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chickenfics · 3 years ago

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Team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’

Relationship: Loki x Fem!reader (SFW)

Summary: When Bruce invited you to a quick weekend getaway, you'd hardly expected your destination to be Asgard. Just like you'd hardly expected to be accompanied by two gods -- one of whom you're convinced hates your guts. But who would have thought that the God of Mischief has a thing for flowers, a talent for reciting Shakespeare, and knowledge of all the best places for stargazing? Certainly not you.

But in a weekend filled with sunny fields and boisterous feasts, with accidental skinny dipping and drunken magic tricks, you would begin to realize all the different ways Loki could surprise you.

Word count: 6k

A/N: This fic takes place after the events of Thor: Ragnarök but imagine that Asgard didn't get destroyed and Valkyrie took over there instead of on Earth. Yeah... just don't think about the timeline too hard lol.

Y/N is used very sparingly (I think really only a handful of times). The reader has a backstory but no physical descriptions (besides being smaller/shorter than Loki)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! I plan to release them weekly.

Also on Ao3

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Chapter 1

There could never just be a normal weekend at the compound. Because of course there couldn’t -- not when the place was filled with assassins, super-soldiers, extraterrestrial beings, and rich wise-asses with all the technology their little hearts desired.

Someone was always blowing something up or beating the shit out of someone else -- like that time Bucky had gotten a little too cocky during training and Natasha had roundhouse kicked him into next week -- or, in your case, taking a quick weekend trip to another planet. Or was it another dimension? You still weren’t entirely sure how it all worked. Hell, you had barely been out of the country, let alone outer space.

It had all started with Bruce, bless his big green heart. Though, you really couldn’t complain, on account of him and Tony kind of saving your life.

You’d been a pretty reckless teenager, a dangerous mix between impressively smart and astronomically stupid. You hadn’t had much growing up -- you’d barely had a home -- but what you lacked in physical commodities you made up for in ambition. Unfortunately for you, your ambitions had led you to make some… less than legal choices. What, were you supposed to buy the parts for your latest invention? On a retail worker's salary? Yeah fucking right.

It was all well and dandy for a while. You were good enough to not get caught, and you’d managed to engineer a lot of different things -- inventions you were proud of. But your luck had to run out sometime. At least, that’s what you’d thought as you were being shoved into a police cruiser. Great. You’d just managed to royally screw over your entire life with one little slip-up.

At least. That’s what you’d thought.

Because it turned out that some of your little trinkets were so advanced that a technician who worked in evidence, and a coincidental friend of Tony Stark, reached out to the billionaire. By some gigantic stroke of luck, he’d been impressed by your work. Banner had too, and had told you as much when he’d showed up to bail you out of jail.

Standing there in the precinct, he’d offered you a cup of coffee and asked if you wanted to come work for him. You hadn’t even known who he was until he explained that “wanna come work for me?” actually meant “hey, how would you like to work for the Avengers?”

Your first instinct had been a whopping “absolutely fucking not.” You had no desire to get roped into all that science-fi superhero government shit. And anyway, you didn’t know these people -- the probability of them being decent human beings was just as likely as them turning out to be giant assholes. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe this was it: your one big chance to get the hell out. It was certainly the best opportunity to do something with your life.

Bruce, picking up on your conflicted feelings, had reassured you that there were no strings attached. You could come by the compound, see the lab, meet some of the team, and then decide for yourself what you wanted to do. And hey, if you decided after a couple of weeks that it just wasn’t for you, no hard feelings.

You’d turned it over in your head, nursing the coffee you wouldn't drink and weighing the options, trekking down the two possible paths that your life could take. And then you’d given him a hesitant nod.

You’d seen a lot, living with the Avengers.

The rest was history, and you hadn't had a normal weekend since. Not that you were complaining. It had been nearly five years, and you still would have preferred Thor and Vision seeing who could throw Mjolnir the furthest over working a nine-to-five.

Still, when Bruce strolled into the lab one day and asked if you wanted to go to Asgard for the weekend, you weren’t exactly sure how to respond to that. Yes? Of course you wanted to go to Asgard? But also… what? That wasn't exactly the same as asking someone if they wanted to run down the street to Seven-Eleven for a burrito during their lunch break.

You’d told him all this, in that exact order, and his grin had increased with every sentence until you stopped, realizing he was now laughing at you.

“Banner,” you insisted. “I’m being serious.”

“No, I know -- I know you are, that’s why I’m laughing.”

You scowled at him, feigning annoyance.

“You’re adorable, you do know that, right?” he said, smirking crookedly before explaining that Thor had some business to take care of back home and Stark had insisted that Bruce go along with him “for moral support,” or something like that.

Apparently, Bruce had been to Asgard before.

“Wait, what? When have you been to Asgard?” you’d asked him, more than a little shocked. Again, it wasn’t like visiting the town over -- it was a whole other universe.

“It’s a long story,” he'd replied with a grimace. Oh, now you really wanted to know.

But just when you were about to ask, Bruce had looked down at his watch at an incoming message from Tony. He was being summoned to a team ‘Weekend Trip to Asgard’ meeting. You were invited to join the party after Bruce had somewhat sheepishly admitted he hadn’t run your tagging along by Tony yet. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep a smirk off your face. For a man with like a dozen PhDs, Bruce could be such an idiot sometimes. It was one of the things you loved about him.

Thor was already in Tony’s office when the two of you arrived.

“Uh, what’s Hopscotch doing here?” he pointed a finger at you. You rolled your eyes at the old nickname -- a result of you being so much younger than them, despite the fact that you were quite literally a full-grown adult. You’d told Tony this once, but he had insisted that you were "still practically a toddler” as far as he was concerned.

“I invited her,” Bruce said, stepping around before gesturing for you to take a seat.

You lowered yourself into the chair next to Thor, who smiled in greeting. You’d always liked Thor -- he was like a big puppy dog, and he always seemed to go out of his way to be kind to you. Or maybe he was just a naturally kind person in general. Either way, it hadn’t taken you long to warm up to him, despite the two of you not spending much time together.

“And why would you do that?” Tony was asking Bruce, who sat down in the chair next to you. He shrugged.

“I thought she could tag along.”

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon Tony,” Bruce drawled. “We’ve been cooped up in the lab for years. This kid,” he pointed to you, "hasn’t seen the light of day since she was like twelve.”

“That is… not true,” you interjected, blinking indignantly. The Avengers hadn’t even known you when you were twelve. Then again, it had been some time since you’d been outside the compound for more than a few hours.

“Can’t you just let us have some fun for once?” Burce was asking.

You wanted to laugh at how dorky this whole argument was, but managed to repress the urge, as you figured it wouldn’t help your “still practically a toddler�� case. Tony rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

“Banner, a trip to Asgard is not a beach vacation. It’s dangerous.”

“Uh, actually,” Thor spoke up, raising a hand. “That’s not entirely true. Asgard is perfectly safe. Usually.”

“For an Asgardian. Not Little Miss Sunshine over here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being patronizing, considering you had a resting bitch face that could give Sargent Barnes a run for his money, or if he was actually concerned for your safety. You were pretty sure it was both.

“She’ll be fine,” Bruce insisted. “She’s perfectly capable of spending a few days in a city of very civilized, hospitable people,” He looked to Thor for support, and the god smiled and nodded.

"And anyway, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble,” Bruce shot you a wink that had you rolling your eyes despite your obvious smirk.

Tony, however, was definitely rolling his eyes out of annoyance. After staring at the ceiling for a moment, his somewhat intense gaze fell on you.

“Whaddya think, kid? You feel up to it?”

It was a genuine question, and you felt your heart grow a little warmer with fondness for the two scientists who had practically adopted you.

“If you’re okay with it, then yeah, I’d be up to going. I think it could be fun,” you added, with a shy glance at Thor, whose smile beamed back at you. He was more ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ than you were.

Tony heaved a dramatic sigh -- which meant that you had won. Despite his flashy exterior, the inventor was a big softie with a heart of gold. And a soft spot for kids, which tended to work out to your advantage.

“Alright,” he muttered. “But you’d better have fun.”

“That’s my girl. Alright, what’s next? Thor?”

You raised your hands in surrender and gave him a mock salute. “Yes sir.”

The God of Thunder cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly in his seat -- which looked ridiculous, coming from such a large, imposing figure.

“Ah, yes, well… I also have someone that I would like to bring along.”

“Uh… well, you see… I think Loki should come.”

All three of you stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t. Not until Tony gave a little shake of his head and said, “You're killing us here, big guy.”

Tony stayed frozen for a breath, then straightened back up, and the look on his face had you imagining the inventor launching his shoe at Thor’s head. Even Bruce was looking at the god like he had just asked them to blow up the compound or something.

“Absolutely not. And I mean it this time," Tony gestured at you as if to insist that the God of Mischief would not be getting as easy of a pass.

“Stark--”

“Don’t ‘Stark’ me. Have you lost your mind?”

“Look, I just -- I think it would be good for him to see home again.”

“Really. You wanna take Evil Jazz Hands back to his spawn point? Does that sound like a good idea to you? ‘Cause it doesn’t sound like a good idea to me,” he looked over at Bruce.

“Yeah, no, I’m with Tony on this one,” he said, glancing nervously between the two men. “Definitely not a good idea.”

“Come on, guys,” Thor insisted, forcing a smile that made you think perhaps he wasn’t as confident as he was playing himself up to be. “I’ll look after him, make sure he doesn’t do anything…” he sought for the word, “irreversible. Besides, if he stays here, you’ll have to look after him while I’m gone.”

Tony took a deep breath, once again glancing up at the ceiling. You followed his gaze, wondering what he was finding up there. Definitely not patience.

“Fine,” he groaned, rolling his head. “But if he brings an end to the Cosmos, or whatever sort of shit happens in space, that’s on you, Point Break.”

“Roger that,” Thor said, mimicking the salute you had given Tony earlier. You stifled a laugh into your shoulder, and he shot you a giddy grin.

“I feel like I’m sending all the toddlers to space,” Tony muttered wearily.

“Hey,” Bruce spoke up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be there.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Ouch,” he winced. “That really hurts, Tony.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true. Alright,” he clapped his hands. “I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y get everything ready for you. Now get out of my sight.”

The three of you stood up. Thor gave a little bow and made for the door while Bruce patted Tony on the shoulder. The other man reciprocated, letting his hand linger a moment longer.

“I expect you to stay in touch, Banner.” It was almost a warning, but one that clearly stemmed from concern for their wellbeing.

“You know I will,” Bruce reassured, giving him a smile. Tony nodded curtly before flashing one of his own slightly empty smiles, and let his hand fall back to his side. As soon as Bruce stepped out of the way, Tony was holding his arm out. You leaned into his side, hooking your own arm around his back as he squeezed your shoulders.

“Alright, kid?”

“Alright,” you confirmed. “Thanks, old man.”

“Sure thing. Just,” he removed his arm, gently pushing you back so he could look at you. “Be careful, okay. Be smart. Can’t have my best aspiring young scientist getting lost in Asgard.”

“Pretty sure I’m your only aspiring young scientist,” you said, earning you a flick on the arm.

“Hey, don’t be a wise-ass. That’s my job.”

You laughed, grinning up at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very safe and at least a little smart.”

“Alright, alright,” he nodded, giving you another quick side hug. “Go on, get out of here.”

You smirked as he ushered you to the door, letting go of your shoulder.

“Oh, and Y/N,” he called before you’d had a chance to make it very far. You spun on your heels.

“Yeah?”

“Have fun,” he meaningfully offered, shooting you a wink.

“What exactly does one pack for an intergalactic weekend trip?”

He had just enough time to see another smile bloom across your face before he swung the door shut.

_________________________________________

Bruce looked up from the desk in front of him, colorful holograms scattered across the clear surface.

“Huh?”

“I mean, you’ve been to Asgard before. What kind of stuff do I need to take?”

“Um,” Bruce sighed, leaning back as he swiped the holograms away. “Well, you know, clothes for a couple of days -- it gets kind of cold at night, so maybe take a sweatshirt or something. Toiletries… uh, you know… a book, if you want…” he shrugged, blushing modestly.

“Very helpful, thank you,” you deadpanned.

Technically Bruce was your boss, but your relationship had never felt like one between an employee and their employer. The two of you had become good friends more than anything, and Bruce had never, not once, pulled his rank on you. You figured he probably hadn’t even considered it a possibility. He was a sweet guy, despite what the general public thought of him thanks to his big green friend -- who you had yet to meet.

“You’re welcome,” the scientist deadpanned right back, and a second later you were both grinning.

“I’m excited,” you whispered, smirking at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Also kinda nervous. Okay, very nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured you with a smile before turning back to the table. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You were inclined to believe him. Still, you had never been off-planet. Even thinking in terms of “off-planet” made your head spin a little. Before you’d met the Avengers, you hadn’t even been on a plane. You could remember the first time you’d flown in one of Tony’s private jets -- the bubbling excitement mixed with a roil of anxiety. You wondered if your trip to Asgard was going to be a similar experience.

“Hey Bruce?”

“Hm?” he hummed, already distracted by his work, but trying his very hardest to focus some of his attention on you.

“How do we get to Asgard? Like, do we take a spaceship, or…”

Bruce dragged his eyes away from his work long enough to give you a look of amusement.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you,” he said with a tilt of his eyebrow.

Whatever you’d been expecting when Bruce had told you to “wait and see,” this wasn’t it. You’d expected some massive rocket hidden in one of the various bunkers beneath the compound, or maybe a portal of some sort, like the ones Doctor Strange could conjure. Or so you’d heard, you’d never actually met the wizard -- sorry, sorcerer. You’d been spending too much time with Sam.

Whatever you’d been expecting, it definitely wasn’t this.

The next morning, Bruce had knocked softly on the door to your room, and you had greeted him, bleary and half-conscious but awake. It was alarmingly early. You weren’t exactly sure why you had to leave at the ass-crack of dawn, but a hunch told you it probably had something to do with Tony planning the whole thing. The man liked to wake up before literally every other human being on the planet, because “that’s when work gets done.” You were pretty sure he just didn’t sleep.

With whispered good mornings, you slung your bag over your shoulder and, sparing one last glance at your room, followed Bruce through the hallway. The compound was dark, with most of the residents still sleeping, or, for the more ambitious ones, pent up in the training room. It was silly, but you almost felt like you were sneaking out. The only time you’d ever woken up this early as a kid was when you definitely were sneaking out -- and look where that had landed you: about to leave the Avengers’ compound for a casual trip to Asgard. Wild times.

Bruce led you outside, and when the door to the compound slid shut and locked behind you, the sudden realization that you were really doing this hit you square in the face. This wasn’t a dream. You were actually going to Asgard.

That jittery feeling only grew, along with your confusion as the scientist led you across one of the fields that surrounded the building. The morning air was crisp and cold, and a dense mist hung in the air, the perspiration clinging to your sweatshirt. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs, and let it out in a sigh. Bruce looked over his shoulder to smile at you.

“Feels nice to be out in the wild, doesn’t it?” he said, his baritone voice sounding out of place in the quiet of the morning. You hummed, smiling at the way the early morning dew was making the ends of your pant legs wet.

After a minute or so of walking, you caught a glimpse of two forms standing off in the distance -- looking rather ominous thanks to the fog, despite the fact that you knew who they were and had nothing to fear. Well, that applied to only one of them, actually.

You had only met Loki a handful of times, and you were still pretty wary of him. He was the God of Mischief, after all -- a name which he lived up to in more ways than one. He was… intimidating, and not in the way Thor had initially been intimidating, all muscles and boisterous energy. No, Loki made you feel wary in a way you’d never experienced before. You got the idea that the god didn’t like you very much.

Then again, it seemed that he didn’t like anybody. The first time you’d met, he’d looked down at you from his towering height and you’d gotten the sense that he was annoyed by your very existence. His eyes were piercing -- unsettlingly so -- and you’d found yourself shrinking away from his dignified gaze, suddenly very aware of your status as a measly human.

Still, he hadn’t said much to you -- or anything at all, if you remember correctly -- so he’d never really given you a reason to fear him, though there was a part of you that did, considering his reputation. Regardless, you supposed that he’d shown you a kindness by blatantly ignoring you. You felt a flutter of nerves as you realized that it was probably about to get a lot harder for the two of you to continue keeping your distance.

A few paces ahead of you, the two brothers stood side by side, tendrils of fog swirling around their legs. Thor was wearing his usual getup, red cape and all, and Loki had on a tunic covered by a stiff-looking piece that vaguely resembled a vest before trailing down into a cloak that hung around his legs. Asgardian clothes, you assumed. You looked down at your own clothes and realized you were going to be sticking out like a sore thumb. You felt your cheeks already heating up from embarrassment, which you just managed to choke down as you reached the Asgardians.

“Ah,” Thor grinned, spinning around to greet you. “My little green friend and his littler, not-so-green friend.”

“Yeah, keep calling us that and your ‘little green friend’ might not stay so little,” Bruce muttered. Thor just laughed it off and clapped a hand on your shoulder.

“Well little friend, are you ready for your first trip through the transporter?”

“Um,” you blinked up at the god. “What’s a transporter?”

Loki gave a muted huff, and your eyes wandered over to him before flickering quickly away. Thor just smiled kindly at you.

“You’re about to find out,” he sang, sounding much more excited than you felt. Your stomach twisted.

Thor turned away, and Bruce’s hand replaced his on your shoulder, giving you an encouraging pat before stooping down to grab his luggage.

“Alright, everyone. Hold onto anything you don’t want getting left behind,” Thor said, glancing up at the sky.

Your eyes widened, and you shot out a hand to grab Bruce’s arm.

“N-Not me, just our stuff,” he chuckled.

Oh. You let go of him with a sheepish smile, managing to remain calm despite the fact that you could feel your heart hammering against your ribs. By now you had realized that, however you were getting to Asgard, it wasn’t going to be on a spaceship.

“Heimdall,” Thor’s voice boomed out into the misty morning.

What on Earth was a Heimdall? Some sort of magic spell?

You heard a subtle crackling in the air, like all the energy was being pulled in one direction. Then all of the sudden, with a loud crash that had your bones rattling, a beam of multi-colored light began plummeting towards the four of you.

You gasped, grabbing onto the nearest body just as the light crashed onto the earth, engulfing you in a blinding flash.

It felt like the very fabric of your cells were being ripped apart. It didn’t hurt -- you could barely feel anything, save for someone’s clothes, which you had balled tightly in your fists. A fierce wind whipped around you, and you could see the flashes of color and light even from behind your tightly closed eyes. You felt as your body was seemingly launched through the air, and then it was over as quick as it had started.

The first thing you registered was the solid ground once again beneath your feet. The second thing was your still-firm hold on someone, which was the only thing that held you up until your legs stopped shaking. Managing to straighten into an upright position, you leaned against the person you’d grabbed hold of and took a few deep breaths. You felt as if you’d dissolved and were now coming back together, and it was making your stomach turn.

Inhaling a deep breath through your nose that smelled faintly of pine and cotton, you peeled your eyes open. It took you a second to realize that you were staring into someone’s back, your fingers still squeezing the dark green fabric of their cloak.

Wait a minute. Shit.

You jerked your head up, quickly releasing your hold on Loki. He turned sideways to look down at you, his face an emotionless mask, but his hand was gently gripping your elbow in something akin to support. When he saw you look up at him in mounting horror, he let go.

“S-Sory,” you managed, hastily crossing your arms. “Sorry,” You said it again, mortified. How had that even happened? You swore Bruce had been standing closer to you than… Fuck.

Loki stared down at you, eyes narrowing slightly, and your anxiety was traded for confusion as you realized that he didn’t exactly look angry like you’d expected. Uncomfortable, yes, but not upset. He gave a quick smile -- it was more of a grimace, really -- and nodded once, holding his hand out in gesture. You shot a wide-eyed look towards his feet before stepping past him.

You were in some sort of giant dome. The walls were gilded, and you thought you could see some giant cog-like mechanisms through the dim light. The floor shimmered beneath your feet, and the air felt richer, almost heavy, as if you were wading through it. A few feet away, Thor was helping Bruce find his legs, giving him encouraging pats on the back.

“I’ll never… get used… to that,” the scientist panted.

“No, I suppose no mortal ever does,” Thor nonchalantly replied. Then, noticing you, his smile widened.

“Well,” he gestured. “How was it?”

“Uh,” you hummed, not exactly sure what to say. You still hadn’t gotten over the embarrassment of practically crawling onto Loki’s back out of fright. Your mind would definitely never let you live that one down.

“It was… fine -- yeah, it was fine,” you managed, slowly turning to peek at Loki, who had come to stand next to you. You couldn’t be sure, considering you sill hadn’t worked up the courage to look him in the eyes, but you thought you saw him smirk.

If he had, it was gone as quickly as it had been there.

“Thor,” a baritone voice echoed through the dome. You jumped -- barely catching yourself before you bumped right back into Loki. He definitely smirked this time. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to relax.

“Shall we get moving, brother?” he impatiently muttered. “I’d prefer to be on our way before--”

Which proved to be hard, when you got a glimpse of the man walking towards you. He was huge. Though not any bigger than Thor or Loki, his armor made him look massive -- a large golden chest plate that extend up and past his shoulders, and a helmet adorned with wide horns outlining his face. You got one look at the giant blade he was carrying and tensed. Instinct told you to retreat as he stepped down from the platform in the middle of the room and headed towards you, but Loki was still directly at your back, and you’d rather get decapitated by a terrifying man in armor than make even more of a fool of yourself, so you stayed put.

“Heimdall,” Thor smiled, reaching out to place a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “It is good to see you.”

“And you,” Heimdall cordially replied. “I sensed you had guests,” he gave Bruce a nod, and then glanced over at you.

You were surprised by how gentle his face was, compared to the armor that covered the rest of him. His vibrant golden eyes were filled with kindness, and he gave you an amiable smile.

“Welcome to Asgard,” he nodded. Feeling your fear drain away, you returned his smile.

“Heimdall,” Loki tersely greeted.

“Loki,” the man replied, a new hitch to his voice, though it wasn’t exactly unkind -- which gave his next words some extra meaning.

“Welcome home.”

You felt Loki tense up behind you, and the god fell silent.

“I have your steeds prepared,” Heimdall told the group, gesturing to an opening in the dome. Then, leaning closer to Thor, he said, “She’s been informed of your arrival, and is expecting you at the palace.”

“Thank you, Heimdall,” Thor replied, giving him another pat on the shoulder before turning to the rest of you. “Follow me,” he announced, his smirk betraying his excitement.

You, on the other hand, had felt your fear return at the mention of “steeds.” You could only guess what that meant, and sure enough, just outside the dome, there were four of the biggest horses you had ever seen in your life, lined up and waiting more patiently than you thought a horse could. Then again, you were fairly certain these weren’t regular horses. At least, not the kind you were used to -- or rather, not used to.

But your worries about the inevitable ride ahead were swiftly forgotten when you caught sight of the view. A galaxy swam above your head and stretched around you, wide and expansive, making you feel undeniably small in the best way. Beneath your feet was a semi-translucent bridge, peppered with glowing flecks of every color you’d ever known and then some. It seemed to pulse with life, beams darting through the clear surface. You spun, stepping in a wide circle as you looked down at the bridge with giddy awe.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, grinning to yourself as your eyes followed the streaks of light.

Then out of nowhere, someone was grabbing your arm and yanking you backward. You let out a little squeak as your head snapped up. Once again, you found yourself staring into the sea-green fabric of Loki’s clothes -- only this time, it was the tunic across his chest. You really had to stop ending up like this.

He let go of your arm the second you’d both retreated a few steps, and you craned your head around to see that you had gotten near the edge of the bridge, which seemed to drop off into… space? Your blood turned icy as you realized what had been about to happen.

“Careful, little mouse,” came Loki’s slightly taunting voice. “I’m fairly certain that Stark would like you back.”

There was a dry bite to his tone, but somehow he managed to not sound entirely heartless. You glanced up into his piercing eyes, and he stared back at you unwaveringly. For once, you were able to return the favor.

“Thanks,” you said, voice coming out stronger than you felt.

Again, the God of Mischief narrowed his eyes, then gave a curt nod before heading over to his steed. You watched as he pulled himself onto the giant horse with as much grace as if he was weightless. Sitting atop the animal, cloak furling across its haunches, he looked every bit the king you imagined he could make. Daunting, impressive, a bit terrifying.

As you made your way over to the other horses, you were certain you could feel his eyes following you. Sure enough, when you glanced over your shoulder, Loki was suddenly looking in the other direction. You tilted your head before turning back around.

Thor had just finished helping Bruce up onto one of the horses. Your mentor looked comically small on top of the giant animal, his complexion a little ashen. Noticing you watching, he tried to pass you a smile.

“You’ll be fine, just, uh… hold on."

“Oh, good, yeah -- that makes me feel a whole lot better, thank you.” Despite your sarcasm and your nerves, you managed to crack a smile. You’d always wanted to ride a horse -- now was apparently your chance.

“Alright Y/N,” Thor said, clapping his hands together as he came over to you. “Would you like me to give you a leg up, or lift you on?”

You glanced over at the horse you’d apparently be riding, a heavily muscled creature with an ink black coat, and bit the inside of your cheek.

“A leg up, please," you decided.

Thor stooped down, intertwining his fingers and holding his hands out for you. Placing your foot gingerly on his palms, you began to apply some pressure. You knew it was ridiculous, all things considered, but you were afraid of hurting him.

“Come on, up you go,” Thor encouraged, grabbing your foot and squeezing it as if to say ‘you literally couldn’t hurt me if you tried.’

You nodded and then dropped all your weight into your left leg, standing up on Thor’s hand. He gave you a little boost and helped throw your right leg over the horse. Dragging yourself up, you nearly fell over the saddle as you sat down and slid your feet into the stirrups.

Huffing softly, you smiled down at Thor, who shot you two thumbs up before heading over to his own horse. He mounted with a comical amount of ease compared to how you’d just gotten on, and settled into the saddle like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Alright. Try not to fall off, everybody,” Thor called, grabbing his horse's reins. Loki scoffed, shaking his head.

“About time,” you heard him mutter before spurring his horse forward.

On the other side of you, Thor’s horse began to move as well. Your hand shot out to grab the front of the saddle, gripping it until your knuckles turned white, while your other hand held the reins in a similar death-grip.

“Okay,” you murmured, looking down at your steed. “Please don’t kill me.”

You swore the horse actually laughed at you before, with an elegant shake of its head, it began to take off at a trot that had you nearly bouncing out of the saddle. You held on tighter, squeezing with your legs as the horses picked up speed. With a giant leap, they began galloping across the bridge, their hoove sending sparks of color up into the air.

The gallop was a much more comfortable pace, and after you got the rhythm of it, you no longer felt like you were going to be catapulted off the bridge. With the wind streaming past you and the flashes of color dazzling your eyes, you couldn’t help but grin, an ecstatic laugh erupting from your chest.

You let go of the saddle, instead choosing to wind your fingers through your horse's mane, and leaned into the gallop with more confidence than you would have expected. That’s when you finally managed to glance around you. Bruce was looking a little green -- less ‘Incredible Hulk’ and more ‘I’m about to puke’ -- and you felt a twinge of sympathy amid your excitement. The poor guy was not having a good time.

Thor was keeping a close eye on him, but broke his focus long enough to look over at you. Seeing your grin, a smile of his own appeared, and he gave you a little wave. Laughing, you released your horse's mane for long enough to wave back. Whipping your head around, still relishing in the intoxicating power of the animal beneath you, you were met with an equally impressive sight.

Loki looked staggeringly majestic, sitting tall in the saddle as he moved effortlessly with his horse’s stride, an almost bored expression on his face. Still, his features seemed less severe, and if you didn’t know better, you would have guessed he was having fun. Noticing your staring, he glanced over at you and your eyes connected. You gave him a small smile, and he cocked an eyebrow, an oh-so-subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

If you hadn’t been expecting to have so much fun, you could guess that he probably hadn’t expected it either. But you were having fun -- a lot of fun. So, when the loom of Asgard rose larger in your vision, you found yourself almost wishing the bridge was a little longer.

Thor reined his horse back first, stopping at the open gate, where two guards were waiting. Following his lead, you pulled back on your own reins, and your horse slowed to a gentle stop. Leaning over the animal, you furiously rubbed its neck, which was only slightly damp from the exertion.

“Thanks for the ride, big guy,” you whispered, grinning from ear to ear. “And also not killing me."

You heard a quick huff of laughter off to your left, and looked over to see Loki had already dismounted.

He was turned away from you, patting his horse’s neck much like you had, but he was smiling. You let out a breathless chuckle, your already flushed face feeling hotter with embarassment. Loki seemed to do that to you -- and you hadn't even been around him that long. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore.

The sound of a fracas to your right drew your attention away. Thor was currently in the process of trying to help Bruce off his horse. Holding him firmly by hips, the God of Thunder was attempting to drag him out of the saddle, much to Bruce's protest.

“Now-- hey, just w-- hold on a minute--"

“Let go, Banner,” Thor insisted through grit teeth, trying to sound encouraging. “I’ve got you.”

“Having fun, Little Mouse?”

You covered your mouth with a hand and tried not to burst out laughing.

Whipping around at the voice’s proximity, you found Loki standing next to your mount, a sly grin on his face. You chuckled nervously and gave a teasing shrug of your shoulders, surprised when Loki arched an eyebrow in reply. Then, growing more serious, he held out his hand, palm up.

“May I?”

It gave you pause. You hadn’t exactly thought about having to get off of the horse, which suddenly felt as tall as a mountain, much less with the help of an actual god. Well, a god that wasn’t Thor, at least.

“Oh, uh…” you nodded, trying to calm your racing heart. Now that the adrenaline had all but fled your body, you were starting to feel very unsteady -- a tremble had set into your limbs that you hoped wasn’t noticeable.

Leaning over the saddle, you stood up and took your right foot out of the stirrup. Swinging your leg behind you, you shifted so you were hanging off the side of the horse. It took you a minute to prop yourself up in order to drop the other stirrup, but the moment you did, you felt yourself falling.

“Easy now,” Loki mumbled, bending slightly over you, keeping his arm around your waist until you’d managed to regain your balance.

Your grip tightened on the saddle a moment before you felt strong hands at your waist. Right. Loki was there to help you. You didn’t know if that made you feel better or worse. Releasing the saddle, you let the Asgardian guide you swiftly to the ground. The minute your feet hit, you felt your knees buckle. You lurched forward, but the grip around your waist tightened, holding you up.

“Jeez,” you panted. “Sorry, my legs aren’t working very well at the moment.”

“I gathered,” he dryly replied. "First time on a horse?”

You turned around, wobbling only slightly, and Loki released you, though his arms continued to hover.

“Yeah,” you replied, grinning despite yourself. “It was amazing.”

“Hm,” Loki huffed, but again, you saw that almost invisible smirk, which, now that you were closer, you realized came with a characteristically mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Hey,” you heard the sound of Bruce’s voice and turned. Loki’s hands darted back to his side as if you’d burned him.

“How ya doing?” the scientist asked, concern deepening the lines on his face.

“Good. Great. That was fun."

“Uh, no,” Thor insisted, appearing out of nowhere and throwing an arm around your shoulder, tightening it until you were dragged to his side, where he used his free hand to gently ruffle a fist across the top of your head. “She’s fitting right in. A little Asgardian in the making.”

Bruce shook his head. "You’re insane.”

“Thor,” you grumbled, trying to shove him away, a frantic laugh filling your chest as he poked you in the side.

“Sorry to break up the party,” Loki cut in, raising a slender eyebrow at his brother. “But I believe we’re being expected.” He gestured to the guards, who did in fact seem to be waiting for some sort of instruction from Thor.

“Right,” the god chirped, finally releasing you and heading over to the armored Asgardians.

You straightened up with a good-natured huff, sweeping your hands down the front of your crumbled shirt and rolling your eyes at Bruce, who smirked back at you. Readjusting his bag to his other side, he, too, threw his arm around your shoulder, though in a much more gentle manner than Thor. Tugging you close, the two of you headed after the God of Thunder, with Loki trailing a few steps behind.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki fluff #bruce banner and reader #thor and reader #a bit of bruce x thor if you squint lol #Loki Laufeyson #loki #also on ao3 #fanfiction #loki fanfic

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fastlikealambo · 3 years ago

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THE HEIRESS: BRUCE WAYNE X F!READER X SELINA KYLE

summary: being adopted into one of the most wealthy families in Gotham would have been a dream come true if it were any other family but yours. when your beloved grandfather dies and names you the heir to everything, all hell breaks loose and the only people who don’t want you dead are your exes Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle.

trigger warnings: violence, blood, injuries, mentions of abuse, illness, soft dom!selina switch! bruce, praise k!nk, someone said bruce wayne cries after sex and i support this. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE NOT 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE.

CHAPTER TWO.

TAG LIST

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@lunamyangel

CHAPTER THREE SNEAK PEEK

Pretty words and dancing with a ghost.

You watched Bruce’s car go off into the distance, the reality of going back into the house you were planning on running away from only a few hours ago finally starting to sink in.

“ You know, I've always liked that boy.” Greta said as you walked into the kitchen, clothes still damp from the rain.

“ He just gave me a ride home Greta, I don’t think Mom was going to let me carpool after what just happened. Oh god, you don’t know, do you?” Greta nods, sliding a mug of hot tea into your hand.

“ I’ve known for quite some time dear, just as I also know that if I go look in my purse right now, I’ll find triple my salary.” Greta laughs at the bewilderment on your face, patting your hand.

“Did you honestly believe your grandfather was going to leave you with nothing? I remember the day your mother brought you home, how scared you were of everything and everyone. Your grandfather was far from a perfect man but when you came into this house, you brought him the one thing he had been missing.”

“ Good publicity?”

“Hope. Your parents adopted you as a publicity stunt, you know that, I know that, and your grandfather knew it too but you managed to reach him in a way his children did not and they hate you for it. The things they did and continue to do to you under this roof I shudder to think about. Your grandfather and I should have done a far better job protecting you-

“ Greta, it wasn’t your fault-

“No, let me finish. Every adult in your life has failed you in one way or another, including me but you have not and will not fail yourself.” Greta said, wiping away your tears and her own.

“ But what do I do now? What if I just took the money and ran? They’ll be back soon and I’m not sure I can face them yet.”

“I can handle them. I know you want to leave and if you did, no one would blame you. But there’s a benefit tonight, usually your uncle goes in your grandfather’s stead but if you’re feeling up to it and want to get out of the house a little longer, I can have a car ready in five.”

The tea cold in your hands, you weigh your options which seem to be running away for good, hiding upstairs until your family comes home, or going to a party where you won’t know anyone.

“ I don’t have anything to wear.”

Before you know it, you’ve outside of a gala, not exactly where you thought you’d be tonight but you’re there nonetheless. You’re barely out of the car before journalists spot you and it takes everything in you to not do your usual routine of pretending you’re invisible.

“You’re the richest woman in Gotham now, how does it feel?”

“Who are you wearing?”

“Will you be spending your money on yourself or charity?”

“Where’s your date?”

“Gotham is well aware of my grandfather’s history of philanthropy and I hope to continue good work in his name. I understand what it is like to be without money, food, or shelter, and no one should have to feel that way. I acknowledge the place of privilege I am at now but I am committed to putting my money towards the people who need it and not those who seek to make a profit. I’m excited to get to work.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

The pretty words and a shy smile flow out of you way too easily as you move away from the press line, making your way into the party. The hard part was done, now you could just eat some shrimp puffs, drink champagne in a corner before going home to face your no doubt vengeful parents. All you had to do now was-

“ Would the richest woman in Gotham care to dance?”

That voice.

That silky, life altering voice that brought you to your knees at one time in your life and even now had you wobbling in your heels as you turned around to face what had to be a ghost.

“Selina?”

Hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! I’ve got some irl stuff that’s just popped up but I hope to have this finished up soon! See you soon and thank you for reading!

#bruce wayne x reader #selina kyle x reader #bruce wayne x selina kyle x reader #battinson x reader #battinson

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spacefoxy · 2 years ago

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Do you think Eric may have been dealing with an unidentified mood disorder that caused his moodiness?, I also heard he could go hot and cold and do you think he may have been dealing with unresolved issues in his life?

Sorry it took me a moment to get to this one!

Again - disclaimer - I cannot say things with 100% certainty. This is just my own opinions that I have come to from all the material I have consumed. Do not take this post as absolute facts.

Now that that's out of the way. We hear about his moodiness a lot from Carrie, who dated him at the end of the 80's. Paul has also mentioned his silent treatments, which range from '87 to '90. Bruce has also some stories from HITS tour and yeah Crazy Nights too, where Eric would sulk in silence on the tour bus etc. So yeah, he was moody. That we cannot deny.

Lets go back to what Paul said about him agonizing about not being the original drummer. Peter was equal with the other guys, and he contributed so many songs! Peter has a vocal on damn near every album before Eric joined. Eric wanted to be in a band where he could do that ever since he became a huge fan of the Beatles - but once he got into KISS, he was a hired gun. He had a salary and a contract and he did not get to take part in any meetings where the band was discussed. He just got a memo after the fact. That has got to sting! G&P clearly tightened the reigns on the band during the 80's, there's no doubt about that. Perhaps having been burned by Ace and Peter (cause c'mon we all know what that was like) they took more and more control over decisions and every album became a battle of who gets to have how many songs on the album between them. I believe there were stories of "well if he gets that song, then I get this one" type of situations. Eric would bring in material, but if neither of them could make it their song to sing, they were rarely truly interested, I feel like.

So imagine about a decade of very limited ability to contribute to the band, which was eating him up for sure. He was apalled when Vinnie was offered a lead on the next album (which became Animalize) after only having just arrived in the band and not even having a proper contract with them. The only thing that was truly Eric's, was his drum solo. He was free to get as creative with it as he wanted. And he loved the interaction with the fans. That was the only thing that was truly his and he held onto it for dear life.

Why am I talking about all this? Because I feel like his increasing moodiness has a direct link to all this. The first instant of his moodiness on record comes from the Crazy Nights tour, especially the European leg of it. What happened during this time? Paul suggested they get rid of the drum solo. (Gary Corbett said the words used were "No one wants to hear that shit anyway" but take that with a grain of salt obv). They wanted to play more songs on the set and the drum solo took too much time. This was a devastating blow to Eric. I can imagine him being already wound up about not being allowed to properly contribute to the band and now they're coming for his solo too. So he started sulking and giving the silent treatment to the others. (which seems to be his go-to thing)

The same situation happened during the HITS tour, where all of the solos got axed at the beginning of the tour because they wanted to play more songs. They had just hired a tour manager who had said to Eric he hates drum solos. So yeah, they had already gotten off on the wrong foot and now his solo was being taken away *again*. What's worse, they only played Little Caesar once, during a rehearsal show, and dropped it immediately. So yeah, he was moody.

A lot of the counts of moodiness from this time come from Carrie, who honestly had no idea what was happening in the band. And the way she treated him sometimes was bordering on abuse. She'd be heard screaming at Eric or the famous making him sleep on the floor when he didn't even do anything to deserve it. If we look at her current behavior and the frankly disgusting way she treats people, yeah I can see her doing this shit to him.

So if we recap, he was stiffled artistically, people were coming after the only thing he had total control over in the band, and his girlfriend was a person he wasn't sure he wanted to stay with for the rest of his life and he was getting there in age. No wonder he was moody.

Sure there could have been stuff we never got to know about but I feel like the picture is painted quite clearly by following these leads. Now do I feel like a 40 year old man sulking instead of voicing his grievances is childish? Absolutely! LOL But that was his style... Oh Eric..

#Anonymous #oops I wrote a novel again

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writerben01 · 1 year ago

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I love all of this. And while I really enjoy the idea of a fictional world where Kermit and Piggy are in a relationship with Bruce Wayne (it's hilarious), I can't help but think how that would look like when grounded into bat reality too.

The puppeteers approaching Bruce Wayne after the interview, both flustered from all the teasing and thankful for how he played along. Both surprised to learn that Bruce keeps flirting even when they’re not in costume and genuinely enjoys their company for the small moments after the show. Kermit’s puppeteer isn’t Kermit because it’s just a part they play, but they have to be capable of the compassion that Kermit shows in order to act it out. Piggy’s puppeteer isn’t Piggy, but they have to capable of her wit in order to act it out.

Bruce is supposed to go on patrol, but everyone’s been hounding him to take it easier. And while he regularly has to find a random man or woman to hang by his side to keep up his playboy persona, it’s rare he can be the playboy with people he actually enjoys the company of.

So as everything wraps up, he offers to take them to dinner. It can’t be in public, unfortunately, since the puppeteers aren’t supposed to be seen in the press. And that’s unavoidable if they go to dinner with Bruce. So Bruce calls Alfred and asks to have dinner for three ready.

They’re discreet. But they also have a great time. The puppeteers truly appreciate all that Bruce has done for the city, and Bruce really is amazed by their acting skills. Bruce is an actor just like them even if nobody knows it, and he’s learning so much just by talking to them.

Bruce end up bedding them.

And in post-coital bliss they start joking about how Bruce did end up sleeping with Kermit and Piggy just like he had promised. The puppeteers do the voices as they all stare at the ceiling (so much easier to imagine the puppets when you can’t see the puppeteers). And so much easier to be vulnerable and speak their minds. Bruce can talk all about how nice the swamps are and how he’ll have the best mud imported for Piggy’s baths. The puppeteers talk about how they’ve saved the theatre and have all the time in the world now. Why not stay there for longer?

But as the game ends, reality sets back in. They’re travelling all across the country to promote the movie and have to be on a plane within a few hours. Bruce doesn’t do long term relationships and as a playboy he can get sex anywhere. It was all fun, but is was also all pretend.

Almost all. Bruce tells them in all seriousness that he’d love to host them again if they’re back in the city. They try to make light of it, using the voices to tease about how Kermit and Piggy have a standing invitation to Bruce Manor. And Bruce just puts on his millionaire smile. You’re welcome whether you bring the puppets or not.

They part amicably. And Bruce feels a lot better.

When anyone asks what he was doing that night, he just gives them a look. Hadn’t they seen the interview? He was very clearly making good on his promises to the two famous muppets.

Time passes. Memes are made. The media loves to speculate.

The puppeteers call when the movie is pitched. The producers want to capitalize on the media success and make a sequel in Gotham with piggy ending up at Wayne Manor and Robert Dowey Jr playing Bruce. The puppeteers couldn’t explain why that would be inappropriate and wouldn’t disclose anything to the producers without Bruce’s consent. They’re professionals, of course.

And they’re surprised to learn how much Bruce loves the idea. They’re even more surprised when Bruce volunteers to appear as himself in the movie.

He negotiates a generous salary, which will all be donated to arts charities in Gotham. He holds on announcing it because it’ll be funnier if nobody realises it’s going to be Bruce himself appearing in the film. Robert Dowey Jr still gets taken on the promotional tours and they make a big deal about his mystery part and nobody guesses who he’ll play.

Obviously everyone instantly assumes he’ll play Bruce Wayne.

Imagine their surprise when the doors to Wayne Manor open and they see Roberty Dowey Jr playing Alfred instead.

The added benefit is that Bruce isn’t expected to promote the movie. He’s kept out of trailers for now, and he can focus on fighting crime and pretending to be a playboy.

Most nights he’s on a conference call with the puppeteers, who tell him about their day and the funniest highlights on set and during promotion.

Obviously there is a lot of movie to be made, and Bruce only plays a tiny part in it. He is only needed for a few days on set. He is his regularly charming self, talks up everyone like it’s the first time he’s ever seen a movie being made, taken completely by surprise at every little thing that is different compared to the set-up for interviews that he’s used to.

Bruce genuinely fumbles over his lines a few times. It’s hard to find a balance between pretending to be incompetent and caring about the script. As much as he’s used to acting, he’s never done it with a script before. He’s never been told to repeat the line twenty times with different emotions and projections. He’s never been told to slowly change his emotion over a scene and then jump back to how his emotions were thirty seconds ago because they want another take.

There are a lot of bloopers and everyone’s a sport about it. Especially because Kermit, Piggy and Bruce have amazing chemistry even as something goes wrong.

Bruce accidentally looks to Kermit when he says he just can’t resist that face (Piggy’s). Kermit makes a joke about it, and Bruce says it’s hard to find Piggy’s pretty face right away with Kermit’s pretty face so close by.

Bruce stands on Piggy’s puppet hand and falls to his knees in apology, giving a gentle kiss on her arm and asking what in the world he can give her to make it up to her.

Half the blooper real is Bruce ‘accidentally’ forgetting that the producers didn’t want any flirting happening between Kermit and Bruce. One memorable scene is him staring depressed at the script and asking sadly why Kermit and him can’t just share Piggy together.

Every night he gets to lay in bed with the puppeteers and talk about acting and the movie and everything else. Bruce helps to brainstorm some of the meanest lines about himself. At first the movie wanted to have Piggy live her life in luxury at Wayne manor while she learned to be a businessman like Bruce. But Bruce turned that around into Peggy having control of everything, humbling Bruce with her intelligence and business acumen. A place where she was appreciated more than with the Muppets.

He also keeps pitching adult jokes, which they have to reject. But if he has actual interest in being pegged by Piggy, they can handle that in private with no problems.

Bruce becomes less of a playboy around them, and more like his real self. He doesn’t even really know who that is anymore. He exaggerates when he’s Bruce and he exaggerates when he’s Batman. Around them he can let go of all the pretending and just have fun as an actor. Being an actor is more his real self than any of his roles are.

The movie comes out and everyone loses their shit.

Bruce keeps being asked about it in interviews. And with the straightest face acts like he only just realised what those cameras were for. He was just living his best life with Miss Piggy. He just can’t say no to that pig.

Part of him wanted to make it more. To really bring the puppeteers into his life. But he can’t do that to them. It would bring too much risk to people that just wanted to bring joy into the world. And he can’t do it to the people of Gotham, who need Batman to be without distractions.

But that doesn’t mean that Bruce can’t have any breaks. Or that he can’t have fun.

There are many more Muppet movies, and Bruce gets to make a cameo in every one. It’s just canon that Bruce is Kermit’s rival in Piggy’s affections. Kermit is the lovable underdog, while Bruce is the rich idiot.

In a movie about superheroes, Bruce makes a cameo as Batman. He wears a suit that is two sizes too big, can’t stop smiling (all the muppets keep telling him on the movie that he’s playing Batman so he should frown, and when Bruce tries to frown he just smiles wider), and is constantly tripping over himself. In the movie he became Batman because he wanted to be cool like Kermit/Superman and win Miss Piggy back.

Every movie Bruce gets to Cameo in, he gets to spend time with the puppeteers.

And maybe some day they’ll retire and decide to settle in Gotham. Perhaps some day Bruce can stop being Batman and he’ll be able to start an acting career.

Perhaps.

Bruce knows he can’t take any future for granted.

And in the mean time, he gets to freak out everyone in the Justice League when he casually mentions he had another threesome with the Muppets in his last vacation.

I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.

You know the kind of shows I mean.

The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.

So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.

Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)

(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))

Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.

#It's nanowrimo #so why not procrastinate #TheLionWrites

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froldgapp · 2 years ago

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These days, Barbara usually woke before him. It wasn’t always this way. When they’d first started whatever this was, she’d fall into consciousness to the sense of him already somewhere else in her apartment; the kitchen, the shower. He had a habit of rearranging her books and her records. He did this when she was sleeping, of course. Impatient, pedantic and petulant. A robin. Occasionally, if he was in the mood to pretend she was quiet enough to sneak up on him, she’d catch him staring out at Gotham through the large lounge window, the city suspended in the morning amber. It was always quietest in those hours before the trains started running, before the bodies were discovered by tired workers starting their shifts. He once said he loved summer mornings in Gotham the most; that it felt like a held breath. The window was open and the cool air pushed his dark hair from his face and he said, “It’s so quiet. You can pretend it’s all over. There’s nothing left to do.” He impressed her in those early days in a way he never did before or since. When Tim Drake emerged from the second great depression in his short life, it was like she saw him for the first time. What Tam Fox must once have seen, surely. A confounding, compelling creature that had a seeing-eye picture’s deceptive allure of coming into focus just when you thought there was nothing interesting to see. Desperately sad too. In need of rescuing. A cliche, but a fucking solid one. One day when she bumped into him coming out of the bathroom at the manor, she was affronted to discover that he was actually very beautiful. Black hair, blue eyes, an acrobat’s shoulders (an acrobat’s waist, forearms, ass). A hot energy pooled in her stomach, even as she laughed and shoved him out of her way, he protesting in that Lenny Bruce abomination of an accent of his. But when she’d closed the bathroom door behind her, she’d leant her head against her chair and said, “Fuck” and then, “No.” She was not going to fall for Tim Drake at Dick Grayson’s anniversary dinner. She did.

[Into My Arms here or keep reading below]

They fell for each other. Into each other. With each other. Down and down and down into a grief they’d both considered as bloodless as dried flowers. They were wrong. It was just waiting for them to find each other. Dick Grayson had died. Sudden arrhythmic death syndrome. 33. He wasn’t discovered for three days. They all told each other it wasn’t each other’s fault like they were salaried to. Dick was in Bludhaven. They were busy. Gotham was falling apart. Jason was falling apart. Dick was living his life. So and so had just spoken to him. Dick was always so okay . How could it be that the most beloved of them could lie alone for three days? It was high summer. Thinking of it brought Barbara to the edge of madness. Tim quit the nighttime gig, restarted, quit again, moved to Vietnam, moved back. Fought an eating disorder, fought Bruce, fought Jason, almost killed Damian, was almost killed by Damian. Took up the mantle of Nightwing at Bruce’s behest and quickly made the first of two attempts on his own life. She’d only heard about all this second hand, of course. She was too busy playing her own part: stoic, noble Barbara. Tragic Barbara. A perversion of Eurydice. Strong, weak Barbara. Broken but persevering Barbara. Lonely but admirable. Who could love again after loving and being loved by Dick? But it happened. Because loving Tim Drake felt so much like loving Dick sometimes it felt like her chest might implode. Tim, beautiful, fragile, incidental Tim, was a priest through whom she could commune with the most perfect human any of them would ever know. Sometimes when he eased her backwards onto the bed, his chest a hard panel and his cool hands searching, she’d close her eyes and pretend he was Dick. She knew it was wrong. She found it hard to care. She suspected he knew what she was doing too. Maybe he was living out his own Dick Grayson fantasy. He always had been the magpie of the family. It took them months to look each other in the eye; he’d make love with his mouth pressed against her neck. Occasionally he wept. Once he screamed. Tim was as old now as Dick was when he died. Still boyish, if anything he was slimmer now than he was in his 20s. He still got IDed when he picked wine up for her. He didn’t drink. God forbid. Instead he drank water while Barbara scried the past in a glass of Tempranillo. He’d endured more than a few drunken explosions of hers, nodded patiently when she called him a “fucking facsimile” and held her, humming into her hair when she burst into shameful tears. In the end, he did go back to being Nightwing. Was so now. Different colours, a different mandate and a whole new dynamic. Jason not speaking to him, for example. Barbara told Tim he’d come around. Jason needed time. When she met Jason, she told him Tim was the best thing he had, that he needed to stop blaming Tim for everyone else’s mistakes, and then held his hand while he choked on silent tears. He missed his brother, couldn’t bear to love another one the same way. She got it. He was a good man. Bruce was cueing Tim up to be Batman, that much was clear. A pinch hitter while Damian matured and mellowed. Tim said he would never. He would rather die. Barbara wasn’t so sure. Tim never could let the project fail. If she could help it, she’d keep Tim away from the cowl. Dick wouldn’t have wanted that life for him. So, she was learning–slowly–to protect the boundaries of their own little empire: a loft apartment, little Haley the dog, and a pair of rescued cats Tim never fully learned to trust. She watched him boil chicken and pak choi with the same amount of focus he used to solve the world’s most complex enigmas. She watched him run through his conditioning exercises in the morning, sometimes walking on his hands to scare the cats. She watched him flick through photos on an old phone, huffing that laugh of his that sometimes turned into a sputtering cough. She waited at home when she wasn’t running coms, sometimes too much like a certain kind of woman she thought she’d never be: the kind who waits for the police officer’s knock. She loved Tim as a person, as a conduit, as an artefact. She loved him as a substitute, she loved him as an almost, a nearly, a not-quite. She loved him as a sound and a scent. As a friend, as an ally and as a man who gave his whole life to a Gotham that had taken so much from them both. She loved him most of all because he understood her and he held her grief with the kind of grace he would never give himself. Okay, she thought, I’ll hold it for him.

#tim drake #barbara gordon #dick grayson #jason todd #fanfic

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innocentimouto · 3 years ago

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Jason and Wealth

This isn’t a rant but one thing confuses me about Jason in fics. I understand him being suspicious and maybe hoarding food.

But the way people show he doesn’t believe he deserves basic necessities and then proceed to put it in a positive light that he should enjoy having meals to feed dozens of people and living in a place so big half the people on his street would survive.

It...makes me uncomfortable.

I’m not rich, but I’ve never been in need either. And I can tell you it makes me uncomfortable to sometimes look around my room and see how many things I have. I hate when people throw away leftovers instead of just putting them in containers for later meals. I hate excessiveness. It may be a personal tendency, but this is a person without Jason’s background of poverty.

I don’t think it’s highlighted enough how uncomfortable Jason would be, and it doesn’t need to be purely related to trauma. It doesn’t even need to be something to overcome. A mansion to house a dozen, if not more people, and only to two men?

If Jason knew so many people on the streets who turned to crime to survive and then sees someone with more wealth than he needs and more rooms than he could ever use, yeah he’d probably be a little hateful at first which would be mixed with guilt as he’s now escaped that life but others haven’t.

Ironically, I think this applies really well to Dick as well. He’s not a rich boy and I don’t pretend to know the salary of the circus, but traveling restricts luxuries more often than not, as well as making you appreciate things in simpler ways. Dick also works for things and doesn’t like being given them without effort.

And Bruce would inevitably have habits that stems form his upbringing, simply offering the boys as many toys as they would want or getting them devices before the public were allowed them. He could just buy a whole amusement park for the boys and both would be uncomfortable. For Jason to have gone from nothing to such grand gestures that seemed unfair when he already had so much now and other people were literally dying on the streets.

And for Dick because he was raised differently and doesn’t see the point of most of those things when he could use the money in better ways or just because there were luxuries to enjoy without excessiveness and while Bruce may not be wrong, Dick’s view differs and Bruce, who’s been raised this way his whole life, doesn’t understand why Dick can’t just accept the money.

Bruce just buying Dick a whole closet of outfits and Dick getting upset because he doesn’t need it, he has 50 others Bruce. Been on the receiving end of family members trying to buy really expensive things that would be fun to have but that I just didn’t need and so what’s the point?

Dick is too pragmatic to appreciate those things. He won’t be ungrateful, but it would start to get out of control and the rich life is not the life he wants.

This is possibly an actual argument they could have that actually makes sense and isn’t a form of abuse. And it’s not so much of right and wrong and more the differences of upbringing and lifestyles which isn’t a crime to differ on.

I know Bruce helps Gotham a lot, but the fact is that they don’t need that much space. So I’m not saying Bruce is selfish, stingy rich boy.

And Tim oh boy.

Tim is a rich boy. Him going to live with Bruce and being unsure of affection? Sure, fine. Him not wanting any of the luxuries and being content with nothing? No. Tim would see no issue with buying a whole amusement park and would regularly offer they do something similar. I don’t honestly see how people think Tim and Jason would get along. He may not have had the best of parents, but he still came from a wealthy family. He’d get along with Bruce the best and clash with Jason the most.

It’s actually more of a reason Tim and Damian would clash, as both would come from wealth but Damian wasn’t allowed luxuries while Tim was allowed everything.

#Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years ago

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When The Music's Not Forgotten PT. 1

Green Lantern!Reader x Lantern Family Story!

Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes, Violence

Author's Note: I legit had a breakdown trying to think about what to label this fic as. Almost put 'Batsis' but then I realized it's not Batsis nor Lantern!Sis so I was like...uh...what do I do? We'll figure it out. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Her first thought when she opened the front door to the Coast City apartment and saw her dad in a headlock by Kyle and Kyle in a headlock by Guy who was in one by John, who was in one by her dad, was: this is totally and completely normal.

The second thought: that nothing involving her father and uncles ever surprised her anymore, occurred to her as said father and said uncles stopped arguing with one another and cocked their heads up, looking at her, each of their faces exhibiting the epitome of “I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar” shock, in which she merely returned with a blank stare before closing the door behind her, marching into the kitchen with the grocery bags.

Of course, that also meant the second she did, they were stumbling in to explain what had brought them to the unfortunate moment of head-locking each other, but also to see what she’d bought and what she was going to cook for dinner. She paid them no mind, ducking under arms and between bodies as she maneuvered around them kitchen, putting things away.

Someone curled an arm around her neck, pressing their lips to her temple. “Hey Raptor.”

She smiled. “Hey dad.” Tossing a beer behind her, she added, “Uncle Guy. Uncle John. Kyle.”

Guy caught his beer, popping the tab, and Kyle looked at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “How come everyone else is ‘uncle’ and I’m not?” he looked hurt. “Am I somehow different, (Y/N)?”

She paused and threw another beer behind her. “Kyle, were almost the same age. I’m not calling you my uncle because John and Guy are older than both of us.”

“Not that much,” he griped, popping his beer tab. “It still hurts my feelings.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and handed John the final beer. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I considered you to be my favorite cousin?”

Kyle smiled at her. “Yes, it would.”

She nodded then glanced at Hal. “Dad, tacos or burgers?”

“I dunno.” He said, glancing at the others. “You guys?”

“Burgers.”

“Tacos.”

“Burgers.”

She cocked a brow and looked at her father. “Seems like you’ll either make a tie or a win.”

“I have been thinking about good tacos, Raptor,” he replied, and she nodded.

“Tacos it is.” Guy and John groaned, and she shot them a glare. “Hey! Lock that shit up or I’m not cookin’.” Immediately they shut their mouths, listening to Kyle and Hal snicker. “Buncha children.” She griped, dumping the ground beef into a skillet to brown.

“So, (Y/N),” Guy drawled, leaning against the kitchen counter. And honestly, the entire kitchen was way too small for four grown men and a grown woman to be in at one time, but she’d gotten used to it, so why fix what wasn’t broke.

“So, Uncle Guy.” She repeated, shifting the meat around with the spatula.

“Why exactly did you start working at the Wayne Enterprises branch here?”

She could feel the eyes of her family on her back, and she couldn’t help but roll hers. “Maybe because Mister Wayne pays good salaries to his employees and his health insurance coverage is fantastic?” (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “But something tells me you’re asking for another answer.”

He grinned. “Which son of Wayne’s are you dating?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes again. “I love you, but you’re an idiot.” She turned back to the pan. “I’m not dating any of his sons. Dick’s with Koriand’r, Jason’s a douche-bag, and their brothers are way too young.”

“Doesn’t he have a daughter?”

“Cass is dating a girl she goes to college with.” She took an onion from the basket against the kitchen wall atop the counter. “Keep digging though, Uncle Guy. You’ll hit rock bottom soon enough.”

“Does that mean you’re dating the big Bat?”

She almost cried from laughter as Hal choked on his beer and spluttered. “No. I’m not dating Mister Wayne. He’s old enough to be my dad.”

John chuckled. “I don’t know, (Y/N). When you first met Bruce at, what? Ten? You told him you were going to marry him.”

Her cheeks burned and she scowled at them. “I meant Batman because he was kind-hearted, and I was totally awestruck as a little girl. Let it go.” Her eyes fell on Hal. “Dad, tell ‘em to let it go.”

He nodded. “Please let it go.” Kyle started humming ‘Here Comes the Bride’ and while the others snickered, Hal screwed his eyes shut. “Oh God, stop. I don’t want to think about my precious baby anywhere near that anal retentive kitchen scale.”

The other snickered and before she could say anything, their rings started beeping. She looked at them as their faces turned solemn, setting their beers down as their suits flashed to life.

“Trouble on Oa,” John said.

“Gotta fly?” she asked, and Hal nodded, leaning over to kiss her temple.

“Gotta fly, Raptor.” He hugged her quickly and followed John and the others to the balcony. “I love you.”

“I love you too, dad.” (Y/N) waved. “Be careful, Corpsmen.” They all waved at her and took off, leaving her in the apartment alone and she sighed, turning back to the kitchen. “Another dinner…alone.” She couldn’t help but deflate. “Wonderful.”

***

She continued cooking for almost an hour when the balcony doors opened and closed, and she smiled. “Hey guys. You’re back rather early.” When she didn’t hear a response, she immediately fell on guard and she took one of the kitchen knives from its holder, brandishing it.

Carefully, she walked into the dimly lit living room, eyes scanning the expanse for whoever was in the apartment with her. None of the floorboards were creaking, no rustling of fabric or scuffing of shoes. It was completely silent, and that made her nervous.

Stay calm. The worst thing you can do in a situation when you need to be calm is to be panicked. Slow breaths. Keep focused.

She repeated his words in her head and shifted around the hallway wall, eyes peeled for trouble.

Small steps when sweeping buildings. If an enemy rounds a corner and it comes to close combat, you’ll want to be able to hit them and taking big steps causes instability.

(Y/N) crept down the hall and came upon the bathroom just beside her father’s bedroom door. Quickly, she peeked in, seeing it empty, then cross the doorway, pausing beside her father’s door. She inhaled deeply, then turned her head around the corner, seeing it empty and dark. The only room left was hers.

She crossed to the other side of the wall and hurried down to her door, and with another sharp breath, she turned and looked in. Again, it was empty. Confusion bled through her as she returned to the living room, the hand holding the knife lowered beside her thigh.

“That’s strange.” She murmured. “I thought I—”

“Heard something?”

She gasped and spun around, bringing the knife up, but they caught it with ease, squeezing her wrist until she cried in pain and dropped it. (Y/N) heard the clattering in her ears as they grabbed her other hand and shoved her down into the couch.

She started thrashing wildly, about to scream when she heard, “I thought I told you not to turn your back on people.”

(Y/N) stilled and turned her head, catching that stupidly smart smirk. “You fucker.” She cursed at him, torn between laughing hysterically and cursing some more. “I can’t believe you turned this into a lesson.”

He shrugged. “Had to know if you were learning any better.” Smiling at her, he quipped, “Your sweeping is great. Detection skills? Not so much.”

“Let me up, Jason.” she commanded, rolling her eyes and he snorted, letting go of her arms. Immediately, she spun and cocked her elbow into his jaw, smiling as he grunted in pain and grabbed it.

“Damn,” he hissed. “You’ve got elbowing down to an art.”

She grinned. “I’ve had a good teacher.”

They stared on another down for a moment, then all at once, they were yanking at shirts and unbuckling belts, grabbing each other, and tugging closer to one another as their lips met in a searing kiss.

(Y/N) shoved at the jacket on his shoulders, moving her lips to his jaw and he groaned, taking his hands from her hips for just a moment to pull the article off. He shifted out of reach, and she glanced towards the kitchen.

“I turned the oven off,” Jason muttered, yanking his crimson shirt over his head. “Figured we’d be too busy to eat dinner.”

She giggled and shoved him off the couch, watching as he scrambled to his feet; she stood and started pulling off her own clothes, first her shirt, then her bra and Jason almost collapsed at her feet when she tugged her pants to her ankles.

“C’mon, Jay, don’t be shy.” (Y/N) cooed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He chuckled, and unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor as he back-stepped down the hallway. “Oh, you want a show, Miss Jordan?”

She smirked at him and stuck her thumbs in the sides of her thong. “I’d love a show, Mister Todd.”

“I might made you beg a little for it,” he shot back coolly, toeing off his combat boots and she hummed.

“I will if you will.” (Y/N) said, watching his hands unbutton the charcoal-colored utility pants he wore.

“My eyes are up here.” Jason quipped, though he didn’t seem to stop as he shoved his pants down, leaving him in his boxers, and he hit her doorway.

“True, but my attention is elsewhere.” She drew her eyes up his toned body, internally smirking as he seemed to shiver under her gaze, and she pushed her thong down her legs. (Y/N) stood before him and reached out, placing her hands flat on his chest. He was so hot underneath her palms and she slowly rubbed her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“(Y/N),” he murmured huskily, arms winding around her waist, and she smirked.

“Take me to bed, Jason.”

Immediately, he bent down and grabbed the back of her thighs, digging his fingers in until she lifted and wrapped her arms around his waist. “With pleasure,” he purred.

***

By the time Hal and the other lanterns got back to the apartment, it was well into the morning, and he could tell that everyone just wanted to crash in exhaustion, too tired to even think about flying to their own homes.

He opened the balcony doors and let them inside. “Lemme get some blankets from the hall closet,” he muttered, voice as ragged as his body felt.

“Who the hell played strip poker in here?”

Hal looked up at Guy who was holding up a crimson t-shirt with a baffled expression. “What?”

Guy met his gaze then nodded down the hall. “Someone’s been tangoing.”

When he craned his neck to peek down the hallway, sure enough there was a trail of clothing leading down to her room. His eyes went wide, and he suddenly forgot about his exhaustion as he leaped over the couch and sprinted down the hall, the other Lanterns hot on his heels.

Hal skidded to a stop in her doorway and immediately screeched, “(Y/N) JORDAN WHO THE HELL IS IN YOUR BED?!”

The two young adults in the bed startled up, and she held the sheet to her chest as she gaped at her father. “Dad! You—you’re here!”

He gestured wildly. “OF COURSE, I’M HERE! I FUCKING LIVE HERE! WHO THE FUCK IS IN YOUR BED?!”

“Morning, Hal,” Jason greeted, with a mock salute. “How’s your day so far?”

“MY DAY?!” he bellowed, already starting for the young man, and John was quick to grab Hal around the waist. “LET GO! I’M GOING TO MURDER THIS SON OF A BAT FOR CORRUPTING MY DAUGHTER!”

“Excuse me,” Jason said, rather affronted, then pointed at her. “It’s (Y/N) who’s corrupted me.”

(Y/N) barely had time to hide her snort as she elbowed him in the side. “Shut the hell up.” She cleared her throat and looked at the men in her doorway. “Uh…can you close the door so I can get dressed?”

“CLOSE THE DOOR?! I’M GOING TO TAKE THE DOOR OFF ITS HINGES! YOU ARE GROUNDED, (Y/N) JORDAN DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE—”

Guy and John dragged Hal off and Kyle shut the door but threw a thumbs up at Jason before he left.

***Part Two***

She tried to look anywhere but her father’s face as he continued to berate her and Jason. And honestly, he’d stopped making sense about thirty minutes ago and while she couldn’t look at her uncles for fear of bursting into laughter, Jason had no problems cracking a smirk at everything Hal was yelling about.

“—AND I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAD A BOY IN THE HOUSE!” he paused, horror drawing across his face, then it immediately turned into anger. “THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME HE’S COME OVER IS IT?! HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?!”

Her face pinched and she inquired, “Which question do you want answered first? The one you asked when you first started yelling or the last one just now?”

“I am in no mood for games, (Y/N) Jordan. You brought a boy into the house without permission.”

“I am a man.” Jason interrupted.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “I didn’t realize I needed permission to bring my boyfriend into the house.”

“BOYFRIEND?!” Hal screeched.

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m confused. Are you angry at me calling him my boyfriend? Do you want me to call him my fuckbuddy or something?”

“HEY!” both Jason and Hal in unison and her father glared at him. “SHUT UP!”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, dad…I’m twenty-one. Having a boyfriend is a completely normal thing. Having a consensual sexual relationship with someone is a normal thing.”

Hal spluttered for a moment then pointed at Jason. “NOT WITH HIM!”

“What’s wrong with me?” Jason question, rather offendedly, then he held up a hand. “I mean, besides the obvious things that are wrong with me.”

“YOU’RE YOU! THE SON OF BATMAN!”

“I mean…” Jason drawled. “That’s technically debatable most days.”

(Y/N) looked at him. “You’re not exactly helping the case, Jay.”

“I’m not trying to.” He grinned at her. “I’m seeing if I can make your dad go red.”

She tutted at him. “Jason Todd trying to corrupt a Green Lantern into a Red Lantern. Shame.”

“QUIT DOING THAT!” Hal howled as they started snickering, seeming to get lost in their own little world. Suddenly, he was marching down the hallway and coming back with a cellphone.

They watched in confusion for a moment, then Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“What?” (Y/N) worried.

“He’s calling B.”

“What.”

Hal put the phone to his ear and glowered at the two of them until the line clicked and he immediately yelled, “DO YOU KNOW YOUR DELINQUENT SON IS DATING MY DAUGHTER?...WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ALREADY KNOW?!...EXCUSE ME?! WHAT?!”

He hung up the phone and set it on the table, then proceeded to turn around and grab a pillow from the couch, bringing it to his face. Hal bellowed into the pillow and Jason nudged her. “How long is he gonna be like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Probably another minute or two. He’ll start up again in about an hour though.”

Jason hummed and stood from the table. “Well, I’d love to stay and get yelled at some more but if I’m being honest, I only need one father yelling at me and not two.”

“Where are you going?” she questioned.

“Roy and I have a mission in Costa Rica tomorrow evening.” He bent down and kissed her lips. “I’ll call you when I land.”

(Y/N) smiled and before he pulled away, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for another searing kiss, one that erupted wolf-whistles from the other Lanterns around them—which also had Hal pulling his head up at the sound, immediately shouting again.

“Love you,” she murmured, and he winked.

“Love you more, doll.” He tossed a mock salute to Hal and the others before leaving and she sat back in her seat, readying herself for another round of bellowing.

***

Surprisingly, Hal had relaxed after a few hours. That being said, (Y/N) really had to work on him to do so but being an only child and her dad’s pride and joy played a big part—she knew the man could never stay mad at her. Of course, he’d immediately put rules into place over the whole relationship thing. No boys in the house without permission, no closing the door when a boy was over, no more Bat-sons in the Jordan apartment…he was overreacting, but it wasn’t anything new in (Y/N)’s opinion.

But he did ease up after a few months, mainly because as anti-social as Jason was most days, he was damn good at working people over when he wanted to. And in her boyfriend’s opinion, the easiest way to work her dad over was to tell him all the ways to screw with Bruce—which Hal took in like a sponge with water. As annoying as it was to see the two men so giddy over a plan, she was glad they were just getting along.

However, when Hal learned that (Y/N) was being trained by Jason, and on the rare occasions, Bruce, his meltdown the first night seemed like a walk in the park compared to the storm blowing in.

***

So…what are you wearing?

She snorted, crossing at the formula of the equation, rewriting a new one beside it. “Jason, I’m not having phone-sex with you.”

Hmm…I bet you’re wearing red panties.

“Cold.” (Y/N) retorted with a grin. “They’re blue actually. You know, like Nightwing’s suit?”

Why do you hate me?

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean, Jay.”

You’re evil, you know that? Like you portray innocence but in reality, you’re evil.

She snorted again when a tapping came at her bedroom window and she frowned, leaning over; Jason saw it from the camera.

Everything alright?

(Y/N)’s eyes drifted to his face then to the window and she stood. “Yeah, someone’s at the window.”

(Y/N). He warned and she leaned over, seeing Kyle floating there.

“It’s Kyle.”

What’s Kyle doing there? I thought he was on Oa.

She nodded, brows furrowing as she murmured, “I did too.” Opening the window, she greeted, “Hey, what’s up?”

Kyle seemed nervous. No, he seemed concerned. “I need you to come with me.”

“Is my dad okay?” she asked outright, and he nodded.

“Yeah, Hal’s good…but he needs to talk to you.” Kyle waved a hand over her phone, and it shut off. “It’s important.”

(Y/N) felt her heart thump in her chest at how serious her friend was, and she nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

She’d only ever been to the Watchtower once. And the only thing she remembered from the trip was getting lost in one of the hallways only to be found by Batman who merely picked her sobbing frame up and hummed to her until she fell asleep.

So really, it was like a first time visit all over again, and when she came face to face with not only the Justice League, well Wonder Woman, Batman, and Superman, and her uncles, she wasn’t exactly excited. It felt like she’d been called to the principal’s office for expulsion.

Hal pointed to a seat, which she took, not wanting to open her mouth when she had no idea what was going on.

Wonder Woman, surprisingly, was the first to speak. “What is your daughter doing here, Hal?”

Her father merely looked at (Y/N) then to Bruce, questioning, “How long?” They stared one another down and she felt as lost as last year’s Easter eggs. “How long, Bruce?” Hal asked again.

Batman didn’t even blink. “A full year. When she started working at the branch in Coast City, I had Jason start it.”

“Motherfucker.” Hal cursed, chuckling humorlessly. “I do all I can to keep her out of this bullshit and you drag her into it.”

“(Y/N) wanted to train. She emailed me through a private channel about it.”

All eyes turned onto her and then she knew what was happening. “He’s…right, dad. I wanted to be trained to fight.”

Hal gaped at her. “Why? You’re going to school? You’re working? Why do you want to train?”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly. “To be like you guys. You know, useful?” she stood from the table. “Look, I know you’re worried, but even Batman’s noted major improvements. He says I’m almost ready to start patrolling on my own.” She looked to him for help.

“She’s smart, Hal. And I’m not saying that to float the Jordan ego. Jason’s not one to give commendation where it shouldn’t be.” Batman nodded at her. “(Y/N)’s not my kids, but she’s right behind them on how good she is.”

Hal’s brown eyes turned onto him in a fierce glare. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I don’t make a habit out of putting my kid in danger. I know you have a thing for going through sons.”

“HEY!” (Y/N) shouted, getting his attention as she stood to her feet. “I’m old enough to make this decision for myself and if Batman says I’m good enough to do this, I’m gonna do it.”

“Nope. Not happening.” Hal rejected. “End of discussion.”

“No.”

His eyes went wide first with shock, then with the audacity of her language. “Excuse me?”

(Y/N) momentarily wanted to cave, but she held strong and tightened her jaw. “I said no.” she declared. “I’m gonna do this.”

Hal rounded the table, stomping up to her. “No, you’re not.”

“What’re you gonna do, dad? Lock me in the house for the rest of my life?” she suggested. “I have rights you know.”

“Not to do shit like this. I don’t want you being a hero.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and suddenly, everyone felt the mood shift as she murmured, “It’s because I’m not a Lantern, isn’t it, dad?”

Hal’s jaw went slack. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She shot back coolly, then tipped her head to the other league members. “See, they get to brag about their kids. Superboy, the Robins, the Wonder-Girls...everyone on this team has a trainee but you.” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. “And you hate that I’m not like you, don’t you? That I can’t seem to figure out what it takes to wear that ring.”

She glanced at her uncles who were gaping at her. “See, you look at them like they’re the greatest people in the universe. And then when you look at me? It’s easy to see the devotion shift. Deep down it makes you disappointed that I’m not a Green Lantern.”

“You are absolutely out of line.” He growled.

“Am I, dad?” (Y/N) challenged. “Everyone here gets to brag about their superhero trainees but when it comes you, what can you say? ‘My daughter isn’t a Green Lantern like me, sorry!’?” she looked at him. “I’m not a Green Lantern, but I am something else. I can be something else. Let me prove it to you.”

Hal gazed at her for along moment. “…No.”

(Y/N) snapped. “Why the fuck not! What is it about me that just makes you so antagonistic at the idea of me being something like you!”

“Watch your language, young lady. I’m still your father.” He demanded.

“Oh please, as far as I’m concerned, you were just a failed pilot on leave who fucked my mom and got her pregnant.”

It happened before anyone realized it. The sharpest crack any of them had ever heard in their lives and (Y/N) turned her face back to him, a hand coming up to press against her stinging cheek. And Hal? Hal was staring at his hand as if it didn’t belong to him.

She wasn’t mad. Shocked, sure, but not mad. If anything, it’d proved her point and she merely regarded him with an assured gaze. “Bogey down, huh dad?” she remarked, and his eyes shot to hers.

Hal’s mouth opened but nothing would come out except, “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Yeah, you did,” she whispered, taking a step back from him when he reached for her.

His face crumpled and he brokenly called, “(Y/N), wait!”

But she was already running for the door, Batman on her heels.

***

“Do you want me to call Jason?” he asked quietly, watching her open the balcony doors.

Her hands stilled for a moment, then she resumed twisting the key. “No…and don’t tell him this happened either.”

“Why not?”

(Y/N) looked back at him. “Because you and I both know that Jason would beat my dad senseless.”

“…Do you want to come back to Gotham for a while?”

She opened the doors and sighed. “I don’t know, Batman.” Glancing back, she added, “I don’t really know what I want right now.”

“Do you want to be away from Hal?” he questioned seriously, and she looked at her feet.

“I know what you’re thinking. But he’s not abusive.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up. “My dad’s never laid his hands on me before now.”

“He ever physically discipline you?”

“Swatting your eight-year-old kid’s butt in the middle of a store when they’re having a meltdown over not buying an expensive toy is a lot different from beating them bloody and bruised with a beer bottle or a belt.’ (Y/N)’s eyes darkened, but not at her father’s face in her head, but at Batman. “My dad’s a lot of things. A jackass, a skirt chaser, a self-righteous arrogant prick…but he is not an abuser.”

Batman placed a hand on her shoulder. “He hit you.”

“Yeah? And? I insulted him and my mom straight to his face. Sure, slapping me wasn’t the answer, but I understand the reaction. Does is make is right? No. But neither is what I said. We both fucked up.” She shrugged his hand off. “We’ll talk about it and move on.”

“Because it’s what Jordan’s do?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh but it was anything but mirthful. “Yeah. It’s what Jordan’s do.” She stepped inside and looked back at him. “Thanks for bringing me home, Batman. I appreciate it.”

He nodded, pulling out his grapple. “Call me if you need anything.” Batman gazed at her. “And think about calling Jason.”

“…I will.”

Batman gazed at her a moment longer then fired the grapple, taking off into the night sky towards the Batplane, then she was watching as it disappeared faster than it came.

With a heavy sigh, she turned and put her hands on the back of the loveseat, shutting her eyes as she thought about the events of the night. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel. Angry? Hurt? Responsible? It had to be all the above, especially when she pictured his face in her head after it happened. Shocked, ashamed, horrified, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

(Y/N) didn’t want to think about it, and when she heard a ring flashing in her ears, she turned. “Guys, I don’t wanna talk about—” she fell into a deep silence when she saw the man before her, the yellow suit glowing vividly against the dark sky.

“Hello (Y/N) Jordan. I am Sinestro.”

***Part Three***

Hal had taken her flying more times than she could’ve counted—perks of being a pilots daughter, and while she had faith in aircraft and Green Lantern constructs, she wasn’t sure how to feel about Yellow Lanterns and their tendency to drop people.

Coast City looked so small below her, and she swallowed thickly, trying greatly to keep her fear under control, keeping her eyes on the moon. She knew if Sinestro dropped her at this height, she’d die. There were no chances of survival at all—she’d hit the ground and pancake with the best of ‘em.

“I am rather surprised that you accepted my invitation so easily,” he remarked, not looking at her as they rose through the night sky.

“Yeah, well…I’ve heard enough stories about you to know that you’ll kill me if you want to.” Her eyes followed his frame. “I’d like to extend my life as long as possible.”

“A wise decision, (Y/N).” He noted rather humorously, finally taking the time to look back at her. “I’ve watched you for some time now.”

Ignoring the implications and total creepiness of the statement, she instead asked, “How long?”

“Long enough to see the potential you have in greater things.” Sinestro replied and reached a hand out, a horde of golden glowing constructs appearing before her eyes. Her training with Batman, with Jason, even with Hal and the others—most importantly, the fight just before. “It hurts that he doesn’t trust you to be like him, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t respond, merely watching the moment of his hand coming back across her face over and over again as the feelings welled in her chest.

“You try so hard to be of use to Hal. To be a Green Lantern like him, but nothing you do makes him proud.” He gazed at her with something akin to pity, but it felt like a manipulation. “I understand your fear of failure…of shame.” Holding out his hand, he made her own raise beside her body and a yellow ring floated from his palm. “I can feel the anger inside you. Your fear fights to quell it.” Sinestro smiled. “I almost want to call Atrocitus and have him recruit you into the Red Corps.”

(Y/N)’s eyes fell to the ring, and she clenched her hand into a fist to keep it from sliding onto her finger. “I—I can’t be a Yellow Lantern.”

“Why not?”

“Why n—because you’re the enemy of the Green Lanterns!” she shouted. “I’d be betraying my father and my friends and my family!”

He gave her a knowing look. “The same family that looked upon you with shame every time you tried to wield the green power ring, but couldn’t?”

She felt like she’d been shot, and her jaw dropped. “I…”

Sinestro nodded. “I understand. But you don’t, (Y/N). Willpower must be had since birth. Fear however—” he reached out, uncurling her fingers. “Can be taught. And you have potential to be trained with terror.” He met her gaze. “You can’t be a Green Lantern like Hal wants…but you can become something he has to recognize. Something powerful. Something fearsome.”

(Y/N) stared at him, and this time, she didn’t fight as the ring slipped onto her finger. (Y/N) Jordan of Earth. You possess the ability to instill great fear. Welcome to the Sinestro Corps.

The world started swirling around her, golden flashes of light bound her body and she screamed in terror as her nightmares came alive before her. The chains coiled, almost like snakes creeping up her body, tighter and tighter around her throat and up around her skull. The last thing she saw through her fearful gaze was Sinestro laughing darkly and the world before her went dark and she was subjected to her minds torment, brought upon by the forged ring.

For a moment, the world was calm, then the chains fell away, and (Y/N) stood before Sinestro, clothed in an exo-suit, similar to her father’s, but instead of the bright, awe-inspiring green, it was a golden, fear-inducing yellow.

And when she opened her eyes, they narrowed onto Sinestro, and all she said was, “I’m ready to receive my orders.”

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thepokyone · 3 years ago

Text

Long Way Home

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (ft. Steve, Sam, and Bruce)

Warnings: angst, fluff

Words: 2.4k

A/N: I'm back!!! I've been missing writing here lately and now that my life has returned to some semblance of a normal schedule (since I've started working full time) I wanted to try and make a comeback here. This idea has been floating around in my head for a while and I finally sat down to write it out, so I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!

At the start, there was three: you, Steve, and Bucky. Your childhood home was next door to the Barnes family and that was how yours and Bucky's friendship had began. He smeared mud in your hair and you punched him square in the nose. A truce was declared rather than further retaliation and the two of you caused all sorts of mischief together, instead.

You were the one who noticed Steve first, after two of your classmates shoved him into the dirt. It was you who offered a hand to the scrawny boy, heaving him up, as Bucky shouted at the two responsible.

"What's your name?" you asked, helping him brush the dirt off the back of his shirt.

"Steve. Steve Rogers," he said. He was several inches shorter than you and so skinny you wondered if his parents even fed him.

"I'm Y/N. That's Bucky," you said, waving your hand towards Bucky, who had finally finished laying into their classmates and was returning to your side. "Bucky, that's Steve."

"Nice to meet you," Bucky said, sticking out his hand for the smaller boy to shake.

You had cried when Bucky told you he enlisted in the war. "Better than being drafted, doll," he had said, squeezing your hand.

The first time he had kissed you was before he left. "Couldn't leave without doing that. You had to know how I feel," he said. Bucky wasn't often unsure of himself, but he was in that moment. He was until you pressed your forehead to his and kissed him again.

It wasn't the last time you saw him; he was back as often as possible, visiting you and Steve and his family. Steve wanted to enlist so badly, but you were secretly glad that he couldn't, glad that at least one of your friends was safe from the war.

Until Steve got his wish and you were left behind. It wasn't fair, but it was hardly as if you could enlist too. So you did what you could. You wrote letters and sent care packages and used your job's small salary to help take care of Bucky's family. They were practically your family as well, after all.

You were at the Barnes house when the news arrived. There were two soldiers at the door and you knew.

You received a letter from Steve, one that explained everything, an even though Bucky had died a hero you were so angry. Angry for all that you had lost and angry that your two best friends had chosen to go to war at all.

And then Steve was gone, down in a plane, and you were alone. Somehow, even after the funerals for Bucky and Steve, the world still spun, even though your world had crashed down around you.

"You don't have to keep doing this, you know," Bucky's mother said when you stopped by to drop off a check for them from the money you could spare.

"Of course I do, you're family," you said softly. "And I know Bucky would be relieved knowing that there's someone still around to help his family."

"He loved you very much, you know," she said, reaching out to squeeze your hands.

Your mind flickered to the letters Bucky had sent you, the ones you read at least once a week, the words you had memorized. You offered her a watery smile. "I know."

It was one of those evenings, reading Bucky's letters, when it happened.

You'd love it here, doll. It's cold, but there's mountains as high as the eye can see and snow for miles. We had a snowball fight the other day, during a rare free moment, and even all of us together couldn't beat Steve. We all agree he cheated, and that's the only reason we had to admit defeat.

At night, I like to stare up at the moon. I imagine you do the same sometimes, so I reckon at least some of the time we have to be looking up there at the same time. Then I remember you're on the other side of the world, but I keep looking up anyway. Makes you feel not so far away.

Maybe it makes me a sap, but I don't care. Sometimes I miss you so much it hurts. What we're doing is important, and Steve needs me at his side, but I miss your hugs. I don't think I'm supposed to tell you this, but as soon as all this is over, the first thing I'm going to do when we get back home is marry you. I should have done it before I left this last time, really, but I was scared you'd say no. Pretty foolish, looking back. But it's a promise, doll: soon as I get back, we're getting married.

There was a knock at your door. You hesitated, pondering just ignoring it, but the knocking became more insistent. You folded the letters carefully and set them on your coffee table.

Nothing could have prepared you for what was on the other side of the door.

"Steve?" you whispered. He looked older than you remembered, and there was a haunted look in his eyes, but there was denying that your best friend was standing on your front porch.

He smiled at you. "Hey, Y/N."

You threw yourself into his arms, squeezing him in as tight a hug as you could. "You're alive? But you were dead, I don't understand-"

"Can I come in? I'll explain everything, I promise. It's a bit of a long story."

"Y-yes, of course," you stammered, and once the two of you were seated with a cup of tea, he launched into a story that was so fantastical you could hardly believe it.

"You were in the future, but you came back here after saving the universe?" you repeated, your mug clutched tightly in your hands.

"That's the short of it, yes," he said. "There's more."

An incredulous laugh slipped past your lips. "More? Between aliens and time travel, what more could there possibly be?"

"Bucky is alive."

For a moment, you were certain you had hallucinated, simply imagined his words, but Steve's face was serious. "What?"

"HYDRA - I told you about HYDRA back in my letters, didn't I? - they captured him after he fell from the train. We didn't know, of course, how could we? They brainwashed him, wiped his memories, and used him as an assassin for decades until he managed to escape."

"Bucky," was all you could manage. There was a fierce sort of longing in your heart, half part ache half part bitterness. Bucky was out there, somewhere, alive, yet untouchable by you.

"I know this is a lot to take in," Steve said, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Why was he here? What was the point? To tell you Bucky was alive, so you could long for him even though he wouldn't be coming back? Even though he was a prisoner and there was nothing you could do?

"Why are you even here, Steve?" you asked quietly, staring the grooves in the hardwood floor.

Steve shifted, pulling something out of his pocket. "I was supposed to use this. It would sent me back to the future. But I don't want to go. Peggy is here, and now that it's all said and done, I finally have the chance-" he cut off, running a hand through his hair. "I have friends there. Bucky is there. But I can't go back. Not when I have my chance for happiness here."

"So we can be next door neighbors as you live out your happily ever after?" You weren't trying to be cruel, but misery had inflated in your chest like a balloon and you couldn't stop the words that tumbled out of your mouth. "Great, Steve. That's great. I'm happy you're back, really. I want you to be happy. It's just…" you shrugged.

"I want you to take my place, Y/N," Steve said. Your eyes snapped up to his. "I have enough to send one person back to the future, back to where I was, and I think it should be you. You and Bucky get to be with each other again, and we all get our happy ending."

"I could go?" you whispered. It seemed impossible, too good to be true.

"Only if you wanted. I understand if you don't want to go, but I wanted you to have the option."

What did you even have here? Your parents were dead, you had no husband, no children, and no one that really cared for you apart from Steve and the Barnes family.

"I want to go," you said, your heart pounding so hard in your chest you wonder if it would burst out. "I'll take your place. There's nothing left for me here, Steve. Once you and Bucky died - or were pronounced dead, anyway - I died, too."

Steve smiled. "I was hoping you'd go. I'm sorry we left you, Y/N. You deserved so much more than that."

"It's okay. You had to save the world," you said. It was easy to say that now that you knew they were both alive, now that seeing Bucky was within your reach. "Will you promise me something, Steve?"

"Yes, of course. Anything."

"Look after Bucky's family. With Bucky and his dad both gone, they struggle to get by, and I won't be around to help anymore."

"I will, I promise."

You smiled. "Thank you."

It only took you an hour to prepare. You packed what few things you wanted to take with you - a few pictures and Bucky and Steve's letters, of course - and dressed in the suit that Steve provided.

"Fancy, isn't it?" Steve asked, grinning as you gasped. Even made for Steve, it had adjusted to fit you perfectly.

"It's amazing," you said. "Give me the instructions one more time."

"Sure." He did so, and they were simple enough. Seal the helmet, press the button, and hold it until you arrived back on the platform Steve had left on.

"I guess this is it," you said, picking up your bag.

"I guess so," he agreed. "Last chance to back out."

"No way," you said firmly. "It's your last chance to go back."

"No way," he said, smiling sadly.

"Thank you, Steve," you said, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"No need to thank me. Go find your happy ending. I'll be visiting to make sure of it," he said.

"I'll hold you to that." Even though you wanted this, tears still stung the corners of your eyes. It felt like losing Steve all over again. "See you later, Steve."

He smiled. "See you on the other side."

You took one more deep, steadying breath, sealed the helmet, and pressed the button.

It felt like you were flying and falling and weightless all at once, and the sensation lasted a second or an eternity before your feet hit solid ground.

You tapped the helmet away just as Steve had shown you, blinking against the sudden change in scenery. "You're not Steve," someone said.

"Y/N?" Bucky's voice, colored with disbelief. Even with the long hair and beard you recognized him; you always would, no matter what he looked like.

"Bucky," you said, smiling, really smiling, for the first time in two years.

He was up on the platform in two strides and finally, finally, you were in his arms again. He captured your lips in his, full of love and longing and everything that neither of you could quite put into words. "Y/N," he murmured against your lips. "Tell me you're real."

"I'm real," you whispered, your lips ghosting over his as you spoke. "Steve sent me, I'm here."

"I love you," he said, pressing his forehead against yours. His blue eyes were open, taking in your face as if he was scared it would disappear. "You were the first thing I remembered, after I escaped. You, your smile, your laugh, the way your nose scrunched when Steve or I would say something stupid. I've missed you so much."

"Everyone told me you had died, that I should move on, but I just couldn't. I loved you too much," you said. "It was easy to say yes when Steve asked if I wanted to take his place. Yes was my only option."

Below, someone cleared their throat. Annoyance washed across Bucky's face and you giggled. "Are those your friends?"

"Oh, yeah." Begrudgingly, Bucky pulled back, wrapping an arm around your shoulders instead. "That's Sam and Bruce."

Bruce, as it turned out, was giant and green. Steve hadn’t warned you about that. "I'm Y/N," you said, giving a tiny wave.

"So you're the one Steve and Bucky never shut up about," Sam said, his eyes crinkling as he gave a friendly smile. "It's nice to meet you. Steve stayed, huh?"

"Yeah. To be with Peggy. He said we could both get our happy endings this way."

Bucky was looking at something in the distance. "There."

You followed his gaze as Sam turned. A solitary figure sat on a bench by the water, and even without approaching you knew it was Steve. The two of you stepped off the platform, walking closer. Bucky's hand slipped down to hold yours.

"Go," Bucky said to Sam. Only when Sam sat down by Steve did Bucky turn back to face you. "Did you know he'd be here?"

"He said he'd visit, make sure I got my happy ending," you said, glancing towards Steve. The three of you back together at last. "Did you know? That he wouldn't come back?"

"Yeah. He didn't tell me, but I knew. He's easy to read. I didn't think he would send you here, though. Didn't even cross my mind. I never had the heart to look you up, find out what happened. The thought of you moving on was… it was too painful."

You smiled. "I don't think I ever would have moved on.

"Do you remember what I wrote in that letter so many years ago? About what I'd do once I got back?" Bucky asked.

You had all his letters memorized. "Yes, of course."

"It's been a long time coming. Let's get married, doll." His eyes were bright with hope.

You grinned. A long time coming, indeed. "Let's do it. Let's get married."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #sam wilson #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #falcon and the winter solder

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

Text

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne.

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it :

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it.

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing.

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college.

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first.

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”.

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful !

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure.

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true.

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything.

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery.

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well.

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe.

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst.

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe.

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money.

Damn it !

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-”

“Here, miss, you dropped this.”

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill.

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you.

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him.

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop.

“Here’s your change, m’am.”

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Wow, thanks !”

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?!

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him.

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year.

Him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together.

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...).

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock.

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.”

“(Y/N) !”

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward.

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year.

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ?

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them.

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ?

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy.

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised :

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.”

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats :

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!”

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact.

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying :

“Honey, who are your friends ?”

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?!

HOW ?!

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.”

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction.

And that’s something Bruce caught.

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision.

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others...

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it.

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea.

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-”

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation :

“My love ?”

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day.

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would.

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say :

“Are you an angel ?”

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”.

He chuckles, and says :

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.”

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ?

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.”

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?!

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.”

“Haha oh you have no idea.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.”

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says :

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away.

“What the...”

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.”

“Huh ?”

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day.

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.”

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues :

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.”

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.”

“Ask me what ?”

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at.

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say :

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) :

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”.

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange.

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope.

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

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that.

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds :

“Of course, I will pay you.”

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded :

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.”

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines.

“And it would truly help me tremendously.”

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing.

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”.

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too.

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody�� like you ever called for his boss.

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne !

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ?

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny.

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring.

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you.

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious.

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were...

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand.

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary.

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy.

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever.

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows.

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.”

“Exactly !”

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes.

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.”

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?”

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.”

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me (Y/N).”

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues :

“Ok, then I thought we could-”

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc.

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy.

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family.

And it was a needed step.

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ).

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy.

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed :

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.”

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment.

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course.

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.”

“Can you be mine then ?”

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer :

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.”

“Oooooh !”

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew.

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was.

He had a knack, to notice how people felt.

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do.

Today was one such small date.

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know.

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

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

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really.

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing.

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant.

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else.

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore.

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much).

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this.

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event.

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you.

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ?

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?”

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !”

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask :

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?”

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !”

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy.

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says :

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.”

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him.

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently.

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face.

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him :

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers :

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.”

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ?

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”.

“Kiss me then, if you dare.”

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ?

He couldn’t remember.

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours.

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss.

As fake as it might be.

Your room.

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment.

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place.

So Alfred settled a room for you.

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best !

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day.

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant !

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later).

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation.

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear.

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World.

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for.

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !”

“Build...a bear ?”

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !”

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?”

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !”

“Huh ?”

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face.

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing.

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything.

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?”

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two.

Instead, he said :

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.”

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer.

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory.

And oh. Oh that boy was right.

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options.

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day.

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors.

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.”

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.”

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.”

“Which is ?”

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!”

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.”

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again.

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy...

Rumors and Truth

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page.

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24.

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ?

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world.

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?).

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart.

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors.

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now.

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you.

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?”

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”.

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say :

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.”

“Ah.”

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.”

“What do you think is not true ?”

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.”

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?”

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors.

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman.

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ?

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him.

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none.

“How was college, for you ?”

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two).

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you.

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well.

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ?

He couldn’t.

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now.

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l-

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?”

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.”

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.”

“Suuuuuuuuuure.”

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says :

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.”

“Fake couple.”

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.”

“Ooooooh !”

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business.

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again.

“Stay here.”

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !”

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?”

“Ok.”

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again.

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you.

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

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?”

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet...

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?”

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do.

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were.

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?”

“I dont’ think so.”

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow.

That’s when you see him. Batman.

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him.

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !”

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.”

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-”

“Nowhere. Leave.”

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!”

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face.

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman.

Bad move.

Very bad move.

In a matter of second, it was over.

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks :

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?”

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?”

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now.

“Oh, right, ok.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous.

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?).

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell.

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.”

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues :

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.”

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle.

It also scared you a little.

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him.

And that wasn’t good.

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ?

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again.

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile.

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became.

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad.

“I mean it you know.”

His little voice brings your attention back to him.

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.”

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you.

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne.

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne.

This was...bad.

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad.

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”.

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too.

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then.

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ?

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it.

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.

And it couldn’t happen soon enough.

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you.

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache.

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend.

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything.

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving.

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham.

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?”

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?”

“I do not look like a sad puppy.”

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?”

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless.

Hope.

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough...

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?”

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said :

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.”

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!”

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.”

“And you saved her. Your point being ?”

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.”

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him :

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?”

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son.

His son.

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look.

Success.

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door.

“You did it, Master Richard.”

“I hope I did !”

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug.

It’s real.

Back to square one.

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream.

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred.

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended.

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered.

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react.

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent.

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch.

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be.

But there was no need for fights.

At least, not in the literal sense of the term.

“Bruce ?”

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds :

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ?

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion.

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny.

Towards Bruce.

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind.

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile.

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time.

A real first kiss.

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be.

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright.

A real one.

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”.

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in.

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy.

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise.

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.”

“Huh ?”

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful.

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.”

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !”

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.”

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!”

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted.

“Get a ROOOOM !!”

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ?

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year.

This was who you were.

Right there.

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !).

The end.

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :), It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story !

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Batman x Reader #Batmom #Batfam x Reader #Batfam #Batfamily x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne #Batman #DC reader insert #Richard Grayson x Reader #Richard Grayson imagine #Batman imagine #Batman reader insert #Robin x reader #AU compare to main Batmom #Richard Grayson #fem!reader

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americasmarauders · 4 years ago

Text

I Had a Dream--Jason ToddxReader.

Summary: She dreamed about him once. And then he appeared in front of her and she just couldn’t believe it.

words: 9,756

author’s note: so, here it is. the last of this year. this one is special. it’s based on a dream i had with a guy I went to middle school with. I mentioned it on the group chat and @batarella said this sounds like a fic, write it. and so I did. It’s immensely personal. Basically reader is me, the friends I mention are my actual friends and the coversations with the therapist are vaguely based on conversations I had with my own therapist (specially the first one). I hope y’all like it. I had a blast writing it. Special thanks to my best friend Julia and @offendedfishnoises for proofreading it. Also thanks to every one in the group chat who cheared me on and made me finish this monster.

don’t forget to check out my jason playlist here. also. please reblog so more people can see the fic :)

“I just haven’t had the opportunity to be in love, I guess,” she explained, her psychologist writing stuff she had said down.

“Is that so?” the therapist lifted her eyes, her eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

“‘Cause the way I see it is you’ve never allowed yourself to fall in love,” the therapist commented.

She felt heat coming to her cheeks and tears rise in her eyes. “No, no, that’s not like that,” she whispered, refusing to admit that her psychologist was right.

The therapist let out a small sigh. “Have you had crushes when you were a kid?”

She shook her head. “The boys weren’t that nice and…” she drifted off, thinking of a couple of crushes she might have developed when she was a young teen. “No boys were interested in me.”

“I find that hard to believe, Y/N,” the therapist said. “Let’s think of it this way: were there any boys who picked on you?”

She snorted. “Plenty,” she responded. “I wasn’t exactly popular in middle school,” she shrugged.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” the psychologist said.

“There was one boy that used to run around recess calling me a weird nickname he had for me: peanut.”

“That’s not weird,” the therapist pondered.

“It is when you’re 13 and you love eating packed peanuts in recess,” she countered.

“Well, this boy did you like him?” the therapist asked.

“Yeah, he was nice,” she omitted that she had a crush on him in ninth grade before she left the school and never saw him again. “He was one of the few boys that talked to me without wanting me to help him with his homework or anything.

“I remember one day in eight grade he stopped to talk to me before class but I was kinda rude to him and he never really talked to me again,” she shrugged.

“Why?” the psychologist quizzed.

“I thought he wanted something out of me,” she sniffed, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “They all wanted something out of me. It was safe to assume, I guess.”

“You scared the boy away, Y/N,” the therapist said kindly. “I think that boy liked you,” she finished.

“No, no, Todd, he--” she shook her head negatively, “he was kinda popular, I was a nobody. He didn’t like me.”

“He liked you, Y/N.”

That conversation stayed in her head for days. The words of her therapist echoing in her head. You scared the boy away. The truth was: she had scared the boy away. It was heartbreaking to think that she could have had what she wanted, a romance, someone to hold and to be held by. Instead she was alone, an adult who had never even dated anyone for that matter.

It wasn’t just that boy from middle school. It was every boy that ever tried getting too close to her. It would be comical if it wasn’t so tragic. A romantic at heart, completely alone. Thank god she had her friends.

She hadn’t thought about Jason Todd in years. He hadn’t so much as graced her thoughts since she last saw him in ninth grade. Then she dreamt of him. And things started to change.

In her dreams she was his girlfriend. He was loving, he would caress her delicately, look into her eyes lovingly as if he was seeing the whole world in her eyes. He would kiss her tenderly, she could feel his lips when she woke up.

He had gotten so big in her dreams, even more handsome than he was when he was 15. Jason was a lanky and tiny kid, but somehow her brain imagined him tall--very tall--and very muscular. His eyes were green, and not the blue she remembered. He looked beautiful and waking up after the dream, she could feel her heart race.

After she dreamed about him the first time, she dismissed it. It was her brain making weird connections, it made sense: she had talked about her pseudo-love life and about him that week. But after the second dream she knew there was something wrong.

She decided to look him up on the internet. What appeared wasn’t something she liked.

News coverage about how he had died mysteriously. ‘Adopted son of Bruce Wayne dies at age 16.’ She couldn’t help but tear up a bit on those headlines. The most recent ones though reported him being wrongfully declared dead and how he was estranged from his family. It even showed a couple of pictures of him and she was surprised to see her dreams were not very far off.

Other than a couple of tabloid headlines, there was no trace of this guy on the internet. He was almost a ghost story, and she felt her heart beating faster in anxiety. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him.

She otherwise forgot about him--other than the occasional thought about what if that would cross her mind. That is, until she literally stumbled into him.

A part time job to help with the finances, that’s what working in the bookshop was supposed to be. It would help pay tuition and her insurance. Her parents had said that she didn’t need to do it, they could pay and it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account. But it wasn’t for them, it was for herself, a sense of achievement.

It was supposed to be just that. No meet cutes, no falling in love in a bookshop, just boring old work. Work for half of the afternoon, close up, get her salary and move on with her life.

The shop was quiet that day. No one had come in to buy or even browse anything. It didn’t really bother her. She occupied herself with other things: homework, studying, drawing, texting her friends, the list was endless. She was so engrossed in her drawing, she didn’t even hear the bell ringing and the door opening.

She heard someone clear their throat and she looked up from her drawing to meet their eyes. She gaped a bit as she met his gaze, intense blue eyes meeting hers. She closed her mouth quickly, trying to cover the fact that she was clearly staring at him. The gods must be really enjoying themselves playing with her life like that. Of course, she thought, of course that he would fucking appear in her life like that: out of nowhere. The one day she had a calm evening and Jason Todd, the guy who was haunting her dreams and thoughts like a ghost, appears.

“May I help you?” she asked, professionally, ignoring her racing heart and the anxiety increasing in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m lookin’ for the complete H.P. Lovecraft collection. I stopped by the other day and a guy separated it for me,” he explained. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and she hoped that he hadn’t recognized her.

“Oh,” she said. “Wait a moment, I’ll check if it’s in the back.”

She walked controlled, to mask the fact that she wanted to run out of that place as fast as she could.

She closed the inventory door and leaned her back against it. She breathed heavily, trying to calm herself. It was only a guy, she had talked to plenty of guys before. She calmed herself down, steadying her breathing.

She glanced around the shelves looking for his book. The sooner she ended this the better. She could move on with her life without his face haunting her. She found the book (almost like a brick). She got it and took a deep breath before stepping out of the inventory and calmly walking to the front desk.

He stood there calmly , his eyes glancing around the shop. He had picked another book to buy, something significantly smaller than Lovecraft's collection. She itched to see what it was, before catching herself and stopping her curiosity. She couldn't get attached, even if just a little bit.

"Here," she said, resting the book on the counter. She smiled at him kindly, her hand open for the book resting in his hands. He handed it to her, confusion plastered on his face.

"It's 60 dollars," she stated, calmly and controlled.

He handed her the money. She accepted it and packed his books neatly. He clocked her moves as she did so, she felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked. "I feel like I know you."

She gulped imperceptibly. So he had recognized her. Goddammit. "I don't think so," she replied, hesitant on whether or not he would see right through her lie.

He hummed. His eyes then shifted down to her name tag, and she knew he had put the pieces together. "Did we go to school together?" He insisted.

She smiled tightly. "I don't know, probably," she shrugged. "I went to a pretty big school, there were a lot of people there," a lie. Gotham Academy was big, but it was nowhere near as big as she made it sound. It was the kind of school where you knew everyone, even if you had never talked to them.

He smiled at her coyly, sensing her awkwardness. Maybe it was just that that made him finally remember her, or maybe not. Either way she did not like that he indeed recognized her fully. "I remember you," he trailed off. "We had English together," he stated.

She pretended to search her memory for him. She couldn't give away that just days before she had dreamed about him yet again. How pathetic, dreaming about a boy from middle school. "Oh yeah," she dragged. "Jason, right?"

"That's me," he whispered. "I thought you had moved."

She smiled, it was cute that he remembered enough of her to know that she didn't stay in Gotham for a couple of years. "I did move," she explained. "I came back for college."

"Why?" He asked, confused by her statement. "Gotham is a shit city, you should've stayed elsewhere."

She tried not to take offense to it. "It has its appeal," she shrugged. "Besides the science program in Gotham U is very good, it was the best move."

Jason smirked. "Science huh?"

"Yeah," she breathed out. She slid the package to him, a sign that she maybe was done talking.

Thank the gods his phone rang. She couldn't handle anymore of that. She averted her attention once more to her drawing, his voice talking angrily on the phone only a background noise to her. "I gotta go," he said and her eyes went back to him. "It was good seeing you, Y/N."

She tried not to notice how her heart picked up the pace at the sound of her name leaving his lips. "You too," she smiled shyly and he left the store, the bell ringing as he closed the door and her mind plagued by the image of him.

If she thought Jason Todd had plagued her mind and dreams before she had seen him at the bookshop, now he was downright living in her head rent free. She just couldn’t get him out of her mind. The dreams about him, the ones where she would be tenderly loved by him, were getting more frequent and more intense. When she woke up, she would still feel his arms around her and an emptiness would settle in her chest.

Why did it have to happen to her? She just wanted to go through life unnoticed, why did the gods have to pull this prank on her?

She huffed as she closed the shop, the sky already dark enough to be considered dangerous to stay out. It was only a couple of blocks to her car, she could get through the walk unscathed, she had done it before.

But then again, it seemed that Fate had it out for her.

She could feel someone following her the moment she had left the shop. The looming presence of a threat made her hyper aware of everything, her heart beating out of her chest. She tried to think of ways to lose the guy--she assumed it was a guy, it usually was--but her mind came blank. She thought in passage if her friends would miss her, who would contact them if she were to die. She shook the thought quickly out of her head and hastened her pace.

But the guy gained on her, and as soon as she could blink, she felt his arm snake around her neck. She gasped for air desperately, clawing at his arm trying to take it off. It was then that she felt a cold metal press against her back. A gun. She felt the tears coming to her eyes. If the guy were to pull the trigger, the best case scenario was she wouldn’t be able to move her limbs anymore. The worst, well, who would tell her friends she had died in a robbery?

“Give me your bag,” the guy--now confirmed for his gruff and raspy voice--whispered in her ear.

“Please, take it,” she begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

She heard the guy scoff as he pressed the gun further on her back. She whimpered. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice laced with malice.

It was then she heard a loud bang coming from behind her. She thought the guy had pulled the trigger, and she was ready to feel the wetness of her blood sipping through her clothes. Instead, all she felt was a splash on her shoulder and his grip on her loosening considerably. The guy had fallen to the ground behind her, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain. She turned around to see him and a pool of his own blood forming beneath him. She was paralyzed in fear of the sight.

“The police’re on their way,” a distorted voice sounded. She looked up and found a massive man, standing menacingly on top of the thieves body. His red helmet glinted in the moon’s glow. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly.

She breathed out. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I--I--,” she teared up again, “I would’ve died. You saved my life.”

“It’s what I do,” he shrugged. “I’ll walk you.”

“How about the…” she pointed towards the guy laying on the floor in pain.

“If he wants to live to see another day, he’ll stay exactly where he is,” he said, his voice serious and threatening.

“Shouldn’t I give the police a statement?” she whispered.

She swore she heard a chuckle of amusement through the voice disruptor he had in his helmet. “I have a video to prove he was tryin’ to rob you, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna,” he explained softly. “So, wanna lead the way?”

She looked down at her feet, nervous to look at him. She nodded and started to walk once again towards her car. He walked behind her respectfully, and she felt the difference between him and the robber. He wasn’t trying to get something out of her, and his large physique felt like there was a literal wall following her to her car.

It was a blink till she got to her car. Her hand rested on the door handle and she gave a deep breath, trying desperately to calm herself, trying to remember the breathing exercises her psychologist had taught her. She opened her mouth to say something to the Red Hood, her eyes searching for him next to her.

But he was gone. And what was left was just the memory of him in her mind.

“So how was your week?” her psychologist asked, sitting on her armchair, Y/N sitting cross-legged in front of her.

“Crazy,” she rolled her eyes in disbelief, her mouth quirking in a weird shape. “So much stuff happened.”

“Oh do tell,” the psychologist urged her.

She sighed, thinking where to begin. “Well, you remember the boy I told you about?”

“Yes, Jason wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” she popped. “He showed up at the store the other day.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, honestly,” she replied breathily. “I didn’t even realize he had come in.”

“No way,” her therapist responded in disbelief. She seemed invested in the pranks the fates were pulling on her patient.

“I was too invested in my drawing, mind you,” she smiled. “It’s been weeks since I’ve done a decent piece of scribble so I was excited.”

“Yes, yes right,” her therapist acknowledged. “And how about Jason? Did you talk to him?”

“Briefly,” she responded. “I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me, but he did.”

“What did he say?” she quizzed, making notes on her paper.

“He asked if he knew me, which I denied at first,” her psychologist looked at her angrily and she shrugged. “Then he finally placed me and asked what I was doing in Gotham. I answered, said I was in college. He said I should’ve stayed elsewhere ‘cause Gotham apparently sucks.”

“He isn’t wrong,” her therapist pondered.

“He isn’t but I like Gotham,” she shrugged once again.

“Did you get his number?” her therapist quizzed her.

“Nope,” she denied. “He left pretty quickly.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” the psychologist smiled.

“It’s true!” she laughed. “He answered a phone call, got angry at something I didn’t really understand and left pretty quickly.”

The therapist hummed. “You think you’ll see him again?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “He got pretty big books when he appeared, I think it’ll be a while before he needs another.”

“You never know,” she conceded. “What if he does? Do you imagine what you would do?”

“I mean,” she trailed off, “what I want to do is talk to him and maybe ask for his number,” she finished coyly. “What I will do is be very weird and awkward and scare him off.”

“Y/N,” the therapist warned. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” she waved off. “I won’t do it. I’ll try to be friendly.”

“Good. What else happened this week?”

“Almost died,” she swallowed, nervously, “quite literally, I’m afraid.”

“What?”

“Was leaving the store, it was pretty early in the night, I think. And a guy got me by the neck and pressed his gun to my spine,” she recounted quietly. “I thought I would die.”

“But you didn’t,” her therapist comforted her. “What happened after?”

“The Red Hood showed up,” she sniffed. “Shot the guy in the shoulder and then knocked him out.”

“When did that happen?” her therapist’s voice was filled with worry.

“2 days ago,” she replied quietly.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” the psychologist cooed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, her eyes filled with tears that did not dare to spill. “The Red Hood was very gentle, he walked me to my car and made sure I was safe.”

“Uhum,” the therapist hummed, jotting down something. She always wondered what her therapist wrote down about her, but maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know what was written down.

“I did some research on him afterwards,” she diverted the subject out of her. “Turns out he’s very famous for protecting street kids.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically. “There’s a couple of stories going around social media of people who witnessed him, you know…” she trailed off. “He seems to look out for people in poorer neighborhoods. Like Crime Alley. He seems very active there,” she added.

“I didn’t know that,” the psychologist said.

“Yeah, you’d get mistaken by the bat symbol on his chest, but there’s very few reports of him getting involved in Batman-esque adventures.”

Her therapist laughed. “And what might those be?”

“You know,” she shrugged. “Aliens, psycho-clowns, riddles, those kinds of stuff. Although there are a couple of people that said he did have a crazy huge fight with Black Mask once, there doesn’t seem to be any other. If there is, he sure made a good job hiding it.”

“You seem very excited about this Red Hood,” the therapist noted.

“He was nice,” she shrugged once more. “And I’m thankful he does what he does. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t,” she added quietly. “Literally.”

“Well, then we got to make sure you live your best life after this second chance you got granted.”

As soon as the words ‘what if you see him again’ left her therapist’s mouth, she knew she would see Jason Todd again. Because the Universe was out for her like that. It was only a matter of when.

Turns out ‘when’ was a week later after the first time she saw him. She concluded he was either a hoarder or a very fast reader. She hoped it would be the latter.

This time, she was paying attention. She was organizing the shelves calmly, and as odd as it seemed, that was the best part of her job. It eased her anxiety to know everything was where it was supposed to be.

She jumped at the sound of the bell, her heart beating faster and her mind racing at the worst case scenarios. But it was just him. And she was entirely relieved that it was just Jason. She settled the book that was about to go on the shelf--‘there you go Little Women, back to where you belong’--and got out from behind her hiding spot. “Hey, Jason,” she said and his eyes found hers.

He opened a smile that knocked the air out of her. “Oh hey,” he breathed out.

She swallowed her nerves down. She would make her therapist proud, goddammit. “How can I help you?” she asked, opening a smile she hoped it was charming.

“I finished the books I bought the other day,” he said, his face a tad bit nervous. Did she make him nervous? “Do you have any recommendations?” he finished, his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly.

“It depends what you’re looking for,” she trailed off, returning to behind the shelves. Her fingers trailed lightly over the spine of the books she had just organized. She heard him walk behind her accompanying her to wherever she intended to go. “What are you looking for?” she turned around to see him, and saw him gulp nervously.

“Romance,” he blurted out. “How about a romance?”

“Ummm,” she hummed, her eyes once more trailing over the spines of the books. “A love story or a real romantic type of book? You know with loads of self pity and drama. Or maybe just a very long and nice novel?”

He laughed airly. “Surprise me,” he teased, and it seemed all his nerves were gone.

She smirked. “Okay then.” She pulled a book off the shelf. It wasn’t a big book, it couldn’t be longer than 300 pages. She gave it to him. “Epitaph of a Small Winner,” she said. “A romance, a realist one but nevertheless a romance.”

He grabbed the book, looking tiny in his big hands. His fingers tracing the title delicately. “What is it about?”

“A dead person narrating their life and reflecting upon it,” she shrugged. “A very interesting read indeed, but you’d have to do a bit of research. It’s set in 1880s Brazil.”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled looking at her. “Any more recs?”

“Not for now,” she smirked. “How else am I going to have you come back if I give all my recommendations at once?”

His smile faltered for a split second before taking permanent residence on his face. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t come back even if you did give me all your recommendations?”

She was left speechless. She felt heat coming up to her cheeks and he looked somewhat proud he left her flustered like that. “Well then, do make sure you come back after you’ve finished.”

“I will, Y/N.”

Jason didn’t know why he went back to the bookshop. He truly didn’t.

He wasn’t expecting to see her working there. He wasn’t expecting to see her at all, actually. He barely even remembered her from his middle school days. He vaguely remembered finding her pretty and he knew she was very smart. Other than that, she was basically a stranger to him. Just like that version of himself was a stranger to him now.

It was a surprise to say the least. She had grown up marvelously, from what he remembered at least. She wore glasses now, and in his opinion it only made her prettier. His breath caught in his throat just remembering the sight of her that first time. His brothers caught up in his behavioral shift, and teased him endlessly. Jason stopped that rather quickly: it’s easy when you’re bigger and more intimidating than them. It also helps that they’re desperately trying to maintain the thin and fragile relationship they had.

Jason wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to finish those books to see her again, but he did. He wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to read her recommendation, but he did. He finished it in a day. He wished he had read it sooner. Somehow he felt like that sometimes, a dead man narrating his own story. At least he was strikingly different from the protagonist. At least he wasn’t an asshole. Not most times anyways.

He went back to the shop the next day, around closing time--he realized they were closing early and he wondered if it had anything to do with the incident Y/N was involved in. He was sure she would be there. Something told him that she would. He got in, as quietly as he could. The store was empty, after all it was a Thursday afternoon. The door made the usual bell sound behind him, and Y/N appeared behind the shelves, her face stony.

“I finished it,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back at him, and his heart did a somersault. “That was fast, it is not an easy read.”

“Well, it was a very good book,” he pointed. “It’s easier when the book’s good.”

“What did you think of it?” she asked curiously.

“It’s very complex,” he began. “You want to believe Brás but he’s just so….”

“Insufferable?”

“Exactly. And he’s a hypocrite too. Which just drives me fucking nuts,” he ran his hands through his hair. “The parallels you can make to the present, though, are just… very daunting,” he added. “It’s impressive the guy wrote this stuff in the nineteenth century and...” he trailed off.

“Society hasn’t changed one bit since then,” she completed him, her eyes glinting. She was smiling pleasantly, and Jason found it confusing, after all they were talking about something entirely serious. “So, you here for another rec?” She changed the subject.

“If you have one, I’d like that,” he said sheepishly.

She smirked. “Let’s see,” she moved to behind the shelves once again, her eyes trailing the books expertely. “How about a nice little love story, huh?”

He shrugged, his heart beating harder in his chest. “Sure, why not.”

She smiled at him and took out a yellowish cover with a dagger drawn across it. The title was written in the middle of the cover in nice flowery letters. “It’s about a girl that has a special power. And she kinda is trained to be an assassin of sorts, and she is set to a quest with a prince that has the same gift as her. Kinda. But you get the gist.”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, his fingers trailing slightly over the title.

“It’s an YA novel so be kind to it,” she warned.

“I’ll be.”

They both made their way to the cash register. She was behind the counter when Jason’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it without even looking at the caller. “Hello?” he said, trapping his phone between his shoulder and ear, to fish the money for the book out of his pocket.

“Is this Mr. Todd?” the person--a woman--said.

“Yes. Who’s speaking?” he asked. Jason could feel anxiety rising in his body and mind and he tried to push it down. Who the fuck was this person and, most importantly, how the fuck did she get his number?

“I’m Principal Genoise-Beckham, from Gotham Academy,” she explained. What kind of name was Genoise-Beckham? “I’m calling because of your brother Damian. He got into a fight during the end of the school hours and you’re the next on his contacts list.”

Jason sighed, a twinge of anger sounding through it. “So no one’s available?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr.Todd.”

Not even Alfred, and he knew that for a fact because Jason was the last on the contacts list. Bruce wouldn’t put him any higher, because Bruce doesn’t quite trust him. Not anymore. “I won’t have to sit through any meetings right?”

“No, Mr. Wayne already arranged one,” the principal said, tiredly.

“Tell the kid I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” and then he hung up.

She looked at him quizzically, his book neatly packaged in parcel paper with a nice little bow on top of it. “Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned.

“My brother got into a fight at the Academy and now I have to pick him up,” he said grumpily.

“Oh,” her face fell, and Jason felt guilty. “I hope your brother’s okay.”

“The little shit probably is,” he gritted through his teeth. He saw a twinge of sadness go through her expression. “Listen,” he started, “I really wanted to stay, but if I don’t pick him up, it’ll start a whole thing with my family and I…” he didn’t complete but he was sure she understood.

“It’s okay, Jay,” it was the first time she had called him by a nickname, and his heart beated faster at the sound. “I was about to close up anyways.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her eyes a bit glossy.

He turned around, his book on his hands, when he heard a small ‘Wait’. Jason turned back to her, she was looking at her feet, maybe embarrassed that she had called him, maybe she just didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to go either. “Can you give me a ride?” she asked. “I mean, I live pretty close to Gotham Academy, it wouldn’t be too much of a detour.”

His heart picked up the pace, and he fought a smile. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

She smiled at him. “Great,” she replied. “I just need to pick up my things and we can go.”

She was very quick. She turned the lights off of the entire store and returned to the front desk with a small backpack and a few notebooks in hand. She smiled at him. “Lead the way.”

Like the gentleman he was raised to be, he took the notebooks from her hands and led the way, Y/N only a few steps behind him. She fished out a key out of her pocket and locked the front door. She tied a chain around the doorknob in a very specific way that almost seemed like a sailor’s knot. She put a locket in the end of the chain, and dragged a metal door down, then locking it to the ground. It seemed excessive, but it was Gotham, and Jason knew first hand what the city was like.

They walked a few doors down. Jason’s car glistened in the fading sunlight. He was fucking proud of that car. He had fixed everything in it, he knew that machine inside out. He made it what it was, a beautiful and powerful car. It was one of the few things he had done he felt proud of it.

He unlocked the doors with the alarm--yes, a 1962 black Corvette with electronic alarm, he had done that--and he heard a gasp beside him. He turned to see Y/N and her eyes glistened with amazement. “What?” he asked, confused.

“You have a ‘62 Corvette?” she asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” he dragged, still confused.

“I fucking love this car,” she said completely ignoring him and getting closer to the car, analyzing it carefully. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It really is,” he got around it, looking at the street to see if there were any cars coming down. He then opened the door of his car and got in. “Get in,” he smiled at her.

She opened a beaming smile. She opened the door and sat on the passenger seat, her bag resting on her feet, her notebooks now on her lap, she noticed the roof of the car on--the better option for the approaching winter--the head rest he had added, the bright red color of the leather seats, and the original panel, even though she knew he most likely altered everything behind it. She looked like a little kid in it, and Jason could get used to the sight of her beside him.

He started the car and she squealed excitedly at the sound of the motor. He looked at her, a small smile on her face. “Is it the original motor?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like it, it sounds electrical.”

“That’s ‘cause it is electrical,” he responded. “The original one was very poluent so I switched it.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, closing her eyes. Jason hinted she was trying to hear the sounds of the car, like someone you’d listen to music. “This is so cool,” she breathed out.

He hummed in amusement. “Never met someone who was as passionate about this car as me,” he noted.

“You didn’t meet people with good taste then,” she joked. “I’ve loved this car since I was a teen. Always wanted one, but I never had it in me to buy it.”

“I found this one in a junkyard basically,” he said. “It was in pretty good condition considering where it was. Spent a year tryin’ to fix it to the original conditions, gave up and then another year buildin’ it to what it is today.”

She looked at him, he noticed out of the corner of the eye, incredulously. “You’re so fucking cool, Jason,” she said. “You’re beyond cool, you’re just…” she trailed off. He looked at her quickly and she had a shy smile and she was looking at her hands.

“Thank you,” he thanked her. “People haven’t found me cool in,” he let out a breath, “forever.”

“Well, you haven’t been walking with very nice people then,” she said. “No offense to your friends, but you’re just… you’re special, Jay.”

And, fuck, did he love hearing that from her. She left him speechless. She turned to him and saw his stony expression--an expression of panic and chock, not of disgust as she thought--and she inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she said, desperately trying to correct her mistake. “I said too much. Forget I said anything, please,” she completed, smally.

“It’s okay, love,” he replied softly, the car stopping slowly at the intersection. He turned to her. He grabbed her hands, that were twisting nervously in her lap--a nervous tick he remembered noticing she had in school--and looked at her softly. “You’re fucking special too, Y/N.”

She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. “I--” she hesitated. She smiled at him, sniffing and wiping her eyes with one of her hands, the other still intertwined in Jason’s. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

He smiled at her. “I’m just saying the truth, love.”

That made her even more flustered. “You’re just being kind,” she said, shyly, looking at her hands entangled with his. She removed her hands of his, the traffic light turned green and Jason resumed driving the car.

“No, I’m not,” he denied her. “I’m telling you the truth. You’re special, and you’re amazing, Y/N.”

She shook her head in denial, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth. “I’m not all that great,” she whispered. “I’m pretty annoying in fact. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t believe you. Why’d you think that?”

She shrugged. “When you spend your whole childhood and teenagedom hearing that you’re nothing but an annoying crybaby nerd, you start to believe it at some point.”

Jason swallowed tickly at her remark. He couldn’t believe what she had just said. “Who said that to you?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry,” she replied, dismissing his concern. “It’s over now.”

“But it still hurts you,” he noted. He noticed how this could easily apply to him. How he easily would get worked up on the little things Bruce would mention and Jason would brush it, say it’s over, it doesn’t matter, when it clearly does. It fucking does.

She looked at her hands, and sniffed. “It’ll always hurt, I guess.”

Jason was rarely speechless. But, at that moment, he didn’t know what to say. Because he remembered hearing those things about her. He remembered people talking about her in that way, saying she was weird, and that they only talked to her when they needed help with homework. Admittedly, he never ever said those things about her--he didn’t even believe those things--but he never said a word to those who called her that. And that, arguably, was worse than saying those things.

He struggled to conciliate that guilt with the fact that he didn’t even feel like that boy--he wasn’t that boy anymore. That boy died by the hands of a clown. What had emerged from it was something entirely different. And yet, he still felt guilt over something he hadn’t done when he was that kid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Jay,” she said, her hands finding his, on the gear shift. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But I--” he started, “I didn’t say anything about it. I knew about those things and I didn’t stop them.”

She looked at him, and he saw by the corner of his eye. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure you were going through other stuff and you just wanted to fit in.”

How was she so fucking understanding? He scoffed lightly. The thing is: he wasn’t trying to fit in, he was trying to stay out of sight. So he just listened and said nothing. “How are you so good?” He said, incredulously. He was the first person to say Gotham was rotten, head to toe, and yet there she was, fucking pure soul.

“I guess I just am,” she shrugged.

And then they fell in a comfortable silence. Her hand was still in his, and he fought the urge to bring her knuckles to his lips and plant a kiss on it. Every now and then he would steal glances at her, and he swore she was glowing in the orange sunlight peaking in the window.

“That’s me,” she said, pointing to a tall modern building a block before Gotham Academy.

“That’s a big fancy building,” he noted slowly.

“It’s one of my parents’ apartments,” she explained. “I live in it rent free, but I have to pay for electricity and food and stuff. It was the condition for using it. They insisted they’d pay the tuition and I demanded this apartment in return, ‘cause I wanted to pay the tuition and they wanted to--” she trailed off noticing a weird look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I ranted.”

“It’s fine, I like to hear you talk,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back, looking at her feet. “Well, I should get going,” she said opening the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Jason.”

“No problem, love,” he shook his head slightly, and looked at her softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on his, already out of the car. “Bye,” she finished awkwardly and quickly walked to the building.

Jason watched as she floated to her home, mesmerized by her.

Fuck.

“Red Hood has been following me,” she manifested her psychologist looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s weird to say it out loud.”

“Why do you say that?” her psychologist asked.

“‘Cause I’ve seen him,” she replied. “A couple of times actually.”

“Are you sure?” the therapist asked.

“Yes, I am,” she nodded enthusiastically. “I just don’t get why he’s following me.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be a good guy?” her therapist quizzed. “Following people doesn’t seem like a good guy thing to do.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m not scared though. I know I should be, but I’m not,” she commented. “I know I haven’t done anything wrong, there's no reason for him to be following me, at least no reason like that. I don’t know,” she sighed, “maybe he just wants to be my guardian angel,” she shrugged.

“It sure is a weird angel,” the therapist noted. “Have you talked about this with Jason?”

“I did mention it to him,” she nodded. “But he got all weird about it and changed the subject quickly.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yeah, he definitely knows something about this,” she said smugly. “I really want to find out.”

“Well, on the topic of Jason,” her therapist said as if she hadn’t brought him up, “how’s things with him?”

“They’re okay,” she shrugged. “He comes to see me at work almost every day. Then he walks me to my car or gives me a ride home.”

“I see,” the psychologist noted. “And what do you guys talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled under her breath. “Mostly about books. Sometimes about life,” she recounted. “He’s very reserved. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

“And you? Do you talk about yourself?”

She hesitated. There was no point in lying to her therapist, it would go against the very definition of therapy and if there was one thing she hated was hypocrisy. “No,” she shook her head quietly, “I-- everytime I try, something happens and…” she shrugged. “I guess I’m too scared of scaring him off.”

“Y/N…” the therapist warned. “You need to open up to him. How do you expect him to stick around if you don’t share things about you?”

“To be fair,” she said raising her finger as if it would make the point she was about to make more believable, “I’ve talked about myself once with him and it was… fuck, it was hard.”

“How did he react?” the therapist inquired. “Was he a dick?”

“No!” she was quick to reply. “He was the sweetest. But I’m just…”

“Depriving yourself of a potential relationship,” her therapist completed for her. “You’re sabotaging yourself, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she denied, fooling herself. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up and end up heartbroken.”

The psychologist sighed. “I know you’re scared of getting hurt, but you’ll never know unless you let him in,” the therapist stated. “You might be pushing him away and sabotaging yourself when investing in this relationship could very well be something right for you,” she finished.

“I know,” she mumbled. “But I just,” she sighed, defeated. “I’m scared.”

“I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try,” her therapist added softly.

“Okay,” she nodded, softly.

She waited at the edge of her seat for Jason to come in at the store. She was going to try. Fuck, she hoped she didn’t mess anything up. Up until that moment she didn’t know what she was doing, she just did it. She hoped she knew what she was about to do.

The bell rang and Jason walked in, his hair swept by the chilly wind and his hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets. He wore that leather jacket she loved so much, it made him so much more beautiful. She just wanted to grab him by his shirt and kiss him to no end. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I was waiting for you,” she announced happily.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning on his elbows. His face was inches away from hers. His pupils were blown wide, his blue eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t quite place yet. “Excited for the next rec, huh?” he smirked.

“No, actually,” she corrected him. “I needed to tell you something.”

“Oh,” he said. “Go ahead then, I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart racing at his comment. She swallowed nervously, looking him in the eye. This was it. She was going to open up to him. “I was talking to my therapist actually,” she started, “and we agreed--actually no,” she laughed. “She said that I need to open up and be vulnerable more. And it may seem a bit weird that I’m saying this to you but I swear there’s a reason. So here it goes,” she breathed out. “I really like you, Jay. Like, really really like you. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed weird or standoffish or anything, I’m trying to work on that. So if you want to, I don’t know, take this, um, friendship somewhere else, maybe somewhere romantic, I’d be, you know, happy to take it there too. With you, I mean.”

He smiled genuinely at her. His eyes shifted to her hands. She was twisting her fingers nervously. He rested his hand on hers, her hand immediately relaxing under his touch. “I’d like that,” he responded quietly. “Wanna go on a date tonight?”

She smiled, her eyes a bit teary. Her heart raced in her chest, the worst case scenario hadn’t come true. He liked her too. He wanted to date too. Her anxiety was wrong. Thank God for that. “Yeah, I do,” she confessed.

His smile got bigger somehow. “Great,” he breathed out, and she could feel the nerves leaving his body. “I’ll pick you up at 8,” he stated.

She smiled at him. “Great.”

“I need you to cover patrol for me,” Jason said to Tim, his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He carried a bouquet of flowers, bags from the market and a suit he had it pressed and sent to the Iceberg Lounge.

“Why?” Tim quizzed him.

“‘Cause I have a thing,” Jay responded.

“Yeah, Imma need more than that, Jay,” Tim said. “What thing?”

“You’re a little fucker”, he answered, resting the bags on the floor. “You just want gossip.”

“No, I want a reason why I’ll have to add the Narrows to my patrol tonight,” Tim argued. “It’s quite far from my usual route, y’know.”

“Fuck you, Tim,” Jason muttered.

“Why such hostility?” Tim teased. Jason could practically hear his brother’s smirk over the phone. “Is someone going on a date tonight?”

Jason exhaled deeply, trying not to lose his temper and drive to Wayne Towers to choke his brother to death. He was on a schedule, he had dinner to prepare. “Will you cover for me or not?”

“Will you tell me why you're ditching patrol?”

“No,” Jason gritted through his teeth.

“Then no,” Tim said plainly. Jason knew he was messing with him.

Jason sighed. There was no way he’d cancel on Y/N. Not because his motherfucking brother was toying with him. “I swear to God, Drake, if you tell anyone I'll kill you the most painful way possible.”

“So you are going on a date,” Tim stated.

“Fuck,” Jason sighed. “Yes, I am. Now, please Timothy, would you cover patrol for me tonight?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Tim,” Jason started.

“Or boy, I don’t judge.”

“Will you cover the motherfucking patrol?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim dismissed.

“Thank you,” Jason sighed relieved.

“Will you introduce me to t--”

Jason hung up on his brother. He had a date to get ready to.

Jason spent the rest of his afternoon getting everything ready for the date. The food, the flowers, the ambiance of the roof. Everything was perfect, just like she fucking deserved.

He was nervous out of his mind. His hands were sweating and he couldn’t stop running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit. It was so long ago the last time he had gone on a date with someone he cared this much about. He didn’t want to screw it up.

She was so precious, so good. He didn’t know what someone like her saw in someone like him, someone tainted and broken. But she saw something, and she wanted him. And he wasn’t dumb, he wasn’t going to let her go. Even if everything in his life told him to run from her, protect her from a distance, don’t get close ‘cause she’ll become a target.

And he was doing just that, he was protecting from a distance as the Hood. He was being fucking dumb about it too, cause she had seen him more than once. But being distant was not enough, not anymore.

So there he was, in front of her apartment, black ‘62 Corvette, crisp black suit and blood red t-shirt. His hair was messy and his hands were in his pockets. He leaned on the hood of the car, waiting patiently for her to come to his encounter. He was early anyways, he could wait, even if he hated the looks of pity he was receiving. She would come and those fucking pedestrians knew nothing.

She opened the doors and stepped on the sidewalk. She was wearing a beautiful red knee-length dress with black heels and Jason was just paralyzed at her sight. Fucking hell. How can someone be so perfect? How can someone so perfect want him?

She stopped in front of him, a smile framing her face beautifully, her glasses crystal clean. “You look great, Jay,” she stated.

“I--” he opened his mouth but no words came out of his mouth. Her face fell and her eyes flashed with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she said. “Is everything okay?”

He breathed out and smiled at her. “Everything’s perfect, love,” he said. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “You look breathtakin’.”

She looked down shyly. “Thank you, Jay.”

He opened the door of the car for her. She thanked him kindly, and he closed the door for her. He entered the car and started the engine. “Where’re we going?” she quizzed him.

He looked at her with a smirk. “It’s a surprise,” he stated. “It’s part of the charm.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t need to surprise me to charm me, Jason.”

“Cute you think that, but you’ll see,” he responded. “This is going to be a perfect night.”

She looked at him and sighed quietly, like she was considering something. “It’s already perfect. I’m here with you,” she said coyly.

Jason looked at her quickly, her gaze fixed on him. He smiled shyly. One of his hands left the wheel and found hers, holding it tightly. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed it softly. He wanted to say three little words, and he almost did. But she was too precious and he couldn’t just waste those words in a moment like this, an immature moment at that. No, he would cherish her like she was supposed too. He would love her in secret for now, and when he was sure she reciprocated his feelings he would say it with all his heart, he would shout it from the highest rooftop.

But, for now, he just looked at her, hoping his look was enough to say what he couldn’t. She smiled like she understood what he was trying to say.

Yeah, she was perfect. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. Fuck the voices in his head saying to run. For once in his life he was going to welcome this feeling with open arms.

“So, how was your week?” her therapist quizzed.

“It was great, actually,” she said. “Jay took me to the museum in Metropolis. I did well in a test and I got my salary early so I bought a new pin for my collection.”

“You’re sure spending a lot of time with Jason,” the psychologist noted.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed softly. “I really like him, you know.”

“I do know,” the therapist replied. “How does it feel to be in a relationship?”

She looked down at her hands, flustered. “It feels nice and weird and...and…” she trailed off. “I have no words to describe it.”

Her therapist smiled at her. “He seems like a nice guy, Y/N,” she commented. “How do your friends like him?”

She twisted her hands nervously. “Henry was suspicious of him at first,” she started. “You know, Jay’s a bit shy and intimidating, Henry was concerned he’d hurt me.”

“And how did you react to his concern?”

“I mean,” she shrugged, “it’s a valid concern. But Jay wouldn’t…” she hesitated. “We’ve talked about this, y’know? He knows where I stand, he knows where my fears come from and he gave me his word,” she sniffed, her voice strained. “He promised. And so far he didn’t break any of his promises.”

“You do trust him a lot,” the therapist noticed.

“I trust him with my life,” she added. “I hope he doesn’t break that trust.”

She hummed and wrote something down. “What about your other friends?” her therapist questioned. “I know Henry means the world to you, but he’s not your only friend.”

“Julie thought he was okay and the other boys were just very neutral about it,” she explained. “You know how they’re like. As long as I’m happy they’ll be supportive.”

“Are you happy?” the psychologist inquired.

“Yeah,” she replied enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah. Jay’s just… He’s the best, you know. He gets me. He’s respectful and he’s smart and handsome. I really like him.”

Her therapist smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” she said. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“It sure has,” she chuckled quietly.

“How about the Red Hood?” the therapist asked. “Have you seen him lately?”

“All the time,” she replied. “Ever since I started dating Jay, I’ve seen the Hood when I wasn’t with him.”

“Doesn’t that concern you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s weird but it doesn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He seems familiar, you know? Not because I’ve seen him up close or seen him more times than I can count but…” she pondered. “His posture and his stance, it’s so so familiar to me. I wonder if I’ve met him as a civilian.”

“You could have,” her therapist pondered. “How does Jason think of this?”

“He doesn’t,” she answered. “He always changes the subject very quickly every time I bring it up.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “I know he’s up to something. I just haven’t had the courage to ask him. Yet.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jason messed up. He messed up bad.

He could live with the fact she had seen him a couple of times lurking in rooftops making sure she was safe. He could live with the fact she was onto him, that she knew he was hiding something from her, something related to the Hood. Jason knew eventually he would have to tell her, this double life would become unsustainable, and he’d have to merge it into one. As much as he dreaded that day, he would fucking do it.

But when she sat him down in her living room and said that she knew he was the Hood, he knew, he was fucking sure, he should have been more careful.

“I’m not mad, y’know,” she said quietly. “I get why you hid from me.”

Jason remained quiet, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “How did you find out?”

A smile passed on her face. “You were just so familiar, I guess,” she explained. “You felt so familiar even from afar. So I just started connecting the dots.”

“I see,” he whispered. His heart beated faster and faster with anxiety. He couldn’t handle it, he thought he would have more time to tell her. He hadn’t realized she could very well discover on her own, he had given her enough clues to do just so. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s fine, Jason,” she replied quietly. “You don’t need to feel sorry.”

“I feel like I should,” he said. He sighed and grabbed her hands softly. “I owe you an explanation, Y/N.”

“You don’t owe me anything besides your safety,” she cut him. “I don’t care about what you do at night, Jason. I care about you, I--” she looked at him, trying to search for something in his eyes. “I love you, Jay. And I don’t think I could bear to lose you.”

Jason opened his mouth in shock. He wasn’t expecting that. “I love you,” he replied to her. “I’ve fucking loved you ever since I laid eyes on you, Y/N,” he grabbed her face and rested his forehead on hers. “I was just so scared to let you in on the secret. ‘Cause I know of the dangers, I know first hand how fucking dangerous this life is, and loosing you would kill me,” he explained. “For the second time,” he whispered.

Her hands rested on his cheeks, her thumb caressing him gently. She kissed him, softly, and he reciprocated it.

“I want to tell you,” Jason whispered, against her lips. “I have to tell you, how I became what I became.”

“You don’t n--” she began.

“I do, though,” he interrupted her. “I do,” he whispered. He sighed, and looked down. He held her wrists carefully. “If you don’t want to see me after everything I tell you, I’ll understand. I won’t blame you.”

“Imma stop you right there,” she looked him in the eyes. “You think I don’t know anything, but I know a couple of things, Jay. I did my research on the Hood,” she commented. “You don’t scare me.”

“There are things that I’ve done that…” he shook his head.

“It’s okay, Jay,” she said softly. “One step at a time, love.”

So he took one step at a time. He told her everything carefully. Some details were left behind, he couldn’t say them out loud, not even if he wanted to. She held his hands through it all, and he was truly grateful for it.

“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“You don’t have to be,” he shook his head and squeezed her hands. “It led me to you.”

author’s note: here is the link to my jason playlist once again and the link to my masterlist.

#my masterlist #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #Jason Todd #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you

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