#don’t know if you’ve ever heard of my good friend batman

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

*dj voice* W W W W W W W W WAAAAAXXXX PLAAAAAAAAAY *air horns*

hehehehehvshehe unfortunately, I have, once more, read this at 7 o’clock in the morning. ✊😪 now I, also unfortunately, have a bad case of the horn horn which UNFUCKINGFORTUNATELY I cannot cure at the moment

#thugitout #CREAMERNATION

Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts. 

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it. 

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show. 

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment. 

I look forward to pleasuring you. 

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway. 

-

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you. 

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk. 

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah. 

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?” 

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles,  “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?” 

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply. 

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.” 

“The vanilla one. Please.” 

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.” 

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard. 

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.” 

“Not at all.” 

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure. 

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure. 

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure. 

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.” 

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come. 

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”  

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish. 

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before. 

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.” 

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit. 

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.” 

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.” 

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. Very.” 

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

 “That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?” 

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

 “Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

 “Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.” 

“O-okay. That sounds good.” 

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice. 

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.” 

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble. 

“But first…It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.” 

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…” 

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing. 

“...And out.” 

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.” 

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.” 

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?” 

“Yes, go ahead.” 

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh. 

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt. 

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks. 

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…” 

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.” 

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”  

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it. 

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.” 

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do. 

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs. 

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.” 

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.” 

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.” 

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you. 

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.” 

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.” 

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.” 

“Fuck, Ezra–” 

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.” 

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down. 

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”

You pout. 

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste. 

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3

[auroreliis]

Honestly if I was batsis I'd pretend to have a crush on the batboys close friends(excluding Damian because he and Jon are still babies) just to annoy them. Jason bring Roy over? Suddenly I'm very interested in his tattoo's and I want to know all about archery. I catch kon in the kitchen in Tim? Suddenly i'm very into the conversation they're having and am making eye contact a lot with Kon. I feel liked they'd do something like this; Batsis: You know I really like your tattoos. Roy: Oh thanks. Jason: ... You gotta go, like, now. Roy: What-

Brilliant, anon!! What a great idea!! This was very fun to write :)

(don't mind the spelling mistakes please lol. i am tired out of my mind)

For starters, when Bruce first introduced the members of the Justice League to you (it took a lot of convincing), you just couldn’t help but flirt with them.

I mean, just LOOK at Aquaman. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you felt a spark. He hadn’t noticed you staring, but surely he had felt it too. Bruce, however, had noticed you staring. He didn’t seem particularly amused, almost as though he saw you daydreaming about your wedding with Aquaman. Just when you were making your way over to them, Bruce scowled and swiftly led Aquaman away. After that, you never saw him ever again…

Or that one time when Green Lantern came over. Wow. What a man. You didn’t waste a second walking up to him and introducing yourself. The giggles you were suppressing nearly slipped out after you saw Bruce’s eye twitch. Green Lantern entertained your advances, though you knew he wasn’t interested in you. Whenever Bruce started with his, “Hal. We should leave”, you would always interrupt him with more questions directed at Hal.

“So…do you like pasta? I’m actually really good at making it. You should come over, you know? I could treat you!” You all but winked at him.

Hal found it very interesting, don’t get him wrong, he thought you were very funny, but when Bruce is standing right there beside him, he felt…intimidated. So intimidated, in fact, that he can barely reply to your questions.

“Oh…um…” he nervously glanced at Bruce. “Green. You know what, kid? Your father and I have some business to attend to…so…see you next time. Good luck with the um…yeah, never mind.”

Hal sped off, leaving you and Bruce alone. You had been in the mood to laugh until your father turned to you with a serious expression. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to laugh anymore. To put it simply, it was a clear warning: Don’t do it again, his look communicated.

Now, Constantine, he was fun to hang around with, likely because he isn’t as scared of Batman as the rest is. And also, he’s hot. “You are so cool, honestly. It’s really impressive how often you’ve escaped death”, you leaned against the wall. To be honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying, all you needed to hear was his strong English accent and little sprinkles of humor.

After some bribery, you had gotten Tim to tell you that Bruce was most concerned about you meeting Constantine. For some reason, you figured…

“So…I like older men, what about you?”, you batted your eyelashes at him. You didn’t have Bruce in your periphery, as you were focusing on John, but you could imagine him shaking in fury.

“Yeah, I like older men too”, he replied nonchalantly. Dammit, he got you. Well, he was a funny guy.

Bruce seemingly relaxed at that, but that’s not to say that he was satisfied with the interaction taking place. “You’re funny, are you single-”, you could barely finish your sentence before Dick dragged you away to spend time with you. Though, you believe that Bruce asked Dick to get you away just so you couldn’t talk to Constantine like that.

Bruce had way too many attractive friends. Well, almost all his friends were attractive: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash…hell, even Martian Manhunter. I mean, he can read minds! Just imagine the potential…

“So, I heard you can read minds. Read mine right now”, your grin was…suspicious. Bruce couldn’t read minds like J’onn could, but he could imagine what you were thinking about. No, actually, he didn’t want to imagine it.

“J’onn.”, Bruce, ever so stern, called out and gestured towards the door. The J’onn in question had merely walked off in that direction silently, as though having understood Bruce’s point from one word. Martian Manhunter hadn’t read your mind that day, to your dismay. However, you had managed to make Bruce uncomfortable, so that was considered a win.

Dick himself had very attractive friends. Wally West, quite the flirt, was among them. Though, oddly enough, you had imagined him to be more flirty. It couldn’t be that Dick took a page out of Bruce’s book and told him to watch it, right?

“So, you’re fast, huh?”, you looked Wally up and down. “I happen to be”, Wally glanced at Dick.

“Okaayyyyy, Wally, you should leave”, Dick spoke with a strained smile.

“Yeah. Oh, by the way, what about the-”

“Now.”

Wally looked around awkwardly, “…right.”

And Raven—what a woman. Plus, Cyborg and Starfire filled your thoughts. Though Wally was the first and last friend of Dick’s you ever saw. A pity. He seemed to have learnt his lesson…

Now Roy Harper, Jason’s friend, was quite something. Tattoos? Archery? Hell yeah.

“Wow, so you like engineering books? Well, the manor has a huge variety. You should come by more often”, you smiled innocently.

“Um, actually, he will NOT be coming over ever again”, Jason frowned at your words.

“Why not?”, both you and Roy turned to Jason.

“BECAUSE I said so”, you and Roy made eye contact awkwardly.

“You”, Jason points at Roy, “Get out.”

“What? But you said you needed my he-”

“NOWWWW. Do NOT make me repeat myself.”

Yeah, Roy leaving was more awkward than anything else that had happened so far.

Jason didn’t have that many friends, as far as you knew at least. In other words: You would never see Roy ever again…

Now Tim, being charming himself, had many attractive friends.

For starters: Conner Kent.

You hadn’t had much contact with the Kents, however Conner had come over a few times. And wow. Despite being overly confident (and often obnoxious), he was very, very attractive. However, you have never talked to him. The reason? Tim makes sure he keeps you at arm’s length. In fact, you’re not sure you could ever find a way to interract with Tim’s friends…unless…

“Hey, Tim!”, Jason called out, “Bruce says you need to go to the cave right now.”

“What? But I have guests over…”, Tim eyes Jason suspiciously.

“I mean, if you wanna get in trouble with him, be my guest”, Jay raised his hands defensively.

“I-…fine. Conner, just a second, I will be right back. DO NOT move”, Tim sighs.

After Tim left, you shot Jason a thumbs-up and went to mingle with Superboy.

“Good evening. You must be Conner. I’ve heard a lot about you from Tim”, you say, taking it slow.

“Good evening! Hopefully you only heard good things!”, he grins.

“Oh, plenty of good things. Say, if you really can fly, then why don’t you take me for a ride? I haven’t ever seen the sky from…well, up in the sky”, you copied his grin.

“Ah, well, I would, really, but I’m not sure how Tim would feel, you know? I mean, he’s a bit of a-”, Conner started.

“A bit of a what.”, a new voice shocked the both of you.

Tim. Where the hell did he come from?

“I though I told you to leave if they started talking to you?”, Tim ignored you, only focusing on scolding Conner.

“Well, that would’ve been incredibly rude…”, Conner struggled to defend himself.

“You.”, Tim turns to you.

“Me?”, you said, though you weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Yes, you. What’s the big idea? Why did you pull that just to talk to Conner? I don’t know what you have planned, but forget it immediately. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Bruce to reinstate the therapy sessions. Then you can explain to him why you enjoy sabotaging others so much.”

That was, quite frankly, terrifying. You hadn’t been this scared of Tim in a while.

Well, safe to say you won’t be doing this again…

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 7)

Masterpost

A short one today, but I thought this section was funny (until it got sad again).

-----

It’s a quiet evening in the Lane-Kent household: Lois is trying to turn her notes into an article, Clark is going over Jon’s math homework, and Jon is watching a show Lois is only half-following.  It features lots of gunfire and explosions, though Lois’s— unfortunately extensive— experience with witnessing real violence makes the version on TV look cartoonish.  She suspects that is part of the show’s appeal.

Danny is paying about as much attention to the TV as Lois is, engrossed in something on his phone.  At least he’s in the same room as the rest of them, instead of sequestering himself away.

“Hey Lois?” Danny suddenly asks.

Lois looks up from her work.  “What’s up?”

“Did you know the internet thinks you’re Superman’s girlfriend?”

Lois knows that if she looks at Clark, he’ll be turning red, the way he always does whenever this particular subject comes up.  Lois herself is barely holding back a laugh.  Jon’s wrinkling his nose, looking thoroughly embarrassed by his parents.

“Well, I am,” she says, barely keeping herself composed.

“No, I mean—” Danny begins.

“You mean people say that I’m dating Superman and married to Clark?”  Lois glances at Clark, who is now hiding his face in his hands.  “Someone forgot to check for cameras after rescuing me a few years back, and we got caught kissing on film.  It was let people think Superman is a homewrecker or let them think I’m in a polyamorous relationship with my husband and his alter ego.”  

“That’s… really weird.”  Danny is giving her the kind of judgmental look only teenagers can give.  

Lois does laugh at that.  “It is, a bit.  But it helps protect Clark’s secret identity, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Clark finally says.  “There were other ways to handle that situation; she just thinks this is funny.”

“Even your parents think it’s funny,” Lois says.  Clark just sighs, faux-aggrieved.  

“It’s not even the weirdest thing on the internet about Superman,” Danny says.  “It’s just the weirdest thing everyone agrees is true.”

“Please do not tell me what else you’ve found,” Clark says.  

“You can tell me,” Lois says.  “We can just make Clark leave for a bit.”  Reading conspiracy theories about Superman is her guilty pleasure, though if anyone asks, she does it to keep tabs on anyone who might have a viable way of hurting him.  

Danny just laughs, and something in Lois’s chest seizes up.  Is this the first time she’s heard him laugh since he came back?  She thinks it might be.

She doesn’t want to call attention to it; like as not, that would just make him pull away again.  Instead she says, “Superman doesn’t even get the best conspiracy theories.  Those are all Batman.”  That’s because Bruce purposefully cultivates them, of course, but that’s not important.

“Which one is he, again?” Danny asks.  

It’s not that Lois ever forgets that Danny has spent most of his life in another dimension.  But little offhand comments like that… they really drive it home.  There are plenty of superheroes, even Justice League members, that most of the general public has never heard of— but Batman is not one of them.

She's saved from answering by Clark.

"You'll meet him eventually," Clark says.  "He's a good friend of mine.  And Jon and Kon are close to his two youngest sons, Robin and Red Robin."

Danny nods thoughtfully.  "Right.  I think Red Robin's in the group chat Kon added me to."

Lois reminds herself to thank Kon next time she sees him.  He and Danny seem to have connected, and Kon seems to have made it his personal mission to keep Danny from slipping too far into one of his funks again.

"Speaking of Kon," Clark begins.  "Ma and Pa want to know when we'll be able to make it to Smallville to visit."

They've been trying not to overwhelm Danny by introducing him to too many new people at once, but maybe that was the wrong choice.  Maybe they should be pushing him to get out more, to connect with this dimension.  Besides, Kon spends most of his time in Smallville, and they already know that he and Danny get along.

Lois re-evaluates the article she’s been working on.  Perry would probably appreciate it sooner rather than later, but if she turns in a smaller article this week, she can probably swing a weekend off.  If not, she can always work on it from Kansas.

“This weekend should work,” Lois says.  “If that’s alright with you, Danny.”

Danny looks a little surprised to be consulted.  “I— yeah, that works.  Not like I have anywhere else to be.”  He laughs a little, but the joke falls flat, and Lois resolves to double down on helping Danny connect with more people here in this dimension.

[p-artsypants]

Paint it Black (14) Investigating

Ao3 | FF.net

“Chief Anderson Duffy speaking,” said the voice through the Batmobile’s intercom. 

“This is Batman. I’m calling regarding the investigation you conducted with the missing boys.” 

“Oh! Batman! Right, well, just as you requested, we removed the remains and returned them to those who had families. The rest were cremated. If this is truly the work of Joker and Two-Face as you suspect, we will ultimately leave their capture up to you. I have assigned a team to look into their locations. With a month headstart, I can’t guarantee we’ll find them. They may even be back in Gotham.” 

“They aren’t,” he said definitively. “I have my sources. They haven’t been seen in Gotham in months. I highly suspect they’re still in Jump, laying low and trying to think of a new plan.” 

“Well, we’ll let you know if we find anything, but they did a good job of clearing their tracks.”

“Did you leave everything else where it was?”

“Just like you requested.” 

“Good. I’ll let you know if I learn anything new.” 

“Good luck, Batman.” 

He ended the call, heaving a sigh of relief. Working with the Gotham PD was always a pain, and if Gordan wasn’t on duty, it was damn near impossible. So when Jump PD was so cooperative, it was like a breath of fresh air. 

He assumed their disposition was thanks to Robin. 

The Batmobile pulled up to the building, the address that Cyborg had provided him with. Two dudes were having a smoke on the opposite street. 

“Hey, you Batman?” One guy called. 

Batman just looked at him as he closed his door. 

“Like the real one?” 

“Who wants to know?”

“You the one that’s been catching the petty crooks and leaving love notes?”

“No. Just got into town.”

The guy nudged his buddy. “See, told you it wasn’t Batman.” 

“You guys smoke here often?” Batman asked. 

“Fairly. Live upstairs.” He threw his thumb at the building they were leaning against. “Why?”

“Ever see any freaks come out of this building?” 

One guy, the larger of the two, dropped his cig and stomped it out, and then came closer to Batman so he could talk in a softer voice. “I mean no disrespect Batman, but everyone in this neighborhood makes it a point to mind their own business. It’s not safe to witness anybody coming in or out of any place.” 

Batman grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. “I’m not asking about other people coming and going. I’m asking about a clown or a man with half his face burnt to a crisp. I don’t give two shits about anything else.” 

“G-got it. Yeah, uh…I definitely saw those guys.” 

Batman set him down. 

“It was a while back. Probably a month was the last time. They were noisy as hell. Always laughing. I heard gunshots a few times.” 

“Do you know where they went?” 

“Sorry, I don’t. But I always knew they were in when I saw a white utility van parked where you are now. Some electric company logo on the side that I can’t remember. Oh, and the license plate started with ‘A’, if I remember that right.” 

Batman gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Don’t mention it.” He started walking back to his friend. “Seriously. Don’t.” 

Batman went back to the parking space, scanning the ground for tire marks. Several prints came back, so he abandoned that idea. 

Then he went to the backdoor that Cyborg had detailed in his report. It was unlocked, but he had a feeling anyone that tried to loot the building would quickly change their mind. 

The torture room was worse in person. Blood everywhere. Horrible devices spread across tables and hanging on the wall. But no empty syringes, no notes, no journals. Nothing of use. Just enough information to paint a very ugly narrative of nineteen young men finding their doom, and one entering a torturous existence. 

But perhaps the information he was looking for was never in this room to begin with. He scoured the building. Checking every room he passed. 

He did find an office. There wasn’t much that would allow him forward, but there were some documents left behind that would shed a little more light on the experiment. 

Three piles of applications. 

14 labeled as ‘fodder’. This pile consisted of deeply disturbed and highly medicated individuals with conditions such as schizophrenia or other psychotic disorders. 

Another pile of 5 were labeled ‘true candidates’. This group had been hospitalized for violent episodes towards other minors or foster families. They all were diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder or Bipolar. 

Then, there was one application in between the two piles labeled ‘Control’. It was Robin’s.

‘This one has a strong moral code, despite his level of depression. He may help or hinder the experiment, but is not expected to last long.’

Batman couldn’t help but snort. Neither Joker or Dent were scientists, and had no idea what they had gotten into. 

It looked like these applications had come from the beginning of the project and that further documents had been taken wherever they had gone. 

Then there was the basement. Those two rooms may not contain anything useful, but he was not doing his due diligence if he didn’t at least check it out. 

It took him a minute to find the ladder that Raven had mentioned, but soon he was able to let himself down to the dark, dank, hell mouth. 

It still smelled foul, even without a body still hanging around. But it was a smell Batman had encountered before and knew how to deal with. A dab of Vick’s in the nose, and he could handle being down here for a little while at least. 

He checked out the containment room first. 

There were some flies, still subsisting off of the putrid puddles on the floor. The Slade bot laid in a heap on the ground, broken to pieces. 

As he moved around the room, he noticed tick marks on some of the walls, as evidently the boys were trying to keep track of how long they had been there. 

He saw Starfire’s name on the wall, written in blood. 

He flipped the unsaturated mattresses, just checking for any hidden messages, but found nothing. 

Nothing but grief. 

So he moved on. 

The room next door had housed the skulls of the other victims. The cards that had labeled the skulls remained in place, while the bones were gone. The knives on the workbench were in the same position as the photo. 

Out of the three drums of sulfuric acid, one was gone. The two remaining were still factory sealed. 

Batman made a call.

“Chief Anderson Duffy,” said the voice on the other end of the line.

“It’s Batman. What information did you glean from the drum of sulfuric acid that’s gone?”

“Oh that. Forensics were on that. Let me see what they reported.” There were some clacking of keys on the other end. “They found trace bone fragments in the acid. Says here that the acid didn’t contain the sludge often left over from dissolving a body, let alone 18. They think that these sickos may have only dissolved a few parts of a small number of bodies, before deciding to do something else with the remains.”  

Batman growled, disgusted, frustrated, and angry. 

These were all boys with full lives ahead of them. Boys that were taken advantage of because of where they were in life. Orphans, sick, vulnerable, impressionable. They could have been helped. They could have—

He tried not to dwell on that. They were gone, and it was his job to find out where they were taken. 

I don’t eat processed meat because I don’t want to accidentally eat human meat.

At first, Batman had foolishly taken the statement at face value. Black said something insane, because that’s what he was. It was shock value, it was delusional, it was paranoid…but now it made sense. 

“I know where the other bodies were taken.” 

“Oh great! Just tell us where to look and we’ll take care of it.” 

“Unfortunately, nothing is going to be recovered. I’m fairly certain they were cooked and fed to the other victims.” 

There was silence from the other line, Batman assumed shock. “...If that’s what you think, we’ll go with it for now. I would like proof though.” 

“I’ll get you either a confession from the Joker or Dent, or a witness account from the survivor.” 

“You found the survivor?”

“Yeah. He’s in treatment. His mental condition is very unstable and he has retrograde amnesia. It might be a while before he’s able to talk about this incident.” 

Duffy was quiet for a while before admitting, “you’ve made more headway on this case in the two days you’ve been here than the four months we’ve been working it.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up, Chief. I know how these two operate, and the clues they left were only going to be picked up by me.”

“Well, at any rate, thank you for working with us. Now, if only we could make some headway in Robin’s case.” 

Batman huffed. “Who do you think the survivor was?” 

“What? Really? That’s excellent! Well, maybe not, considering what you said about his mental state.”

“You would do me a great favor if you closed that case and stopped thinking about it.” 

“Right. I’ll pretend like I don’t know anything. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“I will.” And he hung up.  

There was a part of Batman that was frustrated with how messy this whole thing had gotten. Of course Robin was going to go undercover when he heard about this operation. Of course the easiest and least suspicious way to do so was to use the identity he used as a volunteer at the hospital. 

He just hated that it led back to his real name, and now that name wasn’t safe anymore. 

He was less concerned that Richard Grayson be linked back to Bruce Wayne, because really, how uncommon was the name? 

Emerging from the basement, he crossed over the threshold to the torture chamber and twitched in surprise when he saw a man sitting in the rigged dentist’s chair. 

It was not the half-faced mask he wanted to see. 

“Ah, so that truly was the Batmobile out front. Interesting.” 

Batman observed this new foe quickly, taking in the armor, the physique, the posture, and lack of weapons. 

“I have no business with you, Slade. But I suppose I could fit time into my busy schedule.” 

“You have heard of me. How nice. My old apprentice mentioned me?” 

“No. My old friend mentioned a psychopath blackmailed him into stealing. I told him not to worry too much about a grown man that gets his rocks off bullying children.” 

Slade’s eye narrowed. He tilted his head slightly, his expression completely hidden behind his mask. “So. What does the great Batman want in my building?” 

“You own this block? I assumed it was abandoned.” 

“‘Owned’ is a…loose term. I acquired it, because no one wanted it. It serves its purpose to me.” 

“Ever rent it out?” 

“No. Which is why I’m here. Heard someone was playing doctor while I was away.” 

“Taking a vacation?” Batman snipped. 

“Something like that,” Slade said casually. “I died. Did some sight-seeing in hell. Did some overtime during the apocalypse and got my flesh back. Then I spent several weeks trying to relearn how to walk.” He shifted so his head rested on his fist. “And now I hear I missed out on a very interesting experiment…but why would that concern Batman so much to bring him all the way here?” 

“Ever heard of the Joker or Two-Face?” 

“I subscribe to Villains Monthly.” 

“Got jokes, do you?” 

“I have a new lease on life Batman. Got a little more…pep in my step.” 

“I hope those steps lead you out of my way.” 

“You’re very serious, aren’t you? I see where Robin gets it from.”

Batman just glared at him. 

“In case you’re wondering, I had nothing to do with whatever happened here. Frankly, I’m rather upset I wasn’t invited. I have clean up to do, since your friends decided to make a mess. So if you wouldn’t mind showing yourself out, that’d be just swell.”   

“Sure,” said Batman. “But before I leave,” he cracked his knuckles, “why don’t I take the trash out?”

—-

Batman returned to the Titan’s tower about an hour later, a limp in his step and blood on his uniform. 

“Sir? Are you alright?” Alfred asked as he entered. The rest of the Titans were sitting around at the table, empty plates in front of them. 

“Fine. Just…had a little altercation. Tore the stitching in my leg.” He slid in next to Beast Boy, and leaned on his arms. 

Raven was quick to go to him, and pressed a healing hand to his wound. “What happened?”

“I did a little investigating into that building where Robin was held, hoping for a lead to where Joker and Dent may have gone. Instead I ran into the building’s owner.” 

Alfred placed a plate of Chicken Parmesan in front of him. 

“...was the owner a tough dude?” Beast Boy asked, noticing the blood on his shirt was from his own nose. 

He huffed, annoyed. He didn’t really want to reveal all this to them for several reasons, but they needed to know. “Yeah, tougher than expected. He’s a man by the name of Slade. Ever heard of him?”

Cyborg, who was on his fourth serving, nearly choked on his mouthful of pasta, while the other Titans gasped in horror. 

“But he—” Starfire protested. 

“Trigon resurrected him,” Raven bit. “He was there in the final battle, and then he disappeared.” 

“Apparently, he had to relearn how to walk,” said Batman, shooing Raven away from his leg. “I took care of him. He put up a fight, but I knocked him unconscious and delivered him to Duffy personally. That’s why I’m late.” 

The Titans shared a look, all being slightly embarrassed that Batman had been able to do alone what they hadn’t been able to do together. 

“I can’t imagine this is going to actually stop him, but I bought you some time.” He finally started eating some of his dinner. “And he was tough, but definitely not ready to fight. I think he was still weak.” 

“Still, it’s a little humiliating that you had to take care of our bad guy,” Beast Boy winced. 

Batman smirked slightly. “I have had daydreams about sending that bastard to the hospital. Robin told me all about what happened with that sham of an apprenticeship. Blackmailing him by infecting teens with nanobots that slowly and painfully kill them unless he does what he wants? Sounds like Arkham’s next inmate.” He took a drink of water. “But that’s something to worry about later. How’s Robin—or Black, I suppose?”

“He is unwell,” Starfire looked over to the couch. For the first time, Batman noticed the boy was laying down, but was very still and quiet. “He did not eat dinner, and says…I believe the phrase was, ‘his think meat was thrown against a wall’?” 

“That’s not a real metaphor,” Beast Boy offered. “That’s just his brand of stupidity.” 

“Well, he’s making jokes, so he’s doing alright for now,” Batman argued. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on him. Right, Robin?” He asked a little louder, so he could hear him. 

The other boy didn’t answer for a really long time, but the team was quiet and listened if either Black or Robin would respond. 

Then, in the quiet of the room, with only the hum of the air system and a ticking clock on the wall, he sang. It was in his pathetic falsetto, with a scratchy tone. Up until now, Black’s songs had really depressing lyrics, but he had delivered them joyfully. This time, the song was far too sad. 

“I am…the only one that got through. The others died wherever they fell.”

Starfire floated up from where she was seated and rested on the couch beside him, petting his head gently. 

��It was an ambush…they came up from all sides.”  

Batman set his silverware down quietly and listened very closely. 

“Give your Masters each a gun and then let them fight it out themselves.”  

Beast Boy swallowed thickly, biting his tongue. Black had changed the lyrics. 

“I've seen demons coming up from the ground. I've seen hell upon this Earth.”

Raven closed her eyes as the image of that corpse came to mind against her will. 

“The next will be chemical…but they will never stop.” 

Alfred turned his back, hiding his face.   

Once silence reigned for more than a minute, it was clear that the message was over. 

“He changed the lyrics,” both Batman and Beast Boy said. 

“The song is ‘In Memory of Harry Patch’,” Batman elaborated. “He changed ‘give your leaders’ to ‘give your masters’ and ‘they will never learn’ to ‘they will never stop’.” 

“What do you suppose he was trying to say?” 

“Maybe he thought Dent and Joker turned on each other? Or perhaps they’re going to try this again?” Batman mused aloud. 

Black sat up from the couch, and they could already see the faint veins standing out against his pale skin. “Can I have one of dem Gumby skittles?” 

“No,” Batman said, not blinking an eye. “We’re not giving you any medicine for a while, because we need a clean blood test.” 

Black frowned and turned to Starfire. “You said that if I was ever in pain I should come to you, because you don’t like to see me in pain.” 

Starfire hunched her shoulders, feeling guilty. “You are right, but I cannot give you the medicine you require. Perhaps a shoulder massage will help?”

He stood, stretching. “No. I think I’ll just go lay down in bed for a while, where it’s dark and quiet.” 

Batman swirled some noodles around on his fork. “Alright, we’ll check on you in a little bit.” 

Black nodded in understanding and left the ops room. He only stopped into his room for a moment to grab his trenchcoat, before escaping quickly to the hall, and then to the underground access tunnel. 

Thank goodness for fingerprint scanners.

[searchingfortheuniverse]

Miscellaneous Tag Game (pt. ii)

Tysm for tagging me @onehelluvamarine xxx

A band you don’t like that many others do: Uhhh I can't think of anything at the moment. I'm positive there is one but I cannot for the life of me think of one right now

A childhood memory that you remember vividly: So when I was. I want to say like 5? We went on a big family holiday to France and we stayed in this holiday home on a farm, and instead of getting a bedroom I actually slept on this little bed on a semi-landing thing, and I remember being in that bed and falling asleep with the rest of my family still chatting downstairs

Least favorite animal and why: The only thing coming to mind is spiders. Not little ones, they're fine, and not tarantulas either. But big house spiders. Because I have encountered them in too many places they Should Not Be

Hot fandom take: Umm idek. I guess maybe that crossover pairings need to stop being automatically considered crackships? Like, unless you're hitting me with that Impala/TARDIS shit or something, it might just be a regular old crossover rarepair ship imho

Do you wear any jewelry, if so, what’s your favorite piece: I basically always have a necklace and a ring on, and I love them both but the necklace is definitely my favourite. It's Thor's hammer, and it was a Christmas present

A movie others liked but you didn’t: The Dark Knight. Excellent performances but I just didn't really vibe with the Nolan Batman movies even though I really wanted to because I watched them at the height of my DC phase

Three things you love about yourself: My humour (I'm a pun master to the extent that some of my colleagues still bring up a joke I made when I started about 6 months ago), my hair, and the way I taught myself to paint my own nails and now they basically always look cool and interesting

A place you hope to visit in the future and why: As just a holiday: Crete because it's got some fascinating history. As a place specifically to visit people: if you're reading this and you know, you know >:)

An actor that gets on your nerves and why: If I ever meet Kevin Bacon it is ON SIGHT. I've never seen him in anything but X-Men but he's been in EE ads for so long he's driven me up the wall and I can't look at him any more

Things you’re excited for in the nearby future? I have a week off next week! Thank GOD

Least favorite ship in a fandom you’re in: I've said it on this blog before so I'm hoping I'm not going to get mobbed for it but. Sledgefu. As I've said before I get it but I Do Not Vibe. Glad y'all are having a good time though!

What’s the most toxic fandom you’ve been in? I can't name it because it's tiny and this'll end up somewhere they'll find it. They were entitled and had a whole superiority complex going on. Last I heard they were STILL hung up on something that happened three years ago where they had beef with someone from another related fandom which blew up into a whole thing

List three things you find beautiful about life: My family, I'm so so lucky to have them and they're always so supportive. My friends, and the fact that I can have good friends who are so important in my life when they're so far away from me. And creating things generally, whether I'm doing it or someone else is, and making something that means something in some way

Any dreams for the future? Current, very mundane dream is to get a job that, even if it's not my biggest passion and I love doing it all the time, doesn't make me dread going in every day

How are you really feeling today? Uhh. Worn out. Kinda ill in a very general way. Seasonal depression is kicking my ass. But I managed to do a couple of important chores today so feeling good about that!

Tags: if you feel like it, then @bruin-coll, @noodleblade, @thesunlikehoney, @paperbrds, @hopefulsapphic and @sumquiasum!

[eliemo]

Motion Sickness

Summary: A routine patrol is interrupted when Robin realizes he's being followed. Dick doesn't understand what this man wants, or why his gentle touch hurts so bad. But Batman seems to know, and Dick just wants someone to tell him what he did wrong. Notes: TW for attempted assault, and someone being creepy toward a minor

Robin was beginning to think he should have stayed with Batman tonight. 

He could handle himself perfectly fine, it was just a routine patrol on the other side of the city for a few hours, something Bruce had reluctantly started to let Dick do on his own after months of pestering, and he knew Batman was only a distress signal away if something went wrong. 

But someone had been tailing Robin for nearly twenty minutes now, and he hadn’t been able to shake them.

Whoever it was hadn’t made a single move to attack, and Dick hadn’t been very subtle in his attempts to slip away. They knew he knew they were there, and they’d kept themselves hidden, following silently. Watching. 

Robin was getting impatient. 

He dropped into an alleyway, the street outside cold and silent, nothing but the wind and a faraway, fading siren filling the late night city air. It was nothing but him, and the distinct feeling of eyes following his every move. 

“Who are you?” he called into the empty street, his voice echoing sharply around him. “What do you want?” 

For a moment there was no response, and Dick wondered if he’d been mistaken. One of the first things Bruce had taught him was how to pick up on a tail, on how to spot an enemy before they spotted you, but he knew he tended to get jumpier when he was by himself, the little bit of independence still so new. 

And then there were footsteps behind him, slow and deliberate, and Robin spun around to face the newcomer. 

Only to freeze in the face of one of the largest men he’d ever seen, craning his neck nearly straight up to get a good look, met with the blank stare of a lifeless mask. 

It was a sleek black and with a matching armored suit, the legs and shoulders padded. There was an array of weapons that Robin could see from here, ammo across his chest, and two swords slung over his back. 

He held himself tall and steady. Powerful. He was a professional, although not one that Robin could remember from any case files, and his weapons were deadly. 

His thumb hovered over his emergency signal. 

“Well, what do we have here?” the man mused, sauntering closer like they were old friends. “Batman got himself a kid, huh?” 

Dick squared his shoulders, doing everything in his power to appear larger than he was. “What do you want?” 

“Nothing yet,” the man said, and Dick could hear his smirk despite the mask hiding his face. “Just looking.” 

Dick wasn’t sure what that meant, taking a careful step backwards when the man drew closer. He hadn’t reached for any of his weapons yet, and his tone didn’t sound particularly hostile, but Robin’s chest felt tight regardless, alarm bells blaring in his head. Maybe Bruce’s paranoia was just rubbing off on him. 

“Relax kid,” the stranger said. “Don’t be scared. It’s Robin, isn’t it?” 

Dick hesitated, something akin to pride flaring to life, eyes lighting up behind the mask. “You’ve heard of me?” 

“Everyone’s heard of you, kid.” Robin still couldn’t quite place the tone, the odd lilt to his voice. It wasn’t the way criminals usually spoke to him, furious or terrified, reaching for weapons before they even bothered to get a good look at him. “How old are you, anyway? Thirteen? Fourteen?” He paused, deliberately giving Robin another once over, the motion visible even with his face covered. “Younger?” 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Robin said, desperately trying to derail. “Who are you?” 

“No one important. I’m just passing through for work.” 

“Well you should keep passing,” Dick shot back, painfully aware of how small his voice sounded. “Batman doesn’t like newcomers. He’s territorial.” 

“Is he now?” The man moved closer, his footsteps heavy. Robin moved away again, only for his breath to catch in his throat when his back hit the wall. “He should keep a closer eye on you, then. Don’t you think?” 

Dick couldn’t move, cornered against the cold brick wall, every bit of training sapped from his mind just like that, his body numb and unresponsive. He just blinked, gazing up at the man towering over him, struggling to understand why his blood had gone so cold. 

“Did you come here to fight?” Dick demanded, but his voice lacked the usual heat. “Because I was kind of busy.” 

“Not at all,” the man replied, leaning down to be nearly eye level, close enough that Robin could hear his breathing behind the heavy mask. “I have no quarrel with you or the big bad bat.” 

“Alright,” Robin said slowly, dropping his gaze to scan for an opening to bolt. “Then what do you–?” 

His words died immediately, eyes widening when a gloved hand grabbed his chin and tilted his head back up. The hold wasn’t rough, his touch almost delicate, but Robin couldn’t pull away despite the bile rising in his throat. 

“I–” 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man said. His odd tone was… dredging on familiar, now. Like the way Catwoman talked to Bruce sometimes. Dick didn’t understand it. “I just wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true.” 

“Rumors?” 

“There’s a lot of chatter about you, Robin,” the man said. The hand not holding Dick’s face moved to trace along the clasps of his cape, and Dick’s knees nearly buckled. “I’ve been hoping to catch you alone. Have a little chat.” 

“A- a chat about what?” He wasn’t supposed to stumble or stutter, wasn’t supposed to sound so small, wasn’t supposed to act like a kid out on the field. 

He couldn’t see it, the face staring back at him cold and lifeless, but Dick was almost certain the man was smiling. “That’s quite the getup, kid. Did the Bat pick it out for you?” 

Dick tried to shake his head, but the hold on his chin was unrelenting now, preventing him from moving his face even an inch away. “N-no, I… it’s mine.” 

“Is that so?” His free hand was trailing the rest of the Robin costume now, his knuckles brushing carefully over the material on his chest, slowly moving down to his side. “Ain't that interesting?” 

Robin couldn’t catch his breath. This wasn’t an attack or an ambush, the man had made no attempt to hurt him or reach for a weapon. Dick didn’t understand. 

“I- I don’t–” 

His hand slid down to latch onto Robin’s waist, his grip firm and cold, and Dick’s eyes welled up with tears as he was boxed further against the wall, the hand on his hip burning like fire. 

“Relax kid,” the man said, tightening his hold. “I just wanna have a conversa–”

A blur of black and gray, and the man was being torn away from him sudden enough to make him stumble, nearly losing his footing completely. 

Batman had the man on the ground, both of them a blur of leather and metal, both scrambling to their feet a moment later. The stranger grabbed for his swords and Bruce tensed, squaring his shoulders for a fight. 

Robin didn’t move, even as the air darkened, frozen where he stood with his arms wrapped around himself, chest heaving up and down and he valiantly fought back the sobs rising to the surface. 

He felt useless. He felt small and stupid and scared and–

“Robin!” Dick startled, yanked back to reality from his spiraling thoughts when Batman whirled around to face him, expressionless behind the cowl, jaw clenched tight. “Get to the car! Run!” 

“I- I can–” 

“Now!” 

He hadn’t heard Bruce this angry in a long time. And rage like this, the unbridled fury he was letting himself display so openly, had never been directed at him. Dick still wasn’t even sure what he’d done wrong. 

But he didn’t hesitate, the order spurring him into action, and he flew forward on unsteady legs, still trembling as he sprinted down the alleyway. He left the fight behind, too scared to turn around and see what was happening, bolting around the corner until the familiar sight of the Batmobile came into view, parked on the curb, the engine still running. 

Batman had clearly left it in a rush, materializing in the alleyway like an angry bull. For a moment, Dick considered his options. 

He could keep running, flee into the outskirts of the city and hide until Bruce’s anger simmered down. Because Dick had messed up tonight. He didn’t understand it, the feelings and fears confusing and new and painfully overwhelming. 

But the way he’d been touched, the way he’d been spoken to… it was wrong. He knew it was wrong and he’d let it happen anyway. He’d been terrified, confused, and he didn’t even know why. He didn’t know what he’d done. 

He’d been stupid and weak. He hadn’t fought, hadn’t run, hadn’t been strong enough. 

But he hadn’t been attacked. He hadn’t even been provoked or threatened. He didn’t know what the man had wanted, or why his touch had burned so harshly. 

Dick skidded to a halt beside the Batmobile, hesitated for only a moment, before clambering into the passenger seat and locking all the doors. 

There was nowhere in the city he could go where Bruce wouldn’t find him. 

He curled up in his seat, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around his middle, trying to make himself as small as possible. He burrowed under his cape like it was a blanket, hiding his face in his arms, furiously blinking away tears threatening to fall. 

The world outside the car was silent, eerily so, and Dick’s mind quickly began to race. 

He shouldn’t have left Bruce alone, against an unknown threat, with no backup. It was Dick’s fault he was here in the first place, Dick’s fault for being followed, for not doing anything. 

Bruce could be hurt or captured. Bruce could be dead. Batman could be gone for good, leaving Dick all alone in the middle of the night, and the man could come back and–

The driver’s side door was yanked open and Dick screamed, too caught up in his own spiraling thoughts to control the reaction, jumping back in a panicked heap of flailing limbs. 

Batman froze with his hand on the door, meeting Dick’s eyes as he struggled to pull himself together, both of them breathing heavy. Both of them still shaking. 

Bruce climbed into the seat and closed the door behind him, slamming it shut with a bit more force than he usually would have, and Robin flinched. 

“Put your seatbelt on,” Bruce said, the rage still thick, words pushed through gritted teeth. “We’re going home.” 

Dick didn’t argue, not like he might have any other time. They still had a good few hours until the sun came up, usually they wouldn’t head back until the first rays of sunlight started creeping along the edges of the rooftops. 

But Robin kept his mouth shut, shaking hands fumbling with the seatbelt for a moment before clicking it into place and staring straight ahead, wincing when the tires screeched as Bruce started the car forward with a jolt. 

Neither of them spoke on the ride home, the Batmobile tearing through the streets like a gust of wind. Bruce’s anger didn’t fade, gripping the steering wheel so tight Dick thought it might snap in half. 

When they made it home, Dick couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, legs still wobbling as he stepped onto the cave floor. Bruce followed slowly, shoulders still hunched, fists still clenched in anger. 

Alfred was there to greet them, as he always was, brow creased in concern as he took in the sight of the two vigilantes. “You two are back early. Is everything–” 

“Alfred.” It was the first time he’d heard Bruce speak since he’d gotten in the car, his voice shaking, control slipping from his fingers. “Take Dick upstairs. Just… take care of him. Please.” 

And with that he was gone, turning and stalking off into the deeper corners of the cave, and it felt like someone had poured ice water down Dick’s spine. 

Whatever was going on, whatever he’d done so wrong that Robin couldn’t understand, Alfred seemed to know in an instant, his gaze softening as he moved to take Dick by the shoulders, gently guiding him away from the car. 

“Come along Master Richard,” he said, and Dick was too numb to resist. “Get yourself changed, and then we’ll get you some hot chocolate. How does that sound?” 

Dick nodded, ashamed at the tears still welling in his eyes when he pulled off his mask, reaching up to wipe them away with his gloves. 

Alfred handed him clean pajamas, the material warm and soft in his hands. He changed as quickly as possible, shuddering at the memory of strong hands tracing his costume, grabbing his face, holding his waist. 

He threw his Robin costume to the ground, not bothering to put it away properly tonight. He’d apologize to Bruce and Alfred for the mess when he didn’t feel so much like breaking down. 

The butler was waiting for him with a gentle smile when he reemerged, offering a steady hand when Dick wobbled slightly. 

“You’re alright, lad,” he said, and Dick followed him upstairs. “You’re home now.” 

-

The hot chocolate was perfect, like everything Alfred made was, and the heavy blanket wrapped around his shoulders made him feel a little more human again. 

Alfred stayed with him, the two of them sitting on the couch despite Dick usually being ushered to bed by now, a book open in his lap while Robin rocked himself gently, focusing on the warmth radiating from the mug in his hands. 

He swallowed, the world still horribly off kilter, watching the marshmallows dissolve. “I should talk to Bruce. When he… when he calms down.” 

Alfred glanced up at him, carefully raising an eyebrow, like he’d been expecting that. “Would you like to talk about it?” 

He shrugged, squirming under the sudden rush of shame coursing through him, cheeks burning red at the memory of how useless he’d been, scared and weak over a little touching. 

But Alfred might be able to explain it to him properly. He might be able to tell Dick what he’d done wrong, so he could apologize to Bruce. 

“There was… there was a guy,” he started shakily, unable to look Alfred in the eyes. “I’ve never seen him before but he- he was so much bigger than me and… he didn’t… he didn’t even do anything. He just… he made me feel so… so bad. I felt so gross, Al. I… he was touching me and I couldn’t get away and I was scared. I was so scared.” 

“Oh, my dear boy.” Alfred scooted closer, and Dick winced at the strain in his voice. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I just don’t understand.” There were tears streaming down his cheeks now, the adrenaline long gone, the disgust suffocating. “I just- I feel so gross and… and I don’t know what I did wrong!” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Alfred said. “Not a thing, lad.” 

“But Bruce is so mad,” Dick exclaimed, choking on hiccuping sobs. “He’s… he’s s-so mad at- at me.” 

“I very much doubt that, Master Richard. There is nothing to be angry at you for, none of this is your fault. This was… I’m very sorry this happened to you.” 

Dick pulled his sleeves over his hands and wiped his tears until his face burned. He let Alfred take over the job of drying his face, dabbing at his cheeks with a handkerchief, despite the way his skin crawled, gentle and caring in a way Dick would never deserve. 

“You’re alright,” Alfred said. “You’re alright, let it out. You’re safe now.” 

Dick shook his head, breathing heavily until he felt fuzzy, fighting to force back traitorous tears. “I can’t cry. I- I can’t be weak again.” 

“You’re not weak,” Alfred soothed. “Crying does not make you weak, Master Richard. Don’t say such ridiculous things.” 

“But I didn’t do anything! I… I couldn’t get away, I just… I just stood there. I was so scared.” 

“And you aren’t weak for being scared,” Alfred said. “Everyone gets scared, dear boy. It doesn’t make you any less brave, or any less worthy of that mask.” 

Dick sniffed, wishing he could just disappear. “Bruce never gets scared.” 

Alfred smiled, something sad in his eyes that Dick couldn’t quite place. “I think one day you’ll learn that that’s not quite true.” 

“Well he’s mad,” Dick said, hands trembling around the mug at the memory of Bruce’s fury, the way he’d slammed the door, the way he’d screamed Robin’s name. “And- and he should be. I’d be mad at me too.” 

Alfred didn’t respond for a long moment, nothing but the crackling of the fireplace filling the living room, and when Dick risked a glance up the butler almost looked like he was about to cry, before quickly composing himself once again. 

Dick had never seen that look on Alfred before. He didn’t know how he’d managed to upset him too. 

“Would you like to try getting some sleep?” Alfred asked eventually, setting down his mug on the coffee table. “Or would you like to speak to Master Bruce?” 

There was nothing Dick wanted more than to crawl into bed, shut his eyes and let everything stop for a little while. Maybe he’d wake up and the phantom feeling of hands along his waist would be gone for good. 

But he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any rest until he at least tried to talk to Bruce. Even if Batman didn’t want to see him, Dick owed him an apology. 

“I wanna see B,” he said, putting down his hot chocolate and wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Please.”

They traversed down to the cave together, Alfred quietly asking permission before resting a hand on Dick’s shoulder, the slightly too big blanket still trailing behind Robin like his discarded cape, offering some sense of protection from the outside world. 

They found Bruce hunched over the Batcomputer, still in most of his armor, the cape and the cowl nowhere in sight. His shoulders were still tense, the air around him heavy, bloodshot eyes glued to the harsh light of the screen before him. 

Multiple security tapes were pulled up on the screens, all playing grainy footage from different days. On the largest monitor was a file, and Dick had to avert his gaze when he recognized the man Bruce was doing research on, gray hair and scars now visible behind the mask, swords stained with blood on the tapes.

His tongue felt heavy, the anxiety on his chest suffocating, but he took a step forward and forced himself to call out. “Bruce?” 

Batman tensed, and Robin took a step back. “Not now, Dick. Go upstairs.” 

“I–” 

“Master Bruce,” Alfred cut in, his voice steely and pointed. “Your son wishes to speak with you.” 

Bruce turned around in his chair, face drawn in poorly concealed fury, and Dick resisted the urge to turn around and bolt right back upstairs, lock himself in his room and hide under the covers for the rest of his life. 

But Bruce’s eyes were on him again, every muscle tensed, and Dick forced himself to breathe, struggling to find his voice again, even in the face of cloudy disappointment. 

“I- I’m sorry,” he choked out, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. “I’m sorry.” 

Bruce blinked, the look in his eyes clearing just a little, brow furrowing in confusion rather than anger this time. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said again, hating the way his vision blurred with hot tears. “I’m so sorry, Bruce, I’m sorry!” 

“You… Chum, why are you sorry?” 

The question only made Dick cry harder, the sobs returning with a vengeance, pathetic wails escaping with no hope of holding them back because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t- I don’t know what I did but you’re mad and… and I know I should have- have run or fought but I just… I just stood there and you’re… you’re so mad at me, and I–” 

“Oh, I- honey, no.” Bruce was out of his chair in a flash, any trace of anger gone as he kneeled in front of Robin, and Dick blinked in surprise. “I’m not mad at you, Dick. I’m not upset with you at all.” 

“But… but you were angry. I thought–” 

“At him, Chum,” Bruce said. “I was angry at him. Not you. I’m- I’m sorry, I just… I thought…” 

He trailed off, the words dying in his throat and his gaze dropping to the floor. Alfred cleared his throat behind Dick, taking a careful step back. 

“I’ll give you two a moment.” 

Dick waited until his footsteps faded and the dingy elevator doors slid shut before speaking again, his voice still small and trembling. 

“I’m really sorry,” he said again. “I know I should have done something but it was just… I didn’t understand.” 

“I know, Dick.” Bruce sighed, suddenly looking years older than he was. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault at all, I promise. I’m… glad I got to you when I did. I wish I’d been there sooner.” 

Dick wiped at his eyes again, his sleeves soaked through. “You were mad–” 

“I was terrified,” Bruce said, and Dick froze at the admission. “I saw you and the way he was touching you and I… I needed to get you home safe. I thought I was too late, I thought he’d–” He cut himself off, clenching his jaw. “I wasn’t there to protect you, and you could have gotten hurt tonight. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t even understand what he was doing.” 

Bruce hesitated, fiddling with the armor he hadn’t removed and shifting from his position on the floor, tired eyes looking everywhere but Robin. “What he did was… it wasn’t okay, and I need you to understand that. It wasn’t your fault, and it will never be your fault, but that was… a very dangerous man, Dick.” 

Dick thought about the hand guiding his chin, the lilt to his voice, the touch trailing his body. He’d been so much bigger than Robin. He’d been so gentle, but he’d felt so powerless. 

“He didn’t hurt me,” Dick said weakly. “He didn’t even try. He said… he said something about rumors. About me. I don’t know what that means.” 

Something flashed in Bruce’s eyes, another spark of righteous anger Dick watched him stubbornly push down. He took a breath, visibly composing himself before answering carefully. 

“The way he was touching you wasn’t… none of that was appropriate, Dick. You’re just a kid and I… I should have been there. I shouldn’t have let him get anywhere near you.” 

“I wanted to patrol on my own,” Robin protested, his voice still quiet. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“You’re doing good,” Bruce said, and it sounded like he meant it despite tonight’s failures. “You’re doing perfect and I’m proud of you. I’m not angry with you, Chum. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I needed to make sure he doesn’t come anywhere near you ever again. And he won’t. He’ll never touch you again, you have my word.”  

Dick nodded, the words settling some of his anxiety. If Batman wanted someone out of his city, they’d be gone by the end of the week. If Batman made a promise, he wouldn’t break it. If he said that man wouldn’t touch Dick like that again, he knew it had to be true. “Thank you.” 

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” Bruce said, and Dick picked his chin up. “If an adult- if anyone ever talks to you or touches you like that again, you tell me, or you tell Alfred. You press your distress signal and you run. You run away as fast as you can and you don’t look back. Do you understand?” 

He didn’t. He really really didn’t. But he trusted Bruce, and he felt safer here, wrapped up in a blanket under Batman’s careful eye, than he had all night.

Maybe more than he had anywhere else in his life.  

So he just nodded, breaths coming a little easier now. “I will.” 

Bruce nodded and picked himself up off the floor, hesitating for just a moment before dropping his arms to the side. “Can I touch you?” 

Dick was nodding before the words had even left Batman’s mouth, sprinting to close the small distance between them and wrapping his arms tight around Bruce in the blink of an eye. 

The older man only startled for a moment, before scooping Dick up in his arms and returning the embrace just as desperately, holding him close against his chest. 

Bruce’s hold was strong and secure, but it was the farthest thing from confining. It was safety, familiar and warm, and the lingering feeling of unfamiliar hands finally began to fade. 

He was home. Nothing could touch him when he was home. 

[the-hopeless-haze]

Everyone is Afraid of Something, Even the Strongest Man Alive (Justified Sin Chapter 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A/N: This is early bc I’m supposed to be studying for my test but I’m blaming Robert Pattinson for sending me straight into a manic episode bc this is literally all I can think about rn. so here you go. same warnings apply. Domestic violence. don’t read if it’s a trigger

Taglist: @pop-rocks-and-skittles​ 

“How much do you know about Mrs. Matteson?” Bruce asked Gordon later that week.

“Who? The girl we pulled over a few months ago? Not much. She keeps quiet, runs that diner. Food’s good there. I hear Bruce Wayne of all people is a regular, so I guess it must be something if it’s enough to get that man to leave his house. She shows up for the events she has to for her husband, doesn’t go to the ones she doesn’t. Don’t know much else. I feel bad for her, though. She seemed like she was on her last thread that day we pulled her over,” Gordon replied. “Want me to do a check on her?”

“No. No. That will just scare her,” he said, shaking his head. She’d assume he, Bruce, sent a cop to check the house out and maybe never speak to him again.

“I didn’t feel good sending her back to that house. We shouldn’t have let her go.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you check on her? She seemed to like you.”

“Somehow I don’t think that will go over well either.”

Every night, he waited for the signal, and every Monday he showed up at the diner, counting new bruises almost every week, and every time he responded to the signal, it was never you.

“Did you send the signal this time?” Bruce asked you once the restaurant was cleared out.

“I didn’t need to. When things get bad, I run, and I drive far away. He doesn’t follow me. He knows what it would look like to have a car chase in the streets with his wife.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

“Yeah. I promised you I’d call him if I needed help. Haven’t gotten to that point yet. Stop. Pushing. Me. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a Batman fanboy.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bruce snapped, maybe a little too harshly, and he makes himself soften his hardened facial expression.

You giggled, maybe the first time he’d heard you laugh with mirth. “You talk about him all the time. Think you’ve got a crush, hm?”

Bruce grimaced, remembering why he never used to leave the house in the first place.

“I do not talk about him all the time. I just want you to get help.”

“Touchy, hm? You ever meet him?”

“No.”

“Really? I would’ve thought you’d have more pull to do so, considering you’re Bruce fucking Wayne,” you grinned, leaning across the counter.

“It’s just Bruce Wayne, thank you.”

“It was for emphasis. Be happy I didn’t call you Brucie," you teased.

“Don’t ever.”

“Oh, come on. We’re friends now, right?” You asked, nudging the one hand he kept on the counter. He looked down at his hand, then up at you.

“I suppose.”

“Jesus, you don’t have to act like it would kill you to admit it.”

“I’m just afraid if I agree you’ll think it’s a free pass to call me whatever you want,” he said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

You startled him, then, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. “Are you sick? Was that almost a joke?”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered longer than your touch. He wanted to say he hated the teasing, nicknames, and subtle invasion of personal space… but he didn’t. Not from you, at least.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” you said, tilting your head a little, obviously studying him for some reaction.

“The magazines lie.”

“I know. No one knows you, I guess, but I guess I just thought you’d be… colder. But you… I don’t know. I think you’ve got a sixth sense for these things. When I met you at that gala, I don’t know, it felt like you were seeing right through me. That’s why I said it felt like I’d met you before. But it takes one to know one, right? You’ve dealt with a lot of pain yourself.”

“Mm.”

“Sorry. I guess I should’ve known you don’t like to talk about yourself. You’ve had ample opportunity to do so over the years and you always refuse interviews.”

“There isn’t much to say. You’re the one with an interesting life. I just manage my parents’ legacy and try not to fuck it up. That’s easier to do from the shadows. You run a restaurant, you know the city gossip better than most, you’re involved in politics for better or worse…”

“My husband’s an abusive piece of shit…” you interjected. “Mm. So interesting.”

“That isn’t funny,” he said sternly, looking at you intently. “It’s not.”

“You really have to lighten up, I mean, fuck, Bruce. If you don’t use humor to cope, how the hell are you supposed to deal with anything?”

“But you could—"

“I could die. I fucking know that. How am I supposed to deal with it without making a few jokes at my expense?”

Bruce frowned, then nodded. “Fine. But I’ll never think it’s funny.”

“Aw. You think some of my jokes are funny, though, don’t you, Brucie?” You asked, a glimmer in your eye.

Instead of grimacing, he gave in and broke into a smile. He didn’t laugh, and god, you could be irritating, but you hit just the right buttons that he couldn’t be mad at you.

“I knew you did. You’ve got a nice smile. You should use it more often. Become the pretty boy millionaire Gotham wants to thirst over. Do a few risqué photoshoots. I think you’d get Batman’s attention that way,” you laughed, raised an eyebrow, always pushing further. “You’d be quite the power couple. I could see it.”

Now you’d done it, and he was laughing. He felt it before it happened, bubbling in his chest before he exhaled, the sound foreign to even him. For a split second, he almost wished he could tell you the truth so you’d know just how funny you were.

“Oh, I knew I’d get to you one day,” you giggled, leaning over and ruffling his hair. It was almost too much to process, the laughs, the quick touches, the compliments, your smile, your beauty, the fact you wanted to be friends with him - and not for his money or his fame. Not for any ulterior motive: you liked him. When was the last time he had a friend who knew his face?

“You do have a nice smile, though,” you told him again, cupping his cheek with your hand, strands of his dark hair falling onto your skin. He can still feel the heat from your fingers, the gentleness of your touch now, as he reminisces, lurking in the floors of the hospital.

He wanted to tell you had a nice smile, too. That your laugh is like music, that he was happy your husband couldn’t take that away from you because it made you so titillating to talk to. That he never knew what to expect to come out of your mouth and he hated to love and loved to hate being kept on his toes whenever he was with you. But he didn’t say anything. Maybe he acted too awkward, maybe gave off the impression that he didn’t want you to touch him. You started to pull your hand away, and it was a split-second decision but he caught your hand with his before you could bring it closer to your body. You smiled and he smiled back, his hand covering yours on the counter.

There were a few moments of comfortable silence, but he saw a storm brewing behind your eyes as your expression faltered and changed to one of worry.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

You nodded, swallowed hard, and placed your other hand on his, rubbing circles with your thumb. “Don’t push me on this, please but I… I… sometimes I’m scared that I won’t be able to run. It’s always been what I’ve done when he hurts me bad enough, and if I needed to I suppose I could haul ass to light the signal, but what if he won’t let me leave, Bruce? Because that’s what I’m really scared of,” you said, and he could see it as you spoke, as each word came from your mouth your eyes watered and your lip trembled.

He placed his other hand on yours, stacking your hands, and then he flipped both his hands under yours so he’s holding both of them in his. Looking up at you, his blue eyes met your tear-filled ones. “Then you call me,” he said. “And I’ll signal him myself. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, sniffling a little.

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

You snickered. “Heard that one before. You know, I trust you, Bruce, against my own better judgment. I hope you don’t make me live to regret that.”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, then processing what you said he asked, “What do you mean, ‘heard that one before?”

You sighed, releasing your hands from his, walking over to grab the coffee pot behind you to refill your mugs. “You’re not the first person I’ve trusted. Let’s just leave it at that.”

———

You called him for the first time that week when he was out at a crime scene with Gordon. He called you back as soon as he left, his blood like ice in his veins.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone sounding frantic even to himself. He consciously makes the effort to pitch his voice a little higher, hoping no one around him noticed.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to signal. I just need stitches again. Urgent care is closed and I don’t feel like sitting in the emergency department for hours. Can you meet me? Or do you think I should head up there? It’s already up, so he must be out, right?”

“Where are you right now?”

“My car.”

“You’re safe?”

“I’m safe.”

“Good,” he said, glancing around at the people around him. The last thing he needed is for you to say something that would reveal his identity. He desperately wanted to see you like Bruce, wanted to stitch you back together again like he did a few weeks ago where you could see his face. But your safety was more important than these selfish feelings and wants and you didn’t believe Bruce could be of much assistance, but the jury was still out for your belief in Vengeance and he wanted to do all he could to make you believe that he could do something, anything, for you. “I think you should head up there. I’m sorry I can’t meet you tonight.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s late. If you can do stitches I think he could, right?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know, pretty boy.”

It’s all he could do not to blush. He knew you meant it as a backhanded compliment because fuck, it’s not like Bruce Wayne is getting injured at his job… but… it’s almost not fair. And he knew he couldn’t blame you for it, couldn’t hate you for it - for all he knew you had no idea you were making him feel this way. You had enough to worry about before you thought about how you made him feel when you called him pretty or said he had a nice smile.

“Get up there before you bleed out,” he said stiffly.

“Okay, okay. If he even shows up.”

“Worth a shot. If he doesn’t, call me again.”

Of course, he showed up. When he gets there, you’re already there, a blue cardigan wrapped around your shoulders as you sit with your legs dangling off the edge.

“Well, fuck. Didn’t think you still came up here this late,” you said, turning your head around to look at him. “My friend kept pushing me to try.”

“What are you doing up here?” Bruce asked.

You shrugged. “Just wanted to chat.”

“Highly doubt that. Are you hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

You got up, then, walking over to him, and he could see the blood seeping through your shirt. You’d held a towel there to keep pressure, but it was still bleeding badly.

“Jesus,” he exhaled. “What happened?”

“I stabbed him in the ribs with a knife a few weeks ago because it was the only way to get him to stop choking me,” you muttered. “I knew I’d pay for it. Just didn’t know when.”

A murderous rage heated his veins, one like he’d never quite felt before. He’d wanted to kill certain people before, but never like this. He could almost see the smug look on your husband’s face in an attempt to justify this, could almost hear him saying “the bitch did it to me first”.

“Let me bring him in.”

“I told you what would happen. Can you please just stitch me? Or I’ll go to the ER.”

He sighed, pulling the medical thread from his pocket. “You’re not safe in that house.”

“He’s hurt me worse before. I’ll have a good couple of weeks before he does anything again. He’s already blowing up my phone that he’s sorry, that he loves me, that he will never do it again.” You laid down and exposed your stomach to him, and he cleaned the dried blood around the wound. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep, but it was deep enough that it wasn’t going to close on its own.

“Do you believe it?“ he asked, trying to keep his voice level as he starts to wipe your skin with alcohol.

“Do you know how much I want to? Fucking Christ, that hurts like a bitch, Batty,” you said through clenched teeth as he started to suture your skin. “You don’t have any painkillers?”

“No.”

“Well, fuck, what use are you, huh, Batty? The Tylenol I took an hour ago is not fucking cutting it, let me tell you that right now. Fuck. Maybe next time I will go to the ER even if it’s not worth their million fucking questions. I’ve shown up there too many times, now, anyway. Dave doesn’t like that. Gotta give him less ammo, you know?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know what it was like in your head, constantly calculating what you could do in a given moment to make it less likely that this man you married, this man that was supposed to love you would be less likely to hurt you. You were crying again, and he didn’t know if it was from the pain from the amateur stitching or if it was from your situation - and fuck, maybe it was both.

“Almost done,” he said gruffly, trying to go as fast as he could without fucking it up. He wishes you knew it was the same hands-on your stomach as the ones that embraced your hands earlier this week, but how could you when he concealed every recognizable part of himself? Whoever he met you as, you were always just you, unconcealed, snarky, strong. But you’d met him under pretenses and even he struggled to figure out which one he wanted you to think of as the real him.

“I still can’t believe you showed up.”

“Believe it.”

“Maybe my friend is right to have a crush on you. Come out here swooping like a knight in shining armor or whatever, fix me up in the dead of night, Jesus.”

“Your friend?”

You laughed, and he felt the vibration as he rolled his eyes, stopping his maneuvers. You winced at the pain.

“Maybe don’t do that when I’m trying to put you back together,” he grumbled.

“Point taken.”

“The friend?” He asked again, and he felt incredibly selfish to try to get you to talk about him to himself, but he had to know what you thought about him without you seeing his face.

“Bruce Wayne, of all people, can you believe that? He helped my diner kick off, and I don’t know. We’ve just been talking a lot. It’s been nice. He’s the one who pushed me to contact you again after I told him about our lovely first encounter. Said you could help me. Think he has a crush. Talks about you a lot. Want his number?”

“I’m good,” he said. “You’re all set.”

“What, you’re too good for Bruce Wayne? I mean, the magazines are wrong. He’s not cold, or rude. He’s just shy, maybe a little standoffish. He’s got… I don’t know… this depth. I bet he’d write you amazing love poems. He’s… something special. He’s not bad to look at either. Not at all.”

“Sounds like you’ve got the crush,” he said before really thinking.

“What? No,” you said, blushing, sitting up and grimacing. “Jesus, Batty, mind yourself. I’m just trying to sell him to you. The power couple of Gotham, you know?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t date,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, damn, Batty. Should’ve known. Too brooding, the weight of Gotham on your shoulders, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Who are you really, anyway? You weren’t born with that mask.”

“For all you know, I was.”

“Figured you weren’t going to tell me. Thought I’d try.”

“What can I do to help you? I don’t like sending you home like this,” he said, desperate to change the topic.

“I sleep in the diner. I had a bed put in there for a reason. I won’t be going back for a few days.”

“But you will go back,” he said. “And he will do this again. And eventually, it will get worse—"

“But it always gets better first.”

“If he’s going to start using weapons… it’s a lot different than getting hit.”

You laid back down, closing your eyes. “I’m too fucking tired for this, Batty.”

He crouched down next to you, his breath fanning the skin of your face. “Do you want to live?”

You opened your eyes, staring at him intently. “Sometimes I don’t know.”

“Let me teach you self-defense.”

You laughed for a good solid minute. “The knife was a desperate last-minute resort. I don’t do that shit. I run. I’m fast, believe me. Those years of high school track helped me a lot.”

“You’re going to need to learn how to block weapons. I think I’m equipped to teach that. I’m not going to teach you how to hurt him back if you don’t want that. Just enough to block him so you can get away. Okay?”

“Yeah, with what time? You’ve got a city to save.”

“You’re a Gotham resident, aren’t you?”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t know who’s worse, you or Bruce. I’m just one girl, Batty. Go save the city. Don’t worry about me. Lose that Jesus complex and lose it fast because you can’t save everybody. Least of all me."

“No. I can’t. Not if you won’t let me help you. You don’t want me to put him away. My only other option is to help you fight back.”

“Why the hell are you doing this, anyway? Something awaken in you when you pulled me over?”

Yes. You could say that. A fiery rage in the pit of his stomach but it’s grown into something more than that, something much more complex and dangerous.

“Are you deliberately being this annoying because you think it’s going to make me give up?”

“Aw, look at you, figuring me out.” You closed your eyes again.

“It’s not going to work. Get up. I’m bringing you to the diner. Meet me back up here in three days. Four AM.”

“Four AM? Are you trying to kill me?” you protested, your eyes opening again just so you could roll them at him.

“The opposite. Come here,” he said, gesturing with his open arms.

“Whoa, wait, wait, we’re going to fly?” You asked. “Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so exhausted. I’m not even really going to be able to enjoy this.”

“Trust me. You won’t be able to fall asleep.”

You grinned. “Don’t drop me, Batty.”

“I’ll drive your car back later.”

“Mm. Thank you.”

Wordlessly, he strapped you to his chest with his harness, your body flush against him something that was going to keep him up until the morning even with all the layers of clothing between your skin. As you flew, your whoops and hollers were enough to make him break out into a grin as he navigated safely to the diner. Even when you should be completely broken and hollow, you weren’t. Sure, you were testy, sarcastic, upset, but you weren’t hopeless even if you wanted him to believe you were. There was still so much life in you, so much strength.

Reaching the doorway, he unstrapped you, and you turned around, hugging him hard enough he lets out a grunt of surprise. “I… I’ll take you up on the offer. Okay?”

“Good choice. Be on time.”

You placed your hand on his cheek again but it’s different this time; there was a different energy in the air here as you stare into his eyes, your cardigan halfway down your shoulders. You looked like a mess, to be fair, but you were still beautiful, with windswept hair, a tear-stained face, bloody torso, and all. Before he realized it, you were standing on your toes, leaning up, and your mouth was on his, your hand moving from his cheek to the back of his neck. He started to kiss back, pulling you closer, but his brain kept screaming at him to slow down and think. Eventually, he did, and the kiss seemed to last for hours as he fought with himself internally. He wanted to give in to the kiss, give into you, tell you he wanted you, that you drove him up the wall… but not like this. He wanted you to want Bruce, but Bruce wasn’t going to teach you self-defense, be pressed against your sweaty body in awkward positions, it was going to be “Batty” as you so irritatingly and affectionately referred to him.

Still.

He couldn’t do this like this.

Gently, he pushed you away, and there were fresh tears in your eyes, and it’s enough to start to break his heart. How could he reject you? He had to constantly remind himself he was doing the right thing. You couldn’t love a man in a mask. It was dangerous to get involved with Bruce, but it was a death sentence to get involved with Batman.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, tears running down your face again. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just the… adrenaline and I’m upset and I… I know where this leads anyway. I know better. I’m sorry. You don’t have to meet me—“

“Hey, hey. Shh,” he whispered. “I’m still going to help you. I just can’t… we can’t.”

“Right. You don’t date. I’m sorry.”

“It’s overwhelming,” he stated in an attempt to be sympathetic, but that was an understatement. His head felt like it was spinning at tornado-level speeds. He could only imagine what you felt.

“It’s not even that… I… I’m just lonely. I figured you can’t get hurt, not by Dave at least, and maybe it’d help me forget, but I… I just feel worse now,” you said, looking down at your feet, your voice small and quiet.

“Don’t. It was a mistake. That’s all it was. I won’t hold it against you,” he said. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in a few nights.”

Watching you pull your cardigan back over your shoulders, watching you walk into the diner, his heart swelled and his head ached. You wanted him, the wrong part of him, the better part of him, the dangerous part of him, the person he wanted to be all the time. Without the mask, without the suit, without the lenses, who was he? Maybe like you’d said, a pretty boy millionaire with nothing much else of substance to offer. How would that help you?

You were accepting what little help he could offer short of killing your husband. It’s what he wanted from the start. Wasn't it beyond selfish, damn-near verging on narcissistic to want more from you?

NEXT CHAPTER

[ragingbookdragon]

Even Though We May Be Hopeless Hearts Just Passing Through, I Was Made For Loving You PT. 1

Batsis x Kyle Rayner

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I realize the other story didn't follow the whole, dating the brother's best friend trope, so I decided to remedy it. And what do you get when you cross a hopeless romantic with someone who's new to love? Perfection. That's what. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Saturday mornings, in Dick’s opinion, were meant for sleeping in and quite possibly going to IHOP when everyone finally crawled out of bed at ten. They were not meant for being shoved in the side by a little brother.

“Golden-boy,” a voice grouched from beneath the bedside. “Your phone’s been going off for an hour. Either put it on silent or answer the goddamn thing.”

Dick let out a tired ‘pfft’, rolling onto his stomach, face buried in the side of the bed as he looked down to the floor. “Annoyed much, Little-wing?”

“I am going to shove that phone so far up your—”

Reaching over, Dick put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Where are you?

“Still in bed,” he responded, sentence ending in a groan as he stretched. “Why?”

You were supposed to be on the flight back to Gotham two hours ago.

Dick’s eyes went wide, and he sat up, gaping at the bedside clock. “It’s today.”

It is today. I can’t believe you forgot it was today.

“Oh my God, it’s today and we missed our flight.” He stumbled out of the bed, barely registering the shout from Jason as his foot landed in his brother’s stomach. “Jason, get up! It’s today!’

“What’s today?” his little brother griped, rubbing his abdomen.

“(Y/N)’s coming back!”

Jason’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly finding his bag to change out of his nightclothes. “Christ, I can’t believe we forgot that (Y/N) was coming home today!” he looked at Dick. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Dick yelped. “How is this my fault!”

He scowled. “Big brother wanted everyone to be with a sibling for the night, so they’d be together and be punctual but you and I both know neither of us have any concept of time.” His scowl grew. “I knew I should’ve bunked with Cass. She’s on time no matter what happens.”

Dick threw Jason’s sweatshirt at him. “Dress now, bitch later.” He put the phone back to his ear. “We missed our flight, but we can drive there.”

Your car’s in the shop.

“Shit,” he hissed, spinning in a circle to help his brain circuit enough to think of something new. “Uh-uh-uh—”

“Kyle!” Jason shouted, pointing at him. “Kyle’s like thirty minutes away from Manhattan! We’ll go to him for a ride!”

Dick grinned. “We’ll find Kyle.”

You sure Kyle’s at home?

“Pfft, Kyle’s always home on the weekends. He’s lazy.”

Just get here. (Y/N)’s plane is going to land in less than four hours.

“We’ll be there,” he said. “Is Diana coming too?”

Of course. She is (Y/N)’s mother.

“Nice. Alright, see you in Gotham, Bruce.”

Love you boys. And be careful. I’ve already heard that Cass, Tim, and Steph got into a fender-bender with Damian and Duke.

Dick blinked. “They’re…they’re legitimately driving separate cars? How’d they hit each other?”

Don’t ask.

The line went dead, and Dick looked at his brother. “Ready?”

Jason nodded. “Already got an Uber to Kyle’s place.”

“We could always just Uber to Gotham?” he offered, and Jason recoiled with a shocked look.

“And pay a ridiculous amount of money instead of just paying Kyle’s gas? Fuck no, big brother.” He shoved his wallet and keys into his pockets. “C’mon!” he chirped, rather excitedly. “Our baby sister’s coming home!”

***

When he swung the door open to yell at whoever was pounding on it, he wasn’t expecting to see two of his best friends grinning like idiots. “Wha—”

He’d barely gotten a word out when Jason shoved a bag of fast food in his hands. “Get dressed. You’ve gotta drive us to Gotham City.”

Kyle blinked, glancing down at the bag before looking at Dick. “Why?”

“Our sister’s coming home, and we overslept and missed out flight outta here.”

“And you came to me…why?” he asked.

“Because you have the functioning car.” Jason retorted, antsy on his feet. “C’mon Kyle. We have to hurry! (Y/N)’s coming home!”

Figuring it was better to agree than to argue, Kyle relented, handing back the bag of food before he disappeared into his apartment, reappearing moments later, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a graphic tee, and his usual slim casual jacket. He took the bag back and started digging around in it.

“Who’s (Y/N)?” he inquired, biting into a breakfast burrito as he locked his front door behind him.

“Our baby sister.” Jason said.

“I thought Cass was your baby sister?”

Dick nodded, getting out his own breakfast from the bag. “She is. But (Y/N)’s like…the OG baby sister.”

Kyle blinked, glancing over at him as he pushed the elevator button. “That makes no sense.”

“He means that (Y/N) was around before Cass was.”

“And she isn’t with you guys why?”

“She’s been on Themyscira for the last few years training with her grandmother and the other Amazons.” Jason answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, stepping onto the elevator.

Kyle merely stared at the two brothers who were looking back at him; he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Wait, your sister’s an Amazon?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s her mom?” he asked, stepping between them.

“Wonder Woman.” Dick said.

Strike two. “Who’s her dad?”

“Batman.” Jason responded.

Believe it or not, Kyle went three for three punches to the gut. “Bruce and Diana had a kid together?”

“Yeah.” Dick murmured. “I think it’s also why B’s so insistent against inter-team-relations.” He nudged Jason behind Kyle. “First time he attempts dating a coworker he ends up with a baby.”

Jason snorted. “And all those lessons about, ‘Children, whatever you do, don’t date anyone on your team. It’ll only lead to babies and limited visitation’.” He laughed again, then he frowned. “I don’t think any of us have followed that lesson.”

Dick opened his mouth to make an excuse but all that came out was a pitiful, deflate of air followed by, “That’s actually a good point.”

The elevator dinged and they watched the doors open before walking out towards the parking garage. They climbed into Kyle’s car, Jason in the front because his legs were longer than Dick’s, and Dick was a contortionist anyways so if anyone deserved to have their knees in their chest, it was him.

Halfway through the drive Kyle asked, “You guys are paying for my gas, aren’t you?”

All he received was unsure responses and he merely sighed.

***

He figured he should’ve just dropped Jason and Dick off at the airport in Gotham and drove home, but he couldn’t help but want to see just what the daughter of Wonder Woman and Batman looked like. He imagined a little girl dressed in a Batman suit three sizes too big and wielding a sword and a lasso way too heavy for her. It made him smile, the way that the two brothers gushed about (Y/N). From their praise, she was their world. Kyle had to see her though, because nothing was going to satiate that curiosity of seeing the big Batman’s daughter.

He watched Dick and Jason crane their necks like birds as they looked around. And honestly, the family shouldn’t have been that hard to find considering that every time Kyle was around the entirety of the Batfamily, they were like psychos on steroids—he very much so understood why the entirety of Gotham’s villains became flighty when every member of the Batfamily was out patrolling.

Kyle wasn’t expecting a voice to crack over the airport, loud and bubbly. “Brothers!”

All three of them stopped, even him who wasn’t even a sibling, looking over towards the call and Kyle’s jaw dropped as a young woman sprinted over to Dick and Jason, slamming into them with the weight of a train. The three of them collapsed into a pile on the floor, but they were laughing so Kyle assumed the siblings were alright.

“Princess!”

“Baby girl!”

“Oh, I am so glad to see you both!” she exclaimed. “I have waited so long to come home!” she was on her feet in moments, pulling them to theirs as if they weighed nothing. And Kyle knew Jason weighed a lot—he’d been crushed under his best friend before in fights.

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at Kyle who immediately felt his heart lurch under her sharp gaze. “Who is this you have brought?”

Jason gestured to him. “(Y/N) this is Kyle. He’s a friend of Dick and mine. Kyle, this is our little sister, (Y/N).”

She huffed laugh. “I am not little, Jason. I am twenty-one.” Reaching out, she immediately pulled Kyle in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “It is good to meet you, Kyle.”

“You too,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks warm as she pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine.” (Y/N) smiled. “Are you a superhero as well?”

He couldn’t help but toss a quick glance towards Jason who nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m a Green Lantern.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in wonder, and she let go of his shoulders in favor of grabbing at his hands until she found his ring. She stared at it, murmuring quiet, ‘ooo’s and ah’s’. “That is simply amazing!” she chirped, looking at him, and then she silently gasped, raising his hand near his eyes. “Oh…your eyes are almost the same color as your ring.”

Her smile made Kyle’s heart beat a little faster as she expressed, “They are beautiful.”

They gazed at each other, too captivated in the moment to understand that the family had gathered around them by then. Someone’s hand curled around (Y/N)’s wrist and she looked over seeing Dick tugging her hand away.

“C’mon Princess, let’s go get your things on the belt.”

She smiled and followed, giving a small wave to Kyle, who returned hers shakily whilst grinning like a dope.

Someone elbowed him in the ribs, and he gasped, holding his side as Jason muttered, “Don’t ever stare at my sister like that again.”

Kyle blinked, glancing at him. “What’re you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you goddamn skirt-chaser.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Kyle spluttered.

“You’re thinking about it.” Jason warned, pointing a finger in his face. “Make a move on (Y/N) and I’ll kill you with your own ring.” Kyle recoiled just as she and Dick were coming back, both holding a suitcase.

“Father!” she called, glancing at Bruce. “Dick and I have retrieved my luggage.”

He smiled at her. “Let’s go put it in the SUV then.” He paused, looking over the large group. He and Diana had ridden together, and since his children had fender-benders, they’d picked up Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian; there wasn’t room for (Y/N) too.

“Father? Is something the matter?” (Y/N) was staring at him with concern.

“There’s not enough room in the SUV for you too. Maybe we—”

“There’s room in my car for (Y/N)!” Kyle blurted out, smiling nervously at Bruce. “I can follow behind you.”

Before anyone could screech ‘NO!’, mainly Dick and Jason, (Y/N) lit up like the morning sun. “Oh, that is a wonderful idea!” she grabbed onto Diana’s arm. “We should all stop for ice-cream though! Mother, what do you say?”

She smiled at her and leaned over, kissing her head. “I say that sounds like a fantastic idea, daughter.”

Kyle grinned and held out his arm for (Y/N), her giggling as she took it. “You know, I don’t live in Gotham, (Y/N), but I do know a good gelato store around the area.”

“What is gelato?” she asked, and he groaned.

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know what that is.” He started off, pilling her along, leaving everyone behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Jason’s face pinched and he looked over at Bruce. “Can I break the no-kill rule just once?”

Bruce blinked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his daughter laughing along with Kyle, both looking like newlyweds already. “Believe it or not, I’m strongly considering it.”

“Bruce.” Diana admonished. “Let (Y/N) and Kyle become friends. You know she doesn’t have many outside this family here.”

Dick growled. “Except Kyle doesn’t want to be friends with (Y/N), Diana. He wants to be her boyfriend.”

“They just met though?”

“Yeah, and Kyle’s a propose on week two type of man,” Jason griped. “Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but (Y/N) and Kyle said gelato and you guys are just standing here.” Tim said. “Can we go now?”

[op-sys-chaos]

As someone who loves the idea of “sassy badass grandpa butler Alfred Pennyworth” but who also knows he’s a problematic enabler, let me add my two cents.

Some of my first exposure to Alfred was comics like Red Robin 2009. Where you can see Alfred praise Tim for throwing hands with Damian (mostly because Damian was being an asshole and kinda deserved it iirc). What you don’t see in that comic is that the source of that argument, which was Damian getting Robin, came from Alfred. This thread is in fact the first time I learned that Alfred was behind that. (I haven’t read the Dick!Batman Damian!Robin run outside of maybe a single comic or two.)

But what’s interesting is even then, even when Alfred’s being sassy and all “good for you for sticking up for yourself, master Tim,” he’s still encouraging the siblings to fight. He’s enabling Tim and Damian’s whole fucked up dynamic instead of saying “hey, you two should sit down and talk it out and get your shit together.” Damian constantly tries to kill Tim and all Alfred says is “well done, you stood up for yourself and fought the child who keeps trying to kill you.”

Alfred is a massive enabler. He stands aside and lets shit happen.

Alfred wasn’t happy about participating in the 16th birthday thing iirc. But he did it anyway. Because he doesn’t say no to Bruce, no matter how wrong he is.

He did at one point quit during Tim’s 90s Robin run because he was mad at Bruce, and he went to go support Tim instead. Idk exactly what Bruce did bc it didn’t occur in the comics I was reading, it likely happened in a Batman comic and I was reading the Robin run. But Alfred does have a limit to what he’ll support. And I think him leaving and supporting Tim (who was also kinda pissed at Bruce for being an asshole) helped solidify the “Alfred loves his grandkids and supports them” stance for those who read it. It certainly helped me form my opinion of “sassy badass grandfather butler” because that was what he did in that run.

Basically, I’m conflicted. I love fics where Alfred is awesome. I love awesome Alfred. But also, I can definitely admit that he’s problematic. I already knew he was a massive enabler of Bruce’s bullshit. But I don’t think he’s so problematic that you can’t see him in a good light. And I don’t see the harm in painting him as a good grandparent in fics, because it’s fanfiction. Just like how Pit Madness is the only reason Jason was ever mad in the first place in some fics, if people want Good Alfred they can have him. Both make reconciliation fics easier, and we in the DC fandom do love our found families.

Side note, I don’t think the whole “allowed the negative narrative about Jason to spread post-death” argument is particularly relevant. Yeah, you’re not wrong, but literally everyone was saying it. Tim was saying it and the other Titans, Jason’s friends iirc, were saying it too. And it’s not the kind of thing Tim would ever say if that comic was written today! It was a product of the time. Readers hated Jason Todd so the writers talked shit about him and made him look bad. And so, the characters did too. That’s less “Alfred allowing a shitty thing to happen” and more “the writers had EVERYONE doing a shitty thing.” The whole hero community was pulling that crap iirc. So I don’t think that’s a point against Alfred since the whole hero community was pulling that.

Another side note, canon is very subjective when it comes to DC. There’s so much content that you’ll never be able to read it all. I’d never even so much as heard of Julia, because I hadn’t read comics that mention her.

So if you’ve only read Good Alfred comics you’ll assume he’s a great guy. And if you’re like me and you’ve read some of each, with Good Alfred first, then you’ll have the image of “generally good guy who can be a problematic enabler.” But if you’ve only seen Enabler/Asshole Alfred, or that’s what you saw first, that’ll be your image of him. Whatever your interpretation is, that’s the correct one. There is no “right” way to see canon. Even two people who’ve read the exact same comics in the exact same order will come to different conclusions. So read and write what you want. :)

One trope that i find weird is that during batfam reconciliation fics, the batfam members use alfred as like the big red button to bring jason back, but i feel like that wouldn't actually work. at all.

Jason would HATE alfred after everything he did after he died. Canonically, it was alfred that made the "a good soldier" memorial case, bruce wanted it down but alfred insisted he keep it up, he was the one that gave tim the Robin suit THAT JASON DIED IN, and drove him to save batman and nightwing with NO training at all. He also helped keep up all the "jason was always doomed for a life of crime, and he was an angry child that got himself killed" narrative that was spun after DitF. Alfred pennyworth is batman's biggest enabler, and has stood by while bruce did all his bullshit, such as the whole UtRH arc, and RHatO #25, where he said that it was inevitable that jason would go back on the whole no killing agreement.

Alfred may care for all of Bruce's children, but his only grandchild is damian, as shown when he made him robin behind tim's back( the whole "dick made damian robin" thing is just to add to tim angst. Dick was infact against that whole shitshow). If it doesn't benefit bruce, his pseudo son/employer and landlord, he wouldn't give a fuck.

It's basically impossible to write a reconciliation fic at all without completely rewriting characters, especially jason and alfred. Jason believes that batman's mission is flawed and useless since he doesn't permanently stop crime, so he'd never fully give up killing, the whole reason there's a rift between him and bruce, and alfred isn't this doting grandfather that always sides with his grandchildren and bakes cookies and makes tea.

Also, one major thing the fandom forgets is that alfred is canonically a shitty father to julia, his bio daughter. He abandoned his own daughter for the waynes, he'd never prioritise bruce's children over him.

[kyberphilosopher]

Hiss

[Part ii. of Bite] Jason’s been resurrected, only to find he’s been replaced as Robin. Luckily, an old enemy of the Batman has the attributes to help. Word Count: 6465

Warning[s]: guns, crime, language, crude humor, Mitski, non vegetarian reader, age gap, glorified taskmaster ally. Following part i the readers official gender is not disclosed. 

“Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

☈ - ✮ ✭ ✮

Six months. That’s how long it took for Jason to die. Six. Whole. Months. In an abandoned warehouse, in some foreign country that he couldn’t even remember. He’d been fifteen, small for his age but fifteen nonetheless, when that clown had beat him. And what had Batman done? Nothing. He’d let him sit in that warehouse, in that foreign country, with that clown at age fifteen- for six months. And he had done nothing.

Not that it really matters now. It had, at one point, to Jason. He’s in denial that it still does. But to Batman? Oh, it never mattered at all. How long had it taken Bruce to replace his son? A week? A month? No, it had been six months. Barely. And the clown? He was safe and sound, very much alive and loose as he usually was. Batman had put him in Arkham, after a while, but of course it hadn’t lasted for very long. Jason’s death? That was permanent. At least until there was a new and improved and very much replaced Jason running with Batman, six months later. That was permanent too.

So one can imagine the confusion you felt when you opened the door to find a very much alive ex-Robin on your apartment doorstep. 

201 Arkham Street, apartment 317 Gotham City, Gotham County, New Jersey

That’s the address given to him by the Riddler. Putting him in Arkham seemed to be one thing that the Batman had got done during Jason’s little time away. Clearly it had ended up well enough for at least one person. Jason hadn’t even needed to threaten the Riddler out of riddling. In less than ten minutes, Edward Nygma had revealed the Mockingbird’s address, who they like and don’t like, what their suit was made of, and finally their name. Batman had always assumed Riddler and Mockingbird were best friends, birds of a feather with all the times the they’d seemed to make some kind of appearance by the others side. Some friend Riddler was now. 

Jason had snuck into the Batcave recently, and while going through files, decided to take a glimpse into Mockingbird’s just for the sake of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting much. When he was fifteen, it had been near empty. But sure enough, the file had been expanded upon relatively greatly in the past- what? Four years? That sounded right. But one thing that hadn’t changed was your seemingly long standing friendship with Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Still, so much for it. 

Batman had seemingly made a note of allies of theirs, then crossed out multiple names. Poison Ivy, Bane, Deadshot- and yes- the Riddler, stayed. Scarecrow, Black Mask, and Catwoman were all shockingly crossed out. Jason hadn’t expected the last one. Below the allies were the list of crimes. That had changed too. They’d gotten more violent towards the end of the list, straying away from the Mockingbird that the ex-Robin had known. Mockingbird had picked a fight with Dick’s Nightwing enough times for Batman to make a note of too. Before Jason could get to the new pictures of Mockingbird, he quickly closed the file. Didn’t need to see anymore. 

So based on what he had gathered, you should’ve looked different. He’d memorized your face when he was fifteen. Was expecting it to have changed compared to then. But when you open the door and Jason’s face to face with you, Mockingbird, it’s like the first time. Only your eyebrows have gotten slightly darker, and your eyes have rung with dark circles. 

✮ ✭ ✮

The same can’t be said for Jason Todd, however, who you let into your apartment rather quickly. 

You’d done your research on him, too, but only after you’d heard about his death. A death which was confirmed. After locking the door and beginning to turn around, he answers the question before you can ask. 

“Superboy and Lazarus Pits.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms. The man stands tall in your living room, though it’s not forced. You’ve got no idea what a Lazarus Pit is, but it seems to have changed the Robin you knew before. He was scrawny before. He puffed his chest out before. He had something to prove before. Now his broad shoulders make him look bigger naturally. He could reach up and touch your ceiling with no effort. His face and jaw are masculine and strong, eyes bright green and blue and cyan like you remember. That’s how you know it’s Jason Todd.

“It’s because of the power struggle, isn’t it?” says Harley beside you as you both look over the side of the roof, her flat on her belly and you crouched on the ledge in watch. 

“Hm?” you’d tossed back through your voice changer, not even looking away from the busy street below. 

“Jay killed the Robin,” Harley chirps. “You know- Batman’s little boyfriend? In the shorts and the tights with the flips and the kicks? Oh, that kid went bing, bang, boom. Jay’s been real pumped about it.”

This had made you turn to Harley Quinn. You looked at her over your shoulder, still in position. Though you hadn’t thought about it at the time, it was a good thing she couldn’t see through your mask right about now. 

“The kid?” you say at last. 

“Yeah! Jason Todd! Ya’ know him?”

Harley doesn’t look at you, bubbly as ever in her own world. But you watch her for a moment. Then you turn back around to the direction of the street. “No.”

“Well I’m sayin I bet that’s why there’s so much crime goin’ on now. Old Batty’s got it...”

“I heard,” you tell Jason, before he can go into further detail. He nods once in understanding, in line with a breath, and then looks around the room. Your apartment is small, seemingly in decay, and looks like a shithole. Just like the rest of the building. 

“Mockingbird, I presume,” he offers finally. “Y/N L/N was it?”

You nod once, holding your gaze at the ground in thought before taking a step toward your kitchen. It’s close by to the living room. So close, in fact, that your island counter practically touches the back of your couch. “Robin,” you greet in turn. 

“My name’s Ja-”

“I know what your name is.”

Just then a sprinkle of dust falls from your ceiling, mixing with dirt and shit and pollen. “Nice place,” Jason condescends. 

“I’m sorry,” you put your hands on your counter as you lean in to look at him. “Weren’t you under the ground not too long ago?”

“Weren’t you in jail not too long ago?”

“I never went to jail.”

“But your buddy Ed did didn’t he?”

Your eyebrows crease, and Jason notices you lean forward a fraction of an inch more. He got to you. “How do you know about Edward?”

Jason Todd gives a small smile. His right hand reaches up until it’s poking the side of his head a few times. “Bat knowledge.”

You frown tightly. “Don’t do that. I didn’t like that.”

“You like beating up Dick Grayson?”

You shift. “Yeah. I did.”

“And Catwoman? Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say a little louder. “I did. What wonder boy? You wanna see the scar to prove it?”

“Okay,” Jason huffs. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and then he speaks softer to control himself. “Okay. I’m not Boy Wonder anymore, or wonder boy. Don’t call me that.”

You look him up and down. His eyes, his jaw, his brows. The Robin you knew those years ago. He’d been beaten and blown up. He must’ve cried for help. 

“Okay,” you say, equally as soft. “But just for the record, I haven’t been the Mockingbird for years. Can’t really call me that either.”

“Why not?” Jason Todd questions, turning around so his back faces you while he observes your apartment. You can see his muscles through his shirt. 

Because you were just a kid. Because I liked you. Because you didn’t deserve it. Because Batman didn’t help. Because you were replaced. Because most of my friends laughed it off. Because I couldn’t go after Joker myself. Because I got angry. 

“Just grew out of it,” you shrug instead, turning around. You open your dirty fridge and pull out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “What are you doing here, Jason?” you say as you pour the drink, your back now turned to him. 

“I need your help.”

“Whatever with?”

“I’m thinking of getting a little...” Jason’s voice goes low into something like a masculine purr, “...revenge on Batman.”

“You came back from the dead,” you turn around with two glasses of lemonade, “to get revenge on the Batman? That’s your great plan?”

“No,” Jason says simply. He’s since turned around so he’s facing you. “Screwing with the Batman is just a piece of the fun. He’s nothing.”

Jason accepts the glass that you hand to him. You sit down on your couch in front of his figure. That simple motion is enough to bring out some more dust from your walls. “So what’s the revenge?” you take a sip of the sweet, gritty liquid. It coats your teeth strangely in seconds. 

“New Robin. Ever heard of Tim Drake?”

You stop your sip, looking up at the big, broad Jason. You can already tell where this is going. “Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

His brows shoot up. “You hit me in the face with a pipe.”

“I didn’t hit you. You walked into my swing. But you wanna go after the kid, Jason? Really?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms so his forearms flex. 

“Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes in thought. On one hand, you hadn’t been Mockingbird for years. You stopped when you were eighteen, and you’re twenty one now. Not that it’s helped you very much. You’re still struggling in a shithole, broke and unhappy and no longer able to afford school. And Tim Drake hasn’t really done anything wrong. But on the other hand, Batman is a dick, and you really stopped liking him after what happened to the former Robin. You’d wanted to go after him and the Joker for it, but you’re not far enough in the Gotham food chain for that. Trading swings with Selina was as close as you got. 

“Alright.” You stand. You’re not even close to Jason’s height. “Lay out the deal. You got a suit?”

✮ ✭ ✮

And that’s how you and Jason Todd ended up on a roof that night. You, at the crisp age of twenty one, and he at what you suppose is his version of nineteen. Still working on wrapping your head around that one. 

You’ve pulled out your Mockingbird suit from under the bed. It was a bit dusty, but not hard to slip into. Everything seems in place. It’s just old. Your voice scrambler is still working okay and all the eyes light up efficiently. Jason’s got a suit too. 

“I don’t,” Jason answers, his face suspicious. His eyes are twinkling as he looks down at you. It’s so hard to believe he’s just a boy- or was, last you saw him. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I got you.”

You lead Jason to your room, into your closet, and into a space even farther back where an illuminated glass case the size of several yard sticks stands. It must cost more than your whole apartment. Inside of it is a metal suit like a military uniform, similar to Bruce’s Batsuit but with an Arkham emblem over the chest. 

“Call it the Arkham Knight. You like it?”

“Where did you get this?” Jason steps forward, raking his eyes up and down the design. Bruce would hate it. 

“I stole it from the Batcave.”

“The whole display case?” Jason snaps to you. Then his brows shoot up and he takes a step closer. “How do you know where the Batcave is?”

“How did you know where my apartment is? And yes, I took the whole case. It was just sitting there.”

Jason turns back around to the suit. It’s growing on him. He admires it. It’s perfect. The Arkham symbol will put the Batman into a state of despair. “Hard to believe you and Selina aren’t friends anymore.”

“We never were,” you mutter back. It’s really not his business that you ended so many partnerships because of his death.

“You’re sure this is the place?” you question. It sends Jason into a state of euphoria, hearing the distorted villainy of your voice again. It feels like the first time too, just like when he saw your face again. It feels how it did when he was fifteen and infatuated with the Mockingbird. It’s almost dizzying. It’s just strange to hear it knowing that now you’re on the same side. 

“Yeah,” he answers through his helmet. His voice is distorted too. “This is the place.”

You’re overlooking a Gotham street at night, something you’ve both discovered vigilantes, heroes, and villains do a lot of. Smoke fills the air along with police sirens and building lights. You’re positioned in one of the outer districts though, away from most of the commotion. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” you say, half to yourself. 

“I can,” Jason says back. “When I ran with Batman. Last year. I was fifteen.” Jason's voice drops. “Or was I...”

You frown behind your own mask. Of course. Jason died four years ago, and he was fifteen when that happened. He came back- you’re not sure when- older and stronger and behind on the changes of the world. He must not know about social media, or the latest television crazes, or the new roads in Gotham. It makes you sad. 

All Jason sees when he meets your eyes through his visor is several red slanted lines. You’re both unreadable through your helmets. 

“There’s a good restaurant down on this corner,” you both turn back to the street, crouching in wait. “Maybe B-Man likes it.”

“He never eats,” says the ex-Robin. “Never sleeps. Never does anything.”

“You know he broke my buddy Scarecrow’s bones last Halloween?” you scoff. “Literally for not knowing where Black Mask is. Your old boss is weird as hell.”

Jason cocks an eyebrow you can’t see. “Thought you weren’t friends with Scarecrow anymore?”

“Anymore? B-Man keeping tabs on me?”

“He keeps tabs on everyone,” Jason shakes his head. “You’re just a file.”

“Hm,” he hears you say. Contemplate, more like. You speak again after a moment of silence. “Well Scarecrow and me are fine, thank you for asking.”

Jason scoffs. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“My boyfriend’s over in Metropolis.”

Oh. 

“How’s your girl?” Your head snaps to Jason at once, hands twitching around. “Or guy.”

He tosses a look to you that you can’t see, but you can guess at. Somewhere between ‘what the hell’ and ‘why the hell’ and an eye roll with furrowed brows. 

“Come on. Rose Wilson seems your type. Ooh, Artemis?” You suddenly nudge his arm with your elbow. “Batgirl? Is it Dick?”

Another look is thrown your way. This time it feels more angry. “Whatever, Robin,” you offer lightly. 

It dawns on you that perhaps Jason has never had a partner before. That seems more likely, especially after thinking about his situation, and suddenly you feel bad. It’s too late to vocalize an apology now though.

“Fine,” you say at last. “Let’s just stop talking.”

“Let’s do.”

✮ ✭ ✮

It starts raining not long after that. 

The drops bounce off your suits harmlessly. There’s still no sign of this Tim Drake and Batman. 

“Hey,” you break the silence. “Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like a statue?”

“Must be a resurrection thing.”

“Yep.”

The rain falls harsher.

“So,” Jason begins. “I have to ask. How do you do the- the…” he spins his pointer fingers around rapidly.

“What the fuck are you doing? What is that? No- what is that right there?”

“The thing that you do.”

“I’ve never done that in my life, Jason. What is that? Finger jiu jitsu?”

You hear Jason suck in a breath as he turns away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“You asked me for help. And between the two of us- who has died here? Not me. I’m hilarious.”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “So hilarious.”

“You seemed to think so. When…” your voice trails off. You almost wanted to mention that night in the warehouse to him. A memory of him looking up at you, his hands bound behind his back as he stares in wonder flashes in your mind. But it doesn’t linger for long. Movement in the street catches your eye. “Jason.”

Both your heads snap down to the place below. Sure enough, after a few seconds, a figure steps into view of the moonlight. A skinny kid with dark hair and a bright red and yellow costume. He looks younger than Dick or Jason.

“That’s him,” your partner says. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a long rod. It unfolds with a click that you recognize- the click of a gun.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Woah- what?”

“I’m gonna shoot him,” Jason tells you casually, fiddling around with the weapon. It’s coming into shape more and more as a sniper rifle.

“That is a child,” you whisper hiss. “He’s like ten!”

“I don’t think he’s ten,” Jason puts his eye over the scope. “This is revenge.”

“Please, do not shoot a child for replacing you in your job of tightie whities vigilante.”

Jason huffs through his mask and looks over at you. “What did you think this was, bird?”

“I thought we were just like, gonna kick him in the balls or something! This is exactly what I meant by ‘we are going to jail’! I told you we should’ve let god fix it!”

“He’ll be fine.”

You knock the rifle out of the Arkham Knights hands with a bang. It clambers across the roof top until it’s nearly over the edge, half on half off.

Jason and you go down at once, shoulder to shoulder in a tackle. Thunder booms overhead. Through his visor, Jason sees you raise a white, gauntleted fist back in a punch, aimed right for his face. Luckily, he manages to catch you by the torso and neck and throw you off.

When he pushes himself to his knee and foot in a kneel, he looks up to find an exact replica of himself. Not literally, of course, but looking at you is like looking into a mirror. Your hand is placed on the rooftop the same way his is. Your knees are bent at the exact same angle as his own. When Jason cocks his head to the side slowly, yours follows him at the same time. So this is what it means to fight the Mockingbird.

He decides to reach for the gun at the side of his leg. He manages to fire once- and miss- a bang going off that he’ll be lucky Drake doesn’t hear over the storm. You knock the gun out of his hands easily, dodging a punch to the stomach before countering with one of your own to his face. It hits the exact same way Jason’s do. He sees your knuckles coming closer to him and almost thinks they’re his own.

Next idea is toss you off the building. Key word: you. Not him.

Jason grips the back of your head through your hood, reaching around. He carries you with him while he stands, tensing his abs as he feels you hammer your elbow away at them. It’s the knee to his crotch that makes him let go and let out a strangled groan.

But before anything else can happen, you spring forward at him in a pounce. Your palms latch onto his shoulders. His feet disconnect from the surface of the roof and the both of you go backwards until neither one of you are on the building at all, over the side.

Jason gets tangled in the emergency stair well. His metal suit clangs against it as he falls and tumbles down, either causing or saving some head injuries. You hit your back on an old street light before landing in a trash bin.

This is it, you manage to think to yourself. Lying in a garbage bin in Gotham at night. And in the rain. This is rock bottom.

I am going to kill everyone on the block for this, thinks Jason.

✮ ✭ ✮

You do eventually get up and remove yourself from the garbage bin. Jason sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching you. You do not exchange words. He does, however, follow you down the street as you essentially stomp.

“Ma’am,” he offers quietly to a gawking older woman.

You enter a small restaurant. More of a diner, really. The door jingles as it opens, and Jason watches you walk to the side until you find a table by the window. You sit down with a huff, tapping one of your helmets red eyes. He shuffles into the space ahead of you, nearly skirting the table across the floor with the bulk of his own muscle and suit. He can feel your judgy eyes on him as he clambers into the seat like a large, run down father.

“Hi there,” a chirpy waitress bounds. She’s a large, redheaded woman in a bright yellow uniform and a hat with a spring connected to a plastic burger on top. It is ridiculous, funny, and you are sadly not in the mood. “My, aren’t you two some interesting looking people! We don’t get a lot of men of metal around here!”

You both look at her silently, masks on but hatred seeping through boredly.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“A gun,” you drawl tiredly, rubbing your palms over your mask.

“We’re not sellin’ those right now, my dear. Something else?”

“Two cheeseburgers would be fine,” Jason speaks up for you.

“Two burgers,” the waitress repeats with a smile, writing it down in her burger notepad. Her cheeks are rosy as she beams happily. “And should I be expecting Superman?”

“Die,” you snap to her, watching her hurry off to the kitchen. Then you put your head down in your folded arms on the table.

Jason glanced around. It’s empty except for the two of you and some dumpy guy in a trucker hat with wide eyes. “What’re you staring at?” Jason all but barks. Normally, he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in public. Not very confident or secure, it seems. But now he’s tired. He just fell down about a million floors worth of metal stairs. It’s late and he lost two of his guns.

“What?” you raise your head, also looking at the trucker hat man. “You’ve never seen two people in superhero suits before?”

“Beat it,” Jason orders.

The man is quick to stand and speed walk away. Still you egg on, “get out of here, bozo!”

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Jason grumbles as he watches the man trip down the street through his view from the window, the door still ringing to signal it’s been opened.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly.

Your nimble fingers reach up and back to push your white hood from your head. Then they click against the sides of your face and pull the helmet away, revealing your face. You inhale as if you couldn’t get enough air before. Jason watches you, still as a statue, his visor giving him the luxury of being able to monitor your breathing.

“Now what?” you gripe, rubbing your eyes. It can’t be comfortable with all the armor on your hands, but you don’t seem bothered. You must’ve gotten used to it by now.

The Arkham Knight ahead of you only cocks his head to the side slightly. Silent with his helmet. “I’ll help you punch Tim but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Why are you defending this kid?” you hear Jason breathe in return. For a split second, electricity runs through you at the sound of his distorted voice, the way his body looks in his suit of armor and how unreadable he is through the helmet. It shocks you all the the way down to your crotch.

“You know,” you begin, eyes widening and voice quieting with a sudden nervousness. “He’s just a kid. Younger than you were.”

Jason scoffs and turns his head away from you, now looking out the window. Gotham is dark and damp outside. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. Then after a few seconds and continues. “Tim Drake and I are the same age.” His head pulls back slightly, fingers giving a strange, sudden twitch. “Or were. We’re-”

You’ll never know what Tim Drake and Jason Todd were. Jason never finishes his sentence, and only his suit flashes with little codes and details to let you know he’s still alive in there. Besides that, he’s as still, lost in sudden thought. You frown and lean in a bit, tapping your elbow with your fingers while you shift uncomfortably. “You’re nineteen, Jason.”

His head twitches again. Now you know he’s heard you. “I’m two years older than you,” you reason. “You’re nineteen.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why did you let me go?”

Your eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch. Another wave of electricity shocks down your body, but this time it’s because his voice sounded more like his own. You could hear it under the layers of metal and distortion. But option one is to respond to his question by pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. That seems like it’s for the best.

“You were just a kid,” you tell him honestly. He silently presses you on. “And I just- I looked at you and I…” I really liked you, kid. Best night I had in years. Made me smile. God, you had to stop working with so many other Gotham city villains just for making jokes about the kid. “You were fifteen,” you say, looking away. “Just a kid.”

Jason watches you. Again, your head turns so you look out the window. He would’ve expected that to be the end of it, but you continue. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Jason’s about to pretend to not know what you’re talking about, because it seems like it’s for the best that way. But then he remembers you can’t see anything through his helmet. “What’re you talking about?” he gruffs.

“You saw my face in that warehouse,” you press. “If you had told Batman, I would’ve been to jail. Maybe Arkham. But that never happened. So why didn’t you tell him?”

I was obsessed with you, Jason’s mind screams. In love with you! It hisses, which makes Jason cringe. “Guess you were a kid too.” That’s right. You were seventeen back then. What is that? Last year of high school? You balanced a criminal career and the required education for a minor at the same time. Where were your parents during this?

Jason bites down on his lip hard. Parents. Should shut up about that, probably.

“I’m uh,” you bite your lip and then lick it. “I’m sorry for pushing you. On the roof.”

He shifts. “It’s nothing.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms uncross from atop the table and go to rest in your lap. This close and this still, Jason can make out all the details in your suit. It’s impressive. Kevlar and rubber and plastic, the Riddler had told him. Not the gloves. That’s metal and plastic. 

“So,” Jason decides. “How do you that?” Your brows crease in confusion. He tries to do the finger motions he’d down before, which makes you cringe. “The mirroring. And the fighting and the…” he goes through the motions again. “It in your helmet?”

Your confusion sinks away. A new expression washes over your face as you lean in. One finger reaches up, poking your temple and you smile softly. “Bat knowledge.”

Just then, the waitress saves the day. “Two cheeseburgers for the scary suit people!” she beams, setting the plates down. For a second, her breasts are pressed into each of your faces. Jason first, who does not move and you can’t see under the helmet. You bite back a snicker but instead seep a childish look. Then you’re next, and you can feel Jason’s silent laugh under his Arkham Knight suit as your eyes go wide. “Enjoy, dears!”

“Boobs,” you shiver. “Just got boobs in my face.” And then Jason watches you carefully pick up the burger in your dangerous gloves, and take a bite.

Indeed, for the first time that night, the man in front of you reaches up and pulls off his own helmet with a click. You watch it be taken into his large, veiny hands and passed to the edge of the table, against the wall of the window. Then your eyes wander up to his face, which makes you chew slower.

A strong face. Sharp jaw, perfectly in line nose. Lips always pulled into a scowl. Bright eyes with tired circles and scars across his skin. There’s a streak of white in his dark hair you hadn’t noticed at all before, though now it’s practically blaring you in the face. Jason Todd is very handsome. 

“What?” he says behind his burger, raising it to his lips but freezing before he can bite into it.

You shrug and focus again on your burger. You hear Jason bite into his own.

“I don’t have any money,” you tell him after a moment, swallowing down a bite.

“Me neither,” Jason answers. He nudges his head towards the window. “There’s an ATM across the street.” You nod in response.

A few bites in you speak again. The minutes have been filled with the noises of chewing and swallowing and yummy meat and cheese. “You ever heard of Mitski?”

Jason swallows his bite, which are bigger than yours. “What?”

“Mitski,” you repeat. “The singer?” Jason shakes his head. “You seem like you’d like her. My boyfriend hates her.”

Jason’s brows twitch.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he questions, taking another bite.

You roll your eyes. “Too expensive. He’s-”

“But he lives there.”

“He just didn’t offer,” you shrug. “I don’t have the money anyway. It’s fine.”

Jason cocks a brow. Your own boyfriend didn’t offer to get you out of this shithole?

You roll your eyes. “We haven’t talked in a long time okay? He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Both of Jason’s brows raise now, almost playfully. “Busy with what?”

You’d be offended if you weren’t busy trying to answer. What were you busy with? After you graduated, money went dry with university. It became less frequent after retiring from the Mockingbird mantle. Most of your jobs were minimum wage and short lived. You’re a bartender now, but not somewhere that’ll keep you going probably. Most days you sit around the apartment or run errands, sometimes hosting Ivy. Last time she’d been over, she’d given you a plant that had quickly died and spoke about Harley quite a bit. And Riddler obviously doesn’t come over anymore. Scarecrow had once but he’s off doing god only knows now. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “What are you busy with?”

“Controlling crime in Gotham,” Jason takes a bite.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well.”

“You know you didn’t have to ask me to do this,” you say. “You could’ve just asked someone else. There’s a lot of people in Gotham okay with child killing.”

“I wanted you,” Jason explains. He’s quick to speak again to keep you from thinking about his words. “You were the first person I thought of.”

You’re nearing the end of your burger. “How did you find me?”

Jason shrugs mid-chew. He’s almost done as well. “Riddler.”

“Gave me away that easy?”

“Yep.”

You chew your last bite. It was a good and hearty burger, the cheese melting perfectly against the patty and your tongue.

“You want anything else?” Jason asks.

You watch the street outside, eyes squinting on the ATM. “Jason,” you mutter. “Jason.”

✮ ✭ ✮

Three men snicker as they load up dark blue duffel bags. They’re slimey and smelly, like an old sewer. Money falls from the machine like a waterfall.

Their success doesn’t last long.

One of them comes in contact with the Mockingbird’s elbow and slams his head into a brick building. The other two are just inexplicably on the ground, incapacitated while the Arkham Knight stands overhead.

“Fuck,” you breathe through your helmet. “I missed this.”

Jason’s just picked up the duffel bag when the sudden sound of sirens blare through the air. It’s close. Too close.

“Well that’s no good,” you mutter. You turn to Jason, taking a sharp step forward. “Give it to me.”

His brows furrow under the mask.

“I’ll pay the waitress,” you say. “You run.”

Jason reaches behind his belt and shifts the weight of the bag into one hand. A gun appears- a small handgun. You duck down as he raises it at you, holding your head down as the BANG! rings through the air.

You stand back to your feet, bracing yourself at the sudden sight. The Arkham Knight charges you, but only to pick you up like you’re nothing and jump through the glass window he previously shot at. The adrenaline makes things hazy, but you can see the blue and red lights now. It doesn’t matter. The two of you fly across what turns out to be a pawn shop, burst through the back door and back room until you hit the cold outside air of Gotham again. Multiple doors slam shut behind you. You’re both out of breath and panting, and it’s raining again. This time in an alleyway.

But the cops won’t follow you out here.

It’s quiet besides the panting from you two. Jason has more endurance, you’re sure, but you can hear his breathing inside his helmet. He lets the duffel bag slip out of his grasp as you double over. “I did miss that,” you offer. “Running from the police.” The Arkham Knight just continues his breathing.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

✮ ✭ ✮

Two days after the incident, you enter your apartment lazily. Your keys are tossed onto the island counter before you wander through your mail. One of your letters is from Ed in Arkham, warning you about “some big guy asking about you”. A bit late for that now. You haven’t heard from Jason since that night.

It isn’t until you go to sit on your couch that you notice a large, nearly bursting open envelope. Your fingers stretch to reach it, examining it. No return address, but written in pen in sloppy letters is the word “Bird”. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like a bomb. It feels more soft but firm.

You open the envelope. Your breathing hitches, breath slowing when you see what’s inside. Then a smirk comes over your face.

Just then, dust falls from your shitty apartment ceiling.

✮ ✭ ✮

A week after the failed Tim Drake incident, a young man decides to pay a visit to your building. He is tall and strong, with raven hair laced with a white streak at the front. He frowns at everything, ducking his head to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He cares not for being perceived by other people. He’s well aware of how he looks.

The man’s knuckles tap against apartment 317. He shifts, looking back and forth. The man is quite attractive in is casual red hoodie and jeans, but he wants to be out of the open as soon as he can. After a moment, there is no response from inside.

He scrunches his brows and knocks again. When he takes a step closer, he can hear something from the inside. Music. A piano and drums and maybe an organ?

Jason twists the door knob with ease and steps ahead and inside. The apartment is completely and totally empty. The music becomes louder and more clear. It’s a female singer he doesn’t recognize.

Only the bones of the kitchen remain. Counters, cabinets, a sink, and an old fridge. There’s mold in the corner of the space. But in the middle of the floor where the couch and living room used to be is a cluster of things. Things meant for Jason Todd. 

The man eyes the pile for a few seconds. Then he sets towards it. The first thing he recognizes is a CD player with the volume turned all the way up. He still doesn’t know the song.

Besides the player is a suit he’s quite familiar with. It’s clunky, but folded as neatly as it can be given that it’s made of metal. On the top is the helmet that gives it away. The Arkham Knight suit. It sits on a dark duffel bag in front of a small white piece of paper with the promise of ink inside. Jason decides to open that first.

You’re coming back… and it’s the end of the world…

Haha! I knew you’d show up!

Jason nearly rolls his eyes at the first sentence.

Thanks for the money. I know it was you. Thanks for the fun night too. Sorry about hitting your balls. They felt really big if that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

I was thinking of Metropolis, but what do you know, me and the boy toy decided it might be better to hold off on it. I got a bit of dirt on the kid by the way. You’ll find it on the back of this paper. Oh and I hope you like the Mitski soundtrack. I bet Drake’s the kind too. I’m going to keep the Mockingbird suit if you don’t mind. I guess our night of fun kinda reignited an old flame. Don’t even think about coming after me.

Son of a bitch, Jason internally screams.

I have a gift for you though. You get the Arkham Knight. You look good in it. And a little something extra in the bag by the way. 

Love, Mockingbird.

I just need a quiet place… where I can scream, how I love you…

Indeed, inside the duffel bag Jason Todd finds some cash and red fabric with an R emblem over the chest. He doesn’t need to pull the rest out to understand what it is. He decides not to question how you got his old Robin suit or when, but lets himself smile a bit, his chest expanding with his breath. It’s a real smile too. 

You’ve given Jason everything he needs to go after Tim Drake himself.

✮ ✭ ✮

I hope I’ve ruined everyone’s day. You think I would let the reader and Jason be happy together? You absolute baffoon. Maybe I’ll make a part three for gits and shiggles though. I’m not sure about this one. Definitely more based around their interactions than the drama unlike the first one. It was fun though. I hit the paragraph limit. I think I did a good job with the chemistry. I do apologize for giving the reader a real set in stone age though. I don’t like to to that because I think it takes away the point of having a ‘reader’. Also if you’re vegetarian please just eat a cheeseburger it’s so good y’all are weird. Oh and fun fact I just got a Red Hood tattoo on Saturday! Look at me go!

Tagging everyone who asked for a part ii: @yunho-leeknow @fyowyn-writes @martianmilfhunter @beardedfandiplomatprofessor

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Types of love - Jin Drabble ft Jungkook {fluff + angst} Housemate au

You hear a deep sigh beside you as you take out the laundry from the washing machine.

“Noona what are you doing?” Jungkook sounds exasperated with you and it’s only 7 in the morning.

“Jin’s got a meeting at 12, I told him I’d get his clothes ready for him,” you grin brightly at your youngest housemate.

“Why can’t Hyung do it?” He doesn’t return the smile.

“He wanted a lie in.”

There’s that sigh again but you ignore it, it made you feel a little shame that you tried to push down.

“Okay new question,” you could see him pinch the bridge of his nose from the coroner of your eye as you put the clothes in the dryer. “Why are you doing it?”

You shrug, “he’s been busy and I just though-”

“Noona,” cold judgy eyes came from the maknae.

“Kookie leave it, I’m doing it because I want to,” your sunny outlook on today was suddenly dampened by the annoying brat following you.

“He’s taking advantage of you and your feelin-”

“Kook I said leave it!”

You slam the door as you walk out.

——————————————————————————

It was no secret to anyone that you may have feelings for the oldest of your housemates, even though you’ve never ever said it out loud. Your actions spoke for you. You always went the extra mile due to your unrequited affection, but you didn’t mind, you were always taught to love without limits and you swore you did what you did without expecting anything in return. He was just so handsome and funny, you were happy just to be his friend, even if your heart hoped to be something more, you couldn’t help it. Maybe he did sometimes take a little advantage of you? But truly you were to blame for that and you took full responsibility.

You and Jin ignored the way Jungkook was staring daggers at him as you brought him his tea with some cakes to the table when he got back from a long day of work.

“How was work Jin?” You asked.

“Perks of being son of the CEO, everyone offered to do my work for me,” cue the windshield wiper laughter you loved to hear. “The new girl on my floor slipped me her number, it was a pretty good day.”

Your heart sank and with it your smile, you forced it to stay on as he rambled about his day and the pretty new girl, if they both could see your discomfort they didn’t say anything.

Jin wasn’t oblivious he just didn’t care, Jungkook on the other hand now watched your reactions like a hawk.

“It may not be the most professional thing to do as her potential new boss but I may have agreed to drinks Friday night,” he chortles, his spiel coming to an end.

“You’re not taking over the business any time soon Hyung, hold your horses,” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Wait Friday?” You suddenly speak after staying quiet. “Jin we’re all supposed to go for dinner Friday, we booked the table and everything.”

The three of you reserved dinner at the same place every year on the anniversary of you all moving in, it was an important night for you, you three were always so busy or tired so nights out were rare. Plus Jin was always so busy, he was either at work or at the gym or sleeping or out, the housemate anniversary was the only real time you got to spend with him.

“Y/n I think you missed the part of the story where I told you she was hot,” he argues with what he thinks is sound logic.

“Jin it’s the housemate anniversary, it’s sacred are you seriously ditching us for some random girl?”

“It’s not a big deal Y/n, hoes before bros you know?” he laughs at his own stupid joke and for the first time it irritates you a little.

“Not your bro Jin,” you grit your teeth.

“You might as well be Y/n, you’re not exactly the girliest girl ever,” he responds.

“Hyung,” Jungkook warns, finally butting in after watching your discussion like a tennis match.

You sit back in shock, did he seriously bro zone you? What the hell!

“Noona is pretty Hyung, stop being mean,” young Kookie comes to your defence when you fail to speak.

“Oh no I’m not saying she’s not, she’s just not my type,” why the hell was he talking about you like you weren’t there, he wasn’t even looking at you anymore. You sit deflated with you head low, biting back tears. Jin didn’t notice, when did he ever, Jungkook did.

“I think that’s enough.”

Jungkook was right, that was enough, you stood up to leave without uttering another word to them both. Once he heard your door close, Jungkook unleashed hell.

“What the hell hyung! Are you trying to upset her on purpose?” He seethed in a hush tone. “You know how she feels about you what the hell was that?”

“God Kookie don’t start on me it’s been a long day, it’s fun to pick on her a little, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you hurt her feelings,” Jungkook says a little louder still trying to control the rage he felt at the man sitting in nonchalance while he had his fists formed and jaws clenched. Jin shrugged his shoulders and Jungkook wondered what happened to his good friend, he was never like this before.

“Hyung you take advantage on her all the time, she literally does everything for you because she cares about you without expecting anything in return and you treat her like shit,” he explains, “it has to stop.”

“I don’t know why you’re lecturing me you brat,” Jin rolls his eyes, “I’m older than you by 5 years, learn some respect.”

Jungkook walked away before he laid his fist into his friend and lived to regret it, he didn’t realise you heard every word.

——————————————————————————

“Is he seriously not coming?”

It was stupid to hope that Jin would make an appearance while you both waited for him at home dressed and ready. He still hadn’t come from work... he finished two hours ago. You weren’t upset because you liked Jin, you were upset because you thought at least you meant something as a friend. Jin and Jungkook became what you thought were best friends for you, regardless of stupid feelings, you just thought they felt the same.

Jungkook stood next to your sitting form, moving his weight from foot to foot.

“I don’t think he is Noona, he said he wasn’t going to,” Jungkook sighed. “Why are we still waiting, we’re going to miss our reservation.”

He hated seeing you sad, if he could punch some sense into Jin he would, hell he’d punch him anyway for making you look so downcast. He sighs deeply again, throwing his head back in exasperation.

He kneels down in front of you, taking you hands into his as you look up slightly to meet his gaze. He has stars in his eyes, you think, why hadn’t you noticed before?

“Noona should we just cancel?” He asks delicately. “We can go get our pjs and order an Indian and have a stupid movie night.”

He was really trying to make things better you could feel it, your blatant emotions for his friend must’ve made him feel so uncomfortable but he’s still trying for you. You offer him a small smile.

“Sounds great Kookie,” you say sincerely.

——————————————————————————

“Oh my god are you kidding me!” Jungkook says half seriously yelling at you. “Iron man is way better than Batman.”

You laugh out so loud, you can’t remember the last time you felt like this.

“I didn’t mean it Koo,” you say between breaths of laughter. “You’re just so cute!”

He fights the red feeling blooming in his face as he pokes the inside of cheek with his tongue in faux annoyance. Jungkook was loving your impromptu movie night, it was the first time in forever you didn’t mention he who must not be named.

“That’s just cruel, you don’t joke about iron man, it’s blasphemy,” his words make you laugh harder and it makes him break out in a big grin, one that wipes away as you both hear the keys turn.

Jin was not expecting you both curled up on the sofa with take away containers on the coffee table when he walked home from a rather boring date. Your laughter dies in your throat before he even walked into the room, eyes boring into the tv. Jungkook keeps his arm around you in place, he felt warm and comfortable he didn’t want this feeling to end.

“Good date Hyung?” He doesn’t know why he asked when he could feel you stiffen in his hold.

“Yeah,” he says a little dazed at the sight in front of him. “did you guys not go out?”

“Nah we stayed in and had a iron man marathon,” the bunny teeth were out as he grinned.

“I lost Rock Paper Scissors,” you offered meekly. Why did you feel like you were cheating on Jin? That was ridiculous, you were not dating Jin and you were just friends with Jungkook, right? “Wanna join?”

He shakes his head, “no you guys look like you’re having fun, plus I’m a bit tired so I’m going to head to bed.”

You normally offer him some tea and cake at this point, but you stay silent, Jin tries not to read into why it makes his chest feel heavy with disappointment and something else he can’t quite figure out.

——————————————————————————

You were laughing loudly again, it was irritating the broad shouldered man to no end, he didn’t mind the sound honestly, he just hated the reason why you were in this state. Jungkook was making faces at you while you both cooked and honestly Jin couldn’t understand why you found it so funny.

“You look like a meme!” You chortle.

“Is dinner ready yet?” Jin interrupts.

“Patience Hyung,” Jungkook doesn’t break eye contact with you, still smiling brightly. He’s so pretty when he smiles, you felt like you hadn’t seen it for a while before your movie night.

“Are you two dating?” Jin slams his laptop shut in his outbreak, he didn’t mean to ask but it came out anyway. You nearly drop the plate you’re holding but Jungkook catches it before you let it go. Now your both holding a plate while staring at each other wide eyed, while Jin gawks at you both with a quiet anger simmering away inside of him.

Why are you both blushing furiously? Jungkook is the first to break away as he stares his Hyung down with his own anger.

“So what if we are?” He asks. “I don’t think it’s any of your business either way.”

“Jungkook...” you frown, you were not dating, why didn’t he just say no... why didn’t you just say no?

Jin scoffs, he couldn’t really say anything to that but it pissed him off.

“I didn’t realise you were into toy boys Y/n,” he jeers.

Now you were frowning at Jin as Jungkook started to shake with rage.

“I could treat her a lot better than you ever could,” he seethes back.

“You’re still a kid Jungkookie, Y/n always treats you like one,” did he seriously not hear the irony in his words?

“That’s enough!” It’s you that breaks up the inane argument. “Jungkook is not a kid Jin, just because he’s young and nice doesn’t make him any less of a man than you.”

They’re both shocked at your outburst.

“He’s been a wonderful friend to me for years, he’s always had my back, always looked out for me even when I was being a stupid idiot pining after you!”

The youngest of the trio can feel his chest full with warmth at your words and the way your glaring at the oldest with such disdain he never thought he’d see. Jin stays quiet at your onslaught starting to feel shame as he reflected on how he’s treated you through the years. He used to really adore you too, really appreciated everything you did for him but when everyone at work started treating him the same it became a normalcy, something expected instead of a gift.

“I’d be so lucky if Kookie dated me, although he’d be out of his mind to after how pathetic I’ve been, he’s the best guy I know, don’t speak to him like that.”

Jungkook can’t help the small smile fighting to turn the corners up on his mouth, Jin doesn’t miss the way he looks at you, full of love. You were an idiot not to see it, it had been there for a while.

“Noona, the pastas burning...”

You turn back to the stove feeling the heat in your face from your rant, you didn’t expect it from yourself to be honest. Jungkook stood beside you, mixing the sauce in the other pan while the room sat in silence.

He couldn’t help but steal glances at you, couldn’t help the hope in his heart build, maybe you felt the same way about him too. Maybe this is what redamancy feels like.

You try to sneak a peak at the man standing next to you, surprised to see his eyes already on you, you feel your heart stop for a second before it restarted anew.

You return his smile, you can’t help it.

[acetronaut]

Not usually up for these, but I’ll give it a go!

Name: you can call me A, Ace, or acetronaut

Pronouns and gender: she/her, I’ve also been trying out they/them but it doesn’t feel like sticking bc around; cis but don’t really feel an attachment to gender in a way I can’t really explain

Sexuality: Demi-asexual, also biromantic

Country: USA

Top 5 Fandoms: in no particular order and subject to (frequent) change:

1. Batman (especially Rogues, with the exception of Joker, all my homies hate Joker)

2. Sandman (mainly the show, though I do plan to read the comics) - Hob Gadling my beloved, his seemingly endless optimism and appreciation for life is aspirational

3. Disco Elysium (getting back into it bc my gf has gotten some of our friends to start playing it)

4. Good Omens - another one I’m getting back into, sooo hyped for season 2

5. Legend of Zelda - I don’t have tears of the kingdom yet but I’ve been replaying botw

Most forbidden snack: rubbery stuff. No notes

Would you pet a bug: depends on what bug it is, but. Usually No

A weird fact/story about myself: uhh I think I have an extra spleen? Or some similar organ. And I only found out a year and a half ago when my mom casually mentioned it in a conversation with family. I am an adult, wondering why I never knew about this earlier

What does blue taste like: idk the sugar water of blue otter pops?

Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen: that’s a rough one to answer, but I do like seeing really pretty sunsets, especially in scenic areas

Stupidest thing I’ve done: I’ll go with something in recent-ish memory that won’t be too bad for my anxiety to dwell on: (a) be entrusted with very sharp knife when cooking; (b) immediately cut finger trying to cut with said knife

Stupidest thing you’ve heard/seen someone do/say: I do road closure work for a local festival in the evenings (for noise pollution reasons, it’s in a busy part of town), this is my third year doing it, every year I still get people (most of them locals!) who think this is the first year the festival is closing the road

Hyperfixation song: Francesca by Hozier

Any meaning behind profile pic and username: I’m on the ace spectrum, I like space stuff, simple as that. As for profile pic, it’s an image I took when I went to the Omegamart in Vegas

Dream career as child: architect or translator

Dream career as an adult: working in theater (mainly from the technical side)

Thoughts on cilantro: I grew up in SoCal so while I don’t use it often I respect it, doesn’t taste like soap to me

Have I ever been banned from a location: not that I know of

Cursed food combination: idk, does pineapple on pizza count

Trans rights? Absolutely! I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t support them, given that my gf is trans

Ibid on forgoing tagging, join in if you feel like it!

@churromancermasterofchurros @dyinggoosenoises

Thanks for introducing me to this!

Name: You can call me Justin!

Pronouns and gender: I'm a man! He/him is fine.

Sexuality: Honestly, not sure. At this point I'd probably say bisexual. Is that a dumb answer?

Country: US

Top 5 fandoms: Hard question. Probably:

I love the Arcane Ascension novels recently.

Avatar-TLA is an obvious choice!

The SCP Foundation has taken up hours of my time.

The TTRPG community.

I'm throwing in the tumblr wizards here because that shit jives with me for some reason

What is your Most forbidden snack:

Sometimes I smell the cat treats and I get the urge to shove fistfulls into my mouth.

Would you pet a bug: I have pet bugs before.

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class:

I have like three eyebrow hairs that will seemingly grow infinitely long if I don't fucken handle them. Also I eat the tails of shrimp too.

What does the color blue taste like: The blue ICEE/Slurpees.

What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen:

I love when the sunset hits the mountains and you can see rainclouds in the distance. It's one of my favorite vibes. Look at my blog's banner for reference.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done:

I locked my keys in the car like twice in one week once. I know there are stupider things but my brain must be repressing them now.

Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say:

I don't even know what to pick seeing as I worked in retail for most of my life. Probably any time a parent would let their kid try to pet the large birds at the pet store I worked at. Those things can amputate fingers.

Hyperfixation song: Currently it is Love's Not Enough by Lane and the Chain

Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username:

Username is a portmanteau of a portion of my name and the word 'hermit.' My profile picture is of the plague doctor costume I made!

Dream career as a child: Veterinarian. Turns out you have to cut and stab things.

Dream career as an adult: Probably like successful Twitch Streamer or something. They make bank.

Thoughts on cilantro: I don't even know anymore. I thought I liked it but the last few times I ate it it tasted bitter. So yes I guess? Maybe I got a bad batch.

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why: Uh, not in real life but I was banned by the gamefaqs Pokemon Mystery Dungeon forum because I posted I was 12 like an idiot.

What is your cursed food combination:

I used to put mayo in a slice of bologna and roll it up like some sort of fucked up taquito.

Trans rights? Um, duh! Live your life, people. It has no bearing on mine. I wish I could give everyone struggling a hug. I have a few trans friends/relatives and seeing what they go through breaks my heart sometimes.

And instead of tagging people, if you follow me and you see this, feel free to reblog with your answers. I'd love to read them. :)

[squishneedsahero]

Family First

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 10 of 13

Word Count: 1963

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

You leaned against Bruce's chest as he sat at the desk in the Bat-Cave working on the the computer on who knows what, at this point it was easier to not ask unless it seemed to be upsetting him. You weren't paying any attention to what he was doing, you were busy trying to come up with the plan as to how you would be able to get to know Damian since he seemed to try and avoid you every way he could. He had been down here helping Bruce until you came down then he suddenly had to go upstairs for some unknown reason and hadn't come back. As you sit in his lap you tilt your head so that you can look at his face.

You just sit there taking in all his features like you hadn't already see his face a million times. Eventually he pauses long enough to look down at you a soft smile on his lips. You smile back and sit up just enough to cup his cheek and give him a kiss. "What's going on with you my love?" he asks.

"What do you mean? Am I not allowed to hang out with you?"

"Thats not what I meant," he presses kiss to your forehead, "you're being unusually quiet for yourself. Is there something on your mind you'd like to talk about?"

"Mmm," you hum and sit up to face him, one leg on either side of his body, "actually there is." You have a serious look come onto your face, "Damian is definitely your child. He is so so so stubborn," you say kissing him with every 'so' with a short laugh as you finish.

"Is there a reason thats bothering you?"

"Yes. He is so stubborn that the only way I know would work for me to get through to him is by arguing with him, like I did when a certain someone tried to break up with me," you say with a pointed look at him while wrapping an arm over his shoulders and pulling yourself closer to him.

"You really meant it when you said that you wouldn't be letting that go anytime soon, huh? How many years have we been married now?"

You smirk at him and say, "only six, and you should have known I keep my promises," you kiss him again. "The reason it's bothering me though is because I don't want to argue with him and make feel like I'm going to treat him how he was while he was with the league."

"Well, my dear," he began as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tighter against him, "I don't think you, or anything you do could be ever confused for anything similar to what the league does or treated him," a kiss on your lips. "But I understand your worry, i warned you it'll take him some time to get adjusted-"

"I know, I know, but don't you dare tell me to be patient. I've been with you this long after all, I know it takes patience but you saw him leave the room as soon as he saw me. If he doesn't give me even the chance I can't use patience to help him on his way," you state simply.

"Do you have any ideas for how you'd like to try and fix that? I can tell you've been think about it a lot," as he says this one of his hands travels up your back, and he begins to gently trace your spine with his fingers, while his other arm remains where it is to keep you close to him.

"Actually, I do, pause for effect," you say out loud, "how do you feel about taking a break from this for about a week?" You ask tilting your head back just enough to gesture towards what he'd been working on before.

"I guess things are slow enough right now and the GCPD seems to have it covered it wouldn't be that big of a deal, why?"

"Well, I figured if we went on a vacation to a cabin in the woods it would be harder for him to hide from me. Especially if we get the other kids to come and we have family time, at your request," you say giving him a look, "at least tell Damian that it's something you want because we both know he wouldn't listen if it was me asking."

"Very well, y/n my love, that sounds like something we could manage to work out," he gives you one more kiss before returning to work as you settle in his lap gain.

A little over a week later you were holding your husband's hand as you, him and your three boys and three girls took a walkthrough the forrest, as the sun was beginning to set.

"You ever wonder," you muse, "if theres a reason people began telling those creepy stories about the woods? Because with everything else life has thrown at us I personally would not be surprised is there was an axe murdering ghost with a hook for a hand that haunted these woods and took it out on couples because his girl friend dumped him and he died from a being a little bitch who can't take no for an answer."

"Tt."

"I thought we were trying to have a nice quiet vacation mom, without axe murderer ghosts," Dick cuts in with a laugh.

"We are, but I'm a writer who's family is always in danger and you're expecting me to not think about the possibility of.m being killed by ghosts?" You retort to your eldest son.

"Is this going to be one of those mom lessons?" Dick sighs as he tilts his head back like a little kid.

You laugh, "sure, since you seem so excited about the idea of ghosts being one of those mom lessons." You pause a moment and think, looking at Bruce who had his arm around you, "what's that thing you always say? About the no surprises?"

"If you're prepared no situation will surprise you when it arrises," Bruce finishes the statement for you.

"Alright, so that. You need to be prepared so axe murdering ghosts don't kill you." Another pause, "it might just be a dumb thought but if I know all of you, and I do, my guess is all of you have thought of at least one way to try and take down a ghost if one suddenly appeared."

You raise an eyebrow and look at each of your kids, adopted or not, as though challenging them to tell you their thoughts on the matter. But before any of them can answer you turn to Damian, "what about you Damian? I'm sure with your many talents you'd be able to easily take down a ghost. How would you do it?"

"Tt," he sounds off but stays quiet, you watch him and you can see in the way he purses his lips and scrunches his eyebrows a little that he's thinking. He's so much like Bruce, if he wasn't then you'd have no idea how to read him. You want so badly to give him a hug, as you see nothing but a little Bruce in front of you, but know that isn't his thing so you keep your distance.

Finally he comes up with his answer to your question, "there are plenty of couples here so I wouldn't have to worry about the ghost coming after me, so I would just have to leave and the ghost would go after one of you fools."

You smile and laugh gently, "That works, I'd be more than happy to distract the ghost so each of you can get away safely."

He gives you a suspicious look, as if he thought you would leave him for dead. But you move on, asking Tim how he would fight a ghost and letting Damian think what he wants too about your answer.

It's almost midnight and you're sitting on the deck of the cabin you had rented sipping some hot chocolate and reading a book. The kids were playing video games together inside and Bruce had fallen asleep on the other half of the oversized chair you were on and was leaning across your lap as one of your hands absentmindedly ran through his hair.

When you hear the cabin door open and close quietly behind you glance up from your book to see Damian coming outside. He has a stoic look on his face and he takes a place in the seat across from you. You give him a soft smile and resume reading your book.

"Tt."

You look up again and he's just watching you, you smile reassuringly at him.

After another few minutes, you hear him ask quietly, "Why would you say that earlier? You would clearly be killed by the ghost and stand the least chance of surviving."

You stick a finger in your book to mark your place and look up at him. Theres a soft look on your facd as you look at him to answer his question. "Damian, that's what a mother does. Even if she knows she won't survive she will do anything to protect her family," you say without a single hesitation.

"Mother said you were only here because of father's money. But earlier you said you'd sacrifice yourself for us to get away, even me."

You raise an eyebrow slightly and smile gently at him, "I did say that Damian, and I meant every word of it, it doesn't matter to me if we are blood or not. The moment you decided you were staying with your father, you became my son too and that means I'm going to do whatever I can to keep you safe."

He nods slightly and leans back in his seat and looks away from you. You think the conversation is over until he speaks again, "y/n, why would you do that?"

"Any mother's child should come first it is as simple as that," you say and he nods once more before standing and going back inside.

As soon as he's gone a huge smile breaks across your face, that was the longest conversation you'd had with him and your week long vacation was almost up. You had been beginning to worry that you plan wasn't going to work but now you felt your heart swell with even more love for the small boy.

You move to pick your book back up but you're interrupted by a kiss on your neck, which was the only spot Bruce could conveniently reach without moving from his comfortable position.

"You heard that didn't you?" you say more than ask.

"Yes, and it seems like your patience is beginning to work," he says a soft smile on his lips and you can't help but give him a peck on the forehead.

When you all arrive home from your vacation Damian is no longer intentionally avoiding you. He doesn't speak to you still but he at least stays in the same room as you. It's not much but its a step in the right direction.

While you had been on your way home the evening before there had been some odd reports coming in from around Gotham. There was another Vigilante in town, but this one was different from your husband, they killed to reach their goal. The GCPD had given him the nick name of Redhood, seeing as he was only ever seen with a red helmet on that covered his face. And Bruce was determined to find out why he was killing everyone who got in his way so needlessly not caring how many fatalities there were.

[dukethomas]

Summary: Duke’s parents recover and come home. Written for Duke Week 2021 Day Six: Family Bonding.

I was going to write something angstier for this prompt, but it actually turned into just the comfort part of hurt/comfort. Sometimes I need a good cry about something good happening to characters I love.

Also read it here on AO3!

-

His parents were back.

His parents were back, and Duke could cry and cry and cry forever. He sobbed into his mom’s shoulder for who knows how long when he saw them. His mom pat his back—he was taller than her now—and murmured to him, “It’s okay, baby bird. We’re here.”

The use of the nickname he hadn’t heard since he was in elementary school made him sob harder.

His mom and his dad were, were okay, their mouths weren’t contorted into unnatural grins and they didn’t carry that gleam of hatred and they said they were so sorry and they loved him so much and wow, hadn’t he grown up so much—he turned out to be the spitting image of his mother, didn’t he think?

Duke didn’t think he’d ever stop crying.

“I missed you,” he blubbered. “I missed you every day, I swear, I tried so hard to find a cure or something—”

His dad smiled at him, softly, tears in the corners of his eyes. “And you did. We’re right here, Duke. You brought us back.”

He had to call Jay to pick them up, because his parents no longer had licenses and Duke didn’t trust his hands to not shake in the full force of his joy.

-

In the days that followed, Duke didn’t go out as the Signal. How could he? This all felt like a fever dream; he’d been wanting this for so long. If he didn’t spend every waking moment with his parents, he feared they could revert back to what they were, and it would be a dream after all.

Jay took a few days off of work, and Duke called in sick for a few days at school. The Thomas family glowed with genuine grins, because they were whole. They spent the time catching his mom and dad up on what they missed, and having fun playing games or going out the rest of the time. To his dad’s chagrin, Duke had gotten much better at chess, but no one could beat his mom at Monopoly.

Then life came crashing down around them. Jay had to go to work, Duke had to go back to school, and his parents needed to begin a new chapter of their lives. Unbeknownst to Jay and his parents, Duke skipped his first day back at school to chase down a string of thefts he’d read about in the news.

He could never stay away from Signal for long. Gotham needed him, needed all the help it could get.

It wasn’t a difficult case, by any means. Mad Hatter was about as subtle as a barge. Still, Duke embraced the thrill of hunting them down, as the trail of clues led him right towards a newly opened costume store, Wonderland Haberdashery.

Again. Subtle as a barge.

“What are we waiting for?” a man dressed as a giant white rabbit complained.

The dormouse next to him shushed him loudly. She hissed, “The boss’ signal.”

Duke took that as his cue. He launched into action, running forward with a well-timed punch to the rabbit’s face. “You’ve got one right here.” (Those jokes never got old.)

He let himself loose, using all of his training as well as his own metahuman power to demolish his way through the storybook-themed goons. He couldn’t fight the grin on his face; he was having too much fun. His heart reached a thunderous frenzy in his ears and he loved every second of it. These guys couldn’t touch him.

When the time came to knock out Jervis Tetch himself, Duke obliged with glee. He’d just finished tying him to the wall when his phone buzzed with a notification.

It was three, school was over, and he should be heading home. His parents should be home.

His parents were home. It still felt surreal.

He ran into Jay’s apartment and kicked off his shoes faster than he ever had when doing a superheroic change of clothes.

“Hey Mom! Hey Dad! I’m home!” he called. When he heard no response, a chill went down his spine, and he rushed to the living room. There, his parents sat on the couch, fixated on the TV. The news channel was on, talking about an altercation at—oh.

It was talking about him.

“That’s you,” his mom said without turning back to look at him.

A wad of bile as large as a stone formed in his throat. He knew Bruce probably had contingencies for if anyone guessed his identity. Deny it, prove that he was in school, get a shapeshifter to pose as Signal in the same room as him. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Yeah.” He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lie to his parents. “Are you upset?”

He’d imagined this scenario many times. What would his parents say about his vigilantism? He was risking his life every time he was out there, and no parent would want that, but he was helping Gotham. He was helping Gotham’s people, just like they had taught him to do.

“Let me take a look at you,” his mom told him, beckoning him towards the couch. Duke listened, sitting in between his mom and dad. His mom cupped his face with her rough hands, and he leaned into the touch. “It’s dangerous,” she murmured; Duke squeezed his eyes shut.

A firm arm reached around his shoulders, holding him tight. His dad. “But you’re happy,” he said.

Duke nodded, his chin trembling.

They dwelled in a moment’s pause, until he was being hugged from both sides. Duke opened his eyes to see his parents with faint smiles. “We couldn’t be there for you,” said his mom, “but you found yourself.”

“I did,” Duke whispered, crying for the millionth time this week. “I did.”

“We’re so, so unbelievably proud of the person you’ve grown up to be, baby bird. We just wish… we just wish we could have been here to see it happen.”

-

His parents laid down some ground rules. No more skipping school unless he had all his assignments done and he had straight A’s. He had to be home for dinner, and after sundown he was off his shift. He could join night shift with the other Bats only twice a week in a limited capacity, and he had to go to sleep before midnight on school nights. And he would tell Jay his secret.

That had been the hardest one. Duke could barely get the words out, suddenly filled with shame for not telling Jay earlier.

But as it turned out, Jay already suspected it. “I’m no genius, but you’re disappearing constantly. I can never find you. Wayne takes you out of Gotham all the time. That’s not just an internship, Duke.” His jaw hardened. “But don’t think that I’m going to be the cool cousin now and let you break any of those new rules your parents set. Safety first.”

Duke rolled his eyes and hugged him. “Love you, man.”

“Love you too, rascal.”

He had to let Bruce know. He’d been keeping in touch with Bruce throughout all of this, but sparingly. He got the vibe that Bruce was keeping his distance out of respect for him and his parents.

Well, no more of that. Duke shot off a text to Bruce to let him know he was coming, then pocketed his phone. “Hey, Mom? Dad? You wanna ride with me on my motorcycle to Wayne Manor?”

He wouldn’t have actually done it (it was too big of an identity risk), but it was worth it to see his parents’ briefly stunned looks before his dad started chasing him with a noogie at the ready.

Jay drove them all to Wayne Manor. His mom and dad walked out of the car tentatively, scrutinizing their surroundings. Duke fidgeted with his shirt, wondering what they thought. For all intents and purposes, this was his home, if only for a little over a year.

Duke rang the doorbell, ready to greet Alfred, but it was Bruce who opened the door for once. The way he held himself struck Duke. It wasn’t extravagant and flighty like Brucie, nor grim and tense like Batman. Duke’s family were some of the very few to see Bruce Wayne as he really was, without a persona.

“You took Duke in while we were… unavailable,” his mom said before Bruce could say hello.

“Yes,” replied Bruce calmly, wearing something on his face Duke didn’t often see. Vulnerability. Anxiety .

His dad held out his hand. “Doug Thomas. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our boy.”

���It was a pleasure.” Bruce shook Duke’s dad’s hand. “Duke was a delight to mentor and guide. I’m glad he has you both back.”

Duke grinned. “He says I’m a delight but he didn’t think so every time I snuck out of the Manor to track down a lead.”

“You were supposed to be on bed rest.”

“And I rested, in a bed, after I solved the case! I do it every night when I sleep—that’s working overtime on bed rest, Bruce.”

“And you won’t be pulling any of that with us, young man,” his mom told him in a stern tone.

Duke quickly made his eyes as wide, pleading, and innocent as possible. He would never, he was about to say, when Bruce told them to come in.

“A better man than I expected him to be,” his dad said once Bruce had moved far enough he wouldn't hear. His mom hummed in agreement. “And Duke, you felt safe with him?”

Duke snorted. “Define safe.”

“Smartass,” Jay muttered, behind the three of them. He’d been through the tour already. He had a begrudging respect for Bruce, but he wasn’t impressed.

“And who taught me to do that, ever since I was a little kid?”

Duke yelped as he dodged a smack from Jay. “I’m fragile, don’t hurt me!”

“You’re not fragile,” said the amused voice coming from down the hall. Cass, here because Duke asked her to be. Because he wanted his family to meet his family.

“Oh! Mom, Dad, Jay, this is Cass.” He dragged them over to meet her. “She’s like… she’s my sister.”

Cass nodded, observing Duke’s family. “Good to meet you.”

At his parents’ confused glance, he told them, “When you were gone, I made new friends, but I also found new family. Cass isn’t your daughter or Jay’s cousin, but she’s my sister.” In his chest, he felt a weight alleviate, one he hadn’t even been aware of. “Wait until you meet Damian. Remember how I always wanted a baby brother when I was a kid, but you guys kept telling me that I was enough of a handful?”

As he kept introducing his parents to the family he made, he felt a warmth grow within him, tickling his ribs, infecting his lungs. It was like he couldn’t do anything but beam from ear to ear, now that he had almost everyone important in his life gathered together. (He would introduce them to Izzy, Riko, and the rest of the Robins soon.)

His family had been shattered, but Duke had picked up the pieces and created something new. And it could never be the way it was, but that was okay. Duke was happy with his family the way it was now.

His parents were home; all his family was home. Duke couldn’t be happier.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Only Friend

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader [Robin!Jason Todd]

Summary: Gotham mourned for Robin. But who mourned for Jason Todd? Y/F/N Y/L/N wasn’t just another one of Jason Todd’s friends. She was his only friend.  

Word Count: 7,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, Death, Loss, Grief

Y/N didn’t know what time it was. She hadn’t opened the blinds in her room for days. And she didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon. In fact, she didn’t plan on getting out of bed anytime soon.

She heard a knock on her bedroom door. From the sound alone, she knew it was her mother.

“Y/N, dear. Can I come in?”

She wanted to say, ‘No.’ She wanted to say, ‘Go away.’ But Y/N didn’t even have the energy to do that. So she just laid still with the covers over her shoulders and said nothing. 

Her mom slowly opened the door.

Y/N’s family had been tiptoeing around her since it happened. They didn’t know how to handle the situation. Most parents don’t expect for their daughter’s best friend to die. No child should have to face grief like this.

But Y/N had no choice.

Because Jason Todd was dead.

“Hi, honey,” Y/N’s mother cooed as she walked into the room. Then she placed a plate of food on her nightstand. “I brought you something to eat.”

Y/N didn’t even so much as look at her mother, just continued to stare off into nothing.

“Is it alright if I open of your blinds and windows. I think you could use some fresh air.”

Y/N gave what appeared to be a half shrug, barely visible underneath the thick covers.

But her mother seemed relieved, it was starting to smell musty in the room.

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Y/N’s face. “The funeral’s tomorrow.”

Y/N’s eyes finally looked up at her mother – desperate and scared. “Do I have to go?”

“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t, honey. You deserve your chance to say goodbye. Your father and I will be there with you.”

Then Y/N closed her eyes and burst into tears. “I had a dream about him last night. And I woke up and remembered–” she had to pause to catch her breath. “I-I-I remembered he’s g-gone.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom whispered as she pulled Y/N into her arms. “I know you miss him. I know. He was your best friend.”

Y/N pulled away and looked up at her mom. “He was my only friend,” she corrected.

———

Jason Todd was sitting at a lunch table by himself and reading when someone slammed their tray down across from him. His eyes flickered up in a glare, already expecting someone to try and pick a fight with him or something.

But instead he found a girl standing above him, smirking down at him.

No, not just any girl, the prettiest girl in their grade. No one else at this stupid school seemed to think so. But that just further proved Jason’s theory that everyone here were idiots.

“Hi,” she said confidently.

“H-Hi?” Jason stuttered back.

“I’m sitting with you,” she announced as she sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

Jason finally smirked and remained confused. “I know who you are…”

“You’ve never talked to me, so how was I supposed to know?” Y/N said back. “And you’re Jason Todd.”

“Yes?” He responded.

Y/N laughed at his confusion.

Jason Todd wasn’t popular. There was a disconnect between him and his peers. The kids at Gotham Academy were trust-fund babies and spoiled brats. They were such snobs that there were even cliques separating the kids who came from old money from those who came from new money. It all seemed ridiculous after literally starving in the slums of the city. 

Jason Todd wasn’t a rebel. He didn’t lash out or let his inability to connect to the other students make him feel down. Ask any teacher who had him and they would say he was a straight-A student and he never once caused trouble in their class. He was always polite and respectful, responsible and well-behaved.

Jason Todd wasn’t bullied. Maybe it was a vibe he gave off, but somehow the other kids knew not to mess with him. Jason came to school with a black eye once, and he always wondered if it freaked them all out enough to never try to mess with him – not that they would ever stand a chance against him.

In regards to the middle school hierarchy, Jason was nobody.

Because Jason Todd wasn’t really a kid. He just had the misfortune of also not being an adult yet.

He was just a poor punk from the Narrows, who just happened to try and steal the tires off the car of Gotham’s notorious vigilante. He didn’t belong at this snobby prep school.

But going to school was one of Bruce’s demands after making Jason his new Robin.

Jason just didn’t know how to make a convincing argument for why he didn’t need social interactions with kids his own age.

“Is this some kind of dare?” Jason asked Y/N.

She froze her eating and scoffed at him. “You’ve watched too many bad teen movies. What kind of asshole would I be to do something like that?”

But Jason still looked around the cafeteria, expecting to find a table full of people watching this interaction and trying to hide their giggles.

Y/N finally slammed down her food, sat back, and crossed her arms. “People at this school suck.”

“Uhh…OK?”

“I saw you reading Pride & Prejudice the other week. And you were wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt yesterday. You helped pick up Jill’s stuff when her backpack ripped open, while everyone else just laughed.” She paused. But Jason waited. “What I’m saying is that I’ve decided that you don’t suck.”

“Oh,” Jason blurted out.

“Do you honestly think anyone at this school even knows who Jane Austen is? And some dude in my English class tried to tell me Nickelback was his favorite band.”

Jason laughed at that. “How did you even respond to that?”

“I asked him if he was fucking with me and then the teacher yelled at me for swearing. And I told her, ‘How am I supposed to react to a Nickelback fan without using profanities?’”

Jason laughed again.

That was how Jason and Y/N became best friends. That was all it took.

Jason would soon find out that Y/N didn’t belong here just as much as him. She didn’t come from money – just your normal, middle-class suburban family. She’d won a full-ride scholarship to Gotham Academy, which was impressive since they only handed out one per grade.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne made one 30-second call and Jason was accepted – no questions asked.

Y/N was rather mature for her age, but it wasn’t the product of being Batman’s sidekick and fighting the criminals of Gotham City.

—

Any second Jason had to be a normal kid was spent hanging out with Y/N. Jason was at Y/N’s house all the time, loving Y/N’s parents and envious of the stable home Y/N got to grow up in.

It took awhile for Jason to feel comfortable inviting Y/N to the manor, despite Alfred saying he was welcome to have friends over whenever he wished. Jason eventually got over his embarrassment. While Y/N seemed in awe of Wayne Manor, the evidence of Jason’s wealth didn’t make her treat him any different. They mostly hung out in Jason’s room anyways. Or in the kitchen when Alfred made them snacks.

While they were at school, they always ate lunch together and walked to classes shoulder-to-shoulder any chance they got. They only needed each other.

They ignored everyone else. And in return, everyone else left them alone.

For the most part.

—

Jason should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the commotion on his way to third period.

When he heard kids start chanting “Fight!” his gut somehow knew Y/N was involved.

Jason shoved his way through the thick circle that was surrounding the drama.

He reached the opening just in time to see Y/N tackle a boy named Parker to the ground. The crowd gasped, not actually expecting them to actually go through with violence. Then Y/N lifted her fist and landed a punch to Parker’s face.

But Jason quickly stepped forward and pulled Y/N off.

“He’s not worth it, Y/N.”

Recognizing the voice of her best friend, Y/N allowed him to pull her away.

“Gonna let your boyfriend pull you away?” Parker yelled out.

Y/N whipped back toward him, but Jason wrapped his arms around her and held her back. “Y/N, leave it!”

“I’m not the one with the a black eye and bloodied nose, asshole!” Y/N screamed, only half fighting Jason’s hold. “Next time, I’ll kick you so hard in your tiny dick that you won’t be able to have kids.”

Jason managed to drag her through the halls with a vice-like grip on her hand.

Y/N scoffed at his efforts, “Where are you even taking me?”

“We’re ditching class.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Jason knew exactly what exit didn’t have an alarmed rigged to it or any video surveillance. He also grabbed a cellphone in his back pocket and started to type frantically.

“You have a cellphone! What? Since when? My parents said I can’t get one until high school,” Y/N groaned enviously.

Little did she know, Jason had set up an AI system that would call the school with Bruce’s voice and leave a recording about how Jason needed to be dismissed from school. It was perfect for Bat emergencies. 

He had added Y/N’s parents voices to the algorithm a few months ago, having a hunch it would come in handy.

As soon as they were a safe distance away from the school, Y/N let go of Jason’s hand and walked slightly ahead of him.

With their freedom secured, Jason could focus on Y/N now.

“What did he do?” He asked her gently.

Y/N was smart and calculated. If she’d picked a fight with someone, Jason knew it had to have been caused by something serious.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Jason rushed forward and stopped her walking. “Hey, come on. It’s me you’re talking to…”

Y/N nodded, knowing he was right. They told each other everything, or so she thought.

Her eyes went to the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “We were in health class. Today was the unfortunate lesson for learning male and female anatomy. Mrs. Martin started talking about…” Y/N hesitated. “She started talking about boobs. Said something about when girls start seeing a change.”

“And?” Jason urged softly.

“Parker chimed in and said, ‘Or if you’re Y/L/N… never.’”

Embarrassed by her confession, Y/N started walking again – quicker, this time.

Jason jogged to catch up to her. “Fuck him. Only a loser asshole would say something like that.”

“Well…he’s probably right.”

Jason shrugged. “Who cares?”

This time Y/N stopped walking. “You don’t get it,” she snapped. “Every girl in our grade is growing up. And I still have the chest of a boy. My mom won’t even let me buy a bra because she says I don’t need it yet.”

Jason was speechless. 

To be honest, he had never really noticed. Y/N wore baggy band t-shirts or flannels all the time. He wasn’t exactly studying her silhouette when they hung out. But he never imagined that Y/N would be bothered by something like that.

“Sometimes I’d just like to…I don’t fucking know…feel like a girl.” She paused. “A pretty girl,” she emphasized.

Jason stared into her eyes. “You are a pretty girl.”

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “J, you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in our grade, Y/N.”

That caught her off guard. He’d never said anything like that to her before. 

Sure, Jason said nice things to her. But it was usually him complimenting her taste in music or thanking her for showing him a new book he loved. But he’d never called her pretty before.

Jason, worried that he’d exposed himself, pulled her to him so he could give her a noogie. And the moment was broken.

“Jason! I think I’ve proved today that I will hit a bitch!”

He just laughed and playfully shoved her away. “Come on. I’ll buy you one of those embarrassing frappuccinos from Starbucks.”

“Excuse you! They’re not embarrassing. They’re delicious.”

Jason could tell Y/N didn’t want to talk about the fight anymore. So he thought distracting her was the next best thing. 

And, by some miracle, they returned to school the next day without any punishment.

But Jason wasn’t done yet.

Parker didn’t realize he was messing with Robin’s best friend.

Jason was patient. He waited for the precise moment when Parker would be alone.

A week after the fight, Parker turned the corner of an empty hallway and jumped when he nearly ran into Jason.

“What do you want, Todd?”

Jason took a step toward him and lowered his voice, “If you ever say anything like that to Y/N again – or to any girl, for that matter – I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you.”

Parker side eyed him. “Yeah, right.”

Without hesitating, Jason reached forward, grabbed Parkers palm, and snapped the index finger of his dominant hand.

Parker let out a screech of pain and fell to his knees.

Jason kneeled down to whisper in his ear, “No witnesses. No cameras. And I’m actually in gym class right now, running the mile. No one will believe you.”

Parker looked up at Jason like he was a madman.

Jason smiled and patted him on the head. “Remember what I said.”

After that, Parker never even so much as looked in Y/N’s direction.

—

Jason and Y/N looked out for each other, protected each other

And Jason may have kept his other life of Robin from her, but Y/N seemed to already sense that there was something Jason was hiding. It wasn’t just something, it was dark.

When Y/N started noticing bruises and cuts on Jason’s body, she grew concerned. But she wanted to observe and think of all the possibilities before she ever brought it up.

Then one day at her house, she made a joke and slapped Jason playfully on the back.

He hissed uncontrollably and his entire body froze.

“Jason?” Y/N asked with concern.

“I’m fine. You just surprised me and knocked the wind out of me,” Jason said hurriedly.

But Y/N wasn’t stupid. She quickly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it up so she could see his back.

“JASON! What the fuck!” She gasped in horror as she saw the bruises scattered across his skin. She had never seen anything like it. 

“Shh!” Jason tried to calm her to stop her parents from coming in and then having her immediately showing them too.

“What happened?” Y/N whispered, her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Y/N. I promise.”

“You’re not fine. And this isn’t the first time,” Y/N countered. “You think you do a good job of hiding them, but I see the other bruises and cuts, Jason. And don’t think I don’t notice how often you skip school because your ‘sick.’”

Jason stayed quiet. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her. It could put her in danger. And if Bruce ever found out, he’d put a stop to the whole thing. Jason would never be Robin ever again.

“He does it,” Y/N whispered.

Jason blinked. “Who?”

“Bruce,” she clarified. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. He knew Y/N was weary of his adoptive father. She noticed how absent he was from Jason’s life, then took note of how cold he was when he was present. But her theory made perfect sense. And if the roles were reversed, Jason probably would’ve come to the same conclusion.

“Y/N, Bruce has never hurt me.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to protect him. And you don’t have to take his shit. I knew something was off about him ever since I met him. But I didn’t think it was this.”

“Y/N…” Jason began.

“Does Alfred know?” She couldn’t imagined him every letting something like this happen if he did. Y/N had grown to love Alfred almost as much as Jason.

“There’s nothing for him to know, Y/N.” Jason laughed. “I was trying to walk across the railing above the great hall and fell and landed on my back. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed, OK?”

He knew from Y/N’s face that she wasn’t convinced. But she also knew not to push someone who was in the position she thought Jason was.

But to his horror, tears started falling.

“I just…I want you know that I’d do anything for you. You can live here! My parents love you and they’d take you in! Or-or-or we can run away together – just you and me.”

Jason hated seeing her cry. She rarely ever did it. And to know he was the cause made him feel sick.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled her into a hug.

“I’m OK, Y/N. Promise. You don’t have to worry about me. Please don’t cry.”

“We just have to steal some of the stupid jewelry he has laying around and we’d be set for life,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Jason laughed and pulled away. “Bruce took me in. Gave me a better life. He’s protected me. I know you don’t believe me, but the bruises aren’t because of him.”

Y/N wiped the tears away sloppily and nodded, but they both knew that Y/N didn’t believe him.

Y/N didn’t look at Bruce the same since that day. Not that she spent a lot of time around him.

But Bruce shared a look with Jason when he received the first very harsh glare from the pre-teen girl. It ended with a very uncomfortable conversation between Bruce and Jason where the boy explained what theory Y/N had come to.

Though Bruce said very little in response, he was wracked with guilt. To learn that someone thought he had the potential to behold the evil he tried so hard to eradicate in the world? It made Bruce sick to his stomach.

———

Now Y/N stood with her head hung low, in a crowd dressed in black.

These people didn’t know Jason Todd. Maybe they played the part of mourning funeral goer well. But Y/N saw their performances still.

The only people Y/N recognized were Bruce Wayne, Alfred, and Jason’s older brother, Dick Grayson. She’d never met him before, only seen pictures of him around the manor. Jason always seemed disappointed when Y/N brought Dick up or tried to ask about him. Y/N got the impression that he wasn’t all that great of a brother to Jason. Especially when it was obvious Jason looked up to him and was desperate for some sort of fraternal relationship.

Y/N looked up at her mother when the priest was finished with whatever he was saying. His words were impersonal, sullied by religion, and did nothing to comfort Y/N. He didn’t even say one thing about what made Jason so great. 

“Can we go now?” She whispered to her mother.

She patted Y/N’s back. “There’s a gathering inside the house now. We should say our condolences to Mr. Wayne and Alfred.”

Y/N frowned at that. The last person she wished to talk to was Bruce Wayne.

She had been watching the man through the entire service. He was stoic and collected. There didn’t seem to be any sadness to be found in his eyes.

The longer Y/N watched him, the angrier she became.

“Please, let’s just go,” Y/N begged her mother.

People were making there way into the manor now and weren’t paying any attention to a girl, despite the fact that she was the best and only friend of the boy they were pretending to mourn.

Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Honey, don’t you want to say hi to Alfred. I’m sure it would make him happy to see you.”

Y/N knew her mother was right. She could do that for Alfred. Plus, he gave the best hugs, and Y/N could sure use one of them right now.

They waited in a sort of informal line. Y/N wanted to hit everyone in front of them as she was forced to listen to their empty and rehearsed sympathies. Bruce didn’t say much in return, simply thanking each of them.

But when Y/N and her parents were finally up, Bruce Wayne’s expression shifted.

It was the first time Y/N saw any sort of emotion from the man. He looked heartbroken at the sight of Y/N, who’s hand was tightly gripping her mothers.

Bruce, standing at 6’2, knelt down to be at Y/N’s eye level.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greeted quietly so no one lingering around them could hear.

Y/N only glared at him. 

If she were being honest, she was surprised he even remembered her name. 

But Bruce continued. “Thank you for coming today. I’m sure the past few days haven’t been easy for you.”

Then he cleared his throat. And Y/N’s brow furrowed at the sound. Was he trying to hold back tears? No, that couldn’t be possible.

“I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Jason. He talked about you all the time. I’m glad he had someone like you in his life.”

Y/N felt nauseous at how genuine Bruce Wayne’s words sounded. His eyes were even more sincere.

What happened to the cold and distance man she’d had little to no interaction with?

‘He has an audience now,’ Y/N told herself. ‘He knows everyone’s watching. He’s performing just like the rest of them.’

“What did you do to him?” Y/N finally whispered to him.

Where she got the courage to speak to an adult in such a way, she had no idea – especially one as powerful as Bruce Wayne.

Bruce tensed at her question. Was that hurt in his eyes?

“Y/N!” Her mother hissed down at her.

“It was you. I know it was,” Y/N muttered as her lips trembled and tears started falling. She thought she’d run out of tears, but this was her final outburst.

“Y/N, enough!” Her mother hissed again and then made eye contact with Bruce and Alfred. “I’m so sorry. She’s not…she’s not handling any of this well.”

“You did this to him!” Y/N yelled. “He always had bruises…and-and-and cuts! You used to hurt him!”

“Y/N!” Her father finally chimed in, completely stunned by his daughter’s accusations.

“I hate you!” Y/N screamed in Bruce’s face as tears flowed down her face.

With that, she ripped her hand from her mom’s grasp and made a run for it. She heard her parents yell her name, but she ignored it and kept running.

Bruce stood up, looking unfazed from Y/N’s hateful and accusatory outburst.

“We are so, so sorry,” Y/N’s mom insisted. “She’s never done anything like that before.”

Bruce held up a hand, stopping them from continuing. “It’s alright. Really.” Then he sighed. “I’ll have Alfred go find her in a bit. Perhaps she just needs to let out some steam.”

Y/N didn’t even realize where she was running until she ended up at Jason’s bedroom.

Her entire body shook with sobs as she opened up the door.

It looked exactly the same, like nothing had even happened.

Y/N walked to the other side and slide against the giant windows, curling into a ball on the floor with her arms hugging her knees to her chest.

She cried and she cried and she cried.

There was no way for her to know how long she’d been there. But her head snapped up when there was a knock on the doorframe.

Dick Grayson leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sad smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the snot from her nose with the back of her fist, “Hi.”

“I’m Dick,” he introduced as he closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Jason’s bed, making sure to give Y/N her space.

“I know,” Y/N answered back through a stuffy nose.

“Alfred tells me you and Jason were good friends.”

“We were each other’s only friend,” Y/N corrected him.

Dick nodded slowly.

“I hate him,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick winced. “Jason?”

“Bruce.”

“Believe it or not, I know how that feels,” he sighed.

“Did he hit you, too?” Y/N asked with wide eyes.

Dick opened his mouth, but was so shocked by the question that no words escaped.

“Why didn’t you help him?” She followed up with. “Where were you?”

Dick knew she wasn’t asking what he felt like she was: Why didn’t you stop the Joker? Why was Robin all alone? Why didn’t Batman call you for help?

But that didn’t stop her interrogation from hurting him.

“I haven’t always been there for him,” Dick finally admitted. “Actually…I’ve never really been there for him.”

Y/N looked at him with bewilderment. “Umm…” she sniffed. “I should find my parents.”

When she stood up, something caught her attention on Jason’s desk.

Y/N’s hand shook as she picked up Pride & Prejudice. He was the only middle school boy she’s ever seen reading a Jane Austen book. It was one of the reasons she wanted to befriend him in the first place.

“Keep it,” Dick surprised her by saying.

She quickly turned around and gave him a questioning look.

“You should keep it,” he told her. Then he looked at the overflowing book case she was standing near. “Take whatever ones want. He’d want you to have them.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered through the bookcase. Her heart was telling her, ‘No, they’re his books. He’ll need them when he gets back.’ But Jason Todd wasn’t coming back.

So she reached up and grabbed Jane Eyre and then Frankenstein.

“That’s it?” Dick asked. Because he would’ve let her take Jason’s entire collection.

Y/N nodded shyly.

Dick escorted her through the house and back to the gathering.

When she saw Alfred, Y/N rushed forward.

Dick’s heart ached as he saw the butler immediately kneel down and pull Y/N into a hug. He wondered what the man whispered to her. Whatever it was, it seemed to comfort her in a way that apparently nothing else was.

Then Y/N’s parents returned to her side. Dick expected them to scold her for her earlier outburst, but they just seemed concerned and started making their leave.

Y/N looked behind her and searched through the crowd to find Dick again. When she did, she gave him a sad wave.

Dick returned it with a sorrowful smile.

———

8 Years Later...

Jason had been keeping tabs on her since he returned to Gotham. He kept his distance, remained out of sight. He would jump from rooftop to rooftop as she walked home from a night class. Or he would wait for the window of her apartment bedroom to go off if it was a slow night of patrolling.

He told himself it was out of curiosity. But he knew deep down he was making sure she stayed safe.

Jason was happy to see that Y/N didn’t retain her lonesome ways in her life after his death. He frequently spotted her having dinner or drinks with friends.

But Jason didn’t know how to feel when it was clear that Y/N had no romantic partner. Was he relieved? Was he irritated that someone didn’t love and care for her the way she deserved? Would he have been jealous if there was someone in his life?

Jason wanted to find her as soon as he was brought from the dead. Even when he felt like he’d gone insane, when his thoughts didn’t make sense and he was confused…her face still echoed through his mind.

But vengeance became his priority.

And with it, Jason slowly convinced himself that it was best to stay far away from the only person he still cared about.

But that didn’t mean her didn’t want answers still.

After his war with Bruce – or really, his attempted murder Batman and the Joker – Jason allowed himself to actually look back on his old life, the parts that didn’t involve being a child vigilante.

Still not on speaking terms with Bruce. Jason decided to get his info from another source.

Cue a month or so after his brush with Bruce, Jason blindsided Dick the next time he was in Gotham and slammed him against the closest brick wall.

Jason used to look up to Dick as a kid, despite his older brother rarely even giving him the time of day.

But now, Dick was quite literally looking up at Jason. 

While Jason died a 13-year-old Robin, he was now a 6’3 man who had the set of a heavyweight boxer. Dick might be more flexible and acrobatic, but Jason had brute strength.

“What? B tell all of you not to talk to me?” Jason challenged when Dick didn’t fight his hold or speak to him.

“What do you want?” Dick asked evenly.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason growled, his voice distorted through his helmet.

“Keep tabs on who?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

Dick finally had enough of being bullied and shoved Jason’s grip off him. “Why don’t you look her up yourself? I’m sure you have no issue with hacking every personal database of hers.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Jason growled.

In fact, Jason had already done everything Dick had suggested. Which made him see that she had made a third-party domestic violence report to the police a week or so after Jason had died. And she had kept following up with it until the police finally came clean and told her there was no evidence to support her claim and she was wasting her time.  

It seemed Y/N was the only person that fought for Jason after he was gone. She had just picked the wrong fight.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason clarified.

“I just wanted to make sure she was OK.”

That caught him off guard a bit, seeing as Dick never gave a shit about Jason when he was alive. So why would he look after his best friend?

“What? Out of the goodness of your heart?” Jason ridiculed.

“She didn’t handle your death well, Jason. She even picked a fight with Bruce at your funeral.”

Jason smirked behind the safety of his helmet at the image.

Dick sighed and finally put down his defenses. “I failed you, Jason. All of us failed you.” He shook his head as he got lost in a memory. “Y/N even asked me why I hadn’t tried harder to protect you.”

Dick’s eyes saddened. “I figured if I couldn’t be there for you, the least I could do was make sure the most important person in your life was OK.”

It wasn’t the answer Jason was suspecting, but it was all he came for.

“Will you go see her?” Dick asked as he saw that Jason was about to take his leave.

“We were kids. Things have changed,” Jason grunted.

“I don’t think any of that would matter to her,” Dick defended. “I think she’d like to see you and know you’re OK.”

“Mind your business,” was the last thing Jason snapped at him before jumping off the rooftop and disappearing.

————

Jason did what he said: he left Y/N alone. 

He watched over her when he could. But most importantly, he didn’t drop a ghost from the past back into her life.

But he also tried to find that ghost in himself.

Somedays he thought that Jason Todd was lost forever.

But other days, like today, he still seemed to live on.

Jason browsed through the books on the shelves. He missed so many of them when he was dead and then when he reinvented himself.

Now he saw books as a time to fill in the empty space.

He was lost reading the back of covers when he heard it. No, when he heard her.

Next thing Jason knew, he was walking toward it.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’re all sold out of that title. You should’ve reserved it weeks ago,” one of the clerks told her with sympathy.

Jason peered between the shelves and caught a glimpse of y/h/c.

“I know. I just totally spaced. I think I’ll just browse for something else. Thank you for your help.”

Her voice sounded mostly the same, maybe a bit more mature. But he still would recognize it anywhere.

Jason knew he shouldn’t move any closer.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He was just one aisle away from her now, only a bookshelf separating them.

He slowly edged around the corner and smiled as he saw the massive pile of books that Y/N was trying to juggle in her arms. When she tried adding one more, they broke free from her grasp and stumbled loudly to the ground.

Jason didn’t know what he was thinking as he jumped forward and bent down to help her pick them up.

He saw her blush, but keep her head dipped from the embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she quickly laughed as she tried to pile the books back together as fast as possible.

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, but the words got caught in her mouth when she finally met Jason’s eyes.

He wondered how different he looked to her. Could she even recognize him? Or was he fooling himself when he became convinced he was an entirely different person after being brought back from the dead?

But his questions were answered when Y/N looked in shock, only unfreezing when her eyes began to tear up.

“It’s not possible,” she said so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

“Everyone good? I heard a loud noise.” The clear interrupted loudly.

Y/N jumped in response.

Jason stood and faced the clerk, “We’re fine.”

But when he turned back around, Y/N had booked it.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed before carefully handing the books to the clerk and quickly following after Y/N.

She made it further than he would expect. He actually had to look around the streets outside the store for a moment before he could spot her.

As soon as he did, he ran. But he called her name before he reached her to make sure he didn’t terrify her more.

Y/N froze when she heard him and whipped around. “Who are you?” She asked roughly.

There was a moment, when she first met Jason’s blue eyes, where she allowed herself to believe that perhaps a miracle had occurred.

But now she only saw this as some sort of heinous prank.

“It’s me, Y/N.” Jason almost sounded like he was begging her. 

She then fully took him in. Yes, he had the same face. But now he was a full-grown man – and an extremely handsome one at that.

“I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been dead for 8 years,” she muttered.

“I know. It’s a…” Jesus. Jason didn’t even know how to go about this. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

“Were you ever really dead?” Then Y/N’s eyes flashed with a realization. “Did you stage your death? To get away from him?”

Bruce. She meant to get away from Bruce.

Jason looked around. This was no place to have this conversation. He couldn’t believe they were having it at all.

“Fuck. OK.” He quickly shuffled through his pockets until he found an old paper receipt and a pen. He quickly wrote something down.

“I know this is…a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Y/N of the Jason she used to know. “If you want nothing to do with me, I understand. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a deep breath and handed her the receipt.

Y/N slowly took it and looked down to see a phone number written down.

“You deserve time and space to…” he couldn’t find the right word, “process all of this.”

Y/N watched him as if she was expecting him to vanish like some sort of hallucination.

“After you do,” Jason continued. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I’ll be there,” he told her sincerely as he gestured to the number Y/N now held in her hand.

He waited for Y/N to say something, or maybe even try to make a run for her life.

But after what felt like forever, Y/N gave a short nod.

Jason gave her a shy grin as he slowly started walking backwards. He hesitated saying one last thing for her. But his mind finally told him, ‘Fuck it.’

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

————

Jason told himself not to get his hopes up. Y/N had every right to be horrified by him and wish to never see him again. From what Dick described, Y/N hadn’t handled Jason’s death well at all. What child could?

But when Jason got a text from Y/N’s number a week later, asking him to come to her place, he couldn’t help but beam.

Except reality then quickly settled in. And it reminded Jason that this conversation would involve talking about his past for the first time.

‘Suck it up. She deserves to know,’ he heard his past self screaming in his mind.

An hour later, Jason was knocking on Y/N’s apartment door.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly.

“Hi.”

She led him to her bedroom. “My roommates aren’t home right now. But who knows how long that’ll last.”

Jason didn’t stop himself from looking around. Maybe it was a habit, all of his training of taking in every new environment with acute detail. But really Jason just wanted to take in Y/N and her new life.

That’s when he spotted the three books.

Jason immediately reached for one of them.

“Oh,” Y/N said sadly as she saw what he grabbed. “Umm…Dick told me I could take those. He…umm…said you’d want me to have them.”

“You kept them all this time?” He muttered, still looking at Pride & Prejudice.

“Of course.” Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You can have them back. I mean, they’re yours after all.”

Jason smirked at her fumbling. “No, keep ‘em.”

Then the tension from this strange reunion returned to the room.

Y/N gave him a heartbroken look and sat on the edge of her bed. “Jason,” she whispered, “what the hell happened to you?”

Jason slowly joined her on the bed.

His breathing shook as he tried to prepare.

But Y/N deserved to know the truth – the whole truth.

So he told her everything. He told her he was Robin. He told her how he died. He told her how he came back to life. He told her where he’d been.

The only thing he left out was how she was all he could think about when he watched the bomb tick down to 0 and he knew he was about to die. 

But the hardest part was explaining why returning to her wasn’t the first thing he did.

“It wasn’t Bruce. It…you…you were Robin that whole time?” Y/N couldn’t even seem to process it.

Jason just gave a curt nod.

“I reported him,” Y/N gasped. “I was convinced he had something to do with your death.”

Jason winced at that. “Well, if you asked him, I’m sure he’d take responsibility for it still.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she tried to take another look at the past now that she knew the real truth that had been hidden. So many things made sense: all the injuries, Bruce’s behavior, Dick being a distant brother – all of it.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered. Her eyes whipped to his. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”

Y/N finally allowed herself to cry. “Missing you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Jason didn’t care about keeping his distance any longer. He pulled Y/N into his arms, just like he used to when they were kids.

Eventually, her crying slowed and Jason knew he needed to finally say the hardest thing about this all.

“But I can’t stay, Y/N.”

Y/N wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“I’m not…I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve done things – terrible things – that won’t ever let me return to the person you knew.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said surprisingly harsh.

“What?”

“I said I don’t care,” even though she knew he heard her. “You think I’m the same person after 8 years, Jason? You think that little girl didn’t face the consequences of losing the best friend she’s ever had?”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

Y/N wiped away her tears and her entire body shifted. “From everything you’ve told me, you don’t seem to have many friends – if any. So, sounds like you could use one.”

How could Jason have overlooked Y/N’s stubbornness when he anticipated how this would all end?

“I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. Especially not with all I know now,” she added. 

Jason didn’t even bother fighting her on it. Y/N had always been his greatest weakness. At least he knew that hadn’t changed.

“OK.” He agreed. “So what now?”

Y/N smiled at his surrender. “Now…we have a whole lot of catching up to do.”

--------------------

Wow. I did not realize how long this was going to take me. 

Please, please, please let me know what you think. Reactions and feedback and reblogs are the only thing that keep me writing on here. 

[elareine]

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.