#and something in bruce irreversibly broke that night

[logicallyblind]

bruce and jason’s relationship dynamic is so, so important to me while simultaneously makes me want to tear out my hair with my bare hands and scream into a pillow oh my god-

[th3sp4rr0w]

Chapter Sixteen

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Sixteen Amputation/Chronic Pain/Hospital

Alt. Prompt For Day Sixteen Lab Rat

Prompts Used for Day Sixteen Amputation, Hospitals

Tw's; Medical Experimentation, Amputation, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Dissociation, Vomit *Note; The amputation happens on screen. If you cannot handle that sort of content right now, please don't read.

(If you saw this post before the edit no you didn't)

Chapter Sixteen under the cut :)

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

Becoming Robin had been a dream. It hadn’t been something entirely positive at first, and he’d struggled. Some days felt harder than others. But having the chance to change what it meant to be the Boy Wonder? That had been the dream.

Being from the alley had meant a lot for kids like him, especially after his mom died. It meant that most adults weren’t to be trusted. It meant cold nights and shoplifting food and medicine when he needed it. It meant stealing tires until he was old enough to be trusted to do other things.

It especially meant avoiding any ‘hero’ types that thought dropping kids off in the foster system was helping. It wasn’t helping. It was taking them from everything they’d ever known, leaving behind siblings and family members for no good reason and going somewhere that, no matter how they tried to paint it, was worse than living on the streets. Most of the foster families he’d ever had were just power-hungry adults that thought that every foster kid they had should be kissing their heals just because they decided they knew better.

He changed that. Batman and Nightwing knew that the kids Jason interacted with couldn’t be touched, not without him losing his mind. They’d only tried once, when he was shiny and new. After weeks of tantrums and yelling and sneaking around, he’d tracked every kid down to make sure they were alright and broke the ones that didn’t want to be there out. Alfred made them have a talk after that stunt. He chewed out Dick and Bruce, to his surprise, and they compromised. The alleys were Jason’s, for the most part. Bruce would help any kid that wanted out, and vetted the foster homes they went to himself, with Jason helping.

The people of the alley loved him. He knew them, he breathed them- he'd been marked in a way that was irreversible and he wore it with pride. It’d been a dream come true to protect them, to serve them; that was the part he’d loved the most.

He’d never once wondered if it was worth it. Questioned if he was making a mistake. He never thought he’d be wondering that because of a situation he was in; he always thought he’d be wondering that one day because of a casualty or something.

Sitting here, curled on a cot with a twin he’d never known existed until a few weeks ago and hadn’t met until... a day ago? Several days ago?

Time was so weird here. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a technique in torture to deny your victim access to time. He’d always thought that was stupid. Surely it couldn’t have been that bad. He’d never known how disorientating it would feel.

He looked over to Phantom, who was still asleep. It’s been... at least a day, he thinks, since they were given the tablets and Phantom got muzzled. They’ve healed nearly completely; even the bruise on Phantom’s head he’d come in with that had remained stubborn had dissipated. His hand healed, which was a little freaky but he’d take it. The only thing that they’d done is have Agent J come in periodically to take photos and leave.

He thinks, vaguely, somewhere in him he should be grateful that nothing had happened since then. He was relieved, somewhere deep down, but mostly he was suspicious and terrified. It felt like they were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time they picked up the jingle of keys was like hearing something growling in the bushes during a camping trip. Would this be the time? Is this how it ends? Would he ever get to say goodbye to his loved ones?

He held Phantom’s hand tight. He’d been trying to reach Ellie, but he hadn’t even gotten a message back yet. He was beginning to worry about her. Hell, Jason had never met the little girl and he was worried about her.

He heard the jingle. He quickly shook Phantom awake as the doorknob started to move.

Phantom had already gotten better at bolting up and pretending he wasn’t rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jason would probably feel bad about that if it wasn’t such a valuable resource.

Agent J walked in with Agent V in tow. They looked at the boys, their hands linked, bodies tensed.

“We are moving you,” they stated coldly. “You’ve been cleared for further testing.”

Agent V walked over, holding two chains. She clipped them to their collars, holding them both in one hand. She began walking.

They had no choice but to follow.

Disbelief-Annoyance-Humiliation

“Same,” he thought to himself. Didn’t Phantom say simple words could travel through this link?

He got an idea. He concentrated hard.

Woof

Shock-Amusement-Disbelief

He could feel Phantom shaking with restrained laughter. Jason didn’t dare look over at him, attempting to control himself.

The agents led them through what Jason suspected was designed to be an intentionally confusing winding path of hallways. Every step brought more dread pooling into his gut, even despite his attempt at humor. He had a sneaking suspicion Danny felt similar. It was never a good sign to have two heroes getting the same bad feeling.

When they got to the room the agents were leading them to, they saw two different cots. He recognized several medical machines, like EKG’s and heart monitors and I.V. bag infusers ready and set up. There were gauze and suture kits lined up on the table. They had a covered cart of unknown medical supplies at the ready. They had a crash cart sitting to one side.

He really didn’t have a good feeling about this.

 “You’ve healed enough that we feel it wise to start testing your more human sides,” Agent J was saying. “Subject F, over here,” they patted the cot to the left, “Subject T is over here,” they pointed to the right.

They looked at each other. Phantom shrugged and went over to the left cot. Jason went over to the right.

The chain yanked uncomfortably until Agent J removed it with a huff. “Honestly, Agent V, how many times do I need to remind you? You need to be anticipating what I want and displays of negligence to your post like this are unbecoming, especially for an agent of your standing.”

Agent V noticeably twitched. “Yes, boss. My apologies,” they grit out.

Jason took a deep breath, looking over to Phantom. They didn’t know what to expect out of this.

Agent J started digging into the cart, audibly shifting things around. When they popped back up, Agent V had a tape recorder out and ready.

They smiled. “See! Was that so hard, Agent V? That’s all I ask; for you to anticipate instead of sitting there looking, well... as pretty as you can.”

Jason took a deep breath. That was a low blow. How did these guys treat actual people if this was how they were treating each other?

Agent V apparently felt similar because she growled a bit under her breath as Agent J snatched the ancient device out of her hand. Didn’t Dick have one of those when he was a kid? Gross.

“Log 39 on subjects F and T,” they stated, “This is Agent J speaking, here with Agent V. We’ve gotten the green light for several experiments we’ve been wanting to run. We will be doing several small-scale experiments today, results pending. The results of those experiments will influence the total number of experiments and the intensity. We have agents L through P on standby in case there are any more incidents, as these two seem to be prone to when under duress.

“The first experiment today will be using sanguis surrexerunt, commonly known as ‘blood blossoms’. The flower is rare but has been used throughout history to ward off ghosts. Previous testing has proven that the rumored effects are true, having caused several subjects to destabilize in the past. What we are looking for today is what effects, if any, they have on the hybrids and whether they are able to withstand the effects of the flower or not.”

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

Jason looked at Phantom as the agent kept talking. He was near hyperventilating, eyes wide and glassy.

He wondered what that was about as he watched Agent V out of the corner of his eye. She took the sealed container Agent J was holding and opened it.

His eyes started to water. Phantom looked like he was having flashbacks, his eyes wide. He was rocking back and forth on the cot.

“Subjects seem to be in no physical duress,” Agent J muttered. “I will continue recording when the experiment is over. I will be giving an oral report, however my findings will be marked down as they happen, as per standard protocol.”

Agent V brought a table over to put between them, setting the container down.

“Alright, Agent V, you go get the next experiment prepped. I will sit here and continue monitoring the subjects.”

Indignity-Annoyance-Calm

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

Jason frowned. Calm-Safe-Reassurance

He fought the urge to look back over to Phantom, training his gaze on the agents. Maybe if he could unnerve them...

Agent J sat in the chair, making observations. The flower had been a minor annoyance, but so far had not caused any adverse effects on him.

He heard a whimper from Phantom and caved. He looked towards the other boy, curious.

He was rocking back and forth, distressed. He looked like he was going to start crying at any second.

The agent did not react.

“Phantom?” He finally asked. “Are you okay?’

Phantom shook his head frantically. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the agent rise.

They grabbed his hair as he whined pitifully. They shined a light in his eyes. They wrenched his mouth open, shining it down his throat. They hummed.

“You’re fine. Stop faking a more severe reaction, you’re skewing my results.”

Jason scoffed quietly. He reached out-

“Stop that,” they smacked his hand away. “We can’t have you two attached at the hip. If you don’t stop it, we’ll have no choice but to separate you,” they said sternly. “No matter what the department head thinks about it,” they muttered under their breath.

Jason fought the urge to yell. Calm-Reassurance-Protective

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

About five minutes passed. Danny hadn’t really calmed down, but he was doing a remarkable job pretending he had. It was like everything had turned off. He looked like Dick did the day he showed up at the manor at 4 in the morning after his first outing with a student he’d trained. He’d had the same look in his eyes; Dick didn’t react to anything for hours. It had been terrifying then and it wasn’t any better now.

The agent looked down at their watch and marked something down. “Alright,” they mumbled, “It’s time to move on to round two.”

They grabbed two of the flowers.

The deep red of the middle reminded him of blood. He supposed that was how it got its name. The dark center faded into a deep, beautiful purple color that morphed into black at the edges of the petals. It was vaguely shaped like a rose.

It was beautiful. He supposed he could see why people would like it; it smelled vaguely like honey and something sickly sweet. He bet it would be delicious.

The agent placed a flower in front of each boy. Something in him made his breath hitch.

It felt like he was being stared down by a predator. He figured Phantom’s constant stream of DANGER-DANGER-DANGER was warranted based on his own primal instinct.

It was only through rigorous training by Batman that he managed to control his breathing. He forced himself to breathe normally; he could tell his airways were still clear, but snot was starting to run out of his nose. He could still feel his eyes water; he wished he had his cape to wipe his eyes with. He settled for his glove.

The agent watched him and took notes. The longer they spent there the more he felt like an animal in a cage. Sometimes he felt like they were a rare species of ape at the zoo being ogled at; other times he felt akin to a lab rat, being poked and prodded. He was vaguely scared he was going to wake up to a clone one of these days.

He swallowed. If these people figured out clones were a thing they’d likely have a big, big problem on their hands. He hoped they never did.

Hope had never gotten him very far in life. He could only pray it worked this time.

It was boring, sitting there. He tried to think of something entertaining. He thought of the fic he had started writing way before he got sick; he wondered what his followers would think of this update. He wondered what the baby bird was doing. He was certain Dick wasn’t going to be happy with him.

His only comfort was knowing that this (Maybe? Probably?) would’ve happened anyways. Even if he wouldn’t have gotten captured if he hadn’t gone out, Danny probably would’ve. Regardless of what happened to them, he was glad he was here with him. That they were together. He could’ve lived his whole life without this.

The thought made something in his chest pang. He... wasn’t sure how to say it, but he loved his brothers. He couldn’t imagine his future without either of them being there. Having attachments had always been terrifying to him when he was younger, especially after his mom, but some things are just... natural. People get attached. Attachment was to be a person.

Danny sat on the bed, staring at the blossom. He looked at it like it was something much, much worse than a flower. Jason wouldn’t doubt it if that were true.

Once again, the agent looked down at their watch and wrote something down. “Pick up the flowers,” they ordered.

Jason watched Danny- no, Phantom, as he reached out a shaking hand. Once he was certain the other boy was following the direction, he followed it himself. He got the sense that he was purposely touching an electric fence or trying to pet an aggressive tiger.

He looked over to Phantom, who had the blossom in between two fingers. He held it as far away from the rest of him as he could, arm resting on his knee. Jason had the vague sense he should’ve been smarter than cupping it in one hand, bringing it closer to inspect it.

He looked down at the center of the flower, spotting the dark seeds within. They looked more like poppy seeds than that of a rose bush. He vaguely expected his hand to start tingling.

His cheek itched. His legs and hands followed suit. It was like he was being tickled everywhere all at once; he fought the urge to scratch. He squirmed.

He finally caved, scratching his right leg first. He saw Phantom out of the corner of his eye doing the same, starting with his chest.

The agent started writing faster, gaining a small grin. It was like they enjoyed this. They probably did.

He tried to wipe his nose and scratch his scars at the same time. He nearly dropped the blood blossom as he did so.

“Keep a hold of that, subject T,” the agent barked.

He adjusted his grip. He got the feeling he shouldn’t crush the flower unless he wanted everything to get worse; he kept it cupped in his hand, squirming against the rough cot, trying to get relief.

The agent was suddenly in front of them, grabbing the blossoms. “The next step was supposed to be ingestion,” they said out loud, “However, based on these results, I will omit that. For now,” they said under their breath. “We have more tests to conduct today, so we will be moving on to those.”

Jason tried to bury the flash of fear. If this was only one of the tests...

Agent J scribbled in their notepad for a moment before producing a razor from their pocket. They grabbed Jason’s wrist first. He tried not to flinch as they cut through the scar tissue sitting there, creating a cut about an inch long.

They cleaned off the razor as blood dripped down his arm. They did the same to Phantom.

They took a blood blossom and started pulling it apart into several bowls. The itching had been going down, but as they tore into the blossom, Jason could feel it begin to itch once more. He figured he was right to not crush the flower while he was holding it; he’s not sure what would’ve happened, but if it was this bad across the room from him, he didn’t want to know what it would be like up close.

They sorted through the petals, lining two rows in a gradient, from the very edge of the flower to the inside. They placed two seeds at the end of each row.

They grabbed a gauze pad and cut it into four pieces. They grabbed the medical tape.

They placed the petal on the bottom layer, then a piece of gauze, then a piece of medical tape on top. They prepared another before placing one on top of each boy’s cut.

It burned. It made him squirm and, looking at Danny, he could see that he felt the same way. He actively dug his hand into his thigh to prevent himself from scratching at it; he had a feeling he was in for a punishment if he removed it. Danny did something similar, sinking his teeth into his arm to distract himself.

He had begun to whimper again. The agent ignored them, simply observing their distress once again and writing down their observations. He took a deep breath.

A long, pitiful whine took over his throat. The instinctual urge to scratch himself raw began to consume him; it felt like he needed this thing off now-

He looked down. He could see his skin begin to turn black around the gauze. The agent noticed as well, going over and peeling off the tape holding it there.

The wound had gotten worse. It looked like....

His eyes widened. Where the petal had been had begun to rot his skin; he could see the decaying flesh.

The agent cursed and grabbed Danny’s arm, ripping his gauze off. His arm also had a rotted mark on it where the cut used to reside.

They went back over to the cart, grabbing medical instruments and going over to the door, opening it and popping their head out. “Someone get me Agent V!” they called before turning back.

They sat in front of Phantom, grabbing his arm and scraping roughly at the rotted skin. His hand began to twitch and tense.

“Stop that,” they hissed.

Danny breathed harshly for a few seconds before saying, “I can-can't help-”

“If you don’t stop it, I will cut it off.”

He whimpered, visibly trying to get his hand under control. Agent V walked in at that moment.

“Agent J, you needed me?”

“Yes,” they grit out, “Experiment went slightly awry. Scrape out his wound, if we leave it like this it may spread,” they said and pointed to the tools they haphazardly spilled on the table between the cots.

She didn’t say a word before going over to Jason’s cot. He scrambled to cross his legs before they got there. They sat down and grabbed some of the tools, starting to harshly scrape at his wound.

He tried not to flinch. Every scrape of her blade felt like it was directly on a nerve. He refused to cry or cry out; it didn’t work very well. It was getting trapped under his masks; he had a suspicion that they already knew his civilian identity, but he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. He didn’t want to give them any more information than he absolutely had to, not that it was much beyond the things they’d personally witnessed. These idiots somehow hadn’t realized they could just, you know, ask them for certain information... not that Jason knew much to begin with.

Oh well. Probably best they didn’t start interrogating Danny for information. He hadn’t known the other boy long, but he had the feeling he was a terrible liar.

“That’s it!” the agent shouted, throwing down the tool.

Jason looked over to Danny, whose hand was shaking uncontrollably. He had tears streaming down his cheeks; he was whimpering.

“What’s it whining about?” the agent in front of Jason asked. She yanked on his arm, pulling him closer and scraping harder the more agitated she became.

He eventually took the tool from her, “I’ll do it,” he hissed.

She looked at him and shrugged.

He... almost couldn’t believe that worked. He started scraping the wound himself.

He glanced up at the agents every now and again, who were talking to themselves. When Jason was done clearing his throbbing wound, he looked over to Danny. The boy had his arm pressed close to his chest, curled around it. He could vaguely see his hand still twitching; he could see his scars faintly glowing.

He looked over to the agents. He carefully got off of the cot and climbed onto Danny’s, grabbing a new tool. He gently pulled his arm over to him, beginning to continue scraping it out. The heaving sobs made it more difficult than it otherwise would’ve been, but it was getting done. He had just finished when he was grabbed by the collar and lifted up.

“Hey-!” he protested. “I’m almost done-"

“We didn’t give you permission, ghostie,” Agent V hissed in his ear. “I outta-”

“The blood blossoms are off the table,” Agent J said immediately. They were holding what looked to be a machete.

Jason really hoped that wasn’t for what he thought it was for.

“How else am I supposed to punish it?” Agent V asked, bored.

Agent J raised an eyebrow. “How about you come over here? I will deal with Subject T.”

Agent V’s face lit up. “Really?”

They rolled their eyes. “Now, agent,” they commanded.

She practically ran over, taking Danny’s arm in her hand.

Agent J looked at Jason for a moment before grabbing some sort of cuff. They wrapped one around his wrist and the other to the bed as they watched Agent V look at the weapon in her hand like she was a small child holding a new toy.

“You’d better watch,” they hissed. “Unless you want the same punishment.”

He had a horrible feeling about this.

He watched in sickening realization as the agent brought the weapon down on the joint of Danny’s hand and wrist. He cried out as it started spurting blood.

“This,” Agent V said cruely, “Is what happens when you don’t listen to us! You were told to stop moving your hand,” she stopped to grab him by his hair as he tried to back away, “But you did it anyways, didn’t you?! Answer me!"

“Yes!” he wailed. Jason watched in wide-eyed horror as she grabbed the weapon and bore it down again, hitting the same place as before.

“You see, subject T,” the agent whispered in his ear, “This is what happens when you don’t listen. You get punished.”

The sick bubbled up in Jason until he couldn’t hold it anymore. His stomach emptied out onto the floor in front of him. He felt a hand in his hair, forcing him to look up.

“Watch,” they hissed. “You will be cleaning that later,” they added.

Jason nodded as he watched in horror.

Something in his brain went fuzzy. He was watching; he could see when the hand was severed, hanging on by little bits of flesh and not-quite severed tendon. He watched as Agent V cut the remaining bits with medical scissors and cauterized the wound. His whole head felt like it was underwater; he couldn’t hear anybody clearly.

He was pushed onto the floor, paper towels and cleaners shoved at him. He stared at the vomit before robotically cleaning it up, tossing the used towels away. 

Wipe, toss. Wipe, toss. Spray, wipe, toss. Spray, wipe, toss.

He thought of Alfred’s roses, how he helped Alfred tend to them and, occasionally, replant some of the bushes in other areas. Besides being in the kitchen, it was their favorite bonding activity.

He didn’t think he liked it so much anymore.

Someone else came in. He could vaguely hear them beginning to fight with the other agents as he cleaned.

“… Weren’t supposed to do that! This wasn’t approved-”

“We were going to have to test it eventually, anyways! Besides, it misbehaved-”

“He was in pain! You were using blood blossoms; you don’t think those hurt-”

“Please, it’s a plant, how much damage-"

“It destabilizes the core! You don’t think that causes some pain-"

He finished cleaning and vaguely looked around. He forced himself back into his body; his hearing was still weird, but he ignored it.

His hearing hadn’t been quite right since Ethiopia, anyways.

He spotted Danny, cradling his stump on the cot. He crawled up onto the small thing with him, pulling him into his arms.

He pressed his face into Jason’s middle, crying. Jason ran fingers through his hair, untangling it. They were both getting quite greasy and dirty; he wanted a shower so bad. He wasn’t about to ask if they could get in.

He looked down at their shoes. Danny’s black sneakers were worn down with use, the sole nearly fallen off. In comparison with his nearly pristine Robin boots Bruce makes sure to have replaced at least once a year according to Dick...

And Phantom’s parents had been scientists. That didn’t sit right with him; from the little snippets he’d heard about them, they should be able to afford their kid a decent pair of sneakers.

Phantom had been training his collar to not go off when he used his powers. He’d made some decent progress; they’ve concluded it is ectoplasm in the collars reacting to their powers. He got up to two fingers intangible yesterday.

Jason had been trying to do something similar, but because he never had control of his powers to begin with, he’d just ended up shocked twice. Danny forbade him from trying again. Their plan for escape looked more solid by the day. But this?

Jason wasn’t sure what this meant, but he knew that they couldn’t just ignore it. He wasn’t sure if Phantom’s hand would even regrow. He was the only one out of the two of them that could use their powers. Their escape plan was looking less likely.

The agents stopped talking. Jason looked up from tending to his brother when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

A woman with blonde hair sat in front of them. She had smile lines and her hair was in a low ponytail. She smiled pleasantly at him.

Agent A reached a hand out to his shoulder. He fought not to throw it off.

“Hi, Robin,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry they did this. Why don’t you give him to me and we can get you two back in your room, yeah?”

Jason wordlessly held up Danny’s stump. He saw her face twitch.

“They didn’t bandage it up?!” she hissed. She visibly composed herself. “I’ll dress that for him. Do you have the mark on your arm, hon?"

He nodded. He slid Danny off of his lap and onto the cot, as much as it pained him to do so. Danny looked up at him. He whimpered.

“Hey, honey, no,” she soothed. “It’s okay, he needs to get a bandage on that, like I need to get gauze on this, yeah?”

She brushed her fingertips against his forearm. He whimpered again, obviously out of it.

Jason forced himself to look away; the faster he got this done, the faster he could go back and soothe his brother.

He ripped open a gauze pad package with his teeth, pulling it out quickly and folding it to pack the deep wound on his arm. He pressed it down as best as he could while he grabbed the medical tape in his hand. He caught it on his finger to pull a good size piece off the roll, leaning down and biting it off. He used his middle finger to hold the gauze in place while his thumb and pointer caught the tape on the edge of his skin; he rubbed it to activate the glue before he maneuvered his hand to get the rest of it on.

He rubbed at it while he went over to the cot, climbing by Danny’s good side. He took his remaining hand in his and rubbed circles into the skin.

“You get that good enough, honey?” Agent A asked. Jason wordlessly held up his arm with the bandage on it.

She nodded. “I’m so sorry, boys,” she said lowly. “I should’ve gotten here earlier when I heard they were doing experiments.”

Jason sat there, wordless. It was like everything he’d ever been, everything he’d ever be was sapped from his body. There were no words left in him to say.

She sighed and finished packing his wound. She wrapped it in medical tape.

“I’ll put these away before we leave,” she said, gesturing to the blood blossoms.

Jason nodded.

He watched as she changed her gloves. She made sure the new pair were on securely and had no holes before she cleaned up the flowers. She handled them with care as she put them back into the container and sealed them back up.

He stroked down Danny’s back as the last of the sobs wracked his body. He comforted the other boy as easily as he did breathing; it wasn’t something he had to think about.

Soon, Danny was passed out in his arms. When Agent A was done cleaning up, she pulled the gloves off and washed her hands thoroughly. She attempted to pick Danny up.

“I’ve got him,” was the only thing Jason could say.

“Hon, he’s your size. You can’t carry him to your room comfortably,” she tried to reason with him.

Jason shook his head, gathering Danny up anyways. He rested the other boy’s head on his shoulder and put him on his lap, making sure he had him in his grip before hopping down himself. “I got him,” he repeated softly.

She looked at him sadly. “I know you have every reason not to trust me, especially considering what happened today,” she said, voice quiet, “But just so you know, you can ask me for help. I’m not like the others; I won’t hurt you for no good reason.”

Jason nodded mutely. He followed the agent out as she led him back down the labyrinth of halls; the twists and turns they took felt like he’d made them centuries ago instead of... a few hours, max.

When they got to their room, she helped Jason get Danny safely laid down on the cot.

Before she left, she pulled something out of her bag. “These are for you,” she said quietly. “I believe you two are still human, and you must be feeling some big feelings. I’m giving these to you.”

She pressed two notebooks, one red and one blue, into his hand. “These are blank journals. You can hide them in the cupboard under the cabinets. I have a couple pens with me, here-”

She pulled out two of the clickable sharpie pens. Jason looked at them a moment before taking them. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She cupped his cheek. “I was going to give them to you two today when I got in; I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances. I have to go now,” she started towards the door, “But I hope you use them. Oh!”

She faced him fully, standing by the door. “I was cleaning in here a bit earlier and noticed the empty water bottles. I filled them up for you guys; they’re in the cupboard. I also got a few snacks for you.”

With that, she left. He looked at the journals.

He walked over to the counter, setting them down along with the pens. He crouched down.

She had cleared out the bits and bobs that had been shoved into the cabinet and had their water bottles full of water, as promised. She’d also put a case of water in there, something she hadn’t mentioned. She had a variety of different fruit jerkies, cliff bars and such in with them.

He decided to hide some of the food in his belt. He knew what it was like to be given something and have it taken away; some of the foster families he’d been stuck with before Bruce hadn’t exactly been kind.

He felt vaguely... bad, for not trusting her. Then again, she’d never given them a reason to trust her.

He could talk to Danny about the journals later; about what they’d use them for, if anything, and the like. He looked up.

He’d spent a great deal of time staring at the ceiling. There wasn’t much else to do; there weren’t exactly board games stuffed in every corner. He’d noticed the tile didn’t look too secure; it looked kind of like a public school’s, with the crumbly kind of long tile that breaks if a rubber ball hits it at the right angle.

He climbed onto the counter, holding onto the cupboards above for balance as he checked the tiles. It wasn’t valuable in terms of escape routes, but it was valuable in terms of a hiding spot. He could easily slip the journals in and out when he wanted to; they just had to be careful about not getting caught.

He slid the journals, pens fit snugly in the spirals, in the cubby hole before taking all the food out of his belt. They were sealed, so he didn’t mind sticking it into the space. He hopped down.

He didn’t dare risk putting the water bottles in the same spot; they would be way too heavy for the tiles to support. He opened the cupboard, grabbing some pineapple jerky and a water bottle before closing it.

He decided to keep most of the food in the cabinet. Agent A might not think much of it if a small amount goes missing at once, but she’ll definitely notice if all of it is gone the next time she checks the cabinet.

The only good part about this place was that the agents had started taking them to the bathroom periodically after the first... accident, after they transformed into their human forms. Most of them still hadn’t stopped to wonder what ‘waste’ they had to expel, but hey, progress.

He opened the jerky and bottle of water. He still didn’t have much in terms of an appetite but after days of living off cliff bars and dealing with his blood sugar lows, he knew he needed something else before he got sick.

He pulled down his mask and ate quickly, draining the water bottle in seconds. He kept vigil by Danny’s side, like a guard dog with something to prove. He put the bottle and the wrapper in the back of the cabinet before taking his post again.

He went over the information in his head. He was going to let Danny pick which journal he wanted first, but he couldn’t wait to write all his ideas down.

His fingers ghosted the pouch he’d stuck the small gun in. He’d fiddled with it a few times, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Danny about it-

He exhaled. He used to be so good about not calling civilian names in the field, even in his head. Batman had always expressed so much emphasis on the importance of secret identities and the like, and here he was, messing all of that up. He truly had become a different person.

In a way he was glad they didn’t have a mirror. Sure, he was certain his hair was a mess and it’d be nice to wash his face, but beyond that he wasn’t sure he wanted to look at himself.

The longer they were here, the more he could pick out the ways he’d changed. He used to be able to keep his civilian life and night life separate; he used to think better on his feet; he used to be full of scathing comments, the kind that made the person question whether they’d even been insulted or not.

He used to-

He paused. He hadn’t exercised once since they got here. The idea hit him like a wall of bricks.

Who was he anymore? His own bile mixed with the pineapple jerky in the back of his throat, making a rancid combination.

He was acting like he’d already given up. He... he wasn’t Robin anymore. He could never go back to being Robin when he got back.

He couldn’t be Jason Todd. Jason Todd couldn’t deal with this situation. But what to call himself?

Sparrow? No, that didn’t sound like a good fit. Swallow? Nope, his brother’s name was Dick, he’d never hear the end of it from Barbara.

How did Dick pick his names again?... That’s right. His parents had called him Robin, and Superman had told him a Kryptonian tale about Nightwing and... Flamebird? He thinks? When he was looking to move out of the role. He briefly considered it before remembering Flamebird was Nightwing’s romantic partner.

He thought about it for a few more minutes. Bruce got his name because he was afraid of bats. Dick got his... honoring his parents. He paused for a moment.

The only reason Bruce got in the game was because his parents were gunned down in front of him. Dick went in trying to avenge his parent’s death. They both did this in their memory.

Willis and Sheila were never his parents, not in the way that mattered. His papa, Bruce, was still alive. He thought about Catherine, the old tales she used to tell him.

Her favorite author had been Jane Austen. She didn’t have many actual favorites in life; she felt in extremes, either loving something or hating it. The few times she actually had a favorite of something and stuck with it, Jason listened.

Her favorite bird had always been a cardinal.

He thought about it for a minute. He did look good in red.

If he didn’t like it later, he could change it. He wasn’t sure why he had a chance at this life; everything suggested he shouldn’t be sitting here, still somewhat alive right now. He was getting out of here, and he was doing it for his mom.

Cardinal thought back to when he first started training with the bats. Batman and Alf had him doing basic exercises daily.

He started out with squats, pushing his muscles and seeing where he was.

He wasn’t going to sit around hoping someone would come along. He wasn’t a baby robin that had been pushed out of the nest.

He and Phantom were going to get out of here.

[aliasimagines]

Ice Cold (pt 2 to Melted Hearts)

Jason Todd x reader with ice powers

requested by @im-hqlover​

A/N: I had a great time writing this (and by great time i mean i cried. a lot. tOO MUCH ANGSt). But I hope you’ll enjoy reading!

Warning: charachter’s death, grieving, anxiety, panic attack, you kmow all the great stuff

Word count: 3722

At any other time you would be complaining by now. At how your side was stinging and how your breath stuck in. But not now. You ignored your hurting leg and ran as fast as you could. Still, with you running at full speed, Batman was a few steps ahead of you.

The Joker has left, leaving Jason and his newly found mother. Batman couldn’t contact him and you just hoped that the psycho didn’t do anything irreversible.

You couldn’t help but play back the last conversation the two of you had in your head. You had a fight. A big one. It was totally pointless by the way but he was too upset at the time. Bruce has just scolded Jason for being too reckless and told him that he should stop being Robin for a bit. Of course you went to comfort him when you heard about it but he wasn’t in the mood to be comforted. There was a lot of shouting, both of you lashed out on each other and it wasn’t pretty. Sure, you regreted it immediately. You called Jason, you texted him but he didn’t reply. Later you found out from Bruce that he went away to search for his biological mother. He left no notes for you, no text, nothing. Yet in this very moment you couldn’t be angry at him, you just hoped he would be alright when you found him.

You finally saw the warehouse in the distance. They should be there. Some kind of relief took over you. He was there. You could almost feel the handle of the metal door, grabbing it and slamming it open.

It all happened quickly. One moment you were still running the other you were thrown back by the wave of the explosion. Your ears rang and it took a moment to realize what happened.

No, no, no, no

You didn’t know when you got back up or when did you start running again but you were on your way to the ruins.

No no no no

You could still hear the noise, ringing over and over again.

-Jason threw a bomb while furiously hitting the switches of the controller.

„Kgshhsssh” he made the most ridiculous explosion mimicking sound with his mouth you ever heard. Just like he expected you break out in laughter causing him to easily win the game.

„That’s cheating!” you manged out in between two giggles.

„Nah, that’s playing smart, baby.” you disapproveingly shook your head and hit the replay button.-

You saw Bruce stopping next to Sheila but you didn’t see him.

No, no, no, no

He has to be somewhere near. You kept tilting your head in all directions as fast as you could until you spotted a bright red piece of clothing. It was from his uniform. You were there in a second trying to lift the debris off of it. It was to heavy, you can’t possibly do it alone. That’s when you saw a pair of strong arms helping you push it off. Your heart pounded so fast you were afraid it’s going to break out any minute.

You saw him. Under the heavy ruins, covered in blood, bruises and dust. Your breathing stopped.

No, no, no, no

Batman was already by his side checking his pulse but it was useless. You both knew it deep down but a little hopeful voice kept saying ’what if not? what if not?’ in the back of your minds.

The bat looked up at you with is usually unreadable face now broken and shook his head.

Legs slipping from beneath you, you fell on your knees, hard. Your whole body shook as you screamed and cried.

„No, no, no, no...this can’t be. No!” the ground beneath you began to froze.

You don’t know how you got home. Your memory is foggy. You remember little bits like Batman talking to you, a window to the cloudy sky which was probably on a plane and maybe the manor?

But now you found yourself on your bed. Instead of your costume you had on a pair of leggings and a hoodie. The hoodie was Jason’s. You sat up, all of a sudden remembering everything. You felt sick amd dizzy. The room was spinning. You stumbled out of bed.

It has to be a dream. It can’t be true. It was all just a messed up dream.

You almost fell like three times til you got out to the kitchen. Diana sat there, she looked so stressed. And you knew it wasn’t just a nightmare. She caught your shaking body and pulled you into a tight hug. You layed your face on her shoulder, quickly soaking her shirt with your tears. She played with your hair in silence. You had to get it out. Minutes passed, maybe an hour when you whispered between two sniffs.

„It’s my fault.” it was bearly audible but Diana heard you. Gently pushing you back so she could look in your eyes she said „Don’t say that Y/N. You did everything you could. You-„

„Noh.. I did not. If we haven’t had a fight, he would have brought me along with him and I would have been with him and-„ you cried out again. „Can I go back to my room?”

„Y/N...”

„Please.”

„Allright. Go. But I’m gonna check on you every now and then. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Without a word you stumbled back into the dark room. You sat next to the window, leaning on the cold glass which gave some kind of comfort.

You spent most of your time there in the next few day. Every song on your phone reminded you of him. Every book on the shelf, every tought you had. So you sat there. Staring blankly outside, your eyes at the busy street, your mind occupied with playing the explosion over and over again. You could have been faster. If only you got there one minute earlier. Only a minute... You probably slowed Batman down too. If he was alone he would have made it on time. He probably blames you for the loss of his son. But that’s alright. You blame yourself too.

Guilt was with you everywhere. You couldn’t shake the thought what if?

You couldn’t really eat either. It just didn’t feel right to feast while his body was somewhere cold waiting for his coffin to be done.

You couldn’t wet out of bed one day and you felt guilty for doing that. You had your whole life ahead of you wasted day after day while Jason had no more days left to waste.

You tried to smile at Diana one time after thanking her something when you noticed a little voice in your head. It wnet on and on about how went on and on about how selfish you were for smiling. How can you smile? You’re not even hurt a little by losing Jason? God, you really are worse than the Joker.

THE JOKER!

That’s it. You have to snap out of it! Step out from this miserable act and do something. He has to pay for what he did. You closed your fist forcefully. You imagined beating him until he couldn’t move anymore. You wanted nothing more that to swipe that irritating smile of his stupid pale face. You wanted to freeze his veins, break him into million pieces of frozen meat. Than put him in a block of ice and throw him in to the Gotham river, let his remains sink down to the bottom.

Next thing you knew you were in your supersuit racing down to the front door. Just as you reached for the handle you heared Diana.

„Where are you going, Y/N?”

„Out.”you turned.”The clown needs to pay for what he did.”

„And what is that you want to do exactly?”

„Just what he deserves.”

„Do you hear yourself Y/N? You can’t do this.”

„He killed thousands of people! He took Jason too! I can’t-„

„You’re hurting. I know. But revenge will not bring you satisfaction. Jason will not appear miraculously if you go after the Joker. And you don’t kill Y/N!”

„I haven’t before.” you said more and more quietly

„Y/N you are grieving. You want him back, more than anything, I know. But you are in no shape to go after the Joker. Dear, you couldn’t even take out a thug like this, you-„

„Don’t you think I know that?” you cried out. „I know. I know I can’t do this for him! I’m a pathetic mess.”

„He wouldn’t want you to get hurt. I am certain of that. He would want you to continue on. Please Y/N don’t go. If not for me than Jason.”

His sweater still had his smell in it. It was comforting as you laid on your bed. Soft music played in the background. You reached for your phone and took it from next the plate. It was empty, except from the crumbs from your toast.

You open your texts and read back the last conversation you had with Jason before the fight.

Your heart clenched at his text. ’See you soon, doll❤️❤️’

(time skip to the funeral)

There was only a few people there. You almost laughed. He really was loner like Diana said the two of you were.

There were no big speeches. Not because he didn’t deserve one but because noone was in condition to do one. All of you were broken. Like a glass vase that was hit off the table all of a sudden with such brute force that it shattered to unrecognizable pieces. With a lot of work and time you could rebuild the vase but you could never cover up the marks on it. It will never be as strong as it was before.

You looked at a tree the whole time. It was such a nice tree, it looked a lot like the one you sat under the night you first met. It was covered in beautiful green leaves and it was blossoming. You looked at the tree because you couldn’t look at them. You couldn’t look at the tomb. You distracted yourself with the tree, with leaves, with anything you could because if you wouldn’t you would have broke down crying, you were sure of that. Sometimes his voice popped up in your mind, him saying your name. You choked up then, tears were threatening to fall but you swallowed back all of them.

A good amount of time must have passed because you sensed everyone starting to leave. Dick with shaking shoulders, Bruce marching slowly like a robot, Barbara and Commissioner Gordon behind them. The only ones left were Diana, you and Alfred. The man has been through a lot, seen a lot and you never saw that on him but as you turned to face him you saw a tired, shaken, torn man. He looked so vulnerable and so..old.

„Miss Y/N... Thank you for giving him his happiest memories. I know he loved you dearly.” he said quietly. You fought with your tears again and held back yoir breath. Afraid nothing would come out of your mouth but a sob you noded. Diana put her hand on your shoulder but you gently took it off. Collecting all your strength you spoke, your voice barely louder than a whisper. „Can I-could I have a moment alone?”

„Of course. If you need me, we will be inside.”

You watch them walk away too, you kept your eyes at your ’aunt’ and Jason’s grandfather until they became small silhouettes in the distance. You than walked with unsteady legs and shaking body as you couldn’t hold yourself anymore. The bouquet which you strangled in your hands until now looked too vibrant against the cold stone and the dark dirt which beneath was an even darker coffin.

You promised you wouldn’t leave my side.

You lifted your fingers to your lips before placing them on the tombstone.

„I love you”

You felt awful. And tired. You couldn’t really sleep. Everytime you passed out from exhaustion you woke up hours later covered in cold sweat, sometimes crying other times screaming because of the nightmares that haunted you. Diana figured your mental health was getting worse and worse so she made you a therapy appointment. You were unsure at first. Afraid to open up, to get help. But you went anyway.

You needed some sort of closure. Well that’s what they told you at therapy. Because you couldn’t say goodbye to Jason in person, you needed to find a way to do it now. Your therapist listed a bunch of methods but only one caught your interest. Write a letter to him. You liked the idea because he loved stuff like that. Hand written letters are so Shakespeare-y, Y/N! So you grabbed a pen and started writing. The words came naturally and you wrote the letter at one sitting. It wasn’t long. But it served it’s purpose. It was a closure.

Once you were done with the writing you put it into an envelope. You took the candle you lit before you started writing and poored the hot red wax on the back. Quickly before it hardened you carved a „J” into the wax. Satisfied you put it in the drawer of your table before locking it with a key. In the locked drawer, under the letter there was your superhero uniform. Diana was understanding about your decision. She let you stay with her and even though you wanted nothing more than to travel back to your family you took her offer. You wanted to focus on your studies and Gotham had one of the best university of the country. If not the best. But you talked with your family almost every day, video chatted with your brother whenever you could. And your days went like this. You worked, you found a lovely part time job at the local art museum, you studied, went to therapy and got through every day.

But no amount of medication or therapy could uplift you as a hug from Jason.

However you learned one really important thing. You can’t do anything about it. As much as it hurts, he is dead. But what you can do is try and live a life worth living. That is what he would have wanted (it took a lot of therapy sessions and speeches from Diana for you to believe that but now you finally do).

You worked hard, you studied hard so you could get in to university. And after a good while you stared dating again. It didn’t mean it actually hurt less, or that you didn’t miss him anymore, no. No, but you had to try to move on. Although seeing his lifeless body was a trauma you would carry with yourself in to the grave. You never forgot him, you still think about him, sometimes you wonder what would he do in certain situations that happened to you. You still cry some time. You still have anxiety attacks and not having his arms around you makes it harder. But you are trying. And that’s the best you can do.

(years later after Jason’s death, Gotham City, in the small apartment you live in)

You shared the apartment you were living in with one of your friends. You met at the first day of school and since you had the same classes you hang out a lot. She found this place not far from the university and asked if you wanted to move in. You did, not wanting use Diana’s hospitality (even though she said it was fine) plus you wanted to be more independent.

It was Friday night and she left for a party, she asked you countless times to come with her but parties weren’t your scene. Too many people.

So you were home, alone but it was kind of nice. You decided that a few hours of chilling wouldn’t be so bad. With all the studying and working you did all the time, you just wanted to do nothing tonight.

You changed into a comfortable pair of pants and your GSU hoodie. With some of your favorite music playing in the background you prepared some food and brought it back to your room. You sat the plate down to your table, next to your laptop and turned back to close the door.

„Hey”

Hearing a robotic voice from behind you, you spin around in a flash, grabbing a pocket knife quickly. Turning around you met with a huge figure leaning next your open window with hands raised in a defensive way. His dark clothes blended in perfectly to the dark lighted room but his big red helmet stood out just fine.

You knew him. Sure you left crime fighting behind but that doesn’t mean you just ignored what was happening in the city. He is a new face around Gotham. A raising crime lord, seemed to be interested in taking over the biggest crime lord, the Black Mask. His name was rumored to be the Red Hood.

„Oh, come on! We both know you don’t need that. But hey! I’m impressed! Your reflexes are pretty amazing considering you hang up the cape years ago. I bet you still work out.” you couldn’t see but he looked you up and down.

„Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here but I don’t want anything to do with you.”

„Ah, why so harsh, doll?”

„If you leave now I won’t call the cops.”

„Sweetheart” he sighed annoyed „ You and I know that I will be long gone before old Commiss Gordo gets here.” The Hood slowly let his hand down reaching into what you assumed was a pocket inside his jacket. You pointed your knife at him.

„Easy there. I mean no harm.”

„Oh yeah, tell that to the trail of dead bodies you left on the streets”

Your comment was rewarded with small chuckle from the armored man.

„I mean no harm to you, is what I meant. Those fucks who you are talking about? They had it coming. I’m not gonna apologize for killing psycho bastards who sell drugs to kids.” he said getting a bit to heated at the end. You saw him take out a a folded piece of paper. From where you stood you couldn’t see what was on it but to your great suprise his next move was to held the paper out for you.

You nearly laughed out at him.

„ I expected a better distraction from you.”

„If I wanted you to be distracted, you would be distracted dear. Just take it.”

Still not sure, you took it and unfolded it. You slapped your hand in front of your mouth, quickly forgetting about the knife, letting it fall down with a loud crash. The paper was actually an old picture of you and your late boyfriend. A picture that was supposed to be six feet under ground in said late boyfriend’s coffin.

Your whole life body shook with anger.

„What the fuck have you-„

He quickly interrupted with a calm voice.

„I found it in my jacket. I seriously have no idea how you snuggled it into it because Bruce was never the sentimental type and wouldn’t let you put it there.”

You just stared at him with plain confusion and anger.

„Who-„ are you? Because it can’t be... This person in front of you can’t be who you think it is. No. It’s not him. But the way he stands, he speaks, the „doll”, the picture! But it can’t be him.

„You know it Y/N-„ his voice sounded more human and familiar as he took off the helmet.

„Jason...” you knew it wasn’t possible. He shouldn’t be here. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you because of the exhaustion. But he was there. Taller and muscular than last time you saw him but he was your Jason. Right here. „How...”

„Does it really matter?” he asked his voice gentle, making your legs fill like they’re made out of jelly. He stepped closer, holding out his hand towards you.

No, it really doesn’t. He is here now and that’s what- wait. The Red Hood has been here for weeks!

„Jason.” you looked up at him. „How long?”

„Well...”

„Were you even dead?”

„Yes! Of course! For a while I was. I died. It was real but-„ he couldn’t finish his explanation because you smashed him across the face.

„How could you? I was mourning, we all were. Goddammit we still do, you idiot! Do you hate us that much??”

„Oh, so were continuing where we left off! Great! I loved that fucking fight we had. Amazing last memory of you!”

„How can you say that?!” you shouted, lips trembling, your whole body shaking. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and tears felt your eyes. Jason’s face fell. Fuck, I’ve gone too far.

„Hey..uhm try to listen to my voice and-„ he was cut off with a glare from you.

„I know, I know. I fucked up, I’m sorry. Just try to breathe and I will just be out in minute”

„Don’t you dare- don’t leave you idiot.” you reached for him with shaking hands. And he took your hands. You touched the rough material of his gloves, his jacket and as he gently hugged you, you felt his armor too.

You stayed like that for god knows how long in his embrace. Sure you were mad at him and he knew that but that could wait. He was here now and he wasn’t about to leave. You had all the time in the world.

He brushed your hair out of your face, with a loving gaze. Without a word you cuddled closer to him, laying your head on his chest you listened to his heart beat. He continued to play with your hair with one of his strong arms wrapped around your torso. You didn’t talk. Not because you didn’t know what to say but because you didn’t need words to understand each other. Even after all these years. And you knew that the of you belong togethe. Whatever happens, you will always find your way back to the other.

[imagine-loki]

Do You Fear the Devil?

TITLE: Do You Fear the Devil?

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2, A Temporary Truce

AUTHOR: unofferable-fic

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Victorian London AU. Imagine that you are one of the many working women roaming the streets of Whitechapel when a madman begins to murder your comrades one by one.

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Descriptions of injuries/violence, gore, language, angst.  Playlist: “The Medic” — Foxing, “Little Sadie” — Crooked Still, “The Last of Us (Cycles)” — Gustavo Santaolalla

31st August 1888, 5.30 am.

“I apologise for having to pull you out bed for the second time this morning, Dr Banner.”

Loki would be the first to admit that his relationship with fellow doctor Bruce Banner was somewhat strained. Upon their first meeting some years ago, they both got into a drunken bar fight, one which resulted in each of them sporting black eyes and split lips going into work the following morning. They were, unsurprisingly, suspended temporarily. He could barely remember what the argument had been about — possibly in relation to Dr Banner’s consorting with prostitutes — but he definitely recalled his comrade being a very angry drunk when provoked. All that being said, the pair had come to have a mutual respect for each other given their similar professions.

“It’s alright,” Dr Banner reassured him as they met him in the front yard to the mortuary. “I know you would not call me if it wasn’t urgent.”

“I can assure you that it is,” Sgt Rogers added, his lips set in a grim line. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Well, take me to her then.”

Just as the trio turned to enter the building, a man opened the door and lazily threw a bundle of bloody clothes into the yard. Loki quickly gathered that he was a pauper given his appearance, but his eyes immediately fell to the clothing of which he had disposed. He recognised it immediately.

“Where did you get those?” he barked, halting the employee before he could return inside.

“Off the body in there,” the man replied with a raised brow. “We’re washing ‘er down to prepare ‘er for burial.”

“She was not to be touched!”

Sgt Rogers looked to be losing his patience. “We were told that the body would not be disturbed until Dr Banner here had conducted a full and detailed post-mortem examination!”

Loki growled in frustration and addressed the man again. “Do not lay another finger on her before we complete the examination, otherwise more evidence will be tampered with.”

Dr Laufeyson grabbed the clothes from the ground and barged past him in irritation, followed closely by Dr Banner and Sgt Rogers. The trio quickly entered the mortuary and dismissed the other senile workhouse parlour who had just about finished washing the body down. The sergeant made a show of getting their names — Robert Mann and James Hatfield, which Loki would later read in his case notes — and dismissed them. While Dr Banner attended to the body, Loki took an inventory of clothing Polly had worn during her demise, as well as the possessions on her person. Despite being washed, the blood had done its work, leaving irreversible stains in its wake. On her petticoats, he noticed a marking beneath the blood. He quickly recognised the marking as that of Lambeth Workhouse.

He called Steve over and pointed to the emblem. “You should reach out to the women in the workhouse, Sergeant. Someone may be able to help identify her.”

“I will have Wilson look into it,” Sgt Rogers replied. “Once he has dealt with the lead given to us by those other women.”

Loki thought back to the street-walkers he spotted on the scene, pointed out by PCs Wilson and Barnes. When they reentered his mind, he couldn’t help the intrigue that built up within him. “Were those women questioned any further, Sergeant?”

“Not beyond the identification of the victim.”

“They might be worth a conversation,” he explained. “They were clearly on the job that night given the men in their company. If the killer committed the other attacks and is indeed targeting prostitutes, then they might have seen or heard something suspicious.”

Steve’s blue eyes pierced into his, a frown forming on his lips. “You’re right, Doctor, but we never thought to ask their names.”

“They appeared to be well looked after, so my best guess is that they reside in a decent lodging house or brothel.”

“They work at the White Swan,” Banner stated without looking up from the body. Steve and Loki turned to look at him in surprise. It was only when he was met with silence that he looked up nervously. “I, uh, know one of the midwives employed with taking care of the brothel’s workers… I recognised them from visiting her.”

“Right,” Dr Laufeyson drawled, easily sensing the lie. “You were always a terrible liar, Bruce.”

Dr Banner broke out into a series of unintelligible mumbles before giving up and turning his attention back to the examination. Loki simply rolled his eyes as Sgt Rogers spoke up. “I think you and I should pay a visit to the White Swan tomorrow afternoon.”

“I didn’t take you for that kind of man,” Loki said wryly, and delighted in his superior’s ears turning red. “You can hardly pay a woman while on the job, no?”

“To interview them,” Steve hastily added, looking unamused with the suggestion that he might consort with prostitutes. “While Bucky and Sam work on the other leads and Dr Banner finishes up here. I’m afraid we’ll need you back here again before seven, Doctor. Inspector Stark should arrive thereabouts and will need to be filled in.”

“I will see that it’s done, Steve.”

“Thank you.” The blonde turned to Loki and nodded to the door. “Shall we?”

“You are the man in charge. Lead the way.”

Leaving the good doctor to his work, the men left the mortuary and briefly met with PCs Barnes and Wilson who had finished interviewing the neighbours. Oddly enough, no one had heard a single thing.

“Neither did the Night Watchman,” PC Barnes elaborated with a shrug. “But he’s a known dozer…”

The lack of any leads did little to improve the mood of Steve or Loki, but they hoped that the Thrawl Street and Lambeth leads would offer them more information in the morning. At the beginning of September, after they acquired some much needed information through their investigation, they turned their attention to the White Swan and two particular employees.

 ***

LONDON DAILY NEWS

Saturday, 1st September, 1888

BRUTAL MURDER IN WHITECHAPEL

“A murder of the most brutal kind was committed in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel in the early hours of yesterday morning, but by whom and with what motive is at present a complete mystery.

At a quarter to four o'clock Police sergeant Rogers, 97J when in Buck’s-row, Whitechapel, came upon the body of a woman lying on a part of the footway, and on stooping to raise her up, in the belief that she was intoxicated, he discovered that her throat was cut almost from ear to ear.

Assistance was procured, a messenger being sent at once to the station and for a doctor.

Dr. Banner, of Whitechapel-road, whose surgery is not more than 300 yards from the spot where the woman lay, was aroused, and proceeded at once to the scene.

He hastily inspected the body where it lay and pronounced the woman dead.

The police ambulance from the Bethnal-green station having arrived, the body was removed there.

A further examination showed the horrible nature of the crime, for the lower part of the woman’s body was found to have been horribly mutilated by three or four deep gashes. Any one of the wounds was sufficient to came death.

After the body was removed to the mortuary of the parish in Old Montague-street, Whitechapel, steps were taken to secure, if possible, identification, but at first with little prospect of success.

The clothing on the body was of a common description. It was discovered that the skirt of one petticoat and the band of another article bore the stencil stamp of Lambeth Workhouse. The only articles in the pockets were a comb and a piece of looking glass. The latter led the police to conclude that the murdered woman was an inhabitant of one of the numerous lodging-homes in the neighbourhood.

As the news of the murder spread first one woman and then another come forward to view the body, and at length it was found that a woman answering the description of the deceased had lodged in a common lodging houses in Thrawl-street, Spitalfields.

Women from that place were fetched, and they identified the deceased as “Polly” who had shared a room with three other women in the place on the usual terms of such houses - nightly payment of 4d. each, each woman having a separate bed.

She had frequented the house for about three weeks past. When she presented herself for her lodging on Thursday night she was turned away because she had not the money.

She was then the worse for liquor.

A woman of the neighbourhood saw her later, she told the police - even as late as 2.30 on Friday morning - in Whitechapel-road, opposite the Church, and at the corner of Osborn-street, and at a quarter to four she was found within 600 yards of the spot murdered.

At about half-past seven last evening a woman named Mary Anne Monk, at present an inmate of Lambeth Workhouse, was taken to the mortuary, and identified the body as that of Mary Ann Nicholls.

She was a married woman, but had been living apart from her husband for some years. Her age was 36, and she had been an inmate of Lambeth Workhouse off and on for the past seven years.

The matter is being investigated by Inspector Stark of Scotland-yard.”

With a sigh, you set the newspaper back down on the table. You briefly thanked your valuable ability to read as it meant that you could stay informed about the gruesome murder while keeping your fellow illiterate workers aware as well. 

Despite how the evening of the 31st of August had began, it ended relatively well for you and Natasha. James and Scott were kind enough to walk you both back to the brothel, paying you for your time despite the events of the night having somewhat killed the mood. Even still, they insisted that they were unwilling to leave neither you or Natasha short for money. Now, you were sitting in a lounge area of the White Swan, relaying the article to Natasha and Wanda. 

Wanda Maximoff was another friend of yours and one of the younger workers in the brothel. Like Natasha, she wasn’t from England and originally resided in a far off country called Sokovia. After severe political unrest and the threat of oncoming war with neighbouring countries, she fled her home a few years ago with her twin brother, Pietro, and soon found herself working in the brothel to make ends meet. Pietro had even acquired a job as the brothel’s bartender, using his time to serve the customers and keep a watchful eye on his sister. They were both little spitfires, and more than happy to tell you to jog on if you disrespected them on the premises. Considering the establishment was one of the more expensive ones, there was a general ‘no cheeky bollocks’ policy, and the twins were more than happy to enforce it. The madame of the brothel, Pepper Potts, loved their fiery attitude, mostly because she agreed with its sentiment, and also because some customers paid good money for a woman with a dominant streak.

“I think I have met her before,” Wanda pondered when you finished reading the article. “She was a nice woman with far more friends than enemies, if she had any at all.”

“What a horrible way to go,” Natasha added with a frown. “Especially when she was only trying to earn a few quid to get a bed for the night.”

“It just makes me feel even more lucky to be living in here,” you said, glancing around the room. “And I’m also glad that we stick together when we go out at night.”

The Sokovian nodded in agreement. “We should definitely keep that up.”

Before you could continue the conversation, the door to the lounge opened, revealing Madame Potts on the other side. “Natasha, Y/N, you have visitors.”

“Customers?” you asked curiously.

“No. They are of the more investigative variety.”

Natasha let out an audible groan. “Don’t tell me it’s the bloomin’ mutton shunters…”

“I’m afraid so. Realistically they should not even be on the premises, but they came in normal clothing to avoid affecting my business. They just wish to speak with you both about the murder of Mary Ann.”

“Swell,” you muttered under your breath as the three of you were lead from the room, following Madame Potts to the bar where the apparent policemen were waiting. When you arrived, Wanda moved to take a seat at the bar while Pietro stood behind it, cleaning glasses ahead of the evening rush of clients. You looked at the table in the corner that was currently housing the policemen and recognised them from Bucks Row.

“Looks like Sergeant Handsome and Doctor Dreamy couldn’t get enough of us,” Natasha said to you under her breath. “I shall take the blonde.”

“No you will not,” you replied with a small snort. She wasn’t exactly wrong about them being quite attractive though. “They’re here to question us, not to do business. Plus, you are telling me that you would sleep with a policeman?”

“Money is money, and I am already fucking the good doctor friend of theirs. He is basically a policeman without the ridiculous helmet.”

You chose not to reply. Instead, you merely looked at her in amusement and delighted in the fact that she could always put a smile on your face.

“Gentlemen,” Madame Potts announced, grabbing their attention as the three women reached the table. “These valuable ladies are Miss Romanoff and Miss Y/L/N, and they said they would be willing to answer some questions for you both. Try anything other than that, or threaten them in anyway, and I will see that you’re removed from the property. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the blonde replied calmly and removed his flat cap. As Madame Potts retreated and left the room, he gestured to the seats opposite them with a polite smile. “Please, sit.”

You and your companion followed his request, all the while eying the pair across from you. 

“I’m Sgt Rogers,” the blonde continued before nodding to his friend. “And this is Divisional Police Surgeon Dr Laufeyson. We wanted to ask you both some questions with regards the murder of Mary Ann Nichols.”

As you cautiously studied Dr Laufeyson, Natasha spoke up. “I doubt we’ll have any helpful information. We did not know the women, and we spent most of our night with company in the Frying Pan.”

“On business?”

The redhead smirked playfully. “Obviously.”

“Why venture out of the brothel in the first place?” Dr Laufeyson asked with his hands clasped together on the table. “Is it not a safer option to remain here? Especially with all the attacks of late.”

“Sometimes business is slow,” you explained. “If we want to make money, we might have to go out and entice some men into coming to visit. Other times, we meet with regulars with whom we know we are safe.”

“I did not think such men existed, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your eyes narrowed, unafraid to meet his green ones in a stare that instantly brought you back to the lane where you first saw him. “You do not need to tell me that it’s exceedingly unsafe to be in my line of work. But not all men are monsters, Doctor, and not all men despise prostitutes.”

He watched you carefully, holding your gaze. “It would seem that the man who murdered Mary Ann Nichols certainly did.”

If there was one skill you had gathered from your work, it was learning to read people as best as you could. It was an important aspect of picking your customers — if any men made you feel uneasy, you didn’t go near them. The two men in front of you were relatively easy to figure out. Sgt Rogers held himself with a certain amount of pride. He didn’t strike you as overly confident, but he was certainly settled in a leadership role. He was good at taking charge and equally comfortable doing it. He lacked arrogance and appeared genuinely concerned with the attacks. He probably wouldn’t be here talking to you if he wasn’t. And Natasha had been right — with his chiselled jawline, penetrating baby blues, and neatly combed blonde hair he seemed like a poster boy for a handsome gentleman. 

Dr Laufeyson was a little harder to figure out. They were both reserved men, but where Sgt Rogers was determined, the former was quietly arrogant and proud. He regarded himself highly because he believed it to be true, but you had to agree that he was elegant in how he looked and how he carried himself. He was a doctor who was obviously intelligent, and oozed a charisma that his colleague did not. There was a certain… mischief, about him. That was the perfect word to describe the glint in his eyes — mischievous. He was, much like the sergeant, attractive, but possessed a different kind of appeal. His features were sharp, his cheekbones high, and his thick black hair slicked back out of his eyes. He was certainly your type, bar the arrogant facade. 

“You think she was targeted specifically?” Natasha asked, bringing you out of your daydreaming.

Sgt Rogers answered. “For her profession, yes, but not her personally. Her estranged husband and friends could confirm that she had no enemies, and the recent rise of attacks of women of your profession leads us to believe that there may be a killer about; a killer who specifically has it in for you lot. We are here to ask you questions, but also to advise you both with regards your safety.”

This grim information did nothing to ease your woes. You had had a bad feeling about all the murders in the last few weeks. Not many people cared about sex workers because of who you were, but you were still human and you could feel fear and pain. You shouldn’t have been surprised that there was someone stalking about trying to murder as many women as he could. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he hadn’t been caught yet, given the lack of people who actually gave a shite, and the lack of manpower within the police. It was obvious that they were in a pickle purely because they came to you for help.

Sgt Rogers removed a fountain pen and a small notebook from his inside coat pocket as he spoke. “Now, we wanted to ask if either of you saw Miss Nichols that night? You said that you visited the Frying Pan Pub — there are witnesses that claimed to see her leaving there at about 12.30 in the morning.”

“We did not get to the pub until after 2.30,” Natasha elaborated with a raised brow. “So we saw no sign of her.”

“Ah, I see. Did you drink heavily there?”

“Just a few gatters, so no.”

“Did you see anyone of note that stuck out to you?” Dr Laufeyson asked, directing his question to you. “Maybe he looked like he did not belong, or gave you a bad gut feeling?”

“There were the usual dippers and rampsmen about,” you said. “Who shouted some colourful words at us, but that is nothing we are not used to. We recognised most people about because we know the streets like the back of our hands.” You paused and thought back to the night, remembering how you had strolled through the stinking lanes with your friend. Only then did you remember a detail. “Well, there was that one man, Natasha. You thought he seemed odd.”

She looked at you curiously. “Who?”

“Remember the lad with the tall hat in the lane? Right before we met James.”

“What lane was this?” the doctor inquired.

“Gunthorpe Street.”

Natasha suddenly recalled your story and nodded in agreement. “Oh! Yes, he did seem a little bit odd… I would not have thought much of him otherwise. We thought he was out looking for women considering he was waiting at the archway.”

“I thought he was the wealthy sort at first,” you added. “But only really thought he was unusual when he approached us. I assumed he would ask us for our services, but he passed by when our friend appeared from ’round the corner and called our names.”

“He just tipped his hat,” Natasha said, mimicking his gesture. “And then went on his way.”

“What did he look like?” Dr Laufeyson pushed while the sergeant was quickly taking down notes. “Any details would be useful.”

You sighed as you recalled the appearance of the man you had met, though you could say little. “Eh… He was ’round 5’6, 5’7? A bit stocky, but had a fair complexion. He also had a moustache. It was dark that night, so I saw little of his appearance.”

“What of his clothes?”

“He had a dark overcoat and a dark top hat on his head.”

“That all sounds about right,” the redhead concurred. “I can agree with that description of him. I do not know why I thought him odd, because his appearance was quite normal. I had not seen him before though, might I add.”

“That is a possible lead at least,” Sgt Rogers said to Dr Laufeyson as he finished taking their statement. He quickly turned back to you. “You have been very helpful, ladies. Both here and on Bucks Row and we appreciate the assistance.”

“Just catch the bloody lurker quick,” your friend implored. “If giving you lot information to catch this devil means we will be safer out there, then we will do what we can to help.”

You noticed the dark-haired man sitting opposite you, thoughtfully tapping his slender fingers on the wooden table top. “That may not be the worst idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“It might not be a bad idea to employ the help of some local prostitutes, Sergeant. After all, they said they know these streets and the civilians well. They may see things that we miss while out soliciting.”

“First of all,” Sgt Rogers began, looking slightly miffed. “Soliciting is still illegal. Secondly, I do not think we are allowed to—”

“If it means catching this madman faster, then where is the harm? That and you had no qualms with coming here to question them in the first place! What do you say, ladies?”

“Assisting you lot with hunting down the man murdering our fellow workers?” Natasha broke out into a full tooth grin. “Sounds like fun. You in, Y/N?”

Working with the London Police? That wasn’t exactly something you foresaw in your future. Then again, you didn’t foresee fearing for your life either, and you refused to lie down and let more of your comrades die. The people of this city didn’t care, but you sure as hell did! “If it means he’s caught sooner rather than later, then yes.”

You and Natasha looked at the exasperated sergeant expectantly as he ran a hand over his face. “Ugh, fine! So be it! But if this gets too dangerous for them, we will dismiss the arrangement. And you will not be out ‘hunting’ him. For now, you will be offering information on suspects, locations, and possible victims, of which we hope there won’t be anymore.”

“We also want to get paid,” you added, clasping your hands together atop the table. “A fair amount.”

“Done,” Dr Laufeyson announced without giving Sgt Rogers a chance. “You ladies have yourselves a deal.”

As you shook the man’s outstretched hand, Sgt Rogers tried to intervene. “Loki—”

“Lighten up, Rogers,” Natasha giggled as she gave the doctor’s hand. “You are no fun, are you?”

“I take my work seriously, Miss Romanoff—”

“And there will be none of that last name or ‘ma’am’ bollocks. We are all on a first name basis now.”

“I believe I heard you refer to each other as Y/N and Natasha?” Dr Laufeyson asked and introduced himself and the sergeant once his question was confirmed. “I am Loki, and this is Steve.”

“Why did I even bring you here?” Steve mumbled, very much done with this exchange.

Loki shrugged in response, feigning innocence. “Because I am the fun one?”

Natasha smirked at the pair and got to her feet. “It was a pleasure doing business with you boys. If you even wish to engage in more pleasurable business, do let us know. We would be happy to oblige.”

The wink she sent Steve had him clearing his throat as the three of you joined her in standing up. Loki was quick to prolong the banter. “I will inform you both if Steve desires some much needed practice.” 

“That’s enough!” the sergeant insisted, his jaw tense. “Where can we find you both if we need you?”

“Either here or the Frying Pan,” you answered, trying not to laugh. “We usually stick to one or the other considering we live here.”

“Right.” He coughed and placed his cap on his again. “Thank you again for your assistance, ladies.”

“You too, Stevie,” you chuckled while Natasha sent him a flirty wave. “Have a pleasant afternoon, Loki.”

“I shall try, Y/N. Natasha.” He tipped his hat to you with that familiar glint in his eye and left the establishment with Steve. 

Once they were gone, the Russian gave your shoulder a little nudge and scampered off towards the bar. “How about that, Y/N? We just got promoted to Assistant Detectives.”

“I’m quite eager about the pay rise,” you admitted and took a seat at one of the bar stools. “And about, you know, catching that nutcase…”

Wanda and Pietro stared at you both in disbelief, while the former spoke first. “What the hell did I just witness?”

“An adventurous business deal, dear sister,” Pietro explained, his accent thick. He cast a somewhat proud glance at you and nodded thoughtful, setting the clean glass back down on the counter. “Yes. Those two are jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire.”

“I do love a good manhunt,” you joked, all the while looking forward to helping out your peers. That, and you weren’t exactly disappointed with the thought of seeing Loki again. “This should be an eventful experience, girls.”

[jaybeartodd]

Colleagues Pt. 7/17 -- Jason Todd x fem. reader

Warnings: like one swear word I think

Word Count: 2472

Tags: @sarcasmismyfirstlove @tsctd

A/N: Oops, this is even longer. So a lovely anon pointed out a idiotic mistake of mine. Nick is the brother and Trey is the son. I went back and changed it in the last two parts and I am super super super super duper sorry if this was confusing. This part kinda concretes who is who and I double checked so hopefully no goofs this time. You guys have been incredibly supportive and this has been an absolute blast!! Okay, I’ll stop now. Enjoy :)                                                                                                          

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

“Nick, can you hear me?” you are knelt in front of Nick gently shaking his unconscious and severely bruised head. A groan erupts from his mouth and his left eye twitches partially open. You sigh in relief.

“I called an ambulance,” a voice from behind scares you. 

“Jason?” you ask with panic in your voice that has nothing to do with his presence.

“You looked concerned,” he says gently and kneels next to you. “Do you have any cold compresses? It will ease the pain and swelling a little bit as we wait for the ambulance.”

You nod your head forcing yourself out of the stupor. You rush over to a drawer and grab a towel. Ripping open the freezer you grab a bag of frozen peas and throw the towel over it. You concentrate on Nick as you place the bag on his face. Your free hand is gently grabbed. 

Jason gives you a reassuring smile and you return with a shaky one. You can’t help but become dizzy with guilt. 

It feels like an eternity has passed before the ambulance has showed up and you are watching as they assess Nick’s seemingly endless injuries. Then suddenly you are standing frozen in the hospital as they wheel Nick away. You know exactly who did this. And they will pay.

The chairs in the waiting rooms have no possible way of being comfortable. You have observed this while restlessly shifting in one for hours. Your notes on Roman Sionis are sprawled across your lap. Jason had texted you asking if you needed anything. You took him up on his offer and he brought your book bag.

“I was thinking clothes or food, Y/N. Do you think now is a good time for homework?” he asked incredulously. You just shook your head furiously.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I need,” you said harshly pulling the book bag from his hands. You immediately felt a wave of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Jason. I didn’t mean it. You have been so nice. I-I just need-” you waved your hands in frustration.

His eyes were sympathetic. “Space. I know. I will be out of your hair but listen, text me if you need anything. And Y/N?” you looked up at him with watery eyes.

He swallowed back his own emotions caused by seeing you so upset and leaned in, “Do not go back to your apartment without me or someone else. Please.” 

You nodded your head instinctively but he looked at you with pleading eyes. It reminded you of when he told you to be careful after the attack at Wayne Ball.

“Yes, of course. I won’t go by myself. I promise,” you said.

It has been several hours since that interaction and he kept his promise and gave you the space he promised. You bring your attention back to the documents.

Sionis, or Black Mask rather, had hit several Wayne operations including shipments and the attack on the ball. The target is obviously Wayne Enterprises and probably for the sellout of his family business. But why after so many years? And according to your records, the attacks have been sporadic throughout the past couple of months. He lets some shipments come in and others go. And the Wayne Ball was the first attack on humans and not products.

You shudder at the memory of the night of the ball. Another reason you have been avoiding home is because when you close your eyes to sleep you see the bloody faces of your deceased colleagues. 

One other thing that struck you as odd is the fact that Nick started working for him so much earlier than these attacks. Nick had said it just started with him picking up Roman from somewhere and taking him somewhere else. But it was never the same beginning or ending spot and some other goon would pick him up later. You look at the map that Nick had pinpointed with drop-offs in frustration because there was no pattern. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?” you hear a female voice call you. You quickly shut your books and stand up. The doctor has a clipboard and her face remains neutral.

“Your brother is going to be just fine,” you let out a breath in relief, ”It looks like his attackers stopped short of doing any irreversible damage. He has no internal bleeding but a lot of broke. bones that will take a lot of bed rest and time before he is whole again.” you nod your head, eager to see him.

“You can go in and see him. He is a little drowsy from the pain medication so do not expect complete coherence,” you mumble a yes and push past her into Nick’s room.

Nick is laying on the bed connected to the various monitors but the most noticeable feature are the dark bruises lining his face and arms that are no longer covered by blood.

He looks at you with squinted eyes and a tired smile tugs at his swollen lips. 

“Nick,” you exclaim and drop your book bag next to his bed before hugging him. He lets out a small whimper and you let go mumbling an apology.

“I stopped, Y/N. I really did, I promise,” he mumbles with teary eyes. You feel your own eyes begin to water and you grab his hands.

“I believe you Nick,” you say and place your head on your little brother’s chest. “I am sorry if I have ever made you feel otherwise.” You hear his breathing slow as he falls into a slumber. You relish in the sound of him being alive. But you can’t help and ask yourself why they hadn’t killed him. 

“Don’t poke her Trey,” you faintly hear as something prodding your cheek breaks you from your sleep. You blink open your eyes to find a wide pair staring back at you. 

“Hey Auntie Y/N,” a little boy smiles at you with missing teeth and a juice-stained mouth. You match his grin.

“Hey T,” you hug him and he returns it eagerly. You hear someone clear their throat and you look up to see Mommy herself looking displeased as ever.

You push away any hostile thoughts and clear your throat.

“Thanks for bringing him,” you look over at Nick to see him sleeping peacefully, “Nick will be really happy to see him.”

You look over at Trey to see him playing with toy soldiers on his father’s bed. 

“Trey, back away from there. You don’t want to mess up anything,” Clarissa snaps. Trey pouts and backs away from his dad. 

“Well, we can’t stay long. Trey has piano practice in an hour and he needs to get cleaned up,”

You clench your fists. The reason Nick didn’t have him last weekend was because he had a piano recital that was apparently “too far for us to worry about”. And now he can’t stay to talk to his father in the hospital.

Just as you are about to say something you might regret, a soft voice comes from the bed.

“Is that my T-Rex?” Nick groggily asks looking at his son adoringly. Trey smiles big and runs to his dad. Nick lets out an oof of pain when Trey hugs him but laughs anyways. 

“Thanks for bringing him Clarissa,” he says and she purses her lips.

“Well, like I was telling you sister. He-”

“He really wanted to see you Nick.” you say interrupting her and she glares at you. You make sure to return a winning smile of your own. One rule you two had was to keep it amicable for Trey’s sake. But God sure used her as a test of your patience. 

“We will step out and give you guys some space,” you say and gesture for Clarissa to follow. She doesn’t look happy about it but she complies anyways.

Once outside of the room you rub your face to stifle an oncoming yawn. When you remove your hands you find her taking in your appearance with a sense of satisfaction.

“Haven’t been home, huh?” she asks a bit too amused.

“No, I have not. My brother is in the hospital.” you say flatly. Admittedly you did look like a mess being in the hospital for two days now. You have already missed classes but after a few desperate emails you got the materials you needed to not be too behind. And Jason had texted you letting you know you didn’t have to come in to work. He also said he would stop by later with some of your clothes and other things you asked for. Which shouldn’t give you a fluttery feeling. But, yeah, it did. A lot. 

“So Bryan and I have that vacation this weekend but we can get another ticket for Trey since you guys can’t watch him this weekend,” 

Crap, that had completely slipped your mind. You imagined Trey being stuck in a hotel while they were going out with friends.

“No! I mean, no, it’s okay. The doctor said Nick will be out by Thursday. Trey can help me take care of him. It’ll be fun,” you give her the most reassuring smile you can muster while being sleep-deprived. She looks uncertain. 

“They are all welcome to stay at the Wayne Manor too. The most secure place in the world, I assure you,” a deep voice sounds from behind you. You turn to see your boss, Bruce Wayne himself, holding a card and with a dazzling smile on his face.

“Mr. Wayne? What are you doing here? And wait what?” Very eloquent you are in front of your boss.

“Jason told me about your brother. I thought I would stop by and check on you guys,”

He puts out a hand and you watch as Clarissa shakes his hand completely starstruck.

“Bruce Wayne. And you?” he asks.

“Clarissa,” she says growing red in the face.

“She is my nephew’s mother. And Mr. Wayne is my boss,” you say catching everyone up.

“And I am Jason. Y/N’s friend,” Jason emerges from behind Mr. Wayne taking you by surprise. You give him a look definitely catching his emphasis on friend. He gives a wink in response.

“I also came here to offer the Wayne Manor for residence. Until your apartment is cleared by the police of course.” Cleared?

“Yeah, when I stopped by it looked like the police had it taped off for investigation. You are allowed to stay there but I imagine it would be a pain in the ass. Apparently, there was a shooting in the complex the same night.“ Of course there was, this is Gotham of course.

”And I have a young son too so perhaps he and your nephew could keep each other company.” Mr. Wayne chimes in.

You spy Jason rubbing away a grin from Mr. Wayne’s comment but he regains his composure. 

“Well,” Clarissa hesitates but you know she would never give up the chance to please a high-profile billionaire, “I would feel a lot better if Trey was somewhere secure.”

Everyone looks at you. Great, color you cornered. 

“Yeah, sure why not. Until our apartment is cleared of course,” you say and Mr. Wayne smiles and nods.

“Well, I must be off but please pass my well wishes to your brother along with this card.” he hands you a "Get Well” card. The image of him shopping in Hallmark amuses you to no end.

“Thank you Mr. Wayne,” you say and he nods saying his goodbyes before he parts.

“Does it seem like he is always disappearing?” Jason asks pointing behind him at Mr. Wayne’s fading figure.

You glare at him hoping he can sense your anger at him ambushing you like that. He gives an innocent smile and Clarissa giggles next to you. Someone is not immune to Jason’s looks.

“Oh, hey these are yours,” he says holding up a duffel. This brightens your mood slightly.

“Thanks, Jason. You are a lifesaver,” you say and grab the duffel. 

“Well, I should probably go get Trey. We don’t want to be late,” Clarissa clears her throat and after one probably too long look at Jason she walks into the room.

You wait until the door shuts and you hit Jason on the arm.

“You asshole!”

He rubs his arm. “Ouch, I think I prefer lifesaver.” 

“Why did you do that?” you ask angrily. 

“Do what?”

“Ambush me like that!” he looks confused and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, that?” he jabs a thumb behind him. “That was all Bruce, I promise you.”

You look at him uncertain but nothing in his face signals a lie. You hold up a pinky.

“Promise?” he smiles and hooks pinkies. 

“Promise.”

“I offered to stay there with you guys too but it is completely up to you,” he holds out his hands defensively, “I just didn’t know if you would feel more comfortable with someone you knew that isn’t your boss.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “Yes, actually that would make me feel a lot better. And you really are a lifesaver, an asshole usually, but lifesaver.” you hug the duffel closer to your body.

He laughs at this. “Glad to hear it.” His smile drops and before you can react he gently cups your face examining with a concerned look. Your breath catches at his touch and he immediately drops it clearing his throat.

“When is the last time you slept?” 

“Shortly before you got here, actually,” he didn’t have to know it was only for a few minutes.

“And eaten?” he crosses his arms like a disapproving parent. Now that one was harder to answer.

Before you can answer you hear a small voice in the doorway.

“Bye Daddy! See you soon!” Trey chirps and the door shuts with Clarissa behind him. He runs up to you and gives you a hug.

“Bye T! I will see you this weekend,” he squeeze him tight and he groans.

“You’re suffocating me Auntie Y/N,” he wheezes dramatically. You kiss him on the cheek.

“I think you’ll survive.” he groans and looks behind you. 

Jason is standing there awkwardly obviously trying not to intrude. You sigh and gesture towards him.

“This is my friend, Jason. He will be staying with us this weekend in a giant mansion,” you say and Trey looks at him critically. 

“I’ve got a cool knife collection,” Jason says smirking. You smack your face but this excites Trey so much his entire face lights up.

“Come on Trey, before I change my mind,” Clarissa says holding out a hand and eyeing Jason differently than before. 

When they leave you look at Jason. “Knife collection, seriously?”

He shrugs, ‘I was a kid once. I know what’s cool.”

“Was, huh?” he glares at you and you laugh patting his chest. 

[ellana-ravenwood]

Alive - Bruce Wayne x Reader (Erotica)

Summary : The Batman died months ago...Or, did he ? 

IMPORTANT WARNING : THIS IS EROTICA ! THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU ARE UNDERAGED, I GODDAMN MEAN IT. Like there’s cute and sweet feelings in the mix, but also...smut, so if you’re not 18 or more, or if you’re not comfortable with that sort of things etc etc, this story ain’t for you. I have tons of other very SFW story, for averyone to read, and if you wanna check those out instead, it’s right here, on My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives.

_________________________________________________

Your eyes were betraying you. 

No. 

Your brain was betraying you.

That was it, you had tipped over the edge of madness. You were definitely and irreversibly crazy. After months of grief and pain, it finally happened.

Because he couldn’t be there. You had wished for months and months for him to be by your side, and now, your own mind was playing trick on you. Because he could. Not. Be. There. No.

And yet...Yet why weren't you the only one reacting to his sudden appearance ?

 Your children gasped, and Alfred made a loud sound of surprise. 

And why were Diana and Clark by his side ? If it was an hallucination, why would you see them with him ? Why would you hallucinate them too ? Especially since you still hadn’t forgive them for what they did...

Your oldest is the first one to launch himself towards him, and your boy's body make a sound as he hits his father's. A very real sound...You're confused. 

Ho...how ? Bruce's arms wrap around his son and...he does seem real.

For a second, you think maybe it's a dream. One of many you had ever since Bruce's death. Because this is all too good to be true. 

Because this is impossible. Because...Because you saw him die.

The memory of this awful moments comes flooding to you.

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

You saw him died. Or rather, you saw him being swarmed by monsters on Apokolips. It was the same thing really. There was absolutely no chance he survived that day. Even less chances he survived that long. The many months.

It was all so blurry, your own mind shielding you from the trauma of loosing the love of your life. You couldn’t remember everything in details.  

Him having to stay behind to disarm a weapon that would wipe all life in the universe. Being the only one who could do it. 

Him begging Diana and Clark to drag you to safety, because he knew you would never leave him willingly...And, trying as best they could to ignore your screams of despair, they did get you safe and sound. 

It was the least they could do. They owed him that much. After all, he was sacrificing himself for the greater good. And though it cost them a lot to leave their best friends behind...They knew they weren’t any other solutions. 

If even the Batman, even the man that had a plan for everything, from A to Z, said : “this is our only chance”...then it was the only way. 

And as the portal to Apokolips was closing, and you were safe back in the Watchtower, the last vision you had of him was his smile to you. Him mouthing “I will always love you”, before a wave of creatures buried him under them. 

Your supplication to open the portal again broke all your friends from the League’s heart. And when J’onn told you it wasn’t possible, that Bruce made sure the entire thing would fry when the mission was done (for safety, so that they wouldn’t bring any of the nightmarish beasts that lived on Apokolips back with them), you lost your cool. Your lost all control. 

Your screams of pain still haunt them at night. 

They had to give you a sedative. And against their will, called your sons to pick you up. They had to tell them...And it’s with a broken and heavy heart that they brought you back home. Took care of you as you always did for them. Because you needed them. You needed their love. Their support. And they needed you. 

One of the central pillar that was holding this family was no more. 

Their father was dead. 

The love of your life was dead. 

Bruce...Was never coming back. 

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

And yet here he was. In front of you. 

Very much alive. 

Jason, Tim and Damian had joined their brother, hitting Bruce with so much force that they all fell on the floor, turning into a puddle of joy and love. But you still couldn’t believe it. How was it possible ? 

Was this a mean trick from one of your enemies ? 

Alfred was the next to reach him, and with a “Master Bruce...You came back to us...” the older man falls in his “son’s” arms, tears of joy streaming down his face. 

It seems impossible for your sons and beloved butler to tear away from him. But you do not move. And it worries him. 

You don’t even look at him, but at Diana and Clark. They’re smiling at you, nodding...Yes. Yes it’s really him. They would have never brought him to the cave if it wasn’t.

Slowly, you approach him, and your children and butler clear the area for you. They had their hugs and kisses, they had the time to feel that he was really back, and alive...It was your turn. 

With clumsy moves, you reach a shy hand to his face, to cup his cheek and...he leans in your touch. And he’s real. Warm. Alive. In a whisper he can barely hear, you utter : 

-...How ? 

And he explains. He managed to escape all those monsters with smoke bombs and his wits. For months he lived in the underground of the planet, with slaves that were able to escape. With their help, he gathered all the parts he needed and was able to create a new transmitter to go back to the Watchtower, taking with him the ex-slaves...Barry almost had a heart attack when he saw him, disheveled and beardy, coming through something that was suppose to not work anymore (but that they all decided to keep as a reminder of Batman’s sacrifice). 

You felt guiltier than ever to have left him behind...But they all reassure you. Clark. Diana. Your sons. Alfred. And Bruce. It was the only way. Besides, you didn’t have a choice. Your superfriends dragged you away. 

And Bruce couldn’t bear the thought of loosing you. 

His lips on yours are the best thing you ever tasted. His warmth, the beating of his heart, his chuckle, his hands in your hair...Your Bruce is back. 

He’s alive. 

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

You spend a long time all together. 

After thanking Clark and Diana for helping him back (he had to take a few hours of rest on the Watchtower, but refused for anyone to tell you guys he was alive, not just yet, not until his injuries were treated and he was sure to really come back), and you apologies for your behavior those past months. 

Of course, they don’t hold the grudge. They understand. You had lost the love of your life, of course you were mad at them for dragging you away from him. They leave after hugging you. 

And so you leave the cave, you leave this dark and cold place, holding your Bruce close, your sons even closer, and Alfred’s hands too, as you all walk up the stairs, as a group, as a little moving bat nest.

You spent hours all together in the main living room, eating cookies and drinking tea. Until, even though they were beyond happy of their father’s return, your sons start, one by one, to fall asleep. You leave them be. 

Jason, being the tallest one, is laid across the huge couch. Tim and Damian iare cuddled up in an armchair (and you know this is a rare loving family moment because of this, Damian and Tim being the ones to get along the least...but during those long months without their father, they grew closer. Tim was only a few years older than Damian, and they understood each other more than they ever knew). Dick is also laying on the couch, his brother’s feet in his face, not minding at all, even hugging Jason’s calf absentmindedly, as he’s in a deep slumber.

You and Bruce throw a blanket over them, and with a last goodbye, hugs and kisses for an Alfred that never been so happy in his life, you finally go back to the master’s bedroom. To your shared bedroom;..

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

It’s almost as if you’re both afraid the other one is going to disappear. 

Because the two of you had to live those past few months without each other, one thinking the love of her life was dead, the other one having to fight every minute of the day to survive...And it feels great to finally be able to touch each other. 

Your hand softly goes under his shirt, and lift it over his head. His mouth is kissing every part of your face, burying itself in your neck, sucking on your pulsing point. 

With slow and tender movements, he takes all of your clothes off, and his calloused palms caress your chest lovingly. He softly fondles your breast and...that’s when everything goes downhill. 

You both intended to take things slow, having the attention to touch the other one everywhere before taking each others...But no. 

All at once there’s nothing else in this universe but Bruce kissing, touching, biting and licking your neck and breasts. And your hand in his hair, clutching hard on it. The other one on his now bared ass, squeezing. 

You haven’t been able to touch, to feel, to kiss, to taste each other in month. There is no time for proper foreplay. 

The both of you are usually so big on it, but there’s a certain urgency now. As if Bruce would soon be “dead” again and your heart ripped away once more, as if he was afraid to wake up on Apokolips and realize all this was but a dream.

No. There’s no time for a blow-job, there’s no time for him to eat you out. Hell, there’s not even time for a soft stroke of your hand loosely wrapped around his cock, or a few fingers teasing your clit. All you guys manage to do, is to kiss, lick and bite slightly...And that’s it. Because you have to take each other.

You have to have each other now. 

He has to be inside you, and you need to feel him. All of him. 

You stumble back onto your bed, and with hectic movements manage to take the remnant of his clothes off. You roll on him, straddling him, your hand caressing his entire body, going down his chest, making him shiver under your touch. Oh how he missed this. 

You breathe into his ear as he sucks on your neck and it drives him crazy. In one swift move, is on top of you yet again, and you definitely don’t mind. 

You’re so hungry for each other that even without any foreplay, he’s harder than he ever been, and you’re so wet the soft silk sheets are starting to get stained. 

Your lips move in sync with each other, your tongue performing a dance they missed too much. It’s a hard, passionate and bruising kiss.   

Even in the state your both in though, even if you want him inside you as fast as possible, he makes sure you’re ok with this...Of course you fucking are, and the feeling of him sliding all the way down to the hilt inside you is the sweetest thing you’ve felt. 

Of course, it hurts a bit. It always does, because he’s so much for you to take in...But the little sting you feel each time is always quickly replaced by the feeling of him around you. Granted, usually, you both are already pretty sensitive, having had an orgasm already because of the foreplay but...oh tonight it doesn’t change anything.  

He waits for the familiar clutching of your cunt around his dick to know when he can move, and when it comes...Oh when it comes he lost himself in you. 

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, and pushes back in, slowly, but vigorously. He sets a slow and languid pace, but every time he shoves himself deep in you, it with hard thrust. The slow and regular sound of skin slapping skin harshly filling your bedroom. 

He kisses you once more, but it’s so sloppy that he abandons your mouth for your breast instead. One of your hand is in his hair, holding on tightly as he snaps his hips inside you with force, making you move up the bed each time, and moan loudly. Your other hand is grabbing his shoulder, your nails breaking skin with each of his pleasurable movements. 

Your moans, his name on your lips, your words of devotion for him echoes his own groans of utter bliss, the sweet nothing he whispers in your hear, his “uh” and “ah” each time he slides in and out of you. 

All his muscles flex each time he rocks inside you, and you love the feel of his hard body against your soft one. He loves how small and fragile you look, and yet, how well you take him in, making your inner muscle work so that he can feel the best things ever.

Oh he always loved your ability to squeeze him at will, it always drove him crazy...but he holds himself. For about ten seconds. Enough time for you to murmur “harder” and “faster” in the crook of his neck.

The pace is now almost unbearable. It’s too much, you feel overwhelmed and almost light headed as your orgasm approach rapidly. And when he gets up on his knee, taking you even deeper, your ankles on his shoulders...You’re nothing but a hot and screaming mess. 

Each time he pumps into you he makes you moan loudly, it’s just too good ! And everything is enhance because...He’s alive, he’s back, and the happiness you feel nearly overshadowing your physical pleasure. 

Nearly. Because Bruce is a sex god and each piston like thrust inside you is almost too much to bear. Every time you meet his hip, your movements in sync with his, he makes you wail in pleasure. 

Oh and you do so good for him too. Letting him go all the way inside you, letting him make love to you roughly, clutching around him to make him growl louder and louder. 

Soon, you’re both just loud balls of nerves. And when, your legs still on his shoulder, he lowers a thumb to your clit...He swears the sound you make are the best thing he ever heard. He reaches down to kiss you, and the new angle it gives him sent you over the edge without warning. 

With his name on your lips, this time you tighten around him uncontrollably and he cannot help but jack-rabitting into you with force, prolonging your orgasm, still drawing torturous circles around your clit. 

You have to bite down on his neck to try and keep some sense of control over yourself, because all of this is just too much...You squeeze him inside you, and just like you, his orgasm hits him out of nowhere and he spills his release deep inside you, as he buries himself to the hilt and moans some more because you’re massaging his balls, squeezing so much around him that he feels faint, milking every last drop of his seed out of him.

He releases your legs, and put them on each side of his waist as he falls on top of you, still inside you. 

You two stay a long time like that, and if you weren’t both so exhausted of months of sleepless nights, worries, pain and despair, you would have probable go for round two. And three and four to be honest.

But right now, it’s impossible. Both your body reached their limits. Besides, you both haven’t had such a strong orgasm in a long time. You always come, hard. But like that ? Oh maybe it was the first time. The “glad you’re alive sex” effect. 

He grabs a tissue on his nightstand and, finally pulling out of you, he cleans you up, and then himself, and you don’t have to mourn the loss of his warmth to much as he falls next to you on his back, and pulls you into his strong embrace.

You fall asleep in each others arms, wrapped like a puzzle around each others. Your head is on his chest, where his heart beats, not having enough of this, of the fact that he was really alive. One of your hand is tangled in his hair, your fingers massaging his scalp automatically, even as you fall asleep. 

Your other hand is wrapped around his bicep, unable to go all the way around as this man is so much bigger than you. 

One of his leg is thrown protectively over your body, the other one under it. His arms are around your waist, one of his hand running up and down your back as automatically as your fingers caress his head. 

Naked skin against naked skin. 

You can feel his warmth, proof he’s really alive and here. 

You have the best night you’ve had in months. 

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

And Bruce have the best morning he ever had.

He opens his eyes in the early hours of the day, awoken by a strange feeling...

It took him only two seconds to realize what woke him up. You. Or rather...Your mouth. Wrapped tightly around his cock. 

With a loud and uncontrollable moan he lifted the blanket off of him and his gaze locked with yours. And the wink you gave him, as you were sucking him mercilessly was the sexiest thing he ever seen. 

You smiled around his dick as you felt him harden because of this, licking, sucking, kissing all along his shaft. Swirling your tongue expertly around his tip. Making him cry out in pleasure at your every touch. 

Last night, you were so starved for each other that you had to skip one of your favorite part : foreplay. And it was clear that you had every intention to rectify this mistake this morning. 

With a smirk, his eyes still locked with yours, he sat up, and you automatically went on your knees to follow his movement, massaging his balls with one hand, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth...But you were decided to break him. You wanted to make him come undone and when he felt you deep throating him, the sound he made was your new favorite sound. 

A mix between a groan and a desperate moan. 

But things weren’t fully satisfying for him right now. Of course, the feeling of your mouth fucking him shamelessly was something he could definitely get used to but...It was known that he was more a giver than a taker. And the lack of foreplay from the night before bothered him too. 

It was time for one of his favorite thing of the world. He bend forward and grabs your thighs, and you know what he’s about to do as you don’t resist one bit. Your legs find themselves on each side of his face and...Oh the good old 69.

Months. It had been months since you were able to have each other, to taste each other, to love each other...and he was decided to catch up with lost time. 

Later, after making yet again passionate love to you, he would tell you how the thought of seeing you again is the only thing that got him through. The only thing he fought like hell for. How being back in your arms, home, is what helped him survive all those months on the hostile planet that was Apokolips. 

He lived for you. He couldn’t live without you. His being was forever linked to yours...And he was ok with this. 

A particular good swipe of your tongue on his length makes him shiver and...Oh god he loves you. 

______________________

This is kinda shit. I shouldn’t write at 4 am in the morning while watching Jurassic Park...Oh dude it’s almost 5 actually. I’m falling asleep on my keyboard. Why am I writing in such a state ? Sorry if you hate it.