#jason gets angry enough to go dark on them

[ghost-bxrd]

How would Talon!Dick react to Red Hood having a bomb built into his helmet? 🦉

Ver, VERY angry hooting.

Jason is not allowed out in the streets for a week at least. And when he goes to put on his helmet he finds it’s gone. Even the spare two. But no matter how much he yells at Dick the Talon refuses to tell him where they are.

(They all got dropped down a cliff in the caves.)

[pinkmelodie]

The Red Means I Love You ❤︎

Summary: Jason Todd x fem!Reader. You and Jason used to date before you left to stay with the Titans. You both miss each other more than you’d like to admit, but stay out of contact. Fast forward to after he died, you encounter Redhood. Old feeling stir, and before you know it you’re bent over the motorcycle of someone you swore you’d leave in the past.

Warnings: Angst -> smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected s$x, mentions of death & terrorism.

A/N: This takes place right after s3ep2, right after they find out Redhood’s identity :3

You didn’t fully know what was happening; just that there were too many hostages in the building—all who would be killed if not evacuated immediately. You were about to run and help the rest of the titans get everyone as far away as possible before Kory pulled you aside.

You went to protest before she quickly interrupted you, “Go search for Jason.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uhm, what?”

“Look, I have a feeling he’ll listen to you better than anyone.” she said. “Jasons not someone who can be brought down by force. Shit, he came back from the fucking dead, you think he’s gonna let us beat this new…phase out of him?” 

You wanted to argue, but Kory wasn’t someone who was wrong often. She had a good point, and you knew you had to follow it.

“We’ve got this under control,” she assured, resting a reassuring but firm hand on your shoulder. “Go.”

You were skeptical, especially when you could see Gar in the distance shaking in his boots trying to convince an old lady to let him help her down the steps, and citizens clearly getting whiplash from Connor moving them to safety too fast. Your team was…definitely something, but with some hesitance you finally turned and ran in the direction of the one member you wanted to see.

…

“Jason!” You called out, your voice echoing through the barren alley. Gotham was creepy enough already without walking in some sketchy, busted up route in the pitch dark.

You kept calling but the only response you got was your own voice echoing back to you. You tried to scratch your mind for something to say that could persuade him, but you came up blank. Guilt ate at your conscience when you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to him for months before he died. 

To be honest, Jason never had anyone in his life to begin with. He told you that along with all his other secrets, and you still broke his heart. 

You stayed with the titans, thinking he was being naive for not wanting to. You didn’t think about the fact they never once tried to help him, or ever see him as more than an immature kid. They didn’t have the energy to help Jason through his issues so they just abandoned ship, sending him right back to Bruce and his horrible coping mechanisms.

As much as you wanted to be angry at Dick, or Kory or really anyone else for letting that happen, you had to face that you played your part.

Jason Todd died alone. He died feeling like no one would miss him, like he was a failure of a Robin and a failure of a titan. Because even after everything, all he wanted to do was prove himself.

So, yeah. Admittedly the first words you chose to say were not a good idea. Probably should’ve seen that one coming, but you never were too good at comforting him. was anyone?

“It didn’t have to be like this, you can still come back to the titans!” You tried to coax him, almost immediately regretting it. You quickly shut your mouth, tho the damage was already done. You just prayed he wasn’t here—he didn’t need to be provoked into blowing your brains out. 

Only when your muscles stopped tensing and you thought you got lucky, a voice you couldn’t even recognize rumbled above you. It shot ice up your veins and you would’ve frozen in place if you weren’t so adiment on seeing him again.

“Still taking about the titans? Why am I surprised.” He taunted, tilting his head in a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache. When you spun around you were met with someone you couldn’t believe was really Jason. He was standing on some rusted fire escape, a steel red mask boring right through you. 

You tensed, but not out of fear. No, you could never be scared of Jason, not the same nerd who woke up early to make you breakfast or who secretly wore reading glasses. 

You debated messaging him for months after your breakup, paragraphs on paragraphs you never sent. You had so much to say to him before, so why now did your mind go blank?

It was hard to see what he was feeling with the mask, but you could tell he was expecting a snarky remark back. When you just stood there dumbfounded, he sighed. “Look, I’m done trying to prove myself to them. To Bruce, to everyone! I don’t have to be some fucking nobody y/n, and neither do you.”

Now that made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. “‘and neither do you’? What are you trying to do, advertise me the life of crime?”

He groaned, “I don’t know why I ever tried with you. The titans are just a bunch of fucked up people acting like one big happy family, is that what you wanted? Are you happy you made that choice?” He sneered.

There was malice in his tone, but it wasn’t real. he didn’t feel angry anymore, just betrayed.

He would’ve splayed his heart out for you on a silver platter if you asked, just for you to turn your back on him. You followed him in his dreams, haunted him every time he smelt a familiar perfume, even appeared behind his shut eyelids while the life drained out of him. You were a part of him, and from what he knew you’d never looked back when you stormed out that day.

That’s why it shocked him when tears started to well in your eyes. God, your eyes—the ones he would subconsciously buy clothes of in the same colour. “You could’ve came with me,” you whispered. 

Your meek tone broke something in him. His shoulders relaxed and in a blink he leaped down, knees bending upon landing on the hard ground in front of you. Seeing him like this; the mask concealing his identity, various weapons strapped to his thighs and seemingly more toned than the last time you saw him—you could understand why everyone was on edge.

He stood there motionless, a silent and intimidating presence before you. You both stood there in unbearable silence until finally, he lifted his mask off.

His features were lit beautifully by the dim street light, eyes glinting ever so slightly. He looked exhausted—more troubled now, but you knew, despite everything, this was Jason. Your Jason, not who he was manipulated into.

“No, I couldn’t have.” he muttered begrudgingly, “they made that very clear.”

“So what, you just become a terrorist? Is that your idea of solving your problems?”

His fists clenched in barely concealed anger. “Bruce couldn’t save Gotham, so he abandoned it. I’ll be the one to fix it.” 

“By running around in a new suit and planting bombs everywhere? Real great strategy.” You rolled your eyes, but started to blush when you stared at him too long in the plated suit that fit him perfectly. You quickly caught yourself ogling and looked away, assuming he wouldn’t catch the red tinge on your face. 

You don’t know how you ever thought he wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed, it’s Jason Todd.

For fucks sake, the guy noticed every detail about you. The way you’d avoid eye contact when nervous, the pace of your blinking quickening when you were lost in thought, the slight heighten of your voice when you were excited about something. All these tiny things and you thought he just wouldn’t notice the way you eyed him down all red in the face?

Come on, you were basically writing your true feelings out to him in big, bold… ..red letters…

and it’s not like Kory ever specified exactly what to do once you found him… .. .

So that’s how you ended up bent against his motorcycle in some busted up alleyway, pussy spread open on his dick.

You gasped and clawed pointlessly at his covered back; nails clinking uselessly against the metal armour of his suit. 

Your own suit was pulled off just enough to get access to your cunt, panties pulled to the side so he could plunge his thick cock into you.

He was groaning more than he used to, and you could swear you even heard him whine. His pace was ruthless, thrusts messy but coordinated. He kept trying to push further inside you, pressing his body as close to you as possible like you would vanish at any moment. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-“ he rambled. Death heightened all of his senses—made things have so much more of an impact on him. Maybe he just missed you too much, or maybe he let himself forget how good you feel.

To be fair, you were far worse off than him. You would’ve alerted everyone in Gotham if he wasn’t covering your mouth with a gloved hand, though it’s not like anyone here would bat an eye to screaming.

“My poor baby just been lonely, s’that it?”He teased, manhandling you by your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. 

“Nobody to fill up this pretty hole like I do, such a shame,” he pouted in faux sympathy, as if he wasn’t balls deep at the moment.

“I’m back now. Fuck the titans, I’ve always treated you better, haven’t I?” He’s fucking your ability to form coherent words right out of your throat, but he knows your answer when you squeeze around him.

“Jay!” you moaned into his palm. Your cunt was squelching embarrassingly loud with each thrust, thighs shaking so hard you for sure would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up. Every drag of his cock in you hit the perfect spots, just like he remembered you love.

“You don’t even care that I’m red hood, do you?” he asked, his tone full of confidence. “Nah, you don’t. So fucking wet, does my suit get you off princess?” 

He moved his hand to play with your clit, getting it soaked with your fluids. You were too cock-drunk to lie bite back, just nodding desperately and mewling out something akin to a yes.

He smirked. “Pussys sucking me in the same too, fuck- I missed this. I missed you.”

He acted cocky when he was fucking you like this because it’s the only way he was sure you even wanted to be around him. Not much to complain about when his big dick is ravaging you, no?

Deep down he always felt right at home with you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would give up red hood for you. He’d give up anything for you, actually. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him. And he wasn’t letting you go this time.

With the ministrations on your clit and him pounding into you, it wasn’t a surprise when that knot in your stomach came undone quickly. Especially not with how many failed orgasms you had with your fingers, pretending it was him.

Ever attentive, he noticed immediately. “You gonna come, baby? Try not to get any on the new suit.” He winked, as if you were gonna squirt for him. (You have, many times.)

The cherry on top was when he unexpectedly flipped his mask back down and leaned in to whisper right into your ear with that deep voice, “come for me”

And you were gone. You came with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and toes curling. Your pussy gushed all over his dick, forming a white ring around it that you could see every time he slammed his hips.

Seeing your pretty face so euphoric was what sent him over the edge, and grudgingly he pulled out, pearly white cum shooting all over your stomach.

You spent a minute regaining your breath while he pressed gentle kisses all over your throat. He only let up when you whined at the slight pain of the pressure on your newly forming hickeys. He tucked himself back into his pants and re-adjusted his belt. You were wondering if he planned on just leaving until he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.

He moved you so you were set down properly on the back of his motorcycle and then stepped on. You instinctively laid against his back, resting your head on his shoulder and he admired you with pure adoration.

“Wrap your arms around me babe,” he hummed, affectionately rubbing your thigh that was pressed to his.

When your brain finally caught up to what was happening you gave him a confused look.“Wha- wait! Where are we going?” 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Home,” he laughed, “what? Did you think death was gonna do us part, baby?”

[somewhereincairparavel]

i badly wanted dark!Jason tbh. I mean, we got a dark Percy choking a goddess, and a dark Nico ghostifying a roman legionnaire, but the closest thing we got to a dark!Jason was when he was possessed by eidolon and electrocuted Percy, or his anger when Thalia was turned into an ice statue which isnt dark enough imo. I just wanted pure RAGE from him, till the point he ends up doing something completely out of character and stuns everyone.

I mean, Jason is the son of the king of all gods, his rage would be absolute terror no doubt. His dad is an angry man, so I hc him to have his dad's unhinged anger if he gets out of control (I honestly feel like this is a necessity for all Zeus kids lol). Also, Jupiter is A LOT more unhinged than Zeus considering he's roman so jason should arguably have more craziness in him . Maybe something like sucking the air out of someone's lungs to make them stop breathing for a few secs. And Leo going "man, you gotta stop shocking us like this. Pun intended"

imagine the potential of that scene. Wasted potential yet again. smh.

[soup-spoonn]

The weight of the world

Pt. 2

Pt. 1

kind of a long part 😭 mb yall

@boohoobeach @medusas-graveyard @catostrofiqu @dandey-lion

“B has been saying that the GIW might come to Gotham.”

Danny didn’t say a word, but just stared at Dick with a terrified look on his face.

“He told me not to tell you, that’s why he called a JL meeting, but I can’t just leave you out of the loop.”

“When?” He choked out, still terrified.

“We don’t know, but…” Dick paused, “they really want-“

“It’s my parents… they’re the ones leading the GIW to me.”

Dick looked startled at that confession, then just asked, “why?”

“I- I don’t know… I didn’t know- I-“ he started hyperventilating, and Dick didn’t say anything, and just wrapped him up in a hug as Danny cried.

“I don’t wanna see them again…” he said between sobs.

“You won’t.” Dick promised kindly

-

“You told him?!” Bruce said angrily, “I told you not to!”

“I wasn’t gonna leave him out of the loop! Do you want him to get hurt? He deserves to know, he’s family! If you were left unaware of something important about your safety, that would break your trust wouldn’t it?!” Dick ranted, angry at his father for asking him to lie to his little brother.

“Yes, but he’s too young, and he already has too much on his plate, we can’t worry him more!”

“He’s almost sixteen! We don’t need to baby him! We just need to be here for him! Help him with his responsibilities, not act like he's a baby, he’s so mature!”

Bruce sat for a moment, thinking, “you’re right, Dick, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

-

Danny sat on the edge of his bed, pondering his next move, tapping his foot nervously.

If they find me, they find my family.

I can’t let them find my family.

Am I gonna have to run away again? I haven’t been legally adopted, so it should be easy enough.

Danny figured that if he could escape at night, he’d be able to go to Metropolis to ask Superman for help.

-

Poor Danny, he’s probably so scared right now. I knows I would be.

Clark let out a sigh, and stood up from his chair, shutting off his computer and closing his office door softly.

I should go above Gotham again, maybe Danny will be there.

-

It was dark out, and Danny decided he would go stargazing again, see if he could have a conversation with Superman.

He opened his window, leaving his phone on his bed, and went ghost, then flew above Gotham to his usual spot.

He sat for five minutes, until he felt a sudden presence to his right.

“Hey Danny, I heard about what happened.”

“I’m gonna run away.” Danny replied abruptly.

“What- why?” Superman asked, panicked

“You know…” Danny paused, “they’re gonna find me. I was thinking about leaving… possibly going to Metropolis.”

“That sounds like a smart plan, but you do know that Batman isn’t gonna be okay with that, right?”

“Uhm, yeah… I’m not telling anyone about it, except you. I trust you, more than anyone I ever have. I just feel a connection to you, maybe it’s that you’re Kryptonian, but I don’t know. My core feels… safe around you. Like a father.”

Superman felt flattered, happy he made Danny feel safe, “you shouldn’t leave your family. They’ll worry. They love you, you know.”

“I know, and I love them too, that’s why I have to leave. The GIW could cause them trouble if they find me. I don’t want them getting hurt.”

“Danny-“

“I know, I know, it’s not my fault or something.” Danny interrupted, “it is my fault though, if I only hadn’t told my p- them about my… condition, none of this would have happened… I’m gonna go now.”

“Bye, Danny.”

“Bye.”

-

“Danny!”

He jumped as Dick slammed open the door, looking rushed.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Danny asked, looking up from the book Jason gave him.

“You need to start answering your phone!”

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied awkwardly.

Danny picked up his phone, scrolling through the notifications from Dick.

Geeze.

“I called you like ten times!” Dick said dramatically, “you scared me!”

“I’m sorry, I went on a walk again, I just got back.”

“Danny, I don’t know if you should do that anymore.” Dick said seriously.

“But-“

“No buts.”

“I can protect myself-“

“I know that, but you should only go on walks if someone’s with you, for your safety. I’ll go with you-“

“I’m not actually going on walks.”

“What? Danny, what do you do then?”

“I go to look at the stars.”

“Wh- why would you lie about that?”

“I don’t know, the stars are like my sanctuary, you know? Or like, uhm.” He paused, pondering his next words, “when you have a long day, you like to lay in bed and fall asleep, right?” Dick nodded, “well for me, I still do need sleep, but the stars are rejuvenating for me. It’s my ghostly obsession, so I need this, you know? And anyway, Superman joins me most of the time, so if anything happens I’ll have some help.”

“Superman?” Dick asked, perplexed.

“Yeah… he listens, and gives advice. He’s helped me a lot.” Danny replied with a smile.

“Well, I didn’t expect that friendship to exist, alright then. But you still need to be careful, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“You’re fine, I don’t mind.” He said, returning to his book.

-

THATS A WRAP FOR PART TWO!!

seriously this took me way longer than it should’ve, sorry about that 😅

lmk how yall feel about it please :D

also i’m probably not gonna tag more than four people, I don’t wanna take up too much space with it

Edit: i came up with a name :D

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I was hoping you could write what yandere!batfam would do if the reader just barricaded themselves in a room and does everything to make sure batfam can't get in. I hope you have a great day and drink plenty of water.

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog, and I am absolutely going to do a snippet for this!

Warnings: (implied) hunger striking, captivity, themes of obsession, violence, and threats of restraints as well as physically restraining someone.

“You know that’s only going to hold us out for so long, right?”

It’s Jason. You don’t respond, keeping silent. It was just another trick, you knew, to get you to open the door.

Not that they only needed a door. You’d shoved the massive bookcase in front of the window, shoving your bed in front of it. Your desk, and the final bookshelf, had gone to block the door.

You had no doubt it wouldn’t hold them long. It just had to hold them long enough.

“Come on, kid, think about this. Open the door, and I’ll try and talk the old man down from taking the damn door off it’s hinges.”

You hiss softly in alarm, because you had thought Bruce was gone. You thought he was away, in Nepal, in a business trip. Otherwise there was no possible way you would have been able to pull this off, you knew.

“You didn’t know the old man was back? He got a call from Dickiebird, he’s on his way to the Manor as we speak, kid. You really want him to start breaking down the door? He will, you know it.”

You keep quiet, fingers buried in the soft carpet, and try to focus. Try to breath. Bruce being here changed things. Dick being here changed things.

“Who’s all in the Manor?”

You manage to croak out, and Jason pauses.

“Not sure I should be telling you that, kid. I’ll cut you a deal, though. Tell me why you’re pulling out the anti-siege tactics and I’ll tell you some names.”

You shake your head, before you remember that Jason couldn’t see you. That was fine.

“No deal.”

You weren’t going to be explaining to them that you felt suffocated, more often than not. That they were always there, constantly hovering, a hand on your shoulder or an arm linked around yours. That you had so little agency that you felt you were going insane, on a good day.

“Then guess you’re gonna be in the dark. Head up, though. Golden Boy’s pissed.”

That manages to rip the air from your lungs. Dick was scary as hell when he got angry, scary enough that out of all your siblings captors, his anger would immediately send you into a near frenzy. He got fucking mean when he was mad, and he knew how to use his words to cut to the bone.

“What and you aren’t?” You taunt, frantically trying to stop the way your heart thunders in your ears and the way your blood pulses in your veins.

“Oh no, I’m pissed. Pissed enough I’m keeping this door between the two of us, because I don’t want to traumatize ya.” It’s- it’s almost cheerful, the way he says it, so matter of fact, but the words are phrased in a way that you know they’re true. Every syllable is tense and clipped, not quite grit out and hidden behind the easygoing bluster.

“Yeah, well, I’m also pretty into keeping the door between us.” You snap, because you are impulsive and dumb and holy shit you did not think this through.

You hear the faintest sound from Jason, and when he speaks again, his voice is sharp, sharp enough you cringe back and try not to panic.

“I fucking bet, you brat. What exactly are you planning to get out of this, huh? Planning on going on a hunger strike or something?”

The door rattles in the frame, and you yelp, alarmed.

A sigh, and when Jason speaks again, it’s softer. Cajoling.

“Listen. Bruce and Golden Boy are gonna be here soon. We can do this two ways. You either open the door, apologize to me for being an absolute menace and driving me insane, or it gets busted down, and you leave the room anyways, except with a lot more yelling and a lot higher chance of Bruce not letting you out of his sight for months. Literally.”

You bite your lip, hands fisted in the rug.

“I’m not opening the door, Jason.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You hear his footsteps leave. For a second, you take a moment to breathe, air whistling between your teeth, the AC loud in the quiet room.

“Open the door.”

You jump, nearly leaping a foot in the air, and the startled sound dies in your chest, eyes wide.

Bruce. Bruce was on the other side of the door, right now, and he was pissed. Pissed enough that his voice had that gravelly, rough quality it got when he was being stern and already mad as hell but trying not to show it.

“No.”

Your voice sounds small, even to you. You try to ignore it.

The door rattles on it’s hinges. It seemed, with a locked door and several heavy oak dressers between you and him, he was determined to move both. It rattles again, this time louder, and you shriek in alarm when the desk creaks. How fucking hard was Bruce hitting it?

“(Y/N), unless you want me to break this door down, open the door.” Bruce sighs after he speaks, and then breathes in, like he was trying to calm himself down.

“I know you’re scared right now. But just open the door and come out, and we can talk about why you did this, okay? I’m sorry I frightened you.”

You feel tears prick at the side of your face, feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the fear. You want to shake your head.

You don’t say anything, and he sighs again.

This time, it’s not just the door that rattles. The desk shudders, straining against the weight thrown against it, and the shelf creaks, then sways.

You’re smart enough to back up and away before it comes crashing down. Not that you don’t doubt Bruce knew you were away from the shelf, or he never would have risked toppling the heavy thing.

When he ducks through the doorway, picking his way over the shattered desk and shelf, you back away, hands trembling. He pauses.

“(Y/N). Why don’t you come over here so we can clean the mess up, and we can talk about this in a bit? Just take a breath, okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It makes some of the anger drain from his features, that you weren’t hurt, but you don’t get any closer and his lips press into a thin line.

“(Y/N). Come here.”

It’s stern. It reminds you of the same voice he uses every time you try and escape or fight with your siblings. It makes your stomach twist.

Your eyes flick to the door, and Dick, who was standing not far from the door way, sharp blue eyes watching you for any movement.

You make your decision, swallow, and ease forward.

Warm arms wrap around you the second you’re in reach, pressing you against Bruce’s chest, and you feel a bit of the tension in his shoulders unwind, just barely.

“This isn’t happening again, (Y/N). Do you understand me? What if you had gotten hurt, when the shelf came down? What if you had gotten hurt when you were in here and couldn’t say anything?”

Bruce was pissed, and he grips you tightly, tightly enough that you squirm in his hold, which only makes him grip you tighter.

“I wouldn’t have gotten myself hurt! It’s practically an empty room half the time, what could I have hurt myself with?”

God, you hated it when your mouth ran faster than your thoughts.

“That’s not what matters.” Dick cuts in. “The issue is that you could’ve, and we couldn’t have done anything about it!”

He pissed, practically spitting out the words, and you can hear Bruce’s frown.

“Dick, you need to calm down.”

“No! This is the fifth time this month they’ve tried something, you have to do something, Bruce! It’s stressing everyone out!”

You open your mouth to argue, ready to defend yourself because you hadn’t asked for any of this, but Bruce speaks before you can.

“I will.”

And suddenly you are far more preoccupied with trying to prevent Bruce from picking you up, twisting and squirming to get away, but he catches you easily. He presses you against him, this time the action restraining, and lifts, taking your feet off the ground.

The entire trip through the Manor, you are twisting and pushing against him, trying to escape. You nearly get close, once, when he was adjusting his hold and you had snapped your teeth at him, but Dick had lurched froward for a moment and it had startled you so badly that you had frozen, giving him time to readjust.

You’re dumped on a medical cot, and when you see the straps on either side, it nearly takes the both of them to hold you down long enough to get them on. Bruce looks pained the entire time, as you kick and flail, and when they’re both done, your arms are strapped securely enough that yanking on them does nothing.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bruce frowns, and then sighs, moving the cot. You’re moved with it, and you glare. “This is only temporary until we find a more permanent solution, (Y/N). Until we can trust you not to be a danger to yourself, alright? It won’t last long.”

Dick doesn’t look like he agrees.

You don’t either.

[merletka]

I'd love to see ur dc oc...

Oh well. Thanks for your interest! I was thinking to share her for a while and I guess it is time.

Her name is Ruby Martin. She's cringe. But I love her.

She has two versions, where she is younger (baby) in her Batgirl period:

Don't be fooled by her cute looks. She's got some dark stuff going on in that little head. But she tries to be good so hard. Please, please give her a chance.

Another variant, when she's older and separated from bats, known as Swallow:

At this point in story she's just angry. Very angry. And cold. Dangerous.

In my head her and Jason are madly in love (though they're very stupid to realize it)

Some RubyJays

I draw them sleeping A LOT. Idk characters sleeping is my comfort zone.

I will not elaborate on her story just yet, firstly because i'm not confident enough in my storytelling skills. And secondly, because it's not really finished. I keep changing stuff all the time. Maybe if I get comfortable enough and anyone would be interested, I will share some bits of story. The only thing I will add for now is that she's metahuman.

Mostly I'm just having fun drawing her. That's it, folks!!

[amomentsescape]

Sorry if the request is too weird for you, sometimes I can't tell if I'm being weird.. or just worrying too much, but could I request Slasher headcanon, if the reader gets pregnant? If you're comfort with that

Slashers React to Reader Getting Pregnant

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

A/N: No worries at all! It's a great request, thank you! :)

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy of course, a mix of angst and fluff (not all Slashers are happy about this)

DARK THEMES: A few of these Slashers will mention not keeping the child (Brahms is especially dark and is a bit Yandere themed).

Freddy Krueger

When you first tell him, he just laughs

There's no way you're being serious right now, right?

But when he sees you're not laughing, his grin turns into a frown

"That kid's not fucking mine"

Becomes angry

Freddy is barely even human at this point, there's no way that he could have had anything to do with your pregnancy

He kicks you out of the dream world and leaves you alone in your room to cry

It takes about a week before you find yourself back in his world, facing a very serious looking Freddy

Instead of him yelling at you like you expected, he just pulls you into a hug

He whispers an apology so low that you can barely hear it

When you pull back, he tells you that he needed time to think it over

But being a father wouldn't be so bad

He could turn the dream world into a kid's wonderland

Plus, he still cares about you

He still doesn't know how this happened, but he's come to just disregard that now

Michael Myers

Michael does not like children, nonetheless, having one of his own

You knew this, so the idea of telling him just scared you in all honesty

You pushed it off as long as you could until you knew you couldn't wait any longer

When you finally sat him down and told him, he was pissed

Told you to get rid of it

If you decide to, then things pretty much go back to normal

But if you say no, Michael will be gone

You'll wake up in the middle of the night some random time and find that you're alone

His things will be gone and there will be no trace of him

He'll leave enough food and drinks for you to survive a couple weeks

But that'll be it

You'll never see him again

Jason Voorhees

When you first told him, he literally just freezes up

You don't know what to do, becoming worried he is just going to walk out

But then he suddenly engulfs you in a hug, rocking back and forth

He may not be able to physically show it, but he is ecstatic!

He never thought he'd find someone who loved him, nonetheless want to start a family with him

So the idea that soon the cabin will have a mini you or him running around makes him so happy

Just know that his protective instincts are going to go into overdrive

Will not let you lift a finger

Will engorge you in literally every treat you can think of

And he will not let you leave the cabin unless he goes with you

He's protecting two precious lives now

He won't be flexible on that

But he makes up for it with his attentiveness

He makes less trips out unless you need something

He turns his attention on building a nice crib and area for your future child to rest and play

The idea of being a father just brings a whole new light to him

Thomas Hewitt

Oh my god

Thomas is floating in heaven right now

You? Carrying his child?

He's quite literally a puddle on the floor

He even begins to cry, inevitably causing your own tears to flow despite doing your best to hold them back

If you thought Thomas already spoiled you too much, expect for it to triple

Will cook for you 24/7

Even when you're not hungry, he still tries to get you to eat something since "you're eating for two now"

Will rub your feet and your back a few times a day, but especially before you go to sleep

And if you have any weird cravings?

He'll get them for you without a single hesitation

Thomas will definitely be the type to kneel down and kiss your belly

He's still just amazed that you could possibly be carrying his child in you

It really triggers his romantic side

Bubba Sawyer

When you tell him, he almost thinks you're kidding

You have to reassure him a few times before he finally believes you

But once he does, he's jumping and sprinting around the house

He tells his whole family immediately, not being able to hold his excitement inside

He picks you up and twirls you around, placing hundreds of sloppy kisses on your face

Will rub your belly and just stare at it fondly

He'll have trouble letting you do anything on your own though

Even needing to go the bathroom involves him picking you up and carrying you there

He becomes so worried about hurting the baby too

There was a short amount of time where he'd only hug you from behind because he thought hugging you normally would squish the child

He's so caring and yet so clueless

But you better believe that he will be such a loving father

You just need to keep an eye out though, or else Bubba will spoil that baby rotten

Brahms Heelshire

At first, he has mixed feelings about the situation

The idea that his own flesh and blood is growing inside of you makes him feel... good in a way?

It's like the ultimate possession in his eyes

He's quite literally a part of you now

But at the same time, the idea of raising a child and having to share your attention pisses him off

You're supposed to take care of him and follow his rules, not somebody else's

Even if that somebody else is his own kid

If you choose to stick it out and have the child, you'll notice things seem fine at first

Brahms may even offer to feed and look after the baby while you rest

The issue arises when a couple weeks into taking care of them, Brahms starts to feel cold

The baby requires so much of your attention- too much

They cry and cry and cry and won't give either of you a break

Brahms eventually snaps

You wake up one day to find the baby gone without so much as a trace

Brahms feigns innocence, but you know

Brahms is now for certain that there can only be him

Norman Bates

You're pregnant?

Oh, he's ecstatic!

He immediately has to tell Mother, of course

He's so attentive with you too after you tell him (not that he wasn't before)

Will keep track of your most common cravings and will stock up on them so you always have them on hand

He's already buying baby clothes at the store too even if you both don't know the gender quite yet

He'll tell little stories to your tummy, always ending them with a soft kiss

You notice that he's even more gentle than normal with you too

The way he hugs you and cuddles you at night is very soft, and he only gives you feather light touches

He's not even aware of it himself

He's always dreamed of raising his own family, but he wasn't sure that dream would ever be a reality for him

But he just knows you'll make a great parent, and he hopes he will too

Billy Loomis

When you first share the news, you have no idea how he'd react

He never really discussed having kids, and you weren't sure this would be something he'd want

When you told him, he just looked at the ground with a cold expression

When you probed him again, he looked at you

Accused you of cheating

After several times of telling him you didn't, he tells you that he can't do this

He wasn't ready, he was pretty sure he didn't even want kids, how could you do this to him?

This all built up until he stormed out, leaving you there hurt and teary eyed

You don't hear from him for a month

You're certain that's the end of that, and you were going to be left to raise this child alone

But he suddenly comes back, a baby blanket in his hand

To your confusion, he begins to apologize and tell you that he panicked

After taking that time away to think over everything, he realized that the last thing he wanted was to be like his father

He didn't want to just abandon his own child

He ends up sticking with you for the birth and after

Although a little rough around the edges, he ends up becoming a good father and even better partner for you

Stu Macher

He kind of immediately panics the moment you tell him the news

Not necessarily in a bad way, he just feels so unprepared

Of course, he's thought of creating a family with you

But that was supposed to be like 10 years from now

This feels too soon, and he's not sure he's quite ready for this change yet

But at the same time, he can't ignore his excitement

He loves children, and knowing that you'll be having his very own son or daughter makes his heart warm in a way he didn't think it could

Will spend the night thinking everything over

And by the next day, there's already a crib, toys, and 20 boxes of diapers setting by the bedroom

You're honestly in awe with how quickly he shifted his thoughts from the previous day

Will sit down with you and reassure you that he's going to stick it out with you

Everything will work out as long as you stick together, right?

Stu does love you too

He had no plans of going anywhere

Eric Draven

You almost begin to worry when you told Eric

He so desperately wanted to start a family with you

You knew this

But you also knew that he didn't want to do that until you were out of this dangerous city and in an area he was certain would be safe

So when you told him the news, you weren't sure what reaction you'd be met with

It was only when a large smile broke out across his face that you felt yourself relax

He lifts you off the ground and hugs you close to him, praising you and telling you just how happy he is

He truly can't believe that he's going to be raising his own child with the love of his life

He didn't even know this was a possibility for him anymore

He tries to lessen the amount of time he spends out at night

He hated leaving you home alone before, but now he has two lives counting on him to keep them safe

He isn't going to risk that

But on the nights that he does lose track of time, he always comes home with a takeout bag in hand, somehow knowing exactly what you want

He even makes a promise to get you both out of this city as soon as possible

He should have done it sooner, but now he has every single reason to do it

[green-eyedfirework]

When Dick wakes up, he feels warm and content.  The scents of his family surrounded him, safe and protective and home, and it’s the best feeling in the world.  Dick stretches luxuriously, feeling the lingering ache of heat exhaustion, and curls more firmly around his siblings.  Counting heads is an automatic habit, and it’s only when he goes hunting down the source of surprise when he sees three dark-haired heads does he realize where he is.

Bruce, he thinks, elation and dread mixed together, but then he sees the white strip of hair.  That’s not Bruce.  That’s—“Jason?” Dick asks, confused.

Green eyes flutter open, and Jason gives him a strained smile, “Hey, Dickiebird.  How was the beauty sleep?”

Dick shifts up—dislodging Damian from on top of him—and stares at his nest.  Jason is stretched out along his side, Damian is in his lap, Tim is on his other side, but curled away.  The room is empty of anyone else, any other scents than him and his family.

Something in his heart beats to a steady rhythm of wrong, wrong, wrong.

Dick can’t smell Slade.  He expected to spend the whole heat with his mate, hoped that it would be enough to placate him, but he doesn’t smell Slade at all, only his siblings.

“You came back home,” Dick says to Jason, to distract himself from the growing pit of dread in his stomach, but the way Jason’s eyes flash only make it worse.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Jason growls, tilting his head—there’s a bruise on his neck, green-purple, a claiming bite.  Dick goes cold.  “Looks like your mate wanted to collect all of us.”

The words are bitter, but underneath the venom is fear.  Dick knows that submission from claiming bites takes a couple days to fully shake off, so that new pack members don’t immediately challenge the alpha.  Jason makes no move to shift away from where he’s half-curled around Dick, even when Dick sits up fully.

Why—why would Slade do this?  Dick doesn’t understand—if Slade wants leverage, he already has Damian and Tim and Alfred, there’s no point in bringing in Jason, not when Jason is undoubtedly going to challenge Slade the moment the submission wears off.  Not when Dick is already giving him everything he wants.  “What happened?” Dick croaks out, because it feels like he has pieces of a puzzle that refuse to fit together.

“Ask the Replacement,” Jason says coldly, and Dick turns to Tim, heart clawing up into his throat.

Tim is not curled away from Dick because he’s asleep.  Tim is curled away from him because he’s crying, and Dick wipes the tears off his little brother’s cheeks with trembling fingers.  “Tim?” Dick asks softly.  What did you do?  “What happened?”

Tim ducks his head, refusing to meet Dick’s gaze.  “I—I thought he would be distracted with your heat,” Tim whispers, and Dick feels the crushing hollow of horror open in his chest.  “I—left.  I wanted to—to find Bruce, but he—he came after me.”  Tim shakes with a silent sob.  “He just—brought me back here.  He didn’t say a-anything about punishment.”

“And then he showed up and attacked me and dragged me back here too,” Jason adds.

Dick draws Tim into a hug and shoves all the furious words down.  How could he be so stupid—did he not even consider the risks—did he really think he’d be able to defy Deathstroke and get away with it—Slade was alarmingly patient over the past couple weeks, and now all of that is ruined—

“It’s okay,” Dick says with a calm he does not feel.  “Shh, baby bird, it’s okay.”

Jason’s level gaze shows that he knows it’s not.  Damian is watching him silently, and Dick knows that League training would’ve given him an idea of what angry alphas do to pack members who disobey them.

The fact that Slade didn’t punish him immediately, that he brought Jason here, that he waited for Dick’s heat to be over is not a good sign.

Slade is vicious enough when he’s running on blind rage.  When he’s calculating, planning and thinking things through?

Deathstroke could take out the entire Justice League, given sufficient time and materials.

“It’s okay,” Dick whispers, knowing in his heart that it’s not.

~#~

“Grounding,” Dick says numbly, “What do you mean by grounding?”

Slade just blinks at him.  “He’s not allowed to leave the house?  Restricted TV time?  No video games?”  Dick stares at him, and Slade huffs, “Kid, I’m not quite sure why you’re asking me.  Surely Pennyworth has better suggestions for you, he managed to raise the Bat.”

“Suggestions.  For me.”  It feels like his head’s been stuffed with cotton.  Dick can’t comprehend what he’s hearing.  “You—you’re not going to punish him?”

Slade quirks an eyebrow.  “He’s your brother,” he says in the same tone of voice of someone handing back a crying child to their parents.

“And—and Jason?” Dick forces himself to ask.  There has to be something he’s missing here.  He feels wrong-footed, like walking on flat ground after swinging on bridges and tightropes.  “Why did you claim him?”

“You were asking for him,” Slade says, and Dick can’t find a lie in his tone.  The statement is simple—like it’s obvious that Slade would do anything Dick asked him too.  Like if Dick was heat-drunk and calling out for his wayward brother, Slade would just...go and get him.

Dick feels abruptly lightheaded.

“Dick?” Slade says, alarmed, and strong hands close around his elbows and maneuver him until he’s sinking down on the couch.  “Are you okay?  Do you need some water?  Dick?”

Dick grabs the hem of Slade’s shirt before the alpha can leave, drawing him back onto the couch and fitting into his arms, curling up against him until Dick can feel Slade’s scent envelop him, protective and warm as the tears start falling.

“Dick?”

“Just need you,” Dick says softly, because—because he forgot.  Why he called Slade.  Why he asked Slade.  Why he trusted Slade, of all the alphas he knew in the world.

Slade’s arms wrap around him, gentle and strong.  “Okay, little bird,” he murmurs, and Dick allows himself to exist in his mate’s presence.

[sasheneskywalker]

dc/marvel crossover fic recs

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone The last thing Peter sees is Tony's horrified, heartbroken expression leaning over him. The guilt in his eyes is almost worse than the burning pain that's taking Peter apart piece by piece. The world starts to go dark.

There's a flash of gold and green. For one moment, he finds himself standing amongst the Guardians and others. And then darkness again. It feels like blinking; an extended period of nothingness that ends as abruptly as it begins. One moment there’s nothing, the next there’s light.

“Easy,” a woman says. Her words are gentle, and carry a slight accent that he can’t place. "I'm called Wonder Woman. What's your name?"

Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Gotham City & Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Batman & Spiderman

Revenge is a Word I Haven't Yet Defined (I’m not sure I’m worthy of such theatrics) by OliOcelot After the Lazarus Pits and a year of training with the League, Talia sends Jason to Gotham for revenge. Except Jason isn’t as deep as she thinks. The thing is, he expected to see Bruce - Batman - and be livid. He let him die, replaced him. He should be mad.

He isn’t.

In the end, it’s hard to think of yourself as being replaced when you died. So yeah, he’s angry, but he’s not angry enough for revenge. Not like Talia wants him to be.

So he focuses on Red Hood and cleaning up Crime Alley, and scraps any ideas of revenge he had left. They’re unnecessary. Counterproductive, in fact, because now that he’s actually seen Bruce, all he really wants is to go home. Maybe have a conversation or two about how bad Bruce and Dick messed up, but at home.

Instead, he gets caught up in world altering magic from some criminal in over his head, and Jason finds himself tumbling through universes into a New York filled with heroes that he’s never even heard of and a lack of Gotham and Metropolis that can only mean one thing. This isn’t the world he knows.

All he wants is to get home, to make amends, to try again. Too bad none of them know he’s gone. Not that anyone would think to look for a dead boy.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

To Dig a Grave in Winter by OliOcelot The Winter Soldier isn’t the only Asset that Hydra has. This will be their downfall.

Or, Jason Todd rose from his grave only to be taken by Hydra and turned into a living weapon, known as the Gravewalker. Meeting the Winter Soldier might just make it worth it.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply | James Bucky Barnes (Marvel) & Jason Todd (DCU), James Bucky Barnes (Marvel)/Jason Todd (DCU)

in labyrinths of reflections by blackkat With the incursions imminent, Khonshu steals his avatar away to another dimension, where there's little risk of the universes colliding.

Marc is unprepared for Gotham, but it's probably safe to say that Gotham is equally unprepared for Marc.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Marc Spector & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Steven Grant

no map to my own treasure by blackkat “I think this is yours.”

Bruce doesn’t even have to look up. He already knows precisely what this is about. Containing a sigh, he rubs the bridge of his nose, and says, “If he bit you, I can pay for the emergency room visit—”

“I did not bite him,” Damian says, outraged.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Marc Spector/Bruce Wayne

Knaves All Three by Ginevra_Benci After Ultron, Avengers Tower hosts a good-will gala to fundraise for post-Incident NYC.

Local lawyers Nelson & Murdock, fresh from saving Hell's Kitchen from the ravages of Wilson Fisk, get an invite.

And.

Bruce Wayne’s in town.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark & Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers/Bruce Wayne, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson

The Spider and the Samovar by Ginevra_Benci There's a new player in Eastern Europe: the Spider has been making a name for himself and has caught the attention of the Outlaws.

Jason Todd makes contact.

Well. He tries to.

G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Natasha Romanoff

Bats Out of Hell by Jedi_Olympian Dick and Tim find themselves in a bit of trouble. Multiversal trouble. Needless to say, their boyfriends are not happy about it, and the universe they find themselves in is unlike any they've found themselves in before.

Or Dick and Tim get thrown into the MCU and meet the Avengers.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

If It's A Highway by there_must_be_a_lock Bucky’s been running for a week when the supposedly-untraceable burner phone he stole from a HYDRA warehouse starts ringing. He’s in a gas station bathroom off a remote highway close to the Croatian border, getting ready to bleach his hair; the ringtone bounces shrilly off the bare tiles and makes his jaw clench tight.

[Or: the one where Bucky is hired to train Jason, and he ends up learning a thing or two himself.]

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | James "Bucky" Barnes/Jason Todd

There but for Grace go I by AutumnHobbit Frank Castle comes to Gotham on the trail of some human traffickers who picked the wrong city. Imagine his surprise to find he isn’t the only one out for their blood. When things turn sour he decides to get involved, which leads to a lot of unexpected drama.

And he thought New York’s costumed paraders were bad.

Not Rated | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Frank Castle

The Five Stages of Neighborly Affection by AlannaLioness, phonecallfromgod, youshallnotfinditso Between Matt being back from the dead, Nelson & Murdock 2.0 and a fancy Manhattan apartment from his (former) sharky boss, Foggy feels like he's doing pretty well keeping the vigilante nonsense in his life to a minimum.

Or he was until he moved next door to Tim Drake.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake (Minor), Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent (Minor), Minor or Background Relationship(s)

running in the shadows by dukeaubergine Jack Drake dies during one of Tony Stark's "taking responsibility" phases. The Bats aren't happy about this.

Tim is pushing to come home, and in the meantime be an NYC vigilante right under Stark's nose, when the Sokovia Accords knock over the whole board.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Avengers Team & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Tony Stark, Tim Drake & Wanda Maximoff

Shake the Devil Out of Me by thepartyresponsible The first time Jason sees Phil Coulson, he sees him in the soft, flickering light of a warehouse fire. It’s romantic, he thinks, later. Like candlelight.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Phil Coulson/Jason Todd

The Dawn Will Break Before You by thepartyresponsible “Okay, heartbreaker,” he says, “how much to put the tires back on the car?”

Jason rolls his eyes and gestures at him with the lug wrench. “Why don’t I just beat you up and steal your money? Is this the first time you’ve been to a bad part of town? Don’t show me your wallet, asshole. Come on.”

The man heaves a heavy, aggrieved sigh and starts pulling out bills. “Five hundred?” He tries. “Six? We can go to an ATM.”

“You are mugging yourself,” Jason says, oddly impressed. “Holy shit.”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

Give Thanks to Broken Bones by thepartyresponsible The bodyguard is incredibly well-respected in the superhero single parent community. He is also, Tony’s realizing, something of an asshole.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

birds fly (why can't I?) by SafelyCapricious The apartment in Gotham that Natasha gets — all cash and no ID required — is a shithole.

But it’s her shithole.

Well, hers and the cockroaches’, she supposes, as she turns on the flickering light in the bathroom and at least a hundred of them scurry out of view.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Jason Todd, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Jason Todd

Five Supersoldiers Walk Into a Bar by bittercape He spots him through the binoculars, far away and disappearing fast. Logan is, more than anything, a hunter. He knows how to watch, and he watches the sniper moving away, after a single well-placed shot. He moves just like Barnes did. Everyone has a particular way of moving, if you know how to watch. And Logan, as mentioned, knows how to watch.

Logan knows it cannot be him, knows he died, falling from a train. No normal human could survive that. And yet …

He drops down from the watchtower. He’ll catch hell for this, sure. But he has to know.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Logan (X-men) & James "Bucky" Barnes, Logan (X-Men) & Natasha Romanov, Logan (X-Men) & Slade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Slade Wilson, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Slade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Slade Wilson

five, six, just for kicks by bittercape “Good evening,” Jason says, because he does have manners when he wants to use them. “Talia al Ghul sent me for training.”

“Right,” the man says. “You’re here for training with Deathstroke.”

“Yeees,” Jason says. This seems more than a little eccentric. “And you are Deathstroke?”

“Yes indeed!” the man says. “It is I, Deathstroke!”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | DCU (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Deadpool - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics) | Jason Todd & Wade Wilson, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Predator and Prey: Chapter One

Pairing: Tommy Cahill x Reader

Ongoing Series - Loosely based on ‘Sleeping With the Enemy’

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors do not interact, Slow Burn, War Inaccuracies, Mention of PTSD but barely, Stalking, Abuse, Sexual Themes, Alcohol, I think that’s it?

Summary: You move to a small town following a bad breakup around the time Tommy goes to Prison, 3 years later you meet and build a relationship, but will your jealous, angry ex ever really let you go?

Notes: Hiiii! This is my first fic since I was like, 13? So apologies if I’ve missed anything! I’m also UK based trying to write as an American so writing styles and words may differ, but I do try! I just feel like we need more Jake Gyllenhaal fics, and I love a slow burn and some thrills so enjoy! Reblogs and comments welcome :)

—————————————————

You groaned as your phones alarm clock chimed on your bedside table, the repetitive high pitched dings already putting you in a bad mood for the day.

You slammed your hand on your phone and blindly prodded the screen in the hopes of turning it off, eventually managing to hit the correct spot.

You lay in your dark room, preparing yourself to get up and out of bed for your day of work. It was only Tuesday but it had already been a long week.

After getting dressed, brushing your teeth and hair, and putting on a little bit of makeup, you set out the door. It was still dark out and the only light illuminating the street ahead was from the old street lights that lined the pavement.

The walk to work was only 10 minutes long, but that morning it felt a lot longer, as you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. You turned around to check if anyone was around several times, finding nothing but the odd cat or trash can lining the street.

You eventually made it to work and had enough time to make yourself a cup of coffee before flipping the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’.

The day was slower than normal with very few customers walking into your little book store, which was something you could understand with the town being as small as it was, but you had a few regular book worms who would frequent your shop due to the lack of a library in the area. You bided your time by straightening the shelves and readjusting the pillows on the couches in each of the cosy corners by the windows, counting down the minutes and hours until you could close up and go home to your dog, just to do it all again the next day.

On Wednesday evenings your store played host to a soup kitchen due to the large prep area in the back, as your store was once a small Chinese Restaurant before you bought it. You’d agreed to it being used when your store was closed but soon found yourself volunteering to help chop up vegetables and serve, and you enjoyed it more than you thought you would, making it a recurring Wednesday tradition, so at least tomorrow you’d have something to keep yourself busy with.

It wasn’t all bad though, the time you had on your hands. Most afternoons once you had closed up shop, you’d take your dog, Jet, down to the local park to play fletch. Or you’d catch up on your own reading, or try a new recipe only for it to cost you more than takeout and taste nothing like what you’d hoped. It did get lonely though, with the only family you had living on opposite ends of the country, at times you’d considered moving closer to them, but you’d come to love the little town you’d stumbled across 3 years ago.

You’d only moved here from New York when your breakup with Jason had reached boiling point, with him knowing all of your friends, rumours about you soon spread and it became unbearable to stay. He had started stalking you and had your friends keep tabs on everywhere you went, eventually you even opted to forego all social interactions. You had welcomed the fresh start, and once you’d blocked Jason’s number you could finally begin to move on.

One time he had written you a letter after having found your new address on a piece of mail with your forwarding address attached, which somehow made its way to your old apartment instead. The letter was full of threats, demeaning words and also promises of a better life if you returned, but you dismissed these as empty threats, threw away the letter and got on with creating your new life.

You were just about to close up shop early, when the ding of the bell above the door sounded. You turned around to see a tall, dark haired man with a buzzcut, white t-shirt and a brown jacket walk in. You noticed a small tattoo on his neck.

“Hi, are you after anything specific?” You asked with a small smile, trying not to seem overbearing.

The man smiled politely, but didn’t maintain eye contact for long, and went back to scanning the low shelves near the front door.

“No I’m fine, thank you though.” He said. His voice was deep and gruff, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Okay, just let me know if you need anything.” You smiled back, and turned back to the counter where you were organising receipt rolls and pens. You hated it when you went into a store to browse and the staff lingered, so had never done this to your own customers, giving them space.

After a minute or two, the man cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Actually, sorry, yeah. I’m after a book on PTSD, like how to manage it and stuff, do you have anything like that?” He said, rubbing the back of his head as he looked up at you sheepishly.

Oh, perhaps he was one of those army guys, who had seen some horrible things in the war.

“Uhh, yeah we do actually. It’s just overrr…. Here!” You said walking over to a shelf on the left of the store, under the “self help” section.

“We only have the one though, I’m not sure if it will be much help?” You said handing him the book.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the book and scanning over the cover, “It’s not for me.” He added, looking awkward.

“Say no more.” You smiled and laughed a little to ease the tension he may have been feeling.

You walked back to the counter and waited for the man to follow. He took out a twenty dollar bill and waited for you to ring up how much the book would cost. You thought for a moment, and decided to do your one good thing that day.

“Uhh…. It looks like we don’t actually have the book in our system, and no price is showing up, I guess it’s free.” You lied, laughing lightly and pushing his twenty back to him.

The man thought for moment and looked you in the eye. “You really don’t need to do that, I promise the book’s not for me anyway. It’s for my brother.” He shrugged.

“Well then I guess your brother gets a free book.” You smiled, putting the book in a paper bag and handing it to the man.

He smiled, a genuine and slightly crooked smile, and thanked you. He took one last look at you and went to head out the door.

“Wait!” You called suddenly, your bravery getting the best of you. He turned around.

“I haven’t seen you around before, are you local?” You asked.

“Yeah… I’ve been away for a while. My names Tommy.” He smiled.

“Nice to meet you Tommy. I’m (Y/N), hope to see you around.” You smiled back, and turned to go back to your tidying.

Tommy left feeling happier than he had in a while. He hadn’t had a friendly encounter with the towns folk since coming out of prison, or with his family since Sam came back from Afghanistan and the news had come out that he and Grace had kissed.

Tommy didn’t have feelings for Grace, not real feelings anyway, and he realised this once Sam returned. Tommy chalked it up to the grief they both felt having thought he had died, as well as the happiness he felt when he was in a family environment. No, the only feelings Tommy had for Grace now were guilt, and he struggled to be around them.

He had decided to buy a book on how to manage PTSD so he knew how to handle Sam, who was due to come home from his stay at the psychiatric unit. Tommy felt sad that things had become so hard for Sam, and he was determined to not make things any worse.

Your act of kindness towards Tommy had turned a bad day around, and as he drove home that evening, he couldn’t help but think about the warm smile and beautiful eyes that he found at the little bookstore on the corner.

You had just closed up the shop, and began to walk home as the light dipped behind the horizon, casting the sky in a blue haze, the street lights had since flickered on and you watched your shadow grow large and then small as you passed under each one. Jet’s dog walker would have left around 3 hours ago and you bet he’d be itching for another walk, so hurried as fast as you could.

About a block from home you stopped suddenly as your breath caught in your throat and your heart sped up. You could hear footsteps close behind, and the they were closing the gap between you quickly. You spun around prepared to come face to face with an attacker or someone hoping to snatch your measly purse, but were met with an empty sidewalk dimly lit by street lamps and lined with trees.

You strained your eyes for any movement, but eventually convinced yourself you were being paranoid, and speed walked the rest of the way home, only letting your breath go once you were safely inside and you had locked your door.

———————

-Chapter Two Here-

[nothing-personal-posts]

"I'm The Crazy One?" (Batfam x Batsis) Final part

Summer: There is a saying. "Die a hero. Or live long enough to become the villain" You refuse to be both. No, you decided to be vengeance itself.

CW: Mental health issues, torture, stalking, violence, mentions of death, cursing, past trauma, mentions of self harm, underage drinking, bad ending

Tag list: @rosecentury @agent-nobody-knows

People call Superman, Batman and The Flash, hero's. While Joker, Luthor and Deathstroke are called, villains.

Rather simple to simple minded people.

But do you want to know the difference between these hero's and villains?

The Hero's have an unsaid code for no killing, a common moral honestly. Because thats not what heros do. Hero's protect, symbols for safety, peace and hope. So they take down the bad guys, and put them away.

While the Villains, they have no code, no morals. They simply want to control, spread chaos and dispare to whomever and whenever. They are killers. So when they are put away to prison or whatever, they brake out. And kill again, spread chaos and dispare to whomever and whenever, again.

And the hero's come to put them away. . . again.

It is a cycle, an unending loop that only stops for a second before starting up again.

But how do you end this cycle? This, usless and rather annoying cycle. Well, it's simple. Take down the Villains. Officially.

Now, some must be thinking. That the hero's can't do that, it was just mentioned that hero's don't kill!

Yes, the hero's can't kill. And simple minded people never really think of putting the Villain's to death due to the huge amount of reliance on the hero's.

So who has the guts to kill a villain, to willingly rid the world of a killer whilst becoming one themselves?

Luckly(and rather sadly), the answer to that question. Is Y/n.

A young girl who had suffered by Jokers schems. A young girl who prays for the night tarrors and panic attacks to stop.

A young girl who sees the man in her dreams, in the mirror, in the dark corner of her room at night. Hears the man's laugh when it gets far too quiet.

You wanted it to stop. To end it all. There were two options you had. End it yourself, or end it yourself.

You took the first option, which lead you to the top of a building. Half empty bottle of tequila you stole from the cellar and nearly dried blood staining your sleeves.

You stumble while aproching the edge. Humming and giggling at your scrambled thoughts.

Mumbling lyrics to a song you had forgotten the name of. None the matter, not like you needed the title of that name anytime soon.

You took one last gulp from the bottle in your hand, finally finishing it. You peeked over the edge.

"That. . . looks far." You hummed and dropped the empty bottle. Waiting till it crashed to the ground. Once you saw the bottle scatter into peices. You hummed and smiled drunkenly.

You stood on top of the edge. Spreading yoir arms open like a bird about to fly out of the nest. Before you even jumped.

You were tackled. Taken far away from the edge.

"Owwww! That hurt!" You pout and whined. You looked up to the person who had tackled you, and instantly smiled and started to giggle.

"Oh Du- ops. Bat signal! Hehe, you saved me~" You were about to say Duke's name. But reminded yourself that he was in his suit.

Duke took in your condition and frowns. He sighed and spoke "Batmans going to kill you." Duke can already hear Bruce's words of displeasure. God, Dick too.

You began to giggle "Silly~ Batman doesn't kill~" you started to giggle even more. Before slowly stopping ". . .batman doesn't kill. . . ."

"You know what I mean--" you blocked out Duke's words.

Because here, is where you relized that Batman- Bruce wouldn't kill Joker. Not for you. Not for anyone. Batman wouldn't permanently take down the one who had caused both you and Jason the worst event in your lives.

And it hurt you. Angered you. You weren't angry at Batman. Just angry that you relized no one could kill Joker. No one.

A few weeks of after that event. You were thinking. And thinking whilst in the condition you were in, wasn't really good.

You had decided to go for option two. End it yourself.

And to do that. You had to make sure that Bruce wouldn't be suspicious of you.

"I think. I need to go back to the mountins. . ." You gave Bruce a speach of how you know that you need help. Need to be alone with your thoughts and learn how to overcome them.

Bruce, of course agreed. He was proud that you made this decision yourself. And not having him painfully send you away unwillingly. You would of course had a tracker on you. Just in case.

You were saying your goodbyes. The last one being Damian. Whne you stopped at Damian. You couldn't help but to get emotional and hug him tight as you felt tears building up.

Damian was your little brother. Even with no blood relation, that is what you saw him as. You always wanted a younger sibling, the thought of spoiling them and protecting them was something you felt proud of.

And now, your leaving him. Knowing what your doing, you mostlikely will never see him after what you are going to do. Probably brake his small heart and trust after too.

But hey, this was for him. For all of them.

You got to the mountains. You took the tracking chip out of your arm and left it at the temple. Took out the tracking devices in your phone, cloths and other things you needed.

You were back in Gotham. And suprise suprise. The Joker was out of prison.

You sighed in disappointment. In your new suit, watching over the city. Knowing you cant act now. No, you had to wait. Watch, and gain the information you need.

So you watched.

Observed every criminal related to Joker. Every gang, every dirt cop every think that you could know about the Joker. You did this for half a month before finally taking action.

You were in the Joker's hideout. Hiding in the shadows. Eyes never wavering off from him. You wanted to do it now. Kill him. Make him suffer. But you couldn't do that. Not yet.

Just a few more hours. A few more hours till he leaves and is unguarded.

Once the Joker was away from anuone else, out of his safe zone. You striked.

You landed on the ground near him. The Joker turned to see someone who was in a suit and mask. He couldn't identify the age nor gender of the person.

The Joker laughed at you. Started up witty comments about how you must be someone who admires the Batman.

You walked closer, fully engulfed by the dark of the night and the shade of another building that blocked the street lamp.

The eyes of your masked glowed a neon purple. You tilt your head, a clicking sound coming from your ask.

Without warning, you grabbed the green haired man by his face and smashed his head against the brick wall.

You assalted the man for a good minute before dragging him by the hair to a dark corner.

The last thing the Joker remembers before knocking out, is your glowing eyes and that clicking sound.

Phase one was to observe and gain info. Check.

Now, phase two. Stalk the Joker and his every move and attack him when he's alone and defenseless. Continue to do this till he doesn't feel safe in places he's supposed to be, with people who he trust.

Unknown to you, phase two was working after showing up to Joker three other times, he's been seeing those glowing eyes in the shadows when you weren't even there.

And when it got too quite. He would hear that clicking sound. It was driving him more crazy then he usually was.

You had fun. Your not ashamed to say it, that you enjoyed watching him show sighns of suffering from afar. Hurting him in unexpected ways that made you smile.

There were times when you would unexpectedly run into your family. Batman tried to take you in, but you escaped. Giving him no words but a head tilt and the clicking sound you make.

It wasn't long till the media took wind of you. Your actions and swiftness reminded others of an owl. So they so cleverly called you "The Owl"

You decided, that youve had your fun. And it was time to end the loop.

So, for your last visit to dear old Joker, you attacked him in his hideout. No one was there. Just him.

So you tied him up, dressed him in his most classic clown clothes. Added a little flower in his chest pocket for decoration.

You circle around him, making those same clicking noises. Watched him replace his fear with weak chuckles and empty threats that turned to bribes them back to threats again.

He was a mess.

He watched as your suite suddenly popped out claws. You hummed and got closer to the man. The look he had on his face made you chuckle. And for the first time, he heard your voice.

"Why so serious?"

You laughed after saying those words. Because, it was something the Joker himself used to say.

You got closer to his face, lifting your claws to the each end of his lips.

"Come on now. Give me a big smile~" Your claws dig deep into his pale skin, slowly tracing the red paint that formed a smile and forcing his lips to go upward as well.

"Ah! Look at that. Such a dazzaling smile. . . now, let's keep that smile there."

You pulled out a big needle and thread thick enough to go through skin.

You took your time sewing up the smile so it could stay still. You hummed to a melody that just stayed in your head. Happyily sewing like you were patching up a doll, blood trickling sowing the man's face, mising with his sweat and tears

You leaned away and smiled under your mask.

"All done!" You made your hands clap rabidly in an excited and hyped gester.

Something wasn't right. The air in Gotham has been stilled. Like the big crimes and crimanals hace been put on a pause.

And Bruce noticed this quickly. And it has something to do with this: Owl, person.

They showed up out of nowhere. Beating some of the criminals half to death, and drag said crimanals so they could, 'play' with them. The only reason Bruce got this information was because of Selena.

She watched one of Owl's attacls go down. And it was brutal.

Even Damian, at school. All the kids talked about was 'the Owl' and how cool they were. Besides from that, Damian found out a few rumors.

How the Owl might be female. And how the Owl might be conected to the Joker going missing.

Yes, missing. The Joker hasn't been active ever since you came into his life. But the public doesn't really know your the reaon why Joker has been inactive. So the assumed he had gone missing.

But, most of the big bad guys in Gotham know. . .they know why. They had many reasons not to interfere.

And now, they will never even think of it.

It was all over the news.

Joker found dead on the outskirts of Gotham

The details, were probably too much for a lot to take in on the condition of Jokers body. Or what was left.

It wasn't long till Bruce and the others found out it was the Owl who had done it. And saddly for them, took less time to find the now poorly hidden identity of the Owl, for the Owl had finished their main goal. And no longer cared.

You were on a balcony in the Wayne manor. Thw last place the others would think to find you. But Bruce did. It seemed like he always knew.

Dick and Jason were right behin Bruce as the three watched you stare up into the sky.

"Y/n." Bruce spoke. Your lips curled into a smile.

"Batman. . ."

Bruce frowns in your response. "Did you do it." His voice firm. You frown. Was that seriously the first thing dear old pops say to you?

You began to chuckle out of frustration.

"Do what?" You turned around and gave them an innocent look.

"Kill Joker!" Jason shouted. Dick was there to hold Jason back just in case. You leaned on the railing and crossed your arms.

". . . You mad Jay? Don't worry. Made him suffer before killing him." Yeah, like that would make the man any happy.

You began to chuckle to yourself. "You guys wanna know something funny" yoir chuckling slowly ecalated to loud laughing.

"He called me-- he called me Crazy!"

The three watched your laughong combined with small sobbing. It was sad, and deeply discerning.

"I'm the crazy one? After all the shit IM CRAZY!?"

It seemed like everything was hitting you all at once. Falling to your knees. Your laughter being overtaken by crying.

Bruce sighed and went over to embrace you in a hug.

This had them thinking. Maybe they were too late. Maybe they never truly saved you that day. The you that they knew, had already died without them knowing.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Jason Todd/Frank Castle ship manifesto and rec list!

For @dc-marvel-crossovers Pool Noodle Party.

These two are both scary motherfuckers when they want to be. Between the guns and the vengeance — yeah, the surface-level similarities are clear. But they’re also people whose core motivations are a) loss and b) a sense of justice. They lost faith in the ability of others to protect the people they love, and so they decided to do it themselves. They get a lot of shit from the other vigilantes in their respective circles for their methods of doing so; I think the lack of judgment coming from the other person would absolutely draw them together.

And at first glance, I think they can both easily be written off as angry characters, but both of them have a massive soft, caring streak under all that Kevlar and grumbling. It comes out mostly in the way they look out for (and fight on behalf of) the innocent — women, children, dogs… they’re both natural caretakers, but they’re rarely allowed to express it, and I think that caretaking is a huge part of what I love about the idea of their dynamic. They only allow themselves to be soft and to be taken care of because they’re with someone who also respects their strength.

Fic recs! Most of this tag belongs to the amazing @mightymightygnomepriest and @bittercape! Please go check out their work if you want more of this pairing — every one of their fics is great, not just the ones I’m quoting here.

forever trusting who we are by @bittercape - like I said, it’s the caretaking for me! This is peak softness, and I love the lived-in feel of the unspoken communication that comes from a long term relationship.

The rhythm of checking and mending gear is a familiar one, and Jason is comforted by the hiss of the whetstone against an already-sharp blade, as familiar as breathing.

Slightly less familiar is the way Frank leans against him when he comes back from packing up their gear. His weight is heavy against Jason’s back, seeking contact like a big cat.

can’t start a fire without a spark by @mightymightygnomepriest - Frank is literally in the rain trying to rescue a puppy in this. It’s so ridiculously endearing. There’s also caretaking (of course) and some sexy sexy sex.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason catches sight of a calendar. He wonders if he’s been a good enough boy this year that Santa’s delivered him a dilf.

Probably not.

Even if We’re Just Dancing in the Dark by @daddyswickedqueen - a remix of the previous fic on the list, but god damn I love Sagacity’s take on this premise. The inner voices of both characters are so well done.

There’s a low laugh that could, in other meteorological conditions, make Jason shiver. Right now it’s too fucking cold and wet to tell.

Jason stays right where he is. This goddamn puppy is going to be warm and dry tonight or he’s going to commit war crimes. Again.

Parting is all we know of Heaven, (—and all we need of Hell.) by llamallamaduck - Witcher fusion! I know very little about the Witcher fandom but was able to follow without problems, and the glimpse at the world was more than enough to have me wanting more. Great characterizations.

“I’ve been around for a while, kid,” says the Witcher, shifting. Automatically, Jason’s eyes snap to track the movement. You can’t not pay attention to that shit. He’s not even making any threatening gestures; he’s rubbing his temples with one hand and is propped up by the other. Nevertheless, Jason wants to curl his shoulders, bare his teeth and show he’s not easy prey.

Make This Easy by @thepartyresponsible - it has once again been 0 days since somebody in the crossover server recced a TPR fic, and for good reason. Significantly darker than the others on this list; this is not a happy story. But it involves one of my favorite descriptions of Jason of all time:

There’s some kind of predator under his skin, the same way there’s one under Frank’s. Maybe this kid’s teeth run a little closer to the surface, but Frank still recognizes his own. It’s just weird as hell to find someone like him caged up in a body like that. He wonders if that’s what he looked like in his early twenties, some unholy mashup of empty eyes and soft edges, baby fat barely lingering on a body already smelted into a weapon.

He was never that pretty, but Russo used to be. Maybe that burning match energy is something boys like them learn early. Self-immolation as a form of self-protection. Nobody’s going to get their hands on them if they’re already on fire.

[waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways]

Only the Dead 9

part 1

previous

next

Jason looks at the bloodstains by the computer, and Barbara’s wrapped corpse. “And who is that?” he asks warily.

Cass looks away. Damian buries his face in his hands and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to explain any of this. His heart hurts; he doesn’t want to acknowledge Barbara’s death, doesn’t want to have to put it into words.

Jason watches them quietly, soberly. His expression pinches when he looks back at the body, coming to his own conclusions.

Of course, that grim scene is the one Phantom emerges into. He comes flying through the wall at a breakneck speed, only to stop on a dime. He’s covered in several sluggishly bleeding wounds, and he’s panting, each breath fogging up in the air. His scans the room rapidly, and visibly relaxes when he sees all three of them. “There you are,” he says. “Come on, we have to go, now.”

Damian snarls, hand automatically going to the hilt of his sword. “Phantom. How did you find us?”

“I can explain later, but we’ve got a bunch of angry ghosts on our asses and we need to go right now!”

Damian draws his blade. “I don’t think we should go anywhere with you, Ghost Prince.”

Phantom rakes both hands through his hair, eyes wide open and wild. “Are we really doing this right now?!”

Damian grinds his teeth. He feels so hot, he feels like he’s burning, and rage erupts in him. “All of this is happening because of you,” he hisses. “All of this death, and for all I know you’re the one leading this invasion. I will not let you creatures win!”

Phantom’s next breath doesn’t fog, and his eyes widen. “Get down!” he shouts, lunging towards Damian. Damian slashes at him with his sword, but it harmlessly passes through Phantom, and he successfully knocks Damian to the floor. Barely a moment later, claws sweep through the air where Damian’s head had been.

Damian turns his head to look at his new assailant, and all at once, his rage drains away. Vertigo rushes through him. Even despite her orange eyes and bright green skin, he recognizes this ghost.

“Al Ghul spawn,” she says. “I’ve finally found you. Do you remember me?”

“Aadya Majumdar,” slips out of his lips without his conscious permission. All at once, he’s a child again, on one of his first solo missions with the League of Assassins. He’d been meant to kill her in her sleep, but despite his training, despite his already growing kill count, he’d hesitated. She’d woken up and fought back, screaming and scratching at him with her nails. In his mind, he’s staring down at her, covered in blood, watching the light drain from her eyes.

“And if it isn’t our dearest Prince Phantom,” she says, staring at Phantom with dark eyes. “Are you intending to get in the way of my rightful vengeance?”

Phantom floats upright, flipping midair to face her. “I’m against the murder of humans, no matter the circumstances.”

“Murder? He murdered me!” she shouts. Her voice crackles like electricity, and all of the lightbulbs in the room shatter, leaving only the dim light from the computer screen. “But then, you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Phantom crosses his arms and stares at her with icy blue eyes. “If I were you, I’d spend less time thinking about my death and more time wondering what the hell you did to get killed by a child.”

With a screech, Aadya launches herself at Phantom, claws extended. Phantom gracefully whirls into a roundhouse kick strong enough to send her careening through the wall, and then he swiftly dives after her.

“What in the everloving fuck was that?!” Jason asks.

[eliemo]

Call For Help

Summary: He wasn’t angry. He’d gone into this knowing Bruce was particular about his space, that his trust came sparingly, that things would have to move slow, but he’d like to think that he was past the point of punishing himself to avoid setting a boundary.

Clark couldn’t remember when he’d memorized Bruce’s being, when his heartbeat had become as familiar to him as his own, when it had gotten to the point where Clark could find him as easy as breathing no matter how far apart they were. 

It had happened gradually, naturally, Bruce’s place in Clark’s life settling into its importance long before they’d become something more than coworkers. More than friends. 

It had been two months since they’d crossed that line, since Bruce had finally taken that step out of his dark corner and allowed Clark to see him, really see him, after years of waiting. 

Clark would have waited a hundred more. He hoped Bruce knew that. 

It had started slow, both of them unsure, but it had progressed significantly better than he’d thought it would. 

Not that Clark had been worried it would go poorly, of course. He loved Bruce and he knew, although it was much harder for the other man to say, that Bruce loved him too. 

Things were never going to be easy, he knew that. The lives they both lead guaranteed that. 

They both had their own unique walls, their own reservations and fears, and while Clark had promised Bruce he was ready to put in the work, promised that he was ready to go as slow as Bruce needed, he’d been prepared for an uphill battle. Bruce lived like he had his back to the wall, a lifetime of loss and abuse etched deep in his bones, and getting Batman to even trust Clark as a friend had taken years. 

But everything had fallen into place like it was meant to be, the new dynamic easy to slip into, the two of them fitting together just as easily as their hands, their lips, their arms when they found each other at the end of a particularly hard day. 

Clark was still wary, well aware of the damage he could do, the power behind his hands capable of so much destruction, so much bloodshed. There was a deadliness below the surface that he wished, more than anything, wasn’t there. There were days where he was terrified Bruce still harbored any remains of the deep-seated mistrust he’d clutched onto when they’d first met, analyzing Superman like a threat. 

And Bruce was still Bruce, overthinking every conversation, every movement, quiet and careful with how he touched Clark, both in public and behind closed doors. 

But it all felt easy. It all felt right, more so as each day passed, Clark now waking up in the manor more than his own apartment, finding Bruce in the kitchen or the cave and planting a gentle kiss to his hair before flying to Metropolis, racing the sunrise to work. 

Bruce was always waiting for him when he woke, both of them sharing a snippet of their lives, relaxed and quiet, Batman always ready to greet him along with the rising sun. 

And as nice as that was… that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

It had taken a bit for Clark to fully register what was happening, to spend the night at the manor enough times to recognize it as a pattern, but once he did he couldn’t help the wave of unease that settled in his gut, the worry and confusion gnawing at racing thoughts. 

He knew he couldn’t expect Bruce to take nights off regularly, and he wouldn’t dream of asking. But Bruce had made an effort to work out his schedules to give him and Clark a few nights to spend together, Dick or Jason covering his routes for a few hours when he came home early. Alfred seemed thrilled about that, at least. 

The night would end with them in the same bed, Bruce pressed securely against Clark’s chest, a grounding presence that lulled him to sleep faster than anything had before. Like this, with Bruce’s heartbeat close and his steady breathing in his ear, Clark could let go and drift off, knowing for a fact that Bruce was safe.

 And while he didn’t technically need the rest, not physically at least, in Bruce’s bed he slept deep and peaceful in a way he never had before, wrapped up in silk sheets and steady arms.  

But then he’d wake up, sunlight seeping through the black curtains, and he’d start his morning in an empty bed. 

Bruce was never far, of course. He’d usually wait to tell Clark goodbye if he had business at the office to attend to, and they’d leave together if the Justice League called, but… still. 

It felt like Clark was missing out on something important, on waking up next to Bruce, on starting their days together. He wanted to wake up slowly in his arms, hold him as long as he possibly could until there was no choice but to get out of bed. 

But he didn’t even know what time Bruce woke up, what he looked like in the first rays of sunlight, slowly blinking into the waking world. 

It wasn’t like Clark wasn’t used to sleeping alone, but waking up with Bruce gone so suddenly sent a spark of anxiety through his chest each time, dread and confusion weighing him down until he found the strength to push himself up and seek his partner out. 

If Bruce didn't want to stay the night with him that was his choice, but Clark would at least like to know what he’d done wrong. 

So he’d finally worked up the courage to bring it up, stumbling through his question, not quite sure how to explain his worry or voice what exactly it was that he wanted. 

It was silly, making such a big deal over something so small, over the desire to wake up next to Bruce when they spent the night together rather than left alone in bed. But it was important to him, as small a gesture as it was, and he knew Bruce understood small gestures better than anyone. 

“I didn’t know it upset you,” Bruce said, brow pinched in the way it did when he was trying (and struggling) to be emotionally available. “Sorry.” 

“I’m not upset with you,” Clark assured, because he wasn’t. It wasn’t about that. “I just wasn't sure if I did something wrong, or if you–” 

“You didn’t,” Bruce said. “I’m just usually awake before you.” 

In all the years he’d known Bruce, Batman had certainly never been a morning person. He barely slept, glued to his computer in the cave most nights, but on the rare occasion he did sleep, he’d emerge no later than noon, scowling and sluggish until someone handed him coffee. 

But apparently he’d been awake before Clark rose with the sunrise, coffee at the ready by the time he made it downstairs. 

It didn’t make sense, but Clark couldn’t find a reason to question the explanation. Maybe they were both getting better sleep in each other’s company. 

“I think it might be nice to wake up together,” Clark said softly, reaching across the table to take Bruce’s hand in his own. “Is that okay?” 

Bruce stared at their hands before blinking back up at Clark, calculating and reserved. Unreadable. “Alright.” 

And for the time being, that had been that. 

The next time they spent the night together, Bruce had curled up next to Clark as usual, a case file and a pen in his hand, muttering something about needing to finish up some work since he was missing patrol. Clark hadn’t thought much of it, it wasn’t unusual for Bruce to put himself to sleep mulling over a case. 

The steady rhythm of his heart was already easing the lingering nerves from the day, Clark lulled to sleep in minutes by Bruce’s presence.

When he woke up the next morning, opening his eyes to the early morning sun, Bruce was still at his side just like he’d agreed to be. Clark smiled, reaching for him, but the relief was short lived. 

Bruce was in the exact same position he’d been in when Clark had closed his eyes the night before, reclined against the pillows, eyes slightly bloodshot, the folder of files on his lap noticeably larger. 

Bruce glanced at him, his gaze softening just a fraction when their eyes met. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” Clark managed, frowning at how rough Bruce’s voice sounded. “Did you sleep at all?” 

Bruce hummed, glancing down at the papers scattered across his lap. The tremble in his hands would have been undetectable to the human eye. “I promised Dick I’d go over these files for him. I lost track of time.” 

“Oh.” Bruce let Clark reach forward, let him lean against his side and intertwine their hands. He seemed okay, and Clark knew all-nighters were nothing new for him, but there was something… off. “You should try to rest, B.” 

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, a little too quickly. His heart- always slow, always controlled- skipped a beat. There was a tightness around his eyes, his shoulders held too tense for someone in their own bed, whether they’d gotten any sleep or not. “You’re going to be late for work. I’ll make coffee.” 

And just like that he was gone, heading for the kitchen, and Clark was left alone in bed again.  

—---

The next three days progressed the same way, Bruce clearly forcing himself to stay awake through the night at Clark’s side, bleary eyed and surrounded by his work when morning came. 

On the fourth night, Clark made a lame excuse for why he needed to spend the night back in Metropolis just so Bruce could hopefully get some sleep. 

And a later check in with Alfred confirmed his suspicions. Without Clark staying at the manor, Bruce had taken the night off per the butler’s request and slept a consecutive four hours that night, and another half hour nap in the late morning.  

It wasn’t a lot, especially not after how much he’d lost already, but he knew by now that it was as close to a full night’s rest that Batman would allow himself. 

Which meant that he hadn’t been reading into things, and Bruce refusing to close his eyes was entirely because of Clark’s presence. 

Because of Clark taking up space in his bed. 

It also meant that Bruce had most likely lied about waking up early, that he’d waited until Clark fell asleep before slipping out of bed for the rest of the night. It sure seemed that way, at least. 

He wasn’t angry. There was no reason to be, not if this was what Bruce needed. He’d gone into this knowing Bruce was particular about his space, that his trust came sparingly, that things would have to move slow.  

He just wished that Bruce didn’t feel the need to sneak around. If they were moving too fast, Clark would have understood. He would have backed off immediately if Bruce had just asked him to sleep in his own bed. 

He knew how fragile Bruce’s trust was, how getting him to open up about anything was like pulling teeth, but he’d like to think that he was past the point of punishing himself to avoid setting a boundary. 

Apparently not. 

There wasn’t a good way to bring this up, either. Not without Bruce immediately shutting down the idea altogether and closing himself off even more, inevitably undoing any progress they’d made. 

But that was fine. Clark could ignore the lingering ache in his chest and take a step back without a word, careful not to draw any attention to the shift in their dynamic. He’d gotten comfortable at the manor, often utilizing a guest room even before they’d gotten together, and he amended that he might have moved a little too fast without explicit permission. 

He cherished the feeling of falling asleep in Bruce’s arms, of their breathing syncing up as he drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat beside his own rather than cities away, but if Bruce wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy, Clark wasn’t selfish enough to push the subject. 

And if he never wanted to share a bed with Clark, then… then that was fine too. Bruce was worth it. 

He’d gotten used to making himself scarce at the manor over the last few days, still meeting Bruce for dinner in the evenings and working alongside Batman as usual at the Watchtower, forcing himself to be content in the quiet of his apartment and an empty bed. Nothing else between them had changed, there was no reason to make this a big deal. 

Their sleeping arrangements didn’t come up again for another week, until Clark received a call from Alfred during a late night at the Daily Planet. 

“Master Kent,” the butler greeted, and Clark could hear the tightness in his voice, the veiled urgency in his careful tone. “Do you have a moment to stop by the cave? I could use some help with Master Bruce.” 

“I’m on my way,” Clark said, pushing away from his desk and starting for the roof before Alfred was even finished. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?” 

“A few broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder,” Alfred said. “Nothing serious, but he’s… worked up, and I’m having some trouble getting him to cooperate.” 

In the background, Clark heard a familiar “Who are you talking to? What are you doing?” and sighed in quiet relief. Bruce was awake, and aware enough to be furious over Alfred calling Clark for help. 

He sighed into the phone, an exasperated smile tugging at his lips, never slowing his ascent up the stairs. “I’ll be there in two minutes.” 

He made it to the manor in less, despite the initial terror that Bruce was more severely hurt already fading, his heartbeat still a constant, grounding rhythm in his ears. 

Clark found them in the cave’s medical bay almost exactly as he’d expected- Alfred dutifully peeling away disposable gloves and putting away medical supplies, Bruce wincing as he pulled a t-shirt over his head, scowl etched permanently onto his face. 

Clark was able to get a good look at his torso before he pulled the shirt into place, wincing at the bruises and bandages littering pale skin. But a quick scan with his X-ray vision told him there was nothing serious. 

Not by Batman’s standards, anyway. A normal person would be in the emergency room. 

Bruce glanced up as he approached, piercing blue eyes dulled by pain and exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” 

He knew Bruce well enough by now to pick apart his tone, to hear the quiet I’m glad you’re here that went unspoken, and smiled. 

“I was worried about you.” 

Bruce’s scowl deepened. “Alfred called you.” 

“And I was worried.” He stopped beside the cot, waiting for silent permission before reaching out to cup Bruce’s cheek, carefully running a thumb along his bruised cheekbone. Bruce went tense, as he always did (and it always made Clark’s heart ache when he braced himself for something that would never come) before relaxing into the delicate touch a moment later. 

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, but his voice was rough, every part of him run completely ragged, drained until there was nothing left. His eyelids were drooping, his jaw clenched. “You didn’t have to come.” 

Clark ignored him, moving to hold Bruce’s face in both hands, something tugging in his chest at how wary he looked, always ready for the worst even after all these years, even in the safety of his own home. “You look exhausted.” 

For once Bruce didn’t argue, didn’t shove him off and rise to his feet in a desperate effort to disprove any suspicion of weakness. His shoulders just slumped, and he leaned a little more into Clark’s hands.  

“Long night,” he muttered, letting his eyes close for a moment. “Killer Croc.” 

Clark hummed in sympathy and ran a hand through Bruce’s hair, still damp with sewer water, the faint stench of Gotham harbor still clinging to him. There were goosebumps along his skin, Batman shivering under his thin t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“Why don’t you take a hot shower,” Clark offered. “And then we can try to get some sleep.” 

It was a testament to how tired Bruce really was that he didn’t even argue or glare, just gave a silent nod and pushed himself to slightly unsteady feet. Clark knew better than to push his luck by trying to steady him, choosing instead to offer another gentle smile and let him make his own way to the bathroom. 

“Thank you for coming,” Alfred said when they were left alone. “He’s had a long week. He’s calmer when you’re around.” 

“Of course,” Clark said, but hesitated before his next words. “I’m just… glad he’s been getting some sleep recently.” 

He could feel the older man staring, picking him apart in that uncanny way that left him feeling exposed, fiddling with his hands with nothing to do but stand there and wait.

“Is everything alright, Master Kent?” Alfred asked, and Clark knew better than to request he call him by his first name, odd and out of place as the title made him feel. “You’ve been around less this week. I was beginning to get worried.” 

“Oh.” Of course Alfred had noticed. And he’d never shared Bruce’s talent for ignoring the elephant in the room. “I just… uh. You know. I’ve been busy with work.” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow, and Clark’s gaze went to the floor. “Did something happen?” 

“No,” Clark said quickly. Too quickly. “No, just… we’re okay. We… I just… wanted him to get some sleep.” 

It didn’t make Clark feel any better about the situation when he didn’t need to explain any further, understanding flashing in Alfred’s eyes almost immediately. He nodded, smiling almost sadly. 

“I see,” the older man said, lowering himself to the plastic chair beside the now vacant cot. “I was hoping he’d managed to move past that.” 

It caught Clark’s attention, the weariness to his words, and he was prying before he could think better of it. “What do you mean? Is… if I did something to–” 

“Not at all, dear boy,” Alfred said, effectively cutting off the nervous spiral. “It was nothing you did. Quite the opposite. Master Bruce has… a very adamant aversion to sleeping near anyone. Myself and his children included. With how safe he feels in your presence, I was hoping you’d be the exception. It isn’t your fault in the slightest.” 

“Oh.” It made sense, even with the missing pieces, and the helpless panic at not knowing was starting to lessen, the shame that he’d done something to make Bruce begin to despise his company fading. But the new information just left a different kind of ache in his chest. “Why wouldn’t he just tell me?” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “Master Bruce willingly coming to you with an insecurity? Master Kent, have you lost your mind?” 

Clark laughed, despite the situation. “Fair point.” 

“You’ve been very patient with him,” Alfred said, softer this time. “I don’t have enough words to tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“He deserves it,” Clark said simply, because there wasn’t anything more to it than that. “And I love him. If he never wants to sleep next to me, he doesn’t have to. I just want him to feel safe.” 

“I believe he does. I’m not sure where this… fear of his came from, but I hope he can overcome it. It didn’t used to be like this.” 

“It’s recent?” 

“A few years now,” Alfred said. “He used to sleep better with company. When he was a boy, he’d spend more nights in my room than his own. The nightmares were easier for him to handle when he had company. And he and Master Richard used to fall asleep on the couch together most nights.” 

Clark smiled, chest light at the mental image, but reality pulled him right back down. “And then it just… stopped?” 

“I don’t think it was quite so sudden,” Alfred amended. “But I should have noticed something was wrong before it got this bad. He’d always had night terrors and dreams but he’d never been afraid to… something must have happened, I just… wish I could offer him more. I wish he’d tell someone what changed.” 

“I can talk to him about it,” Clark said. “When he’s feeling up to it.” 

“You are welcome to try.” Alfred’s voice was soft, his smile sad as he pushed himself back to his feet. “Thank you, Master Kent. You’re of course welcome to stay, we have plenty of spare rooms.” 

—---

When Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom, dead of his feet and doing a fantastic impression of a newborn deer, Clark decided to take matters into his own hands and fly them both upstairs to Bruce’s bedroom. 

“Clark!” he’d barked, grabbing at Superman’s sleeves, but the heat in his voice was lost to bone deep exhaustion. “I can walk.” 

��I’m sure you can,” Clark said. “But I’d rather not have you fall down the stairs and crack your head open.”

“I’d be fine,” Bruce muttered, but he let his head rest against Clark’s shoulder. “And you’d catch me.” 

Clark didn’t grace that with a response, just smiled and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s hair. They both knew he was right. 

He let Bruce get into bed on his own, placing him carefully on his feet, fully prepared to back away and leave as soon as he was under the covers. 

But he was barely lucid enough to walk in a straight line, falling gracelessly onto the bed and rolling over, despite the hiss it pulled from his lips when it aggravated his injuries. He blinked up at Clark, and to his shock, reached out a hand. 

He didn’t move, frozen to the carpet. “Did Alfred give you painkillers?” 

“Clark,” he called, quiet and slurred. “Come here?” 

And Clark could never deny Bruce anything, especially not when he asked like that. He pushed aside the worry, crossing the room immediately and lowering himself to the edge of the bed, letting his fingers intertwine with Bruce’s. 

But Bruce clearly had other plans, tugging slightly on his hand, moving aside until Clark had time to lay down on his side, their noses inches apart. 

Hesitantly, he reached out his free hand to cup Bruce’s cheek, relishing in the way his blue eyes fluttered shut, his face relaxing. 

“You’re okay,” he said. “You can rest, everything’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Bruce leaned into the warmth, relaxing in the touch, tension leaking from his body entirely. “Will you stay?” 

Clark’s breath caught in his throat. “Are you sure?” 

“Stay,” Bruce said again. “Sleep here tonight.” 

He was barely conscious, his words nearly inaudible, and for a moment Clark was inclined to say no, to lull Bruce to sleep and slip out immediately after- just like Bruce had done to Clark. He was almost positive Bruce wouldn’t want this if he was more awake, and he was terrified to cross any boundaries, even the unspoken ones. 

But… this could help them make progress. When he woke up in the morning, warm and content, he could start to see he was safe, that he was allowed to fall asleep in Clark’s arms. Clark denying him the opportunity when he was asking, even with an exhausted, delirious request, might only prove to be a setback. 

“Of course,” he said. “I’m right here, B. Close your eyes, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

Bruce’s breathing evened out just a few heartbeats later, relaxing fully into the mattress and going limp in Clark’s hands. 

It occurred to him, all at once, that he’d never seen Bruce sleep before. 

They’d known each other so long Clark sometimes had a hard time remembering a time without Bruce’s heartbeat in his ears, without his presence being the most comforting constant in his life. And yet. 

He’d seen Batman knocked down, drugged up on painkillers and poison, knocked unconscious for a moment, and- although he didn’t like to think about it, completely motionless with nothing but tubes and the power of technology keeping him breathing, his heartbeat weak. 

But he’d never seen this, Bruce’s face completely relaxed, the hard lines smoothed out, leaving him looking years younger, peaceful in a way he’d learned a long time ago Bruce could never experience when he was awake. 

He knew how rare it was to get Batman to sleep. He wondered if he could have a hand in changing that. 

He scooted forward just a little, careful not to jostle Bruce too much as he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. He closed his eyes to the sound of his heart, his even breathing, letting the world fade to a gentle hum. 

—---

Clark woke to screaming.

His eyes flew open as the body in his arms began to flail, fighting desperately, letting out another piercing, terrified scream. Bruce’s eyes were still closed, face twisted in pain and panic, and Clark’s heart dropped. 

“Bruce,” he called, scrambling to sit up, his hands hovering, not sure if it was safe to touch- if it was even safe to wake him. “Bruce? It’s okay, you're okay! Wake up sweetheart, it’s okay, I’ve got–” 

Bruce jolted awake with a strangled gasp, kicking at the sheets tangled in his legs, eyes wide and watery as he frantically took in his surroundings, scanning the darkened bedroom like a battlefield. 

“It’s okay,” Clark said, keeping his voice low, but it was clearly the wrong move. “B–” 

Bruce jumped the second the words left Clark’s mouth, eyes widening when he finally focused on his boyfriend. He twisted out of Clark’s hold, fighting like a wounded animal, flinching like someone had moved to grab him when Clark scooted back. 

“B?” 

“No,” Bruce croaked, his hands held over his face like he needed to protect himself, scrambling until his back found the headboard. He curled in on himself, shoulders hunched, wide eyes staring at nothing. “No, no no–” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clark tired, faltering when Bruce’s attention immediately snapped to him, his eyes startlingly alert. “It’s okay, B. It was just a nightmare, you’re safe. You’re safe now.” 

Bruce was shaking, hands trembling violently from where they were raised to block his face, body twisted to the side like he was bracing for a blow. Clark held himself perfectly still, meeting his eyes, fighting to bring him back to reality. 

“It’s okay,” he said again, not quite sure what else he could offer. “I’m not… I’m not gonna hurt you, Bruce. It’s just me. It’s Clark.” 

Bruce looked so small, pressed up against the headboard, curled in on himself like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. His wary gaze lingered on Clark for another moment, like he was slowly trying to make sense of his words, before he slowly turned away to scan the room again. His eyes lingered on the closed door, then the window, and Clark’s heart only sank deeper. 

He was looking for an escape route. 

“Hey,” he said softly, wincing when Bruce went tense, eyes back on Clark. “I can leave if you need me to, Bruce. You’re safe, you’re in your room.” 

Bruce just blinked at him, still waiting for something that would never come, and Clark forced himself to smile, gentle and quiet, just for the two of them. 

“Or I can stay right here,” Clark added. “And wait until you’re ready. Whatever you need.” 

Bruce took a shaky breath, never dropping his guard, still watching Clark like he was an unknown threat. “I woke you up.” 

“It’s… fine, B,” Clark said slowly, because that was the last thing he’d been expecting. “I don’t mind, I'm not upset.” 

Bruce’s brow furrowed and his breath hitched, like he hadn’t been expecting that either. “But… I woke you up. I screamed.” 

The pieces were slotting themselves together into a very worrying picture, and Clark realized with sickening clarity that it wasn’t just the nightmare sending him spiraling into panic. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Clark said. “It really isn't a big deal, I promise. I’m just worried about you, okay? I want to help you.” 

It took too long, Clark waiting frozen with Bruce’s pounding heart in his ears, not trusting himself to make a single move and risk spooking him further. 

It felt like hours before Bruce moved again, slowly lowering his hands before inching forward, distrusting eyes still watching Clark like a hawk. 

“It’s okay,” Clark promised again, carefully opening his arms and sending Bruce another smile. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You can come here.” 

That was apparently all the encouragement Bruce needed. He fell forward like a puppet with their strings cut, falling limp against Clark’s chest, grasping at his shirt and burying his face in his shoulder, and Clark wasted no time wrapping his arms around his partner and holding him close. 

“You’re safe,” Clark said, heart squeezing when Bruce’s only response was a choked, muffled sob. “You’re safe. It’s okay. It’s all okay now.” 

“I woke you up,” Bruce said into his chest, still shaking like a leaf in his hold. “I woke you up.”  

“Bruce, it’s okay.” Clark didn’t know why this was what had rendered Bruce to a panicking mess and not whatever nightmare had been plaguing him enough to leave him screaming bloody murder in his sleep, but it didn’t make him hold Bruce any less tight. “It’s alright, B.” 

Bruce just shook his head, burrowing further into Clark’s arms like he was trying to disappear, making himself as small as possible. Clark ran a hand down his back, scrambling for another approach. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, frowning at the way Bruce went perfectly still. “The nightmare?” 

There was a beat of silence, Bruce clutching at Clark’s arms so tightly it would have left bruises if he’d been human. 

“They died,” Bruce said after a moment, the admission overtaken by trembling sobs, and if Clark hadn’t known any better he would have marched them both right back down to the cave and checked for any signs of Scarecrow’s fear toxin. But he knew Alfred had done a full scan- he wouldn’t have let Batman out of his sight if he hadn’t been sure. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t stop it, I can never… I can’t… they’re all dead. Everyone’s dead because of me, I didn’t–” 

“No one’s dead, B,” Clark said. “Everyone’s okay. You’re safe- we’re all safe. It was just a nightmare.” 

“It’s my fault. It’s always my fault.” 

Clark wasn’t sure what death was haunting him tonight- his parents, a team member, a friend, a civilian, his son- but he’d seen the depths of Bruce’s guilt for each enough times to know his answer would always be the same. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Bruce.” He held him closer, resting his chin atop Bruce’s hair. “It was never your fault.” 

He didn’t move again until Bruce went silent, both of them still clinging to the other like a desperate lifeline, Clark carefully easing them down to rest against the pillow. Bruce didn’t protest, his fingers twisted in the material of Clark’s shirt, his face hidden from view. 

He kept a careful eye on Bruce’s heartbeat, his breathing, holding him close and running a hand through his hair, the pressure on his chest warm and grounding. 

Bruce didn’t fall back asleep, not even as the hours passed and the first rays of gentle sunshine began to peek through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in early morning gray light. The thought of closing his own eyes didn’t even cross Clark’s mind. 

Bruce eventually stirred, and Clark loosened his hold just enough for Bruce to silently push himself into a sitting position, eyes still red rimmed and heavy, his hair a mess and face drawn into a carefully blank expression. 

He didn’t look at Clark, eyes on the wall. 

“I should start some coffee,” Bruce said after a moment, voice hoarse. “I have to be in the office at noon.” 

It couldn’t have been any later than six, if even that, but Clark just nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I can make it. Why don’t you go get washed up?” 

Bruce glanced at him, looking almost like he was surprised by the offer, before the walls came hastily back up, closing himself off again as he nodded silently and disappeared into the bathroom. 

The rest of the manor was silent, the others either still asleep or down in the cave after last night’s patrol. It was still early enough that Alfred hadn’t made his way into the kitchen yet, and Clark was left in solitude, waiting at the edge of the counter as Bruce’s favorite blend of coffee brewed. 

He’d just finished pouring two mugs, black for himself and cream and sugar for Bruce (he’d stopped pretending to be fooled by Bruce’s lie that he preferred black coffee months ago. He had no idea why Batman had even lied about it in the first place) when the background sound of his boyfriend’s heartbeat grew a fraction louder, a silent presence appearing in the doorway. 

“Good morning,” Clark said, turning around with his best smile. He knew it wouldn’t reach his eyes. “Coffee?” 

Bruce didn’t say a word, but he crossed the room and took the offered mug, hesitating a moment as he wrapped his hands around the glass, taking in the warmth radiating from the drink before making his way over to the table. 

Clark hadn’t been asked to leave, not even in any of Bruce’s subtle, silent ways, so he took his own mug and carefully followed. 

The kitchen fell into silence so heavy it felt like Clark was wading through water, and he dropped his eyes to his hands folded neatly in his lap. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. 

He wanted to ask Bruce if he was okay, if he needed anything, but he knew better than anyone that Bruce wouldn’t take well to that, stubbornly defiant over his own need for help and care. It would just make him close himself off more, if Clark were to jump right into the heart of the issue. 

Bruce was the first to break the silence, to Clark’s surprise, clearing his throat and setting his coffee back down on the table. 

“Well,” he said quietly. “Now you know.” 

Clark picked his head up, staring blankly at Bruce who was pointedly looking anywhere else. “Now I know what?” 

“Why we can’t share a bed,” Bruce said, like it was obvious. “I knew I’d slip up and fall asleep eventually. This… makes things simpler, at least.” 

“What?” Clark asked, blinking when Bruce raised an eyebrow. “B, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Last night,” Bruce said slowly, a bit like he was talking to a particularly confused child. “I woke you up.” 

“And I told you it was fine. What does this… have to do with us sharing a bed?” 

“The nightmares, Clark,” Bruce said, spitting out the word like something poisonous. “That’s going to happen every night.” 

“Bruce–” 

“I mean it,” Bruce cut him off. “Every night. Every night I’m going to wake up screaming and confused and… and I’m not doing that to you. I won’t.” 

Clark swallowed. “There’s nothing that helps?” 

“Alfred and I have been trying everything since I was eight years old,” Bruce said, and Clark’s heart ached. “There’s nothing. Sometimes they’re less intense but… they aren’t going to go away.” 

“Oh.” Clark hesitated, not sure what else to say. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t sleep a lot anyway,” Bruce said, brushing off the sympathy. “But I’m not going to put you through that. You deal with enough of my shit as it is.” 

Clark froze. That was what he’d been worrying about? This whole time, he’d been doing everything in his power to avoid falling asleep next to Clark to spare him from hearing Bruce wake up screaming? 

“B, I don’t need to sleep. Not physically.” And Bruce had known that. This wasn’t adding up. “I’d rather be there to calm you down when you wake up.”

“You still sleep,” Bruce argued, but it sounded weak. “You’re busy and you deserve the rest either way. Waking you up every night wouldn’t be fair. I just… think it would be better for you if we slept in separate rooms so you wouldn’t have to deal with that.” 

Clark watched him carefully, blue eyes darting across the kitchen, fingers drumming along the side of his mug. He held himself tense, his words clipped, his heartbeat uncharacteristically out of control. 

He thought about what Alfred had told him. He’d said Bruce had always had nightmares, always been a restless sleeper, but he’d used to seek out that comfort. He’d used to sleep better around someone he trusted. 

And in recent years, out of nowhere, that had stopped. 

Clark had seen it for himself last night. He didn’t just feel guilty over waking Clark up, he wasn’t just confused and exhausted from his dreams. He was terrified. 

“There’s more.” 

Bruce’s brow pinched together, startling slightly before he leveled Clark with a wary glare. “What?” 

“There’s more you aren’t telling me,” Clark said simply. “It’s not just about the nightmares.” 

Bruce scoffed, but the sound was quiet and he dropped his gaze again. “There’s not.” 

“Bruce,” Clark tried, desperate to understand. “You were scared of me last night. You’re not just worried about being an inconvenience- which you’re not, by the way. You’re scared to sleep near anyone. Alfred said it wasn’t always like this.” 

Bruce’s face twisted in disgust, but Clark could see him fighting the urge to shrink in on himself. “Alfred is a traitor.” 

“No, he loves you and he’s worried.” Clark took a breath, reeling himself back in. Bruce hadn’t snapped at him or stormed off yet, which meant they were getting somewhere. “And so am I. I just want to know what’s going on so I can help you.” 

Bruce still wouldn’t look at him, visibly uncomfortable with the shift in tone. “What else did Alfred tell you?” 

“Not much,” Clark said. “He said you used to sleep better near him or Dick. And that you used to ask for help when you’d have nightmares.” 

“Years ago,” Bruce said quickly, like he needed to defend himself. “I was a child.” 

“It’s normal to need help with nightmares, B. Everyone does. And I’m happy to, no matter how bad they are. I want to help you with them.”

Bruce took a suspiciously unsteady breath, hands curling around his coffee mug so tight Clark was absently worried it may crack. 

“I can’t,” he said, breathless and strained. “I can’t.” 

“I won’t make you,” Clark amended, because no matter how this went, he wasn’t going to push too far. “But can you please tell me why?” 

Bruce clenched his jaw, staring silently into his coffee, stubbornly keeping his head down like he had all morning. 

Truthfully, Clark hadn’t expected anything more. Bruce was more than capable of going completely silent, shutting off from the world when he didn’t want to talk about something, grasping for distractions or busywork until it all went away. 

But after a moment he took another breath, sparing Clark another uneasy glance. “It’s stupid.” 

“I doubt it,” Clark said. “I’m listening.” 

Another moment of silence, tense and heavy as Clark waited for Bruce to work up the courage to find his words and continue.  

“I used… I used to date this girl. A reporter. Just- briefly. It wasn’t even really… she was doing it for a headline and I was stupid. She wanted money and I thought… it doesn’t matter.” 

Clark ignored the heaviness in his chest, waiting for Bruce to compose himself. “Take your time.” 

“We weren’t together very long,” Bruce said. “And I wasn’t allowed to fall asleep next to her.” 

“You weren’t… allowed to?” he echoed. “Because of–” 

“The nightmares,” Bruce finished for him. “I don’t blame her. They’re… loud.” 

“Bruce–” 

“I was sleeping even less back then,” he barrelled on, and Clark quickly shut his mouth. “So it didn’t matter anyway. I was busy keeping Batman from her, it wasn't like I had time to spend my nights there.” 

Clark didn’t move, terrified that one wrong move would shatter the moment and Bruce would close back up forever. “But you know that wasn’t fair, right?” 

“I fell asleep in her bed once,” Bruce said instead of an answer, and Clark’s heart sank at the heaviness to his words. “Just… just once.” 

Clark threw caution to the wind, reaching across the table to put his hand over Bruce’s, squeezing slightly when it trembled under his touch. 

“It was a bad one,” he admitted. “I don’t… I don’t remember it but I woke her up, obviously. I was loud and I was… I don’t know. I think I reached for her and she was… she wasn’t happy about it.” 

Clark’s blood ran cold. “Oh, Bruce–” 

“I’d been Batman for a few years at that point,” Bruce said, once again looking anywhere but Clark. “I knew how to cover up bruises when I went out so it wasn’t… it wasn’t an issue, but–” 

“She hurt you,” Clark said, the rage clawing its way to the surface dark and dangerous, a familiar heat prickling behind his eyes. “Because you had a nightmare?” 

“Because I woke her up,” Bruce corrected, like that made any difference. “She was… she was probably exhausted. She was right to be mad, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“You were thinking you had every right to fall asleep in your partner’s bed,” Clark said. “No matter what, she shouldn’t have hit you.” 

Bruce pulled his hand back, his warmth slipping right through Clark’s fingers, looking for all the world like he wanted to get up and bolt. “I’ve had worse. Every night I have worse.” 

“But this is different,” Clark insisted. “Someone you trusted hurt you for something you couldn’t control. You needed help and she broke that trust.” 

“It isn’t a big deal.” 

“It is a big deal,” Clark said. “You can’t sleep around people anymore, Bruce.” 

“It’s safer that way,” Bruce said, quiet and defeated, and the rage simmered down just like that, the sorrow overpowering anything else. “It can’t happen again.” 

“It never would happen again. Bruce, no one here would do that to you. Alfred or your kids or- or me, I wouldn’t–” 

“I know,” Bruce said, but Clark’s heart only broke all over again when it didn’t sound like he really believed it. “I know.” 

Clark rested his hand back on the table, palm up, there for Bruce to take if he chose to. “I’d never hurt you, B. I’ll never hit you.” 

Bruce shifted in his seat, like the words made him physically uncomfortable. “Okay.” 

“I promise,” Clark said. “If you’re never ready to sleep next to me, that’s okay. I won’t make you. But if you do… if you do want to try it, I’ll be happy to help you through it. Any nightmares, any night terrors, anything. I’d rather be woken up so I can hold you then let you go through that on your own. Hurting you for being scared was… that was horrible, Bruce. I’d never… I’d never.” 

Something deeper in the manor creaked, a bird chirped outside, but the kitchen remained drenched in silence, Bruce holding himself as still as a statue, like he was braced for the rug to be pulled out from under him, for the other shoe to drop, for Clark to give up the act. 

“I want to believe you,” Bruce said. “I want to. But I… I can’t. I can’t believe that. And it’s not fair to you.” 

“It’s not about me.” 

“I don’t know how to trust you, Clark. It’s… you’re safe and you’re good and it feels like I’m lying to myself. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have this. It’s been years and you’ve never… you don’t hurt me.” 

“And I’ll go the rest of my life without hurting you,” Clark said, and he meant every word, without a shadow of a doubt. “And I’ll never get tired of proving that to you.” 

Bruce didn’t loosen his hold on his mug. “She wasn’t the only one.” 

Clark’s heart twisted, but somehow he’d suspected as much. “I’m sorry.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Bruce muttered, but it mattered more than anything in the whole world to Clark. “I’m just… sorry it’s hurting you now.” 

“I’m not hurt,” Clark said. “You’re not hurting me by being scared. I’m not mad at you. Bruce, I’m never going to stop being gentle with you. I’m never going to get tired of proving to you that I won’t hurt you. I don’t care how long it takes. You’ll always be worth it to me.” 

Bruce finally lifted his head, scanning Clark’s face for any kind of deception, for a hidden meaning that didn’t exist. Clark just smiled, open, hoping it was enough. 

“You’re too good for me, Clark,” Bruce said. “I know you won’t but… I don’t know how to start believing you. I want to. I want to. But I can’t.” 

“Well,” Clark said, careful. “It might help to start by convincing yourself that you deserve it. Because you do. You deserve people being kind to you, B. Nobody should have hurt you like that.” 

Bruce dropped his eyes again, jaw clenched tight. “Hm.” 

“I’m going to prove it to you,” Clark said. “I promise, I’m never going to hurt you. Not for anything. And whenever you’re ready to try again, I’d like to start by helping you through your nightmares.” 

Bruce shifted in his seat again, his frown deepening, but he didn’t brush off the idea immediately, didn’t completely recoil in terror at the suggestion. Clark dared to consider that promising. 

“I like being next to you,” Bruce said, pink tinting his cheekbones at the admission. “Sleeping with you wasn’t… bad.” 

Clark forced himself to keep a straight face. “I’m glad.” 

“I’m loud when I dream most of the time,” Bruce continued, but his tone was noticeably less clipped, the words pouring out easier now. “It’s annoying to wake up to.” 

“It’s not annoying,” Clark said. “You’re never annoying. And I’d rather be there to calm you down, if you’ll let me.” 

“Maybe,” Bruce relented, cautiously, and Clark beamed. “We could try it again. Just… not every night. Not yet.” 

“That’s okay,” Clark said. “We’ll go as slow as you need.” 

Something in Bruce’s shoulders loosened, just a little, and he hummed in quiet acknowledgement before finally taking a sip of his coffee, Clark following suit. 

He almost jumped when Bruce reached out and took his hand again, his skin cool against Clark’s palm, and he carefully closed his fingers, holding on tight. 

“Thank you,” Bruce said, his eyes on the kitchen window. “For staying.” 

Clark just smiled again, watching the dawn’s light reflect in Bruce’s blue eyes. He’d traveled the world, traversed the universe, and there was nothing in infinite galaxies more beautiful than the sight in front of him right now. 

“Of course,” he said, squeezing Bruce’s hand. “I’m staying right here, B.” 

[umhwarmglitterstory]

The spaces in the knot

Jason Todd x reader

Mature

•••

Into problems there you go

Little dove, little dove

Of your mother, buried corpse

And the blood and then the smoke

Red Hood may have done something horrible to you, in the meantime, while you search for truth and revenge, you end up staying at the Wayne manor?? Richard is nice at least.

_

Graphic depictions of violence, death, gun violence.

_

Chapter 1

Things were going to get messy, one way or another. Literally, a lot of blood splattered on the bare bricks of the walls or puddles on the ground, to dry and fade along the many others on the cement. The new man had punched you on the cheek, with enough force -and disdain- to know this was in no way a negotiable situation, followed by another hit to your stomach, leaving you crouched on the floor gasping. The other guy, your guy, Harry just watched, interested maybe as much as a sort-of-thug's bodyguard should, no trace of the cocky, almost goofy prick he had been any other day, like he was actually smart now and not half a blowjob from gifting his brand watch.

You shook your head, leaning heavy against the wall.

"What happened now, huh? You are always- always such a chatter" You asked, looking at Harry dramatically frowning, annoyed and condescending, hoping to stir something.

It worked; the nameless man turned his head, clenched his jaw as he gave Harry an angry stare. Not surprised or even disappointed, Harry was indeed a blabber, a known one apparently. That short distraction was enough for you to reach for your wrist while they exchanged a look, with a shaky hand you unclasped the metal bangle

"Every time" The man muttered, still staring at his coworker but reaching behind his jacket. That was the last push you needed, ‘you or them’ . He looked back at you as he raised his gun, supposed to be aiming at your head.

Not quite, his frown barely had changed at your now coiled position, when you had already sprinted, under the gun and towards his neck. You heard the slick swirl from the silencer by your ear as you buried the sharp metal on the side of his throat, without much care for technique or consequences, just push and draw your hand with your whole body behind it. You didn't know what to do, you didn't know what you were doing, what you had been doing the last weeks to get here, but the sight of the gun put you in automatic, making you claw at the man way harder than you'd liked, than you had ever before even in your mental preparations.

The man stumbled back, another quiet shot -aimless now- and both his hands, one still holding the gun, flew to his throat, a heavy gush of blood seeping between his fingers, rapidly covering his chest, his arms, then his stomach. Thick and heavy, so fast.

You turned to run towards the blue hue of the club, but Harry had already pushed himself off the wall, wide eyes looking between you and his ‘friend’ . Before you could even think of dodging it, he grabbed you by both your cardigan and shirt and threw you across the place, landing just past the other man.

"You Bitch! What did you do?!" Harry crouched beside his friend unsure of what to do, his hands hovering over the wound at the same time as the other man stopped trying to hold his throat, dropping them by his sides.

"Boss? Oh man- Diego, come on" Harry stopped himself, clearly Diego was dead, no need to smudge his hands with the blood, unlike you. He turned around furious, if not shocked, unhinged expression and breathing fast. You recoiled, shook yourself out of your trance watching the blood, the life, draining out of the man, like nothing, because it was nothing.

What you had done.

You tried to crawl away from the man and from your crime, pushing yourself to run as Harry stumbled to his feet.

You ran as fast as you could to the dark end of the alley now, towards a street you hoped, and for a second you did it. But then Harry yanked you violently by the hair dragging you down to the ground, stealing your breath again, and hitting the back of your head.

Dizzy, you hardened your hold on your bloody bangle, momentarily looking at the sky, dull, starless and with a dirty orangish hue.They weren't good people, Diego definitely wasn't with that ease to shoot you, being a feared superior to Harry who you'd seen breaking people's bones for fun basically. Then again no one was ever good in this city, not them, not the police, not your friends, not your parents, definitely not you. Harry was close to be considered almost a friend.

You tried to sit, but the man kneeled by your side, then caged you with one leg, smart enough to pin down your arm holding your weapon, with his hand on your forearm, the other clamping around your neck, cutting your scream.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?! Eh?!" He yelled, starting to squeeze your throat, your free arm close to useless against him, trying to reach for his face, his eyes.

"Stupid- you stupid! This- this was going to be quick, you know? you... bitch!" Harry said through clenched teeth, spitting saliva, squishing harder and harder your throat, still careful- or unsure, maybe, hopefully- to keep you conscious, to make it slow. It burned, your throat and your neck, your lungs and your chest, a painful pressure building in your head, around your temples and behind your eyes, the electric rush of blood starting to deafen you to your own gasps, to everything.

"Fuck, Fuck! I could-"

A heavy, rumbling thud interrupted him, coming from the darkest end of the alley. Then heavy footsteps. You felt the shift of Harry's hold on you, his fear. You smiled amidst your grunting and glassy eyes, not like the man was paying you attention anymore, he couldn't. You would've worried yourself too; you did fear jail, as much as the next guy. But, given the circumstances, what would be The Batman but a blessing. Is this what average people felt at the vigilante’s arrival?

You continued to struggle, still desperate for air, even though all was left to do was see what would happen, hopefully Harry resisting and getting beaten. You, of course, would stick to the damsel in distress. Had to. Whatever came, be it go to prison, you'd solve it later.

Harry made a show of holding you harsher, shaking you a little.

"Move and I'll kill her!" He yelled, desperate already. How stupid, you would have laughed had you not been suffocating, had there not come the other amused huff first.

What?

Harry was startled as well. Batman didn't laugh in any way, and sounded older, voice more serious and deeper, as the news and the internet showed, bordering on being ridiculously low.

Harry's eyes widened in a full panic, maybe you should too. You tried to move your head, see what was happening, who was it lurking in the dark, but Harry loosened his hold on your neck, and as fast as he possibly could -as you started an inevitable coughing fit- he went for his gun under his jacket.

"Wrong -" the voice said coldly, as Harry was almost done aiming at its owner, his finger already on the trigger.

"- move." a deafening shot, louder and ‘sharper’ than a regular gun. You closed your eyes, warm droplets on your face, and when you opened them again there was no Harry, just the last remnants of a mist, followed by an intense smell of salt and metal, blood and meat. A body dropped besides your feet, the gunshot powerful enough to push Harry's body back.

Fuck. Fuck! You were dead too, then. Weren't you bad enough? Criminal enough? Could you lie, would he even give you time to lie? Your coughing was turning into gasps, you tried to roll over, mostly just your upper half, planting your palms on the ground. Your opened, bloody bangle under one of them. Please, please.

More footsteps, stopping right in front of you. You really didn't want to look up to find, once again, a gun aimed to your head, but you had to. Slowly, resignated maybe.

A blur of black and leather, then the red, faceless metallic mask so many saw right before their demise. As cold and apathetic as you would expect, just two bright slates for eyes, with as much mercy as the rest of the hard helmet.

"You okay ma'am?" He asked, the weird sight of his open, empty hand was in front of you. Along your bewildered stare came a wave of nausea at the smell of gunpowder and smoke, twisting your gut in an almost unprecedented way. Almost. You hadn't even registered the two previous shots from the first guy who tried to murder you today, not really. But now you recoiled, the smell, the nausea; the old feeling like panic, like grief. The Red Hood tilted his head.

"You look rather uncomfortable down there" Oh. Oh right!

At least you didn't have to pretend a tremble, you reached out your shaking hand, trying to ignore and hide your crafted dagger in the other. Maybe- maybe he wouldn't even notice it.

You couldn't even register the contact, just the sudden pull, lifted to your feet. He was tall, big, and smelled so much like it -the gunpowder- or it was just his gun, still hot and smoking in his other hand. You got sicker, back to the creaking wood, decaying sashes.

He nodded towards where you knew was your kill.

"Care to tell me what happened here?" Came out the helmet, authoritative and modulated, just a pinch below robotic.

"I- I had to do it, I was protecting myself" And that was very true.

"Did they hurt you?" He asked again after a moment, softer. Well, you probably were already swelling and bruising in several places, and your voice was obviously too raspy. Did he mean something more, like assault? Would he take you to a hospital then? Did vigilantes do that? Did they care? Would that side make you less likely to get killed, or arrested, or beaten?

Wouldn't you deserve it, though

"Uh, no- not much I mean" You broke into another coughing fit, overdoing it just a little. Your throat and chest still burned. Harry only got you for a few seconds, but Red Hood didn't know that, right? The safest thing to do was remain the legitimate victim, and most importantly, as small as the scenery allowed it.

You were thankful for the darkness, for the imposing presence, making the bodies on the floor almost easy to overlook. You zeroed on Henry's hand, as harmless as it could be, empty, almost relaxed. You really could have died to that.

You glanced at the other corpse while stroking your neck, again, conscious. The guy you killed was a higher up, more important than Harry, and maybe because of that more willing to kill. If... if only now Red Hood just left, you could go and register under the expensive jacket, a phone, a wallet, anything. You had to, right? After all this- but didn't want to risk anything with this man. No, no, you couldn't, just, just-

Gunshots echoed in the distance, not too far.

"You should go home"

"...Yeah"

You turned around, opting to remain silent. You walked away, a last glance at the bodies as you did. Maybe you could come back later, before the cops and any other lowlife, if you were lucky enough you'd be in time to retrieve something, anything. This couldn't be for nothing, you couldn't just go back to zero again, not after all your struggle and their deaths, that was proof, right? That you were recollecting something, a truth. But it was a sign, too, that you were going to get killed, for nothing but suspicions. What did it matter now anyway! You wanted to cry, thinking of everything, your mom, the cruel unfairness, the nausea coming back. Back there at your old apartment.

The earthy, acrid smell of the wood, old wood that made the frames of the windows. It was never dry or sunny in the city for the fir to dry; always wet and dark and decaying.

Another heavy thud interrupted, far more restrained and smooth this time, paired with a sharp swirl of fabric. A dramatic sight, with the newcomer raising to his full size and blocking the sight of the unreachable club lights, the alley closer to black. Batman, at last. He looked down at you for a second, you thought, but then as if he had heard something you couldn't, his head snapped towards his… peer? He walked past you, with a lumbering pace, deafening silence.

"You killed these men'' He stated, his voice in person as much of a dark omen as you had been told. Red hood crossed his arms, moving in an over-smugly way, flaunting gun- guns? One in each hand.

"Quite the keen detective" He responded, and despite the mock, you could hear it through his modulator, see it in his stance and the tilt of his head, he was so pissed.

Your fear resurged. And still amidst your turmoil of emotions, thinking unclearly, tired, exhausted, you just wanted to get home, bathe and sleep, forget, maybe? And yet.

Batman has his back turned on you, his figure big enough to hide you from Red Hood, they seemed distracted enough with each other.

You tripped in your wobbly legs trying to scurry away, saw the man you killed there, across you. You went for it.

"What are you doing? You think you are acting like a hero?"

You refastened your cuff as you crouched by its (his?) side, feeling over his jean pockets, where you found several trinkets that in your hidden hurry didn't care to take, you just clutched little more than keys, a small squarish thing, coins, and a phone. Then to his jacket, you gulped when you felt the dampness. So grateful for the darkness

"Ah! Right, right. See, in case you haven't fucking noticed, I think your kind is the fucking problem"

Loose bills, a lot actually, you fisted them. You felt a blocky shape, it had to be a wallet, and pulled extra hard with the jerk that came when gunshots blew, the sound of metal clanking and wires. Clutching everything to your chest you finally, finally, scampered out of the alley.

[redhood414]

Part 2: The Games

Tags: @dzhanett-blog @02006 @animequeen4

(Y/n POV)

After I let the information sink in I quite started being curious about those princes. Honestly, it's fair, I'm turning 18 soon enough and I need to marry. I need to keep up the tradition of marrying. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad and the princes will be gentlemen! Or so I hope anyways....

Suddenly the curtains opened and my maid said in a cheerful voice. "Good morning, my princess!" She says with a big smile. I groan and put a pillow on my face. "5 more minutes ..." I mutter and she giggles as she pulls away the pillow. "Sorry, princess, but you need to get up. You're going to meet the princes today! Isn't that exciting?" I almost fall out off my bed as I hear that. "What?! Today?! No, this is a joke, right??" I panicked slightly, as I get up I look into my mirror and frown. God, I look like a mole rat. My maid starts combing my hair gently and braids it just beautifully, soon I look like an actual princess and not a mole rat. As she helps me pick out my dress (dress to impress, mother used to tell me) and suddenly Lucy, my maid asked me this. "Aren't you excited, princess? I would be if I were in your shoes. To have four princes competing over your hand!" I shrug as I bath myself behind the screens. "It depends on how they are. But if they are handsome that can be more points." We both laugh and soon I get out and she helps me put on a beautiful, green dress, with sparkles. (Or if you don't like that, you can pick out your own dress in your imagination:) "It's beautiful." "You or the dress?" She asks me with a giggle and I smile. "Well, I guess both." Lucy pats my shoulder. "They'll love you. You look gorgeous." She says as she puts my dark, velvet cloak around my shoulders. "What about breakfast, thought?" I ask, frowning. "You'll eat with the princes in Gotham, princess. They'll be delighted to have you there. The king asked that specifically." Lucy smiles. Nerves started feeling throught whole my body. So soon already?!

(Jason Todd POV)

I groan with annoyance when my servant opens the curtains. "Go away, Aiden!" Aiden ducks when I throw the pillow at him and it lands with a puff against the window and then on the ground. "I'm sorry to have woken you up so soon, my prince, but-" I cut him rudely off as I sit up. Annoyed and irritated. "I was having a good dream. You ruined it. How late even is it?!" I rub my eyes, looking angry at Aiden. Luckily my behaviour doesn't have an effect on Aiden. Aiden's a close nephew from Alfred, if I remember correctly, they've been both accelent servers of us. Eventually Aiden speaks up and continues his phrase. "As I was saying, my apologies for waking you so early, but the princess of Metropolis and her parents will be arriving soon. They'll eat breakfast here. "What?! Today?!" I groan and sigh, getting out off bed. "The king asked you to put on your best outfit." I sigh. Of course. I hate being dressed up, but I guess its fair then not be proper and meeting a princess. She wouldn't be impressed then.

Soon I finish up and I got to say: I look good. Bet Dickhead couldn't compete with me.

Aiden nods. "The princess will be swooning over you when she sees you, my prince." I grin, suddenly I have more care to win this. I want to be the better one.

As every one off the princes go sit at dinner, the family off Metropolis arrive and soon enter the dining hall, king Bruce and his wife, Selina stands up to greet them. Finally I see her, the princess. In that gorgeous dress, her hair in a beautiful braid. She's breathing. I'm going to win this competition for sure.