#but seeing how Gotham works inside and out from someone from more experience it can help Sabo paint a better picture on why things are like

[kiteou]

Very big believer of Jason leaving Sabo with Bruce to get them to know and like each other.since Sabo is Jason’s romantic partner then there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with your technical son in law.Right? So Sabo becomes Bruce’s temporary assistant in crime fighting in Gotham.

(This image explains my thoughts well.scarily enough.don’t ask where it’s from)

[metalotaku-da]

danny phantom x dc prompt ideas: weather wizard addition.

this comes to you thanks to my big story pieces comment section. i think if the phandom knew more of this characters background and i thought it was more commonly known. it would have more of a field day. same with gotham academy >.> but that is for another post.

alright weather wizard, is a flash villain and a member of the rogues.

mark mardon. is a thief and criminal who escapes from prison and fleas to his brothers house. where he believes he found his brother dead and his weather experiments. including the weather wand which he takes and starts his alias crime as weather wizard. it is hinted at in the comics he actually killed his brother and stole his work. it is believed he had a confrontation with his brother over his prison break, the argument and heightened emotions triggered mark's meta gene and he accidently killed his brother when his powers manifested. and he blocked out that memory. and it is also why he can't use his weather powers without the wand. as a mental block. because he does have powers without the wand.

later on he finds out he has a son with a cop he had relations with. it is known josh is his son because he has weather powers. mark in a fit of rage and jealousy over the his son's powers kidnaps him, with plans to DISSECT AND EXPERIMENT ON HIM TO FIND OUT HOW HIS POWERS WORK SO HE CAN GET THEM. he has a break down though over it before he can go through with it. and wishes his son had someone besides him as a father, because he deserves someone better.

other facts of note: josh was thought to be wally's kid till he got his powers. lady cop has batman's taste. her name is julie.

the rogues have strict rules against hurting kids.

weather wizard killed impulse breaking this rule. though he was tricked.

so yes phandom. here are some options i've brain stormed. please add more ideas for others to knaw on.

1: danny has escaped the fentons/and or giw. flees to central city and weather wizard finds this vivisected terrified kid. and man does it hit his guilt and crazy. this could have been his son. he was going to do this to his child. and it's his redemption/penance to protect this child to make up for his sins. could have a mental break and think he actually did this danny and danny is his son josh too. so many ways to go.

2: other rogues find him, after hearing about ww kidnapping his son and think danny is his son who escaped from his injuries and go on revenge spree for this kid in mistaken idenity. which has funny and dark ways it can go.

3: danny meets ww or his son. and hears how ww couldn't go through with it. maybe from young justice. impulse or members of the league, other rogues dealers choice. danny just dieing a little on the inside like, how come your parent could stop himself with love when he never met you, but my parents raised me and still didn't love me enough not to. the angst protentional here is so high.

4: jazz could work at the facility treating mark. her point of view from treating a person who is so much like her parents but who showed their love for their child in the end. when hers couldn't move past their goals and see their child they claimed to love. could add in she's got a de-aged danny/dannies because of it. to see what it could have been if her parents had been better. stronger. she could get feelings. (totally thinking on par with harley/joker kind of but not that dark.) where mark actually like her and cares for her. could be one-sided. and the giw find them mark breaks out cause she and or kids are in danger and saves them.

5:mix and match the above.

please add more

[lilithmymind]

Hey, pals, have I told ya just how much I love villain route? No? Not yet? Than welcome.

I'm fucking obsessed with that route, especially John in there. Villain Joker is very collected and serious, even though he's smiling and laughing, his whole mannerisms and attitude is much more serious and maybe even cold sometimes. He have power to lead a bunch of people and create a huge and working plan to destroy Gotham which he sabotages by the other side of his character. Joker's clothing is still as messy as John's, showing up what he still has that little John Doe left in him, and visualizes his inner conflict. During that route Joker showed John out, letting himself be insecure, letting himself doing something good and what John wants himself, not what he should be wanting. John clearly shows up at the over emotional moments like when he asks Batman to don't tell Harley about what he bettayed her, stopping Harley from killing Bruce and when he pre&after-fight with Bruce, showing up what no matter how collected and what «monster» John became as The Joker, he's still the same confused kind guy in the inside who just happened to find himself more at creating destruction than anything else. John was a puppet of dark thoughts and desires all along, but he always hid it behind, meanwhile Joker was a puppeteer who can't survive without his puppet stopping him and putting him onto the right paths.

Also I really love Bruce&John's line there. Joker in all ways tries to show Bruce how much he despises him, how much he hates him, how much he doesn't care, but still he does, John does. Meanwhile Bruce is literally holding over a lot of sadness and pain. Imagine what the person you loved, cared about, who seemed to be so nice and good, ends up becoming a monster, ends up torturing you, your friends, your parental figures, and than you have to fight him. For Bruce this was a huge crack, since his best «friend» becomes his enemy, becomes someone, who Bruce can't recognize because he was too blinded by his feelings to notice what something is wrong with John on the fundamental way. Especially once John got a heart attack. John probably thought what they'll never see each other again at the last moment, and Bruce probably thought the same, but If John would die really, Bruce won't. Bruce would be holding this forever until the day he'll die himself. But, thanks God, John stays alive snd wakes up, it still left a huge scar on Bruce, especially it got deeper once that old motherf—Ahem, Alfred, decided what he's leaving and said what the thing what happened to people around Bruce, including John, was Bruce's fault.

I can't stop imagining what would happen after that way. Bruce never visit John, but Joker already planning something to do with Bruce what will make Bruce just like John. Bruce's decisions really did impact John, because all this violence, the fact what John isn't so scared to be a murderer who he is now and etc might've get out once John watched Bruce's behavior, once he noticed what it's «fine» too, what John can be who he is. John probably has plans on using the same what Bruce did to open up all those darkness inside him too.

I was yapping about only the way I played the game so your experience with the route might've been a little bit different.

[halloweenfrills]

WARNING: definitely not consensual, drug use, forced oral, water boarding, water sports.

(No title. Only thing I could think of was "Dr. Crane Gets Brain.")

This was your chance to be more, more than Dr. Crane, respected psychologist at Arkam Asylum, well, as respected as you can be in Gotham. It's not like you'll ever be Bruce Wayne but this research will bring you more than the measly life you've gotten by taking care of the local crazies.

The hazy streetlights somehow made her look more fragile, the woman you've decided on as she carries a single pizza alone in the night. Bold, walking alone like that, but you would soon know her fears if the toxin you had created was the right formula, tonight was an experiment to see how the drug worked on a sane person, assuming this woman was sane. Feeling your knuckles turn white around the handle of your briefcase you echoed her footsteps.

Waiting underneath the cover of darkness in an alley across from her apartment building it would seem luck was on your side tonight. There was no sign of The Bat, not even a symbol in the sky as you waited for her lights to dim, only the flicker of TV showing through her bedroom curtains.

There was a rule among the lower Gothamites in the city, a rule to mind your own business and turn a blind eye to crime, so as you kneeled onto the asphalt, feeling the damp soak the knee of your suit pants, the click of your briefcase opening goes unnoticed. Staring up at you, a mess of stitches and brown sackcloth, empty black holes your eyes were about to fill, the mask stared up at you. The crazies called you Scarecrow, the name stuck and you quite liked it. Slipping on the mask, you're no longer Dr. Crane, you're Scarecrow, a worst nightmare brought to life, becoming any fear someone could see. Your fear toxin was loaded, begging to be used to gain you more power in Gotham.

The sound of your heart was in your ears as now you were inside the apartment, from what you could see, as shabby as it looked on the outside she had made this a quaint little home in the middle of this filthy city. You could feel yourself smile underneath the mask, her sleeping form seeming to flicker by the TV light.

"Wakey wakey.", you hummed lowly, stalking to her side and leaning over so when her eyes opened she would see the face of Scarecrow. It was time to get a look inside her head.

It took mere seconds for her sleeping form to go from dazed to instant panic. I'm sure the shock alone from seeing a figure standing over her as she slept was enough to induce fear but more was needed, unleashing the fear toxin with a simple click of a button.

Her screams were almost like gasps, stepping back to watch her flail herself out of bed, seeing pale legs wobbling as if struggling to keep her on her feet. "What do you see?", my distorted voice asks, seeing her whip her head around to gaze at me like a wild animal trapped and knowing its doom. Curious, the gasping screams were different, watching as her hands almost clawed at her throat and chest, leaving red marks dragging along her skin.

It clicked, drowning, she was feeling herself drown and maybe simply seeing a man in a mask and suit. "Fascinating.", the word left my lips, this time reaching out for her. She screamed, finally struggling out two words, "The Batman!" Even her words sounded like they were under water, that pressure crushing down onto her. My hand found her hair, pulling hard on her scalp and I saw tears come to her eyes as I began dragging her towards the bathroom, her wobbling legs almost useless.

The Batman. I've heard plenty of stories but so far I've not seen a sign of him myself.

Flicking on the bathroom light, her fingers were trying to claw at my hand as I forced her to her knees, twisting in my hold, "This will have to do.", I sighed, curiosity getting the best of me, if she seemed to have a fear of drowning then how much could she take?

With two fingers I lifted the lid of the toilet, wrapping her black hair around my hand as she kept gasping, "The Batman isn't coming.", I tell her slowly before plunging her face into the toilet water. She made the obvious mistake of screaming as she went in, water sucking into her mouth and lungs while her knees banged against the floor for mercy, water splashing onto the cuff of my suit. Now she was really drowning, or, at least, drowning under my control.

Deciding she needed a break, I lifted her head from the toilet, and tilted my head, the soulless Scarecrow mask observing her sobbing face, the water dripping down the front of the black silk nightie she wore, "Please-Please!", her voice hoarse, "Can't breathe-"

"Obviously.", I snorted, plunging her back in. The fear toxin must slowly be losing its hold on her mind as she was beginning to form words instead of gasping screams.

Deciding when she had enough, her body tried coughing up the water, watching as her chest heaved, and to my surprise two little points caught my attention, her nipples now hard beneath the wet silk.

"Npt quite the reaction I was expecting.", I whisper to myself, intrigued, my eyes scanning down her trembling form. All that kicking had lifted up the hem of the nightie, revealing gray cotton panties with something that really caught my attention, a little wet patch between her thighs, something that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

"Oh my God, you're disgusting.", I almost laughed, she was enjoying this despite the fear, "What's going on in that little head of yours?"

Loosening the grip on her hair, only a little, I watched the shame creep up her face, the gasping quiet now as the drowning pressure must be slowly relieving from her chest as her mind was trying to process everything. Kicking her ankles apart more, she flinched but had stilled the fighting, my fingertips running up her leg, her thigh, and eventually pressing against the wet spot.

This time you expected the noise that came from her next, a moan. You smiled behind the mask, wondering if she could see the way your eyes shone with their own excitement of this discovery. "Let's see what else you like.", I hissed, plunging her head back into the toilet before she could beg for The Batman that wouldn't come.

Holding her in place with one hand, it seemed now that her shame was exposed, despite the fear toxin weakening, she didn't have much fight left. With the other hand you reached to unzip the pants of your suit, reaching to free yourself, "Since you don't mind being disgusting..." As a test, you free your hand from her hair, deciding to relieve the pressure and piss right into the toilet her head was in as if that's where she belonged. It gave a certain satisfaction, seeing her peek up, timid, just as the pale yellow stream hit her cheek, a pitiful wail coming from her as she hid her face back down to hide her lower lip quivering from tears.

"What's the matter?", you kicked at her ankles, tilting your head to see that the wet patch had grown, her thighs almost quivering. Either this was a reaction to the drug or she really was disgusting, either way it was fascinating.

Now that you were relieved, shaking off the last remnants, she began to move as you tucked yourself away, your hand pausing as you were going to zip back up. You've used the fear toxin, seen how it reacted on a person that wasn't in Arkam Asylum, but you didn't want to be done with her.

Bending to grab her hair again, she winced as you turned up her face to yours, making her stare into the eyes of The Scarecrow, "You could make for an interesting experiment.", you signed, running your thumb over her lower lip, seeing she had bitten it, smearing the watered down blood across her lips, "Open your mouth."

And on command, she did. Was her mind gone? Did the toxin make her go numb? Or did she think compliance would keep her from getting hurt? Either way, as your thumb slid into her mouth and pressed to her tongue you felt your cock twitch as you stared down into those fear filled eyes.

"Fuck it.", you huffed to yourself, once again freeing yourself from your suit pants, stroking with one hand while the other held her chin, feeling her anxious tongue run over your thumb. She was squirming, no doubt horny from this as well as you let her suffer, seeing you grow harder.

This time your touch was more gentle, taking the back of her head and guiding her to your cock, the tip toying with her lips to take you inside. You rose an eyebrow, an action she couldn't see, as you observed if she would obey.

As you slipped into her mouth, your length gliding onto her tongue to feel the weight of you, your own moans slipped out. She was so warm and wet, her saliva pooling around your cock as you reached to grip her head with both hands, eager to fuck her face.

She's already had her worst fears come to life, drowning, unable to breathe, now as you forced her head up and down, taking the length of your cock back and forth, you were giving her that fear all over again.

And it felt good.

Her palms went to your thighs, begging, praising, you didn't care. Her knees sore on the bathroom tiles as her body wanted to protest to the feeling of your cock in her throat, the quiet gags another warning.

You wanted to come, fuck, she felt too good. But you couldn't leave any DNA behind for Commissioner Gorden and his piggies to find.

Your chest heaving, you forced her to take you completely, holding the back of her head so her nose was pressed to your suit pants, just making her hold your cock. Her palms beat at your thighs, gagging and gasping as drool came from her mouth and dripped down to her chest. Chuckling behind the mask, you let her go, leaving her on the floor to sputter and cough while you grabbed the hand towel, quickly pumping until you felt your own release into the fabric.

The toxin must most definitely be wearing off now, a ragged sob shaking her while you stepped over and back to her bedroom where you left the briefcase, putting the towel inside so there's no evidence left behind.

Unable to stop yourself from taking one last look, she made no move to flinch away as she cried, lifting the nightie to properly see her panties now soaked.

"I've got to get a look inside your head.", you tell her, patting her thigh and standing back up. You hoped to see her at Arkam, such a fascinating experiment.

[fleckcmscott]

Every Day

Summary: After their first New Year's celebration, Arthur and Y/N ponder how to proceed.

Words: 3,731

Warnings: None

A/N: Familiar ground is covered in this story, but with my last few pieces being set later in Arthur and Y/N's relationship, I wanted to revisit the blooms at the beginning. I hope you all like it! Many thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for beta-ing! 😃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

December 31st, 1981.

One week ago. Seven days. One hundred and forty-seven hours - not that she kept count. The night Y/N had screwed up her courage and told Arthur she wanted them to live together. Spilling that in Gotham Square, amidst sparkling fireworks and noisemakers, glittering confetti and flowing champagne, had been what she truly desired. Not a mere reflection of the city's dreams and hopes for new beginnings.

So why had neither of them brought it up again? A hush hushness that felt like a tacit endorsement of the status quo.

Not that their status quo was bad. It was pretty great, actually. Delightful, even. Her very own New Year's wish come true. He made her see and experience things in a different light. Stirred parts of her she'd forgotten, neglected. A maroon toothbrush camped in a plastic cup on her bathroom shelf, a box of Kotex had made its way to his. It was good and joyful, what they had.

The question prodded anew. Why the hell were they carrying on as if nothing had happened?

Typewriters clacking, she and Patricia chatted over the hammering of keys. "Does he want to move in with you?" Patricia asked, focus fixed on fluttering paper. "Is he that kind of guy?"

"Well." A bell announced the end of Y/N's typing line. She grabbed the wite-out to correct a p to an o. "He didn't say yes or no. He didn't say anything, really. But judging from how he kissed me, I can safely say he wouldn't mind."

"That good, huh?"

"I can still feel it in my toes."

Matt called from the office behind her. "Hearing that you have a personal life is going to be an adjustment."

Y/N rolled, swiveled to peek past the doorframe. "You're welcome to shut your door," she teased.

Her boss had a point, though. While she'd related her professional background, chatted about television shows and local news, the personal was a hand she kept close to her chest. Only recently had she disclosed to Patricia - a woman she considered her best friend - the surface of what she'd gone through with her father back in Missouri.

There wasn't much to discuss, anyway. Life was simple. She worked and got a bite to eat. Read the paper and stopped at magazine stands. Walked city parks and browsed the shops once or twice a week. A lovely, mundane life made whole by finally being where and who she was meant to be.

And now she had someone in that life whom she ached to be with every day. Who made her want to stretch into new interests, who asked her to share her own, unexpected treasures at her age. How on earth could she keep all that inside?

Crossing the room to sit on Patricia's desk, Y/N described the rarities. "Take comedy," she began. "I like the late shows as much as anyone else, or a funny movie once in a while. Beyond that?" A dismissive wave. "But I love Arthur's passion for it, learning from him, hearing his jokes. It's like when he puts on music I haven't listened to before."

"What's he like?" Patricia sipped her coffee, reclined in her leather chair.

"The classics."

"The Supremes? Elvis?"

"More like Frank Sinatra and Fred Astaire."

Patricia squinted. "How old did you say he was?"

"He's younger than all of us but his heart's antique."

"You really are in love."

Tucking her bottom lip, Y/N grinned until her cheeks smarted. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Y/N, take my advice," Matt said, now in the doorway. "Men aren't like women."

Hand on hip, she caught Patricia's Here We Go gaze, then angled her own on Matt. "Is that so?"

"Women tend to talk too much. Men don't need all those discussions. We want to just...do." The man lumbered closer - the same man who groveled to his ex-wife every other week. He brought his palms together as if delivering a final argument, trying to convince a jury to render a guilty plea. "Let him do. What comes comes. You're a bright woman. It'll work out."

As poorly expressed as Matt's thesis was (and the behind the scenes it explained), her gut told her he'd gotten that last sentence right. After a moment, Y/N bobbed her chin in appreciation. He gave a dumb, pleased little wave and retreated to his office.

Patricia's unforgiving elbow jabbed her thigh. "Get back to your desk before he opens his mouth again."

~~~~~

Arthur itched to talk about it. Truly. Cross his heart, hope to die, needle in the eye and all that.

At the grocery store the other night, he'd felt brave enough. Strolling the aisles, filling their respective baskets, holding hands between picking products. Seltzer and marked down Christmas TV dinners for him, a popular brand of tea and World Tour Swanson's for her.

He'd repeated the opening in his head a hundred times, scrawled it in his journal a thousand more. In the shadow of a grand, football shaped display of potato chips, he'd watched her. (Was the amount of time he watched her when they were together creepy? He didn't want to be creepy. He wanted to be a man in love.) She'd studied a bag. He'd gripped his basket tighter.

"I wanted to ask you..." Arthur's breath ran out.

Y/N put the bag in her basket, next to a carton of eggs. "Yes?"

"Um." The bravery he'd been so confident of threatened to run out, too. He'd shrugged, forced himself to smile, his tongue in armed revolt against his brain. "How your pretzels were?"

She'd stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Which of course he had. "How my pretzels were?"

"Yeah." He'd slid closer to hide his screw up, body language smoother than spoken. Act casual. "The ones you bought for New Year’s." He'd managed to name the day, a split hair's breadth from success! "The mustard kind?"

One slow blink. "Honey mustard. They were good. Did you want some?" She'd reached towards the display.

"No," he'd said, a bit too fast.

"All right."

Five weird seconds that stretched like five hours. Arthur prayed he'd turn invisible so he could flee. A hiccup, a conscious effort to constrict his throat, hold his breath against a laugh.

An easy arm had curled around the crook of his elbow, led them to the checkout. "I have some left. You're welcome to them," she'd said. His diaphragm had calmed to a quiet cough.

Perhaps he could broach the subject tonight. That was the plan, anyway, as he jaunted down the concrete stairs. In his hurry to get to Y/N, he'd forgotten his hat and mittens, an oversight sure to perturb her. The wintry mix of snow and rain turned the light waves of his hair to curls, his lips frigid as a Frigidaire. Shivering, he pulled his tan hood over his head, yanked the strings tight.

He could do this. He just had to put his mind to it. After all, if they hadn't exchanged keys it was still a hypothetical, which meant it was still safe.

Not that she wasn't a safe haven. She was the one who'd taught him what safe haven meant. But there was a lot to consider beyond eternal bliss.

She'd bought movie tickets last Tuesday, insisted on paying for dinner Thursday, offered an evening casserole and wine after she'd seen the receipt for his new insomnia medication. He'd cursed himself for leaving it on the counter and declined. Poverty was the usual and he was used to it. Now it pricked like a bushel of thorns.

A couple days ago, he'd met Dr. Ludlow, an appointment made after Christmas, after a long talk with Y/N. (Though she'd made no such hints, he suspected that committing to treatment was necessary for her to fully commit to him.) The introductory session had consisted of rehashing every diagnosis, histories he'd rather forget. Dr. Ludlow was nice and all, made him comfortable, appeared willing to listen. No hard candies but he could smoke to his heart's content. When he'd wanted to schedule another appointment, he'd pushed out a bashful request for some type of payment plan.

"The first few sessions are taken care of." She'd smiled at him like she was delivering good news. "That should take you through March, then we can go from there."

Hovering at the doctor's desk, he'd found himself unable to move. That act of generosity was an island's leap from free chicken parmesan. He was at once deeply moved - and deeply unsettled.

Was it possible to be both the Man of the House and a financial burden at once?

Maybe. Maybe not. Probably maybe not.

Probably maybe he should slam the brakes on this train of thought. Shaking those notions off, he knocked on Y/N's door.

"Where is your hat?" Wifely exasperation right on cue. Chilled cheeks burned crimson at the association. He kissed her full lips but she retreated, wincing. "You're freezing. We need to warm you up. You should take a-"

"Bath. I will." He'd showered that morning, but he wouldn't argue. It'd be hard to enjoy himself as a popsicle. Unzipping, unbuttoning, he started towards the bathroom, dripping across the carpet.

~~~~~

Laundry folded and put away, Arthur's clothes draped over the radiator (his socks and briefs had somehow stayed dry), Y/N busied herself with the Gotham Journal. Thomas Wayne's mayoral bid continued to stomp across the front page, another article reported Brezhnev's latest threats. An ad for canned diced tomatoes featured a recipe for Mediterranean stuffed peppers. She dog-eared that page for later.

At a quarter to eight, she folded the paper on her lap and looked towards the bathroom door. Light spilled beneath it, the sound of a couple soft splashes. There was no sign it would open soon, and she was growing eager. Ready to reclaim last week's courage, she set off to retrieve her bathrobe.

Just as she was about to knock, a muffled hum halted her hand. Low, baritone, a caress to the ear. She pressed her frame closer to the wood. Rasped syllables between bars, a pitch that stuck to the back of the throat at higher notes. Though the song was unknown to her, she guessed it was the kind of old romantic tune that'd made her gush to Patricia.

It was adorable, her boyfriend serenading himself in the tub, and she adored him for it. Her younger self had assumed passion would lose its wonder as she grayed and wrinkled. Yet, she found she wasn't much different from that girl back in Boonville. The love she had for Arthur felt as fresh as new beginnings.

When he spent the night, he usually let her sleep until her alarm. But there were times she'd wake to his face buried in the nape of her neck, his stubble rough between her shoulders. Arm tight at her waist, fingers splayed on her abdomen. On those mornings she couldn't bear to move. Perfect moments she wanted to live in forever.

A glow sparked within her, propelled her forward. She knocked but didn't wait for a reply. "You can use this, if you'd like," she said, indicating the robe, cutting through the muggy air. "It shouldn't be too snug. I bought a couple sizes too big." She laid it on the closed toilet and turned to face him.

A navy blue washcloth drifted through the water, a bar of Ivory soap floated on the surface. Arthur sat straight as a fence, penis and hands tucked firmly between his thighs, which flexed in an uneven rhythm.

She floundered for a moment. Had his mother walked in on him like this? In the middle of getting dressed or washing up, a grown man without privacy? Had she just been as inconsiderate as Penny?

Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll go put the kettle on."

A shake of the head told her not to worry. "No, it's all right." His pale green glance was earnest, flashed with a shimmer that might have been hope. A muscle twitched along his jaw, the corners of his lips folded inward. Brown waves tumbled forward, knotted from the wet cold.

She ventured a pace towards him. "Would you like me to wash your hair?" Not long ago, he'd mentioned he always cut it himself, hadn't ever had the salon experience.

Dark brows lifted as he processed the request. "You don't have to."

"I'd love to," she said, perching on the tub's rim. "It's my favorite part of getting my hair done. Nothing washes away a trying day quite like it."

Whenever she suggested touching him in a new way, it didn't take much convincing. Tonight was no different. He dunked under the water immediately. Rivulets sculpted cutting cheekbones, drops fell from the rounded tip of his nose.

Sleeves rolled to her elbows and a dollop of shampoo in her palm, she laced her fingers through not yet silky locks. A stubborn tangle caught her left thumbnail. She stood for better leverage, working through his chestnut mop, now dark as velvet winter skies. The lather thickened with each stroke.

"Does that feel good?" she asked.

Not unlike his earlier singing, he hummed. "Mmm."

Sleet pinged the nearby window. She raked her nails along his scalp. "When we took a bath at your place, you said you were thinking about the future." A safe a way to breach the conversation, a lovely memory for them both. The night he'd confessed he loved her.

"Yeah. One with you." He rested in the curved end of the tub. "I've been thinking about what you said. About living together."

Her pulse skipped into next week. "Does that mean you want to?"

"No. I mean- I dunno. I like the idea, but I- I don't have a lot of money. My apartment's expensive, Penny's stuff is everywhere, and...I haven't lived anywhere else. Your apartment's newer. And I know you hate the cigarette smell at mine."

That was a fact she couldn't deny. She hadn't complained, having no desire to hurt him. But given that she didn't allow smoking anywhere besides the fire escape, it wasn't hard to deduce. Kneading slowed to a languid massage. She cleared relief from her throat, relief their relationship wasn't the cause of his hesitation. "This one's about the same age, just remodeled. And your place is spacious compared to some of the apartments I've seen." Her mind flashed to Mrs. McPhee's, the kitchen, living, and dining rooms combined into one ten by ten coop.

The pad of her thumb followed his strong brow. "I've been meaning to ask you something." Her hand snuck past his shoulder, traced droplets on his pectoral, dipped beneath the water's surface. "Were you always this thin?"

He frowned, tensed beneath her touch. "I thought you liked it."

"I do, I do. It's just that you have a bit of a love handle. Righhht...here." A pinch to his squishy flank, tickles to his ribs.

Sudden giggles, laughter that sounded ten years younger. He splashed her with a flick of the wrist, streaks of lilac sweater darkening to violet. "I lost weight when I started my medication. My mother used to say-" he raised his voice an octave here "'-You need to eat. Look at how skinny you are.'" A roll of the eyes, his whole head. "I guess that doesn't matter anymore."

"It doesn't have to," Y/N said. Then she scoffed at herself, at the hypocrisy of confirming he could let go of the past when hers continued to bleed at the edges. Before he could assume the scoff was at him, she added, "Maybe living here would help with that." He made no response.

Bending closer, she gathered his hair at the nape of his neck, wrung out lather. Suds slipped down her forearms. Automatically, he relaxed into her, curls clinging to her fingertips. Conversation ceased. She was unaware of the nearness of her breasts to his face.

A whispered trail on the seam of her sweater. Along her abdomen, across her stomach, up, up, up. He cupped her breast, cradled her as if she was a mirage. Wetness seeped through the acrylic. Her motions halted. The humidity of the room thickened to a pleasant fog.

Arthur's Adam's apple bobbed, his gaze darted to hers. "I don't want sex."

Careful to keep shampoo out of his eyes, she smoothed stray strands from his forehead. "You can touch me whenever you want, wherever you want. With or without sex." She nudged the tip of his nose with hers. "I want you to touch me every day. That's how you'll get used to it."

Reservation melted into an easy smile, tinged with a bashful pride. Akin to a suitor recalling how well he'd done on a date. Moving to catch her chin, he admired the handprint on her shirt and stole a kiss.

Her toes curled anew. And in the corner of her eye, so did his.

~~~~~

After handing him a fresh towel, Y/N left to change. An oversized sweatshirt would do, a faded sage green. With its hem at her hips, she decided to forego pants in favor of pale pink middle-aged panties. A choice for candid familiarity.

As she poured honey mustard pretzels in a wooden bowl, filled the tea kettle with water, Arthur shuffled through the living room. He flipped through her meager record collection, about ten LPs in total. The console stereo remained shut.

"There's nothing romantic in here," he said.

"I have a feeling Al Green would disagree." She'd played Let's Stay Together often as of late, a soundtrack to dusting and dishes, lines and lyrics bringing Arthur to mind.

The radio sprang to life, the GCR nightly news hour. Buzzing, static, the squeal of an out of key jingle. Finally, he reached his goal. Warm strings, a plaintive timbre.

"What station is this?" she asked. Bumping into Sinatra the evening he'd come for dinner had been pure luck.

"GPR. They play oldies Tuesday and Thursday nights and Sunday mornings." He sidled up beside her, robe cinched tight at the waist, chest peeking out from the white terrycloth. Soft notes continued while they waited for the water to boil. Quiet, lovely companionship in this basic task.

When she filled the mugs, the collar of her sweatshirt fell down her shoulder. A moment, two, and he put his arm about her. His thumb ventured to her collarbone. Tapping, settling into a comfortable caress. She jutted her hip against him.

He gave her a squeeze. "When you were a little girl, what did you dream about? What future did you want?"

Both hands cupping her mug, she put her elbows on the counter. In truth, that was hard to conjure. Married at seventeen, college four months later, degree at twenty-two. Childhood dreams had remained distant since - well, since she was a little girl. Not that she regretted that history. It'd simply resulted in practicality instead of preoccupation.

And the prior decade of distress had done a pretty thorough job of grinding down whatever parts of her could still imagine in that way. Even with the medication she'd taken towards the end. She'd lived moment to moment, survived hour to hour for so long. Thinking of it reminded her of all she'd lost, when it should've reminded her of all she'd gained. It irked her, how small it made her feel, small enough to rival a camel going through the eye of a needle.

But Arthur wasn't aware of the rusty gears and cranks of her past. He deserved an answer.

"I wanted to grow up, but I wanted life to stay the same. Does that make sense?" She blew ripples across chamomile. "I had a good childhood. I was lucky. My parents were supportive and proud. My sister was my best friend, even when she annoyed the hell out of me. I wanted to keep those things, like a photograph that wouldn't fade. But I also wished for a career, to make a home with the man I loved. I didn't understand what that kind of love was, not yet. But I saw what my parents had and wanted my own happily ever after." A soreness threatened her vocal cords, for theirs had been cut short. She sipped it away. "What about you?"

The answer came quickly, as if he'd been waiting to be asked his whole life. "Meeting my dad." He dunked his cinnamon teabag, his strong brow weakening. "I always wondered what I did to make him leave."

Heat enveloped her neck. "You didn't do anything, Arthur. You didn't do anything. He's the one who missed out, not you." A rash response, one that wouldn't heal his wounds. But a salve she hoped would soothe - and what she believed.

He wound the teabag's string through the mug's handle. The corner of his mouth curved, a subtle nod of the head. The hand on her shoulder drew a line down her arm to entwine their fingers. Turning her towards him, he grasped her hip.

From the tender light in his eyes, it was plain where this was headed. And she hadn't had any wine to help her get over herself. Her palm pressed his sternum in a halfhearted attempt to save her dignity. "We've done this once."

Their clasped hands were now at shoulder height. "Not enough," he said.

"You haven't had a chance to see how bad I am at this."

"We just have to practice."

"But I can't hear when to step," she said, and shifted foot to foot.

"Didn't you enjoy it the first time?"

She weakened in his arms, her protestations dissolving in her throat. "I loved it."

"Then let me lead. You don't have to all the time." The warmth of his blinding smile echoed in his gentle instruction. Touch firm but tender, his fingers splayed on the small of her back. "If we live together, I'll want you to dance with me every day. That’s how you'll get used to it."

She chuckled, laid her head on his shoulder. The fresh scent of soap rolled off him. She nestled deeper for another whiff. On a sigh, she pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "Make sure to hold me to that.”

~~~~~

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[elvesandlanterns]

Ghost Helpline chapter 40

Secrets before dinner 3

Jack peered closely at the green vials, “No way, you actually pulled off recreating a medical grade ecto degecto?!!”

“What like it’s hard?” This bitch.

Before the two could start another fight Ziyad placed their hand down on the little vamps shoulder. Ziyad took over the conversation quickly, “This is great Wilbur, I assume were being given the test batch?”

“Well I cant just go around poisoning my patients now can I？” the manic man laughed, “Though I suppose I can but that would be bad for business.”

Ziyad held back sighs, he admittedly hated working with Wilbur but this was for the greater good. Magical creatures (half breeds his mind unwontedly whispered to him) in the mortal world needed healthcare, and they surly weren’t getting it. Trust came hard to them. Understandably. And while king Phantom was doing his best he couldn’t be everywhere at once. And even if he could be there would always be a sour taste at accepting aide from royalty.

No instead people were more willing, happier even to seek out black market healing guilds like Wilburs. At least then you knew exactly what the catch is.

“Im sure your clientele appreciate it.” Ziyads smile stretched thin. He really hated working with Wilbur, “Speaking of your clientele, when can I schedule my sister to see you?”

Ecto degecto was still in its infancy of being considered a universal blood type for magic kind, but for the death touched it was a necessity. A necessity they weren’t even sure she needed or not. It would be best to check, and Wilburs guild was good at gathering info on his sisters illness. It probably helped that their family paid him so well. Ziyad thought as he bit the inside of his cheek raw.

—- —- ——

Tims heart raced, his sister? His sister?!!! Tim could sill remember the first time he saw the Masters family. The were all gathered about laughing and smiling. They looked so happy.

She looked happy, wheelchair bound and attempting to run her siblings down.

He’d been jealous. Jealous and sad. And suddenly any thoughts of Vlad Masters being some up and coming big bad had disappeared from his mind and he sold his old empty house on the spot. As if the money could somehow be as warm as that laughter.

No no after that first meeting he never suspected Vlad Masters.

He should have suspected his son. Tim grimaced at his own sense of vindication. Guess there not such a happy family after all.

— —- ——

Jason was actually properly shocked at what he heard. …Was …..was this guy EXPERIMENTING on his sister!!! Green threaded to swallow him whole, how dare he! How dare he hurt someone like that! Hurt his family! Hurt a kid.

Holy shit the kid!

Was the kid his sister?? They needed to intervene now!

This sick fuck is going down.

—- —- —-

Jack wasn’t named after anyone in particular. Violet had renamed him far before she had met the Masters family. Far before they knew. /that/ story. Before any of the kids knew about any of the stories that came before them and by then the name Jack had stuck. But being called Red, even as a code name, felt special in its own way.

Violet and Red like a ridiculous beautiful color combination a pair idiots would make up. And they did. Violet, Konstelacio and Red, Jack. The first time around he had been named Jack because it was common, grounding, easy to play off as foreigner trying to fit in. It was practical. But Red? Red was like roses and hearts and blood and Violet. Like being renamed to compliment her entirely. It made him feel secure.

Now if only it also wasn’t also so common.

“It’s Red —-Red——!”

What ?

All Jack heard was his own name as he tripped over the side of a table clutching his stomach as a bullet wizzed by. Crying out as the bond between him and Violet chooses right then and there to flare up terribly.

“Red!”

“Kid! Oh my gods they shot Red!”

—- —- —-

Ziyad feels something off. Gotham was full of shades and shadows and spirts. He had grown use to the felling of being watched but this felt different. Different he scoured the warehouse turning his eyes up the window just as glass shatters to the ground, damn it, “Its Red Hood and Red Robin!! Get down!” He cant reach Jack before he falls yelping in pain clutching his side, he can hear Wilburs yell clearly too clearly, “Kid! Oh my gods! They shot Red!”

He’ll think about how horrible he is later. Later in bed he’ll think about what Reds blood hands and never seeing that kid in the kitchen at fucking midnight ever again. How he’d never get to hear him and — argue over mechanics and science ever again. Later he’ll think about how lucky they all are to not be mortal. Later, later Ziyad will tear himself apart over his piss poor decision making.

But in the moment all he can think about as he sees the kid get shot is, ‘shit, Violets never going to forgive me.’

He doesn’t think at all as Red Hood rounds closer to them, doesn’t pull back his punch because whoever this guy is he is most defiantly not mortal. Not anymore. And while Ziyad might not be a halfa, he is also defiantly not mortal. He doesn’t think and punched Red Hoods helmet hard enough to crack it.

—- —- —-

Jason is momentarily thrown at the shout of “Oh my gods! They shot Red!” Whipping his head around to look at Tim. Tim whose throat he cut, Tim who he hurt and ignored and mistreated. He looks for only a second and a second is all the man needs to get one over on him.

Gripping his head Jason dodges a kick rights himself back up. The kid is on the floor behind them, shes on the floor. Just like Tim. Jason hadn’t been aiming at her. He didn’t mean to.

Swing. The bastard doesn’t let up for a minute and it takes too long for him to realize the space growing between them and the kid until its to late. Beanie guy throwing various liquids at Red Robin as he yanks the pink teen up harshly and makes a dash for it. Whatever he threw at Tim is turning to smoke, odviscating his view of the man he’s fighting.

All he can see is green eyes. All Jason can hear is Tim choking on smoke. On his own blood. On the blood Jason put there.

Oh it is on!

—- —- ——

The vigilantes take stalk of their surroundings. The men had run off with the case of lazerous water but several crates remained, Marked with letters SBS. Tim walked over to the closest one, he had work to do.

He does his best to block out the sound of Jason behind him, he cant do this right now. He cant. Focus on the case. Focus on the case. This was way bigger than the initial drug ring he assumed it would be and he needed as much info as he could get.

“I need an explanation Tim! And I need one now.” He heard his brother growled out, lovely.

Ignoring his questions he pried the top of the box open. What the hell. What the actual hell? This wasn’t drugs or lazerous water this was so much worse.

“Jason shut up.”

“Fuck no you -“

“Jason shut up and look.”

The crate was insulated, cold. And filled with blood bags.

[riddler-green]

Amor, amor, amor.

Summary: Edward has been considered the office outcast, the weakest link in the chain, but, if he's as invisible as he thinks he is, why are you looking at him?

a/n: Hi! this is my first fic in English, sooo apologies for any spelling mistakes, enjoy!

Warning: this fic is heavily inspired by The Riddler: Year One #1, obsessive behavior on the part of the reader and Edward, foul language, love at first sight, maybe a little cheesy.

Words: 8,200.

What is it that makes us valuable in the eyes of others?

It may be money, values, beauty, or anything.

But in this world loneliness has affected you, since you were born your desires are handed to you on a silver platter, anything can be yours. And with the social circle, you live with it's easy to fall, to be a spoiled and arrogant person.

Jewelry, fancy clothes, and brand name shoes, all your life you got used to that, that your only concern was what color you would wear for your nails this week. Everything seemed to be simpler, your mind enclosed in a bubble of glitter and pink, after all, you considered that you had a perfect life.

Well, until you met Bruce Wayne.

It was a one-in-a-million coincidence that you two met, it's even stranger that the two of you hit it off somehow, a very unique duo, he gave you a new perspective on the world, of Gotham, as you walked him through all the years where he figured out who he is and what he wants to do for the future of the city.

He practically burst your ideals, it's like he punctured your bubble and you came out, you realized what he meant. Then he started making it more formal, making his outfit, his weapons, and tools, he even made a whole lair where he would do his operations.

How you are trustworthy and practically his only friend told you after several months of thinking about it, you accepted it regardless of the consequences that would come in Bruce's life. You remember that night, you hugged your friend until your arms ached for all the trust he gave you, his secret will be safe with you, even though inside you worried too much. But how could you refuse? if it's to keep his legacy as he said, you weren't going to stop him.

Since then you have stopped seeing Bruce as often as you used to.

And it all seems so bland, even if you turned to Gotham's rich little group of young adults, it wasn't enough, it was all drab and dreary. You could easily die of boredom.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Why don't you give work a chance, honey?" your father's voice is heard in the doorway of your room, bringing you back to reality, you stare at the fire in the fireplace. After so many introspections have made working not a condemnation for you, maybe in your spoiled past you would have thrown a tantrum for the simple fact of getting out of your comfort zone and working like any normal person, but now you lift your shoulders and just say "Okay".

"Great! They're hiring at KTMJ, just one call and you're done" You turn to see him pull out his phone "What if I want to get a job on my own?" The man shakes his head "You have to get experience first, my child! Besides I'll rest easy knowing you'll be in a safe environment" he exclaimed exasperated, maybe your parents were happy to have you working too.

You keep looking at him, he waits for an answer from you and you just stare at a fixed point on his face, do you need to work? The position you could fill is deserved by someone who is trying hard to get ahead, but you don't have many options anymore to get bored. "I understand father, I'll work as best I can" you reply looking back at the fire in the fireplace.

You hear him talking to someone you have no idea who it could be, but at the moment you just think that this new experience could be a good thing for you, you could stop depending on your family, you just hope to give a job worthy of the position they can give you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You adjust your clothes as you walk up the stairs of the KTMJ building, today is your first day and you want to make a good impression. As you enter you notice the variety of people arriving and leaving the building. It's a small office complex compared to other skyscrapers, but you still like the detail of the logo on the elevator, you appreciate it as you walk up from floor to floor.

To your surprise, when the elevator opened, a lively and cheerful atmosphere greeted you, you see helium balloons and streamers on the ceiling along with company anniversary decorations, you perceive a group of well-dressed people talking happily, one of them notices you and jumps out of his seat to approach you.

"Wow! But look who's here!" a man in a sharp suit greets you, he has a sharp face and dark brown eyes with spiky hair like porcupine quills, you greet him back "Hello! Good afternoon I'm-" before you speak he interrupts you "Oh! no need for formal introductions! Call me Zach and I've already been informed of your arrival" he laughs offering his hand for a handshake, you take it warily but do so anyway.

"Zach, nice to meet you, um-" you take a moment to speak "If you already know who I am, then could you tell me where I can talk to Mr.Stone?".

"I'd be honored! Come, I'll walk with you" he walks deftly between the cubicles of the office, Zach guides you to a staircase, and going up to the second floor you observe the view that gives the height, from here you can see almost the entire office, half of the people are talking and dancing with drinks in hand and the other working in their cubicles as if it were another work day.

"Here it is Miss, and welcome" he opens an office door and then smiles with perfect teeth. "Thank you" you reply and enter the office.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Apparently, it's not enough for this office to celebrate the anniversary once, so when you come back the next day you find the same scenario, this time there's a lot more decoration and everyone is out of their cubicles.

Well, except for one.

You look at the back of the man sitting in his cubicle, absorbed in all the commotion and writing frantically on bead sheets.

Interesting, you think.

You'd like to approach him to ask what's got him sitting and working instead of partying with the others, but you'd rather give him his space, he may be working on something important.

You walk towards the stairs to get to your own office, Mr. stone offered it to you as a cordial gesture, after all, you are the daughter of the biggest partner of the company, and the favoritism is obvious, in a certain part, you dislike that you are given better treatment than the others.

"Well if it isn't my favorite girl!" you hear Zach shout moving closer to you, here we go again. "We just met Zach" you wave if you can call it that, unlocking the office door with a set of keys, the man in the blue suit stands to the side of you "Well that doesn't take away from the fact that you are" you open the door and Zach walks in behind you "You should come downstairs, there's a party going on right now!".

You turn on the light in the room "I'd rather stay here" you refuse and then sit down at your desk "I want to start working at once".

 "Oh! Please! You'll have fun! Besides, Edward is already covering those bills" You stopped the express cleaning you do to your desk "Who is Edward?".

Zach Snorted "The bespectacled weirdo" speaks, adjusting his black tie. A red flag goes up on the flagpole in your mind "Oh, I think I saw him when I got here."

Once Zach arranges his tie the way he likes it and turns to look at you "Believe me tell you he's a very weird guy, but he's extremely good at the job, that's why he hasn't been fired yet" he revealed as if it wasn't a big deal.

Formulas some questions, why is he considered a weirdo? why is he still here?

"I find it interesting, I'd like to meet him" you reply curiously. "Well, there will be a time for that, now you have to meet the others" he comments and you sigh as he is right, the best thing would be to meet most people.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You chatted with the group of friends of the man in the blue suit, who were drinking glasses of wine, and taking pictures to remember the party, they were nice to you. Zach, apparently the leader of the group is the one who talks most of the time, makes jokes, and tells anecdotes and in the end, everyone laughs at what he says. But you know perfectly well that kind of man like Zach, his leadership potential is good, but he lacks nobility, he even becomes quite egomaniacal with the comments of his recent promotion.

It's a good atmosphere, but for you, this is a waste of time.

"Hold on, I have some papers to serve" Zach informs walking away from the group, you notice the direction he's walking in and he stops at a cubicle. Curiosity prickles your skin, he must be talking to Edward, you unconsciously get up from your chair, one hand occupied by a plate of food, and head towards the same cubicle.

"You finish the Smelkison accounts?" you hear Zach's stoic voice directed at the person sitting at the desk. "Yes" speaks the man you can't see as Zach's stiff back prevents you from seeing him.

You walk faster until you reach the man in the blue suit "Hey! Hello!" you hold up a plate with the sandwich "I guess we haven't introduced ourselves..." you say finally looking at the face of the man in front of you, you stop talking slowly looking at every detail of him. Slightly tousled brown hair, a round face, smooth cheeks, and a normal build but you just can't look away, he catches your eye so much that you continue to stare in fascination as if you were appreciating a newly discovered work of art.

You look at Zach's face for a second. Is he blind? Can't he see the beauty of the man in front of his eyes?

On the other hand, the center of your attention doesn't respond to you, and thinks you're talking to someone else, causing you to get confused and decide to speak again "You're Edward, right?".

"He-hello" he stutters a little, forming a nervous smile, in response, you smile at his shyness. Zach looks at the interaction skeptically "Oh, my favorite snack" he takes the untouched plate in your hands and thanks you for instantly taking a bite, you frown slightly "Actually it was for Edward, a gift for helping with the...Smelkinson account?" you improvise an excuse.

Edward adjusts his glasses hiding his eyes from the reflection of the light "Thanks, but I'm not hungry". Your smile doesn't stop, on the contrary, it grows because of how adorable you find him "Wow, that's a pity, the food is delicious".

Edward doesn't respond to your comment, it's as if his voice stopped working in your presence, he looks down trying to concentrate on his work "I also finished other things like the Goodman divorce".

Zach stops eating his sandwich and puts it in one of the file cabinets "jeez, we don't need this until the end of the month" he speaks busily as you stand silently watching their interaction. "Sorry" apologized Edward in a low voice. "It's fine but let's keep this between us," says the man in the blue suit then turning to you "we need to get back".

"I'll catch up with you later" you reply, causing Zach to raise his eyebrow but he doesn't think twice before turning back to his entourage. You turn to look at Edward who is surprised that you caught him looking at you "Are you sure you don't want a snack?" you offer hoping he'll say yes.

He shakes his head, muttering a "No, thank you".

"Mmm, well, best of luck in your job, Edward" you wave goodbye and walk away from his cubicle, causing Edward to lower the papers he put halfway down his face to hide his nervousness.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Luck is something he doesn't have, not even a hint of it, but he feels that something changed in his destiny when you looked at him for the first time, as you noticed him among so many people and that's almost a historical fact, someone who notices him and doesn't ignore him like everyone else.

He knows you, how can he not? If everyone talks about you, about your upper-class position that gets you to put in a better cubicle than him, you just starting to work, he's been here for five years and he's still at his simple desk while you rise to the top. It's unfair, totally unfair, and the strange thing about it all is that you don't repulse him.

You dress just like Zach's friends, in fancy and expensive clothes, and he watches as you approach the group with a serene face, after a few minutes you look in their direction, and instead of grimacing or telling someone that Edweird is looking at you funny, you simply smile at them and make a peace sign.

He is too surprised, he looks away to return to the accounts on the table, numbers are his safe place where he knows the result of operations. But social relations? He doesn't know about that area, that's why he's completely confused, why do you smile at him? why do you treat him well? It must be because you are kind or you are faking it to hide your cruel personality.

Kindness, he never thought that existed in Gotham, it's not every day you see a pretty, rich girl offering him snacks and being empathetic, so he's suspicious of any decent gesture that comes his way.

Edward sighs, the day will soon be over.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You walk out of the KTMJ building as the dusk turns into a starless night, you slowly walk down the steps blowing on your hands, you shouldn't have forgotten your gloves. You see out of the corner of your eye Edward's brown hair on the bottom steps, and you can't help but want to talk to him.

"Goodbye Edward!" you yell at him and he turns around with a surprised face, you wave a hand as a goodbye with growing excitement, and he waves goodbye without saying anything to you, just slowly waving his hand as you do.

You consider it cute and even refreshing, a novel feeling arises in your whole being, you watch as he mingles through the dangerous streets of Gotham, perhaps on his way to the subway, and you worry about how dangerous the streets can be at this hour, next time you might take him home.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Are your cheeks hot? Does your heart race in his presence?

Oh, you should call Bruce.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 Zach arrives at your office with a couple of coffees from the nearest branch of the building, he greets you with a big smile and sits down in front of your desk handing you the coffee, you take a sip and quickly push away the paper cup with the hot coffee, you burn your tongue a little causing a disgusted look on your face. "Slow down" Zach chuckles and drank his hot coffee.

Jesus, how disgusting this guy is, someday he must realize that you have no interest in him, he keeps coming back to you to brag about his luxuries and cases he has solved alone. Maybe in other times, you would have been captivated by his neat appearance of a successful businessman, but being surrounded by people like that you ended up losing interest.

It's your second week here and you've only done basic things, but it's not all bad, the good thing is that from your office you can see Edward from your window. You don't care how creepy it sounds that you watch in your spare time a man who probably doesn't want anything to do with you.

"Look what I did" he hands you a folder, it was the Goodman case you heard about the second time you arrived, but you remember perfectly well that Edward worked on this case as well. "That's fantastic, all this research" you congratulate flipping through the accounts and papers with all the information "But, didn't Edward help you with this?".

At the mention of the other man his smile falters "Yeah, well, he did the numbers part, but I did everything else!". You close the folder, this job is Edward's, not his, no matter how assertively he lies, you won't fall into his trap.

"Tell them Edward helped you" you hand the folder back to him. "But-" he objects, however, he watches your serious face and it cowed him, he doesn't forget who you are "Okay."

He leaves your office and you wait a moment, when a few minutes pass you quickly walk over to the only window in the room to watch Edward for a while, but what you find is Zach talking to him, your blood boils every time he talks to the man with the clear glasses, are you the only one who realizes that the idiot Zach is taking advantage of Edward? maybe some people realize it because of how obvious it is, but no one does anything.

You will change that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"What?" Mindy, who you think is a female version of Zach, stopped looking at herself in her hand mirror to look directly at you. "I said," you clear your voice, "Do you know Edward Nashton?"

The woman rolls her eyes and turns back to her mirror "He's one of Zach's minions" she says applying red lipgloss. "Come on Mindy" you sit down next to her "you must know something more about him".

"Why so much interest, mmh?" she asks with a suspicious tone. You knew I'd ask you, are you willing to give up this intimate secret to the most gossipy woman in the office?

"I think he's handsome" you confess swallowing your distrust, with the crush you're suffering you need want to know everything about Edward.

Mindy starts laughing, however, when you don't follow her laughter, she instantly stops "Are you serious?". You shake your head in affirmation, Mindy's mouth drops open, totally taken off guard by the fact, "Wow, I mean, I didn't think that was your type”.

You set your sights on something other than Mindy, you get a little shy talking about these topics out loud "He's cute and very dedicated to his work."

"Well, if you say so" he keeps his mirror in his bag "Actually, Nashton is a very mysterious person, I mean, he hardly hangs out with anyone in the office, apparently he's really into crossword puzzles and that shit, all the time I see stuff like that wasted all over his desk."

Satisfied with the little she gave you, you point to her "Don't tell anyone what I told you" you just hope your secret isn't revealed before you try to move forward with Edward.

Your co-worker smiles "Relax!" she gets up from her chair "Your secret is safe with me!" she assures you before leaving the room.

You doubt it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 Edward arrives at work at exactly 7 am when there is almost no one in the office, he likes to be early so he can be alone with his work, without the need to listen to Zach's irritating voice giving him folder after folder of new cases, however when he gets to his desk he finds something.

"1001 Sudokus to solve!" 

He picks up the little book and looks at it with fascination, looking around for someone who might have left it there. 

But he's alone... isn't he?.

He looks towards the stairs, on the second floor, and watches the shutters of one of the offices close quickly, if he remembers correctly, yours. Was it you? Did you give him this? He sits down at his desk and picks up his red pen to start the sudoku on the first page, while he solves it without difficulty he thinks of you.

He's skeptical, he can't help it, it must be a joke on you and Zach, it can't be a gift, it's a joke, just that, but as he finishes his first sudoku he imagines you leaving him this book with joy in your eyes, that he's not a joke on you.

He hears some footsteps from the iron steps, he turns up and finds you in front of him "Good morning Edward" you smile at him already close by in his cubicle. "Good morning" he reciprocates the greeting ducking his head, he had already seen too many pictures of you last night, but when he is next to you he just freezes.

"I heard you like crossword puzzles" you laugh "but I couldn't find one of those, so" you sit in a chair with desk casters near him "I chose Sudoku."

"You gave it to me?" he speak hesitantly filling in the boxes with numbers. "Yes!" you confess with unconscious enthusiasm.

"Why?" he didn't mean to sound so confused but he can't help it, that thorn in his head telling him that he doesn't deserve any of this too he wonders the same thing Why, why are you giving him a gift?

"Because I want to, someone should thank you for the cases Zach took, right?" you replied cheerfully even though you worry inside, doesn't he like the gift? Does he find it strange?

"What?" he abruptly stops solving his sudoku, he looks at you with utmost surprise, what did you just say? "Nothing" you quickly get up and walk away saying "have a nice day".

Edward stares at your figure as you climb the stairs again, that you're back to the top again, he should hate you, but he can't, nor does he want to. The gears in his head turn to come up with a workable answer, you're not like them, his smug superiors, he smiles slowly, he didn't get a chance to thank you for the gift. Edward thinks about what he should do, he could go upstairs and thank you directly but he also thinks that this situation needs to be cleared up once and for all.

He needs to know if you're playing him, if he trusts you even for a second, you'll probably show up laughing with Zach and his group over poor naive Edward who believed in you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 Mr. Stone looks at you as if you grew another eye on your forehead, yes, your request was more than unexpected, he adjusted his glasses and keeps his usual gesture of seriousness "Are you sure?

You are sitting in front of his desk with a chair, and you notice the various newspaper pictures on the walls, you don't have time to read them and you focus on Mr. stone "More than sure, I don't deserve an office if I'm only given simple tasks" It wasn't enough to just watch Edward anymore, you want more, and being up there with the others, it just takes you away from him.

The man sighs "But you can't go down to the cubicles where the others are, Miss" Your smile disappears at his reply "Why not?".

Mr.stone leans back in his chair "Well, your father insisted on a better environment for you, and believe me the second floor is the best section for that".

"I'll tell my father that I chose to be downstairs, he doesn't have to worry about that" you see Mr.stone's tired face with clear signs of wear and tear, but he still tries to give you a good deal. "okay, we'll give you a new cubicle". 

You give a little jump of joy inside you, and outwardly you smile determinedly "In fact, I know where I want to settle down."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 "Hi Edward!" you drop your files into your new cubicle, a freshly cleaned desk just for you, your expression of joy is hard to hide, how did you not think of switching cubicles before?

Edward jumps at the noise, looks at you a little startled then asks "What are you doing?".

"I'll be your neighbor, isn't that wonderful?" you sit down in a desk chair, and put your post-it notes in one of the drawers naturally, while Edward continues to process what you said. "What happened to your office?" he asks again.

"Well, I decided it's better to work directly with others than to lock myself in four walls" that's not entirely a lie, but you know the reason you came down is beside you, anxiously waving his red pen.

"Makes sense" Edward opines further accepting the idea that you'll be by his side for quite some time, he's not ready yet. in the meantime you smile at him relieved, he thinks it's no wonder you sit specifically near him, another bullet dodged.

The two of them remain silent, which you don't mind, you suppose Edward must be quite introverted and that's why you don't force him to chat if he doesn't want to.

"The sudoku you gave me..." he started to speak but looked down at the papers on his desk "I liked it, thank you very much."

"Ah!" His thank you catches you off guard, your cheeks start to hurt as much as you smile "It's nothing! I hope it wasn't too hard for you."

Edward smiles back "I figured it all out in less than an hour, it was entertaining." You are surprised by what he said "Really?" Edward nods his head with an approving hum "That's brilliant" you reply delightedly.

"You think?" his cheeks heat up forming a slight flush, when was the last time someone complimented him? this feeling is so unfamiliar to him, it's simply scorching, but also addictive.

"Yeah!" you laugh as you slowly come up next to him to talk closer "I take to do one, like, a half hour and you finish the whole book!".

Edward chuckles, flashing his smile strange to others, but to you captivating "It's not that hard."

"How cool" you flatter him again, and you look at his face closely, how sometimes most of the time his glasses hide his eyes from the sun or the glare, you'd like to see those green eyes more, get lost in them and never go back, wouldn't that be wonderful?

Edward opens his mouth to speak again but a call stops him "Nashton!".

Your smile fades. Why does Zach have to butt in where he's not wanted?

Zach stopped in front of Edward's desk with some files in hand.

"Look at this" gives you a new folder, from the perspective of your view you see the title of the file -New Beginnings, animal rescue-.

"What happened to Goodman account that was here?" Edward questions receiving the folder giving Zach an indecipherable look.

"Oh, I decided to hand it over, after all, they're impressed with how fast we work" he informs holding up his hand with his thumb, you roll your eyes inquiringly.

Edward's face softens to a completely reflective one, still staring at Zach... <we>?

"So you told them that Edward did most of the work, right?" Zach is surprised to hear your voice, he didn't notice you when he came to give Edward the files, he turns in your direction and smiles with that fake face "Yes, I did."

You narrow your eyes in extreme distrust, he's most likely lying, but you'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "What are you doing here, by the way?" the suited man ignores Edward's glare at him.

"I moved my desk, I'll leave the office to give it to you" to Zach's eyes it seems like a nice act but the truth is it's a sign that you want him as far away from Edward and you as possible.

"Aw! You shouldn't have done that!" she replies in a cloying voice that makes you want to bust your eardrums if you hear it again.

"I insist, keep it."

Edward stays in the background of their conversation, ducking low enough not to turn around and watch you talk to Zach like he's your friend. "I need you to look at this file, it's something from upstairs, they need it urgently so they gave it to me" Zach informs him again, god, this job will kill Edward someday.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 You look at Edward again, and you think you might consider him your new hobby, however, you are worried that something is wrong with him. Another nice thing you find about him is that when it's time to work, he nimbly moves his hand and answers the boxes on the charts, he takes the time to look at each receipt for evidence and compares each bill to find a discrepancy. It's as if he's so focused on just that that everything else gets put on the back burner.

You can't get enough of seeing him like this, but it's getting late and you're practically alone in the office. You tap him on the shoulder and shake him gently and call out, "Edward?

Edward comes out of his trance, he looks around and finds the office about to close, but he also finds you there, right next to him "Yes?" he looks at you a bit dazed.

"It's late, let's go" you put on your coat for the cold and settle in your chair already standing up. Heeding you he gets up from his seat and puts on his coat and backpack "I didn't notice the time, did you also work late? 

"I finished my work early" you declare walking towards the elevator, and Edward follows you "I was just waiting for you."

The elevator closes, you inhale the cold air, and you see Edward who similarly watches you and just smiles. "How long have you been here?" you start a conversation, averting your gaze at the speed of light, seeing the logo plastered on one of the walls of the elevator instead of Edward's smile that could blind you if you stare at it too long.

Edward adjusts his glasses "Five years" he replies somewhat embarrassed, at this point he knows you won't make fun of him, but he still has that thorn in his side.

"That's a lot" you reply "You deserve better".

"I don't think so," he says hiding his hands in his coat, "I'm not capable enough to be promoted."

"Edward please" you speak almost angrily, not at him, but at the people who made him feel this way "I've seen your notes and let me tell you they're great, you're talented."

Edward looks into your eyes, looking for some lie you can give him, if this were a dream, he doesn't want to wake up, he shyly pulls his hands out of his coat and gives himself a little pinch, he feels the pain, he's awake.

That's all I wanted to hear from someone, but now that he has you in front of him he doesn't know how to take it, no, don't fall for it Edward, it's a game of yours, everything you're saying must be a joke, after all, it's not the first time someone plays with his happiness.

Meanwhile, your head is burning for not knowing what to say, you have so many things to confess to Edward, the urgent need to tell him that he looks great in that plaid shirt, or that his hairstyle makes him look incredibly handsome, so many options but you decide to keep them to yourself.

The elevator goes down to the first floor when the doors open Edward gets out first almost running but you stop him "Edward, you're going to the subway right?".

"Yeah, are you going too?" he asks innocently and you almost say yes just to tag along, but you have a better idea.

"Oh no, I have a car" you look at the watch on your wrist "It's late enough and it might be dangerous, I can give you a ride home, if you want" you pose crossing your fingers internally, you hoped it wouldn't sound so weird your proposal.

Edward could pass out right there, this all sounds like a romantic movie I used to watch when the orphanage had a worn-out TV but it worked "I don't want to be a bother".

You gasp "Impossible!" you reach over and grab his arm "I would never think something like that."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 All Edward thought as he looked at the streets of Gotham was that all is lost, desolate, and full of evil, he examined the people silently on their paths to the subway, as he blended into the crowd of god-forsaken people.

But now he's sitting in a beautiful carriage next to you.

The streets are still the same, and the people are still there, yet he rejoices in the privilege of not being on his way to the disastrous subway, that he doesn't have to put up with gangsters bothering office workers like him.

One thing is obvious, he hates your kind, he loathes them with all his being, all the while wondering if there is hope in this life, and it seems that fate has answered him.

Yes, there is hope, and it's you.

And he admits it in the depths of his being, the attention you give him scares him a little, it must be something normal for people to treat each other like that, with kindness and respect, but you make him feel special and that makes him not want to get away from you, he craves that attention little by little.

You look out of the corner of your eye at Edward who is contemplating the view from the passenger window, once again absorbed in his thoughts, what a cute thing to do, you did not regret it taking him home.

Once your father told you when you were little that someday a rich man would give you a great life and you wouldn't have to worry about anything else, that you wouldn't have to lift a finger for your husband to give you everything you want.

But now? You wanted nothing more than to give Edward that comfortable life. Oh, Edward had you wrapped around his finger and didn't know it.

"What are you thinking about?" Zach spoke to you sitting comfortably in his new office, next to another colleague whose name you don't know but they were chatting about trivial things, Edward was keeping busy doing his work and you didn't want to interrupt him, so now you are here.

"Edward should be promoted" you replied looking straight at him "I should mention it to Mr.stone".

The man in the blue suit laughs "Come on honey, Nashton doesn't have what it takes for this position".

"And you have what it takes?" you ask him with some distaste, you're not his honey.

"Uh, yes" he still laughs and the girl next to you laughs along with him "But well, I don't want to talk about him anymore, have you been to Paris?" he expertly changes the subject to which your companion replies.

Without answering his question you leave the office, but unexpectedly the office door opens unexpectedly.

A somewhat dejected and uneasy Edward enters the room so quickly that Zach is startled, shouting "Jesus!".

"Edward?" you speak to him and he turns to look at you and smiles softly, raises his hand in greeting, and turns to Zach.

"Uh, can I have a word?" Edward murmur to the man in the blue suit who reluctantly gets up and follows him toward the exit.

You sigh, Edward looks good in anything he wears "what are they talking about?" you say quietly.

"Who cares?" replies the other woman in the room.

"I care."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 Walking down the stairs towards your desk, Zach runs in the opposite direction down the stairs past you and ignores you "I'm taking you upstairs with me, Rain Man!" he yells excitedly.

Oh, so he must mean Edward since he gave him that nickname recently. Back in your cubicle, you pick up a piece of paper from the floor and hand it to Edward, who has disorganized his desk.

"Did you find anything?" you put the paper on his desk, Edward nods his head with clear happiness, starting to tell you in detail about the discrepancy between accounts, and various financial terms confused you, but seeing him so cheerful talking numbers makes you so happy you just listen to him.

"You're so smart Edd," you said without filters in your mouth, you open your eyes in surprise realizing how you said it, in a gawking tone.

"Tha-thank you" he takes his red pen that has black ink in it and starts playing with it.

You sit stiffly clearing your throat to look more decent "I hope they notice your effort."

You and Edward stare at each other as if it were a staring contest, you both smile comfortably together, he squirms with happiness at the compliments you usually give him, and on the other hand, just the fact of making him smile delights you.

You hear a noise coming from the second floor, Zach energetically descends the stairs and Edward approaches him still maintaining his excitement.

"What did they say?" asks Edward without batting an eye, Zach grabs his shoulder with an unconvincing smile.

"He said it was probably nothing" the man in the suit informs and Edward's eyes widen in surprise "What? But-" he tries to speak but Zach stops him, "He said it was a mistake, but it was a good job! He even bought me lunch!" he starts to walk away to start walking up the stairs "Don't worry! I've got it from here, bud"

"But!-" Edward shouts but Zach no longer hears him, his serious countenance turned to disappointment, again he was ignored, standing there, static and beginning to darken his mind, a formulated hatred, screaming internally in his conscience for the time he invested in analyzing the account.

"Idiot" you whisper looking towards Zach's office, you have to do something to make them notice Edward's effort, you pick up your bag and walk over to the man still standing there "Let's get something to eat, Eddie"

He comes out of his trance and feels your arm touching his "Yes, let's go".

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 "So, what do you think?" Edward asks your opinion on his plan to talk to Mr.stone. "It won't work, trust me" you comment eating a French fry as you see Edward in front of you, the two of them standing in a booth at the nearest diner in the office, a place set in the eighties with a menu with plenty of burgers and sodas "He'll just tell you it's a mistake, but I know it's not".

Edward looks at you in confusion, eating his food and thinking that you are right about his could-be plan being in vain.  But he doesn't know what to do to make his work stand out or at least get an explanation as to why his discovery was a mistake.

Clicking his tongue quickly, you noticed, this whole thing is fixed, if that investigation is done in depth there will be a danger for everyone involved, it was expected that Mr. stone dismissed the case without much thought.

This company could be up to dirty tricks and that's what you fear the most, is your father involved too? It's time for you to do your investigation.

"What goes up and doesn't come back down?" Edward asks shyly, it's like he's testing the waters with you.

 "Is it a riddle?" you smile stopping eating to turn your attention to Edward who shrinks back in his seat "Don't you like them?" he says unsure, nodding you told him "Yes, but I'm not that good" you shift restlessly around in your seat, trying to hide how elated you are, it seems like the two of you are a couple on a date.

"Your age".

Your naive fantasies are distorted back to reality "what?".

"That's the answer to the riddle" he comments taking a bite of his food "They're not that hard, it's just a matter of thinking about it."

"You make it sound so simple" you laugh wiping your mouth with a napkin "I'd rather you tell me the answer."

When you are next to Edward, that self-critical part of him that puts him off disappears, you make him feel like he is normal, in that he doesn't have to hide his personality and you pay close attention to him when he talks about his crosswords, he is starting to enjoy your company, he has fallen, he is so weak to your charms, he takes a sip of his drink and nods his head, he will tell you the answer to every riddle he knows.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It's two in the morning when the ringtone of your cell phone rings, you raise your arm lazily to reach it from your bedside table "Who is calling?" you ask with a sleepy voice, whoever it is you were going to hang up the call in less than a second if it wasn't because you heard Edward's voice calling your name frantically.

"Eddie? Eddie! what's wrong?" your eyes widen in alarm, leaving your tired mode to a worried one "Are you okay?".

"I saw them!" he shouts through the call, you pick up the sound of the rain and the city in the background "I saw them all!".

You get out of bed and put on a sleeping robe, still holding the phone to your ear, "Where are you?" you grab your car keys and head for the front door of your apartment.

"I...I" stop talking making you worry more "I'm outside the iceberg Longue!".

"I'm on my way, don't hang up please".

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 "Sorry " Edward muttered sitting on the floor, warming himself near the fireplace in your new apartment, like emancipation from your parent's house. 

You take your time drying her hair with a towel and hum softly, you dreamt of this before, the two of you sitting there appreciating the warm fire and holding each other to feel the warmth of each other, but you didn't want things to happen this way, you have so many questions to ask, what happened, what did Edward see to put her in that state? You decide not to ask that for the moment.

"What are you apologizing for?" you whisper to him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him any more than he already is.

"I disturbed you in the middle of the night" she speaks softly cringing trying to dry herself more with the towel she has covering her entire body.

"Listen Eddie" you finish drying his hair and sit down next to him, the two of you on the floor near the fireplace for warmth, seeing his distressed face you reply "I would never think you were a bother, on the contrary, I'm so glad you called me."

Edward is still silent, the iceberg lounge event still haunts him, making his thoughts turn to mush and behave so shyly "Why are you doing this?" he asked sharply, he doesn't know whether to trust you anymore, he saw his boss talking to a criminal, you may even be in on it, he just wants some peace or else his mind would explode. 

Their gazes meet, your cheeks get so hot you could be mistaken for having a fever, and you have an inexplicable fear of confessing your love for Edward, of telling him that you want to give him the whole world without it sounding like an exaggeration.

"I like you" you confess, expecting a negative reaction, but you only hear Edward's voice crack "really?".

"Yes," you let out a nervous laugh at how impressed he is "do I need to say that again?".

Of course, Edward is still not speaking and you take his hands "Edward Nashton" you move closer until your face is inches away from his "I like you".

"You..." he muttered closing his eyes and squeezing your hands, he's hurting, he's terrified of all of this, that it's not real, he's just telling the truth.

You repeated "I like you" to him, enduring the small pain he makes by squeezing your hands tightly.

He starts to cry, an impulse of such strong emotions he feels at the same time, a catharsis that makes his eyes blur and he just sobbed in front of you, no one had ever said such words to him that he feels it's all too good to be true, Edward doesn't feel worthy enough of your love.

But you just look at him anyway, letting him cry whatever he wants, knowing that he's not ready to say the same words to you yet, you don't mind wiping the small residue of tears on his cheeks "Do you want some water?" you offer in a calm voice, Edward shakes his head and says "Stay".

You pull him close to your body and they embrace, you can feel the warmth of his sturdy body and you notice that you prefer that warmth to the warmth of the fireplace.

You smelled Edward's chest as he kept hugging you, they were like that for so long that you forgot the minutes that passed.

You smile still crushing your face by his collarbone, there are so many things going through your mind, a total devotion that you want to give to Edward so he is safe and doesn't have to live in more danger, when you sniff his shirt you perceive the smell of the humidity caused by the rain, remembering the reason why he is here "What happened Eddie?" you talk to him with clear concern when he called you, he was very scared and you were afraid of what could have happened to him in those parts of the city.

Edward is silent and just keeps staring at the fire in the fireplace with a sign of fear, why even he can't process what he saw, Zach and Mr. stone at the entrance of the club along with a criminal who several days ago was on trial. He almost threw up in disgust, why are they there, what were they doing? You don't want to imagine all the things they did in that club, the image you had of the boss was shattered into a thousand pieces, the faces of those people merged with the mud puddles on the dirty floor, and on autopilot, you grabbed your cell phone and called you.

"Nothing," he says hoping it sounded convincing but it wasn't, you pull away from the embrace and look into his eyes, seeing through his glasses and you notice him bewildered, stunned.

"Tell me the truth."

Even so with the confession of love you gave him doubt, inside his being he has an immense terror of you making fun of him for how he took a simple shameless situation.

"Did they do something to you? " this time your meek voice was changed to an angry "Did they hurt you?" just the thought of someone touching a hair on his head makes you angry.

"No, no, no" he replied "Remember that case I told you about a few days ago?".

It takes you a few seconds to remember which case he was talking about " about the animal rescue?".

"Yes, I....." he gulps "I saw Zach and Mr.stone with one of the people involved."

You open your eyes full of surprise at Edward's statement, to this point it wasn't a crazy thing to happen "Shit."

"Yeah" he nods "Something's going on and it's not very good" he opines and you couldn't agree with him more, jeez, Edward just uncovered a sewer of fucking KMTJ corruption. "Damn" you curse still in shock. "Did they see you?" you ask.

"No, they didn't even notice me."

"Good" you snort "I also noticed something weird is going on" Edward hums with affirmation, he shudders at everything that happened in one night, he shouldn't have gone to that animal shelter.

"Hey, don't worry" you whisper touching her cheek "it's going to be okay".

Edward feels your warm palm, and closes his eyes softly absorbing all the affection you give him, he never thought he would have such genuine contact with another person, for the first time in his life, he feels he's not alone anymore. But that soft feeling starts to mix with something darker, he spent five years working for an idiot who only takes advantage of his talent. Something new emerges in him, but he doesn't know how to name it, it's only a matter of time before his mind becomes clear.

✧˖°. Thank you very much for reading. And again, an apologize for any errors! My ao3 ✧˖°.

[mxtantrights]

The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.” 

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you. 

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked. 

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite. 

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.” 

“What are you a fortune cookie?” 

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.” 

2 DAYS LATER 

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine. 

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.” 

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.” 

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.” 

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.” 

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you. 

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two. 

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once. 

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally. 

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19. 

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him.  And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest. 

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.” 

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.” 

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh. 

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.” 

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door.  And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 2 Finding Out (Family/Friends)

Prev 

AO3

@maribat-bdbwm

“Mari!” Adrien yells, running past Batman to sweep her up in a hug. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, but she buries herself into the hug. After all, it’s not every day she faces a supervillain determined to kill her with a dangerous weapon...without her suit, anyway.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Marinette reassures him, relishing in the comfort. A cleared throat makes her jump back and look at Batman who, despite clearing his throat and cutting off the most amazing hug ever, has no emotions on his face. Whatsoever. Cause that’s not intimidating or anything.

“The police will need your statement, Miss Dupain Cheng.” Batman says. Marinette nods, squeaking when Adrien reaches down and entwines his fingers with hers. Following Batman’s directions to the awaiting police, Marinette feels nerves flood her systerm as she sees the sheer number of officers on the other side of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, she feels Adrien squeeze her hand. Shooting him a thankful smile, Marinette uses her unattached hand to open the door and step out into the mess of personnel. A man with a mustache and square glasses steps forward immediately, his hand extended.

“Hello Miss Dupain Cheng. I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon. We were in communication with Batman while he was inside so we heard some of what happened. Would you be comfortable telling us what happened? We can get you checked over by paramedics first, if you want.” Commissioner Gordon says.

“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. I don’t-” She starts to say, but a gruff voice cuts her off.

“She should be examined immediately, Gordon. She may have inhaled smoke from the smoke bombs due to proximity. She also could have burns to her face or ears from Joker’s gun. He shot it and then proceeded to prod her with it.” Batman says, the last part of his ‘report’ slightly more gruff than the first. Was he…..worried about her? Marinette shakes that thought off almost immediately. Why would Batman be worried about her? Wait, was he really going to make her see the paramedics when all she wanted to do was talk to the officers so she could get back to the trip?

“I assure you, Monsieur Batman, Monsieur Gordon, I don’t need to see the paramedics. I’m a little shaky, but that’s all. I mean, I was held at gunpoint. I think shaky is appropriate, non?” Marinette asks, flashing the two a bright smile. Gordon raises an eyebrow and glances at Batman who shakes his head stiffly.

“She gets examined.” He says, leaving no room for questions as he pulls his grappling hook (?!?!) out and retreats to the rooftop.

“You heard the man. We can talk as you’re examined, if you’d prefer. I’m sure you just want to put this whole business behind you.” Commissioner Gordon says kindly. Marinette sighs in relief and nods, smiling again at the man. Hopefully this would be taken care of quickly. --- Bruce Wayne was slightly panicking, though he would never admit it. When reports of the Joker being spotted at the Gotham City Museum of Modern Art first rolled in, he assumed his biggest challenge would be keeping Jason from murdering the clown. He did not expect to see a small girl being held at gunpoint. A girl who looked like a strange mix between his mother, and someone else. But he couldn’t place his- of course. Memories flood his mind as he thinks back to the woman who was so clearly related to the small girl. Bridgette Le. A woman that he, at one time, thought he would be able to spend the rest of his life with. Until she left Gotham and cut off all contact between the two. Oh god. She wouldn’t….would she? --- “I don’t understand why that older paramedic looked like she’d seen a ghost.” Marinette says with a pout as she continues working on the embroidery for a jacket for Jagged. Design never sleeps.

“What d’ya mean?” Adrien asks from his nest of blankets on her bed. Marinette tries to focus on keeping her blush down. Apparently, the attack at the museum had scared Adrien more than her, though she imagined he was scared on her behalf. But she couldn’t quite understand why...nevertheless, he had become attached at her hip and hadn’t left her side since they got back to the hotel. Even though all she really wanted was a little alone time to talk to Tikki. Especially about the chance of the Miraculous Cure working here. Maybe if she was in the battle…

“Didn’t you notice? He was fine til he looked into my eyes and then he got super pale. He looked like he was going to say something, but Monsieur Gordon stopped him before he could.” Marinette recounts, remembering the way the paramedic had to switch out since his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I didn’t notice that. That’s weird. Anything else happen like that today?” Adrien asks, finally sitting up and giving her his full attention. Marinette pauses her stitching and purses her lips as she runs the days events back through her head. The paramedic. Batman. Joker. Arriving late to the museum. The cab ride. Being left at the hotel. Coffee-

“Well,” Marinette starts, furrowing her eyebrows as she tries to rationalize the man’s actions in addition to the actions of the paramedic. But something wasn’t adding up. “There was my cab ride to the museum.”

“What happened? Was someone creepy? I can fight them for you!” Adrien offers, a little too cheery. Marinette freezes as she studies his face, searching for something. Adrien had been off all day. More protective than he’d been in awhile. And the few times Lila had spoken, he had scowled at her instead of ignored her. Was he finally coming around to the idea that the high road would not work with Lila? Pushing those thoughts off for another time, Marinette shakes her head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. But as I was leaving, he called me Miss Wayne.” Marinette admits, not expecting Adrien’s uncontrollable laughter.

“He, you, oh my god!” He laughs, clutching his sides. Marinette’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sets the jacket down on the desk.

“What?” She asks, completely and totally frustrated with the situation. Adrien laughs for another minute before calming down, wiping tears from his eyes and shooting her a blinding smile. Not his model smile. An actual smile that warms her heart and her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Mari. It’s just, I think he was referring to the fact that you look like the typical kid Bruce Wayne adopts.” Adrien says and Marinette’s blood freezes.

“Did you say Bruce Wayne?” Marinette asks and Adrien nods, his previous mirth wiped from his face.

“Yeah, Mari, are you okay?” He asks. Marinette nods, then shakes her head, then groans and throws up her arms in frustration.

“I don’t know! I just- you remember how I told you I’m adopted?” She asks. Adrien nods, then stops. A look of mixed terror and awe flooding his face.

“Oh god, Mari. You never told me the name. Your birth father-”

“His name is Bruce Wayne. But there’s gotta be hundreds if not thousands of Bruce Waynes in the US right?” Marinette asks, even as her hope in that idea dwindles.

“The US? He’s confirmed from the US?” Adrien asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Yes. Adrien, what are you doing?” She asks, suddenly worried as she jumps onto the bed next to him, desperately trying to see his phone.

“I’m googling Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le as a combined search. Wayne is one of the most prominent figures in Gotham, all of his previous relationships have photographic evidence. Except for whoever the mother of his youngest is. But that’s probably because he wasn’t in the country at that time.” Adrien says, typing away furiously on his phone. Marinette’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“Since when were you a master researcher?” She asks with a grin.

“Since one of my best friends found out she’s adopted and it could be the man who hosts the only palatable high society parties. Seriously. And they’d be much better if you were there and-holy shit. Your bio mom looks just like you!” Adrien exclaims, turning the phone to her. Marinette inhales deeply and thanks whatever power there is that she’s not in Paris right now. The emotions running over her at an indescribable speed...not all of them are positive. And they’re all overwhelming as she looks at a picture that very clearly shows her bio mom with Bruce Wayne. As in the Gotham Bruce Wayne. Not a different unknown Bruce Wayne across the country somewhere. Nope. A man who is apparently prominent enough that Monsieur Agreste makes his son go to the man’s parties.

“I don’t suppose she just had a type for men named Bruce Wayne?” Marinette says weakly. This was not what she expected. --- This was exactly what he expected. Looking at the birth records for one Marinette Le, where he’s noted as the father. Though why he wasn’t notified before the girl’s custody was signed over to Sabine Cheng, he’ll never understand. His jaw clenches as he continues reading, eyes scanning over Bridgette’s death certificate before glancing back at Marinette’s birth certificate. A daughter. He had a daughter. Another child that he would never be able to hold when they were small. Another child that grew up without him. Another child that he didn’t meet until they were already a person. Someone with their own experiences individual from his own, someone that may not even know he had found them. And that he wanted nothing more than to get to know someone who was brave enough to stand between the Joker and her friends. Someone who was determined not to let what should have been the most traumatic experience in her life be a set back. He had a daughter. And he wanted to meet her.

***

Next

Note, my headcannon is that the paramedic that panicked did so because he was one of the first responders the night that the Waynes were murdered. And while she looks a lot like her birth mom, Marinette also definitely has Martha Wayne’s eyes and the paramedic could NOT deal. Also, let me know if you want tagged!

Tag List: @jjmjjktth

[jostenneil]

Aside from the tragedy aspect, who don't you want Talia and Bruce to be canon in the long term? I'm not criticizing you I'm genuinely curious

it's a combination of a few things. there's the aspect of talia going through successively compounded trauma over the course of a near decade and her needing time and space to heal from that away from the people who have caused it. but i think there's also the fact that the scope for the kind of work she can do expands in a way that restricting her to only acting in line with bruce feels like it wouldn't allow her to exist as anything more than an extension of him despite the fact that she's shown herself capable of being more. lex corp era just. . . opens up so many opportunities for her to do work where bruce doesn't even have to be involved and where she can focus on initiatives that she believes are important, particularly ones concerned with environmentalism. i've also mentioned before how lex corp illustrates that the kind of work required to take down an ugly, capitalist behemoth from the inside is something only she can do, as opposed to bruce or clark. she's ready to insert herself into something truly awful just so she can dismantle it at its roots, bc she has a lived experience with it. that kind of long term strategy and espionage is something that deserves more expansion and that certainly could be capitalized on within gotham, but i don't know why she would particularly restrict herself to a city where her only connection is with someone she can't call entirely reliable, esp when she's already established herself in metropolis. i feel like people forget that one issue during where she calls metropolis her city. it's clear that in the time she spends heading lex corp she begins to grow an attachment bc she knows she can exact positive change there. personally i wouldn't want to take that away. and like ig you could reason that yknow there are couples like lois and clark who are always away on the most bizarre assignments but they come back to each other at the end of the day, but lois and clark also share a job at the daily planet. wally and linda both live in keystone city bc they either have family there or they have jobs there. arthur and mera are both dedicated to atlantis. etc etc. i can see talia working with bruce again bc they share common goals and ideals about the world, and yknow, maybe there will be times where they can pool their resources. there's obv the whole matter of co-parenting damian. but i'm not particularly interested in talia uprooting the life she tries to make for herself in metropolis just so she can be with bruce. it feels like a character regression when so much of her character arc is about her recognizing that always relying on bruce isn't sustainable and that she needs to look out for and prioritize herself bc she deserves it

[slashingdisneypasta]

Gotham Villains x Hotel Owner!Reader || Headcanons

Explanation / Topic: You run one of the cities dingy hotels except this one, in all of its glory, is only ever visited by bad guys. Your hotel is well known as the place rogues hide away in when they're planning or they're just out of action for a while because you refuse to give up information to the police no matter what (Its proprietor-client confidentiality! Ha ha) and you're treat them fairly (Although- on the kinder side of course)

These are the many ways they show their gratitude, no matter how small.

Character involved: Most, if not all, of Fox Gotham's rogues. Except Ra's Al Ghul because he bores me. Nevertheless, not just the Legion Horrible's like the picture might lead you to believe- that's just the picture with the most villains that I could think of.

Warnings: Probably too much fluff. I'll make a sequel to this with the less-then-pretty, nitty grotty details of this hotel too probably XD

Barbara likes to invest every now and then, "Just making sure my affairs are in order baby- gotta make sure my hidey hole's still there when I need it." but she always adds a little something for you to buy yourself 'something pretty' (Since your style is SO plain, according to her but then again who isn't plain compared to her XD). This little something is always upwards of a hundred dollars. She's such a sugar mommy you cant convince me that she isn't-

Butch (Or Cyrus Gold, or Grundy. he has too many names) has made it clear that if you ever need help, you can always call him and he'll be there. Very gangsta about it. He's such a big, tough guy but such a softy on the inside XD When he had Grundy brain, he still had some kind of tracker in his mind like dogs do that took him 'home' (To your hotel), dragging Ed along with him. He gave you a big, bone crushing hug when he got there.

Dr Strange is not allowed in as he'll steal your guests and experiment on them.

You don't know Ecco too well yet and vice versa but when she turned up with Jeremiah and Jervis- you definitely appreciated her presence more then that of Jeremiah's. You were still sore over Jerome and didn't trust this new brother. Still, you complimented the bullet in Ecco's skull, saying it was pretty cool, and now she loves you XD When she's in the neighbourhood she occasionally likes to pop in and say hello; Spread a little chaos, you know the deal.

Honestly you probably new Bridgit long before Strange forcing upon her the heat resistance thing and her becoming Firefly. She of course didn't remember you but soon *warmed* up to you after you gave her one of the few rooms with a fireplace and easily forgave her when she accidentally set the couch in her room on fire (I mean its for sure not the worst thing that has happened within these walls- no worries). She has been known to go around lighting the fireplaces for you under the pretence of having fun (Which is true) but also so that you can worry about one less thing. Firefly is also one to come chat with you if she's bored.

Fish Mooney obviously doesn't stay with you very often at all, because this lady can find better dwellings (As, no offense but your hotel is kiiiiinda dingy. What can you do about it, though? You house rogues and a lot of them don't have a lotta money) but she still absolutely appreciates what you do. She'll send bad guys that she does business with that have deeper pockets then your usual client, your way. She's also kind to you, which to me is even better honestly haha XD

Headhunter stays with you a lot when he's on business and often reminds you that you get a discount from him if you require his services. Hey, you keep him in milkshakes! He's gotta repay you somehow.

Okay, the twins. You knew Jerome first and got off to a bad start with Jeremiah due to that. Still, we aren't talking about relationships; We're talking about nice things. So moving on. Just assume that you warm up to the brainier twin.

These two are hard XD Cuz their 'good' and 'bad' sides kinda blur together as they're so unpredictable and don't really care about anyone.

Still, I can see Jerome being pretty light with you and valuing the fact that you can keep up with his banter- so he keeps you alive. You're basically his mother actually, despite the possible lack of age difference. Like, he wants to show you stuff he does and tell you about chaos he's created.

And Jeremiah honestly appreciates that you'll listen to his long speeches (You've gotten pretty good at just sitting and nodding your head and you've perfected the art of the well placed understanding noises like 'Hmm' and 'Ah!' and 'Oh dear' in your line of work)- so obviously, you're invaluable to him. Must keep you around. I mean, Ecco listens, but does she really understand? That is the question.

When he's around, Jervis is very polite and gracious. He'll duck into the kitchens after dinner and start helping you with the dishes and clear dining tables, he'll ask you how you are and mean it (Like, he'll stand there and discuss it with you), he'll try to keep Jerome from barging into your room in the early hours of the morning, etc. Just nice things like that ^^

Magpie tries not to steal from you... Haha XD Like, she'll pick up a pretty clock off a mantle piece and then go to leave with it... then realise that this is yours and go 'Oops!!' and put it back, giggling nervously.

... When she leaves you still find various items from other places in the hotel, in her room, but still. The fact that she tries is enough!

Mr Freeze is a pleasure to have around, of course!! He's quiet, he nods to you when he passes, and he's there to freeze assholes that harass you (And then take them outside so they don't melt all over your carpet). A respectful dude. He has frozen Jerome multiple times... particularly when Jervis has been unsuccessful in persuading him not to wake you up at 3 in the morning.

Ivy gets so happy whenever she sees you. Lots of hugs and telling you all about how she's been. Her energy is enough to cheer you up, and on your birthdays she always brings you a new plant that has meaning to her. Like, a sunflower for how kind you are, a Ficus for abundance, etc. Always in a pot of course, never dead. So of course, you have to take care of them but its a small price to pay for the sweetness ^^ And the not being murdered thing.

Like Mooney and Barbara, Oswald doesn't stay often due to having that mansion from his father but he remembers your kindness from when he would fall on hard times before that (And after the fact, too of course) and whenever he's making some kind of mafia deal he always ensures your and your hotels safety in the contract.

Pyg / Lazlo (I cant decide which name I like best XD) is just very polite, like Jervis. Gentlemen. Also his impressions- God. Have fun with that. He might just do your favourite Looney Tune character if he's in a good mood.

With Ed... look, if you even try with his riddles without being prompted, he'll do anything for you. It's well documented. I'm not sur about nice deeds, cuz Riddler's kind of a dick, but he'll for sure send you a birthday card every year! Christmas probably too ^^

Scarecrow: I will not spray you today. You: Gee thanks. // No but seriously, he's quiet about his gratitude but he is definitely once of the good ones ^^ Would absolutely take it upon himself to come save your ass if you got abducted.

Tabitha... well, you know how Headhunter will you get a discount if you want someone killed? Tabitha will do it for fucking free.

Hey, if you feed Victor (Zsasz), you have a friend for life. He will bring pizza and just hang out together. He is also willing to murder someone for you.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 1

It was a good day. Why did stuff always have to go wrong on ‘good days’, Marinette thought bitterly as she rushed through the city, the rough edges of her phone digging into her palm. The message she’d been sent was burned into her eyelids.

She pushed the spiraling thoughts from her mind as she stared at the street sign nearest her. Only a minute and she’d be there and her fears would be either confirmed or denied.

She leaned against the wall to gather her thoughts. If she had messed up it had to have been today because, otherwise, he would have done something earlier. Did she mess up? She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she thought back.

~

She’d woken up on an uncomfortable mattress on the floor and rolled off of it, the sheets sticking to her sweaty skin. It had been a particularly hot day for Gotham and she had been too concentrated on typing up a report for work to turn up the AC before her impromptu nap (translation: she’d passed out).

She rubbed her eyes until she managed to get her brown contacts out and set them in the weird not-quite-water that she had never bothered to learn the name for so her eyes could rest while she took a quick shower and changed.

Then, she’d waited. She sat in the window, eyes barely poking over the sill as she watched the building across the street. She didn’t feel like moving for a long while but, alas, the meeting was supposed to be that day and she was running out of time for that thing with Calendar Man and… yeah. Unfortunately, Marinette had to be productive that day unless she wanted more enemies.

She saw movement and her face lit up. She might get everything done soon, at least, and then she could pass out for a hundred years like she oh-so-desperately wanted to.

She checked that her gloves were firmly in place, pulled on the plague doctor (gas) mask that had accidentally become her trademark, and toed on her boots.

Then, she made her way up to the alleyway next to the building she had been watching. She’d been lucky enough to have a job right next to one of her safe houses and she kinda wished that it would happen again. It was nice to not have to travel a half-hour or more just to listen in on one boring conversation.

She pulled out her knives and, after testing to make sure they were still strong enough to hold her weight, began picking her way up to the roof.

She set everything up for the thing with Calendar Man. It took approximately five seconds. Yay her.

Alright, next thing: listening in on a boring conversation that, if she was lucky, would end in someone getting shot so it wouldn’t last too long. It was going to be even hotter inside the vent and she did not want to end up cooked. That would be embarrassing.

She crawled into the vents and dutifully wrote down everything they said on a notepad. They were negotiating a drug deal and her client wanted to intercept it to try and get both the money and the (… Big D? What the fuck is Big D?) drugs. From the sounds of it, it wasn’t possible but, hey, her job wasn’t anything more than gathering intel. If her clients wanted to die stupidly that was on them.

… maybe she’d kill her client herself, she thought angrily as she readjusted in the vent in hopes of not getting stuck to the metal. It was easy money but wow was it awful.

Or, at least, it was awful until a hand grabbed her by the hood of her leather jacket and started dragging her out. She tipped her head back, grin on her face in seconds.

“Signal. Hi.”

He sighed and pulled her the rest of the way out. She let herself hang from his grip like a reprimanded cat.

“So, what’s up?” She asked brightly, as if hadn’t just caught her listening in on a private conversation.

“Great, thanks for asking,” he said. “Even better now that I’m taking the famed Canary to Arkham.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

He leveled her with a cold look for a few more seconds before splitting into a grin. “Yeah. Probably not. Got a backup plan?”

“Of course.”

“Is it even worth trying?”

“Probably not. But who knows? You could get lucky.”

She waited for a minute as he mulled over the idea in his head before he sighed. “I gotta ask: what’s with the egg?”

She swatted at his hand until he let her down and then led him over to her science experiment. “Know how there’s that expression that says ‘it’s so hot out you could make eggs on the sidewalk’ or something?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, the pavement physically can’t get hot enough to do that and also we’re up north so: aluminum foil to try and get the process to work a little better.”

He stared at her for a while before snickering. “Need a magnifying glass? We can ‘kid with an anthill’ this.”

“Sure.”

He reached into his tool belt and started looking for his spare. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be gone.

She could feel his sharp gaze turn on her even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind his helmet. He wasn’t stupid and magnifying glasses don’t usually just disappear into thin air unless they’re Plastic Man in disguise. She held up her hands for a quick search but, when he couldn’t find it on her, he just sighed and looked down at the science experiment. It didn’t seem to be going well. The egg was still distinctly not cooked.

Eventually, he groaned and sat down. The light around him flickered and started to move at his will. Marinette watched intently.

Ten minutes later, they had a cooked egg. They high-fived, delighted. They weren’t going to taste it, obviously, it had been out for a while without supervision and who knows what could have happened to it… but it was an egg! Yay them!

“My old science teacher would be so proud of me,” Marinette joked.

“My current science teacher would be proud of me.”

“Oooooh, going back to school?”

He smiled. “Yep! Robin is finally in college and Red Hood convinced me to go with him. You should, too, it’s actually not that bad.”

“Please. If I was going to do that I’d go back to my home country. American school is expensive and not all of us are sponsored by billionaires.”

“... aren’t you a millionaire?”

She grinned. “Of course. But why would I want to spend that much of my own money?”

He hummed his understanding. Then, she pushed herself up with a groan. “Right, we both have jobs. See you later.”

He hesitated and then held a hand out for her notepad. “Is it bad?”

She held it out of reach with ease. “Nah, just drugs. Unless someone got shot while I was gone but I doubt it. They’d been almost as bored as me last I heard.”

“If it’s nothing then let me see.”

“Ugh, do you really want to fight? It’s too hot for that,” Marinette complained. He started to square up and she, after a second’s thought, added a little something to convince him: “Also, there’s going to be a breakout today so you should really save your energy.”

“... really think I’m going to fall for that?”

There was an explosion in the distance.

“Yeah. I’d hurry. I’m pretty sure it’s Joker’s turn to get out.”

She waved him off with a smile… only for her smile to drop when she remembered her other job. She groaned again and stretched out while she still could.

Tikki floated over the side of the building, a magnifying glass as big as her head in her tiny paws.

Marinette rubbed the kwami’s head. “You’re the best.”

Her kwami sighed. “That I am,” she said.

Marinette grinned and sent the film of Signal using his powers to her computer so she could give it to Calendar Man when it was due.

People were always so predictable in Gotham.

~

She supposed she really had been tempting fate when she’d thought that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it that Fate had called her bluff.

But, actually, it seemed that Fate was the one that was bluffing. That had been her entire day. She had finished up her work and then went to one of her more stocked safehouses for a nap. She’d woken up to the buzzing of her phone when she’d gotten the message. She didn’t think she had messed up anywhere…

Her shoulders relaxed. She was probably fine. Which meant it was just Oswald Cobblepot being annoying. As usual.

Marinette flung the doors to the Iceberg Lounge open. Every eye in the room fell on her, but she only cared about the eyes of one person.

She stalked through the lounge, pulling one of her twin karambits from its sheath and pointing the curved blade towards him.

“What the fuck do you want? You really think that, after almost seven whole years of rejecting your wrinkly ass, I’m suddenly going to say ‘oh, yeah, I guess I’ll work for him now’? Leave me alone!”

Cobblepot wasn’t concerned even as her knife came to rest under his chin.

“Canary,” he greeted, regarding her cooly through his monocle.

Guards surrounded them. Marinette somehow managed to look unimpressed without anyone being able to see her face.

Everyone present held their breath… except for the two with weapons pointed at themselves. They knew that they would never follow through with it, especially not in a place as public as this. It was little more than a warning, a reminder, that either of them could kill each other at any given moment and chose not to.

For now, at least.

Cobblepot dismissed the guards with a wave of a gloved hand and she, after a few seconds, lowered her knife.

“What do you want?”

“Currently? For you to get off my table,” said Cobblepot.

She snorted but hopped down with ease. “I meant: why did you call me here?”

“... we should go somewhere else to discuss this. I assume you don’t do all of your business meetings in public?”

“Only if I know ahead of time that I’m going to say no,” she said.

He motioned for her to walk with him to a private room and, reluctantly, she followed. He had to think he had something on her, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried calling her there. She was curious.

They came to a room with a metal door and she cringed a little. Fun.

She dropped eight knives down into a tray and Cobblepot put down a gun, a knife, and his umbrella. She let a female goon pat her down and then checked Cobblepot over herself. Nothing she could find, but she was sure he had found some way to hide one somewhere.

They stepped inside as a pair and each took a seat on opposing ends of the wooden table stationed awkwardly in the middle of the room. She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up.

“So, what’s the job?”

“I’m surprised you’re even going to hear it.”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

He nodded slowly before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“Power poses don’t actually work, you know, that’s just lies so companies don’t actually have to deal with all the discrimination.”

“Is that true?” He asked.

She shrugged again. “Probably. I’ve never worked for anyone, so…”

He chuckled. She didn’t like that.

But he didn’t say anything on that subject. Instead, he just smiled a smile that looked weird on his face and gave her her mission briefing: “I want you to figure out the bats’ identities for me.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute before breaking out into laughter. She couldn’t seem to stop. She stood up to leave, still giggling. Really? Did he really think that would work? People had asked many times, of course, and the bats’ identities weren’t common knowledge so she had to have said no. Why would she suddenly do it for him? She didn’t even like him.

She rested her hand on the knob but held off on leaving for just a second. She flashed a grin at Cobblepot. “Interesting offer. Bold. But no. Couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

“Good thing I have no intentions of paying you, Marinette.”

~~~

And behold a new section I call ‘Marinette is a menace to society why would anyone let her on twitter’

(… the name may need a little work)

OliverQueenOfficial: Why does that one Gotham villain go by Canary? Black Canary already exists.

TheBetterCanary: if youre gonna vague tweet maybe dont put my name in it

TheBetterCanary: but anyways someone else named me that and it stuck before i could think of something to change it to

ScareCrane:… @/RiddleMeThis she’s dissing you

RiddleMeThis: LISTEN UP. IT WAS THEMATIC. DON’T ANY OF YOU KNOW ANYTHING OF DRAMA? EVER HEAR ABOUT CANARIES IN COAL MINES? FUCK ALL OF YOU AND YOUR UNCULTURED, UNEDUCATED ASSES. NOT TO MENTION IT WAS MAKING FUN OF THE BIRD THEME ALL THE VIGILANTES HER AGE SEEM TO HAVE. (1/14)

TheBetterCanary: @/ScareCrane why would you do that you knew he was going to do this

ScareCrane: Joker just broke out so Arkham is boring… needed to entertain myself somehow

TheBetterCanary: fuck you im not visiting this weekend

OliverQueenOfficial: Wow do I regret asking. I didn’t need all this family drama in my comments.

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

[butwhyduh]

Screaming

Jason todd x reader

Warning: ptsd and negative thoughts. Angsty.

Jason gasped awake and threw himself to sit up in bed. His throat was raw with screaming and he trembled. Death. All he saw was his death. No that’s not true. He saw everyone’s death. Dick’s, Bruce’s, Damian’s. Hell even yours despite the fact that had never happened. He saw them all in bright technicolor like he was really there. His hands found purchase in the sheets and he gripped them tight.

When you die, some people believe you see God or all your dead relatives in some kind of heaven airport. But really the light fades and you feel so fucking cold and alone. Every night Jason got to experience a little taste of it again. The nightmares were awful but the moments before realizing he’s alive and awake and still feeling dead and alone were horrifying.

His movement had woke you. You had fallen asleep in earbuds again. That’s why his screams didn’t bother you. You gently grasped his shoulder as you pulled them off.

“Jason, I’m here. Are you okay,” you said softly, treating him so delicately. Jason tried to control his breathing. You looked at him with such a concern that his heart wanted to break. He was already broken. His mind was so fucked up but you still slept in bed beside him. Next to a dead man.

“Are you okay, Jaybird,” you repeated. He nodded roughly but you could tell that he was still in his head. You pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around your body as he curled around you and his fingers clung to your shirt. His breath shivered against your neck.

“I’m right here. You’re okay. It was just a dream,” you told him in a low steady voice like the therapist taught you.

“Thank you,” Jason’s said after a minute. His voice sounded hoarse.

“Of course. Let’s lay back down. Do you want some water?” You asked and he shook his head roughly.

“Just... just stay,” he said holding tighter. You laid down in the bed and Jason laid his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair until his grip relaxed completely and he fell asleep. Despite the fact that your presence was a huge comfort, it didn’t stop the nightmares. Nothing did.

——————————

“Jason, you can tell me anything,” said the therapist. She had a clipboard on the knee of her slacks as she sat back in her chair. “I know your life has been... unusual, but you need to talk to someone. Near death experiences are traumatic. Keeping all of that inside can be very harmful.”

“It was a death experience. Not near,” he reminded her. She sighed. “I was buried in the ground.”

“But you are here. That makes it near death. A little more complex but that’s what happens in Gotham,” she said with a shrug. “Everything is more complex here. I once dated a villain without knowing it until he ended up in Arkham.”

“I’ve got to ask who,” Jason said, happy for the distraction.

“I’m definitely not talking about it. This is your time. Let’s talk about something you do want to talk about. How are things with Y/n?” She said. It was Jason’s turn to sigh.

“Things are great.”

“Why the sigh?”

“Because I’m broken. I’m half here and half in the grave. She’s saving me from my dreams every other night. I worry she’ll wise up and leave,” Jason admitted.

“Sounds like she loves you. Have you considered that she wants to help you? Have you told her what happened? Have you opened up to her?” She asked. Jason’s hand gripped the chair tightly.

“No, I can’t. She’s too nice to know everything. I- I can’t. She knows I died and came back but not how or why or all the horrible stuff that I did afterwards,” he said staring at the ground.

“Do you worry that she’ll leave if she knows the truth?” The therapist asked softly and Jason’s head snapped up to look at her.

“Of course. Wouldn’t you?” He said. His face had twisted in anxiety.

“I do know the truth. I haven’t left. I still care about you,” she reminded him.

“You’re paid a shitload of money by Bruce Wayne,” he retorted.

“Language. He pays the standard fee like everyone else,” she said. “My advice? Talk to her. Let her know about your anxieties. You have a long journey with ptsd but you’ve healed so much these past few months. Don’t you see that?”

“I guess,” he said quietly but she was right. He used to have flashbacks in the middle of the day. He would flinch at anyone touching him. There was no way he would date someone. Things are better but not good.

“Talk to her. That’s your homework. Even just something small,” she said. Jason nodded reluctantly. He knew his therapist was right but it still sucked.

—————————

Jason came home to you in the kitchen. You were humming along to the radio as you cleaned the sink. He watched you for a minute as your hips swayed to the music. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. You hadn’t noticed him yet.

Jason cleared his throat and you jumped before laughing. You put down the rag and smiled at him. He waved a bag of donuts and a tray holding two coffees at you.

“Well aren’t you a sight,” you said walking over and grabbing the tray. “Coffee and donuts. From the place on 9th?”

“Like I’d go anywhere else. Yours has the x for extra caramel,” he said. You kissed his cheek and he could smell the clean lemon bleach smell on you.

“Aww just like I like it, thanks Jaybird,” you cooed before sitting on the couch. He awkwardly sat on the coffee table instead of the couch. Let’s rip off the bandage, right? You looked up at him confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you. About... stuff. In my past,” he said and you sat back at the weight of it. He’d never wanted to talk about that. You sat the coffee on the table.

“Okay. Sure.”

“I told you that I died and came back and became Red Hood, right?” He asked and you nodded. “But I had a suit before I died.”

He played with his fingers and gulped. “I was Robin and I worked with Batman.”

You tried to control your shock on your face. He might take it as a judgment and you didn’t want that. He shuffled around with nerves.

“I died as Robin. I’m the dead Robin,” he said. It was infamous that one of the Robins died. And the death apparently was really bad. Closed casket and all. No wonder Jason had horrible nightmares. “I was killed by the Joker.”

He bent and grabbed his drink and took a sip. You placed a hand on his knee and he gave you a half smile. “You aren’t done are you?” You asked after a minute.

“My therapist told me to talk to you,” Jason said somehow sounding more nervous.

“Hey, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. It’s fine-“

“I need to. I... I worry that you’ll leave. That you’ll get tired of this. Me being broken,” he said and you inhaled quickly.

“I would never. You aren’t broken. You’re the best guy I’ve ever dated. I just wished you could see it,” you said cupping his face with your free hand. He frowned. “You’re irreplaceable to me. Truly.”

Jason held your wrist on the hand cupping his face. He searched your eyes for lies or doubt. He looked close to crying and it was hard to see.

“Jason. Worry about what you need to do for yourself and not another second of me leaving. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to throw me out. I’m spoiled with coffee and donuts. You aren’t getting out that easily,” you said with a little smile. He smiled lopsidedly back at you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah? Wanna watch Die Hard and lay on my boobs?” You said and his face split into a laugh.

“How did I get so lucky? Of course I want to. Boobs and Die hard. Pretty perfect pair I have to say,” he said pulling you down on the couch.

“Boobs or Die Hard?”

“Both,” he said snuggling close. You played with his hair as the movie started knowing he probably wouldn’t stay awake long. He needed to make up for his missing the night before. It wasn’t long until his body relaxed and you could tell he finally fell asleep.

You weren’t fixing him. You weren’t the answer to his problem. But you could be a light when he felt at the bottom of the well to help him crawl back up. A friend to lean on. A shoulder to cry on. And a lover to let him know that he wasn’t alone. That he was on the right side of morality. Someone good to see the good in him. Healing is a journey and he was so fucking grateful to have someone to there with him.

[wintermelonbear]

Artistry

Pairing: Damian Al-Ghul Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Trope/s: Childhood Friends, No Powers AU

Summary: A story in which two seemingly dissimilar eight-year-olds build bonds through their love for martial arts. Written for the MGI Trope Tussle 2021.

Words: 4808

Damian and Marinette first met when they were 8 at his mother’s Wushu studio. At first glance they were an unlikely duo, before meeting in martial arts class their social circles ran entirely parallel with one another with Damian attending a private school that was a feeder for Gotham academy and Marinette attending a public elementary local to her, but they truly brought out the best in each other.

Damian had grown up inside his mother’s studio, working day in and day out from the tender age of 3 to improve his weaponry and martial arts skill. His mother and father, divorced but trying their best to co-parent for his sake, each preached to him about the importance of self-discipline and concentration. When his mother and her father, Ras himself a master martial artist, had competed in Wushu they were national champions. As a third-generation practitioner of Wushu, Damian had a lot riding on his shoulders.

Marinette’s mother had practiced Wushu as a child in China. When she first arrived in France she found herself disappointed that there were no local Chinese martial arts centers, let alone Wushu training centers. Sabine always thought it would be a passion she could pass down to her future child, but there was only so much she could teach on her own. However, as fate would have it, after a falling out with Tom’s father Roland the Dupain-Chengs found themselves in a city not too far from Gotham, New Jersey. Sabine was pleasantly surprised to find that the martial arts scene was much more alive there than it had been in Paris. However, between the bakery and her young daughter Sabine had little time to spend practicing martial arts. It wasn’t until Marinette’s kindergarten teacher suggested that Marinette be enrolled in a sport to better her hand-eye coordination that Sabine finally put her daughter into formal martial arts courses.

At first, everything was fine until it became apparent that Marinette was progressing much faster than her peers, despite her typical clumsiness she was surprisingly adept at martial arts. Sabine wasn’t entirely surprised as while Wushu was difficult to teach within the confined space they had at home, she still took the time to practice Tai Chi with her daughter on the weekends, providing Marinette with martial arts fundamentals and self-discipline. With Marinette’s slight inclination for martial arts paired with her hard work she was outperforming her classmates and even some of the older kids at the studio she went to. Eventually, Marinette found herself ostracized by her peers, but her teachers at the studio refused to advance her because they had an in-house rule where children could not be advanced more than two years past their age group. Tom and Sabine knew that pulling Marinette out of the sport entirely was off the table, the pure joy that spread across her face every time she mastered a new trick was proof enough that she was in love with the sport. So they set off to find a new studio to train at, where Marinette’s needs as a budding martial artist would be met. After looking around for a while, they decided to give Talia’s Wushu academy a try despite it being a little over a 30-minute drive from their house.

In regards to the first year of their friendship, Marinette would describe it as very professional, and almost nothing more. It took a while for Damian to become more cordial with her. When asked, Marinette would say “Damian didn’t like me, but he tolerated me enough as a partner because there was only so much practice he could have done alone.”

At first, Damian did not like Marinette at all, in fact, maybe he even hated her. When he first met her, Damian thought she was like every other “talented” kid that came into his mother’s studio, only to realize talent alone would get you nowhere in the sport of Wushu. On her first day, she immediately took up the spot next to him at the front and center of the class and offered him a warm smile, “Hello my name is Marinette, I’m new here.” Damian returned her greeting with a harsh tut of his tongue and the turn of his head, he was there to train, not to make friends. Marinette’s expression was aghast, but she quickly recovered and mumbled a soft “okay not talkative then…this is going great….” Damian suppressed an eye roll, simply because he knew his mother would not tolerate that in her classroom.

Against every one of Damian’s expectations, Marinette proved herself to be a hard-working individual. Eventually, after seeing her work on her technique and tricks after class during open gym hours, seeing that she wasn’t relying purely on natural ability and truly was putting in the effort to become a better martial artist, he began to tolerate her. The first time he returned her daily “Hello” with the nod of his head Marinette’s facial expression went from neutral to shocked to absolutely beaming. Damian simply raised his eyebrow and continued with his pre-class warmup.

Over time Marinette had grown a deep respect for Damian; she wished he was a bit friendlier, but despite their rough start Marinette realized early on that, while gruff and unfriendly, Damian was kind in his own way. He always pointed out when someone’s technique was wrong so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves, he always helped bandage someone up when they were hurt, and he always stayed after class to help his mom clean up. Most people would think he did it out of obligation or his mother’s demands, but Marinette loves people watching, and even after just a few months Marinette has observed that Talia would rather Damian use the time to better himself and will insist that she, or one of their workers, handle the menial tasks.

It was not until Damian saw Marinette work through her struggles that he gained respect for her. While Wushu is a largely performative sport where everyone’s moves are choreographed, Talia wanted to ensure everyone was also learning basic self-defense resulting in regularly held sparring sessions at the end of class. Marinette was a great performer, she was highly expressive and could easily recall choreography, but she had minimal exposure to actual sparring and her reflexes were not as sharp and trained like the others. She managed to win against her opponents in the first few classes by utilizing her creativity, but eventually, her lack of experience caught up with her and in her third month at the studio, she began her losing streak. Looking at her lose to her opponents time and time again he couldn’t help but wonder to himself, “will you still be here tomorrow?” Growing up in the studio, Damian knew that most of the people who were considered to be “gifted” had a tendency to drop out the moment things no longer came naturally to them, they grew frustrated with themselves and then with the sport. At this point, he figured he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, the stage was set for her to become the most prevalent figure in his life.

Despite being in the same classes for over 3 months Damian and Marinette had never sparred. It was actually quite odd that they hadn’t yet sparred, the pairings for the most part were random. Talia reasoned that with the right circumstances even someone who seems weak could win; it was important to never underestimate an opponent and lower your guard. After bowing to one another their eyes met. If you asked them as adults they would unabashedly say that they love the other’s eyes, it was like staring at the calm before a storm. Their eyes were clear, fierce, and piercing. Despite being clearly disadvantaged Marinette showed no fear. She met his first few strikes blow for blow and even managed to evade a few of his strikes with a few unique tumbling passes – something Damian noted that she excelled in. He could tell she has been studying him, observing his strike patterns from his previous matches. Rather than reacting to his strikes, she was anticipating them – a smart move considering her reflexes were lacking. Unfortunately for Marinette, this meant that one unanticipated fake was all it took to defeat her.

That night during open gym hours Marinette approached Damian on her own for the first time. “There is only so much I can practice on my own, please train with me.”

“Why would I do that?” Damian held his face firm, his mouth in a thin line and his eyebrow slightly quirked.

Marinette’s eyes steeled over with conviction. “Did you know that every time you get up from xie bu you duck your chin down in your struggle to regain balance? It’s obvious you’re trying to shift your center of gravity. Instead, try leaning on your front leg from the beginning. The first few times you try this method, you should put a ball between your chin and neck to keep your head held up until you get used to it.”

“How did you–?”

“Notice? I love observing others, I can help you. There’s only so much we can practice on our own. I need help with my reflexes and you need someone who can review your performances. We can’t do this alone. You don’t have to like me, you just have to work with me. What do you say? Deal?”

“Tch. Deal.”

At first, their conversations mainly consisted of Marinette’s one-sided chatter during their warm-up, breaks, and cool-down stretches. It took a while for Marinette to get Damian to open up, but once she found the right topics she found that he was strongly opinionated about almost everything and shared quite a few hobbies with her. While Wushu was the common interest that brought them together, they were much more alike than they thought. They both enjoyed art, video games, and superhero shows to name a few common interests. Damian would say he would want to be a hero without any powers, someone who relies on their own skill to punish evil-doers. Marinette on the other hand would love to be a magical girl who could save others without causing too much damage. After hotly debating the topic of normal heroes and powered heroes, Damian and Marinette came to an agreement that both sides had their own set of struggles and perks.

Damian and Marinette found themselves spending more time with each other both inside and outside of the studio. After arguing over which type of paint was superior, Marinette was team watercolor because of its varied use, relative cheapness to oil paints, and blendability where Damian was a more traditional artist who believed that the blending capabilities of oil paint were just as good, if not better, and their longevity was worth the cost, the two decided to settle it with a paint off. Art sessions quickly became a biweekly tradition between the two, whenever the Gotham botanical garden would have a new exhibit Marinette would insist they go to sketch the flora. Damian quickly found that Marinette was almost as passionate about plants as he was about animals, with the way she flitted about the garden he couldn’t help but wonder if she had been something like a ladybug in her past life. There were also plenty of weekends spent sketching Damian’s pets, though Marinette would note that no drawings could capture what good boys Titus, Alfred the Cat, Jerry the Turkey, and Bat Cow were.

Together they found new ways to integrate Wushu into their hobbies, Marinette had plenty of friends at school who loved art and plenty of friends who did Wushu at the same center, but Damian was the only one she shared nearly all her passions with.

With their art, they began making flyers and posters for the studio, and banners to cheer on their classmates at competitions – Damian would argue he only did this because it would increase morale, which in turn would produce better results for the studio. Marinette struggled with the posters at first as a lot of proposed designs incorporated traditional Chinese characters, she couldn’t even write in Pinyin! Tom and Sabine had prioritized teaching Marinette about her French roots, in the event that one day they decided to move back to France, and neglected teaching her much about Chinese heritage. Marinette still learned basic conversational phrases: yes, no, please, thank you, and familial titles, but she was nowhere near conversational or fluent. After realizing Marinette did not know how to speak Mandarin Damian made it his personal goal to make her at least conversational before they would begin to travel internationally for competitions. Many of the major Wushu competitions took place in China and if Marinette was going to be his partner in the couples division he was going to make sure she was able to converse with any interviewers they may meet, and that if she were to end up lost – he swears Marinette was born without a sense of direction – that she could find her way back to him or their hotel. He hoped that while working on the banners he could work in a few lessons on traditional Chinese characters and simplified Chinese characters so that Marinette could at least read signs. Apart from art, reenacting scenes from video game cutscenes and superhero movies became one of their favorite activities, it became a way to train while still having plenty of fun. Sometimes after mastering a new move-in Ultimate Mecha Strike, they would break out the crash mats to test if the moves in the game were actually physically possible.

Even the hobbies Damian didn’t share with Marinette he was willing to partake in, and the fact that he was trying meant the world to Marinette. Damian was rarely physically affectionate in the first few years of their friendship, and it was even rarer for him to vocalize his emotions, and so Marinette quickly learned that Damian had a tendency to express himself through his actions. A lot of people failed to see how warm and loving Damian truly was, but Marinette saw it in how he interacted with everyone. For example, when Damian’s eldest brother opened up an acrobatics and gymnastics center Damian immediately volunteered to design and paint a mural on the outside that would more easily catch attention, Marinette watched him alter the design day and night and sort through hundreds of color palettes to ensure the pairing was just right. She saw his kindness through his interactions with his family and hers, the painting of her mom and dad baking, a gift from Damian for their 20th anniversary, hung up in the living room was more physical proof of it. When Marinette began sewing he proudly wore her designs and when she began to take commissions, he always kept her business card on his body in the event someone asked about his apparel.

One of Marinette’s fondest memories with Damian was when they decided to host a bake sale to offset the cost of international travel for the competition team. It was near the Mid-Autumn festival so Marinette and her parents decided to make mooncakes. Damian had some experience in the kitchen helping his mother make baozi and baklava, but he definitely wasn’t as experienced as Marinette who grew up in a bakery, yet he still came over to help them with the first few test batches and to help design packaging. Watching him carefully weigh out the ingredients her parents listed and chat about his favorite flavors with her parents in French filled her with so much warmth. The kitchen was filled with banter as a discourse between traditional baked mooncakes and skin mooncakes arose. Marinette and Sabine preferred snow skin mooncakes, the chewiness pairs well with pastes like red bean and taro, where Damian and Tom were strongly on the side of the more traditionally baked mooncake, arguing that the crumble of the pastry paired with fillings like salted egg and lotus paste was clearly superior. Marinette was unsurprised that Damian was strongly advocating for traditional flavors, but her father? The same man who made mustard macarons? It wasn’t until Marinette suggested thousand-layer mooncakes were simply croissants with a pasty filling that everyone else was willing to set aside their different preferences to unite against her. While the thousand layer mooncakes and traditional mooncakes baked, and the snow skin mooncakes steamed Marinette and Damian got to work on the packaging. In order to reduce cost, they had ordered plain packaging and planned to carve potato stamps with Mid-Autumn festival motifs: the moon, rabbits, flowers, fans, and lanterns. Despite having seen how proficient Damian was with a blade in training, Marinette was pleasantly surprised, if not downright awed, by Damian’s precision with a knife. By the time Marinette had finished carving out one flower Damian had finished three lantern carvings. After finishing stamping the final package Marinette daringly pressed the still paint-laden potato stamp onto Damian’s cheek which quickly devolved into a paint fight. The picture of Damian and Marinette covered head to two in paint was proudly pinned at the top of her corkboard, Marinette would never forget the sound of the kitchen filled with laughter that day.

Damian’s parents were extremely supportive of this arrangement. Talia thought it was a great opportunity, open gym hours were busy and she couldn’t give all her attention to Damian, having a training partner could really help him grow. If they got along well they could even enter paired events together! Bruce was enthralled that his son found someone to spend time with other than his friend Clark’s son, Jon. Jon and Damian were great friends, but Jon lived in Metropolis and so the boys rarely saw each other outside of business galas and Skype calls. It was nice knowing his son had someone he could spend time with in person, Bruce was concerned that Damian’s interpersonal growth would be stunted by his lack of interaction with his classmates at school. To see his son being a kid, laughing freely, filled him with great joy, he knew that being the son of a billionaire and a top-notch martial artist had put a lot of pressure on Damian’s shoulders, but he never knew what he could do to help his son. Seeing the walls in Damian’s room at the manor fill up with pictures of him and Marinette smiling, Damian smiling, made Bruce figure that everything was going to be okay.

Sabine and Tom grew to love Damian like their own son with the more time he spent at each other’s houses. At first, they were a bit skeptical, they didn’t quite understand what their daughter saw in the boy, but they trusted her judgment and boy are they glad they did. Damian was like a missing piece of their family, despite his hard exterior, the boy was extremely loyal and caring, they could always count on him to have Marinette’s back. Sabine especially had a soft spot for him after watching him correct Marinette’s brush strokes on the banners, teaching her the differences between what she wrote and what he was writing. The two watched their daughter give herself wholly to this boy, and in return, he gave himself back to her and that was all they could’ve ever wanted for Marinette, to love and be loved.

As they grew older they shared more than just common interests: their dreams, their fears, and the pressure they faced from their families. Marinette knew what she wanted for herself – something Damian was envious of. When they were 11 to offset the competition costs, Marinette’s mother began designing and sewing their competition outfits. Once Marinette saw what her mother was doing she wanted to help, and she ended up falling in love with fashion design. From the age of 13 and onward Marinette designed all of her own stage wear, as well as Damian’s. Sabine would joke that with such a talented daughter it’s a shame they didn’t stay in Paris. Damian wouldn’t admit it – Marinette would – but the thought of possibly never meeting Marinette made him feel uncomfortably empty; he wonders how he bore with that feeling before becoming close with Marinette. Damian wasn’t sure what he wanted for himself, he would love to take over his mother’s Wushu studio, maybe even expand it, but he was always raised with the expectation that one day he would inherit his father’s corporation. Despite loving both options, loving both his parents, there was also a part of him that wanted something that was completely Damian, he had already spent so much of his life living in the shadow of his parents. It wasn’t until high school that Damian opened up to Marinette about this, as the time to make decisions grew closer Damian naturally grew more anxious about his future. Marinette rarely gets the chance to comfort Damian, oftentimes he bottles his emotions up until they’re ready to burst, and even then Marinette has to slowly coax him into talking about them, even if it is with his brothers and not her, she just wants him to feel safe with his own emotions. The first time Damian opened up to her about the pressure he felt as his parent’s only biological son she immediately swept him into her arms, stroking his hair she began to tell him about how loved he was. She told him “Damian I love you, your family loves you, my family loves you. I just want you to know how loved you are. I speak not only for myself, but for everyone who loves you when I say this, do what makes you happy. Your parents will be happy as long as you are, they trust that they raised you to make good decisions for yourself. Even if you don’t know what it is that makes you happy yet, don’t be afraid to explore your options; I’ll be right here by your side and I’m going to support you no matter what. You’ve told me before that even if you inherit the studio Maya would co-own it with you, or even if you inherit your father’s business you would be working alongside your brothers. You are not alone, the world is not riding on solely your shoulders.” Damian was completely silent, if not for the wetness on her shoulder and his grip tightening around her, Marinette would figure he was unphased. Marinette has known that she loves this boy, far past the platonic love she just expressed, but for Damian, it was at this moment that he realized that not only was he loved, but he was in love with Marinette.

“WELCOME TO THE WORLD WUSHU CHAMPIONSHIPS 2019 LIVE FROM GOTHAM, NEW JERSEY” roared overhead on the speakers.

Damian and Marinette were standing in a hall away from the main room where other contestants were preparing themselves both appearance-wise and physically. Marinette herself was fixing the crown braid in her hair. The women’s event would take place in the morning to late afternoon, where the men’s event in the evening giving Damian ample time before he needs to warm up to support Marinette. He gave Marinette’s ensemble a once over and with his cheeks tinged red he muttered “I like your costume, you look really cute”, quickly averting his gaze.

Marinette immediately flushed, almost as red as the silken top that adorned her torso, and brought the hands that were adjusting her braids down to her hips and leaned forward, exclaiming in a hushed shout as to not disturb the other competitors warming up, “Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, are you making fun of me? I just want to make sure that any pictures taken do not make me look like a hot mess. Could you imagine what could happen if Audrey Bourgeois sees pictures of me completely frumpled looking and cancels my apprenticeship?? Oh my God and then Parson’s will find out and rescind me and then I won’t be able to visit you at NYU!” Marinette’s hands now rested on her cheeks smearing away her perfectly placed blush. How Marinette managed to go from disgruntled to spiraling in less than a minute is still a mystery that still eludes Damian after years of friendship, but it was his duty to calm her down. He understands her nerves, they had spent the last few years dominating the juniors division and as they entered the senior division there was a lot of pressure for them to win there too. Unfortunately, for every person who wanted them to win, another five were praying for them to slip up, but now is not the time to be overcome by nerves, her turn would come soon and she cannot afford to be overwhelmed by nerves.

Damian fully grasped her wrists pulling her hands away from her face, “Marinette, genuinely you look stunning”. After that comment, Damian noted to himself that it seems like there was no more need for the blush she applied anyways. With the soft tut of his tongue, he smoothed out the harsh lines of her smeared blush using the pad of his thumb. He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, “Don’t worry too much about your hair and makeup, the most important thing is your form”. Marinette leaned into his touch and gave a small nod, calming down from her spiraling thoughts, he always knew how to ground her.

“Contestant number 54 you’re up next!”

“That’s you; you might want to fix up your makeup real quick, but everything is going to be fine.” He handed her a bag with her cosmetics and a wipe and quickly clapped his hands around her shoulders to guide her to the main stage so she could focus on herself.

Fixing her makeup Marinette shot him a cheeky grin, “wish me luck?”

“You don’t need luck. Marinette you have the skill, you know that.”

“Next up is Marinette Dupain-Cheng from New Jersey, USA! She is definitely a fan favorite to win today on the Women’s Taolu floor. She is internationally known for competing not only in the women’s division but also in the couples’ scene. She’s been training for the individual event from the age of six and for the partner event from the age of nine with her studio mate Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, who is predicted to win the Men’s Taolu event. While we do not have a couples’ Wushu competition here, since turning 18 they have been dominating the senior international couples’ Wushu scene and have gone undefeated.”

Taking off her team jacket, with a quick nod to her parents, Talia, and of course, Damian Marinette strode to the center stage. Damian would never grow sick of watching her transform on stage, it was strikingly similar to the magical girl shows she had been obsessed with as a child. The moment Marinette stepped onto the mat her whole demeanor changed. Her back straightened up, her head would be held high, and most of all, the look in her eyes was filled with inextinguishable fire.

By the end of the event after getting changed Marinette and Damian were making their way to his car. Once Damian turned 16 and got his license, it became a tradition for them to go out for a celebratory meal together without their parents. “Marinette!” Damian heard a voice call out, Agreste he noted in his head. Marinette had met Agreste and Tsurugi while vacationing in Paris. While they weren’t the worst, in fact, Tsurugi was typically pleasant company, Damian was in no mood to socialize after the several rounds of interviews he had to endure after winning first place in Men’s Taolu. Many of the interviewers failed to understand that while yes, he had more opportunities to train as he is a third-generation Wushu champion, it was his hard work that got him to where he was, not his genetics.

Seeing Damian continue on to his car, not wanting to keep him waiting, Marinette quickly bid them farewell with a promise to see them tomorrow. “Hey wait for me!” Marinette called out, running after Damian. Despite his pride usually preventing him from heeding to his peers’ commands, Damian stopped in his tracks, his breath shallow and wondering why Marinette’s voice still makes his heartthrob despite having heard it call out to him for over 10 years. Feeling her hands latch around his arm gave him a sense of comfort. Her grip was strong and steady, yet still gentle. He couldn’t help but envision his hand in hers instead of his arm. The bouquet and hand-painted card in his car were waiting to see if she felt the same.

[ragingbookdragon]

Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 1

Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4 Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Violence and Death

Author's Note: I have edited this story so it's nicer. Love me for this, please because I fought the cringe for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham looked bleak in the wake of the militia’s arrival. Even the thugs that were rioting in the street seemed to avoid the armored tanks and patrols as they passed, and GCPD had withdrawn most of their officers to stay at the precinct. He’d never claim he couldn’t do it on his own. He had to keep going. He had to save Gotham. He had to—

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help once in a while.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who was speaking. She walked up beside him, leaning on the ledge he was perched on.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, his eyes still trained on the city before him. “You should still be resting. Your ribs aren’t fully healed yet.”

She chuckled and turned, looking out at the spotlights shining. “They’re healed enough.” She side-eyed him. “Besides, this is becoming a lot more than you can handle.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can handle thi—” He looked down when he felt a hand curl around his wrist, then he looked back up, seeing the solemn stare in her gaze.

“Dad. You almost died at the ACE plant,” she interjected with a shake of her head. “We’ve got this ‘Arkham Knight’ teaming up with Scarecrow, and you’ve got Tim locked in the theater synthesizing a cure.” She squeezed his wrist lightly.

“Ican handle the smaller things, while you handle the militia and Scarecrow.”

He stared at his daughter for a moment, wanting to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Finally, he nodded, pulling away and pushing a few buttons on his wrist screen. “I need someone to help Dick with Penguin, and I need to handle the Man-Bat flying around.”

She nodded as she glanced at her screen, taking in the information he’d sent. “Do you know where it came from?”

“The DNA matches that of Doctor Kirk Langstrom,” he said. “He owns a lab on Bleake Island. Here’s the coordinates.”

Humming, she slid a wave-marker into the cowl’s visor to give her direction before stepping up on the ledge. “I’ll go to the lab, then help out Dick.” He stared at her as she turned to face him, her feet nearing the edge. “Be careful, dad…I don’t want to lose you.” She didn’t give him time to respond, falling backwards over the ledge.

A few seconds later, she was gliding through the sky; a faint smile came to his lips as he watched her, then he turned, heading in the direction of the other island.

***

When she finally found the lab, she was alarmed to see what had happened. Her eyes focused on the screen, replaying the last moments of the experiment, then she put a finger to her ear. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

A few moments later, his voice came over the line. “What happened at the lab?”

She grimaced as she looked at the body of Francine Langstrom. “Apparently Langstrom was trying to find a cure to his deafness by mixing in vampire bat DNA with his. Something went horribly wrong, and he mutated into the giant bat thingy flying around Gotham.” She paused, her voice mournful. “His wife’s dead.”

There was a slight pause from her father then he murmured, “Can you get to a computer to synthesize a cure?”

She glanced around, trying to find a working computer amongst the shattered screens. When she found one, she moved to it, typing away at it.

After a few moments, she pulled the cure out and put it into the injector she carried. “Alright. I’ve got the cure. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on Bleake now. Find him in the skies.”

She nodded, moving to the door. “Will do.”

***

When she arrived back in the city, she climbed up the clocktower and waited. Once she saw him darting across the sky in a hulking mass of gray flesh and black talons, she acted, kicking off the ledge to glide across the sky until she was above him; she dove, tackling him to the ground and injecting him, but he fought her, viciously slicing at her with his claws until she rolled away. He screeched at her and flew off.

She grunted as she clambered to her feet, dusting off the dirt they’d rolled in and a voice came over the comm. “Did you find him?”

A huff escaped her, and she explained, “I did…but he wrestled with me and took off the second I injected him.” She looked down at the injector, still holding the remaining cure. “We’re gonna have to go another round.”

“Watch the skies then. In the meantime, go find Dick. He’s somewhere on Miagani.”

She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling out her grapple and aiming it towards the roof of an adjacent building. “Alright. Will do.”

The crinkle of her father’s communicator faded out and she pulled the trigger, letting her body go weightless as she shot up towards the ledge. Holstering the grapple gun, she climbed over the ledge and paused, glancing down at her screen as she stood on the roof. A few moments had passed, and she looked at the city, seeing the chaos that had enveloped it within the few hours that had gone by. Riots littered the boulevards and the militia had begun putting mines in the roads as they started barricading the avenues and main streets. Something akin to hopelessness rose in her chest, but she shoved it down, reminding herself that with her, Dick, Tim, and her dad, they could save Gotham. It was just going to take some more time.

“Are you thinking about how Batman let the city go to hell?”

She couldn’t fight the gasp that escaped her as she spun around, taking in the image of the Arkham Knight before her. His stance was nonthreatening, in fact it was almost curious, but she stood on her guard anyway, her voice and eyes cold.

“There’s only two people to blame for this city going to hell. Scarecrow…” She pointed at him, her voice frosty. “And you.” He gave her no reaction, other than taking a step towards her, heavy metaled boot making a thump against the concrete roof.

Reaching down, she pulled the Ka-Bar from her thigh and warned, “I’d be careful how close you come, pal. I’m one person you don’t wanna tango with.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Look around you, Batgirl. This is what Gotham City truly is. Chaotic and beyond saving.”

She tipped her head back, her tone becoming challenging. “Is that what you’ve been conditioned to believe? Or did Scarecrow just feed you something to change your mind.”

That seemed to irritate him because he snapped harshly, “You have no idea what I’ve been conditioned to believe.”

“I know you’ve got a petty grudge against Batman, and you believe that inciting chaos amongst people is the best way to deal with it.”

His anger seemed to cool as his voice turned to ice, and she almost shivered at how the temperature seemed to chill around them a few degrees. “My grudge with Batman is more than petty.” He pointed at her, the holographs on his mask shifting with every word. “He deserves to die.”

She flipped the knife into the air and caught it, raising it defensively as she reached out with the other out and beckoned him. “You want Batman?” she challenged. “Then you come through me.”

The Arkham Knight didn’t move until she jerked forward, stabbing out with the knife. He dodged her easily enough, sliding beside her and she twisted, following him with a well-rounded kick aimed for his torso. Instead of evading, he grabbed her foot and yanked her. Hard. Her breath caught in her throat as she was hauled forward and cursing inwardly, she brought the knife down, hoping to catch him as she fell. His gauntleted hand shot out and caught hers, and when she reached out with the other, he caught it too. Not wasting any time, he kicked her feet out from beneath her and dropped them to the ground, putting all his weight onto her hips to stop her from moving as he slammed her hands beside her head against the rooftop.

Her eyes widened in shock at how quickly everything had happened. No one had ever been able to take her down that fast, and the reality that she might meet her end caught up with her. She began to squirm, trying to rise up enough to catch him with a shoulder but with her wrists in his grip it wasn’t likely, and with all his weight on her legs, she couldn’t kick out or try to flip him off.

“Stop moving,” he suddenly commanded, but it didn’t sound as harsh as his earlier words.

She glared at him and spat, “You wanna kill me, go ahead. But he’s still gonna take you down.”

There was a pause, then he shifted her hands until he held them both in one hand, and he reached towards her face. She reacted like anyone would subdued by an enemy, emitting a warning in her throat as she tried to avoid the oncoming touch. When his hand came into contact with her cheek, she flinched at the chill of the titanium, but his touch was…kind and gentle.

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N),” he promised softly. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

She stilled at the mention of her name, shock etching across her features. His fingers brushed her cheek once more, this time a loving caress, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“How…how do you know my name?” (Y/N) questioned and his hand halted, then he reached up and pressed a button below his jaw.

She watched the mask rise and when his face came into view, she felt her heart stop and she blinked, breathing, “…Jason?”

At the mention of his name and the recognition, he let go of her hands and reached down, removing the gloves from his hands. He reached back down to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones then to her eyebrows, like he was trying to remember how her skin felt underneath his calloused hands.

She could see the long-withheld emotions fighting inside him as choked, “God, I’ve wanted to see you for so long.” His hands felt warm against her face, and she reached up to touch him, but stopped as she saw the “J” burned onto his face. He must’ve realized she was staring at it, because he pulled one of his hands away and covered it, muttering, “The Joker…he did it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, anger, fury, disgust, it wasn’t the one she gave him, as she let out a sob and jerked forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. His entire body went rigid, then slowly, his arms wound around her waist, pulling her to him until there was no space between them, and even then, he tried to pull her closer, squeezing with all his strength. She began to shake in his arms, and he quietly shushed her.

After a few moments, she pulled back and took off her cowl, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes; she swallowed thickly before murmuring, “…We thought you were dead, Jason.”

His expression turned dark as he muttered, “Joker kept me locked in the asylum all that time.”

(Y/N) had no idea what to say. What could she? She figured she could apologize for not looking in the asylum. Or that she failed him. Instead, she said nothing and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. He shut his eyes and a shuddering breath left him as he gently grasped her forearms, trying to ground himself. Some time had passed before he pulled away and helped her to her feet. (Y/N) stared into the eyes of her lover and readied herself for what she was about to say.

She took a deep breath and bent over, picking up the knife to put it back in its sheath. “I…I can’t even begin to imagine what happened to you, Jason,” she said as she gazed at him. “And I’m sorry it did…I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to find you.”

Grasping the cowl, she pulled it back on then clenched her jaw and said, “You can go this time…but if I see you again…I will stop you.”

His eyes widened in shock for a split second, then they narrowed, and he tipped his head up, questioning, “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

She nodded despite the grief welling in her chest. “This is how it has to be.” (Y/N) explained as she turned away from him. “You’re trying to kill my dad and destroy Gotham…I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t care that he left me to die?”

She spun back around, her voice wrought with disbelief and resentment of the accusation. “That’s not what happened, and you know it!” she condemned. “You turned you comm and tracker off then went off on your own! We searched everywhere for you! None of us let you die!” She reached out and curled her fingers in the straps at his side. “We saw you die Jason! I watched my father fall into the deepest pit of depression I’ve ever witnessed!”

She let him go, her hands falling limply to her sides. “Don’t you dare say that he didn’t care that you died…it haunts him.” (Y/N)’s eyes met his and she lamented, “It haunts me.” He said nothing, and she shook her head, turning back around. “I don’t know what you expected from me. To help you destroy Gotham? To kill my father and everything he stands for?”

She paused, then admitted, “I love you, Jason. More than anything…but you’re dead wrong if you think I’d be on your side with this.”

The sound of mechanized armor echoed in her ears and his sarcastic laugh turned robotic as he ridiculed, “Guess there is life after love, huh?”

(Y/N) gave him no response, and a moment later, she was standing alone on the rooftop. A feeling of overwhelming numbness seeping out from her heart to her limbs as her lungs began to tighten.

“Yes…I guess there is.”

[river-bottom-nightmare]

zatanna said the word anchor point, and that's where she lost dick. anchor points and multiversal constants and universal stability. galaxies shattering into pieces behind his eyelids before swirling together tighter and more whole, before dick would inevitably wake, the lights from that goddamn recurring dream still flashing in his mind.

constantine was looking at him with sympathy, pity. dick wanted to wipe that look off his face with bleach. with acid. he normally wouldn't consider fighting john constantine, since he's always been able to sense the sheer power bubbling under the man's drunken and sloppy exterior. though, apparently, that ability to sense was what could possibly give him the edge in the fight he was imagining, but would never happen.

there were only a few people in the room, but someone would rip him off the man. maybe clark, whose features were painted with worry and concern. that, and the lights from the galaxies outside the watchtower windows, the eternity of the galaxy covering the entire room in a gentle wash that dick had been able to ignore for all of his life, excluding the past couple of hours. maybe diana, who was starting to look at dick with a bit of fear. not of him, but for him, and for everybody else. dick couldn't blame her. she had more than enough experience with powerful men who made themselves god. the only difference was that dick would rather let himself burn up from the flame that was inside of him before becoming whatever they said he was.

it's not about becoming, raven whispered in his mind. her presence was gentle, familiar. it took a certain length of self control for dick not to latch onto her, about the length of rope needed to make a noose. you already are. there are no new powers or abilities or anything that will happen to you. you always were a nexus being, and you always will be. it's just a part of you.

"just a part of him." just a part of him? like how wally's slowly failing heart had just been a part of him? or how jason's pit-induced fits of rage were just a part of him? or how cass' assassin training she fell back on no matter how hard she tried to override it was just a part of her?

bruce hadn't said anything. actually, zatanna had stopped talking, not that dick had been fully listening in the first place, and everyone was lost in their own quiet thoughts. but bruce's silence had been the most stomach-churning, the most horrific.

dick knew bruce didn't like metas. knew it because of the sighs he used to make due to the league's foolishness back when dick was robin, running a hand through dick's ruffled hair and telling him he was so glad you're not like them, dick, they're exhausting. he knew it because of bruce's fury every time someone powerful fought in gotham and destroyed the city, rubble on the ground as they went off, completely unconcerned of the damage they left behind. he knew it because of the extensive files in the batcomputer detailing each league-affiliated and known meta's weakness, or how their strength could be flipped like a playing card, until dick was almost convinced being a meta made one weaker. (according to bruce, it did.)

bruce didn't like metas. and dick wasn't a meta, but no one knew what he was anyway. no one but the magic users, whose vague explanations told them they weren't really sure what he was either.

"you're connected to the universe, dick," zatanna sighed. "the multiverse comes together in you. and as much as i don't like it, we need you."

all eyes were on him. dick was looking at his feet, but he could still feel them. that was one of his new "powers," right? knowledge of the multiverse? a gross misuse and bitter accusation, dick knew. but he couldn't get the fear out of his mind, and fear left unchecked grew fuzzy with mold until it disintegrated into anger.

"you need me?" dick said hoarsely. "the multiverse, what, comes together in me? you do realize what utter bullshit that sounds like?"

"i know it don't seem all that good, but trust me," constantine said. "it's a thing. it's real. you are one."

"you said these people are supposed to be beings of power," dick argued back. "so why aren't you a nexus being? or raven? or fucking ra's al ghul. i'm sure as hell not a being of power. i'm human."

"i suppose that's exactly what makes you one," diana murmured. "i have met many powerful men in my life. i've found the ones that i respected the most were the ones that were most in touch with their humanity."

this was crazy. this was crazy. dick felt like the particles that came together to make him were blowing away in confusion until he was one big cloud of unrecognizable light, before he was scattered in every direction. how the hell was he supposed to be one of the things that kept the universe together when he couldn't even keep his own damn self together?

avoiding bruce wasn't working. dick just felt like he was about to fray at the edges. so, gathering up his courage, dick turned to face the man and quietly, in a voice more delicate than china, said, "b?"

batman didn't look at him. batman didn't even look up. but batman did speak.

"alternate universe superman. he called you the multiversal constant. the one thing he could depend on."

out of the corner of his eye, dick could see clark nodding a little.

bruce continued. "you named yourself after a mythological figure who was known as the catalyst of change. or the great rebuilder. and kryptonians we've met have said how well you embody the role."

"it's...it's just a name, bruce."

"you, of all people, know it's not," clark said.

"so what am i supposed to do, huh?" dick whirled around. "fight this battle zee's recruiting me for that's entirely above my skill level. become some sort of, what did you say, universal anchor? i don't know the first thing about this shit, and i don't know what it'll do to me!"

"you're scared," bruce said, always willing to cut right to the chase with everyone but himself.

dick didn't answer.

"raven, establish a mental link between me and nightwing."

raven nodded, then with a flutter of her hands, dick felt a presence inside his head. it scared him to realize how easily he accepted it, how easily he had always accepted it. he never understood how unusual that was until now.

of course i'm scared, dick whispered into the mind link. i've gone my entire life knowing exactly who i was, what i could do, what i strive to be. and in the span of one day, that's all gone.

then what do you plan to do about it? bruce asked.

he said it so simply, so easily. like discovering something this monumental about himself was just another tricky case or difficult puzzle to solve. dick would have an easier time plucking each and every star in the galaxy and making a mosiac out of them.

raven's hood was lowered, but dick could still feel her eyes on him. constantine's features were still dripping in pity, zee looked imploring. diana was looking at him with hesitating acceptance, bruce was unreadable as always.

but clark. clark was looking at him with steady eyes and and a kind smile. he looked knowing, quietly vindicated. it was as if he'd known there was something...off about dick. something two hopscotches and a backbend away from "special," but close enough. something that had led to clark giving dick a piece of his people's legacy, and trusting him to fulfill it to the best of his ability.

clark wasn't scared of him at all. but clark couldn't make up for bruce.

"will you help?" zatanna asked.

everything inside dick was itching to say yes. jumping at the chance to help his friends, aching to be useful. it was a response he'd carefully cultivated years ago, and pushing it down was an almost physical ache.

but the stardust behind his eyes wasn't so easily forgotten. the hook behind his navel that seemed to drag him into the fabric of a universe that dick couldn't comprehend still dug into him. the world was spinning and the stars were turning and the earth was tumbling over itself, all of them in an effort to stop their twisting and turning and to right themselves once and for all. but dick wasn't moving. dick was completely, utterly still.

"i don't know," he said.

Dick Grayson Anniversary Week ‘21, Day 6: Universal Constant

"i don't know," the author says, because she truly has no idea what the fuck she just wrote. i started imagining nexus dick grayson and this just spilled out onto the page. it makes absolutely no sense, but there are some nice sentences in there that i don't want to get rid of, so hopefully yall can somewhat make sense of this ramen soup of a fic.

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