#Alfred: I am sorry my boy but you are punished

[prlssprfctn]

Alfred, who tries to punish little Jason for something he messed up with by using the same methods he used on Dick — aka. ground him, make him wash dishes and clean the house, or just watching some old reality shows with him — expect... it never works. Jason is actually fucking excited about all of these things.

Alfred: To my attention was brought a fact that you smoked with Commissioner Gordon again. Jason, stuttering: I mean- I- Alfred: Thus, you are punished. I expect all dishes to be cleaned by the time I return home. Jason, confused: Really? Alfred: Yes. Jason, beaming, because cleaning makes him feel better and helps to distract himself: Cool! Thanks, Alfie. Alfred: Excuse me?

Cut to Alfred, who stares in shock as he finds Jason actually enthusiastically washing dishes, while singing along with Whitney Houston.

Alfred: For this punishment, you will... be grounded. Jason: Oh, thank god, guys from school invited me to the cinema, but I didn't want to go, anyway. Alfred: ...And clean up the whole cave. Jason: I actually did this morning! But I can do another round of quick cleaning session if you want, Alfie. Alfred: ...And then you will watch another soap opera with me, lad. Jason, squealing: Cool!

Bruce, staring amusedly on Alfred and Jason, who sew Batman's and Robin's suits, while discussing the new episode of their favourite show: Al, I don't think that's a punishment for a kid... Alfred, frowning: Of course not. I am just spending time with my grandson. Bruce: Mhm-m. What about the punishment for your favourite broken vase? Alfred, who promised to punish anyone who did it this morning, because he thought it was Bruce, and not Jason, who accidentally knocked it off with the tip of his cape: ... Alfred: What vase? Jason: *beaming*

Alfred, solemnly: My boy. I am afraid, this time you truly need to serve your punishment in the order to understand your mistake. Alfred: No Jane Austen adaptations marathon for this Sunday. Jason, in horror: Alfred, no. Please. Alfred: Even more, you are obligated to go out on Sunday, and stay away from doing any additional homework. Jason: NO-O. Dick, who came for holidays, witnessing this for the first time: ... Dick: I think this kid is broken or something.

[hypewinter]

Bruce sighed. He was in over his head. Wayyyy over his head. Honestly he only had himself to blame. Really what was he thinking? He'd taken in one child and suddenly thought he was an expert in traumatized youths? He'd been overconfident and rash and now Danny was suffering for it and would probably hate him forever now and-

"I can hear you fidgeting through the door!" Came a voice that broke Bruce out of his spiral. There was a shuffle before the heavy wooden door swung open. A boy with floppy black hair and ice blue eyes stared up at him.

"You could've just knocked ya know?" Danny said.

Bruce fidgeted a little more, embarrassed that he'd been caught. "Bu- I thought you were-"

"Still mad at you?" Danny interrupted. "Yeah, I can tell by your face. You didn't even bother to wipe off your eyeshadow."

It was true. Bruce had rushed through patrol and gotten back home as quickly as possible. He'd barely shed his armor as he practically tripped over himself trying to get up to Danny's room. He had come up with and memorized the perfect apology to smooth things over between the two of them and had been dying to get it out before he messed anything else up. But now all the words he'd rehearsed left him.

"Wait. You're not angry?"

Danny leveled him with a blank stare as he leaned on the door frame. "Oh I'm always angry. Just not at you. At least not right now."

Upon seeing Bruce struggle to form words, Danny continued. "You were right," he said. "I shouldn't have beat up Dylan and his little minions. I knew they were intentionally trying to goad me into hitting them and I did it anyway. I-I'm sorry."

For the first time since their conversation began, Danny looked away. His look of mild annoyance was now replaced with one of shame.

"I just- they were making fun of my family. Saying stuff like 'they were small town trash and no one would miss them'. And that comment just set me off." Tears were now springing to Danny's eyes as anger took over his features.

Danny's hands balled into fists as he continued. "I couldn't just let that go. Especially not when they're the ones that are trash. They're so bothered by a 'commoner' wearing the same uniform as them that they feel the need to persistently bully me even when I have nothing to do with them. We don't share any classes, I eat lunch alone, I'm not in any clubs or extracurriculars and if I had a choice I wouldn't even be going to that damn school to begin with!"

Tears were freely streaming down Danny's cheeks as he stopped to catch his breath. His whole body was shuddering with fury. Bruce carefully put a hand on the boy's shoulder, ready to back off if Danny pulled away but he leaned in instead. Given the go ahead, Bruce carefully pulled Danny into a hug, slowly patting his back.

It took a while before either of them spoke. "I know what they said was out of line," Bruce started. "And trust me, they'll definitely receive punishment. But-"

"I know, I know," Danny murmured, turning his face to the side while still clutching onto Bruce's shirt. "Sending 5 boys to the hospital with my training is still bad."

After staying like that for a while, Danny finally looked up at Bruce. "Am I gonna be expelled?" he asked.

Bruce gave a soft smile. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. I promise."

Danny finally pulled away, rubbing at his face with his sleeve and returned Bruce's smile with a toothy one of his own. "You're gonna bribe them or something aren't you? There's gonna be a conveniently placed donation or something. You're just like those rich pricks," he teased.

"Heyyyy! How come Danny gets to cuss?" came a small voice from beyond the shadows of Danny's room. Soon enough, Dick made himself seen, Zitka cradled in his arms as he sleepily stolled forth.

"He's not," Bruce answered quickly. They had just convinced Dick to use more "colorful" insults as opposed to outright cursing and Bruce for one was not willing to face Alfred's wrath if he reverted back. A side glance at Danny told him the exact same thought was running through the boy's mind too. Leave it to Alfred to put the fear of God into two vigilantes who beat up criminals every night.

Dick yawned as he reached out for Bruce. "Then why'd he just say-"

"Don't tell Alfred and you'll have my dessert for a week," Danny interrupted in a panic.

Dick grinned. "Deal," he said as Bruce picked him up. The little boy blinked his eyes a few times before falling back asleep in Bruce's embrace.

Danny halfheartedly glared at the sleeping child. "I swear that kid is gonna grow up to be a politician the way he manipulates like that."

All Bruce could do was sigh. After all Danny was probably onto something. Dick knew very well the influence he had on others and never shied away from using it. It was very likely that he would be holding this particular little incident over their heads for at least the next two weeks.

Bruce looked at Danny, a thought suddenly dawning on him. "Why was Dick sleeping in your room? Did he have a nightmare again?" he asked, shifting the conversation.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. He just insisted that we both make up. He wouldn't leave until I agreed. That kid really doesn't know the meaning of 'no'."

Bruce felt his heart melt as he looked down at the boy in his arms. Why was Dick such a sweet child?

Danny grinned as he started heading downstairs. "Don't get all sappy yet. He was also walking me through his plan of how he got back at Dylan and his gang for my suspension."

The smile dropped from Bruce's face. "Wh... what do you mean revenge? Danny? Danny!?"

I told y'all I'd do it myself if I had to.

[rutlancecf]

Before the wedding. 💍

~*~Two hours ago~*~

- And then he sends me to say with Alfred that I am punished! Why can't he say it to my face? Ugh!- He dropped into the chair.- I'm sorry, Oliver.-

- From what?- He kept looking at the mirror, fixing his tie.

- You're about to marry Dinah, and I just, ugh, bother you with my problems.- He sighed and looked at the ground. Then he crossed his arms irritably and looked away.- Just as father said, "Damian, don't go ruining Oliver's day, grunt, grunt. Today is a big day, grunt, for him. Grunt, grunt." -

- It doesn't bother me at all, boy.- Oliver turned to see him with a big smile.- Listening to you helps me not to get nervous before taking the big step.-

- Heh. No, seriously.- He tried to smile but sank deeper into his seat.- I want to leave Gotham City, Oliver.-

- Why's that?-

- There are many vigiltants here, besides.- He held his arm.- I feel that it would be the best for everyone. Not to mention that my father wouldn't care if I'm here or not.-

- You are his son, of course he cares about you.-

- Yes, that's why he keeps an eye on me all the time, waiting for the opportunity to blame me for each one of my mistakes every time I'm wrong.- He closed his eyes for a moment.- I think, I think I can't even meet his expectations.-

Damian felt a hand on his shoulder and he opened his green eyes to see the blonde man.

- You shouldn't feel bad, Damian. You're just starting out, and it's normal for you to make mistakes. And believe it, Bruce takes it very seriously.- He released his shoulder and sat across from him.- And it might be a good idea for you to leave Gotham City. You could go to Metropolis for example, where you are the partner of Clark's son.-

- Jonathan?- Seeing him nod, he sighed again and covered his eyes.- I had a fight with him the other night.-

- And why is that?- He crossed his arms, somewhat worried. It wasn't good for the bats and the Supers to fight against each other.- What happened?-

- I ... I was so upset after having argued with my father, that I made a couple of mistakes during the patrol. And on top of that, Mr. Kent spent a moment to congratulate Jonathan, that I couldn't stand it.- He turned red with embarrassment.- When we were left alone, I began to blame Jon for what happened, when clearly it was my fault. God.-

- Hey, I don't think Jon is one of those guys who holds a grudge for long. Also, if you go and apologize to him, he will understand you.-

- I don't know, we haven't talked to each other since then.- He raised his eyes a little, swallowing and steeling himself, he continued.- Oliver, do you think everyone would be upset if I stopped being ... a hero like the others?-

- You mean throw in the towel.- Seeing him nod, he continued.- It would be a shame since you have a lot of potential, but if you feel that's what you really want, at least I wouldn't bother.-

- Really?- And the boy's voice sounded so full of hope and despair at the same time.

- Believe it or not, we all have that thought at some point, and very few manage to have a life outside of fighting crime.- He put a hand on his shoulder again as a gesture of sympathy. - But you must have the certainty and the will necessary to make it come true. Being a vigilant, for whatever reason one is, absorbs too much of one's life. You could have the opportunity to get away from all this, but you must be very sure that you want to do it.-

- Thank you, Oliver.- The 16 years old boy smiled at him.- I'll keep it in mind.-

They continued talking about more trivial things, until it was time to walk down the aisle.

[ragingbookdragon]

Make All The Cookies

Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Edited and titled changed! Enjoy! -Thorne

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

The manor was quiet as he walked through it, making his way to the bedroom from the cave. His sons had gone off to bed in the earlier hours after they’d gotten home from patrol, his wife kissing his cheek and going off to bed as well, too tired to deal with whatever he was still working on—Bruce could tell she was overworked by the way she had tiredly told him goodnight and wandered up the stairs, leaning on her eldest sons the entire time.

He rolled his shoulders as he reached the stairs to the second floor, and as he put his foot on the first one, he stilled his movement, the sound of metal clanging together coming from down the hall in the kitchen. He frowned, mind shooting out different scenarios of who could be in the kitchen. One of the boys getting up for a snack? Alfred preparing something for breakfast the night before?

Unsure of which one it was, and he turned, feet carrying him to the breakfast room. The closer he got, the more sounds he could hear, and he wondered what exactly was happening inside. He turned the corner, expecting to see one of his sons raiding the fridge of all the sweets or fruits, but was greeted by the sight of his wife stirring something in a bowl, leaning against the island whilst humming some song she’d heard on the radio.

A small smile graced his lips as he watched her pick up a bag of chocolate chips and pour a handful into her mouth before she tipped the bag and poured them into the bowl. She went back to mixing, still oblivious to him until he stepped inside and up behind her. “What are you doing up so late, sweetheart?”

She spun around with a sharp curse, one hand clutching the bowl to her chest, the other pointing the spatula at him. As she realized who she was staring at, she heaved a sigh, setting down the bowl and tossing the spatula in it. “Jesus Bruce, you scared the shit out of me.”

He grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Sorry (Y/N), wasn’t my intention to.” She hummed at him absentmindedly, pulling the pan towards her and starting the process of rolling the cookie dough. Bruce shifted, wrapping his other arm around her waist, his chest pressed to her back. “You never answered my question.”

(Y/N) rolled a ball of dough between her hands. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Is something bothering you?” Bruce asked, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

She shrugged, placing the dough on the cookie sheet before grabbing more. “It’s not important dear…just work stuff.”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.” He shifted, nuzzling her neck and quipping, “And if it’s work stuff, it involves Wayne Enterprises…what’s going on?”

(Y/N)’s hands stilled, and after a moment, she leaned back into his chest, her head dropping to rest back against his shoulder. “I’ve got three board meeting before this weekend, I have a meeting about the modeling line on Saturday, I’ve got a meeting with Damian’s teacher about a kid he’s been arguing with all week, and to top it off—”

She pointed at the refrigerator and griped, “Some turd-nugget used the rest of the salted butter and I had to use unsalted for the cookies.” She gestured to the bowl. “You don’t put unsalted butter in cookies! You use salted because it gives more flavor! How am I supposed to make my famous chocolate chip cookies without the correct ingredients?”

Bruce observed her for a moment before shifting an arm, picking up a ball of cookie dough and popping it into his mouth, much to (Y/N)’s irritation. He chewed and swallowed, then shrugged. “Tastes fine to me. Can’t even tell the difference.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes at him and picked up the spatula, pointing in his direction. “You do that again and I’m gonna smack the shit out of your hand, clear?”

Bruce smiled at her and wrapped his arm back around her waist. “So, why don’t you just let Lucius handle the board meetings sweetheart?”

She scoffed, hands rolling another ball. “And dump more work onto him than he already handles? No, I need to do my part too.” She jutted her chin out to a glass across the island. “Hand me my water, please.” Bruce obliged, picking her water glass up and handing it to her; she took a sip before setting it down and telling him, “Wash you hands and help me roll the rest of these cookies, please.” He nodded, moving to the sink and rinsing his hands before walking back over.

They worked in silence, and before they knew it, (Y/N) was popping the cookie pan in the oven and setting the timer. They rested against the kitchen island, (Y/N) resting her head on his arm. She watched the oven for a moment, then sighed, “I can’t believe my immediate reaction to stress is to bake cookies.”

Bruce snorted at her. “At least you don’t stress clean like Jason does.” (Y/N) nodded in agreement, shifting and burying her face in his chest, feeling his arms rest across her back. Bruce leaned down, lips brushing just beside her ear. “You don’t have to take on the world, sweetheart…it’s okay to take a moment for yourself.”

She nodded against his chest, turning her head so that she could see him. “I don’t really want to do the meetings this week.”

“Then call Lucius and ask him to cover for you, and I’ll handle the modeling agency and Damian’s teacher…sound good?”

(Y/N) nodded, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “What about my cookies?”

Bruce chuckled lowly. “I’m afraid that ship’s already sailed, sweetheart.” Before she could respond, the timer beeped and Bruce said, “Speaking of ship, looks like it’s found a harbor.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling away and putting on an oven-mitt, opening the oven and pulling out the pan. She set it on a trivet and pulled the mitt off, tossing it aside and moving back into Bruce’s arms. “I need to make more cookies…I’m still stressed.”

Bruce hummed, reaching up and massaging her shoulders. “How about we stress eat these cookies you just baked?” He tipped his head back and asked, “Does that sound like a better idea?”

Whatever response she had was cut off as four boys stumbled into the kitchen. “We smell cookies.”

Bruce and (Y/N) looked over to see Dick and Jason standing there, Tim and Damian wrapped around their backs; (Y/N) huffed a laugh at the sight. “They just came out of the oven, so they’re still hot.”

Jason stepped forward, leaning over and plucking one from the pan and holding it up. “Hot or not, they’re cookies…we’ll take ‘em.” He waved the cookie. “Oi, Timberly.” He glanced back and sighed, shaking his shoulders. “Timmy, wake up, I’ve got a cookie for you.”

Tim stuck out a hand, sleepily responding, “Gimme.” Jason handed it to him, and he held it, head dropping back against his shoulder. Dick laughed and picked two up, handing one to Damian, keeping the other for himself. The two parents watched their sons descend on the freshly baked cookies, smiles on their faces.

Jason looked up from his and said, “These are good, mom.”

The others, save Tim who’d fallen back asleep, nodded, and (Y/N) smiled at them. “Thank you, baby.”

Footsteps came from down the hallway, and they all turned to see Alfred stepping in the kitchen. He gestured to the kitchen and the family eating cookies. “What on earth has happened to my kitchen! And are you eating before breakfast!”

No one said a word, too afraid to until (Y/N) stepped forward, pointing at the others. “Alfred, I woke up and came in here and they were eating cookies. I told them that you would be angry if you came in here, but they didn’t listen.” The others gave shouts.

“What?!”

“That’s not true!”

“You’re the one who made the cookies, (Y/N).”

She turned to her husband, a smirk on her face. “No, I’m not. I only use salted butter in my cookies.” (Y/N) plucked the empty butter box from the counter. “Whoever made these, used unsalted butter.” Bruce’s face morphed in shock and she turned back to Alfred. “I think it’s safe to say that you can handle their punishments, Alfie?”

He nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. “Of course, Missus Wayne.” He glared at the others. “I can certainly handle it.”

(Y/N) smiled as she grabbed one of the cookies, pressing her lips to Bruce’s cheek and whispering, “Thank you for handling my affairs, husband. You’re such a dear.”

He glared as she pulled away and hissed, “And you’re a witch. A temptress of a witch whom I love, but a witch nonetheless.”

(Y/N) winked as she backed out of the kitchen. “Goodnight boys! Have fun cleaning up the kitchen!”

[warlockfemale]

Happy Birthday @jovialjuggernaut-draws I am so sorry that this is so late!

Bruce’s colors have always been muted.

He knows because he was told by a doctor after one of many tests. His parents had both smiled widely and told him just what an exciting thing it was. How he had a soulmate out there someplace and waxed poetry about just the sort of things Bruce would notice once he’d found them. He is one of the 30% of the world with someone made just for him that would be found out once his skin touched theirs.

What they hadn’t told him was how only 6% of the world consisted of people with soulmates that had one one another. What would have devastated Bruce once became a relief because he wasn’t destroying another’s life by making them step into the darkness with him. He was happy to date around and allow whoever had been burdened with him to go on with their own life.

And now he was staring in shock into eyes greener than anything Bruce had ever seen before in his life.

“Shit.”

“Shit!” Edward Nygma agreed. He stepped back, cleared his throat, and swiveled around. “Girls! I’ve changed my mind!” Bruce’s mind had frozen into a blue screen so all he could do was stare at the green clad (god is this how so many people usually saw the world?) trio stride out. As if Edward had an important dinner date he was almost late to while Bruce’s entire worldview was trying to stop tilting. He was sure the entire gala was staring at him or Edward at that point, wondering just what Gotham’s most popular billionaire had done to put the robbery to an end so fast.

“Bruce? You doing ok?” Hands started patting him all over. “Bruce? You’re looking really pale here.”

Shit.

* * * *

Bruce wasn’t brooding. He was analyzing the situation from all angles after debriefing it in the batcave to all persons that might get affected. Dick still refused to answer his phone so Bruce asked Wally to tell his son to check the text. Jason apparently thought there was nothing to worry about (and started laughing) and Alfred seemed less concerned about Bruce’s soulmate being a criminal and more worried about how Bruce was reacting.

Bruce wasn’t brooding and to prove it he went to answer the door soon as the bell rang.

“Delivery for a Mr. Wayne!” Nina Damfino grunted as she shoved a heavy green wrapped box into Bruce’s arms. Unlikely to be an explosive since she’d delivered it and Bruce doubted he could get away with chucking the thing away onto the lawn. So he regrettably started unwrapping the thing; hoping that Edward was watching and wincing at the unnecessary mess made of the custom paper. Taking a deep breath (and hoping that Riddler hadn’t somehow bribed Ivy into giving up some pollen) Bruce opened the box.

What. The. Fuck.

Those were Bruce’s statues. The ones depleting Zal and Rudabeh, stolen from the museum they had been on loan to years ago.

Bruce slammed the door shut in Nina’s face.

* * * *

Of course someone had noticed what was going on. Bruce hadn’t been able to stop himself from gawking at just how many different colors the world had now. Or maybe Riddler had bragged to the entire city about it. Either way Bruce was suddenly bombarded with reporters from the society page. One of them had the gall to ask when the wedding was.

“I have a preteen son,” had been Bruce’s statement hoping that could clear things up. “He is my first priority.”

In hindsight that might have been the wrong thing to say.

* * * *

“So I’ve changed the rules a little. My riddles will lead you to criminals and this time they won’t be me!” Jason was practically vibrating in place from mirth as Bruce stared fixedly at the letter laying on the table. Gordon was giving Bruce A Look.

“Word on the street is something happened at the Wayne gala.”

“Hrrn.”

“Riddler donated back some of the art he stole. Wrapped with a bow.” And with a two sheeted riddle that pretty much translated into one giant insult that the museum’s director was still trying to puzzle out. Jason had thought the entire thing was great after the director’s snub at the “newest Wayne charity case”.

“I heard.” The wall really needed to be repainted.

“Batman I need to know if this is going to explode into something I’ll need to worry about.” That had been Dick’s exact words when he’d come into the cave last night.

“I’m looking into it.” Alfred had already started to make pointed remarks about manners and facing life’s problems. “Now ‘You don’t have to look for a night on the lawn’-”

* * * *

“You know Riddler tried to bribe me into sharing information about you today at the library.” Jason tilted his chair back onto the back legs as if he had not just nearly given Bruce a heart attack with his words. “Don’t worry, I held out for a triple scoop sundae before letting him know your favorite color.”

“Jason, he's a dangerous criminal!”

“Eh I grew up with worse.” Bruce breathed in deep trying not to let Jason see just how troubled that fact always made him. Jason usually said things like that off hand, just another fact about the world. The sky was blue, Selina liked to steal things, and Jason’s childhood until now had consisted of trying to survive. “His eyes aren’t mean. And you’re soulmates.”

“I cannot tell you how little that reassures me,” Jason grinned and tipped his chair back into place the little brat. Bruce ruffled the boy’s hair as punishment earning a fake glare and slap at his hands. “But really Jason, you need to stay safe.”

“Uh huh. Think I could take on the Riddler.” Not reassuring. “I also made sure to be in sight of Barbie at all times.” Much more reassuring since Bruce had personally seen Barbra flip two grown men over her head at once. Another grin, bigger this time. More of a smirk that had Bruce raising an eyebrow. “I also told him that you liked flowers.”

“Jay lad please tell me-”

“Sir there seems to have been a delivery for you.” Alfred’s face was carefully blank, a sure sign of just what Bruce was going to find at the door. “If you do not mind.”

“Don’t worry!” Jason called out happily as Bruce stared in disbelief at the sudden garden now growing on his steps. “I made sure Ivy wouldn’t be out for blood!”

* * * *

“Ah detective!” Edward’s green suit might as well been the only spark of color in the diner as Bruce entered it. As pressed and clean as always while the man himself gave a small toast with his coffee cup. “Glad you could make it! And you solved my riddle! Very good!”

“Riddler.” Bruce sat down at the diner bar taking in Edward’s appearance. “What is it now?”

“Is that any way to talk to your new partner?”

“If you think this game-”

“Oh please,” Edward waved his hand like a magician retrieving their rabbit. “You might think Bruce’s secret is safe but I am a genius. He’s helped fund the Justice League.” Edward leaned in, eyes darting around the near empty diner as his voice lowered. “He’s funding you. I have to play on the side of angels for the only one in the universe that can understand me?” He stood up, throwing cash upon the bar and a grim smile on his face. “Now let’s get to chasing down those criminals. Quick crime question. Who was the biggest thief in history?”

Bruce stared at him, then the newspaper resting under Edward’s coffee cup. “Atlas News? Where is this going?” Edward’s face lit up, eyes gleaming as he didn’t even bother trying to hide his utter delight.

“The game, my dear Watson, is afoot!”

“Awwww.” Nightwing cooed into the communicator from his perch as Edward stumbled out the door. It was not adorable, Bruce reminded himself sternly, for a grown man to go scampering out the way that Edward did with such a look of utter pride on his face for having “bested” Batman. They both had a job to do and he was yet convinced that Edward wasn’t just trying to play another game. “Just for the record. Batgirl says you’re an emotionally repressed coward.”

Batman never sighed. In public.

* * * *

“Why hello there Mr. Wayne. Fancy seeing you um… here. At home. Working in your study.” Sometimes it was easy to forget that Riddler’s over extravagant self praise and mocking towards others covered up a socially awkward man. Alfred’s rather pointed eyebrow raise before the butler closed the door let Bruce know just how little the household held his own social skills. Perfect match Jason had cackled madly last night. One never shuts up and the other just grunts.

“I have a secret.” Bruce managed to grind out as he stared at the area above Edward’s ear. He could do this, he’d managed to disarm a bomb with Firefly setting things on fire last month. He has given this speech several times into the mirror and once to Alfred. “It is a rather large one and will affect any… relationship that I may have.” Bruce chanced a look at Edward’s face and was slightly alarmed to see the man’s lip’s twitching. “You deserve to know and if this makes you decide that a-”

“Unless your secret is that you’re Batman I don’t expect-” Edward trailed off as he stared at Bruce’s face. The green clad man’s face went blank as Bruce went through all the contingency plans for when this went bad. “You’re Batman?” Edward burst out laughing, hands flying to the desk to keep himself upright as his body shook hard. Bruce’s hand flew up to sturdy the man just to be swatted away. “I knew it!”

“You couldn’t have known I was-”

“No, no. Not that. Well, somewhat.” Edward’s eyes really were a bright green, brighter than any other color as he bent forward to give a quick peck to Bruce’s lips, one thumb rising up to trace the small scar on the corner. “I always knew you were the only one who got me.”

[agentsix606]

Echoes: A DamiRae Story

Hey, look at me updating for once.

Chapter 2: Surprise Guest (A Good One This Time)

AO3 - Fanfic.net - Wattpad

Dear Raven;

I am very sorry that I had to leave so abruptly. Father ordered it. After Grayson had informed him of my solution to end Deathstroke's reign of terror, he insisted that I returned home immediately. I hope to be home soon; Father may allow me. 

Starfire informed me that you are recovering well. I am very grateful. You are a valuable asset to the team, and I would be lying if I said that I did not enjoy your companionship at times. It is quite lonely without having anyone to enjoy tea and a good book with. At the very least, I have Titus, who I never thanked you for. Already he is proving a worthy comrade and trustful companion. Perhaps he will someday supersede Ace. I am well aware that Father enjoys feeding him under the table during dinner. 

How is Logan doing? We were all aware that his relationship with Markov was... intimate, to say the least. I cannot imagine this new revelation being easy for him. I am sure that Reyes has his hands full. 

Most importantly, how are you doing? I have never seen you strain your magick so far. Surely there are lasting effects of exerting yourself so harshly. As I'm sure you are aware, although I cannot travel back to the Tower as of right now, Father never said anything about having teammates at the Manor. If you ever have the time, I would appreciate the company? 

Best Wishes,

Damian Wayne. 

Lifting the calligraphy pen from the paper, Damian sighed. It had been one day since Slade's attack, and although it was verified that the brute was dead, Damian still felt on edge. It was a regular occurrence for Wayne's, but this felt so much worse than the Joker's target on your back.

The voice of Alfred had jolted him from his thoughts, "Master Damian, your tea with brown sugar, half a lemon and a china cup as you insist." Alfred set the tray down next to the paper in front of the boy. "Writing a message to your friends? How rather unlike you."

"Thank you, Pennyworth." Damian started, setting his pen down. "I am penning a message to Raven, I require updates about Logan, and she has the clearest handwriting to read."

"I'm sure, Master Damian." He teased, "Master Bruce is expecting you in his office. It would be wise not to keep him." Alfred's face held a small smile before he left the room. Damian was left alone to ponder why his father required him. 

He folded up the letter and hid it in his pocket before sauntering down to where the office was.

Titans Tower 

Raven was relaxing in her room. Her magick had been quite finicky the past few days. Ever since Slade had returned. She was exhausted, both physically and spiritually. She had rubbed her quartz so much that the surface was practically flat.

After Damian had been dragged back to Gotham City, she didn't have many other people she wanted to talk to. She felt bereft. The migraine she was experiencing from her father's piercing voice in her head was not helping either. 

Throughout Damian's absence, she had kept to her room. She shut the Titans out in an attempt to protect them while keeping herself under control. Jaime had occasionally left some food outside of her door for her. It was odd being alone again.

She had become accustomed to having others around; in fact, she felt comfortable around others. Not this time. This time, she couldn't let them know the demons girding her head. She almost killed Damian. Who's to say that if Gar looked at her the wrong way, she wouldn't hesitate? 

The thoughts swirled around her mind like a hurricane. "5,4,3,2,1. 5,4,3,2,1." She repeated; a method to help mitigate her anxiety. 

"Raven?" She heard the jaunty voice of Starfire ask. 

Raven took a deep breath before answering, "Yes, Star?" 

"May I come in?" 

"Yes," Raven faltered out. She couldn't disappear forever. 

The door hissed open, and Star walked in cautiously. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm managing." Raven huffed, running her fingers through her hair. 

Starfire sighed. "When do you think that you'll join the Titans for an evening? Everyone has been asking about you. I don't think that can keep telling Batman you'll be at the next meeting much longer."

"I just don't want to hurt anyone. I think that you understand that."

"Unfortunately. But when you are ready, the Titans will be ready to welcome you back with open arms," and with that sentence, Star exited the room, and Raven sat in silence once more. 

Sighing heavily before rolling onto her stomach in the middle of her bed, Raven smushed her face into her bedding and starfished with her arms and legs. 

Tap tap tap

Raven jolted quickly at the noise, unsure of whether she had been hallucinating with her ears. 

Tap tap tap

She turned her head to the window, puzzled. Her room was among one of the highest above the ground. Who was tapping at her window, Superman?

Muffled words were heard outside the Tower, and she quickly sprinted to the window to see one Damian Wayne in his Robin costume hanging from a rope in front of her window. Refraining from bursting into laughter, she quickly let him in while shaking her head. 'This boy, I swear to Azar.' she thought.

"Mind telling me why you're outside my window hanging from a rope instead of in Gotham City doing whatever you do there?" She asked.

"I had a talk with Father. He said that I should check up on my friends, so here I am." He explained.

"Are you sure that he didn't mean send us a text?" 

"He never specified how, so I decided to come to the Tower," Damian smirked. "So how have you been, Raven?" 

"Oh, you know. Living the dream," She gave Damian a soft smile before sitting back on her bed. "And you? I can't imagine things have been great back in Gotham considering how fast you travelled back here."

Damian joined her on the bed and nodded. "Father is trying his ablest to understand my actions while additionally punishing me for them." 

"Understandably so, Slade tried to kill all of us. Multiple times. I guess that it still doesn't mean that we get to play judge, jury or executioner."

"I would like to stay here tonight. As much as I enjoy tea with myself, it is not the same without you." Damian admitted before the conversation could turn dark.

"I'm sure Star would allow that." Raven genuinely smiled. 

"Hey, mama! Are you bu-" Garfield walked into the room, his eyes setting on Damian, "Robin? When did you get here?" 

"Gar, have you ever heard of knocking?" Raven snapped.

"Chillax, mama, it's not like you two were doing anything." He shrugged before continuing, "anyways, Star's calling a team meeting. Both of you better get yo butts to the living room." 

"Be there right away, Gar." Raven groaned before getting up from her bed. "Before I forget to ask, how the hell did you manage to get all of the way over here from Gotham? It's literally across the country." 

"A magician never reveals his secrets." 

"You zeta'd, didn't you?" 

Damian looked back at her with a smirk.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[mischiefandspirits]

Last Laugh (1 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

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

“Richard?”

…

“Richard, may I come in?”

…

“If you do not want me to come in then you need to tell me.”

…

“I’m coming in.”

Light filled the room for a moment then disappeared. The bed shifted and a hand settled on Dick’s back.

…

“Barbara told me what happened.”

Heat. A ringing in his ears. “BATKID!” “Red Wing, please!” Digging. Bodies. “No. Jason.” A mother and son… or a pair of acrobats… Blood. Footprints leading to tire tracks. “My son, I’m so sor-Robin? Robin, get back here!”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Why can’t I come with you and Jon?” “You’re not quite ready for a space mission yet, Richard. I’ve talked to Father, though. He said you could patrol with him and Jason until I return so long as you two don’t get into too much trouble.” “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, his voice hoarse.

“Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve clipped the wings of a baby bat and a baby bird on the same day!” Zap! “Haha! Aw Jeez, I hit Batkid harder than that!” “Shut up!” “So,” a groan, “the first Demon Child taught you a,” a hiss, “a few tricks, hahaha!” “I said shut! Up!” “Hahahaha!” “ROBIN!” “B?” “He’s had enough.” “He killed -” “I know. I… I know.” “Don’t worry, Boy Blunder, you’ll join him soon enough!” “What are you talking ab-” “Robin! Move now!” An explosion.

“I killed him.”

The hand started rubbing circles into Dick’s back. “That’s not true.”

“If I hadn’t attacked him like that, if I hadn't beaten him as bad as I did, he would have made it out.”

“He was the one who set off the explosion, Richard. That’s not on you.” The hand shifted up to Dick’s shoulder and tugged him closer to the warm presence next to him.

He pressed his face into the warmth as another hand came up to card through his hair. “B thinks it’s my fault.”

“Father doesn't think anything right now. He’s still processing his grief. We all are. You are not at fault for what happened. If Joker is dead -- and his body still hasn’t been found so we don’t even know if he is finally gone -- then it is no one's fault but his own.”

Dick shook his head. “I shouldn’t’ve attacked him.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “No, you should not have. It was extremely reckless and we… You could have gotten yourself killed. You are extremely lucky Joker had not expected you to be with Father so you were able to catch him off guard. Impulsive behavior… It’s already taken Jason, you can’t let it take you too.”

Dick’s fingers dug into his calves from where his arms were wrapped around his legs.

“I found my mom.” “Batkid? B said -” “It’s okay. She said Joker isn’t here. It’s safe. We’re going to talk inside so no one sees us.” “But -” “I can talk her around, Red Bird. I know I can. Please, don’t tell B. She’s my mom.” “O-okay. Just be careful.” “It’ll be fine. She said he won’t be back for hours.”

She lied.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I-That’s not what I mea-”

“Yes, it was.”

Another sigh. The warmth moved away so the hand in his hair could come down to cup his cheek. It brushed away his tears and tilted his head up, but he didn’t look at the face hovering over him. “Richard -”

“I wanna be alone now. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m tired.”

There was a beat, then the hands and warmth and face moved away. “Alright. Get some rest. I have to go talk to Father. If… I am here if you need anything.”

Dick nodded and laid down with his back to the warmth.

The light came and went.

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

When they returned from Ethiopia, Bruce told Dick he’d be benched for a month. It was partly to give his injuries from the fight with Joker time to heal and partly as punishment for running off to said fight. Damian had agreed when he arrived back on Earth a week later and Dick accepted the punishment without complaint.

By the end, though, he was itching to get out of the manor. He hated being trapped in one place for too long. With the media going crazy over Jason’s death, Bruce had managed to arrange for him to finish the last few weeks of school from home and Damian decided they would remain at the manor instead of heading back to their house in Somerset. It was a longer commute to work and patrol for Damian and meant Dick couldn’t run around the neighborhood to visit with his friends, but it was also more secure against paparazzi.

Dick wouldn’t complain since he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling trapped.

On the day he was meant to go back on patrol, he was skipping through the halls in anticipation of stretching his wings and releasing the tension that had built up under his grief and guilt. He went looking for Damian once he got home to see if he wanted to spar before dinner. When he couldn’t find him in his room or studio, he went to see if Alfred, Bruce, or Selina knew where he was.

“- for a month. I think that’s a fair amount of time.”

Dick perked up when he heard Damian’s voice and ran up to the door to Bruce’s study.

“I don’t mean he should stay on the bench. I meant Robin should be taken off the roster altogether.”

He froze, hand inches from the doorknob.

“I know he shouldn’t have gone after Joker -”

“It’s not just that. Dick… He never should have been brought into this life. He’s not like us and he was too young.”

“I was younger than him when I started out as Batkid,” Damian snapped.

“You were raised by assassins. He had a normal life before you involved him. He deserves a normal life. I know you wanted to help him, but this isn’t the way.”

Bruce was angry. Dick had known that. He didn’t think Bruce would take Robin away from him though. Robin was… his purpose. His place in the family. Without Robin, he didn’t have any reason to be there. And if he wasn’t there…

“Heard Wayne’s taking Grayson.” “Really? Knew his old man liked strays, but I thought he stuck to animals. Why’s he coming for the kid?” “To honor Brucie’s memory? Hell if I know.” “Well, whatever reason, I hope the kid can behave.” “Yeah. Lord knows Wayne hates people at the best of times, can’t imagine how he’ll take to having a brat running around.” “He’d probably return the kid the first time he acts up. Doubt the poor ***** will get another chance too.”

No, Dick couldn’t lose Robin. But Dick was Damain’s partner and Damian wouldn’t let Bruce do that, right? Right?

Why wasn’t Damian saying anything?

“This is what Richard needs,” Damian finally said after a few moments, but the happiness at his words was overshadowed by the ice sliding down Dick’s spine from how calm Damian sounded.

Why wasn’t he mad anymore?

Was… Was he starting to think Bruce was right?

“No, it isn’t,” Bruce said.

“How is he any different than the rest of us?” Damian asked, voice still calm.

“You were raised by assassins. As was Cass. Duke was in a gang. Tim raised himself in that damn empty mansion and spent years trailing after us through Gotham’s streets with nothing but a camera. And Jason lived on those streets.”

Tearing up, Dick wrapped his arms around himself. He knew he wasn’t as smart or skilled as the others, but he’d thought…

“Dick might not have had a typical childhood, but he had a happy one. He grew up with an entirely different mentality than us. You saw how he looked when he went after Joker.”

Dick flinched. He remembered the rage that had flooded through him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone after Joker. That it was stupid and reckless and wrong. Not justified vengeance, just plain old revenge. The very thing Damian had tried to instill against when he’d started out.

But at the time all he could think was that Jason was dead, had been murdered like his parents, and his family kept dying around him and Joker was to blame. He hadn’t meant to go as far as he did, he hadn’t meant for Joker to die!

He just wanted everyone to be safe.

The worst thing, though, was that as much as he wasn’t proud of how he’d run off and put himself in danger, as terrified as he was that he had killed someone, he didn't regret what he’d done to Joker.

“He doesn’t belong in this life, Damian.”

Dick froze. No. No! Losing Robin was one thing, but to not belong…

“I understand.”

Dick staggered back, hand coming to his mouth as the tears fell. He quickly ran back the way he’d come before the sobs could start.

They couldn’t… They couldn’t!

It was one mistake! It was a bad one, but he knew the others had had bad mistakes too. They couldn’t get rid of him for that, right?

Except the others were Bruce’s sons, and he was just Damian’s foster kid. He thought it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t really family on paper, but maybe it did.

“You’re not getting a family, circus freak.” “Yeah, foster kids ain’t family. They’re just a paycheck.” “Or some rich bastard’s charity case.” “Either way, no one actually cares about them even if they have to pretend to. And no one would care about someone like you.”

Dick barely stopped himself from slamming the door behind him as he staggered into a closet. He dropped to the floor, pressing his knees into his eyes.

He couldn’t go back to juvie. Losing Robin would be torture, but going back to that hellhouse would kill him. Maybe even literally.

He technically wasn’t as defenseless as he was last time. He was sure he’d probably be able to take anyone that tried to hurt him if he tried, but he wouldn’t be able to try. He wouldn’t be Robin going in. He’d be Dick Grayson, former foster son of Damian Wayne. He couldn’t use any of the skills he’d gained as Robin without risking his identity -- former identity -- and the identities of the rest of the Bats by extension. And he would never do that, even if they did return him.

No, he couldn’t go back to juvie, but where else could he go. It’d been made pretty clear both when he got there and when he left that there was nowhere else he’d be sent. Maybe Babs or Cass would take him? Or maybe they could talk Damian around? Duke, Steph, Tim, and Selina would help, right?

Unless they thought Bruce and Damian were right.

“I understand.”

No, they would talk them around. They had to.

Except Bruce and Damian -- like the rest of the family -- were stubborn. Would the others be able to talk them around before they shipped him off?

Maybe if he could buy them time…

He couldn’t go back to juvie.

Dick scrubbed his eyes and got up to slip out of the closet.

His first stop was the cave. He couldn’t grab his normal suit without anyone noticing, but the updated version had just finished testing and hadn’t yet been equipped with trackers. He stuck it into a lockbox alongside some gear.

Then he was up in his room. He stuck the box into a duffle bag with his travel toiletries.

Before he could grab anything else, there was a knock on his door.

He quietly zipped up the bag and knocked it under the bed as he called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Richard. Can we talk?”

Dick dropped onto the bed. “Yeah, sure.”

Damian came in with a plate of cookies.

Dick grabbed one, but didn’t press up against his guardian like he normally would.

“You already know why I’m here,” Damian sighed.

“I overheard you talking with Bruce. You’re…” He clenched his fingers around the cookie as he looked up at Damian. “Don’t do this, please. I can be better. I-I won’t do anything like this again, I swear! Please, you can’t! We’re a team. We’re partners! You said so yourself! You cant… you can’t just toss that aside! Toss me aside!”

“It’s not like that, Richard,” Damian said, setting down the plate.

“Then what is it like!” Dick snapped and jumped to his feet, placing them eye-to-eye.

“This life isn’t good for you,” the young man said, meeting his gaze. “Bringing you into it, it was a terrible error in judgment. Father is right. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

“It’s not like you forced me into it! I chose this! I want this!”

“You could have been killed, Dick!” Damian said, voice growing louder.

“I’m sorry! I let my emotions get the best of me! But it won’t happen again!”

“It’s over, Dick!”

“No! You can’t do this! I-I won’t let you! You can’t se-”

“Enough!” Damian shouted, then pressed a hand over his face. In a calmer voice, he said, “I’ve made my decision.”

“Dami, please!” Dick felt tears pricking at his eyes as Damian stood up and turned to leave.

“You’re going to stay here until after the funeral next week. We can talk more about what happens after once you’ve calmed down.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re better off this way.”

“Wayne is going to be the best chance you’re going to get, kiddo. The only good chance, honestly. I really hope this works out for you.”

“I hate you.”

Damian hesitated by the door, then shut it behind him.

Dick couldn’t go back to juvie.

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

Lines quoted or rewritten:

"Imagine how mad he'll be if I've whacked two Boy Wonders on the same day!" - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Aw... Jeez... I hit Jason a lot harder than that." - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Bruce... You... You can't! We're a team. We're partners! You said so yourself!" - Dick ~ Robin: Year One #3

"This was all a terrible error in judgment. Gordon was right." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

"It’s over, Dick! You’re better off this way." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.15 {End}

Warning: light gore.

Once they landed back in Paris, Marinette felt a sense of finally being home, but it wasn't as overwhelming as it used to be. Part of her yearned to go back to Gotham, to be with Damian and the others, there was a sense of belonging there, now that Paris was once again safe.

Oddly, no one once mentioned anything about Marinette being Ladybug. In fact, when she talked to them, playfully suggesting about Ladybug's identity, they all began saying their thoughts, but not once mentioned her. Odd, but she didn't push her luck. Maybe the Miraculous Cure had been extremely generous and wiped their minds? One less thing for her to stress about.

Once she got back to school, her, Miss Bustier, Lila, and Marinette's parents were immediately summoned to the principal's office. Mr. Arquette did not look the least bit pleased, his hands folded neatly as they all shuffled into his office and took a seat.

"I received many disturbing reports while you all were in Gotham, reports that I should have known would happen since I left those children in your care." Arquette spoke, his voice firm and cold as he glared hard at Miss Bustier. "You abandoned a student in the middle of a dangerous city, you left your students roam as they pleased with no supervision, one student stole the money from another, a student was kidnapped and you never once reported it to myself or her parents, much less the police. You even had the audacity to say that her kidnapper did nothing wrong. Caline, you've been on thin ice for quite some time now, but this gross negligence is the final straw. One of the students was even assaulted at the Wayne event and you did nothing to break it up and just stood back and watched. I don't believe we have a place for you here at Saint Louis anymore, not after your behaviour."

"Please, you don't understand, it's all a misunderstanding! Marinette manipulated Adrien and-" Lila began, looking tearful.

"And you," Arquette turned his steely gaze on Lila, cutting her off before she can try and spin another flimsy web of lies. ", You have crossed many lines. Lying about medical records, of how to contact your mother, long series of absences, and I heard much about your deeds in Gotham. Your mother is almost here, Miss Rossi."

"What?! No, she can't-" Lila was on her feet within seconds, her body trembling. Caline, herself, looked quite shaken as well, as if she were about to be sick.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, I am greatly sorry for what you've had to endure all of these years. I should have taken a more firm stance on things, I should have gotten someone else to attend the trip with your class." Arquette turned to Marinette, his expression turning to one of regret. He stood, then rounded his desk, kneeling next to her chair. "I take full responsibility for what happened to you in Gotham."

"No, Mr. Arquette, please. No one thought I would be kidnapped, and luckily Batman saved me." Marinette put in quickly, feeling a sense of relief, now that Miss Bustier would no longer be around. That pressure of being the perfect example was finally lifted from her shoulders. "You're a great principal, you couldn't have known. But I appreciate your actions now, you're more than making up for this."

His shoulders seemed to relax and he nodded before returning to his desk. It wasn't long before Lila's mother showed up, and then the show truly began. 

"You've been lying to me? Me?! Your own mother?!" Mrs. Rossi screamed at her pale faced daughter, before pulling a few brown envelopes out of her bag and holding them up. "Do you know what these are?! These are court orders! Court orders from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the Waynes! What were you thinking, having your friend slander their names all over her blog?! You basically accused Jagged of being a pedophile by saying he wrote a song especially for you, that you're his muse!"

"She is also saying she's the personal muse to Gabriel Agreste, ever since she became his model." Marinette put in helpfully, and sat back as she watched Mrs. Rossi got red in the face and continued to berate her daughter.

"And now you'll be going to live with your aunt back in Italy, if these lawsuits don't bankrupt me! I'm only a secretary, Lila, what made you think we could travel like that?!"

Marinette merely watched as Lila was reduced to tears, and expelled from the school. Mrs. Rossi dragged her daughter out and Caline Bustier was promptly dismissed to go and collect her things.

"What will happen to my class?" Marinette asked the principal once she and her parents were about to leave.

"Well, they will get a new teacher, it might be a bit difficult with only a few months left before you all graduate." Mr. Arquette admitted, looking thoughtful.  At the tense silence, he cleared his throat. "Miss Césaire will be thoroughly punished for her actions as well, in Gotham. Assaulting another classmate is completely u acceptable. I was told by her parents she is already being punished as we speak."

Marinette left that school, her parents figuring that she needed a day off after all that had happened. So she silently went up to her room and collapsed onto her bed, finally processing it all.

She was finally free of Lila. Hawkmoth was defeated, and she had both Nooroo and Duusu back, after having fixed the Peacock Miraculous. 

When she heard her phone buzz, she picked it up and smiled to herself.

{Damian} I miss you, Angel, I hope your flight landed safely.

{Damian} I miss you already Angel. And Plagg's taste in cheese is the smelliest ever. Alfred is threatening to throw him out.

The smile on her face didn't drop for the rest of the evening, as she spent the entire evening messaging Damian.

…

Ladybug stood firm at the podium, her teammates standing with her as they faced the flashing of cameras with stoic expressions, press members shouting out questions. She merely stared at them, waiting for them all to quiet down. The crowd quickly got the clue and did such.

"Today, I am here to announce that Hawkmoth has finally been defeated. The terror he reigned over Paris for so long is finally over." Ladybug announced, and this only caused the crowd to go into a bewildered frenzy once again. Ladybug waited, and the media was quick to quiet again, realizing they had to be polite with this one. "Gabriel Agreste, formerly known as Hawkmoth, has been arrested and placed into the custody of the French authorities."

"What about his son, Adrien Agreste? Was he in cahoots with his father?" A reporter blurted out, and it took everything in Ladybug not to flinch at that name.

"Adrien Agreste was not in league with Hawkmoth, he and his mother are innocent." Well, as innocent as one could be. Adrien had been arrested, but anyone could see the boy needed mental help due to all of the mental abuse and grooming that had been forced upon him by his father. So Adrien and his mother, who had indeed woken up, had moved out of the country, where Adrien was getting good care in a good facility, not that he'd ever leave it, not after all he had done.

"What happens now?" A young reporter asked. Ladybug recognized her from her school, Estelle Desrosiers, a sweet girl who always sought out the truth, but was respectable about things. So Ladybug gave her a gracious smile.

"Well, Miss Desrosiers, the Miraculous will be retired and I shall be leaving the city. There are dangerous villains in the world and the world needs the help of the Miraculous to stop it. They're here to keep the darkness from taking over." She spoke firmly, and everyone could see the hero they had all grown to love and admire. There was much outcry at her stating she was leaving, but she stopped the noise and set a hand over her heart. "I love Paris, I love France. This is my home more than anything, but I cannot stay, cannot sit by as the rest of the world suffers. So thank you, Paris, and embrace your newfound freedom. And here's my final Bugout!"

With that, she and the rest of her team took off, followed by the cheers.

Back in her family apartment, Alya was seething as she sat between her parents on the couch, watching the live broadcast. That should be her up there, basking in the glory of defeating Hawkmoth with Ladybug, if Ladybug had actually used her head and gave her back her Fox Miraculous! No one was better suited to be a hero than Rena Rouge! Or it should at least be her at the front of that media stand, asking all of the important questions, getting the big scoop. But her parents had made her delete her blog. She had lost every single electronic she'd had, due to her actions in Gotham and her recent attitudes towards everyone. She had even screamed at her little sisters to the point she had made them cry.

The future was not a bright one for Alya Césaire.

…

Graduation had quickly arrived and when Marinette left her class, she didn't once look back. Sure, they had all apologized, save for Alya who had been expelled and needed to repeat her senior year, but they had thrown her aside so easily for a complete stranger. The kind of trust she had had with them was never going to exist again.

As she arrived back at her place to pack her bags, she saw Luka, Kagami, and Chloé in her room, waiting for her. They each gave her a grateful smile, before they began giving the Guardian back their Miraculous.

"I'm going to miss you." Chloé whispered as she nuzzled Pollen, then handed the hair clip over to Marinette, who tucked it safely into the Miraculous box. "And we'll miss you too, Marinette."

Marinette smiled and opened her arms, Luka, Chloé, and Kagami moving in for a group hug. The four of them held onto each other tight, before finally letting go.

"Have fun in Gotham." Luka whispered, ruffling her hair gently before he kissed her temple. "Keep in touch."

"I will." Marinette tucked the Miraculous box into the hidden compartment in her suitcase, then made her way downstairs, embracing her parents tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. She was finally leaving the nest, leaving the home that was full of such love and happy memories. But she still felt something deep inside of her calling for her to go back to Gotham, her new home.

Once she got in the taxi, she settled back and glanced down at her phone buzzed, biting her lower lip to hold back a giggle.

{Damian} Once you land in Gotham, go to the Wayne Botanical Gardens. I have a surprise for you, Angel.

"I'll be home soon, mon prince.."

…

Marinette stepped into the greenhouse and grinned at the sight of Damian standing there, next to a checkered blanket and a picnic basket. She dropped her purse and ran towards him, hugging him tightly as he lifted her up and spun her.

"I missed you, Angel." Damian whispered into her ear as he set his giggling girlfriend back onto the ground, then motioned towards the picnic. "I thought I'd surprise you, to welcome you back home."

"And here I thought you and your brothers were gonna throw me a party." Marinette grinned, taking a seat beside him. When he began setting out the food, she felt her smile only widen. "You really spoil me."

"Well hopefully I don't spoil your appetite too much. Jason decided to go into the kitchen today and bake you a 'welcome back' cake. Pretend to like the inedible mess." Damian gave her a wry smile as he poured them both a cup of sparkling juice, before holding his up as a toast. "Welcome home, Angel."

"Glad to be home, mon prince." She tapped her plastic cup against his and took a long drink, unable to wipe the smile from her face. The hour passed with them joking and eating the food Damian had brought, Marinette glanced at the time and sighed. "We should get back. I really want to see everyone, I've missed them."

Marinette stood and stretched her body, groaning softly as she managed to loosen a few tense muscles, then took a step towards the exit.

"Marinette."

She turned towards Damian. Damian met her gaze, then raised his gun. A shot rang out and Marinette stumbled back a few steps, clutching at her chest as a bewildered look on her face.

"D- Damian..?" She dropped to her knees, then was jolted onto her back when he shot her again.

"I thank you, Marinette. The Miraculous are much more powerful than I would have ever thought." He smiled thinly as he made his way over and knelt down next to Marinette, who was choking on her own blood.

Marinette stared up at the boy she thought she was so deeply in love with, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks as she tried to reach up for him.

"I'm glad you were at least useful. You really are a ditz, aren't you?" He stood and ground his foot into the gunshot wounds, making her let out a choked scream.

Marinette's mind was in a whirl, struggling to breathe as her world began to dim.

So she had just been a pawn…? Been used to get the Miraculous…?

He had lied to her?

How could she have been so stupid?

As the light left her eyes, the only thoughts were on betrayal, and the fears of what would happen to the Kwami, to Tikki.

When her body went limp, Heretic grinned.

…

Damian rushed his entire way to the Botanical Gardens, silently cursing Mr. Freeze with every inch of his being. Because of the bastard, he was two hours late in meeting Marinette. He knew she'd understand, but still, no one deserves that. He feared she was angry because she wasn't answering her phone.

He rushed through the roof doors, when a strong coppery smell hit him, a smell he was very familiar with. His body instantly tensed as he reached down the small knife in his pocket, carefully making his way into the greenhouse as his eyes darted this way and that.

And what he saw made his heart stop.

Marinette was sprawled out on the floor, staring skyward, with two gunshot wounds in her chest, a puddle of blood beginning to congele around her. Hovering over her was a loudly weeping Tikki.

"Tikki,what happened?!" Plagg burst from Damian's coat pocket and rushed towards her, hugging her close as his dearest friend broke apart in his arms.

"I- I don't know! I was asleep, I was so tired because I- I'm still trying to help Nooroo through his trauma, and I just woke up! What happened to her, Plagg? She can't be dead, she just can't be! I can't lose her, please, tell me she's not dead!" Tikki wailed.

"Marinette…?" Damian knelt next to the body, cupping her face ever so gently. He felt tears burn his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers, desperately wishing for the reality to not be true. She was gone, he had lost her and he hadn't been here to protect her. The tears began to flow as he let out a sob and hugged the body close. "No, please, Angel, please don't go.."

He sat there and rocked as he sobbed. Eventually, he got the will to call his brothers. They'd have a horrible call to her parents.

…

Tom and Sabine wept as their little girl, their only child, was lowered into the ground. Damian felt numb, like nothing was really worth it anymore. But beneath that numbness was an angry ready to burst forth and cause the death of whoever caused this. The police hadn't found anything, no DNA, no fingerprints, nothing except for Marinette's. Why couldn't they do their goddamned job and find the murdering bastard?!

"Diana, what are you doing here?" Bruce's surprised tone brought Damian's attention, and he watched as Diana Prince approached them, looking grim.

"I am here to honour a brave and dutiful Ladybug. My mother had wished to attend as well, but we did not want to cause much ruckus." Diana admitted, looking down at the casket being slowly covered in dirt. She let out a long, defeated sigh. "But one so young… No one should ever die so young."

"Why would your mother care about this?" Damian snipped, but Diana took no offense, seeing how torn up the boy was. Many people lashed out in their grief.

"She was a previous Ladybug." Diana admitted, noticing Plagg peeking out from Damian's coat pocket. She smiled down at the Kwami and knelt, pretending as if to tie her shoe. "Hello Plagg."

"Hello there, Princess, you've certainly grown." Plagg said rather sadly, before looking away. "Tikki.. She's not doing so good."

"I have no doubt." Diana nodded and stood once again, turning towards Bruce. "What will happen with the Miraculous now?"

"They need to ensure somewhere safe. You said that your mother was once a Ladybug, yes? Perhaps you can take the body back home? I know it would be greatly protected there." Bruce glanced over at his son, who was staring at his ring. "But the Black Cat Miraculous…"

"It can stay here." Diana assured him softly. "You never separate a Black Cat from their Chosen." 

"It was the last thing Marinette gave to me." Damian murmured and Diana felt her heart break at how defeated he looked.

"Keep the ring safe, Damian. And Plagg, help Damian as well." Diana reached down and stroked Plagg's head gently once she was sure no one was watching. "I shall take the box home to Themiscyra."

"Thank you, Diana." Bruce turned his gaze back to the grave, his hands curling ever so slightly into fists. "I know Marinette would appreciate it while we hunt down whoever is responsible for this."

"Once you do find out who it was, make them suffer." Diana hissed, a dangerous threat in her eyes. "Or I shall."

…

That night, Diana took the Miraculous box, sans the Black Cat ring, and returned to Themiscyra.

That night, in a graveyard in Paris, several people approached the grave of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and began to dig.

…

Marinette felt as if she were floating, the entire body full of warmth and strength.

She opened her eyes and realized she was seeing nothing but green.

Then something took hold, something indescribable. She burst forth from the green water, letting out a scream of rage as memories began flooding back, memories of her murder. Eyes almost blind to anything around her, she charged towards a faint figure in front of her and body slammed them. When another person came forward, she flipped them over her head. She broke another man's arm and leg.

"Hold her down!" A feminine voice snapped out, and quickly Marinette found herself being restrained on a cold floor, snarling and snapping, screaming out for Damian's blood.

But eventually, that madness faded and she found herself staring at a beautiful woman who knelt over her.

"Who… Who are you?" Marinette croaked out, her entire body still shivering, tears beginning to flow from her eyes.

"Oh Marinette, do not weep. My name is Talia." The woman stroked the hair from the young girl's face, smiling kindly down upon her. "Do not fret, I shall take care of you from now on. You are in safe hands."

{To Be Continued in the sequel}

Taglist: @realrandomposts @interobanginyourmom @ladybug-182 @ladylb @zalladane @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore @urbanpineapplefarmer @vixen-uchiha @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thewheezingbubbledragon @northernbluetongue @thequestionablyhuman @ginamarie1512 @maude-zarella @2sunchild2 @saphiraazure2708 @ayuchan07 @virgil-is-a-cutie @thepeacetea @miraculous786 @enchanted-nerd @ficsforthestars @emo-elaine13 @caffeinetheory

[dc-marvel-life]

Twin Bond

Request by @loxbbg - Reader (Damian bio twin sister there both like 17 now ) gets maybe stabbed by there mother. And her entire life flashes before her eyes (like being trained till going to her father actually experiencing love. Kicking ass and while all that is happening the boys are racing to get to her and the sword is ripped out and she falls to the floor bleeding. And their trying to get her to stay alive but all she can do is smile. (Can end in fluff or angst)

Word Count: 2618

A/N: Just a warning, I did make this just a little angst at the end. My eyes sweated a little while writing this. I hope it’s good enough and not too bad. Enjoy!!!

It was just a simple mission with Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, and Red Scorpion, also known as Y/N. There was a huge top graded military gun ring that was starting up in Gotham. There weren’t many leads on how the guns were getting in or who was getting them in. Finally Red Hood overheard some low-level goons talk that a deal was going to go down tonight. So he got all the boys and Y/N to come along and help him in this mission. 

There was an old warehouse in the middle of a shipping yard where the deal was going down. They scouted the place before and had their position set in place. Since Y/N was the youngest, smallest, and the most agile, they sent her on top of the warehouse to see what was going on inside.

“Red Scorpion, report. What do you see on the inside?” Dick asked through their earpieces.

 “Well, I see some guys moving a lot of boxes around and buyers lining up to see the guns” Y/N said back.

“Can you get a closer look to see who the leader is?” Jason asks.

“Yeah I think I can” Y/N says while moving in closer.

“Do not get caught. There are military-grade weapons down there that will put a giant hole in you” Damian says.

“You don’t have to treat me like a little kid. You are only older than me by 5 minutes” Y/N says. 

“Don’t argue now. Can y’all do that back at the Batcave like you always do” Tim says.

“Fine, I am looking now. I think I see the leader. They just need to turn their head a little more,” Y/N waited on the leader to turn their head then she saw the person that she never wanted to see again, “Mother” Y/N says under her breath. 

“What do you mean mother Y/N?” Dick asks, confused.

“She means our mother is here and is the leader most likely. Do not engage Y/N. We need to come up with a plan ” Damian says.

“She can’t be here right now. Why is she here right now? She already ruined my childhood and now she is ruining the place that I can home with these weapons she is bringing in” Y/N says getting angry. Y/N breaks the window and jumps down into the warehouse right in front of Taila.

“You ruined my whole entire childhood with training and other tests that broke me. All so I could be the best assassin, but that didn’t work. Now you are here in my new place that I call home with people in it that I call family with a parent that actually loves me. You are not going to come and here and mess this up” Y/N takes out her sword and she and Talia start to battle. All the boys start to make their way to the building to help.

“Oh, my sweet daughter. You could have had what it takes to be the best, but you were always holding back. You are weak. Never like Damian who had to do what had to be done” Talia says while they are battling which Y/N is holding on a little, but she is not skilled at the sword like her brother, mother, or grandfather.

“I am sorry my daughter” once Talia says that she disarms Y/N and plunges the sword into her. The boys see what happens and go on a rampage on everyone. Talia was able to get away with some other buyers, but that didn’t matter to them. Y/N was bleeding on the floor with a sword in her.

All Y/N could hear was a ringing noise and see a bright white light. Then all her memories started to come back to her. There were some memories that were a little hazy, but some were clear as day. The first memory she had was about the time where she and Damian were training when they were younger.

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“Come on Y/N, you need to be faster and think on your feet like your brother. Now again!” Talia was yelling at Y/N. Y/N and Damian went at each other again. Damian was holding back on the fight because he didn’t want to hurt his sister and make it seem like she was doing better. Even with Damian holding back he still won the fight. 

“You weren’t going hard enough Y/N! Damian was holding back and he still able to defeat you. This is getting sad and you are going to be punished now” Taila said.

“No, she doesn’t need to be punished. Don’t do it” Damian says while standing in front of Y/N. 

“Move out of the way she is going to get punished no matter what or do you want to get punished too?” Talia said in a stern voice and Damian shakes his head.

“Good now go to your room” Talia says while taking Y/N to the punishing room. A few hours later Y/N comes back into their room in pain.

“It’s okay Damian. I am okay, you don’t have to worry” Y/N says.

“Of course I have to worry. You are my sister and I have to protect you no matter what. I wasn’t able to do it tonight. I am a terrible brother” Damian says lowering his head.

“Now Damian stop it. You aren’t a terrible brother. You were trying to help me. I knew you were holding back on me to make it seem like I was improving. I am just not as good as you” Y/N says with a weak smile.

“Hey, you will always be good enough to me. We will always be in this together” Damian says while pulling Y/N into a hug.

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The next memory was from the time Damian and Y/N had to have their first kill

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Y/N was standing in the middle of the room with a sword in hand, and in front of her is an old man that is a farmer in the village nearby. He was caught trying to steal from the league of assassins garden. They have no mercy on people who try to steal from them, his punishment is death. Ra’s wanted to see if his granddaughter had what it takes to kill when needed. This was a test, it would be Y/N’s first kill if she goes through with it. Damian had to do the same thing with the older man’s partner trying to steal food too. Damian did it without a second thought because he just wanted to make Ra’s proud of him. Y/N on the other hand was having second thoughts. It was hard enough to kill a person by yourself but having Damian, Ra’s, and Talia all watching her is intense. 

“I can’t do it” Y/N says, dropping the sword. Y/N is about to cry but holds it back because she knows it is a sign of weakness and she can’t show that in front of her mother and grandfather. 

“Of course you can’t do it. Why can’t you be more like your brother? You are just a disappointment” Talia said to Y/N.

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The next memory was from the night Y/N and Damian start to plan to leave 

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“I really hate it here Damian. I am sick of mom and grandfather just expecting me to have my life just being about killing. I am not an assassin like you. I am leaving” Y/N says while packing up her stuff.

“Wait you can’t leave now” Damian said to Y/N in a stern voice.

“You can’t keep me here too Damian. I am not happy here” Y/N says.

“No, what I mean is that you can’t leave just yet. We need a plan. I will leave with you too Y/N. We are twins, I am not going to leave you to go on your own. We are in this together. I will gather up money, supplies, and information. I am with you Y/N” Damian says smiling and Y/N give him a hug.

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The next memory was when they left

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“I found something!!!” Damian said barging into their shared room.

“What do you mean you found something?” Y/N asked confused while waking up from her sleep.

“I overheard grandfather and mother talking about our dad. He lives in Gotham, his name is Bruce Wayne. I found out where he lives and we are going there tonight. I got all the money we need to be set for a while. Are you ready to leave?” Damian says.

“Of course I am ready. My bags have been packed for days now. Let’s go now” Y/N says and gets her bags ready. Damian packs all of his stuff that can fit in his bags. They sneak off into the night without anyone seeing them. They were able to get transport to Gotham and to get a cab up to Wayne Manor. They go up to the door and ring the doorbell and a butler answers the door.

“Hello, how may I help you” the man with a british accent asked.

“We are Bruce Wanye’s children. We have come a long way, so can we please come inside” Damian says to the butler in a stern, confident voice.

“Come right in,” the butler says and opens the door more for Damian and Y/N, “you may have a seat in the common room. I will also need some DNA from the both of you. Sorry to ask you kids to do this but it has to be done to be sure you are his children. There are a lot of people who try to claim to be Mr. Wayne children for his money. By the way, my name is Alfred” Alfred says.

“We aren’t here for his money. Just a few hours ago we didn’t even know that he was rich or who he was. All we know is that Bruce Wayne is our father. I just want to be loved by a parent for once in my life” Y/N says trying to stay strong.

“I believe in you,” Alfred paused because he didn’t know the kids names, “What are your names?” Alfred asks.

“My name is Y/N and this is my twin Damian,” Y/N looks over at Damian to see that brooding on the couch, “don’t worry, he is always like that when he meets new people” Y/N says and Damian groans. Y/N knows he is just doing that to act tough in front of everyone, but the Damian that Y/N knows is a softie on the inside. Y/N and Damian give Alfred their DNA. Alfred goes off somewhere in the house where they don’t know, but it was around 30 minutes later Alfred comes back with Bruce Wayne.

“Hello, Y/N and Damian. I am not going to lie, I am very surprised that I have kids. Your mother never told me about you guys, I haven’t seen her since that night. Anyway, I am happy to find out that you are my kids and I am happy to welcome you guys here.

“You got the test back that fast,” Y/N says, shocked not knowing how fast the batcomputer can work, “I don’t care I am happy to call you dad” Y/N says while getting up to hug Bruce. Bruce welcomes her with open arms.

“Oh and don’t worry about Damian he will come around” Y/N says and they both laugh.

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Next memory was when Damian was there by Y/N side 

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“I can’t believe that Nick was just using me for sex. That is all he wanted the whole time and never even liked me. I was starting to really care and like him. I am happy that I didn’t give him what he wanted” Y/N says crying.

“Look Nick is not a good guy at all, and don’t worry about him. I took care of him and taught him a lesson on how to treat women properly. But listen to me Y/N, most boys won’t be around for very long until you find the one for you. There is one boy that is always going to be around is me” Damian says and hugs Y/N

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After Y/N was going through all her memories, she woke up in a hospital bed with everyone in the room. Everyone was saying that they are happy to see that she is up and doing well. Bruce went over and gave her a big hug.

“Thank you everyone. Now where is Damian? I want to see him” Y/N says while looking around the room but not finding him. Y/N can feel the tension in the room now and everyone's face has changed.

“WHERE IS DAMIAN!” Y/N scream.

“Hey kid, you need to lay down for this one” Jason says and explains what happen.

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Flashback to right after Y/N got stab

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Y/N was bleeding really bad. Damian came running over to put pressure on the wound.

“Help me stop the bleeding now!” Damian screams. He is trying his best to put pressure on the wound, but all he can think about is losing Y/N. He lifts up his hand to see what the damage is. 

“There is a lot of blood but I can see that it hit her kidney and that is not good” Damian says.

“What do you mean? It is some good news. We need to stop the bleeding and get to a hospital to remove the kidney, we have two kidneys anyway” Dick says.

“It’s not good for Y/N or I because we got one of our kidneys removed at a young age. grandfather wanted us to go through a surgery and understand pain” Damian says while looking down at Y/N crying. He sees that she is just smiling.

“Why are you smiling Y/N! You better be fighting because you are going to live through this. You are going to get my kidney” Damian says.

“You can’t do that because that means you will die” Tim says.

“I don’t care! You don’t understand, I rather have Y/N live more than me. She is getting my kidney and that is the end of the discussion!” Damian yells and rushes Y/N to the hospital.

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End of flashback

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“You mean to tell me that Damian gave me his kidney and his life” Y/N says with tears in her eyes. Everyone nods at her. They tell her that Damian is in the next room on life support. They were waiting on her to wake up to say her last goodbye. Y/N gets help out of the bed and goes to see Damian one last time. She goes into his room with a nurse helping her.

“Hey Damian, I know what you did for me and I have to say that was very stupid of you to do,” Y/N pauses because she is starting to cry, “I do own you my life though and I thank you for that. You are the best brother that anyone can ask for. You are always going to be with me. Literally though, I have your kidney. I love you Damian and will never forget you” Y/N says crying her eyes out. She then looks at the nurse to unplug Damian. The nurse leaves and Y/N is there for Damian's last moments.

[mandelene]

If you feel like filling this: for the first time, Matthew and Alfred are left alone overnight and Alfred feels all grown-up and excited. Pity that Matthew had hidden he wasn't feeling well and he isn't getting any better... Thank you! ❤️

Torture Matthew? Sure thing! Haha. 😁 As usual, I got carried away. You can’t ask me to write a sickfic and not expect the word count to be high lol. I made it a throwback to my “Matthew has asthma” headcanon. Also, did you know many U.S. states don’t have a law for how old a child must be to be left home alone overnight? Same for the UK. Apparently, it’s generally recommended that the child is at least 14 or 16, so I went with Al and Matt being 15 in this one.  

The House Party That Never Was

Word Count: 1924 (I know. I’m sorry!)

10 AM, Friday

“We’ll only be two hours away, so if anything happens or there’s a problem, call and let us know, and we’ll drive back right away.”  

“Okay, Dad. We know,” Alfred groans. They’re not babies anymore—Mattie and he can handle being left alone overnight while their parents go to see the philharmonic orchestra in Philadelphia for their anniversary.

“There are leftovers in the fridge that you can have for dinner tonight. You can order pizza tomorrow if we’re not back by six o’clock,” Papa reminds, just as worried and over-protective as Dad is being. “Make yourselves breakfast and lunch. We have plenty of fruit, cereal, bread, cold cuts, yogurt—” 

“Yes, Papa. We’ll make sure to eat,” Matthew interjects with a soft sniffle. “It’ll be fine.” 

Dad immediately notices said sniffle and flips out. He puts his duffle bag down and presses a hand against Matthew’s forehead, feeling for a fever and not finding one. “Are you all right? You aren’t coming down with something, are you? We can cancel the trip and—”

“No, no. It’s just allergies.” 

“…Okay, take an anti-histamine from the medicine cabinet.”  

“I will.” 

“In case of emergency—"

“Call 911. We know, Dad. We’re fifteen, not five!” Alfred sighs, tempted to physically push his parents out the front door at long last. 

Dad struggles to find something else to lecture them about and pushes his sunglasses farther up his nose before deciding, “All right…Behave and don’t get into any trouble. We love you.”

Dad and Papa exchange hugs with them before they finally cross the driveway, get into the car, and drive off, disappearing down the road. 

“Woo! Freedom! God that took forever!” Alfred exclaims as he locks the door and turns around to look at Matthew, who is standing by the stairs with his hands stuffed in the pocket of his navy-blue hoodie. “Our first time home alone for a whole night! We’ve been living sheltered lives, Mattie, but not anymore. Today, we’re men. So, who’re we inviting over?” 

Matthew clears his scratchy throat and gently rubs at his nose with his sleeve. “Umm…I’m pretty sure Papa and Dad said we’re not supposed to have any friends over…” 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” 

“Al, they’ll find out.” 

“No, they won’t. Come on, Matt. Don’t be lame.”

“Yeah, they will. If not tomorrow, then eventually, and I don’t wanna break their trust. If we worry them or make them angry, they’ll never leave us home alone for more than a couple of hours again,” Matthew argues, and if this stupid cold would just leave him alone, everything would be peachy. He rubs at his chest, which feels a little tighter than usual, and takes two puffs of his inhaler. 

Alfred glowers and slumps his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We have to prove we can handle it at least once…You okay, bro? Your asthma’s acting up?” 

“It’s just from my allergies,” Matthew repeats because he has to keep up the lie. It’s spring, so it’s believable enough. To be entirely honest, he’s been feeling terrible since last night, but he didn’t want to give their parents a reason to cancel their trip. He doesn’t have a fever, so it can’t be that serious...It’s just a cold, and he doesn’t want to be an inconvenience. Their parents deserve to enjoy their anniversary without interruption. “Wanna play Smash?” he asks, changing the subject. Alfred doesn’t have the greatest attention-span, and he’ll hopefully forget all about this.

“Okay, sure. I’ll set up the Switch and the controllers. You should go and take your allergy medicine.” 

“Cool. Yeah,” Matthew replies. It’s the perfect opportunity to go upstairs, blow his nose without witnesses, and take some cough medicine…And another two puffs of his inhaler.  

He refuses to be a bother. He knows how to take care of himself. 

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

7 PM, Friday

Alfred has eaten enough mesquite barbecue chips to feed their entire block, and Matthew is genuinely astonished that he hasn’t been sick yet. How can so much junk food fit into one stomach? Now that no one is around to stop him, Alfred has devoured half of the fridge, and he still doesn’t seem to be totally full, even after dinner. 

Papa left them blanquette de veau, a French veal stew. It soothes Matthew’s throat and warms his chest, which feels lovely initially, but then the steam breaks up some of the mucus in his lungs and leaves him suffering through several coughing fits. Fortunately, Alfred is in the bathroom for the worst of it, and doesn't hear him hacking. 

They’ve been playing video games for hours now, and Matthew can feel a low-grade fever settle into his body. Every time he inhales, he can hear his lungs give off a tiny wheeze. 

When Alfred goes off to get some juice to drink, Matthew discreetly takes yet another two puffs of his inhaler. 

“This is getting kinda boring. Wanna put on Netflix? We can binge-watch Avatar: The Last Airbender.” 

Matthew would rather lie down in bed with his tablet or phone, but if he doesn’t join Alfred, he might grow suspicious, and then he’ll worry, or he’ll call their parents.

“Sure. Let’s do it…” 

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

1 AM, Saturday

 “Matt...? Matt? You’re falling asleep on me, bro.” 

Matthew is startled awake and fixes his glasses, which must have tilted awkwardly to the left while he was sleeping. He doesn’t know when he dozed off on the couch, but it was sometime during Book Two of Avatar. Dad and Papa called around 9 PM to check on them, and Alfred did all of the talking. He reassured them that they’re both alive and haven’t broken any part of themselves or anything in the house.  

Matthew squints at the clock on the wall. “It’s late…”

“Yeah. We should go to bed,” Alfred agrees, and he must be tired as well if he’s not insisting they pull an all-nighter. 

“I’m gonna brush my teeth.” 

“Okay. Have fun. I’m gonna live on the wild side and not brush ‘em,” Alfred says with a grin and a wink. 

“Wow, so edgy,” Matthew says, poking some fun at him before heading upstairs with a giant yawn. He’s exhausted, and the wheezing is back. He takes the nightly dose of his steroid inhaler and stares longingly at his nebulizer. He could do with a treatment, but it’s so loud, and then, Alfred would know something’s not right.  

So instead, he brushes his teeth, quietly takes some additional puffs of his rescue inhaler, and burrows under the covers of his bed, hoping this will all have blown over by the morning.

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

3 AM, Saturday

He can’t sleep. He can’t breathe. He needs a nebulizer treatment. Now. But it might wake Alfred. 

He risks it. There’s no other choice. 

And sure enough, five minutes into the treatment, Alfred plods into his room with drowsy eyes, and asks, “Mattie, what’s going on? You’re sick, aren’t you? Hang on. I’ll…I’ll call Dad and Papa, don’t worry.”  

“No!” Matthew shouts, surprised by the strength of his voice given the state of his lungs. “You can’t…It’s their anniversary…I’m fine.” 

“Matt, I’m pretty sure this counts as an emergency, bro.” 

“It’s not!”

“It’s the middle of the night and you can’t breathe—that’s an emergency, dude!”

“I’ll be fine after the nebulizer treatment is done,” he assures in a breathless rush around the nebulizer’s mouthpiece, but he’s not so sure he will be. 

“Well, we’ve gotta tell somebody!” Alfred shouts back at him before coming closer and touching his clammy forehead. “Dude, you’re burning up. What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything all night?”

Ignoring Matthew’s protests, Alfred makes the call. 

This isn’t going to be good…

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

5 AM, Saturday

“Matthew!”  

Dad and Papa burst through his bedroom door, and they’re by his side in a flash, fussing over him and acting as though he’s on the verge of death. They’re still dressed in the clothes they probably went to sleep in, and before Matthew can say a single word, Dad has his stethoscope on his chest and is listening to his lungs. He then clamps a pulse oximeter on his right index finger, waits for a reading, and frowns severely. 

While Papa strokes his head and asks him why he didn’t let them know sooner that he wasn’t feeling well, Dad disappears and then returns with three small pills and a glass of orange juice.

“Take these,” Dad instructs. 

Matthew wrinkles his nose as he puts the pills in his mouth and swallows them. The bitter aftertaste makes him shudder—prednisone. 

“Is he going to be all right?” Papa asks, squeezing Matthew’s hand.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. He should feel better once the steroid starts to work. We leave you boys home alone for one day, and you try to hide a medical emergency from us! What were you thinking?”

“It was very irresponsible,” Papa adds. 

And here he thought that Alfred would be the one to ultimately break their parents’ trust. 

“I’m sorry…I didn’t want you to have to cancel your trip. You’ve both been looking forward to it for a month,” Matthew timidly explains, breaths still shallow. 

“A trip can always be rescheduled. Your health can’t be,” Dad says sternly. “You had us worried sick. I was debating whether or not to tell Alfred to call for an ambulance. You should know better than to ever allow yourself to silently deteriorate like this!” 

“I’m sorry…” 

Dad sighs and rests a cold compress on his forehead. “We can decide on a punishment when you’re feeling well again.” 

A punishment? Really? Not fair.

Now is not a good time to argue though, so he lets Papa and Dad fret over him some more—they fluff his pillows, and force juice, water, and medicine for his fever down his throat. He feels awful knowing they lost sleep over him and had to hurry home, but at the same time, he’s grateful that they’re here, tending to him and monitoring him in case he gets worse. As much as he’d like to be regarded as an adult, he still wants his parents around when he’s unwell.  

“I’m really, really sorry…I feel terrible for ruining everything.” 

“Stop that,” Dad insists, shaking his head admonishingly at him. “We’re not upset with you for being ill—anyone can fall ill at any time and it’s out of one’s control. We’re upset that you tried to hide it from us, even if you thought you had the right intentions.” 

At that moment, Alfred peeks his head into the room, revealing that he’s been eavesdropping, and says, “I’d just like to point out that I did the responsible, mature thing, and called for help for my dearest, darling brother in his time of need. Very grown-up behavior—totally wise beyond my years. And because of that, I think, I deserve to be able to go to Six Flags next week with my friends.” 

Papa laughs heartily while Dad rolls his eyes. 

“Oui, you did the right thing, Alfred. But the greatest reward for helping your brother should be a sense of pride,” Papa notes.  

“I mean, yeah, but a physical reward would be kinda nice, too.” 

“Alfred,” Dad says with a warning tone. “Not now.” 

“All right, all right. I know. Just food for thought, you know? Glad Mattie’s okay, of course.” 

How in the world did Alfred come out on top? He’s a better adult? There’s no way! 

Okay, next time they’re home alone, they’re definitely throwing a party. 

That’ll show him. 

[lauwrite1225]

Body and Soul || Finan x OC || Part 1/3

Summary : Finan is finally free from years of slavery. But his body and soul are broken. However he found in Saegyth, a way to recovery. To be a man, again. 

A/N : So, this is a really short fic which I had the idea of during my exams. There will only be three parts alterning between Finan and Saegyth point of view. I hope you’ll like it ! 

Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3.

Warnings: None

A raspy laugh escaped Finan's dry lips. It hurt his throat, but he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t tell if it was happiness he was feeling, he hadn’t felt it in years, but he was sure it was close too. His heart was so light and yet it was beating so hard in his chest. It was like the life that was leaving Sverri’s body was now running through his veins. 

That was it. He felt alive. Alive and free. The words echoed in his head.

I am alive and I am free. Alive and free. 

And suddenly, as he realised the meaning of it, his body felt heavy. He fell on his knees, his legs to weak to keep him standing. He continued to laugh as he laid on the ground, his fingers brushing the grass. He stared at the sky and grabbed the wooden cross hang around his neck. He pressed it against his lips, thanking God for finally having mercy on him. 

“Are you alright?”

He let go off the cross and turned his head to the person who just spoke. For a moment, he was amazed by the woman who just crouched next to him. She had golden hair, waving in the wind like wheat in summer. For a moment, he hoped he had the strength to let his fingers ran through her strands. Her eyes were fascinating as well. They were made of a deep blue, but not like the sea he had been surrounding by for three winters. They were calm and reassuring. 

Her hand found his shoulder, catching his attention. He blinked several times before finally answering. 

“I think so. I’ve just seen an angel.” He said, a smile, at least he hoped it looked like one, forming on his face. 

She chuckled and for a moment he sweared it was the most beautiful sound he heard in ages. She removed her hand and grabbed a flask hanged at her belt. Finan pushed himself up with his elbow as she handed him the bottle. He drank all of it, his hand shaking. The water ran down his throat, appeasing the ache of it. 

“Thank ya.” He smiled, giving her back the flask.

“What’s your name?” She asked, hanging the flask back on her belt. 

He studied her a little more before answering. She was dressed as a warrior, a chest plate covering her upper body. He remembered seeing her fighting with the people who came for Uhtred. She wasn’t as skilled as the other warriors, but she fought with fierce. 

“Finan.” He watched her repeat his name silently. “Yours?” 

“Saegyth”

…

A whole day passed since they rescued Uhtred from the slave ship. Saegyth spend most of her day to help the last slaves still here. But there was one who didn’t leave. Finan stayed last night near the fire with them. 

Unlike most of the slaves she saw that day, the Irishman was more talkative. He spoke a little of what happened on the ship, what cost Halig’s life. Sometimes, his eyes were lost in the fire and darkened. The man saw much. Probably too much for one life. But almost all the time, his face would break in a smile. The smile of a broken man. 

Finan was asleep in the grass when Saegyth decided she should see how he was. She put down her bucket of fresh water and the clean clothes Hild brought back from a village near, and kneeled next his body. 

"Finan ?" She called him her hand on his shoulder. 

He slowly opened his eyes, a little confused. His fingers came to her wrist, barely touching it like to be sure she was real. As his fingertips grazed her soft skin, he smiled. She gave it back to him, studying his face a moment.

His skin was crackled and tanned because of the time he spent on the ship. His lips were in bad condition too, his flesh raw in some part. His face was half covered by his beard and his dark hair was leaving the ponytail he had managed to make. The state of the man was making her heart squeeze. She didn't know much of him, but whatever he had done, it could never be worth for such punishment. 

Her hand left his shoulder and she tilted her head. "You slept almost the whole day. I wanted to know how you were." 

"I’m fine." He answered, his eyelids half closed. 

"I brought you some clothes and water to wash you." She explained, her hands posed on the edge of the bucket. 

Finan frowned and sat up. He looked to the bucket, and seemed to hesitate. Slowly, he leaned above the water, his eyes widening as he stared at his reflection. One of his finger came touching the features of his face on the edge of the water, blurring his own reflection. Saegyth noticed the tears sparking in the corner of his eyes. 

"I hadn't seen my face in three winters." He declared, his gaze still fixed with his own. After a moment, he looked back to her. "I was still a boy the last time. I didn't had that beard." He chuckled even though Saegyth clearly heard the sob behind. 

She knew so little of the man and yet she couldn't help but feel so much for him. She felt this desire to help him deep in her heart. This will to learn who he was. And she knew he was much more than just a slave. 

Her hand found his face, her thumb rubbing his cheek to wipe the tears. 

"Let me help you to bring a little of that boy." She softly said. 

She searched his eyes in order to have some kind of answer. But he simply nodded and her hand dropped back to her side. She took a pair of scissors and started to roughly cut his beard. Finan's fascination about his own face started again. As she worked, Saegyth stared at him, wondering how he looked before. 

When she finished, Finan finally looked at her, his fingers lightly brushing what remained of his beard. 

"Thank ya." He said. 

"It's normal." She smiled at him. 

He frowned a little as he thought. "You are not a Dane."

"No, I am not." She laughed, sinking a fabric in the water. 

"And you’re not an abbess." He added, amusement in his voice. 

"Neither. I am a Lady." She declared as she met his deep brown eyes.

"I've never seen a Lady fought before." There was some admiration in his tone that she appreciated. 

"There's a first time for everything." She removed the fabric from the bucket and spinner it. "Can you remove your shirt?" 

He did, grabbing the edge of what remained of the shirt and removing it. Saegyth almost gasped when he revealed his body. He was thin despite his muscles, his ribs clear under his skin. His body was a parchment on which paint cans had been accidentally spilled. There was bruised of varied colours, from purple to yellow. Scars were forming straight lines, especially in his back. And she wondered if there was still part of his skin that hadn't been damaged.

"Where did ya learn to fight ?" He asked her, trying to take away her attention from his body. 

She swallowed and put the wet fabric on his arm. "Uhtred taught me when we were hiding from Danes in marshes." This was years ago, but yet it felt like yesterday. "I always wish to learn, but being of noble blood made it difficult. So, when my husband died in battle, I asked Uhtred to teach me." 

Since the first time she met the Half - Dane in Winchester, she felt some sort of fascination for him. Maybe it was youth, but she didn't regret pushing her curiosity. She discovered a man of honour and with a kindness unexpected for a Dane, after all she had heard of them. When King Alfred freed Ragnar, Uhtred's brother, she didn't hesitate to follow him to save him.

"I am sorry for your husband." He said, as he shivered when the fabric was now running in his back. 

"Don't be. He wasn't a man I choose and I was young when I was married to him." She explained, looking side as she winced.

She never loved him, neither respected him. He was a turd, to her, to other peoples and learning his death felt like a relief. She felt free and she didn't wait to experience that freedom. 

As she cleaned the most recent wounds, red and still swollen, she noticed the way his jaw clenched. How once more, his eyes were lost. And so, she spoke again, trying to distract him.

"Uhtred is a good man, King Alfred recovered Wessex thanks to him." She told him about the many plans Uhtred came up with. But also his stupid actions that cost him the gratitude of Alfred. "Uhtred is a good strategist in battle, but he still has progress to make in politics." She chuckled, putting down the now dirty fabric. 

He smiled a little, maybe he heard a different version of those stories from Uhtred. "But he is a good man." He repeated her words.

"He is." She untied his hair, dark dirty strands falling on his bare shoulders. 

Finan plunged his hands in the bucket and leaned his head. He splashed water all over his face and hair, running his fingers through it. His tongue licked droplets on his lips.

"Not salt water." He smiled, like he just discovered the existence of it. 

His joy for a such a subtle thing made her heart squeeze again. Her life hadn't always been made of happiness, but never simple things made her eyes spark like Finan's ones. He took water in his hands and poured it on his hair once more. Saegyth untied a ribbon around her wrist. She let her fingers gather his strands before attaching them. 

“What will you do, now?” She asked him, handing him a clean shirt. 

He grabbed it and brushed the cloth with his thumb a moment. “I thought… That maybe I should stay with Uhtred.” 

“You don’t want to go back to… To your home?” She frowned a little.

His gaze darkened and he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising before falling as he loudly exhaled. She bit her lips, regretting her question. She wanted to excuse herself, but he answered before. 

“No… There’s nothing for me there.” She nodded silently. “I'm free because of Uhtred. He gave me hope and strength to pass another winter.” He looked up to her, meeting her pupils. “I owe him tha’.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. The man lived hell for years and yet, he was ready to fight and serve a man, even if it could cost him his life. The strength he said Uhtred gave him, she was sure it had always been there in him. She put her hand on his and squeezed it lightly. 

“He’ll be glad and grateful.” 

As she removed her hand to leave, he grabbed it. She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his action. 

“Thank ya.” Finan said. 

“It’s normal.” She repeated.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. No one has ever been that kind with me. Even… Before.” 

“It’s nothing Finan, really.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“Not for me.” 

She held her breath a moment. There was so much sincerity in his words. None of the other slaves dared to speak to her. Finan was broken, and yet the man didn’t disappear. 

“There’s a first time for everything.” She simply said and he let go of her hand.

Tag: @n0rthumbria​ @geekandbooknerd​ @sihtric​ @othermoony​ @seaberrycloudberry​ @amyyreblogss​ @for-bebbanburg​ @beowulfsdottir​ @bird-on-a-wire20​ @minimartian​

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 7)

A/n: We're... so close... I'm so excited.

Word Count: 5000+

Playlist

Masterlist

Life really only got worse from there, really for everybody. Most of all for Y/n, believe it or not considering what people like Bruce Wayne were dealing with these days.

Unfortunately it was truth.

Jerome and Y/n were separated. When having different cells didn't deter the two boys from being affectionate during down time or meals, Y/n was put into isolation where the only people he saw were officers that hated him or Dr. Quinzel, who had to pretend she wanted to "cure" Y/n of his "problem of the heart" or whatever. It was terrible for both of them, but if anyone else did it it wouldn't be two friends sitting down and talking through things. Shock therapy had been thrown around as an idea a few times. It was far worse ideas that Y/n hadn't heard about that had gotten Harleen to give in, if the taunts he'd been receiving held any weight.

Finally Y/n was allowed visitors. He didn't expect any, and he still wasn't allowed around the other inmates, so he was resigned to his life of solitude and misery.

Then Alfred Pennyworth paid him another visit.

"Alfred," Y/n croaked. His voice was rough from disuse.

The older butler took in Y/n's state and seemed to be taking it hard. Y/n was pale, his skin so sickly it was practically see through. It only made the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep as well as the bruises from the occasional beatings look even worse. He had started to gather scars- those hadn't been from other people though. In a world that only gave him pain, he found some solace in having some of it be at his own hand. It made him feel just a little more under control. Alfred seemed to be able to tell which wounds were from who, and he looked ready to kill someone- whether it be Y/n or the guards, it wasn't clear yet.

"Y/n... what have they done to you?"

Y/n smiled, trying not to cry. "They punished me for my sins Alfred. For murdering, which I did a bit of in my time I won't lie about that. For having feelings for Jerome Valeska, a mad man." Y/n's smile faltered. He was too tired to smile. He couldn't hold them for long anymore. Ever since being away from Jerome, it had been hard to find anything amusing. It was even worse when he wasn't allowed to be himself at all. When he was punished nonstop for being himself. When he couldn't talk or do anything he liked to do or see anyone he wanted to be around or go anywhere other than an empty cell far away from everywhere else. His life was completely out of his control and the people in charge were using their leverage over him to twist and bend him into the shape they wanted him to be. Except it wasn't working. Y/n was still a dreamer. He still did art and thought of other places and people and times. He still smiled when he saw Harleen. He still dreamed of Jerome. He still missed home and cared for people who had probably long stopped even thinking about him. He was still gay. And he was still dangerously, murderously angry. He had far too much free time and he spent probably too much of it daydreaming of ways to put the most painful ends on each of his tormenters.

Now he was calm though. Alfred was family. He was safe. He was part of home. Someone Y/n missed dearly from a time that was lost to him. A time he wished he could get back. Dinners with his parents and his brother. Hiking trips and tea times and bedtime stories. When things were easy and had a rhythm and made perfect sense. So what if he hadn't really been himself? So what if he was a little crazy? Attracted to adventure? At least he hadn't killed anyone, compared to nowadays where he was apparently completely insane and so addicted to danger that it just might actually kill him. So what if he hadn't been allowed to talk about being gay and have a boyfriend? All he'd gotten for that was isolation and violence.

That didn't matter. He didn't want to think about anything but Alfred and good times.

"For having feelings for Jerome Valeska, a man?" Alfred offered softly. Y/n shrugged and Alfred's face grew dark. It got quiet until the butler sighed, his shoulders sagging. Alfred had always had the same magic Y/n and Bruce's dad did. He seemed frozen in time, untouchable by death. Both men had seemed unbreakable. Now Alfred seemed worn down and just as old as he actually was. He probably wasn't very old, but only now was it dawning on Y/n that he was... old. Or at least he wasn't young. He was aged. He was getting on in years. He should have been married, with kids, living a peaceful life and watching those kids go to college and move out, alone with his wife to live out the rest of his days in some cottage somewhere in the most beautiful parts of England. He should be reading books and drinking tea and worrying about how tired he felt when it was only 9pm, even though he used to stay up until 3am in his youth. Instead he had no wife but two sons that had been thrust into his hands- both of whom were losing their minds and burdened by so much trauma and darkness that he most likely stayed awake at night and run over probability after probability of how he might go about helping even just one of them, realizing that he would fail them both because no one can truly save someone from themself if the person refuses to allow it.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Y/n mumbled. His eyes watered as he looked at the man that had become a lot like a father to him, right when he needed one the most. Maybe things had been easier when Thomas was alive, but their perfect family wouldn't have survived through the teenage years in a place like Gotham. It would have been messed up eventually. Y/n knew that. "You're trying your best, and you make a lot of the right decisions. I know I'm not the easiest person to care about."

Alfred smiled. "Y/n, of the people I care about you are currently the easiest one to do so for. Maybe I'm not happy with your decisions and where it's... gotten you-" he wavered, looking round the room. Y/n actually managed a weak, broken laugh. A normal laugh. It wasn't manic or wild. It was small and short and wet and weak and broken, but it was also a very normal laugh. The sound everyday people make in situations that were somehow funny when they shouldn't be. It was a nice sound. It lifted the mood even more. "But you're still by boy, and I stand by you." He paused for a while, getting serious. "I don't know what I would do if I was in your situation, Y/n. Finding happiness with a man like Jerome. Finding misery in people you should be able to trust. I just-" He bit his lip for a second before continuing. "Be honest with me: was I ever one of the people that betrayed your trust?"

Y/n's eyes went wide. "No Alfred, oh god. I think you're the last good person left in Gotham. You make me happy and safe. You're the only one that does that anymore."

That seemed to bring some kind of peace to the old man. He looked around the room again and almost mimicked the laugh Y/n had made earlier. "This is crazy. Us finding solace in each other. How did we end up here, hm, Master Y/n?"

Y/n grinned despite himself. "I don't know." He wiped his eyes- he had begun crying. "I don't know Alfred." He sniffed. "You deserve better."

"Damn right I do," Alfred agreed. "And so do you." The men exchanged soft smiles. Alfred's expression changed after a second as he pursed his lips, tilting his head. "Are you and Jerome still...?"

Y/n's smile fell. "I haven't been allowed to see him. I don't know what he thinks happened to me. I kind of just disappeared. I left with you that day and then when I was brought back I was immediately put into isolation so-" Y/n shrugged.

Alfred sighed through his nose. "Do you... love him?" He seemed disoriented by the mere thought of someone loving Jerome Valeska. Of someone he knew - someone he helped raised, who he was close to and cared a lot about and had a lot of faith in - being in love with Jerome Valeska. "I mean, you don't seem..." He motioned with his hands, not sure how to form his feelings into words.

"Crazy?" Y/n offered. It was Alfred's turn to shrug. Y/n scoffed, amused. "I don't think I am. He's just... everything I ever wanted, you know? I can be myself around him and it never disappoints him. He likes me, as a person. I think he likes being with me. And he's funny and knows how to have a good time-" Y/n flinched. “He also knows how to not have a good time, though that's not really a thing to him. He's got a lot going on. I think he's broken a lot more than I am. I just- I don't know I-" He looked at the ceiling, trying to make sense of his feelings without sounding as insane as he was for feeling this way for someone who murdered for fun.

When Y/n looked back, Alfred seemed so uncomfortable. "But do you love him?"

Y/n looked at his hands. "I like the way he smells." His face scrunched up. "And how he holds my hand. His hair, and his smile. How he says my name and laughs at my jokes." Y/n looked back. "Am I crazy Alfred?"

Alfred seemed to think about that. "I think you're lonely and looking for someone like you, and I can understand that."

Y/n relaxed a little. "I think I'm crazy." He shook his head. Neither man smiled. "How do I get help for my condition?"

"If you're talking about getting help for liking men, I want you to take that back right now." Y/n looked at him in surprise. "There's nothing wrong with you, Master Y/n. Do you understand me?" Y/n paused but then nodded, and he felt a weight lift off of his chest. "You have a weird taste in men, but otherwise you're fine." Now they did both laugh, just a little. "You hang in there, okay? I'll try and see what I can do to get you out of here. Then we'll figure this out together, yeah?"

That sounded nice. "Yeah. I would like that." Alfred nodded.

Just then a guard came up. "It's time to go." Alfred sighed but they exchanged goodbyes and Y/n tried to keep a smile as his only hope of light left him alone in the darkness once again. Then he turned to the guard that was with him now: Peters. Y/n was beginning to learn names. Peters was a little softer since Y/n was young, but he still was one of the guards that hated Y/n for being gay, so there was only so much Y/n could say when it came to how much he did or didn't like the man. As they walked back, Peters once again disappointed Y/n. "You know I have to tell them about what you said in there." Y/n stopped moving. He hadn't thought about that. He'd been talking to Alfred. He always told Alfred everything, and he always told him such with complete honesty. Things had gotten easier because Y/n had been able to prove that the "therapy" was doing some good. He'd just admitted out loud that it hadn't made a dent in how attracted he was to men, or how he felt about Jerome. "He won't go as hard on you as in the beginning," Peters assured. He was talking about the first guard that had started tormenting Y/n. They didn't speak his name. Both of them, at the very least, hated his methods even if Peters agreed it was necessary. "You admit you need help. You'll get it. Your butler was wrong and you know that and that's what matters."

Y/n's eyes watered as he began walking again.

Was he really getting to a place again where he believed that something so basic about him really was wrong? He'd just barely, FINALLY accepted it and now he was being conditioned to bury it away again?

Fuck.

-

It was a nice break to get visitors. Alfred was nice to talk to, and despite the oddity of it, the two men got along well and cheered each other up nicely. Y/n was looking forward to seeing the older man's face when he was told he had a visitor. Unfortunately, Alfred was not the one waiting to greet Y/n that day.

"Bruce?" Y/n was far passed surprised to see his younger brother of all people on the other side of the glass, visiting him. Alfred hadn't said much but from the little he'd divulged about Bruce breaking out of the mind control and then killing some dude that had to do with the weird creepy tunnel Bruce had dragged him to and the dudes in it that had almost killed him. Y.n didn't see what was wrong with that - the dude was obviously bad - but it seemed to be ripping a new one with Bruce. He'd turned into a bit of a dick, putting it nicely. Left me alone in the tunnel then refused to visit me in the asylum. Firing Alfred. Partying and messing around with a bunch of people. It seemed the Wayne brothers dealt with their mental breakdowns very differently. Bruce partied and became an asshole- Y/n killed people and fell in love with psychopaths. One thing can be said: the Waynes sure know how to go out with a bang.

"Y/n," Bruce greeted weakly. He was obviously burdened by nervousness and guilt. As not to push it, Y/n sat down. Perhaps he didn't walk to talk to his tool of a brother, but it was better than isolation so he'd tolerate it. Y/n stayed quiet and allowed himself the luxury of being in the presence of another human being- one who didn't mean him harm or hate him for not being able to control who he was. Bruce spoke again first; Y/n was lost in the peacefulness of the quiet. "I'm sorry I left you in the tunnel." Y/n didn't say anything, so Bruce continued. "I was sort of commanded to kill Alfred when I was under mind control. I, uh, stabbed him. I could only carry one of you so I grabbed him and took him to the hospital. Ended up staying all night because I was terrified he was dead."

"And then you proceeded to treat him like shit all the way up until you did him a favor and fired him."

Bruce flinched. "I got emancipated too."

"Jesus, Bruce," Y/n cursed.

"I know," Bruce moaned. "I'm not handling any of the things well." He rubbed his face. "I wish you'd come home. I miss you." Bruce looked at his older brother, trying to find a remnant of the old Y/n underneath the bruises and coldness in the older boy's gaze. Both boys had come to gain something dark about them. Y/n's was more brightly colored, tickling in every dent and curve of his body and expression. Bruce's was sharper- paving paths of stones along corners and edges. Even now, Y/n was still the softer brother. Perhaps not so much had changed after all. "We've been through a lot, hm?" Y/n nodded, looking at his hands. "I-" Bruce cleared his throat, seeming to get emotional. "I don't know you are anymore. Please, tell me. I feel like you’re a stranger."

Y/n looked at him very seriously. "Probably because I am." Bruce frowned. "But we can change that." Bruce's lips immediately found a soft upward curve and Y/n took a second to appreciate it. It seemed he could bring some sort of smile or another out of even the angstiest of teens.

They spent the next bit talking. Bruce told Y/n everything, summarizing in chunks. Y/n did the same, breezing through his time with Oswald and then being in and out of Arkham and Jerome. That's where Bruce seemed to get caught up. "You really love him?" Bruce was making a face like he'd swallowed something both bitter and sour.

Y/n sighed, lowering his voice and moving his mouth closer to the receiver so only Bruce would hear him. "I don't know about love. But..." He shrugged. "I care for him. He matters to me." Bruce exhaled then nodded. "I don't have many other options," Y/n joked. Then he sobered, unnervingly quickly. "But even if I did, I don't know Bruce." He rubbed his face.

"Let's not talk about it. When we get you out of here-"

"We?" Y/n interrupted.

Bruce's expression became strained. "I called Alfred. I don't know if he'll come back but maybe... well, I know he'll definitely help me get you out. Maybe we can really be a family, you know? Make this town home again. You can talk all bout your art and have as much time as you want to make it."

Y/n felt odd. "You want to go back to how it was."

Shrugging, Bruce seemed to suddenly be distracted by everything, his eyes never finding Y/n's face, almost like the younger Wayne was avoiding his gaze on purpose. "So what if I do?" Bruce finally looked at his brother. "Don't you, Y/n? Don't you want to finally be done with this? Maybe we could go somewhere else entirely for a while. A long while. Bond again. Heal. It could be good for us."

Suddenly, Y/n was angry. "You know, I've been wishing for weeks that I could go back in time. I wanted it all to fix and right itself. But you know what? It won't. Even if the universe suddenly decided to let us be happy and a family or whatever, I wouldn't let it happen." Bruce leaned away, as if Y/n had slapped him. "I've killed people, Bruce. I'm not innocent and nieve and full of dreams or whatever the fuck anymore. It's been so long since I painted something I really liked or cared about- even before mom and dad died. Do you remember when I was first getting good and I started to draw boys? It was freeing and exhilarating and gave me an outlet of some kind- and an excuse to stare at cute boys my age. Mom found out and told me to hide it. She didn't want the wrong person to find it and use it against me." He scoffed. "Do you want to know why I'm into Jerome?" Y/n was being too loud, he knew. But he didn't care. "Because he likes me just as I am. A little crazy, a lot fucked up. He likes that things don't really bother me. He likes my twisted sense of humor. He likes that I'm willing to kill someone if they piss me off or get in my way. He acknowledges that I'm tainted and kind of stupid and I've completely lost my mind. I heard somewhere that it only takes one bad day for someone to lose it- well, Bruce, I've had a whole fucking string of them. And I'm tired of you and Alfred coming in here and pretending I’m still the me you both want me to be and that everything is fine and that we're gonna go back to normal and perfect and happy as if I'm not a murderer. As if I'm not GAY!" Y/n chucked the phone, causing Bruce to jump. "THAT'S RIGHT!" Y/n screeched as he whirled around the face the guard. "I! AM! GAY! You can beat me, torture me, isolate me, fill my head with a bunch of nonsense, but you won’t break me because I'm DONE being ashamed of who I am."

The guard looked disgusted. It was a different man this time- not Peters. "You're going to go to hell for your sins."

"For being gay?" Y/n actually laughed. "How dare you!" This was playful, light. Y/n had finally snapped. "You're sitting here saying that I'm going to go to hell because I'm gay? Sweetheart, you're missing all the far more valid reasons I'm going to hell." The end of the statement lowered to notes that left his voice gravely and threatening, all humor gone. As he’d spoken, he’d taken step after step closer to the guard until they were practically chest to chest. "Remember that I know how to kill you so no one will ever know it was me next time you even THINK of laying a single finger on me, do you understand?" The guard, calm before, now looked very nervous. "You people won't touch Jerome, and I hid behind that for too long. Touch me. I dare you." Y/n leaned close, his voice low as he whispered, "You never know... maybe you just might like it."

The guard made a noise halfway between a groan and a grunt and opened the door, pushing Y/n through and further into the Asylum, and away from him. Y/n winked at him and the guard closed the door, putting it between them like it was going to block them. Y/n laughed. There was power in fear. Power in accepting yourself despite everyone trying to tear you down; in staying together despite everyone trying to tear you apart. It was like when that idiot cut off Jerome's face. Jerome didn't pitch a fit. He adapted. That's why he was so terrifying. So powerful. Things rolled off his shoulders and left him unfazed. He just adapted, never letting pain even waver his smile.

It's time for Y/n to start taking a page out of Jerome's book. He was over being another brooding Wayne boy.

After that, things began to look up again. The guards quickly stopped beating Y/n up- all it did was make him laugh, or make him stronger as he began to fight back. Therapy stopped mattering- he spent all his talks with Harleen cracking jokes and being gay as fuck. Guards sneered at him and spit at him, but there were some good eggs in here and even more that Jerome had wrapped around his finger. All Y/n had to do was place himself at the right guard or flirt with the wrong one and suddenly he had plenty of room to move as idiotic, childish men kept their distance and jeered- as if words alone could do anything other than make Y/n laugh harder. He simply let it all stop affecting him, and so it did. Maybe it was a little crazy, to hear such terrible words or go to bed in pain, and find some kind of twisted pleasure in it. But I mean come on. These morons called themselves men of God then beat up on a teenage boy who was slowly learning how to take them down singlehandedly. They were like children on a playground: pushing girls they liked; calling people stupid names then ducking when they got in trouble; pulling ponytails and tripping kids and sticking their tongues out and pretending they were big boys as they squashed roaches only to run off squealing like babies when the bug didn't die the first time. They were pathetic. It was hilarious.

Word started to get around about Y/n's change.

Jerome hadn't known he was back. Last he'd heard, Y/n had dipped out with Alfred Pennyworth. He'd run home to Bruce Wayne and his old life with his tail between his legs, once again forcing himself to be someone he wasn't in a life he could be content in, but never happy. Jerome had been planning his escape for a while and had considered paying Y/n a visit to see if he could knock the Wayne boy into his senses... but he had other things to do and he had to keep his head down while doing them. When he got the real story, it was far more exhilarating. It also sounded much, MUCH more like his Y/n.

Jerome was going to get Y/n out too, and they were going to burn this stupid city to the ground together, side by side. And no one was going to stop them. Not sense or sanity or decency or embarrassment. Y/n had even shoved off his brother- the boy had nothing holding him back anymore. They were going to have so much fun...

Then Y/n returned to the public eye of Arkham Asylum.

After his therapy stopped working, the guards either got fired or gave up. Words passed like fire about what they were doing to Y/n, and the real reason they were doing it. Guards were supposed to be guarding. Some turned a blind eye when other inmates pulled shit, but it was absolutely not allowed to bring harm to the inmates yourself. Now free, Y/n waltzed around the Day Room cockily, like a peacock showing off his feathers.

"...Y/n?"

The boy looked over casually, expecting something else. The person was too timid and quiet to be Jerome, but he most definitely hadn't expected- "Oswald?" His showiness melted in favor of pure joy. "Oh my god!" He ran to scoop up the little man in a hug. Both of them laughed, leaning apart with matching grins. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I was looking for you when-" He swallowed, his smile struggling. "I hope you're not mad at me. I meant to come find you, but things got... complicated."

Oswald shook his head. "I know what it's like to fall in love, especially when said person makes you want to kill someone." He put a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "I thought you were dead. I heard whispers about you with Jerome and then suddenly you went missing and I thought-"

Y/n's eyes went wide as Oswald grew quiet. "Are you kidding me? You're not getting rid of me that easy."

That seemed to lift Oswald's mood. The Penguin pulled Y/n aside, lowering his voice. "I'm getting out of here soon, Y/n. Please come with me. We'll figure out a way to do it- I can figure out some way to-"

"No," Y/n said immediately, stepping away. Oswald looked like he'd been slapped. "I'm your ally Oswald, always, but..." He shook his head. "Jerome is here." He swallowed. "I have another friend here too. She's like me, but only for, um, girls." Oswald nodded slowly, understanding but still a little sad. "You are important to me. Whoever's breaking you out- they'll take care of you, right?"

Oswald hesitated. "If he doesn't, I'll figure it out."

"Exactly," Y/n continued. "Jerome should be fine, but my other friend... she doesn't really have anyone else." Y/n struggled to find words. "Have you ever had someone innocent depend on you for real friendship? Someone who only you get, who you have to make sure is happy and safe? Someone you would do anything for?"

Suddenly Oswald seemed to understand perfectly. "Yes." Y/n frowned. What had he missed? Oswald was... different. "I understand, Y/n." He pat his friend's shoulder again and then stepped away. "I'll see you around."

Y/n smiled coyly. "Aw, are you going to come and visit me when you're out?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. They'd always been like this. Playful and easygoing. It was always easier to do in private, or when things were looking good. Now they had both, with Oswald getting out soon and their respective reclusiveness from everyone else in their little corner. Y/n seemed to be able to bring out a smile from Oswald, just like he always could from people. It was his pride- he could get a smile from Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth- even Oswald Cobblepott. Damn right.

They had a few days to catch up, and then Oswald got out. Y/n was happy for him. He hadn't seen much of Jerome yet, though, which had him a little worried. He would have heard if Jerome had gotten out- where was he? Surely not getting the treatment he had before- that would work even less on Jerome, and would have far more a consequence. Finally Y/n got a guard to fess up about it.

"Jerome's been holed up. He's usually in isolation, especially since he antagonized Oswald Cobblepoptt a little bit. But it seems to be more his choice of recent to be putting himself away. He seems to have a lot on his mind."

That didn't settle well with Y/n. Whatever he was up to, Y/n had the distinct notion that the little peace he'd finally managed to grasp was about to get ripped from him yet again. This time, he was willing to fight for it though. It was obvious that Jerome was avoiding Y/n on some level. Either that or he didn't care about Y/n at all. He hadn't been here when Y/n was finally let out, and he didn't seem to have done anything to try and get to Y/n while he was locked up either. Whatever he was up to, it either didn't include Y/n, or it was a move against him. It wasn't yet clear why Jerome would be mad at him... though the Wayne boy had some suspicions. If it came to that, then fine. Y/n would fight Jerome if he had to. It wasn't just about him now. He had Harleen to worry about. It would all be resolved in the end, and whatever the outcome, Y/n was determined to end up on top.

[singeramg]

Midnight: Chapter 16

Pairing: Clark Kent-Superman/ Metahuman!Black! OFC

Rating: M story

A/n: Hey World! I am back with a new chapter, which to my disappointment is shorter than I would have liked but as we get into the good stuff we need a filler chapter so this was it! I apologize for the delay!

Warnings: The norm

Catch Up Here

Midnight: Chapter 16

 My head was pounding as I came to. The room was dark and as I pulled on my hands, I quickly realized they were cuffed. I yanked and yanked trying to get free. I try to call energy to me so I would have enough strength to break chains or at the very least cut them off but nothing happens.

This is where I panic. 

My powers were an innate part of me. Something I could always feel and gather at any point and time, and now I couldn’t. It was like I could feel it gathering, but couldn’t discharge it.

 “What in the hell?!”

 I pulled at my cuffs as my brain tries to fragment together how this happened and pieces of it flow until it becomes cohesive. 

It couldn’t have been her. 

I hadn’t seen her in years...

Was it?

A voice from the pitch blackness startled me. I did my best not to visibly jump.

 “Ahh good to see you are awake Ms. Smith. One of our greatest successes returned home. Sorry about the painful extraction but it  was the only way to bring you back to us.”

 The light flips on and it becomes obvious that I am in a laboratory, strapped to a metal table. A man is standing in a booth that is high up, and I cannot see his face, only a shadowy outline of him. I was sure this was by design and it was clearly an operating room. I panic more but ask.

 “Who are you and what the fuck do you want?”

 I growled it out. I wanted him to understand that I was pissed. He tsk’s at me and speaks again

 “Oh my dear did you forget all your home training that quick? I guess we'll just have to remind you.”

 The man says and suddenly sharp electric pain zings through me. Making me grind my teeth and pull painfully against the straps holding me to the chair. In reality it was only seconds that it lasted but it felt like forever when all of your nerve endings were on fire.

 “Fuck!”

I yell. 

“Language Ms. Smith.”

The pain zings through me again and I feel tears run from my eyes and the pain stops quickly again.

 “Who are you and what do you want?”

I try again for my power but nothing manifests.

 “Do you like my little gift? These are neutralizing cuffs. It stops that cute little thing you can do with your hands. There will be no swords for you tonight.”

I glared at the figure. I could do so much more than that. It let me know that he didn’t have a clue.  

“Awe come now puppet don’t look so sad. You will get your powers back soon, but for now we need to do a little systematic reconditioning...”

 Meanwhile: 

 Clark was nervous. He didn’t like the idea of Gia of going to work without anyone physically in the building. He couldn’t and wouldn’t intrude on her space and what she felt she needed to do to be away from him. She had every right not to want him around. Look at the mess he had made of her life. He loved her beyond words but he couldn’t force her to love him back. It didn’t mean he didn’t want every opportunity to make it up to her though.  He knew Victor was keeping and eye on her all night and he said she left work about an hour ago, so why wasn’t she back at the manor yet?

 He tries to listen for her voice nearby or anything the indicates she is close but hears nothing, not even the soft hum of her car. 

Kalen is sleeping soundly so he slips the small child away from him and slide off of the bed to    go on the patio, after pulling doing a quick change into his Superman suit and takes off to the sky following the road she should be on to get home. His ears are immediately assaulted with the sound of police and fire trucks as he flies and his heart begins to race as he hears the commotion and finds himself at the scene of a crash. It takes him only a moment to make sense that this is Gia’s car that is on fire.

 He pushes through the crowd and walks to the car disregarding the yells and yanking the flaming door from the hinges. She was not in there and he turned to the crowd. He turns to the nearest police officer who seems to be in awe of Superman being that close to him.  Clark yanks the cop forward by the lapels.

 “Was anyone removed from this car?!”

Faced with the frantic ire of Superman, he shakes his head no. Clark let’s go of him and looks around trying to spot her face in the small crowd of cops and first respondents but there's no one.

“Gia!!!!! Gia!!!!!”

 He is calling her name frantically, but with no response.

He tried to listen for her but there was nothing and that was what scared him. He takes off pushing himself as fast as he can back to manor. Bruce never locked the door and Clark would have just knocked it down anyway in his frantic state. 

 “Bruce!!!”

He yells and the caped crusader comes down the steps, Alfred in tow, who also had been alerted as soon the front door was opened. 

 “Gia is missing!!!!”

 Alfred immediately takes off to send an alert to the other team members. Bruce does his best to calm down Clark.

 “I can’t hear her or see her...she...I can’t hear her heartbeat...”

 Bruce was worried, this was the first time he saw Clark lose his head. If that wasn’t an indicator of his feelings for the short firecracker that entered their lives a short time ago, then he didn’t know what was. 

He could let the man he called a friend and at one point an enemy go crazy however. It would not bode well for anyone. He knew first hand that Clark was a force when not in his right mind. 

“Clark...Clark calm down. Why do you think she is missing?”

 Clark shakes his head trying to expand his hearing as far as he could to try and hear the heartbeat or voice he was so attuned to.

 “Only that your car is a fiery wreck about 10 miles out and she was not in it. It’s not like she could have been car jacked. She is gone Bruce.”

 “Okay we will find her, but you are no help to her if you go off crazed and half cocked. Besides your son will need you.”

 The thought of Kalen snaps him out of his slightly manic state. 

He climbs the stairs in Kalen’s direction. Kalen has moved in his sleep, legs and arms wild as most children do at that age. Relieved that his yelling hadn’t awoken his son, he worries for him. What if they couldn’t find Gia?  He didn’t want his son to grow up without his mother. He didn’t want to be without either. To live in a world without her in it would be agonizing.

He hears Barry’s quick arrival and Bruce sends him to search the surrounding areas around the crash. Victor has arrived as well, and was trying to find footage. 

 “Clark, I found something.” He calls Clark from downstairs no louder than normal as to not to wake the child. 

He tucks the toddler tight into his bed and heads downstairs. He finds Bruce, Diana and Victor in the surveillance room. Diana comes over and hugs the superhero, and Victor nods in greeting  before launching into what he found.

“ It took a little time but I was able to tap into one of the government’s satellites. I found this.”

 The team watches as someone steps from the side of the road directly into the path of Gia’s car. They watch the scene unfold, Clark praying the entire time that she was surviving this ordeal. The image of her trying to get away only to be punched and then dragged away in the back of a plain black van with no plates or identifiable marks. It sends anger searing through his veins, he had never felt the need to hurt someone so bad. To hurt one of the people he loved most was a crime punishable by severe pain in his eyes. 

He needed to find her and he needed to find her quickly...

 *5 days later*

 “Clark baby you have to eat.”

 Martha Kent had just put Kalen down for a nap and was now sitting with her solemn son. 

“I am not hungry.”

 Clark was downright depressed from not being able to find Gia. He wouldn’t shaved, called out from work, and baths were strictly in and out affairs meant to placate everyone else. He was devoted to everything he had to his finding Gia and being there for their son. He spent endless amounts of time flying around, stalking criminals to find out what they knew. 

Nobody he found knew anything. Thankfully he had help with Kalen because he had quickly learned he was out his depth with being a parent...

 *A few Days ago*- Flashback

 “Come on Kalen son you have got to eat. Can you be a big boy and eat the hot dog for your old man please.”

 Clark was not a beggar but he was exhausted and this was not helping. He and Kalen had a great father-son relationship, but at the end of the day Kalen was still a toddler that liked to push the limits of his boundaries and his father’s patience. 

 “NO!!!”

 Clark had taken Kalen back to his mother’s house  for some normality and was currently trying his best to get his son to eat something but it was not working out. He flat out refused to eat the plain hot dog placed in front of him. He was loud and upset, Clark knew it was because Gia’s presence was missing and Kalen didn’t know how to express that without a temper tantrum much like he was doing now. 

Frustrated he felt the heat build between his eyes, threatening to shoot into the nearby wall.  He pinches the space between his brows so the heat didn’t shoot from them and hopefully dissipates the impending headache. He had only been a father for a couple weeks and he didn’t have any clue what he was doing wrong or right. He needed Gia back, they were meant to do this together. She had always been his balance and now she was gone.

Martha had been trying to let her son handle this by staying out of the way and letting him be the father. It was clear as she walked into the kitchen that Clark was struggling. 

 “G’ma!!!”

Kalen shouts happily and claps his hands together.

“My sunshine! Why aren’t you eating?”

She asks and the response is to push the plate away.

“Alright let’s see if I can get you something you will eat.”

 She grabs up the plate, takes the hot dog from the bun, tosses the bun away, and Clark watches as she cuts it up, covers it in ketchup then sits it down in front of the toddler, who then proceeds to eat the food.

Much to Clark’s chagin and mild disbelief. 

 “Am I ever going to get the hang of this?”

 “Yes. It just takes patience son. For the record I had the same problem with you growing up. Your father and I were nervous at first because you wouldn’t eat. We honestly got scared you required some kind of alien food that we had no potential to get our hands on. Irrational I know, but still a real fear. You will just have to take your time and learn your son. I’m sure Gia had to do the same thing.”

 Clark looks down at his feet for a moment.

 “ Yes but she is Gia. Gia is...she is in a whole other realm of unbelievable.  He needs his mother.”

He says missing her voice, looking out the screen door at the farm. He doesn’t admit out loud that he needs her too.

 “And you will find her. If I know anything about you Son is that you are determined. I know you will find her.” 

She pats him on the shoulder and goes back over to Kalen at the table.

 *End flashback*

 Clark still had no leads and grew more desperate by the second. He wanted nothing more than to find her. He wanted to tell her that he wanted everything with her. This wasn’t some sort of get back game with Lois. He wanted to stand in front of her as a man and declare his feelings. He wanted to raise their son together (maybe even have a few more). He wanted to give her the fairytale just like he wanted for them.

He couldn’t do any of that without her...

  “Clark son, you are no good to Gia if you die because you aren’t taking care of yourself. In fact I know she would be good and mad if you die and she did all of that to bring you back.”

 They both give a small chuckle at knowing how her temper could be set off, especially when she thought Clark was being stupid. 

Before he could respond his cell phone rings and Bruce’s name lights up across the screen.

 “Kent.” 

 “Clark we think we’ve got something...”

A/N: YES I know its short and not much character movement but I felt this was important to show. I hope to have the next chapter up sometime this week because baby let me tell y'all the stuff I have coming up for this is going to be great!

As always thank you for taking the time to read this and know I appreciate every reblog, every comment and every like. They fuel me to keep writing for you! 

TAG LIST IS OPEN! Please let me know if you want on it! 

TAGLIST:

@p3nny4urth0ught5​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @romyr4​ @thethirstyarchive​ @kmcmpmd​

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there? 

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking! 

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike? 

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was. 

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

[dccomicsimagines]

What’s Lost is Found - Batfamily Imagine - Part Three

Part One   Part Two  Part Four   Part Five  Part Six  Part Six.Five  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven

Requested by Anon -  Could you do a sequel to what’s lost is found where they are kind of going through a rough patch in their relationship?

***

You floated on your back with your eyes closed. The sound of crashing waves filled your ears as the sun warmed your face. It was peaceful.

“(Y/N), we should be heading home,” Dick shouted from the beach. You sighed before diving under the surface to cool your warm skin. The salt burned your eyes even though you kept them closed. You enjoyed the silence, but all too soon you flipped around to surface and started the swim toward shore. 

Dick was waiting for you as you waded through the shallow water. He handed you a towel. “Have fun out there?” You nodded, quickly drying yourself off.

“Yeah, lots of fun.” You eyed him, noting his red face. “How did your nap go?” 

“Good, I think I made myself a little crispy.” Dick laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you toward the car. The sand stuck to your feet making your nose wrinkle. “I was thinking we could pick up some fast food on the way home. No need to cook tonight.”

You snorted. “It’s your turn anyway.” 

Dick chuckled, kissing your temple before letting you go to get into the driver’s seat. You opened the passenger’s side and sat with your feet out to brush off the sand.

About two months had past since you decided to stay with Dick. There was a peace that you hadn’t felt since your father died. Things were finally getting better even though your heart still ached from guilt and grief. 

You and Dick had a tranquil co-existence that was only interrupted by Dick’s attempts to get you to make friends. However, today was different. It was just you and Dick at the beach. You both swam until lunch. Then, you went to the bar and grill nearby. Dick dragged you into one of the souvenir shops afterwards and bought a seashell frame. He claimed he was going to put the photo of the two of you in it. You rolled your eyes at him, but it warmed your heart.

It was a good day. That’s why you were not prepared for the bomb Dick dropped on the way home. 

The bags of fast food were sitting by your feet when Dick cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking...” He paused, glancing at you. You eyed him carefully. Those words meant trouble for you. Dick swallowed hard before looking back at the road. “I think you should go to school.”

“What?” you growled. Your eyes narrowing into a glare. Dick sighed, making that face. The ‘I’m trying my best and you’re being so difficult’ face. If he weren’t driving, you would have punched him.

“Now don’t be like that.” Dick pursed his lips. You could tell he knew you would act like this.

Your eyes widened. “You planned this all out, didn’t you?” Your stomach soured. “What a dirty trick, Grayson. I’ll never trust you again. Plan out a nice day and drop a bomb on me.”

Dick’s mouth twitched and you knew you were right. “Look, I’m sorry, but I knew you were going to take this news badly and I wanted to soften the blow.” 

You frowned. “News? So that means we’re not even discussing this.” 

“We have a meeting tomorrow morning. Alfred sent your homeschool records,” Dick explained sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other stayed on the wheel. 

“Asshole,” you hissed, crossing your arms and looking out the window. 

“Language.” Dick’s hands tightened around the wheel. “This is for the best. You need to be with people your own age.” 

Rage bubbled in your stomach. “Why does everybody always say that?” You could feel Dick’s eyes on you as he stopped at a light. “I never get to decide what’s best for me. It’s always everyone else.” 

“I know you feel like you have no control right now.” Dick reached over to lay a hand on your knee. You flinched away from him. “Maybe you should talk to someone?”

“Not this again,” you snapped. “Or did you already decide that for me too?” 

“(Y/N).” Dick sighed, defeated. He pursed his lips. The light change and he made the turn toward home. “You can’t keep everything bottled up inside. I have a friend, Lilith. She works as a psychologist now and she’ll be able to help you work through things.” 

You didn’t say anything, too disheartened to speak. Perhaps you were being selfish. You can never have a nice day again. This was your punishment for the life you took.

Dick kept talking, but you stopped listening. You kept your eyes out the window. The moment he pulled into the driveway, you were out the door and headed straight into the house.

“Kiddo,” Dick called after you, but you ignored him. You slammed the front door behind you before sprinting up the stairs to your room. Only then did you let yourself cry.

***

The alarm clock beside your bed shined three thirty in the morning. You sighed, sitting up in bed. Sleep wouldn’t come to you. Anxiety made your head go around and around. You couldn’t relax enough to sleep.

Frustrated, you threw off your covers and got to your feet. You needed to move. Your running clothes were already sitting out, so you slipped them on and crept out of the house. It was dark, but the street lights gave off enough light for you to see.

You ran long enough for the sun to rise over the horizon and for the street lights to turn off. The anxiety didn’t go away, even though you tried your best to run from it. Time faded away.

Eventually, when you finally decided to go back home, it was bright and sunny out. The coolness of the morning fading fast. Dick was waiting for you on the front steps. His expression stony, but you could seen the glint of anger in his eyes. 

“Where the hell were you?” Dick demanded as you came to a halt in front of him. Your legs felt like jelly. You opened your mouth to speak, but Dick held up his hand. “Never mind, get upstairs. You have fifteen minutes to get ready. We have the meeting with the school today.” 

You rolled your eyes, marching past him and heading upstairs for a quick shower. Part of you was tempted to take your time, but you realized Dick was angry enough to drag you out of the house in only your bathrobe, so you weren’t going to push him. At least not right now. 

The anxiety came back full force. Your stomach twisting and turning. You were tired from having little to no sleep. The endorphins from your run didn’t help as much as you hoped. 

Dick was waiting for you once you came down the stairs fully dressed for the day. He forced a package of poptarts and a water bottle in your hand before pushing you out the door and into the car. You put the poptarts aside, but drank the water during the drive over to the school. It was close enough to walk to, which meant you would probably be walking yourself there everyday. Great.

You could feel Dick give you a disapproving look for not eating. He could suck it up. 

Dick pulled up to the school and parked before hassling you all the way to the front office. Within minutes, you were sitting across from the guidance counselor and the vice principal.

“Sorry, we’re late,” Dick said, giving them a charming smile. The vice principal just nodded while the guidance counselor went googly eyed. Oh boy. You were sure the guidance counselor was going to ask you if Dick was single once you were alone with her.

“It’s alright, Mr. Grayson.” The vice principal shook Dick’s hand before offering to shake yours. You reluctantly did so. “Now, has (Y/N) ever been to a public school before?”

Dick nodded. “Yes, but the last four years they have been homeschooled. Their father had a busy life, and it was decided that was best for them.” You frowned at being talked about like you weren’t there, but when you opened your mouth to say so, Dick interrupted. “I believe a school environment is what (Y/N) needs. They don’t have friends their own age and with their father’s passing, they need some stability.” 

The guidance counselor looked at you like you were prey. Dick made you a target now. The rest of the meeting continued with everyone talking like you weren’t there.  You sunk farther into your chair, feeling dizzy, but you blinked it away.

Eventually, you were taken away to take a placement test. Standard practice, they said. You kept feeling lightheaded, but you pushed it away, holding back yawns as you finished the test. It was easy. Then again, you were used to tests made by Alfred and your father. Both didn’t believe in shortcuts.

Dick and the guidance counselor were talking outside when you left the testing room. You heard them say your name, but Dick cut off the conversation when he saw you. “Hey, kiddo. How’d it go?”

“Fine.” You crossed your arms, eyeing the guidance counselor who was studying you closely. 

“Well, we’ll have the test results in about thirty minutes, so why don’t we take a little tour of the school?” the guidance counselor asked cheerfully. You glared at her only to get elbowed in the side by Dick. 

“Sure, sounds like fun,” Dick said. His arm wrapped around your shoulders to make you follow the guidance counselor through the halls. The tour was not impressive, nor was the school. Dick acted excited, but you sensed he was just trying to keep you from rebelling. 

Finally, you ended up in the guidance counselor’s office. She ran off to get your test results, leaving you and Dick alone. 

Several seconds of silence passed before Dick broke it with a harsh whisper. “Would you try, (Y/N)? This is good for you.” 

“Stop saying that,” you hissed back. You crossed your arms, blinking back the dizziness. Maybe you should have eaten those poptarts? The last time you ate was lunch yesterday.

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you have to be so much like your brother?” Your eyes snapped to him, glowering fiercely. 

“I am nothing like that hypocritical bastard.” Dick looked at you in surprise, but the guidance counselor came in and stopped him from replying. She, however, saw your scowl and you could see the wheels turning in her head. 

Dick spun to her and flashed her that charming smile again to calm her down. She opened your tests results. “Well, (Y/N) did very well on the test. Exceptional in fact.”

You had to smile at Dick’s shocked face. “They did?”

“Yes, (Y/N) could be placed in twelfth grade and be ready to graduate in the spring if they can pass the graduation tests.” The guidance counselor frowned. “But that won’t help (Y/N) make friends their age.” 

You glared at her. “That is not important,” you snapped before Dick could speak for you.

The guidance counselor looked at you in surprise. “But it's important for teenagers to feel a sense of belonging and acceptance by their peers. You can’t have that (Y/N) if you don’t have friends.”

“(Y/N) is struggling with all of this,” Dick began. You growled at him. This was all a trick. He was going to make you talk to the guidance counselor about your problems. You felt violated and disrespected. Why couldn’t he understand you didn’t want to talk to people about this? “They were very close to their father, and they didn’t socialize outside of his very tight knit circle.” 

You got to your feet. “No, you are not doing this! I told you I didn’t want to talk to someone about this and you are not going to force me!” Dick stared back at you calmly.

“(Y/N), calm down. We’ll stop talking about that right now.” The guidance counselor held up a hand. “Just sit down please.” 

Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you held them back. You sank down into your chair. Dick and the guidance counselor began to talk about where you should be placed. Eventually, it was decided, without your input since you realized you couldn’t open your mouth or you would burst into tears, that you would have classes with the twelve graders, but also have electives with people your age.

Eventually, you were signed up for a bunch of classes you couldn’t even care about. The guidance counselor tried to hand you the schedule, but you refused to take it. Dick took it for you, giving her apologetic smile. They flirted as you walked out of the school.

“(Y/N), that was rude of you,” Dick said once you were alone in the parking lot. You kept your mouth shut, getting into the car. Dick sighed. He was making that face again, but you ignored it. You were too mad to feel guilty. He got into the car and silently drove home. 

Dick parked in the driveway, but didn’t turn off the car. “I got to go to work for a few hours. Why don’t you take this time to cool off?” You sent him one last glare before opening your car door and slamming it behind you. 

Inside the house, you let the tears fall as you heated up the fast food you didn’t eat from last night. You wanted to scream and rip everything apart, but you didn’t. That would be too much like Damian.

You haven’t talk to Damian since that one conversation on the car trip down here. He hadn’t called you and you weren’t going to call him. In fact, no one from your ‘family’ called you. All you got was the weekly email from Alfred. 

Once your food was done, you went up to your room and slept with the hope you would wake up to find your father alive. 

***

“(Y/N), honey, wake up.”  You felt Dick’s hand rubbing your back. Slowly, you opened your eyes. You were still in your bed, but your alarm clock said it was eight in the morning. Did you really sleep that long? “Come on, you have to get up.”

“Why?” you groaned. You felt like you could lay there forever. Dick sat you up and you reluctantly supported yourself. 

“Because you’ve been asleep over ten hours.” Dick gently pulled you to your feet. You stumbled, still in the fog of sleep. “Woah, there.” He scooped you up into his arms and carried you downstairs. 

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, trying to get stay awake. He sat you down at the kitchen table and pushed a bowl of cereal in front of you. You glared at it as Dick set a glass of orange juice beside it. “What are you trying to trick me into now?”

Dick sighed. You could see he was exhausted. A tiny bit of guilt flashed through you, but you remembered what happened yesterday and it disappeared fast. “I’m not tricking you into anything.” He sat down across from you. “I’m just trying to keep you healthy, (Y/N).” 

“Like that matters to you.” You took a reluctant bite of the cereal. 

“And now we’re back to where we were when you got here.” Dick ran his hands through his hair, looking at you with those bright blue eyes. You didn’t make eye contact. “I know I told you the wrong way and I’m sorry, but you have to go to school.” 

You took a sip of juice, wincing when it burned down your throat. “Whatever.” 

“We’re okay?” Dick reached out a hand from across the table to rest on your arm. You made the mistake of looking him in the eye and you lost.

“Fine,” you said before you realized what you were saying. Dick smiled in relief and your heart warmed at the sight. Damn him.

“So you got a package yesterday.” Dick went over to pick up a small box off the counter. Your eyes widened in surprised at not noticing it before. He set it on the table. “You can open after you finish eating.” 

You eyed him suspiciously. “Is this another trick of yours?” 

“No, I promise I have nothing to do with this.” Dick laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t even know it was coming.” He moved to sit down again and read the paper while you ate. The cereal made your stomach uneasy, but you ignored it. 

Once the cereal and the juice was gone, you got to your feet. You had to grab the table to keep your balance for a second. Dick closed the paper and took the dishes for you before gesturing for you to sit back down. You obeyed him, too unsteady not to. What was wrong with you? Was it just from sleeping too long?

You closed your eyes and rested your head on the table. Dick’s hand touched your forehead then the back of your neck. “You’re a little warm,” he said worriedly.

“I’m fine.” You pushed his hand away and pulled the small box toward you. The shipping label only had your name and address on it. “I didn’t order anything.”

“I figured you would have told me if you did.” Dick came over with a knife and cut the tape for you. He was still studying you with concern. You ignored it as you opened the box. The first thing you saw was a note. You opened it only to find a letter from Tim.

“Tim sent me a package?” you asked, looking up at Dick in confusion. Dick looked perplexed as well. You tried to read the note, but the words were all muddled together. Blinking several times, you gave up and handed it to Dick. He took it, reading it with a frown on his face. You peered into the box and pulled out a little glass case with a vial secured inside it. 

“Oh no,” Dick gasped suddenly. You looked up at him only to find him suddenly gathering you into his arms and taking you back to his secret room. The glass case was still in your hand, but you were finding it harder to keep your fingers around it. Everything around you was becoming fuzzier. 

You tried to speak, but it only came out in mumbles. Dick laid you on the med bed that slid out from the wall. You didn’t know that was in his secret room.

“Hush, you’ll be fine, honey. Just stay calm,” Dick soothed as you watched the blur that was Dick move around. There was a prick in your arm before everything faded to black.