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damianwaynerocks · 5 years ago

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Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics

Dedicated to: @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, with no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Words: 3599

Ch 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2:

"Wow. This is the gloomiest place I've ever been to." Danny rested his head against the window as he stared dully outside the vehicle.

"Now Danny, that is not true." Maddie looked over her shoulder at her son from the front seat. "We've been to some dark places in the Ghost Zone."

"I guess."

The Fentons were in a large white and green van. They had left Amity Park the day before and were finally arriving in Gotham City.

"Well, I think it's beautiful." Jazz said cheerfully. "My future home. Just look at it!" She gestured outside. Danny followed her gaze.

Dark clouds blocked out the sun above Gotham City. There weren't too many people walking around, probably due to the insanely high crime rate the city was infamous for. Danny raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Don't be so glum, Danny boy!" Jack said, grinning at his son in the rear view mirror. "I've heard that there's ghosts afoot here! Maybe you can catch the ghost of Jason Todd!

Jason Todd was the second child of Batman, who died just a few years after being adopted. Recently, pictures had been popping up of a man who looked like an older version of Jason Todd walking around Gotham. A few people had even supposedly spoken to him, and apparently the man said his name was Jason. The Waynes vehemently denied the theory, but many people believed it.

Danny snorted. "I bet if I caught Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne would sue me."

Jazz scowled. "No way! He would be so grateful that you brought his son home! Bruce Wayne is a good man!" Danny laughed.

"We get it, you think Bruce Wayne is hot." he ducked a swing from his sister as he added to his father, "I don't think that guy is Jason Todd. It looks like a human, not a ghost."

"So did Johnny 13."

Despite his air of nonchalance, Danny was on alert. Gotham City had had an influx of ghost activity the past few weeks, and he knew he might have to go ghost at any moment.

He just hoped he would be able to eat first.

"I'm excited about the food," he voiced his thoughts, putting his hands behind on his head as he reclined his seat. "Like, this guy's a billionaire. The food is going to be so good."

"Oh ho ho, that's what I'm most excited for too! Uh, but not as excited as I am that Jazz is getting this opportunity!" Jack quickly added after Maddie's glare.

"Do you remember where the letter said our hotel is?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"Of course, Maddie!" he said. "It's right where Brucie said! Wayne Motel! And we get a master suite!"

"Sweet!" Danny and Jazz exclaimed simultaneously as the family pulled into the parking garage.

They opened the door to their suite, dragging their obscenely large amount of luggage with them. They had packed some ghost hunting gear just in case they encountered a ghost, and they took up a lot of room and a lot of suitcases.

Jack breathed in. "Home sweet Hotel!" he grinned. "Danny, Jazz, go pick a room! But not the one with the water bed, that belongs to your mom and me."

The two siblings exchanged a look and then darted in different directions. Danny skidded to a halt as he reached the last room at the end of the hall, and opened the door.

It was a massive room. It had marble floors, a canopy bed, a huge tv, and a private bathroom. Danny smirked, his eyelids relaxing. "This pleases me."

"Danny! Hurry up!" Jazz yelled two hours later. "The limo's gonna get here in twenty minutes!" Wayne Enterprises was sending each intern a limo to take them to Wayne Manor.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Danny grumbled, adjusting his bow tie. They were expected to wear the nicest clothes possible, so his parents had forced him into a suit. He sighed into the mirror. "Well," he muttered. "Here we go."

He met his family in the living room and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He was about to drink it whenever Jazz smacked it out of his hand. "Hey! What gives!?"

"You can't risk anything staining your suit!" His sister snapped. "Are you crazy? I don't want the Waynes to think I come from a weird family!"

Danny gave her an incredulous look. "Um, you are from a weird family. Your parents are ghost hunters and your brother is part ghost." Jazz scowled.

"Well, we don't need to make a scene!" she retorted. "Which means no going ghost."

"Fine, I won't go ghost unless I see one." Danny put his hands up in the universal don't shoot, I'm unarmed stance, almost unnerved by the ferocity in her eyes.

Jazz gritted her teeth. "Yeah, well, don't let anyone see you do it."

"Okay, if you say so."

Jazz nodded stiffly. She fished her phone out of her pocket as it vibrated. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh! The limo's here!" She opened the door excitedly and rushed down the stairs. She stopped at the entranceway to the hotel, Danny smacking into her at her sudden stop. She laughed nervously at her brother's glare. "Sorry. Just nervous," she cleared her throat and combed her fingers through her hair. "Let's go."

They arrived at the manor thirty minutes later, and Danny's eyes widened.

The manor was huge. Easily three times as large as his high school. He couldn't believe only one man a few kids lived in such a large house.

He was still gawking as he stumbled out of the limo and walked inside. His eyes widened even further as he took in his surroundings.

The manor seemed even bigger on the inside. It looked like a castle. And the people? They looked like royalty with how fancy they were dressed. And the food?

There was more food than he'd ever seen in one place.

"This. Is. Amazing." he whispered, almost salivating. Jazz glared at him.

"Please, don't make a scene," she hissed. "Eat like a normal person." Danny didn't seem to hear her, though, as he walked towards the food in a trance-like state.

The food bar had everything. Every type of meat he could name, as well as a plethora of vegan options. It was beautiful. And the smell? Danny had never smelled anything better in both his life and the afterlife.

His mouth watered as he picked up a plate and put a few chicken wings on it. "This is so cool!" he whispered to himself as he continued adding food. "This is amazing." he put a few ribs on his plate.

He inhaled the aroma coming off of his plate and sighed. The only thing that could mess this up is that rude kid Damian. he thought with a smile on his face.

"Excuse me." Danny jumped in surprise at the voice behind him, whirling around and spilling his food in the process all over the person in front of him.

The person in front of him? Damian Wayne himself. Danny chuckled nervously.

"Oh, uh- hey Mr. Wayne! Or is it Damian? I'm so so sorry, please let me clean that up." He stammered as he used his napkin to try to wipe the food off of Damian. The latter scowled, clenching his fist.

"Don't bother," Damian snapped, slapping Danny's trembling hands aside. He looked down at his filthy suit in disgust. "I cannot believe somebody so incompetent at the mere act of standing was allowed in!" he shoved Danny aside as he stomped towards a door that Danny hadn't previously noticed.

Danny winced, closing his eyes tightly as if to shield himself from what had just happened.

"Don't mind him," another voice from behind him sighed. Danny turned around, hoping it wouldn't be a Wayne that saw him piss off the youngest.

But of course, Danny had never had the best of luck.

Tim Drake-Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, was smiling at him. "He's just in a bad mood because he isn't allowed to go on a business trip with us."

"So, you're not mad? I'm not kicked out or anything?" Danny asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he knelt down to clean the food off of the ground. Tim knelt down beside him, assisting him in cleaning up.

"No, you're good," he reassured him. "I'm Tim Drake-Wayne." He balanced on his heels as he held his hand out for Danny to the shake. The latter grasped his hand.

"Danny Fenton. My sister has an internship with Wayne Medical." Tim's eyes flickered with something Danny didn't recognize before he smiled again.

"It looks like you got sauce on your jacket," Danny looked down and grimaced as he realized Tim was right, but before he could say anything, Tim continued. "Here, I can get you another one. Follow me." He stood up, extended a hand to help Danny off of the floor and led him to the door Damian had stormed into.

They stepped into a large room with velvet seats and two pool tables. Tim walked into a nearby closet and pulled out another jacket that matched what Danny had on. "Here you go," Tim said as he tossed the jacket to him. "Catch."

"Thanks," Danny said as he caught the jacket, slipping it on. "You're a lifesaver, my sister would have killed me."

"I know the feeling, one time I embarrassed Damian by moonwalking out of movie theater and he chased me with a kitchen knife when we got home."

Damian ran a hand through his hair. "And that is why that kid scares me."

"He's not that scary once you get to know him," Tim shrugged, and motioned for Danny to follow him. "Come on dude, let's go." Danny blinked. Did arguably the richest seventeen-year-old in the world just call him dude?

The pair walked outside, Tim leading him to the rest of the Fentons, who were chatting with Bruce Wayne. Jazz turned around and waved him over.

"And this is my little brother Danny!" she introduced through gritted teeth. "Where you been, little brother?"

Before Danny could think of an excuse, Tim spoke up. "Oh, he was just helping me with something."

"Yeah," Danny agreed with a relieved smile. Jazz smiled.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's Danny! Always being helpful." she chirped. Danny sat down in the seat beside her and clasped his hands together, tuning into the conversation.

"Yes, Jasmine has always been passionate about helping people," Maddie said, smiling at the billionaire. "She's always known that she's wanted to be a neurosurgeon!"

"That's great!" Bruce responded, flashing a bright smile. "That's exactly what we're looking for here; driven people. People with a passion for helping others." His icy blue eyes rested on Danny. "How do you like the food, Mr. Fenton?"

"Oh, uh, it's great, Mr. Wayne!" Danny stuttered as he smiled nervously. "Best food I've ever had. And I should know because I definitely ate some!"

"That's great!" Bruce replied. "You look like you're an athlete. Do you play any sports?"

Danny had an athlete's body because of how often he fought ghosts. That was the closest thing he had to sports. "Well, I really like e-sports!" he raised his shoulders and smiled nervously as he answered.

Bruce chuckled. "So does my son, Tim." he then turned his attention back to Jazz.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down a bit in his chair. He felt a sharp, cold burst in his chest as he breathed out a wisp of blue vapor.

There was a ghost nearby.

"Hey, uh," Danny stood up from the table. "I have to go to the bathroom." With a final smile at Bruce Wayne, Danny quickly left the ballroom and went through the door he and Tim had gone through.

Danny shut the door behind him, and in a bright ring of light, he transformed into the white-haired green-eyed Phantom. "Okay," he muttered, "Where are you?" He turned his body intangible and flew through the wall. He looked both ways as he entered into a massive hallway the length of a football field, with many doors on either side. "Great. This place is a maze."

Danny's eyes shot to his right as he sensed the ghost. He walked that way, still intangible, into a library. Danny froze as he spotted a butler, but continued on his way as the man walked right through him.

He saw a glowing light through one of the shelves and shot through the books. He skidded to a halt as he saw-

"Box Ghost!" Danny yelled, "Are you kidding me? You got the worst timing, pal."

Box Ghost turned around and flinched. In a blink of an eye, Box Ghost had disappeared through the floor. Danny followed suit and went to punch the ghost, before freezing. Box Ghost had vanished, but that wasn't the reason Danny was in shock.

He was in a cave. A dark cave with a plethora of high-tech machines. To his left was what looked like a row of memorials. There was one that had an old Robin suit, the one without pants, encased in glass. Another had a Batman suit. Danny's eyes widened as he realized where he must be.

His head was spinning, and he took a step back. The Bat Cave. He was in the Bat Cave. Bruce Wayne was Batman. And if Bruce Wayne was Batman, then that meant that Damian Wayne was Ro-

"No!" an angry voice interrupted the silent breakdown. Danny, still intangible, floated down to the bottom of the stairs in front of a large computer. Danny's eyes widened again as he saw an even better sight;

"Cheese Viking!" he yelled, and yelped in shock as Damian plunged a knife directly where Danny's chest was. Thankfully, the knife went straight through him, but it startled Danny enough to revert back to human form.

"You!" Damian snarled as he stood up. "How did you get in! This is a secure compound, you should not have bee-"

"Dude, that's the newest Cheese Viking!" Danny interrupted, his eyes still trained on the screen. "They were all sold out when I tried to get them!"

"Yes, well, I did not wait and set an alarm so I would know what time to order. That's called being prepared."

"Well you sure are luc-" Danny's jaw dropped. "Wait wait wait hold on hold on." He put his hands on his head as he paced back and forth. "You're Robin? This is the Bat Cave? Bruce Wayne is Batman!? Tucker was right!?"

"You're Phantom!?" Damian said as he realized who he was with. He hadn't seen a photo of Danny as a human before, as he had been too busy memorizing what he looked like as a ghost.

"Oh. I see you've found it." Tim said from behind Danny. Danny's eyes were still as wide as saucers.

"When did you get here? And does this mean you're the restaurant guy!?"

"Yes," Tim answered tightly as Damian snickered. "Yes, Red Robin."

"This is insane." Danny put his hands down, bringing his pacing to a still. "I'm in the Bat Cave! Wait, what do you mean 'found it?'" he added, frowning at Tim.

"I was going to show you later, but you found it on your own," Tim replied with a shrug.

"Why were you going to show me?"

"Because we need your help."

Danny blinked. "Me? Batman needs help from me? Is it about the ghosts?"

"Bingo," Tim snapped his fingers, pointing a finger gun at Danny. "He really does. He's missing."

"What?" Danny asked, confused. "But I just saw him up there. He was fine."

"No, that was our brother, Dick," Tim explained. "He has a mask that makes him look like Bruce."

"Oh."

Tim put his hand on Danny's back, leading him towards the Bat Computer. Tim sat down in the chair, and pulled something up on to the screen. It was a video from Bruce's camera that was hidden in his cowl, which let the video feed of his night stream to the Bat Computer.

"We were fighting a ghost a few nights ago, whenever one grabbed him and pulled him into the portal," Tim narrated as the video showed exactly that. "We tried to follow him, but it just bounced us out. We've concluded that the only way a human or anything earthly could pass through needs a ghost to accompany them."

"That's not true," Danny said, crossing his arms. "Mine at home will let anything in. Trust me, I've lost things to the Ghost Zone." His mind flashed to when Jack's anniversary gift for Maddie had gone into the portal, and how chaotic things got whenever Danny tried to get it back.

"Well, it is true," Damian retorted, copying the action. "We would know. We've seen it. Yours must be different."

"So you need me to take you guys into the Ghost Zone to find him." It was more of a statement than a question. "I can do that, but that video didn't show who took him, and the Infi-Map doesn't work on humans."

"Infi-Map?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, it's a map that takes you anywhere you want to go. You can find anything in the Ghost Zone with it, besides anything with a heartbeat."

"Well, with or without it, we need your help," Tim turned around to face Danny, turning away from the computer. "He's been in there for three days. We need to find him."

"Yeah, I can help," Danny said instantly. "But we'll need some weapons for you two. The Infi-Map will take us to my place, and we can get some from there."

"No, Damian isn't going-" Tim began, but was cut off by Bruce walking down the stairs to join them.

No, not Bruce, Danny reminded himself as the man took off his bowtie and his face shifted to that of another. Dick Grayson.

"Damian's going," Dick said. "I know we agreed that he wasn't, but Jason can't go now. Something about Artemis, so Damian's taking his place.

Lovely, Danny thought, wincing at the idea of Damian snapping at him in the middle of a fight. He blinked as another thought entered his mind. "Jason? You don't mean Jason Todd, do you?"

"Yes sir, we do," Dick replied.

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, he was resurrected a couple of years ago. Long story. Don't ask him about it, he gets grumpy." Dick stretched his arms as he made his way to the group. "Steph is almost here, too, but she got delayed by some guy trying to mug an old lady."

"What a coward," Damian said.

"The lowest of the low." Tim agreed.

"So," Danny counted on his fingers, "Me, Tim, Damian, and someone named Steph?"

"Yep," Dick answered, and looked up as the group heard a motor running. "And here she is."

A teenage girl with blonde hair in a purple Bat-suit that drove into the cave. She skidded to a halt, and hopped off. Seeing Danny, she smiled a wide toothy grin.

"No way!" Stephanie Brown, yelled as she walked closer. "You're Danny Phantom! I'm a huge fan!" She encased one of Danny's hands with both of her own. "Stephanie Brown, also known as Batgirl, one-time Robin even though nobody ever remembers, nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you!" Maybe Damian wouldn't try anything if Danny had someone who liked him, someone he could use for backup.

"Alright, kiddos," Dick said, putting his tie back on, turning himself back into Bruce Wayne. "Suit up and then you better go. Bruce doesn't have much time to spare."

"Right," Danny said with a nod, simultaneously transforming back into Phantom. He pulled out the Infi-Map from his pocket. He looked back up, surprised to see Tim and Damian in their respective vigilante suits.

Holy fast dressing, Batman.

"All of you, grab on to me," Danny said as he unrolled the map. "Take me home!"

At the word, the map pulled the four out of the cave and into Gotham City at hyperspeed. The map found the portal and went through. In an instant, the foursome fell out of the portal in Danny's house, the Infi-Map having dragged them through the Ghost Zone in milliseconds.

"Home sweet home," Danny said as Tim, Stephanie, and Damian got to their feet.

"Oh, wow," Stephanie groaned. "That was crazy. Is this how Bart feels?"

Damian was already wandering around. "Hey," he turned his attention to Danny, "What are the chances you have a ghost sword?"

Danny waved him to the right, and the boy's eyes gleamed at the pile of swords Jack had been making. Tim and Stephanie were looking around too, picking up various weapons. Tim was putting grenades and other weapons into his utility belt, Stephanie doing the same.

"Fenton," Danny turned around to face Damian behind him, who had found a sword of his liking. "Do you have any capri-suns in this house?"

"Uh, yeah, upstairs in the fri- hey, you don't know where the kitchen is!" Damian had sprinted up the stairs as soon as Danny had confirmed that there were capri-suns in the house.

"I'll find it!" Damian's voice could be faintly heard. Danny rolled his eyes.

Tim had found a bo-staff, and Stephanie was looking at one of the vehicles. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's the Specter Speeder 2.0," Danny answered. "It's what we're taking. It's a ship that can fly in the Ghost Zone."

"Is it ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Damian, who was now sporting a mini cooler filled with capri-suns, opened the door to the Speeder. "Let's go save Father."

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

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Chapter 12- The Dark King

Word Count: 10, 700

Ao3

TW: Mentions of rape, abuse, violence

A/N: Thank you guys for your kind comments and support so far! I really love the enthusiasm and your responses!

I also wanted to share these amazing fanart!!

by @nessieusagi

by @milas-imaginarium

I think they’re so lovely and it makes me so happy seeing all of this!

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

The first thing you felt when you woke up the next morning was the burning soreness between your thighs.

You winced when you reached down to touch your tender folds. Your labia minora was slightly swollen, and you felt something sticky. You withdrew your hand to see dark red oxidized blood.

You got up from bed, flinching as you walked to your bathroom to wash up. After a quick shower, you head out but paused when you caught your own reflection in the mirror. There were bruises on your waist and your hips, a double crescent shaped marking around your left nipple- you hadn’t even realise he bit you there in the heat. Your eyes then darted towards your neck, taking in the dark spots that had formed on the surface of your skin.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered.

You were a fucking mess. Anyone who saw you would immediately know what you were up to the night before. Even washed and clean, you could make out your slightly swollen lips.

You reached for your makeup bag and started covering up the visible remains of the assault you welcomed- before pausing in realisation.

Mother was quiet. She hadn’t made a single comment about how dirty you were.

And you didn’t feel dirty either.

You saw your own lips quirk up in a smirk as you craned your head to expose your neck even more to dab on concealer. You had just finished getting dressed when you heard a knock on your door.

“ Hey, you up?” you heard Dick’s muffled voice from outside.

You didn’t bother to reply, but went to open the door for him.

You stared at him, as he stared at you.

“You look like shit,” you snickered, then stepped aside to allow him inside.

His eyes were red and puffy, with dark circles underneath them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and the fact that his complexion was gray and pale added on to the “looks like death” look.

“I feel like shit,” he groaned. You sat on the chair near your desk as he helped himself to your bed.

��Are you okay?” he frowned in concern.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re walking funny,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

Shit.

You had tried to walk as normally as you could, but you were naive to think that you could have fooled Dick.

“Oh!” you feigned realisation, “My foot hurts a bit. I think I twisted it yesterday when I ran up the stairs.”

Fuck.

Another blunder.

It wasn’t a half truth, it was a straight up lie, and you knew how good Dick was at detecting lies. Judging from the tightening of his lips and the scrutinizing pause, he saw straight through you. You remained silent for a few moments. Then-

“So, Bruce told you, right?” Dick changed the subject, “How did you take it?”

You relaxed.

“I didn’t know him,” you reminded, “So it was more like a surprise to me, you know? I didn’t think it was possible. Then everything just made sense. Like, mind blowingly. The shit he said to me, the familiarity with the gadgets and my uniform, the kidnapping.”

“It killed him, you know?” Dick brought up, “Bruce, I mean. When he saw those bruises Red Hood- no, Jason- left on you. He probably didn’t show much, but Alfred called and told me how badly he took it.”

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of the hickies you currently had hidden on your neck, as if they were burning into your skin.

“Well, that was Todd’s plan, I suppose,” you shrugged. It still felt weird to talk about him in the context of the present.

“It worked,” Dick nodded, “Bruce was messed up. You’re his daughter after all.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his sad smile, so you changed the subject.

“So did you yell at him?” you smirked, “For keeping it a secret for so long?”

“Yell at him? I punched him,” he revealed.

“In the face?” you gasped.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered, looking away.

“How long will you be staying?” you asked.

“I’m taking a week off work. If nothing by then, I’ll go back, but will continue to drop by as much as I can.”

“Anything last night?” you questioned.

“No,” he sighed, “We tried to look for people to interrogate, but it wasn’t our luck. We’ll try again. We’ve been checking out Bruce’s safehouses as well since he never removed Jason’s security clearance so he could be using one of them. So far nothing, though.”

You felt like a dark mass inside of you was eating you up, drowning you in guilt and shame.

While they were out desperately looking for Jason the night before, you knew exactly where he was and who he was doing.

“You’ll find him eventually,” you offered, “And when this stupid suspension is over, I’ll be there to help as well.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Jason… I want to help him. Save him. He’s angry, and you know what? I get it. I get why he’s pissed.”

So Dick got it?

He got that it was your fucking fault? That you were Jason’s replacement?

He got why Jason fucking hated you?

Dick must have noticed the change in your expression, because he quickly added, “I meant Bruce. How Bruce let Joker go.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you recovered, “It’s fine.”

“Sure, Bruce beat Joker up and all that, but I felt that Jason was always the type to think that the ends justify the means. He valued the intentions more than the action itself-”

“I said it’s fine, Dick,” you cut him off.

“And of course it does not in any way justify what he did to you-”

“Dick,” you grit, “It’s fine.”

He looked at you warily.

Or was it pity?

You didn’t need or want his fucking pity.

“Anyway,” he got up, “Breakfast?”

“Sure,” you followed suit, willing yourself to not grimace at the shooting pain between your thighs that you had forgotten about.

The two of you made your way downstairs to have breakfast in the dining room, table already set by Alfred.

“Bruce?” you asked Dick, wondering where your father was.

“He’s been in the cave the whole night,” Dick frowned as he took a seat across from you, “Hadn’t slept a wink.”

“I see,” you acknowledged, while you piled your plate with bacon and eggs.

“So,” Dick started with his mouth full, “Where did you go last night?”

“Did Alfred tell you I went out?” you narrowed your eyes.

“Mhmm.”

You immediately started to get more cautious.

“I went to see someone,” you casually told him, trying your best to lower your heartbeat.

“Oh, was it that guy you were seeing?”

“Yup.”

“You never told me his name.”

You swallowed.

“Carter.”

“Carter?” he snickered.

“What’s wrong with Carter?” you feigned a defensive stance.

“Nothing wrong,” he tried to stifle his laughter, “So is Carter the reason why you’re walking funny?”

You did not expect that.

You were going to gasp in shock, but you had food in your mouth, so you ended up choking on it and going into a coughing fit.

“Dick!” you hacked violently, eyes streaming with tears.

“What?” he guffawed, “Oh, God. Are you okay?”

“Why would you say that?” you reached for the glass of juice.

“I need to know whether I gotta have a stern talking with some guy,” he laughed, “It was an honest question! Come on, I’m your brother.”

“Even more reason not to discuss these things!” you grimaced.

“Hey, if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about it,” he said smugly.

“It’s none of your business,” you protested, blushing furiously.

But the universe was a bitch.

Against all your luck, your phone that you had set on the table dinged.

You looked at Dick, and he looked at you, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You had been Robin for a long time, and while your reflexes were good, it still wasn’t as good as Dick’s.

Before you could reach for your phone, Dick had lunged for it, snatching it away mere moments before you could react.

“Dick, give it back!” you panicked, jumping across the table to catch swipe it back, causing a commotion.

He stood up tall, keeping the phone out of your reach.

“Oooh, Sexy Hunk From Library, huh?” he read out the notification on your lock screen. You put in a mental reminder to change your settings later.

“Thought of my proposal?” he read out loud, skipping away from you.

Fuck.

If Jason sent anything else, he’d expose himself.

“Proposal?” Dick continued, “What proposal? Did he ask you to marry him?”

You could tackle him. You couldn’t beat Dick but you could perhaps make him drop your phone.

“Or,” he gasped, “Is he into BDSM? Fifty Shades of Grey stuff? He’s getting you to sign a contract, isn’t-”

“How about instead of distracting yourself and using humor as a coping mechanism for your obvious grief and anger, you come to the terms and accept the fact that it was your fucking little brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted me?” you spat with venom.

You saw the moment Dick registered your words, the way his smile fell, his teasing eyes darkened, his jaw clench and his back stiffened.

Dick had never looked at you the way he did then, and suddenly you felt small in his presence, the way Batman had always made you shrink away from his excessive aura of authority that he projected while he scrutinized you.

You felt like a dark veil covered the sun, and wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole as he looked at you with dark eyes.

“Dick-”

“You’re right,” he grit, “Thanks for the slap in the face.”

“I’m sorry-” you tried.

“Clean up the mess you made,” he cut you off before leaving you alone with spilled juice and bacon bits on the floor.

You were never the clingy type.

You never really missed anyone because you never had anyone to miss. The maids and nannies in your childhood home rotated frequently so that you couldn’t get attached to them. Looking back, you were sure your parents did it on purpose.

It was only when you started giving full trust to your new family that you knew how it felt to miss someone.

And it had always been Dick, since you had gotten close to him and he wasn’t around much. You always had a good relationship with him, and he never once got angry at you or looked at you the way he did.

And now, it was Dick you had hurt.

But frankly, you didn’t care.

Because he deserved it.

***

It wasn’t like Jason was hoping for you to agree, but it was part of his plan so he couldn’t help but hope.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

He was sitting at his dining table- the fact that he owned a dining table sort of made him pleased with himself- cleaning his guns.

It took you almost an hour before you finally replied his text.

When Jason heard the ding, he looked to his screen to read the notification.

I’m still thinking.

He frowned, then put his gun down. He wiped his hand stained with grease and gunpowder residue on his bare chest, leaving a trail of gray on the surface of his skin before picking up his phone to reply.

Think faster. he simply sent.

He saw that you immediately started typing back.

These things take planning, Jason. I need to make sure no one can identify me if I were to go out with you. It’s not the matter of whether or not I can decide, it’s the matter of whether or not I’m capable of eluding Batman once he sees a surveillance footage of me with you.

Jason smirked. Evidently, you were agitated.

He liked that.

He liked agitating you.

You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out. he replied and went back to cleaning his weapons when you didn’t text him back.

Two hours later, his phone dinged again.

Fine. Where do we meet?

Jason smiled widely at his success.

Meet me at 7th Dillon Avenue, Coventry. I’ll be in the alley between the old tailor shop and a thrift store. 11pm sharp.

Noted.

Oh, and babygirl? he sent again.

What?

Put on that lip gloss you always wear. he replied with a kissing emoji he knew would get under your skin.

***

I don’t exist for him.

I don’t care what he thinks.

I don’t want to please him.

You repeated to yourself again and again as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the tube of clear lipgloss you always wore held tight in your shaking fist.

After knowing he wanted you to wear it, you were suddenly torn between putting it on or not. You didn’t think something as stupid and simple as that could drive you up the wall.

You were frowning at yourself, at how idiotic you were being.

You were already ready, wearing a tight black suit made from Kevlar thread underneath black armor, your hair out of your face, and steel toed combat boots on complete with black leather gloves you usually wore during winter. The only weapons you were bringing were a pair of escrima sticks strapped to your back, your grappling gun strapped to your upper thigh, and a small knife strapped below it. Your belt only had smoke bombs. You were ready to leave, except for the lipgloss.

You groaned, and smacked it on anyway, hating yourself silently for listening to him.

You left your phone in your room, because you knew that Bruce could track your movements with it and deactivating your GPS and whatever bug he used would be more suspicious.

You managed to sneak past Alfred and head to the garage, thankful that both Bruce and Dick were already out, and chose the most normal looking motorcycle available and slapping black duct tape on the number plate to cover it up.

You thought about how your core would just sting while riding a motorcycle. The pain between your legs had lessened, but it was still sore enough to make your movements odd and stiff.

You left the manor with your heart beat racing, thinking of how you were betraying the man who took you in and loved you.

The man whom you called your father.

The streets in Coventry were dark and empty at that time. The only shops that were open were a couple of empty dodgy bars and convenience stores. You and Batman sometimes would patrol the area because it was such a perfect place for crime to happen. For some reason, it was so empty that even criminals hardly ever targeted anyone in the area save a few residents.

You hurriedly zoomed into the alley that Jason had told you. Both the tailor shop and thrift store were closed. You immediately saw him leaning against a black, sleek classic car, helmet resting on the hood. It was your first time seeing him as Red Hood after discovering his identity.

And the image ignited a fire in your belly.

You parked next to him and switched your engine off, taking off your own black motorcycle helmet.

You walked towards him and stopped a few feet away, arms crossed.

He looked at you, up and down. Then-

“Very homemade. I like it. Black suits you better,” he drawled. “You’re packing light tonight.”

“I had to be careful,” you reminded him, “I couldn’t take much weapons. He would have noticed.”

“I didn’t know you used those,” he nodded at the escrima sticks on your back.

“Dick taught me how to use them,” you explained, “My fighting style is too rigid- Bruce would recognize it if he saw me fight next to you. I’m not as familiar with the escrima sticks, so I haven’t developed a style yet. It could throw him off- hopefully.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, and started walking towards you. You refused to budge. He came close to you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you close against his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you willed yourself to not show any sort of reaction.

“And this?” he breathed, hands snaking up your waist, rubbing the material up and down, “Kevlar armor?”

“Zylon,” you mumbled, ignoring the growing heat between your legs, “It’s six times stronger than Kevlar.”

“And he wouldn’t notice this go missing?”

“It’s stored away,” you huffed, “It’s more like a bulletproof vest rather than a suit. He wouldn’t miss it. Not the way he would miss the tech he used on the Robin suit.”

“Impressive,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face. He started caressing your cheek gently. It could have been a romantic gesture, but for some reason you thought that it was more threatening. “You’re even wearing contacts to change the color of your eyes. See? I knew you were smart”

“That’s a given,” you scoffed, looking sideways. Anywhere to avoid his eyes, though he was wearing a red domino mask with white lens. “Why do you even wear a mask if you already have a helmet?”

“Why did you wear your lipgloss when you had no obligation to listen to me?” he smirked, his thumb pressed on your shiny lips.

You slapped his hand away and looked at him in defiance as you put on a black bandana over your nose and mouth, tying it behind your head to give you a sense of protected identity.

He chuckled, and let you go.

“This is our rendezvous point. If anything happens, we meet back here. Now hop in,” he walked towards his car.

“Why can’t I take my own vehicle?” you demanded.

“Because I want you next to me,” he grinned, and put on his helmet. The minute it rested on his head, you saw it activate, the white glowing eyes switched on and you heard the very soft sound of his electronic breaths.

You frowned.

It was state of the art tech. You knew it must have had additional features like night vision and zoom lenses, not unlike the one you owned. You wondered where or how he had procured it.

“If that’s your only reason, then I’m taking my bike,” you defied.

He was already going to enter the driver’s seat when he stopped midway. He turned to look at you, and for some reason, it made you shudder.

In a flash, he was already behind you, taking your arms to incapacitate you and slammed your front onto the hood of his car.

He was unbelievably fast- you couldn’t believe that they were human reflexes. It must have been a result of the Lazarus Pit that Bruce briefed you on.

He bent over you, a hand in your hair forcing your head down against the warm car.

“Don’t get too cocky, baby girl,” he cautioned, “I still don’t trust you enough.”

You had to admit that the vulnerable position you were in sort of made your pussy clench.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I’ll go with you.”

You felt the pressure disappear and heard the car door slam. You grumbled and rubbed your cheek, before following suit.

Just because you knew it was Jason, you had let your guard down. You forgot how unstable he actually was. You made a mental reminder to be more cautious of his mood bursts.

You slammed the door shut. The interior of the car looked just as sleek as the exterior, with black leather seats- the passenger and driver’s seat were joined together- and an old school cassette player with nothing playing. The car was spacious and looked like a collector’s car. Again, you were left to wonder where he got it.

“Where are we going?” you asked, looking out the window, trying to avoid how sexy his arms looked when he gripped the steering wheel.

How could arms even be sexy?

“We’re heading to iClub,” he stated.

“On Verne Avenue? The one owned by the Ibenescus’?” you frowned, “They still a problem for you?”

“Big operation. Proud family,” he huffed, “International business. Yes, they’re a problem. They’ve been trying to hide it from me, but my men say they’re still active.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

You felt uneasy.

“Just have a little talk with Victor,” he shrugged, “He’s in charge of the operations now after the Patru Fatri, and the cousins. He’s more distant from the main family, but an Ibenescu nonetheless.”

“Well, I hope the club doesn’t check IDs,” you mumbled jokingly to yourself.

To your surprise, you heard Jason bark out a loud laugh. It was an odd sound coming from the voice scrambler inside his helmet.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rested a hand on your lap, which you felt almost burn, “You look way over 21.”

*** What Gotham lacked in security, it made up with entertainment.

Theatrics.

Its affinity for producing and attracting bizarre individuals always made for good dinner discussion. You just never thought you would be on the side of the crazies.

Jason had parked a couple of blocks away from the club. You recognized the area, as it was just a lane away from The Black Bass Bar, where Jason had decapitated the cousins and put their heads on spikes.

The two of you walked towards the club.

“Listen here,” he started, “This isn’t your area of expertise. You do exactly what I tell you to do. You don’t open your mouth unless I say so. I’ve worked hard to earn fear from these people and I’m not going to let you fuck that up for me. Understood?”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

You noticed how the bouncers started getting nervous when they saw the two of you approaching. They had started to sweat and fidget, trying excessively hard to focus on filtering the going ins and outs of guests.

“Red Hood, sir,” one of them nodded and let the two of you inside. The moment you stepped in, you felt like you were immediately deafened by the loud techno music that was playing, and blinded by the flashing bright lights.

You noticed how many of the customers recognized Red Hood, and flinched away from him, avoiding eye contact. Their gaze would linger longer on you, curiosity in their eyes.

The both of you squeezed past the sweaty dancers on the floor, and towards the VIP area on the other side of the club.

Seated on the long suede purple sofas were three men, each with at least two women on their arms. The moment they saw you approaching, they immediately went rigid.

Red Hood simply strutted to the area and you followed behind him.

“Ah, Red Hood,” the man with straw hair that was slicked back and navy blue shirt that he had left unbuttoned, revealing his hairy chest, greeted. “Take a seat, take a seat! I see you have a guest with you, as well.”

“Victor,” Red Hood nodded, sitting on the chair. He crossed his legs and spread his arms across the back of the sofa, lounging comfortably. He looked over to you and nodded to his side, silently telling you to sit.

You obeyed, though less relaxed than Red Hood. It was slightly quieter at the VIP lounge, but you still had to strain your ears to hear them speak.

“Can I get you a drink, my friend?” Victor offered, “Maybe something for the lady?”

“You want anything, princess?” Red Hood turned to you.

“No, thank you,” you grit.

You hated that he was calling you pet names while in the presence of a crime lord. It was humiliating, and made you feel like you were just an accessory to him, not unlike those hardly dressed girls that were on Victor’s side.

You noticed one of them.

He had his arm wrapped around her waist, but she looked extremely uncomfortable. She was blonde, wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline, and didn’t look that much older than you. Even with the layers of badly applied makeup, you could tell she had eyebags and dark circles, perhaps maybe even bruises on her face.

“Angelica,” Victor called a girl from the other end of the sofa, “Come here give my friend some company.”

The girl called Angelica had tanned skin and exotic features, and was a brunette with curls that hung to her hips and was wearing a body hugging deep purple glittery tube dress. She came to sit on Red Hood’s other side, snuggling up close to him and started rubbing her hand on his thigh, and whispered something that you couldn’t hear.

And he just let her.

You clenched your jaw.

No, you couldn’t be jealous. It didn’t make sense for you to be. Yet, the sudden tightness of your chest said otherwise.

You saw Red Hood angled his face slightly towards you, probably to see your reaction.

You couldn’t see it, but you somehow knew he was smirking.

“So what brings you here?” Victor asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

It was the first time you met with an Ibenescu face to face. You thought that they would have a thick accent, but Victor sounded just as American as you and Red Hood.

“I was just wondering how things were going on your end,” Red Hood shrugged.

“Things are going excellent,” he replied, “As you can see, the club is doing great. People are enjoying themselves.”

“And the drugs?” Red Hood brought up.

“Ah, straight to business, like always,” Victor chuckled, “We’ve sold almost all our stock this month. You can come by and get your share of profits any time.”

“Who are your clients?”

“Local distributors, as well as some international ones,” he explained, “With explicit instruction to avoid dealing with the underaged, of course.”

“And how can you be so sure they’re listening?” Red Hood demanded.

“You know us, Red Hood,” he boasted, “The Ibenescu Family is one of the most powerful families in Gotham. Our name is very well known in the underground. We have people everywhere. Our operations span from the Americas, to Europe, to South East Asia.”

“And which operation did you come from, sweetheart?” he addressed the girl next to him.

She looked at him with shock, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Angelica here is from the Philippines,” Victor answered for her, his voice grittier than normal, “She migrated to find work. I provided for her. Isn’t that right, Angel?”

“Y-yes, sir,” she stuttered, “Mister Victor has been very good to me. He gave me a job when others wouldn’t. I am forever grateful for him.”

You frowned at the way she recited those words, almost like she memorized it from a playcard.

“The American dream, as the say,” Victor continued, “My family are very familiar with it. We are immigrants that came a long time ago, and America provided for us. I wanted to do the same for others.”

“Did you now?” Red Hood hummed.

“Of course,” he nodded aggressively, “But enough about me. Who is this ravishing lady you have here? I have not seen you before, my dear.”

You looked at Red Hood, who nodded subtly once.

“I’m V,” you made up on the spot.

“V?” Victor repeated.

“For Vendetta,” you finished.

You heard Red Hood chuckle next to you.

Victor raised an eyebrow, “Well, my dear, you must be special to my good friend Red Hood, here. I didn’t think he was capable of laughter. Where did he hide you all this while?”

“Ah, you see, Victor,” Red Hood cut in, “I did not hide her, because she isn’t mine to hide. V here is her own person, who happened to become partners with me for tonight. People only hide property, and women aren’t property, am I right?”

There was an unmistakable threat in his voice.

“Of course not,” Victor agreed, “I respect women.”

Suddenly, there was a tension in the air as the two men looked at each other.

Then, Victor started laughing.

“You’re too tense, Red Hood,” he boomed, “And you should trust your associates more. Especially the ones who sacrificed their entire industry for you.”

“Sacrifice, huh?” he said softly. Then, Red Hood turned his body towards you, scooting closer to your side. He let his hand rest on your thigh.

“You got my back, baby girl?” he whispered into your ear.

“Yes, but I’m not killing anyone,” you whispered back, “And you shouldn’t either.”

He ignored you and went back to Victor.

“Victor,” Red Hood said, “I’m feeling a little… Restless tonight. I want one of your girls.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Oh?” Victor widen his eyes, “Finally taking up my offer! Of course, of course! Pick anyone of my lovely ladies.”

“I want that one,” Red Hood pointed to the blonde Victor was obviously possessive over.

“Elena?” Victor started laughing awkwardly, “I’m afraid she’s not available, Red Hood. But you’re welcome to choose anyone else. Angel here is very popular.”

“No,” Red Hood insisted, “I want your Elena.”

“That’s not possible,” Victor denied, annoyance on his face, “Elena is only for me.”

“Well, since you respect women so much, let’s hear it from her, huh?” Red Hood teased, “Elena, sweetheart, would you keep me company tonight?”

Elena’s eyes were wide and terrified. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. You felt bad for her and wondered why Red Hood was putting her in such a difficult situation.

“I-I-I’m v-very sorry,” she squeaked. You could hear her thick Romanian accent. “I o-only serve Mister Ibenescu.”

“What, this clown?” Red Hood scoffed, earning a glare from Victor, “Unlike him, I’m sure I can give you a pretty good time.”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, “T-that is not possible.”

Red Hood kept silent.

“There you go, the woman herself said it,” Victor commented, “And you’d want to respect a woman’s wishes right, Red Hood?”

“How old are you?” Red Hood asked softly, ignoring Victor.

“T-twenty-four,” she replied.

“You don’t look twenty-four,” he hummed, “How long have you been working with Victor?”

“Two years,” she automatically responded.

“I see,” he nodded.

You could tell she was lying, about both her age and how long she worked. And you knew Jason caught on as well.

Jason leaned back, taking out his gun from his thigh holster and casually dumped it on the low rise table, clinking against the glass bottles and shot glasses.

Ibenescu tensed up, and then there were about fifteen men who pointed their guns at the two you. You were about halfway standing up, reaching for your escrima sticks when Red Hood caught you by the shoulder to stop you.

You frowned at him, then sat back down.

You noticed that the music had suddenly stopped, and everyone in the club was silently looking, worry in their eyes and preparation to take off if anything were to get out of hand. You guessed that these sort of things happened frequently, and the club probably had a system for when it did.

“Relax, will you?” he growled at everyone, “Was just getting a little uncomfortable there, Jesus Christ.”

Victor nodded at his men, and they set their guns down. The music continued to play and the customers continued to dance as if nothing had happened.

You now knew what he was doing.

From the very beginning, he already planned out what he was going to say and what he was going to do in order to prepare for an inevitable fight. Based on observation, he knew that Elena was Victor’s favourite and that he would not let anyone touch her, so he provoked him by asking for her.

Asking Elena her age and how long she worked was also a calculated and pivotal move. Since both you and Red Hood could tell when someone was lying, the fact that she was indeed hiding what seemed to be minor information told volumes that she wasn’t supposed to be by Victor’s side, meaning that she wasn’t there by choice, and you could assume that she was trafficked.

From there, he confirmed his sources that Victor had not ended his human and sex trafficking trade, and had reasonable reason to attack.

And by putting the gun on the table, however he relaxed he seemed, was a massive power move. He showed that he wasn’t afraid of being unarmed- though, you knew he was probably packing more than one gun. Tactical wise, when Ibenescu’s men showed themselves, they also showed their numbers to you. You now knew where they were, what weapons they used, and how many of them you needed to take down.

You smirked to yourself underneath your improvised mask. You knew already how smart and strategic he was based on how he conquered the underground in only just a few months, but seeing him act in the flesh, you truly appreciated his brain.

“It almost seems like you’re scared of me, Victor,” he drawled, “Are you?”

“You did kill members of my family,” he mumbled.

“It was their fault now, wasn’t it?” Red Hood shrugged, “I told them to stop. They wouldn’t. Now, if you’re not as stupid as they were, Vic, you wouldn’t have to be scared, am I right?”

Red Hood leaned forward towards Victor, resting his elbows on his knees and tilting his head sideways.

“With all due respect, Red Hood, they were not stupid,” Victor argued, “They were simply protecting the pride of our name.”

“And how about you? You’re not protecting your family’s pride?”

“I prioritize my life over pride,” Ibenescu admitted, “And I respect you as Gotham’s Dark King.”

Dark King? What the fuck?

“Dark King,” Red Hood repeated, laughing lightly, “Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think, princess?”

He elbowed your side playfully.

“A bit cheesy for my taste,” you grit.

“Aw, the missus doesn’t like it. To be fair, I think it’s cheesy too,” he stated, “But you know what I don’t like even more, Victor?”

Victor frowned at him in question.

“I said,” Red Hood snarled, “You know what I don’t like even more, Victor?”

“W-what, Red Hood?” Victor sputtered.

“People who lie to me,” he growled.

In a blink of an eye, with the speed you had witnessed earlier and many times before, he had managed to stand up, reach for the gun on the table, jumped across and stepped on Victor’s chest who was leaning in panic against the sofa, and cocked the gun towards his head.

All before you could even register his initial movement.

The fifteen men aimed their semi-automatics at Red Hood, prepared to gun him down.

The music had stopped, and from your peripheral vision, you saw the crowd were ushered to the exit in chaos.

“If your men don’t put down their weapons, I’ll shoot,” Red Hood looked down at Victor.

“What is the point, Red Hood?” Victor defied, “You would kill me anyways. I might as well try to take you down with me.”

Red Hood paused for a moment. Then-

“Baby girl?”

You nodded. “Got it.”

The first person you attacked was the one pointing his gun to your back.

The sticks felt unfamiliar, yet refreshing.

You managed to knock him out before he could shoot at you, but by that time others were already pulling their triggers. You locked your next target.

You ran at him and slid on the floor, taking his knees out and simultaneously pushing him into the next person whom you used your stick to hit directly at the centre of his head.

But you could sense a gun being aimed at you, and you dived behind the sofa to use as a shield. You heard glass shattering around you, and on the floor you found someone’s dropped mobile phone. You reached for it, and with aggressive force, sent it spinning through the air and hit the culprit in the eye, blinding him.

You came out of hiding and lunged your sticks at his throat.

You spun around to grab the neck of a semi-automatic and directed it upwards, causing bullets to spray across the club.

Your ears heard nothing but ringing for the next minute.

You pounded onto the guard’s chest using your sticks, and ended the attack with a blow to his temples.

You had counted five, so you reacted quickly to lock on your next target, but when you came out of your adrenaline induced tunnel vision, you noticed everyone else were already lying on the floor.

During the time you knocked out five men, Red Hood had already killed ten.

And now, he was left with a sobbing, begging Victor Ibenescu who was on his knees on the glass covered floor.

“What should I do with you, Vic?” Red Hood drawled, “I’ve already gutted your cousins, put some of them on display. And it was a pretty display, wasn’t it?”

You approached them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a whimpering Elena who was in a fetal position against a toppled over sofa, terror in her eyes.

“P-please,” Victor stuttered, “I promise I’ll shut down the operation, for real this time!”

“I don’t give second chances, Vic,” he told him, “Now I’m just thinking about whether I have the time to skin you alive before the cops show up.”

“Red Hood,” you called out, “You don’t need to. The cops are already on the way- hell, Batman is probably a couple of minutes out. We should leave.”

“And leave him here unpunished?” he jabbed the gun into Vic’s head, causing him to recoil from the heat of the muzzle. “I don’t think so.”

“Red-”

“Elena!” Red Hood barked, “Come here. Now.”

You saw Elena struggle to get onto her feet and limped her way to you.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Red Hood asked, “Should we leave him for the cops to find and deal with, or…”

He looked over to her and gently took her hand, handing her his own gun.

“Do you want to kill him?”

You gaped at Red Hood, just how Elena was.

“M-m-me?” she managed.

“Yes, you,” he confirmed.

“You can’t possibly make her-” you started.

“Don’t you think she’s the one who should decide what happens to him?” he cut you off.

Elena still looked shocked, and held the gun as if it was going to hurt her.

“Hey,” you approached her slowly, “You don’t have to. Once the police come, they’ll take him away and put him behind bars for the rest of his life. You don’t have to be scared anymore. They’ll help protect you.”

The poor girl was shaking so bad, you were worried she might set off the gun accidentally.

“No,” she whispered.

“Elena-” you tried.

“No!” she shrieked at you, causing you to stumble slightly back in surprise, “You- you don’t know. He do things to me! Again and again! He took me. I thirteen! Now I eighteen! No!”

You were utterly speechless. How could you reply to that?

She held the gun properly now, with two hands.

“He made me kill baby. Two times!” she sobbed.

Your heart broke.

She shuffled closer to him.

“Elena, my dear,” Victor started frantically begging, “You’ve always been my favourite. I’ve always treated you well, haven’t I?”

“No!”

BANG!

You heard Victor let out an inhuman screech.

Elena had shot him between the legs. Next to you, you heard Red Hood chuckle.

She pulled the trigger one last time, and crumpled onto the floor at the same time Victor did.

You wanted to approach her, comfort her, anything.

But Red Hood beat you to it.

“Listen to me,” he growled to get her attention since she was sobbing hysterically, “Are you listening?!”

She nodded.

“When the police come, you tell them that I made you shoot, alright? You tell them that I said I would rape you then gut you alive if you didn’t shoot him. You understand me?” he shook her.

“Y-yes,” she hiccuped.

“Repeat it. Tell me what you are going to tell them.”

“R-red Hood say he rape me and kill me if I no shoot,” she bawled.

“Good,” he nodded, “You did good, Elena.”

He then turned to you. “Let’s go.”

The two of you quickly rushed to the exit. You were just about to leave the club when-

“W-wait!” Elena called out, “Red Hood!”

He looked at her.

“T-thank you.”

He left without saying a word.

***

You were being really quiet in the car.

Jason thought that you were still shaken over what had happened.

Sure, maybe you saved people from being mugged or raped, and perhaps even some trafficked girls in the past.

But he was sure that those girls didn’t have the option Jason graciously gave Elena.

Jason thought that you were probably thinking about what those girls you saved in the past would have done if they were granted the same choice.

He sped up, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. His body was still buzzing from leftover adrenaline, and he was itching for something.

An illegal car race. A good old fashioned hand-to-hand combat with somebody who could keep up with him. Hell, even a nice and long jerk off session.

He was bothered by the silence, despite being alone the whole time before this.

He put in a cassette and AC/DC started blasting through the speakers. He saw you jump at the sudden noise.

Somehow the ride back to the rendezvous point seemed longer than expected.

“Why do you still have a cassette player, and cassettes?” you spoke for the first time since the club.

“I’m old school that way,” he jested.

You ignored him and continued looking out the window.

That annoyed him.

Fuck, why was he so fidgety? Why did he want your fucking attention so much?

He felt like that kid in kindergarten who pulled on the pigtails of the girl he liked.

Finally, the both of you were back in the alleyway.

He turned off both the music and the engine, and took off his helmet. He combed through his hair with his hands and tossed the helmet in the backseat. He saw that you had taken your mask off as well, but hadn’t made a move to leave.

So he just sat there with you in silence, unsure of what to do or say- like a fucking idiot.

Fuck.

You were driving him crazy.

Thankfully, you broke the silence.

“What did your sources say about the Ibenescus’ still trafficking girls?” you wondered.

“There was a recent shipment of girls from Philippines, Thailand, Russia, and India,” he explained, “Only the Ibenescus’ would still have the guts to carry out the operation. Like Victor- may he rest in peace- had said, the Ibenescus’ are powerful. They have an international business they just can’t afford to sacrifice.”

“But since Victor is dead, someone else would just take his place,” you frowned in the dark, your outline illuminated only by the single dim street light from outside.

“And I’ll keep on killing every single one of them,” he grit.

“But like you said, it’s an international operation,” you argued, “Even if it was just the States, you can’t possibly stop every single operation under the Ibenescus out there.”

“Just like however much you and Batman patrol at night, you can’t stop every single crime, right?” he sneered.

You remained silent.

“It’s the same fucking thing,” Jason insisted, “Except that Elena got her justice. True and proper justice. Or are you telling me she made the wrong call? That she shouldn’t have shot his balls off and killed him after he raped her for years and made her abort her baby twice?”

“There must be some other way,” you muttered.

Jason was annoyed at how stubborn you were, but frankly he understood.

Because that’s what Batman did. He brainwashes you into thinking that his way was the only way.

“What if I told you that one fifth of the trafficked girls were aged below twelve?” he said softly, “What if I told you that the Ibenescus’ have been providing the elite pedophile rings with children? Would you want there to be some other way?”

You looked at him, shocked.

“Elite pedophile ring?” you gaped.

“Batman didn’t tell me either when I was Robin,” he grumbled, “It’s either he didn’t know about it, or he kept it a secret from us. And knowing him, I doubt it’s the former. Weren’t there days where he insisted on being alone?”

You frowned, taking in everything Jason had said. He was proud of himself. Just after a few hours with him, he could already see your resolve faltering.

“As long as I can clear Gotham of sex trafficking, as long as there are less girls like Elena here, and as long as there are no more children involved, I’m satisfied,” he continued, “That’s what I do. I give out justice and fix things. I know most victims like her don’t get the opportunity to get closure the way she did, so I’ll be the one to make that decision and carry it out for them.”

“Oh, so you’re supposedly Gotham’s savior, then? A fucking Angel of Death or something?” you answered sarcastically.

“Didn’t you hear Vic?” he chuckled, “I’m the fucking Dark King.”

You scoffed, and crossed your arms, still looking outside.

“You were pretty good with the sticks,” Jason commented, changing the subject. “Though definitely not as good as Dick.”

Fuck, why was he still talking to you?

“I don’t usually use them,” you shot him a glare that Jason thought was more cute than threatening, “I usually use Krav Maga.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with your subpar fighting skills,” he smirked.

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, “The Pit gave you peak human abilities. You can’t compare yourself to me.”

Of course Bruce knew it was the Pit that revived Jason.

“Baby girl, I was much better than you when I was Robin,” he poked.

Why was he teasing you like this? Flirting with you like he was normal?

Joking with you as if he wasn’t planning to hurt you?

“I doubt it,” you pouted.

Even in the dim light, Jason could still make out the shiny traces of lipgloss that were still left on your lips.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand to your chin, and pressed his thumb against your lips, sticky from the lipgloss.

He saw the way your breath hitched in surprise, the way your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, the way you gulped.

“Why do you like my lipgloss so much?” you spoke, lips brushing against his thumb.

Fuck.

“Because, baby girl,” he drawled and scooted closer to you, “Ever since day one, I kept on imagining your shiny, wet lips around my cock.”

A small gasp escaped your mouth.

Which made his cock start to fill up.

“Want to make my fantasies a reality, princess?” he smirked.

“Why would I?” you whispered, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“It’s not about owing me,” he came closer, now rubbing his thumb all over your lips, smudging your lipgloss, and picking up some of your spit. “It’s about helping each other out.”

He gripped your waist with his other hand, rubbing up and down through your armor.

“Didn’t you like last night?” he purred, gripping your thigh. He noticed how you easily spread them wider apart.

“Didn’t you come all over my cock?” he forced his thumb inside your mouth, hooking it at your lower teeth and forced your face closer to his.

“Didn’t you wear your lipgloss anyway just to get my attention?” he smirked.

He had expected you to pull away, or even bite his fucking finger, but to his surprise, your lips closed in on his thumb.

And you started sucking.

All while looking up at him with your innocent, puppy dog eyes.

And for some reason, even though it was just his one fucking thumb, he felt like he was being consumed by the warmth and the wetness and the fucking softness of your mouth.

Jason was in trouble now.

Because you had started swirling your tongue around his finger as you sucked.

Jason couldn’t hold back his groan.

And from the delight he saw you in your eyes, he already knew what type you were.

You were the type to get turned on by his pleasure, his approval, his praises.

Typical Robin complex.

“Baby girl,” he breathed, “I’m not going to come unless you do the exact same thing but with my cock instead.”

He smirked when you gave him an irritated look, but then-

“Ow! Fuck!” he snatched his hand away.

You fucking bit his finger.

Again.

And this time you were looking at him with complete smugness.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now, princess,” he growled. Then, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged you to him roughly, forcing his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you violently and grabbed your tits which were still covered by all your-

“Fuck, why do you wear so much fucking armor,” he gasped.

“Because I’d like to actually live in case I get shot,” you shot back at him.

Jason glared at you. He usually loved your attitude, but somehow he felt really irritated by you that night. You weren’t as snarky and confident the night before. Obviously you were less nervous, and less afraid of him.

He needed to change that.

In a flash, he pushed you hard against the locked door of his car, earning a shocked gasp from you. He crawled over to you , engulfing your body with his own.

It was hard to move in the car, but the compact setting made Jason feel like he was trapping you in a cage.

He put his hand around your neck and squeezed lightly while he attacked your mouth with his own again. This time, his kisses were less pretty.

He bit and nipped at your lips, your tongue, forcing both of your teeth to click together.

He could hear you panting hard, and moaning into his mouth, sometimes letting out soft whimpers.

“You trying to sass me, baby?” he breathed over your face, lips brushing against yours. He increased the force of his throttle.

“You forget who’s in charge here?” he whispered, appreciating the way your mouth just fucking fell open.

“Who’s in charge, princess?” he growled.

He saw your eyes roll upwards, your lids fluttering close, and felt your thighs squeeze together.

Fuck.

Were you getting fucking turned on by his choking?

“Y-you,” you said in stuttered breaths.

“That’s right, baby,” he let go of your neck, causing you to gasp for air.

Then, Jason leaned back against the door on his side, and parted his legs.

He was glad the Impala’s seats were joined, without any annoying bumps that parted the passenger and driver’s seat. It allowed more room to move around.

Once he saw you catch your breath, he patted to the spot between his legs.

“My cock ain’t gonna suck itself,” he smirked.

He could see the fire in your eyes as you came over to him, bent on all fours. You laid on the seat on your belly, your mouth close to his cock that was borderline becoming extremely painful.

He had to wear protective cups while he worked, which meant that getting an erection was excruciating.

He tilted his head in curiosity when he saw you stare at his thigh holsters, biting your lower lip.

“You see something you like?” he teased.

Your gaze snapped back at him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. You ignored his question and started working on his belt buckle.

Once they were off, you impatiently pulled his pants down, but was puzzled when you saw his jockstraps.

He almost laughed when he saw the confusion etched on your features.

“They’re just like normal briefs, baby, but with extra protection,” he winked, cupped his junk, and gave it a little shake to make a point.

“I- I knew that,” you fumbled, and went to hook your fingers in the elastic waistband. You brought them down with some difficulty, as they were tight.

But Jason enjoyed seeing you struggle, so he let you figure it out.

And boy, the look on your face when you finally took his cock out.

He hissed at the relief when his cock slapped back onto his lower abdomen when it was free, but your expression made him chuckle.

“Did- did I really have that inside me last night?” your voice went up an octave.

“Inside you, and outside, and inside, and outside,” he gave you a shit eating grin.

“Very funny,” you glared, but gulped again at the sight of his erection, “Jeez. No wonder I couldn’t walk properly all day.”

“And I assure you, every single time I fuck you, you wouldn’t be able to- ah, fuck!” he got cut off by the pleasure that suddenly shot up his spine when you gripped his shaft hard.

He looked at you and saw you gave the same cheeky grin back.

Fucking hell.

You bent down, and gave a small experimental lick at the tip of his cock. He could see the way your eyebrows knitted together, how your eyes were so full of fucking contemplation. Like you were thinking of a strategy to make him come undone.

You started lapping your tongue a few more times over the head of his penis before taking the tip into your mouth and started sucking softly.

Jason groaned, and then reached his hand to tangle into your hair. Not to control your movements, not to show you how it’s done, but just because he needed to grip something.

From the tip, he saw you let your saliva drool down his shaft, making it glisten. Then, you sunk down and took more of him in. You got too ambitious, because you went down too fast and then he felt you gag around his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he felt your fucking throat try to push him out, “Take it slow, baby. We have all night.”

You released him from your mouth and gasped for air, a string of saliva connecting his tip to your mouth, tears streaming down your face, eyes and nose red.

Shit.

It was a fucking sight, alright.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sputtered, “I wasn’t sure- I don’t- it’s my first time.”

And holy hell, did Jason’s heart flutter at your innocent apology.

“It’s okay,” he wiped the tears from your cheeks like he was your lover, like he fucking cared. “It feels great when you gag on my cock, but you don’t have to take it all in at once. Here.”

He pushed your head back down to take him in rough, but not too rough.

Jason needed to be a little forceful, a little violent with you. He needed to hide the fact that you sucking on his cock for the first time didn’t flick a switch of emotion within him.

“You take in as much as you can,” he panted, “And your hand can do the rest.”

He wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.

“So when you go up,” he pulled your hair to guide you up his length, slick with your spit and his precum.

“Your hand follows your mouth,” he gripped your hand and moved it upwards as well, following the motion. “And don’t forget to suck.”

He saw that you got the hang of it pretty fast, and soon, Jason was groaning and moaning, and tugging at your hair.

He fought hard to not cant his hips upwards and start fucking your mouth. He fought hard to be considerate, to not hurt you, to not give you too much of what you could handle.

He didn’t want a repeat of the night before.

Yet, the fire in his belly and the dark voices inside his head told him to grip your head with both his hands and fucking use your mouth like a toy.

But, no. Jason was in control. And he didn’t want that. Not tonight.

He saw that you were watching him as you bobbed your head in motion, and he knew you were enjoying the sight of him. He felt vulnerable to you, open and exposed.

He hated that feeling. The shame of being laid out like that when someone was watching him-it made him feel small and guilty.

But the shame and humiliation and guilt was what made the whole thing more enjoyable.

Soon enough, he felt the familiar feeling of his gut tightening, his toes curling in his steel boots.

“Stop,” he rasped, pulling you away.

You looked at him with worry in your eyes that made Jason almost come anyway.

“I- I was close,” he explained.

“Isn’t that the point?” you smirked.

“Wanna fuck you first,” he murmured.

Then, you started blushing.

“Uhm, it still hurts a lot from yesterday,” you answered sheepishly, biting your lip awkwardly.

It reminded Jason of how you were with him the first time he met you at the library, how you were shy and a blushing mess, when you didn’t know his identity. It seemed so long ago, and for the first time, he wished things could go back to being that way.

“Fine,” he gruffed, “Come back down here, then.”

When you started sucking on him again, he added, “Didn’t know you were so weak. Thought you’d be used to getting thrown around by now.”

It really wasn’t fair for him to say that, and he knew it was hurtful.

But he wasn’t the good guy in this story.

You shot him a glare, and then popped his dick out.

“Jason, my mouth was around your cock when you said that, and if I were to accidentally bite you, well,” you retorted.

“You wouldn’t do that, baby,” he chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because, princess,” he drawled, and forced you to continue sucking, “My cock- ungh- is your favourite part of me, isn’t it?”

And as if you conceded, admitting he was right, you started to suddenly increase the pace. Filthy wet sounds filled the car as Jason heard the sound of rain in the background, and noticed that the inside of his windows had started to fog up.

Your warm, wet mouth consumed him whole, and he felt his balls tighten and tighten.

“Baby,” he gasped, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

Despite his warnings, you still went on, as if you were determined to finish your job.

He groaned loud and long as he spilled his cum inside your mouth.

He felt you fucking drink it up.

Fuck.

When he was done blowing his load, you were giving him soft, gentle licks on his now sensitive cock.

And you then you sat up and smiled proudly.

“You waiting for me to give you a candy, or some shit?” he snickered, “Or a gold star?”

“Maybe you should,” you huffed and crossed your arms, sitting back properly in the passenger seat.

Jason put his pants back on, and sat up as well.

But then he noticed you squirming slightly, your respiratory rate fast, small pants escaping you. You were clenching your thighs together.

He smirked.

He reached out and caressed your cheek with one finger.

“Want me to help you out?” he offered.

“I’m fine,” you said, “I’ll deal with it later. I should go back soon. What time is it?”

“Almost two,” he glanced at the dashboard clock.

“Batman and Nightwing are probably just leaving the club by now,” you said out loud, “I’m sure they’ll keep on patrolling, though. Unless they got a clue.”

“Clue?”

“Yeah,” you hummed absentmindedly, looking outside at the rain.

You remained silent for a while.

Jason hated the silence.

Then-

“It’s your face, by the way,” you started.

“What?”

“Your face. My favourite part of you,” you avoided Jason’s eyes.

Jason was taken aback at your confession.

Why would his face be your favourite part? He had scars all over, eyebags and bloodshot eyes, and he was pretty sure his nose was more crooked than average.

“You’re good looking,” you said as if you were mad.

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” Jason blurted before he could stop himself.

You blinked at him in surprise.

Fuck.

He fucked up.

He wanted to punch himself.

What were the two of you doing? It wasn’t like it was a fucking date. It wasn’t like he cared about you that way. It wasn’t like he wanted you all to himself, and never let go.

Fuck.

He was done being the charming, kind, gentleman Jason Haywood.

So why was he still acting like he was?

***

“Where were you?” Dick demanded when you opened the door.

He was still in his Nightwing uniform, sans the mask.

“What?”

“Alfred said you weren’t around, and you left your phone at home,” he persisted, “Where did you go?”

“I got some junk,” you pointed to the big bag of junk food on your bed.

“Alfred said he noticed you weren’t around at midnight, and you only just got back an hour ago. It took you almost three hours just to get junk?” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I went to see Carter.”

“Why did you leave your phone?”

“I forgot, okay?” you exasperatedly flailed your hands. “I’m grounded from patrol, not from going out. What’s the big deal?”

Dick frowned at you.

Your heart was beating so hard you were afraid he could hear it.

“Where did you meet him?” he continued to interrogate.

There were no more room for half truths.

“Robinson Park,” you answered, “We spent some time in his car. Lost track of time. And- you know what? I don’t even need to tell you all of this! It’s none of your business, Dick.”

“There was someone new with Jason tonight,” he stated.

Fuck.

“Someone new?” you repeated, tilting your head in feigned curiosity.

“A girl,” he continued, “She’s skilled.”

You frowned. “Who is she?”

“Eye witness said she calls herself V,” he told you, “She uses escrima sticks and a form of arnis and silat hybrid.”

“Hmm,” you pondered, “And? Is she someone you and Jason knew?”

“We’ve been wondering about that,” he muttered.

Your eyes widen.

“You think that was me?!” you shrieked.

“You tell me!” Dick retorted.

“Why, Dick?” you shouted, “Why?”

“You were out for god knows how long and suddenly Jason has a girl with your knowledge of martial arts at his side?” he snarled, “What else am I supposed to think?”

“One, fucking anyone could learn martials arts!” you argued, “Two, I was out with Carter yesterday as well! There wasn’t anyone with Red Hood yesterday!”

“Red Hood wasn’t seen yesterday,” he debated, “And you haven’t even shown me a picture of this Carter you’re seeing. What’s his last name? Where is he from? You need to tell me. You need to tell me the truth.”

“I am,” you grit, “You need to figure out your bullshit, Dick!”

“What?”

“I get it, okay,” you sighed, and sat down on your bed, “Jason, your brother, he betrayed your trust. He’s angry at Bruce, but why didn’t he come to you?”

Dick simply looked at you.

“You trusted Jason when he was Robin, as family,” you explained, “The way you trusted me. And now that trust is destroyed, you’re questioning me as well.”

You looked at him with a sad smile.

“I’m not like Jason, Dick,” you tried to convince him, “I’m me. I’m your sister. I have no reason to hurt you or Bruce. I love you both. Okay?”

Dick stared at you, and you saw tears pooling his eyes.

That made your heart sink to your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he blinked away the tears, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you got up and hugged him. He hugged you back tightly, pressing his cheek into the top of your head, “I love you, Dick. I’ll help you guys out with this, okay? I mean, I know I’m not as good as either of you, but I’ll try.”

“Yeah,” he sniffled, “Thank you. Can’t wait for you to get back in uniform.”

“Me too,” you replied, holding back your own tears while you thought about how fucked you were.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd #batman #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #dceu #dc universe #under the red hood

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 5 years ago

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A @batfam-christmas-stocking fic written for @solarcelest!! happy holidays <3

----

Picking Damian up from school isn’t something Tim can truthfully say sounds fun. It’s even worse seeing as Damian, grounded after going on patrol with four broken fingers and despite being told to stay home, is without a phone and has no idea it’s Tim coming today instead of Alfred. He’s taken the same car Alfred always uses, though, so he figures it’ll be fine up until the kid gets in and sees Tim.

He waits out the ungodly 30 minutes for the bell to ring playing games on his phone. Alfred had said to go even earlier if he wanted a good spot, but he’d waited until what felt like the last second. He didn’t get a great spot but Damian should still be able to see the car fine.

Eventually, Damian steps out of the school. Tim sets down his phone to watch, curious what Damian is like around people other than their family members and other heroes. He knows Dick, Steph, Duke, and maybe even Cass have seen that side of the kid, but Tim never has.

The other kids swarm out around him. He’s alone, dressed in his stiff school uniform. He looks up, and for a moment, his face is smooth and relaxed, none of the angry little wrinkles Tim is used to seeing. He looks…relieved, maybe. Tired. Happy the school day is over.

Yeah, Tim gets that.

He turns the engine once Damian spots the car and makes his way over with a lightness in his step. It’s honestly kind of cute, but Tim isn’t about to admit that to anyone.

Halfway there, another kid stops Damian as he walks by her, physically moving into his path. She’s taller and probably older, and she looks familiar to Tim in a way he’s come to realize means he must know her older sibling.

For a few minutes, they talk, and though Tim can read lips, they’re too far away, at a bad angle. He can read their body language just fine, though. Whatever she’s saying, it’s pissing Damian off.

For a brief moment, Tim entertains the idea of getting out of the car and going to get Damian himself. Rescue him from whatever is going on here, that’s making his face turn red and his fists to clench. But he knows it wouldn’t be appreciated, and honestly can’t blame Damian for that—Tim wouldn’t have wanted that either. It’s embarrassing, having to have an older sibling come and save you from bullies. If that’s even what’s happening here.

He decides to watch, and if it seems like any tears are going to be shed on either side, or fists are about to start flying, he’ll intervene.

In the end, Damian gets away from the girl, roughly pushing past her, and storms over to the car without Tim having to do anything.

Damian opens the door, flings his backpack in, and follows just as roughly. He closes the door and buckles up without looking over even once, then says, “Alfred, I— Timothy ?”

“Sup,” Tim says awkwardly. He isn’t expecting this to go well, and maybe he should preemptively try to not piss Damian off, but he can’t help it. He’s still getting used to being the kind of big brother Dick is, and so far, it’s been far easier with Duke than Damian. They get along better these days, but that isn’t saying much, really.

“Where is Alfred?” Damian demands.

“He had to take Duke to see his therapist and asked me to come get you. You strapped?”

“You can clearly see that I am.” Yup, definitely pissed.

“Just making sure!” Tim sighs and pulls out of the space, joining the long line of people also trying to leave the roundabout-like parking lot. After a few minutes of tense silence, they’ve barely made it half way out. Tim taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “How long does this usually take?”

“If you had gotten a better spot,” Damian says, mutinously glaring out the window, his arms crossed tight against his chest, “then we could have been gone already.”

Don’t argue with him, Tim, he tells himself. He’s just a kid. School is stressful, even without potential bullying. Don’t argue.

“ I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you can’t even do that right .”

“Look, Dami,” Tim says, much too loud. He has to force himself to lower his voice, but it’s too late—he can already see Damian clenching his jaw in the mirror. “I was just trying to help by coming here, okay? Otherwise, you would’ve been called out of school early, and had to sit around for an hour while Duke was—”

“That would have been preferable to being stuck here with you!”

Damian’s voice rings out just as Tim gets out on the road, and for a moment, neither of them speak.

“Damian.”

“This is unacceptable! Alfred is the one to pick me up. I don’t want anyone else. Just Alfred. And certainly not you . Why couldn’t it have been Richard? Or Stephanie?”

“Dick’s in New York with the Titans, and Steph is in class right now,” Tim says, fingers tight on the wheel. He’s glad Damian isn’t slinging insulting nicknames around yet, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Tt. So of course you’re all that’s left.”

“Yeah, it looks like it.”

They go back to glaring out their respective windows. As they take the winding road back to Bristol, Tim weighs the merits of attempting to figure out what happened. It’ll probably only upset Damian further, but dammit, Dick would ask. Jason would, too. Cass would’ve already figured out what was eating Damian without having to ask, but she would do it anyway. Open up the communication lines, Tim’s therapist and Alfred and Clark all say.

Slowly, he asks, “Is this tantrum because of what that girl was saying to you?”

“I am not having a tantrum, and it doesn’t matter what that wench said!”

“Right, so you’re shouting at me because you’re totally cool, calm, and collected and not at all upset?”

“Yes,” Damian seethes. “Congratulations on noticing the obvious.”

“If I was stating the obvious, I would say that whatever she said upset you and then the disruption of your routine made it worse, and now you’re taking it out on me because I’m the most convenient target.”

“I am not upset!”

“Fine, okay,” Tim gives in. Pushing isn’t going to help. “You’re not upset. Whatever.”

“No, I am not.” Damian pauses, and then he bursts, “ It doesn’t matter what she said, anyway, because all it was was a bunch of drivel about how Father only took me in to look good to the society people, just another one of his charity cases . But that’s not true! I know it’s not! Father cares about me and he took me in because he is my father and it was the right thing to do, not because of...that. That’s ridiculous and wrong!”

Oh. Oh, shit. Poor kid, Tim thinks. He was bullied, too, and he knows how much it hurts. Fuck, he needs to find out who this girl is so he can figure out a way to get her to leave Damian the fuck alone. Jason will help.

“And I wanted to talk to Alfred about it, because he…has a good sense of how to parse these things, how to react to them in a way that is befitting of someone like me ,” Damian says, diplomatic and on the verge of tears. “But instead, I am forced to talk to you, as if you could be of any aid at all!”

“I used to get bullied,” Tim offers. “I know something about how it feels. And you’re right, none of that is true. It’s all elitist, racist bullshit that she’s probably copying from her parents who are jealous Bruce has more money than them.”

“Of course it is. I know that. I don’t need you to pathetically try and comfort me, Timothy.”

Tim forces a sigh down before it can get out. No, Damian doesn’t need him, and would probably be much better off with Alfred, Dick, or Steph. But right now, he’s only got Tim, and clearly this talking thing is working out. “I know.”

They’re getting close to home, but he still turns on the radio to a song he knows Damian likes. At least it gives them both a reason not to keep talking.

#bsc19 #tim drake #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #batfam fic #my writing #solarcelest #fanfic

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breath-of-void · 5 years ago

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So, I guess I’m an agent of chaos now

I just watched Joker (2019) and, can I say, holy heck it was good. Spoilers to come.

While watching it, I found myself comparing it to what I knew of the Joker from the comics and the animated series. The Joker is more force of nature than man; he has no rhyme or reason to what he does. He exists in Gotham, not to make a statement, but to put on an act.

In that regard, I was sorely disappointed. This Joker had a name, he was Arthur Fleck. He had a job and family and, based on how often he got the piss taken out of him, plenty of reason to put on a mask and try to blow up parliament.

They even went the route of making him mentally ill so that his madness was not a conscious choice, as I’d always consider to be the Joker’s case.

About halfway through, I decided to stop doing that and watch it as its own product. Not an adaptation, but a new origin. After doing that, I found that he started to hit a lot of the same beats that I’d originally expected.

Arthur Fleck, for one, checks most of the boxes for ‘societal trash’. He was poor, single, mentally ill and not incredibly attractive. He was largely inoffensive and not prone to violence or even self defence. He had no dreams of grandeur, he only wanted to get by and be happy doing so. Arthur was an entire demographic wrapped up in one neat package. He wasn’t a person, he was an archetype; a symbol. Until the turning point of his character, he was like all members of society that shared even one of his traits: a joke.

When Arthur kills the three boys on the subway, his symbology took off. A clown, a joke of society, was powerful enough to take out the creme de la creme. Of course people took this as a sign. They were jokes too and they could absolutely overthrow the bourgeoisie. Even better, they didn’t need to be ‘normal’ to do it.

The best part of the whole thing, and my main point, is that Arthur didn't care. He was a symbol and, like most symbols, didn't give a damn what he was used for. Arthur went through his life, picking up the scraps life tossed him, while, around him, Gotham churned and swirled with madness underneath a thin skin of normalcy.

My point thus far, to clarify, has been that Arthur is tied to society. His madness forced down to facilitate an air of ‘okay’ is mirrored by the Gotham citizens rearing to eat the rich, but resigning themselves to peaceful protest. In that vein, when Arthur snapped, so did Gotham.

At no point did Arthur, now named Joker, decide to do anything about Gotham’s financial inequality problem. He kills several people in the film, all for personal gain. Three kids on the train for assaulting him, his mother for lying to him and facilitating his childhood abuse, a former coworker for aiding and almost being entirely responsible for him being fired and a talk show host for humiliating him on television. Joker only ever killed people he was angry or upset with. Likewise, the people of Gotham did the same. They rioted. They stole and destroyed and killed the people that they were upset with.

Most of all, and my ultimate point about this Joker, is that the ideology was infectious. I found myself cackling alongside him. He wanted his own brand of chaos and I wanted mine. The citizens of Gotham wanted their chaos and my friend beside me wanted hers. We didn’t necessarily want the same thing and we didn’t have to, we were all a little Joker inside and Joaquin Phoenix’s performance inspired us all to act on that without ever committing and saying that it was the right thing. At it’s core, it isn't the right thing, but the Joker isn’t concerned with morality.

The best part was that he set the groundwork for the Spirit of the Joker. Arthur Fleck is not a very intelligent man. He’s not stupid, no, but he isn’t concoct-a-chemical-that-makes-you-die-laughing smart. And he isn’t evil. He isn't concerned with eating the rich or stabbing the poor and he certainly doesn’t care for money. But other people do.

By the end of this movie, I could see how every single iteration of the Joker could have been inspired by this one. How, after each one died, another took up the mantle. This first Joker, a reasonably aged man when Bruce Wayne was 10, is not necessarily the one who fights him in his career as the Batman.

In conclusion, Joker was an amazing piece of cinema and proof that DC knows what its doing if it stops following in the shadow of Marvel.

On a side note, did anybody else notice that he had a lot of black women in his life? Like, damn.

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supeson · 5 years ago

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pirate’s progress

You’ve been going out twice a week for about a month now, and he can’t figure out why. Alfred had told him one night, after patrol. He was bone tired, ready to drop into bed, only to get up in about four hours for work.

“Glad to see the both of you got back in one piece tonight. I was worried I would have to go to sleep in this big empty manor by myself.” Alfred gathers up pieces of the suit to wash later in the day, while Bruce showers off from the night’s events.

“Both of us?” He asks, head popping out from behind the flimsy curtain. He grabs the hanging towel and disappears again.

“Yes, sir, both of you.” Alfred says your name with a hint of amusement. “...has been leaving the house after you go off on patrol. They always come back right before you come in for the night, sir. I assume one or more of the children is helping them. They seem to come home in pairs.”

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t say anything more, but Alfred knows what’s going through his mind. He can see the wheels turning. He’s done his job.

You’re not very good at hiding where you’re going, Bruce thinks as he follows you from the Manor to the city. You’ve gotten a lift from a friend, and the two of you go out to eat. You’re at the restaurant for about an hour, before you say your goodbyes, a bag of food in hand. Bruce watches you as your friend asks if you want a ride home, but you decline, saying you have some business in the city. For a split second, before his rational mind can catch up, he thinks you’re cheating on him. You would never of course, but still.

You walk for about three blocks, checking your phone constantly, before a hand pops out from an alley and taps you on the shoulder. Bruce almost immediately jumps down from the rooftop he’s on, but you start...laughing? You follow the hand into the alley, and Bruce grapples his way across the street. The alley is well-lit, and there’s a small sports car sitting in the center of it.

“You think you’re ready to try your hand at parallel parking tonight?” Dick asks, rounding the car, opening the passenger side door.

“Oh fuck no. Is that on the test? I don’t think I can do that, Dick, what if I-” Your eyes are wide, and Bruce thinks it’s adorable. He continues to watch the scene unfold before him.

“Relax, you’re a good driver. Besides, Jason’s here to help too,” He says, popping the seat forward.

“Did you bring my end of the deal?” Jason asks, hand feeling around on the top of the car.

You roll your eyes. “Yea yea here are your burritos.” You slide them across the roof of the car and he catches them without even looking.

“Great. Hop in and we’ll start cruising.”

The three of you drive around for an hour or two, making several stops along the way. Bruce follows along in a disguised car, suit stashed in the back. He quick-changed into a regular outfit, content to watch you drive around. He’s confused as to why you didn’t just tell him you were trying to get your license in the first place, he could have taught you how to drive. After all, Alfred had taught him.

Jason brings it up before he can. “So why not ask the big bad Bat to teach you? I’m sure he could hire the best instructor in the world. Probably teach you stick too.”

You let out a sigh through your nose, focusing on your mirrors and the road. “Because I’m trying to be more independent. I don’t want to have to rely on other people when I’m a fully capable, mostly functioning adult. I feel bad needing to be driven around all the time. Alfred’s a busy man, and I can’t always rely on one of you guys to take me somewhere.”

“But I’m sure Moneybags Wayne wouldn’t mind. He’d do anything for you, y’know,” Jason says, stuffing the last of a burrito in his mouth.

“Yes, I know, Jason, but that��s not the point, the point is that this is for me. I’m doing this for me.” You’re getting a little annoyed, and it shows, and Dick gasps, going “Speed limit!”. You make a noise and brake a little, dropping back down to an appropriate speed. Dick points you to an empty parking lot, and you pull in, braking and putting the car in park. You leave it running, and get out, stretching your legs. Dick gets out too, coming around to talk to you.

“Hey, don’t listen to Jason, he’s just a jerk for no reason. It’s a good thing you’re trying to get your license. You’re improving your quality of life.” Dick lays a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile.

You kick at a rock in the parking lot. “Yea, I know. Being a dick is built into his DNA. Was that before or after the Pit?”

“A little bit of both, I think,” A voice says from behind you. The two of you turn around to see Bruce standing there, his own car behind him, off.

“Hey guys? Bruce has been tailing us since we got in the car, just thought you should know,” Jason says, head hanging out of the driver’s window.

“Oh go choke on it, Todd.” You’re a little pissed, to say the least. You were hoping to surprise Bruce with your license, driving up to Wayne Enterprises or something. Dick goes back to your car, whacking Jason across the head as he passes him.

Bruce walks the two of you further away. “So why didn’t you want to tell me you wanted to get your license. I could’ve taught you how to drive. Or, at the very least, hired someone.”

“But that’s just it! I wanted to do this myself! I wanted to get my license, and never have to ask anyone to take me anywhere anymore! I’m tired of relying on others to get where I need to go. I wanted to surprise you by me being the one to drive you to work, or to an event. Hell, even down to that pretentious gelato place you like!” You’re crying now, the frustration overflowing in your tears.

“Well, I’ve seen how well your drive, as evidenced by tonight. Do you want to drive us home?” He asks, rubbing your back. You wipe at your cheeks and nod.

“I think if I have to get back in the car with Jason, I might see how many quick stops it takes to put him through the windshield of Dick’s car.” Bruce barks out a laugh and leads you to his car.

His two eldest watch as you leave the lot. “Y’know, they might actually bring down his insurance. He won’t be too inclined to make every Batman injury a Bruce Wayne vehicle accident if they’re on his policy,” Dick points out.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne/reader #batman #batman x reader #batman/reader #just a lil smth bc YA BOY #that's me #IS GETTING THEIR LICENSE THIS WEEK #yea that's right i'm an adult just now getting their license what abt it

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abiik · 5 years ago

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@vhsgf replied to your post “this song made me realize i've never written about jason missing zoe”

heather this might be too forward and angsty of me to say (pls lmk if is) but now i am curious about zoe reacting to jason's death and then mirroring w jason coming back from the dead and then finding out his best friend is dead. like it sounds so PAINFUL but like. also i wanna know about it. heather what have you done i-

i had to put my hair up for this. im literally so emotional about this rn,,,like when am i not but STILL OKAY IT MAKES ME VERY [SCREECHES] (also a read more because this is fucking long im so sorry)

okay let’s start with zoe because jason’s death is a traumatic thing for her on like multiple points all relating back to when she was like elementary school aged (im pretty sure i have it where she’s like 8 ish when this happens). before jason and before going into the whole vigilante business �� no matter what version of zoe you prefer – she loses her two younger brothers in a joker related accident. he kills them. and zoe… zoe is so,,, well she’s angry. because no one does anything. no one. not that fabled batman, not the police, not the fucking government – NOBODY. and she’s just supposed to keep living her life like everything is fucking fine because oh that’s just the way gotham is. and like why the fuck would she just keep living her life when her barely out of toddler aged little brothers are now dead?? why wouldn’t she want to do something about that?? why the fuck should she just let it roll off her back like no biggie?? (of course, this is a catalyst for her mother’s downward spiral and eventual disappearance, and then keme’s).

then of course, there’s zoe’s powers. at that age she didn’t really understand the extent of them, what she could do with them and all that, but as they develop and her own awareness of them develop, she is faced by like intense guilt and remorse. if only she’d been able to do something. if only she’d been there. if only she could’ve stopped the joker. if only, if only, if only. and like, realistically, there wasn’t much she could do. it wasn’t like she knew fully how strong she was; she’d barely gotten flying down at that point, but then she’s growing up and she realizes she never really had a limit. and she kind of has this complex, i’ve said it before but she really does try to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders, so everything that has happened to her up until this point after the twins die, it’s partly her fault; if only she could have been better, she could have saved them, she could have her mom, she could have keme – she could have her family back.

then, of course, there is in all of this her intense hatred of the joker. and by correlation to the whole fucking issue, gotham city and batman. (ive said that they kind of grow to like each other more, but when z and jay become friends and through their teen years until his death, it’s kind of like whenever youre gay and your bff is gay and you both kind of hate the other’s really fucked up parent who’s okay sometimes but isn’t all the time and you would totally like throw down with them if only there weren’t like,,,repercussions)

anyway, so when jason dies, it’s a big fucking deal. like he’d already been acting weird, bruce was worried about him, z was worried about him, and then he dies okay. and zoe… bruce doesn’t tell zoe right away. he doesn’t tell her and when zoe does find out, she. is. pissed. all of the shit with her baby brothers comes back. she wasn’t there. she wasn’t able to save him – because she sure as hell KNOWS that she could have at this point. and now he’s GONE. AND THIS ENTIRE TIME, SHE HAD NO FUCKING CLUE BECAUSE BRUCE DIDN’T TELL HER!!! she couldn’t even go to his funeral!!! and then, AND THEN, on fucking top of that – it was the joker who killed him. so jason’s death was like a fucking quadruple blow to her.

after finding out the details, zoe goes binary for the first time. and it’s… well it’s scary. it takes a whole lot of coaxing from old teammates and being physically restrained by diana (who lowkey is kinda like why?? are?? we?? stopping?? her?? from?? killing?? the?? joker??) and clark and donna, and they can’t even really knock her out because when she’s binary, there’s only really waiting out the duration of the high until she passes tf out from using too much energy. which she DOES and then after a good long talk with gran-gran, zoe’s going on a much needed retreat with diana to themyscira.

during that time, zoe’s super depressed. like reasonably, so. she’s so exhausted and she’s still angry but she’s also just like,,, so tired. she lost her best friend dude. like she loves jason so much, she loves him so much, and then he was just gone. poof! and at least, at least with atsa and ahiga, she got to like, be there for their send off. jason ends up being another hole in her life, like her dad and her mom and keme. he’s added to this list of people who all were just…g o n e. she didn’t get to mourn them. like obviously, she can, but every time she thinks about jason, she begins to spiral. (this is kind of when she starts drinking,,,, human alcohol can’t really touch her but she does therapeutically – which is!! not good!!) she also begins to distance herself – from jason’s titans (connor holds on with an iron grip and eddie still checks up on her, but rose was just as distraught and kyle is still kind of numb), from the original titans, from bruce and alfred, from diana, even from gran-gran and uncle bell. she fills the void with work as well as the alcohol that doesn’t really do anything to her except make her mouth taste gross and weird and she hates it but it’s become a habit. if she isn’t out doing some reckless thing while saving the world, then she’s at a bar or just sitting by the ocean.

she has bad dreams too, like horrible dreams. and like,,, they’re not necessarily horrific or anything,, she usually dreams about good times, memories with jason or with atsa and ahiga, sometimes some weird mixture of all three of them hanging out together and it’s the worst fucking thing because she wakes up and she wishes she was there too, that she could stay with them, because she misses them so much. she just wants her family back, she wants the family she had before jason and dick and alfred and the titans, but she also wants them too – she wants all of it.

and then it all comes to head with her dad’s sudden involvement with earth and shit. zoe sacrifices herself not only because she carries the fucking world on her shoulders and has a stupid martyr complex, but also because she thinks she’d be okay dying like this. she doesn’t. die that is. she doesn’t die but she also doesn’t come back.

jason’s revival story arc thing is all a bit murky for me bc I kind of like mix the whole waking up and clawing himself from his grave and also the under the red hood storyline (and like correct me if there is a version like that bc like,,, idk I can’t remember). anyway, so jason comes back, and like it’s kind of messy bc of timeline shit but he doesn’t really come back, come back, until z’s gone. like gone gone. like they held a funeral and everything for her. jason didn’t get to go and THAT is SHIT. like yeah, he wasn’t fucking alive, nobody fucking knows he’s alive anyway, but it still hurts.

and like,,, you know what else kind of hurts, is like he kind of thought that after he came back, if no one was on his side – if for some reason literally everyone was against him – he’d still have zoe. that’s the worst fucking part. he hears about what happened. he hears that she literally went ballistic. and like,, jason KNOWS that zoe would have his side, that zoe would be there for him, that even if she might not have agreed with some of the things he’s done, that she’d be right by his side, showing she cares. because like. like I know bruce is kind of stunted with emotional expression, but it’s really hard to feel like you’re appreciated when someone else’s love language is so fucking hard to translate, when you need constant validation, to be told you matter to be shown you matter to them and they can’t accommodate even a little bit, because of their pride or because they have to deem that you deserve it all of a sudden. and like I love bruce, but they way he treats his kids is shit. so yeah. jason feels hella alone when he comes back and his best friend, his rock, his ride or die (literally wfkejvnk) is fucking gone.

jason definitely has nightmares too. he doesn’t know how zoe died, like really know – no one does, because there hadn’t been a body. and jason’s mind can be a pretty dark place already, add on top of that the nightmares about his best friend dying the same way he did, or being like dick, who actually witnessed the explosion that ‘killed’ zoe. he can’t even fathom what zoe went through with his death, but eventually, as jason kind of comes back into the batfam and shit, he also kind of gets to be with the last of zoe’s family. gran-gran and uncle bell are much warmer than bruce wayne and that too big mansion and that cold fucking cave. jason goes to the ranch a lot, or finds himself at uncle bell’s antique shop whenever he needs a breather, to just be alone with something that close to zoe.

they literally both go through that period where they’re extremely reckless with mourning and regrets and fuck i never got to say this and fuck what could I have done differently, what could I have changed if I’d been there? but where jason is able to recover more effectively, zoe doesn’t do so well in space.

really, that song had triggered thoughts about jason going through her things, the things she left in his bedroom – that bruce refused to touch or move or anything – and just thinking back on their life together. it was definitely shorter than they expected and when jason thinks about it, it’s a whole bunch of salty anger and throat swelling sadness that has him kind of crippled. because like,,, he also knows how the twins died, he knows how it happened, not only did he have the firsthand accounts from those most effected, but also like, he read the reports. he KNOWS, and he feels kind of guilty, just a little bit, that what he did put her through a similar version to losing her baby brothers.

NREJKVNERLFEWLFJNEKR FUCK OKAY I THINK I NEED TO STOP LIKE THIS IS OBVIOUSLY JUST A BIG DUMB BUT BFJKERNFKJEN F U C K OKAY

#vhsgf #h replies.#look they make me fucking cry #their relationship hurts me so bad #and fuck whenever they MEET AGAIN!!!#LITERALLY SO FUCKING RECKLESS TTRYING TO KEEP THE OTHER FROM EVER LEAVING THEM AGAIN LIKE HAHA SIKE BITCH #I DIDN'T COME BACK FROM THE DEAD ONLY FOR NOTHIN #YOU'RE NEVER GETTIGN RID OF ME AND IM NEVER GETTING RID OF YOU #oc: zoe huang #this is also so fucking rambly i apologizeee #suicide /#depression /#death /#alcohol /#ask to tag

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years ago

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Best of DC: Week of January 1st, 2019

Best of this Week: The Flash #85 - Joshua Williamson, Christian Duce, Luis Guerrero and Steve Wands

Amidst everything going on in the DC Universe right now from Year of the Villain to the end of Doomsday Clock, there’s been a lot of really underrated books that DC’s been publishing and Flash Definitely falls into that category for me. Of course, Flash is no low-tier character, but as it stands, there’s not a big conversation surrounding Joshua Williamson’s run with the character like there is for the up and down runs of Batman and Superman, but there should be!

Joshua Williamson and his revolving art team of Christian Duce, Scott Kolins, Rafa Sandoval and Carmine di Giandomenico have pulled off some of the most consistently fantastic Flash storytelling in recent years. From the Speed Force Storm to Flash’s “Final Showdown” with Captain Cold and finally here with Rogues’ Reign, these stories have only seen Flash become an even better character with depth after he’s been tested over and over with insurmountable odds and overpowered enemies while still being riddled with doubt.

This issue of Flash acts as the penultimate issue to the Rogues’ Reign storyline and sees us learning a bit more about some of the Rogues as individuals while at the same time, breaking them apart even further. This book is less centered on the various speedsters, but more around their lack of control over their powers and Flash continuing his rivalry with King Cold to the bitterest end.

The book begins with four panels of King Cold, Leonard Snart, monologuing to himself. We get a great big focus of the Symbol of Doom in the sky as Snart says that it’s the end of the world, but at least he’s going out like a winner, unlike his loser of a father. One of the many defining characteristics of Cold up to this point and in other stories has been his hatred of his father and his aversion to become anything like him. However, he’s become nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy because his life is nothing more than misery because of the sacrifices he made to get to where he is.

Cold helped Luthor’s ascension and the rise of Doom by accepting Luthor’s Gift and allowing himself and his Rogues to become ultra powered, but in doing so, has alienated himself from his friends and family now that they all have what they want. Duce frames all of this excellently by first placing Cold in shadow before he looks at his glasses, as if reminiscing about his old life before putting them on and looking towards his death at the end of the world.

Soon after, we cut to Kid Flash and Avery receiving training from two unlikely sources; Heatwave and Weather Wizard. Though they were seen as reporting in to King Cold a few issues ago, it was brief and mostly to air some small grievances that they had with the way that Cold was running things. Here, we get the reveal that they’d been working with Golden Glider since she broke off from her brother and Mirror Master under their noses. In a brilliant double page spread by Duce and Guererro, we see that they’ve been helping the speedsters keep their speed under control.

It’s a pretty warmhearted scene followed by more where Gold Glider comforts Flash about their presence. Williamson makes Heatwave and Weather Wizard come off as two men that have suffered hardships in their lives, leading them to the life of crime, but still managing to have hearts. Glider tells Flash how Weather Wizard wanted to escape the life of crime that his family was involved in when he was a kid, but never could which lead to him hurting people he loved. Heatwave suffers similarly from his pyromania being the reason his parents died, but it’s painted more as him having a sickness he can’t control. Glider tells Flash that they want to stop Cold so that things can go back to the way that they were.

Duce draws these scenes with a surprising intimacy. Amidst all of the intense action, Duce draws Heatwave with a sense of pride as he watches Kid Flash control his speed better, Weather Wizard stare in his lonesome because of everything going on and shows the kids eating with their teachers after a long day. On top of all of this, Flash has a nice scene where Golden Glider teaches him how to ice skate after he asks her to get back into what was one her hobby. Guererro colors all of these scenes with warm tones, even in the ice which is primarily blue and white. Flash and Glider’s colors give off something of a happy feeling.

One of the recurring themes of this run has been relating to the Rogues in meaningful ways and Williamson does an excellent job here of contrasting all of them to an amazing degree.

After Flash makes a bad joke to Golden Glider, causing her to become morose, Weather Wizard steps in and tells them that they’ve found where Mirror Master has been hiding and the entire crew go to find the last two pieces of his great mirror. Kid Flash asks Golden Glider if she used to date him and she confirms this, stating that she didn’t know why, but that she knew all of his tricks.

Mirror Master has always been one of the Rogues of lesser renown because well… he's an idiot. Only in the sense that he's never used his powers to a degree where people needed to be afraid of him, but thanks to his upgrade they need to. In actuality, his access to an entire Mirror Dimension makes him one of the most dangerous people in the DC Universe as a potential spy or thief because A LOT OF SURFACES REFLECT. Flash and the other Rogues learn this the hard way when Mirror Master springs a trap on them, revealing that he knew that Glider and the others betrayed Cold.

When the Rogues and Speedsters finally encountered Mirror Master, he looks absolutely devious with a wide grin and his wide grin as they did everything they could to stop him. Duce’s poses were dynamic and captured how intense the fight was, the furious facial expressions were very well done and crystalline backgrounds were beautiful. Guerrero’s colors stood out in how distinct each of them were. Mirror Master’s glossy white clashed with the other characters, especially Flash’s vibrant reds and Weather Wizard’s dark greens. By easily besting all of them, he showed just how dangerous he could be.

He teleports them all to the King and Snart notes how disappointed he is and how the Rogues could have ruled the world together. This causes Glider to snap at him, saying that he never told the Rogues what that would entail - the end of the world under Luthor. At this point Captain Cold is so far gone that he just doesn't care anymore and Williamson has been leading him down this path since the beginning.

In Rogues Reloaded, Cold had the idea for the Rogues to get one more heist over on The Flash before retiring completely and that was foiled with all of the Rogues being defeated. In Welcome to Iron Heights, Snart decided he'd run an operation from prison but Barry Allen and his former ally, Godspeed foiled that plan too. Because Cold had murdered another inmate to throw off the scent, this led to a fist fight between Cold and Flash which saw Cold's defeat and transfer to Belle Reve Penitentiary. Obviously the defeat had an adverse effect on Cold because he was so sure that he would overcome, but didn’t. He lost again.

Captain Cold has always been one to hold family in high regard since he's never quite had a functioning one side from the Rogues, so his time on the Suicide Squad was devastating to him. I mentioned in past Flash reviews that watching teammates die mission after mission must have done something to his psyche and Lex Luthor took advantage of that when offering him and his actual friends a way to win against The Flash. All of that led to this.

King Cold, feeling betrayed and pissed off, freezes his former friends and sister, leaving only The Flash to fight him one on one again. In their last fight, Cold wanted it to be one on one without any powers, but he lost that fight because of Flash’s iron will. As he removes his cold weather clothes, he reveals that Luthor’s Gift wasn’t just improved gear, but it was a supercharge of power implanted into him. Their final face off will be hand to hand with powers.

This final shot is absolutely poster worthy. Duce conveys the rage emanating from both of them with jaws wide as if they were yelling at each other. Fists are cocked back, ready to pummel their opponent into the ground, especially Cold as he has frozen his arms up to the elbow for maximum impact. What makes this even better is the Symbol of Doom hanging over them in the background like a terrible omen. Guerrero manages o make so many colors fit together in a brilliant display. Flash and his signature red and bright yellow makes him look heroic, the underdog in a fight shrouded in dark greens and cold greys. Cold is paler, his normally blonde hair turned completely white and his arms as blue as his cold blood.

I absolutely loved this.

Duce and Guerrero killed the art in this issue. On the scale of Flash artists for me, Duce is high up there. They manage to blend high intensity action with nice character moments to get the reader invested in character’s emotional states through visuals. Guerrero accentuates this by coloring scenes so that they fit each individual mood and can blend these all together when there’s a clash of ideology or character. Of course, Steve Wands is the glue that holds all of this together his letters are perfectly placed, distinct for each character and give every situation the proper weight to individual lines.

The Flash is an underrated hit that everyone should be reading, especially in regards to the Flash/Captain Cold saga. Their rivalry has been a grand center point on the level of Batman and Bane’s right now or Superman and good storytelling (zing!) I can only wonder where things go from here and what will happen to Captain Cold after this because this is probably the highest he’s ever flown, so how will he fall?

#the flash #barry allen #captain cold #leonard snart #golden glider #year of the villain #dc comics #comics #joshua williamson #christian duce #luis guerrero

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autumnhobbit · 6 years ago

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It hadn’t even been a bad day. It had even been altogether good. Bruce had gone in to Wayne Enterprises, had a long conversation with Lucius and Tim and made a surprising amount of progress in the latest number crunching for a charity venture in only an hour or two. The three of them had gone to lunch together afterwards, and Bruce had been glad seeing Tim carrying himself confidently and yet still enjoying himself. He’d come home in the afternoon with Tim and hung around with Damian and Dick, who’d come home for the weekend. Dinner had been good, and it had been nice to have most of the kids at home. He’d had a nice, hot shower and gone to bed gratefully. He was taking a night off and looked forward to sleeping in. He didn’t even have trouble falling asleep.

But he dreamed about Jason. He dreamed about one of their vacations together where they went to a nice little bungalow Bruce had bought out in the country, close enough to the nearest town to drive to food, but far enough to be off the side of a road somewhere, on a nice piece of ground with woods and a creek. Jason had loved it. He’d practically spent the entire time outside, only calling it quits when Bruce gently nagged him in for bed well past 11:00. There was a rope swing hanging from a tree next to the creek, and Jason had jumped in at least a hundred times over the week they stayed. He always came back up almost instantly, coughing and gasping and laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. He’d scramble to the shore in soaking wet jeans shorts and a faded tee, dripping hair almost completely covering his face. Bruce had to stifle a laugh, whether he was watching from the kitchen window, or from the shoreline.

In reality, of course, the trip had gone off with shockingly no serious hitches. Of course there had been the occasional small disagreement between him and Jason, but none of them resulted in anything more than a moment of sour expressions and angry pouting. Most of the time, they were getting along well. Very well. So well that Bruce could sometimes hardly believe it had ever happened. That he and Jason had ever been that close, that comfortable with each other.

In reality, Jason had always come up from the creek. In reality, Bruce had put him to bed every night in the little twin with the light blue sheets in the smaller room, with a kiss on the forehead, a pat on the shoulder, and a quiet, “Good night, Jay.” In reality, Jason had dutifully packed up his backpack and loaded it back in the truck and climbed shotgun to come home with Bruce, and had watched the little house grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind them.

In reality, he’d pulled back from the window and sat slouched back with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the windshield in silence for maybe fifteen miles, after which point he’d lowly admitted, voice gravelly with sincerity, “That was the best time I’ve ever had, B.”

In the dream, the little house was empty. Bruce had only turned his back for a second, but when he remembered, he ran through it, searching the whole place. But he was alone.

He tore out the back door and pelted down toward the creek. “Jason!” He roared.

The rope swing was still drifting slowly back and forth, like it had been used. But there was no Jason coming up out of the water laughing so hard he cried, no Jason on the shoreline shaking off like a wet dog. No movement on the surface of the water, either.

“Jason!” Bruce ran into the water, himself. It wasn’t that deep, only up to his waist, but he was still afraid, more afraid than he could ever remember being in his life, except maybe once. He sloshed through the water forcefully, searching the creekbed, but his son was nowhere to be found.

He woke with a soft gasp and a sharp jarring that made his whole body jerk where he was curled on his side, tangled in his comforter. The bright-red numbers on his alarm clock reading 2:07 greeted him.

Bruce just lay there for a moment, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was hammering against his ribs and he scrubbed at the itchy wet streaks that desperate, unconscious tears had left on his face.

Today wasn’t any special, significant date. He hadn’t done or seen anything to dredge the memory, or the nightmare, up from the recesses of his mind. He hadn’t been fear-gassed, he hadn’t been hurt or seen anyone else hurt. He’d just gone to sleep and had a nightmare, and now he didn’t want to close his eyes again. Damnit.

He rolled away from the damned alarm clock and sighed shakily, resettling. He wanted to go back to sleep, he really did...but he couldn’t shake the fear that if he did, he’d go back into the dream. If he did, the dream might start pulling from reality to torture him. Might show him a scorched body, a twisted neck, a limp hand with freckles hidden in thick soot. An empty face. A still body. The top of a matted black head, cradled against him.

Bruce gulped, and closed burning eyes against more hot tears, coming quicker and more insistently.

He wondered where Jason was right now, what he was doing. Probably sleeping, he hoped. Yes, that was it. Fast asleep in his apartment, probably wrapped up like a turtle in the covers. Drooling on his pillow. Blissfully dreaming of muscle cars and guns, or whatever it was teenagers dreamed of. Even though he was twenty now, and not a teenager anymore.

Another stab of pain, there. He glanced back at the clock. 2:10. He heaved an exhausted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table, but then hesitated. If Jason was sleeping, he didn’t want to call him, wake him up. That wouldn’t be fair. He dropped his hand listlessly onto the covers, halfway to his phone.

But. He really didn’t want to go back to sleep. And he knew that he wouldn’t stop worrying about Jason, and thinking about him, until he really knew that he was safe and healthy, in his apartment or wherever, like he should be. Like he would be if he’d never met Bruce.

So Bruce sat up, and he tossed off the covers and stood up. He stumbled over to his closet and switched the light on, blinking away stinging, blurred dark shapes as his vision re-adjusted. He clumsily pulled out a pair of jeans and a plain henley, and changed from his pajama pants into them. A leather jacket went on over the top, and he shoved on some sneakers before going to grab his wallet and phone. He switched off his alarm before he left the room.

It wouldn’t do any harm to go check on him. He’d just drive over across town real quick and peek in the window. Jason didn’t need to know he was there. Better to leave him alone unless he asked, anyway. Just to make sure he was alright, and then Bruce would come home and try to go back to bed.

He went quietly down the stairs and through the main hall. The house was as quiet as it got, with its creaky, antique heating system and all the noisy water pipes and all. It was shockingly empty at night, even though he knew the bedrooms were full, at the moment, of his sons and Alfred. Cassie was having a sleepover at Steph’s, tonight. She’d texted him about it and was very excited.

He grabbed the keys to one of his more normal cars and quietly went through the door to the garage, locking it behind him.

He climbed in the car, started it, adjusted the seats and mirrors. He pulled out of the garage and wound his way down the driveway and out the gates.

Gotham was surprisingly peaceful as he drove through the metro area. There were a few other cars on the road, with music blaring so loud he could hear it clearly. But aside from that, there were few people out on the streets, aside from the occasional small group of party-goers, who staggered out of one or another bar in a tangled mess of people, laughing the whole way. The intersections were empty, and Bruce found himself looking into lit-up windows of empty stores and restaurants, tracing the lines of neon lights spelling the name of a cafe or bar. He’d always liked getting to be in the city past dark. It meant getting to drive home through downtown, and he used to lean against the back window of whatever car he was riding in and watch the lights go by outside. Sometimes he would be alone in the back seat. Sometimes his mother would be in the back with him, her soft hand resting gently on his back or his shoulder or his head while he looked away from her. After she’d died, he wished he’d spent the time looking at her, instead.

He pulled up to Jason’s apartment building wearily, and parked across the street at one of the meters. He climbed out and locked the doors, sticking his hands into his jacket pockets. It was late enough that he’d have to go for the window. The lobby of Jason’s building had been closed for hours. He shook his head at himself, but crossed the street and looked for a good spot to start from. There was a decorative ledge around every level of the building. He had to step onto someone’s windowsill to get up to it. Thankfully, they had their curtains drawn.

From there, it wasn’t too much work to clamber his way up. He walked on the ledge, one hand against the side of the building. Jason’s apartment was on the corner not bordering another building, the corner that was parallel with the road. He crouched down beside Jason’s window and peered in. The lights were off inside. He was looking in on Jason’s living room. It was empty.

Jason was probably just asleep back in his room. Bruce cursed himself for the nervousness still twisting in his middle. He cursed himself further as he checked the window and found Jason’s security measures, and started disabling them. What the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s going to be pissed at you for breaking into his house. You won’t tell him why you’re really here, so he’ll come up with some motivation he thinks you have and get angry at you because he thinks you distrust him. You always do this, just because you’re too damned stubborn to leave him be. He does better without you. If you would just stay away from him…

“No,” Bruce mumbled out loud, fiercely despite the low volume. He pressed one of the connections on the wire and slid the window open.

He climbed in and dropped lightly onto his feet on Jason’s clean carpeted floor. The apartment was completely still and quiet, and Bruce was loath to disturb it even as he kept going. Step after step, his feet took him to the door to Jason’s bedroom. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out, and twisted the knob, leaning just enough that he could peer in.

Jason’s bed was empty.

And just like that, Bruce’s carefully-constructed and well-maintained facade of calm dissolved with all the force of a battering ram. He actually had to grasp the doorknob to keep himself upright. For a long moment—far too long—he just stood there, in the doorway of his son’s empty bedroom, his head spinning.

When clarity came back, it hit him hard. He let go of the doorknob as if burned. A list of actions formed in fiery certainty, and he yanked his phone out of his pocket. He’d check Jason’s location on the tracker app they all had—but what if it wasn’t an emergency? Jason was a grown man, after all. Maybe he’d just stayed out late of his own free will? Maybe he was visiting a friend? He hadn’t known Jason to be much of a partier when he was younger, but that could have changed. Hell, maybe he was out with a girl tonight. The thought, though obvious, made Bruce wince. It wasn’t that he was against Jason having a relationship—far from it. But the concept of his son out sleeping with some unknown party just reminded him of how distant he was now, how little he really knew of Jason’s day-to-day life.

Still. The thought was there now. So he fired off a text to Barbara first, knowing she’d still be up. She might not know what Jason was up to lately, though, at least on a personal front. Dick would be more likely to know that sort of thing, but Bruce didn’t want to wake him for nothing.

Barbara texted back quickly. Talked to him within the week. He’s in Gotham. Need me to pull up his tracker?

Bruce jotted back, Not yet. Thank you.

Next, he pulled up Dick’s number. Sorry, chum, he thought apologetically, and hit send.

He wasn’t sure if he was more grateful or saddened when Dick fired back instantly. Emergency?

Not sure yet, he replied.

He hasn’t said anything about any new friends or anything. Roy or Kory would’ve told me if he was with them. I can’t speak for Artemis or Bizzarro, but they usually don’t need any covert tracking.

A pause. You need me?

Bruce shook his head, but his pained smile was still a smile while he typed out a reply. I’ll try to handle it. I will call you if I need you. I know it’s an asshole move on my part...but try to go back to sleep.

A pause. The rolling ellipses in the text box. Then, Alright. Love you.

Bruce blinked hard, surprised. He stared at his screen for a second. Then he typed out, You too. Sorry I woke you.

Shut up, popped up in less than a second.

Bruce smiled, and switched apps. His expression dropped again as he hit the tracker app. Flashing lights came up—none of his children were out tonight, so there was a cluster of markers in the Manor. Cass and Steph were in Steph’s house on the north side of Gotham, in Stephanie’s mom’s house in a suburban neighborhood. Kate was out tonight—Bruce averted his eyes. He tried to give her her privacy as best he could.

Jason’s tracker was on the borders of the Bay, maybe a mile down from the downtown strip, where the relatively secure-feeling, metro waterfront turned quickly into shipping yards and parking garages and collapsing buildings and industrial parks. The city’s murder headquarters. Crime Alley was in the heart of it. But Jason’s tracker was in it, and it wasn’t moving.

Bruce gulped. He could just be doing a stakeout. He could be fine.

What if he wasn’t?

Bruce shoved his phone back into his pocket, and turned around quickly, heading out the narrow hallway toward the window he’d come through rapidly. If Jason was hurt, and his communications had somehow been disabled, or he’d been trapped, or kidnapped, Bruce wasn’t going to leave him a second longer than he had to. He didn’t have time to swing back to the Cave and change; he’d have to make do with his civilian car and whatever he could cobble together from the emergency kit. Maybe he could call Selina—her apartment wasn’t far from there; she’d know if anything was going on—

This all assumes he’s still alive, the sadistic voice in his mind which sounded shockingly like the Joker’s sneered at him, and not lying dead in a warehouse right now.

The thought had been dancing around the edges of Bruce’s mind all evening, the possibility always hanging over his shoulder, whispering in his ear, but he clenched his eyes shut instantly and felt very cold and sick. The nightmare came rushing back, right in front of him—with Jason still and cold in a pool of blood on a nondescript concrete floor, Jason riddled with bullets or tied in an abandoned office somewhere, Jason’s rope swing dancing back and forth limply, Jason’s empty twin bed in the little house, Jason’s empty bed back in the Manor—

And he froze halfway through Jason’s living room, because someone was climbing in the window, halfway through, one foot down on the floor, body mostly turned away. Until they turned their head and familiar, wide green eyes locked with his, startled.

All the breath left Bruce raggedly in more relief than he could remember feeling in a long while. Jason hovered there in the dark, staring at Bruce. Hardly any of his face was visible aside from those glowing eyes. Bruce stared back for a moment before dropping his gaze, ashamed of his panic and ashamed of having broken into Jason’s apartment at an ungodly hour of the morning over nothing but a silly, stupid nightmare.

Jason cleared his throat awkwardly. Bruce saw his booted foot on the floor hop around clumsily as he pulled his other foot down from the window. He fumbled with the lock. “Well,” he said, tone unreadable. “Imagine my surprise when I went to unlock my window to come in from patrol and found it was standing open.”

Bruce belatedly noticed the handgun Jason had in his left hand, and while the sight made something in his stomach twist sharply like it always did, he couldn’t say he was surprised. Hell, he couldn’t say he blamed Jason. Their life was dangerous, and anything out of place could be a warning sign. A failure to notice and react accordingly could result in death. Often did, where crime was concerned.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said hoarsely.

At that, Jason’s head whipped to the side, eyes narrowed but shocked. “What the hell happened?” He asked, incredulous. He scanned Bruce up and down, taking in the outfit. “You doing some plainclothes op tonight? Something go wrong?” The skin around his eyes paled suddenly. “Anyone hurt?”

Bruce shook his head hard. “No,” he exhaled. “No...god, I. Jason, I—“

Jason yanked down the shades and the room grew even darker. Bruce couldn’t see him anymore, just a tall, slightly darker shape hovering in front of him. “You can keep stammering if you like,” Jason said dully, and Bruce could hear his soft but heavy footfalls in the carpet crossing the room. “But I’m gonna go clean up while you’re doing it.”

Bruce said nothing in reply. He couldn’t. He drifted in Jason’s wake, over toward the doorway to the kitchen. Just as he stopped in the doorway, the light over the sink flicked on, and Bruce’s eyes narrowed in pain at the sudden change in light. By the time he’d blinked them back open, Jason was running water in the sink and was ducking his face down to wash it in his hands, and the water running down between his fingers was tinged orange.

Bruce had crossed the room before he knew what had happened and was pulling Jason back from the sink while he sputtered and half-squeaked, “The fuck are you doing?” in genuine startlement.

Bruce ignored him to grasp his chin and yank it upright so he could see his face. Jason’s eyes were so wide his pupils had shrunk to dots, and there was blood still spilling down over them. Bruce shoved his hair aside to reveal a cut in his forehead, dripping down to cover his face. Bruce tried to trace the edge of the cut, and Jason hissed and his eyes clenched. He fumbled and tugged at Bruce’s hands, trying to get loose.

“Where was your helmet?” Bruce demanded, heart pounding.

“It—ah, fuck—it got broken so I ditched it!” Jason snapped, smacking Bruce’s hand away. “It’s not even that deep, damn!”

And now that Bruce looked at it, really looked at it, Jason was right. It really wasn’t. It was bleeding, sure, but it was a head wound. Those tended to bleed heavily. He’d just seen Jason’s face covered in blood and….overreacted. And he flushed upon realizing how easily he could have scared the hell out of Jason for no real reason other than his own pathetic fucking paranoia. “I’m.” He said lamely.

Jason wasn’t listening, anyway. He was feeling the cut, himself, with a hiss. He stuck his head under the faucet again and cringed while he rinsed the blood off, and then grabbed for the bottle of dish soap beside the sink. He squirted some into his hand and rubbed it into the cut quickly, hissing curses the entire time. He rinsed it off and yanked off a wad of paper towels, pressing it up against his forehead. “Fuckin’ typical, get back and gotta fuckin’ juggle this and you at the same damn time,” he muttered sourly. He stomped past Bruce and tugged an overstuffed kit from an overhead cabinet and yanked out a handful of gauze and tape and antibiotic ointment. With his load of supplies, he stalked back into the dark living room. Bruce hung his head and stayed in the living room. He was coming down from his adrenaline high, and he wished to hell he’d just stayed in bed when he’d woke up in a cold sweat. He’d done it plenty of damn times. That was harmless, at least. That never got anyone pissed with him.

Well. That part probably wasn’t true. He seemed to wind up pissing people off no matter what he did, sometimes.

His whole body ached, but not as much as his chest did. He wished he was back in bed, asleep, but he also had the feeling that even if he left right now and went home, he wouldn’t make it before he broke down in tears. And fucking hell, did he hate that. He shouldn’t be like this. Nothing had even fucking happened. And he’d driven across town at two in the morning, broken into Jason’s apartment, and panicked not once but twice, once in front of Jason, with all his usual grace. He never fucked up by halves. He gritted his teeth and cleared his throat, blinking hard. Damnit, no. Not here, not fucking now. Jason was in the living room, and Bruce knew he could hear it, because the rustling noise from him fumbling with the plastic wrapping around the gauze paused.

“Uh. You gonna stand in my kitchen all night, or you gonna come in here and tell me why the fresh hell you’re actually here?”

Bruce hunched over, hands in his pockets again, and dutifully stepped back into the dark living room. His shadow cut most of the light off. Jason was still visible, perched on the edge of the armchair sitting perpendicular to the couch. Angular shadows cut across his body. He was putting tape on the last side of the gauze patch, and then he clumsily brushed his stiff bangs down over it. As soon as that was done, he lounged back heavily in the chair and spread his hands expectantly. “Well?”

Bruce ducked his head down. “I. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

Jason blinked. He drew his chin back and blinked again. He glanced around, like the room held an answer to the problem of Bruce. “A mistake is putting too little sugar in your coffee or getting an Arby’s sandwich without asking for sauce. You driving across town—yes, I saw your car out there—hacking my security system and climbing in my window, doing who knows what standing around in my apartment for an indeterminate amount of time, and then flipping out over a tiny cut is anything but a mishap. Especially when it’s fucking you talking. You never do anything by accident. You’re Mister-Thorough-Batman himself. So what. The hell. Are you doing here?” Jason asked again, pointedly, staring up and waiting for Bruce’s answer.

He didn’t seem angry, Bruce realized suddenly. He wasn’t hissing, he wasn’t growling, his eyes weren’t narrowed, his jaw wasn’t set. He was open and confused. Maybe irritated, but not furious. Mostly exasperated, probably. And it made Bruce even more sorry and drained than he already was. He didn’t—he couldn’t come up with any reasoning to hide the truth. There was no explanation, nothing he could say that would disguise what he’d done and why, and Jason would see how fucked up he was and be glad that they never saw each other, anymore. But he couldn’t just not respond. “Nothing.” He said flatly.

Jason sank his head into his hand with a sigh married with a moan. “I just got finished saying—“

“No.” Bruce cut him off. “I mean it. Nothing. Nothing at all happened. I am here for no good reason at all.”

Jason stared despairingly at the far wall, mouth open, eyes stuck in a restrained roll upwards. “You came over and broke into my apartment, past midnight, for no reason,” he said plainly, to the wall.

“Nothing. Nothing happened at all,” Bruce said, and his chest twisted and his throat burned and words came and came and didn’t stop. “I was fine, everything’s fine, I was asleep and comfortable and everyone’s home and safe and it’s my night off and I was going to sleep in, and then I dreamed of that fucking house in the woods we went to when you were thirteen, that trip you loved so much that I never went back to the house after but never sold it because I’m a fucking moron and I couldn’t touch something you loved, and you weren’t there and I was looking for you and you weren’t in the creek either, and there was nothing wrong, nothing happened when we were there and there was no fucking body so there wasn’t even any reason to be so upset even in a fucking dream, but I woke up and I was so scared that I couldn’t think and I definitely couldn’t go back to sleep—“

Bruce buried his face in his hands, and he kept spilling out words like blood from an open wound. “And I thought about—I was going to call you but then I didn’t because I didn’t want to wake you and it was stupid anyway, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep and see you actually dead this time, and I thought, I thought maybe if I just came to check on you and make sure you were alright and secure in bed like the others, maybe then I could sleep, and I needed to—I should be checking on you anyway, you’re my son and a father ought to know where his son is and whether he’s alright or not but I didn’t—“

“Bruce,” Jason said tightly, his voice very small.

Bruce choked on more and forced himself to stop. But he didn’t look up at Jason. He couldn’t. He was crying. A complete wreck, and over nothing. He kept his face hidden in his hands, even though the tears were plainly visible, shameful.

“B, hey.” Jason said again, very soft. “Look. Look at me.”

Bruce didn’t want to. But he very slowly raised his head anyway.

Jason was watching him with a wary expression, tired but accepting and with understanding. “You fucking lugnut,” he sighed, shaking his head, but it sounded fond somehow. “You know you could have just called me? We work stupid hours, it’s not like I’m a normal person where it’s the end of the whole damn world if I get a text at two in the morning.”

Bruce shook his head. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered darkly. “An oversensitive idiot and I—“

“Shut up,” Jason said back, just as dark, and he was glaring. “Okay, you’re oversensitive about a lot of damn things, but being afraid of death is not one of them. You’re not even fucking irrationally afraid of it like normal people are. But you could have just checked my tracker from the start. Why didn’t you?”

Bruce shrugged listlessly. “Didn’t want to intrude on your privacy. Didn’t want to bother you.”

Jason sighed. “Well that’s out of the question at this point.” He rubbed at his eyes with a scraped-up hand, and waved his free hand at Bruce. “Will you just sit down before you fall over or something? You’re making me nervous.”

Obediently, Bruce wandered out of the doorway and dropped onto the couch, blinking hard and still breathing shakily. He sank his face into his hands again. He could feel the beginnings of a headache starting and he was just so exhausted. The weight of Jason’s life and death weighed heavily on him tonight, and he was sitting in Jason’s living room. What would it take to convince his brain to stand down if sitting across the room from a breathing, speaking, physically-whole and annoyed Jason didn’t?

He almost jumped when someone dropped onto the couch beside him. But he froze when Jason sighed quietly. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you,” he mumbled.

Bruce’s heart twinged painfully in his chest. He couldn’t come up with anything to say in his defense, anything to make him anything but a sniveling hypocrite.

Which was why he froze when Jason tilted his head against his shoulder with a sigh. “Don’t you ever wear yourself out, B?” Jason asked, settling down. He sounded sleepy. “Carrying around all that messy nonsense in your head all the time? S’no wonder we’re all such a mess.”

Bruce gulped. “I know. I’m sor—“

“For what?” Jason asked, his voice surprisingly hard for how quiet it was. “For getting me killed? You didn’t. For not avenging me? Sure, I’m still pissed, but you’re not mentally capable and I get that now. For taking me into your home and giving me a family and a name that meant the world to me? Yeah, you shouldn’t have replaced me with Tim, but with all the shit that little smart aleck knows, he’d have wound up busting criminals one way or another, eventually. You gave him a family, too. I had nothing before I had you, B. I would’ve had nothing the rest of my life. Am I furious and sick to my stomach that it ended out like it did? As much as you are,” and Bruce could hear it, and it brought tears right back to his eyes, when Jason’s low voice broke and he took a breath that rattled with wetness. “I loved the hell out of you, and sometimes it pisses me off that I still do.”

“You don’t have to,” Bruce gritted, a tear or two escaping as he sat there, eyes closed, cursing himself for relishing the weight of Jason’s head on his shoulder, the scratchiness of his hair against the side of Bruce’s neck. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Bullshit you don’t,” Jason said back, just as broken. “I hate you because I love you, and because you’re so good and I can never be as good as you are at heart. Not anymore.”

That made Bruce open his eyes, stare down at his son in horrified shock. Jason was there, cheek against Bruce’s shoulder, but his eyes were turned away, leaking steadily.

“That’s not true,” Bruce choked out. “You are good, Jason. So good it astonishes me sometimes. After everything you’ve been through, all that people wronged you who shouldn’t have, all that I wronged you, you’re still kind. And you always were. Kind and selfless. You’d give your life in an instant to protect an innocent, and while it scares the hell out of me, it amazes me, too. You do things, Jason, that I never could. You—your goodness isn’t hidden inside you, it’s—it’s all over you. No one could look at you without seeing it. Mine is all,” Bruce gulped, rubbing at his chest, “all in here, but it never comes out. What good is it, if I mean well but don’t do well? What does it matter if I’m barely protecting the city if it costs me,” he broke off, crying too hard to go on. “If it costs me everything I loved? Everything I never expected to have, and I wasn’t prepared for?”

Jason pulled away, and Bruce winced through his tears, but he was climbing onto his knees on the couch and he threw his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and held tight. “You’re such a jackass sometimes,” he choked, rocking back. Bruce couldn’t respond for a moment, just leaned his head against Jason’s shoulder this time, hiding his tears in his son’s faded black tee shirt.

“I get it now,” Jason went on, sniffling. “I get that you were always a mess, too. Dick knew it, but I didn’t get it. To me...to me you were just Dad. A-Always just Dad. It took dying to break that image, and that was what—what broke me. But I realized,” he amended quickly, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and gripping Bruce again just as hard as before, “I realized it wasn’t fair. To you or me. Neither of us are what you could call healthy, but—but that doesn’t mean we can’t. We can’t have each other.”

Bruce finally managed to hug Jason back, and he held on as tight as he could while sobbing harder than he had in months. God. He didn’t deserve this. He could never deserve this. He could never deserve a second chance, to hold his son tight, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him, and to have him living and breathing and hugging him back. The boy grown into a man who against all odds, still loved him. Even with everything he’d done wrong.

But here he was. And here Jason was. And life had already taken so much from both of them that Bruce would be damned if he let it take this again without a fight.

The two of them sat there together on Jason’s couch, calming and breaking down again at intervals. Sometimes only one of them hunched over in tears and the other sat patiently and scrubbed away the tears with a calloused or scarred hand. Sometimes both of them fell apart together at once. Sometimes one would start and the other would quickly follow. Bruce lost track of the early hours of the morning. His whole life had momentarily shrunk to Jason’s living room, and the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on Jason’s cheeks that scratched against his hand when he rubbed the tears away with his thumb, and the hoarse sniffles that escaped Jason when he started to calm down again and curled up against Bruce, leaned into the arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders.

And when Bruce woke up, he was tipped over against the arm of Jason’s couch, and dull afternoon sunlight was drifting in the room through the curtains. And Jason was slumped against his side, breathing softly into his jacket.

Bruce cupped a hand around the back of Jason’s skull, bristly black hair tickling his hand. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jason’s temple.

And then he leaned down and went back to sleep.

#my fic #bruce wayne #jason todd #batfam #batfamily #dc

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 7 years ago

Text

Gladly Mistaken

Summary: Loving Halloween is one thing. Attending a party is another. Being called slut by your boyfriend is painful. Drinking is a normal reaction. But kissing the wrong person in costume? It can either be pathetic or having a surprising ending.

Word Count: 2772

Pairing: Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Forever tag list: @multilovee @5sospoplikerock @rosecoloredshawn @mieczzyslaw

Warning: Swearing, mention of dirty things huhu

A/N: So this is my entry for @obrosey-af Halloween writing contest challenge with the prompt to like kiss wrong person in costume! I love Halloween but I never get to chance to celebrate. My school was not decorated. No one was dressed up. Even no candies. Yeah. Sucks. But there’s so many good fics on tumblr! I doubt mine is as much as good as the ones I read but here, this is my Halloween gift to all of you!

Don’t be mistaken. I loved to attend partys, especially when it was Halloween. It was my favorite holyday, I loved spending hours making my own costumes, creating them to be more than perfect. Armed with my sewing machine and a good dose of patience, I was unbeatable. So, of course, when Josh, my boyfriend since a few months, told me that there was a costume party at his favorite bar, I jumped of joy, grabbed my costume and used the last days to work on it. Between Josh and me it wasn’t the joy lately, he became distant, cold and could stop texting me for many days without saying anything to finally appear in front of my house with a big smile, flowers and a package of condom. So when he told me about the party, knowing my passion for Halloween, it touched me.

He was still thinking of me.

And besides, I had promised him a costume to go in pair with me. Many hours of hard work later, fingers stung to the blood and time I could have taken to study, I finally finished our costumes and the joy I had to put mine and give his to Josh gave me a huge smile on the face that stayed all day until the evening of the event.

Deciding to surprise my boyfriend, I went to get ready before he arrived. I slipped the stockings on my thighs and then put on the blue and red shorts. The length of it made me quite uncomfortable, but I was ready to put on the costumes I had long worked on. Then I placed my feet in the high-heeled boots entirely homemade, the master piece of my costume. The little, slightly torn white, red and blue crop top next with the bracelets, the necklace with the inscription pudding and the fake tattoos. Then, I worked my face, applied a temporary color in my hair to make it blond and tied them in two ponytails on each side of my head which I dyed one end blue and the other pink. I put on makeup to my lips, eye shadow same color to my hair around my eyes, and finally, the final touch, the fake tattoo on my cheek and the baseball bat.

I looked at myself one last time in the mirror and sketched my most psychopathic smile that I could, trying to appear as my character.

Then, someone knocked on my door, making me jump. I glanced at my cell phone next to me on the bathroom counter to notice that I had spent more than two hours preparing myself. I sighed, a smile stretching my red lips before gamboling towards the front door, my baseball bat in hand to go open to my boyfriend. I was anxious to see his reaction seeing me dressed like that, because I was very proud of my shot. However, when I opened the door, my smile disappeared as fast as a kick that can be administered between the legs of a gentleman, the disappointment curving my lips down for a pout.

"Oh, babe, Harley Quin! Wow, you're hot!” Josh entered, gave me a kiss on the lips before heading to my kitchen after slamming my ass violently, leaving me freezing on the spot.

"I thought ..." I started, closing the door while he was helping himself in my fridge, catching a beer between his black-gloved fingers. I swallowed, trying to regain my joy. "That we ... we were having costume duo... "

A nervous and embarrassed laugh made my chest tremble as I glanced at the sofa where I had carefully folded his costume.

"Oh, sorry babe. I bought a suit with Mary yesterday. She wanted to see me in Batman, but hey, it doesn’t matter, Harley and Batman are still a duo, right? Aw, come on, don’t act like a kid,” Josh ended by throwing his beer already empty in the trashcan, passing in front of me to go out without forgetting to grab my ass as he passed. "Come on, I'll be in the car," Batman ordered and left my apartment without waiting for me. My eyelids closed and I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

"All right, Y / n. Your nice little shit of a boyfriend just forgot you made him a costume to go buy one with his slutty ex. Everything’s fine. It's Halloween, what can go wrong? "

And it was on these unconvincing words that I nodded, got out of my apartment and left the Joker costume in my living room, untouched.

I was wrong.

When we arrived, the loud music greeted us, making my rib cage tremble. On the way, several people hooted at me and whistled, something I wasn’t used to, but I stayed in the character. My bat on my shoulder, I sent them my best psychopath smile while following Josh who went automatically to the bar to order a drink.

"You sound like a whore," his voice shouted over the music, making me turn my head sharply towards him, my eyes wide.

"What ?!” I indignantly stared as he sipped his glass of amber alcohol.

"All the guys are looking at you, and you're smiling at them. I don’t recognize you anymore, Y / n. "

And on those very hurtful words, my boyfriend raised the corner of his mouth, a sign of pure selfish judgment and left me alone at the bar. I saw batman going somewhere until I lost him in the sea of costumed people. I swallowed my tears, bit my lower lips and closed my eyes, not wanting to cry, not here, not now. But the pain in my chest was strong. So when I opened my eyes, it was to order a shooter.

A shooter turned into two, then three, then four, mixing through some beer and glass of whiskey, almost all paid by men trying on the small and helpless Harley Quinn. But all retreated, receiving insults and threats, my baseball bat dangerously pointed at them.

My brain was so numb that I didn’t really know where I was anymore, the smell of sweat and alcohol, added to the loud music and the fast, colorful lights were starting to make me sick. I had to go out to get some fresh air. I searched for the well-seeing red light board indicating the exit. Once I founf it, I took my bag and my baseball bat and started to steer myself towards the exit, my heels starting to be hard to walk with.

Something to my right suddenly caught my eye. A black and rather tall figure wearing a cape and a bat mask was in conversation with a very beautiful and sexy catwoman with a plunging neck line. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol in my blood or just my anger, or even my exhausted patience, but to see Batman, aka my boyfriend soon to be my ex flirting with a girl more beautiful than me wearing skin-tight leather pissed me off. I walked towards him firmly, my heels slamming loudly at each step and I stopped near them. Since I wasn’t getting noticed by either of them, I poked the shoulder of Batman. The latter turned to me and without letting him the chance to speak, I pressed my mouth against his own while keeping his face forcibly close to mine by holding his neck strongly with my hand that didn’t hold my bat. I opened my lips and let my tongue go out, making the kiss hot and very wet, tasting the spice of his last glass of alcohol he had consumed. I deliberately looked at the catwoman in the eyes while washing the inside of his mouth with my tongue, feeling his moans vibrating against my lips without hearing them under the deafening music. As soon as I finished, a steam of saliva connected our mouths a moment, I sent him the most powerful slap I could, making his head tilt to the side. Then, satisfied, I placed my bat on my shoulder and left without waiting for my rest.

As soon as I was outside, I took a deep breath, the fresh air of the October night was real refreshment for my lungs. I had taken without noticing the rear exit that led to the alley between the bar and the next building, but that didn’t matter to me. I had some peace, peace to try and put my ideas back in place. Once my lungs were well ventilated, the music sounding softly in my ears, I walked to a small concrete step and sat there to then look in my bag for cigarettes. Still angry and numb by alcohol, I looked for my lighter. Once it was in my hands, I placed my palms near the mouthpiece so the wind didn’t extinguish the flame and scraped my thumb on the small metal gear that emitted a little muffled sound, but no fire. I groaned and tried several times, but each time a little smoke and an annoying sound told me that there was no more gas in my lighter.

I swore loudly, throwing my lighter away as I rolled my eyes in my eyelids and tried but in vain to drive away the tears from running down my cheeks, spoiling the makeup that had taken me so much time to do.

My phone rang in my bag, alerting me of a text message. I grabbed it with one hand, the other still holding my cigarette, to see a message from Josh.

Josh: Left with Mary. Couldn’t find you. Later.

I groaned, outraged, my breath stuck in my lungs as I saw the message. Not only was he abandonning me, alone, on foot, away from home ... but with his ex?

"Somebody kill me ..."

Totally absorbed by the contemplation of the puddle of water at my feet, my head between my hands and my elbows resting on my lap, I didn’t notice the lapse of time where the music became louder. Neither the sound of footsteps of a person walking towards me. I knew I was no longer alone only when the significant sound of a lighter that lit made me jump, a flame of a comforting orange dancing before my eyes. A gasp of relief escaped my lips and I rushed my cigarette against the flame, the other mouthpiece in my mouth and took a long and satisfying nicotine puff, thanking the person without looking at him.

"No problem," he replied in a deep, husky voice, a voice that shook my whole body. That voice, I knew it. But where did I hear it? The pale smoke left my lips as I exhaled slowly and looked up to see who had lit me. A black coat, a cloak, if I hadn’t heard his voice I would have been persuaded it was Josh. But when I saw his face, minus the mask, my mouth paralyzed open. Luckily I held my cigarette in my hand because it would have fallen into the water.

"Wow. Either I drank too much, which I doubt because I often drink more, or they changed the ingredients in this ... " I glanced at my cigarette in my hand, then back to the Batman. "You really look like Dylan O'Brien. You even have the same voice," I continued as I got up, pointing him with my hand holding my cigarette. He also had one in his hand now without the black glove and the smoke came out of his mouth irregularly when he burst out laughing.

"Oh. I thought you knew it when you kissed me... But when you hit me afterwards I realized that you must have been mistaken, Harley Quin."

This time, the cigarette fell from my mouth and went out into the puddle, my mouth still frozen wide open, exactly like my eyes staring.

" Oh. No. I. Am. So. Fucking. Sorry.” I put my hands in my face, remorse and embarrassment too strong. "I ... I took you for my boyfriend ... well, my ex, I mean ... it's complicated ..." I pulled my fingers out from my eyes to spy on the Batman who was Dylan fucking O'Brien. "He's an asshole that just left with his ex. Leaving me alone. Without any way to get back home.” I laughed nervously, dropping my hands near my hips.

"It sucks," Dylan commented, raising a compassionate eyebrow and handed me his cigarette. At first, I shook my head, not wanting to abuse the poor actor who had eaten my hand on my face.

"You've washed my tonsils with your tongue, I'm pretty sure you did. We can share a small mari joint."

I shrugged and took what he held out, taking a deep breath before stopping. Had he said… marijuana joint?

"So what does Dylan O'Brien do at a Halloween party?” I let the smoke slowly out through my nostrils, savoring the special and numbing taste.

"The same as Harley Quin ..." He answered, detailing me with his amber eyes rather black in the darkness of the alley. "Do you want to finish that elsewhere?” He offered, taking another puff.

I don’t know why I accepted. Neither why he had proposed. Maybe the mix of different alcohol, cigarettes and marijuana, adding to the rising heat in me of having one of my favorite actors in front of me, dressed as Batman and inviting me to celebrate Halloween with him, but I accepted. I took my baseball bat and followed him, a smile probably looking creepy on my face since the makeup was ruined, but oh well. It fitted the character.

The first thing that woke me the next day wasn’t the horrible migraine, or the ray of light that filtered between the curtain and the window. It was the loud, shrill ringing sound of my phone that rang out into the deepest corner of my head, making me cringe with rage as I blindly grabbed my bag to answer, my eyes still closed. My other hand was on my forehead in order to calm the pain.

"Hello ..." I answered in a pasty voice.

"Y / n! Where are you?! You spent the night elsewhere? What happened?” Josh was screaming in my ears. He had let me down. And he was shouting at me. I groaned and cut him off.

"You're an asshole, Josh. A bastard full of shit. I leave you, it’s over, go fuck your ex," and on these words, I closed my cell and threw it somewhere in the room where it fell into a soft sound.

After turning in the bed, my arm touched something soft and cold, fabric resembling satin of hotel sheets. My eyes still closed, I mumbled some incoherent sentences for myself.

"Wow. I dreamed I had taken Dylan O'Brien disguised as Batman for my ex. Wow. Haha ..." I laughed, running a hand under the blanket only to touch my bare skin. Without worrying about the pain, I opened my eyes sharply, staring at the white and a little too luxurious ceiling.

"Why am I naked. In a Kingsize bed too expensive for me. In a hotel room."

"Because it wasn’t a dream," a mocking voice I recognized near my ear to my right gently made, making my head turn sharply to its source. And there, beside me was lying Dylan O'Brien, head against his palm and elbow on the pillow, starting at me with the most beautiful smile of the universe, his messy hair making him only more adorable.

"Oh. God.” I couldn’t believe it. In a random and confused act I lifted the blanket to look underneath and see that he was as naked as me. "Oh my God.” Everything came back to me. I followed him to his hotel room. We talked, drank, smoked, it was good. He had said how beautiful I was, gently caressing the skin of my arms when he could have easily touched my thighs. Respect was present even with alcohol and drugs. And when he had said how much my tongue kissing technique still required some practice, I told him to teach me.

And we. Had. Sex. Together. Sex. Him. With. Me.

"Oh my fucking God. "

"Call me Dylan," he whispered softly in a voice that made me melt inside. "That's the name I made you scream last night ... Harley Quin. Or should I say ... Y / n?"

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dontfeedthebabytigers · 7 years ago

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You’ve Got So Much Heart: Chapter 5

ao3 link (x)

last chapter (x)

first chapter (x)

When Batman was able to retrain all of the cultists and confirm that the package was a misdirect, he went to the rooftop, fists clenched and ready to defend his Robin. The sight of the Joker and Red Hood hogtied with grapple wire was not what he had expected. Only years of expert training kept Batman from displaying his confusion, but he almost slipped and showed his relief when his eyes landed on Robin. His partner sat on an AC unit nearby, a quick glance over didn’t reveal any major injuries, maybe some bruising on his cheek that was already clearing. Robin didn’t move towards him, just sat and watched as Batman walked towards him.

“Are you okay?” Robin wasn’t the best of keeping track of his injuries, so the nod he gave didn’t ease Batman’s concern. But just asking Robin was good practice for the boy to observe what his body needed.

“He’s fine.” Red Hood grumbled from where he was tied on the ground.

Batman glared at Red Hood, at the man his son had become. His eyes landed on the guns that were unloaded and disassembled next Robin, and he looked back over to Red Hood. This time felt more like an accusation than the regular contempt that Tim was familiar with.

“You can’t honestly believe that I would try to hurt him?” Even with all the family resentment that grew a little more potent every day he still felt something for the kid, something hard to place and abstract. Whatever he felt wasn’t easy to pull dissect in his mind, and there wasn’t anybody around in the single bedroom apartment that he was squatting in. So, Tim decided there were better tasks to focus on than whatever mess his family relationships had become.

“What are you doing here, Red Hood?” Batman asked with a bite in his tone that Time was used to hearing by now.

“’You’re welcome for the rescue, Red.’” Tim said with a deep growl that mimicked Batman’s before responding in a peppy voice--- not unlike the one he used as Robin. “Don’t worry about, I live to serve.”

“He can handle himself,” Batman said as Tim wondered how anyone thought that Superman was the sanctimonious one.

“That’s a great policy against that lunatic. Must have been why he was seconds away from cutting the kids throat.” Tim smirked when he saw a little twitch of a frown on Batman’s face. Finally, a reaction. “Don’t feel that you’re still three-out-of-four on Robin’s you’ve failed. Now, I never got the chance to finish high school, but if I’m not mistaken that’s still a passing grade.”

Batman had turned his attention to Robin during Tim’s jab, but the Boy Wonder looked anywhere but the white lenses of the cowl. The bravado dropped for a minute, and Batman went over to Tim and cut him loose.

“Thanks, Old man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there’s a gang war that needs my attention and thanks to the kid I have to go find some new weapons.”

Tim turned to leave him, but a strong hand grabbed his bicep.

“Red Hood,” Batman’s voice had that weird softness to it that Tim remembered from nights when he had fallen asleep in front of the computer, waiting for his dad to come home.

Every muscle in Tim’s body tensed on contact. He hated those memories and the way they made his gut twist and his trigger finger twitch. The only thing that kept him from ripping his arm out of his father’s grasp was a genuine curiosity of what Batman was going to say.

“Leave the Joker to us.” The Bat said. “Next time, I will have you arrested.”

Typical.

“Yeah, good seeing you too, Old Man.” Tim was about to leave when he stopped and looked at his little brother. “You are okay, right?”

Robin hid his confusion well, but Tim knew he wasn’t expecting any kind of interaction from how long it took him to nod. Tim thought that he may have seen a smile on the kid’s lips, but he called it a trick of the light and shot of his grapple to carry him away.

He was a twisting hurricane of emotions that only got more intense when he ran into Batman and Robin. Nightwing always acted entitled enough when Tim was a child that he could cut himself off and feel little for the loss of their relationship. He didn’t run into Bluejay much--- even after his brother moved back to Gotham--- and their mutual frustrations made up for the tension that had existed when Jason had first taken the title of Robin from him.

Batman and Robin were different. They were a mirror of a happier time, but a cracked and splintered one. Batman was colder now. Thought he had pulled himself together for the de--taloned bird. That ruthlessness only seemed to come back when Batman had to face what Tim had done, the failure he had become.

Tim couldn’t deal with this. He didn’t have the tools to even begin. What he did have was a utility belt and a semi-automatic at ‘home’ that called him. He had the city that killed his blood father and destroyed Tim in so many new and interesting ways. That seemed a good a place as any to start.

Batman, Robin, Bluejay, and Spoiler brought the Joker to Arkham, along with all the Laughing Widows that they could capture. Bluejay didn’t stick around and said something about staying in Jump City for the night, and Spoiler stormed off after hearing how Bruce treated Red Hood. This left Batman and Robin returning home to an almost empty Man. They showered without a word, and the silence was only broken when Bruce caught Dick in an attempt to sneak upstairs.

“Not so fast, chum. You know the drill.”

Dick threw his head back in a dramatic fashion that let Bruce know that not all the performing instincts had been removed from his ward. They went to the Med Bay, where Bruce pulled on a pair of latex gloves as Dick climbed on one of the many cots. Dick pulled off the Gotham Academy sweater--- one that Bruce recognized from Damian’s wardrobe--- with practiced ease.

Bruce got to work testing Dick’s range of motion--- each of his movements televised and in the same order that they always occurred. His ward seemed to be telling the truth when he said that he had no injuries. The light bruising that had been on his jaw was already a pale yellow and would be gone by morning. Physically, his son was okay, but there was something brewing behind his blue eyes.

“That was the first time you faced the Joker in a while. How are you doing?”

Dick shrugged, and other than that motion he seemed indifferent to the events of the night.

All of Bruce’s children had run-ins with the Joker, they ranged from disturbing to unspeakable in their horror. The encounters left his own stomach turning on the best night. He had expected that Dick would be immune to the horrors of the Joker after the trauma he had experienced at the hands of the Court. But the madman had his way of ruining minds. He frustrated Damian, drove Tim to extremes, angered Jason, and, somehow, managed to make Dick wake up in a cold sweat.

His ward would never admit his fear; he didn’t know how. Bruce would worry more if Dick wasn’t so good at bouncing back from the horrific encounters with the Joker. His unshakable optimism was a mystery to Bruce and catnip for the Joker. Maybe he shouldn’t have Robin out tonight, even if it was assumed to be a punishment. Better to be upset for a while then face another criminal intent on destroying his already corrupted innocence. Bruce wondered if Dick would listen to him, or if that would be the last straw. Dick had been a rule-breaker in the beginning, and Bruce was waiting for the day that his ward’s rebellious streak came back.

He would need to consult with the others before any decisions were made about Dick being allowed to confront the Joker. In the meantime, he chose to focus on the nasty bruise that he found on Dick’s shoulder blade.

“I see your nightly activities went smoothly,” Alfred commented on the lack of gaping wounds as he entered the Med Bay with a tray that carried two hot chocolates. “How are you feeling, Master Dick?”

Dick took his mug and held out a thumb up.

“Then there’s cause for celebration. How does blueberry pancakes for breakfast sound?”

Dick beamed at his grandfather that knew that Dick’s all-time favorite was blueberry pancakes.

“Of course, I don’t believe those pancakes would take nearly as delicious when the person eating them is sleep deprived. I shudder to think that any blueberry pancakes might go to waste.” Alfred put all of his Shakespearean training into his performance.

Dick’s sense of theater still needed working on as he was soon staring wide-eyed and worried at Alfred.

“A jest, my lad. However, I must insist you make up for last night with at least eight hours of rest.”

Dick considered, but he soon nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t you head up, chum,” Bruce said, snapping off the gloves and throwing them away. “I’ll join you in a few minutes to lock up the Manor.”

He nodded once, put the sweater back on, and jumped off the table.

Once they were out of his exceptional earshot, Bruce deflated with a curse.

“I take it capturing the Joker did not go as well as I had originally thought,” Alfred said handed Bruce his hot chocolate.

“He separated us, and somehow got the upper hand on Dick.” Bruce took a long drink from his hot chocolate and hoped it would soothe his nerves like the drink had when he was a scared child. “Red Hood was there too.”

Alfred looked down. “I see. How was Master Tim, did he look healthy?”

“He did, just pissed at me for the most part.”

“So, I see nothing has changed.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “He saved Dick”

“They were always close.” Alfred smiled as fond memories of laughter from happier times played in his mind.

“yeah, they were.” Bruce meant to say more, as he always did. He had a bad habit of only speaking his mind when it wasn’t necessary or wanted. “I should get up there to him.”

“Best not to leave the lad waiting,” Alfred said, and only when Bruce was near the stairs did he call to him. “Be sure to get some rest yourself, Master Bruce. I would hate if your pancake experience was anything less than sublime.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched in the small smile that he had gotten so good at over the years. He then headed up stone stairs and left Alfred alone as the butler pulled a picture from his breast pocket. It was old, two long creases in it from being folded for years. The photo stayed with him always. The only remaining photo of Timothy Drake that remained outside of the Manor’s attic. He smiled and held on to that sweet sound of laughter for just a little longer before folding the photo and putting it away again.

#you've got so much heart #miranda writes #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #fanfic

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batfam-imagines · 7 years ago

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New Sons - Part 2

Once you’re sure the boys are asleep you quickly make your way out of Medical, heading to the ZETA tubes. Before you can get there, however, you run into a large wall of blue and red.

“Superman, can I help you with something?”

“Where are you going?” Clark crosses his arms over his chest, “I won’t let you confront Luthor. He’s dangerous, he could hurt you”

You roll your eyes, mirroring his stance, “You don’t have to ‘let’ me do anything, Kent. Now I suggest you step aside before you see just how pissed I really am at you”

“You’re mad at me?!”

“You’re damn right I’m mad at you!! Those two boys are children and all you’ve done is treat them like they are a burden to you! It’s not their fault that they were made! It’s also not their fault that you’re too wrapped up in yourself and Lois, who didn’t even care about you until she found out that you were Superman, to even give them a chance!! Now, GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!!!”

Shoving Clark hard, you continue into the ZETA tube and punch in the coordinates for Metropolis. You and Lex need to have a talk.

Mercy leads you directly into Lex’s office, going to stand behind her boss once you’re seated.

“What can I help you with, Mrs. Wayne?”

“I’m not here on business, Lex. I’m here on a personal matter”

Lex leans back, steepling his fingers, “Very well, Y/N. What are you here for?”

“I’m here to talk about Cadmus and the research that you were doing there”

“I can’t say that I know what you’re talking about”

You raise an eyebrow, “So you don’t know about the two Kryptonian clones that were taken from Cadmus by the Justice League, one of which happens to have been made from half of your DNA, virtually making him your son? You also don’t know about the full blooded Kryptonian that was also taken? The one who was given a serum to help him control himself, and was able to identify you as one of the people who he saw regularly outside of his pod?”

“I still don’t …”

“Please, Lex. I’m not here on some JLA mission, I’m here because I have two boys who are terrified that you’re going to come in and bring them back to Cadmus. I don’t want to completely cut you from their life, there are things that were done to them that I know you wouldn’t have approved of. I know that your ‘evil’ now, that you aren’t supposed to care about anyone, but Clark’s already tossed them aside and I don’t want them to lose two fathers in one day”

Lex takes a deep breath, “Mercy, please cancel my meetings for the next week. Y/N” he turns back to you, “I’d like to meet them, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d like to be a part of their lives.”

“I told them that I wouldn’t let you take them back to Cadmus. I’ll fight for them, Lex, I intend to offer them a place at the Manor, a family.”

“I know you’ll be good to them, Y/N. I would like to … make-up for any mistakes that I made in the past. I’d also like to take a look at their files, I was running an investigation on the Cadmus branch that the clones were found at, and discovered some … unsavory practices being implemented on many of the experiments.”

You stand up, giving your old friend a parting hug, “I’ll see what I can do, your meeting might have to wait until after the boys leave the Watchtower”

“Very well, you’ll contact me when we can meet?”

“Of course”

As soon as you step back onto the Watchtower you know something is wrong. Huge chunks of metal are being thrown around, several people are yelling. And in the middle of everything is Match, standing over an injured Conner, eyes glowing red and staring down Superman.

You rush forward, attempting to get between the two Kryptonians, only to be caught around the middle by your husband, “B!! Let me go!!”

“You can’t get between them, Y/N!”

“Let me go, damnit!! I can help!”

Conner makes a soft sound, leaning around Match’s legs, “Y/N? You … you came back?”

“Of course I came back! I had some things to take care of back on Earth, and I came back as soon as I could.” You wriggle around, finally slipping out of your husbands hold, “Match, put that down please” Slowly Match obeys, and between one blink and the next you find yourself standing beside Conner and behind Match, “Whoa”

“Y/N!!”

“Calm down, honey. I’m gonna check on Conner, make sure he’s alright. Match, sweetheart, can you tell me what happened?”

“You left us! We woke up to strangers around our bed, and you weren’t here! You were gone! Conner got hurt! They wouldn’t tell us where you were, or what had happened!!”

“Look at me, Match. Look at me, that’s it, look at me” Match locks eyes with you, slowing his breathing to match yours, and lowering the steel beam he had been holding, “I’m here now, I’m sorry I left without telling you, I went to see Mr. Luthor. I didn’t think you’d wake up until I got back, sweetheart”

Conner makes a soft sound, still holding his broken arm, “We – we asked for you, but no one would tell us where you were. I just – you said that you’d be there, but you weren’t, we panicked, ‘m sorry”

Running your fingers through his hair, you gently check over his arm, “I’m sorry, Conner. Match, help me get your brother back to Medical, I can fix his arm there”

Match snarls at Superman one more time before turning and picking Conner up, “I can walk! It’s just my arm!”

“Hush, brother, you’re hurt and I won’t let one of them hurt you anymore. I promised to protect you, and I intend to do that”

“You boys go ahead, I’ll meet you there. I have a few things I want to discuss with Superman and Batman”

Once you’re sure that the boys are out of ear shot you round on the two heroes.

“How could you hurt them?!? They’re children, and they were afraid! You hurt them!!” Jabbing a finger at your husband, “You especially should know! We have FOUR BOYS AT HOME!!!! YOU SHOULD KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THEM!!!!” You rake tense fingers through your hair, “I’m so god damn mad at you, Bruce. Right now though, I’m going to go and help those two boys, who are probably traumatized right now, the one place they think is safe and they are attacked, just because they’re scared!”

Before Clark or Bruce could say anything, you turn, storming off to Medical. Fucking men being fucking idiots, hurting fucking kids!!!

You quickly treat Conner’s arm, wrapping it in ace bandages to keep it straight while his advanced healing takes care of the rest. Match refuses to leave his brother side and watches your every move.

“You said that you left to talk to Lex Luthor?”

“Yeah, he’d – he’d like to meet you two, said that he never really got the chance to interact with any of the clones that were made, and that he was running an investigation on that Cadmus lab”

“He wants to meet us? Does he intend to take us from you?”

“No, Match. He doesn’t want to take you two from me, he wants to meet you, to be a part of your lives, but he agreed that it would be your choice to make. The two of you will choose when you meet Lex, and I’ll be there when it happens.”

Match nods, quietly curling up beside a sleeping Conner. “Promise you won’t leave this time?”

“I promise”

Two days later you decide to take the boys out of the Watchtower and down to the Manor.

“Y/N, it isn’t safe. Just the other day they were destroying the Watchtower in a temper tantrum, and now you want to take them to Earth!”

You take a deep breath, attempting to remain calm by sheer force of will, “Clark, if you tell me one more time how to raise my children …”

“But they aren’t your children, Y/N! They are clones! Of me! They don’t know how to control their powers, how to keep their temper!”

“Really? Because I’ve spent almost three days with them and they’ve been nothing but calm and helpful. Two days ago they were terrified. The only person they knew was safe, which is me by the way, wasn’t there, and you all wouldn’t tell them where I was. And no, I don’t know how to help them with their powers, you’re the only one that can do that, but do I see you in there helping them? NO!!”

“I – I …”

“You what? You’re gonna try and tell me how to take care of two troubled teens that have no idea what a safe place is? That have only known pain and loneliness? Clark, you might be the only one who can help them control their powers, but it looks like I’m the only one willing to help them in every other way. So, I suggest you get out of my way. My new sons need to meet their brothers, and no one, not even you, Kent, can keep me from any of my children.”

How do you think the boys will react to their new brothers?

#batfamily #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #dad bruce wayne #Young Justice #match young justice #superboy imagine #conner kent #conner kent imagine #match imagine #justice league imagine #lex luthor imagines #lex luthor

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zombiesbecrazy · 7 years ago

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Five Times With Feeling - Part 5/5

Summary: It wasn’t like Barbara had never watched Buffy without Dick, but it definitely wasn’t the same without his running commentary beside her.

Or four times Dick and Barbara watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer together and one time they didn’t.

Written for @batfamcontentwar ‘s #halloweencontentwar

ao3 Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Part 5 - After the Crime Syndicate

“What you watching, Red?”

Jason’s voice interrupted Barbara’s train of thought as she stared at the screen, trying to find what she was looking for. She looked up to see Jason and Tim come into the room, carrying soft drinks and bowls of snacks. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Barbara smiled and looked down at her grey and blue Nightwing t-shirt. Dick had bought it for her one day a few months ago when they had been wandering around downtown, trying to decide on a place to have lunch. He had seen it in the window of one of those touristy shops that a local Gothamite wouldn’t normally be caught dead in, full of knick knacks and cheap souvenirs. He had dragged her inside, saying that she definitely needed a shirt of her favourite vigilante and feigned the appropriate amount of indignation when she said that she didn’t see any Black Canary memorabilia anywhere in the shop. He bought it for her anyway, grumbling about not being able to compete with the fishnets.

It had been a good day.

Now the shirt seemed like an appropriate homage to Dick on what felt like one of the worst days of her life. It had been a few hours since his funeral and she couldn’t bring herself to leave the manor. She could have gone home but didn’t want to have to give Frankie or Alysia half truths about how she was feeling or a full rundown of their relationship history, so she stayed put. She had wandered around the manor for a bit, consciously avoiding Dick’s old room on the third floor at all costs, and now found herself in the family room, curled up on the couch under what looked like a handmade quilt, queuing up Netflix.

“I was going to watch some Buffy, but I wasn’t expecting you two to stay after the service. We can find something else if you want.”

“No, it’s perfect.” Jason plopped himself down on the couch beside her. Tim nodded and sat down on the other side of him. “Love that show.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I love a good resurrected character.” He settled a bowl of popcorn between them and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table in front of him. “The lady died twice and was still a badass. I respect that.”

Tim laughed softly, “Definitely has you beat, Jay.” Jason punched him a little harder than necessary in the shoulder, but Tim continued on, giving Barbara a smile across the couch. “Good choice for tonight. Dick made me watch this show when I started as Robin. It helped me unwind after patrolling.”

“Me too.” said Jason, “I learned how to do kip-ups from watching Buffy when I couldn’t get it figured out on my own. Bruce was pissed that he had spent weeks trying to teach me such a basic move and I could suddenly do it on my own after watching one episode with Dick.”

They looked at Barbara, who was a little surprised by these revelations. She hadn’t realized that Dick had passed on their obsession. “I made him start watching it with me. Every week since season two. First time we watched it together was in this room before a patrol.”

“So it’s your fault that we know all the words to Once More With Feeling?” said Jason, with a laugh threatening to break through his voice.

“One hundred percent. I’m glad to know that I’ve been such an influential figure on the television viewing preferences of Robins.” Barbara waved at the TV with the remote. “Anyone have an episode request?”

No one said anything for a few moments until Tim quietly asked, “What was Dick’s favourite?”

Barbara smiled and scrolled through the episode list on the screen and selected The Zeppo, catching Jason rolling his eyes. “What? He liked Xander’s random side adventures. Plus, Jimmy Olson references.” Tim giggled and Jason grumbled something about Replacement but Barbara couldn’t tell if he was talking about Tim or the Xander body double episode. “It was either this one or Becoming and I don’t think I can handle that one right now. He was a sucker for the heartbreaking episodes too.”

Too damn close to home.

She hit play and sank back into the couch. It wasn’t like she had never watched Buffy without Dick, but it definitely wasn’t the same without his running commentary beside her. When the theme song started playing, she felt something that could only be described as her heart imploding, until she felt a hand rest on top of her own. She looked over and saw Jason’s sad smile as he rubbed her hand, and then at Tim, who had shifted to rest his head on Jason’s shoulder, eyes staring at the screen. Barbara readjusted her position to lean against Jason as well, getting more comfortable, and shifted the blanket so it was covering all three of them. It was nice, watching together like that.

Dick would have loved it.

Barbara didn’t have to look towards the door to know that Bruce was leaning against the frame watching her. She had heard him in the hallway earlier in the evening, checking in on the three of them, but not interrupting. Jason and Tim had just left, having watched five episodes with her (including a mandatory sing along), but they were planning on patrolling together that night and were headed out to the city. Television was a great distraction, but while he hadn’t said it in a straight forward way, Jason wanted to grieve through violence and Tim hadn’t disagreed.

Netflix was still rolling, but she was no longer paying any attention.

“You could have watched with us.”

“I prefer Angel.”

“You would. Creature of the night with a preference for wearing black, sticking to the shadows and always walking dramatically through double doors.”

Bruce hummed in response and entered the dim room. He looked towards the screen that had continued onto the next episode in silence, and then sat down next to her. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs, face in his hands. She had known the man beside her close to half of her life, but this was the first time that she thought that he looked old. Weary and moving a little slower than usual. And definitely like he had been repeatedly punched in the face recently. She wasn’t surprised, especially today and especially after the year he had, but she didn’t like to see it. This was Bruce Wayne. The Batman. He was what held the city together day and night and was supposed to be indestructible.

Until he lost one of the few things that was still holding him together.

He turned to look at her and those intense eyes burned into hers. “You were his favourite person, you know.”

She hit mute on the TV and shook her head slightly, “I think Damian would have disagreed with you about that.” The words slipped out before she could stop them and she slapped her hand to her mouth. She couldn’t believe how stupid she was to mention Damian on today of all days; on the day that he buried his second son in as many months. It was something that they had all been tip toeing around knowing that Bruce had not been dealing well with Damian’s death well at all. She didn’t want to think about what was going to happen now that Dick’s funeral was over.

“Perhaps.” His voice sounded emotionless and Barbara couldn’t tell if that was because it was trying to detach himself to hold onto some semblance of strength or if he was just exhausted and didn’t have any feelings left right now. She knew he wasn’t the stone wall that people often accuse him of being; he just couldn’t always express it the way that other’s thought he should. He cared so much that it sometimes just came out ‘wrong’.

Sadness sometimes just looked like anger in the wrong clothes.

Barbara shifted so that her position mirrored his and leaned in a little closer, but still far enough apart that they weren’t touching. “I also think you are selling yourself short in the ranking of Dick’s people.”

“I was his guardian, not his friend.”

“If he were here Dick would be arguing that you were both.”

She knew she was right and she hoped that Bruce knew that too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. She had been there to see the evolution of their relationship and she knew that it was a mixture of father and son, brothers, partners, friends and colleagues. Sometimes it was the combination of those dynamics that caused friction (to the point of explosion), but they always would be there for each other when it really mattered. Even in the end, it was Bruce that Dick had wanted with him, not anyone else.

“Maybe, unless we were having one of our bad weeks. But he loved you Barbara. Since the beginning. That love changed as you grew up but you were always what you needed to be for each other. Dick’s heart always led his actions, for better or for worse. It was always going to lead him back to you.” Bruce swallowed and rubbed his eyes. He just looked like the stress of it all was burying him. “Magnetic pull.”

“We weren’t together.”

“Doesn’t change anything I said.”

“Maybe if I had gone with him to Chicago we wouldn’t been sitting here now. If I had just followed him there…” That had been running through her mind a lot for the past few days. Maybe if she had been there in Chicago, he wouldn’t have come back. Something might have stopped him from being captured by the Crime Syndicate and then this whole mess could have been avoided. She had heard enough about timelines from speedsters over the years to know that just one change could alter lives dramatically.

Thinking about fate was an overwhelming thing when you were already depressed.

“Neither of you were ready for that.”

“He told you?”

“Most things. Not sure he always realized how much he told me. Chatterbox.” He gave the smallest of shrugs, “He talked. I listened.”

“And grunted.” He grunted at her in response and they both smiled a little at each other. “I don’t really blame myself. I just wish we made different choices sometimes. I wonder how we ended up here.”

“Don’t we all.” Bruce was looking at a row of photos that were on the bookcase against the wall. All of the photos in this room were pictures of the family that Bruce had built rather than the one that he had been born into. Nearly all of them had Dick in them - by himself, or group shots with Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Tim or Damian, and she saw herself in a few as well. The one that Barbara had always found herself drawn to was one from when Dick must have been about nine years old, getting a piggyback ride from Bruce. It looked like a candid shot, probably taken by Alfred, and Bruce was grinning over his shoulder to look at Dick, who was clearly roaring with laughter. There was something about it that was just so Dick.

Barbara placed her hand on Bruce’s forearm. “He loved you, too.”

“I know. Probably more than he should.”

“You were his dad.”

“I wasn’t. Not really.”

“You were in every way that mattered. At least to him.” She brushed her fingers lightly against his arm and his eyes snapped back to hers and there was something there that she just couldn’t place. “He told me so many times that he was lucky that he had the chance to have two amazing fathers, when some kids don’t even get one. He was shattered when we thought you were dead. That he had lost another father.” He cast his eyes back to the floor, without Barbara having figured out what he was thinking about. “He’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“I’m gravely aware of that.”

It was one of those times that she had had over the years that she got the feeling that while she was talking to Bruce, they were having two drastically different conversations. Sometimes she called him on it, sometimes she looked into it later, but this felt like one of the few times that she was just going to let it rest. She didn’t need to know what Bruce was actually talking about if he wasn’t going to volunteer the information. Not today.

“Are you going out tonight?”

“No.” Batgirl and Barbara both needed a night off, which is why she hadn’t gone out with Tim and Jason. Her mind wasn’t in the game and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake in the field and get hurt. “Do you mind if I stay here?”

“Not if you don’t mind some company. I’m staying in too. It’s my pick now, though.” Barbara reached over to the end table and pulled out a bag of M&M’s and tossed them to Bruce. He grinned at her and grabbed the remote, hit a few buttons and the screen changed, and Barbara burst out laughing as words started scrolling on the screen.

Dick’s other viewing obsession was apparently up next for tonight.

“You may have got him hooked on Buffy, but I introduced him to Star Wars first. And he dressed up as Luke Skywalker for Halloween three years in a row. I win.”

“Dick was the best of us. We all got to win.”

#halloweencontentwar #barbara gordon #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #day 6

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ellana-ravenwood · 8 years ago

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"You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” 1/3- Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : You have been married to Bruce for quite some years now, and you both knew it was inevitable that you’d get in danger one day...but you really never expected the Joker to start to be obsessed with you. CHAPTER 1/3.

Warnings : mentions of sex, also, Bruce is “old” if that bothers you in any way...If your like me and have a thing for older guys, then carry on please.

FINISHED SERIES : PART 2, PART 3

my master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________________________________

Looking at yourself in the mirror of your bathroom, you groaned and turned around to glare at your husband that was taking a shower. He immediately felt that you were staring, but to his disappointment, it wasn’t for the reason he hoped for...

-Is something wrong dear ?

-Yes Bruce, something’s wrong. How old are you ?

-...What ?

-Just answer my question honey.

-...Hum, 46 ?

-Yes. 46. You’re 46 years old.

At the way you were looking at him, mad as Hell, standing in the frame of the shower door that you just violently swung open, billionaire ex-playboy superhero Bruce Wayne got kinda worried. He was trying to figure out what he did that could have pissed you off that much, as you were really difficult to annoy, almost never getting angry...But boy when you were angry, it was scary. Apparently now though, you were more annoyed than mad. So he was trying to remember what he could have done.

He knew it didn’t had anything to do with his nightly activities, as in over 10 years of marriage, you never told him anything about it (even though when he or your children came back hurt, it was some of the worst moment of your life...). On the contrary, you were very supportive and even helped most of the nights, monitoring the bat computer while he and your batkids were out. Gotham was your hometown, and you loved it, you knew it needed the Bat. So this didn’t have anything to do with him aging and having to stop being the Batman...So...What the Hell did he do that was related to his age ? He was staring stupidly at you, under the warm water running from the shower head, his hair sticking around his face.

-46 years old, and still acting like a goddamn teenager ! Look at that Bruce !

You were showing him the countless love bites he left on your neck and collar bones the night before...and he couldn’t help but smile. So that’s what it was about.

-It’s not funny ! You know you do that every time, and I scold you about it every time. Because then, I have to find dresses that cover the marks, so that I don’t pass for a teenage girl having her first experience with stupid boys who think love bites are hot. You know your charity thingies and others balls are full of judgemental pricks and yet...Erf, you’re so annoying.

-You didn’t complain when I made them...

-Well obviously old man, because my judgement is definitely clouded when you pound into me like you did.

He smiled even more, and you soften a bit. He smiled like this only to you, and you couldn’t get mad when he was looking at you that way. But still, damn him and his love bites.

-For real though, I don’t mind them on my stomach, on my thighs...wherever really as long as they’re not in view !

He extended his arm to you, and you took his hand, entering the shower as well. He immediately buried his face in your neck, but you pushed him away because you noticed something else...

-Oh my God look at that Bruce, I don’t even remember you making some on my fucking calf ! It goes all the way up to my knees !

-I do remember. That’s when your legs were on my shoulders...

He had his infuriating trademark “batsmirk” on his face, and it annoyed you so much that you decided to skip the traditional morning erotic shower, you pulled away from him, and he groaned at the loss of your warmth.

-I don’t need more markings, if you know what I mean.

-I can just suck on the place that already have some...

You just glared some more at him, and went to your make-up cabinet. You could probably just try to make all of those damn love bites disappear with a bit of concealer...you felt his presence before feeling his hands slowly settling on your waist.

-Sorry love. Really. I just can’t help myself, your skin always calls to me...

You turned around and raised your eyes, as the man was quite taller than you. You gave me a look, with raised eye brows, that meant : “really ?” and he just smiled some more. He took the highest voice he could, and, putting his head behind your shoulder, imitated your skin’s “voice”.

-Suck on me Bruce, devour me, make me yours...also, you’re the most handsome and intelligent man I ever met.

You looked at him and couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that escaped your lips. He loved your laugh, amongst other thing. He smiled back at you, thinking about that special effect you always had on him. When you were around, he was just a bit more carefree and silly. You made him feel like he could almost be a normal man, and though he still had his moments of sadness and darkness even when he was just with you...you just made things easier. He lived for your soothing hands gently going threw his hair, as his head rested on your chest...You pecked his lips and bring him back from his daydreams.

-You know, if anyone could see you right now, the entire Batman’s reputation would be ruined...

-Aren’t I’m glad that you’re the only one here then ?

You shook your head, and added, simply to provoke him a little :

-Besides, the most handsome man I ever met is Clark, but I guess you can have the most intelligent one.

As you reached for your clothes, he stopped you, grabbing your wrist in his hands, and raising them a bit above your head, pinning you against the bathroom wall. He had another kind of smile on his face now, a smile that was also only directed to you...You recognized it and tried to push him away. Your comment about Clark definitely set him on the mood, and his sly and mischievous look made you melt a little.

-I’m still mad at you honey...

-Then let me make it up to you my love. And show you that Superman got nothing on me...

And as his hand started to roam your body, your judgement got clouded again. It got clouded very hard.

Bruce kept his promise as he didn’t make new marks on your body, sucking, biting and kissing where he did last night.

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

Trying to hide the few love bites that you couldn’t conceal right with your make-up, you shifted awkwardly in the middle of a huge ball room, waiting for Bruce to return with the glasses of Champagne he went to get.

People knew you as more than his wife, as over the years, you became an important part of Gotham. You were very involved with what happened in the city, helping Bruce run Wayne inc. So as you waited for your husband, a wave of people swarmed you to just talk with the famous Mrs Wayne. People were always...kinda fascinated by you. After all, no one would have ever expected a poor girl from the Narrows like you to get hitch to Bruce freaking Wayne. And yet...You were just someone that intrigued a lot of persons. Men and women were attracted to you, not that you were the most beautiful, but you had such charms. They just wanted to be your friends, to be liked by you and to be like you. Bruce often said that it was impressive that you didn’t make anyone jealous or envious, that they just liked you...You always answered him that you’d rather be hated, as you were an introvert and those balls and such always exhausted you mentally. You’d dream to be on your own right now, your anxiety rushing threw your veins. Or at least just with your family.

Speaking of which, out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Jason, Tim and Damian starting to fight, and you gave them a menacing look. They instantly stopped, under the gaze of a very amused Dick and Duke, and a smirking Stephanie and Cassandra. You mouthed the word “Behave” and they understood that if they didn’t, they’d get in so much trouble. For some reasons, they were more afraid of you than your husband...Granted, you rarely got mad, but when you really were, you were scary as Hell.

You saw Bruce finally making his way threw the crowd with two glasses of champagne, and you gave a sigh of relief when he snaked his arm around your waist. You weren’t alone anymore, you could totally face what was coming.

Turned out, you actually couldn’t. Because what was coming wasn’t really expected. People and their questions about you, Bruce or your children ? You could handle it. A psycho suddenly barging to crash the party ? Not so much. Well, it happened before, but you somehow always avoided to be in danger...until today.

You and Bruce were casually talking with some acquaintances when it happened. You felt something cold on the small of your back, just above your husband’s hand, and you immediately recognize what it was.

A gun.

As he felt you stiffen, Bruce turned to you, and the smile on his face faltered. Slowly turning his head around, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear his teeth cracking.

The Joker.

It didn’t really surprised him. Of course, the man was suppose to be in Arkham Asylum, but it wasn’t his first escape. The thought of how he did it this time didn’t stay long in Bruce’s mind, as he was more concerned that one of his most fervent enemy was slowly taking you away from him, his filthy hand on one of your arm, as the other held a gun to your spine.

He knew that one day or another, something like this would happen, and threw the years, he did everything possible to keep you from harm. He succeeded all this time, over ten years...And here you were, in the Joker’s arms, and Bruce couldn’t help but take a step forward as he saw that monster bend down and whisper something in your ear.

-I’ve seen you on TV Mrs Wayne -he whispered, and then louder :-...And don’t come closer mister I’m-the-most-loved-son-of-Gotham, or I’ll perform right here and now my most famous magic trick and turn you into a widower.

You stayed silent, not loosing Bruce’s eye contact. You could see the fear in his eyes, and it made your heart stumble. He couldn’t loose you, it’d kill him. But being at the center of attention as he was, he also couldn’t discreetly sneak out to put his suit on. Same for your children, who were just staring at you, shocked and scared. Frozen, not able to react at all. You were the center of the family, this couldn’t happen to you, without you nothing would work...

And before they could realize anything, before any of them could try to do something...You and the Joker were gone. Bruce ran after you but you just simply disappeared. He swore and, followed by his children, rushed to the bat cave.

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

You lost consciousness as soon as you exited that ball room. Now, coming back to your senses, you were a bit lost...until the memory of what just happened came back rushing at you.

At first, you panicked. But you soon regained a semblance of calmness, as your mind was working 100 miles per hour with ideas to try and escape.

You weren’t tied up, laying on a nice king size bed in an elegant room. You were wearing a beautiful old school (favorite color) night gown, and couldn’t help but shiver in disgust at the thought of the Joker changing your clothes. Touching you.

You sat up, and looked around. It felt like you were back in your own house, in Wayne mansion, the room looking almost exactly like it...and another shiver went down your spine as you realized the Joker knew how your bedroom was, meaning he already went there. The only details that told you you weren’t home were the walls...Hard and cold concrete walls.

Without a sign of hesitation, you started to explore the room, looking for a possible exit.

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

In the Bat cave, Bruce was frantically looking threw files and files of possible intel on the Joker’s whereabouts on the bat computer. Tim was helping him.

Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra, Duke and Dick were roaming the city, interrogating potential Joker’s associate, trying to stay calm. But that night, more than one low life criminal ended up in the hospital after an encounter with one of the batkid.

Alfred was trying to stay hopeful, ignoring his fear of something bad happening to you...He loved you like a daughter, and hated the Joker with a passion. That damn clown already hurt the Wayne family so much...He fixed cups of coffee for Tim and Bruce, and as he approached the latter, he could hear him muttering to himself.

-Blaming yourself won’t help her right now, Master Wayne.

-You don’t understand Alfred, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t try anything. I just stared at her like an idiot. If she dies, her blood’s on my hand...

His voice faltered at the end of the sentence, and both Alfred and Tim knew what your death would do to him...They weren’t sure he’d ever be able to come back from whatever deep and dark well he’d fall into. Tim spoke, his gentle voice resonating in the cave.

-We all did nothing Bru...Dad. It’s not just your fault ok ? Know this at least...just in case...Just in case. Because we’re gonna find her. Alive. No questions about it.

Alfred shook his head sadly.

-And what could you have done my boys ? Reveal to the World who you really were, and making Joker’s day by doing so ? Do you think he would have let you do anything anyway, and not just shoot Lady (Y/N) ?

They didn’t answer; but they knew he was right. Alfred was always right...

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

No exit. Of course there was no exit. There wasn’t even any door...Panic started to swarm you again, but you shut it down. No. You weren’t going to be scared of him. You were gonna fight. Bruce trained you for years in case something like that was to ever happen.

With rage, you destroyed a wooden chair and tried to sharpen it as best you could, making a stake out of it. You’d at least get a weapon. As you were about to start looking around again for a possible escape, a voice you immediately recognize started to play in speakers that were attached to the corner of the room.

-Don’t tire yourself little one, there’s no way out.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel, more commonly known as Harley Quinn, the Joker’s most fervent partner. Another shiver ran down your spine, she always gave you the creep, even before she went all crazy. You hated shrinks.

-What do you want from me ?

You refrained yourself from adding a “bitch”, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to provoke such a woman.

-Me ? Nothing. Actually, if it was only up to me you’d be long dead doll. Loonnnnng deaaaaad.

-Then why am I not ?

Silence answered you. For a few minutes, nothing happened, and you thought she left. But her voice came back, a bit weaker than before.

-Because, Mrs Wayney...Well...You see...

A few minutes past again.

-What ?!

Harley Quinn’s voice came resonating in the room again, almost just a whisper. What she said made you more scared than you ever been before...

-Because, you’re Mister J’s new obsession, Sugar.

TO BE CONTINUED ;) (this is a three part story, thought I’d try my hand at a little serie :D).

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman x reader #batfam x reader #Joker x reader #Joker imagine #batkids #batkids x reader #reader insert #sent me requests #Jealous Harley Quinn #Batfamily

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