud dealing sound and suddenly G was quiet. The creature looked from G to me - we stared at each other just for a moment until I heard a commotion from the door. Someone was trying to open it.

"Miss!" That was one of the guards.

"Kay!" That was Simon.

"Princess!" That was Negan and thats who I saw burst in. The light from the hallway flooded the room and the looming dark creature dashed back behind the bookshelf in a flash leaving me looking up at the gang leader wide eyed and on the floor and G unconsious on a broken table.

"What the hell happened here?" Simon asked. Negan looked around, stepping over G and pulling me up.

Negan examined me closely, his finger wiped the small amount of blood trickling from the small cut G gave me. His jaw tightened but he was still very gentle with me. "Are you okay?" I nodded, feeling vegans kiss on my forehead. But my eyes were locked on Simon who was trying to figure out how I put G through a table. The guards waited for orders by the door. "Did he hurt you?" I shook my head and Negan sighed. "Don't fucking lie to me."

"No." I looked up at him. "Just get him out of here." I pleaded and Negan ran his hands through his beard in frustration. "Please, I can't- not tonight."

He sighed as though trying to steady his own anger and looked at Simon. "As quietly as you can- get him out of here. Send him home and get one of the girls to be there when he wakes up so he thinks it was something else."

"You heard the man." Simon barked orders to the guards "Get moving, you fucks."

"come on," he takes my hand in his. I step over g looking back at the bookshelf but seeing nothing. Instead of stepping over him, Negan kicks the man hard in his ribs. G doesn't react. "Lets cut your fucking cake."

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fleur-de-violette · 3 years

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And I’ll look into your eyes to find out if I’m real

A3O Summary: Bruce wants a lot of things. A bath. Seeing his family. Not having been missing for a whole year.

He wants Dick to wake up and realize he’s not a hallucination.

Whumptober 2020 day 6 – Stop, please. Note: Have you seen that the whumptober 2021 prompts are out? They’re super cool and I didn’t finish the 2020 so it’s safe to say I won’t do them. Still, I’m excited for it.

Back to the fic, warning for hallucination, lots of crying and pretty much general angst. Enjoy!

Bruce wants a bath.

He wants a lot of things. One of them is a bath. He never considered himself too dependent on the luxuries that came with his civilian identity, but right now, he really wants to be in clean, warm water with a nice scent, maybe a few candles, and some relaxing music.

It isn’t as much about the bath itself, because he had the time to clean himself, warm up and relax his aching muscles in the shower, it’s the idea of it. He wants to be in a moment where he could allow himself to lose time without feeling guilty about the next crisis. These moments are too rare, if not nonexistent, in his life. And now isn’t one of these moments.

Bruce wants a lot of things.

He wants Alfred not to look so tired. He wants to see Tim smile, really smile. He wants to take the next flight to Hong Kong just so he can hug Cassandra. He wants to solve a case with Steph, watch that smart spark in her eyes and find out how much she grew up. He wants to go to Crime Alley and check on Jason. He wants to shake Gordon’s hand and to kiss Barbara’s hair. He wants to feel Selina’s body against his. He wants to understand Damian. He wants to see Dick’s eyes.

He hasn’t seen Dick’s eyes since he came back from time. Batman’s white lenses had left his son’s face sometime between the moment he passed out next to Damian and the moment a neurosurgeon removed a bullet from the inside of his skull. Dick had yet to wake up.

And Bruce hadn’t seen Dick’s eyes in a year.

It’s something that hasn’t happened since that fateful night at Haly’s Circus. Even when they weren’t talking, he always took the time to check on his ward. His son.

He never wanted things to go this way. He has all the money anyone could wish for and more, a position of power, both in one of the biggest companies on earth and in the most famous superhero team in the universe. He’d been trained by the best of the best.

And yet.

And yet he can’t stop his family from ripping to shreds.

The Joker is still loose. He’s got a dozen missed calls on his phone, mostly from Clark. He doesn’t care. Right now, he doesn’t care. He’s tired.

Dick must be tired too. Bruce tries to tell himself that this is the reason he hadn’t woken up yet. He’d been assured by several doctors that the surgery went well. Dick should wake up anytime now, and the confusion and pain will decrease within the next few weeks, leaving only a scar on the back of his head, until that, too, will be hidden behind the thick black hair Bruce hadn’t ruffled affectionately in ages.

Bruce’s hands hover over his son’s unconscious body, as if afraid of touching him. Of breaking him more than he already did. Not for the first time, he wonders what would have happened if he had ensured that the young boy from the circus found a good foster family and left him there. If he hadn’t, with all the vanity of a twenty-four-year-old millionaire, thought he was the only one who could take care of him.

He sighs. He lowers his head once again toward Dick’s face and sees two cloudy blue eyes looking back at him.

He blinks. Tries to control the avalanche of emotions falling upon him. “Hey,” he says, choking on his own voice.

He’s not really expecting an answer, so he’s surprised when Dick opens his dry lips and lets out a small, “Hey. Long time, no see.”

A tear Bruce knows Dick doesn’t even notice forms itself in his son’s eye. Bruce wipes it away gently. “Are you in any pain?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” Dick lies. Bruce doesn’t call him out on it.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Dick goes to shake his head but aborts the movement with a pained jerk. “No,” he says instead.

“Do you want me to tell you?”

Dick lets out a small laugh. “How would you know? You’re a figment of my imagination.”

Bruce suddenly feels very cold. He takes in both the knowledge that Dick doesn’t think he’s real and the implication that hallucinating him is something he’s familiar with.

His hand presses a little more on his son’s face. “I’m here,” he says. “I’m real.”

Dick closes his eyes and another tear escapes one of them. “Don’t. Please.”

“Talk to me. What can I do to convince you?” Bruce feels a pressure building behind his own eyes.

“Please, stop,” Dick repeats. “I can’t. I can’t believe you.”

Bruce takes a deep breath. “Okay, we’ll take all the time you need. You don’t have to believe me now, but you need to calm down.”

Dick is close to hyperventilating now, and Bruce wonders if he should just leave the room and let Alfred take care of him. But that seems too much like running away for his liking, and he’s been away long enough.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Dick continues, not caring, or perhaps not registering what Bruce said. “I can’t, you’re not. I can’t hope, because what if I wake up and you’re gone? Again?”

Bruce feels his heart shattering into pieces, but he can’t let himself break down. “Breathe, Robin,” he says, immediately wincing when the name passes his lips.

Calling him by a title he hadn’t worn in years probably won’t help Dick’s grip with reality, but he can’t help it. Right now, he can only see a distressed child in front of him. A child who always responded well to this name.

And it seems that some things can’t be erased by time, because Dick gasps and takes a few more deep breaths, calming down. Bruce thinks the worst of it is over. He thinks maybe Dick will fall back asleep, and wake up again in a few hours, less confused this time.

He’s wrong.

Because not a minute later, Dick opens his eyes again, and says, “The real you would be much angrier than that.”

Bruce feels the mass in his throat, the one that appeared at the beginning of the conversation, start to grow again. “What? No, why would I be angry?”

“Let you down,” Dick answers in a way that makes Bruce wish he had never asked. “Disrespected your will. Let Gotham become a mess. Destroyed Batman’s name.”

“You didn’t,” Bruce murmurs. “You didn’t.” When Dick doesn’t seem to calm down, he adds, “You’re a better Batman than I’ll ever be.”

Because this is true. He doesn’t need Alfred of Gordon to tell him what he always knew. Dick is the essence of what Batman should be. He’s the Batman Gotham needs, even if she doesn’t deserve him. And for that reason, Dick shouldn’t have been Batman. He’s perfect, and he’s destroying himself.

Batman had never been a title to pass on, let alone to Dick. Sure, he trusted his son and first sidekick to take the mantle if he was unable to, but he never had wanted him to be Batman. No one but him was supposed to be Batman. Cassandra was the closest to the title, but she wasn’t ready, and he couldn’t let that burden fall on her.

Still, he hadn’t wanted it to fall on Dick, either.

“Why are you saying that?” Dick asks. Bruce can practically see the gears turning in his head. Good. He knows firsthand that Dick is a damn good detective. He will figure this out. “This is not something I believe or fear or want to hear. Why are you saying that?”

“I’m real,” Bruce repeats, and Dick lets out a sob.

“You’re not,” he protests, but Bruce can see his resolve weakening. “You’re not. Tim said, but you…”

He stops. Blinks. A few more tears fall out of his eyes, and Bruce knows his own aren’t dry either. “You’re real. You’re… please, be real.”

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking down. “I’m real,” he chokes. “I promise.”

Dick’s eyes go wide. “What about Damian?” he asks. “Aren’t you angry?”

Bruce sighs. What about Damian? This is a whole different question. The kid is sleeping in his room right now, having finally listened to Alfred, leaving his Batman’s side. He had barely said a word to Bruce.

Bruce has been gone for a year, not by choice, sure, but gone nonetheless, and now he doesn’t know where he fits, between his son in blood and his son in everything else.

Batman and Robin, a bond that can’t be broken. A bond that still exists, he hopes, between himself and Dick.

“I will talk with him,” he says because his relationship with Damian, his complicated feelings about the mere existence of Damian and his anxiety about having to work with him as a Robin, aren’t Dick’s responsibility. They never should have been. “I’m not angry with you.”

Dick blinks again. “My head hurts,” he finally admits.

Bruce’s hand hovers over the morphine drip. “Do you want more painkillers?”

“If I sleep,” Dick asks, “Will you still be there when I wake up?”

Bruce bends down, leaves a kiss on his son’s forehead. “I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dick says. “But thank you, for being here.”

Still, he closes his eyes and his body relaxes a little. Probably as much as it is possible while recovering from brain surgery.

Bruce stays there a long time, his hand still on Dick’s face. He’s broken a lot of promises. But he’s sure of one thing.

He will be here when Dick wakes up again.

He will still be real.

Ending Note: Hope you enjoyed the fic! Many thanks to @ohmytoddhewitt for beta reading!

#dc #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #nightwing #emotional whump #whump #hurt/comfort #angst #dick grayson whump #fanfiction #my fic #my writing #bruce wayne is a good parent

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katzkinder · 3 years

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Little Boy Blue

Mahiru is tired.

Kuro can see it, in the way his folding isn’t as neat, in the way the vegetables in their dinner aren’t as uniformly chopped, in the way his head bobs during school lessons, his laughter isn’t as loud, how he doesn’t check half so well before he crosses the street and needs the ever watchful hand of Sakuya to drag him back from the curb, a shout on the subclass’s lips, scolding and fussing about the car that had just whizzed past their little group.

Mahiru is tired, but he refuses to rest.

And it’s driving Kuro mad.

It’s as Mahiru is jerked and prodded, worried and fussed over by his trio of school friends, that Kuro makes a decision.

His Eve will get some sleep, whether he wants to or not.

Thankfully for him, he knows Mahiru wants it. The frustrating part is that his stupid, incredible, wonderful human doesn’t think he’s earned it. Not yet. Not when there was still more to do.

Which meant, joy of joys… He needed some help.

Good thing he had three ready made volunteers right there with him on the curb.

Now to convince them.

***

The easiest part, by far, was getting them to go along with his plan. Slipping into Mahiru’s bag to use the cellphone Tooru had bought him (every time he thought about it, he still couldn’t believe it. His own phone, his own clothes, his own games, his own… Everything, really), he sent a single text to three different numbers.

Mahiru’s exhausted. Help me get him to chill out?

The hard part…

“Hey, Mahiru! It’s been a while since we all last had a sleepover, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it has…”

“Since we’re already going to be walking you home to make sure you don’t wander out into traffic…”

“It was an accident!”

“Party at Mahiru-sama’s place~!”

“Would you stop with that stupid… Fine! But Sakkun is paying for the food!”

… Wasn’t actually that hard? But, well. Leave it to the grungy joker to just… Steamroll his way into Mahiru’s place, invited or not. And become a steamed cabbage in the process.

The power of Mahiru-sama is frightening indeed…

***

The first order of business when the five of them arrive at Mahiru’s apartment is taken care of handily by, once again, Sakuya.

“Pizza time!” he crows, tapping the order into a website Kuro only vaguely recognizes the name of. It’s not a delivery app, but the website’s own page, and while he’s busy with that, Kuro hops out of Mahiru’s bag, ready to go fetch blankets and pillows from the linen closet in order to set them all up.

Except Mahiru’s two human friends beat him to it.

All the better, he thinks, as he hops up onto the couch to watch them spread things out right in front of the TV. The living room is small, the area they’ve chosen to occupy even more so, but it’s what he would have chosen for Mahiru, too, to cram them all together, to surround his Eve with the simple pressure and warmth of his loved ones crowded close.

Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, Kuro is so… Grateful for Mahiru’s friends. Before him, and even after him, they will love Mahiru like a brother, like a family, know him in ways he can’t, the same way Gear knows him in ways Mahiru never will.

And that’s fine. To be known is to be loved, and more than anyone, Mahiru deserves it.

“Mahiru, can you help Ryuu-chan? I’m gonna go make sure Sakuya doesn’t burn your kitchen down trying to make popcorn.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I’m always the one who makes the popcorn when Shamrock can’t!”

“And how much of it do you burn?”

“Less than you, so nyeh.”

… Maybe he should go watch them.

“Ah, Kuro, don’t get your fur on the counter!”

“Can’t deal…”

At the least, Mahiru seems to already be feeling better. It’s like magic. The best kind Kuro has ever seen.

***

Kuro spends the night as a cat, nestled in Mahiru’s lap or lying across his back, little paws kneading his Eve’s flesh and purring up a storm, extra sweet and extra soothing, while the other three pile around them. Mahiru is… Quiet. But not a bad quiet, no. A good quiet, letting the presence of the other people in their home wash over him, their bickering and their teasing, not a host but just a friend, just another kid, a kid with greasy fingers and a half drunk bottle of cola and two boxes of extra large pepperoni pizzas with cheesy bread set out before them.

“Where the heck do you find these pizza places I’ve never heard of?” Ryuusei asks after a particularly long cheese stretch has him craning his head back and holding his arms out, making the other three laugh, “This is great.”

“Vampire SNS,” Sakuya tells him proudly, and snickers once more at the tongue click it nets him.

Much to Kuro’s surprise, after building their little nest, the green haired vampire had graciously given up his preferred spot next to Mahiru without a word, instead settling himself shoulder to shoulder with the short one, Ryuusei, while he and Koyuki had pressed themselves up against Mahiru like they were trying to merge with him. It’s a tangle of arms and legs, like cats lying one on top of the other, physical closeness that speaks volumes of the emotional one they’ve cultivated with each other, and which they were slowly, Kuro felt, trying to ease him into.

It was a strange feeling. Being included.

But it wasn’t one he hated by any means.

Ryuusei flops his head against Mahiru’s arm, cheek squishing ridiculously as he squints at the screen. “Who picked this again?”

The crunching from Mahiru’s right stops, and a bowl of half eaten popcorn, buttery and with the perfect amount of salt, is nudged his Eve’s way. Wordlessly, Mahiru grabs up a big handful of it, stuffs it in his mouth with a knowing little smile, a sort of carelessness Kuro can never seem to invoke on his own.

The shuffling of fabric, and Koyuki leans onto Mahiru’s shoulder as well, the barest hint of a pout to his voice. “Does it matter? Even bad movies are fun when we’re together.”

“You’re cheesier than this pizza,” Sakuya teases, and Mahiru grins, laughs, finally says something, the exhaustion all but gone from his voice.

“That means Koyuki definitely picked it.”

“So you’re the one responsible!” Ryuusei shouts, and Koyuki flicks popcorn at him, bounces it right off his head.

“Shut up! You can change it, y’know.”

“Well, we’re already this far in,” Mahiru muses, and Sakuya quietly plucks the floor tainted popcorn up to place on a napkin, “Might as well finish it.”

Kuro is… So glad that Mahiru has friends who can do this for him. To do the things he can’t. This sense of total normalcy, of being just another teenager… It’s not really something he can help with. Not really. He knows he’s the type to overthink, to become discouraged when his efforts don’t get immediate results.

But now Mahiru is laughing again.

It’s everything he could have asked for.

***

Hours upon hours later, the only light in the room is from the flickering TV screen, and the only sounds are the soft breaths of four teenage boys, fast asleep right there on the floor.

Kuro finally rouses himself, gets up, stretches, and carefully picks his way down Mahiru’s back. Only then does he allow himself to transform back into a human, cracking his neck, his back, and sighing heavily at the relief it grants his stiff joints.

It’s time to get to work. All that effort would be meaningless if Mahiru woke to a mess, so clean up crew Kuro shall be.

First go the soda bottles. Back into the fridge, without a label or a care for who had drunk from what, because it’s not like those four cared anyway, but Mahiru hated to waste food. Honestly, Kuro was in agreement on that much, but especially when it came to his favorites. So, twisting each cap tightly back into place, he made sure to set them up in plain sight so that they’d be finished in the morning (and if not by their owners, by him), blocking the light of the fridge with his own body and the tails of his coat so as not to disturb the quartet of friends.

Next were the pizza boxes. Each one was completely empty, but that was no surprise, given that there were two shared between the five of them. Even the little banana peppers included had been devoured. If Kuro had to guess… Mahiru. For some godforsaken reason, his Eve adored things that set his mouth on fire, and no amount of “it’s not that spicy!” would change Kuro’s opinion that Mahiru, sweet faced, stubborn, wonderful Mahiru, just wanted to see what the fires of hell tasted like.

(And maybe he was a bit of a baby when it came to peppers, but clearly that wasn’t his fault)

Onto the counters the pizza boxes went.

Next came the bowl of popcorn, filled with nothing but unpopped kernels, then the plates, then the napkins, then the painstaking process of picking up every infernal piece of popped corn that had been jokingly thrown about between friends with zero thought for who would have to clean it up all up.

Considering how many Sakuya had tossed, he had a feeling the other vampire had known Kuro would take it upon himself to tidy up their garbage, and found himself cracking an annoyed, if fond, smile.

Little brat.

Mess more or less taken care of, Kuro had one last task to complete, and fetching the fluffiest quilt he could find from the closet that hadn’t already been used to pad out the hard tile in front of their TV, he carefully, carefully, spread it out over the pile of sleeping boys. Not a one stirred, not even Mahiru.

His smile turned ever so slightly bitter.

Well, that was fine. That was good, even, because it meant that, more than he’d thought, Mahiru had needed this night, this little slice of being normal, of simplicity.

Looking at each face in turn… He thought that maybe, all of them had.

Himself included.

Tucking himself into the crook of Mahiru’s neck was easy, a warm, furry weight that had his Eve curling up even more, ever so slightly, setting off a chain reaction as each teenager also shifted, one or two murmuring in their sleep, shuffling closer to each other like small birds seeking safety and comfort during a storm.

And that was fine, too. Kuro would watch over their dreams, every one.

Sleep tight, guys. Sweet dreams...

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #pawprints #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #sakuya watanuki #servamp ryuusei #servamp koyuki #i wasn't gonna post anything today #but then i got possessed by this concept

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the-alice-of-hearts · 3 years

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Kids Again Ch 3

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Ch 3: ‘Cause sugar, no, she don't got time for that

Jason loved being Robin, but only a little more than he hated it.

The freedom, the ability to help people, having a brother to look up to and bond with...

But that all came hand in hand with the pressure to be good enough, knowing that no matter how many people he helped there were still children dying on these streets, training day in and out to try to prove to Bruce that he could live up to Dick’s legacy.

So he kept fighting

Kept running

Kept trying

Kept running out of time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason trained and fought, and he ran. Always running, always half a step ahead of the bad guys, but two steps behind Dick. He couldn’t measure up. Never with the Boy Wonder.

So he got reckless. Went headfirst into situations, stopped trying to think 12 steps ahead. A person would talk just as fast if he broke a few bones, and if he could get that information faster then maybe he could save someone.

He tried to ignore the worry in Alfred’s eyes when he came in needing stitches for the fourth time that week. Avoided Dick’s questions on how he got his information to head off an arms deal. Hid his pain from Bruce when he checked in on him during debriefs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason threw his mask in the corner. He had just finished briefing Bruce on his night. Having waited for him to finally leave the cave, he limped over to the med bay. He heard the door to the house open again, assuming it was Alfred coming down he continued to dress his wounds.

“I didn’t understand what Alfred meant when he told me to make sure you hadn’t pulled your stitches. I guess I do now.”

Jason jerked up from the table, “Shit!” he grabbed his side where he had, indeed, torn his stitches.

“Jason, what happened?” Bruce came closer picking up the stitch kit. “When did you get this?” he sat down on the stool in front of him. Pulling Jason’s hand away to see the wound.

Jason grimaced when Bruce started to snip the broken stitches. Keeping silent except for a couple of moments of major pain.

Bruce continued to clean out the wound and get ready to stitch it up again, “I’ll just keep asking, what happened? When did you get this?”

Jason kept his head down, watching Bruce’s hands while he stitched him up. The slight pull at his skin when the needle went through was welcome as he could feign being in pain to avoid talking.

“Jason, I know you gave yourself a local. I’m not stupid and you’re not that slick.” He finished the stitches and glared down at him, “Now Talk.”

Jason took a deep breath as Bruce started to put antibiotic cream on the wound and a new sterile dressing, “What’s there to say, Bruce?” Jason jumped off the table the moment Bruce was done wrapping the wound, “I ran in head first like I always do? Let my emotions get the best of me? Didn’t think anything through and almost got myself killed?” He was finally letting it all out, “What answer are you looking for? What answer would prove to you that I didn’t cause this? I took a hit because I could take it, the little girl it was meant for couldn’t.” Jason shoved past Bruce to walk up the stairs to the manor, looking back for a second he added on, “This isn’t my fault. Maybe when you send your child soldiers out you should give them better protection.”

When he got to his room he flopped into bed and screamed into the pillow. Something that he had picked up from Marinette, did actually help him to feel better. He grabbed the red notebook and started writing. Telling her about what happened, writing it out really helped. When he finished he grabbed a book from his nightstand and started to lose himself in the pages.

A knock startled him. He wasn’t sure how long it had been but he still wasn’t ready to talk to anyone.

“Jason, I know you’re not asleep. You don’t have to come out, but you do have to listen. I was wrong to put this on you.” Jason looked up with a little hope when Bruce said that, only for it to be crushed by his next words. “Letting you be Robin was too much. You weren’t ready, I see that now. I’m benching you. You need to take time to figure yourself out before coming back out there. Just, talk to me about it tomorrow okay?”

Bruce wasn’t even at the end of the hall by the time Jason had grabbed his emergency backpack. It had his extra suit in it, food for a few weeks, and all the cash he had stashed away. He knew that this would happen one day, but he was prepared. He would figure it all out for himself, maybe take Dick up on his offer to stay with him. He looked around and grabbed a novel from his shelf tucking it into the bag next to the extra pens he kept there. He made sure his notebook was in his pocket and then he opened the window. His room was on the third story, but he had made worse climbs before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was woken up by a loud knock at his door. He rubbed his eyes and made sure none of his gear was in eyeshot before opening the door to see who was out there. “Jay-bird?”

Jason smiled as he let him into the apartment, “Good to see you, Dick. I’m not staying long, I just need you to hold onto this for me.”

Dick looked at him confused, “wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?”

Jason shrugged a little, “I’m not entirely sure. I’m looking for someone. Once I find her I’ll be back.” Jason stood by the table putting a letter into an envelope. He was in the middle of sealing the envelope when Dick grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s going on, Little Wing? You can tell me.” Dick was pleading with him, “I thought you were waiting to go find Marinette?”

“I’m not looking for her, yet. But since I don’t know when I’ll be back I need you to hold onto this for me. If she makes it to Gotham before me, give her this. Tell her I’m still coming for her.”

Before Dick could stop him Jason was out the door. He looked at the letter in his hands, he had written For my Soulmate; Marinette on the front of it. ‘I guess I’ll look after this for you Jay. Be safe.’ He picked up his phone to call Bruce. They had both been out all week looking for Jason, at least now they knew he was alive. ‘For now’ a stray thought chimed in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So maybe going on this mission alone was, indeed, a rash decision. Jason laughed at the irony of it all. Trying to prove he wasn’t reckless was what got him into this.

“Oh? Is the birdy finally seeing the humor in this?” Joker laughed in Jason’s face. He had just finished turning on a camera and now he was holding the crowbar over him again. Swinging quickly he opened a long gash across Jason’s chest.

Screaming in pain Jason could only think one thing, ‘please let me pass out, please let me pass out, she doesn’t deserve to see this, please whatever deity might be listening let me pass out!’

He didn’t pass out. He wouldn’t know it until many years later, but Joker had pumped enough adrenaline into his system to keep him awake until the blood loss would make him pass out. When he finally did it was like a relief honestly. Until the sound of voices in his head woke him up.

‘Jaybird! Please tell me you’re there! Little wing I’m trying to get there faster, but you have to wake up. There’s a bomb, you have to get up. Jay, you have to get up now! You have to go to the door.’

‘Jason, please! Please wake up. We need you, we need you to wake up. I need you!’

‘You don’t know me, but please live for us. We all need to meet you one day.’

‘Jason you have to get to the door.’

‘Jay, wake up!’

With all the yelling in his head, Jay was finally able to wake up and drag himself toward the door on the other side of the building. The timer on the bomb was running out. He reached up to grab the handle but found it was locked. He started to cry, seeing his end right in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never got to love you Marinette.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bomb went off, Dick knew the second it happened. For the final moments of Jason’s life, it was like the soulbond was wide open. All four of them were connected in a way that he had never even heard of happening. When the bomb went off it was like having a piece of himself torn away from him. He collapsed to the ground in the plane, Bruce watching him fall to pieces. They had failed him. His soulmate was dead. His little brother was dead. He could feel the pain of his Soulmate, but that didn’t compare to the heart-wrenching grief that was overtaking their final puzzle piece. He could feel her soul shattered into tiny pieces.

Bruce landed by the warehouse that Dick knew Jason was in. Of all the ways to find out who one of your platonic soulmates was, this was the worst. They recovered his body, carefully loading him into the plane. Dick found his notebook and put it in a pocket next to his own. He knew that Jason hadn’t shown anyone but him what was in there, and he wasn’t going to betray his brother’s trust. Then he held him, held the body of his little brother. The boy who tried to live up to unrealistic expectations, the kid who beat him at video games and then flipped into a wall the same night. Dick vowed to one day find Jason’s Soulmate. He needed to tell her about Jason, about how brave he was, about how he helped kids and read old poetry. He wanted to tell her all the good things because he knew she already knew the bad ones. He needed to wrap her into his arms and tell her all the good parts.

None of them in the bond would ever truly heal, but it would be better to try to pick up the pieces together than apart.

He had kept Jason’s notebook on his bookshelf in his apartment, right next to the books Jason had forgotten in his apartment each time he visited. Only a few months later, Dick was getting ready to travel to Paris, to find the remaining parts of his soulbond, when he got the news. Alfred called to tell him, there was an official travel ban on Paris. No heroes, vigilante or not, allowed into the city. Diana was enforcing it, so it would be difficult if not impossible to get past her.

#maribat #jasonette #Kids again fic

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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years

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Don’t Call Me That (pt. 1)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Aftermath of torture, healing, and sex in later chapter hehe

Word count: 9000

Summary: The new Robin and Batman stumble upon a cell in Arkham Asylum that was occupied by a very much injured, and very much still alive Jason Todd. Bringing him back, Bruce realises that Jason is unstable and keeps him locked in a room in the mean time. Reader helps Jason get used to being around another human being once more, and finds herself falling deeply with the damaged Jason.

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but I realised that it's a bit too long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters. Here's whatever I wrote so far. Psst, the sex will come later! I think this has got to be the most favourite one-shot I’ve written so far!! I’m addicted to this story, and I hope you guys will like it too! Let me know!

Masterlist

Kofi

Ao3

The light was getting dimmer and dimmer the further you strayed from the main building. The walls cracked, wallpaper peeling back to reveal brick and concrete. The air was getting thin, and the smell.

Rat piss, sewage, and that suffocating damp humid smell that reminded you of dirty laundry- except it filled the whole Old Wing of Arkham Asylum.

“Do youreally think the security breach was sourced from here, Batman?” you voiced out your doubts.

He was walking next to you, his steps hardly making a sound. “We need to make sure. Half of the East Wing’s cells were suddenly opened automatically. There is a main powerframe in the Old Wing that someone could have damaged.”

“Someone, as in..?”

“Not sure. Joker has been in his cell for the past 19 months since he broke out two years ago.”

You ignored the way his voice cracked at the end.

Two years ago, before you were involved with Bruce Wayne and his fight for justice, Joker had broken free, got hold of Jason Todd, your predecessor whom you had never met, kidnapped him, tortured him, and then killed him. After sending a video tape of his Todd’s death to Bruce, he went and created a drug that made people go crazy and kill each other. Bruce caught him then, broke half the bones in his body, and then threw him back in the asylum.

“Why did they stop using this wing?” you asked, your voice echoing back to you.

The two of you were walking down a corridor, with cells on either side. Each cell had a metal door with a rectangular slot at the top of the door to peek inside and another longer slot in the middle for passing inmates food. Some of the doors were opened ajar, nothing inside but old beds and overflowing toilet bowls, some were locked shut.

Your heart was racing. It was like you were in a horror movie. You stepped over the empty gas canisters and toilet paper that was strewn all over the floor of the corridor, walking around a rusty old wheelchair and made sure to follow Batman closely.

“Abandoned when a riot broke out five years ago,” he answered, “Something about hauntings.”

“Hauntings?” you widen your eyes.

“These are superstitious folk,” he explained, “The riot took a dozen lives. Violently. Some nurses got tortured. Rumour has it that this wing is haunted.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you declared, though you felt chills run down your spine anyway.

“Indeed. Some of the security guards say they’ve heard screams coming from here. None dared to approach.”

“Screams? Please, I’m sure it’s just the-”

A crash came from one of the cells. You jumped so violently in shock that you tripped over a catheter on the ground. You and Batman looked at each other for one second, and then he raised his finger to his lips, making sure you kept quiet.

Nodding, you followed behind him as he investigated the cell the sound came from. He slid open the viewing window of the door, and despite the darkness you saw his expression twist to one you’ve never seen before.

Horror.

He took out a small explosive from his belt and attached it to the door. A small boom, and the door swung open. Batman rushed inside, and you were hit with the worst smell you’ve ever experienced. It made you gag, your eyes tearing up.

It smelled of blood and human feces and urine, and something that was decomposing, like the big trash bins lined up behind one of those dank alleys, overflowing with a week’s worth of disposal.

The cell was bigger than the others, and it didn’t have a bed. Only a toilet and a wooden chair that was toppled. Batman was next to the chair, kneeling on the ground over something, unmoving, as if frozen in spot, his back turned to you.

“B?” you whispered, “What is this place?”

There were scratches on the walls, some in blood. Little bones were tossed in a corner, lying in what looked- and smelled- like dry vomit.

You walked over to him, slowly approaching with caution. As you got nearer, your vision became clearer.

He was kneeling over an unconscious man wearing your Robin uniform.

Now, it was your turn to be horrified.

The uniform was tattered, cape dirty and stained with bodily fluids. The man?

Scars and dried blood littered his face and arms, his dark hair matted and sticky. He was obviously large, his frame almost as big as Bruce’s, yet you could see that he was malnourished, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his skin hanging loosely over the remains of his muscles.

And he was still breathing.

***

Alfred, Bruce, and you stared in silence at the man on the bed, now clean and hooked to an IV. None of you had said a word since you got back. Alfred was rigid the whole time he cleaned and examined him, with Bruce shadowing him closeby. You could do nothing but stand back, waiting for an explanation.

Now you were in the infirmary, the steady beat of vital signs machinery annoyed you.

“How is he alive?” Alfred broke the tension with a small whisper.

“There were small animal bones in his cell,” Bruce said with a strained voice. You knew he was doing his all to keep it together.

“Goodness,” Alfred responded, “But- the video-”

“Must have been a fake,” Bruce said, his voice now cracking, “I should have known. I should have- I- oh, God.”

Without warning, Bruce crumpled to his feet. You have never seen him like this. He was always strong, stoic, and he never let his emotions show.

The sight of him burying his face in his hands in anguish- it scared you.

“It’s not your fault, Master Bruce,” Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, “You couldn’t have-”

A grunt came from Jason Todd as he stirred awake. All three of you snapped your heads to him. You saw the way he opened his eyes, blinking at his surroundings as he tried to register where he was. Bruce rushed to his side.

That was his mistake.

Jason Todd started screaming.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” he roared, sitting up and crawling out of bed, ripping the IV from his hand.

“Jason-”

“NO!” he yelled, “YOU’RE NOT REAL. STAY AWAY!”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like someone who had been screaming his whole life.

“Jason, it’s me,” Bruce tried to slowly approach him. He was on his feet now, though he stumbled getting there. His expression was wild, his mouth downturned into a scowl, his eyes darting from Bruce, to Alfred, to you, to the bed, to the whole room, like a wild animal cornered.

“This is real?” he growled a question.

“Yes, son,” Bruce assured, “This is real. We found you. Please, lie back down. You’re hurt.”

“You’re… real?” his voice broke halfway.

“Yes, I’m real,” Bruce’s voice was the same.

Then, Jason let out a laugh. A loud, haunting, hysterical laugh that was absent of humor.

“Good.”

He jumped at Bruce and tackled him to the ground, his fingers around Bruce’s neck. You reacted quickly, rushing over and kneeing him in the face so that he let go of your Bruce and stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly and set his eyes on you.

He proceeded to attack you, but before anything, Bruce had him restrained, wrestling him to the ground.

“Jason! Calm down!”

“NO!” he shouted, “NO! NO! IT’S YOUR FAULT. IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT. DIE! DIE!”

He trashed about with surprising power, trying to get Bruce off him. Bruce got his arm around Jason’s neck, and you saw him clawing at his arm, attempting to break free. The younger man’s movements got slower, weaker, as Bruce cut his oxygen supply and eventually knocked him out.

Bruce carried his son to the bed.

“Alfred, please sedate him,” he instructed. “We’ll move him to the cell downstairs. He’s too unstable to be here.”

“Are you okay?” you reached out to your adoptive father.

“Yes,” he nodded, “He’s surprisingly strong.”

“He’s a survivor, Bruce,” you smiled at an attempt to comfort him, “I can’t imagine what he’s been through, but he’ll get through this.”

“I hope so.”

***

The cell Bruce had in the Batcave was less like a cell, and more like a room. It was a large square box with four walls and a roof on one side of the Cave, with high end security. It had double doors, each requiring a registered thumbprint to enter. Bruce had built it in case he needed to hold someone hostage there. The outer layer was made out of lead, and you wondered what had gone through Bruce’s mind when he added that feature. The cell even had a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a sink.

This time, though, he made sure the room with white interiors looked more comfortable for Jason. He put in a double single bed with fluffy sheets and pillows, a whole bookshelf full of classic literature, a cupboard, a desk and chair complete with a table lamp.

Jason was still sedated when all of you moved him to the cell. He had been sedated for a while so he wouldn’t wake up and rip off his IV. You helped lift him up, and found that he was heavy, heavier than you had expected him to be.

Then, Bruce went to the Batcomputer and switched on the security camera inside the cell and watched as he slowly regained consciousness and went all ballistic again. He toppled over the shelf, the chair, the desk. Threw the books around, ripped out the pages, punched the walls, and was screaming.

“Let me go!” “Fuck you!” “I’m going to fucking kill you!” were some amongst the many extremities he shouted at the camera.

And you watched as Bruce stared into the screen showing his broken, damaged son.

***

“He’s quiet,” you pointed out when you walked over to Bruce at the computers. It had been a week of watching Jason scream and thrash about in the room- which was a complete mess.

“Yes, he has been that way for a few hours now,” Bruce frowned.

You saw from the screen. Jason was just sitting down in one corner of the room, staring into space.

“Well, at least he didn’t throw the food down the toilet bowl this time,” you shrugged and sat down next to him. Alfred would bring a tray of warm soft foods and set it on the tray of the rectangular food delivery hole of the second, internal door.

Out of spite, Jason would take the food and throw it down the toilet before returning it empty. This time, you saw that it just sat there on the tray, untouched.

“I was thinking,” Bruce mentioned, “Of bringing in Dr. Leslie or Dinah. He is familiar with both of them. They could help with putting him on medication and giving him psychotherapy.”

“Yeah, for some reason,” you began, “I don’t think he’ll take that so well.”

“I… don’t know what to do.”

You stayed silent for a few moments. The past week, you saw Bruce in a light you had never seen before. Emotional, vulnerable, helpless. You appreciated that he trusted you enough to reveal that side of himself in front of you.

“Let him calm down a bit,” you suggested, “And maybe… Maybe I can help.”

“How?” he frowned.

“If you bring in Leslie or Dinah, he’ll know in an instant what you’re up to,” you explained. “And maybe it’s too soon for therapy. I think right now he just needs to get used to being around another human being.”

“Hmm,” Bruce considered, “Okay. We’ll go with your idea. How will you do it?”

Your heart swelled with joy. You loved it when he acknowledged you.

You waited a couple of days before trying it out. The whole while, Jason was just sitting down in his corner, silent and unmoving.

Nervously, you approached the first door on the external side of the box, pressing your thumb to the digital square on the wall and hearing it beep in approval. You opened the door and closed it behind you before approaching the second door.

You took a deep breath, felt for the taser on your belt, and then pressed your thumb on the second door.

The first thing you saw when you opened the door was Jason scrambling to his feet in surprise, his eyes vigilant. You lift both your hands up in surrender.

“Not here to hurt you,” you said slowly, “Just here to chill.”

He narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion.

To prove it to him, you sat down on the floor by the door, and took out your book. Heart beating in your chest, you tried to calmly open the book and stared intensely at the words, not reading anything.

In your peripheral vision, he just stood there, stiff and still like a statue, staring at you, analysing you. You had expected him to attack, but ten minutes passed, and he was still there.

Then-

“What do you want?” he croaked, voice harsh and gritty.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, eyes not leaving your book, “Just chilling.”

A momentary pause.

“Leave.”

“No,” you simply said, turning a page.

“Why are you here? Did he send you?” he demanded.

“No. I just want to read in silence, if you don’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

You wished you could see his expression.

Another five minutes passed, and he didn’t say anything else, or do anything else, but stare at you in caution.

After an hour, you got up and left, leaving a very confused Jason Todd in his cell.

***

You continued that routine for the next three days without exchanging a word with Jason. He would just stand there and glare at you for an hour while you pretended to read. On the fourth day, however, there were more than just a few words exchanged.

“You again,” he growled at you as you entered.

“Hello,” you smiled warmly.

“What do you want from me?” he barked.

“Nothing,” you repeated, “I just want to-”

“Chill?” he cut you off, “I don’t fucking believe you. I don’t trust you. What is he planning? Is he trying to mock me?”

“Mock you?” you responded, taken aback, “Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jason grit, “He’s done worse. He just wants to see me suffer.”

“What?” you frowned, “No. He just wants to help you.”

“Well, he’s too late for that,” he spat.

“Look-”

“Get the fuck out. Don’t come back.”

“He thought you died,” you tried to explain, “Jok- He got sent a video. Of you getting shot. Dying. He didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” he fumed.

“He loves you, Jason,” you said softly.

Then, a light flickered in his eye. “What did you call me?”

“Uh, Jas-”

You choked on your words when Jason suddenly had his hands around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. You didn’t have time to react, scratching away at his arm helplessly.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled.

You were going to reach for your taser, but then he let you go and went back to his corner. You sucked in a deep breath, eyes watering.

You ran out-

-and closed the door behind you to lean against it, trying to get your breath back.

“Are you okay?” Bruce worried, approaching you fast, “I’m sorry. I should have waited out here instead of at the computers.”

“I’m fine,” you panted, “He didn’t hurt me. Just scared me a bit, that’s all.”

“This was a bad idea,” he frowned, “We should stop-”

“No!” you hurriedly denied, “No. It was my fault. I didn’t know. I said his name. He didn’t like it and reacted to it, that’s all. I won’t say his name next time.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“Bruce, please,” you insisted, “I want to help him. Please, let me continue.”

You looked at your father’s blue eyes, full of concern. “Okay.”

***

Despite the scare he gave you, you were ready to enter again the next day. There was something about Jason Todd that made you feel like you owed it to him to help. Maybe it was plain pity, or maybe it was the way that his eyes had a flicker of hope when he realised he wasn’t imagining things.

The digital screen beeped in approval as it registered your thumbprint, and you pushed open the door. Jason was already standing, muscles taut, ready to spring at the first sense of danger.

You didn’t say a word, but just smiled at him and sat down where you usually did, pushing over the fallen books and torn paper on the floor to create a little space for yourself.

Trying your best not to look nervous, you opened your book and stared at the words again.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he grit.

“Yeah, well. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to get rid of me, my dude.”

“I’m not your dude,” he said in disgust.

You looked over to him and smirked. “Whatever you say.”

And you continued to pretend to read.

After several minutes, you heard a heavy sigh coming from Jason. Out of the corners of your eye, you saw him give up and slump back onto the ground, his knees up to his chest. He leaned his head back against the wardrobe and closed his eyes.

And for the first time in his presence, you found that you were actually reading.

***

You continued for a month. Entering and sitting down for a couple of hours to read before going back out. Sometimes with few exchanges of “Good morning” or “Miss me?”, mostly going unresponded. Sometimes he would sit down and glare at you, or stand up and glare at you, or sit down and rest his head and close his eyes. Always from a distance.

The first time you started picking up the books and rearranging them back onto the bookshelf, he looked like he was about to burst a vein in his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“I’m cleaning up,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Don’t.”

“What are you gonna do, choke me again?” you rolled your eyes.

You could almost hear him seething in his corner, vibrating in anger.

The next day you came back, the books were back on the floor, strewn everywhere.

But every time before you left, you would still rearrange them back.

Sometimes you would bring in food with you, simply leaving the tray on the desk. He did eat a little, but never when you were around, and never more than a few bites. He ate only to survive. In fact, the more you went to see him, the more you started to notice the little things.

His bed was unmade, the sheets pulled back and covers thrown about. But you knew he had never once slept in it. He never changed his clothes either. It had started to bother you, because he never showered, and his body odour was getting quite distinct.

His eyes were sunken and dark, his hair was greasy and messy, his facial hair overgrown. You wondered if Bruce left a razor in there for him. It was probably a bad idea.

One day while you were sitting down and reading, Jason was in his corner, curled up and eyes closed, Alfred entered the first door and slid in a tray of food from the compartment of the second door. You got up to take it, feeling Jason’s eyes on you as you walked. But instead of setting the tray on the desk like you usually did, you put it on the ground next to you as you sat and read again.

That day, the menu was pumpkin soup with toast. Alfred had always kept the food light and easy to digest. You picked up a piece of toast from the plate, dipped it in the soup, and ate it while reading.

“Are you eating my fucking food?” Jason fumed from the distance.

“Someone should,” you bit back, dipping the toast back in the soup and continued to eat.

“Stop it.”

You looked over at him with challenging eyes. “Why should I?”

“It’s my food,” he insisted.

Jason hardly ever talked to you. In fact, that was the most words you’ve heard him say in a couple of weeks. He was possessive over his food, apparently, which didn’t make sense because he hardly ever ate.

“But it’s not like you eat it,” you argued, curious as to where this would take you, “I’m making sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and then shifted slightly closer, leaning in towards you. “Give it to me.”

You pretended to consider it for awhile. “No.”

He growled.

“Come and take it if you want it so badly,” you challenged.

Immediately, you regretted it. Because he got up, and walked slowly towards you, looming over you like a predator watching its prey. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest, your palms started beading with sweat.

He then crouched down and snatched the piece of toast from your hands, taking the tray away and walked back towards his spot on the floor. Setting the tray down, he immediately started to ravish the soup and toast, his eyes never leaving yours the whole time.

It was the most he’d eaten ever since he arrived.

“You shouldn’t eat too fast,” you warned, “Your stomach’s not used to that amount of food yet.”

“Watch me.”

He cleaned the bowl in three minutes as you stared in shock.

***

“Who are you?” Jason asked out of the blue.

It was your sixth week there. Six weeks of sitting down in silence and hardly ever talking. Occasionally cleaning up after him, just to see the room messy again. Occasionally trying to spark up conversation, only to be greeted by silence. But that time, it was him who started it first.

You told him your name, still pleasantly surprised at his engagement.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re called,” he spat, “It doesn’t explain to me who you are.”

Frowning, you closed the book. You wondered if it was a good idea to tell him that you were Bruce’s newly adopted daughter. Would he feel betrayed? Jealous? But if you didn’t and he found out, wouldn’t that be worse? Plus, you didn’t want to lie to him.

After all, you were trying to help.

“Bruce adopted me a year ago,” you explained, “I’m officially his adopted daughter. I’ve only recently been Robin. When we found you, it was just my second month.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, his jaw clenched. “Typical. Lose one toy, find another one to play with.”

“I’m not a toy,” you defended heatedly, “He… saved me. I owe him.”

He didn’t ask, but you knew he wanted to, so you continued anyway. “He found me at a bid. A human trafficking bid. After my parents died, I ran away from the orphanage. I got kidnapped. After finding out I was a virgin, they organised an event to see who would bid the highest to own me.”

It seemed like Jason’s expression didn’t change, his mouth still in a scowl. But you saw the way his eyes softened. It was a good idea to explain, after all. He must have drawn conclusions that Bruce had replaced him with you shortly after his death.

“Batman crashed the party right before I was about to get sold off for… Five thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars,” you scoffed, “I guess that was how much I was worth. Could you even buy a car with that? I’m not sure. Maybe a used one.”

“Anyway, I was quite shaken up. He took pity on me, I guess. Maybe it was my puppy dog eyes that made me look so pathetic that he decided to take me in. Mom always said I had a pathetic look,” you shrugged, “That’s who I am I guess. Now I’m in my last year of highschool. I turn seventeen in two months! I'm only a year or so younger than you. You don’t have to get me anything, of course. It’s cool. I never really cared much for birthdays anyway.”

You tried to lighten the mood, but all you saw was Jason’s unchanging expression. You guessed that was as much as he was willing to say that day, so you got up and started cleaning again despite knowing he was going to just mess it up.

***

He did mess it up again, but what shocked you that day was not the mess, but the fact that he was actually on the bed. The bed was still unmade, and he was sitting unnaturally upright, but still. It was progress.

You sat down on the floor and read your book. After five minutes, he asked, “What’s the book about?”

Trying your hardest not to look surprised in case he took it the wrong way, you answered, “A brief history of mankind. From evolution, to the agricultural revolution, to the current day.”

He just blinked at you in response, and you wondered when was the day that he had stopped glaring at you.

You tried to break the ice. “Bruce put all the books he thought you might like on the shelf. I’ve noticed that they’re mostly classic literary novels. You like those, huh?”

Not a word.

“I never really could get into those. I tried, but it’s not my thing, you know? Or maybe I started with the wrong book.”

He closed his eyes instead of answering you.

Sighing, you decided not to push it, and went back to your book.

About fifteen minutes passed. And then-

“You like science and shit?” he spoke up, his eyes boring into yours.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Start with Jules Verne. Twenty thousand leagues,” he told you, then closed his eyes again.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

Silence.

***

“Why do you sit there?” Jason asked you two days later.

“Huh?”

“Why do you sit on the floor when there's a desk?” he repeated in annoyance, like an underpaid customer service worker at the mall.

“Well, I didn't want to intrude on your space,” you told him.

“You being here already intrudes my space,” he rolled his eyes.

Jason was more relaxed now. He was actually leaning against a propped pillow on the bed, one knee brought to his chest, the other leg crossed over it.

And he was reading a fucking book.

“...so you can sit anywhere you like. Doesn't make a difference,” he continued.

“Then can I sit on the bed next to you?” you teased lightly.

You had expected him to glare at you in contempt, to tell you to fuck off or get out, or even not respond to you at all. So you were very much surprised when he said what he did.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Despite trying your best to act neutral, your jaw dropped. You quickly recovered, and cleared your throat nervously, standing up and slowly walking towards him. Jason shuffled a bit, going upwards against the wall at the head of the bed.

You slowly sat down at the foot of it, still maintaining some distance from him for his sake. Bringing your bare feet up, you crossed them and leaned against the wall the bed was pushed against.

Getting comfortable, you opened your book and started reading. For two hours, you and Jason Todd sat on the bed next to each other, reading with no other sounds except the occasional rustling of a page being turned.

You closed your book once you were done, but before you could get up, he asked in a small voice. “How long was I… There?”

The way his voice was shaky, the way it came out in a harsh whisper, and the fact that it had taken him seven weeks to ask- it tugged at your heart.

“Two years,” you said objectively, making sure no emotions leaked into your voice.

“And he thought I was dead the whole time?” he grumbled.

“Yes.”

“That's why he never came?” he choked out.

Fuck, you tried not to let your tears fall.

“Yes,” you whispered back.

“World's greatest detective, my ass,” he snorted.

“He's killing himself over this,” you told him softly, “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Like what?” he demanded, looking at you with anger, with red eyes pooling with tears.

“Vulnerable. Clueless. Breaking down and crying next to you while you slept,” you elaborated. “You may not forgive him for now, and that's understandable. But Bruce? He’ll never forgive himself. Not in a million years.”

“Please leave.”

You didn't argue. You didn't hang around to clean up. You left immediately, because of the way he said his please, like someone who was tired, so tired. It was the way he told you to leave, it wasn't out of anger or spite. It was out of desperation. Because he was looking away when he told you, refusing to let you see the tear that fell on his face that you saw anyway.

***

“What are you looking at?” he grunted. “Close your mouth. You look like an idiot.”

You snapped your mouth close, not even aware that it was ajar.

The room was exceptionally clean- cleaner than when you cleaned it yourself. Jason had properly made the bed, fitted the sheets and folded the covers. The torn pages of paper were gone, and on his shelf were all his books, neatly arranged.

In alphabetical order.

Yet, Jason was still smelly, and he still hadn’t changed his clothes despite the wardrobe full of fresh t-shirts and pants.

“You clean up better than I do,” you grumbled, sitting at the foot of his bed carefully.

“That’s because you’re useless,” he snapped.

You tried not to smile despite his insult. The bickering was fun, and it showed that he was more familiar with you now.

Trying to push it a little further, you narrowed your eyes at him and started sniffing the air loudly.

“You smell,” you told him.

“If you don’t like it, leave,” he bit back.

“There’s hot water in the shower you know,” you reminded him, “You could go shower. I’ll wait right outside.”

“What for?” he eyed you suspiciously.

“For moral support!” you grinned, holding two thumbs up.

And whaddaya know?

He snorted a laugh, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, “You really stink. You’d give Killer Croc a run for his money with that stench.”

“If you don’t like it,” he leaned closer towards you, “Leave.”

“Ugh,” you grunted. And then, you had an idea. Probably a bad idea. He would probably murder you.

You stood up and announced, “I’ll be right back.”

After ten minutes of running around the mansion looking for items, you finally came back with a bucket, a sponge, and a fluffy towel.

“What the hell are you up to?” Jason demanded, sitting upright.

“If you won’t go to the shower, then I’ll bring the shower to you,” you grinned triumphantly and went to fill the bucket with warm water from the shower. You set down the filled bucket on the floor and motioned to Jason.

“Well, get on the floor.”

“What?”

“I’m going to give you a bath, and if you stay on the bed, it’s going to get all wet,” you explained, “So get on the floor and take off your shirt.”

He stared at you with bewilderment in his eyes, and then suddenly let out a bark of laughter. “Why on Earth would I listen to you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to splash all this water on you, and you’re going to have to sleep in a wet bed,” you threatened.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he bickered.

“Fine, I’ll bargain with you,” you said, “If you listen to me, I’ll tell him to turn that off.”

You pointed to the single security camera at the top corner of the room, always switched on, watching and recording.

He clenched his jaw, contemplating your tempting offer.

“Fine,” he conceded, and slid to the floor, taking off his shirt.

You smirked.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked,” he smirked back.

You really didn’t expect him to mess with you like that, and in result, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“N-no,” you denied, “I- you just stink.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you kneeled in front of him, bringing the bucket of water closer. You took the sponge and soaked it, but before you pressed it on his skin, you just realised the situation you put yourself in.

That close to Jason, with him looking up at you and waiting, you gulped. Because his body wasn’t as bad as you thought two years of starvation would have caused. Sure, he was definitely skinnier than he should ever be, and his muscles were barely there, but his overall frame, the structure of his body was still large.

You finally pressed the sponge against his rising and falling chest, not meeting his eyes. The warm water spilled from the sponge and trickled down his chest, onto his stomach. You moved your hand in a wiping motion, cleaning the sweat off the surface of his skin.

Scars littered his body, healed cuts of various sizes. Some were burns, some were bullet wounds, and some were the crescent shapes of bites.

You moved the sponge to his arms, wiping down the contour of the remaining biceps he had left, going under to wash his pits, then going down to his forearms, which you noticed had long rough scars running down from his wrists to the crook of his elbows.

Your chest tightened.

Despite the hell he went through, you still thought he was beautiful.

You felt your breathing start to quicken.

Moving to his stomach next, you noticed that the water had seeped into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, making it turn dark, making it stick to his skin, stick to the long cylindrical shape of his-

“Your pupils are dilated,” he pointed out.

Your eyes snapped back to his.

“Wh-what- I wasn’t- they’re not!” you sputtered angrily.

He looked at you with an odd expression. Well, any expression that wasn’t a hateful glare was odd, you supposed. But his eyelids were droopy, the corners of his mouth relaxed and not tight.

It looked like he was actually enjoying it.

“You don’t find me disgusting?” he whispered.

You frowned at him in question, bringing the sponge up to wash his neck. “Well, you smell a bit gross. But by the time I’m done with you, that’ll be gone.”

“No. I meant by me. My body. My face. You don’t think I’m disgusting?” he said in a voice so small, you could barely make out the words.

His body made you think things, but none of them were disgusting. In fact, if he looked like that now, you wondered how his body must have looked like before, when he was healthy. You glanced at his face.

He had scars there too. One at the corner of his upper lip that made him seem like he was permanently smirking, one across the bridge of his nose, another long one that cut from his temple down to his brow, barely missing his eye. And you didn’t even count the smaller ones, silver little lines that were scattered all over his skin.

His cold blue eyes had scars in them as well. Not physically, not literally. But when you stared deep into them, you could almost see how truly scarred he was, and that scar had nothing on the ones you could actually see.

“There is no way that I could ever find you disgusting,” you told him earnestly.

He stared at you for a while, and then looked away to the side. You soaked the sponge and wiped his face, pressing it to his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed you to travel up to his hair, wetting it, going behind his ears, and back to his nape.

With a plunk, you dumped the sponge in the water and then opened the cap of the soap you had brought.

In an instant, Jason recoiled from you, “No. No soap.”

“Just a little bit?” you pressed.

“No soap,” he insisted, pushing your hand away, “It smells too strong. Makes me sick.”

And suddenly, it clicked.

The reason why he left his room in a mess, the reason why he didn’t sleep on the bed, the reason why he never showered or changed.

Because it was all too much.

The sudden change from a disgusting, smelly, rat-infested torture room to a clean, proper, neat environment with a warm bed. It was too much for him, and he wasn’t used to it yet.

He wasn’t used to being clean.

And the smell of a perfumed body wash would most definitely be too much for him.

“Okay,” you nodded, setting the soap down. “Then I’ll wash you up one more time, is that okay?”

He nodded, still not looking at you.

You were back at his face again for the second time, and then you cupped his cheek, using your thumb to feel the roughness of his overgrown facial hair.

“Do you want me to help shave you?” you asked.

“No way in hell would I ever let you come near my fucking face with a razor,” he scoffed.

“Fair enough,” you mumbled back a reply.

Once you were done, you took the towel and wiped him dry, trying your best to avoid looking at his crotch because you knew his pants were absolutely soaked through. You got up and went to the wardrobe to take a fresh pair of pants- a black sweatpants this time- and a white t-shirt. You set them on the bed, and took the bucket to the bathroom to throw away the contents.

Once you were done, Jason was already changed into his new pants, and had just finished putting on his t-shirt. He looked much better, fresher, and-

“You smell way better now,” you chuckled.

“I did what you asked,” he said, “You better make that happen.”

He gestured to the camera with his thumb.

“I will. Promise,” you smiled, picking up his stinky shirt and wet pants before heading out.

***

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bruce grumbled.

“He’s not an experiment, or a criminal, Bruce,” you argued, “There’s no reason for you to keep surveillance on him that way. He deserves his privacy.”

“It’s about safety. His and yours,” he explained, “I wouldn’t know what’s going on in there while you’re inside if the camera is deactivated. I wouldn’t know if he’s- if he’s hurting himself.”

“I trust him, Bruce,” you insisted, “And he trusts me too! Look at what happened! He let me give him a freaking sponge bath!”

Bruce frowned in contemplation.

“He’s finishing his meals, he’s reading, he’s actually having conversations with me,” you listed, “He’s improving. Fast. Next thing you know, he and I could be best friends.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “But next time you go in, you’re bringing a panic button with you.”

The panic button you kept whenever you went for patrol was so that you could trigger a silent alarm to Bruce if you were in trouble.

“Okay, that’s fair!” you nodded your head excitedly, watching him as he pressed a button on the keyboard, switching off the camera in Jason’s room. The last thing you saw on the screen was Jason lying down on the bed, sleeping soundly.

***

“Okay, so,” you announced, standing up while you opened the plastic bag, “I got you a few things.”

Jason was on the bed, but proceeded to get up on his feet and tower over you. For some reason, he had started sitting or standing closer to you.

“I got you unscented shampoo and body wash,” you looked into the bag, naming the items you got, “Unscented shaving cream, and an electric shaver! You can’t hurt yourself with this, so Bruce agreed to-”

You looked up and gasped slightly at the closeness of his face to yours. You didn’t realise that he had stepped over so close to you that you could almost feel his warm breath on your face. Almost.

He took the plastic bag from your hands, his skin brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it gave you goosebumps. He turned around with the plastic bag now in his hands, leaving you in shock.

That is, until he started taking off his shirt.

“W-woah!” you called out, “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes,” he simply said, now not wearing a shirt.

“Why?”

“Because I want to shower,” he looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. “Why? Wanna join?”

“Wh-wh-j-join?” you stuttered, “Uh, no thanks. I’ll just. Leave you to it, then.”

You turned to leave. Then-

“Wait.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to look at him, trying your best to maintain eye contact.

“Is that… diner in Gotham Village still around?” he asked quietly.

“The corner one on Vincent Street? Sure, it is,” you tilted your head in curiosity, “Would you… like anything from there?”

“The burger,” he said gruffly.

Your mouth widen into a smile. It was the first time he ever asked for anything, more so food. “Fries?”

“Sure.”

“Milkshake?”

“Yeah.”

“Chocolate?”

“Strawberry!” he looked at you as if you were crazy, and then disappeared into the toilet.

“I’ll be back in an hour!” you announced, skipping out in joy.

Vibrating with excitement, you opened the door to Jason’s room, not expecting to see a totally different man in his bed.

No, it was still Jason, but fuck.

Fuck.

He cleaned up well.

Finally showering after eight weeks, Jason Todd had transformed into an almost different person. His uncut hair that poked his eyes was no longer greasy. In fact, it had a slight bounce to it now.

He changed his shirt into a light blue V-neck, and most significantly of all, he shaved

Now you could see the way his angular jawline was cut into a shape as if some Greek artist sculpted it, the way his pink lips stood out against his milky skin - lack of tan from being kept indoors for so long, the way his cheekbones highlighted his facial structure.

And as if you didn’t think of it before, you thought about it again.

Jason Todd was a freaking hottie.

“Uhh, uhmm, uhhh,” you said, stunned and fully aware of the way your face was probably flushing.

He let out a chuckle, and walked towards you, reaching out to take the bags of food from your hand. All the while you were stunned in silence, unsure of how to react to the changed man.

“Anyone home?” he snapped his fingers in front of you.

“Uh, yes, sorry,” you shook your head, “I, uh, didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Expect what?” he set the bags on his desk, reaching in to take a fry. “Me to look so good?”

You were sure your ears were burning. “N-no! Not at all. Not that you don’t look good, but- uh- I mean- fuck!”

“I don’t understand you,” he took out the food and arranged them on the table. “My scars are more obvious like this.”

“I think your scars are sexy,” you blurted out.

He blinked.

“Uh, I mean!” you tried to backtrack, “Ugh, fuck it, let’s just eat!”

You took your own burger and went to sit on the bed.

“No food on the bed!” he barked.

“Okay, dad,” you rolled your eyes, settling with sitting on the floor.

To your surprise, Jason took all the food and put it on the floor in front of you, and then sat down opposite you.

Discreetly, you watched as he took the first bite.

He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, savouring the taste in his mouth. It was as though he was passionately making out with his burger, caressing the bun with love.

Smiling to yourself, you ate yours in silence, letting him appreciate the intimate moment he had with his food that he must have thought about while being forced to live on rats.

***

“What’s that?” Bruce asked curiously.

Ever since he switched off the camera in Jason’s room, he had been more agitated- or as agitated as he could get. He kept on asking you what you did, having you report back to him, demanding every little detail on his son’s wellbeing.

“My laptop,” you answered, “I was thinking we could do something different today. Maybe watch a movie. He’s missed out on so many.”

“A laptop,” Bruce hummed, “Do you think he would like one? To occupy his time? Or a television? Or a phone? Or- a tablet? Or-”

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckled. Bruce seemed desperate to provide Jason with anything he wanted. Maybe as a way to push the guilt away, maybe as a way to reconcile.

Or maybe he was just being a father who wanted to spoil his son.

Whatever the reason was, you thought it was extremely sweet.

“He’s only now just getting used to being in a clean environment,” you explained, “All of that may overstimulate him, and I don’t want him to revert back to how he was.”

“I see.”

“But I’ll ask, okay?” you said, heading to the room. “We’ll see how he handles a movie.”

You opened the door to see Jason sitting on his bed with his legs spread in front of him, reading a book.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“What’s that,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“My laptop!” you told him excitedly, “I thought maybe we could watch a movie today.”

“Movie?” he frowned, crossing his legs to make space for you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you sat down in front of him, “I’ve got a whole terabyte of illegally downloaded movies and shows. We can choose one together and watch, if you’d like?”

He contemplated for a while, eyebrows drawn together while you opened your laptop. “Fine.”

“Yay!” you cheered, “Okay, so what do you like to watch? Action? Drama? Thriller? Comedy? Or… Romance?”

“Put on your favourite movie,” he stated.

“What? Nah, you can choose something you’d like to watch,” you declined, “I’m cool with anything.”

“I want to watch your favourite movie,” he deadpanned.

You purse your lips. “Okay, sure. Scoot over.”

He propped two pillows up against the headboard of his bed and moved to the side so you can squeeze in between him and the wall. At first, you were not used to being in close proximity with him, and you wanted to give him personal space.

But after a while, Jason himself had sat next to you closely, stood in front of you or behind you closely- so close that the skin of your arms would brush against each other, or in this case, the heat of his thigh against yours as you balanced the laptop on each of your thighs.

The next surprising thing that happened, though, was when he put his arm behind your shoulder so casually, that anyone would have guessed it was a thing he did on the regular.

You were taken aback by his advances, but appreciated that he felt comfortable with you. It was such an accomplishment considering everything that happened, so you leaned into him snuggly.

You clicked play.

And then, he came in close to you, brushing his lips against your ear and said in the lowest whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“If this movie sucks, I’ll kill you.”

It wasn’t a threat, you knew it wasn’t.

But the heat on your neck from his breath when he whispered to you, the low tone of his voice-

You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together in arousal.

***

“I wonder if he’ll be okay,” you thought out loud.

“I’m so jealous that you’re the only one who gets to see him. When can I go?” Dick whined.

“Two weeks is a long time,” you ignored Dick, “Bruce, is the phone offer still available?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, cutting his steak as silently as he walked. “I already have one. It’s on my desk.”

“That’s great!” you scooped up mashed potatoes.

“Seriously, though,” Dick pressed, “It’s been like what, five months? I want to see him.”

You looked across the dining table to meet your older brother in the eye. It was rare that Dick came over and had dinner with everyone, but his visits had been increasing ever since Jason got back.

“We can’t risk overstimulation, Dick. The only reason why he probably accepted me so easily is because I wasn’t part of his old life. He hasn’t even mentioned anything about… you know. And he hasn’t brought you or anyone else up.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “It’s just- he’s my brother.”

Those last three words spoke volumes. A simple fact that carried so many emotions. Sadness, relief, longing, regret.

Dick was really special. You got the younger sibling treatment from Dick as well, and you only knew him for a little over a year. Even then you had formed such a bond with Dick Grayson you knew you wouldn’t have with anyone else in the world.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine his relationship with Jason, and how painful it must be to find out his little brother is alive but not allowed to see him.

“He just needs more time and space,” you said, “But he’s getting better, Dick. Much better. Even making jokes and teasing me. You’ll know once he’s ready. And I don’t think it’ll take too much longer.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, haven’t you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at you. “Like, every single day.”

“Well, yeah, he’s probably bored,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

“A little birdie told me that you gave him a sponge bath a few months ago,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

You looked at Bruce accusingly, in which he responded with a simple, “Alfred.”

“He wasn’t showering at the time, and he stank like hell,” you explained.

“Sure, use that as an excuse,” he grinned, “Have you seen him shirtless since then?”

“Why?” you asked a little too defensively, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Nothing,” Dick laughed, “I wanted to ask about his progress. Health wise.”

“Oh,” you calmed down, “Well, Alfred has him on a high protein diet now. He’s definitely filled up since then.”

“Filled up,” Dick winked.

“Grow up, Dick!” you snapped.

After dinner, you went to Bruce’s desk to pick up the smartphone and brought it downstairs to Jason’s room.

“Two visits in a day. A late one, too. What’s the occasion?” Jason mused when you came in.

“I have something for you,” you sat at the foot of his bed.

“Is it my birthday?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “We got you a smartphone. It has internet access and my number. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. In fact, it’s switched off. I’m gonna leave it here on the shelf. And if you don’t want it, just ignore it.”

“Why all of a sudden?” he eyed you suspiciously from where he was sitting at the top of the bed.

“Well,” you started, “I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks. On a trip with my friends. Sort of a post-graduation celebration. And I thought that since I won’t be here to keep you company, you might like to… you know…”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Talk? Text? Call?” you winced at your own awkwardness. Why were you even nervous? “I mean. You’d be bored so at least you have internet. If you want, of course.”

“Are you implying that I’d miss you while you’re gone?” his lips turned into a smirk, “Or are you the one who will miss me?”

“Neither!” you huffed, “I just thought that you might want some other form of entertainment besides books.”

“I was locked away in a cell for two years without food, water, books, or the internet,” he scoffed.

“And look how great you turned out,” you bit back sarcastically, before realising what you had said. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down,” he complained, “It’s fine. You don’t have to be careful with me, I’m not a fucking baby.”

You knew that, but at the same time, you still couldn’t call him by his own name.

“Okay,” you nodded, “Well. I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll be back on the tenth.”

You glanced at the digital clock on Jason’s desk. It was one of the most important things in his room. It allowed him to keep track of the time and day- imperative to keeping one’s sanity in check.

“Tenth, twentieth, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” you reminded him, “You do know that we’ve unlocked the door a couple of weeks ago, right? You’re free to go anywhere you want.”

Everyone had deemed him more or less stable. He wasn’t going to hurt himself or anyone else unless provoked or triggered, so Bruce decided to leave his doors unlocked, but Jason has yet to step outside.

“Doesn’t make a difference,” he mumbled, lying back down to face the ceiling.

Deep down, you knew what he meant.

It didn’t make a difference if you left the door unlocked, or threw him out of the room. Because at the end of the day, Jason was still being imprisoned by himself.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd #red hood #robin #dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 37

First

~~~

There was silence as she stepped into the warehouse.

Of course there was. She was covered in blood, and it was pretty obvious from the splatter that it wasn’t her own.

She walked over to Joker, her posture stiff, her expression set in a grimace. She felt her grip tighten on the bag and gun.

She practically threw the stolen goods, probably would have if she’d felt strong enough to. Instead, she thrust it into his chest and turned on her heel to leave.

“Where are you going?” Asked Joker.

“Home. I have a day job and this is going to be a pain to get out,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. Still, she stopped walking. He clearly was implying that she needed his permission to leave and, though she hated it, she desperately needed him to trust her so the Rogues would be able to. She supposed that she could stay for a bit longer. If he trusted her, then she would be allowed out to have some privacy. If he didn’t…

Well, she wouldn’t need to worry about having a breakdown.

“Is all this good enough, sir?”

“Let’s see, shall we?”

The man took his time as he rifled through the bag. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, scrutinizing her, looking for... something. Whatever answer he got, he sighed.

There was a beat, then the sound of his shoes scraping the floor as he turned around to face the Rogues. “I don’t think she’s dangerous to us.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.

“But I don’t think that she’s cut out for the Wayne operation.”

There was a new silence.

Marinette felt tears threaten to spill over the corners of her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. She finally turned back around to face everyone. “May I know why?”

“Well, if this is how you’re going to act after one little murder, then how are you going to kill anyone? How did you not catch this, Harls?”

Her eyes found their way to Harley, who looked like she’d been caught. She set down her Skittles and walked over to Marinette, wrapping her arms around her from behind. “Doesn’t matter if she can’t kill anyone, Puddin’. Her powers give us an easy in without alerting security.”

Joker nodded slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in so close to Marinette that the girl tried to sink into Harley’s embrace.

“Fine. You may go. I need time to think it over.”

She nodded quickly and pulled herself away. With a wave to the Rogues, she opened a portal to her apartment and dropped into her bathtub.

She changed the setting on her comm so she could hear everyone else.

“ -- lled someone!” Hissed Batman.

“Who cares? She can fix it, right?” Asked Red Hood.

Red Robin sighed. “Not without giving herself away as Ladybug she can’t. Anyone who’s done even a minute of research knows she has to be involved in the fight to use the Miraculous Ladybug thing.”

“So the options are to let Mr. Watson die or let the operation fail,” said Nightwing grimly.

“Good! Let it fail!” Yelled Red Hood. “She wasn’t doing well before this! Kid needs a break. She shouldn’t have to sacrifice her mental health for this!”

Robin sighed. “You heard Joker, they’re planning on killing at least one person at the Wayne Gala, probably more.”

“Then we think of a new plan! We have around a month and a half! More security!”

“This is selfish and you know it.”

“Hey, don’t you --!”

“Don’t you guys think I should get a say in this?” Marinette finally chimed in, her voice quiet.

No one said anything.

“I’d like…” Her lip trembled and she took a deep breath. “I’d like some time to think about it.”

After a moment’s pause, Red Robin spoke: “Of course. Would you like someone to go talk to you?”

She rested her head back against the tap. “No, I’m going to call over a friend.” Her eyes widened. “No offense or anything! I just wanted --.”

“It’s fine, kid, we understand. You have a long time before you need to make a decision, go ahead and take some time for yourself.”

She nodded. “Alright, see you on patrols tomorrow.”

She snickered as all the boys chimed in at once to tell her just how bad an idea that was.

“Kidding, guys.”

There was a collective sigh.

“Right, I’m heading out. Bye-bye!”

There was a chorus of ‘bye’s and she turned off her comm and detransformed.

Kaalki collapsed into her hands and Marinette whispered an apology, examining the kwami for damage. They weren’t hurt or anything, they just looked shell-shocked.

She set the kwami down on the edge of her sink and filled it with soap and water (to the horse’s preference, of course, Marinette wasn’t stupid). After a bit of searching she found the cake she’d baked before she left. She set it down on the edge of the sink for Kaalki to eat when she was done ‘bathing’.

Marinette then went to clean herself. She used a mix of cold water and baking soda to get the blood from her clothes and then decided it was about time to get her actual body clean.

She scrubbed her skin as hard as she could. Maybe, somewhere, she understood that she wasn’t helping by rubbing her skin raw but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She felt so… unclean. A sob threatened to escape her throat and she cringed, only rubbing harder.

Red and suds slid down the drain, she only scrubbed. Maybe if she did it enough she could be rid of this body. Become someone new, fresh skin with a fresh start.

Eventually, with pink skin and red-rimmed eyes, she turned off the water and stepped out. She toweled herself off and pulled on some pajamas, then dropped onto her bed.

She knew that the blood was still in her apartment, knew that there was a trail from her tub to her counter and then back again, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything.

She picked up her phone and scrolled through her messages. Tikki settled down on the pillow next to her. The kwami had been doing better since she and Robin had used Plagg, though she clearly wasn’t at 100% quite yet. A tiny hand rested on her cheek and Marinette gave her a tiny smile.

She didn’t know how she felt about Tikki being around and active again. On the one hand: Tikki was back! Her friend was alive and well! Tikki wasn’t suffering anymore! On the other hand: Tikki was back. And she was getting the little exasperated look she usually got whenever she was about to get a light scolding.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The answer was no, but she knew what would happen if she said that. She’d get a tired ‘Marinette!’ and a stern look and she’d be forced to fess up anyways. She knew Tikki only wanted the best for Marinette, wanted her to be happy and healthy, but being the god of passion made it hard for her to express these feelings normally.

Not that Marinette could really say anything about that. There was a reason why she’d been paired with the goddess, after all.

She continued scrolling until she found the contact she was looking for.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” she promised. “I don’t want to have to talk about it twice, though.”

Tikki looked disapproving, but allowed her to do this.

Definitelyforgottosleep: help

She couldn’t help but be nervous when they read her text and didn’t say anything, right up until she heard a knock on her door.

She trudged over and the moment she opened it Chloe rushed inside, first aid box in hand. “What is it this time? Gunshot? Stabbing? Poison?”

Marinette blinked once, her brain scrambling to figure out what was going on, then a quiet laugh bubbled from her throat. She closed the door behind her, shaking her head. “No, no, I didn’t mean like that. I wanted to talk.”

Chloe seemed torn between being annoyed and relieved. “So you want free therapy?”

She looked away, her face reddening. She supposed that was kind of what she was asking for, though the idea of admitting to it was weird. The whole topic of mental health and therapy had been mostly taboo during and after the Hawkmoth situation, because often reliving bad events would evoke negative emotions.

Marinette forced a laugh. “I mean, what would I even say to a therapist? Don’t tell anyone but I’m Ladybug and things are not going well?”

Tikki sighed. “Marinette…” Ah, there it is. A classic.

Chloe gave a small, tense smile. “You really should talk to someone.”

She opened her mouth.

“Someone besides us. A professional.”

Marinette closed her mouth.

While this was probably -- no, definitely -- true that professional help was needed, she didn’t know how she could even start. I killed a guy as revenge for him murdering my friend but I can’t prove this because they’re both actually alive right now so just trust me? I bisected a person with a portal? Sure, that would go over well. She’d either get thrown into an asylum or thrown into jail.

Instead of saying this, though, she gave a small shrug.

The three girls sat on the bed and Marinette chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stared at her hands. How does someone just start talking about the fact that they’ve committed two murders in three days?

But, eventually, the words came to her. She didn’t know when she started crying, but by the end she was curled up with her head on Chloe’s lap as she struggled to explain how she’d killed the clerk through choked sobs.

The two were silent. Tikki nuzzled herself against her cheek comfortingly. Chloe ran her hands through her hair. But they weren’t saying anything.

Marinette closed her eyes tightly. Now that she was done reliving it, it felt a little better than it had been before. Sure, she was nowhere near healed, but she couldn’t help but lean into the touch of her friends. It was nice to talk about her emotions, to actually let herself feel them. To know there were people who supported her despite everything.

Chloe finally spoke up: “So, what do you want to do?”

Marinette looked up. “I was kinda looking for advice…”

“Marinette… this isn’t something we can decide for you. Your mental health is important, but so are other people’s lives. Since we aren’t giving up either, we don’t really have a say,” explained Tikki gently.

“We have what we would do if we were in your situation --.”

“So tell me that!”

Chloe rolled her eyes and continued: “-- but, really, that’s for our own lives with our own morals. This is a question about your life and your morals. We can’t help you.”

She let her eyes fall back to her sheets.

Her decision, huh?

Red Hood had, shockingly, had a point. It wasn’t fair to ask her to give up her own mental wellness for others. Even if she was doing it willingly, she was still giving up a huge part of herself. While in a bad state, mind you, which could impair her judgement.

Still, if she went from a strict numbers point of view, it was one person’s wellness versus the wellness of at least one other person (but likely far more than one). No matter what, at least one person was going to end up suffering. Shouldn’t she just go with the option where there was a guarantee on only one person rather than a chance at hundreds getting hurt?

She knew what ‘Ladybug’ would do… but what about Marinette?

Her mind wandered to the clerk she’d bisected earlier that day. To that look of surprise and fear that would forever be etched on his face. She grit her teeth.

She couldn’t let that happen to anyone else.

~~~

I traumatized ya’ll I’m sorry

I’ll start doing trigger warnings

Listen guys next chapters are fluff I promise I’ll make it up to you --

I spent literal hours yesterday researching hinduism in order to think of what type of food to give Kaalki for one offhand line

And then I made a portal reference

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #maribat #satisifed

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Fidgety (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, Mr. Compress, Kurogiri, Twice

Anon requested: “idk if you do requests, but league of villains with a suicidal parental abuse victim? you don't have to if you're uncomfortable”

Genre: Comfort/slight angst

Warnings: Implication of suicidal thoughts and abuse

Word Count: 1,255

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: I haven’t been inspired by a request in so long. Either because it’s finally angsty/feelsy or because I found the perfect playlist on Spotify to listen to while writing it. I really like it, it’s the first I’ve written that I’ve been really proud of in a while, so I hope you guys enjoy it. And I hope if this is something you need right now, I hope it makes you feel just a little bit better, treat this as my hug to you.

"You're a weird one."

Shigaraki's voice comes out of the blue, startling me into jumping. He's casually carrying an energy drink back to his room. It's late in the night, I didn't think the rest would be awake by now. I spare him one glance before resuming my activity. "Says the alcoholic with chapped skin and scratchy neck," I mumble a retort.

"Yeah, says the one organizing Kurogiri's alcohol cabinet at 3 AM," the boy snorts back. He seems amused by my position, standing on a metal stepladder to reach the top.

"I wish it was a bookshelf," I mutter barely above a whisper.

"What's that?"

"You're awake too, you know," I voice just a little louder. Amaretto before the gin, Henny right after, I think as I move the bottles around.

I feel Shigaraki scan over my figure again before he shrugs. "If you need me, I'll still be awake, you know where to find me. You don't have to be up late alone."

My hands stop moving for a brief pause. His casual offer echoes down the hallway as his faint steps retreat. The fingers grasping my glass bottles slowly rest on the wooden shelf, letting the words linger in the air, my eyes closing slowly.

Once the moment is gone, I pull one of the bottles forward from the perfectly arranged lineup. There has to be something slightly off, or else it'll look too clean.

"I thought you were gonna do the dishes tonight, what happened?"

The shift in Dabi's voice to something slightly more deadly makes my skin minutely jump and freeze. My eyes downcast to the cards in my hand, flicking at the worn corner of the joker on top. "I forgot, I'm sorry."

I hear rustling from him, and I keep an eye on his shadow on the floor. He uncrosses his arms, one of them lifting up towards me. I screw my eyes shut.

His hand lands on my shoulder. "It's fine, just do it tomorrow. I already did them so Crusty won't get annoyed." His aquamarine eyes notice my frozen figure before resting on my hands. "You must really love those cards since you carry them everywhere. What do you do with them?"

I'm still shaken by his sudden touch. "Nothing, really," I mumble.

After a pause, his hand on my shoulder rests on my head, softer this time but still elicits a flinch out of me. "You're not bad, kid. Remember that."

My head rolls up to meet his blank face before he turns around and heads back to his room. The warmth of his hand still remains on my head, sort of as a comfort. It's foreign, but satisfying, and I miss it.

"You always do that!"

I flinch at Dabi's sudden outburst against Shigaraki. I don't know what they're fighting about, I tuned out sometime before the screaming happened. A brief image of two people bickering and another of a man's face in full view pass through my head.

"God, you're the worst! Why'd you come here if you can't handle me?" Shigaraki taunts back. "Just go back to where you came from!"

"How about I just burn you to ash instead?!"

My mind chooses to focus on my tapping on the glass I'm holding, my back turned to the two, but I know they're probably up in each other's face already.

"Gentlemen! Let's be more civil, shall we?" Compress's dramatic voice rings out to stop the two. Kurogiri joins him in breaking it up and reprimanding them to apologize.

If only it were that easy sometimes. If only they were there earlier.

A warm hand suddenly covers mine to stop my tapping. "Aww (Y/n) sweetie, are you scared? Should I go take care of them for you?" Toga brandishes her knife, catlike eyes sparkling as the metal reflects off the light.

"No, I'm fine, just keeping myself present," I answer too quickly and rip my hand away from her to take a sip from my glass to seem more natural.

"You know, you shouldn't hide your feelings like that." She leans her head on her hand, propped up on the bar. "You're valid, you matter here. Big sis Toga will take care of all your demons, physical and mental. I'd have so much fun if you let me!" Her wide smile shows off her sharp teeth.

My drink slides down my throat which much difficulty, passing the lump forming. I finger my deck of cards near my left hand, playing with the soft, worn corner of the top card. "Thanks." It may sound like empty gratitude on the outside, but her words mean more to me than she knows.

Shigaraki, Dabi, and Spinner went out on a mission and they still aren't back yet. I sit at the bar where Kurogiri left me, shuffling through my cards again.

"Oh, (Y/n), there you are," Twice greets as he and Mr. Compress approach and sit in the chairs on either side of me. I barely nod in acknowledgment at them.

The latter man observes my nervously shaking hands as I move cards around the stack. "Dabi said you play with those cards all the time. What do you do with them?"

I sneak a glance at him just briefly. "I just...organize them. Put them in order." My stack is already pretty much in order. I add in the last of the cards I'd left on the counter to hold onto, save for the Jokers. I stick those outsider cards randomly inside the perfect deck, ruining the order.

"They looked pretty worn in and creased, how long have you had them?" Twice asks.

My finger comfortingly plays with the corner of the ace on the bottom. The cards have long lost their fresh white color, some of the colored parts have chipped, and they're all slightly bent instead of pin straight. They and I have been through a lot. "I don't know, pretty long."

"They must mean something to you, which makes me a bit reluctant to give you these." Compress takes out one of his blue marbles and places it in his palm. Once he opens it, an unopened deck is revealed. "A brand new deck erases all the emotions and memories from the old one, but I guess I was hoping you'd give them up in favor of making new ones."

I take them from his hand, opening the top. The smell of new cardboard and paper hits me immediately.

"Well, it's from both of us," Twice adds quickly. "We know you're probably holding onto your old life and you might not want to move on from it."

That can't be farther from the truth, I wish I can move on.

"But we hope you can perhaps bury them among your more positive experiences with us," Mr. Compress finishes. "You're part of the family now, and there's nothing we wouldn't do to protect you. You're important to us, we want you to be happy even if it takes a while to get there."

"And we'll definitely be there to help you get to that point!"

My hands clamp around the box of cards. I'm afraid to even take them out, fearing that I'll soil the precious gift I've been given if I just touch them. My eyes fill with tears at their comfort, body trembling as I want to curl in on myself.

As both of them embrace me, I can't shake the lingering thoughts of disappointing them, but I'll be damned if I won't at least try finding my purpose in life, and I know they'll help me every step of the way. It feels right being with them here, maybe I can live for them, if that turns out to be enough.

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 7

:3c

I exchanged @biodad-bruce-month‘s Day 7: Fashion Show with Fight!

Chapter 7: Fight

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Amira looked at the white board inside her walk-in closet, reviewing the new information she got last night. During last night’s patrol, Amira took a break halfway through, using the time to ask Tikki more questions regarding the miraculous.

They were earrings, which thankfully, can shift in design but can’t change its original form: earrings.

So here was Amira, sporting all black studs. Simple and hidden in plain sight. Amira also found out that the appearance of the earrings can always be changed as Tikki doesn’t have to use too much energy to do so. Therefore, Amira has been planning on changing its appearance after every akuma attack, an easy tactic to see exactly how much Hawkmoth himself knows about the Ladybug miraculous.

Next up, her yo-yo. Turns out that it’s more than just that. While it works as a tracker and phone, it only works when Amira is transformed. No yo-yo, no way to communicate with Chat. Because of this, Amira decided to get him a burner phone to make sure the two can communicate outside the suit. Will also help in case they have to communicate during an energy break while there is an akuma.

Her costume. Thankfully, Tikki had told her that it morphs into whichever design the holder has in their head. With more concentration on the design, the more the costume will have what the holder would want. After patrol, Amira made it her mission to get the utility belt in her design and after plenty of trial and errors, Amira got it.

Now she had smoke pellets, a taser, a small utility knife and a first aid kit at her disposal. Of course, the belt came with a price - her dagger.

Brushing out her hair, Amira looked at her reflection. She always hated having long hair. While Dick always told her that he liked her hair when it was long (because he liked braiding it for her), Amira never took a shine to having long hair.

It was a hassle to brush out, to clean. During track (even though she was only on the team for two years), Amira hated seeing other girls have their lucky amulets in their hair. A special pin or hair tie from their fathers and sometimes from their-

“-to Marinette!” Tikki yelled, snapping Amira from her trip down memory hell.

“Tikki, I live across the school. I won’t be late.” Marinette stated, continuing to stare at her reflection.

“I know that, but your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Tikki said, showing her the multiple texts she was receiving.

Marinette took it, smiling when she saw they were from Wally and Dick, telling her to have a better day at school than yesterday’s disaster. “Are they from your friends?”

“You can say that.” Marinette said, tucking her phone into her pocket, looking at her reflection once again. “Tikki. Can you grab my fabric scissors on the table near my monitors?”

“It suits you.” Alya randomly told Marinette after the end of their first class. “Your hair, I mean. Don’t think I didn’t notice it.” Marinette simply blinked, wondering why people always said a compliment before bringing up their actual motives. “Name’s Alya-”

“-Cesaire. I know. Now if you excuse me, I have a class to get to.” Marinette filled in, getting up to leave, only for Alya to grab her wrist. “Let go.”

“Sorry!” Alya apologized, letting go of Marinette. “I just...I just wanted to tell you that you were a bit too harsh on Mlle Bustier yesterday. You should apologize.” Alya didn’t expect a scoff from Marinette.

“I’m not going to apologize for standing up for what I know is right.”

“Mlle Bustier-”

“-should’ve done her job correctly instead of enabling, especially now that Hawkmoth is a threat. But even with Hawkmoth out of the picture, Ms.Bustier shouldn’t have just assumed it was Ivan who instigated the argument. There’s always two sides of a story and we should always make it our job to figure out who is right. Sometimes, we even figure out why things happened the way they did. Sometimes, we find out we are wrong and when that happens, we have to accept it. If not, how else will we grow?”

With those words, Marinette gave Alya a little bow before going to her next class. Hopefully Marinette can find M. D'Argencourt during her break to try and convince him to let her join the fencing club...again.

“Well, that went easier than I thought.” Marinette told herself, walking down the school steps. M. D'Argencour had happily accepted her into the team, proceeding to tell her the team’s schedule.

While it took a while to hunt the coach down, Marinette was about to find him towards the end of the day.

“Why exactly do you want to know fencing?” Tikki asked her from the pocket inside her sweater.

“I just found it...interesting.” Marinette lied, knowing she couldn’t tell Tikki that her father never let her take up the hobby. While Bruce had allowed Jason to learn how to use a sword, Jason quickly dropped it. Dick was also taught how to use a sword, but he complained how annoying it would be to carry it around, hence the reason why he carries escrima sticks.

While fencing wasn’t the same, fencing will help her gain more skills she can use during her fights. You never know after all.

After greeting Tom and Sabine and squishing Bridgette’s cheeks, Marinette made her way to her room, only to find him in there...again.

“If it’s about the Miraculous, I’m still not giving it to you.” Amira said, throwing her school bag to the floor. She whispered the renouncing spell before reaching into her jewelry box, where countless dupes rested. Oh how she wanted to cackle when she saw her father look at her with wide eyes.

“Amira, hand them over.” Bruce ordered, stretching out his hand in hopes of Amira doing the correct thing.

“Why won’t you trust me?” Amira gritted, balling her fists. “Why don’t you trust me to do the right thing?”

“I do trust you.” Bruce said, taking a step forward. “That’s why I expect you-”

“I can’t just hand earrings over! The people need me! They need Ladybird to-”

“You don’t need to be running around Paris playing hero, Amira. Let Diana-”

“Must I remind you that I was given the earrings? It’s me who they want! Me! And no! I’m not playing hero! Hell, I’m not even a hero! I’m a vigilante! I’m doing what’s right by being Ladybird, by protecting the people the only way I can.” Amira reasoned, looking at her father. “And trust? Doesn’t that go both ways?” Amira set out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. “After all, when were you going to tell me about Batgirl? About...the new Robin?”

How Amira wanted to scream when Bruce remained silent.

“How did you find out?” Amira scoffed.

“Find out? The whole internet was talking about it! My class was talking about just earlier today!”

It happened during break. Just as Marinette was leaving the class, she bumped into the second surprise of the day in the form of teen model Adrien Agreste.

Adrien apologized for the accident when Chloe pulled him into the class and began to ‘teach’ him what it meant to be part of a school. The only reason Marinette even remained in class at that point was because she heard Adrien talk about this being his first time in a school...meaning that up until now, he had been homeschooled all his life.

Kinda how like she was up until she was around seven to eight years old. But to be homeschooled until 13? How lonely he must have been. Especially when she heard he was the only child at home.

You’re really ungrateful.

Marinette stiffened, feeling her heart pick up in pace upon remembering Jason’s words. She already knew that...she knew, but was it wrong of her to want something else? To want to have something different than what she currently had?

As Marinette was fighting off the beginnings of a breakdown, Alya’s sudden burst almost triggered it.

“Since when did Robin come back to Gotham?!” Alya yelled, rising from her seat.

Marinette didn’t need to hear any more, running out of the classroom and locking herself into one of the girl’s bathroom stalls. While she hated having breakdowns, Amira was glad to have had one, as it helped her gained more insight on how Hawkmoth’s powers worked.

He can’t control you if you’re in the middle of an emotional breakdown and can’t register his words. In other words, he can’t control you if you’re already out of control.

Guess it’s good to know that if Joker were to ever come to Paris, Hawkmoth wouldn’t be able to take over him.

Amira looked at her father, awaiting for his response. “Under different circumstances, I would have forgiven you for replacing Jason with another guy. But it hasn’t been a year since he died and you’ve already replaced him.

You know how Jason felt, you know he lived with the fear of doing a single thing that would give you a reason to kick him out of the manor. And while you always assured him you would never do that, here you are, doing just that.” Amira watched as her vision went blurry, wiping them away as she collected herself again.

“I wasn’t replacing-“

“You were. You are. And not only have you replaced Jason, but it seems you’ve also replaced me.” Amira looked at herself. “Batgirl? Really? You know that was the name I wanted to use if you ever let me fight crime alongside you. Of course, that never happened.”

“Amira.”

“At this point, I don’t care what you do.” Amira gripped all the turmoil inside her. “Right now. I just want you to leave.”

“Amira.”

“Leave! I don’t want to see your face Bruce!” Amira yelled, shocking herself at her outburst.

Bruce? Why did it feel so wrong, yet so right? She tried it again. “I don’t want you anywhere near me Bruce, so leave! Just leave!”

And he did.

As she watched Bruce leave her room with a heavy heart, she slumped to the floor, standing back up when she felt something approach her. “Tikki!” Tikki appeared before her. “Spots on!” A second later, an akuma appeared before her, Amira quickly capturing it. Before letting it go, Amira quickly searched for a glass jar and a box in her desk.

She let the now purified butterfly go into the jar, surprised to see that it didn’t phase through the jar. So it was just a normal butterfly after all. When coated in magic, the magic allowed it to phase through whatever it wanted to to ensure that it made it to its target.

Calling off her transformation, Amira quickly got to work, carefully placing a tracker on the butterfly’s wing.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Tikki asked, looking at her holder with worried eyes.

“I’m alright Tikki. I’m alright.”

No, she wasn’t alright.

The next day at school, Chloe tried to stick gum in her seat as a revenge plan for once again chewing out Mlle Bustier for allowing Chloe to interrupt the classroom with another one of her stupid excuses. Not to mention Chloe using her father’s position to get away with said excuse.

It didn’t help when Marinette was stuck with Alya trying to ask her about her past in Gotham and Alya claiming to be her friend.

They barely knew each other and this girl was already clinging to her like a newborn chick.

While Marinette tried to avoid her at all costs, Alya always found her, Marinette hating it. Didn’t she know about personal space?

Her week got worse when Chat accepted the burner phone but refused to be trained by her. Something about him not needing it.

Thankfully, she was able to vent to Dick and Wally, although more to Wally since Dick was busy with university.

Days went by and even then, Amira knew she was never going to adjust to life in Paris.

It’s only been four akumas and this city already thinks they saved the world.

While technically they saved Paris, Ladybird and Chat have yet to fight off a Victim that can become a potential threat to the world. Bubbler and Mr.Pigeon weren’t exactly the worst to deal with, but they weren’t the easiest to take down either. As for Stormy Weather and Lady Wifi, Ladybird realized that it was Victims like them who posed a threat to France. Victims with intangible powers were a force to be reckoned with after all.

But just because the duo saved Paris four times, it didn’t mean their work was done. They had yet to find out who Hawkmoth was.

Oh, did she mention the ridiculous statue they made in her and Chat’s honor because of the four Victims they took down so far? Long story short, she didn’t go to the ceremony and Chat must’ve told the artist something stupid because here they were. Fighting a Victim all thanks to Chat and his loud mouth.

“Chat! Stop trying to regain your honor and let me-” Ladybird yelled, only to get pushed back by his bo.

“No! This is my fight!” Chat hissed, attempting to land a hit on his copycat. Copycat grinned as he parried all of Chat’s hits, flinging Chat’s bo to the side when he saw an opening.

“He’s good.” Chat said, landing next to Ladybug as he retreated. Ladybird scoffed, gaining an arched brow from her partner.

“He’s good? Got some pretty low standards there Chat. Have you ever seen Nightwing in combat? This guy is nothing compared to him.” With that, Ladybird charged into the fight, picking up Chat’s bo and using it against Copycat.

The two fought, Ladybird noticing Copycat starting to hit her with less force, more sloppily. He was starting to become more aggressive, half of his hits missing.

“Chat! Switch!” Ladybird yelled, knocking Copycat’s staff from his hands and throwing Chat his own back to him.

With Chat distracting Copycat, Ladybird waited for the perfect- there!

Chat had launched Copycat into the air, Ladybird using this to wrap him with her yo-yo and slamming him down. Holding him down, Ladybird turned to Chat.

“Where’s his akuma?”

“Here!” Chat said, taking out a photo from Copycat’s pocket. Ripping it, it released the akuma, Ladybird unwrapping her yo-yo and capturing the akuma. Now purified and having the tracker implanted, Ladybird released the butterfly.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybird watched as everything was returned and fixed. Turning to Chat, she glared at him. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes. Meet you at the rendezvous in a few.”

#maribat #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020

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ask-jokeboi · 4 years

Photo

The Party

Hope everyone's having a great holiday season so far! This time of year isn't always easy but thankfully friends and a good distraction can make things easier.

I drew these pic’s to pair with a moderately long fic I wrote to follow up the aforementioned party from earlier, it’s below the the cut! Read it if you want! Either way, Happy Holidays! 💜💚💛

Words: 4,142 Relationships: Harlivy /Harley & Joker friendship / Batjokes (mentioned) Universe: Mine / Lego Batman

A/N: sorry for any typos or weird grammatical stuff, I'm good at art, not writing

Summary: Joker’s felt a little down since Batman’s been out of town, will his best friend Harley be able to cheer him up?

Warnings: Alcohol use, implied depression

_____________________

"C'mon Jay it'll be be fun!" Cheered Harley, mustering all the enthusiasm she could in an attempt to persuade Gotham's former clown prince of crime to pull himself together

"I don't care!…. Go bother your girlfriend or something. Leave me alone…" He was currently piled under several layers of blankets, sunk deep into the ball pit he called a bed

"Nuh uh, I'm not haulin' my butt outta this room 'till you haul yours. You can stay in that pit and cry all ya like, but it won't fix nothin', you gott-"

"I don't GOTTA do anything!" Jay snapped. Throwing his blanket aside and revealing his less than kempt appearance, his face twisted into a frustrated glare

Harley, already familiar with Jay's usual harmless outbursts only sighed as she looked her long time friend up and down, taking in his surroundings with a curious eye

It'd been a month or two since Batman left the scene and his absence was definitely beginning to take a toll on the poor clown.

She could tell it'd been a while since he'd done anything to care for himself…. His hair, which was usually swept back into a flawless green pomp, lazily draped his face. The dull forest black of his roots beginning to seep back into the rest of it. Same could be said for the state his room which, due to his erratic nature, was always a bit untidy but had recently fallen into a state of near disrepair. Bags of half eaten junk food and empty bottles of all sorts of things lay strewn across the floor, particularly around his half deflated bed.

Despite the mess, he still seemed a little...thin… more so than usual to be honest… his ribs visible beneath the loose shirt he wore, arms comparable to sticks despite the muscle.

most of all though, he just seemed... tired. Jay always looked tired out of makeup. It was one of the first things she'd managed to take note of when he'd first entered her office years ago…. But right now the purple rings beneath his eyes that never seemed to go away were deepened to a point that made it clear he wasn't getting much sleep or doing much for himself in general...

Seeing her best friend in a state like this was hard to witness… and although her partner, Ivy, didn't have much but mild disdain for Jay, Harley couldn't find it in herself to leave him like this… which is why she thought a party might lift his spirits a little

"C'mooon! You love parties!! It'll just be a small one anyway!" It was actually much bigger than she was implying but Jay liked big and she didn't wanna scare him off too soon…

"Yeah, like that'll make things any better… who did you even invite?? A good half of the rogues don't even like me…"

"Sure they do!"

Jay only looked at her, bereft and unimpressed.

"I mean ok you and Riddler don't always get along and it took a lot a beggin' ta get ya un-banned from the iceberg lounge but still!!"

"Uhg whatever! It doesn't matter! I don't need those bozos seein' me like this anyway..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! I'm just…... I'm not in the right… mood for something like that right now.... You know how this works… they'd see right through me. "

Back when Jay was still her patient they'd end up talking a lot about masks…Batman's would come up more often than not but every now and then he'd end up discussing his own…. Or more specifically, the metaphorical one he'd put on every time he picked up a brush and painted himself a new face…..

"Jay, sweetie… you don't have to pretend to be okay… they won't think you're weak or nothin', you know that right?..."

Jay gave her an incredibly tired look before turning away.

"What happened to the Jay that wasn't afraid to let people know how he's feelin' huh? The one that turned every emotion into a show….?"

He kept his head down, shoulders stiff, before speaking...

"....Cause I'm not just sad this time…. " As he looked up slowly an emotion that was rarely seen on the mans face showed itself, flooding his eyes.

"W- when I'd talked to Robin and Batgirl that last time and asked about Batman they gave each other this look and…. Something's wrong… he's in trouble or something I… I can feel it….. W-what if he doesn't come back and he leaves me here all alone an-"

Harley put a polished nail up to Jay's lips and smiled warmly.

"Shhhh…. You're worryin' too much puds… ur big dumb brain is just an overdramatic liar… don't listen to it okay?"

Jay sniffled, giving her an understanding nod.

"You still got me an' your crew an' Bud and all the other little silly things that make ya days good doncha?"

He smiles halfheartedly. "Y-yeah…. But still… he was..."

"I know… he's special….but do you seriously think anything out there could actually kill Batman? THE Batman? C'mon now…. He's luckier than any bastard out there and you know it…"

"Yeah…. Yeah I guess ur right"

"Of COURSE I'm right!… now come on…" she offers her hand and helps her friend stand up. "Let's get that hair done and those nails shined up so you're brain can take a break from making all those nasty thoughts"

Jay smiled a little wider this time, forever grateful he had a friend as great as Harley around�� he really didn't know what he'd do without her sometimes...

"Right…. Also… uh…. Harley?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for….uh…. Bein'... around… I guess…" Jay practically mumbled...

Harley smiled knowingly, amused with his poor attempt of gratitude

"No problem, Pud's….." she gave him a peck on the forehead leaving a black smudge behind

"now enough mush...Let's clean this mess and get ya fabbed up"

________________

A few hours later, Jay stood outside the titular iceberg lounge in his best winter fit, a long boa around his shoulders and a pair of unnecessary sunglasses obscuring the mascara he'd only half ruined on the way there….

He truly, honestly, did not feel like socializing with anyone at the moment, but who was he to refuse a doctor's orders?....

Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air, Jay stiffened up, smoothed the wrinkles from his vintage memphis style sweater and entered the lounge, heels high and head high as he could manage

____________

When the doors swung open with a swirl of winter snow, Jay was greeted by a surprisingly full and stunningly silent room. Christmas music cut through the tension like a knife as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Joker's fashionably late arrival.

He didn't know if it was because of his natural ability to demand attention or the fact that he hadn't been seen in nearly 3 weeks, but for some reason the room seemed slightly on edge. worried he'd come with another Joker brand surprise perhaps. Thankfully, Harley, who'd left his place a little earlier to get everything ready, noticed who'd finally arrived.

"JJ!! YOU MADE IT!!" she leaped off her stool and came running to grab him, The rest of the room taking it as a cue to un-tense and to go back to their festivities, the lounge lighting up with warm greetings and laughter.

" Hey…" said Jay as Harley put an arm around his shoulder and escorted him to the booth she was sitting at….

"So… is all of this for me or…?"

"No, did she tell you that?" Ivy who was sitting at the booth with his other less than fond acquaintance, Catwoman and someone else he didn't seem to recognize, gave a snide smile, Jay suddenly felt he should probably sit someplace else

"IVY!! SHHH" Harley shushed

"What? He was gonna find out out eventually…. It was supposed to be Penguin's annual winter ball"

"Uh,It still is tho…?" said Kat, mouth full of shrimp

"Well, yah…. Difference is we had to 'finesse' Penguin into letting HIM in" Ivy explained, disdain in her voice

"And you... helped with that?..." asked Jay, surprised. Ivy sighed

"for Harley's sake, yes. not yours"

Jay smiled, amused. "well how charitable of you, here's to hoping you won't regret it"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "As if I don't already" she said, taking a short sip from her drink, Harley sitting down next to her give her thank u peck on the cheek.

"Hey, why'd you get banned from this dump anyway?" Asked Kat, eyes squinting curiously

"I have no idea…." Jay shrugged

"He put a coke and mento bomb in the fountain!" Harley interrupted

"Oh yeah…." He'd totally forgot

"Ha! Awesome…"

"Right uh, anyway, who the hell are you?" Jays attention suddenly turned to the woman sitting opposite of kat. She had light blue skin, bright white eyes and hair that made her look like a human lighting rod.

"Name's Livewire." She said, voice sharp as her appearance

"She's from Metropolis" explained Ivy. Jay rose a brow.

"Metropolis huh?? How'dya like dealin' with boy scout full time over there?" He quizzed

"Sweet!…" she exclaimed enthusiastically "Big blue aint got a thing on me! 'sides, dweeb's been outta town for months now! metropolis might as well be my personal playground"

The mentioning of Superman's absence made something in Jay's chest twist. He'd known their neighbor hero had been MIA for even longer than Batman, Supergirl taking over the workload just like Batgirl had in Gotham. but still… the reminder was enough to worry him. I mean… if superman was taking so much time up there, what chance did Batman have against whatever it was they were so busy with??

Trying his best to shake off the uneasiness building in his stomach Jay took a breath and snapped back to reality, offering Livewire his hand

"Well, uh... Livewire, i'm this city's head honcho while the bat's gone so welcome to Gotham and try not to wear it out"

Harley and Ivy exchanged looks as Jay smiled slyly and took Livewires hand…

...Only for his usual gesture of hospitality to be met with an equally shocking grip that sent blue sparks flying in every direction.

"DAMN, what the- !! " Jay yanked his hand back and held it in pain, hot needles running up his arm.The new addition to Harley's crew laughed crudely and smiled

"why do you think they call me 'LIVEWIRE' genius?"

Jay stayed silent with defeat as the table went up in hysterics "Yeah fine, okay, I shoulda saw that one coming" he sighed and smoothed out his hair which had sprung up to stand on end, his face ever so slightly red "anyway, you ladies have a nice time… i'll set up shop somewhere else and let you guys… idk… flirt with each other or whatever..." without much fanfare he slunk off to sit someplace else.

After the table had settled down completely though, Harley noticed Jay making his way to the bar looking somewhat dejected.

"Aw Jay…."

The rest curiously turned their attention to the direction of Harley's gaze.

"You're not going after him are you?" Asked Ivy after a beat.

"Well… yeah…?" Harley shrugged.

"Uhm, why?" Asked kat, dipping more shrimp into her cocktail "like if he's not in the mood for a joke that's kinda his problem…?"

"Yeah, but still…. I've never seen 'im like this for so long…. He's usually so funny and animated, it's like somethin' drained all the life out of 'im…." The concern on Harley's face was very apparent. Ivy brushed back a few strands of her hair and tried her best to reassure her.

"Look i'm sure he'll get his second wind when Batman comes back at some point… but ‘til then it's not your job to take care of him…"

Harley sighed silently. "I know but… he's still my best friend… and if I hadn't met him, I wouldn'ta met you!" She squished close to her spouse with a smile, Ivy suddenly unable to hold back a small one herself.

"He helped me outta my slump all those years ago, least I can do is help 'im outta his..."

Ivy gave her a soft look before reluctantly caving "Kindness has always been your best and worst trait, silly bee…" she said with a smirk "fine, go ahead and do your thing, I've got plenty of company over here in the meantime…"

Harley smiled happily and gave her one last kiss before running off to join Jay at the bar.

____________

Jay sat alone at the bar in silence until he was suddenly startled by Harley's arrival.

"What's shakin' grumpy gills?" She asked pulling up a stool.

Jay didn't answer as the bartender slid over a funfetti martini topped with the works, Jay lazily catching it and drinking deeply.

"Those guys didn't get ta ya did they? I know they seem mean bu- "

"Ah… I don't care about them…" said Jay dismissively "we're all villains here right? I'm sure they got their reasons… sides, Livewire's pretty fun even if she did fry my Joy buzzer" He said regretfully…

"So what's up then…?" Asked Harley, head tilted

Jay looked down at the table with a frown, fingers anxiously scraping the side of the glass in his hand….

"What she'd said about metropolis…. And… superman…."

"Oh…" Harley nodded "well…. I'm sure they're together wherever they are…. Right? Him and Batman? And I mean, with Superman around, he's bound to be okay….."

Jay had a hard time matching her enthusiasm but that logic did comfort him some. "Yeah… yeah I guess so"

"C'mon Jay, you gotta get that stuff off your mind for a minute! Go mingle! Go dance!… look at everyone who came this time! Turn-out's never been so big!"

As Jay's looked around the room, Harley did have a point, usually these get-togethers only managed to scrounge up about half the gang, but it looked like almost all the rogues in town had come this time. Even D-listers like Polkadot man, Killer Moth, Crazy Quilt ect. Had managed to show up, plus people he didn't seem to recognize…

For example at the bar sat Scarecrow and a… Oddly scruffy looking man he looked to be sharing a drink with. He'd heard from Riddler over the phone some time ago that crow had found himself a friend and that the two were "in cahoots". whatever that was supposed to mean. He supposed that must've been the "friend" in question…

A few tables down sat another unfamiliar in a polkadot shirt and a pair of cracked thick lensed glasses. He had a peculiar looking puppet sitting on his lap which made J raise a brow, but he didn't judge. Looking at his woefully nervous face he guessed it must it must've been a security thing anyway…

Despite the big crowd though, Jay did notice one person missing of whom he hadn't seen in quite a while...

"Yeah I guess everyone is here... except uh, Lex I guess…?" Jay considered himself friends with metropolises king of corruption, even if the feeling wasn't always mutual. Seeing so many crooks he knew in one place made him realize how rare it was to see the mal hearted mogul at these things.

Unfortunately, Harley could only shrug with defeat. "Ah I tried to get Lex but you know how he is… nobody's seen that shut in for ages".

Jay's eyes narrowed at that "How long is ages…. ?" He pressed

"I dunno… a few months guess??? Livewire said he's been quiet lately, probably off in one of his labs making some over convoluted instrument of destruction I guess"

The growing list of missing big shots was beginning to piece something together in Jay's head… what on earth was Lex up to? Where was superman?? Why did the league need Batman's help? How did it all connect?? After a moment Harley noticed Jay slipping into his thoughts again and shook his shoulder lightly to pull him out of it.

"Hey, don't worry about that egghead. he'd only kill the mood if he were here anyway"

Jay couldn't disagree, the billionaire was kind of notorious for being a giant stick in the mud.

"If you're really worried about what's goin' on with those guys, you can come up with a plan Tomorrow…. right now we got a' open dance floor, unlimited drinks and a Karaoke competition that's about ta kick off in ten"

The word 'Karaoke' was enough to snap Jay back to reality. "Did you say Karaoke?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do they hav-"

"Yes, they have Queen"

Jay nearly looked as if someone had told him the best news of his life. "Oh thank god" maybe Harley was right. Worrying would have to wait.

_____________

The rest of the night went on with few hang ups. Drinks poured, music played and poorly screeched lyrics kept the mood upbeat.

The Karaoke stage hosted performance after performance, some more enthusiastic than others. Some painful, others surprisingly pleasant. Jay's teetered off the edge of both categories, but when "somebody to love" burst through those speakers, he'd sung it with his whole chest. The best performance by a long shot though had to be Ivy's who's affinity for 50's ballads lent to her beautifully rich voice and her's was closely followed by the Dent's who'd decided to attempt a duet with no chorus which everyone found somewhat impressive.

Emotions did flare up once or twice though, as they tend to do when it comes to villain gatherings. Ed and Jay got into a fight about something stupid and unimportant, both obviously enjoying themselves, Bane and Croc engaged in an arm wrestle that woefully ended in a tie, and Jay inevitably got worked up about Batman again, this time with a crowd of eager listeners somewhat entertained by his rambling, giving questionable advice here and there.

At the get-together's height, the dance floor had filled to the point where Penguin was just about ready to call the whole event off until Riddler dragged him on to the floor himself.

After another hour or so the party wound down some more and the night devolved into quiet discussions between friends, everyone either ready to leave or half asleep. Eventually Jay and Two-face of all people were left alone. Once Ed, Crow, Hatter and the rest had gone home.

Jay always liked Harv, for someone known for his temper he seemed to have a lot of patience and Jay found both of his selves uniquely interesting in their own ways. Harvey the "handsome" one was always very nice, easily flustered, and had a sadness in his eyes that was hard to ignore. "Dent", the one famous for all those 2 themed crimes, was a bold individual and one of the most brutally honest people he knew. That night though, even he seemed a little sad. He admitted later that it was because it'd been a while since he'd gotten to talk to his old pal Bruce, someone Jay was mildly familiar with of course, and they spent the rest of the night discussing Batman and wayne and how they seemed so similar until it really was time to head home.

sometime after midnight, long after everyone had either left or found someplace to pass out, Harley broke up with her girl gang again to come get Jay who'd fallen asleep in an empty booth.

"Wake up clown" she said loudly, nudging him a bit. Jay giggled quietly in response, turning over after a moment and opening his eyes.

"Oohh what's up??"

"Time to go."

"Aw…" Jay huffed disappointedly, then did his best to sit up straight, his head slowly spinning as he did so "ah jeeze…"

"Don't worry I called one of your guys, he's waiting outside." She explained "I dragged you here, might as well drag you home"

"You did that for me?" Jay smiled "That's so nice…."

"Mhm" carefully, she took his hand got him to his feet, doing her best to keep him up straight. As they headed out they met up with Ivy at the door

"Taking pennywise home?" She asked

"It'll only take a minute" Harley assured

"Alright… don't take too long…" she turned to leave but before she could, Jay suddenly spoke up.

"H-hey, Wait!"

Ivy turned around, brow raised "You have something to say to me?"

"Uh… yeah? I mean… sort of? I just, uh… wanted to say i'm sorry for… messing up your garden all those times…."

Ivy blinked "Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just thought you shud kno…. And that um…. Maybe you'd hate me…. A little less... if I said sorry for once..." the frown on Jays face was absolutely pitiful, Ivy could only roll her eyes.

"I don't hate you… Joker"

"Oh?"

"I just think you're annoying…."

"Oh…." Jay couldn't really tell if that was any better but at the moment he was too drunk to care. "Okay…"

With that ivy turned around to join Kat and Livewire

"Thanks for the apology though I suppose…Take care of yourself…. And, Harley don't take too long… it's only 1:00am we still have plans."

"Don't worry Ive's i'll catch up."

after one last look, Ivy went back on her way and Harley continued walking J to his car.

As they went Jay hummed to himself, swaying slightly, until a certain thought made him go quiet again.

"....Harley….?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah, J?"

"Am I a bad friend?" The question just as out of the blue as his apology to Ivy….

Harley looked at him, concerned "Why do ya ask?"

"I just…. Please?" He pleaded. Harley hesitated for a long moment but decided being honest was probably best.

" not exactly but… maybe sometimes"

"Hm…" Jay decided he'd have to work on that

"But I also know ya don't really wanna hurt anybody…. That you try your best everyday ta make people happy and that you've been through just as much any of us…. A few mean comments an' dumb pranks ain't gonna make anybody think you're the devil or somethin'….not me or any of the other guys... "

Jay had to smile at that, Harley always had something smart or nice to say no matter what. still, her answer only made him feel worse about how he'd been earlier when she was just trying to help… he really, honestly, didn't deserve her…. But the least he could do was let her know he was glad to have her...

"Harley…?"

"Yeah, J…"

"Thanks for being really, really great all the time… and… y'know… around… " Harley smiled as she secured his arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks J..."

"also sorry for sucking sometimes..."

She sighed. "It's fine Jay…."

carefully, she hauled his ragdolling body a few more feet and shoved him into the back seat of his car. J grunting as his head hit the leather seat.

"Now go home an' try not to get lost on your way to the door" She said sternly. Jay gave her a lazy wink and a pair of wobbly finger guns.

"Gotcha."

with that,Harley slammed the door shut and the J-Mobile's engine roared to life. One his lackeys sitting in the driver's seat.

"Where to boss? HQ?"

"Yup… ah, sorry t' call ya out so late…"

"S'alright boss…. Don't worry about it"

As the car lurched forward, street lights shining in through the windows as snow fell ever so lightly over Gotham like a dusting of fresh powdered sugar, Jay did inevitably start thinking about Batman again, wondering when he'd come back, desperately wishing he knew anything about where he was right now….

The thoughts were hard to ignore and when he got home he knew he'd be surrounded by the same walls he'd spent the last month trapped with them in…. even so, the world felt a little less washed out than it had before he left, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol swirling in his blood.

He may not have had Batman... But today reminded him he wasn't alone.

He had friends… real friends… In a way he'd always considered them such… but deep down there was always doubt. I mean sure he got along better with some than others, but after knowing people so long he shouldn't have been so dumb to think they hated him as much as he thought they did.

When you're a villain in Gotham sometimes all you have are other weirdos in the same boat as you to help keep you and everyone else afloat. People need people in more ways than one… and as Jay drifted off to sleep in the back of his gaudy getaway vehicle, laying in a position that was just barely comfortable, he pushed his worries aside and made sure that was something he'd never let himself forget.

~ End ~

#batman #dc comics #the joker #harley Quinn #lego batman #christmas #blogged

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

Living is Harder

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god.

Tim did this. He was...he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and...he didn’t mean it.

Tim is walking home from Steph’s house, his light-up Sketchers the only things illuminating his path through the Gotham night. He stayed out later than he planned, utterly captivated in the Among Us tournament he and Steph were playing against their Titan friends all the way in San Francisco. (And Tim would have gotten away with the murders too, if it weren’t for that meddling Bart Allen who stared Tim down every time he killed a player, watching it happen but never reporting until Tim finally cracked from the shame and called an emergency meeting on himself.)

Tim rode in Steph’s car on the way to her house, but forgot that it would mean he’d be without a ride home. Steph offered to drive him back to the manor, that she doesn’t mind losing a measly hour of sleep, but Tim insisted he didn’t mind walking. Besides, it’s not like it was a lie. Sure, it’s Gotham, which means Tim can see drug deals going down on street corners and the occasional drunkard puking into a trash can, but Tim feels at peace here.

It brings him back to his early days of climbing fire escapes, tailing Batman and Robin under the cloak of night in the hopes to get just one more photo for his collection. It was a simpler time with fewer psychotic clowns—back then it was just the one, and all he did was tell shitty jokes and occasionally tie Robin up over a swimming pool filled with Jokerized sharks. Nowadays it’s all grotesque murders and creepy masks made of human skin. Where’s the showmanship? Where’s the pizzazz? Disgusting. Deplorable. Lazy beyond all reason. Tim is insulted by the lack of artistic ability in these new Jokers, and you may quote him on that. Regardless, Tim takes comfort in knowing that if something did go wrong, Cass is patrolling somewhere a good five blocks ahead. Maybe he can track her down and pick them up some corn dogs. He’s currently in the Red Hood’s territory, but whether Jason is around at the moment is a gamble at best. His schedule is harder to tamp down than a solid answer on Ted Cruz: Zodiac Killer. Jason might not even be in Gotham right now; he could be in space for all anyone knows. Sometimes Tim feels like Jason is more of a feral cat than a brother, which isn’t too far off, really. Tim happens upon an empty beer can on the sidewalk in front of a boarded-up store that he’s fairly certain used to be an adult film shop. Good ol’ Gotham City. He stoops down to pick up the crinkled can like the good samaritan he is and drops it into a trash can at the mouth of a nearby alley. He wipes his hands on his jeans, designer style be damned. That’s when Tim is grabbed from behind, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth and muffle his shout. He’s pulled into the alley and pushed up against a wall, the bricks digging into his back and knocking the breath from his lungs. Shit, shit, shit. How could he have been taken by surprise so easily? It’s hard to make out his attacker in the shadowed alley, the only discernible features being dark eyes and bared yellow teeth—never a good sign. Tim’s hands are pinned together above him in a strong grip, practically wrenching his shoulders from the sockets. He tries to scream, but the man’s disgusting hand presses harder against his mouth. Tim freezes when he feels the poke of a knife at his throat, digging into the skin just below his Adam’s apple. “Make a sound and I’ll gut you,” his attacker says, his voice a low rumble. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol assaults Tim’s sinuses and makes his stomach roll. He’s going to have to be careful about this. Robin could get out of this hold in five different ways with varying degrees of injury to the opponent, but a civilian couldn’t. Even if the only witness is a low-life scumbag, he shouldn’t run the risk. Better to wait until he’s at the point of no return to bust out the Robin moves. Instead, Tim goes for the oldest trick in the book and knees the man in the crotch, hard. It has the desired effect and the grip on Tim’s wrists slackens, the man dropping him with a grunt. Tim ducks out of range and makes a run for it. If he can just get to the street, he should be home free. Even in Gotham City, there are always witnesses to help out a poor, defenseless teenager under attack. Tim almost makes it to the sidewalk when he’s grabbed by the hair, crying out as he’s thrown violently to the ground. Then there’s weight on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the dirty ground under his back. Tim fights, kicking out and delivering purposeful hits under the guise of a panicked struggle. “You little shit,” the man spits. He’s still got a hold on Tim’s hair, which he uses to slam Tim’s head against the pavement so hard that Tim goes blind for a good ten seconds, his head spinning. The back of his scalp feels wet, and he hates to think about what bacteria must be lurking on the ground beneath him. The knife clatters somewhere to Tim’s side and he’s almost relieved until a hand wraps around his throat, cutting off his next breath. Instinct plunges him into panic, choking on the lack of air and scrambling to get a hold on his attacker. Scratching, kicking, desperately trying to loosen the grip crushing his windpipe. “You didn’t have to make this so difficult,” the man tells him. His body presses down on Tim’s smaller form, keeps him trapped against the unforgiving asphalt, and this is it. This is the point of no return he’s been waiting for, but now Tim is here and he can’t do anything about it. Not even Robin could get out of this without a weapon, and Tim has none. He’s powerless. The creep releases Tim’s hair with a whisper of, “Don’t move.” Before he can do anything more with his newly freed hand, though, Tim’s body is thrown into action faster than he can comprehend moving at all. The world goes hazy, time itself turning to molasses. Absently Tim feels muscles flex, sees shapes move in front of his eyes, but someone else might as well be controlling Tim’s body while he’s locked in the backseat, missing the entire ride. One minute Tim is on his back with the creep on top of him, and after a chunk of time that Tim can’t remember participating in, he’s standing against the alley wall with something clutched in his hand. Tim blinks back the fog, but it lingers. He looks down and studies the way his fingers clasp the handle of the knife. That can’t be right. He wasn’t holding a knife before. Tim comes back to his body in increments, a stop-motion reel. First there’s a stinging ache on the back of his head, blood soaking into the back of his shirt and plastering his hair against his neck. His gaze slips from the glinting knife to the blood that covers his hands, warm and sticky. Then he catches a shape on the ground in front of him and Tim’s breath catches in his throat. The man from before is on the ground now, his eyes closed and blood spreading from a stab wound directly over his sternum. Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god. Tim did this. He was...he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and...he didn’t mean it. Tim staggers back until his back hits the cold brick wall, his pulse pounding in his ears so loud the entire city must hear it. He just stabbed a person. He just killed a person. The one rule he’s supposed to follow, the one thing he promised never to do, and he just did it. Without even a second’s hesitation. He took a life. What is Bruce going to say when he finds out? Tim’s legs are made of jello, wobbling in warning until they give out entirely and he slides to the ground, knees pulled in close to his chest. His hands are still covered in blood. A dead man’s blood. He should...he should do something. He should act. First-aid, stop the bleeding, do whatever it takes to help in case there’s a chance. Tim doesn’t move. He doesn’t even try. His limbs have been replaced with rubber, his brain with slush. He just killed a man. In the back of his mind he knows he can’t go home, not like this. Not covered in another man’s blood. Even if he tried, Tim isn’t sure he’d make it two steps without collapsing into a puddle of whatever emotion is making him feel as though he’s rotting from the inside out. His family lives by a code, would sooner die themselves than take a life. Bats don’t kill. Tim doesn’t kill. Tim killed. His fingers shake as they take out his cell phone on autopilot, and the screen is cracked at the corner from when he was slammed into the ground. That’s going to cost money to fix. Tim gets blood on the screen, smudging over his contact list and warping the names. He finds the one he’s looking for and puts the phone to his ear. A ring. Two rings. A click. “This had better be important,” Jason says. Tim swallows. “Um. I—um.” He can’t take his eyes off of the body, lying there still as a corpse. Because it is a corpse. “My...head isn’t working. It’s—something is wrong. With me.” “Are you high or something? Because if you are, I’ll fucking kill you.” That does it. What little resolve Tim held on to cracks in one clean split and a sob bursts through. He covers his mouth with his elbow, choking on gasps. “Jay, I—it was an accident. I swear to god, I didn’t mean to. He was...it wasn’t...I didn’t mean to.” There’s a creak on the other end, maybe Jason sitting up in his chair. Or maybe he just sat down. Maybe he closed a door. Too many things in the world are creaky. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened?” “He’ll kick me out. He’s gonna take Robin away from me.” Something slams—definitely a door. “Kid, tell me where you are.” “I don’t know. It was—” His brain isn’t working. For the first time in his life, logic and reason escape him and Tim’s mind pushes into overdrive, drags him deeper and deeper into oblivion. Bruce is going to find out. He’s going to find out and he’s going to hate Tim for the rest of his life. Bruce doesn't like murderers. “Goddamn it. Tim, listen to me. Can you do that?” It takes a moment, but Tim manages to get out an affirming noise. “I’m going to track your phone and come get you. Don’t move, got it? Stay right where you are. I’ll be there soon.” Jason hangs up, leaving Tim alone again. He drops his phone back on the concrete, uncaring of potential breaks. It’s already been cracked. “He’s going to kick me out,” Tim repeats to the empty alleyway. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim is cold by the time Jason arrives. Or maybe he’s been cold this entire time. It’s hard to tell. “Fuck,” Jason swears as he takes in the scene before him. The body on the pavement. Tim, huddled against the alley wall, his eyes glazed over as he stares at the body like a horror movie he can’t turn off. Jason isn’t wearing his helmet, just a domino mask. He takes it off when he kneels in front of Tim, makes Tim meet his eyes. “Hey, kid. You with me?” “I killed him.” The words taste acrid on Tim’s tongue, sour. “Don’t worry about that now. Are you hurt anywhere?” Tim doesn’t answer. The back of his head stung before, but the pain is muffled now. Everything is muffled. “I killed him, Jay. I’m a murderer. Bruce is...I’m not supposed to kill. Robins don’t kill. They don’t.” His chest is tight, getting tighter by the minute until it feels like every breath is being sucked in through a tiny straw. “Tim, breathe,” Jason tells him. He puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and that helps a little. Gives him something to latch onto. “You’re in shock. Try putting your head between your knees.” Tim does, stares down at the dirty pavement between his sneakers. His eyes linger on an old fast food receipt. It has droplets of blood on it. “I don’t know what happened, I really don’t. He was—it was an accident. He was on top of me and he had a knife and then he was choking me and...I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, so I just—I just moved. And now he’s dead. I killed him. What am I going to do?” “It was self-defense,” Jason says, as if the answer could really be so simple. “If you hadn’t acted, he would have hurt you. Maybe even killed you. You did the right thing.” “No, it’s—” Tim picks his head up, digs his nails into his knees to keep himself above the fog. “No. I took a life. I’m guilty. I can’t—there’s no coming back from that. There isn’t.” How can he live with himself after this? Does he even deserve to? “What, so you would rather be dead than have to tell Bruce you took a life? Seriously?” “Yes.” There’s no hesitation, not even a pause to let the words soak in. Jason sighs, and Tim is too far gone to decipher what it means. He squeezes Tim’s shoulder once and stands, goes over to the body still lying on the ground. (As if a dead man would go anywhere.) Jason crouches down and takes off one of his gloves, presses two fingers over the man’s neck. After a moment or two, he lets out a breath. “He’s still alive.” Tim’s breath hitches. “Really? Are you sure?” “Pulse is thready, but he’s not dead.” All of the air leaves Tim’s lungs in one huge whoosh, making him lightheaded. “Oh my god. That’s…” That’s good, right? It’s a good thing. It should be a good thing. “Yup. That’s one hell of a relief.” Jason straightens up from his crouch. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a gun, and fires it into the man’s head. “Jason!” It happens so fast that Tim doesn’t even have the capacity to think about the blood and brain matter splattered over Jason’s clothes, Tim’s shoes, the cracks in the alley’s pavement. “How could you—” “What? It’s not like he was going to walk it off or anything.” “We just—” Tim’s stomach churns. It feels like he’s going to be sick. “We just killed a man.” “No, I killed a man.” Jason holsters his gun, then kicks the body in the side for good measure. “You, however, are off the hook.” “What are you talking about? I stabbed him.” The knife is around here somewhere. That’s evidence. Proof of what happened tonight, what Tim did. What Jason finished. “And I shot him in the head. One of those is worse than the other.” “But I—” “No,” Jason snaps. He lowers himself to look Tim in the eyes. “You didn’t. Kill. Anyone. Got it? I killed him. Your slate is still clean.” “There’s a body. Evidence. I still did this.” Jason grabs the bloody knife and tucks it into his jacket. “No, the Red Hood did this. He cornered the guy in an alley, stabbed him, then shot him in the face. That’s what happened.” Tim shakes his head. “You can’t. You can’t take the fall for me.” “I’m not. I’m the one who killed him, right? I’m just taking responsibility for my own actions, which nobody is going to look twice at because this is the third one this week.” Jason takes Tim by the arm, pulling him upright and keeping him steady when he wobbles. “What about Bruce?” “We’ll tell him the truth. That you got attacked by some creep, I killed his slimy ass like he deserved, and then I let you crash at my place for the night to make sure you were safe. That’s it. Understand?” Tim isn’t sure if he does or not. He’s too numb to attempt puzzling it out, but he does know one thing he can say. “Thanks, Jason.” “Don’t mention it. Just try not to puke on me until we get to my place and I’ll call us even.”

#whumptober 2020 #batfamily #batfam #tim drake #red robin #batman #robin #idiot duckboy #jason todd #red hood #batbros #batboys #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #no.9 #'take me instead'

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (45)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

That feeling... you thought it would be gone forever. But it’s still there. And it’s much heavier than before. The question is: why? Why is this feeling of insecurity, this feeling that something dangerous is going to happen to you, still there? You know everything. You know that Danny won't do anything to you, that he will always make sure that the police don't know anything. But you have a hunch that the thing that wants to hurt you... is foreign to the city. to the country itself. You've been hearing for a few days something... unusual. Like voices.

But these voices are inaudible from others. Only you seem to hear them. At least that's what you think. They are strange, impossible to distinguish whether it is men or women who talk to you. or maybe both? Just as it is impossible to know what they are telling you. These are whispers. The only words you managed to understand once were: "Sorrow" and "Suffering". But nothing more. Could it be ghosts? spirits wandering aimlessly and trying to get in touch with you? From memory, you don't remember having a gift for communicating with spirits. But you've always believed in it. And you have always respected the dead, whether they were people you knew or complete strangers. Perhaps this respect has earned you a gift from the gods, allowing you to contact the afterlife? Maybe.

“Have you seen the latest news? In the end Hoggins was not McKellan's murderer. It was Ghostface!” said one the customer.

“Yeah, I saw. But hey, is it surprising? No. Does this change anything? neither. And I want to tell you: so much the better. At least we are sure of who we should thank.” said his friend.

“Excuse me? You wanna thank that freaking psycho for killing people? He’s a twisted man! Not a hero!” Replied the first one.

“Yeah, and he killed two others monsters, who stole money from the poorest and even the richest for their personal accounts! Moreover, it seems that Hoggins was involved in a more horrific scandal in Florida. They only got what they deserved.” Responds the second one.

“I have heard of this story. What a bastard, to let sick people die when they could be saved. You have to be inhuman to do that. Fortunately, we have journalists like Jed Olsen to shed light on this kind of horror. Imagine how much longer Hoggins could have remained free if guys like Olsen didn't risk their lives and careers for it.” said another man before drink his coffee. “We need a guy like him to rule this damn country.”

If only you knew sir what we know about "Jed Olsen". If only you knew... you would quickly change your point of view. But he and the second man in the trio were right, if Danny hadn't put his life and career on the line, Hoggins would still be free with impunity. And so does McKellan. They deserved to die it's true, and Danny made sure of it. He is both a completely twisted murderer, but also a hero to the inhabitants of this city. A murderous hero... you would have a hard time knowing how he would have reacted, if he ever heard it.

He would be both flattered and annoyed perhaps. Because that's not how he wants to be remembered, he doesn't want to be remembered that way. But simply as the greatest murderer in history who has never been arrested, and whose identity will forever remain a mystery. Like Jack the Ripper in itself. You wonder inwardly if Danny was inspired by it. It’s quite possible.

“I find it hard to believe what I just heard. Ghostface who goes from murderer to hero of the little people. It looks like the end of the movie "Joker".” said suddenly a woman voice. When you turned your head, you could see Melina, smiling at you like always, coming to the table next to the counter. “Same as usual Amy!”

“Alright! Right away!” responds Amy with a smile.

“Hey... you look like you have your head in the clouds. Everything's fine? Jed made you live another wild night? Be careful, you will end up with a little baby at home very quickly if it continues.” replied Melina laughing by looking at you.

“Really funny Melina.” you start before laughing too. “Even though Jed is... wild, he knows how to be careful. We are not yet ready to have a baby. But let's say that for a few days... I have trouble sleeping well.”

“Oh. Tell me maybe I can give you two or three advices.”

You tell Melina about your bad nights. If at first, she listened attentively and without expressing emotion, once your story was finished, the young woman looked at you with big eyes, as if you had just told her your most shameful secret of your life.

“Shit, so they're after you too...” she said worried.

“What do you mean?” you ask worried.

“Jed told me the same thing the other day. He said he heard the same whispers and even had nightmares about them. Nightmares where you were there. I thought it was just a fear not to be able to take care of you but... I have to believe that my mystical side was right.”

Hold on. Danny went through the same things you did and he didn't tell you anything? It's not very friendly. But in a sense... you can't really blame him. He certainly had good reasons not to tell you about it. Surely, he didn't want to worry you, or that you would think he was crazy. Even if he is a little bit crazy in a sense. And again, the word is weak.

“You and Jed are related. And I feel like you've attracted... negative entities. Spirits, ghosts who want to hurt you. They may be trying to reach you through dreams first, but who knows how this can evolve. And who can be these spirits.” said Melina worried.

“You starting to scare me. Why us? Jed and I didn't do anything except ... live our lives and do our work.” you said scared.

“Evil spirits have no particular criteria for attacking someone. If they find a target they like, or someone provokes them, then they go after that person. In your case, I think it's related to Jed. Because I think the mcKellan and Hoggins' souls are not... Left. They are surely stuck here because of their hatred and anger. And since you're in a relationship with Jed, they're attacking you too. Or, it's a much more powerful entity than those two. But in any case, it wants to hurt you. You're going to have to be very careful.”

“There's no way to get them to leave?”

“I could use the objects my grandmother used to purify a house but... I'm not sure I'm as good as she was. It's really very meticulous as a practice.” replied Melina.

“I'll talk about it with Jed tonight. Thank you very much Melina.” you respond.

You went back to work and the rest of your day was all about anxiety. If Melina is telling the truth, then you are in danger. Maybe that's why you have this strange feeling of not being safe when, all those who could have hurt you are dead, under Danny's sharp blade. And he, too, had the same experience. There is not much you can do about evil spirits except to drive them out. And you will deeply hope that Melina will be your salvation. Otherwise... you will have to think about leaving the city. Or start praying to God.

The last customers of the day ended up leaving your café, greeting you warmly. Then it was Amy and Corey’s turn who for a few days, got very close to each other. They were so lovely together. You clean the last tables before you take care of the back shop. Danny shouldn't be long in coming, so you'll both be able to discuss these nightmares you're both experiencing. Hoping he isn't too tired or in a hurry to kill someone tonight.

While you were cleaning your kitchen tools, you suddenly hear a noise coming from the room. You put down your equipment and take a weapon in case it’s a thief. You move carefully through the room until you reach the switch to turn on the light. But nothing. not the shadow of a thief, or an object that fell to the ground. You may have dreamed... Then suddenly, whispers. The same whispers you've been hearing for days and days. But this time it looks like it's coming from the back shop you just left.

When you return to the back shop, you find that the door leading to the outside is... strange. A dark aura emanated from it and mist escaped from the lock and the bottom of the door. The whispers became clearer as you approached.

“(Y/N) …(Y/N) ...It’s time. Come with us. Join us. Feed my hunger. Give us all your suffering and sorrow. For all eternity.” said the voices.

“Who are you? And what do you want from me?” you ask.

“Who we are doesn’t matter. The most important is that you’ll feed us. With your screams, your pain, your sorrow, your blood. Now come with us. It’s time for you to meet your fate.”

Suddenly the door opened on a thick black mist. Giant spider legs came out and tried to catch you. You step back several steps but visibly, they are much longer than you hoped. As it was about to take you away, you feel something pulling you back. Under the effect of fear, you try to struggle when a familiar voice was heard.

“Hey! Hey Honey It’s me! Calm down!” said Danny by blocking yourself by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him. “It’s me...stay calm.”

“Danny...” you start as you feel tears in the corner of your eyes.

The voices were heard again, and the paws moved towards the two of you. Danny pushed you, one of the spider legs injuring his arm in the process. He took a weapon in his hands and pushed it back to the door before getting against it and locking it. The door began to move, as if we wanted to open it from the outside and then after a few minutes... a silence set in. Everything had stopped. Danny stepped back before looking at you making sure you were still there. Then he joins you, taking you in his arms.

“What the f**k was that thing?? And what did it want??” you said crying.

“I don’t know. But for now...we’re safe.” said Danny.

“You’re...you’re hurt. I have a first care kit. I will take care of your injury.”

You take the first care kit and ask Danny to come and sit next to you so you can treat him. He winced when you applied the disinfectant but remained motionless until you applied the bandages to him. You then put away the equipment and both of you leave the café to go home. Once at the apartment, you both sit on the sofa sighing, still in shock from what had just happened.

“Melina was right. We have attracted evil spirits. And they're not going to let us go now.” You said.

“Honey please... Don't tell me you believe in this bullshit...” responds Danny, passing a hand on his face.

“Danny, you saw what I saw! And you were hurt! How can you not believe in these things?? You suffered the same thing as me! Melina told me everything.”

“Okay, okay, stay calm. If they're really hitting spirits, there's not much we can do but chase them away, hoping it works.”

“Melina proposed it to me... it doesn't cost anything to try. But if it doesn't work... either we will have to leave the city, or we will have to pray to God.” you replied.

“Leaving the city would not be of much use and I have not believed in God for years. So don't count on me to pray to him. Anyway, knowing that I am a murderer I am not sure that he does much for me.” Responds Danny before getting up.

You watch Danny walk to his office and walk out a few minutes later with his bag. He's not going to go out and kill someone tonight, is he? And even less leave you alone?? This thing, whatever it is, could come back! As he was about to leave, you take his hand before sticking yourself against him.

“Don't leave me alone... Not tonight. Please...” you said sadly.

“We no longer risk anything. I don't think this thing is attacking the two of us again.” Danny responds.

“How do you know? If it happens, maybe it will only go after you and I will never see you again! Danny please... Stay with me.”

“...Fine Honey. I’ll stay. Tomorrow I'll call Melina. If her magic shits works...we’ll be safe again. Let’s eat something and go to sleep.”

Despite his words, you do not let him go. On the contrary, you will tighten more and more against him. And he gave it back to you. Whatever that thing is, it will surely come back. Danny is maybe a murderer, but he is the one you love. And if this thing has to take Danny, it will have to take you too.

And that's what it intends to do. One way or another.

***

(My second dose of vaccine is finally done! but the effects were quick to manifest, I think my body wanted to do a speed run X) Don't worry it was nothing very bad, arm pain after the injection and the next day, headache in the morning and some dizziness in the evening. But now I'm feeling better! and above all, I will finally be able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life! And go see Dune at the cinema! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the other ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya! )

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #Ghosface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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