#Alfred is not surprised and only thinks what room to clean for the next and unavoidable arrival of another grandson of his.

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy Meets Batfam

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"Relax Batty, it's just one dinner." Dick parked the car inside the Wayne family manor's garage.

"But I hate billionaires. Can't we just go to Batburger and go home." Danny whined slumping in his seat.

"What's so bad about it? He's your grandfather now." Dick asked.

"The last billionaire I met was the only other of my kind. And he was awful. Tried to kill me, clone me, marry my mom, kill my dad, ruined my life. That last one was something he achieved." Danny's wings materilized and wrapped around him as he sulked.

"I know it's hard Danny and I can't promise no one will ever try to hurt you like that again but I can promise I'll stick by you. I can also promise to kick the butt of anyone who tries messing with you." Dick said ruffing Danny's black hair that popped out from under his leathery wings.

"Still don't wanna go." As Danny said this he began to shrink.

Dick sighed, he had learned recently that Danny was a shifter of some kind. It was useful to hide his identity but he would also use it to get out of doing things. When Dick told Danny to clean his room or study Danny would shrink to the size of a toddler and say "Im baby" to get out of it. Dick is ashamed to admit that he's let Danny get away with it because baby bat pictures are precious and worth their weight in gold. He has a wallet full of pictures now.

But Dick has to put his foot down this time.

"Danny being little won't get you out of this. Do you really want to meet your new family like this?" Dick asked.

Danny huffed and turned in his now ill-fitting hoodie the size of a 3-year-old.

"Alright come on." Dick gave up scooping the toddler-sized teen under one arm and walking into the manor. "Alfred still has Bruce's old baby clothes somewhere."

"Ahh!"Danny yelped.

"What? Don't want that? If you show up as a baby, they will think you are one. You know Tim Drake is going to be there. He's going to be in the same school as you. Do you want him to think you're a baby?" Dick said holding the kid at eye level.

In surrender, Danny grew back to his normal size.

Dinner was oddly quite as everyone studied Danny closely.

Barbara was the least concerned as he talked about work with Dick and pushed Danny a bowl of strawberry salad. She wanted good aunt points. Danny would love her the most.

Cassie studied Danny's features. It was almost creepy how much he looked like Dick. She'd believe it if Dick was his biological father. Except for the eyes. Danny had a very particular eye color they were blue in the center but kind of had a green ring on the iris. The condition was called central heterochromia and it's rare.

Damian wasn't glaring like he usually would. He looked almost wide-eyed at Danny but remained silent.

Jason was absent as always apparently he was moved by Dick's announcement.

Then again Danny was supposed to be a surprise.

Tim and Danny seem to strike a cord immediately. Danny despite how silly he was the teen was very intelligent. Tim wasn't as subtle as he wish, mostly because Danny cornered him in conversation.

"So you're more used to living in a small town?" Tim smiled politely.

"Hmm? I didn't say that exactly. I said Im just new to the city." Danny responded.

"So you're from a different city? Metro or Star?"

"Neither, It's nowhere you'd know. Not really notable."

"You're going to be family soon, of course i want to know."

They went back and forth for a while. Tim was probably irritated after finding nothing about Danny's identity. And that meant Bruce was probably suspicious as well. Dick had to bet that Bruce's overactive paternal instincts would overwrite his need to investigate.

"So Danny, have you heard of the new vigilante in Bludhaven? The one they call Batboy?"Bruce asked wiping his mouth with a napkin as he ate.

This was the question Danny was waiting for.

"Of course! Have you seen the pictures on social media! Everyone is talking about him. Like, he has wings like a bat. Do you know what I'd do to get that power?! I mean he's not Superman but come on its so cool. We don't have metas-Is that what you call them? Yeah, metas. We don't have them where I'm from so I didn't think I'd ever met one. Dick said he met him the last time he saw Nightwing and promised to get me a picture but he didn't and he said he forgot." Danny put on a pretty convincing fanboy routine.

"I see. So Dick told you he's friends with Nightwing?" Bruce probed.

"He didn't need to tell me. Nightwing found me after I ended up in Bludhaven. I was pretty banged up and he parched me up and took me to the police station. I tried to leave but he told me that Detective Grayson would look out for me." Danny said digging through his salad to pick out the fruit and nuts.

"What about your parents?" Bruce asked softly.

"Bruce," Dick said in warning.

"Its fine...my parents didn't want me anymore. I can't go back. They'd probably kill me. But it doesn't matter anymore, they aren't here." Danny said stiffly feeling uncomfortable for saying a bit of truth.

They say the best way to lie is to have a bit of truth. Danny disagreed. The best way to lie is to have no truth, so they can't tell the difference.

Dick pulled the teen closer as Danny pulled his hands inside this hoodie hiding one of the burn scars on his arm but just enough to show that they were there.

Bruce didn't say another word.

Damian seemed to make his mind up at some point and joined in the conversation.

"Do you eat meat, Nightingale? I've noticed you haven't touched anything with it." Damian sounded oddly cordial.

"Ew, no. I don't eat meat. My friend always said meat was murder and taught me about how evil slaughterhouses were. We once raided a local farm to-oop. I forgot there are detectives at the table. I promise I'm a law-abiding citizen and not an eco-terrorist...anymore." Danny smiled too innocently.

Damian nodded in understanding. They had found common ground. That still doesn't mean he liked Nightingale. But he couldn't fight him since he didn't seem to know anything about their vigilante lifestyle.

Damian had to begrudgingly admit that Danny's presence was welcome. Soothing even.

It didn't matter. He and Drake still had bigger plans. Finding out who this "Batboy" was. They just needed Dick give up some information about the bat metahuman.

Tim had his suspicions that it was Danny but Batboy had stark white hair with black streaks and green eyes. Not to mention wings.

They would have to agree to disagree.

"Danny you have to eat something other than fruit. Eat the rest of the salad." Dick tried to sound stern but caved almost immediately when Danny pretended he didn't hear that.

Bruce internally sighed. Does he step in and help or let Dick figure it out. How does one be a grandpa to a non-vigilante who you can't threaten with no patrols?

*Bonus*

Danny when he see fruit.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Moving In | Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader [Fluff]

Synopsis: Vivian and Bruce have been missing things in their homes. Having enough of the back and forth, and Bruce asking him about his tie or watch or socks, Dick tells them both to put on their grown-up pants and move in together. But moving in isn't that easy, especially for those who have been in the relationship for only a year and some change, especially when splitting the bills.

“Alfred, have you seen my blue tie?” Bruce asked as he settled on his seat at the table wearing his business suit minus the tie. 

Vivian and Dick were already getting a headstart with breakfast and were busy doing their own thing – Dick with a last minute essay and Vivian with the newspaper. Alfred walked in the room with two ties in hand, one red and the other black and said, “Last I recall you have more ties than the department store in the mall, Master Bruce, but it seems you have lost the rest and what remains are two. Take your pick.”

This wasn't the first time it happened, Bruce not finding pieces of his clothes and watches. For the past few weeks he’s been missing things in his drawers and couldn't remember where he put them. Which was uncharacteristic of him to do so. 

Vivian finally folded the newspaper and looked at Alfred and then at Bruce to see why he didn't just pick either when she saw the blue suit he wore. And she thought women had a short supply of blouses and skirts for their everyday work.

“I think I know where that suit's tie is,” Vivian said.

“Do you want to elaborate?” Bruce raised a brow at her.

“I did some cleaning at my place the other day and I swear I saw some mens’ ties in my condo. I think you left a couple of them at my place when you stayed over.”

Bruce sighed. “I doubt they're pressed.”

“I haven't visited my place this week, Bruce. Don't expect my neighbor to be that nice to do my laundry.”

“I'll pick you up from Gotham University so I can get them from your place.”

Dick snorted. “Yeah, like that will happen. Please, the most likely possibility that would happen is you staying the night over at Viv's and leaving another set of clothes there.”

When Bruce was about to retort, Alfred piped in and said, “Master Dick does have a point, Sir. I'm afraid that you are in your last pair of socks…”

“That's not right — I come home before my patrols –”

“Yeah, but for last week, you went straight to my place and changed there to your night-shift uniform, and then headed home,” Vivian pointed out.

“I think I'll need a bag for later,” Bruce muttered.

“By the way, have any of you seen my maroon blazer? I couldn't find it anywhere. I've been circulating with just brown, plaid, black, and beige.”

“And I thought Bruce has more blazers than an average person does,” Dick said to her.

“Kiddo, I don't have three sets of each of those colors. Bruce has, like, five sets for each color. So, if I lose one of those, I'll be repeating the same thing in the week. Catherine already noticed that I was wearing my tweed jacket thrice this week.”

“If I may, I believe I found that maroon blazer in the laundry last week. I've had it cleaned and pressed, along with our other clothings, and placed it in your personal closet, Professor Pryor,” Alfred told them.

“I have a closet here?” Vivian asked, quite surprised.

“Yes. You tend to leave quite a lot of personal items in the manor. I wasn't sure if it would be fitting to place it with Master Bruce's personal shelves, so I opted to place it on your own. In hopes of you noticing their absence, I was willing to pack them up for you, Professor.”

Vivian, Bruce, and Dick looked at the butler with a bewildered look. Everyone was silent until Dick said, “Why not just give them to her the next day?”

“Considering Professor Pryor's frequent stays in the Manor, I thought she was well aware of her clothings’ presence as I also prepared them for her morning.”

This time it was Vivian who spoke, “Thank you, Alfred. That is very appreciated, but I think I would — ” she turned to Bruce “-- I think I'll be heading back here later to get my things. I'll bring a bag with me to get all of them.”

Dick scoffed. “In other words, you’ll be back here to leave another set of clothes which you'll forget until you realize you ran out in your closet.”

“Thank you, Dick. For the encouragement that I will get my place in order again.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick got up from his seat, finished with his meal, and went to pack his things. “There is a way for you to stop missing your socks or ties or jackets.”

“And what is it?” Bruce questioned him but was not really interested in the answer as he was more focused on his breakfast.

Dick looked at the two with a deadpan look on his face and said, “Do you really need me to spell it out for you both? Move-in together! Jeez!”

“Uhh…” Vivian and Bruce turned to each other, quite unsure with what to say. While the former had a hesitant and more concerned look on her face, Bruce suddenly had an epiphany. Dick does have a point. Vivian has been staying longer in the Manor now with her being part of Batman's behind the scenes operations by helping Alfred in the Batcave, research, sometimes a consultant whenever the Riddler or King Tut would be their current adversary.  

“It's not really that easy,” Vivian was the first to speak. “I mean, we've only been dating for a…” she did some counting. “A year?”

“Three, Vivian,” Bruce told her.

“Oh, we have been that long now?” Vivian drank her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “I wasn't aware… time sure does fly.”

“We don’t really celebrate our anniversaries so I don’t really – really? Three years? That’s just… wow.”

Dick snickered. “Three years and you’re still going back and forth like a bunch of teenagers? Really?”

“Aren't you, like, thirteen? How would you know about relationships?” Vivian raised a brow at him.

“Fourteen. And I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who's actually had a normal relationship. More normal than this household's current standards with villains, cats, demons, dark wizards, and a long list of models,” Dick teased them both but mostly Bruce as he saw the glare from his guardian.

“Shouldn't you be at school by now?” Bruce told him.

“I'm going!” Dick took his bag and lunch and went to the door with Alfred to take him to school. 

Once they heard the door close, Bruce sighed and turned to Vivian who found her coffee more interesting at the moment. “As much as I hate to say it but,” Bruce began waiting for her to turn to him and listen. “Dick has a point.”

“Moving in, Bruce? That's a huge step.”

“Vivian, we're practically living together by now with our current arrangement. And I think we're both adults to consider moving in together.”

Vivian placed down her coffee and sat facing him. “I guess if moving in is the case it's me who is going to uproot everything and come to the manor. Right?”

Bruce took her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I don't think your landlord would appreciate having the Batcave there… but if you're not ready, I understand. Or we could find somewhere in Gotham –”

“Bruce, it was a joke. Of course, I’m open to moving in here with you. It's just that…”

“What?”

“I don't think I can keep up with the utilities or the maintenance or the groceries of this place. I've seen the cupboards and the refrigerator, and mine is like just half or a quarter of those things in your kitchen. I mean, my kitchen is like the size of Alfred's pantry.”

“You don't need to worry about all those things. I'll take care of those.”

“What? No. I can't just live here for free!” 

“Why not? Aren't we both –”

Vivian got up from her seat. “It's different. You letting me stay here is like me letting you stay at my place. I don't let you pay for things there just as you don't let me pay for things here. If I move in, it's just all you – and I can't take that. It'll be — it just won't feel right. You know?”

Bruce sighed. Pryor-Royce pride, he thought, remembering her family who came to visit from Liverpool. Specifically the conversation he had with her sister, Olivia Pryor-Royce who was now training in the army. 

“Why don't we discuss this after our day? We can sit down and talk about it and make an arrangement that will fit us both,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, that's a good idea,” Vivian sighed. “Besides, I need to go now. Shit, Alfred already left, I’ll call a cab.”

Another hurdle. The commute. Vivian would be spending a lot of money with a cab just to get to Gotham University from Wayne Manor.

“I'll drive you there.”

“It's off your route, Bruce.”

“We're not living together yet. For today, let me drive you without your conscience getting in the way.”

“Funny, really funny, Wayne.”

~*~

It was lunch and Vivian was eating with her colleagues in the cafeteria when she suddenly asked her married colleagues at the table with her, “When did you decide it was time to move in?”

Everyone paused in their meals and turned to her with a bewildered look. In that silence it was only Catherine, who was a few years older than her in age and tenure, and is married with kids, asked, “Why the question, Vivian?”

Vivian turned to them and noticed the confusion, “I think it’s pretty obvious why I’m asking, Catherine… Fine, just this morning, Bruce and I are having trouble with the inventory of our things. Some of his things are at my place and some of my things are with him. It was driving us crazy for the past few days, and Dick suggested that we just move in together so we avoid these kinds of things. Now we’re considering it.”

“Hold on,” Greg spoke. He was the eldest at their table with a balding head and thick glasses. “All this time you’re both not living together?”

“Yes. Yes, Greg, we haven’t been living together. What makes you think that we were in the first place – hold on, do all of you think we’ve been living together?”

“Yeah,” Justin said, “Billionaire-Bruce-Wayne takes you here and picks you up almost everyday now, and if not him then this butler. He even has a designated parking space, Via.”

“I see…” Looking back at it now, Vivian realized she hasn’t taken the bus in a while now. Hell, she doesn’t even know if there was a new schedule or there was something new in the train station too. She rarely sees Herb the Bus Driver or Herb the Creep who is stationed at 34th Street with his cart of worldly possession. She also hasn’t been wearing sneakers to work too, she goes straight to her heels or boots, her bag has also become heavier than usual with the work she brings home or with the lunches that Alfred packs for her. Along with the extra thermos of coffee that he would make willingly. 

And her hair. When was the last time she had to put it in a bun before fixing it in the university bathroom only so it wouldn’t get sooth or frizzy with the humidity and pollution, along with fixing her makeup in the university too.

When did she start not doing those things? She wondered, and she asked her colleagues that question. Their answers were:

“About a year ago?” Catherine asked.

“Two years, give or take,” said Greg.

“When did you both get back together?” Justine was counting with his fingers.

“So… Two years and some change,” Vivian sighed. “So, when is the right time to move in?”

“Honey, you should have moved in a long time ago,” Catherine rolled her eyes at the obvious. “If I were you, the moment Bruce Wayne asked me out, I’d be the good and perfect girl and be packing my things the moment he invited me over.”

Uh…

“Justine, how about you?” Vivian asked him, which gained a wince from their other colleagues for him.

“Why me?” Justin asked.

“We’re the same age and you’ve been in a couple of long-term relationships. When is the right time to move in?”

“I don’t really… the last girlfriend I had that we did move in together. We were two years in the relationship – but, we were in uni then and we decided to rent an apartment than take a dorm that’s fucking expensive in GU.”

“Noted,” Vivian sighed. 

“But if you’re not ready, you really shouldn’t push it. I mean, if you’re going to move in with him, you gotta be sure that he’s the one, right – ow!” Justin turned to Catherin who stepped on his foot with her heel. “I assume that you’ll be moving in with him since I doubt rich-boy-Bruce-Wayne won’t be uprooting from his ancestral home? I mean, I doubt Wayne would survive a condo without a butler.”

This time it was Vivian who gave him the look. He’s always been vocal of his dislike towards Bruce for two things: his wealth and the fact Bruce – in her colleagues and students’ words — stole every chance he had with Vivian. She decided to ignore all of that and maintain a good working relationship with him but there are times when he crosses the line and she puts him in his place. 

The first time he spoke out of line when she and Bruce got back together, Vivian said to him: “Justin, you had every chance to ask me out for the past years I started working here. My desk is literally just one arm away from yours in the faculty office, but you didn’t. Because you were too afraid to – because you were playing safe. Hell, I even asked you out a couple of times but you brushed it off as a friendly night-out. I even gave you hints that you can kiss me!

“You’re just angry that Bruce had the guts to do what you couldn’t all those times I was free. And no, it’s not about the fancy dinners or the out of the city trips, because I also take him to food truck dates or those open mic places and he doesn’t mind! I appreciate your concern about him hurting me but it’s not your job to tell me what I should do. You’re my friend and I will consider your opinions but that’s it. And I want us to stay friends considering we’ll be working in the university for a long time. So, please, not another word about Bruce or my relationship with him. Okay?”

After that night Justin didn’t talk to her for months until they were tasked to oversee a student event and he was forced to. 

“But you are going to move in with him in Wayne Manor, right?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Vivian shrugged.

“Do you want to?” Justin asked, this time sincerely concerned for her.

Vivian thought long and hard but all she said was, “Bruce said he was willing to move in with me in a smaller place but it’s not just him – there’s Alfred and Dick to consider too. Who am I to just take them from their home, right?”

~*~

Bruce arrived at Gotham University and parked at his usual spot, but before he could lock his car Vivian was already walking towards him with her things. He greeted her halfway with a kiss and took her bag from her hold. It was heavier than usual, she was probably going to do some work at home or do work while she sits behind the Batcomputer tonight. 

“So, should we get takeout before we head to your place and get my things? Dick begged to get some burgers and fries for dinner,” said Bruce.

“Let’s head to my place first to get our things and then drive-thru.”

Vivian opened the door of the car but before she could get in Bruce asked her, “What do you mean get our things? I thought the idea was not to leave more stuff in the manor.”

Vivian shrugged. “My closet in the manor has most of my clothes now anyway, and we both know where this discussion is heading, right?”

“You want to move into the Manor?” Bruce smiled.

Vivian rolled her eyes when she saw his smile and got in the car so they could talk more. Bruce got in the car, started the engine with his car key, and waited for her response. 

“Yes, Bruce, I wanna move into the Manor – but tonight, I think my first and second drawer would be possible. I can set a weekend to pack my things so I can bring them there — and it just gives us more time to discuss how we’re going to put my things there. I mean, do I get my own room or are we sharing yours?”

Bruce laughed and held her hand, slipping his fingers between hers. “We can go into details later. First, are you sure you want to move into the Manor? You think three-years isn’t too early?”

“Do you plan on kicking me out soon or do you see this not working out?”

“No! God, no. And you?”

Vivian reached out to him with her free hand, brushing the hair at the back of his head, and leaned in to kiss his lips. “No. God, no,” she mimicked his words. “I think it’s time we put on our grown-up pants and take the next step – like Dick said.”

“So, we’re really doing this now… okay, let’s get some of your things and we can settle them in the closet that Alfred made for you in the manor – for now – and then we go get Dick’s burgers. Then we talk about how we’re going to do this.”

“Down to the very detail, Wayne. I mean, we need to discuss splitting bills, right?” Bruce shrugged, but his grin never faltered. 

“Yes. Exactly.”

“And what you’re going to do with your condo.”

“I’ll put it out for rent.”

“So, you got that covered, huh?”

“I have some people who are interested and would want to move in as soon as possible.”

“Then I guess we better get the movers this weekend… and Viv, you’re not getting your own room. We’ll have that closet of yours moved to our room where you’ll be sleeping in our bed. But I feel like you’d prefer your own study?”

“I get my own study?” Vivian laughed.

“Of course.”

“I’m sure you saw that my study is actually my living room or my dining table or my kitchen counter, right? And I only get a space in the faculty office.”

“You’ll get your own study with a ceiling to floor bookshelf.”

Vivian kissed him again. “I can’t wait to head home now so we can talk more about this study that we’ll be locking the doors to get away from Dick and Alfred.”

~*~

That night, Batman and Robin went home a bit earlier than usual patrols, and when they came back Bruce had Dick head to bed while he went to see Vivian in their bedroom and invited her to the kitchen where he had taken out for them both. A midnight snack while they discuss their arrangements.

It was around three in the morning now, they were halfway through their fries. Luckily Vivian’s first class was in the afternoon and Bruce didn’t have a meeting until three later. All this time they were discussing their arrangements and how they’ll be splitting the bills, when nothing seems to get to them, Alfred, who heard the ruckus in the kitchen, got out of bed to see what was going on.

Which was how the poor man ended up between the two adults fueled by coffee and fast food, mediating their discussion on bills and contributions. It took a while but in the end they finally managed to come to an agreement.

Yawning, Alfred laid out on the final paper the terms the couple had agreed on. “So, on this final decision that Master Bruce and Professor Pryor have settled,” he yawned again, glancing at the window he realized that the sun was coming up and he’ll need to start breakfast soon. “For this move-in to take place. All utilities, groceries, and maintenance of the Manor will be taken care of by Master Bruce – as per usual. But starting next semester, Professor Pryor will be paying for Master Dick’s schooling, which includes tuition, miscellaneous, projects, allowances, and school trips until he goes to college, and if Master Dick decides to go to college –”

“He is,” the couple said.

“At least you’re both in agreement on that,” Alfred muttered. “I wonder what Master Dick has to say about it… to continue, any personal expenses will be pay by each to their own. Personal assets will also remain to each of their own. Now, the discussion about Professor Pryor’s mode of transportation. To make things simple, the Professor will be acquiring a car – brand new, as per Master Bruce’s insistence, and an economy-sedan, as per Professor Pryor’s preference. The down payment will be made by Master Bruce but for the remaining monthly payments it will be for Professor Vivian to carry. But any future maintenance that is caused by criminal elements in the streets, Master Bruce will pay for the repairs or purchase a new car – a car in which will be Professor Pryor’s choosing. Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think that’s about it,” Vivian hid her yawn. “You good with this, Wayne?” she turned to Bruce who was also hiding a yawn.

“I’m good with this. Today we’re going to find you a car.”

“No, today, you both will be going to bed and then going to work in the afternoon. And after that you both will go home, rest, have a good meal and a good night’s sleep. Is that clear?” Alfred said in a commanding tone.

Seeing that they have no room for objections, the two adults nodded and said, “Yes, Alfred.”

“Good, now sign here and be off to bed. I shall inform Master Dick about your absence for breakfast and take him to school.”

Vivian and Bruce quickly signed their agreements and had their copies with them. They were kicked out of the kitchen by Alfred before they could get another cup of coffee and locked in their bedroom door and called out, “Goodnight!”

They didn’t go to sleep immediately that hour. How could they when after planning and the arguments, they needed a good release. But they did fall asleep once they finished and in the most uncomfortable position too, which led to a stiff neck and a sore shoulder.

~*~

It was either an BMW or a Mercedes-Benz. Vivian opted for a Toyota Vios or a Honda City but Bruce took her to those fancy car showrooms where he’s got a lot of connections. At first he showed her Toyota’s cars there, which she told him, “the fact Dick is happy to be here means this isn’t for me,” and pointed to the fourteen-year-old grinning ear-to-ear at a Toyota GR86 and was about to agree to go on a test ride until Vivian told the showroom people, “He’s fourteen years old.”

“I can drive,” Dick told her. He can and he can drive the Batmobile.

“You’re fourteen,” Vivian repeated, which was enough to say anymore. 

Dick sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her to the other side of the room. “I can drive.”

“Remember: a normal family. Dick, and normal families don’t have fourteen-year-olds driving a freaking tank chasing criminals,” Vivian whispered to him. 

After leaving Toyota’s sports car showroom, they went to the next place which was Mercedes-Benz. This time the place they went had an economy-sedan but the brand itself was too much for her taste. Then there was the BMW, which she will admit was way more her preference with its subtlety, which was important in Gotham so no one would think of car-jacking the vehicle. 

Getting the possible cars she could choose from, the group of three went to the cafe not far from the showrooms for lunch. Dick was excited for the pizza he ordered and couldn’t wait for it so he decided to start with the appetizers served, all the while Bruce and Vivian were going through the brochures and the quotations along with payment schemes – which Vivian requested for – all the while sharing the appetized from Vivian’s place as Dick asked Bruce if he was going to eat his portion.

“I like the BMW,” Vivian said, using the correct way of pronouncing the brand. 

“So do I,” Bruce said.

“Great, first thing we agreed on. And these payment terms look good for me – doable too..”

“Why not this?” He pointed to the higher down payment. “It could lessen the load on the monthlies and the insurance.”

“What was the agreed percentage on our agreement for the down payment for the car?” 

Before Bruce could answer, Dick said, “You didn’t settle for one. You just agreed that Bruce would pay for the down payment.”

Bruce smiled smugly at that. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Anything for this to end, it’s getting on my nerves and it’s getting on Alfred’s nerves. By the way, Viv, I saw that game you have in your box, can I play with that?”

“Help me out here and you can have it,” Vivian told him.

“Bribing a kid. A very nice example you’re setting here, Viv,” Bruce teased. “We’ll put in a bigger down payment, and I promise that I won’t meddle in your monthly expenses unless you ask.”

“Bruce, I know you’re not meddling. It’s just something that I can’t live with myself if — I can’t swallow –” Dick snorted which had Vivian kicking him under the table “-- the fact that everything is a hand me down.”

Bruce sighed. “I know, I just want to help you as much as I can.”

“And you have done so much for me. But I’m a big girl now, I gotta do these things on my own,” smiling, Vivian placed a kiss on his cheek. “But thank you for insisting on paying for the down payment. And… looking at it now, I think your choice for the payment scheme is more doable and gives me legroom – but don’t rub it on my face, jeez. Gloating doesn’t suit you, Wayne.”

Bruce chuckled and pressed a kiss on her temple. “I’m just glad we finally agreed on something and we can get this done and have you fully settled in at the Manor.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to throw a party for me.”

“I’m not, but I think the public is waiting for one.”

“No!”

The pizza finally came and Dick started to dig in before Bruce and Vivian’s dishes were even set on the table. And before the waiter left, Dick called for them and said, “Scotch neat, and make it a double. And drinking ginger ale for them. And for me, a chocolate milkshake. We’re celebrating, they finally finished this whole moving-in thing.”

~*~

Boxes were brought down, leaving only her duffle bag of clothes which Vivian had on her shoulder, and some books she couldn’t add to the boxes. Taking one last look around the place, she swept through each room one last time and noticed something that wasn’t there when she moved into the place. The protection spell she marked on the doors and windows, she had forgotten about those.

“All set, the movers are now taking the last of your things to the Manor, are you good?” Bruce went back inside to see her. “Vivian?”

“Yeah, I am,” Vivian wiped her hand across the mark. One moment it was there, the next it was a clean wall. The same goes to all the marks she placed in the condo. “All set, as if a witch didn’t live here at all.”

Taking the duffle bag from her, Bruce held her hand and said, “Do you feel like we’re rushing things?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts – I just wiped that thing off,” she joked.

“I’m not, but how do you feel about all this?”

“It took us two weeks for me to actually get all my things out of this place – but for the couch and the bed and the fridge, wow my tenants are lucky to have a fully furnished place…” Vivian counted the appliances she’ll be leaving, and to get her back on track, Bruce pulled her to him and kissed her nape. 

“Viv,” he murmured against her skin. “Are you sure?”

“I am. One-hundred-percent,” Vivian held his arms that embraced her. “Since moving from Liverpool, this is the first major step that I made that didn’t scare the shit out of me.”

“A good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing. Let’s go, Dick’s asked us to get drive-thru for lunch.”

“He’s taking advantage of this move to eat more junk food than he should be.”

“He’s a kid, Bruce, what do you expect?” Vivian closed and locked the door of her condo as they left. She’ll be handing over the keys to the tenant that booked the place for the next six months. “This is what makes us a good team. You bring class and ass kicking to his life, and I bring normal teenager stuff and McDonald’s. It’s a good combination to raise a kid.”

“I guess you’re right,” Bruce entered the elevator. “I’ll miss this elevator, though.”

“Yeah, and I bet Creepy Norman would miss the shows we give him everytime we couldn’t wait too,” Vivian waved at the elevator camera. “Bye Norman, see you whenever I drop by to see the place!”

Exiting the building, the couple got in the silver BMW, threw the bag to the back, and Vivian got in the driver’s seat and drove away from the building and down the road heading to Wayne Manor, but first, she’ll get Dick his burger and fries.

[lily-radiance]

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

[thiccpersonality]

Damian (Gremlin) Wayne...and his even more gremlin-esque family pt.2

Bruce enters the dining room, ignoring Alfred's curious glance as to why he is early for dinner in favor of sitting at the head of the table. His icy blue eyes looking around the room confused as to why none of his own kids are on time.

Bruce: "Alfred?"

The question in his voice is all Alfred needs to hear for him to turn around, his face calm and voice reassuring, helping to ease Bruce's nerves: "No need to fret master Bruce. Your boys have only taken the time to know each other is all, I went down there myself and they were doing fairly well together...all thing's considered."

That was a straight up lie, but what his son doesn't know won't hurt him. Alfred is praying right now that none of the boys have found a way to kill each other already...or it's more like, he hopes they haven't chosen a way to kill each other yet. Heaven forbid Alfred has to clean one of his grandchildrens blood, guts and corpse(s) off of his pristine floors.

Bruce relaxes a bit at his butler (father) telling him that. Before Bruce can ask where they are though, the sound of multiple footsteps is heard making their way to the dining room, before the boys enter though, Alfred can't help but ask why Bruce was so early for dinner.

At the question Bruce flushes a little, clearing his throat and messing with the carefully folded napkin lying on his plate: "Oh...I didn't want to leave Damian alone in a room full of strangers on his first day. I know he barely knows me as well, but I was told from him that Talia at least talked about me a lot. I'm actually more surprised at how quickly he's taken to me."

If Bruce were to look up he'd see Alfred staring at him adoringly, but due to his own bashfulness, he keeps his head down...until his kids stumble-crash-through the door in a very loud pile.

Richard to Jason: "I always sit next to Bruce! Stop trying to always take my spot you cretin!"

Jason to Richard: "That right there is the reason I always try to take your spot! Makes your blood boil, doesn't it?"

Tim to Jason: "Jason, you are too fat! Cut the junk food out of your life and get off of me!"

Jason pushes more of his weight onto Tim: "Hypocrite. Stop being a caffeine addict and then think of preachin' to me about cutting things out of my life. Although, now that you suggest it...I think I could afford to cut you out of my life."

Tim groans at how heavy Jason is. A disgruntled look in his eyes and displeased frown on his lips as he struggles under the larger form: "Trust me. Any participation I have in your life is forced, if it weren't for Bruce, you would never interact with me."

Jason's eyebrow twitches in agitation at the sassy reply, a pained shout ripped from his throat at Richard suddenly biting him: "Oy dickhead! Why'd you bite me you mangy little bitch!?"

Richard smiles at Jason innocently: "My mouth slipped onto your arm, my apologies."

Jason growls and lightens his weight on Tim to face Richard more: "You little-my fist will slip onto your face if you pull that shit again!"

Before Richard can give a snide remark, they all hear a suspiciously meek voice speak up from across the room. The three arguing youths turn-snap-their heads to the source of the noise, gasping simultaneously at Damian standing next to Bruce's chair, big green eyes glancing up at him in a (begrudgingly admitted) adorable display of innocence.

Damian: "Father...am I allowed to sit with you?"

Bruce's agitation at his eldest three arguing is quickly replaced by love at the sheer (UwU-kawaii) curiosity and affection in his baby son's gaze. The older man can't help the soft smile on his face as he nods, curiosity winning over as to why Damian would even ask: "Of course you can, hun. Why would...why would you need to ask that?"

The gremlin inside Damian Wayne is screeching in victory at how he has Bruce wrapped around his little finger already. Keeping up the innocence he answers in all honesty, however, he knows his father is someone who wouldn't appreciate his answer no matter how normal it seemed to himself, which is exactly why he says it.

Damian shrugs and innocently says: "Back with grandfather and mother, they didn't allow me to eat with them until I was good enough to eat with them. If I didn't perform my duties in a proper manner I would either not be allowed access to my dietary needs or be separated from them in my room or a cage until I was good enough to dine with them."

Terror is written on Bruce's face, who would do that to an innocent little bean like his son!?

Damian gasps softly in surprise as large hands settle under his arms and lift his small form onto a firm-but oddly soft enough and comfortable-lap. The scent of cinnamon, vanilla and a tiny bit of rose fill Damian's nostrils, Bruce bringing his youngest son's head to his neck as the shocked man buries his nose in the spiky hair.

Bruce softly speaking to Damian: "I'm sorry. They will NEVER do that to you again, you can eat as much as you want. You can even sit with me anytime you want...don't ask."

Damian forgets the competition for a little while in his father's warm embrace, melting slowly into the sturdy form before realizing his "competition" and turning his head towards them. His smirk haughty and eyes gleaming with arrogance at the conundrum he has caused for the three blind mice over there.

Alfred gently clears his throat after a moment of silence and takes the left side seat next to Bruce: "If you gentlemen wouldn't mind not wrestling on the floor like middle schoolers and taking your seats. That would be most delightful."

Six sets of eyes home in on the right side chair. The three straightening up and looking at each other challengingly before breaking out into another battle by pushing at each other. Too focused on the fight to see Bruce tilt his head back in exasperation and Damian happily chewing away at his salmon and rice in victory.

Bruce gives a bewildered look to Alfred after he's done sighing, his pink lips tugging into a frown: "I thought you said they were getting along well?"

Alfred lifts his fork to his lips, gunmetal blue eyes watching the eldest three in amusement, his own lips stretching into a smirk over his utensil: "I also said all things considered."

Bruce just sighs and starts to eat his food as well, holding onto Damian securely as he watches the chaos unfold.

[endeavour12345fics]

Saving a life, chapter 4

A few weeks went by, and Eleazar was getting stronger as they passed. He still slept a lot but was able to spend longer and longer periods awake. Philip was with him when he wasn’t in class or sleeping.

One of these days, he had brought a poetry book he’d got in Hogsmeade, Idylls of the King, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. As he started reading “The Passing of Arthur” aloud, softly so that he didn’t disturb Eleazar, the old man looked at him.

“What are you reading?” he asked, with a note of excited curiosity in his voice.

“’The Passing of Arthur’, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.” Philip replied with a smile.

“I see.” Eleazar said, after glancing at the text. “Would you like me to read King Arthur’s lines?”

“Only if you feel strong enough to do so. There’s quite a lot of lines. Please don’t overexert yourself, dad.” Philip couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice.

“I think I can do it.” Eleazar said, smiling. Philip moved his chair so that the two of them could see the text in the book.

Philip started reading, his voice soft and calm: “That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,/…”

When it was his turn, Eleazar started his own lines. “"I found Him in the shining of the stars,/I mark'd Him in the flowering of His fields,/But in His ways with men I find Him not./I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.” He kept going, his voice growing stronger with every word. When he finished the first verse, he helped himself to a glass of water on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling?” Philip asked, not being able to contain himself.

“I feel good, but tired. This was fun, but maybe we can continue later.”

Philip nodded, marking the page, and closing the book. “Please rest. I will still be here if you need me.” He tucked him in the blankets, then sat down again.

After a few hours (Nurse Blainey had meanwhile checked on them), Aesop appeared. He smiled at Philip, glanced at Eleazar, and conjured a chair for himself.

“Thank Merlin he’s sleeping.” he said in a low voice. “I have something for him, but if he was awake it would ruin the surprise. I’ll be right back.”

He left for a few minutes, coming back rolling his wheelchair in front of him. “I thought it may cheer him up.” He sat down and waited for Eleazar to wake up.

When he did, the first thing he noticed was Aesop sitting next to him, for he wasn’t there when he’d fallen asleep.

 “Hello, Aesop. You look rather pleased.”

“I am, and you’ll soon see why.” Aesop replied, getting up and rolling the wheelchair closer to his friend.

Eleazar looked at it, then back at Aesop, then at Philip, both of them smiling.

“Do you want to try it?”

“In fact, I do. This bed is really comfortable, but I’m growing rather tired of it.”

“Alright. Please put your arm around Philip’s shoulders.” he instructed, as he put Eleazar’s other arm around his own shoulders.

“Are you ready?” he asked the two of them, who both nodded. “Let’s do it on 3. 1.., 2.., 3!”

Eleazar found himself sitting in the wheelchair. The three of them smiled widely.

“I want to record this moment.” Aesop said, almost solemnly. He took a charcoal pencil and a piece of parchment from his pocket, and sketched fast, the lines quickly becoming a recognisable drawing. When he finished, he showed it to Eleazar and Philip, who nodded approvingly.

“I will copy it into a proper sheet of parchment and clean it up. Then you can hang it in your rooms or in your dormitory.” He said, smiling at both of them.

When it was time for lights out in the hospital wing, Philip stayed with Eleazar until he was asleep, then went to his common room.

He had been as surprised as Eleazar had and couldn’t forget his dad’s smile as he sat in the wheelchair. He was recovering well, and Philip was really happy for him.

Notes: The poem mentioned and quoted is "Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur", by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Here's a link to the full poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45325/idylls-of-the-king-the-passing-of-arthur There's also a song I really like, based on part of this poem: https://open.spotify.com/track/2wxxqsy0JGHba7WYTTDDZ9?si=298d44c95a724113

[landboundstar]

Trade Secrets Part 5

Back to Giovanni Zatara as narrator. Still pre - Crime Alley in my AU made up of my mishmash Gotham City, assembled from all the stories I love.

Little bit more centered on Thomas, Martha, and Giovanni this chapter, but will build some more on my takes on Harvey, Selina, Bruce, and Zatanna as we go. Still a lot more building on these ships and headcanon backstories.

Trade Secrets

Part 5

I sat down on the foot of the bed, looking as she let the dress fall from her hands onto the bedspread.

"Thank you for indulging me, Gio." Martha smoothed the skirt of the dress I had bought for Zatanna out. "I always see the adorable clothes in the girl's section. Unfortunately, I don't have a reason to shop there. It's one of the few downsides of only having a boy. Seeing the clothes Alfred and you buy for Rachel and Zatanna lets me enjoy that vicariously."

Martha smiled, patting me on the arm. "I know you miss your Sindella, and I wish I could have met her. But, I've been seeing Zatanna grow up, and you are raising a wonderful daughter."

"Yes, well nothing has caught on fire or been turned into a bunny in the last three weeks." I told her, not even trying to hide the tears in my eyes. 

She was right. I missed Sindella, and I did wonder what she would think of how I was raising our daughter. But, I loved our daughter and honestly enjoyed seeing her delight in the colorful dresses and tops as much as I enjoyed Martha's request to see the outfits as well.

I stood up, and walked over to the window. Zatanna was playing in the garden with Rachel and Selina and the three girls appeared to be drawing a complicated game of hopscotch on the path. Things seemed to have been normal between Zatanna with both Bruce and Harvey, which I had been worried about after the cat incident. But, I was also not surprised that Zatanna had chosen hopscotch over the movie that the boys had chosen to watch.

"I have to admit, this plaid dress is my favorite."

Martha unfolded the next dress that I had bought, admiring the blue and green tartan.

"Yes, it is quite fetching." Alfred mentioned from the doorway. "Although, I have to admit that I think that dress will look cuter on Zatanna than it did the last time I saw that particular pattern."

I coughed, not successfully smothering a laugh. Martha shook her head with her own chuckle, so I knew that Martha had heard the story about the Scot in Alfred's MI6 unit who had indeed worn a kilt in the same pattern as I had picked out. While the kilted soldier had been quite a striking figure, I had to find it equally unlikely that Zatanna would not be far cuter in her plaid dress than the grizzled veteran.

"Well, I am sure your colleague had other skills." Martha told Alfred.

"Oh, that he did. Since you are going out with Thomas later, would you like me to have the children come have supper before you get ready to leave?"

"That probably would be a good idea. Honestly, I think I want to have supper before I leave rather than survive on champagne and canapes for the evening."

"A family dinner sounds excellent then." 

"Join us, Gio."

I smiled, "Of course."

Walking back over to the window, I looked out and saw Selina pick a flower and give it to Zatanna.

Zatanna tucked it behind her ear, and kissed Selina on the cheek. 

I had not realized Martha had joined me at the window, until I heard her say, "Awww. The girls are being sweet."

"They are."

Heading downstairs with me, Martha turned. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Harvey is definitely a fan. He still has that trick coin you pulled out from behind his dad's ear."

I laughed, a little startled. "The one Selina took from him?"

"That's the one. He treats it like a good luck charm."

I knew just how quickly luck could turn, but decided to keep that opinion to myself. 

"Alfred just told me about an early dinner." Thomas kissed his wife on the cheek. "That sounds fantastic. The girls are getting cleaned up, and Alfred is getting both boys."

I looked towards the living room, where the boys sat as the screen went blank, making a Bela Lugosi Dracula parody disappear. As soon as the image was gone, Bruce's fingers uncurled from Harvey's grip.

I pulled Thomas aside.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Thomas did not even pretend to misunderstand me. "Not for me. It was a surprise, but never a problem.I've seen weirder things than my son wanting to hold hands with both boys and girls. Funny how having a friend who can cast magic puts that into perspective. And whoever he likes, I like the boy my son is growing into."

"What about for Harvey?"

"Mr. Dent has very definite opinions about what type of a man he wants his son to grow into. And I am worried without a way out, it is going to break something in Harvey. He's a good kid, but he'll never be what his father wants."

I put my hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Isn't it good he has a good friend then? How did you raise such a good kid anyhow?"

Thomas smiled. "I'm going to borrow one of your lines, Gio. Trade secret."

[landboundstar-writing]

Trade Secrets Part 5

From my main blog and AO3

Please tip if you can, please reblog if you can't. Every little bit helps.

I sat down on the foot of the bed, looking as she let the dress fall from her hands onto the bedspread.

"Thank you for indulging me, Gio." Martha smoothed the skirt of the dress I had bought for Zatanna out. "I always see the adorable clothes in the girl's section. Unfortunately, I don't have a reason to shop there. It's one of the few downsides of only having a boy. Seeing the clothes Alfred and you buy for Rachel and Zatanna lets me enjoy that vicariously."

Martha smiled, patting me on the arm. "I know you miss your Sindella, and I wish I could have met her. But, I've been seeing Zatanna grow up, and you are raising a wonderful daughter."

"Yes, well nothing has caught on fire or been turned into a bunny in the last three weeks." I told her, not even trying to hide the tears in my eyes. 

She was right. I missed Sindella, and I did wonder what she would think of how I was raising our daughter. But, I loved our daughter and honestly enjoyed seeing her delight in the colorful dresses and tops as much as I enjoyed Martha's request to see the outfits as well.

I stood up, and walked over to the window. Zatanna was playing in the garden with Rachel and Selina and the three girls appeared to be drawing a complicated game of hopscotch on the path. Things seemed to have been normal between Zatanna with both Bruce and Harvey, which I had been worried about after the cat incident. But, I was also not surprised that Zatanna had chosen hopscotch over the movie that the boys had chosen to watch.

"I have to admit, this plaid dress is my favorite."

Martha unfolded the next dress that I had bought, admiring the blue and green tartan.

"Yes, it is quite fetching." Alfred mentioned from the doorway. "Although, I have to admit that I think that dress will look cuter on Zatanna than it did the last time I saw that particular pattern."

I coughed, not successfully smothering a laugh. Martha shook her head with her own chuckle, so I knew that Martha had heard the story about the Scot in Alfred's MI6 unit who had indeed worn a kilt in the same pattern as I had picked out. While the kilted soldier had been quite a striking figure, I had to find it equally unlikely that Zatanna would not be far cuter in her plaid dress than the grizzled veteran.

"Well, I am sure your colleague had other skills." Martha told Alfred.

"Oh, that he did. Since you are going out with Thomas later, would you like me to have the children come have supper before you get ready to leave?"

"That probably would be a good idea. Honestly, I think I want to have supper before I leave rather than survive on champagne and canapes for the evening."

"A family dinner sounds excellent then." 

"Join us, Gio."

I smiled, "Of course."

Walking back over to the window, I looked out and saw Selina pick a flower and give it to Zatanna.

Zatanna tucked it behind her ear, and kissed Selina on the cheek. 

I had not realized Martha had joined me at the window, until I heard her say, "Awww. The girls are being sweet."

"They are."

Heading downstairs with me, Martha turned. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Harvey is definitely a fan. He still has that trick coin you pulled out from behind his dad's ear."

I laughed, a little startled. "The one Selina took from him?"

"That's the one. He treats it like a good luck charm."

I knew just how quickly luck could turn, but decided to keep that opinion to myself. 

"Alfred just told me about an early dinner." Thomas kissed his wife on the cheek. "That sounds fantastic. The girls are getting cleaned up, and Alfred is getting both boys."

I looked towards the living room, where the boys sat as the screen went blank, making a Bela Lugosi Dracula parody disappear. As soon as the image was gone, Bruce's fingers uncurled from Harvey's grip.

I pulled Thomas aside.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Thomas did not even pretend to misunderstand me. "Not for me. It was a surprise, but never a problem.I've seen weirder things than my son wanting to hold hands with both boys and girls. Funny how having a friend who can cast magic puts that into perspective. And whoever he likes, I like the boy my son is growing into."

"What about for Harvey?"

"Mr. Dent has very definite opinions about what type of a man he wants his son to grow into. And I am worried without a way out, it is going to break something in Harvey. He's a good kid, but he'll never be what his father wants."

I put my hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Isn't it good he has a good friend then? How did you raise such a good kid anyhow?"

Thomas smiled. "I'm going to borrow one of your lines, Gio. Trade secret."

[darkacua]

I read Brad Wayne's hashtag and now I can't stop thinking.

As the title says, I read too much about Brad Wayne and now my mind can't stop thinking about it. So I would like to think that everyone is (relatively) calm about Brad's arrival at the mansion, if they have their doubts about whether he is an evil clone or if he is a villain resentful because Bruce did not know how to use a condom and never went back into contact with his ex-girlfriend, but they are trying to take it easy, especially Damian, who still has a few problems accepting that his father has not only another blood son but is also older and therefore more worthy of his legacy ( he knows this is not true but bad habits die longer).

To give him some credit Brad really pays attention to Damian, to be honest he pays great attention to everyone, he went from being an only child to having around 6 brothers and sisters in one day and he wants to make the most of it so he tries to learn you everyone's interests and do bonding activities with them.

Dick is impressed by this boy's dedication to fitting in with the family and convinces (cough*force*cough) everyone to try the activities including Bruce and Alfred. It was a productive day when they discovered that Tim can take 10 completely perfect photos while running an obstacle course against Cass (these photos were framed at Bruce's request).

Damian begins to trust Brad a little more when he discovers that he has a pet, and not just any pet, he has nothing more and nothing less than 2 rabbits and a parakeet.

Damien after eavesdropping on Dick and Brad talking: So you have a pet?

Brad: Oh yes! I have three actually their names are Robert, Kiwi and Maria!, but I didn't think it was a good idea to move them at the moment, since I'm going back to university and long trips tend to make my Robert sick.

D: What breed of dog is Robert?

B: Oh no, Robert is not a dog, he is a rabbit, in fact Maria is also a rabbit and Kiwi is a parakeet :D

D:... did you buy them?

B: Nah, I found Kiwi on the ground near a palm tree when he was just a chick, and a friend gave me Robert and Maria after breaking into a cosmetics lab and stealing them after a strike over animal rights, but don't tell anyone that last thing please, I don't want my friend arrested.

After that day, Damian becomes a little nicer to Brad, especially after the latter promised to send him pictures of his pets.

Brad: Man! you are all so awesome, I can't wait to tell Samantha about you!

Jason: Samantha? Who is that, your girlfriend?

Brad: what? Oh no! hahaha she's my other half sister! or at least we think so, i met her in an online chat talking about gotham and possible illegitimate children of bruce, there is a high probability that she is also your daughter (pointing to bruce) but her mom refuses to talk about it, looks like she's really mad at you :D

Bruce: ….

Batfamily: ….

That day the Bat-Family discovered that Bruce does not know how to use a condom and he decided to make an appointment to have a vasectomy.

Español bajo el corte.

Como dice el título, leí demasiado sobre Brad Wayne y ahora mi mente no para de pensar en ello. Así que me gustaría pensar que todos están (relativamente) tranquilos con la llegada de Brad a la mansión, si tienen sus dudas sobre si es un clon malvado o si es un villano resentido porque Bruce no supo usar un condón y nunca volvió a entrar en contacto con su exnovia, pero están intentando tomárselo con calma, sobre todo Damian, que aun tiene unos cuantos problemas para aceptar que su padre tiene no solo otro hijo de sangre si no que también es mayor y por lo tanto más digno de su legado (él sabe que esto no es cierto pero los malos hábitos tardan más en morir).

Para darle un poco de crédito Brad realmente le presta atención a Damian, siendo sinceros les presta una gran atención a todos, pasó de ser hijo único a tener alrededor de 6 hermanos y hermanas en un dia y quiere aprovecharlo al maximo, asi que intenta aprenderte todos los intereses de cada uno y hacer actividades de unión con ellos.

Dick está impresionado por la dedicación de este chico para poder encajar en la familia y convence (cof*obliga*cof) a todos a intentar las actividades incluyendo a Bruce y Alfred. Fue un día productivo cuando descubrieron que Tim puede tomar 10 fotos completamente perfectas mientras corre una carrera de obstáculos contra Cass (estas fotos fueron enmarcadas por petición de Bruce).

Damian empieza a confiar un poco más en Brad cuando descubre que este tiene una mascota, y no cualquier mascota, tiene nada más y nada menos que 2 conejos y un perico.

Damián después de escuchar a escondidas a Dick y Brad hablar: ¿Así que, tienes una mascota?

Brad: Oh, si! tengo tres de hecho sus nombres son Robert, Kiwi y Maria!, pero no pensé que fuera buena idea moverlas en este momento, ya que regresare a la universidad y los viajes largos tienden a enfermar a mi Robert.

D: ¿Qué raza de perro es Robert?

B: Oh no, Robert no es un perro, es un conejo, de hecho Maria también en un conejo y Kiwi es un perico :D

D:... los compraste?

B: Nah, encontré a Kiwi en el piso cerca de una palmera cuando era apenas un polluelo, y un amigo me dio a Robert y a Maria después de entrar a un laboratorio de cosméticos y robarlos después de una huelga sobre el derecho de los animales, pero no le digas a nadie eso último por favor, no quiero que arresten a mi amigo.

Después de ese día Damian se vuelve un poco más amable con Brad, sobre todo después de que este último le prometiera mandarle fotos de sus mascotas.

Brad: ¡Hombre! todos ustedes son tan geniales, ¡no puedo esperar a hablarle a Samanta sobre ustedes!

Jason: ¿Samanta? ¿Quién es esa, tu novia?

Brad: ¿Qué? ¡Oh no! jajaja es mi otra media hermana! o al menos eso creemos, la conocí en un chat de línea que hablaba sobre Gotham y posibles hijos ilegítimos de Bruce, hay una gran probabilidad de que ella también sea hija tuya (señalando a Bruce) pero su mamá se niega a hablar del tema, parece que está realmente enojada contigo :D

Bruce: ….

Batifamilia: ….

Ese día la batifamilia descubrió que Bruce en efecto no sabe cómo usar un condón y este decidió sacar una cita para hacerse una vasectomía.

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors note: Here is the Mafia AU! Hope you enjoy it! Tried to make it as spicy as I could but stuck with something simple a little bit fluffy, because we are just seeing Bruce being all happy and gooey for his sunshine husband who is a teacher! |(￣3￣)|

Request: Hi, can I request Male reader x Bruce Wayne Mafia au where reader is Bruce's Husband. Reader being a school teacher coming home to their manor/mansion before Bruce arrives from his "Mafia work" that reader doesn't know about since bruce hides it from him for some reason. Bruce comes home, very moody and angry because of work, reader trying to calm down his husband, then maybe he thinks of letting bruce use him (with consent of course) to let off steam👀 (so smut but its up to you if no details).

Warnings: Fluff, mafia AU, Bruce is a mob boss, husbands, reader is a sunshine, NSFW, 18+ only, mentions of oral, language, rough sex, consent, unprotected sex ( be safe in real life ), Bruce needs some stress relief, domestic house husbands.

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @readerisobssessed

—

—

Bruce Wayne is a patient man, but when something goes wrong he won’t hesitate to kill the persons who screwed up there deals. Everyone in Gotham knew who he was and what he did, everyone feared the man and shakes him respect if they didn’t want to get themselves killed. What surprised a lot of people about Bruce is his husband, Y/n.

The young man was brighter than the sun, opposite from Bruce. He was Gothams popular middle school teacher, educating young children and helping them learn. What surprised them the most was that his husband had no idea who Bruce was. The man was either oblivious or just refused to believe that his husband was one of the most dangerous men living in Gotham.

Bruce was also surprised when he learned about this. The first time he met his husband he expected him to freak out and run or to be cautious around him. But, instead he would smoky brightly at Bruce and give him kisses. The man would also bake whenever Bruce felt down and offered him cookies. Bruce immediately fell in love with the man, dating him and then marrying him after a year.

Due to Bruce being married to an adorable husband he couldn’t help but grow protective of him to the point where he hired bodyguards for his husband and to work under the school, keeping themselves hidden as they watched over Bruce Wayne’s husband bonding with the children. Bruce had planned to tell his husband about his job and who he really was, but was afraid to ruin their marriage.

The two understood each other so well that when Bruce arrived home angry and upset, his husband is able to feel his anger, causing him to raise a brow in question as he finished cleaning the kitchen that Alfred allowed him to use as long as he cleaned up his mess. He cleans his hands on the rag and take the fresh plate of cookies to the living room where he sees Bruce sitting back on the couch, tie loosened and head thrown back.

“Hi.” Y/n says, looking down at him as Bruce opened his eyes to stare up at his husband who was upside down. He gives him a soft smile in return. “Cookie?” He held one out to Bruce, holding it near his lips as Bruce takes a bite into it. Taking the cookie into his hand as he sat up properly.

Y/n sets the plate on the coffee table and sits next to Bruce. “From the way your acting and eating the cookie,” he starts while Bruce looked away angrily. “I’m guessing something went wrong at work?”

It didn’t go wrong, it went terrible. Bruce but his trust on a newbie and lost ten million, causing him to give the new guy a lesson and to be taught properly. “Don’t worry about it.” He sighs out, running his fingers in his hair and pushing it back. “I’ve got it handled, just stressed.”

Y/n frowns, moving closer to Bruce as he placed his hand on his shoulder. “Want me to run you a warm bath?” He offers, leaning to kiss his cheek and his neck.

Bruce sighs in relief, turning to face his husband and pulling him close. He was far too stressed and a warmth bath won’t relieve it, he shakes his head at the next thought. He wouldn’t use his husband as stress relief, no. He told himself from the very beginning that he would never use his husband.

“Bruce?”

“A bath sounds nice.” He responds back, smiling and kissing him softly on the lips. Which Y/n leans into, placing his hands on his shoulders as deeps the kiss, catching Bruce off guard as he crawls onto his lap, still kissing him and trialing his hands down his back.

Bruce moans against his lips, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him close. He’s too focused on kissing his husband that he doesn’t feel him trail his hands down his chest and to his belt, until he hears him unbuckling it’s. Bruce is quick to pull away. “What—?”

“It’s okay.” Y/n hums out, smiling at him. “Let me help you.”

Bruce shakes his head, gripping his wrists. “I’m fine.”

His husband frowns. “No your not, your stressed and need to let it out.”

“Not on you.” Bruce bites back. It wasn’t the first time they’ve had sex, they’ve done it various times but bruce was always gentle with him and took care of him and this anger he felt, he wasn’t going to let it out on his husband. He couldn’t be rough with him and hurt him.

“Bruce.” Y/n’s voice becomes stern, shocking the Wayne. “I want this, I really do.” He whines out, grinning down against him. “Your always so nice and soft, but this lust I see in your eyes,” he bites his lip. “I want you to be rough, I know you want too.”

“No—“ bruce shakes his head.

“I know you want to bend me over, fuck me against the coffee table. Maybe even against our bedroom door.” He whispers against Bruce’s ear. “I want to feel you deep inside of me, fucking me hard while scream your name. I want to feel you the next day.” He takes Bruce’s hand and placed it against his hard on, surprising him.

Bruce swallows nervously as he looks up to his husband. Y/n held pleading eyes full of lust as he grinds up against his hands as bruce groans. Whatever happened to his sunshine husband? The man who would smile brightly and teach young kids new things everyday?

“Bruce.”

Bruce’s attention is back on his husband. “Please.” Bruce snarled and shoved his mouth over Y/n’s, pushing his tongue ruthlessly in passed his teeth and sucking and flicking about him. The wet noises of their kissing filled the room and Y/n gave a little whimper as he reached up to tug at Bruce’s hair. Bruce’s larger hands went down and cupped at Y/n’s cheeks, gripping them tight before he massaged them open and shut and then gripped them again. His lover moaned, pleased with the attention.

They pulled apart for air, Y/n nipping at Bruce’s lips, before he started to fumble with Wayne’s tie, removing it completely and throwing it aside. Bruce smirks at him before coming to a stand, hearing his husband gasp in surprise as he kept his legs around his waist and carried him back to their bedroom for some privacy and where he throws him back on their large bed.

Y/n giggled as he flops down on the bed while Bruce worked on removing his button down, fumbling with the last button as he slips it off quickly, exposing his pale chest, scars littered his chest as Y/n roamed his hands over his broad chest. “Your body is beautiful.” He hums out, leaning up to place a kiss on his chest.

“So is yours and I want to see it. Get out of those clothes.” Bruce reached down to pull in his husband a belt buckle, lifting him up the bed a bit and pushing him back while he chuckles.

Y/n grins, struggling with his sweater and pulling it off while Bruce worked on his belt buckle, harshly pulling it out from a round his waist and startling his husband. “Bruce.” He whines out.

“I can buy you a new belt.” Bruce leans forward to place a kiss on his face, unbuttoning his pants and zipper and helping him shimmy out of them. Y/n bites his lip, moving his hips to remove his pants to reveal himself half naked, boxers still on but his hard on is now more visible.

Bruce eyes widen as he stares down at his beautiful husband. “Fuck.”

Y/n’s fave turns red as he slowly sits up, reaching out to trace his fingers temptingly and pressed them into the hem of Bruce’s pants. “Love, please…please put this inside me.”

Bruce growled and undid his pants and pushed them off quickly. “Shouldn’t you be a little slow? Enjoy it?” Y/n teased and kissed him again. “Your a tease and you’ll always be one.” Bruce tugs on his husbands boxers, a loud rip of fabric startles Y/n.

“Bruce!”

He looks at his destroyed boxers.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t worry darling, you married a rich man. I can buy you new ones.” Bruce mouths at his neck as Y/n’s goes red, looking away in shyness. Bruce’s eyes look up to his husband and chuckles at how his husband went from hungry lust to a shy Angel.

“Y/n.” He breaths out. “I want you.”

“I want you…want you in me.” Y/n turns back to face Bruce, reaching up to nibble under his jaw. “Please, tell me how you want me.”

“All fours.”

Y/n released a weak noise, “Fuck, yeah okay.” He moved over to their bed, crawling over on it. “I…uhm…”

Bruce’s smirk widens. “Put your shoulder down against the bed.” When his husband didn’t move quick enough he grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him down the mattress. “Just like that.”

“Bruce.” Y/n whimpered.

“Stay.” Bruce stood back and grinned at the beautiful sight. “Fuck, look at you.”

“Bruce, please.” Y/n loves over his shoulder. Bruce smiled, licking his lips hungrily and reached over to open his beloved up. “Y/n…” His fingers reached over to stroke over the hole, playing over the rim, purring to himself as it twitched. Y/n felt bruce shift behind him and then Y/n lunged forward in surprise, eyes flying open wide when Bruce’s tongue was pushed mercilessly into him. “Bruce!” He gasped out.

Bruces mouth was a bit occupied so he just hummed back and Y/n yelped again. This was new. Bruce had eaten him out a few times but not so deeply nor aggressively before. He could feel his nose pressed up against him as he fed into Y/n like he was starving. “Oh, Bruce!” He shrieked out. He knows that they’ve gone this aggressive or rough before and he gave Bruce his permission to do so, and he was enjoying it.

“Can’t—I’m gonna—!” He screamed as he came untouched into the mattress beneath him. He groaned, upper body falling weakly into the softness as he lower form began to join before Bruces firm hands grasped him and held him in place. “Now that your relaxed, we should be able to move to the next step.” Bruce licked his lips and sat up.

“Deep breaths.” Bruce whispers as his only warning before his thick, dripping head popped into Y/n and before his husband could catch his breath he gave a rough thrust. “Bruce!” Y/n squeals, his hands gripping the end sheets as he bites into the pillows beneath him. His breathing become heavily but is quick to calm himself. Bruce groans as he started pounding. His husband giving off moans between thrusts, growing louder each time he slammed into him. With each frantic thrust, Bruce looked down at Y/n’s gorgeous ass, watching it bounce with each thrust.

“Bruce—fuck, harder!” Y/n throws his head back, eyes glossy from the intense pleasure. All this time whenever Bruce was soft with him he enjoyed the small gestures and the amount of times that Bruce was gentle with him. But this whole new side of Bruce and the frantic fucking he was giving him was something he was enjoying. He loved this side of his husband as he fucked him into their mattress.

“You want to come?” Bruce questions and pulling back, causing his husband to whine at the lose before he’s lifted up and pressed up against his chest. His back to him while Bruce slammed back down into him.

Y/n sobbed as he bounced back against Bruce. “Yes! Please I want to come, let me come!” He pleads out between moans and whimpers while Bruce reached down to wrap his fingers around him, jerking him off as Y/n gasps. It was too much for him, he felt like he was going to explode.

“Does my good boy want to come?” Bruce grunts out against his neck, licking and biting down. “Yes! Yes! Let me come let me come!”

Bruce smirks at his husband. “That’s it,” he threw his head back and practically moans out loudly as Y/n clamped around him, squeezing tight. The two coming together, y/n gripping Bruce’s wrist and whining out. When he came back to himself he was still pumping Y/n with his seed and he moaned, the heat and squelching noise was delightful. It was the best orgasm he had ever had.

Y/n was panting softly as he leans back against Bruce who gently and slowly pulls out, lying him back down on the bed as he kissed the back of his neck and back. “Easy.” He hears Bruce whisper to him as he turns him around my slowly to see Y/n smiling.

“That was new.” Y/n says with a chuckle as Bruce chuckles in return, leaning down to capture his lips into a soft kiss. “Let me clean you up.” He mumbled against his lips as Y/n nods tiredly, watching Bruce pull away and head towards their bathroom where he grabs a wet rag to clean up their mess, his husbands eyes closing slowly and tired.

Bruce smiles, tossing the rag in the hamper and covering Y/n up with the blankets as he crawled next to his side, holding him close to his chest as he kissed the top of his head. Y/n groaning and shifting around to snuggling up to his chest. The Wayne sighs to himself as he keeps his arms wrapped around his husband as the two slept the day away.

When morning came, Bruce is awoken by the sound of his husbands phone ringing. The billionaire groans, shifting to the other side as he reached down on their discarded clothes, fishing out Y/n’s phone as he answers.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hello? Is Y/n there by any chance? My name is Stephan, from Gothams middle school office. We were wondering if Y/n would be coming in today?”

Bruce glanced at the clock that hung on their bedroom wall. Y/n was suppose to be teaching today and he was an hour late. He looks over his shoulder to see y/n still asleep, peacefully and comfortable.

Bruce smiles and clears his throat. “Im sorry but Y/n won’t be able to make it in today, he is sick at the moment and should get better later on.” He informs to the man on the other side of the phone before hanging up and tossing the phone aside, crawling back under the sheets and hugging Y/n close as he chuckles to himself.

[alrighty-matty]

flashes and hallways

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: you finally saw him again after two years, and he just had to make a grand entrance everywhere he goes.

Warning: SPOILER FOR THE BATMAN! not really going into details about it, but it’s quite spoiler-y so be wary of it.

Note: ngg i have this on my draft since right after i finished that long ass movie. it was so good. i’m back on my bullshit about him i’m afraid.

read part 2 here

You always found hospital hallways oddly scary, but you trudged along stubbornly.

Your shoes squeaked as you rushed through the recently-waxed floor, incredibly clean and shiny you were almost sure you could see your own reflection on the floor. There was a rush of blurry white all around you, people walking back and forth, pushing past through you, too drowned in their mission to apologize properly when they brushed over your shoulder.

Why the fuck this hallway is so long?

The room was tucked behind, away from public eyes. You knew why he was taken there—it only make sense if he was taken there, you’d be a little affronted if he didn’t—but God, you wished they didn’t have to be so far away from the main entrance door that you have to sprint the whole fucking Gotham just to get into the right place.

People gave you nods as you walked into a quieter part of the hospital. Some of them stopped in their tracks to take a double look, nodding politely, some even gave you a polite greeting. You nodded and smiled at them—tried to be polite and friendly while running out of breath at the same time.

He was there at last. All alone, a machine beeping next to his bed. Your heart sank into the bottom of your stomach immediately.

Alfred turned his head towards you when he heard the door creaking open. His eyes lit up at the sight of you smiling at him, caught in between relief that he was fine and a heartbreaking realization of the fragility of life itself. You rushed into his side.

“Alfred,” you sighed next to him, blinking tears away that started to pool in your eyes. “I heard what happened. I—”

He raised a hand to interrupt you. “I’m all right. As you can see.”

You frowned, sighing at his stubborn attempt to soothe you. You weren’t the one who needed it, but he still took it as his mission to do so. You grabbed his hand. “Are you really?”

“I am, I am,” he covered your hand with his own, a soft smile at his lips. It reminded you of when you were young, afraid of getting caught in trouble and he would offer the same smile. “Master Bruce just left not so long ago.”

Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of his name. Alfred didn’t waver his gaze on you—somehow you think that was deliberate—the Waynes have an eerie capability to strike you with surprise. It was the name you hadn’t heard for so long.

Maybe not that long—two years? But a lot can happen in those times, and you couldn’t vouch that everything was the same between you and Bruce. You couldn’t pinpoint who is at fault, but more often than not, the finger pointed at you. Too many secrets were stashed behind and too many lies slipped past through your teeth. Bruce slowly slipped away from your fingers and you watched him go.

And almost as if the mere thought of him could conjure him up out of thin air, there he was.

Bruce blinked at you, squinting his eyes almost as if the mere of your existence offended him. You trained your gaze away, forcing a smile to form still just to ease Alfred’s heart. He had been through a lot—a near-death experience shouldn’t be taken lightly—and pretended that he wasn’t there at all.

But he had the audacity to call your name.

He looked worse to wear, hair disheveled and eyes hollow, as if life had sucked out of his soul mercilessly until all that was left was a walking skeleton. He looked almost ill and older this way, hair longer than you remembered the last time you saw him through eyes brimmed with tears. Bruce had never been the same since he was eight, but these past two years he was a complete stranger in every form but memories and name.

You scolded yourself for entertaining the thought of missing him.

“Hey,” he called again, softly. “How are you? It’s been a while.”

It’s been two years, you thought bitterly. But you wouldn’t raise an argument in front of Alfred. “I’m good,” you answered curtly. His gaze fell into his shoes until you added, “And you?”

“I—” Bruce hesitated. You looked away. He always seemed to deliberately hold his answer and everything that came out of his mouth felt recited. Ingenuine. “I don’t know.”

You glanced up, taken aback at the slight vulnerability that slipped through. He refused to hold his gaze with you, and instead of staring right at the wall behind like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

But two years was a little bit too long and too late, so you couldn’t find any proper way to answer. Bruce sighed quietly and talked to Alfred instead, softly asking how he was feeling. For a moment you thought you caught the glimpse of his old self again. Bruce Wayne. Your Bruce Wayne.

Alfred talked and talked and talked until it was too exhausting to do. Until the nurse ushered you out and the visiting hour was over. You cursed Gotham General Hospital again for putting the VIP room so far away from the main entrance.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Only the squeak of your shoes and Bruce’s quiet footsteps echoed in the hallway. If it weren’t for the fact he was walking and towering right beside you, you would’ve thought he wasn’t there at all.

A swarm and blurry flashes broke away your secure bubble. You blinked and the next thing you knew was a camera shoved your way, a chaotic murmur of questions overlapping with one another.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” one of them shouted.

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Over here!”

“Mr. Wayne, how are you going to address the accusation of your father’s crime twenty years ago?”

“Mr. Wayne, any comment for the bombing in your home?”

“Mr. Wayne—”

Bruce slid his hand to catch your wrist, pulling you to thread through the swarm of paparazzi flooding the hospital. From the corner of your eyes, you caught security trying to steer a path for you to walk through, a futile attempt against hungry vultures.

You forgot how much you hated the paparazzi.

A clicking sound of the camera echoed right in your ears.

“Mr. Wayne,” a voice called, distinctly familiar. It made your stomach knot anxiously. “How are you going to explain your relationship with Y/N?”

You inhaled sharply, trying to catch a glimpse of someone who had the audacity to put that question in the air. Bruce halted his steps, wiggled his hand momentarily to latch his fingers with yours, and glanced your way.

“We—” Bruce glanced at your interconnected hands. “We’re engaged.”

Engaged?!

Bruce pulled you again, almost yanking and dragging you to follow his steps into his car, and shoved you inside. You exhaled shakily, not realizing you’ve been holding your breath this whole time.

Bruce slipped to the driver’s seat.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, hand slapped your chest to feel your beating heart. “What the fuck?!”

Bruce only spared you a glance and hit the gas.

“Engaged?” you shrieked in horror. “What the fuck do you mean by engaged?”

“I panicked,” he said, not looking panicked at all. “She just came out of nowhere.”

You placed a hand atop your cheek. “She?” you shook your head. “Please don’t tell me it was Vicky Vale.”

Bruce gave you an apologetic look. “It was Vicky Vale.”

“Bruce Wayne, you dumb buffoon!” you yelled, slapping his arm a lot harder than intended, too harsh to be called playful. You let your resentment and all pent-up feelings slip through before you schooled your expression again. “She’s going to print thousands of Gotham Gazette with our engagement as the big ass headline!”

For a moment, you thought you caught him grinning. “You think?”

“I don’t think so. I know.”

“That’s too bad.”

“You rarely make a public appearance. This is your idea of making a comeback?” you groaned into your palms. “What a grand entrance, Bruce. You really should hire a PR team.”

Bruce hummed, putting your words into weight but not really putting it into consideration. You hated how much you could read him like an open book; all the telltale signs of every single gesture. Yet at the same time, you never could figure him out.

You watched the street of Gotham come into blur somberly. The sky was bleak and promised a heavy rain. You wondered how this was going to end—with you back to your lives and never speaking again.

“Hey,” he said again, voice far away. “What do you think about pizza for lunch?”

You blinked at him. Bruce was a giant mess of puzzles you didn’t know how to solve, but perhaps, every once in a while he would give you a guiding hand.

God, what were you doing?

“Sure,” you said, already scolding yourself for saying yes.

[rageagainstmymachine]

A Different Tomorrow (Primis Richtofen x Reader)

Summary: You’re a regular person in the present who works at your local history museum as a tour guide. One day, as you’re going through the storage of the museum, you come across this unmarked crate and inside this mysterious black and yellow orb. What are you to do when said orb sends you somewhere impossible - like a video game you played years back? And what are you to do when you realize you can alter the events and possibly save the Call of Duty Primis crew while finding a way to get back home - and possibly falling in love with a certain doctor in the process?

“(Y/n), you got a tour waiting for you.”

You looked up from your thermos, a displeased look on your face as you glanced up at the voice. You took a late lunch so although you were half expecting it to be cut off by patrons, you weren’t happy about it. Alfred, your coworker, tapped on his watch signaling you to hurry up, before ducking out of the break room.

You worked at a war museum, specifically a world wars museum. Its key selling point was all the WW2 antiques it had - the tank parked out back always being the main event, but you had a fondness for the Great War hall that didn’t get enough love in your opinion. You couldn’t really complain about your tour guide position, you wholeheartedly enjoyed talking to people about your interest, but you couldn’t help at times feeling like you were getting nowhere in the museum social ladder. Your dreams of being a curator were so close yet so out of reach, you felt stuck.

You sighed, setting your spoon down and closing your thermos, mentally preparing yourself to whatever group that was waiting for you.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Military and War museum,” You smile to the crowd of about a dozen. It seemed to be three families, and by how they acted they were all somehow related. There were 4 teenagers and 2 kids - the bane of your existence. “My name is (y/n) and I’ll be your guide as you make your way through the wars that changed the world.”

You did your best to hold your smile, as much as you tried to not think this way, you always hated touring families. 90% of the time it was the dads dragging their families along when it was obvious they’d rather be anywhere else. Every now and then you’d get delightfully surprised when a son or daughter took interest in history, but you could tell this wouldn’t be the group to surprise you.

“Follow me to the Great War hall, as we learn what was the powder keg that kicked everything off.”

Just as you expected, only the fathers really cared about what you said, and you supposed you could at least appreciate that. The mothers spent their time keeping their chicks in tow, and the teens just scrolled on their phones the entire time, even to the scolding of their parents. The entire tour was excruciating, but you got it finished, and you only wanted to die a little bit.

“God this fucking sucks,” you sigh, leaning against a display that Alfred was cleaning. He shook his head, chuckling at your dramatics.

“Hey, you picked this job. Face it, kids are no longer interested in history, they only care about what the next tiktok trend is.''

Alfred was a few years older than you, and was already starting to get that boomer mentality even when he was nowhere near the age. You doubt you would have ever become friends with him if you met him out in the wild, but the job brought you two together, challenging the world one shitty tour group at a time. He was a friend you were glad to have.

“That can’t be it, it wasn’t all that long ago that I was in school, and even then I loved history! I have loved it since I was a girl.” You grumble.

“Not everyone is like you (y/n).” He stopped cleaning the glass to look straight at you. “Fine, but let’s say you’re right, that there are kids who still love history - they’re probably not going to be coming to museums. Have you seen our visitor data lately?” He asked, joining you in leaning against the glass.

“No… is it really that bad?”

“You bet. I give it 5 years before the museum tanks… you know most of what keeps us afloat is through donations, right?” He said, eyebrow raising.

“I think you’re bullshitting me.” You eyed him suspiciously. Alfred was… a character. This wouldn’t be the first time he threw out conspiracies, in fact he lived and breathed conspiracy. More than one occasion you told him he needed to cut down on his Reddit time.

“Nah, forreal.”

“Even so, you think I’m gonna still be here running tours when it sinks? No siree, I’m going to be the curator of my own museum.” You smile at him proudly.

“Oooh, alright big shot, but you better employ me once I get laid off from here.”

The bells of the front door chimed as a family came in, a rowdy one at that. The two of you looked at the group and groaned simultaneously, before you smirked at Alfred.

“That’s your tour since I took the last one.”

He shot you a dirty look, dropping the washcloth on the glass before putting his hand on his hip.

“You know I don’t like children.”

“Suck it up, buttercup. That’s your group.”

He shoulder checked you when he began making his way towards the family, which you couldn’t help but snort at, it not phasing you one bit. He can give you all the attitude he wants, it’s still his tour.

“Fine but that means you gotta set up the new exhibit, the checklist is in the back.” He called over his shoulder. Setting up whatever new exhibit there was was definitely much better than giving a tour to another family.

You made your way to the back, a pip in your step from excitement, and after some searching found the checklist he referenced. The handwriting you immediately knew as the curator’s, Mr. Duke. It wasn’t a new exhibit like Alfred told you, but a new addition to the German 1918 exhibit that was already on display: a few bayonets, an entire uniform, some guns, etc etc. All of these you knew had been in the museum’s possession for a while, so none of it piqued your interest. You’ve gushed over them ages ago.

As you scanned the area, looking around for each piece, your eye caught something in the back of the storage: a crate you have never seen before. It didn’t have the faint layer of dust like everything around it did, it looked brand new. You carefully approach it, your interest entirely piqued, how long has this been here? You place your hand on the box before reeling it back and turning on your heel, first going to ask around before you open it - you quite liked your job and didn’t want to be let go for getting into things you weren’t supposed to.

“Hey, Miss Roberts, do you know if Mr. Duke got anything new delivered for the museum?” You ask the receptionist once you approach her desk. She was a sweet older lady who immediately took you under her wing when you were first hired on, she’s always been like a mother to you.

“Not that I’m aware of, but if it means that much to you I could check the order forms.” She turned to her computer and started tapping at the keys.

“Yo, (y/n), I don’t see that exhibit being put together yet~” Alfred teased as he sauntered up to you, he still had his gaggle of people behind him.

“Chill, I’m getting to it, don’t you have a tour to do?”

“We are just going to the WW2 side, ain’t that right?” He asked his party, a bunch of mumbled yeses answering his question. He grinned at you before strolling away from you and Miss Roberts.

“Sorry, hun, don’t see any orders here recently, is there something you were hoping we’d get?” Miss Roberts turned to you, eyes peering over her cat eye glasses.

“Oh, no. I was just wondering…” You shrug, turning to walk away, “Thanks anyways, Miss Roberts!”

You head back to storage and peeked around the box a little more -  no return address, or any address for that matter. You’d normally just ask Mr .Duke about it but given he wasn’t there that day and you didn’t want to disturb him on his day off, you were just going to leave it alone.

You were going to.

You really were.

But something about that box pulled you in, the mystery surrounding it really eating you up. And it’s almost like it physically pulled you in. Before you knew it, you had a crowbar prying it open.

It was really nailed in good, taking you a good two handfuls of prying to get it open, and once the top was off, you were met with… a lot of hay, actually, you felt like Indiana Jones for a second. You carefully dipped your hands into the pile of hay, fearful you would come in contact with new not-so-new bayonets, but your hands touched something… round? You scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion, quickly moving the hay to the sides of the box to get a look at what you touched… Maybe it was a helmet or something. When you finally saw it, you didn’t recognize this as anything that would be in the museum.  Whatever it was gave you a really uneasy feeling.

“Yo, what are you doing?” Alfred called from behind you, startling you pretty good. Instinctively, you covered the sphere back with the hay, turning to Alfred with wide eyes.

“Jesus fuck don’t do that, Alfred! And I’m just… looking at what was in the box…got some more Great War bayonets” you lied, knowing he wouldn’t care. While you were the Great War buff, he was the WW2 buff.

“Damn, some more? I swear every new collection we get is some more bayonets… I don’t think you’re supposed to be opening that, though.” He warned, raising an eyebrow to you.

“You know how I get with new arrivals… I’ll make sure I close it back.” You smile sheepishly at him.

“Good, cause if the Duke asks I’m throwing you under the bus.” He laughed, which you matched weakly. “Get that exhibit set up, alright?”

With that he was gone, probably to tend to something else in the museum. You turn back to the box and with shaky hands reach into it to grab the sphere.

It was a deep black with gold bands and fairly heavy. You turned it over in your palms trying to figure out what exactly it was. There was no way this was a piece for the museum - it must have been sent to the wrong address, maybe the art gallery down the road? Just as you turned it over once more, you almost dropped it, startled as it started to glow, blue light radiating from the strange symbols that were engraved in it.

What in the goddamn fuck were you holding?

A bright flash came from the sphere, washing over your entire view. You dropped the orb, too startled to care. The whiteness of it engulfed you, and no matter how far you crawled back, you couldn’t escape it. Strange, mechanical noises you couldn’t describe became louder and louder, and you felt extremely sick. You were glad you were already knelt when going through the box, because by how weak your limbs felt, you were sure you would have fell.

Just as soon as everything happened, it was over. The bright lights, the sounds, everything was done. You heaved,  and at some point you collapsed entirely, now laying on the floor, looking straight up. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust from the assault it endured from the light, but once it did, you realized you were staring straight up at the sky, stars littered the view. You must have passed out, because you know for a fact it was just afternoon, so that would explain why it was dark, but it definitely didn’t explain how you were looking at the sky right now when you were just in a building.

Getting your bearings, you realized how much everything hurt, your whole body was sore like you’d just been hit by a truck, and with a groan, you sat up.

“Don’t move another inch.” A heavy Russian accented voice called out to you harshly.

Your head snapped to the voice and you gasped, backing away even when you were just told the opposite. Four men peered down at you, guns pointed and ready to shoot. As terrified as you now were, you couldn’t help but feel more shocked and confused. These men were familiar, too familiar, and all too impossible.

Four men who you’ve only seen in video games from years ago glared at you, as if you were the issue here, and not them impossibly being here. Where was here , by the way? Your eyes darted around, and you almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You must be dreaming.

“Who the hell is she?” Tank Dempsey muttered, gun lowering and stepping towards you.

~

~

~

‘Knock knock knock knock knock’

A throng of beatings at your door startled you awake. You stretched out in your bed and did your best to ignore the sound. Light creeped in from the cracks in your curtains, signalling it was probably damn early. You shoved your head under your pillow to block both the noise and the sun. Sleep lulled you back into its arms, and how soft your mattress was dared you even closer.

‘Knock knock knock knock knock’

“What?!” You yell out, the harsh sounds dragging you away from the arms that embraced you. You knew exactly who it was, and you were beyond irate. Your older brother was the only person who bothered you like that, and he was definitely a pain in the ass at times. Why won’t he just let you sleep? The knocking continued, getting louder and in much quicker succession. With a final groan, you yanked the pillow off of your head and stomped across your room, throwing your door open. James, your older brother, continued to knock on air, playfully pretending not to notice the door was opened even to your annoyed glare.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, finally stopping his little act. He grinned at you, not a single ounce of him caring that he woke you up, or how pissed you looked.

“What?” You hissed at him. He excitedly held up a game case - Black Ops 2, a game you've played with him on multiple occasions. “What about it? Hate to break it to you but that ain’t exactly new.” You tried to close your door back, wanting to chase that sleep your body still craved, but he stopped the door with his hand.

“A new DLC released.”

You tried to explode him with your mind for waking you up for that.

“Its downloading right now, and when it's done, me and you are going to play - there’s a new zombies map.” He almost vibrated with excitement for that. You put a little more pressure on the door, trying to close it still.

“James, no.” You tell him sharply..

“C’mon, please”

“ No. ”

“Please?”

“ No .”

“Pleaaasseeee…?”

If there was one thing your brother was good at, it was peer pressure. In fact, he should just be named peer pressure because of how good he is with it. James was known to bug and bug and pester and just annoy the living shit out of you if it had a chance of getting him his way. You sighed and rested your forehead on the edge of the door. You did really enjoy playing with him - it was the only thing the two of you had in common, but you also really liked your sleep. You look at him and see he was giving you his best ‘please’ face, still holding up the game.

“Why can’t you just play by yourself?”

“I need you for the easter eggs! You are the best trainer around!” He buttered you up with that backhanded compliment.

Playing Zombies with him normally went like this - He’d look up how to do all the easter eggs beforehand, and then not tell you how to do them. And so since you didn’t know how to and he did, that meant you ran around with the last zombie chasing you while he did all the cool things. But… if you did this for him then he will have to pay you back, that was a pretty sweet deal.

“Fine.” You said slowly, gauging his reaction “but you owe me.”

“Yussss, alright, deal. Come with me.”

He led you down to the living room where the family xbox 360 was located. The download screen was at about 80% so he did his best to keep you interested in the meantime so you didn’t change your mind.

“So you know the characters we normally play as right?” He asked, sitting down on the couch, you hummed in agreement. “Well, apparently, now we get to play as the younger versions of them.”

“God, more lore? Please don’t tell me it's as complicated.” You groan.

Multiple hours you have spent hearing your brother explain to you the story, and with each new map it was 10x more convoluted lore than the last.

“Nah…. it's much more complicated!”

~

~

~

This couldn’t be happening. In fact it wasn’t happening, you weren’t going to believe it.

You know what makes more sense? I ended up hitting my head at the museum and now I’m unconscious and dreaming all of this up… but if I was wouldn’t I be unaware that I was dreaming? Maybe I’m lucid dreaming? No that can’t be… if I was I could control my dreams and I wouldn’t have these fuckers holding guns to me if I was in control.

Dempsey crouched down to get a good look at you, holstering his weapon once he saw how terrified you looked. You still backed away from him, eyes darting from him to everywhere else. You were in a trench, a certain trench you’ve only seen on a tv screen, and you really just wanted to wake up at this point.

“This isn’t happening” You shakily breathe, eyes training on the man in front of you, then the men behind him.

“Oh, this is happening alright, we just need to know what the fuck ‘ this’ is…” Dempsey muttered, turning to look at the three behind him. “I swear, if this is your doing, Richtofen-”

“Me? I didn’t do this! You know just as much as I do!”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

You tried to stand but your legs gave out on you, only not hitting the floor because Dempsey was close enough to catch you.

“Hey I got ya… let’s find you a place to sit… and figure out what the hell is going on here.” He hissed the last part to Richtofen, probably still believing this was his doing.

Dempsey led you inside one of the bunkers to a chair where you could sit. You took it gratefully, still entirely startled by the scene. The four men huddled in a circle, away from you but obviously discussing you in a hushed voice: them peering at you every now and then. It seemed to get slightly heated between Richtofen and Dempsey, but you couldn’t make out a single thing they said. Eventually, they ended the conversation, coming to huddle around you now, possibly to question you.

“Who are you? Und how did you get here?” Richtofen asked. You look up to him, it took you a minute to choke your answer out.

“M-my name is (y/n), I’m just a museum tour guide… I uh, I found this uhm… this sphere thing in a crate in the back, and next thing I know…  I’m now here.” You admit.

“Sphere thing…? That can’t be….” Edward muttered under his breath, taking strides to pace away, deep in thought. He quickly turned back to you. “That sphere, it was black und gold, ja? Do you have it with you?” He said much more excitedly, his hands clasped together in front of him.

“No….no I dropped it when it started glowing. It freaked me out.” You said shakily, half shrugging your shoulders. Edward seemed less thrilled at your answer, but you could see the gears were still turning in his mind.

“Nikolai, go outside und see if the summoning key is where she landed, it probably isn’t but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

Nikolai nodded at Richtofen and left, leaving the three men to continue interrogating you. Edward continued to pace around, muttering to himself about god knows what, while Takeo just stared at you, which didn’t help your nerves at all. You stared at the floor and did your best to just focus on your breathing. You've had this habit of holding your breath when scared, and if you continue to do that you will surely pass out from the situation.

“Here.” Tank said, knocking you out of your thoughts. He held a canteen up to you, motioning for you to grab it. Your hands greedily took it and you gulped it down. It wasn’t until he offered you water that you realized just how damn thirsty you were. You heaved after you swallowed the last of it, nodding to him.

“Thank you, Dempsey”

Fuck.

That was a big mistake.

You didn’t even realize it until the words left your mouth. Dempsey’s eyes widened a hitch before narrowing and Edward stopped pacing to turned to you. The room was silent just for a moment as you processed just how you fucked up. In a blink of an eye, each man had a gun trained on you, and yelling commenced.

“How the hell did you know my name?” Dempsey yelled, his 1911 trained directly to your forehead. “You a fuckin’ spy? Who do you work for?” He demanded.

Nikolai ran in just then, and after assessing the scene for half a second, he too now had his gun trained on you. “What happened?”

“She ain’t no nobody, she knows who we are.” Tank explained, pushing his gun closer to your skull.

“Please don’t shoot me!” You cried, cowering in your seat, you were starting to get sick and tired of these guns being trained on you. “Look! Look I will tell you everything if you stOP POINTING YOUR GUNS AT ME!”

At this point, the fear started turning into rage. You still felt utterly terrified but you’d do anything to get your point across - even scream. They were silent for a moment, judging the scene in front of them. You trembled and you held your hands over your head, but your eyes were piercing, staring straight into Dempsey’s own. You heard footsteps before Richtofen appeared in your line of view, he held a hand up, signalling to Tank to lower his weapon. The two others behind them followed. Dempsey muttered something and turned away, Richtofen replacing where he stood.

“Explain yourself.”

“Richtofen… I’m not sure you’d even believe me if I told you.”

Read the next few chapters here!

I upload new chapters regularly :)

I’d appreciate it if you left kudos!

Current word count: 58,493

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[sky-berrie]

Stitch - Damian

Summary: Another favorite trope - reader patches up a wound. Warning: mentions of blood. 

The window opened behind you and you felt a cool summer night breeze brush against your neck. You didn’t bother to give the intruder any attention because you knew that Damian was the only person who could disarm the alarm and crack lock mechanism with ease. You thought the whole system was overkill but it pleased Damian to have it installed so you didn’t complain.

“Hey, Damian,” you greeted him robotically with your gaze still transfixed to your laptop screen and your back to the window. You were watching the events of the latest episode of your favorite show unfold.

You heard Damian land in your room with a grunt. He was usually quite graceful, however you guessed that his ribs and hip were still sore from the last sparing session he had with his brothers and sisters. That family took everything to a whole other level.

You heard Damian shut the window after himself. The sound of the latch being secured came next. Then you heard electronic beeps as he reactivated the alarm. “You –” he let out a sharp exhale. “You took home economics, right?”

“Yeah,” you replied, nonchalantly with a mouthful of popcorn. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen, but you heard the sound of his heavy boots carry him across your room.

“Good,” he said. A shaky breath infiltrated his normally self-assured voice. “And you remember most of it?” The bed springs creaked under his weight.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Great,” he said. “What grade did you receive?” This wasn’t all that out of character for him. Damian was competitive in all aspects of his life. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to compare home economics grades just so he could vaunt his skills.

“I don’t know, Damian,” you said honestly. You turned up the volume, hoping that Damian would get the hint that you wanted to watch your show in peace and quiet. “I think it was a good mark.”

Damian let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Excellent.” His voice sounded less troubled than before.

“Jon did most of my assignments,” you admitted unapologetically.

Damian was quiet for a moment. “Okay, but you attended the classes, correct?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were too focused on the climax of the episode. “Oh my goodness,” you muttered under your breath to yourself as the plot twist unveiled. “Um,” you said, remembering that Damian had asked you something. “Yeah, yeah, more or less.”

“Do you remember how to sew?”

“Sort of,” you told him. You had sewn on a button once. It didn’t look great, but it definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

“Well enough,” he said. “I need you to suture a laceration.”

“What?” you choked out. He said it so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure if he was serious or not, because a sane person would not be so stoic. You whipped around to find Damian lying on your bed in his Robin uniform. It was soiled with a layer of black, like he had been charred. It was so dark that it masked the staining of his blood and you wouldn’t have known he was bleeding if it weren’t for the pool of red soaking through your white comforter. He was holding his side with his hands at an awkward angle.

You had seen him with cuts and bruises and even broken bones, but never with the life bleeding out of him. “Oh my goodness!” you shrieked as panic filled your lungs. Your face contorted into a horrified grimace as you tried to stifle an expression of disgust. The strong stench of metal made your stomach churn and your head woozy.

You immediately felt horrible for not paying attention to him sooner. “Damian, why didn’t you say something? Holy crap! What the hell happened? You need an ambulance!” You turned around to reach for your phone.

“No,” Damian choked out. “Secret… identity,” he said with his eyes squeezed shut.

“What about your brothers and sisters? Your dad? Alfred?”

“On their way. No time to wait. First aid kit,” he implored weakly.

You ran for the bathroom and tore into the cabinet to find the massive first aid kit that Damian insisted you store. You had opened it once or twice to grab a bandage for a paper cut but you never touched the majority of the contents. You didn’t even know what half of the kit was for. You guessed that you might find out today.

When you returned to your room, Damian was moving slowly to unbutton his uniform. You helped him with the rest, trying to do it quickly without jostling anything. You tried to ignore the squishy wetness of the uniform, but your hands came away covered in a layer of crimson blood. Beneath the outer coat, his white undershirt was seeping with blood. There was a large tear in the fabric and a bit of the raw wound peeked through.  

You didn’t have a fear of blood, really. You had no qualms about donating blood or seeing it on TV. This, however, was completely different. You were more terrified than you had ever been in your entire life. You had no idea what to do - everything you knew about CPR and standard first aid had inexplicably disappeared from your brain. Silent tears began to spill from your eyes as your breaths tore in and out of your throat, ragged and shallow.

“Y/N,” said Damian, firmly. Through your blurry, wet vision, you could see him straining to make eye contact with you. “Breathe. Everything is going to be fine. Just follow my instructions.”

Normally you trusted Damian, but this time his reassuring words didn’t have any kind of soothing effect on you. Your whole body was shaking now. You couldn’t find your voice. Instead, you shook your head.

“Yes, Y/N. It is going to be fine, but you must listen to me. Do you understand?”

You tried to take a deep breath, but an uncontrollable sob cut it short. If Damian could lie there halfway to death and still be composed, then you could at least pretend to be calm for his sake. You nodded your head this time, trying your best to even out your breathing. It was no use though. You couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Thank you. Cut it,” he said, motioning to his undershirt.

You did as he ordered and cut a line right down the centre of his shirt. It was warm and wet and clung to his skin, so you peeled it off to reveal the full extent of a nasty looking wound. Even through your distorted, teary vision, you saw enough to know it was not good.

You felt faint at the sight of his insides. Or maybe it was your hyperventilating making you dizzy.  

“Breathe, Y/N. Breathe and then get the sterile solution to irrigate it.”

You returned with freshly washed hands, a pair of gloves and a jug of irrigation solution. Following his instructions, you squeezed the syringe and expelled the liquid over his wound. It ran down his side and carried even more blood into your comforter.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “There should be a small white packet with a curved need and thread and a pair of suture holders. They look like scissors but without the blades.”

Your trembling hands had a difficult time picking out the items. Once you collected the materials, you looked at Damian for further directions.

“It’s a bit deep so you’ll need to close the layer under the skin first. Can you see it?”

You shook your head. His side was a giant red mess. You couldn’t make out anything except for blood and jagged skin. It was nothing like the clean and clear-cut diagrams you’d seen in class. “This is crazy! I can’t do this,” you cried. People spent years studying and training to do procedures like this. Stitching up a body was not something that a person should wing, and definitely not on their best friend, lying in an unsterile room.

“You can,” he assured you. “Pretend like you’re sewing some fabric. Start with this layer here.” Damian pulled at his skin and pointed to the inside with a pair of suture forceps. You couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes as he prodded himself. “Y/N,” he called your attention back. “Make sure the needle goes in like this and comes out like this,” said Damian as he demonstrated.

You were shaking your head. “You are absolutely insane! Sewing fabric is nothing like sewing a wound! Can’t we just wait for your dad or someone?”

“No time,” he said.

“Please, Damian,” you begged. “Let me call EMS.”

“No,” he asserted with what little strength he had.

“Please! I…”

“No,” he repeated. You could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“I understand you have to protect your secret identity, but Damian, come on. There won’t be an identity to protect if you die.”

“Batman…Nightwing…” he said weakly.

“They’ll understand!” you argued with desperation.

“No,” he mumbled. He shook his head.

Without any thought, your next words came flooding out straight from your heart. “Damian, I love you and I don’t want you to die!” Oh. That came as a shock to you. You’d never said anything like that before. In fact, you’d never even had a thought like that, but you knew it was the truth. Your hands almost flew to cover your mouth in regret, but the blood dripping from your hands stopped you.

Damian didn’t seem to notice your confession, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. Had you not been utterly distracted by the emergency before you, you might have run away with embarrassment from your sudden proclamation.

“Please try for me, okay?” His eyes were starting to close, but you could see him struggle to keep them open.

You searched his eyes, to see that his once vibrant green eyes had a dull, hazy colour to them. Seeming to find what you were looking for, you conceded. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Okay.”

It was the worst experience of your life. Damian walked you through the process, but nothing could prepare you for the nauseating feeling of piercing his skin and pulling the nylon thread through the thickness of the tissue. Seeing the inside of his body made you want to vomit but his life was at stake, and you had to be brave for him. Besides, he was the one who should be worried, not you. Your technique was obviously non-existent and you were certain that you were hurting him a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. He hissed and groaned and you apologized profusely but he insisted that you continue.

“Thank you,” said Damian after you tied the last knot. His eyes were heavy and lidded and you could tell he was barely hanging on to consciousness. “Knew you could do it.”

You had no response. Now that the worst part was over, the adrenaline had left your system and you were in shock. His hand lolled out in an attempt to offer you comfort, or maybe to seek comfort for himself. You weren’t certain which is was, but nevertheless, you instinctively clasped his hand in yours.

Then he said something that caught you off guard. His voice was so faint that you barely heard him. “For the record, I love you, as well.”

You weren’t sure if he really meant it. Maybe he was delirious. He did lose a lot of blood. You pondered it for a moment and wondered if you should feel mortally embarrassed when he was fully lucid, but just then, a gentle squeeze on your hand told you that you didn’t have to worry.

[rent-a-bat]

In the end, no

Drabble #5

Promt: #87 “Don't be scared, I’m right here”

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

A/N: Thank you all who waited to see this one posted! and thanks to the one who requested it, im sorry it took this long but I had a serious case of procrastination. Hope you guys enjoy!

tw: character death

To say you were tired wasn't even close to how you felt.

You were exhausted. Mind, body and everything in between. You had been working nonstop for too long, you were starting to burn out. But as things started to ease out, you finally had time to relax. Today was the first time you'll be going home early and you no longer had to be the first one in the office to begin the day, which meant you'll finally enjoy your free time.

The trek from work to your home was long enough to allow you to list all the things you've stopped doing so far.

You haven't watched your favorite show, too tired at night to even look for it. You haven't read your book, started since the beginning of the year, and six months later still not even half finished. You haven't felt your bed, your body too tired to even feel how comfortable it was before sleeping. You haven't enjoyed your home, barely basked in its warmth and felt its love.

You haven't seen him.

That's what you missed the most. You would arrive too late to see him off before patrol, and your work was too early to say goodbye in the morning when he just came back.

A hand on your shoulder took you out of your trance. You jumped, your mind still somewhere in your thoughts. Your first reaction was to move away, but that only made them hold you closer, their grip on you too strong to break. Before you could panic, a laugh behind you made you react.

“Jason!” You shouted, getting out of his grasp as relief washed over you.

He smiled, clearly amused at your reaction.

“Hello, y/n.” His lips warmed you as he kissed your forehead. You rolled your eyes, not letting him get away with it.

Your fist collided with his arm as you scolded him. “Don't do that again.”

He laughed, holding you once more. Your body relaxing almost instantly.

“I won't do it again… maybe.”

“Hmm.” You answered, your arms circling his waist, pressing yourself more to him. It was an awkward position to walk, but you didn't care, it's been ages since you've been like this, and you weren't passing on the opportunity.

You walked for a few blocks in silence, taking your usual shortcut through the alley, Jason's presence enough to make you feel safe even in Gotham, before you talked again. “Hey, Jay?”

He made a questioning sound. “What?”

“Dick called.” You braced yourself for his reaction. Seeing as he was waiting for you to continue, you did. “He wants us to come for dinner tomorrow night.”

“He does now.” was his answer. You pushed yourself away to look at him, not leaving his arms.

“Yeah. He said, and I quote, ‘He misses his baby bird and wants to see him now that he's in town’” You said, your smile growing with his reaction.

He huffed, shaking his head, looking up at your building.

“Come on. Let's go for a little while and then we leave.” You tried to plead as you went inside.

“Are you sure?” He asked, already walking up the stairs, you followed him behind as he took the lead.

“Yeah. Besides, I like Dick.” He brushed against the walls as he turned to look at you, the hallway to your apartment barely wide enough for the two.

“Of course you do.” He gave you a smile that made you think he wasn't talking about his brother.

You turned away, not wanting to let him see you blush. ”And..., I want to say hi to Alfred”

You stopped at the open door, Jason moving aside to let you go first.

“I’ll think about it.” He finally said, your smile widening at his answer. With a kiss on his cheek you let the door close as you both were finally home.

Tomorrow came faster than you thought.

It was a nice dinner, even if Jason would rather eat his words than accept it.

You arrived at quarter past six, 15 minutes before you agreed, the nerves not letting you stay calm. Dick was already there before you could even knock, Alfred waiting by the door, as he came forward to hug you. You returned it just as earnestly, it had been a while since you last saw him and he definitely was your favorite of the brothers. Letting you go with a smile, he took you to the dining room, taking Jason with him by the shoulder in a half hug. Fighting to hold back your laughter, you followed, hugging Alfred as you passed him.

It was a surprise once you arrived, not expecting Bruce or Tim to be there as well, the two of them receiving you just as warmly.

Everything was great. Once in a while you would sneak a glance at Jason, the way he smiled and how he laughed told you he too liked these little moments with his family, when everything is simple, easy, and you loved seeing him like this, your heart a little warmer at the thought.

Bruce and Tim left after dinner, not waiting for dessert, saying they had business to attend to. Dick followed not long after, asking Jason to go with him. Which left you alone with Alfred, the two of you chatting over a cup of tea before cleaning up.

You helped Alfred wash the dishes and clear out the dinner before heading down to the cave.

You could hear a fight going on as you made your way down, shouts getting louder the closer you got. Jason was pacing as he talked, screamed, at Dick who remained silent, arms crossed while he looked at Jason, his troubled expression the only sign of his emotions.

"How's everything going, guys?" You asked as soon as you stepped out of the elevator, brow raised knowingly at them.

“It's going great” Jason's smile as he came towards you showing it was anything but. “Come on y/n, we're leaving”

“Jay, please, just think about it.”

“I said, no, Dick.” Jason said, taking your hand as he walked towards the elevator.

“What is he talking about?” you asked, pulling back to stop him.

“Nothing.” His answer was short, not looking at you.

"How is it nothing? I wouldn't ask you, beg you, if it were nothing." Dick sighed, pulling at his hair as he looked down, almost defeated.

"What is it?" You asked Dick, his head shooting up to look at you.

"It's this case we've been working on..."

"Don't tell her! She does-"

"No," You cut him off, "I want to know. What is it Dick?"

He shot a glance at Jason before he answered.

"We've been tracking an organization that's been involved in drugs for the most part, but as of lately, they've moved to weapons and human trafficking." He shook his head. "Guess they found a better way to make money."

"Those bastards." Jason said under his breath, huffing behind you.

"We've been following them in Gotham and Bludhaven for a while, but never got to the source." He looked at Jason, "that is, until Jason's last report."

You suck a breath. If they found the source then it means they could take them down forever. They could free not only Gotham and Bludhaven, but any other place they could have a base.

"We are going to the location. Take them by surprise, before they leave." Dick finished, crossing his arms.

You grabbed Jason's hand, feeling the heat of his body behind you. This was big, too important to let it pass and he knew too.

“When are they leaving?” you asked Dick, ignoring the look Jason was surely giving you.

“Right now.” he grimaced, “Bruce and Tim just left, they are on their way to the airport.”

You looked back at Jason, his eyes already on you. You could tell what he was thinking, you just got your time back, and now he was leaving, but you could also tell how much he wanted to help. That's why you knew what to say next.

“You should go, Jason.” The surprise on his face as you answered was one for the books.

“Y/n…” He began to say, still confused. You smiled in reassurance, taking his hand in yours.

“Even I know this is your best chance at getting them.” you squeezed his hand. “So, go.”

He stared at you for a while before he asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Go.” You patted his arm, giving him a little push towards his bike.

He stumbled back a few steps, his eyes never leaving you. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you couldn't help laughing a little.

“I’ll be fine , Jason." You fought for your smile to reach your eyes. "I'll be here when you get back."

“Okay.” was all he said after a long pause, barely a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours until he moved. He got into his bike, sending a quick message to Bruce to tell them he was going.

"I love you." He said before putting on the helmet, starting his bike before he left.

The sound of the engine almost covering your answer. "I love you too."

You watched him leave with Dick at your side, the cave suddenly too quiet for the two of you. Now that he had left you couldn't hold onto the smile anymore. You sighed, rubbing at your eyes to keep the tears threatening to come out at bay.

You paced the cave for a while, not wanting to stay still, too afraid of what would happen if you did until you finally stopped, letting your mind do the pacing.

You felt Dick at your side a moment after, his hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you.

“Don't worry y/n. I'll stay here to monitor if there's any movement in Gotham”, his hand on you a comfortable weight, “I’ll also be in contact with them 24/7. If anything happens, you'll be the first to know.”

You sighed again, something you've been doing lately, tension leaving your body at his words. At least there'll be someone taking care of him.

“Thank you, Dick.” He flashed you a smile, offering his arm to you

“No problem. Come on, I'll take you home.” You smiled in response, taking his arm in yours.

Like that, hours became days, days became weeks, and before you knew it, 2 months had passed. Two months since he left. Two months since you've been alone. No. You weren't alone, he was still out there, working hard, saving people, and yet, you couldn't help feeling that way.

Dick was true to his word, letting you know everything as it happened, day by day, he would call to update you on the mission. Even when there was nothing to report he'd still call you, sometimes to talk, sometimes to listen, you knew he was trying to cheer you up, and you were grateful for that.

Other days you would go to the mansion, spending time with Alfred, letting him guide you through the mansion, telling you stories about Jason and the rest when they were young or chatting through a cup of tea, and with Dick down in the cave, as the two of you checked on them, how they were doing, if they were okay. It had become sort of a routine as you waited.

You were making your way home when your phone went off, your boss sending you home earlier and giving you the next day free after spending the last weeks working overtime, threatening to fire you if you came back without resting. You checked the id before answering, smiling when Dick's name showed on the screen.

"Hey Dick! How’s everything going?" You answered cheerfully, your good mood coming out.

"Hey y/n"

"I just saw Bruce giving an interview. Why didn't you tell me they were back?"

"Y/n…"

“And why hasn't my boy called to tell me? I swear if he tries another of his surprises…” you stopped mid sentence, Dick unusually quiet for a call like this. Anxiety building up inside you before you asked, ” Hey… what is it Dick?”

"Y/n…"

"What?"

"Is Jason.."

"What happened?" you said, dread gnawing on your insides

"I think it'll be better if you come to the mansion."

"I don't see how going there would be any different from telling me now."

“…” His silence became unbearable, your patience thinning with every second that passed.

The last of it breaking as you shouted, "Dick! Tell me!", worry more than clear in your voice.

He heaved a sigh before speaking. "They managed to get most of the men, but their leader managed to escape. He and another guy got into a plane and Jason followed them."

You breathed in sharply.

"He got onto the plane. It was loaded with weapons, mostly explosives. It took off before they could go with him"

No.

"A fight broke and there was a shooting"

No.

“A missing bullet must've hit one of those crates and” he took a deep breath, “the plane exploded.”

No!

"It fell into the sea"

You held onto the wall, your legs giving out, making you slide down to the floor

"Where is he?"

"They've been looking all through the ocean nonstop. So far, they've found two bodies. They’re still looking for hi.., him."

“Don't you have a way of knowing this!? A signal, something?” You were shouting, not caring for the looks people were giving you as they passed.

"The tracker was on his helmet, we believe it got destroyed in the explosion, that's why they haven't been able to find him yet."

It couldn't be. This isn't happening. Not- not again. Not to him.

“Y/n-”

“I'm going there” you cut him out, ending the call.

The next thing felt like a blur, each of his words ringing over and over inside your mind.

The plane exploded.

They are still looking for him.

There's still a chance.

You took a cab to the mansion, barely paying attention to the ride. You jumped out once you reached Wayne Manor, running as fast as you could to the entrance, Alfred already there before you could reach the door, so you went straight down to the cave, Dick waiting for you at the elevator.

“Hey y/n…”

“Please Dick. Tell me it isn't true” you shook him by the shoulders, trying to to stop yourself from crying. “Please tell me it isn't”, eyes burning as you pleaded

“I wish it was” he grabbed your wrists, rubbing circles, trying to comfort you as much as he could.

You shook your head, casting down your eyes, not wanting to see the truth you'd find in his. You didn't want to believe it.

“Please, please please please….” You could feel yourself falling down, your legs no longer holding you for a second time this day.

Dick hugged you, keeping you from reaching the floor. “I'm sorry y/n”

“No!” Tears blurred your vision. Your arms rounding his neck as you hug him back, his hold on you tightening.

It was your fault.

Maybe if you hadn't told him. If you had stopped him before he left, maybe then he'd still be here, still with you. Still alive.

No.

You wouldn't have changed a thing.

You knew Jason, you knew he thought the same. He wanted to help, that's all he's ever wanted. To give a meaning to his actions. He wanted to help those in need, to be useful, to be good. That's why he went, your words only helping to ease the worry of leaving you alone. That's why you said it, and you'd never regret it, and neither would he.

It wasn't your fault.

A sound from behind made you look back. Batman turned from the computer, taking a few steps before removing his cowl. He looked tired, defeated. So different from the looks he had for the cameras not long ago.

You ignored the way he looked, anger rising like a fire making you move away from Dick.

“It was you!” You shouted across the cave. Tears sliding down your cheeks as you made your way to Bruce

“You did this!” you hit him on the chest, your fists colliding with his armor. His face was tired, eyes filled with sadness. He had failed him again.

“You had to look out for him!” Another punch.

“You had to save him!” you said through your tears, your fists losing force.

“Why didn't you save him?” you finally sobed, pressing your forehead against him. The fire burning away, leaving only ashes, your body suddenly cold.

“I’m sorry” was all he said as he held your shaking body while you cried. His warmth and the feel of his arms on your back a comfort around you, but not the one you wanted, the one you may never have again.

You stayed at the mansion after that. Once you had calmed down Dick took you to one of the rooms, giving you a little briefing of what was going on. Tim had stayed on the island, looking over the search in case they found him. Meanwhile Bruce tried looking with the satellites, see if any of the old trackers in his body were still active. If what you knew was true, there was no point on doing that. Jason had taken them all out long ago, not wanting any of them keeping checks on him. Still, it was something, better than nothing.

You felt empty, and yet, hope remained in you, like embers of a fire not quite out, waiting for any kind of fuel to light up again.

You stayed for a week before deciding it was time to go back, those days barely spent doing the bare minimum, crying yourself to sleep every night, trying to console yourself as much as you could, after all you only had so much time off work, you still had to live your life, try to move on and wait.

So you did.

You kept working, doing as much to keep your mind from spiraling that way, from staying as far from your apartment as you could. Still your home but one that's grown colder with every passing day. It was hard, sadness and despair threatening to keep you from doing anything every day, and yet you pushed. For him. Moping around was not something he'd like for you, even if he wasn't here, but he could, if they haven't found a body yet you could still hope, you could still wait.

Hope was slipping down like water through your fingers. You tried to hold on to as much as you could, as long as there was even the tiniest possibility, you would, you could still believe he was coming back, coming home, coming to you.

What else was left?

The sound of your phone woke you up. You checked the clock on your stand. Not yet time for you to wake up, and barely one hour sleeping. Another night of tossing around, unable to sleep, the thoughts in your head too loud to let you rest.

You grabbed your phone, the name on the screen no longer making you smile. You sat up, moving your covers aside, letting your feet touch the floor, the coldness of it waking you up.

You took a deep a deep breath, steeling yourself before answering, getting ready for whatever was going to happen.

But nothing in the world could have prepared you for what was going to happen next.

"Hello Dick." You said, breathing deeply through your nose.

"Hello y/n. How are you?"

"What is it?" You ignored his question, going straight to the point. Whatever it was, you could take it.

You could hear Dick pacing around, almost hear the gears in his head trying to think a way of telling you the news

You could take it.

"There's been news on Jason"

You could.

"They found him"

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, a wave of relief washing over you.

"You did!?" you shouted, "How is he? Is he- ?" You tried to ask everything at once, barely able to contain yourself before he stopped you.

"We don't know, y/n. The body-"

Your heart went still.

"It's been too long. "

The body.

"We are waiting for it to arrive. Run some tests, dental records, DNA.."

Not him.

"Due to his legal status we can't let them know it's him. We have to wait until he's back with us in Gotham"

"You're sure it's him?" you felt yourself asking, no longer connected to your body.

"There was no one else on that plane they hadn't found"

The last ember of hope went off inside you, leaving smoke to fill its place.

"Y/n?"

"I have to go."

"Wait, y/n! Let me come get you-"

"Goodbye Dick."

You ended the call.

Your phone hitting the floor at the same time you did, hugging you legs tight to your chest, tears burning your eyes, wetting your cheeks. The lump in your throat making it hard to swallow.

And just like that, as if a switch had turned inside you.

You screamed.

Screamed with every fiber of your being, your body shaking every time you did. Your tears falling down like rivers you wanted to drown in. You weren't crying, crying meant sadness, sometimes even happiness, an emotion so big it couldn't be contained inside, whose only way out is like that. This was so much more.

It was pain, full, raw, unbounded. It was despair and sadness, all coming out at once. It was your soul breaking, its shards leaving you with every scream, with every tear, making your face wet, your eyes burn, leaving your throat raw and hurting.

You did it until the smoke inside you left, leaving you hollow. You had to calm down, sobbing thickly, your vision blurry with drying tears.

You tried to breath, the air suddenly becoming too thick, making you dizzy. You could feel the walls pressing on you, too tight, too cold.

You were breaking, your chest hurt, like it would collapse any time now, taking your heart with it.

You needed to leave.

You left your apartment, not bothering to take a coat, welcoming the freezing air, letting it's bite bring you alive.

The streets were empty, fitting for the occasion, like they knew you needed to be alone. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back as you took a deep breath, and began to walk.

You didn't know how long you were out. Walking aimlessly around letting the pain take you whole, your mind no longer there, trying to escape the grief that consumed you.

You felt hollow, empty, and yet, so full at the same time. Full of fear, of sadness, of anger. Jason was gone, and you didn't know how you'll fill the hole he left inside you. You weren't sure you could. You could only hope you'd learn to live with it, learn to ignore the pain and maybe one day, heal. Just not today, right now you would mourn, let everything out, even if there was nothing left inside.

Your feet were hurting, cold biting your skin, making you shiver before you decided to head back home, taking your usual shortcut through the alley.

Your head was still somewhere else, not even stopping to think about the dangers of your actions. It was Gotham after all, and Jason was no longer here to protect you.

By the time you realized what you’d done, it was too late.

With your head down you made your way to your apartment, less of a home now that he was no longer here, hugging yourself tightly, trying to keep the warmth from leaving. The sole of your shoes echoed through the alley with every step, digging into your flesh, making it hard to walk. The sky rumbled in the distance, which meant you had to hurry if you didn't want to get caught in the rain.

A sound ahead of you took you out of your musings, a second pair of steps joining yours making you look up. A man appeared right at the entrance of the alley, hood up and hands tucked inside his pockets, he walked confidently, like the biggest fish in the pond. The faint light of a nearby post lighting up his face, you could see his eyes fixed on you, his mouth turning to a smirk, whistling as he looked at you.

“Hey pretty, what got you out so late at night?”

You lowered back your head, still moving forward.

“I have to say, I wasn't expecting such a beauty to be roaming here when I came to to see who’s coming, but am I glad it is” he kept talking, almost too close now, making you slow down a fraction as you tried to get out.

“Haha, what is it? Cat got your tongue?” you could fill him right in front of you, making you stop before you could collide with him.

“Is it because we're alone? You don't feel comfortable talking with me? Is it the street? Maybe you need to warm up a little, the street is too cold to be out like that. Don’t worry sugar, we can fix that right away.”

You began to panic. One you could take out, outrun him and lose him, but if he was bringing more. You tried to stay calm.

“Hey, boys! Why don’t we help them feel more comfortable.” You raised your head, fear almost taking over at his words.

From the same place the first one came, two other men joined him, each of them flanking you on either side, both just as big, and the three of them smiling, their eyes roaming your body like they could see what's underneath your clothes.

“Leave me alone.” you said, trying to sound as confident as you could.

“Heh, looks like you're not a mute after all.” He laughed, taking a hold of your arm in a vice grip

“Don't touch me.” he laughed again, turning to look at the others, both doing the same.

“Let me go!” you shouted, pulling at your arm, trying to hit him, kick him, anything to get you free.

“Feisty, we're gonna need to fix that. Can't have you misbehaving like that, can we?” He let you go with a push, making you fall to the ground, the three of them laughing down at you.

You shook yourself, wincing as you stood, your left foot probably hurt. Your mind was running a mile per hour, adrenaline pumping through your veins with every breath, trying to come up with a wayout, a way to escape. You tried to look at your surroundings, taking deep breaths to calm you down, nothing good comes out from being anxious.

You were surrounded by residential buildings, maybe you could scream, ask for help, but screaming in Gotham did the opposite, people ignoring it for the sake of remaining safe.

You could bolt it, turn around and run as fast as you could, go back to the street and hopefully they'll avoid going after you. The guy on your left seemed to think the same, his hand going for the gun on his hip.

You could try calling Dick, or Bruce, but something told you he'd shot you the moment you even tried to pull out your cell phone. Maybe they were already on their way, looking for you, seeing how distressed you were by the news, but maybe not, maybe they were trying to give you space, let you sort things out. Alone.

You were trapped.

“Don't worry, we’ll be leaving soon. Ride's almost here.” the man on your right said, his smirk getting wider.

So much for being calm. You began to panic, breaths coming short as the men in front of you laughed, snickering between them, watching you crumble.

The sound of tires screeching behind you had you covering your ears, the echoing almost deafening, freezing you on the spot.

No. Not like this. They can't take you away.

You closed your eyes, as if it could somehow block out the world, make it turn into a dream, a nightmare you would wake up from. The pounding of your heart too loud on your ears to hear anything else, almost missing the presence behind you.

Your body moved on its own, going backwards like you could escape from it. The sound of someone coming closer hitting like a bullet with every step. They walked with confidence, fast, like an animal who had caught its prey, sure they couldn't escape.

You could feel your heart fall as you collided with a body, stopping you from moving any further, making your eyes burn as you tried not to cry, not in front of them. You jumped as he held you, his chest shaking behind you as he laughed.

The way he laughed sent shivers down your spine, the hands on you too hot. Too wrong. He squeezed your shoulders once before you felt the air on your back, freezing you as he moved away, his hands sliding down your arms as he bent down, his face getting closer to your ear.

“Don't be scared” his breath felt hot, making you whimper, no longer able to hold it in, letting your tears fall freely as you cried. Closing your eyes tighter, not letting them open.

You could feel him move in front of you, his face still close, nuzzling your neck as he whispered, “I'm right here.” You let out a sob, the force of it bringing you down.

It had to be a dream, it had to. There was no way this could be real, for he voice that spoke just moments ago was supposed to be dead.

Your love.

Jason.

The men that held you captive went silent. Holding their breaths at the sight of him, the Red Hood. The deadliest vigilante in all of Gotham crouching in front of you.

He raised his hand to brush away your tears, kissing your forehead before he stood up

“Keep your eyes closed.” he said. You let out a huff, only he could sound amused in a situation like this.

The whole thing was over in seconds. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, bones cracking, the smell of gunpowder flooding your nose with each shot fired, all of it filling the silence. One by one, they all went down, their screams stopping as they each fell. Only when the last of the bodies hit the ground were you able to relax. Your eyes still closed for another reason entirely, now wishing it’d be anything but a dream.

How could you live if it turned out to be just that, if you opened your eyes just find yourself back at your apartment, your tears still fresh and Jason still gone, dead once more.

“Y/n.” You heard him call your name, his voice ever so soft, cautious not to scare you.

You heard him shuffle, crouching once more in front of you. His body blocking the cold air of the night.

“Y/n… Look at me.” he held your face like you were precious, delicate, capable of breaking at the slightest movement, the pads of his thumbs brushing your lashes, trying to coax your eyes to open.

You shook your head, feeling tears fall again, the hands on you catching them before they fell to the floor.

“Please.” he pleaded, his voice full of want, of longing, as he whispered the word, his forehead warm against yours as his hands fell to your neck, rubbing your chin and behind your ears trying to get you to open, to see.

You took in a couple of breaths, steeling yourself before opening your eyes, the faint lights blinding you after having them closed for so long.

The moment you could focus on the person in front of you making you sob. The sight of him threatening to make you cry for the third time this night. He looked just like the last time you saw him, a couple of scratches here and there, but the same nonetheless. The same face, the same smile, the same pair eyes full of warmth, full of love as they looked at you.

You raised your hand to his face, slowly, careful, still not believing this was real.

“Is it really you?” you asked, voice shaking as you looked into his eyes.

“It's me.” a faint smile drawing on his face as he answered, placing his hand over yours, keeping it in place.

You cast down down your eyes, head hanging low as you shook it, not sure if shaking away the tears or something else.

His other hand came up, his fingers hooking up under chin, warm and gentle as he made you stop, tilting up your head, guiding you to look at him.

“It's me.” he said again, his eyes filling up with tears as he held your stare.

You grabbed his hand, placing it against you like he did with yours as you let out a laugh, happiness bubbling inside you before exploding, flinging yourself to hug him. Your arms tight around him, trying to bring him as close as you could. The force of your hug almost made him fall back, losing his balance before he recovered, putting his arms around you as he returned the hug just as fiercely, careful not to hurt you.

“It's you.” you said it over and over like a prayer.

You stayed like that for a while, basking in each other's presence, finally together. You weren't sure how much it had passed before you both let go, a thunder rumbling in the distance reminded you of your situation. You had to hurry if you didn't want to get caught in the rain, and yet, none of you made the effort to move.

A thought came to you as you looked at him, a memory of a conversation that now feels from too long ago.

“You promised you wouldn't do it again.” You said, your fist colliding with his arm.

His hand went to the spot you hit, feigning hurt as he laughed. “I said maybe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, too happy to stay mad at him. Not when he was here, when this wasn’t a dream.

With that thought you held him again, nuzzling your face to his chest, inhaling his scent, his hands rubbing up and down your back before settling on your waist, drawing you closer to him.

“Thank you for coming back.” you whispered softly, not sure he would hear you.

“Thank you for waiting.” he said in the same way.

You kissed as you both embraced, your arms around his neck, pressing your bodies tight against each other, the warmth between the two enough to ignore the cold as it began to rain.

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - II

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 4,300+

Previously on...

When Y/N arrived at the master bedroom, she was surprised to find the door slightly ajar. She knocked always and found Bruce turning to face her, shirtless and only in his boxer briefs.

Bruce seemed subtly surprised to find Y/N standing in his doorway and not Alfred. But he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the state Y/N found him in. 

Along with the first aid kit, Y/N had grabbed two ice packs from the freezer.

“I’m fine,” Bruce told her before she could even offer to help him.

“You can either deal with me or you can deal with Alfred,” she threatened. 

“Your choice,” she added when she saw how serious he took her warning.

Bruce’s heavy sigh was the only answer she’d get.

“Come on,” Y/N nudged her head toward his en-suite bathroom that was probably twice the size of most people’s studio apartments.

She pointed to one of the steps that led up to the giant bathtub, silently instructing him to sit.

“Put these on your ribs,” Y/N instructed as she handed him the ice packs.

To her surprise, Bruce did as she asked.

“I don’t need stitches,” he mumbled as he watched her open the first aid kit.

“I know,” she answered. “Which is lucky for you, because I have no idea how to stitch people up.” 

She dabbed some cotton in hydrogen peroxide. “But…you still need to clean those cuts or they’ll take longer to heal and probably scar.”

Once again, Y/N was surprised to see that Bruce did as she said. He didn’t complain or refuse her assistance – just sat there silently. The man didn’t even flinch and Y/N knew she was causing his injuries to sting.

“What happened tonight that has you so upset?” Y/N finally asked after silently caring for him for a few minutes.

“What makes you think I’m upset?”

She sighed softly. “I’ll be the first to admit that you’re nearly impossible to read. But clearly something happened that caused you to storm out of the cave like you did.”

Bruce didn’t respond.

“Was it them?” Y/N asked carefully. “The Court?"

For a moment, she thought he’d ignore that question too.

“They know I’m protecting you. Well…they know that Batman is protecting you.”

Y/N shrugged. “We knew they were gonna figure it out eventually.”

Bruce remained silent.

“Did they send the Talons after you?”

From his expression, Y/N knew she was right.

The Talons were a group of lethal assassins that did all of the dirty work for The Court of Owls. They were highly trained, almost entirely undetectable, and a force to be reckoned with. Probably only second to the League of Assassins when it came to deadliness.

“That’s why Jason was with you,” Y/N pointed out. “You needed backup.”

“We had it under control,” was all Bruce said.

“I know you were already going after The Court,” Y/N told him gently. “And you need my help.” She hesitated and took in a shaky breath, “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“What was your plan?” Bruce asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When I came to you and told you that you’d been made, you said that you knew. What was your plan?”

“Run. And keep running. You and I both know I’m hopeless when it comes to an actual fight.” She shrugged. “My plan was to keep working on exposing them and stay alive long enough to see it through.”

Y/N waited for some sort of lecture, for Bruce to tell her that it was a stupid plan and she had been sloppy. She waited to feel patronized and belittled.

But Bruce just stared at her.

“What?” She challenged.

“I wish you would prioritize your life a bit more.”

She moved back a little from cleaning his cuts and snorted. “What? Like you?” 

Then she shook her head and went back to cleaning his cuts. “You’re so not the person to be lecturing about self-preservation, Bruce.”

Then Bruce surprised them both.

He grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck and brought her down to him before his lips collided with hers.

She dropped all the medical supplies in her hand from the shock of it all. But then she was cupping his face and kissing him back.

Next thing she knew, Bruce had steered her body so she was straddling his lap.

It had been so long since that night that Y/N had almost forgotten what his lips felt like. Or how his hands touched her so tenderly, but his intent was always clear and effortlessly confident.

But then Y/N’s leg accidentally collided with one of Bruce’s bruised ribs.

It didn’t deter him. He had every intention of ignoring it.

But Y/N felt his body tense in pain and she swore she felt the vibrations of the quietest pained moan from him. 

She could’ve imagined it, but she wasn’t going to continue knowing that she had the ability to accidentally hurt him.  

But it was also her saving grace. Because Y/N shouldn’t be doing this. 

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. Bruce allowed the movement, but his grip on her waist and neck didn’t ease in the slightest.

“You should rest,” she whispered to him.

Then she shoved herself away from him and awkwardly stepped backwards as if she was desperately trying to put space between them.

“Umm…make sure you keep that ice on your ribs,” she told him awkwardly, half turned away from him.

Bruce opened his mouth to stop her, but no words came out. 

The next second, she bolted out of the bathroom and then his master suite.

Her mind was racing with so many thoughts that Y/N didn’t notice Dick catching her race into her own bedroom.

Dick looked between Y/N’s closed door and the direction of Bruce’s room, putting it all together. 

—————

After the close call with the Talons, Bruce had all hands on deck. Even Jason – who usually did his own thing and had separated himself from family matters – had been brought into the fold. Which meant he was spending way more time around the manor.

Y/N knew things were getting serious.

Bruce wasn’t exactly keeping her in the dark. But he also wasn’t being forthcoming with information.

Y/N didn’t know if he was trying to shield her in some way…or if he was just doing business as usual and taking control, not allowing anyone in until he thought it was absolutely necessary.

Either way, through the chaos of it all, Y/N realized Dick hadn’t acted as her shadow in almost a week.

It wasn’t until Jason decided to bother Y/N that she realized what had changed.

Jason leaned backwards against the console Y/N was working on so she was forced to face him. He crossed his arms with a smirk and looked down at her.

“So, you and B, huh?”

“Get off my equipment,” she warned him darkly without even glancing at him.

But inside, she was internally freaking out. 

Y/N made a point to keep as many facts about her life a secret. And her sex life? That was top priority when it came to her privacy. This was worst case scenario.

But also, how the hell did he figure that out?

Jason shrugged, but did as she asked and took a step away from the console. “He didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Y/N finally looked up him. “Please tell me what I have to do to get you to leave me the fuck alone.”

Jason smiled and whistled. “I think I like you.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” she mumbled as she began typing again.

“Jason, leave her alone.”

Y/N turned to see Dick walking into the cave.

Jason held up his hands in surrender and gave his brother an innocent face. “I was just trying to be polite to our guest, Richard.”

“I’m sure you were,” Dick side eyed him.

Jason then turned to Y/N and put on his Red Hood helmet. “I look forward to having more of these titillating conversations, Y/N.” Then he turned to Dick. “I’m heading out on patrol.”

He mounted his motorcycle and raced out of the cave, leaving Dick and Y/N alone for the first time in awhile.

“No patrol for you tonight?” Y/N asked him slowly.

“They’ve got it covered.”

She just nodded and didn’t ask any further questions.

All at once, they were submerged into strange silence. The air was racing with thoughts, yet the tension seemed to simultaneously make it thick, as well.

Y/N sighed. She might as well get this over with. 

“I know you want to ask, so just ask,” Y/N mumbled as her fingers raced across the keyboard and her eyes never left the screens.

“Doesn’t the whole…” Dick really didn’t know how to put it delicately.

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed with his fumbling. She turned around in her chair to face him. “Does his age bother me? Is that what you’re struggling to ask?”

Dick shifted his weight awkwardly, “I guess so. Yeah.”

She raised her brow. “Haven’t you dated a literal alien before?”

“That’s not the same thing,” he defended with a glare.  

“Oh, so as long as the alien is the same age as you, it’s fine?”

Dick really didn’t have an answer for that.

“It’s just that…aren’t you a little young for him?” Somehow he managed to leave out the rudeness in the question. That must be the Wayne charm.

“Isn’t 9 a little young to put on a costume and fight crime?”

Dick sighed, “Touché.”

“I am one of the most successful hackers in the world. He’s a vigilante who dresses up as a bat. What about us screams normal and conventional to you, Dick?”

He knew she had a point.

“Plus, we aren’t in a relationship. It was a one-time thing. Nothing more. It happened a long time ago.”

However, she conveniently left out the heated kiss they shared last night.

“You sure about that?” Dick challenged.

Y/N just eyed him.

“Because the only women he’s had one-time things with are the one’s he’s used or paid to keep the image.” He took a step closer. “And they definitely didn’t know who he really was.”

Y/N tried not to let it show that his words caught her off guard.

This exactly what Y/N didn’t want.

She didn’t want anyone putting ideas in her head that she actually meant something to Bruce Wayne. Because she might make the mistake of believing it.

It happened once. They slept together once. One time. 

Had there been a indescribable intensity between them since then? Yes. But Y/N didn’t like to acknowledge or think about that.

“Can we please stop talking about this?” She asked.

Dick blinked and shook his head. “Sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean to…make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N put her face in her hands and groaned.

Then she shot to her feet and faced Dick. If he wasn’t a vigilante who could break the average man in one swift move, he would be intimidated by the energy radiating off of her.

“Hmm…I wonder why this conversation could ever make me feel uncomfortable, Dick,” her sarcasm was almost too natural.

Then her face dropped.

 When her body language screamed that she was embarrassed, that’s when Dick felt like a piece of shit.

“Look, we’re not…” She didn’t even know how to explain this. “We’re nothing. OK?”

Dick nodded slowly, “OK.”

And he believed her. Because she believed it. Whether that was the truth though, that was an entirely different story.

“We met years ago because I threatened to expose his identity to the world.”

Dick blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/N at least had the shame to look guilty about it.

“You threatened him? You threatened Bruce Wayne? The man who dresses up as a bat and scares the shit out of the criminals of Gotham?”

“I didn’t plan on actually doing it!” Y/N tried to defend. “I needed to get his attention. And guess what, it worked.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought back in time. “I discovered a sex trafficking ring. I had all the information, everything to take it down. I just needed a little…muscle.”

“And you thought Batman could be that muscle,” Dick finished for her.

She nodded.

Then Dick looked at the all the equipment. Her story reminded him what she was fully capable of and why she was here in the first place. “How did you learn to do all of this?”

It was obvious that he was trying to change the subject and give her an out. But she let him still.

Y/N shrugged.

“Is this the part where you tell me about all your degrees from various Ivy League universities?” Dick teased.

“I didn’t go to college,” she told him evenly.

“You di–How is that even possible?”

“I don’t agree with institutionalized higher education.”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she warned him. “You didn’t go to college either.”

Dick scoffed and crossed his arms. “Of course that’s old information to you. Is there anything that you don’t know about me?”

She smirked at his obvious frustration. “I don’t know your favorite color.”

Though she had been teasing him before, her confession was genuine. And her soft tone didn’t go amiss with Dick.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t think he was going to tell her. 

“It’s red,” he told her softly.

“Hmm,” she was surprised. “I always assumed it was blue…because of the uniform and all.”

“Red was always the color of my family’s costumes.” He knew the answer was rather vague.

Y/N’s face turned sympathetic, “The Flying Graysons?”

Dick nodded.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she seemed to know everything about him.

“Red’s a good choice,” Y/N added with a sad smile.

But he realized what she was actually saying was her condolences. Somehow it was better than the forced and awkward “I’m so sorry” he constantly got.

Dick grabbed a chair and sat down to face her with such purpose.

“What else do you want to know?”

Y/N allowed herself to smile at the question. 

“Everything.”

—————

Y/N got addicted to Dick’s openness.

Once Dick Grayson decided to trust someone…he really trusted them.

He didn’t hide himself from Y/N.

Unlike Bruce, Dick was easy to read. But Y/N knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. She saw the way Dick communicated with old team members or even on comms with his brothers. 

But for Y/N, if she asked him something, Dick gave her the answer.

It was as simple as that.

There were no games, no hiding, nor withholding, not manipulation, no fear.

There was just Dick Grayson.

But Y/N also new he was capable of all of those things still. She’d seen him twist conversations and put the focus on the other person. He doesn’t seem to have any issue with blatantly lying. That’s when Y/N saw Bruce.

So why was she different?

————

“I can’t stay another second in this fucking house,” Y/N snapped one day.

They had just eaten dinner and were now sitting in one of the dens. 

Dick laughed at her. “It’s not exactly a prison, Y/N. You’re in a mansion with everything you could ever need – and more.”

But this was the most time Y/N had spent in one place. She was always moving, always on the run. Yeah, she stayed in Gotham for the most part, but she missed the dangerous streets of the city.

“I’m not taking you out,” Dick gave her a warning look as he pointed at her.

“OK. First off, Bruce said nothing about me not being able to leave.”

Dick gave her a look that said, ‘How dumb do you think I am?’

“And if you were with me, then it’s fine. Right?”

“Y/N,” Dick groaned.

“And finally, I can do what I want,” Y/N added with a serious look.

“Sure you can,” he smirked.

But Y/N was being serious and she stood up. “I’m not his prisoner.”

Then she was headed toward the garage.

“No one said you were,” Dick called out after her.

He jumped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Y/N, you know more than anyone that The Court has eyes everywhere. Your face shows up on one street camera for a second and you’ll be tagged. They’ll follow you back here and then nowhere will be safe.”

“I know,” she answered as if it were obvious. “But we’re just going for a drive. Half of Bruce’s cars have tinted windows. And we’re going to take the backroads on the fringe. No street cameras. I doubt we’ll even see another car.”

Dick was adding up the risks in his head, calculating every possible outcome.

“Is Nightwing scared of what Batman will think?” Y/N teased.

Dick raised his eyebrow in amusement and crossed his arms. “Whatever game you’re trying to play…we both know I can play it better.”

She gave him the most innocent face. 

Dick sighed. Was he really about to do this?

“Come on,” he told her.

“Really?” Y/N was shocked she got him to concede.

“But I’m driving. And we’re taking the bike,” he called over his shoulder as he turned on the lights of the garage.

‘Garage’ was an understatement. It looked more like a fancy warehouse that housed at least 20 cars and a dozen motorcycles.

“The bike?” Y/N questioned.

Dick chuckled. “What? You scared of riding motorcycles?” 

Before she had the chance to answer, he pushed a helmet into her chest. It would fully cover her face and had a tinted visor shield on it. 

“Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Y/N glared at him and put on the helmet.

She watched a safe distance away as Dick started his motorcycle and revved he engine.

Even though she was wearing a helmet, he could still tell she was apprehensive.

“Come on,” he encouraged her gently before putting on his own helmet.

Slowly, she approached the motorcycle.

“Just swing your leg over – there you go,” he instructed.

Then he put on his helmet and Y/N realized there were comms linked between the two helmets so they could hear each other easily.

“Uhh…where do I–how do I hold on?” Her question stumbled out.

To her surprise, he didn’t verbally answer. Instead, Dick just reached behind him for her hands and placed them under his leather jacket and around his waist.

The contact felt strangely intimate. And Y/N hated that it made her heart race a bit faster. She hoped he couldn’t feel it as her chest bumped against his back. Hopefully he would just think it was her adrenaline and fear from the bike. 

“Good?” He asked as he revved the engine again.

“I think so?”

Suddenly they shot out of the garage and raced down the long drive that led to the gate. 

Y/N didn’t think Dick was going unusually fast, by any means. But the motorcycle made everything feel more extreme. She slowly started to put together why people liked riding them so much. It was a rush. 

Dick did as he suggested and took backroads, avoiding any main streets or heavy-traffic areas. Which meant a lot of twists and turns.

But Y/N was surprised when he started to slow down and pulled onto a street that was just surrounded by forests. The sun had just set and the sky was colored pink and purple.

Dick turned off the bike when they reached a clearing. It was a meadow, with tall grass that moved like the ocean from the night breeze.

Y/N took off her helmet and grinned at the sight. 

She turned to Dick, “Didn’t expect a city boy like you to know places like this…”

“City boy?” Dick looked insulted. “I was a traveling circus kid before Bruce took me in.” He looked out at the land, “This was one of our stops. We set up right over there,” he pointed to an open field where the ground was even and the grass was short.

Y/N’s face changed when she realized Dick had a connection to this place. It wasn’t just a stop off the highway. It meant something to him.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. It was hard to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“Taking me here. For taking me anywhere, really.”

“Despite how enormous the manor is, it’s suffocating sometimes,” Dick tried to reason with her. “Has it really been so bad, being stuck with us?”

“No,” she quickly answered and took a step toward him. “How much time have you spent working with a team?”

Dick thought about it. “I mean, after leaving Bruce, I just went from one team to another. Even when I think I’m working alone, my family is always around the corner.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile, already knowing that would be his answer. “I never had that. It’s always just been…me.”

“Why?” Dick questioned. 

He knew better than anyone that heroes found other heroes, whether they wanted to or not. And he knew from experience that a team had a stronger chance of changing the world for the better. Even Bruce gave up on being a lone warrior – despite him trying to believe he still is one. 

“I don’t go after criminals that wear face paint and shoot guns, Dick. I go after the people that terrify others into silence and submission. I go after the people that most don’t even know we should be going after.” She shook her head. “It’s dangerous in a different way. And I never wanted to risk anyone else’s life but my own.”

“But when things go south, who’s got your back?” Dick challenged.

Y/N thought about it a moment and just shrugged.

Dick’s eyes saddened. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Y/N.”

She didn’t acknowledge his statement.

When there was a large gust of wind, Y/N closed her eyes as if it would help her body absorb the nature around them.

Dick allowed himself to take her in while her eyes were closed – all of her. 

He still didn’t know so much about her past – what she’s seen, what she’s been through. But he felt like he understood her as a person. He saw how intelligent she was, how she explained things to Tim without sounding condescending or embarrassing him for not knowing. Or how patient she was with Damian when he was his bratty self, and she clearly saw his behavior for what it was: a child who didn’t know how to converse with normal people. And when Jason was a sarcastic smartass, Y/N gave it right back to him. Dick also didn’t miss how Y/N offered to help Alfred cook and clean up as if it wasn’t his job.

The moment Dick was having as he looked at Y/N was interrupted by his phone.

“100 bucks that it’s Bruce,” Y/N griped.

And when Dick pulled it out from his pocket, lo and behold, Bruce’s name was lit on the screen.

“Hello. Yeah, she’s with me. We just went for a drive. We’re heading back now.”

As soon as he hung up, Y/N asked, “Was he pissed?”

“He was extremely calm, which is probably not a good sign.”

But Dick didn’t seem too concerned with Bruce’s wrath. He’d grown out of that long ago. 

“Come on,” he nodded to his parked motorcycle.

Y/N slid on the bike behind him with much more confidence and finesse this time. And there was no hesitation as she wrapped her hands around around Dick’s waist. He swore her grip was tighter too.

“Ready?” Dick still asked her. 

But then his hand seemed to have a mind of his and slid over the grip she had on his waist, brushing across one of her hands almost…affectionately.

He didn’t even realize he did it until a few seconds afterward.

“Mhmm,” Y/N hummed.

The ride back was less peaceful. The sun had gone down and if they weren’t in view of Gotham’s city lights, they couldn’t see their surroundings. It also didn’t help that they knew they were returning to the manor to face Bruce.

When they parked inside the garage and turned off the engine, they both heard Bruce call Dick’s name from inside.

Y/N winced, but quickly recovered.

She squeezed Dick’s upper-arm. “Don’t worry. This is on me.”

Before Dick couldn’t argue and say he wasn’t scared of Bruce, Y/N was walking back into the manor.

“Need I remind you that you’re number one on The Court of Owls’ hit list?” Bruce told Y/N darkly.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and slacks. It was an off-duty look for him, but he still looked like he was in some sort of uniform.

“Dick had nothing to do with it,” Y/N defended calmly. “I threatened to photoshop nudes of him and sell them to TMZ and the Daily Mail.”

Bruce shared a look with Dick over Y/N’s shoulder, proving that he already knew Y/N had made no such threat.

“I’ll be in my lab,” Y/N announced, deciding to end the conversation before it could turn into a lecture or argument. 

When she passed Bruce, Y/N turned around and gave Dick a grateful smile before mouthing, ‘Thank you’ to him.

Now it was just Bruce and Dick.

“If you want to lecture me, just get it over with,” Dick sighed.

“You know better,” Bruce answered.

“She was going to leave whether I went with her or not. I thought it was best to keep an eye on her. I wasn’t stupid about it, Bruce.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Dick glared at him. “We can’t keep her locked up here forever.”

“She’ll stay until we take down The Court. Until then, she’s at risk.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Careful, Bruce. It’s starting to sound like you’re making this personal.”

But they both knew there was another meaning behind his words. Dick saw Bruce put together what he was really trying to say. ‘I know you two have a history. I know what happened between you.’

But Dick didn’t know what was happening now. 

Bruce just glared at him and said, “I could say the same to you.”

Then he turned and left.

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

Part III

Ooooooo. The drama!

Let me know what you think! Please 😔

[toastedside]

Banana Toast

Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

I was reading Super Sons the other day and this particular fic come into my mind right after. Just imagining the talk that come after sneaking out the night fighting Kid Amazo.

You watched Damian stepped out of the car with perpetual scowl on his face. He still wears his full armour Robin suit, with domino mask and all. You and Alfred had just picked him up from the Kent an hour ago after he snuck out for the night, roped Jon into an impromptu dangerous mission.

You suppressed a shiver. You didn’t want to imagine the worst, you had it all before. You were grateful that neither Jon nor Damian had suffered any lethal injuries. Few cuts here and there and probably a bruised shoulder, but nothing lethal.

Lois was livid when three of you had caught them climb up the window towards Jon’s room. You had been too, more so when you found out they were chasing after an Amazo wannabe and provoking Lex Luthor. Lois took all the shouting and scolding role that morning while you went full on injuries inspection and Alfred full on disappointed frown.

This is a mission where any one of them should have called their fathers. Jon argued that he tried to do so, but Damian was against the idea. It did not surprise you a little bit. If anything, you had always known the boy practically bleed for validation.

“In this kind of moment is the moment I truly believe that he is Master Bruce’s son,” Alfred’s voice came from behind. You whipped your head and smiled. “The utter stubbornness they both possess is astounding.”

“And their knack to make me worry is more or less the same.”

You found Damian fresh out of shower almost half an hour later, rummaged through the kitchen cabinet looking for some food. You silently watched him from behind, reading all of his body language from here. You knew he wasn’t exactly sorry about what he did, nor he feels the need to, but he was pretty pissed and awful with the consequence he brought after.

Or the reaction he received from others, for the lack thereof.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to give me lectures too?” Damian asked without bother to turned around.

“Would you like some banana toast for breakfast?” You simply smiled as you went through the kitchen cabinet to grab some wheat bread.

“Banana toast?”

“Basically, it’s a toast with peanut butter and banana, add chocolate if you feel fancy,” you explained. “It’s a comfort food I invented during my college days. I eat it whenever I feel down or upset. You want some?”

Damian thought for a while. “Yes, please. That sounds good.”

You spent few minutes in silence as you put your comfort food on work. Damian sat behind on the chair watching you solemnly, probably went through hundreds of probable scenarios from this. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that he had always on high alert for a thirteen-year-old.

It gave you some time to think too. A part of you wanted nothing more but to yell to get the point across, but you also recognized that he had taken some blows from Lois before. Yelling to get the point across would be a contra productive thing to do where it would’ve done nothing but push him away further.

You were disappointed, nonetheless. A little betrayed at the fact that he had to snuck out and breach an agreement. And Damian didn’t try to look at you in the eyes, not even when you slid the warm toast towards him. Shame, probably, or guilt, you didn’t know.

“Damian, you do realize that you broke off an agreement with me and your father, right?” You started. Your voice was soft and calm, you tried your best to remain civil.

“I know,” his voice was firm. As if he had prepared for this inevitable conversation.

“May I know why?”

“Father hadn’t let me to go out for patrol with him!” Damian’s voice was thick with disappointment, a dash of anger, but surprisingly he didn’t raise his voice. “I just want to do good out there. I saved a family from their own demise tonight; you can’t blame me for that!”

“You do know exactly why your father didn’t let you go out for patrol with him. You’ve been ditching schools and is five assignments behind.”

“I don’t need school! It’s stupid! I already know the whole thing; I can easily have master degree by age seven!”

“I don’t doubt that a little bit. You’re indeed very smart. You can easily outsmart me and your father, even,” you nodded in acknowledgement. “But we need you to understand that school is not only for your academic learning, there are a lot of things to learn outside just knowing. Including gaining soft skills and build connections too. Befriend with someone your age.”

“I don’t do friends! Besides, isn’t that what superhero groups are? Isn’t me in Teen Titan enough?”

“Emphasize on the ‘someone your age’ a little bit more, darling. Most of the Titans are older than you. You don’t exactly call Starfire someone your age now, do you?” You smiled. “And you do friends. Jon is the living proof.”

Damian scowls a little bit. “We’re not friends.”

“That’s what your father says about Superman at first. Look at them now, attached by the hip if you ask me.”

Damian smiled slightly at that. Or anything that resemble a smile. He quietly munched on his banana toast, silently marveling at the taste and let the information sink in.

“We also need you to understand that your action last night, while outstanding in the field, still have consequences.”

“Am I grounded?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t I already grounded for ditching school?”

“Doesn’t mean you’ll get out of this clean,” you said. Damian groaned. “No patrol for next two weeks, and you’re going to school. Catch up with your assignments.”

“Two weeks?” Damian screeched in protest. “That’s too long! What if–”

“Unless you are needed in the field out of immediate emergency, you are not allowed for patrol otherwise. I know you’re Robin, but you are also my and your father’s son. You live under our roof, and you go with the rules too. We’ve talked about this hundred times already and you were agreeing,” you pointed out. “I trust you, Damian. Your father trust you. And it would mean a lot for us if you able to maintain that. One of the ways is by not sneaking out in the night and fighting bunch of robots with your friend.”

“Right,” Damian muttered slowly, defeated. “I am sorry, Mom.”

“Apology accepted, darling. Now go finish your breakfast and catch some sleep. You can join me in the clinic this afternoon if you want to, you can bring Jon over if his parents allow him to.”

“Can I meet Peanut the clinic dog, then?”

“You can try to train her some tricks you taught Titus if you want to.”

Damian’s spirit seemed to be lifted up by the promise. He eagerly finished his breakfast and went straight to his room, this time to catch some sleep hopefully. You let out a relieved sigh, the conversation went better than you had anticipated. By the look Alfred sent you when you brought the empty plates over, you thought he was agreeing too.

Well, raising bunch of vigilante kids definitely never cross your mind, or even a life you expected to have. But looking back, you wouldn’t have it any other way.