#Jason breaks himself out within the hour

[tiger-grace]

Damian standing outside of the police precinct because Jason (notorious crime lord) got caught for busting an illegal poaching and harvesting scheme

Damian: free my man he ain’t do anything wrong

Commissioner Gordon: he cut off their hands-

Damian, slowly pulling a batarang out of his pocket: I said, free my man. He ain’t do anything wrong.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I wanted you to know that I love your stories, all of them, and I'm really curious about Jason in Freelance Inventor — he didn't die, but is he still a vigilant? If so, who is he? Is he still Red Hood, even if Joker didn't get him? Or is he going to college know that he's not Robin for some time?

Jason Todd reads over his essay one last time, double-checking for any spelling or grammar issues. He's reasonably confident that there are none, but with last night's Riddle fiasco, he had yet to get much-needed sleep before typing it out.

The last time he turned in an assignment with that much lost sleep, he had somehow written lyrics to the music he was listening to while researching.

He leans back in his chair, cracking his knuckles once he verifies everything is in order. After a quick stretch, he reaches for his mouse and clicks open his online class platform.

Three clicks later, this week's work is uploaded into the submission box, waiting for his professor to review it. He lingers on the page long enough for it to flash the confirmation and clicks the tab towards his email, making sure the same notice arrives there before closing everything down.

He's exhausted, more so than usual for a college student, but if he wanted the weekend open to having that fishing trip with Danny, he needed to get his ass in gear.

Jason sighs, reaching for the textbook of his female authors in history class next. His eyes drop as he flips through the chapters to the most current one.

Norally, Jason would adore reading, but trying to force himself after being awake for who knows how many hours just causes the words to blur before his eyes.

A knock at his doorway jolts him from the third re-read passage.

Danny is standing there with a tray that contains a steaming warm mug, a plate of cookies, and another plate of his famous grilled triple-cheese sandwiches.

"Hey, Kid," He says, that same nickname that he had used since Jason first arrived at Wayne Manor still curls with the same equal amount of warmth and care. "Brought you something to eat."

"Thanks Danny" Jason smiles, accepting the food without much fuss. He isn't quick enough to hide his yawn, causing his pseudo- step father to frown.

"How much sleep did you have last night?" He asks in that same disapproving voice since Jason told him about his new job.

"Enough. I just got to finish these assigments then I'll take a nap" He promises.

Danny's eyes narrow further before he sighs. If there is one thing he adores about talking to Danny is that he almost never argues with the kids. He makes his displeasure known, puts in his two cents more often then not, but he is also willing to hear them out.

Even if he disagrees with a job mainly involving graveyard shifts at university. As far as Danny knows, Jason got a job within Wayne Enterprise as one of the emergency hotlines for troubled youths.

They anonymously helped provide kids a safe space to sleep for the night, no questions asked. Jason had help develop the program back durning his break from the vigilanete sceen as a teen.

After Sheila and Ethiopia, he was too injured to go out into the field, forcing him to take a break. While on the break, he realized that Bruce was right. Jason had far too much empathy, crushed by all the darkness he saw on the streets, turning to this side of unnecessary rough when dealing with criminals.

Robin had always been magic to him, but it was losing its shine by harsh reality. The break helped clear his mind and made Jason realize he no longer wanted to be Robin. He wanted to be Jason Todd, kept around not because of how useful he was but because of how beloved he was.

To this day, he is forever grateful that he had built a strong enough bond to call Danny, just in case Bruce disowns him as he feared back then. Danny had been shockingly close by, forcing Jason to promise not to get too close to Sheila without him- as he had brought up the critical detail that Sheila had given up custody rights with a side note of possible danger to baby Jason in her file- and Jason had listened.

Danny was a mere six hours away, but by the third hour, he couldn't wait any longer. He had gone to meet Sheila, choosing to not reveal his Robin persona just because Danny wasn't in the know yet.

He only told her when he followed her to the warehouse to try to convince her that he could save her from the Joker. She had maybe three seconds to process his claim before the Joker busted in, eager to torment a child, vigilante or not.

Joker didn't know he was attacking Robin. He just liked bringing misery.

She stood back and did nothing while Joker bounded him and beat the tar out of him with a crowbar.

Jason was honestly thinking he was going to die until the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle rammed through the metal doors, ripping them like paper, and slammed not only Sheila but the Joker. Crashing them under the wheels of his large RV with gusto. It was surprising that neither passed away from the collision.

Danny had fung himself from the passenger seat like a warth, dragging the wounded Jason to safety. The bomb Joker planned to set off was never started, left to be discovered by a team of investigators who would remove the clown's political immunity once his crimes in the county were found, as the clown and his little assistant were left unconscious on the ground.

He would later be joined at one of the only Ethiopian hospitals by a hysterical Batman who didn't have an excuse for why he knew and was worried about Jason Todd.

The whole thing was a reality check that Jason and Bruce needed separately. Danny had ripped each of them a new one once everyone realized Jason would recover. It was during this lecture that Jason had let it slip that he knew Dick was the only real son, as Bruce had offered him adoption once he found the paperwork but not the street rat.

Danny had dragged Bruce by the ear to Jason's new hospital room in Gotham, making sure the man was carrying the adoption forms Bruce had applied for one week after taking in Jason. No one had ever wanted Jason.

But Bruce did even if Danny had to stand guard at the doorway, glaring at them both until they spoke about their emotions. Then, to even further shock Jason, Danny had shown him a new invention. It was a emergency tracker that would show where the older man was at any given time in the world.

It came with a messaging concept (back before phones had the texting option) and a promise that Jason could always reach Danny regardless of the day or time to talk.

Jason had busted into tears, the first time he was brave enough to message I think I want to go to college

The replay came a mere seconds later. I know you can do it, Kid; let's get you to college.

He gave up the mask and the cap, choosing only to remind computer support to his father and brother- then later little Tim, who Danny brought home- and continue his education.

His mother—the one who had cared for him and loved him like her own—his real one—would have been so proud of Jason as he walked across the stage to receive his diploma. Catherine would have been one of the loudest cheering, but the Fentons- who had all showed up after Danny sent out the word- more than made up for it.

The Waynes were loud, but nothing could be the hollering Jack, Dani, and Danny Fenton made when Jason gave his valedictorian speech for his high school graduation. Maddie and Jazz had clapped loudly, too, grinning ear to to ear as Jason waved at them.

He was accepted into Gotham University that fall, hoping to work his way to an English diploma. He kept up with his training dispite only being on communications and information for the Bats but the itch to get back into the feild was growing.

Maybe Robin had not made it out of Ethiopia, but Jason Todd did, and Jason thinks that Crime Alley needed a hero. Someone who could curl the violence there because they grew and knew the violence like the back of his hand.

Maybe the crime alley needed a Pheonix to watch over it.

Just after Phoniex finishes this one last assigment.

"Don't stay up too late. Get some sleep!" Danny demands as Jason munches on his food and opens a new blank Word document. This one is for a poerty elective he choosen and he had the perfect theme for his.

He types out Found Family in the title.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Would you do a second part of Damián x Cat!villain!reader? Or maybe something with a different plot, but I need it too much 😵‍💫

I don’t usually entertain part 2 asks but cause it’s you my adorkable Lucas, I shall. I’m adding the other boys and some wild cards for good measure.

tw/cw: yandere, dick’s part gives me major second hand embarrassment but maybe that’s a me issue, (implied) jason has seggs with your unconscious body (but it’s consensual). damian is aged up but still younger than reader hence the condescending way of speech the latter has for him.

ROOFTOP TALKS W/ THE BOYS

☁️ . . . w/ Dickie Boi

When you were dating it was a lot of you flirting and him asking you to be a bit more professional. And then you promptly reminding him that your profession is being a thief.

And that you were taking that profession seriously by stealing his heart.

Kisses in the rain were pretty much your guys’s thing. As much as your cat heart hated being wet.

When he became Nightwing and after Jason’s death, you guys didn’t break up immediately. Just fizzled out. Long talks about everything and anything became short greetings and small talk until you two officially ended it.

Nowadays Dick tries his hardest to get your attention, he shows off a lot. Ups the romanticness of it all. Brings you all around the city for dates before you two chill on your favorite spot.

Dick felt great. He just spent an entire night out on a date with his first love, some might argue that you’re his only true one too. You two haven’t been able to hang out due to the chaos of life and Jason. But finally he was able to have you for himself for once. No Tim to watch you two through the cameras (he made sure all of those were unavailable), no Damian to stalk you two within the shadows (it took a while, but he managed to convince the big ol’ bat to keep the youngest occupied), and no vigilante business he had to deal with.

There was just one last thing. A kiss. (He wanted sex, to feel you around him again. But considering you two just got back into the swing of things he was willing to wait)

He closed his eyes, and leaned forward.

Only to be met with air.

And then the ground.

“Uhm. Did you just — I mean I know I look cute tonight and all — but did you just try to kiss me, Grayson?” You had only managed to narrowly dodge the action. A little amused by the way he’s currently making out with the floor, but mostly confused and somewhat terrified.

Dick groaned, of all the things to put him on the ground this week. “I thought - I thought we were…”

You looked at him, blinked a few times, and managed to utter out, “Dude.”

☁️ . . . w/ Hubby Toddy

Imma be honest with you. You two bone 80-90% of the times you guys meet.

The only reason that it’s not 100% is because of the danger you two are in for that 10-20%

The vigilante/villain lifestyle and environment isn’t ideal for boning 24/7 y’know.

The reason why you guys fuck so often is cause Cat Villain! Reader being the menace they are only has to remind Jason that he died a virgin for you two to get down to business.

The Batboys are obsessed with proving themselves/ a point in general after all. So you often play them like a fiddle with just a few words.

Aside from that, a lot of your rooftop talks are you being snarky towards each other. Jason asking you to stop risking your life with heists and you vice versa with his vendetta.

Which usually leads to anger fucking but I digress.

You two often snack on the greasiest, unhealthy food while together.

Sometimes you spend hours talking about what he missed while he was gone. Of course he already knows everything. He kept tabs on you and whatnot. But hearing you speak gives him a sense of calm like no other.

Cuddling ftw. Jason adores enveloping you.

He likes doing stuff that proves that you exist?? Like that you’re next to him. That both of you are alive in that moment.

“‘M sleepy.” Your eyelids were beyond heavy at that point. Jason wanted you to be up for every single round, and it seemed like his stamina was endless.

Usually you’d pass out and he’d just continue getting off using you but that night he gave you a challenge. Something about wanting to see the way your pretty eyes as he ruined your insides.

“Too much action for you tonight, kit?”

“Mhm.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll watch over you.” He shifted your body in a more secure position, wrapping his large arms around your form.

“Promise me you won’t disappear?”

“I’m here always.” He let out a deep breath.

As soon as he made sure you were out cold he continued,

“Not even death will keep me away from you, baby.”

☁️ . . . w/ Timsies Whimsies

Most of your hang outs are spent indoors

Otherwise it’d be you hovering over his shoulders as he works on his projects.

Most of your rooftop times with Tim are spent in silence, playing video games, or board games.

Sometimes you two would spend hours playing and voicing cheesy dating sims.

But sometimes you use the time to get him to sleep.

You two are very much opposites when it comes to sleep times. Like if we go full on cat mode here, you prolly sleep off like 70% of your life.

I really shouldn’t be writing this while I’m sleepy as hell shouldn’t I?

Tim had never slept so well in his entire life.

All he remembered before being lulled into dreamland was you singing, patting him on the head, and some laughter before everything went dark.

But now he wishes he never slept at all.

“Is this . . . an edit of us a kids—“

Tim slammed his laptop shut so hard he’s pretty sure he’d broken it.

You looked at him incredulously. How long had you been snooping through his stuff? How did you even manage to unlock it? He made sure it was inaccessible even to Bruce.

“I . . . I read this one fanfic . . . that we met as kids and grew up together.” He confessed.

Yes, Tim gets brainrots over [Cat Villain Name] x Reader / Red Robin fanfics. Could you blame him?

“Honestly that’s pretty cute and wholesome. The other things you have there on the other hand . . . “

“I’ll pay for all of your boba expenses for a year if you forget about this.”

“A decade and I’ll never look through your shit again.”

“Deal.”

☁️ . . . w/ Damie Baby

Up until recently your rooftop meetings have been an even more snarky version of Jason’s with less hatefucking more … hating.

While Dick is more extravagant with how he shows off. Damian is more on the ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m just this awesome’ side of the spectrum.

It took him a while to finally figure out that you being a menace is more of a facade if anything

And boy did it make him get a romantic boner when he found out

Like it went from you teasing him to hell and back to him turning the tables

“Wow, ain’t it past your bedtime, Damie?”

“Not my fault I can’t get a wink of sleep without you beside me.”

“. . .Ah.”

Aside from that you like roping him into playing games and basically all the things he missed out on being trained to be as an assassin.

He in turn does more traditional courting methods on you. Like buying you flowers, having slow dances.

Sometimes you do each other’s henna.

(He definitely is smug about it when other members of the batfam ask)

He often scolds you about reading so much late into the night…and insists he reads everything for you while you sit prettily on his lap

His favorite activity is running his hands through your hair as you lay your head on his lap while he dictates a book out loud. Usually it’s non fiction so that A) you’d sleep faster, and B) he gets his readings for uni in.

☁️ . . . w/ Bruce ig

“Hey, loser.” You purred, appearing from the underneath Batman’s cape.

Without a beat, he replied, “[Cat Villain Name].” and nothing else. He does not move. Doesn’t even make an attempt to seem affected by your antics.

“Awe, I missed you too!” You hugged him tightly and gave a pat for measure.

You were about to let when you felt a weight atop your head.

He was… giving you a headpat? Albeit awkwardly.“Who are you and what did you do to—“

“Treat them well.”

And he disappears.

Hey, wasn’t that your move?

In anycase,

It’s about time that Bruce learnt,

if you can’t beat em, join em.

[3amfanfiction]

Simon Finds a Toy

You had just moved to town when the serial killer who was passing through takes a shine to you. Simon/Reader, 3.5k

18+ cw: kidnapping, hobbling, spanking, animal death

March is practically over when everything goes wrong.

Running through an abandoned warehouse avoiding bodies was not how you saw your evening going.

When the first of you began disappearing into the dark, no one noticed. You didn't all know each other, it was one of those friend of a friend types of gatherings, with everyone separating into pre-formed cliques within the first hour.

It was a younger guy who had suggested exploring the old building a mile down the road—no surprise there. Per his words, he fancied himself an urban explorer. You hadn't seen him since the beginning, one of the first to go missing.

You weren't even supposed to be here tonight! You'd just moved into town and you were trying to make friends. When the pretty girl at the bakery invited you to hang out, you thought you were good. That maybe life wasn't so hard and setting down roots wasn't impossible.

Stupid—tempting the universe like that.

Whoever this guy was, he was massive. The kind of massive where if he barreled into you, you would be pancaked. You had watched him take a bear of a man (Jeremy? Jason? Maybe—all you can remember is he said he was a footballer) out half an hour ago—lifted, bent, and broken all in one smooth, brutal move.

It was as awe-inspiring as it was fear-inducing.

So you run.

You run and you hide until you're backed into a corner. He's found every other person and now it's your turn. You're bleeding and bruised, aching where you slammed into sharp corners and machinery in the dark.

This is it, the climax of your story, is anyone surprised that you run your mouth a little? You don't hold back as you tell him everything you think about him, every new fucked up thing this evening had presented, every grievance ever buried down under the veneer of civility.

Why is he just staring? You're caught, nowhere to go, and he's just … looking. He's got shark eyes—pools of inky black that suck you in. Drowning.

He decides to take you home with him.

This has to be a joke.

///

April brings cruelty in its change, where you're expected to learn the shape of the season.

Stop messing with these knots or you won't like the consequences.

How were you supposed to know this is what he meant? He said it exactly once; the first night in the truck when he hopped out after hours of driving just to find you with the rope halfway undone, eyes glaring at him from above your gag.

He grunted out his warning while retying it, calm as you please, as if it wasn't a bother to him one way or the other.

Looking back at it he was probably hoping you would ignore the warning, the psychopath.

The next morning he had to tighten them again after your long night spent fiddling but he didn't say anything—just adjusted the knots and walked back around to continue the drive. He hadn't stopped that day other than for gas and one bathroom break on the side of a cracked and potholed back road, where if there had been any traffic, they would've gotten quite the show.

He didn't even have the decency to take you into the trees.

You had gotten one hand completely out of the hog tie by the time you two reached your destination; this little tin-roofed shed with just enough room for him to pull all the way in and close the doors behind him was the only building you'd seen in hours.

He doesn't address your unbound hand—simply refastens it into the tie while ignoring how you had removed the cloth gag with your partial freedom. What follows is the culmination of days worth of you sitting in enforced silence, thinking up every creative thing you could call him. Unfortunately he ignores you cussing him out, and throws you over his shoulder to begin his trek through the woods.

He doesn't seem to mind you screaming your head off, at least other than making sure you don't do it directly in his ear. That got a sharp adjustment of your torso across his shoulder; your grunting wheeze in response not very demure.

Now you're here—staring at your hands. Or rather, your thumbs and where they were taped in little braces to stop you from moving them. Sweat and dirt making the skin itch beneath the bandages.

He told you you wouldn't like the consequences. He TOLD you. Did you think he was lying?

Well—kind of, yeah. What sort of monster breaks someone's thumbs?

Your stare turns into a glare, unseeing of anything around you until a heavy hand landing on your shoulder makes you jerk in surprise.

"Leave it, pet. No use thinking on it now," is grumbled down at you before he huffs in something resembling amusement as you lean sideways, trying to get out from underneath his grasp.

You've been waiting for the day when he loses his patience and murders you too, but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe he finds it entertaining when you act like a kicked dog around him.

Which is a funny thought considering he has a dog that damn near idolizes him.

He ignores him most of the time—takes care to feed and water him but that's the extent. No scratches behind the ear, no tummy rubs, no kisses between the ears. As if you needed another reason to hate this guy.

You watch him put together three plates, two in bowls and one on some kind of wooden board. You snort to yourself when you think of this guy enjoying a charcuterie board, ignoring him when he cocks an eyebrow back at you, waiting for an explanation that won't come.

At least you've gotten better at keeping your expression blank when he sets the two bowls on the floor, before taking his charcuterie board wanna-be into the dining room.

Asshole.

///

May saw flowers blooming and lessons learned.

You have use of your thumbs again. That's a win.

Puttering around this stupid cabin is driving you insane. You've learned a few things since you've been here—his name is Simon, he's military, he murders people in his free time, and his dog's name is Dog.

Fucking. Psychopath.

You're not allowed outside. Simon had told you this as he was unwrapping your thumbs for the last time, break yer ankles if ya even try f'r the door. So you don't. You make your displeasure known in other ways, pushing to see where the lines are, so you know where to press to cause the most damage.

He annoyingly stoic. Nothing you say seems to get a rise out of him and other than breaking an established rule—don't touch the rope, don't go outside, don't try and stab him with a kitchen knife—he leaves you to your own devices.

He's always around, hovering. He responds if you talk to him civilly, ignores you if you scream at him, and bends you over his knee if you start swinging.

The cup you threw at his head was ugly anyways.

You screamed yourself hoarse that first time he pulled you across his lap, other leg pinning yours down with a forearm pressed between your shoulder blades. You thrashed but could barely move, well and truly immobilized.

You began pleading as your pants were pulled down, begging him not to touch you, telling him you were sorry. He acted like he couldn't hear you.

The first slap was more shocking than anything. Your voice caught on a hiccup of air as his palm made contact, the fat around his strike rippling. You don't get a moment to process before he's smacked you three more times, alternating cheeks.

Eons later, after he's reached whatever preconceived end he had decided on, you're a limp, sobbing mess, your face pressed into the cushions, great gasping sobs rolling their way out of your chest.

He cleans your face before applying cooling balm to your skin and that was a greater gut punch than the spanking had been. He doesn't get to be both—he doesn't get to hit you over and over again and then hold the tissue while you blow your nose. You can't handle him being both.

You don't sit comfortably for days and a new rule is created—don't throw things inside the cabin.

///

You're allowed to eat at the table with him now, no more guarding your bowl from Dog who was surprisingly nimble. Simon and Dog have the same conversational aptitude so at least you can eat in peace.

That's another good thing he has going for him (are you going to go to hell for thinking of good qualities in a murderer?) he never stints on portion sizes.

You were quite pleased to realize you had stayed delightfully soft over the past couple of months. Locked in the cabin as you are, the only exercise you've gotten is for your tongue, which has been honed razor sharp by this point with the vitriol that never seems to cause as much damage as intended.

He was a decent cook too. Nothing insane, his meals were basic and limited by what he had stored in his kitchen and cellar, but you hadn't had a bad meal yet.

He left sometimes to restock. Or for other excursions. When it came time for him to leave you would be moved to the bedroom, regardless of how much you kicked and snarled, and a leg chain would be connected to a hook under the bed.

Those days were some of the worst. If he noticed the salt crusting the bed when he eventually returned he never said anything.

///

June saw the temperatures rise, tensions following suit.

You don't like to think about the start of summer.

You had a nervous breakdown one day when the heat was intense. Simon had gone to pick up food and he had left you unchained. You were standing in the living room, looking at the front door, free to walk through it whenever you wanted.

So why were you standing here?

Simon would be upset if you left the cabin. Its one of the rules, don't go outside, that you're supposed to follow. There are consequences if you don't follow the rules.

You ignore the tremble in your knees as your fingernails dig crescents into your palms, the door taunting you with its presence. You could do it; you should do it. Run. Get away, get to the police, have him thrown in jail.

You're going insane, you're losing your mind. Is any of this even real? Why are you still standing here?

In an attempt to get yourself out of the standstill you were in, you forced yourself to take a few trembling steps . . . towards the kitchen where you got yourself a glass of water, and ignored the door behind you that was taunting you by calling your name.

You taught Dog a few tricks instead.

Nothing crazy—sit, lay down, shake. Still, you were pretty proud. Something good came out of this.

You didn't make eye contact with Simon for a week once he was back.

///

July is sunburns and fingermarks left where you touch him.

All you see is Simon, he's all you talk to (that sometimes talks back), all you hear. Is it any surprise you said fuck it?

You remember reading something once that said humans required touch, if they didn't get it they'd go crazy. Heh. Maybe that's what happened to Simon, living up here in this cabin, hard to have anybody to touch.

So you bend first; you always bend first with Simon. Every day with him is a yielding in one way or another. You're not sure if you even know how to stand upright any longer.

It starts with a pat on the shoulder.

He had brought you back a puzzle book from his last murder spree. Some giant workbook with a dozen different types of puzzles. If you had any dignity left it would've been lost at how excited you got for that puzzle book.

So, you thanked him. You took the book, patted him on the shoulder, and then went to sit at the table to play with your new entertainment. Simple, simple, simple.

So explain how you ended up here.

Don't swallow, keep your throat open for me, don't you fucking swallow—fuck, fuck, fuck.

///

August was a sticky heat and you were careful not to dig too deep.

You had to butcher your first animal at the end of the summer months.

Simon was out on a short trip when the dog caught a fox. He came dragging it in just like his papa, proud of the innocent blood dripping from between his jaws, his own muzzle bleeding where sharp teeth and claws had sank in.

When you pried it from his teeth, you realized the fox was still breathing, little heart thrumming against your fingertips, vibrating at an almost continuous hum.

The dog's fangs had punctured its stomach. Organs and muscles ruptured and bleeding. Another mark in the 'just like papa' column. Not decent enough to kill cleanly. Have to play in it, enjoy it.

You knew what you needed to do but still you hesitated. Weren't you going to attempt to save it? It's what you would've done before. Before Simon, before this cabin, before the nightmares.

One hand held it firmly, keeping it from attacking out of fear or pain while you softly dragged the other through the damp fur of its back, attempting any sort of comfort.

You could see yourself in it; living your life with your own sharp little teeth as protection until something bigger came along. Something that saw you and decided you would taste best in its maw, your blood coating its throat.

It drug you as a prize back to its home, uncaring of the blood you leaked on the floor, the bile you spit at its feet. You wondered if it would hurt less, to be the dog.

You did the fox a favor when you sliced its neck. No more pain.

///

September saw the leaves changing and witnessed your further plummet into Simon's orbit.

He had been home for weeks. Continuously. No little camping trips, no missions, nothing. He was beyond pissed but it was his own damn fault for getting stabbed in the leg.

You had cackled when he came limping in, blood oozing through the fabric he'd tied tightly around the wound. Looks like his latest quarry had sharper teeth than he realized. Good for them.

Stitching him up was repugnant—he laughed in your face when you gagged at the blood that coated you up to your forearms and were thankful to wrap him up and be done with it so you could bathe. The blood left a stubborn stain under your fingernails for days.

After weeks of him following you around—touching you constantly, sticking his fingers in your mouth or in your cunt whenever he liked, eating the food you made for yourself—you were fit to burst.

Go find your next plaything, just get him out of my hair!

///

October saw the trees shedding their leaves, their bare branches showing through. It saw you without a mask of your own.

You were allowed outside when Simon was home. It had been such a subtle decline, you thinking of escaping, that you didn't notice it's absence until now, when you were watching the cold sun create shadows on the ground with no desire to wander father than the front porch.

You were allowed outside, you were no longer chained up when he left, you could leave. You could pack a bag, pick a direction, and walk. For however long you needed to.

But.

It was getting colder at night. You'd be out there for days if not weeks before you found a road to follow if you were lucky. Plus you had no idea which direction to go. What if you ended up deeper in the mountains?

What if you continued to lie to make yourself feel better?

///

November saw the winds begin to howl with your feral side howling along, music in the dark.

Simon was gone—getting the last of his energy out before you were snowed into the cabin with the winter storms that were starting up. The eerie howling having long become a background echo in your ears.

Dog had been acting strange all day. Staring out the windows, growling at the door, barking when the trees brushed the roof. You'd let him out to check several times but he always came back inside after circling the cabin.

Strange.

The sun had almost set when you saw movement outside the window, a dark mass moving between the trees, too deep in the dusk to make out.

Dog hadn't come back yet from his last perimeter check, leaving you alone inside the cabin. You watched out the window for several long moments, only hearing the wind moving through the trees.

A loud bang on the opposite side of the cabin had you looking away from the window with a start; when you looked back after a few short seconds, the shape was gone—faded back into the trees.

Your heart pounded in your chest, mouth drying up and palms becoming damp. You ducked out of sight of the window and creeped into the kitchen, pulling one of Simon's knives out of the knife block.

One benefit to living with a serial killer, his knives were always in pristine condition. You know if you needed to stab someone, this knife would be slicing through them like butter.

Pressing into a corner, your mind spun in rabid circles. Who was that outside? How did they find the cabin? Were they there to hurt you? Dog never came back in. What if they murdered him and left his body to rot in the leaves? Dog was a good boy, he didn't deserve that.

You gripped the knife tightly, steadying your nerves. You weren't going to be the victim again. You'd been there, done that and you knew how it played out. When (if you told yourself, it might not happen, they might leave, there might not be anyone out there) they came through the door, you would defend yourself. If someone came through that door, it means they killed Dog and they will be coming for you.

You took a deep breath while wedged into the corner with the door firmly in sight, holding your knife in front of you, ready to attack. You would do it. If they thought you wouldn't, they're about to be too dead to relearn.

The door opens between one heartbeat and the next, the wind's grasping fingers catching, causing it to slam back against the wall, a dark hulking mass standing on the doorstep. You pounce, screaming like a wild thing, knife flashing through the air. They snatch your wrist and wrench it behind your back, kicking the knife away.

Thought we were past this, pet.

Oh. It's just Simon.

The following let down had your body shaking like you'd spent all night out in the cold. Tremors wracked you from head to toe as you tried not to think about how readily you'd been to commit murder.

The last few moments replayed in your head as you breathed in a controlled manner, attempting to regain control of your body. It's only Simon, it's only Simon you repeat to yourself, self soothing, it's only Si—what?

Since when has the fact that it's Simon been comforting? Have you forgotten what he did to you?

No, of course not. You hadn't forgotten. You knew Simon wasn't the good guy of the story. You were simply happy for the devil you knew . . . right?

///

December saw the snow begin to fall, walls following suit.

Simon finished last minute preparations around the cabin, within ears reach all day, every day. You spent a lot of time trailing after him, watching him work. Helping occasionally when he'd hold out nails for you to pass him as needed, or holding a board steady as he cut.

You asked him questions—things you hadn't bothered wondering before, how long have you lived up here, do you have any family, what do you do for your job?

He answered truthfully, as far as you could tell. It made you offer pieces of yourself in return.

///

January saw the snow pack everything in, forced proximity tightening bonds.

You and Simon spent all day together, every day. He never ran out of stories to tell you about his past mission or murdering sprees. Listening to him talk, you realized he really did get rid of the annoying ones first. A strange thought to have with no feelings attached—you didn't even notice their absence.

///

February was dark. February was cold. Hadn't it always been you and simon?

///

March saw the snow melting, the sun waking earlier each day. When Simon left to stretch his legs, March saw a second body following along behind him.

Next

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[theladycarpathia]

Hellcheer Anniversary Week Day Two - Friday Night Football Game

Chrissy can feel the stares on her back in the locker room. She laces up her sneakers and ignores them. A few months ago, she would have cared. Maybe it’s his influence rubbing off on her. 

In a few months, this all won’t matter. In a few hours, this all won’t matter. 

“Alright,” she says, in as steady a voice as she can manage. She’s still captain after all. “Let’s go.”

They traipse out onto the field and wait for their entrance. The bleachers are busier than Chrissy expected - their basketball team is better so those games are always packed but apparently people still love football. 

There’s a harsh whisper behind her, a sudden giggle, and Chrissy swallows. These days she has a good instinct for when the laughter is about her. 

If they knew the truth, they’d understand. But they don’t. She’s been with Jason since middle school. She’s always had that title to match her other equally perfect ones. Chrissy Cunningham. Head Cheerleader. Queen of Hawkins High. Prom Committee, Spring Fling Queen, Jason’s girl. 

Funny how without the perfect boyfriend that all of her other accolades meant nothing at all. How easily they branded her with a scarlet letter across her chest. 

Their coach signals them with her hand just as the band starts to play. Chrissy forces a bright smile onto her face and then they’re being pushed out onto the field. It almost feels too much, the bright lights, the noise, the stamping of feet on the bleachers. 

Sometimes Chrissy looks at her life and just hates it. 

There’s cheering as they bound out, shouting and waving their poms. For everyone else, this is fun, a Friday night football game. For Chrissy, it’s something meant to be endured. 

Especially as when she looks out across the crowd she sees the one face she had hoped wouldn’t be here. 

Jason’s in the stands, hands folded, looking right at her. She should have known. Even though he’s not on the team, he must have thought that this would be a place he could get her alone.

He hasn’t taken their break up quietly. He left her notes in her locker, flowers at her house. Got her mother involved, got her friends involved. Begged and pleaded for her not to throw her life away, as though that’s something he has a say in. 

He’s tried and failed during school hours. It’s easier to slip away from him, to hide behind teachers. And no matter what he says, he doesn’t dare try to talk to her near Eddie, not after last time. That had certainly ensured the entire school knew about it within a matter of days - Jason Carver and Eddie Munson fighting on school grounds over her. 

She’d had to get involved. She didn’t want Eddie to get suspended or expelled, not when they’re so close. She’s kept it all a secret - if anyone finds out that they’re leaving after graduation, her mother would have a fit. 

Jason’s smile pins her feet to the floor. He’s so sure of himself, like this is just a glitch in the eventual road to the white dress and chapel, the picket fence and modern suburbia that he has planned for them. But she’s not that girl anymore, if she ever was. 

“Can you imagine giving him up for the local freak?” someone snorts from behind her and this time there’s a louder cluster of giggles. Normally, Chrissy ignores it. Today she whirls around to face Marcy and the flicker of shock across her face is satisfaction enough. 

“Then you date him,” she snaps, grateful that the band is still too loud for anyone to hear them. “Now move!”

It goes to show how stunned they are that they all let her push them into their first routine without complaint. Chrissy just dances, letting the familiar moves wash everything away. She hates the pageantry of it all but she still loves this. Maybe she can still find a way to dance when they get to LA. 

She gets through the first dance and the second, the players arriving on the field. They have to perform at halftime and she wonders if she can just slip away after. If she gives Jason half a chance, he’ll follow her back to her car, insisting on driving home with her. And then she’ll be trapped at the dining room table, watching her mother quiz him about colleges and wanting to know why they ever broke up in the first place. 

At least she can take comfort in knowing that Jason would never tell Laura about Eddie. He’s not about to admit that his girlfriend of nearly five years left him for someone like Eddie Munson. 

They have to wait on the sidelines once the game starts and Chrissy stands as far away from Jason as possible. Not that it matters - Jason pushes himself up, like he means to climb across the seats to get to her. 

So when someone reaches out with a hand to grab her elbow she shrieks, and the sound is lost amongst the roar of the crowd. 

“Eddie!” she gasps and lets him swing her up into his arms. If the brawl in the cafeteria didn’t confirm their relationship this certainly will and she finds she truly doesn’t care. 

“A little birdie told me,” Eddie says and gently puts her down. “That there may be an unwanted guest attending the game this evening.”

Chrissy turns and sure enough, Jason is frozen in place, lip curled up in disgust as he looks at Eddie. No, looks at Eddie’s hand still wrapped around her waist. 

“You heard right,” she says and her voice wobbles a little. Eddie never even goes to pep rallies and he came to a game, just for her. 

“So this is football,” he says, looking over her head at the field. He wrinkles his nose a little at the players, the green and orange uniforms. “It’s…what I expected.”

“What was that?” she asks, leaning into his chest just a little. He smells of smoke and cinnamon, and something woodsy, like the inside of a guitar. 

“A glorified game of fetch,” he says bluntly. “I’m glad I got to see you do your thing though.” He mimes waving poms again and she stifles a laugh.

She doesn't remember laughing with Jason much.

"You coming over this evening?" Eddie asks, dropping his arms.

"Yeah," she says, because she's started spending what nights she can get away with Eddie. "If Wayne doesn't mind."

"He never minds," Eddie says easily and even though he should look out of place in his Hellfire t-shirt and boots, he really looks like he doesn't care. She wants to be like that too, unbothered by anyone else's thoughts of her. "I think he likes you better than me at times."

Chrissy ignores the almost palpable aura of hostility from her fellow cheerleaders and leans up to kiss his cheek. Everyone already knows - she may as well embrace starting her Senior year off with a little bit of scandal. Start as you mean to go on.

“A few more months,” he says, resting his cheek on her head. “Then we’re out of here.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy echoes, and the crowd suddenly roars. She must have missed the team scoring a goal. “Then we’re out.”

“You okay?” Eddie asks suddenly, tugging on the end of her ponytail. Jason appears to have slunk back to his seat. He’s clearly not willing to risk another fight, especially when Chrissy looks far from being held against her will. 

“Yeah,” Chrissy says, feeling safe for the first time all night. “I am now.”

@hellcheeranniversaryweek

Not 100% on the ending but I ran out of time. I love the 'Chrissy would have left Jason for Eddie' thing that Grace said and I want more fics about it.

[vigilvntes]

Jason Todd x Reader | On again-off again relationship hcs

A/N: lisTen. i'm incredibly sleep deprived so this is gonna be very messy and i have a whole ass book to read before my class at 9am and i probably won't sleep tonight so let me have this. let me have my low-key volatile relationship with jason todd where we love each other so deeply that we can't even stand to be around each other sometimes because we frustrate the fuck out of each other but we also can't live without each other. as the great lorde once said: let me live that fantasy.

W/C: 2500+ (help me i basically just outlined a whole story </3)

likes, rbs and comments are all very much appreciated <3

SOME NSFW UNDER THE CUT! ALSO BONUS BATFAMILY GETTING INVOLVED IN THE DRAMA AT THE END BECAUSE ,, FUNNY!!

you and jason have known each other for three years, and you've been together for around two years and two months of that time, if damian's calculations are correct. it's electric and heated and frantic and loving and frustrating and soft and infuriating, all at the same time. you just can't seem to stay away from each other. it's a 'cat and mouse' kind of situation, one where you just can't seem to stop chasing each other despite how ridiculously awful it always seems to turn out in the end. the longest you've managed to really hold it together is seven months, but you can't stay away for more than a month at a time.

you make out like teenagers. make love almost every night. laugh at his dumb jokes or funny comments. patch up any mild injuries he comes home with. tickle each other until you're on the floor breathless, surrendering and begging him to show you mercy. you spend lazy mornings together in bed. bicker and shit-talk each other over breakfast. cuddle on the couch late at night. it's perfect in theory, and he's admittedly an amazing boyfriend. he's caring and attentive and he loves to love you and be loved. but your tempers get the better of both of you.

fights break out because you're both kind of impulsive and hot-headed. neither of you can help your snark or cutting comebacks sometimes. you run your mouths about something – anything, and you run the risk of everything breaking down within the hour. you know his weak spots, know how to push his buttons when he's really pushing yours; and as you know his, he knows yours just as well. you'd never go as far as to bring up anything too personal or out of pocket, but you still know just how to get on each others nerves perfectly. how to manually detonate the ticking time bomb before it blows up on its own accord.

you frustrate the fuck out of each other, and he has a tendency to just walk out of your apartment mid-argument. he puts the suit on, tells you he'd rather be out on the streets getting his ass handed to him by a gang of drunks dressed up as teletubbies and then have bane rush in and pummel him into the concrete than have to deal with you when you're feeling particularly prickly, and you tell him to go fuck himself on his way out. the battle to get the last word in commences, and you've often found yourself yelling at him from your apartment window whilst he yells up at you from the street below because you both just refuse to give up the fight.

most times he comes back, but sometimes he doesn't. when it hits 8am and you haven't heard him rummaging through your kitchen cupboards or refrigerator; he still hasn't crawled back into your bed, kissed your forehead softly and buried his face into the crook of your neck, you shrug your shoulders, tell yourself everything's going to be okay. and then sob violently into your pillow because it's over. he's gone. but with jason, it's never really over. by some weird twist of fate (love, but jason prefers to call it coincidence, although it's anything BUT that) you always end up finding your way back to each other. you break up and even DATE other people but it's never serious and it just never feels the same because for some strange reason whenever you're apart you both miss the chaos of each other and even though you can literally be the worst when you're together, you would rather be together and be the worst than be without each other.

jason turns up at your door at 2AM when he hears you might be seeing someone new after a breakup the month before, demanding to be let in and when you relent (pretty quickly) and open the door he immediately has you against the wall, desperately grabbing at your hips and kissing you like there's no tomorrow whilst mumbling that no one could ever compare to him so don't even think about trying to replace him.

he has you naked and spread out on the bed in ten minutes tops, his tongue swirling against your clit in all the right places, big hands gripping on to your thighs. he grins like a fucking maniac when he makes you cum in record time, just under a minute if he was counting correctly. you cum on his face again, his fingers, his thigh and eventually his cock, until you're laid on his chest with his cum leaking out of you, breathless and all fucked out, mumbling 'i love you'. he says it back, reminds you again that no one could ever be him, and you know he's right. you knew this would happen and truthfully you were desperate to have him back which is maybe, possibly why you made a point to mention to roy that you were seeing someone else because you just knew he'd tell jason.

on the flip side, you send jason a risky picture of yourself in a brand new lingerie set when you find out he's going on a date with someone. you immediately apologise and claim it to be accidental and that it was meant for someone else. you watch your phone blow up with calls and texts from jason, listen to each and every angry-horny-frustrated-infatuated voicemail he leaves and grin the whole time because you know you have him wrapped around your finger, as much as he denies it.

you turn your phone off, unlock your door and wait patiently by the open window until you hear angry footsteps coming from below, stomping up the stairs of your apartment building. he busts through your door and demands that you tell him what the fuck you think you're playing at. you feign innocence and tell him that it was a genuine mistake but he knows you're lying and he has you on the couch, straddling his lap almost immediately. your pyjamas have been torn off, giving him an up-close, in-person view of the pretty new set from the picture earlier. the view is much nicer when it's not on a tiny phone screen; pictures do the real thing no justice. his phone vibrates while you're trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck, and you tell him he should take the call because it's probably his date wondering where the hell he is but he just turns his phone off and tosses it to the side. why the hell would he go on some shitty, awkward first date when he could have you?

the reunion is always sweet. there's always that honeymoon period with him no matter how many times you've broken up– upped and left each other following an argument. when it's good, it's really good. but you just can't seem to escape the inevitable. eventually one of you pushes it too far and the whole thing blows up in your faces. he walks out, you cry yourself to sleep and then you find some way to worm your way back into the others life, depending on who picked the fight that left everything broken once again. neither of you are exactly sure why you fight like cat and dog. you're perfect for each other on paper; you understand each other on a far deeper and more intellectual level than anyone ever could. you get on like a house on fire on your good days (which are admittedly most days), but somehow the bad days always seem to outweigh the good. he once made a joke that it's because you love him so much that you can't live with him, but you also can't live without him. he was probably right.

one night, after a particularly nasty breakup the week before, he stumbles into your apartment clutching at his side, barely able to breathe. he's been so uncaring lately, letting himself get caught up in his own head and his emotions regarding you and your relationship and it's lead to him taking a few more blows than he normally would. tonight he paid the price, took what he thinks might be the final hit, and he needed to see you one last time just in case things don't work out for him. you don't even have the chance to ask him what he's doing in your apartment before he's collapsing on to your living room floor, blood dripping through his fingers and on to your carpet. you drop to your knees next to him and whisper his name so softly, inspecting the wound and feeling guilty when he hisses in pain when your fingers brush against it. it's deep, and yes you've patched him up before –you know how to stitch up cuts but you're not a medical professional and this is a serious wound to his abdomen. there's not much you can do about it alone. you're already crying but before you can start freaking out and trying to fix things he takes your face in his hands, his grip weak, and tells you very sincerely that he loves you deeply, and he's sorry for all of the fights he's caused and all of the times he walked out on you and that it's always been you and it always will be.

he's in and out or consciousness and you're begging him to wake up, to be okay; telling him that you love him and you can't lose him. you try your best to stop the bleeding, pressing towels and old shirts against the wound but it just won't stop. so you call alfred from jason's phone, explain to him what's going on and soon enough you're playing host to a batfamily gathering in your tiny living room. dick quite literally has to drag you away from his body kicking and screaming while bruce and alfred assess the situation. they decide to take him back to the manor, and of course you follow them. you spend days by his side, waiting for him to wake up. alfred has to take you by the elbow and walk you away from him to eat dinner or shower or sleep in jason's old room.

it's just so typical that you're not there when he wakes up. you're sleeping, bundled up in his bed sheets when alfred comes to wake you. you literally leap out of bed, almost tripping over your own feet as you run into the room jason's in. that stupid grin, although strained, spreads across his lips as soon as he sees you through half-shut eyes. you're crying already, rushing to his side and resting your head on his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. he chuckles at your reaction, teases you for being so worried about him as if he hasn't already kicked death in the dick before, and he mocks you lightheartedly for admitting that you can't live without him (it was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness). you giggle through your tears, letting it slide because when you look up at him, he's crying too.

it literally takes jason almost dying on your living room floor for you to both realise how much you actually mean to each other, and that having a connection and a love like this isn't something that you can and should just walk away from every couple of weeks. you both decide to start working on things; learning how to control your temper and when the appropriate time to shut the fuck up would be. how to talk things through maturely, without the yelling and constant breakups. of course, you still bicker and shit talk each other. and sometimes one of you will take it too far. jason will glare at you for a moment until you give him an awkward grin and mumble 'oops', and you'll give him the silent treatment for fifteen minutes (which would feel like HELL to him) until he makes you laugh. you're happier this way, knowing that it doesn't have to be that difficult and you can just be. you're not constantly waiting for something to go wrong or for one of you to fuck up, that anxiety has dissipated and you enjoy feeling calm and content with him.

+ bonus: batfamily getting in on the drama

the first time jason stormed into the batcave at 3am, fists balled and eyes red and puffy, bruce was immensely concerned. he sat jason down, put on his best dad™️ voice and asked 'what's wrong?'. jason told him it was nothing, just a little relationship trouble and that bruce didn't have to worry it, he just needed to get away and he thought the batcave would be the perfect place to brood for a few hours before going back home. the second time jason stormed in, he was still concerned for his emotional state, but not all that surprised to see him. bruce left him alone, let jason sit next to him, listened to him curse under his breath. the seventh time? bruce sat at his desk, jason beside him, listening to him ramble on and on about what had happened and how he took it too far again but it's not entirely his fault because you pushed his buttons but he shouldn't have said that to you because he loves you but you just get on his nerves sometimes. bruce nods occasionally, murmurs 'uh-huh' just to prove to jason that he is listening. kind of. sort of. not.

dick receives frustrated, angry texts at ungodly hours in the morning from jason telling him that the relationship is over. jason isn't sure why he vents to dick. it's definitely not because dick gives good advice, jason doesn't even open the texts dick sends back full of agony-aunt type solutions. one night, he receives one of these texts from jason, telling him that you're done with him and he can't ever go back to your apartment. all he can do the next day when he sees you and jason walk into the manor, grinning at each other like you're the sun, moon and stars with his arm wrapped around your waist, is shrug his shoulders.

listen, if damian is going to be forced to sit through the weekly couples quarrel at the manor, he's at least going to make some sort of profit from it. it starts out as a secret, damian makes everyone place bets (with real cash) on how long it'll take you and jason to piss each other off when you come over for dinner. tim wins the first time, and is less than amused when he only receives half of what everyone put into the bet, damian citing that he's the organiser so he gets half of the profit. eventually, he branches out. he starts taking money for bets on how long it'll take for a fight to break out, what you'll be fighting about, and which one of you will leave the dinner table first. everyone joins in (even alfred), and when you find out about damian's little scheme, even you can't help but slide over a $20 bill with a declaration that it'll take jason 45 minutes to say something that'll have you glaring him down. you win that bet, because you know him better than anyone else, and you split the profits with jason. everyone thinks this is unfair, and you're both promptly excluded from participating in the betting.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted!

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

--------

“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the opposite side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her in, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s currently the standard in teenagedom,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now. Leaving her in the lurch only for her to seek answers by prying into their life.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim had come to a halt, now watching from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it for you offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announces, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention finally returning to the monitor once again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises. Even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie. Therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-” Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exag-”Bruce interrupts, turning to face them and argrue.

“Bruce-” Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered. With one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns back from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background feed of the Manor’s security cameras linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” He demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally lifts his gaze to take in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more fuel to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

------

“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-” he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your public files and digital footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks thoughtfully, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-” all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-”

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the Just-” he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-”

“-just business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

--------

Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll hav-’

Splash!

A dissatisfied shriek escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dami-" looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy, Billy, staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away outside the door; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“Shit! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, saying something in a language you don’t recognize, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying. That was the whole reason you were down here in the first place, after all.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You hear Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

--------

As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

--------

“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too-”Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond jokingly, not thinking about it too much. It is family movie night. After all, you’re focused, wanting this popcorn to be good, not a burnt pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-”Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-” He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

--------

Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic ,@moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee ,@azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse , @huhhuhh , @maxinehufflepuffprincess

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Crazy Forever

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie’s been acting weird all day and Reader’s determined to figure out why!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Jason Carver sucks but that’s nothing new, mild self doubt/criticism.

A/N: Expect grammatical/spelling errors! I’ve proofread as best as I can but this is my first time writing exclusively on my phone since my laptop is bust. I hate it so much! I hope you like this though! I think it’s cute!

Please don’t copy my work!

The cafeteria was packed. Lunchtime saw the entire school crammed into one space, queueing for food, jostling through crowds and yelling to be heard above the din. Jocks and band geeks, preps and losers alike.

In one corner sat the basketball team. They took up three tables on their own, prattling and jeering. Their cheerleader girlfriends perched on their laps, laughing hysterically at whatever pathetic joke had just been told.

In the opposite corner, across the sea of students, sat you and the rest of the infamous Hellfire bunch. Their discourse was no less lively but infinitely more substantial. At least, you assumed so. You weren’t really listening.

Your attention was fixed on the curly haired metalhead sitting next to you. Eddie hadn’t spoken since he sat down. He picked at his food, ignoring the conversation and your questioning gaze.

Your eyes narrowed. Something had to be wrong; Eddie was never this quiet.

In fact, your boyfriend had been acting weird all day!

*

Everything had seemed normal this morning.

You didn’t have first period together so Eddie hugged you tight outside your classroom just as he always did on Thursdays. He squeezed you within an inch of your life, lamenting your imminent separation. How, oh how, could he hope to survive without you?

‘You’re literally gonna see me again in an hour!’ You let out a giggle as he started peppering kisses all over your face and neck. His featherlight lips tickled as they grazed your skin again and again, until your cheeks ached from smiling.

‘Maybe,’ Eddie relented, pulling back so he could take you in, ‘But that’s forever!’

He gazed down at you with his best puppy dog eyes, a childish pout tugging at his mouth. You couldn’t help kissing him. Up on tiptoe, hands on his shoulders, you pressed your lips to his and almost immediately, you felt the frown break and smile against you.

He squeezed his arms around your middle one last time before stepping back and sweeping a deep bow. ‘I shall count the seconds, my lady!’

With a kiss to your hand, he walked backwards down the hall, not wanting to take his eyes off you. You blew a final kiss as the bell rang. He mimed catching it before he turned and bucked it round the corner. Out of sight.

*

Eddie was right. That class did last an eternity.

You pushed through the crowded hallways anxious to see him again. You spotted your boyfriend a few meters away and yelled his name. Without giving him time to reply, you ducked through the throng and threw your arms around him.

That was the first time things had seemed odd.

He didn’t shrug you off exactly. In fact, he hugged you just as tight as before. Almost. His heart just wasn’t in it.

You broke and a confused frown flitted across your face. Where was the boy who, only an hour ago, made himself late to his own class for just a few more seconds with you?

You decided not to take it personally. Eddie’s mind was so vast he often ended up lost inside it, chasing thoughts along their labyrinthine courses. No doubt he’d been distracted by an inkling of an idea for a campaign or a melody for a new song.

Nosing affectionately at his shoulder, you walked hand in hand. You made a mental point to make your notes extra detailed this lesson.

Eddie wasn’t going to be paying attention.

*

‘Hey! Hey Eddie! Wait!’

The next time things felt strange was when Gareth started hollering down the hall. You spotted him, fighting through the bustling crowd and squeezed Eddie’s hand to make him stop.

‘Huh?’

He was still lost in a dreamworld.

You nodded; he followed your gaze. Gareth pushed through the last wall of people, all but collapsing at your feet. He was bent double, catching his breath.

‘What happened?’

Gareth looked up with a wicked grin, ‘I just got off the phone!’ He straightened, ‘Remember that guy we met last week? The one who runs that club the next town over? The Sunrise?’ Gareth was practically tap-dancing with excitement. ‘He said he wants us to open Wednesday night!’ He threw his hands out, anticipating his friends reaction.

It never came.

‘Oh, that’s awesome, man!’ Eddie’s voice was little more than a monotone. His features pulled into an imitation of enthusiasm but both you and Gareth could tell it wasn’t genuine.

Gareth visibly deflated but before he could probe any further, Eddie shouldered his bag and kept on walking to class. He looked at you instead.

‘What was that?’

You smiled apologetically, ‘He’s probably just in shock,’ you offered, ‘It’ll hit him in half an hour, I’m sure!’

He shrugged managing a half-hearted laugh. ‘That’s so exciting though Gareth! Do you know if it’s a regular slot?’

He shook his head, ‘No, but if we do good…’ he trailed off, thinking what it could mean for the band. By all accounts the Sunrise over in Clivesdale wasn’t much bigger than the Hideout but still, it was progress. Exposure!

‘I can’t wait to come see you guys there!’

He grinned, ‘Thanks… you’ll talk to Eddie?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, ‘I’ll talk some sense into him!’

With a smile, you turned and hurried to catch up with your boyfriend, wondering what could have gotten into him?

*

Whatever it was still hadn’t gone away by fourth period!

O’Donnell was blabbering on about the celestial symbolism in Romeo and Juliet, a topic dull enough the second time round, you didn’t know how Eddie could cope on the third.

He had his head in his hands. Maybe he was tired? You though, maybe that was it?

But Eddie wasn’t asleep.

Between glances, you saw him shifting, dragging his pen over a page in swooping, sloping curves, outlining nothing in particular.

‘Mr Munson!’ O’Donnell snapped. You both flinched at the loud noise. Eddie looked up, not even bothering to make a sarcastic comment. ‘How does Mercutio’s introductory scene foreshadow his demise in Act Three?’ She demanded, arms crossed and a look of contempt on her face.

He took a second to focus then mumbled a garbled answer that seemed to satisfy. She hummed, rolling her eyes and turned back to the board. Eddie looked even more dejected than before. You weren’t having it.

Tearing a page from your notebook, you scribbled down the most ridiculous joke you could think of. When your teacher’s back was turned, you slid the paper onto your boyfriends desk and watched him in your peripheral.

He unfolded it and you saw his eyes comb over your handwriting, ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes?’ before he looked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

Grinning like an idiot, your pen scrawled the answer and passed it over. ‘A fsh!’

It was awful, you knew, but just the kind of thing that would normally send Eddie into hysterics. You waited for his face to turn red and tears to prick in his eyes but he barely even cracked a smile. Just rolled his eyes and sent back the note with a scribbled, ‘Ha Ha!’

You slumped in your seat, glaring at his spiky penmanship.

Something was definitely wrong.

*

That brought you to lunchtime. You were at a loss.

If he was this tired, he’d have skipped class and napped in his van, probably insisted you come with him.

If it was a story or a song he was concocting, he wouldn’t look so miserable!

Jeff and Gareth had just sat down and Dustin started regaling everyone with teasers for his campaign.

This Friday was his first time DM’ing for Hellfire. He was giddy with nerves and desperate for some brotherly advice from his idol. When none came, his face fell.

‘That sounds amazing Dustin!’ You said, ‘Don’t you think so Eds?’ You nudged him pointedly, hoping to elicit a response.

‘Mmm,’ was all you got.

You sighed, ‘I reckon Henderson’s gonna give you a run for your money!’ Perhaps riling him up would work, but Dustin’s modest protests gave him plenty of cover. You weren’t giving up that easily!

‘I bet you’ll even let him sit on the throne!’

The table fell silent.

Eddie’s throne was notoriously a touchy subject. Rumour had it, he’d once cancelled a session because the drama club had stolen it for their show. It was sacrilegious to suggest such a thing. The party watched with bated breath.

‘Whatever,’ Eddie mumbled, still refusing to meet your eye.

They gaped.

That was the last straw. You seized his hand, ignoring his complaints, and dragged him out of the cafeteria.

‘What’s with them?’ Dustin watched you go.

Jeff chuckled, poking his pasta with his fork, ‘You know,’ He shrugged, ‘Couple stuff!’

‘What?’

‘They’ve probably gone to make out or something!’

The three freshmen looked perplexed. Gareth snickered, ‘Henderson, my dear boy, when a man and a woman love each other very much…’

‘Ew!’

‘Gross!’

‘Shut up!’

*

You pulled Eddie down the corridors, leaving his questions unanswered.

‘Where are we going?’ He whined, trailing behind you and almost tripping over his own feet. You didn’t speak until you were almost outside. The parking lot was visible through the double doors at the end of the hall. You stopped short, turning to face him.

Eddie looked frustrated. His chocolate brown eyes confused under his furrowed brow. Yours searched him a last ditch effort to figure out the problem on your own.

You stepped closer. Before he could open his mouth, you jabbed him in the shoulder and darted away. ‘Tag! You’re it!’

Eddie let out a huff, taken by surprise. ‘What?’

You’d run the length of the hall, he was still standing there. ‘Can’t catch me!’ You teased.

‘Baby, I’m really not in the mood!’ He trudged after you. His steps were slow and laboured but you kept skipping backward, maintaining the space between you.

‘Yeah, coz you’re too slow!’ You goaded before pushing through the doors and running out into the sunlight.

Eddie cursed under his breath. He took off after you.

You were halfway across the parking lot by the time he got outside. Your laughter echoed back, spurring him on. Wind whistled in his ears, raked its fingers through his hair and clothes as he raced to catch you. Blood pumping through his veins, the ground thudding beneath his feet, Eddie heard his own laughter mingle with yours.

He was gaining on you.

Tarmac turned to earth, muffling your footfalls as you ran through the woods. You darted between trees like a wood nymph, laughing at the wide open sky as your lover chased after you.

Out of nowhere, arms closed around your waist, making you shriek as you fell tumbling into a heap. Somehow, Eddie managed to land beneath you, bearing the brunt of impact but just as quickly, he rolled you onto your back, pinning you to the ground by your forearms.

‘Got you!’ He declared.

You squirmed, still giggling. A tree root was digging into your back but you didn’t care.

Your plan had worked.

Eddie’s face was flushed, chest heaving. His eyes were sparkling and, framed by his soft curls, a dazzling smile had taken up residence on his lips.

‘That’s better!’ You wriggled an arm free to cup his jaw.

Eddie pulled back, ‘What is?’ Confusion dimmed the glow a little.

‘You!’ You laughed, ‘You haven’t smiled since this morning!’

He looked surprised, ‘Yes I have!’

‘Have not!’

‘How would you know?’ He retorted, climbing off of you and folding his arms. You sat up, an incredulous look spreading over your face.

‘Do you really think I wouldn’t have noticed you smiling?’

That caught him off guard. He ducked his head but you saw him blush. ‘So!’ Inching closer, you tucked your legs up and nosed against his shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

‘What? Nothing!’

He flinched and looked away, like he was trying to shrink himself to the size of a mouse.

‘Must be a whole lot of nothing!’

‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

Was he serious right now?

‘You didn’t say anything when Gareth told you you’ve got a new gig! You didn’t get excited about Dustin’s campaign-‘

Eddie tried to interrupt but you barrelled on, listing the incidents on your fingers, ‘You didn’t freak out when I said he could sit on the throne, and you didn’t laugh at my joke in O’Donnell’s’

‘I didn’t laugh at the joke,’ he cut in,’ because it was terrible!’

‘Hmm?’ You nodded sarcastically, ‘Try again Munson! You always laugh at my jokes!’

It took every bit of willpower he possessed to keep a straight face.

In school it was easy. He’d been wearing the mask for so long, but out here, alone with you, it was impossible. With you he couldn’t hide. With you, he couldn’t be anything but honest.

‘Watch out!’ You dug an elbow into his ribs, ‘that was almost a smile! You be careful!’

He ducked away again, pulling his hair across his face to conceal his ever widening grin.

‘Seriously!’ You moved closer, a softer tone taking over as you wound your arms around his and leant your cheek against his shoulder, ‘What’s going on?’

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. A small insignificant sound but it meant the world to hear it. Eddie didn’t answer for a while but he wasn’t deflecting anymore. You could see the wheels turning, words writing themselves in his mind before he spoke them. You waited patiently.

‘Jason said something,’ he muttered, ‘I let him get under my skin.’

He felt you stiffen, ‘What did he say?’ The tension in your voice was thinly veiled. Eddie shrugged, hoping to calm you down,

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters if it upset you!’

He felt your eyes trained on him. You weren’t going to let this go. He let out another sigh, hands picking at the earth, absentmindedly tearing up blades of grass and crumpled leaves. ‘He saw me saying goodbye to you before Click’s,’ a slight pause, your gaze didn’t waver, ‘Asked how long I thought I had until you came to your senses and broke up with me.’

Eddie scrunched up his nose, a bitter taste in his mouth from the poisonous memory. He still didn’t look up.

‘And I know! It’s stupid! I know what you’re gonna say, I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it’s just… I started wondering what would happen if one day you did… wake up and realise all the worst parts of me and I just-!’

‘I’m gonna kill him!’

‘Baby-!’ Eddie reached for your hand when you started to stand.

‘If he thinks he can go around talking to you like that!’ You were furious but stopped when you saw the look on Eddie’s face. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, his mouth half open in a silent plea.

You sat back down and threw your arms around him instead. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck. It fit like it had always been meant to. You cradled his head in your hand.

The tears didn’t fall. Your warm embrace softened the sting, but he sniffed a few times, knowing he was safe if they did.

‘Eddie, I’m sorry!’ You murmured, stroking his hair gently. He just held on tighter.

You weren’t the only one who loved him, he knew that. He had Hellfire and the band and before them, Uncle Wayne, but you were the first time person he’d experienced who was ready to fight the bullies yourself. You didn’t settle for their disdain, refused to be complicit in their disgust. You were ready to fight for him.

He let out a shaky sigh as you leant back to look at him, cupping his cheeks in your palms. ‘If loving you means I’ve lost my senses, I hope I stay crazy forever!’

His red rimmed eyes welled up at the conviction in your eyes, in your voice. You pressed a tender kiss to his mouth, sealing your words as a promise.

Eddie melted against you, relishing your touch. When you broke, his cheeks were wet but his eyes a little brighter than before.

‘There you are!’ You beamed, thumbing away a stray tear and watching the soft upward curve on your boyfriends mouth. ‘There’s my smiley boy!’

You kissed him again and instantly felt the smile widen against you. Eddie kissed back, wrapping you in a deep embrace, filled with all the enthusiasm you’d missed before.

You giggled as your noses bumped together and before long, he was laughing too.

*

The school bell rang in the distance but neither of you had any intention of going back to class. You stayed outside among the trees for the whole of fifth period, laughing and joking until your sides hurt and you were certain Eddie had forgotten the cruel words.

He gushed about the band and their new opportunity, agonised over the Setlist while you teased him about what you might wear to see them play.

As you wandered in the vague direction of school, you talked through the hints Dustin had dropped about his storyline and the worries he expressed.

‘Kid’s got nothing to worry about! He learnt from the best!’

‘Oh did he now?’

‘Of course he did!’ Eddie mocked offence, then frowned. ‘But you are gonna have to tell him you were kidding about the throne!’

‘No way! You know I couldn’t bear to see his little face fall!’

‘You shouldn’t have got his hopes up then!’

*

The school building came into view. You stopped, lingering hand in hand on the edge of the tree line. The familiar green and orange stripes looked cold and foreboding. Instead of a beacon for school spirit, the tiger motif on the side of the wall seemed menacing.

Eddie squeezed your hand, ‘Back into the fray, my lady?’

You nodded, ‘I meant it, you know? I’m gonna kill Jason!’

Eddie laughed, ‘You’d better not! I don’t have enough money to bail you out of jail!’ He shoved you playfully but you wouldn’t relent.

‘Nobody takes away my baby’s smile!’

Eddie caught your other hand, grazing his lips over your knuckles, a reassuring gesture and a pledge of gratitude. You hugged his arm all the way back to class.

*

This time, when you passed him another terrible joke, Eddie nearly had to excuse himself. His cheeks were bright red. Tears of restrained laughter streaming down his face with a hand clamped over a Cheshire Cat grin as his curls shook ever so slightly.

You snickered quietly, watching him in the corner of your eye. You wondered what you wouldn’t do just to see that smile.

Jason Carver went home with a black eye that night!

***

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please reblog or comment and let me know what you thought!

Masterlist

Taglist: @neewtmas @sadbitchfangirl

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Ooo ooo! I got a good one:D

Slashers finding and reacting to their s/o in the brink of death because of another slasher!

Angst to fluff pls:D

That really IS a good one.

Slashers finding their s/o close to death thanks to another slasher

Warnings: Blood

Jason Voorhees

He notices your sleep getting more and more restless lately. You complain about frequent nightmares, and often wake up with cuts and bruises that weren't there the night before. Jason tries so hard to dismiss it as coincidence. Hell, you are living in a forest; there are a myriad of ways to injure yourself here without noticing. Against his better judgement, he goes out to deal with the recently arrived campers.

When he returns, he immediately notices you thrashing around in your sleep, and the red stains spreading from your skin to your sleep clothes and finally to the bedsheets. Jason panicks, and tries to shake you awake. This isn't good, you're losing so much blood... No, he can't lose you. Not like this, not in any other way either. By the time you finally wake up, you are already dangerously weak from the blood loss. Jason patches you up with the first aid kits from the cabins, praying that it is enough. Then he gets ready to sleep.

Seems like that pesky old man didn't learn his lesson last time. But Jason gladly repeats it, hoping it will stick this time, and returns to your side. Your hand is warm in his, and your face is slowly gaining a bit more color. He sighs with relief.

You'll be okay.

Vincent Sinclair

You just wanted to take a walk in the sorrounding woods. Nothing to be worried about, right?

Well, wrong. You hear the chainsaw from far away, but you play it off as just a trick of your imagination, or maybe just some workers from the county. What you did not expect was the huge man in a leather mask breaking out of the woodwork and coming right for you. The saw digs into your side, but you somehow manage to get away.

Vincent is looking for you. You left on your walk an hour ago and have yet to return. You're never gone for that long. Everything within him freezes when he sees you stumbling out of the forest, clutching the gaping, bleeding wound.

He takes you into his arms and lets out loud gasps and whines, his unuseable vocal cords straining to form words he cannot speak. He drags you back home, where Bo and Lester are watching TV. Bo drops his can of beer when he sees you. "Shit!"

"That looks bad. Vinnie, we need to take them to the hospital..." Lester takes over carrying you. From far away, the whole family hears the chainsaw roar.

Vincent stares at Bo head on. And he signs. "Let me borrow your shotgun."

He did not end up killing your assailants, but a very pissed off Vincent coming after them with Bo's shotgun taught them not to bother the Sinclairs again. After they are dealt with, Vincent has Bo drive him to the hospital, where you are. You open your eyes and find yourself sorrounded by your family.

"Sorry I made you guys worry", you mutter.

Vincent squeezes your hand and shushes you. You need to focus on getting back on your feet.

Freddy Krueger

When you come stumbling into his dream realm, he immediately notices that something is wrong. You are *bleeding* and pale as a ghost, and can barely stand. You're not sleeping... *you've fainted*!

"Shit shit shit..." He props you up. "Hey, who did this?!"

"Hock...." You sputter. "Hockey mask..."

His eyes widen and he gnashes his teeth. "Jason? That fucking hockey puck?!"

You nod weakly. "I... I'm hiding... Don't know how long... Must have passed out..."

Freddy grabs your shoulders a bit tighter. "Listen to me. I need you to wake up, right now. I'll show that fucking mama's boy what happens when he fucks with you. So go on! Wake up! Wa-..."

He finds himself stuffed into a closet with you, and reminds himself to teach you better hiding spots once this is over. You pass out again almost immediately, and while Freddy hates to leave you like this, he has a disobedient *dog* he has to deal with, first.

Once Jason has been sent back to where he belongs, Freddy returns to the closet, where he finds you slowly coming to.

"Did you have a nice nap?", he asks cordially. He is glad to see you awake again. That means the injuries may not have been as bad as they seemed at first. But still... "You should probably get to a hospital..."

"Yeah... Probably..." You fumble your cellphone out of your pocket and dial 911.

Later, once you're sleeping peacefully in your hospital bed, Freddy pops back into your dreams.

"That'll teach that bastard not to show his ugly mug here again", Freddy sneers. "Are you okay now?"

"Couldn't be better", you reply with a smile.

Freddy is pretty rough around the edges. But during moments like this, he shows that he really cares.

Bubba Sawyer

Maybe Drayton was right when he said that nothing good would come out of this road trip. But you love wax museums and Bubba had heard about this really famous one in Ambrose... He would have never guessed that it would end like this.

You have been separated from the rest of the Sawyers, and now everyone is frantically looking for you. Most of all Bubba, who blames himself for not taking better care of you.

They track you to the Sinclair house, where Bubba hears a pained howl from the basement. And when he finally reaches the secret workshop, he sees the masked man dig his ornate carving knives into your flesh. The man himself has a pretty nasty bite wound on his hand; a display of you fighting back when he tried to inject you with the paralytic.

The chainsaw roars to life, and the man with the carving knives only barely manages to dodge it. He seems to know well enough that he and his little butter knives have little chance against the chainsaw, so he retreats, while Bubba cuts you lose from the operating table and carries you upstairs.

Bubba isn't the only one who would have loved to make these rotten brothers pay for hurting you, but your health was more important right now. He *somehow* managed to talk Drayton into taking you to the hospital, despite the eldest's protest about the cost.

Bubba hates that Drayton won't allow him to visit you, but when you come back, the first thing he does is hug you as tightly as a drowning man clinging to a lifesaver.

Don't ever scare him like that again, please.

[intothedysphoria]

How I imagine different Billy Hargrove ships getting together because he refuses to leave my head (I’m procrastinating research for my dissertation)

Harringrove: It’s a long process across many years of hooking up and breaking up and fighting. They seem to spilt up for good in their late twenties until they reconnect twenty years later, without any youthful headstrong feelings that kept them apart. They find each other again in a bar in California and just never leave.

Mungrove: Billy learns about Eddie because they run in similar circles in Hawkins. It’s such a small scene, meeting is inevitable and they both have such similar tastes, they hit it off immediately. Billy is eventually worn down and lets Eddie design them couples Hellfire Club shirts.

Calicheer: it’s after cheer practice and Chrissy finds Billy hanging out aimlessly outside the gymnasium, reluctant to go back home. After a long night of talking, he makes a slightly clunky offer of a date and Chrissy is so charmed by him, she accepts.

Hollogrove: Post Starcourt, Billy and Heather are in adjacent beds in hospital. They’d been friends for a couple of months with a reciprocated crush neither had known about. Nothing like almost dying to confess your true feelings for someone though. They escape Hawkins together.

Argilly: There genuinely had never been anyone else. A first kiss for both of them at fifteen, then two years later Neil had found out. Billy was taken from a medium sized town in California to a small town in Indiana. Writing to each other is exceptionally difficult until after the mindflayer. Then Billy finds him again.

Kingrove: It was a secret from literally everyone, both having homophobic and abusive fathers. Good thing both of them are very good at keeping secrets. They break up briefly due to an argument about where to move after high school but get back together within 48 hours. Steve and Heather called it the longest 48 hours of their life.

Byergrove: Jonathan really loves photography. Billy has a passion for short stop motion films. They get paired together for a film project in school and get gradually closer throughout the month before the project is due. Jonathan makes the first move. Billy has a *small* crisis and runs off, before eventually accepting.

Cargrove: Jason is very, very closeted. Billy, slightly less so. Jason decides he wants to *experiment* with same sex relationships and sets his sight on Billy. Billys initial reaction is fuck no, because he isn’t just an experiment but Jason manages to prove that he’s genuine. Eventually.

Harringroveson: Billy and Eddie are together very very fast and Steve can’t decide who he’s jealous of. Turns out, it’s both. But he manages to endear himself to Billy and Eddie with a genuinely earnest and sweet nature and they decide to become a polycule. It works very well.

[necrotic-nephilim]

https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/762551245228703744/ok-ok-but-jayroytim-this-feels-especially-funny?source=share

i'm sorry i'm just thinking on days that jason and roy are particularly annoyed (in general or at each other) they would have a dick measuring contest of who can make tim come more and tim ends up very sore the next day every time

(the jayroytim post) ooooh i love this. i love putting Tim in Situations where he's just the stress relief caught between two arguing doms, it's like. my fave concept ever-

i like when it's an unspoken kink dynamic too. like, Jason and Roy start arguing again and Tim is already closing his laptop and taking his clothes off bc it's the only reliable way to get them to shut up, when they pass him back and forth until he's overstimulated and crying. sometimes, they just do it because Tim is overworking himself and won't put down the case he swears he's *so close* to cracking.

but taking it to the next level, seeing who can make Tim come the most is a turn Tim does *not* expect. i think it's fun if they spring it on him, maybe Jason and Roy had the argument when Tim wasn't around and come to the completely reasonable conclusion that this is the only way they can solve it. (neither of them are sure what they were actually originally arguing about when asked.) they text Tim and tell him to clear his schedule for the rest of the day and make sure he doesn't have patrol that night. and Tim is caught between wondering if he's about to get a great date night, or if he's about to clean up an absolutely shitshow they've caused. he is *not* prepared whatsoever. meanwhile, Roy and Jason are. bc there are logistics to work out. hydration, comfort, rerouting emergency calls to all three of them if the world starts to end.

i think it's fun if Jason and Roy set rules, bc they're both known to be cheats and they want clear definitions of what "counts" and how to make sure they're not just wrestling over Tim. of course they both try to cheat anyway. but the general set up is they pass him back and forth each time Tim comes, with breaks and other sorts of rules. if they're doing this, they're doing it right because they're both competitive bastards who leave no room for grey area.

Tim is ruined within the first hour. he's crying and begging and barely feels like a person. i think Roy and Jason are both mean, cocky sort of doms who pour a lot of dirty talk into all of their touches. i think Roy is the sort who will ignore his own pleasure to focus on Tim. sure, he wants to get off, but he's not focusing on himself and is fine if he ends up basically edging himself for an hour bc he wants to see if he can work his entire fist inside of Tim while Tim cries. Jason on the other hand, is more needy with his pleasure, to the point Roy will mock him about being more of a bottom than Tim is. i think it's fun if Jason likes to ride Tim bc Jason rlly likes to lose himself in his pleasure when he's torturing Tim. it's a maddening dichotomy for Tim to be stuck in-between, knowing that they're both going to torture him in different ways.

in the end, i think Roy wins. just because Roy is a bit older and has more canonical experience sleeping around, he's very smug about proving the point he's always made about being more *experienced* where it counts. Jason is certainly good in bed, but i'm always particular to the headcanon that Jason is very inexperienced and possibly even a virgin the first time he sleeps with Tim. bc rlly when would he have had the *chance* to have sex. (yes, ik about Talia but i either ignore that it breeze over it in fanfic bc i think it was poorly handled which sucks bc JayTalia has so much potential-) and Roy is smug about it for weeks, while Tim is in absolute fear (/lh) bc he knows sooner or later Roy's bragging is going to make Jason demand a rematch and Tim is just waiting for the next time they forcibly clear his schedule.

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝓢𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓼 𝓐𝓷𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓼

Featuring: Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair 

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of animal death (minor, in Michael’s part), slashers as animals being assholes, just general fun headcanons, no cat or dog because I always see them as cats and dogs and wanted to mix it up

-

Freddy Krueger

Some sort of bird

Probably a Conure that lost his feathers in some sort of fire

Is an asshole

And is smart enough to mock you

Will wake you up by biting your nose

Always escapes his enclosure

Can no longer fly but will manage to get up on counters and on top of your fridge anyway

Has overgrown talons and will use them for violence

Do not bring any company over

Very rarely will calm down and nestle against your chest during movie nights

But then bite you and saunter off

Jason Voorhees

Reticulated Python

Has unique scale markings on his face that resemble a hockey mask

Is huge

And usually lurks in the corner of his massive enclosure under a hide

He’ll come out at night and explore the area, and eventually figures out away to escape and roam around at night

The first time he does this you have a heart attack

He’s a massive snake

And who knows where he’s at right now?

You fear for any rodents that might be lurking

But when you find him he’s slowly but surely slithering across the living room floor, tongue flicking in curiosity

He’s a gentle giant around you

Not a fan of house guests and will actively try to escape his enclosure to scare them off

Will tolerate being picked up by you for short stretches of time

Lucky for him picking up a massive snake is no easy task

He likes to make himself comfortable on your couch and slither on top of your head to rest himself there and stare at the tv

He’s never tried to strike at you and only accidently takes your breath away when he’s trying to adjust himself in your grasp

It’s not his fault his a big boy and also consists of 99% muscle

Brahms Heelshire

Mouse

Has a massive enclosure you put together so he has more than enough space to make himself at home

Doesn’t use his hide and instead climbs in between his hide and the cage wall and nestles himself there

Loves nestling into cramped spaces

Will make random piles of bedding and hide food within them

Only comes out when you’re not home for the first few weeks

Eventually comes out when you have a treat for him

It takes a while for him to become used to you enough for you to pick him up

He’s pretty big for a mouse

and really hairy, with lots of curls all over his furry body

Will wrap his tail around your wrist for balance

Likes to nestle against the back of your neck and the collar of your shirt

Will sit there for hours and watch as you do every day tasks

Just let him down for bathroom breaks

Like everyone else, doesn’t like strangers and will bite them or scratch them if able

Michael Myers

Rat

The most massive rodent you’ve ever seen

Will never stay in his enclosure

Ever

You never see him eat or drink or anything 

He just wanders your house and occasionally gnaws on things

Has massive front teeth and claws

Has various scratches and missing fur patches on his body

Never makes a noise

Will kill any rodent or insect crawling around your house

Just leaves the body there for you to find

Will very rarely lay in your bed, at the very edge, only half asleep

Doesn’t like being touched

Or caged

At this point he owns the place and you just pay rent

Will seriously injure house guests

And anybody who comes near the front door

Has bit you a few times

You still have scars

But you can’t figure out how to get rid of him so he stays

Bubba Sawyer 

Tiger Oscar Cichlid 

He is in a tank by himself after he cannibalized all of your other cichlids

He is massive

And even in the largest tank you could find he has some trouble turning around

Will eat anything and everything dropped into the tank

He’s got some missing scales, especially around his mouth and eyes

He’ll chase your finger if you put it against the glass and move it around

Has jumped out of the tank on multiple occasions even with the lid clipped shut

As soon as he sees his food he splashes out of the water and hits the top of the lid with a loud thump

When you scrub the algae off the tank he’s always right next to you, bumping your hand and arm

Weirdly enough, likes pets

Will keep bumping your arm until you run a hand down his side

You know it’s not good for a fish’s slime coat to do that

But it’s the only way to keep him calm long enough to scrub away the algae

You have to put him in your bathtub when it’s time to deep clean the tank

Refused to get in a bucket

You had to carry him--wet and slimy and flopping around in your arms

Any time you have company he always stares at them and occasionally bumps his head against the lid of the tank

People are mostly scared of the giant fish and don’t come over much

Bo Sinclair

Bearded Dragon

He will not quit head-bobbing at his own reflection in the glass

Very territorial

Has a very pretty scale pattern

Will bite you

Not hard

But you can tell he’s annoyed with you

He doesn’t like being in his tank much

Prefers to hang out on the kitchen counter and bask in the sunlight coming in through the window

It’s not like you can explain he needs the lights in his enclosure to get his vitamin D

Will also sit outside on the porch with you

Only eats worms

He will not bother to eat crickets when he knows you have food that doesn’t run around

You usually throw in a few crickets anyway

Also not a fan of salads 

You have to hand feed him each piece of leafy green or else he will not eat it

He’s spoiled

Will throw fits and knock over stuff in his enclosure until you let him have some outside time

Likes lounging on the couch with you

Also likes when you pet his head

Climbs in your shirt and stays there

Vincent Sinclair

Chameleon

Very big and gangly

Turns some really pretty colors when out in the open

Mainly stays up in the branches in his enclosure, blended into the greenery

You don’t see him often

Likes peace and quiet

Doesn’t like being held or touched

He rarely spends time on the ground of his enclosure, save for when he has to climb down to eat food

You leave the door to his enclosure open sometimes and he pokes his head out to look around before going back inside

He doesn’t do much besides mimic the colors in your room

After a while of having him you’ve managed to get him used to being held for short periods of time

Will nestle in your hair or behind your neck

Do not leave him in an open space with no hiding spots or he will freak

[sodaabaa]

stolen tires, chapter four

jason returns to gotham after the world believed him to be dead. heavily inspired by the film, under the red hood.

tw: mentions of death, angst, self loathing, grief, abuse

Bruce was obsessing over finding this new vigilante. He wore a red bat symbol on his chest and fought as if Bruce himself had trained him. This new vigilante was an interesting sight. He was dressed almost casually except for the red helmet he wore. The red bat symbol tormented Bruce. He wondered why this man wore Batman's insignia. The vigilante was well trained as well, he swung from rooftop to rooftop with ease, killed over ten well guarded drug lords within two hours and got Black Mask's men to join his side. All in a day. Who was he? Leaning back to look at the large computer screen in front of him, Bruce's butler, Alfred, walked in. 

"Master Wayne, there was something at the front door for you, a box sir." He said with his posh British accent. 

"Leave it here please Alfred, thank you." He said back, smiling at his kind butler. Alfred was definitely more than just a butler to Bruce. He was his confidant and almost like a father to Bruce after his parents died. 

Bruce turned away from the computer and glanced at the box. It was a plain, long, rectangular, red box. He walked towards the box and opened the lid to see a newspaper facing down. Bruce picked the newspaper up and flipped it over to the frontside. In the middle of the front page, in red ink and bold letters it said:

YOU LET YOUR FAMILY DIE.

He was taken aback. Shocked at the statement he tried to regather his thoughts. A red box, red letters, an ominous message and a new vigilante who wore red embellishments. This was surely him. The new vigilante was after Bruce for some reason. Who was he referring to when he said "family?" His parents? Jason? It was true, his parents and Jason all died because Bruce was too weak or too slow to save them but why did the vigilante care about Bruce's family? 

Bruce looked at the time, it was three in the afternoon and he had yet to leave the bat cave. Sitting and thinking who could possibly care about how his family died. Who was this vigilante. From what he knew, the vigilante wore a bat symbol, was well trained and cared about the dead members of Bruce's family. It couldn't be Dick, the vigilante's body composition was much bulkier and heavy. It couldn't be Tim either, he was far too young, too short and again the vigilante was bulky and tall much like Bruce. That left Jason. But Jason was dead. Frustrated he left the cave and walked to his room. 

As he was getting dressed he thought about where he wanted to go. The Iceberg Lounge. A club located in the wealthier region of Gotham, the Iceberg Lounge was run by Oswald Cobblepot otherwise known as the Penguin. Bruce occasionally went to the Lounge when he needed a break or if needed some information. All types of people could be found there so it was easy to gather information, especially since Bruce could offer some encouragement to those who wouldn't talk with a few hundred dollars. He went downstairs and walked towards the foyer when he heard Alfred. 

"Would you like me to drive you sir?" He asked.

"No thank you Alfred, I'm just going for a breath of fresh air into the city." Bruce smiled back and made his way out. 

Bruce pulled up to the valet and gave the worker his keys and walked towards the entrance to the club. He could hear the faint beat of the music from the outside. Once he was inside he noticed that today was a busy day. From the corner of his eye he saw a tall, tan woman. He turned to see who this woman was that stood out from the rest of the crowd. Immediately he recognized her. It was Koriand'r, Dick's new girlfriend. Next to Koriand'r was Roy Harper, Oliver Queen's former sidekick. It was funny seeing them here, it didn't seem like their scene. Along with the pair of young crimefighters was another man, unfamiliar to Bruce but somehow seemed like he knew this man. Maybe they knew something about the new vigilante. He walked towards them putting on a mask of charm and charisma. 

"Roy Harper and Koriand'r. Nice seeing you two here, how's Dick Kori?" He asked, all smiles. 

"Bruce Wayne." Roy exclaimed, smiling brightly back. Albeit a bit too brightly. 

"Hello Bruce, Dick's fine, how've you been?" Koriand'r asked politely in her sweet, melodious voice.

"Fine as always, and you are?" He said, looking at the new face.

Roy and the man shared a look between each other contemplating what they were going to say.

"Andrew Baker, Mr.Wayne, glad to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you." The man, Andrew, said back in a cool and collected tone. 

Bruce nodded and smiled back. Something was off about this man. For one he could tell that his name was certainly not Andrew Baker. It sounded like something he had just come up with. Leaving his suspicions aside for now he asked, 

"So I was wondering if you lot knew anything about this new vigilante that's been stirring up trouble?" 

Roy opened up his mouth to respond when Andrew butt in before he could say anything.

"The Red Hood? Yeah I hear he has some crazy vendetta against the Batman. He's a maniac that one." He smirked as though telling a joke that no one else seemed to understand. 

"Is that so, anything else you might know about this 'maniac'?" Bruce asked. 

It was quiet for a moment before Roy spoke up. "I hear he's gonna be going after a shipment at the docks later tonight." 

Immediately after saying that sentence Andrew's icy blue eyes seemed to be shooting daggers at Roy. Bruce noted this and said, "thank you for the information guys, I'll be seeing you around soon." 

He said his goodbyes to the three and left to grab a drink from the bar. So the "Red Hood" was going to show up at the docks tonight. Kord Industries had a shipment that was supposed to arrive tonight, was there a connection?

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

Lonely Pt.2 (Stiles)

***A continuation a few weeks after where Lonely Pt.1 left off. Stiles goes to New York and breaks into Aiello’s apartment because he’s worried about him. Basically Stiles being a good and caring friend. Note: It’s heavily implied that Aiello is deep in the trenches of mental illness and alcoholism. Also talk of *self-deletion* if you catch my drift. So yeah, maybe don’t read if that’s upsetting to you.***

That was the final straw. He, Andrew Jason Stiles, was going to New York- not for the sights- but to go get one of his best friends and brother in arms, Frank Aiello, to snap out of whatever funk he was in. He hadn’t picked up the phone in weeks and hadn’t responded to any letters either.

“He better not have…” he said to himself, thinking the worst of why he wasn’t responding to any attempts at communication. He shook his head. Aiello had never been a particularly emotional guy. He was always strong, never showing any signs of weakness or emotion, always stoic both in manner and expression. Even when Turner was killed, his bravado never faltered. To think that he had survived everything he had only to come home and end it himself was horrifying.

He threw the last of his things into his duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder. Whatever the case, he was going to be there for him. He had hoped Zussman would go with him, after all two old friends coming to visit would be better than one, but he was in Texas visiting Daniels for the time being. This was up to him alone.

“Come on, Socks. Let’s go,” he said, picking up the small terrier he had gotten as a companion a few months before. He had found Socks, short for Socrates, digging though the garbage bags in a nearby alleyway for food and decided that he would make the canine his pet. He knew how it felt to be alone the way the poor dog was, and decided to take him home.

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

“Here’s Socks, Tim,” Stiles said to his brother. Tim had agreed to keep him for the time being. As much as Stiles wanted to take his pet with him, Aiello had a cat and he knew the two would not get along. And Socks certainly wouldn’t behave on the nearly 20 hour train ride. “And here’s his things. My house key is in there too,” he continued, hoisting the tote bag containing dog food, toys, and a spare leash onto the counter of his brother’s bookshop.

“What are you planning to do once you get there?” Tim, the older of the two, asked. He could see how worried his brother was about his friend.

“I’m getting a taxi to his apartment. And if he won’t let me in, then I’ll find my own way in.” He said, determination in his voice.

Tim laughed, thinking his younger brother was joking about potentially breaking into someone’s apartment. His laughing stopped short once he saw his brother’s expression and realized that he was, in fact, not kidding.

“Well, my train leaves in an hour, see you soon.” He said walking toward the door. The dog barked. “Bye, Socks. Be good for Tim, ok?” He told the small creature, bending down to scratch his head one last time before he left. He stood up and grabbed a copy of the new book his brother had gotten in- Bright Day by J.B. Preistley- flashed an innocent yet mischievous smile, and walked out the door.

“You better pay me for that when you get back!” Tim yelled as the door shut behind his brother. “I doubt he’s going to, though.”

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

“Let’s see,” Stiles said to himself, walking down the hallway of the unfamiliar New York apartment building, “ E5… E6… E7… There we go! E8!” He’d finally found his friend’s apartment after becoming lost in the corridors for a half hour.

“Hey! Aiello! It’s me!” He said knocking on the door. No answer. “Hey! I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!” Still no answer. “If you don’t answer the door within the next minute I’m finding my own way in!” He yelled, continuing to pound on the door. Still no one answered.

“Ok! I’m coming in there!” Stiles yelled, not knowing if the man inside could hear him or not. This called for drastic action. He sat down against the wall in hallway and began rifling through his duffel bag. He’d seen a bag of his fiancée’s hair pins on the train while he was looking for his spare glasses. He knew they could be used to pick a lock in an emergency. Well, this definitely qualified as an emergency.

“There they are,” he muttered to himself as his hand found the small pouch. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I know you’d understand,” he said to no one in particular as he bent the small pins out of shape to stick into the lock.

His large hands fiddled clumsily with the tiny hair pins as he attempted to pick the lock on Aiello’s front door. Sure it would’ve been easier to kick down the door, but Aiello would have a fit and make him pay for it. And considering he was saving to pay for a wedding in a couple months…

“Just keep with the pins, Drew. You’re almost there.”

After a couple more minutes of messing with the lock and the beginnings of a few blisters, the front door finally popped open.

“Finally!” He exclaimed, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. He was getting to the bottom of this. As he pushed the door open further, the scent of alcohol hit him like a tidal wave.

“Well that’s not ideal,” he muttered to himself. At least the strong smell meant that it had been drunk recently and the chances his of his friend being alive were greatly improved.

“Frank!” He yelled into the dark apartment. He couldn’t find the light switch or his pal anywhere. “Frank Aiello! It’s me, Drew!” Still no answer. This called for drastic action.

“Francis Roman Aiello! You better answer me!” Aiello hated his first name and would become angry if you called him anything but Frank or his last name. Still no response.

“This isn’t good. Not good at all.” Stiles muttered to himself, still feeling around for a light switch. “Where’s the damn-“ suddenly he stepped on something round which slid out from under him. He landed hard on his back on the floor. Underneath him, he heard a cat screech.

“Sorry, kitty! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” He said, trying to get up off the floor and the cat. Certainly Aiello had heard that commotion. Suddenly a light clicked on overhead.

“College?” He asked, a confused expression on his face. It was obvious he had let himself go. He hadn’t shaved in a while and he wore nothing but shorts and a holey t-shirt. He was holding an aluminum baseball bat, poised to hit the intruder over the head with it.

“Frank! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks! What the hell is going on?” Now that the light was on he had see that the apartment was a mess. Empty alcohol bottles lay everywhere. Bags of garbage sat in the living room. He hadn’t taken care of himself in a while.

“College… Ok, first of all, how did you even get in my house? And second, what on God’s green earth are you doing here?”

“Which question would you like me to answer first?”

“I don’t know, Stiles! Just pick one!” It was then he realized that Aiello was slurring his words.

“Frank, you’re drunk,” Stiles said.

“So what if I am? It’s not like anyone cares any.” This was definitely the alcohol talking. Aiello could be arrogant at times, but this was too much for even him.

“Aiello, sit down,” Stiles commanded. He wasn’t usually like this either. But he could tell what was going on, and he knew his friend needed help. “Sit down and talk to me. What the hell is going on? Why aren’t you talking to anyone?”

“I’m not talking to you about anything.” Aiello slurred. He wanted to talk to Stiles. He truly did but he knew once he got started he’d never stop. Then he’d cry. Then Stiles would know that the bravado was all an act and he’d see just how weak he truly was.

“At least tell me what all these are about then,” Stiles said, handing an empty beer bottle to Aiello. He knew what it was about. His Uncle Steve had dealt with the same thing. He just needed Aiello to say it out loud.

“What, these?” Aiello said, forcing a chuckle. “These are nothing.” “Nothing compared to everything else I have going on,” he thought. He bit his lip. Fanculo! This was not the moment to start crying.

“This isn’t nothing, Aiello. This is a problem.” This wasn’t the actual problem. This was just the symptom. They both knew it. And judging by the pained expression on his friend’s face, he didn’t want to speak it aloud.

“Why do you even care?” His voice barely above a whisper. If he spoke any louder his resolve would break. He stared at the empty bottle in his hand. He’d done something he vowed to never do. He’d turned into his father.

“Because I care about you. As annoying and pompous as you are sometimes, I care about you. And I know that this-“ he held up another bottle, “Isn’t the true issue here. Something’s wrong and I’m not leaving until I know you’re fine.”

Frank’s lip quivered. He was biting it so hard he was beginning to draw blood. He didn’t want to say it out loud. Saying it out loud made it real.

“Kick me out if you want to, but I’ll find my way back in again.” He meant it. He wasn’t going home until his pal was on the right track.

“I can’t,” he choked on the words. He was holding back a flood of tears. Ones he definitely didn’t want Stiles to see.

“Ok then, I’ll start,” he picked up another empty bottle. Pointing at his friend with it, he continued “You’re an alcoholic, but this is only the visible sign of a deeper problem. I don’t know what that is for you, but I’m willing to listen.”

That did it. The dam of his emotions finally broke and it burst out of him in sobs. He knew Stiles wasn’t the epitome of masculinity, but he just knew he was judging him for his emotions getting the better of him.

“I just can’t do it anymore, man! I just can’t!” he sobbed. He tried his best to cover his face with his hands. He hated that Stiles was seeing him like this. “Life’s never been this bad for me. I can’t seem to have anything go right. And when something finally does, something else goes horribly wrong.”

Stiles hadn’t expected his friend to break like this. He didn’t mind though. He could tell he had needed this for a long while. He guided the crying man over to the couch and made him sit down. He sat beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

“What’s the point of even living anymore? No one even cares.” He sobbed. He finally admitted that out loud.

“I care.” Stiles thought. “So do Zuss and Red.”

“No one even cares about me. My family has their own lives and never bother to come over. All my friends are either dead or don’t have time to visit. You guys all have your own lives.”

“I put my life on hold to come make sure you’re ok,” he thought. He knew exactly where this conversation was going, but he was going to let Aiello say it.

“I tried dating again after what happened with Gracie. I thought maybe that would make it better. But all it did was make it worse. They all said I’m ‘clingy’ and ‘needy.’”

In need of a hug and some understanding maybe, but not needy. He knew what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“I’m just so lonely, man. I’m so lonely.” The root of his problem with alcohol- loneliness.

“I get it, brother. I really do.” He hated thinking about that time in his life, but he knew Aiello needed to hear it.

“No you don’t! You have no idea what this is like! You’re getting married in three months and have Zussman as a roomate! You have no idea what loneliness is!” There was no way he knew how he felt. He couldn’t.

“Yes I do. My entire life I’ve been lonely. I’ve never understood how to interact with people. They just don’t make sense to me.” Especially you, he thought to himself. “I only played with my siblings when I was a kid because they were the only people who understood me. I’ve never had friends until I met you guys at basic. I’ve always been out of step with the rest of the world. I know what loneliness is, Frank Aiello! So don’t tell me I don’t!”

He was stunned. He’d never seen Stiles this vulnerable. Yes, he’d watched him cry the hardest over Turner’s death, but that was understandable. Stiles never really said anything about his personal life, come to think of it.

“We care about you. You might not see it all the time but we do. I skipped out on going to Texas with Zuss to come make sure you were ok.”

It had been ages since someone cared about him like this. It was unfamiliar but it felt good.

“Zussman is down there for two weeks. I was going to join him, but I think you should too. It’ll be good for you. Whataya say?”

“Alright.” He would admit he needed that right now. He reached for the roll of paper towels that was, for some reason, on the coffee table and ripped off a sheet to blow his nose.

“Did you know your nose runs when you cry because the tears drain into your nasal cavity?”

“Oh, shut up, College!” He said laughing for the first time in ages. Maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all.

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 1 Disappearing Act

A new dawn begins with the rising of the sun as you startle awake back in the uncomfortable familiarity of your bed. With one heavy heave, you shove the covers off yourself and step onto the cold wooden flooring. Ania and your mother are awake as well to prepare the morning in peace before your father wakes. Mother works on breakfast, you tend to the stock, and Ania helps with morning chores. You don't mind the commute from your home to the farm, it's only a short walk downhill on the edge of the woods. The morning dew soaks your thin clothing but the shivers remind you that you're alive, and you can just be alone in existence. The first chore is emptying the food scraps from last nights dinner into the pig pen, mixed with their regular diet of rotten vegetables and grains. You open the pen for the chickens, they all come clucking out to greet the morning dew and peck at the pests in the field. All while you collect their portion of the rent. The few cows and goats chatter impatiently awaiting for you to relieve them of their milk which used to take you hours to finish. 

You could realistically get it done within an hour, but you take your time with each and every one to prolong the time spent alone. When all is done, you heave the containers of milk over your shoulder and carry the eggs in one hand. By the time breakfast is laid out and ready, your father awakens from his drunken stupor only to scarf his meal down like a ravenous dog, then get himself functional enough to tend to his job. He watches you the entire time, as he sloppily shoves food into his mouth. Every suitor he's tried to find you has mysteriously disappeared, he knows you have something to do with it; these disappearances have been happening for months since your grandmother's death. He just doesn't have the proof.

The moment he leaves everyone can breath a little easier. When you were younger, you would beg your mother to leave him, run away to the city where they can be safe but she was always too scared. You've squirreled away some money every time you get some, and you're so close to having enough. Today at the markets will make or break that; you just need a little more to get you and your sister out of this town. Your mother has made her bed. 

At the markets you sell the excess produce and animal products from your farm to surrounding towns and even some city folk who drive in just to get 'farm fresh' vegetables. Today was an especially good day, making record profits and sending you well over your monetary goals. As you're about to close up shop, a close personal friend of yours named Amber comes running up to you, hugging you from behind. You chuckle softly and turn around once she releases you, her beaming smile and radiant aura are always infectious. 

"Hey Morgan! Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Just the usual. Why?"

"Well, I heard that a couple people from the next town over are having a bonfire tonight and we're invited."

"Are you sure that's a safe decision? With all the people disappearing-"

"It'll be fine! We're going as a pretty large group, and I hear there's going to be some city girls there too."

Amber bounces excitedly, she's the only person in this whole town, other than your grandmother, who truly knows how you feel. You could care less about having a husband, or any man near you for that matter. You grind your teeth nervously, you could easily sneak out and go to this, but the vast amount of people who have gone missing makes you nervous. Then again, the last time she snuck out for a party was in high school, when she got drunk for the very first time. 

"Just think about it. We're meeting by Danny's Pub around 9, and Jason is going to drive us."

When you return home you do the same routine as you have done since you could walk; drop the money made onto the table for your father to waste on alcohol, go to the field and bring in the goats, cows, and pigs for the night, then heard the chickens in. Mother makes dinner, and Ania finishes cleaning up the house before your father stomps in with his dirty boots, dragging mud, dirt, and who knows what else into the house. He comes home an hour late, slumping into his chair and taking a bite of his food. No one can eat until he does.

"This is cold!" He slams his fork down.

"I'll heat it up for you" your mother gets up from her seat and grabs the plate.

"I work my ass off all day, the least you can fucking do is have a hot meal and a cold beer ready for me. God fucking damn."

She returns the plate and he takes another bite, after a few more bites the rest of your family begins to eat. When he finishes he sits back and looks around the table, taking a long drink from his bottle before sighing loudly. He takes the stack of money you left and counts it before shoving it into the pocket of his overalls, then he smacks his lips. 

"I'll be leaving for a few days" he proclaims. 

"Going where?" Your mother asks carefully. 

"Me and a few boys are going to travel to the city. Apparently there's a few other nearby towns that are also experiencing some disappearances. Dan said he tried to contact the county sheriff and was left on hold, so we'll be going in person. Otherwise, we're gonna set up our own search party."

You look at your father from the corner of your eye, taking a slow, deep breath to contain your excitement. This is exactly the opportunity you've been looking for! You've make up your mind; tonight you'll go to the party for one last hoorah, then when your father leaves you take Ania and bail. Mother won't do anything to stop you, and with your father gone that gives you at least a day or two head start. Everything is coming together. 

That night you sneak out the window as you've done thousands of times, landing softly on the ground below. You zip up your hoodie to keep the chill air at bay as you scamper across town to the pub. Amber spots you first and waves to you, squealing with excitement that you decided to come. Including you and Amber, there's ten people total; five in Jason's car and five in Rossela's. The car ride is filled with laughter, music, and a little pregaming for those not currently driving. You arrive to the party, seeing strangers from 'rival' towns all gathered to have fun, and for once in a very long time you let yourself relax. 

As the night goes on, the alcohol runs faster, you've managed to only nurse a singular drink  but you pretend to keep refilling it. Amber finds you eventually and drags you all over the party, trying to find you someone to dance with but not having much luck. Instead she dances with you, trying to get you to loosen up which works. How can you say no to her? She refills your cup, brings it to your lips and tips it up for you until your previous anxieties are melted away. Once your head is nice and fuzzy, you follow her blindly considering she's the only person you really know here. 

She takes your hand and guides you off, away from the party. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest, you won't deny you've always had a secret admiration of your best friend. How could you not? She has gorgeous red hair that flows down her back, cute little freckles that show up when she's been in the sun too long, and the most hypnotizing green eyes. Maybe all your sick fantasies are coming true, as she drags you deeper toward the woods. The whispers of warning on the wind fall on deaf ears. 

She turns around, holding both of your hands in hers as she smiles up at you, but her genuine smile turns into that of sadness as you're ripped from her grasp. You tug and fight with all your might, managing to toss one of the people holding you, and forcing another to take their place. The two people fight and struggle with you, until you are brought up and tossed into a literal dog cage with the lock clamped shut with a padlock. 

"Amber? Amber what the fuck! Get me out of here."

Amber approaches, her brows furrowed in sorrow as tears run down her face, "I'm sorry Morgan. They have my sister! This is the only way I can get her back."

You sit there hopelessly as your once best friend turns away from you, and you look around seeing numerous others from the party also locked in different sized cages. A man dressed in all black approaches Amber, motioning toward a pickup where Amber's sister, Lara, comes running out. They embrace each other tightly, Amber sobbing quietly as she clutches her little sister. You sit back on the hard steel frame, sighing heavily as you bring your legs to your chest and rest your forehead on your knees. Could you truly say you wouldn't have done the same for Ania?

Chapter 2

[lily-drake]

The Bird’s Baby Bug

Chapter 2

Ch. 1

Tim: 19 Mari: 10

Three in the morning, it was three in the f*ing morning and Jason was not having it.  But unfortunately for him, whoever was calling wouldn’t stop!  Fine, Jason would answer the phone, but he wouldn’t sound happy doing it!

“What the f* do you want?”  He growled, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.  Tonight was supposed to be his night of d*it.  

“Jason, Jason thank G*.”  Tim gasped in relief, it honestly shocked him.  He and the replacement were definitely not on the best of terms, so why would he sound so relieved that he answered his phone.  “Before you hang up,” he rambled quickly, “I could really use your help.  This isn’t about me, it's about a kid that The League of Assassins kidnapped.”

Jason froze at that, what the f* was the replacement doing in The League of F*ing Assassins.  “I’m sorry, but what now?”

Tim sighed through the phone, like he had any right to be exasperated like he hasn’t been radio silent for over six g*d*ng months and called him –the guy that has tried to murder him on multiple occasions–for help .  “Look, it's a long story, but I need to get her out before Ra’s comes back, I’ll explain everything then.  Sending my coordinates now.”  Jason was about to respond, before he could the quick beep, beep, beep that singled the end of the call echoed in his ears.  Son of a b*!  

Jason glared at the phone, like he could will Tim to magically appear out of it so he could strangle him, but nothing happened.  With one last sigh, Jason got out of bed and began to get ready to return to one of the many places that haunted his nightmares.  Making a few calls to his lieutenants, telling them to make sure everyone stayed in line and demanding updates every night, he grabbed his emergency duffle bag and headed out.

_______ Tim didn’t want to admit how attached he became to the small girl over the span of a few hours.  She was so small, and despite the horrors she had been forced to endure she was one of the sweetest people he’s ever met.  Having learned that she had (unsurprisingly) not been allowed any form of education in her captivity, he had taken it upon himself to become her tutor while they waited for Jason. They drew, he helped her with numbers, helped her with her English and French, and when she was asleep in his bed, he would continue his investigation into Bruce’s whereabouts.  

He had been tracking Jason’s progress through a code that he had activated on Jason’s phone when the man had picked up.  It had taken him nearly three days to get here, and if everything went according to plan, he should be here within the next three hours.   On the third day Tim began to explain in heavy detail to Marinette how he was going to free her from this Hell Hole and how she would go with his brother until he finished his mission here.  

“So you’re leaving me?”  Marinette whispered in broken English, her voice breaking slightly, though no tears welled in her eyes.  Tim felt awful, but if he wanted to find Bruce, destroy the Pits, and avoid Ra’s; then this was his best course of action.

“It won’t be for very long,” he whispered, gently tucking a strand of her long dark hair behind one of her small ears.  “I’ll be back before you know it, and Jason will take great care of you.  He’s very protective of kids.  Don’t tell him I said this,” he whispered into her ear, a mischievous smirk on his lips, “Jason may seem like a baddy, but he’s really just an oversized teddy bear.”  (A teddy bear that would actually tear anyone and anything apart if he so felt like it.) 

His heart melted when Marinette giggled, and goodness he didn’t want to let this small bean go.  He quickly pulled the small child against his chest, giving her a tight embrace, relieved when she quickly returned it rather than shrinking away like she had a few times before.  “You’re so brave Marinette.  Never forget that.”  He whispered.

The two stayed like that for only a few moments longer before he slowly pulled away with an affectionate hair ruffle.  The moment was curtly interrupted when his door was forced open, and Tim knew who it was before he even turned around.  There were only two people that existed on this base that would dare come into his room unannounced.

“Detective.”  Ra’s greeted stoically.  Tim cursed under his breath, Ra’s should have been gone for at least another day.  Tim turned around, keeping Marinette tucked behind him.  “I see you’ve met my little pet project.” He stated, never taking his cold gaze off Tim.  Tim glared back at the man; his resolve to save the small child growing stronger the longer Marinette held onto the back of his shirt, tightening her trembling grip like it was her only lifeline.  “I would ask you please return it to me, it is a very important asset that I would like to keep close.”

The sound of Marinette’s whimper made Tim feel almost animalistic with the need to protect.  It was as exhilarating as it was horrifying.  “No,” he snarled, “I don’t think I will.  I’m sure that you have enough of her blood to fill each and every one of your Lazarus Pits to the brim.”  He growled out, reaching for the bo staff at his side. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Detective”, Ra’s sighed sounding almost exasperated, though he didn’t come any closer…yet.  “Surely you know the reason we must keep her close, despite her blood’s usefulness.”  Unfortunately Tim did understand what Ra’s was getting at.  He had been reading through any and all files that pertained to “Subject E131”.  Ra’s intended to use Marinette as a weapon; training and enhancing her powers so that she could use her control of plant life–and maybe even animal life–to use against his enemies—in other words, a better “model” of Poison Ivy.  He wouldn’t let that be her fate, she would not be another pawn in Ra’s sick games.

“Yes, but I’m afraid that I can’t let that happen.”  Snap .  His staff snapped open, ready for whatever Ra’s had planned.  Ra’s simply smirked, a twinkle in his eyes that sent a shiver down Tim’s spine.

“Very well Detective, have it your way.”   Ra’s was fast, faster than Tim was expecting, but not fast enough.  Tim shot his staff into the air, blocking the blow before using the momentum to push Ra’s sword away from him.

“Is this child really worth the risk of not being able to see your father again, Detective?  Without my help, he’ll be lost forever.”

Tim ground his teeth, he wouldn’t let this manipulative ba* invade his mind.  If he was as great of a detective as Ra’s claimed him to be, then he didn’t need Ra’s.  He would find Bruce on his own, and show everyone that he wasn’t crazy.  He would protect this child, because she deserved to feel safe.  

He looked around for an opening while gently bushing the small child away from, but still behind, him.  He couldn’t risk her safety more than he already is.  Jason was out there, he would be here soon.  He just needed to stall Ra’s and make it to the drop off point.  

Ra’s attacked once more, this time trying to move around him, switching their positions so that Marinette would be right behind Ra’s.  Tim wouldn’t let that happen though.  He kept his feet solidly on the ground pushing against Ra’s momentum.  The sound of Ra’s blade against his staff was a sharp clash as each fighter swung and danced around the other.  “It is such a shame, Detective.  I truly thought that you would join me as my right hand.”

Tim felt a vicious smirk fall onto his lips—the same smirk he used to strike fear into Gotham’s criminal underbelly—, “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t murder those who stand against me.”

“Maybe now, but you could learn.  You could come to see how efficient it is when you are trying to truly bring order to the world.”

“Yes, because torturing kids is definitely the “best way” of creating “order”.”  He growled, ducking under Ra’s sword before throwing a right slam towards Ra’s abdomen.  

Beep Beep 

Jason was 30 minutes out.  He must have been pushing his bike for all it’s worth if he got here that fast, Tim thought while using a downward thrust.  Ra’s jumped back, surveying the room.  He watched with glee as the cruel, condescending smile on Ra’s face fell away into a frustrated sneer.

“Where is she?”  He demanded coldly.  

Tim’s smile grew.  “What, you thought I didn’t have a plan for if you came back early?”  Tim had discovered a trap door under the bed that led to a small cave right at the edge of the base.  Exactly where he told Jason to meet them.  Ra’s must have forgotten about it with how big the base was, or simply did not believe that Tim would have found the small passage.

“I see I’ve underestimated you, Detective.”  Ra’s sneered.  

Tim simply chirped, “Your mistake.”  Before he launched into a series of strikes, no longer afraid that he’d accidentally hurt Marinette.  Ra’s blocked his strikes, only allowing him to get two or three before Ra’s countered him blow for blow.  Tim allowed himself to be spun by Ra’s attack, following the movement so his back was to the door, just as he planned.  Before Ra’s could strike down his next blow Tim was moving, running out of the room and through the seemingly deserted corridors.  

He needed to distract the others, keep them far away from Mari and the drop off point, so he was strangely relieved when swarms of ninjas began to attack him.  Though when he noticed Ra’s was not in the midst, he could feel a panic course through his muscles.  What if he had found the passage?  What if he had gotten there before Jason and had taken Mari?  He would never be able to forgive himself.

Tim ducked past the blades and throwing stars; cursing when one of them grazed his unarmored forearm.  The long gash stretched down his arm allowing warm blood to trickle down onto the stone floor.  It didn’t matter though, because he had to keep fighting.  Had to protect Marinette so that she could live her own life.

So he kept running, kept defending, kept ducking, and he kept fighting back.  

“Red Hood to Red Robin.  Red Hood to Red Robin, the package has been picked up.”

Tim nearly collapsed in relief, but considering he was still in the midst of battle, he decided that doing so would be a terrible idea.  

Suddenly, the sound of gunshots hung heavy through the halls.  Ra’s didn’t allow the use of guns, especially on base, and Tim only knew one person that could sneak in here without a problem while using that kind of weapon.  The brief moment of his distraction cost him as the back of a hilt was smashed against his head.  Tim collapsed, his body feeling heavy and sluggish.  

“Tim!”  Someone shouted, and suddenly, the pounding in his head cleared.  A warmth surrounded him, just like when he had first met Marinette, except there wasn’t any excruciating pain like something was growing in him.  Wait, oh sh*.

“Jason!”  Tim screamed, jumping back onto his feet with renewed strength and pushing back the other ninja, as he moved toward the echoing sounds of gunshots rather than away.  Before he could even round the corner he saw Marinette staring at him with haunted, watery eyes.

“They were going to take you next!  You promised they wouldn’t take you away like that!”  She sobbed, hugging herself.  Tim felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.  He extended his arms out, fully expecting her to shrink away.  But she didn’t, she ran into his arms and let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his chest when he moved her so she was situated against his left hip.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie.  It won’t happen again now that I’ve got my little lucky charm back.”  Marinette giggled lightly through her tears.  But in all seriousness, Tim was absolutely terrified.  She shouldn’t be here, she should be on her way back to Gotham right now with Jason!  He was going to kill Jason.  Tim touched the small device in his ear, turning his mic on.  “Hood, I thought I told you to get her out of here.  You said you picked her up!”

He could hear the reverberations of round after round leaving the chamber while Jason replied, “the Little Pixie said she wouldn’t leave without you.  Screamed when I tried to touch her.  Figured as long as she stayed with me she’d be fine while we rescued your sorry a*.”

“Well she didn’t stay by your side, you arrogant jerk.”

“Oh don’t even Mr. I’m-going-to-work-with-The-League-of-Assassins-with-no-bad-consequences-directed-towards-me.  Seriously, what were you thinking ?”

Tim felt his jaw clench, shoulders tensing, as the memories of everyone telling him how he was crazy, how grief made him insane, how he simply wasn’t in his “right mind”.  No one would listen, no one trusted him, but he was right !  He knows that he’s right!  He didn’t respond.

“No excuse?  What, did you want a taste of what it’s like on the other side?  See what it’s like to-“

“ Shut up , Jason.  The only reason I called you is because you know this place better than the others and I trusted you to have this child’s best interest in mind.”

It was silent over the line, well except for the resounding bullets, but it didn’t last long.  “Let’s just get the h* out of here.”  And that was that. 

 A few minutes later, he found Jason surrounded by bodies of ninjas, surprisingly not bleeding out.  “Rubber bullets.”  Jason informed, “Kid doesn’t need to see that.”  Tim bites his lip before he can say: she’s already seen far worse .  Tim gave Jason a sharp nod, and they were moving out.  Tim followed closely behind Jason to wherever he had parked their getaway vehicle, hugging Marinette tighter to him as they ran.  He was honestly surprised to see one of the Batplanes carefully concealed behind the large jungle canopy.  He was honestly expecting to see one of Hood’s bikes.  He was even more so when he saw Babs waiving towards them in her wheelchair.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Boy Wonder .”  She shouted, her voice filled with so much unadulterated rage that Tim actually feared for his life for the first time that day.  He didn’t have time to hesitate though, who knew what or who was hiding in the jungle or coming after them.  Adjusting his grip slightly on Mari he ran the rest of the way to the plane only letting himself relax his grip when they were in the air and flying far away.  When he looked out the window, all he could see was Ra’s standing right where the plane had just taken off, sword raised in a challenge. If they had been even a few moments later, they might not have escaped.

“T-Tim?”  Marinette whispered into his ear, startling him slightly.  “Can I be put down now?”

“Yes, of course.”  Tim said, quickly setting her down before he kneeled in front of her so that he could check her over for any injury.  “Coming back for me was risky and irresponsible.  You could’ve gotten taken again. I don’t think I’d ever be able to live with myself if that happened.”  He stated as he patted her down, if one of those ninja hurt even a hair on her head he was going to-

“Ahem.”  Tim’s face shot up at the sound, forcing him to meet Barbara’s cold and curious eyes.  “Would you like to introduce us, and maaaybe explain why you’ve been radio silent for the past six months .  Tim glared at Babs, but she held his gaze.  

Sighing he turned away from her and looked at the small child, silent tears falling down her face.  Tim felt his shoulders fall.  He opened his arms and prayed that she wouldn’t flinch away from him like she had many other times before.  When Marinette flung herself into his arms, filling the cold void with her warmth while her tears soaked his robes, he couldn’t have felt more relieved.  

“I’m sorry for getting mad, Honey.  You scared me, and I just want you to be safe.  I-I never want you to go through what you went through there ever again.”  He whispered to her in French.

“You know what they did?”  She gasped back in her native tongue, her voice still so  broken and raspy.  “You took me away.”

Tears of his own fell down his cheeks as he lifted her off the ground.  “It’s okay baby, you’re safe now.”  He turned to look at Babs and Jason, who were looking away silently, giving them as much privacy as they could while still keeping an eye on the two.  “Hey, there’s some snacks in the back, do you want to grab some?”

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes before giving him a small nod.  Once her feet hit the floor, she moved to the back of the small plane where the small snack drawer sat.

“She was one of Ra’s experiments.”  Tim stated before either of the two could say anything, trying to discreetly wipe at his eyes while still watching the small girl.  “She’s a meta who has the ability of creation, very powerful.  Ra’s put her under hundreds of different experiments and documented the results, taking and using her blood to reverse the Lazarus Pit side effects before turning her into a human weapon..”

Tim took in a shaky breath, his heart melting when he saw Marinette’s wide eyes when she pulled a bag of pretzels.  She looked like she had just found lost treasure from an old chest.  “She was 7 when they took her, she was trapped there for 3 years.  Killed her parents and showed her the recording of their death to get the reaction they needed. I downloaded her entire file.  It should finish downloading onto your computer in the clock tower in the next half hour.”

Marinette raced over to him holding a small pack of chocolate covered pretzels while hugging a second one close to her chest.  Tim gently took it from her with a small, ruffling her hair in the process.  “Thanks Mari.  Why don’t you go sit down.  You never know when there will be turbulence.”  

Marinette hesitated, looking at him expectantly.  “I’ll join you soon.  I don’t plan to let you stay by yourself for very long.”  With one more silent nod she moved to the front of the plane where there were four seats available.

“Tim, you do realize you’re 19, right?”  Jason said, helmet and mask fully removed.  

“Yes?”

“Okay, so then what’s your plan here?  B’s not here to take her in,”  Tim flinched at that.  Bruce would be back, he would bring Bruce back!  “I don’t think Dickie will take her either what with the Demon Brat, I-“

“I’m not entrusting you with her.”  Jason shot him a sharp glare.

“Alright you dick, well what’s your plan then?”

“Well, I’m about as rich as Bruce, I am currently CEO of his company, and The Nest would only need to be restocked and a room redecorated…”  Tim started mumbling, mind starting to wonder as he thought of everything he would need to do to make The Nest more… child friendly.

Snap snap.   Startling back into the moment Tim glared at Babs for destroying his train of thought.  “Focus Tim.  So what I’m hearing is, you want to adopt her?”  She asked incredulously.

“Yes, as soon as I bring Bruce back.”  Tim agreed matter of factly causing both Jason and Barbara to flinch.

“Tim…” Babs began, her tone tired sounding.

“Don’t”, Tim growled startling all occupants on the plane, except Mari, she fell asleep.  Tim had changed a lot in the last six months, and he knew exactly what was needed of him.  

He was so close to finding Bruce.  He just needed to find one last piece of evidence and he’d be able to bring Bruce back.  Tim had found out that the man was stuck in a timestream and that he had been leaving clues that only Tim could find.  He was going to bring the closest thing he had to a father home, and nobody was going to stop him.

“I know he’s still alive, and I can prove it.  I have the files and physical proof to do so.  I’m not crazy!”  His breath was coming out in short puffs, his eyes were narrowed, and he could feel his clenched fist shaking at his side.  

“Okay, Tim.  We believe you.  Just calm down.”  Barbara began.  She was talking in her victim’s voice and while Tim hated that it was directed towards him, he couldn’t help but take a little comfort in the smoothness of her words.  Slowly he let himself relax, taking longer breaths as he calmed down.

“I’m fine.  Just drop me off in Uganda and make sure Marinette’s safe.  I’d prefer that you look after her,” he stated as he made eye contact with Babs, “keep her away from the Demon Brat and all.  But I understand if you truly, 100% without a doubt , believe that Dick would be able to care for her better until I return.”

“What about me?  I could watch the little pixie.”  Jason grumbled as he stared at the limp form of the small girl.

“I trust you about as much as I can throw you Jason.”  

“At least I know how to actually cook.”

“Boys.”

“I can learn!”  Tim replied indignantly.

“BoYs.”

“Not without burning down your entire kitchen you couldn-“

“BOYS!”

Both snapped their necks to look at Babs.  Letting out a long agitated sigh, “First of all, I’m not going to just drop you off in Uganda just for you to go off the radar again.”  Tim was about to protest but she held her hand up, silencing him.  “Before anything else is decided on I’m going to look through all of your evidence, then once we see that we can come to a decision on what happens next.  Does that sound fair?”

Tim wanted to argue more, force them to relent until they just did what he asked because he was so close .  But he held his tongue and gave a curt nod.  “Fine, but I’m going to go whether or not you believe me.”  Without another word he stalked over until he was sitting next to Marinette.  

He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her face soothed over in sleep, and her head was tilted so that it was leaning against her shoulder at an uncomfortable angle.  Gently, Tim guided her head until it rested against his chest.  He felt her stir slightly, but instantly relaxed when he began to run his fingers up and down her back.  Her hair was far too tangled and would definitely need a professional stylist to fix it before he felt comfortable enough running his fingers through it without causing any pain or discomfort.

When he looked up Babs and Jason were gone, the door to the cockpit left slightly ajar.  Tim squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a long sigh that rattled his bones.  With his free hand he rummaged through his leftmost bandolier and pulled out a small red button.  Opening his eyes he stared at the small device, a devious smirk forming on his lips as he pushed the button.

Long live The League of Assassins, and long may it burn.

All he needed to do now was free Bruce.  With that finished Tim closed his eyes, letting the gentle weight of Marinette comfort him as he let sleep finally take him over.  

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