#also DC please let him grow up I'm begging

[ft-nostalgia]

Happy birthday to one of the most characters I've ever seen, Tim Drake! Happy [REDACTED] birthday, Tim! Maybe soon you'll be old enough to drink!

[messenger-of-babel]

Always Late

Summary: Batman was late when you needed him the most, but he refused to let it happen again. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 4.5K (This was supposed to be a quick fic 💀)

Notes: BIG AUTHOR NOTE INCOMING Before anyone comes for me- I know this was supposed to be a day for Chris. I'm just feeling a touch sick but still want to get a fic out, and I'm currently not able to churn out and go through his, so I'll write some Chris later! Instead I wanted something else, consider it a change up to shake some life back into the theme. I also rambled hella long on this one, so strap in, it's long and the plot got lost in the maze of my mind. I had to shuffle things around and it just kept growing and growing, oh my god so I hope it makes sense to everyone still. Clark caemo, some (very??) OOC villain work cause I forgot some of my original plot and villains so begging on my knees for forgiveness fr. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ TORTURE DESCRPTION FOR SOME AREAS. I should have made this two parts but I messed up and made just one massive fic. Was supposed to be batfam x reader but it started feeling more like bruce x reader hahaha. RIP my sleep schedule please reap the benefits of my labour. 😭

Again I was originally here to be a resi blog but I can't help writing for DC after a day of reading comics. On that topic I actually finished collecting Tom Taylor's run at #118, my store held #119 for me so I get to read that as a reward after the hell that will be my Monday.

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When you were taken, it caused a widespread panic among Gotham.

Tabloids across the city wrote about the latest missing person, this time none other than the latest member of billionaire Bruce Wayne's family. The Gotham Gazette had been running articles about you for months already, including the scandal that had come with it. Your dirty laundry and past had been aired for the entire city to read and speculate upon. Whether Bruce had just adopted you out of pity, sympathising with the way that you had lost your parents the same way he had. Gossip about it could all be a ploy for him to expand his influence in Gotham, after the riches and estate that your family had left you behind in their untimely death. The city was thrown into chaos from the death of your parents, both of them from founding Gotham families and well-established lawyers. It was shaken more once the Wayne had taken you into his household, and now it was all but alight as you vanished.

Fingers pointed in every which way, your disappearance marking the fourth among affluent families in Gotham. Accusations had even been hurled at Bruce, claiming that he had killed you in order to gain your assets and the other missing people were to establish an alibi. After all, Bruce Wayne had no alibi for the night that you went missing.

But he had an alibi.

Bruce reflected upon that fact for three days already, while he tore his hair out trying to find you. He had been out in the city, patrolling as usual. The disappearances were the latest case, and he was determined to stop them before they continued. He had been so involved in the case, standing so close to the evidence that he didn't even consider the option that he himself would be affected, or consider the perpetrator might targe the Waynes. he hadn't expected to get a call from Alfred a little past midnight, the butler wheezing painfully into the receiver.

Blood freezing in his veins he had come home to an empty house, windows on the third story smashed in. Alfred was slumped by the phone, its sleek body hanging off the hook. Bruce had pulled the cowl off without a second thought, cradling the older man's head in his lap with shaky hands. He had relaxed slightly when there was a steady pulse under his fingers, and the tension eased further when the older man had opened his eyes.

"Alfred," Bruce had sighed out, moving the old man from his lap to against the wall, hand keeping him upright. "Are you okay-"

"They took them." came the old man's mumbled reply, and for a second Bruce's jaw just hung there.

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart thudding painfully against his ribs, panic rising once more.

"They came through the window, cut the lights. I pretended to be unconscious to use the phone line, but they came back. Cut it shortly after I rang you." the older man said, looking up with remorseful eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Wayne." he said forlornly. "I couldn't stop them."

Bruce looked down; jaw tensed. "It wasn't your fault." he said firmly, trying to quell the despair radiating off the old man.

"They took them kicking and screaming. I could hear them the entire time, but I couldn't do anything I-"

"Alfred." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred it's okay. Let me handle it, you go make some tea." he said, helping the old man stand up.

"Tea, yes, yes that's right..." the butler murmured to himself, hand to his head. "It's been a while since you asked me for tea, sir."

"It's not for me." Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on. "It's for you. make yourself some tea and we'll patch you up. Take it easy tonight, wait for the shock to wear off."

Alfred looks at him, hesitating, but eventually nods. "We, sir?"

Bruce hums, fists at his side. "Yes. This case has escalated. It's time to request help."

He keeps his voice level as he walks away, but Alfred notes the way that he turns the corner, and the anger put into his stride.

When he gets to the cave he wastes no time, calling in everyone he can think of. His chest feels tight, breath short as his vision swims. Every signal he can send he does, the blurring in his eyes seeping into his mind too. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to calm it but to no avail. It's only when the ringing of the Batcomputer cuts through the fog that he is able to look up, shaking fingers hitting the accept call button.

"Batman?" comes the crackly voice of Nightwing, and the fog begins to clear slightly.

"Nightwing." he says back gruffly, voice hoarse.

"About time, you were making people pretty worried, you know." Dick chides, and there's the sound of yapping in the background. "What's the brief? What's happened?"

"Kidnapping." he says, voice thick. "Broke into the manor. Alfred is likely to be concussed, but it shouldn't be too serious. He's making tea, Robin is out on the other side of the city tonight. Red Robin is with you, isn't he?"

There's more shuffling on the other end before Dick responds. "Yeah, he's been helping in Bludhaven, he came last night."

"Bring him. Bring Oracle too. Everyone...come home." he murmurs, hands shaking as he tries to think clearly.

"Bruce, is everything okay with you?" Dick comes in, concern evident.

"Fine. I need people back immediately. Why?" he huffs back, rubbing the spots from his eyes with his fingers.

"Because we've all been trying to call you for the last few minutes. This is the first time you've picked up."

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hadn’t realised how badly he had spaced out. "It's an emergency. They...they’re gone. They need to come home."

"The new kid?" Dick breathes. "Wait, you mean-"

Bruce nods even though he knows his eldest cannot see him. "Gone. Now come back and come back tonight." he ends the call before Dick can say anything else, and his tired eyes scan the monitor filled with a string of outgoing distress calls and an equally large number of missed ones. In his haze he had pressed every com line he had. He had pinged Jason, he had pinged Dick. Hell, he had even pinged the League and Clark, who hadn't even bothered to call for clarity, his response status just reading, 'On my way'.

He held his head in his hands, breaths laboured.

Bruce had held his own reservations when adopting you. He knew about the media uprising that it would cause, the rumours that were sure to fly. He had known what kind of mental state that would put you in, how it would angle you in a whole new world of cameras, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen you while in the suit, and maybe he had taken you in to make himself feel better. For not catching the person who had killed your parents, arriving too late. He had been training for this his entire life, it was his entire mission in Gotham, yet he couldn't stop the very crimes that had put him on this path.

If he had been faster maybe he could have saved your parents, disarming the man with the knife before it plunged into the chest of your father. Maybe he could have arrived faster so that he could have caught the offender that robbed your mother before giving her the same treatment and fleeing into the night. Instead, he was only there fast enough for him to hear you scream as your parents collapsed to the floor. He was there as you cried and shook them and tried to stop the blood spilling through your fingers, but you were unsure where to start. After all, how can someone make a decision between stopping the flow seeping from their father’s chest and the one from their mother’s throat?

He had been there to pull you away, was there to catch the last dying light of your father as he stroked your cheek before making eye contact with Bruce. "Look after my kid." he had whispered, something Bruce had nearly missed under all your screaming. Bruce pulled you away while he called for the GCPD, and from one father to another, he made sure to keep that promise.

Your relationship had been rough, clearly distraught at the way you lost your parents. You were older than he was when the same had happened, but you were still young. You had clung to Bruce the day he said he was going to take you in, and he had managed to soothe you with a soft hand up and down your back. Yet as the tabloids got worse and the gossip began to grow, you began pulling away from him and seeking the comfort of your room instead. He had done his best to protect you from the media, paying money to have articles removed and when that didn't work, he threatened to sue. It made the Gazette pull their head in a bit, but it still failed to be enough. Evidently, as there was now an empty bedroom on the third floor of the east wing.

All he could do was sigh and blink away the images of the children he had hurt, in the name of Robin or otherwise. He had to rub away the death of Jason that he reflected on in sombre moments when he thought no one was looking. He had gotten you into this mess, attached you with his name and all of its subsequent burdens. So, it was his duty to get you back and get you back safe.

Yet three days later, he had nothing.

The cave had been a buzz of activity for all three days, and Bruce, no, Batman, was acting close to a slave driver. Tim and Barbara hadn't left the caves computers in days, Damian and Steph constantly scouring the rooftops. Dick was concerned, hell, everyone was. Even the gruff Jason had been called in, and reluctantly he had answered.

"You find anything?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall with his younger brother. Jason was still suited up, coming back from the patrol around Bristol area. He removes the mask and shakes his hair free, sighing.

"Nothing. Areas come up empty. No sign of 'em."

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. "God, there's nothing on my end either. The Docks and all Southside of Gotham are clean, no traces. Any signs pointing to who it could be?"

Jason shrugs, helmet tucked under his arm. "No idea, as it stands, the kid's just gone missing. If Bruce isn't able to scrounge up a lead, I doubt I will. Not my forte. He should give Tim a break and send him out."

"Yeah, like he'll do that. He's got him tied to cave duty." Dick scoffs back. He feels bad, talking like your kidnapping was a causal affair. He didn't treat it like one, his heart stuttering when Bruce had called him in a haze and all shaken. It didn't a genius to see how attached Bruce had gotten to you in such a short amount of time, but sometimes Dick worried that Bruce was projecting his own trauma onto you. But still you were his younger sibling, a part of the family now. He had met you with a warm smile and a gentle hand the day that you moved in, coming in from Bludhaven to make the house a bit more lively while you got settled in. God, he knew what it was like moving in alone into that empty house, with only Bruce and Alfred to warm the halls. He had eaten dinner with you, took you out for walks in the garden when your grief allowed you move more than a few paces. He did his absolute best, and he knew that with time he could be a big brother to you.

Yet you hadn't been given the time, snatched away before Christmas even hit. He doubted you knew that Bruce was the Batman, or that the rest of the family had an interesting array of night lives.

Jason was the same in the way that he hadn't interacted with you much.

Honestly, he was awkward with kids, since the last kid of Bruce's he had met was the devil spawn who spat at him like an angry cat every chance he got. You were thankfully much older and easier to understand, but that still didn’t mean smooth sailing. Jason hated even coming back to the manor, and he and Bruce had been having one of their ongoing fights during the time he took you in, meaning he missed seeing you often. Yet he still talked to Dick (more so that Dick called him to make sure that he was okay) and the older man had seen you plenty. He felt like he knew you from Dick alone, but he wasn't oblivious to your story printed in the newspapers shoved under his apartment door. He pitied you, understood the grief that you must have been going through at the sudden violence that tossed your little world upside down. Sure, you had gone from luxury to luxury, but Gotham was unkind to everyone. it was the same violence that Jason strode to clean off the street, and his heart ached deep down that someone like you had managed to get caught in its claws.

"Do you think it could be the clown?" Dick asks quietly. "He'd do something as ballsy as this."

Jason tenses, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not likely. That bastard likes to make a spectacle of things. No doubt he would have contacted the Bat the second he took the first victim or aired it like some twisted game show. It's not like him to lay quiet."

"So, it's someone else. It's unnatural for Gotham's villains to do something in the dark like this. I mean, it's been three days since they were abducted, and they're the fourth kidnap victim. There hasn't been a ransom note, a demand, a body. Not a peep for any of the captives. It's unnatural."

Jason hums in agreement, but they both jump as Bruce storms through grandfather clock entrance.

Everyone present turns, watching how Clark trails after him. Five sets of eyes watch the livid way the Bat cuts a path through the cave and gets into the batmobile, breaths too anxious to be released. Without a word the car screams out of the cave, and they all turn to Clark. Barbara casts a glance to Tim and then to Dick, who just shrugs, worry deepening on his face.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason growls, pushing off from the wall. Clark turns to face him, dressed in his Superman suit.

"We’ve found them." Clark says, face grim, and Dick shares a look with Jason. However, when Dick meets the eyes of Superman, he can see the flicker of worry in the Kryptonian. "Well let's get going then. Why did he leave alone?" Dick asked, slipping the domino mask back onto his face. Clark opens his mouth to speak but is cut off as Damian steps out behind his broad figure.

"Because it's the League." the younger boy says, green eyes boring in Dick's. "It's grandfather."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Bruce drove like his life depended on it, which wasn't fair when it was yours on the line instead. He could see the dots on his monitor indicating that the others were following him, and he had assumed that Clark had proceeded to fill them in. He had asked his old friend to look after the city while he sped towards the outskirts, just in case the League decided to do something while he had his guard on the city lowered. His com crackled to life, radio filling the otherwise silent car.

"Oi." snapped the voice of Red Hood, modulated and grainy. "Don't leave without telling us what's going on. Aren't you the one always spewing that 'feel-no-emotion' bullshit? To not let it cloud your judgement? Cause from the way I see it, you're acting kinda hazy."

"I trusted Clark would fill you in." he says back, voice tense. Red Hood scoffs.

"Yeah, and he did. You called us. You tell us what the hell you want us to help with, otherwise don't bother calling at all. Don't drag us out, get us invested then not let us help when it comes to it. What was your plan, beat the shit out of Ras and taken them back by yourself?"

Bruce falls silent, and there's a slight huff from Jason on the other end.

"Honestly? not the worst plan you've had, and I respect the enthusiasm, but you still should have looped us in. I want to get a hit in too."

Bruce turns his head to the direction of the radio, snapped from his concentration on the road momentarily and it's like Jason can feel his confusion through the commlink.

"Don't give me that silence." he groans. "They're family, aren't they? I'm not opposed to a younger sibling, you know." he huffs irritably. "But do me a favour and control Nightwing, hey? He's looking as coiled as you. You might have to fight him for the first hit."

Bruce doesn’t say anything before the comm cuts off, leaving him in the silence once more and eyes going straight back onto the red dot mapped onto his GPS. You.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

When you awoke the first time, you couldn’t feel anything. Your hands were tied to your ankles behind you, black cloth wrapped around your eyes. what you did know was that you were lying somewhere concrete, face pressed into the dusty cement. You knew that on the day that you woke and they had brough you were, that there were other people thrown in the same cell as you. You also knew that those other people were dead.

You had heard them scream, heard the way that they begged for their lives when they were dragged from the pen you were in. One a day, until you were left alone with no one to talk to. They had all been kidnapped like you, affluent people that you recognised the names and voices of. You had heard some of them at events you parents had hosted and attended, and when you traded names, they had remembered you immediately. You weren't dumb, you knew that you had all been taken here because you were rich. That was the only thing that you had in common with the heiresses and finance brokers that had shared the cells with you, huddled up against the cool metal.

Now the only thing left was you and the stickiness that crept under the bars of your cage, grateful that the blindfold was on so you didn't have to see what it was. At first you thought that you were alone, that your captors had left, but you knew better. You could sense them all around you, quiet and watching. They were like an uncomfortable prickling on your neck, the ghost of fingertips across your skin. Yet the hours and minutes had bled into days, and now you didn’t care if they were there or not.

You knew that they wanted to kill you. They had killed the rest. You had been given small amounts of food and water the first day or two, but today there had been none. Your mouth was dry as you lay on your side, lips cracking with the desire to drink. Your throat felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, and the silence that you were met with when you called out only made your panic and helplessness rise. You had lost the ability to cry, body sluggish. It felt like everything was shutting down, the pain in your stomach unbearable and tongue heavy in your mouth. As the heat crept in and pulled sweat from your unwilling skin, you began wishing that they would kill you.

You supposed that your wish was answered when the creak of your cell signalled one of your silent observers had come for you, and the tug on the ropes binding your limbs together made you lurch forward. You kept your face pressed down, too weak to struggle against them as they dragged you out and gripped your hair, making you shift onto your knees at an awkward angle. For the first time in days, you heard someone speak.

" So, this is Bruce's new...child." Your captor hummed. You could hear the way that their boots scuffed as they walked, coming to stand in front of you. You could faintly feel the swish of fabric, long and tickling the floor. "I wonder if he was planning to hand the title of Robin over so soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your barely functioning brain fails to process what he's saying.

"Are you aware of your family's lineage?" comes the voice from above you, commanding and deep with a hint of something malicious in the undertone, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. “Your real family, the ones who claimed to practice a just and fair law. Not Wayne.”

 You manage to shake your head weakly, grimacing as the image of your parents covered in blood flickered into your mind.

The voice above you tuts. "The sins of the father shall be bestowed upon the son," he recites softly. "And you are to pay the penance. Gotham will be purged, and the bloodlines of the corrupt shall be the first to burn, aware of their sins or not."

You don't even get a chance to ask what he's saying, the words sounding like biblical rambling. A scream is ripped through your throat instead as a sharp hot pain erupts through your shoulder, the sound of your own skin bubbling making you sick. You wail, body aching to thrash but the fatigue and weakness preventing you from doing such. The hands on your shoulders hold you still as the sensation is repeated across your body, stray tears leaking from your eyes despite your dehydrated state. It's only when you feel like you’re about to cross over, embrace the light spilling behind your eyes that you realise that the hands have left your body and that you're lying face down, discarded on the concrete floor.

You can feel the ache all over your body, a stinging and writhing pain that makes your whimper involuntarily. You can now make out that there is sound around you, echoing off the empty walls and causing your head to throb after days of silence.

For Bruce however, the world was silent despite being in the thick of the fight. They had pulled up the abandoned building on the edge of Gotham and Bludhaven, thankfully located by Clark and his x-ray vision after days of searching. He had stormed into the building with Dick, Jason, and Tim on his heels, his hands filled with a shake only the trained eye could determine as rage. The world had dripped into the pulsing cadence of his heartbeat as soon as he saw you, kneeling at Ra’s feet and being held by league assassins. He had hardly any time to process the way that you curled up and into yourself when you were dropped so carelessly, head thudding lifelessly against the floor. Forlorn, he eyed the way your body was covered with cuts and stabs, burns from the red-hot sword still held in the hands of a soldier. He hadn't known when the league had decided to dabble in torture, but Bruce felt like joining that night.

Jason and Tim were dealing with the assassins, the younger male finally freed from desk duty. He didn't know you as well as he would have liked considering that you lived under the same roof as him, but you had been warming up. He had really hoped that you could get along, but now he feared that this was going to push your back into the shell you had just started to crack, and that frustration was evident in the whistling of his bow staff as it cut through the air.

Dick had gone after Ra’s immediately while Batman raced for you, Dicks escrima sticks going for the head. Dick was fast and agile, muscles more tensed than usual as he sent well placed blow after blow. Yet Bruce wasn’t an idiot, he knew the limits of him and his team, and he knew the limits of Ra’s. That's why in what limited time that Dick bought for him he dropped to your side, slicing through your bonds with a batarang and letting your arms and legs fall free from their cramped position behind you. You groan lightly as he cradles you to his chest, weakly crying out as he justles the many wounds. He loosens the blindfold from your eyes, and your blink up at him a few seconds later, squinting against the light.

Your skin is sticky with blood both your own and not, flecked across the apple of your cheeks. He eyes the burns, the warped and rippled skin that blistered angrily and would surely get infected if not treated soon. He observes the many cages set up in the corner, the one he presumes was yours wide open and empty. He feels sick seeing the dead bodies in the other ones, imagining that it could have been you in there, dead like some caged animal for slaughter.

You make a weak whimper when he stands, and he has half a mind to join Nightwing in beating Ras so badly he'd need to use the pit again.

But he doesn’t.

He rises to his feet with you in his arms, and he calls for a retreat. You cry and moan as he hurries out, Jason and Tim covering your exit while Dick flips into the rafters and out of range of the Demon Head. He wants to fight; he wants to put them in their place for hurting his family. But the moment he had met your eyes again, it was like that day in the alleyway. You had seen him as Batman too that day, but as he laid you hurriedly in the back of the batmobile and patched Oracle in to prep the med bay, he knew that something was different from that night.

Because unlike the day you lost your parents, he had made it in time.

[thatwritterbeach]

So about that alley .5

Jason todd x ofc Alex

Dc master list EVERY OTHER PART FOUND HERE

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up

****HEY LOOK HERE this part only, noncon touching, not in an assault way, Jason wakes Alex up with his hand in her pants, could be triggering to some, not a fan of it myself. Yes they are dating, yes they have had sex, but an unconscious person CAN NOT consent regardless of the relationship, unless explicit consent was given prier to event with specifics talked about. Additional warning under cut, also this part only is hurt no comfort the comfort will be later cuz I'm evil

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, smut, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, guided masturbation?, p in v (not overly described), pain during s*x, hiding said pain, hickeys?, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss, blood, mention of suicide none descript

A/N: I do not own dc booho

Alex is undrugged for this part and Jason hurts her during sex because of her vaginismus, blood from penetration. We all know J has a big dick, like look at the man, so normal healthy people would struggle to take him, there's no way I, as a person with this condition, could begin to handle him. Like i said before it's hard to explain the feeling to someone without it, but think of getting a Brazilian for like 30 min straight, and if you're a dude (odd thing to read but whatevs) it prob feels like getting kicked it the nuts for 30 min

The feeling of fingers on her skin tickled the back of her mind and woke her from her none committed relationship with death. She panicked for a moment before it registered as Jason and she relaxed keeping her eyes closed. He was drawing circles on her hips hand tucked into her loose sleep shorts. It was still dark out and she planned to go back to sleep letting him draw on her if he wished but his hand shifted to her center and his middle finger eased into her folds to play with her clit.

"Jay, I'm tired." Still she didn't open her eyes.

"Hmm, go back to sleep baby, just need to touch you, had a bad dream," he rasped in his morning voice.

"Let me freshen up first," she whispered trying to roll out of bed but he quickly moved his hand to her stomach holding her in place.

"Please stay, don't care about morning breath," he whined resting his head on her chest and resuming his slow touches. Shit, her heart rate was spiking.

"It'll just take a second," she reasoned.

"No," he begged. Crossing her fingers he would be content to just make slow circles on her clit until he fell back to sleep she agreed to stay. Regardless of her apprehension she was quickly growing wet, Jason's slow teasing making her want to buck into his hand. Deciding she was slick enough he used his foot to nudge her legs further apart and sank a digit into her.

"So tight baby. Need to relax," he cooed into her skin pumping his finger in and out in that same slow lazy manner. The stretch burned enough to make her blink back tears and she had to work to keep her legs open, focusing on her breathing. "Gotta stretch you out for me," he said adding a second finger and curling them against her g spot. The feeling of pain and pleasure was enough to make her feel bile at the back of her throat and she started to sweat. With his face buried into her neck he was missing every cue of her discomfort. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood she managed to cover up a cry with a fake moan and he rolled her onto her side throwing her leg over his hip and moving her shorts to sink into her. She hadn't even noticed he was nude. The intrusion forced a sob out of her and she pushed at his chest in shock.

"Stop, Jay, fuck, red, please, stop, stop!" She was full on sobbing now, gasping in pain and shoving at his chest her body too panicked to reason with. He had frozen at her first cry and was trying in vain to grab her hands and calm her down.

"What's wrong, what did I do baby, what did I do," he was begging starting to slide out to give her space but her pained 'stop' made him freeze again.

"Don't move, don't move, fuck, please-just stop!"

He was in full panic mode his own eyes filling with tears as he tried to soothe her, hands floundering around her not wanting to cause her more pain. Her hands stopped their assault on his chest to sink her nails into the flesh desperately trying to get her breathing under control.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he was saying over and over running his hands through her hair and down her side not even wincing as her nails broke the skin. With a forced exhale she moved to get him out of her and rolled out of his arms to get off the bed. The small nightlight she insisted on was casting enough of a glow for him to take in her state. Hair a reckless knot, cheeks soaked with tears, and eyes wide in panic. She shuddered and took off to the bathroom before he could get his limbs to function and made it to the door right after she clicked the lock in place. He thunked his head against the shitty fake wood, that he could blow down if he wanted, but she was scared and in pain, because of him so if she wanted the privacy he sure as hell wasn't about to point that out.

"I'm so sorry, please just...talk to me."

"I'm fine," she insisted with a shaky voice. lies.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just give me a minute," she resisted the urge to growl at him yanking supplies out of their hiding spot and filling her syringe with rehearsed precision. She was eerily silent as she situated her self on the toiled to inject between her toes. (I don't do drugs folks and didn't want that in my search history so I'm guessing here) The quiet made him panic and he barely had to try to shove his shoulder into the door and pop it open.

"What the fuck!" They both yelled. His eyes took in the needle and the small amount of blood making it's way down her inner thigh and didn't know what to do. In the face of the worst criminals of Gotham he didn't blink, but this, in the bathroom at 6 am with his precious girlfriend injecting herself with Lord knows what after he made her bleed, he was lost. He needed help damn it. Like he wasn't even there, she finished what she was doing and calmly went through the process of cleaning everything and disposing of the used needle.

"What the fuck," he whispered this time hands stretched out towards her that were shaking.

"I said I was fine."

"What the fuck, you're not fine, what are you using," he demanded. He knew he was being too loud, knew he was shaking like a leaf and looking like a rage machine but he couldn't be calm, he couldn't.

"It's morphine, I use it for my migraines." She was so fucking calm it was pissing him off.

"I hurt you that bad," he was gonna kill himself, that's it, he was jumping in front of a train and ending the monster that he clearly was.

"No Jay." lies.

"I did, you're bleeding!"

"That happens sometimes it's ok." Like hell she was gonna comfort him when he hurt her.

"It doesn't-" he started to say before his brain caught up. The night she stitched him up, the story she told him about being assaulted.

"Fuck you lied to me," he ground out running a hand down his face trying to control the anger. "This whole fucking time you've been shooting up because I've been hurting you." His nerves couldn't take this. For weeks he'd been forcing her to drug herself because she thought he would break up with her without sex. (he wasn't forcing her but his anxiety ridden, self-hating brain was too far gone for rational thought)

"It's ok," she said again, grabbing his hands in her own and trying to convince him.

"I don't-I can't-how-I can't do this," he growled yanking his hands from hers and stomping back into her room to get dressed.

"What are you doing," she asked trying to grab him.

"Out, I need air," he snapped shaking her off of him and rushing out the door slamming it behind himself.

"Why," she whispered into the empty room tears starting down her face again.

He'd at least had the sense to grab his phone and sent a quick text in the group chat demanding someone go sit with her while he was out. Dick was the first to reply having been up to catch a train back to Bludhaven.

*I'll be there in 10 what happened* -Dickhead

*I'm a POS that's what happened* -Jaybird

*make that 5* - Dickhead

Needing to beat the shit out of something he went to his place to suit up and headed out to crime alley.

Alex had managed to shower and get dressed in loose flannel pants and a button up, Jason's, and curled herself up on the couch laying on her side from the ache between her legs while the tv played early morning cartoons. She was at least done crying, simply sitting in stunned silence while her brain moved far too fast for comfort. Her hands itched to grab her blade and slice into her flesh but Jason could be back at any second, even though she knew he wouldn't but she didn't need to give him any more reason to hate himself. Even if this was all her fault.

"Knock knock," a voice said through her window.

"Go away, Dick."

"No can do," he said landing without a sound on her floor. She needed to sweep she thought in passing as his shoes scuffed along the old boards.

"He sent you," she said, not a question.

"He did."

"Great, mean he won't be back for a while, maybe...48 hours before his damn head is back on."

"Yep," he replied picking up her legs to make room for himself on the couch then set her feet in his lap. His eyes were tracking the tv while he rubbed circles into one of her ankles wanting to fill the silence but having no idea where to start. Hell he doesn't even know what they had a fight about, surely Jason would get his head out of his a-

"He's not gonna keep me," she whispered so low he almost didn't hear her.

"What, no he loves you, why would you even think that?"

"I lied...a big lie."

"Did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Are you secretly married?"

"No."

"Did you cheat?"

"No."

"Then it's fixable," he said with such certainty it almost made her cry again.

"Not this time."

8-16-24 (see masterlist for more

[equal-shipping]

Why Kaishin Still Holds Up, Even Now.

I FINALLY watched the 23rd Detective Conan and let me tell you what...

Why are there not more episodes with these two working so closely together? Like please?! They got that solved so quickly and just shared information with one another and can I please just have them interact before the series ends pleaaaaaase.

Yet I'm not here for begging. I'm here to rant and cleverly disguise that rant as an essay.

I want to rant about trust in Detective Conan (specifically with a look at Kaishin) and the Enemies turned Rivals turned Friends turned Lovers trope.

[Mild Spoilers Ahead]

Trust as a Driving Force in Detective Conan

If someone asked me what is one of the many driving forces in the DC plot as well as the cornerstone of many of the relationships in DC it would be trust. Most of the characters in DC are living their lives with lies as the foundation of who they present themselves to be.

And here is something that I love about the relationship these two have with one another:

The trust that Shinichi has on Kid was earned and vice versa.

I don't think that Shinichi thinks that Kaito Kid is the most honest person in the world, but he does know that the magician works by a code and he trusts him to not put someone in any immediate danger despite the fact that Kaito Kid does not inherently talk too deep about his heists with him.

Ask yourself this. Where in canon did it say that in Kid's heist nobody gets hurt by Kid? I've read the manga and nowhere does he really say 'this is a safe show for everybody!' Let me tell you where it says it: Nowhere.

So why do we all assume it to be that way? Because even we have trust in our favourite thief that he won't do something to actively hurt someone. Since the story is being told in Shinichi's point of view, most of the times, we can rely on the trust that Shinichi has placed on Kid to not get anyone hurt.

One big example of this would be in the Detective Conan Movie: The Sunflowers of Inferno:

Leaving Ran in Kid's care is a conscious decision he is doing despite the fact that he doesn't know if Kid is even going to make it out. Shinichi loves Ran probably more than he loves himself and he wants her out of danger enough to place trust in someone that, situation wise, has no business whether Ran or Shinichi live or not. I honestly think that even Kid was surprised that Shinichi made that decision.

Now I'm not going to put my shipper goggles when I make this statement and go 'OH MY GOD THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH IT SHOWS IT EVERYWHERE. LOOK AT THE SHOW, STUPID."

But these two have something that not many of the characters in DC have and that is a mutual trust without knowing all the details of their lives.

Kaito happened to guess that Conan was Shinichi and I doubt that Shinichi is going to meet Kuroba Kaito by the end of the series. These two barely know each other but through their interactions just happen to understand each other enough to work together amazingly when thrust into a situation where they have to help each other out.

Which brings me to the second thing I want to talk about.

My Enemy Went From Being My Rival to My Friend to my Lover, What Happens Now?

I want to break into Gosho's house and ask him to please let Kaito Kuroba meet Shinichi Kudou. Like this is such a might need that I'm almost scared of looking forward to the ending of DC because I just have a feeling it isn't going to happen.

I might also ask him why the hell every side character needs a romance subplot but that is neither here nor there.

But now that the ships have been decided and canon has sealed the final nail on everything, I just want to talk about the trope that makes Kaishin just so amazing for me.

If I am remembering my facts right, Magic Kaito came before Detective Conan. Kaito was a realized character, somewhat, and was clearly a very likable chara with a ridiculous high IQ and a secret he couldn't reveal to anybody.

I mean he's a goddamn beautiful man is what I'm trying to say.

When I first read the series I could immediately tell that Aoko was set to be the romantic interest, Gosho really ain't fooling nobody. She seemed cute, extroverted and a girl who seems to really care for Kaito. Of course there was the juicy tidbit of Kaito being the thief her father is hunting down that also kept the relationship interesting.

So I was more than okay with having these two together.

I was already a bit aware of Detective Conan so I was all for the ShinRan as well. The pining, the secrets, the care that Shinichi has for her that transcends the organizations doing!

Also fun fact: Kaito/Aoko was the basis for Shinichi/Ran! Which is why ShinRan is thematically better than Kaito/Aoko but I will not go into that.

So one sad day during quarantine, I decided to rewatch the series to see if I could get any writing inspiration.

Now I don't know if it was quarantine or a change of heart or just me growing up but Gosho's friend trope seemed boring to me the more the episodes continued on. I AM NOT THROWING THE FRIENDSHIP TROPE DOWN, IT IS BEAUTIFUL I STILL SHIP SHINRAN

But I was tired of picking vanilla and wanted to see what else was on the menu.

And as luck would have it, I had decided to watch episode 515: Kaito Kid's Teleportation Magic and fate decides to deliver me a wonderful hit to the heart:

What is it about characters pointing guns at each other that I love so much?

And Shinichi doesn't react like a normal fucking person he just goes:

He knows this man ain't gonna shoot. They have had five interactions before this (if we are going by anime episodes) and through all those interactions Shinichi managed to get to a level of banter with this guy that he hasn't had with any of his other enemies.

If he even considered Kaito Kid an enemy to begin with.

Both Kaito and Shinichi have a mutual respect for each other's skill.

They test each other out in several situations and are pleased when the other figures it out, kinda transitioning their little chases to more of a 'two really smart guys trying to outwit each other' and less of a detective trying to outsmart a thief.

Shinichi enjoys figuring out his magic and Kaito enjoys the challenge of making some of his magic tricks near impossible to figure out. Their friendship is something really special and if they can have it without even knowing the details of each other's life, imagine how strong it would be if they truly met each other face to face.

I don't really want to cross into headcanon territory that would turn them into lovers, lord knows we have more fanfiction to do so, but it is just wonderful to see these two men both living a lie respectively but finding some solace in each other that they can shut their brains off for one second and just...play.

Hell, Kid's heists might be Shinichi's safe place. In those heists he is known as the 'Kid Killer' and not just some brat who happens to figure shit out. His opinion matters in those heists.

And not just to the police, but to Kaito as well.

BUT IM GETTING OFF TOPIC!

I just wanted to show love to this wonderful ship q wq