#put me in a box with bruce wayne and i will eat his brain

[damianbugs]

Hi!! First I just wanted to say your fics have been an inspo for me to write my own fics and I enjoy them immensely. Second, I’ve been wandering something and I want to ask something about how Jason Todd is portrayed after his death.

I don’t really understand why so many just kind of lie? Or exasperate who Jason Todd is and isn’t. Like the Cass and Bruce scene in front of Jason’s grave, or that scene in Gotham Knights where Alfred tells Bruce “Jason was determined to disobey him.” I know out of universe it just has to do with the mischaracterization of Jason but I’m having a hard time on finding an in universe explanation. Is it out of guilt? Out of misplaced love? It’s confusing me a bit

first of all, thank you!! i'm so glad i could inspire you that is truly the highest complement i could receive <3

secondly, this is a really interesting discussion! you're right about how in a meta way it's the deeply routed classism in jasons writing, as well as many writers (example: grant morrison) just really hating jason for some reason and doing everything they can to make him absolutely insufferable. not even in a cool evil villain way, but in an embarrassment point and laugh kind of way.

for the purpose of this discussion lets (with much difficulty) ignore the writers predispositions and implications and just focus entirely on what this means for the characters. it's good you mention the cass and bruce at jason's grave scene, because i think that example alone is a good way to deconstruct some of character's (for this post: bruce's) perspective of jason's death.

to summarise before dumping a billion paragraphs developing the point; let's not dance around it and accept that much of people's understanding of jason's death falls into the victim blaming variety, but in such way that the characters don't seem to realise that's how they perceive him, which is almost worse than them purposely retelling it in such a way. as well as that, aside from this indenial misunderstanding of jason, i think this shows the sort of flaws the other characters have.

Detective Comics #790

at first glance this seems like a really touching and emotional moment where bruce is sharing his grief with cass (especially when the entirety of #790 is about bruce struggling to do just that), but then you really read it and you're like what the fuck... why are we standing in front of this kids grave slagging him off? not only are we hearing all of bruce's regrets about how he raised jason as opposed to his son's actual death, but we are dragging steph into this too.

to bruce, jason's death is an accumulation of everything he let the boy get away with finally reaching it's tipping point. that jason's ambition to "prove something" lead to his seemingly inevitable demise.

now i do think it's important to note that WE (the readers) know jason died saving sheila. that despite being beaten, betrayed and left for dead, he tried to save someone and paid the price for it. no one else knows that, because the two people that did are dead. as a result, bruce is left with the facts that;

prior to his death, jason was acting uncharacteristically (<- important point) violent and aggressive towards himself, borderline passively suicidal. bruce himself acknowledges this.

that jason ran away from home in search of someone who may or may not be his mother. this is because losing his parents is a hurt jason has still not healed from and a topic bruce has handled badly in the past (example: willis todd). jason does not trust bruce enough to tell him about this.

once they find his mother, jason is instructed to not get involved in the joker related problem. to the extent of bruces knowledge, jason reveals himself as robin, and decides to get involved despite the instruction not to. either because he again, didn't trust bruce to believe he would handle it, or that jason was trying to prove something to bruce, to sheila, or to himself.

sheila dies, jason dies and bruce is the only one alive from the tragedy with only half the story.

All of this can be found in A Death In The Family, but I don't feel comfortable sharing panels of it given where the story takes place right now.

bruce spends the next few years blaming himself at any given point, but the blame is misplaced. bruce feels as though HIS negligence of JASON'S personality and HIS allowance of JASON'S freedom as robin is what allowed JASON to go and die. instead of seeing what he knows to be true about jason (his empathy, his kindness, his grief and loneliness) bruce can now only see how his allowance of all these things played a part in JASON disobeying him (whether maliciously or not) and dying.

in short, bruce is projecting big time onto his dead kid.

bruce is, as per usual, coping with loss by antagonising it. he did the same with babs, with steph and later on with damian. for a character like batman, who upon failing immediately turns these losses into lessons (for himself and all those forced to comply), it's the only way he seems to 'move on'. if he can understand that jason died because of all the things bruce let him do wrong, then he can convince himself that the guilt he feels for it is necessary. that jasons death is on him and that it mattered.

unfortunately, in order to do that, bruce is indenial about what he LITERALLY KNOWS ABOUT JASON! it's not like he was an absent father to jason in the slightest. but hey, if he can vitiate jason's enthusiasm to help people as jason's impulsiveness to fight (two things that can be true but not in accordance to the context he describes them in), then the blame is on jason for being brash, and on bruce for being lenient.

he shoots jason in the foot and himself in the knee to keep them both down. because, well, jason's dead anyway, and bruce unfortunately isn't. this is the closest thing they'll get to sharing the truth bruce knows he's missing and he knows it's his fault for favouring the mission of his son — so at the expense of jason, bruce lets them both be the lesson to learn from.

it is why jason is used as a cautionary tale, and why bruce is so unstable on allowing people (especially children) into his life emotionally. the second robin is a lesson for any young vigilante eager to join the mission, and batman's part in the death is a lesson for bruce wayne to... be even more emotionally untrustworthy? instructions unclear.

the final part of the grave scene is also important, because bruce is admitting that he is not so different to jason. that "for some of us [Bruce and Cass] there is no turning back". he is projecting these flaws about jason not only because that's the only way he can cope with jason's death, but he is projecting these flaws because regardless of what actually happened, he (and cass) are destined to meet the same fate. jason died for a multitude of reason that bruce may or may not have caused knowingly, and these reasons only exist because bruce knows them to be true in himself and anyone else damaged enough to find themselves on his side of the blurry line.

so, now looking a bit less zoomed in, i think it's unfortunate that jason's time as robin is often perversed by the people who should know better (bruce & alfred), and while it is bad writing on jason's character, it is great writing to show the flaws in the characters around him.

especially how it shows that grief is not always something that can become healed. bruce's guilt about his parents death amounts to something hopeful (batman), but his guilt about jason's death makes bruce cruel and childish.

tldr: no one knows the true story, so they compensate from what they do know — but by doing so they project and misinform existing characteristics of jason in order to compartmentalise the gravity of his tragic death. bruce is unable to cope normally and everyone is forced to follow the same fate, because batman's lessons are rarely wrong, even if they cause ten other problems and misunderstandings to understand.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Four

TW: NSFW, inappropriate use of handcuffs, angst

Tom picks you up from your shift, and you ride in silence. The uncomfortable, we need to talk, prickly silence that has your bones feeling weirdly placed and your teeth achy with unsaid words. His mouth and your mouth combined? Quiet between the two? Strange. You both know something’s up. Maybe even more than one something. 

When you get into your place, he goes to use the restroom, and you meander around cleaning a little bit—putting some dishes away and rearranging your coat rack and making sure your recently neglected plants aren’t dying dry deaths. 

“Sorry, guys,” you whisper, filling them up and eyeing the leaves for any browning spots, spraying the orchids’ tangled roots with water and a little plant food. You pause at the dark purple orchid from Julian, realizing there’s still a smear of your dried blood on the pot. Roses love to eat blood and bone. You’re not so sure about orchids. It’s hard not to think of Julian, when you look at the beautiful plant, but you can’t quite bring yourself to get rid of it yet. It’s not the orchid’s fault, after all.  

“You just keep getting cuter,” Tom says, smirking from the kitchen doorway. 

“They’re living things,” you reply, sticking your tongue out. 

“You know, I worked a case once where a lady had a lot of plants.”

You shoot him a raised brow. “Was she poisoning someone with one?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, that fast growing, uncut dark shag probably due for a haircut soon. Shame, you kinda like it a little longer. “See, it just makes me even more suspicious that you know that.” 

“Am I a suspect now, Officer Ludlow?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Easy, Poison Ivy, don’t make me get the cuffs.” 

“Poison Ivy, really?” 

He shrugs. “What? She’s hot. You’re hot. You both love plants. Got that fiery temper.” Wink.

“And you’re what, Batman?” You crinkle your nose at the comparison. Bruce Wayne ain’t got nothin on Tom Ludlow. Plus, you were never a big fan. Now, Punisher, he’s someone you can admire.

“No. I’m a side character. Poison Ivy’s boyfriend.” 

Do not engage. Do not interact. Do not make eye contact. Did he just call himself… You haven’t had a boyfriend in what, years? Tom Ludlow? Boyfriend? Dating? Your brain might be short circuiting, a rattling tool box of metal getting zapped with a cattle prod, and you stand there, frozen, looking dumb for a good minute until you can compartmentalize and rationalize. 

Tom Ludlow hasn’t really left since that first night you invited him in. His clothes are in your dirty laundry, his shoes are sitting next to yours on the entryway rug, making your sneakers look like kids shoes in comparison, his amazing smell is on everything, his indent is on your bed. He’s just settled himself right in here, and you didn’t even notice. 

“What’s a throw down?” You ask, stupidly, suddenly, not sure why you pick that moment to inquire about this. 

To your credit, it does take him off guard and make him forget about the whole boyfriend thing�� For now. “It’s a gun dirty cops carry. Something to throw away in case they shoot someone...unlawfully.”

“Is that…what you have on your ankle?” 

His frown is like a thunderhead, and he probably would have started yelling, if not for how tiny your voice sounded, and the big-eyed bunny look on your face. “No, baby. That’s my backup. In case I lose my other gun. Which, I have. Why are you asking me this?” 

Oh fuck, this was a bad, bad decision. Maybe you should mention the dating conversation again? You turn to face him, trying to seem less suspicious and probably just ranking yourself even higher on his list of suspects. “Brixton, that guy that interviewed me, said you fired it in the store.” 

Nice save—never mind, looks like you’ve personally signed Brixton’s death certificate yourself. You jump in to appease that hostile look curtaining over his face. “It's just..I feel like there’s something up, Tom. Something you’re not telling me?”

You’re such a hypocrite. 

“What does that have to do with my backup?” He asks, great fucking detective that he is, and you’re caught like a rabbit in a metal fox trap, ready to gnaw off its own leg just to get free. And maybe, judging by that suspicious look on his face, you should start digging in sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You throw your hands in the air, maybe a little too dramatically. “I’m just trying to piece this whole thing together, y'know? And if you’re not telling me anything, how can I do that? I saw his face—the man who attempted to murder a cop in cold blood—and I’m scared.” None of that was particularly a lie, but you still feel bad for freaking out on him. 

You feel even worse, when his standoffish attitude melts immediately for you. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby, come here,” he says, holding out his arms to you. 

Once upon a time, with anyone else, you would be an ornery shit and refuse the respective olive branch. But with Tom…you melt too, and before you know it you’ve crossed the tiny kitchen to fill his arms. 

“You’ve taken this whole thing like such a champ, I fucking forget you’re not used to getting shot at,” he says to the top of your head. “M’sorry, baby. I’m working on figuring this all out. I promise you. I’ve got some leads. I gotta find a guy…” He shuts himself up out of habit, not used to sharing details of an ongoing investigation with a civilian. But then he seems to think better of it, considering you’re right in the fucking middle of it too. “I gotta find this guy who might know the shooters. I’m waiting on a call. Got a lead through an inmate in County.”

“Why would an inmate help you?” you mumble into the solid plane of his chest. 

“Because I put him there, and he’s not gettin’ out unless he gets me that name.”

You blink at that, craning your neck to look up at him. “Is that legal?” 

He looks down at you with that Come on look that makes you feel more than a little foolish. 

“Oh.”

You feel the rumble of his amusement from deep in his chest, more than hear it. 

“Is that…always how you really get things done?” you ask, at risk of being made to feel even dumber. “Like, are the official channels really that useless?”

“Pretty much, sweetheart. Learned it the hard way a long time ago. Too many bureaucrats in the LAPD. Not enough people actually willing to get the job done.”

With a long sigh you nod, utterly reluctant to vacate the depression between his pecs. You’re pretty sure it was made just for your head. 

You guess you're about to embark on some back channels of your own to keep him out of trouble. The thought of what Julian might have in store for you makes a shudder of revilement run through you. Tom cranes back to study you, those hawkish eyes narrowed. He knows something’s up. He’s too smart, and you can’t fathom how you’re going to trick him, even if it is for his own good.

You suppose your best bet is distracting him–so you stand on tip toe, and press your lips to his. 

***

He just will not drop it.

He drives you absolutely wild. To the edge of your sanity. To the brink of death. 

This man’s tongue should be considered a lethal weapon. It’s an absolute menace. 

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, yet you can’t help but think to yourself, this is how you die.

“Tom…” you beg. “It’s too much!”

You would have even tried to get up, to get away, to flee, you’re that desperate, but he’s been holding you down with those big beautiful hands, and you are just a quivering mess of a woman at his mercy. Plus, he’s got you cuffed to the post of your bed.

“You can cum anytime you want, sweet girl,” he tells you. “You know what I want to hear.”

“This is…interrogation…under duress.”

“Oooo, someone’s been studying up.”

“Hey, I know…stuff.”

He’s changed tactics, making slow, soft circles with his tongue, just shy of where you need him most. The keening whine it tears from your hoarse throat makes him chuckle against you; a deep, bone-melting sound that you think Satan could take some notes from. 

“You know what I want to hear.”

I’m yours.

“Torturing me into saying it won’t make it true.”

“I already know it’s true, sweetheart. Just want to hear you say it.”

You whimper, your head thrown back into the pillows. So keyed up yet exhausted, too stubborn for your own good. You sense Tom looking up at you, his cheek resting on the soft pillow of your inner thigh. 

“Scare you that much, baby?”

You have to try twice before you can find your voice, suddenly feeling like you downed a fat gulp of Mojave sand. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

He climbs your body, and you are relieved until he sheathes himself inside you, just like that, like this is the place where he belongs. You desperately try to grind against him, knowing you are so close to the edge, but he just pins you with his thick cock kissing your cervix and his elbows on either side of you. 

He kisses your forehead, and its all so tender you could cry.

“You know you’re safe with me?”

“I know.” You mean it, too, even if you sound pitiful.

He sweeps your hair from your face with gentle fingers, looking down at you with a little smile that wrecks your heart. It simply was not fair.

“Then tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure if he means your neuroses in general, or your earlier almost-slip, or…who knows? Discussing any and all of it aloud terrifies you. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Finally, you just frown, and fall back on your favorite word of all time.

“No.”

Miraculously, he doesn’t get mad, like every other man you’ve ever known would have. He just seems to think you’re cute. “You know what?” He muses, tracing your collarbones and making you shiver, “I think,” he follows the dip of your skin, down between your breasts, then under, slow and soft, over your rib cage as you make little strangled gasps, attempting unsuccessfully to writhe—get him frustrated enough to move. “I think you like it when I tease all your worries away.” 

Why does that infuriate you even more? “This isn’t teasing.” Your whining delights him and humiliates you. “This is tortu-ah.” 

He has your pert right nipple tugged between two fingers, rolling the sensitive flesh against rough calluses. The sensation swells into your pussy, and she clenches, exacting her own form of vengeance on Tom, for once on the same side as you—the cum or die side. 

A breath of air hisses from between his teeth, and you grin up at him in triumph. Sure, you’re the one handcuffed to the bed being edged out of your mind, but you know underneath all that cool, collected facade this affects him just as much as it does you. 

“You haven’t seen torture yet.” He says, his smile turning malicious.

“What?” You pant. “Can’t help it that my pussy loves your cock so much, baby.”

He turns peach again, skin absolutely betraying his attitude, and you let loose a sharp giggle that turns to a groaning snarl when he pumps inside of you, slow, not enough. The rhythm he adopts after a minute or two of equally frustrating practice is made for your destruction; more frustrating than just holding him inside, unmoving. 

That languid squelching rub, the slow strokes that make your cunt flood and fatten with plentiful cum, yield to and accommodate its bulky visitor like a good little host should—all of it gets both of you gnashing your teeth and growling like beasts.

In this feral, viscous slide of your bodies, Tom takes your mouth instead of talking, teeth and tongue and spit. None of it would be pretty from an onlooker's perspective, you think, as he swallows the bottom of your face into his big jaws, but fuck, it’s just what you need from him while he works your cunt to a slow, brutal end. 

La petite mort, your brain thinks, surfacing from the sluggish black haze for a moment before you lose it entirely again to a violent, slow orgasm on just his cock. You barely feel the scratchy tickle of his stubble as he buries his face into your neck, biting and licking at your collar, and ending right along with you. 

“Trickster,” he mumbles, hips twitching in finality, length already softening and settling inside you. 

“Who me?” You giggle. 

“Minx,” he growls. 

“Never,” you tease. 

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to say it baby. Might as well just get it over with.” 

“Say what?” You ask, now just trying to piss him off. 

He nibbles the skin of your neck, and you giggle-flinch away. 

“I have to tickle you?” He asks. 

“Swear to God, Tom, I will kill you.” Then, you pout. “These cuffs are kinda uncomfy.” 

He sighs and unlocks you from your metal, cold bondage, then rubs the blood and warmth back into your wrists. “Can I ask you something?” 

You flick your head at him, curious, and push the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you take a little vacation with me? After I’m done with this case? I’d like to take you somewhere. Just us. Anywhere you want. Beach, mountains. I know we’re already right next to the beach, but maybe one with calmer water? They have some nice little bungalows in Florida.” He’s cute, when he’s all rambling and shy and flustered. 

You lean up to kiss him, halting his nerves. “Yeah, I will.” 

“Really?” He asks, grin big and goofy and only missing a long tongue hanging from the side. 

He makes you laugh. The dichotomy of this man. God, you want to eat him. “Yeah. I have unused vacation time anyway. As long as you promise not to secretly be a serial killer.” 

He snorts, probably thinking of the same image that you are: Bull-in-a-china-shop, brutish, forceful, loud Tom trying to be sneaky and malicious in any capacity? It’s just not believable. What you see is what you get with this long, bronze man currently walking butt ass naked to the bathroom and retrieving a damp, warm towel for you to clean up with. 

***

“So, where do you wanna go?” He asks, once you're settled in his arms with the blanket wrapping you up. You think it’s just way too adorable, how he fusses over you. Pushes your hair back from your face, makes sure you’re adjusted and comfortable, makes sure your toes are covered, kisses your forehead. 

“I’ve never been to the mountains,” you suggest, nuzzling your face into his chest and inhaling, trying to memorize him—this moment. 

“Mountains it is,” he grins. “We’ll go hiking.” 

“Do you think we’ll see woodland critters?” You ask hopefully. 

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, “I’ll protect you.”

You laugh into his skin. “Tom, I want to see them. I’m not scared.” 

“What about, I dunno, bears?” 

“Bears are cute.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, as if you’ve really caught him off guard with that one. “You’re something else.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Am I gonna have to hold you back from trying to pet a 700 pound grizzly?” He asks, fingers playing with your shoulder blades. 

You pretend to think about it. “No, but maybe a raccoon….?” 

“Oh my god, go to bed,” he chuckles. “I’m rethinking the mountains.” 

“Oh c’mon!” 

It takes a good hour for you both to get tired enough to fall asleep. The witty banter keeps you awake, like you’re at a teenage slumber party with your best friend. It’s you that drifts off first, because if you don’t get your nine hours you emulate Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. 

[liquid-luck-00]

Truth / Lies

Bio!Dad Bruce

Bio!Dad Masterlist ~~~ Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette slipped out of the apartment early the next morning. She ran through the city, the early morning air stung her skin, waking her up more with each step.

Last night was a whirlwind and she didn't let herself think about it. But now she was.

Three months, almost four.

She has only known she was a Wayne for four months.

If this had happened sooner. She shuddered at the thought, yet it still flitted across her mind. She would have married her brother had this happened sooner.

Would she have recognized Damian from the 10 seconds she spent looking at his photo that day. No, she wouldn't and that thought terrified her. If it happened before then, she wouldn't even know she had a brother.

Would Bruce have recognized her, maybe, but then again that was assuming he knew what she looked like. And knowing what and how this happened, they wouldn’t have even met until after the fact.

She didn't even realize she had made her regular circuit until she was back in front of their apartment building. She opened the door and made her way up.

Hopefully Tim was gone, and they wouldn't need to explain last night.

She opened the door and there was not only Tim, but also Dick, Jason, and Bruce. At the table was a statuesque Damian.

"How much did they get out of you?" She tentatively asked.

"They threatened to call Manhunter." Was his answer.

Okay they know nothing, but oh no, oh no, oh no. She sat next to Damian turning into statue number two.

"Mini, the two of you disappeared last night what happened." Dad tried to stay calm, but his patience must have been tested by Sol already.

"Two truths, one lie." She side eyed Damian.

"We were in Nanda Parbat." Damian started.

"We avoided one mind numbing wedding." Marinette continued.

"The order has a larger moral back-bone than the league."

"You two aren't seriously playing this game to stall, are you?!" Tim seemed close to a mental breakdown. Then again, he hasn't slept in a week, so them disappearing may be the straw that broke him.

"Nanda Parbat and the league are tied so 1 and 3 are true." Jason figured.

"I would agree if this wasn't the second time, they said they avoided a wedding." Tim sighed.

"But it doesn't add into any of the others." Dick added.

"This morning their excuse was they were avoiding a wedding." Tim supplied.

"The truths are 1 and 2." Dad spoke definitely.

"Care to fill in the rest of the class B." Jason scoffed.

"Mini looks down for a fraction of a second when she lies, and she didn't when she said 2. Leaving 1 or 3 as the lie. Damian doesn't have a tick but using what he said 1 is true." He explained.

"There is no way for them to make that round trip in such a short time." Dick thought aloud. "Unless the order is filled with magic users. Meaning it is possible. And kidnapping kids could count as a lower moral backbone."

"Okay, so you're right, but kidnapping isn't the reason the League has a larger moral compass." Marinette assured.

"Do we want to know why the League of fucking Assassins has a larger moral backbone than an order of supposedly good magicians?" Jay was the one to speak the question on everyone's mind.

"Well if not saying or attempting to stop marrying two underage people is any indication." Damian scoffed.

"I honestly think it was their idea in the first place." Marinette mused aloud.

"Please for the love of god tell me you two weren't the ones getting married." Tim finally put it together.

"We avoided one hell of a headache inducing wedding. What do you think." She confirmed exasperated.

In a second (4) Errors could be seen on the faces of their family.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" Dad was the first to recover, but his voice was eerily level, scarier than his even tone as Batman.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Neither of them put up a fight, doing exactly as they were told. Not 20 seconds later all six of them were back in the middle of the League of Assassins following a clearly pissed off Bruce Wayne.

Thank kwamii that everyone else seem to know exactly where they were going in this compound because she sure didn’t. She walked right next to Damian the entire time and they were both watching their fathers back.

Twist and turns one after another and they finally came to what she can only describe as a throne room. When she saw the piece of shit that is Damian's maternal grandfather once again.

"Ra's." Was all her father stated. It is no exaggeration when she says that the color drained from that man’s face. She apparently wasn’t the only one contemplating exactly what had gone down last night. And the inevitable reaction of her family. What she failed to notice however, but her father didn’t was next to him was the same monk, still there. "Name." He ordered.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce growled in that instant she stopped breathing.

"Holy shit did Bruce just..." Jason stage whispered to Dick. However, she still couldn’t breathe and just watched the exchange. If she didn’t know her father’s rule to not kill, she would think he would be about to kill both Ra's and Su-Han, but she did know that rule. She’s pretty sure her father my break it though.

---

Bruce immediately was in a state of shock.

As Batman he had contingencies and plans in place for everything and anything. But this, this never was a probable scenario ever.

Once his shock faded, he saw red, he was absolutely livid. Children, his children, were almost married, for what. A feud that neither knew even existed.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" His voice was dead even, attempting and failing to keep his anger in check. Thank God Hawkmoth was no more.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Mini handed Damian the glasses, who immediately opened a portal. He walked through with his kids in tow, but he did not stray from his warpath. He found Ra's and another man, who wore the symbol on Mari's box.

"Ra's." Was all he said, knowing he had the man's attention the moment he entered. He showed no attempt to be bored. or uninterested. In fact, if it didn't seem impossible, Bruce would go so far as to say he was scared. He then looked over at the second man. "Name." He spoke again.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce demanded.

"It is not like you to visit." Ra's seemed to dance around his question.

"Why my kids?!" His voice rose and patience dwindled. So much so he didn't notice his two youngest slipped out of the room. While the older three seemed to be eating cookies and pastries, watching the show.

"Them being related was an unforeseen factor." Su-Han answered. "For there to be peace the two organizations needed to be unified."

"And both of you rubbed your cumulative two brain cells together and thought marrying two kids together is a valid response."

It was Ra's turn to speak. "Both of your children happen to be the next in line to command both respective organizations. Marriage was simply a contract between the two individual organizations to maintain peace. Although that failed to occur."

"Why did marriage come before I don't know, a god damn Peace treaty." He stopped to breathe.

"Given our history." Su-Han tried to make a point, but he didn't let him.

"You want history, I hear they have been around since the time of the Ancient Egyptians and the Ancient Babylonian Empires."

Both men stood there seemingly trying to formulate any response that could work. “Marriage was the most reliable method to promote unity between the two.”

"Bullshit, you both wanted something quick and easy." An explosion was heard in the compound, sending Ra's into a fighting stance. "You both wanted to make it their responsibility to keep the peace. And when it would fail you would use it as an excuse to return to fighting one another."

A full minute of pure silence when no one so much as moved drawled on. Until the doors opened, and in walked his children, as a fox and a horse with two Kwamii in front of them.

"Are you two the ones responsible for the explosion?"

They looked at one another, then back at him. Damian was the one who answered. "Yes."

"What did you four do?" He asked, although he only did so more out of obligation than curiosity.

"We may have destroyed all the Pools of Miracles." Tikki flew forward and answered.

"You destroyed the Lazarus Pits / Pools!" Was shouted by Ra's and Su-Han.

"Yes, so it's magic cannot be further twisted." Mari stood firm.

"And for the monks to stop using it to extend their lives." Damian added.

"Can I spite them now?" A cat Kwamii he never met before asked him.

"I should be more disappointed, but I'm not." He sighed. "Go on ahead."

"Pigtails your family is the best." The cat cheered. "Now for you two."

The best way to explain what he did was that he phased through each of their hearts and floated on back. The entire time he were a grin that rivaled the cheshire cat.

"Plagg, what did you do?" Tikki tentatively asked.

"What's the fun in telling you now. Plagg cackled. With that they all left, back to Paris. Never mess with his kids, because one they can God damn take care of themselves and two, he may not kill but he will supervise if even one of them is hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden @meme991001 @wannajointhecrabcult @melicmusicmagic @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @fidget-eep @miraculouslydumb @iamablinkmarvelarmy @laurcad123 @hauntedwintersweets @fc-studios @fusser90 @madking-warqueen @buginetye @little-lady-bird @thebooki3h @iamabrownfox @galla02006 @syrencall @gimpedmercy

[jinxedpanda4life]

DamiRae Hospital AU?

  No I am not writing one, if I could write well I would though! So here are some HCs for a hospital AU.    If someone decides to write this then I’ll be your first reader. Also I am sort of basing things off of Grey’s Anatomy just a bit and my limited knowledge of the medical field.

- Starts of as 1st year residents, specialties may vary

- The “Titans” are residents and 1st years that show great promise, this doesn’t really play a role its just what people call them behind their backs

- Dr. Kori Anders is a OBGYN (women parts and birth) resident, a year or two away from finishing

- Dr. Richard “Dick” Grayson is is a surgery resident, trained by the hospital owner Bruce Wayne (who is a world renowned surgeon, has awards, etc), specifically general surgery

- Dr. Garfield Logan is pediatrician (kid doctor) res, bonds well with kids, but is considering going back to school to become a vet instead

- Dr. Jaime Reyes is an oncology (cancer doctor), having had cancer as a teen and is now forever trying to rid the world of it, works mostly with kids and teens

- Dr. Jonathan Kent is a physical therapist that works with pain management. Up beat guy and is always trying to brighten his patient’s lives.

- Dr. Damian Wayne is a surgical intern, blood thirsty little thing, hoping to become a neurosurgeon (brain, spine) (or cardiothoracic (heart, lungs) both are competitive)

- Dr. Raven Roth is an anesthesiologist (the drug person that knocks you out) and is starting her surgical internship (she wanted to do more than just help people get high essentially or whatever) has no current preference for any specific surgical field

- Add in characters:

-- Dr. Jason Todd, trauma surgeon (fits too well)

-- Dr. Timothy Drake diagnostician (medical detective basically) 

-- Dr. Donna Troy gynecologist

-- Terra Markov is a nurse (i don’t like Terra but nurses are the actual best)

- Story stuff:

- Damian and Raven meet as they are put under the guidance of the same resident

-Damian has an automatic dislike for Raven because she knows everyone already and is equally, if not much more, knowledgable about surgery, the OR, the ER, protocol, etc  He also thinks she is cold because she rarely shows emotion (pot kettle Damian)

- Raven can always be found in the medical archives researching old cases and studying new ones, Damian stumbles upon her when looking for an old cardiomegaly case (enlarged heart).

- Raven gets along with all of the past ‘Robins’ making her a go to intern

- Garfield can be seen whenever he is not needed trying to flirt with Nurse Markov and often goes to Raven to sulk 

- Damian and Raven are always early to pre-rounds and are typically the first ones there (usually early in the morning, getting there before 500)

- Jon bumps into Damian more often than not and they start becoming friends (Damian is reluctant at first and is still you know Damian about everything), Damian even recommends patients to him 

- Though Damian doesn’t want to really ‘hang out’ with anyone he reluctantly hangs out with the Titans, because of Jon and Dick

            - When in a large group when at a bar, club or whatever Damian tends to stay close to Raven because 1) they actually have things to talk about 2) she isn’t loud

- Raven & Damian are both assigned to a case that is frankly befuddling and have to start spending long nights and early mornings together to figure it out

- Over that period of time they learn things about each other:

-- Raven learns: 

Damian has a dog (Titus) and cat (Alfred) 

He is single (Kori told her) and lives in an apartment close to the hospital

He has lived in various countries

He is trained in multiple martial arts 

He prefers his tea with brown sugar and a slice of lemon 

His eyes are a true emerald color with a ring of gold and flecks scattered within 

He may hide it well but when Raven compliments him he becomes flustered

He speaks to himself in Arabic when he curses, trying to remember something, doesn’t want anyone to know what he is saying

He isn’t always an asshole

When he actually smiles a true and genuine smile, she has heart palpitations

-- Damian learns:

Raven has two tattoos (neither are a bird), a gang tat (she is saving up to get it removed), and a mantra in Azarathian; Azarath Metrion Zinthos

She immigrated from Azarath when she was around 8

Her notes are in Azarathian

She actually feels a lot of emotion and knows how to control them

If she is not reading about a current or past case she is reading any book or file she can get her hands on, he has caught her reading in multiple different languages; Azarathian, English, French, Russian, Arabic, Dutch, Mandarin, (could be more or less)

She lives alone and has a cat, Nevermore, and thanks to Dick he already knew she was single

She likes all tea, no matter how prepared, but prefers the sweetener to be honey

Her hair is black but shines purple, especially under the ER lights

Her eyes are a purple that at first glance look blue, like Elizabeth Taylor, he realizes though her eyes are galaxies on their own 

When she smiles the world actually stops moving, her eyes shine like stars and he never wants the world to start moving again

She always wears a necklace with a gold and ruby ring at all times (it was her mother’s wedding ring)

- When Damian starts having le feelings for Raven he considers actually seeking medical advice as this has never happened to him before

- Raven tries her best to contain her feelings when at work, going so far as one day a month staying home just to scream, cry and feel her feelings

- It does not help that new feelings towards Damian start popping up, especially since he starts bringing her tea and hanging out with her at work

- During the middle of their 2nd year of residency someone holds Raven hostage in the hospital to fix someone that person loves (this person had connections to Trigon and knew who Raven was)

- That was not a fun time for either Damian or Raven; Damian was outside the hospital pacing trying to figure something out with the other Titans trying to calm themselves and him down

- Shots are fired and when all is said and done, Raven gets shot in the abdomen and the hand (she was in ICU for a hot sec)

- Damian seemed to be there every time Raven woke up, he was always checking on her during rounds even though he wasn’t on her case

- Raven did have to have surgery on her hand and in her abdomen (idk where i’m not getting that specific), she hated being, in her words, coddled 

- Even though Raven was right handed (the one that got shot) she learned how to do everything, writing, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. (many of the other residents are impressed since she keeps working on it after her other hand heals)

- Raven’s room also becomes a space for other residents to destress and just vent about their day. She listens and gives advice, all without looking up from whatever she was doing. 

- During this time Raven becomes hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus

- Raven’s room is also full of cards, flowers, etc all from fellow staff and some from patients. When she leaves (she spends a couple weeks in thanks to multiple surgeries, recovery, and other minor injuries) all of the gifts litter her apartment, the cards end up in a box by her desk, she presses the flowers, and stuffed animals are donated to children’s shelter (she keeps some that she has grown attached to)

- During this time Damian is more of an ass than usual (people notice and tease him)

- Damian at some points keeps working without breaks/sleep for hours on end. Dick pulls him aside after noticing, scolds and forces him to sleep in one of the on call rooms. (He really wanted him to go home, but Damian wasn’t leaving)

- Once Raven was discharged Damian and Garfield help her back home (clothes + gifts + Raven w/a healing hand/other injuries = need help) the other Titans would have helped but were needed at the hospital

- Garfield leaves after dropping off Raven and Damian (and her stuff) as he is called in on a Peds case (could be fake, may not be) and Raven & Damian spend the rest of the time basically watching terrible movies. (with Nevermore sitting on both of them)

- That is the night Damian realizes that not only does he like Raven, but he like likes her. He starts devising plans on how to get her to date him. 

- All his plans basically are thrown out the window because of one reason or another (he kept overthinking it)(poor guy)

- It is not until their 3rd year of residency that Raven realizes her feelings towards Damian (Have I made it clear she likes him? I can’t remember...)

- She realizes her feelings when she has to crash at his place for a night (because he lives ridiculously close to the hospital, like how expensive is that??) and he tries to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible 

- She never realized how much he cared for her? Like she was always helping him out and there for him but she never realized he reciprocated that care? *Shocker*

- Raven becomes kind of a mess because of all her emotions that she is trying to bottle up. (all the corks are disintegrating and the jar is overflowing)

- Raven is during her Ortho rotation (bone surgeon people, they are cool, ik from experience) that she actually gets a good release for her emotions (setting peoples bones and drilling and hammering in pins is actually therapeutic) 

- Raven thinks that may be the specialty she chooses

- Damian saw her as a mess and could not fathom why she was said mess, he figured it was about a romantic interest after someone made an offhand comment about her love life and she became a blubbering mess (very un-Raven like)

- After all of well *motions with hands* that Raven asks why Damian doesn’t have a s/o or someone

- He says there is only person that he has been meaning to ask out (looks pointedly at Raven)

- All Raven says is “Go for it.”

And that is where my HCs end. Now if anyone who happens upon this post decides to write a Medical AU with any of these please tag me, tell me, message me. 

You do not have to give me credit, I just want to read it. 

This took me a couple of days to write up, so if it is disjointed I apologize. 

If anything needs to be corrected for any reason let me know!

 I hope this fuels some imaginations!

-I may post more HC AU things if they come to mind, we will have to see.

[mirrerover]

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.” 

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

 Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks. 

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could. 

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all. 

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre. 

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare. 

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now. 

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

----------------------

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 07 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

The Calm Before The Storm

• Bruce's POV •

I'm suddenly awake by a scream. Sitting up abruptly, I take in the silence. A bad dream probably. Running a hand through my hair, I lie back down, staring at the ceiling. Then I hear it again, a call for help and another yell.

(Y/N).

As soon as I recognize her voice, I'm already up, taking the key to her room and running there. Is she hurt? There's nothing in there that would cause an accident. When I'm close, I hear groans, like a cry.

But when I open the door, I find her on the bed, hugging her pillow tight. The soft light coming from the window reflects on the many tears on her face. What is it that scares her so much? She's breathing fast, hands clenched into fists.

Without thinking, I lie beside her, delicately touching her shoulder, trying to wake her up as softly as I can.

“Wake up.”

• (Y/N's) POV •

A voice calls you, and you're pulled away from your terror. You know who's calling, and you immediately feel safe. Bruce is saving you from the nightmares, and it seems like whenever he's in the dream, the bad ones don't come again.

“Bruce.” He's lying behind you, so you take his arm, pulling it over your waist. “If you hold me I won't be scared,” you mumble, moving closer to him. “Don't leave me.”

“I won't.” His illusion answers, and it feels so real. Why can't this be real? Because you're a villain, and he's the hero... Because you would never be brave enough to do this in real life. And Bruce would never want to hold you like this.

“Bruce?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

His voice is low on your ear, and you can't help but smile at the name he calls you. You feel his chest moving as he breaths. “This isn't real.”

“Why can't this be real?”

“Because nobody would love me.”

“You're wrong.” His thumb caresses your chin, and you smile again.

“I think I could fall in love with you,” you mutter.

“Me too.” His answer seems familiar as if you've already had this conversation before. Maybe in another dream. “Now get some sleep.”

“Ok.”

You're not scared anymore. With him, you know you'll be safe.

•••

You're happy today. You had a good night sleep, and you're one year older, which means you managed to stay alive for another entire year. And you're celebrating it out of that hell hole Belle Reve. You're brushing your hair, smiling to yourself when you hear the door opening.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hey, Bruce!” You exclaim, leaving the bathroom.

“I brought you this. But it's not your gift yet.” He shows you the plastic bag he's carrying.

“What is it?”

He searches for something in it, showing you a box die. “I had these for a while. It's the closest color to your natural hair.”

Hesitantly, you take the small box from his hand. It seems to have two more in the bag, and some other things. You knew he didn't like your hair. “Thanks...” You mumble, wondering if dyeing your hair would make him like you. Looking away, you make your way to the bed.

“You don't have to do it you don't want to.”

“I get it, Bruce. You want me to look normal.” And as quick as that, the day is ruined. Bruce doesn't like you, obviously, look at you. You're Havoc, a criminal. You can't look at him right now, so you put the box on the nightstand and lie down, pulling the blankets to cover your head. “Can you just bring me breakfast and leave me alone, please?” You can't deal with it right now. The best you can do is dream... In your dreams, Bruce hugs you, so tight... In your dreams, he's yours.

“(Y/N).” He calls, softly.

“Get out, Bruce,” you beg.

“I don't care about your hair color. I bought you this in case you wanted the natural color back. It's not about me, it's about you.”

“Then...” You sit up, watching as he sits on the edge of the bed. “...What if I wanted to dye the roots lilac?”

“Tell me what you'll need and I'll get it for you.” His stare is intense, yet gentle. Slowly, he puts his hand above yours in the mattress. “You're beautiful. Lilac hair or not. Now, come. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?” A smile comes to your lips as you get up to follow Bruce. He opens the door, and you give a little jump. “Are you taking me to see the gardens?”

“Yes. But you'll have to keep your eyes closed until we get there.”

Nodding, you close your eyes. Bruce takes your hand, and you cling on his arm. You walk slowly, mostly downstairs. You suddenly feel fresh wind on your hair and the lighting changes. You're outside. “Just a while longer now.”

“Alright.” You have to control yourself not to peak. Being here is already amazing. Bruce trusts you, right? He wouldn't do that if he didn't.

Stopping suddenly, you bite your lip. “Open.” When you do, you swear to God your heart stops.

There's a wooden table, and pink, purple and white balloons. A beautiful cake in the middle, cupcakes, colorful macarons... Confetti all over the place. You can't help but cry, but you don't try to hide it. You're still holding Bruce's arm, unable to move. Is it really for you? You don't deserve it.

“Bruce, I...”

“Happy Birthday, (Y/N).” He says, pulling you with him until you're at the table. “I hope you like it.”

“I... I don't even know what to say. My birthdays were like... Just robbery and then... This is...” You take a macaron, a blue one, and take a bite. “This is incredible.”

“That's not all.” Bruce walks around the table, taking two boxes he left of the bench, piled one above the other. “Your gifts.”

“Two?”

“Two. One for each month you've been here.” He puts them on the table, gesturing for you to approach. You're blushing hard now. “Open.”

“Alright.” Unable to hide the smile, you shily start open the biggest box. Inside, you find a beautiful, sparkly silver dress. As you pull it up to take a better look, the fabric is soft on your skin. It has a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps, bareback. “Do you think I'll look good in it?”

“We'll find out tonight at dinner,” Bruce answers with a smile.

“Dinner?”

He simply nods. “Open the next one.”

Taking a deep breath, you lie the dress down, focusing on the other box. Black high heels, Mary Jane flatforms if you're not wrong, with red bottom. It goes with the dress, apparently. “They look badass,” you say, holding one in your hands. “Are those for tonight too?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you... Nobody cared enough to give me something for my birthday. Not without me asking... Or demanding.” Shaking your head to push away the thought, you focus on what's happening now. “So... Thanks again.”

“Hey, no bad thoughts ok? No bad memories.” Bruce takes your hand over the table and you smile. “Now eat your cake.”

That's the sweetest morning you ever had. Bruce doesn't seem in a hurry to leave or to do anything else. You just sit there eating a little of everything. You take in the whole scenario, but Bruce is better than all this. Having him here with you... It's amazing. You never spent a birthday with someone you loved...

With someone you care about, you mean.

When it's time for lunch, you just start eating again.

“So... Were you here last night? Or did Batman went to patrol the streets?” You ask him, a hand caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I slept in yesterday night.” There's something weird in his voice, but you have no idea what it is. “What about you? Did you sleep well?”

Your mind floats back to the dream. It never felt so real, it's like your brain is pulling a joke on you. Maybe it's just your confused feelings playing tricks. You remember his arm around you, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth coming from his body... You'd give everything you have to make it real. Or everything you had, because now it's kinda obvious you can't claim those things. And you don't think you want to.

“Yes, I... I had the best dream and it... It made me feel safe.”

“Would you tell me?”

“I can't...” Whispering, you avoid his gaze. Does he dream about you too? Of course, he doesn't. “Good dreams mean something is working, right?”

“Yes, but that's not me. It's you... I just gave you a little push in the right direction.”

“Yeah... Uhm, it's getting late. I'll take a shower and read a little.” You need to go back to your room to think. The sun will start setting soon anyways.

“Do that. I'll call you when dinner is ready.” Nodding, you stand up and take your gifts, making your way back, but you stop when you notice he's not following you.

“Hey?” You call. “Let's go. Game Of Thrones book two is waiting for me.”

“You can go.”

Tilting your head to the side, you turn on your heels to look at him. “What do you mean?” You know the key is in his pocket.

“(Y/N), just go.” Even though the distance, you see a smile on his lips. “I won't lock your door.”

“Don't trust me too much, Bruce.”

“It's a little too late for that.” That said, he gets up, walking inside, and leaving you alone.

Taking a deep breath, you decide you can't deal with this before a long damn shower and some pages of the book. So you make your way upstairs, and you spend two hours in the bathroom, thinking. There's a lot going on in your head.

There's a part of you, a small part you figured out, that still wants to be Havoc. That part was what made you run and break the kitchen window. But there's something else entirely, another part, that wants the past to be in the past. The life you had out there was good. You had mountains of money, fast cars, expensive jewels...

Things.

You had plenty of things.

What Bruce gave you here, is beyond all that. He cared about you. Not because he has to, for being some of your employees. But because he saw something inside you that you couldn't. He looks at you with such kindness, he touched you so softly... You think you found yourself, the real you, behind all the walls you built. You had a hell lot of fun out there, in Gotham's streets... But at the end of the day, there was always the possibility of being caught. And for people like you, being caught means getting hurt... Badly. And there was emptiness too. Loneliness. It's not a good feeling to know people only care because they fear you. You know that now.

You know what you want. You want a better life. You have no idea how to get it, but you'll ask Bruce for help.

After the night falls, you put on the dress. It's beautiful, breathtaking. You look like someone else. The shoes make you a lot taller, but not as tall as Bruce. But you'll be closer to his lips, you're sure. When you turn around to see the back, you sigh to notice the bruises will be showing. Such a nice dress wasn't made for you... You have no idea what to do with your hair, so you have no option but to let it down. It doesn't look good...

There won't be anyone here, but you'll still feel misplaced...

A knock on the door makes you jump. “Miss (Y/N). Master Bruce is waiting for you downstairs.” Alfred announces.

You wish you had some make-up. You should've asked Bruce to buy you some. But now it's too late for that. Your hair isn't styled, your face is blank and the dress, which is supposed to beautifully leave your back exposed, shows off awful, disgusting bruises... But you have to go down there. So you breathe in deeply and walk out.

• Bruce's POV •

I hear the soft click of the high heels on the floor, and seconds later she appears, at the top of the stairs. It's impossible to hold back the smile that fights its way to my lips. I can't take my eyes off her as she carefully comes downstairs, a hand on the handrail. The dress fits her perfectly. My guess is that (Y/N) looks beautiful no matter what she wears, or what color she puts on her hair.

Her eyes wander around, to the lights, the chandelier, the table I set for us in the middle of the hall. And a smile, hesitant at first, takes over her features. From her lips up to her eyes, lighting her up.

“It's wonderful.” She says, stopping before me, yet avoiding my eyes. “I didn't notice how huge this place is. I would easily get lost.”

I'm looking down at her, taking her in. Her scent, delicate and unmistakable, draws me closer. She doesn't seem to notice though. “You'll learn,” I assure her, and she finally looks at me with funny eyes. She doesn't believe me.

“So you'll let me walk around the house now?”

“One more birthday gift.” I trust her. I saw as she broke the window glass, and punched through it, with my heart burning.

The thought of losing her that night suffocated me. Nothing scared me so much. But she suddenly stopped, and so did my world. Slowly, I watch as she stepped down the sink and silently walked away. That made me realize it's useless to pretend (Y/N) doesn't own my heart. It's in her possession, and she doesn't even know.

I walk beside her as she paces around, curious eyes observing every detail. As she comments on everything, I wonder where to go from now. From the acknowledgment of love. I've never been there. I never thought I'd be able to hold such a feeling, but (Y/N) has proven me wrong, as she's doing to everyone who thought she was a waste of time.

It's a lot easier to be Batman than to figure out these things. These feelings. I can't help but wonder if she feels the same.

She held me so close, on those nights she thinks I was a dream. She said it herself, that she could fall in love with me. Was it true? Is it happening? Should I ask? I'd know what to do if she was like the women who have tried to approach me. But it's (Y/N)... And I don't know what to do. My guard is down, and these feelings keep flooding my heart.

There's only one thing I know for sure. That my heart isn't my own again.

• (Y/N's) POV •

“That's the nicest thing someone did for me,” you admit, turning to face him. You have to focus on not letting him see your back. “It looks like a fairy tale.”

“I'm happy you like it.”

“I–” A soft song starts playing, coming from everywhere. A hell of a sound system he has. “There aren't many ladies to dance with this time, Bruce Wayne,” you tell him as he takes your hand, pulling you close.

“Good. That means I can dance with you all night.”

“You- you shouldn't say things like this,” you mutter, feeling his arms around your waist. Your hands lay on his biceps as he starts to swing from side to side, slowly. And yes, you are closer to his lips now. But he'd still have to bend down a little... You mean, if he ever considered kissing you. Which he probably never did.

“Why not?”

“Nevermind... Just...” You wrap your arms around his neck, your bodies standing close. You smile to feel his thumb caressing the bare skin on your back. “Bruce, I could never pay you back. Not only for this but... For everything you have done for me.”

“I'm not asking for anything in return.” He takes one of your hands, but when he moves you to spin around, you stop suddenly.

“No,” you mutter, going back into his arms. It was supposed to go completely unnoticed, but you feel his eyes burning on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you mumble, eyes on his chest.

“(Y/N)? Didn't you promised to be honest?” You stop dancing, and he steps back a little, an index finger on your chin, pulling your head up until you're looking into his eyes. “What's wrong?”

“I... The dress is absolutely beautiful but... My back is all wreck and it looks so awful that... This dress wasn't made me someone like me... It just... My skin is still all bruised and...”

“I don't care. You're beautiful.”

Biting your lip, you have to control yourself. You want so badly to kiss him... And when he says things like this it only gets worse. “If you keep saying things like that I might end up thinking you like me so... Don't.”

“Maybe I want you to think that.”

“What?” As you speak, some sort of alarm goes off. Two loud beeps. A pause. Them two more beeps. “What's that?”

“Something happened. Something bad.” Bruce pulls you close suddenly, placing a kiss on your forehead. Your whole body burns, and you gasp for air. “I'm sorry, I'll have to go.”

“It's ok. Go get them, Batman.” You say with a smile, watching as he steps away, slowly at first, before turning around and leaving.

Alfred serves you dinner, and he also acts more kindly. Then you go to bed, the feeling of Bruce's lips on your forehead still burning. You're almost falling asleep when the door is opened, and a very worried Bruce makes you sit up abruptly.

“Hi.”

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me.” He comes to sit beside you, and you hear a noise, like an airplane coming closer. “There's another Task Force X mission. And they demand you to go.”

“What?” It's hard to process what he's saying. “No.” You push yourself backwards until your back hits the headboard. “What- what do you mean?”

“There was nothing I could do.”

“No,” you repeat, hands covering your face. “Tell them I won't go.” You made a decision today, that you want a different life. Now, this... This can't be happening. Not now. Not when you're finally putting yourself back together. “Bruce, please.” You're crying, suddenly moving into his arms, tugging on his shirt. “I don't want to go.”

“Listen.” Bruce holds both your shoulders, his intense eyes on yours. “You're a strong woman. I'm sorry you have to do this and I promise... I promise you I'll never let them make demands of you again. You won't be their prisoner anymore.”

“Bruce...” You beg, eyes closing as you realize this noise is from their ship. They're already coming to take you.

“Listen.” He cups your face. “You'll track down some terrorists. They attacked a small town in New Mexico. You'll be doing something good, helping people.”

“Like you?” You whisper, your foreheads touching.

“Like me, yes.” A quick smile crosses his lips. “I will free you from them. I promise.”

“But I'll come back here, right?”

“Yes. They'll bring you here when the mission is over.”

The noise gets louder and louder until it stops. They're here.

Bruce walks beside you, silently. You're shaking like a leaf. When you reach the front door, you hear people talking. Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself that you can do this. You have to. Because you have to come back.

“Are you–”

You let the impulse fulfill its purpose this time. Pulling Bruce by the collar of his shirt, you tiptoe, crushing your lips on his. You swear you feel a little dizzy, but you don't give him time to react. Stepping back, your strength suddenly renewed, you open the front door and face the guards that came here to take you away.

×

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

[thelittleredrobinhood]

Happy Birthday to You

In honor of Batman Day I’ve decided so post my first fic (it was meant for Jason Todd's birthday but hey its only a month late). Also, a special thank you to @reese-haleth for helping me edit!

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Length: 1,900 words

Summary: A song fic to Happy Birthday about four of the most important birthdays in Jason Todd's life.

Trigger Warnings: Homelessness, Major Character death (canonical). If you would like me to add any please let me know. 

12th

Jason runs faster than he had in his entire life, an angry cop close on his tail. Just as he’s about to be caught he notices a fire escape up ahead. Acting quickly, he pulls himself up, still clutching his prize, and climbs out of view. From his hidden perch, he watches as the officer looks around the alley below, then angrily goes on to continue his search elsewhere.

 “Just like taking candy from a baby,” Jason mutters to himself, still half out of breath.

 After another moment he leaves his spot and returns to the streets, making sure to avoid the local cruisers out looking for trouble. Eventually he reaches the part of town even the cops won’t go and he’s home free. Well he’s free, he doesn’t exactly have a home to go to, but that’s a problem for later.

 On the cracked steps of an old abandoned building he finally stops to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. A box filled with a half dozen doughnuts, minus the one the officer was eating when Jason stole the rest. Glazed, not his favorite; He always liked chocolate best, but he wasn’t in a position to complain. He smiles to himself as he holds up the first treat.

 “Welp, it’s no birthday cake but it will have to do,” he says to himself. “Happy birthday to me, 11 may have sucked but maybe 12 will be better,” the young boy finally smiles. “I guess it’s time to make my wish.”

 Just as he is about to, an odd shadow passes by. He quickly looks up, just in time to catch a fading glance of the Batman himself, running across the rooftops, his path lit only by the moon. Jason waits another moment, but no one follows behind the vigilante. Robin had been gone for a few months now, though no one knows what happened for sure. Some say he died, some say he quit, some say he ran off to California.

 “Psh, California, what an idiot. If I were Robin I’d never leave,” Jason mumbles as he finally tears his eyes from the sky and looks back down at the box in his lap.

 “Well, these doughnuts aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

 He blows out his imaginary candles and wolfs down his dinner.

 Happy Birthday to you

 15th

An alarm blares as the light shines through his window. Normally, Jason would ignore it and go back to sleep, since Alfred would wake him up later, but today was different. He bolts awake after just the first beep and begins getting ready. Still struggling with his pants, he throws open the door and runs downstairs, sliding a little on the hardwood floors at the bottom of the grand staircase, he catches himself just in time. Before becoming Robin, he definitely would have fallen on his butt. It looks like all his training really is paying off.

 Stopping himself before the doorway of the main dining room, he makes himself presentable and walks in as calmly as possible.

 “Morning B,” Jason says nonchalantly as he enters the room and takes a seat.

 Bruce is sitting peacefully at the head of the table with his usual cup of coffee and today's paper. He glances up at his ward with a knowing smile on his face.

 “Good morning, Jaylad. Sleep alright?”

 Just as Jason was about to respond his nose caught the scent of breakfast. He snapped his head to the kitchen door to see Alfred bringing in the world’s largest tray of pancakes. It’s a yearly tradition; Jason always gets his favorite foods on his birthday.

 Today is always his favorite out of the whole year, everything about it is awesome. Bruce always takes off work to celebrate with him, and later he would open presents. They would play video games and basketball and whatever else Jason could think of. Maybe Dick would even swing by for a bit! It's the best.

 Although every moment is great, Jason’s favorite part is the end. They will all gather in the dining room, but Jason will get to sit at the head of the table this time. Bruce will turn out the lights and Alfred will bring in a homemade birthday cake. They’ll sing to him and he’ll blow out real candles, like in the movies. He could picture it now.

 The only problem is, he can’t figure out just what to wish for. He has everything he could ever want. He finally has a place; he finally has a home. It takes him the whole day to figure out his wish, but when he finally found it, he knew.

 He wished to stay right here, for the rest of his life.

Happy Birthday to you

 18th

The night air was freezing on his skin, the absence of the sun leaving his world cold. Today used to be a day of celebration, now it only brought pain. In his heart he knows he did all he could, that he had given his son everything and more. But then why did he blame himself?

 Bruce follows the overgrown path to the small graveyard. He did not come here often, though that only makes the guilt stronger. He should try to fix that, but he never will.

 Today he swallows the pain and guilt and kneels to the ground, placing a lone rose before a small grave. Too small, just like the boy buried underneath it. He had never had the chance to grow much, as years of malnutrition kept him far shorter than his peers, but Bruce had never minded. It meant he got to carry him a little longer, before he grew too big. He wished he could carry him again, just one last time. 

 The tears came before he could stop them. The water flooding his cheeks as the memories flooded his mind. A small boy laughing, opening presents just a few years ago. He would have been 18 today, officially a man.

 Maybe it's better this way.

 The thought crawls through his brain, dredged up from the darkest corner of his mind.

He will get to stay Bruce's little boy forever, he will never leave him. He will stay the perfect child, untainted by the rebellion of youth and the pain of adulthood, but deep-down Bruce knew, he would watch all of that happily if it meant he got to see his son again. He would do anything to feel the pain of watching his child outgrow him. He would give everything to feel something other than this. Anything but this.

 He stands abruptly, he has to leave. He’s too close to breaking down, to losing it completely, and if he did that, he may never be able to put himself back together. That’s why he never comes here, it’s why he can’t. Too many people rely on him now.

 He takes a deep breath and one last look at the grave. He tries to say it, to form the words on his tongue, but they never come.

 He walks away.

 Happy Birthday dear Jason

 20th

Red Hood runs like he has been running his whole life, like he’ll never stop. He doesn’t bother to see if the cops are still chasing him, he doesn’t care, he just runs.

 He turns down an alley and spots an old fire escape and its instinct. He hops up and climbs until the street is far beneath him. He hears the cops down below, sees their lights flashing in the night sky. He remembers when he used to be scared of them, not anymore. Now they’re scared of him.

 They won’t follow him here, but it doesn’t matter, he keeps running. Truth be told, it's not them he’s running from today. Finally, he stops and takes a moment to catch his breath. He walks to the roof's edge to rest when he realizes where he is.

 The building had been condemned many years ago, now just a rotting shell and cracked front steps. When he was younger, he used to come to this place all the time. It was far enough from the worst part of town that he could handle himself, but just close enough that the cops wouldn’t come near. It was safe here.

 He takes a seat and rests on the edge of the roof, his legs hanging over the side, feet dangling far above the street below. There was a time in his life he used to dream of this view, staring up at the rooftops, wishing for a different life. He learned the hard way to be careful what you wish for.

 The rest of the memories hit him full force, everything he was avoiding smashing into him like a bomb. Images of a happy boy bursting behind his eyelids, eating pancakes and playing basketball. Fragments of a life he lost; one he can never have back. A life he would give anything to have back, especially today. No one even remembered what today is, it used to be his favorite day of the year.

 He loses track of time as he watches life go on below him, so much time has passed since he was last here, but some things never change. It’s quite when he first notices it, the flicker of a familiar shadow. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, but lets him come.

 A quiet thump sounds behind him, he doesn’t even flinch.

 “What do you want B?” he asks without turning around.

 A moment later the footsteps come closer and a large figure sits down calmly beside him. They sit in silence for a moment, what a sight that must be. The Red Hood, a wanted murderer, and the dark knight himself. Though Hood had long since stopped worrying about things like that and if the people below noticed them, they didn’t care enough to show it.

 “Why are you here B?” Hood asks again.

 “Do you think I forgot?” Batman turns to his son and removes his mask, transforming instantly to Bruce Wayne. “We still celebrated, even when…” he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Red Hood turns to him in surprise, and after another moment removes his mask as well. Becoming just Jason Todd.

 “Why?” he asks.

 “You’re family,” Bruce says

 “Even after all these years? Even after everything I’ve done?”

 “When you were gone, I would have done just as much and more to bring you back, no matter how long it took. You’re my son,” Jason looks away to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

 “What now?” Jason says. His voice rough, quiet.

 “Whatever you want Jay-lad. It’s your birthday after all,” Bruce responds, his voice just as broken. “Alfred even made cake.”

“Yeah, alright. I could definitely go for some cake.” Jason smiles weakly. Bruce nods and replaces his cowl, gesturing for Jason as he leaps from the roof. Red Hood replaces his helmet and follows into the moonlight.

 Down below, two odd shadows cast the street in darkness as Batman and his Robin run across the rooftops once more.

 Happy Birthday to you

[sparkleofpizza]

Goodbyes - Damian Wayne x reader

Requested: no

Warnings: blood, death mention, swearing

Summary: Damian leaves reader without a proper explanation, making her wonder why he did what he did and with a broken heart. But then things take an expected turn and Tim is there to help her out.

Word count: 4.135

The door had slammed a few minutes ago. The apartment was almost silent, the windows had been locked. 

You were sitting on the floor, between the couch and the coffee table, and haven't moved in a while. There were still fresh tears streaming down your face, you were still staring at the key in front of you and were still reliving the horrible events that had taken place a few moments ago. 

"I literally can't stand looking at your face anymore." He spat, staring you down as you stared at him in confusion "I am so tired of this, of you! I was happier before you, I thought what we were doing was the right thing, but I just got bored. I think I wanted to experience how it would be like to be in a relationship. I did, now I don't want to do this anymore."

"What?" You quietly asked "I don't understand... We've been dating for three years, how could you... How could you be experiencing something for three years?"

He didn't answer, instead grabbed his key and placed it on the coffee table.

"We are done."

You watched him grab his suit cases, watched him stand at the door and look you in the eyes with no emotion on his face.

"Goodbye, y/n." And then he slammed the door shut

You were still trying to process everything, trying to find a reasonable explanation for his behavior, for what he did, but there was none. All of the things people told you about him was right, you were just too in love to see the truth lying right in front of you. You were just too drunk in his kisses, touches and tender words to realize how fake all of this was. But at the end, everyone was right.

Damian Wayne broke your heart.

The weeks went by like a blur, trying to get your life back together. Throwing yourself at work so you wouldn't have to remember you were going back home every night to an empty house. 

His family used to come a lot to visit you, now you only saw them staring at your window from across a rooftop. You would stare at them for a while, they would wave and you would wave back, but turn back around because looking at them reminded you of him. Red Hood would check up on your apartment a lot, Nightwing, Red Robin, you even saw Batman once or twice, but never Robin and that only broke your heart even more. 

There was no point in still holding on a bit of hope, so you grabbed a box and put in it all of the stuff that reminded you of him. His old t-shirts and hoodies you'd wear to sleep, in the box. The drawings he made of you and gave you as a gift, in the box. Pictures you had with him around the apartment, in the box. His coffee mug, in the box. The gifts he gave you along the years, in the box. That blanked you two used to wrap yourselves up on the couch and snuggle together, in the box.

It felt like a fresh start once you had gotten rid of everything that reminded you of him. And it actually was, throwing yourself at work did help too because it earned you a promotion and a new job location, far away from Gotham and all the way to Upper East Side in New York. Life really seemed to be taking a new direction to you, and that was all you needed at the moment.

Soon your apartment was empty, it was sold and soon the new owners would arrive. Red Hood frowned when he saw your lights hadn't been turned on five nights in a row. He always saw your lights up, this was weird. 

"She moved out." Was all he said after investigating, just in case you had been kidnapped or something worse 

Damian nodded, not bothering to look at his brothers. If he did, everyone would have seen how his eyes were red and how he was trying hard not to cry.

You, on the other hand, was crying because you weren't alone anymore. There was a baby on the way. How the hell are you supposed to take care of a baby on your own in a new city where the only people you know are your co-workers and they are still very unknown to you? 

Thankfully, as the months passed, you actually got friends who would help you manage all of the baby stuff. Carter would always be around to make sure you were eating just fine and not overworking yourself, Lizzie would always be around to keep you company and even moved in until you had the baby, just in case something happened. 

You always pictured yourself having a family with Damian by your side, life is funny. Now you had different people by your side while pregnant with his child. You just wished the kid to not have his eyes, that would be a bit too much for you to handle. 

You didn't want him to know about the kid, you were fine dealing with it alone, but Tim was too stubborn. You had bumped on him on the street - what he was doing in New York was a mystery to you - and he recognized you right away.

"Y/n you're having a baby, Damian's baby! He has to know."

You shook your head "He wants nothing to do with me, Tim. I don't want him to know about the baby, this is my choice. I am the mother!" 

"I am going to tell him." He pulled his phone from his pocket "I'm going to call him and ask him to come to New York."

"You do that and I will disappear. It will be just me and the baby, and no one will be able to find us. You know I can do that."

Tim stopped, phone mid air. You did learn a lot from them, and of course you would know how to disappear without leaving any traces and it would take a lot of time to trace you, and maybe by the time they did it you could already be at a new and different location, far far away from your previous one.

"Ok." He sighted "I won't tell him anything, but I want to be part of the baby's life. I want to be around and be able to help you with anything he or she might need."

You nodded, that was the least you could allow. And that's how he became favorite and lovely uncle Timmy. It actually warmed your heart to see your little baby Nia get to play around with Tim when he came to visit. No one knew about this, everyone always thought he was in New York for Wayne Enterprises business. 

The weirdest part of all of this wasn't one of Damian's brothers knowing the truth and not him, it was mother knowing the truth and not him. 

When Talia showed up at your apartment out of nowhere, you thought you were going to die. She looked at you in the eye and then asked to see her granddaughter, she wanted to see the heir of the League. In the middle of her wanting and swearing to precept her baby granddaughter, your relationship did kind of evolve. She didn't judge you for not telling her son about the baby, she did the same with Bruce. You wouldn't talk much, just about Nia, but it was nice to know there was always someone looking out for your both safety. 

She was a bit extreme, always, but Nia knew who her grandmother was, knew who her uncle was, knew who your parents were, knew who your friends was. She was getting a normal life and lots of love, and that was all you could wish for. 

Nia did love Carter, a lot, and that was a bonus for your blossoming relationship. You didn't know how it happened, it feels like in this three years time passed so fast, and before you could even realize it there was a ring on your finger and a promise of new house, where there would be a start of a new family and future wedding. You were getting that happy ending you dreamed about. 

Talia took you and Nia out of town, said there was an upcoming threat and once you realized it, she had driven you three to the Wayne Manor. Specifically to the Cave, the last place you wanted to be, you never thought you would ever come back to this place, ever again.

"There is a League enemy seeking out revenge. We must keep y/n and the baby safe!" Was all she said, ushering you inside with Nia in your arms - who were trying to break free to explore her new surrounds "You protect them while me and the League deal with the matter."

Everyone just stood still, staring at the three of you. Damian felt like he was being punched several times while being stabbed at the same time. You were standing in front of him after three years. After three years of him missing you dearly everyday you were finally back. 

"Hey, what's going on here?" Tim asked, arriving at the cave with a fresh mug of coffee in hand 

Oh, how you wished he hasn't shown up. Nia's eyes went wide upon hearing his voice, she released herself from your grasp, running for dear life and throwing herself on Tim while screaming the happiest uncle Timmy ever. His eyes went wide as he grabbed her before she hit the ground, securing her with her legs around his waist. She hugged his neck, giggling in his ear.

He looked at you waiting for an explanation, but you were just frozen. 

"What the fuck!" Jason exclaimed 

"Language around the baby!" Talia repreenhed him, glaring in his direction 

This couldn't be happening, no, this is just a dream and you're going to wake up really soon to get to work. That's it. 

They were all staring at you, then Tim, then Talia and doing it all over again in a loop. You could almost see their brains functioning real fast to try and catch up with all of this weird and random stuff going on here. 

"Talia brought you here because there is a League enemy on the loose and therefor you might be in danger..." Bruce stated slowly, breaking the silence "That is your daughter?" He pointed at the baby that was still hugging Tim and smiling at him as he poked her sides. You nodded, too afraid to say something "And she called Tim her uncle because they already knew each other and he is her uncle. For Talia to be worrying about your safety means you can't get hurt because of the baby... And she is only worried about the baby because she is her granddaughter. So, I'm guessing Damian is the father?"

You couldn't even bring yourself to deny and say you had gotten careless after the break up and had a one night stand with a random dude who got you pregnant. There was to many evidences pointing Damian as the father, and of course, she had his damn eyes!

Damian was staring at you with pure love and adoration. You two had a daughter? A beautiful daughter? He looked over at her, seeing her dimply smile and chubby hands hitting Tim's shoulder. He couldn't help the jealousy that over took him, his brother knew his daughter better than him. 

"That's so cool! I have a niece!" Dick exclaimed, taking big steps to where Nia was "Hello! I'm your uncle Dick, what's your name, little one?"

Your daughter frowned at him, resembling Damian when he's mad. 

"Mommy says dick is a bad word and you shouldn't say it."

Everyone laughed at his face, the mood being lighten up a little by what she had just said.

"That's his name, little bird." Tim explained "He's my older brother, so he is your uncle too."

Nia nodded, still a bit taken a back with his name and holding on thiger on Tim, not really trusting the new said uncle. 

You looked at Tim, hoping he would know a way to get you out of this mess. He was going to listen to an earful of things too, I mean he kept your secret from his whole family, you weren’t the only wrong one in this - although you did kind of manipulate him into doing what you wanted, but that was what is best for your daughter.

“Alright, I’m going to give Nia her afternoon fruit and then some cookies if she behaves.” He announced, leaving with your daughter in his arms who waved you goodbye

Dick stood still, frowning sadly.

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“She is very reserved with new people, nothing personal.” You said, hoping it would ease the tension that had installed once more

Bruce cleared his throat “I’m going to talk to Talia about this upcoming threat. Dick, Jason, why won’t you let Alfred know that y/n and the baby are staying over?”

At that, everyone left the room. Your eyes lingered on Talia’s figure waiting for an outburst of her telling she wouldn’t leave and stay there with you. She only glanced at you as if saying talk to him, and then left.

You closed your eyes, it was now or never. You knew he was probably already standing behind you. You've known Damian for a very long time, so when you turned around you had to take a step back because he was too close for your liking.

You took a while to take in his features. He seemed to had gained more muscles over the years, his eyes were soft and he same a small, almost imperceptible, smile on his face.

He was trying to engrave your new looks in his memories. How you hair was a bit lighter and shorter than before, your face, your body. Everything.

“What’s her name?” He questioned

You thought he was going to yell at you, curse you and say he doesn’t want that baby in his life, not ask her name.

“Nia. She’s two.”

He nodded his head, pursing his lips before speaking again.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you leave?”

You frowned “You broke up wit me, said you got bored and didn’t want to see me again. You’re the one that left! I simply didn’t want you in my life anymore, I couldn’t risk it you growing bored of Nia and leaving her the same way you left me. I can handle being broken, but I wouldn’t be able to watch my daughter be heartbroken and thinking she did something wrong.”

Damian’s eyes went wide. Is that what you think of him? That he is just an asshole that gets bored once he gets what he wants? He should’ve handled the situation better three years ago, things would be so much different right now.

“Y/n, no, I would never do something like that. I’m sorry for what I did three years ago, I was trying to protect you! They were targeting you, they were going to kill you if they knew I still cared, so I had to do what I did. I get that I was an idiot and that I couldn’t handled this way better, and I am truly sorry. But never, for one moment, think I wouldn’t want to have been by your side during all those time. I dreamed about getting you back into my arms, and now we have a daughter?! A beautiful and incredible baby girl! I am not letting you go, ever again. I love you so much, I don’t think I will ever be able to stop loving you.”

That you couldn’t answer. What were you supposed to tell him? Obviously Damian had been a big part of your life, and although it ended badly, he was your first actual love, the first person you moved in together, you grew together until it ended and you started growing on your own. A part of you will always love him, but it doesn’t seem worth it anymore, not after all of this.

“Damian... you know that if you want to be part of Nia’s life you can do that, you are her father, but if you ever step out of line, I will no hesitate to cut off.”

He nodded eagerly “I will tell father and we will start the preparations. Until we find a house to move in together, I will make sure Nia has a room here and...”

“What are you talking about?” You frowned “I said you could be part of her life, it doesn’t mean we are moving back here. We are staying in New York, I have a life there, Damian. I have a job, friends, fiancé. I am not leaving all of that behind.”

“You’re... You’re getting married?” He looked like a lost puppy who got kicked, it actually warmed your heart a bit “Of course you are, only an imbecile wouldn’t put a ring on your finger when given the chance.”

You bit on your lower lip. This was getting deeper then you had wanted it to go.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t even sure why you were apologizing “He’s been around me when I needed, helped me when I was pregnant and Nia really loves him.”

“You aren’t marrying Drake, are you?”

At that you couldn’t help but laugh, of coursed Damian would think something like that.

“No, of course not. Tim is just a really great uncle.”

“Why did you tell him? Why did you tell my mother?”

“None of them were supposed to know, actually. I ran into Tim and kind of trapped him into no telling anyone, in return I told him he could be around, that’s why he’s always going to New York, to make sure Nia is ok and doesn’t need anything. As for you mother, she just showed up on my apartament one day demanding to see her granddaughter. Ever since she kind of just stuck around or made sure there was always a League member near by to keep us safe.”

He nodded, his demeanor down. It was obvious he was disappointed with you being with someone else, he never thought about you moving on - deep down he always knew this could happen, he just didn’t want to believe in it. You are his everything, but he isn’t everything to you anymore.

Staying over at the manor was really weird for you, they had gotten you a crib and placed it on the room you were staying. Jason drove to New York to get some of yours and Nia's clothes only to find the place trashed, someone was really after you and the best plan of action was to the stay at the manor where you were both safe.

You just wished this whole enemy thing to go down as fast as possible so you can resume to your normal life. You couldn't stand looking at Damian trying to get Nia to warm to him anymore, every time you did it was like a constantly painful reminder of what you two couldn't have, and the engagement ring on your finger felt heavy until the day you stopped using it, having broke up with Carter over the phone and spending the night crying on Tim's shoulders for your ruined happiness. 

When Damian showed up the following morning at your bedroom, he almost lost his temper. You were sleeping with your head on Tim's lap, he had his hand on your hair and Nia was sound asleep on the crib. He walked further into the room, feeling his heart sinking once he saw your tears streaked face. There was no need to be jealous, obviously he used to be the one to wipe away your tears and give you some comfort, but he was glad there was someone to give you that. He stopped once he noticed you weren't wearing the ring anymore. That was his chance.

"You can't go out there, you are being targeted!" Damian exclaimed, following you down the stairs 

You looked at him over your shoulder, choosing to ignore him as you kept walking.

"Y/n, do not ignore me!"

"I have work to do, Damian. I got dragged all the way here, I am going to work at the office that's located in Gotham and you can't stop me. I still need a job so I can pay the bills."

He had to bite his tongue to not say what was really on his mind. Sparking a fight with you right now would do no good, it would only make you want to leave even more. 

"I know you do, but can't you work from home?"

"No, I have a meeting and I'm already running late." You pulled a paper from your purse, handing it to him "Since Tim is out, you and the rest of the boys are on baby duty. This is everything you need to know about Nia's allergies, food preferences."

He nodded, defeated he couldn't get you to stay, but glad you were trusting him alone with your daughter. 

"At least wear this, please." He pulled from his pocket a necklace with a small pendent "It will make me feel more at peace knowing you will call if you need me."

"Ok." You put on the necklace, the distress signal necklace "But I am not going to need to use it. Don't worry about me."

He smiled sadly at you. "It is kind of hard not to worry about you, y/n."

You should've known you would have to use the necklace, it was life being a bitch to you one more time. 

Everything was as good as it could be, one moment you were discussing business and taxes, the next one of the executives had pulled out a gun and shot you two times in a row. How did this happen? Was the only thing you could think of as you lied on the floor, a pull of blood forming around you as you tried your best to apply pressure on your wounds. 

"Hey, it is ok." Robin kneeled down beside you, taking in your almost limp form, tears in his eyes "It is ok, beloved, I've got you. You're going to be ok."

"Dami, I am so glad to see you." You tried to smile thought the pain "At least we will be able to say a proper goodbye this time since I am the one who's leaving."

He shook his head "Don't say this, beloved. I am still going to take you out on a second first date and get you back. There are still so many things for us to do together."

"Is... Is Nia ok? You will take care of her for me, won't you?" Your words was slurring out, he was running with you on his arms, yelling at people to get out of way as he reached the batmobile, pushing Nightwing away from the door

"We will take care of her together." He stated before barking at Batman "Drive faster!"

When you woke up, your whole body was sore and the lighting was too bright for your liking. You tried to sit up only to end up moaning in pain. 

"Hey, hey, easy there." Damian showed up on your line of vision, gently pushing you back down "You are still recovering."

"What happened?" You closed your eyes briefly "Am I dead?"

He chuckled, pushing some hair away from your face. 

"The enemy was dealt with. And no, you are not dead. Alfred managed to help you up, Nia is with Jason and everything is alright."

You nodded, smiling a little as he grabbed your hand. You squeezed it before allowing him to caress your fingers with his.

"I was so worried I was going to loose you, that I would never see your smile or hold your hand ever again." Damian sighted in defeat "I love you so much, y/n. Please, stay here. With me, we can work things out."

"I am not going anywhere, Dami. Not now and not ever." 

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"I promise you I will try my best, everyday, to be the best father and husband ever. For my two girls."

You hummed, content with him showing affection. Too lost in finally having his love back to think about the word husband. You would think about that later that week when he asked you the big question. 

[nightwingvixen23]

SCORCHED

A little JayRoman fic that i just  now whipped up while bored as fuck lol

***

*****

*******

"I'm still wonderin' just where in the fuck you got those god damned things from.” Roy's words are knifelike, however at the slice of it’s blow to my gut, out rushed butterflies, contrary to blood.

Fuck him. Pinpointing just what’s not vital at this very moment.

"Always had'em," I insist, housing the twin mamba pistols, gleaming in decadence, back into their holsters at each thigh. . .. . . And yeah; they are in fact new. And no; I didn't buy them. 

Yes, i’m a fuckin' liar, sue me; I’ve been called worse. On the other hand, the actual truth reaches a hand far deeper into my organs then anyone needs to be groping there greedy fingers within, sloppy in movement, scuttling after answers that I'm beyond sure the owner of such a prying hand will come to anguish.

"Nah," Roy presses, slinging himself across a couch here in the drearily lighted safe house that we've together taken up refuge in somewhere North East of Gotham City, " I know all’ov your artillery dude. That shit's new. And looks hella posh. Did I miss yer birthday or somethin' ? " He cracks open a beer, guzzling it down while those jade eyes pierce through me from above the can. God damn him. I carelessly knock into his bow and arrows causing him to sputter his alcohol and run to their salvation, whining about how I could be 'such a fucking bully' however it gets him to shut the fuck up on the former topic under fire; and that was my only intention.

Nobody. 

Nobody needs to know about the gifts. 

What started out as a game has me now roped in pretty heavily, but, I’m a damn sucker for fucking with Roman's upper story, what can I say ?? I can be a mother fucking flirt when I wanna be (while not quite as sophisticated in the art as Dick Grayson himself) I've picked up a few logistics on how to score a man's desires...I mean,at least: the murderous type; how to score the desires of a man who wants to lacerate my spine as well as fuck me into the nearest floorboard. And it was all just a game. I swear it was. The thorns in my side enjoyed toying with the temper of a well-bred villain who's tasted blood soaked daggers, and known the Godlike fever of electing a fatal gasp from an parched lung. I liked the twisted smirk of his face from under that obscene leather mask. I liked the tangled intrigue of his body language. I relished how I held him in the palm of my hand; just another man eating whatever slop from the filthy bowl I threw at the floor for him to gobble up. 

That shit made me feel potent, dominant, I ain't gonna lie.

It had been upon entering my apartment one afternoon that I found a giant box on my coffee table, looking out of place amongst overall brown and black furnishings; this bright box done up in all red. With a scoff I checked it for explosives before revealing it’s contents to find a Gold-Inlaid Colt Model 1849 Pocket Revolver. . .this shit sells for 1.1 Million. . .and it was with that knowledge that I’d been keen on knowing just who the sender of such an item had been.

I’d doubled over laughing.

So, it went on this way for a while. The times Roman and I would happen to ‘chance upon one another’ or fall into a breakneck fight beneath dark Gotham skies, I always played up the immodest tart card. Teasing. Leading. And he followed the trail; come a few short days later I'd be rewarded a gift. This became something of a cycle. Something routine. Just, expected, yanno ?

Up until one drunken night I found the presents piling up around me to be annoying as all fuck in their gleaming elegence.

I wasn't a cheap prize to be won, some sodden part of my brain manifested this notion that then exploded into me breaking into Roman's estate and cursing for him to take every damned gift back, because, and I quote " I ain't your god damned slut mother fucker " more or less slurred.

There had been a beat of silence between us then. A beat. Just a beat. Before I was grabbed. Picked up. And I fucking cringe to say that that shit had me near to begging for him. Not many men that I've been with could pick me up, they never had the musculature and we’d always end up in missionary. But there I fucking was...being suddenly ripped piece by piece by Roman himself. Broken open.

 The callous scratch of the wall leaving red reminders trailed into the skin of my back, a surface I’d arched myself into as if to arch away. A part of me wanted that wall to swallow me whole, make me dissipate from here because I was feeling too much all at once. I didn't understand anything past our flirtatious banter. Didn't know the whimpered cries and wet moans coming from deep within my chest, nor the hands holding tight to the broad shoulders of this man who kept me blanketed in a hot rapture that not even Heaven it's self could muster the courage to match, and maybe that’s because this damned brute in a leather mask is the Devil; breathing into me all 7 Deadly Sin's at once, making burn within my esophagus a startling realization that all this time I may have been his fucking puppet whereas I thought it the other way around.....his fucking puppet now his fucking fuck toy.

I honestly can’t say how I made it back to my apartment. Last thing I recalled was being spent, slung over Roman's shoulder, then waking up in my own bed alone. Nevertheless, the scratches and metallic taste of blood were a clear reminder of the night we’d shared.

And upon that night, all that which I’d once known had been laid to rest.

Costly weaponry turned into expensive clothing. Expensive clothes turned into rare jewels. Jewels turned into a sports car, a sports car turned to a motorcycle....and my dumbass accepted it all, while discovering in me some sick, dark sort of amusement with each tiding.

Dick registered right away something was off with me, the depth in his blue eyes said it all as he took in my abrupt departure in fashion choice and of transportation. "I'm just doin' a bit better is all," I'd told him and he arched a brow while saying, "Look, I think I know what's up. But, only because I've been there myself. And let me just tell you that it's not worth it." I had scoffed, watching him walk away. Leave it to Dick to be the OG Sugar Baby of the BatFam. Somethin told me that Bruce was the supplier of his every need and hunger, but I refused to dive any deeper into that and left. In fact, I've stayed clear of Wayne Manor for quite some time. Refusing team ups, partnerships, and or pursuits having anything to do with Batman.

When it comes to Kori, she likes to dote on all that I've been given. On her own she unearthed the jewels I kept hidden away and tried them on for herself, twirling in the mirror and laughing while telling me, "Whomever this mystery man is has quite the taste," with a fancy wink. I'm shocked she didn't mention it at all to Roy--

---which is where we are now, currently in my safe house as I watch Roy check on his bow for scuff marks and pout over at me, grabbing back up his abandoned beer can. "I still say that someone bought you those pistols. It ain't your usual style, there too expensive seeming--"

"You callin me cheap ? Like i don't buy quality? " I ask a bit too defensively. Roy put his hands up . "No ! I'm just sayin...." his eyes squint a bit. “I’m just sayin that somethin's up with you man, an’ I got a bad feelin' about it."

I shrug, going to cleaning the mamba pistols of any blood tracked back from our earlier run in with a Mafia Boss and his little posse; which gets me thinking about Roman; the heated sting of his fingers, the scorch of those gloves everywhere they touched. And they never leave, those gloves. they stay on. Not because he chooses it, but because I demand it. I admit to being a bit of a masochist In the same way that I’m a bit of a liar A bit of a manipulator while also being the manipulated A bit damaged A bit taken for granted And with sense enough to know that Roman and I are destined to crash and burn But I’ve already burned once before, so;

     what's one more go around gonna hurt ?

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 6: 

Harley’s head lolled onto Peter’s shoulder as they settled into one of the comfortable couches in front of the fire. Damian was turned away from both of them, not at all curious about their new guests. There was a suspicious heat to his face, however.

‘Must be the fire,’ he thinks sullenly. Soft growls and barks were heard in the corner as Piper, who had situated with Titus, attacked and viciously gnawed with her blunt puppy teeth at his wagging tail, the Great Dane lazily keeping her entertained.

Bruce sat in an armchair that seemed to shrink with his hulking figure crouched in it. Dick and Jason boxed Peter and Harley into the couch, sitting on both sides of them, Jason to Harley’s side and Dick to Peter’s. Tim sat next to Damian, sipping on his hot beverage. Alfred had excused himself to get two guest rooms and a snack ready.

“You must be quite famished after that catastrophe. Don’t worry one bit. I will be back. Excuse me.”

“So,” Dick said, throwing an arm over Peter’s shoulders, “wanna tell us what that was about?” Tim sat forward in interest.

“Yeah, why did the Joker quite literally crash into Harley’s apartment building?” Peter raised an eyebrow at the slightly taller male.

“How did you know?” Tim smirked smugly, and waved his phone in the air. “You hacked into the security cameras?” The second youngest Wayne shrugged.

“It’s not that hard.” It was Peter this time, who smirked, which threw Tim for a loop.

‘Him and Ned would be great hacking buddies,’ Peter thought, an ache present in his chest when he thought about his best friend. He wondered if he was doing okay in his world, and if he was missing Peter at all.

“Peter?” Tim asked, snapping Peter out of his small head space.

“Yeah,” he said, looking around and realizing that everyone was staring at him, save for Harley who was still leaning against him. “Yeah, sorry, I- uh,” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with the arm Harley wasn’t on, “got a little lost for a second there.”

“That’s okay,” Dick assured gently, “what were you thinking about?” Peter, not turning towards him, answered.

“A world far away from this one.” There was a far away look in his eyes, one that the Wayne siblings did not appreciate. It seemed like it made him too sad for their liking, and with one look sent over Peter’s head, Jason subtly elbowed Harley awake. While it would’ve fooled a normal person, Peter was far from normal. He felt the movement of Harley’s body and he glared at Jason, who’s smile was a tad too innocent. Harley snorted herself awake (adorably, Peter should add) and her head lifted off his shoulder.

“Wha?” The dazed and groggy look in her eyes made Peter turn his glare into a little giggle. The platinum blonde’s head snapped toward the sound and she squealed.

“Puppy!” Her arms lifted over his shoulders and she hugged his neck, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Peter gave her a small smile, ignoring Dick’s pout.

“Hey Harls,” he said softly, knowing that this was likely the start of shock that would turn into another manic episode. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened, but she seemed to get over quickly last time (as quickly as one can). Harley opened her eyes and observed her surroundings before adopting a fearful look on her face and jumping into Peter’s arms.

Peter tried not to wince when it aggravated his wounds that had yet to heal (he wasn’t a monster, he could still be in pain from a few cuts). Instantly, he patted her back.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Harley squeezed tighter and it seemed like her happy visage was gone, and instead, replaced by remorse.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, trembling. Peter’s heart broke for his best friend, not for the first time that night.

“It’s not your fault,” he told her, “it’s your ex’s.” That made Peter think for a bit. A while back, it seemed like Harley knew the Wayne’s and their associates (at this point in time, things had started becoming a bit obvious to Peter about Bruce Wayne’s true career, though many things had stayed the same. The enemies for one, and the intention to protect for another.), which was suspicious to Peter. It led him to the Joker. Harley is a good person and wasn’t likely to get involved with them, if they’re mob bosses in this world.

Even before he knew her personally, he also knew a bit of Harley Quinn’s backstory. Everything started the day she met the Joker. Naturally and even more reasonably, that would be the case here as well. The Joker and Batman are mortal enemies, hence Harley was Bruce’s enemy as well (at least before she got involved with Peter, who had gotten involved with the Wayne syndicate. It made him shiver to address them like that).

“Mr. Wayne?” Bruce’s head turned to show that he had his full attention.

“Bruce, Peter,” he corrected gently, “what is it?”

“How much do you know about the Joker?” A careful look was passed around, one he’s seen being passed between Bucky, Natasha, Clint, and other Avengers who were too observant for their own good. He was sure that he wasn’t supposed to notice but being around those kinds of people, it’s impossible to not pick something up.

“Not much,” a little note of hesitancy was held.

‘He knows more than he’s letting on,’ he thought while gazing at Bruce’s face, ‘Joker is his nemesis. Of course he’d know everything.’ But something about this seemed a bit off putting to Peter.

Batman in this world may be a part of the mob but his priority was still to rid the streets of crime (in his own backwards-ass way), so if Peter needed information, considering that at least some of the Wayne children cared for him, Bruce should be able to give it up. So why wasn’t he?

‘Unless,’ he paused, ‘there’s nothing to give up.’ It’s an angle he should work more. In the meanwhile, he should also start gaining Bruce’s trust.

“Does Commissioner Gordon know anything?”

“He’ll probably know more than I do.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Barbara and see if I can get his number.”

“We can give it to you,” Dick was quick to rush in. Peter gave him a small smile.

“Thanks Dick, but I think it’d be more appropriate to get it straight from them.”

‘I don’t want to owe you anything,’ he supplied in his own brain while bringing out his phone and shooting a text to his red-headed friend. Once he was done, he noticed that Harley had stopped trembling. Lifting her head from his neck, he saw that she was asleep.

���Actually, I also think that it’s a good time for me and Harley to turn in for the night.” Coincidentally, Alfred came in as he said those words, a couple of ham and egg sandwiches on a silver tray. The smell of light salted eggs and honey ham wafted towards his highly sensitive nose and his stomach rumbled loudly. He hadn’t had much to eat that day. Yet another reason as to why he’ll never be able to fight crime here. No food. There was an awkward pause before those around him burst into laughter. Bruce let out a small chuckle and Damian still had his head turned away. Peter blushed.

‘How embarrassing.’

“We’ll also take those sandwiches to-go please.”

-----

A violent jerk next to him had Peter sitting up with an urgency. Harley gasped, her breath coming out short and fast, and Peter was quick to reach for her shoulder and called out her name, as a reminder of him being there. He didn’t want to startle her into more of a panic than she was already in.

“Harley?” He called, brows furrowed. “Harley? Hey. Harls. I’m here.” His best friend cradled her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a jarring consistency that reminded him of his aunt’s when his Uncle Ben had died. He squeezed her shoulder gently and gathered her into his arms. A small sob escaped her and Peter shushed his friend, a comforting hand running up and down her back. “I’m here. I’m here,” he reassured her.

Small sniffles and sobs were pressed into his neck before a watery voice spoke.

“Promise?” There was a hesitant pause from him. Could he really promise?

“Yeah,” he agreed finally, “I promise.” The reward for the obvious answer was Harley snuggling further into his embrace. He promised her. However, actions spoke louder than words. So the question really is, would he be able to keep it?

-----

Peter yawned and trudged downstairs, leaving Harley to sleep in a bit more. The rest of the night was spent contemplating and overthinking until his head hurt while his best friend slept on with the occasional sniffle. Needless to say, he was tired.

“Oh, you’re up!” A chipper voice greeted him at the base of the stairs. He met the blue eyes of his least favorite Wayne at the moment. However, considering this was his house, he shouldn’t disrespect him.

“Yup,” he tried to sound as perky (failing, obviously).

“You know, if you need more rest, you should take all the time you need.”

“Yeah, I would but I have to go to work. I don’t have many sick days yet.” Dick grinned down at him, something he was slowly getting used to.

“Don’t worry about that, my dear! You have the rest of the week off!” If Peter was holding something in his hands, he would’ve dropped it at that moment. He took a small pause in stride to process that statement.

“What do you mean ‘I have the rest of the week off?’” Dick, now walking a little distance in front of Peter, turned around and looked at him weirdly.

“I mean that you have the rest of the week off? Why? Is that weird?” The sweet smile on his face left much to be desired. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It would take all his patience to deal with this.

“I mean, how, Dick?” An innocent tilt of the head. A bright smile that Peter was sure led people to their ultimate demise before. The feeling of his Spidey Sense coming to life. His shoulders tensed minutely, realizing that there was someone behind him.

“We took care of it for you.” A deep voice said and Peter whirled around to face the head of the Wayne household.

“Mr.-” A stern look stopped him in his tracks. “Bruce,” he amended with a sheepish smile, “what exactly do you mean when you say ‘you took care of it for me?’” The tall man shrugged, a devilish smile on his face. He could see where his first son came to get his charismatic ways.

“We called you in sick.” It was almost as if it wasn’t computing for Peter.

“But I don’t have any sick days saved.” Bruce shrugged again.

“Well, now you do.” That left Peter in dumbfounded silence. Both father and son chuckled at the look on his face (it was a cute one, Dick would assure) before the brown haired boy found his voice again, noting the faint footsteps and feeling of impending danger that approached.

“Do I want to know?”

“Best that you don’t,” another voice said behind him, Tim, he recognized. Peter let his eyes roll back into his head and let it loll back, stretching his neck in the meantime. A series of cracks occurred and Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, you know what? It’s too early for me to want to know what happened. Maybe after I’ve had coffee or something.” Tim, holding his own coffee, placed a hand over his heart, a little smile on his face.

“A man after my own heart.” Peter peeked out of one eye and decided to tease a bit. He blew a kiss and smiled at the resulting laugh. “Walk with me?” He opened both eyes to see Tim offer an arm to him, the look of a proper gentleman (if that gentleman was as sleep deprived as possible) on his visage. With a grin, he took the arm offered and both men walked through the open door to the dining room. Behind him, he hears Damian’s voice say,

“Father? Why does Grayson have such an insipid look on his face?” It took everything in him to not laugh out loud.

-----

Peter sat in the lounge room of the Wayne’s club, the entire Wayne family around him, save for Damian, Bruce and Jim, because they had other things to do. In his lap was a textbook on advanced quantum physics and the theory of space and time, his brows furrowed in concentration.

As far as he knew, Dr. Strange could travel between worlds and would do so once he knew where Peter was. The balance was important to the good doctor after all. Even then, it didn’t hurt to gain more knowledge about the evidence of the multiverse.

Jason and that redhead from the gym were behind him playing darts, while Dick and Tim watched with amused eyes as the redhead, Roy Harper as Peter had come to know him, beat Jason with relative ease. The second eldest Wayne scowled as the others snickered around him. Another man hung around Tim, seeming the closest to him and Steph.

Yet another black-haired, blue eyed guy, complete with shaggy hair that hung in his eyes and a fade in the back. He wore large, round sunglasses and his ears were pierced severely. He gripped Peter’s hand tightly when they shook, and he introduced himself as Connor, Kon as he insisted Peter call him. His anxiety amped itself up in his presence, and where he was more or less used to the reactions to the Wayne family, he was still cautious.

From his meager knowledge about the DC Universe, he knew Roy Harper as Arsenal, formerly Speedy, Green Arrow’s sidekick, and Kon as Superboy. If Batman and his Robins kept their names here, in the Mafia-verse (as Peter so aptly calls it now), it was likely that they also had the same monikers.

At this point in time, a few days had passed since he had come to stay at Wayne Manor and got acquainted with more people from, what Peter was guessing their shadier dealings. Harley was absent today because she had some things to straighten out. She hadn’t left his side for long since that day but she reluctantly did today and Peter was concerned. He knew his best friend could take care of herself but he couldn’t help but worry.

It was then that he thought about what the last few days brought him. Since he hadn’t really had any time off from work, Steph, Dick and the other Wayne kids took turns showing him around the Manor and around Gotham. It amazed Peter. There was so much more than he realized. They also went to the popularized shopping and club district, spending as much as they wanted.

By they, Peter meant the Wayne’s because he did not have enough money to buy the things sold in that particular part of the city. And he wouldn’t accept any charity, he was clear about that before. Despite that, however, it seemed the Wayne’s didn’t listen. If he said he didn’t need or want anything, they threatened to buy everything in the store. When he finally acquiesced and got something, they insisted that that couldn’t be enough.

“A Wayne entering the store and not buying anything? Preposterous,” Dick said, a grin on his face.

“Yeah. Besides, angel, if we don’t buy anything, it’s bad for business. Rumors would spread.” Feral amusement lit up Jason’s features while Tim smirked in the background, Steph tight to his side. Harley hung off his shoulders, relaxed and obviously having fun. Peter, in the meanwhile, was not.

“BUT WE CAN’T BUY AN ENTIRE STORE’S WORTH OF THINGS!” Damian, leaning onto the counter with a nervous looking cashier, shrugged, eyes sharp and yet, laughing. His voice held some form of enjoyment. This made him sick to his stomach. Is this what rich people did?

“It’s been done before.” There was a moment before Peter exploded.

“WHAT?!” Needless to say, they bought all the merchandise in the store. And then some.

Peter returned to Wayne Manor owning more than he had ever had in his life. A new phone, watch, electronics, wardrobe (after hours and hours of Steph and Dick twirling him this way and that, having him try on things, catering to their whim. The manager was helpless to their wrath, and so was Peter.).

The sudden and faint sound of leather being poked reached his ears, snapping him out of his reverie and he knew that someone had nudged Kon, seeing as he was the only one wearing a leather jacket. A small moment passed before Kon cleared his throat. Peter lifted his head to meet his interested eyes.

“So Peter,” he started. Peter tilted his head.

“Yes Kon?” The lilt in the question paired with large, innocent looking eyes and a sweet smile made Kon blush a bit. He cleared his throat again, aware of the jealous glares that were subtly directed towards him.

“Where are you from?”

“Queens. You?”

“Smallville, Kansas, but I was born somewhere else.”

“Adopted?” Peter asked.

“Something like that. So how’d you get to know the Waynes?” Peter fingered the page of his textbook.

“Through a mutual friend, Slade Wilson. Maybe you know him?” The shocked look on Kon’s face was quite funny and Peter just stopped himself from smiling.

“You know Deathstroke?” Peter shook his flattened hand.

“As a friend, not a business contractor. We met at the bar I work at.” Kon filled out his lips into the shape of an ‘o’ and nodded.

“So then, I suppose you know what he does.” Peter nodded.

“Not the full extent, but vaguely, yes.” An awkward silence fell between them, even with the laughter that surrounded.

“So, what’re you reading about?” Peter lifted his book for him to see the cover. “Advanced Quantum Physics? Smart guy, huh?” Peter lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

“I mean, not really? I’m just good at this stuff.” Steph snorted, teetering on the back of the couch.

“What a liar. You’re really smart Pete. You should start owning it.” Peter shrugged again and Kon nudged the second youngest Wayne next to him.

“Sounds like you, buddy.” Tim hummed, seeming amused as he watched the interaction between Kon and Peter. The look didn’t leave his face as he stood up and walked over to Peter.

“Speaking of being smart, Peter? Can you help me with this?” The chestnut haired boy quirked an eyebrow, aware of the obvious ploy that was happening and he was nervous about letting it play out.

“Sure. I’m not sure I’ll be of much help, but I’ll try.” Steph cooed, leaning her elbow on her knee and brushing a strand of curly blonde hair out of her pretty face.

“Always our humble boy.” Peter reached over and slapped her knee before she saw it coming, dislodging her arm and making her face plummet towards the ground before she righted herself. She cursed playfully at him as he laughed and walked to join Tim at the long table. A whiteboard was situated at the end of it.

About fifteen minutes later, Tim and Peter had nearly figured out everything that the second youngest Wayne needed help on, Kon and Steph joining (after she finished sulking) at Tim’s side.

“So, I was thinking that this-” Peter pointed to a statistic on a spreadsheet before the sound of something metal bouncing off wood caught his attention. His ears perked up and he could hear Roy and Jason’s voices yelling across the space and footsteps starting to stomp towards him. Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.

His Spidey Sense activated, anticipation gearing his systems as the feeling of anxiety got bigger and bigger and bigger still. The three across from him joined in, their voices creating a cacophony that Peter let sink into the background. The slice of metal through air made him tense his shoulders and with the speed gifted from the spider bite, Peter lifted his hand and caught the object that was hurtling towards him, fingers spanning across the grip, the edge of the dart a mere inch away from his temple.

Everything was no longer in slow motion and his Spidey Sense died down. Footsteps halted and a tense silence hung in the air. Peter looked at the dart that he held in his hands and up to Jason and Roy, who were staring at him in confusion. He glanced towards the three sitting across from him and saw the same look etched onto their faces. A few more moments of quiet passed before someone spoke up.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Jason asked, jaw clenched. Peter floundered.

“I-” He shrugged helplessly, looking around in nervousness, “I don’t know. I kind of just-” he mimed what happened and shrugged again, a lost look on his face.

“You kind of just caught a dart in mid-air?”

“Yes?” He knew he was being less than convincing but he didn’t know how to act in this situation. Back home, everyone already knew about his powers and he didn’t need to explain when he did weird shit like that.

“How?!” Roy looked incredulous. Peter was really happy that Bruce wasn’t here.

“Natural talent?”

He really needed to work on his lying skills.

-----

“Tony,” Stephen gritted his teeth, “it’s been three days.”

“We haven’t found Peter yet.” The doctor sighed at his wonderfully caring, loving, and infuriatingly stubborn husband.

“You haven’t slept.” Tony sipped his coffee, a dead yet still alive look in his eyes.

“I’ll sleep when we’ve found Peter.” Stephen’s eye twitched and he bit back another sigh. He came forward from his perch behind his husband’s back and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, smirking when he felt Tony tense.

“Peter wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. He’d want you to put your health first.” Seemingly ignoring him, Tony mumbled into his coffee.

“Stupid teenagers. Making their dad worry.” The rest was unintelligible by his ears and Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Wherever he is, darling, he’s fine.” Tony suddenly slammed his coffee mug down onto the table and violently turned towards his husband, scowl deepening when Stephen didn’t even move an inch. He just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did your Wizard Tingle tell you that? How can you be so sure, Stephen?! He could be dead for all we know!” The blue eyed man scowled right back down to his husband.

“He’s not dead, Tony. I know for sure.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t know, so I’m not going to rest until I find my son.” Tony turned back around and continued tinkering around with the dimensional travelling device he was concocting.

If he could make a time traveling machine to go and stop an evil grape with a panini bread chin from eliminating half of the universe, he should be able to do this. “In the meantime, sweetheart,” the endearment was stressed and said through clenched teeth, “keep searching through the universes, dimensions, or whatever. Please. We need to find him.”

Stephen’s eyes softened. He really loved his husband. While the media made it seem like he was self-absorbed and didn’t care about anyone but himself, it was really the opposite. He cared so much that he was willing to go to the ends of the earth for his children. He had the scars to prove it.The doctor moved forward and leaned his head heavily onto the genius’ shoulder, letting his breath fan across the back of his neck.

“If I continue to search,” he whispers, “will you please go to sleep?” Tony was silent for a minute before he released the tension in his form, slumping in defeat.

“Do I have a choice?” Stephen made a humming noise.

“Well, I mean, you definitely have the choice to ignore what I say, but I will do what I have to.” Tony grumbled some more but Stephen knew that it was all in good fun.

“Fine. But you have to keep looking.” Stephen smiled at the brunette’s back as he left the lab and he called after him.

“Promise, honey!” Once he was sure Tony was out, he looked towards the ceiling. “FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Dr. Stark-Strange?” A small smile came upon his face as he heard his name. What an incredible feeling, to have his name in conjunction with the man he loves.

“Lock down the lab until he gets at least a full eight hours of sleep. Sleep Protocol.”

“Of course.” Then, Stephen opened a portal and stepped into his room to meditate. He promised his husband and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have done it anyway. Peter was like his own son. He cared for Peter and he wasn’t stopping until Peter was found.

-----

“So,” Harley popped her bubble gum obnoxiously, “I heard from a little birdy that my Puppy did something badass today.” Peter snorted.

“Did you? Lemme guess. Steph?” Harley smirked from her perch on the bathroom sink.

“Spot on as always, Pup. So,” she tilted her chin coyly, bringing her knees up to her chest, “what happened?”

“Nothing much. I just stopped a dart from hitting me. That’s all.” Peter finished washing his hands and left the bathroom with Harley in tow, pouting at the lack of information.

“Aw, Puppy! You can’t just leave me without all the details! Spill! Spill!” He laughed, the sound echoing down the long hallway as they walked towards the dining room.

“It really was nothing! Also, how are you so chipper?” Harley tsked, as if the last few days, if not weeks, weren’t immensely hard on her.

“In my line of work, we need to get over things very quickly. This is no exception. And stop changing the subject!” The argument continued until they reached the dining room.

“Look Harley! There’s nothing to tell you other than the fact that I caught a dart when I went to scratch my head.”

“There has to be more than that!”

“There really isn’t! I caught a dart! End of story!” Those who were already sitting at the dinner table looked up as the duo came in.

“Talking about today?” Steph asked, leaning back into the chair. “You should’ve been there, Harley. It was badass.”

“I know!” Harley whined. “It would’ve been so cool!” Peter groaned as they sat down at the table. The others looked at them, not even trying to be subtle.

“There is literally nothing to it! I happened to grab it when I went to scratch my head!” Jason and Dick grinned while Tim chuckled into his water (Alfred said enough with the coffee. For today.). Damian, who wasn’t at the lounge, looked a bit confused but didn’t ask.

“Okay, okay, we believe you,” Dick tried to placate. Peter gave him a deadpan look, knowing for a fact that it wasn’t true. He also knew that they happened to latch onto this new information, considering that their background checks didn’t yield anything useful. Or really anything at all, with him being from another dimension and all that jazz. Peter sighed.

“Whatever.” Steph and Jason snickered while Harley huffed.

“Not whatever, Pup! I still wanna know!” Jason perked up.

“You haven’t told her yet?” Harley shook her head, looking towards the man with extreme excitement.

“Tell me, tell me!” Jason started recounting the situation earlier, Harley paying attention. Damian typed away on his phone, trying to make it less obvious that he was listening quite raptly as well. By the end of it, Harley was gasping with shock (Jason, the Shakespeare nerd he is, made it so much more dramatic than it really had been).

“That was so much more than what actually happened!” Peter scowled at Jason, who smirked in return.

“Every heroic tale deserves to be told in style, angel.”

“I saved myself from attaining a hole in my head from a dart. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.” Dick gasped, one hand covering his mouth and the other pointing straight at Peter.

“You swore! You shouldn’t swear. Angels don’t swear!” Peter’s eye twitched, an annoyed expression obvious on his face (though he wasn’t as annoyed as he should’ve been).

“I’m not an angel! I-” The doors to the kitchen opened with Alfred and Bruce carrying plates of food. They placed them on the table and sat down at their respective spots (at the head and the right side of the head).

“You what Peter?” The chestnut haired boy blushed and looked away, the feeling of slight embarrassment prevalent in him.

“Nothing.” Bruce gave him a weird look while everyone else looked amused.

“If you’re sure.” Peter said nothing else and Bruce nodded in assent. “Alright. Let’s eat.”

-----

After dinner, Harley, for reasons unknown to Peter, left, but not before meeting Barbara at the door of Wayne Manor.

“Are you sure you guys will be alright, Harls?” Harley rolled her eyes, an exasperated, but fond look on her face.

“I’m sure Pete. Now go and hang out or do something interesting. I swear, you worry as a hobby. You’re gonna get boring.” Peter pursed his lips, looking adorably concerned and a little insulted.

“I do interesting things!” Barbara and Harley snorted. Peter, in an act of defiant childishness, stuck his tongue out at them and closed the door in their faces, ignoring the loud laughter that reached his ears from the other side. “I am interesting!” He muttered to himself, barely surprised when an arm was thrown around him.

“Sure you are, angel.” Peter shot him an irritated look.

“You know, I’m not an angel right?” Jason looked down on the boy trapped to his side.

“What makes you say that?” Peter looked on darkly, weirdly introspective.

“You attract what you are. I’m friends with a mercenary and someone who deals with some of the shadier sides of things. Not to mention, her boyfriend, a notorious gang member, is after us because I convinced her to break up with him,” he said simply.

‘Too simply,’ Jason thinks. ‘He must really believe this.’

“That’s not necessarily true, Pete.” Blue clashes with doe brown as Peter turned his large eyes up to meet Jason’s.

“How so?”

“It’s not that you attract what you are. What if you are kind but you attract people who are mean? Or you’re loyal, but attract cheaters. It’s not ‘you attract what you are,’ but ‘you attract those in desperate need of what you are.’ Like us.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. Seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything else, Jason continued.

“Besides, even if you aren’t an angel, you’re our angel.” Jason lets Peter go from his side and uses his longer legs to stride in front of him, turning when he is to face Peter. He steps towards the shorter man, towering over him. Jason brings a hand up to Peter’s face and cradles his cheek in a calloused hand. Peter stays still, frozen at the contact. “Whether you like it or not.”

-----

“Tony!” Stephen yelled, bursting through his portal and into Tony’s bedroom. Tony blinks blearily before recognizing his husband and sitting up.

“Hey hon. What’s wrong?”

“I figured out where Peter is!” Tony’s eyes widened, now more awake than ever.

“What?! Where is he?!” Stephen shoves something into Tony’s hands. The genius looks down and squints in confusion.

“Why are you giving me a comic book?” Stephen pointed straight to the comic book, which was titled, “Batman: The Mafia-Verse.”

“He’s in there.” A pause of silence before Tony raises the book.

“Peter.” His husband nods.

“Yes.”

“Peter Parker.”

“Yes.”

“Is in a comic book?”

“Yup.” Another pause of silence.

“What the actual fuck?!” Stephen nodded sagely.

“Wait until you read it.” His husband looks at him weird.

It took Tony ten minutes to read to the stopping point.

“OH HELL NO!”

-----

The bad news came in the morning. Jim Gordon, with tears streaming down his face, came knocking on Wayne Manor’s door. Bruce opened it.

“Jim?!” He reacts with shock and concern for his old friend. “What’s wrong?!” The police commissioner of Gotham City collapses into Bruce’s arms, clutching at shoulders awkwardly but too overcome with grief to notice.

“Babs-” he gasped out, voice hoarse, “she’s in the hospital.” Bruce’s blue eyes widened.

By then, Peter had heard the commotion from his bedroom (now separate from Harley’s) and came rushing down to be greeted by the sight of the sobbing commissioner.

“Commissioner Gordon! What happened?”

“He got to her! She’s in the hospital! And Harley! Oh Harley!” Peter’s blood froze, and his ears pounded. In the background, he could hear multiple footsteps rushing towards them. Peter surged forward.

“Jim! Jim! What happened to Harley?!” Jim could barely get his words through, but eventually could.

“Harley. She’s-” a gasp, “gone.” Another gasp. “The Joker. He took her.”

Previous: Part 5

Next: Part 7

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (39)

Part 38 Here!!!

~o0o~

Jim POV: The whole damn city just collapsed into absurd darkness. I stand on the roof watching each of the building's lights dim to nothing. I pick up my phone dialing (Y/n) again.

"Hey! You've reached me at a bad time! Or maybe I just don't want to talk to you! Leave a message at the- BEEP..."

I sigh rubbing my eyes. "(Y/n). The whole city is in a blackout. Jerome has cut the power off everywhere. Please, call me back. Tell me where you are."

I hang up the phone retreating to the main floor seeing the team throwing Jerome's followers in cages. "He's at the power plant across the river." Harvey looks at me tilting his head. "And?" "She hasn't called."

The follower's cackle and struggle against the officers. "Get those freaks in the cages! We need to find Jerome."

One freak busts out of a hold and runs after a cop, but I grab his shirt slamming him on the desk.

"Hey, watch him! Let go of me!" I gather the fabric in my hands. "What about you, huh? Do you know where Jerome is? What about my daughter, huh? Where are they?! Where is he?" He laughs tilting his head behind.  "Look around! He's everywhere!"

"INCOMING!"

Bullock yells as a flam sores through the window setting a desk at the bottom level aflame. The freak struggles in our hold. "TONIGHT! GOTHAM IS AWAKENED!"

~

I spin around admiring my skirt in the mirror. I take my lipstick applying it and smiling. "You always looked ravishing in red, doll." I look in the mirror seeing Jerome behind me in his white outfit.

I turn around facing him and reach to touch his staples. He groans but sighs leaning into my touch. I inch closer brushing my nose against his own. "I missed you so much, Jerome."

His arms wrap around my waist pulling me to him. "Aw doll, I missed you too." He laughs twirling me around. Jerome plants his lips on mine struggling with his face as it moves loosely around.

He pulls back laughing. "I hate this. I can't even whistle!" I run my hands down his chest kissing both sides of his cheeks. "I think it's kinda hot."

I walk away, my heels clicking every step to the exit. "Come on now. I don't think we should keep Brucey waiting too much longer." Jerome nods smirking. "Yes, but one more thing." He pulls out another box ushering me over.

He pulls out a solid black mask and a gun covered in glitter and rhinestones. Jerome lifts the mask over my face and hands me the gun. "Perfect."

I look in the mirror confused. "Jerome, this covers my face. I don't think I need to hide." I proceed to take it off, but Jerome fights me. "No baby. I need you to wear it." "Why?" He pauses looking me over. "It goes with the outfit!" He laughs grabbing my hand and putting the mask back on. I shrug holding his hand and walking to our car. "If you say so, J."

"How do you plan on getting in?" I ask Jerome in the passenger seat. "Window." He smirks to himself. I sighed shaking my head. "Amature." "What the hell is the supposed to mean?" I smile pulling my keys out and showing off the key Bruce gave me months ago. "Come on, love."

We walk up to the door and I unlock it walking in with a few followers. Jerome grabs my hand pulling me back. "Why do you have a key to Bruce Wayne's house, (Y/n)?" He growls in my ear tightening his grip. I turn my head leaning into him. "Aw, Jerome. Are you jealous?"

His green eyes burrow into me searching my entire existence for evidence. He pushes my hips against the wall forcing his face into my neck biting harshly. "Why do you have a key, darling? Have you been busy with Billionaire Boy, huh?" I push him back looking at his face smirking. I could play with him just a little.

"Of course not, but if I was could you blame me? You left me all alone." He groans grazing his hand over my neck and wrapping his hand around the flesh. He forces my back flat against the wall and leans into me. Jerome attacks my lips in hunger and lust. Lifting me up around his waist and making marks upon my neck.

I moan pushing against him desperate to have this time with him. "Jerome." I gasp clinging onto him making him chuckle darkly. "Let's go tear Wanye's room apart, shall we?" I giggle kissing him deeply. "You're bad." "Ah, just for you, dollface."

Jerome walks to the door opening it and viewing a lush bedroom. He tosses me on the bed pulling my ankles to have me near the edge.

"Ah, Boss?"

A shaky voice sounds near the door. Jerome groans turning his head to his follower. "Can't you see I'm a little busy?" "Yes sir, but we just wanted to tell you we have both of them in the study." Jerome waves them off getting up from his leaned over position. "Too bad. These are real Egyptian silk sheets." I slide off pecking Jerome's lips.

Jerome walks in the door smirking at Bruce and Alfred. "My, my. Look how big you've gotten. Nice place you got here. You rent? I think we're looking for somewhere to settle down." Jerome laughs smacking my butt.

Bruce looks me over narrowing his eyes. "What do you want?"

Jerome scoffs tossing a glass vase to the floor. "Attitude." "Teenagers, honey. I think you were moody too." Jerome shook his head laughing.

"I remember those days. So many exciting new emotions floating through you. Finding an amazing girl. Wanting to kill everyone you saw."

A follower tosses another object my way. "Oh, doll give me." I giggle tossing the glass owl his way. "You know, I will never understand rich people's tastes." "It's worthless. My father found it at a flea market. I keep it for sentimental reasons." Bruce says lying through his white teeth.

I smile at him then plop on the couch. "He's lying." Jerome laughs waving the owl in his hands. "Nice try." He tosses it towards me and I toss it back giggling. "Oh, it's got some heft to it. Expensive, I'm guessing. Be such a shame if I-" The owl falls to the floor staying intact.

"Bummer." I slump back into the couch. "Huh. Tougher than I figured. Anyway_" Jerome tosses the owl behind his back smashing it as it hits feet before the fireplace.

"I asked you what you want."

"Right. Sorry. The old noodle's still a little al dente post-thaw. The reason I'm here is I'm gonna kill you."

"Why?"

"Well, it's the last thing I remember wanting to do. It's been nagging at me since I woke up. The idea of slitting that pretty, pink throat of yours. Figure that'd clear the decks." Jerome pushes a small dagger against Bruce's neck.

"I remember that night When you took over the benefit. You were quite the showman. Sad to have seen it end with poor Ms. Gordon crying at your feet. I'm surprised you haven't gone after her." Jerome laughs giving me a wink.

"Thank you. Always nice to be appreciated. Plus, I don't need to find her. I've got what I need." Jerome brushes his hand on my cheek smiling.

"And you're just going to kill me here? That's kind of disappointing." I sit up interested while Jerome groans pulling away from Bruce. "What do you mean?" "After all the buildup You coming back to life, turning off the lights in Gotham Killing me here just doesn't show a lot of-" Jerome jumps on the couch kick pillows. "Flair? Hmm? Style Panache? Hmm? Go on, boy. Spit it out. I can take it."

"I'm Bruce Wayne." I roll my eyes standing up. "Here we go. The little boy wants to show the world how great he is." I laugh picking feathers from the torn pillows.

"I am the ruling elite. My company is the machine that keeps the cogs - of Gotham running. Killing me should mean something! And you're telling me no one's going to see it? You're saying I need an audience?"

"Look, I know you're just trying to buy time so you can escape. But your point is still valid. Saddle up, boys! We're taking this show on the road! And I know just the spot. Come on." Jerome grabs my hand walking away, but stops when he sees the butler following.

"Not you, old chap. The prince of Gotham deserves a public death. His butler, not so much. What do you say we do, love?" I tap my finger on my chin. "Kill him." I giggle walking away with Jerome.

Jerome turns back yelling, "Try not to get any blood on the couch. I might come back for that."

"It was a comfy couch wasn't it?" "It would look great in our apartment." I turn to him shocked. "Yes, I did break into your home. Yes, your dog did not run out. Look!" Jerome pulls out a phone showing me a picture of my pup eating a treat with a cult member. "Aww, that is so cute!"

~

I skip around trailing Jerome and Bruce as we tour the carnival. "Who are you?" Bruce asks turning his head towards me. Jerome watches closely with a glare. "Me? Well, I'm-" I panic looking around for an escape. I see a biker gang bashing the heads at the whack a mole game. The dusted leather ghosting the words of the bike on the back. I smirk turning back to Bruce. "You can call me Harley. It's nice to meet you. Now, why don't we stop the chit chat and move on? I want to see what else this place has to offer!" I leap ahead of them feeling the new wash of life rush in. "Oh, J! Can you win me something?" Jerome looks to me grinning. "Aw, of course, but why don't we have some fun with Bruce first."

"Is there a plan for all of this madness?"

"These people don't want a plan They want an excuse," I explain popping another ball of cotton candy in my mouth. Bruce looks at me and sighs stepping closer. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to follow him. You know what he does? Do you know where his last girlfriend is? He drove her insane and now she struggles every day! He broke (y/n) Gordon, and it's only a matter of time before he does it to you." Bruce glares in my face causing me to chuckle. "I'm sure she's just fine. She's happy now." I latch onto Jerome kissing him. "Guess brains don't equal cash." Jerome laughs in my ear pecking my cheek.

"The mother who dreams of strangling her child. The husband who wants to stab his wife. The daughter who wishes to cut her father's knee caps out. All they want is someone to tell them -"Do it. Kill them. It doesn't matter."- It doesn't."

Jerome grabs my hand leading up further into the fair. We arrive at a dunk tank filled with piranha.

"Ooh, I love this game!" Jerome cheers picking up a ball.

"You won't get away with it."

"I already did. Now shush. I need to concentrate. Trying to impress my lady here." He winks getting ready to toss the ball.

"A few dozen brainwashed maniacs can't keep the city hostage forever."

"Well, duh."

"So what's the point?" Jerome huffs turning back to face Bruce. "The point is that all these people out here, looting, robbing, killing, they're the people who wash your car, who pour your coffee, who take out your trash. And what happened the moment the lights went out? They showed their true faces. They showed how quickly they want to open up your rich boy veins and bathe in your blue blood. That is the point."

"Everyone is mad, Bruce. All you have to do is let go. It's easy." I giggle feeling light and free. Jerome pulls me close in his arms. "You're adorable."

"That's not true. There are good people in Gotham." "Like who? The sheep who lock their doors and crawl under their beds? Face it, kid, Gotham has no heroes." Jerome turns back to throw, but Bruce pushes him making him stumble and miss the target.

"Hey. Foul! He pushed me. Did you see that?" Bruce pushes up towards Jerome mightily. "You want to kill someone, let's get on with it!"

I roll my eyes leaning an arm on Bruce. "You're no fun, Brucey."

"Yeah. Come on! You're so boring, Bruce." Jerome yawns reaching over and pushing the button making our victim fall in the infested water soon transmuting it red.

Jerome laughs kissing me roughy. As we pull back I notice his forehead falling. "Honey. You need to uh-" Jerome touches his head nodding and getting the staple gun from one of his followers.

"Here ya go, cutie." Jerome puts his hat on my head. I pull the skin up and he staples it murmuring in discomfort.

"Did that hurt?" Bruce mocks his slight moment of weakness. Jerome walks up to him grabbing his arm. "Not much. You try." Jerome shoots three staples into Bruce's arm before he bellows out.

"Stop. Stop!"

Jerome takes his hat back and grabs my hand. "All right. Enough, dilly-dally. To the main event."

-

I sit on the lone table swinging my legs a Jerome changes into a ring leader outfit. "That reminds me of when I helped you in a show one time." Jerome chuckles nodding. "You were quite a sight."

I walk over fixing his shirt collar. "Why don't you let me go out there with you tonight? We can give them a real good show! Then after this is over we can skip town. We can start over somewhere." Jerome smiles at me with pure love, but a sadness burrows in the ridge of his eyes. "It's not intended for you, darling." "What are you talking about? Of course, it is! I'm apart of this. I'm here for you." Jerome sways his head leading me to sit down.

"(Y/n). You're only here because of me. I should've waited to get you. I don't need you getting hurt." I laugh shaking my head. "Well nice try, but have you seen who we are? Safety isn't the number one priority." he sighs kissing my hands. "Stay out of sight. I'll be coming back here when everything is finished."

He drops my hands and exits the curtain making everyone scream and cheer.

I wait and wait for him to return. The ringing of my phone brings me out of my trance of boredom. "Hello?"

"Hi, darling! I'm sorry I've been out of touch. Everything is nuts here." Xander beams through the line.

Xander?

I run to the curtain looking out and see Jerome prancing around. How is he calling me then?

"(Y/n)? Love?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm at a...party...right now." "Hmm. On a work night? Wild women."

"You could say that."

"Are you alright? You seem frightened. Do I need to come back?" I swallow and look at Jerome. "I'm fine. Feels like I'm seeing double." Xander laughs. "Maybe stop drinking." I smile closing the curtain.

"I'm safe, I promise."

"I need to tell you something." Xander sighs over the line. "What is it?" "Don't hate me, but I'm going to have to stay here for a few added weeks. If I go the project isn't getting done in time." "So you're not coming back to Gotham?" "Not for a while, love. I'm so sorry? I don't expect you to... wait. You're too beautiful to be alone for long." I look at Jerome again, he turns back to me smiling as he torments Bruce. "(Y/n)?" "Yes, Xander?" "I will come to see you when I return." "I can't wait." He laughs making me smile. "I'll be back for you, (y/n)." "I'm sure you will be." "I'll call you later." "Bye Xander."

I hang up as Jerome strides over to me picking me up and kissing me. "Who was that? Jimbo being a worried ass?" I laugh tossing the phone over my shoulder. If my mind is going to be playing tricks like that I certainly don't need to keep my phone around. "It was no one. Just talking to myself."

He smiles nodding. "Come on. Let me go win you a prize." "What about Bruce?" "Ah, he won't get away."

"BOSS, WAYNE IS GETTING AWAY!"

I giggle kissing Jerome's lips. "Go get him, puddin."

I watch him run out and laugh, but soon my happiness is killed by Jim Gordon, my father running across the fair.

"Shit. He can't see me like this. He'll toss me in the bin for sure!" I run over gathering my clothes from before and rushing to put them on and stuffing the dress in my bag. I look in the mirror noticing I still have the mask on. "oops." I tear it off and stuff it in my bag along with the gun.

I run after Jerome wishing to warn him. Just wishing we could leave. I run inside the mirror maze turning every conor until I saw Jerome on the ground and Bruce beating his face off. literally.

I pull my gun out and aim it at Bruce as he lifts a shard of glass. Jerome giggles choaking. "Do it."

Bruce raised his arm and I slide out into view. "Bruce Wayne! Stop!" Bruce looks behind and stands up from the ground. "(Y/n). You can't be here! He will-" "Mr. Wayne, you're invading in an official act of the GCPD. Leave the area or I will be forced to arrest you as well." He gulps and backs away out of view.

I look at Jerome as he lays on the ground, his face only being held by a few staples. "We need to go." I sit him up, but he grabs my arm shaking his head. "You need to go."

"What?" Jerome looks up at me. "Run out there and away from me. Think I'm letting you get thrown in Arkam with me? Go on, doll." I huff knowing this is the only way. I kiss his hand and let go. "I'll come to see you as soon as I can." He nods standing up. "I'll be waiting, darling."

I blow a kiss and send a wink walking out of the mirror maze and straight to Bruce playing it up. "Bruce! Are you okay?" He nods hugging Alfred.

"(y/n)!" I turn to see my dad running towards me. He engulfs me in a hug and cries in my ear. "What happened?"

"I-I tried to save Bruce."

"Behind you!" Bruce shouts alerting us. Jerome waddles out raising his gun, but my father beats him to it knocking Jerome in the face and completely tearing his face off again. It falls at my feet limply making me shutter.

Jerome looks up with fire in his eyes. He looks past Jim and towards me smirking. "You look delicious, (y/n)." Jim roars knocking Jerome out cold with one more punch.

Yep. That's my faceless, insane, boyfriend.

[batboysandgirls]

Tim Drake x Reader - Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 4 - FINALE!

PART ONE HERE, PART TWO HERE, and PART THREE HERE! Title: Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 3 Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You’ve made it out of Black Mask’s lair alive, and it’s time for you to have dinner with the batclan, including Bruce Wayne himself (who you still can hardly believe is Batman).  After the dinner, you know you’ll have to decide to make your move with Tim... or let him go.  But you’re not one to give up easily! Notes: Canon-typical descriptions of violence and injuries. Words: 5.4k Taglist:  @silentwhispofhope, @ashfromthesol, @oh-no-my-ravioli, @katelynkargol, @rhymeswithrason, @grincheveryday, @ivysfaves, @hanliz2211

You awoke in a very nice bed that was not your own.  You should be terrified, but the well of terror in your heart was empty.  Now, you were just tired.

You slowly sat up.  You were wearing a silk white nightgown, which might be the softest thing you’ve ever worn.  You were also laying a king sized bed, which might be the first time you’ve ever had a king sized bed to yourself.  It was a large bedroom, sparsely decorated.  There was an empty desk, a mostly empty bookshelf, and a dresser.  The dresser was against the far wall, and you could see your clothes folded and washed on top of it.  To your left, there was a set of glass doors leading to a balcony.  They let in an enormous amount of light, making the whole room bright.  It almost seemed like a dream, although you were pretty sure you were awake.

Looking around, nothing had clicked for you as to where you were, but, somehow, you felt pretty safe.  At this point, if someone was going to kill you, they probably would have succeeded.

You swung your legs over the size of the bed, and there was your phone on a side table.  You almost reached to check your messages, but you didn’t.  Instead, you walked out to the balcony.  The wind blew gently, and you took in the view of beautiful gardens.  You didn’t seem Gotham, and you couldn’t even hear it… had to be pretty far out from the city.

Huh.  Maybe this was a dream.  Or, since you were all in white, was it… no.  No, no, no.

(You probably weren’t dead!  You’d know!  Right?  You’d know if this was the afterlife… right?)

You turned back to the inside, and there was Tim standing in the doorway.  OH!  Thank goodness.  Tim was here… okay, so this must be Wayne Manor.  Pretty house, pretty gardens, way outside of the city proper.  Made some sense.  Still not sure how you got here, but that wasn’t much of a concern.

(You weren’t dead!  Hooray!)

“Tim,” you said, your voice coming out a little soft and a little hoarse.

“How are you feeling?  I was afraid you’d wake up confused about where you were.”  He walked over next to you, and you smiled.

“I first thought this all might be a dream.  Then, I thought I might be dead and this is what happens after.”

Tim raised his eyebrows, alarm on his face, and you laughed.

“But I saw you and thought—that’s right, Tim lives in a mansion outside of Gotham.  I’m alive.”  Tim looked like he was about to apologize, and you shook your head.  “No, no.  That’s just how my brain works.  I assume you guys took me back with you after you stopped Black Mask?”

“Yeah.  They were going to drop you at your apartment unconscious.  You passed out from exhaustion and stress apparently.  But I said you were my girlfriend, and they let me and Bruce take you home with us.”

“Do you think the police officers had read the Buzzfeed article?”

Tim smiled.  “Well, one officer giggled as I explained so I think she might have.”

“Our accidental celebrity relationship coming in handy, for once.”

“For once.”

The conversation lulled, and you found yourself gazing at Tim unabashedly.  He was looking out over the back gardens, thoughtfully.  He was so handsome, it was really unfair.  All you wanted to do was to have him hold you, to run your hand through his hair, to tell him how incredible he is.  But it wasn’t really the time.  And though you were pretty sure Tim did like you a tad, you weren’t sure if he was thinking of anything serious.  Fate had drawn you together once, and you’d been tangled together since then.

You were hoping the Black Mask incident would be the last of your brushes with Gotham’s heroes and villains, but your heart ached a bit at the odds that meant this would be the last of your brushes with one Tim Drake.  Would Tim really be interested in a random intern who had a few freakish experiences that drew you closer to him?  Would he have any free time to dedicate to a girlfriend totally divorced from his duties helping run Wayne Enterprises and from crime fighting?  Probably not…

For now, though, you took in Tim standing before you.  You let that be enough.

Tim finally turned to you.

“Well, I know Alfred’s made an amazing brunch for you.  You should eat something.  Then, you can just relax until we have dinner tonight.”

Dinner.  Right.  Dinner where Bruce Wayne, Batman, which is still weird, will tell you not to reveal the whole Batfamily’s secret identities and probably terrify you in the process.  You should be worrying about that.  Instead, you’re caught on something else.

“Alfred?”

“Alfred is the family butler, but he’s more than just that.  He is family.”

You nodded and slowly realized how hungry you were.  “Does he, um.  Does he make good pancakes?”

Tim grinned from ear to ear.  “The best.”

✹ ✹

“Maybe I was wrong earlier,” you said, mouth full of chocolate chip pancake, “Maybe I did actually die and this is some sort of heaven.”

“Wait, you thought you died?” asked Dick Grayson, eldest Wayne child and also Nightwing.  Of all the superhero identity matching you’d done in your head, that was a no brainer.  The butts were basically identical.

“A death joke!  She’ll fit right in,” Jason said.  Jason Todd, second Wayne child, also the Red Hood.  Just from this pancake brunch, he quickly was becoming your favorite after Tim.

(You weren’t sure what he meant by the death joke, but you smiled anyway.  That seemed to make him even more on your side.)

The youngest child, Damian, didn’t say anything to you, other than a few displeased huffs.  Odds were he was Robin.

Cassandra, who was around Tim’s age to your understanding, didn’t say much either to you, but her eyes and smiles were endlessly kind.  You weren’t sure of her identity… maybe she was just a normal person.  That would be lovely.

(Tim told you that Duke, another brother a couple years younger than him, was out “on patrol,” which meant that he was probably the Signal.  The lone daytime bat.  Wild.)

Bruce Wayne did not appear at brunch, but that was probably for the best.  You needed to work up the emotional strength to face Batman’s scrutiny tonight.

Alfred was working on that by fueling you with pancakes and calling you “Miss _____.”  You called him “Mr. Pennyworth,” and he kind of seemed offended by the formality—but you didn’t give in.

Tim was definitely watching you the whole meal, amused and a little pleased.  It was nice to know someone was paying attention to you, and nicer still to be able to tell they liked what they saw.  You regaled the group with a humorous retelling of the Wayne Tower accident, as well as some weird encounters you’d had as an intern.

After brunch, you returned to the room you’d been in, getting dressed in your somewhat tattered clothes from the previous evening.  You looked in the mirror, a little disappointed.

No, it wasn’t any insecurity about your body.  You thought you looked pretty good, generally speaking. It was just that you looked more put together in the nightgown these people provided than in your own clothes.  There were a lot of holes and tears in the fabrics from the glass exploding onto you.  You hadn’t gone ham on your outfit with a pair of scissors for fun, but it kinda seemed that way.

Someone knocked at the door.  You poked your head out and saw Cassandra standing there, holding a box.

“Hello,” you said, poking your head out.

“Hi,” she said, before handing it over to you.  “Alfred made these.  Adjusted my old things.  Should fit.”

“Oh!  Thank you!  Currently, my clothes are a bit, uh, compromised.”

Cass just smiled with a nod and vanished down the hall.  You put on the clothes and were delighted they fit perfectly.  Did Alfred take your measurements when you were brought to Wayne Manor?  That was a little weird, but very helpful.  It was just a simple black sweater and a pair of jeans.  No holes or rips or tears!  And you looked good.  Perfect.  You wanted to look nice for this dinner, so you could come across as professional.  Someone to be trusted with the batfamily’s secret identities.

(Not for Tim.  No, certainly not to look good for Tim.  Mhmmm.  Nope.)

You spent the following few hours getting a tour of the Manor from Tim, who did compliment your outfit, which was not notable or anything, and just hanging out with him and his siblings playing Scrabble.  The tour was cool, and Tim only blanched once when you asked where they kept all the bat stuff.

(“Um, Bruce didn’t kill me for having you find out my identity, but if I showed you the Batcave, he’s definitely freak.”

“So it’s a cave?  Must be under the house then. That’s pretty sweet.”

“...”

“Is that aspect a secret?”

“Just don’t tell him you know that.”)

As you walked the Manor and played in a Scrabble tournament with the Wayne children, your eyes kept meeting Tim’s.  You would both look away, but it was never long before you found the other’s gaze again.  It made your heart weirdly full but also made you weirdly nervous.

(This dinner is the last thing directly tying you to Tim.  It’s why you got lunch and the whole dating rumor started.  After Bruce Wayne gets his say with you, Tim doesn’t have a reason to reach out to you.  You could reach out to him, start something more, but does he want that?  That look when his bright blue eyes find yours… you hope it’s not wishful thinking to imagine he wants that.)

Duke showed up midway through the Scrabble tournament, but he got to join in.

“It’s round-robin style,” Tim explained as he spelled out l-u-n-a-r off your r-a-t-i-o, “You can join in with whoever finishes next.”

“Only Dick and I made jokes about the fact Robin is literally in the name of the playstyle, if you’d like to immediately hop on that train while you wait,” you added.

Duke laughed at that, and you definitely liked this kid, too.  Honestly, other than Damian being a little stuffy, this strange hodge-podge superhero family was quite wonderful.

Tim and Jason won the tournament, tied for most wins.  Then Damian, then you, then Duke, then Dick, and then Cass.

“Words are hard,” Cass concluded as you all packed up the boards, and you couldn’t agree more.

“Dinner is about to be served,” Alfred said, stopping in the doorway. “If you all would please head to the dining room.”

You felt yourself tense up a bit at that announcement, and, suddenly, Tim was right next to you.  He put a hand on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“It’s going to be fine.  Our secret identities are much less secret than Bruce wants, but there’s not much he can do about you knowing.”

(You felt more tense about this dinner being over and having no excuses to see Tim than the actual meal itself.  But that’d be a bit odd to tell him that, probably.)

✹ ✹

Dinner began uncomfortably normally.  After you and the rest of the batkids sat down, Bruce Wayne entered and sat at the head of the table.  Everyone went quiet as he took his seat, and then he smiled at you.

“Hello, _____.  It’s wonderful to finally meet you.  How are you?”

This was not the “attempt to reveal our identities and we’ll make your life hell” angle you were expecting.

“I’m, um,” you said, “I’m quite well.  I slept great here.”

“I’m glad.  It’s been a stressful week, hasn’t it?”

You found yourself laughing a bit too loud and too long at that.  When you realized everyone was staring at you—

(Facial expressions.  Dick: “oh god, Bruce.” Jason: “lmao.”  Tim: “BRUCE THAT IS THE UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR.” Cass: “The shirt really does look lovely.” Duke: “Don’t smile, it’s not that funny, don’t do it, Duke.” Damian: “Ugh.”)

—you closed your mouth.

“Um, yes.  Very stressful.  I’m honestly looking forward to doing intern-y stuff again, without my life being threatened.”

“Would you mind reminding me what your internship is like?”

So you began to explain your Wayne Enterprises internship to Bruce Wayne, which was very strange.  He was paying attention as you explained, asking some questions here and there.  Alfred brought out the first course, which was tomato and cheese soup, and, by the time everyone had finished it, you had exhaustively detailed your intern duties.  You snuck a glance over at Tim as Alfred took away your soup bowl and placed down the main entrée, fettuccine alfredo with chicken.  You were afraid he’d look bored or worried, but he had an easy smile on his face, almost like you were a good dream he was having.  That made your heart flutter a bit.

You fiddled with your pasta a moment before looking up to Bruce.

“Mr. Wayne, are we going to talk about the whole Batman thing, or…?”

You could see Tim’s easy smile fade a bit, and the table instantly became a bit more tense.  Bruce’s gaze was a little heavier now, and you held up your hands.

“Look, I don’t want to cause any problems.  I do not want to get involved in what is your little family activity.  I won’t tell anyone your secret identities.  I’m not even sure of Cass’s alter ego, honestly, but the rest of you—my lips are sealed.

“I guess I was thinking this dinner was going to be you grilling me on how important it is to keep all this secret and threatening to, like, pull my life apart if I try to tell someone.

“And I’m glad you haven’t done that!  Don’t get me wrong.  But, uh.  I was a little puzzled,” you finished.

Bruce Wayne put down his utensils.  He didn’t look angry, but he did look firm.

“_____, I want to make it very clear that, while I expect you to keep our vigilantism a secret, I invited you to dinner primarily as thanks for your help at Wayne Tower.  My only plan to mention keeping our identities a secret was to take you aside before you left, after dinner, and remind you of that.  I would not threaten you or your life in any way.”

“Oh.  Right...” was all you managed before looking sheepishly at your fettuccine.  You felt like the limp noodles before you.)

“I understand why you thought that.  The safety of my family is more important to me than any secret identity.  We’ve lost people before in this line of work—”

(You tried not to think of being eleven years old and hearing Robin had died on the news.  You tried not to remember being, what, fourteen, fifteen, and seeing the report that the female Robin seemed to have died in the huge gang wars.  Most clearly, you tried to not see the footage of the current Robin, his body bloodied, impaled a year or two ago.  Someone draping a blanket over him, and the reporter choking up on camera.  You tried not to think of those images.  You tried, and tried, and failed.)

“—and the most important thing to me in all of this is that Tim is alive because of you.  And I might have lost that fight with Black Mask save Nightwing and Robin coming to help.  We owe you a debt, as does Gotham.”

For the second time in the past twenty four hours, you felt tears well up in your eyes.  You sniffed and wiped them away, chuckling a little to yourself.

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Wayne?”

“Anything.”

You looked at him, his eyes cool like steel.  Set, determined.  “Does it ever go away?” you asked.

“Does what go away?”  Bruce didn’t even look confused or unimpressed at your remark, just ready to answer once he understood.

(You squeezed your hands together.  You could feel the scars from that day at Wayne Tower.  The superficial burns were not fully healed, they probably wouldn’t be for months.  And after you’d have these swaths of skin on your hands that were wrinkled, lighter or darker than the rest of your hands.  And you were going to see those scars every day.  For the rest of your life.)

You hoped he would understand.  “The fear.  The weight.  Of all of it.  Of everything.”

“No.  You can’t stop being afraid, and you can’t ignore the trauma and the pain you’ve experienced,” Bruce said. “But you can, and you will, heal.  You’ll learn to not let fear rule you.  To accept your past and your pain, to know how to think about it and feel about it without being sucked in.”

(You wondered how much he was speaking to your experience, and how much he was speaking for himself.)

“It’s not easy, it’s not linear.  But you’ll get there.  With people who care about you supporting you.  And if you ever need anything, and I truly mean it, anything, you let us know.  Because we will help you too.”

You weren’t sure when you started crying as he spoke, but you were also smiling.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” you said, voice only a little hampered by the tears.

Bruce Wayne smiled at you.  Batman smiled at you.  “Call me Bruce.”

✹ ✹

You were thirteen years old.  You were walking in the Downtown Plaza after getting pizza for dinner with some friends.  The entrance to the Downtown metro stop was maybe two hundred yards away when a storefront across the street exploded, as did a couple other buildings around the Plaza.  Oh.  Oh no.  A bunch of gunmen ran out from it, grabbing people.  There was screaming and dust and smoke and you tripped on something and there’s a man grabbing your arm—

Someone takes your other arm, grabbing your hand, pulling you away from the man as a silver stick (?) came down hard on the man’s shoulder.  You leapt back, a vice grip on the person who pulled you away.  When you turned to see who it was, you almost jumped again.

Robin—the newest Robin, he’d only been spotted a few times—was holding your hand in his left hand, and a bo staff in his right.  The man who’d been after you was collapsed on the ground in front of you, and Robin, without letting go of your hand, tied the guy’s hands.  He collapsed the staff, stuck it on his belt, pulled out some kind of little cord which snapped around the guy’s wrists automatically.  Woah.

“Hold on, I’m getting you out of here.”  He put an arm around your waist, and grabbed a grapple gun from his belt.  You had no idea how he could see, but suddenly you were flying through the cloud of smoke.  Then, you burst out of the smoke and you landed on the edge of this dust cloud.

“T-thank you,” you managed to say.  Robin grinned at you.  He looked like he was almost having fun.  You guessed that made sense—superheroes liking superheroing!

“No problem.  You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m—” you gasped as you saw a silhouette in the smoke, towering over Robin’s figure. “LOOK OUT, ROBIN!”

Robin heeded your warning just in time, ducking down as a man swung a metal bat right where his head had been.  His reach was so wide it passed a few inches in front of your nose.  You leapt back as the man stepped out of the smoke, and you watched as Robin managed to strike him with the bo staff.  However, this guy was huge, must be close to seven feet tall, way bigger than the guy who grabbed you earlier.  He grimaced a bit as he got hit, but it was going to take a lot to knock the guy out.  The tight frown on Robin’s face seemed to confirm that was the case.

Since the giant man was occupied with Robin, you looked around behind you to see if there was anything you might be able to grab to defend yourself.  Or…  well, that seemed incredibly dangerous.

(But this all was pretty dangerous already, wasn’t it?  What’s a little more?)

There was a shattered piece of concrete a few feet away.  A piece of rebar from inside it had broken off.  You grabbed it, and there was the man’s back, turned towards you.  Well, shoot your shot.

You swung the stick right into the man’s groin, and, WOW, that man screamed.  The metal bat clattered to the ground.  Robin did some super fast jabs, and the guy collapsed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.  “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“I’m very grateful you did,” Robin said, “But I should go rescue other people.”

“Yeah, no—I mean, no, or when—you—that’s probably—uh, yes,” you struggled to get out.  You cleared your throat and tried again.  “Um, yes.  You should.”

(Not that it really mattered, but GOODNESS, could your brain work for this once?  So you don’t sound like an inarticulate rebar-wielding madwoman?  Particularly in front of a very cool superhero?  PLEASE!)

Robin smiled at you throughout your efforts to agree with him, taking his grapple gun out again.

“Wait,” you said, taking his hand once more, “I just—thank you.”

He gave your hand a friendly squeeze.  “Of course.  Thank you.”  Then he let go and grappled off, waving to you as he re-entered the cloud of dust and vanished from your sight.

You felt a little star struck after all that, but you turned away from the cloud and started to walk home.  Life goes on.

✹ ✹

It had been a week since the dinner, and you hadn’t spoken to Tim.  He dropped you home after you finished eating, and you desperately wanted to ask him if he would like to go out sometime or if he wanted to get lunch with you again.  Instead, you said “Thank you” as the two of you exchanged very intense eye contact.  You didn’t see Tim at work, either, which was to be expected…  Different floors and all.

(It didn’t stop a part of you from being disappointed.)

You had tried for an hour to go to sleep and failed.  You mind was too awake.  It was a relatively nice evening out, so, at one in the morning, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and went up to the roof of the intern housing.  The roof door was always open, and you let out an impressed breath as you took in the view.

Old Gotham was one of the prettiest areas in the whole city.  Wayne Tower, the Clocktower, the city cathedral, the GCPD headquarters… all within your sight.  You pulled the blanket a little tighter.  There was the distant wail of sirens, music from a club a few blocks away, but it still seemed quiet somehow.

(You knew why you were up here.  You knew.  Silly, stupid, and deeply sad.)

You didn’t see anybody, didn’t hear anybody distinctly.

(There was a part of you that thought, maybe, he’d happen to be swinging past your building, that Red Robin would stop as soon as he saw you.  He’d rush up to you and hug you tight.  It would be nice.)

You pulled out your phone.  Opened your messages.  Scrolled for a second to find who you were looking for.  It was worth a try, right?

You This is random but

You If you happen to be near Old Gotham tonight, I’m on my apartment’s rooftop

You I’d say I was stargazing or something but we live in a city, and I’m just staring into space and thinking

You Couldn’t sleep

You So if you want a break and some company, I’m around

You watched your screen for a second, eager to see if you could see the little “Tim-Drake Wayne is typing…” message to pop up.  It didn’t, not even after two minutes of staring as if you could will it into existence.  You put your phone away and just looked out again.  In many ways, Gotham was an objectively terrible place to live.  Like, you know, your workplace exploding and being kidnapped.  You’d always dreamt of moving away after college.  To another city.  Maybe Metropolis, New York City, Boston—somewhere.  But moments like these, alone on a Gotham rooftop with the city’s lights all around you, made you want to stay.  It was home, after all.

“Can I join in the art of staring into space?” a voice said from behind you.  You turned around and couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across your face at the sight of Tim.

“Oh, certainly!” you said.  Tim sat down next to you, removing his mask.  He looked tired, weary.

“Long night?” you asked.

“Yup.  Two burglaries, a mugging, and a bomb defusal.  All in an evening’s work,” Tim said, rubbing his eyes.  “You texted at the right time.  I needed a break.”

“Are most nights like this?”

“No.  Well, I don’t always patrol.  Sometimes I sit in the cave and work on a case, or I go out but just look for evidence.  That’s usually a little less hectic.  But when I’m out stopping crime normally, today is pretty par for the course.”

“When do you sleep?” you asked, and you raised your eyebrows as he started to chuckle.

“Sleep is…  not a thing I do with much regularity.  I try to get four hours in between patrol and waking up.  Sometimes, if I’m really exhausted, I take a nap later in the day.  It depends.”

“That’s deeply concerning,” you said in response, and Tim shrugged.

“Yeah, I know.  It’s on my to do list.  ‘Get a normal sleep schedule.’”

“‘Save Gotham (ongoing),’ ‘Get a normal sleep schedule,’ ‘Run a multi-billion dollar corporation…’ What don’t you do, Tim?” you said with a smile.  “My to do list is currently ‘My laundry’ and ‘Intern stuff.’”

“There is one thing I meant to do that I haven’t,” Tim replied.  You waited for about ten seconds, and he didn’t elaborate.  Um.  Weird.

“Uh, what would that be?” you prompted.  Tim looked… nervous?  He was looking at you, and something in his gaze made the whole situation feel a little less goofy and a little more intimate.

“‘Kiss _____,’” he finally said.  “That was the last thing.”

You smiled, and then you leaned in and kissed him.  At first, you just gave him a quick kiss, pulling back to see his slightly surprised but delighted face.  Then, he pulled you closer to him and you kissed again.  And again.  And again.  You ran your fingers through his hair, and his hands traveled down your back to your waist.  You were acutely aware of just how strong this boy was when your hands danced across his chest.  He was wearing this armored suit and still.  Like, damn.  You could feel that muscle.  The boy was as kind as he was smart as he was ripped, and he was making out with you.

(This was even better than your fantasies.  Real life is better.  Who knew?)

You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, letting out what could only be described as an enormous amount of romantic tension, but eventually, you stopped making out.  You just leaned your head on Tim’s shoulder as he wrapped your blanket around him as well.

If you looked closely, you could see the sixth floor of Wayne Tower across the street, where you’d stumbled upon an unconscious Red Robin about two weeks ago.  That day had ended with you both covered in dirt and blood leaning against each other.  With the stars above and blanket around you both, you had to say you preferred this current arrangement.

“Hey, Tim.”

“Hey, _____.”

“I really, really like you.”

“I really, really like you too.”

✹ ✹

bzfd.it/TimWayneGF-proof-twitter PROOF!  Tim Wayne IS Going Out With That Intern, And She Pulls No Punches

Despite repeated denials of a relationship, Tim Drake-Wayne, adopted son of Bruce Wayne and the crush of many young Gothamites, is definitely going out with Wayne Enterprises intern, _____ ______.  In an amusing tweet, ______ confirmed their relationship.

_______ @_______ me: should I say something about the #timistaken now that we’re actually going out tim: why me: because I’ve had so many things I wanted to tweet that involve you but couldn’t bc we weren’t public tim: sure I guess tim: wait what are you going to tweet 4:29 PM  •  7/26/__ 5K Retweets    20.2K Likes

But that’s old news now.  What’s fun to watch is her interactions with Drake-Wayne on Twitter.  Let’s just say she’s enjoying her newfound public presence.

_______ @_______ guys @timdrakewayne keeps a skateboard in his office at wayne enterprises and has used it to get across the street to get lunch four times this week 5:31 PM  •  7/29/__ 7.1K Retweets    30.2K Likes        __________ @_______        Replying to @_______ the cafe we eat lunch at is 180 feet away from wayne tower. he uses. the skateboard. EVERY   👏 SINGLE 👏 TIME 👏  5:31 PM  •  7/29/__ 896 Retweets    10.2K Likes

_______ @_______ me, frantically googling this morning: “should I be worried or endeared when my boyfriend texts me the title of a book he thinks I’ll like at 3:06 am” 8:02 PM  •  8/3/__ 1.1K Retweets    10.6K Likes        __________ @_______        Replying to @_______ Both?  Both.  Both is good. 8:02 AM  •  8/3/__ 302 Retweets    3.3K Likes

Tim Drake-Wayne @timdrakewayne I feel like twitter was a kinder place for me before my girlfriend started exposing me on main 11:03 AM  •  8/5/__ 5.1K Retweets    32.6K Likes        __________ @_______        Replying to @timdrakewayne  @ me next time 11:15 AM  •  8/5/__ 6.1K Retweets    15.8K Likes        __________ @_______        Replying to @timdrakewayne  also 11:15 AM  •  8/5/__ 321 Retweets    5.2K Likes        __________ @_______        Replying to @timdrakewayne  I love you 11:15 AM  •  8/5/__ 7.5K Retweets    16.8K Likes

They’ve got a great dynamic.  The couple was spotted seeing the new Star Wars movie together last weekend, which gives this last Tweet quote tweeting _____’s reply of “I love you” an extra special meaning...

Tim Drake-Wayne @timdrakewayne  I know @_______ 

__________ @_______ I love you

11:21 AM  •  8/5/__ 3.4K Retweets    11.6K Likes

You chuckled at the article Emily had sent you.  Buzzfeed was actually amusing for once.  You had no idea how they wrote that article so fast.  It was noon!  The last tweets were from a half hour ago.  Had to hand it to them for immediacy.  You slurped the last noodle of your lunch.  You were eating your at your desk today, some leftover pasta from the spaghetti dinner you’d cooked up for yourself yesterday.  No lunch with Tim today, you were both too busy.  Still, the banter on Twitter had more than made up for it.

Putting away your tupperware in your bag, you checked your phone before finishing your lunch break.  You tapped the home button to see your alerts and smiled softly.

(Oh, how much you loved this boy.)

MESSAGES                11:22 AM Tim Drake-Wayne: I don’t know if you’ve seen my tweet

MESSAGES                11:22 AM Tim Drake-Wayne: but that was a jest because in all seriousness

MESSAGES                11:23 AM Tim Drake-Wayne: I love you

(THAT’S IT!  The end.  This is so long.  I can’t thank you all enough for sticking with this fic, for all the support and lovely messages...!!  I hope you’ve enjoyed this.  If in the future you’d like to see more of my fics, feel free to follow me or maybe if you’d like to be on a general tag list for Tim fics of mine, reply or dm and I can do that too???  I’m new to reader inserts on here but people do seem to do that.  I have an idea for a fic about Tim and a reader who becomes a vigilante… one that involves time travel shenanigans… and some Jason fics too…  ANYWAY!!  I RAMBLE!!  Worse than the reader in this fic’s own thoughts.  Thank you so, SO much for reading!  All my love to you guys ♡ )

[thebluenebula]

Masterlist

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4 (Part 1)

A New Bat: Day 4

(Part 2)

Honestly I didn't want to move but I did. We walked out of the range just in time to see Jay speed out of the cave, then we took a staircase back up and popped out from behind a bookshelf in a library. Dick was lying on a nearby chair talking to Babs. "Hey."

"Hey." Kate and I said in unison.

"What we're you two up to in the cave?" Dick asked, clearly suspicious.

"I don't think that any of your business Dick." Babs commented.

"I agree with Babs." Kate smirked.

Dick looked to me. "So, what do you think of the Bat-cave?"

"Its cool." I quickly replied. "Odd though."

"The Bat-cave is very odd." Babs agreed.

Dick's phone beeped and he looked at it. "Dinners ready."

"What is it?" Kate asked.

"Let's find out." He stood up.

As Kate and Babs headed for the door I whispered to Dick. "Would it be okay if I eat in my room?"

He smiled at me. "Of course. You don't have to ask, just grab a plate and head up."

"Thanks." I followed Dick out of the library.

We walked into the kitchen and saw Alfred preping plates of food. "Hello Alfred." Dick greeted him.

"Hello, I'm just finishing preparing the meals."

"Ashleigh's just gonna grab a plate and head to her room." Dick said.

"Of course, Master Dick."

Kate handed me over a plate. "Or you could come with me, if you want. I'm heading out to the gazebo. I've been cooped up in the cave all day I could use some fresh air."

"Yeah sure." I quickly agreed.

Dick looked at me. "I'll talk you later."

"See you later." Babs said.

I nodded at him. Kate grabbed her plate and put her hand on my shoulder and we headed towards the door. Kate stopped. "Oh Alfred, Jays gone out. I don't think he'll back anytime soon."

"Thank you, Miss Kate. I will leave his wrap in the fridge for him."

"Speaking of," Dick said. "Shouldn't B be home soon."

"He said he would be Master Dick." Alfred replied as Kate and I walked out.

We walked through the garden. It was beautiful. Everything neatly taken care of. We sat down inside a white painted gazebo, the sun shined in on us. Behind the gazebo was a large brick wall, largely covered in brightly coloured graffiti art.

"The sun's nice to see." Kate commented.

"Oh yeah." I looked up at the sky, quickly looking back down when the sun caught my gaze. "We never did see too much of it on Ireland."

"Is it a rainy as they say?"

"Oh yeah, but the rain can be nice." I shrugged. "At least I think so anyway."

"Then don't worry." Kate laughed. "It rains plenty in Gotham."

Kate took a bite of her food. A wrap. I looked at my own plate. A chicken wrap. Plenty on it. I took a bite. Gorgeous, same as all Alfred's meals it would seem.

"Do you need to go clothes shopping?"

"Hmm." Without thinking, I tried to talk but my mouth full of food. Kate giggled at my failed attempt to speak. I swallowed the food before trying to speak again. "What?"

"You said you only had a few skirts. If you need to go clothes shopping I can bring you." She gestured to herself. "I'm no style guru, that's Steph and Dick's department, but I like to think im not the worst."

"I like your style."

"Thank you. So how about it then? Clothes shopping?"

"I'd love to but I think Bruce is bringing me furniture shopping over the weekend."

"I could tag along and we dip into a clothes shop."

"I really don't have a whole pile of money." I said honestly.

Kate pointed to the giant manor. "You are literally Bruce Wayne's child."

"Adopted, and I can't just ask him for money."

"Yes. You can." Kate emphasised each of the words. "He'd be more than happy to give you money for clothes shopping."

"I don't know. It just seems wrong. I mean I've only been here less than a week. It'd be rude."

Kate sighed. "Even if he wasn't okay with it, which he is absolutely is, by the way," Kate took out her wallet and put a couple of bills on the table. "I am."

I looked at the money. Five one hundred dollar bills. "I can't-"

"Take it." She insisted and slid it closer.

I hesitantly took the money and put it in my pocket. "Never hesitate to ask me or Bruce for money." Kate insisted. "Even it's for something simple like fast food or a video game. We're happy to give you some."

"Thank you, Kate, but-"

Kate leaned in. "No buts. End of story." Then she leaned back out. "Just if you need money for bullets, ask me, not Bruce. Jays has been asking him since he came back from the dead. He's convinced he'll break eventually."

"Okay." I laughed, it took a minute for what Kate had just said to register. "Jay was what now?"

Kate laughed. "That's a story for another day. Don't worry he brings it up quite often."

"Okay." I sat staring at her blankly for a moment. My brain was still processing what she had just told me.

"So," Kate broke the silence. "How are you enjoy your meal?"

"What? Oh yeah. Its nice." I took another bite of my wrap. "Is there anything Alfred can't cook?"

"If there is, we have yet to find it." Bruce said as he entered the gazebo.

Kate and I looked at Bruce with surprise. She must not have. heard him approach either. "Hey." Kate and I said in unison.

Bruce looked to me."A couple more boxes of yours came." He gestured back to the house. "I just left them in the entrance but Dick and I can bring them up to your room if you want."

"No. That's okay." I stood up. "I'll just throw my plate in and I'll bring them up."

"There's a couple boxes. You'll need a hand." Bruce insisted.

Kate swallowed the last piece of her wrap. "I'll help." She said, standing up and grabbed my plate off of me. "I'll throw these in and meet you two in the main hall." She walked off towards the house.

Bruce and I watched for a second before he started walking as well. "Come on." He said. I got up and followed him. "So did you and Kate talk?"

I silently gulped. "Yup."

"I'm sorry about that. I know what you said but we thought it'd help."

"It did. Thanks." I said. "Anything else like that I should know about?"

"No." Bruce smiled at me as we reached the back door. We walked through the house to the entrance hall. A stack of boxes sitting by the door and by them, stood Kate.

"Let's bring these up then." Bruce said, grabbing a stack of boxes.

"So how was work?" Kate asked him, grabbing another stack of boxes.

I grabbed the last stack then we started up the stairs. "Not too bad. I got that business with Lex Corp sorted out. Thank god."

"So no more late nights for a while?" Kate asked.

"For a while." Bruce said.

"So what's in the boxes?" Kate asked as we reached the third floor.

"Lego, and books mostly, some clothes and other trinkets from my old room."

"Only some clothes?" She asked.

"Most of my old clothes were torn or too small so I left them."

"Definitely bringing you clothes shopping then."

"Speaking of shopping, you still want to go furniture shopping this weekend?" Bruce asked.

"Yes. Absolutely." I quickly replied.

"How's Saturday sound?"

"Great."

"I'll join you and we can go clothes shopping. If that's okay?" Kate asked

Bruce look to me. "Is it?"

"Of course." I responded quickly.

"Also Bruce," Kate said. "You gotta have a serious talk with Ashleigh about money?"

Bruce glanced at her curiously "Why?"

"She didn't want to ask you for money for shopping."

"Oh." Bruce sounded surprised, then he grinned. "Ashleigh never be afraid to ask me for money."

"It's just, I've only been here a week. I don't want to push my luck." I said.

"Trust me. My kids are experts at pushing their luck. You couldn't be worse." Bruce assured me.

We stopped outside my room. "So who's gonna get the door?" Kate asked.

Bruce shifted the weight of the boxes to one arm and opened the door. We set the boxes down beside my bed.

"You need help unpacking?" Bruce asked.

"No. I should probably wait till I get furniture to unpack."

"Yeah." The two agreed.

"Hey." Bruce turned to Kate. "Alfred said Jays gone out. Do you know where?"

"He went to pick up Artemis and Bizarro. Why?"

"Just wondering. Artemis will keep him out of trouble anyway."

"He's in his twenties Bruce. You don't have to worry about him everytime he goes out."

"Regardless of his age, he's my kid, it's my job to worry about him." Bruce stated. "Plus it's Jason."

"Valid point." Kate agreed, then turned to me. "You said something about Legos right?"

"Yes." I looked at her curiously.

"You got any superhero ones?"

"A couple."

"Any of us?"

"I've got you, I said pointing at Bruce." Who smiled back at me. "The third Robin and Black Bat."

"I feel kinda hurt you don't have one of me." Kate joked.

"I missed out on Batwoman." I explained as I sat down the bed.

"Too bad." Kate said leaning against the wall.

"I didn't know they made ones of Cass." Bruce looked at me curiously.

"Oh they don't. I kinda just pieced her together from other figures."

"So you dismantle the little guys you get and make someone new?"

"Sometimes. Yes."

Bruce nodded. "Cool."

Kate looked at us. "So if I wanted to make one that looked like me, not Batwoman, like me me, I'd have to buy the sets with pieces that look like me."

"There's a website where you can just buy the pieces on there own."

"Handy." She commented. I yawned. "Late night?"

I nodded. "We watched a movie last night."

"We?"

"Bruce, Harper, Carrie, Duke, Dick, and I."

Kate looked to Bruce. "Not like you to stay up late, if you're not on patrol."

"Got in from the office late. Sat down and watched a movie with the kids."

Kate smiled at him then turned to me. "You must be tired then?"

"Yeah." I agreed. "I should probably go to sleep."

Bruce nodded. "We'll see you in the morning." The two headed for the door but stopped. "I meant to say this before, my bedroom doors always unlocked if you need me."

Kate looked to Bruce then back to me. "While I prefer a bit more privacy, you can always knock, or call if I'm asleep. My ringtone never fails to wake."

I nodded. "Goodnight."

"Night." The two said in unison as the door shut.

I lay down on my bed. Jason seemed to be warming up to me, which was nice. Steph and her friend, Cass, seem sweet, and I really like Kate. She seems like someone I could talk to, about anything. As I ran through the day in my head, I couldn't help but smile as I drifted off to sleep.

[edyacouky]

Stressful week (3/?)

Hi, the tags change with his chapter because of smut (sort of? First time I write some I hope you will like it) between Jason and Roy ;)

Hope you will like it.

Have a nice day !

Can be read on AO3

Can be read on Tumblr Prev - Next

                                                    ~*~

Jason is fourteen years old again. He lays down on his bed, hidden by his sheet with his head underneath his pillow. He remembers clearly this day.

He was in rut at his school. Despite not having friend there, he was happy to be there. He was exchanging his history books for his math’s, when suddenly white powder explode on his face.

“Hey Toad! Matthew, an alpha jock older than Jason that hate him since he refuses doing his homework. Always knew you were a junkie like your slutty mom.”

He laughs at his stupid joke supporting by his stupid friends.

It wasn’t the first time they make joke about Jason or his mother, it wouldn’t be the last time.

Every time Jason keep his mouth shut up. He said nothing when they burst the tires of his bike, when they stole his clothes after PE, when they push him or insult him. He always stay calm because he didn’t want give to Bruce any reason to regret bring him to his life.

But this day, he give in. He looks daggers at Matthew.

“What? Matthew exclaims underestimated him because of Jason’s height. Are you going to cry?”

He pushes Jason against a wall and Jason snap.

He still didn’t remember much after that.

That’s Bruce who tell him once Jason was lucid and calm enough to listen to him.

Using what he learned as Robin and in the street, to massacre Matthew and his littles friends. Of course the principal called Bruce, he wanted to expel definitively Jason. He never appreciate Bruce’s habit to force his school to accept people from low birth. Fortunately, one of teachers of Jason proved that Jason was stretched for years now by Matthew.

Bruce menace to take away all his donation if nothing was done against Jason’s bullies. Finally, Jason wasn’t even expel for a week despite Matthew’s parents reclamations.

But Jason was feeling miserable neither less.

When they were come back home, he went hide in his bed without even thinking. It was nice when Bruce authorized him eat in bed in front of a movie after they had a very long conversation.

Jason had promised to himself not again.

But here he is again at nineteen, hiding in his bed. That’s pathetic.

“Jaylad, can you give me back the key?” Bruce asks gently

Jason groans and refuses to move.

“If I found them, will you challenge me?”

What an awful though! Jason immediately lay on his back even if he stay underneath the sheet.

“Ok. I pick them up then we will talk, ok?”

After hearing Jason’s pitiful moan, Bruce open one drawer of the desk and put his arms beyond it to catch a little box Jason used to hide here.

Something never changes.

Once he checks that the keys are inside, he gives it to Dick that waiting outside the room.

“Should I stay? He asks when he hears Jason’s cries

-No. It would be alright and you have to leave.”

Dick bites his lips unsure now that he have to, despite all the obligation he has.

“I love you Littlewing, see you soon.” He finally says knowing that Jason will have all help he needs

Bruce comes sit down next to Jason, putting gently away the sheet.

“I … I’m sorry …

-We understand, Jay. That’s ok.

-Why?

-The drug will have less effect with the days …”

Jason shakes his head.

“Why are you nice?”

Bruce wants to be upset but the batarang’s scar that he left on Jason’s neck, shut him up. Gently he caresses it with bile on his throat.

Knowing that Universe gifted Bruce by giving his son back and what he did to this gift …

“Because you’re my son. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you’re my son and I love you so much.

-I always love you. I lied when I said I hated you. Jason confess between his sobs

-You shouldn’t. Bruce murmurs because he knows that he didn’t want to Jason when he came back

-What?

-Roy should arrives today. Bruce says changing the subject. You can’t leave the Manor as long as the drug is in your blood. But he asks for my permission to stay here.

-He’s in heat. Jason admits blushing furiously

-Yeah, he tell me. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

After a long silence where Jason calm down a little, Bruce says:

“Roy seems care about you a lot. I’m glad you have him as a friend.”

Jason looks at Bruce unsure. Is that possible that Bruce really don’t know about Roy and Jason’s relationship or does he refuses to say anything about it until Jason does?

“Me too.

-I’m letting you rest. You need it.”

Even if Jason doesn’t want to sleep, too afraid of what could happen, he is too tired to fight it longer.

                                                       ~*~

Hours later, Jason is wake up by someone entering in his room. Jumping out of his bed, he forgets for a moment where he is and he panics to have none of his weapon near him.

“Sorry Jaybird, didn’t mean to frighten you.

-Roy? He asks like he doesn’t believe his eyes

-I even bring food. Roy says showing the lunch tray. Alfred cooks so you risk nothing.”

His relief seeing Roy safe and sound express with an almost hysterical laugh. He jumps on Roy’s arms so suddenly that he barely hasn’t time to put down the lunch tray.

“I’m glad to see you too.”

They inhale each other scent deeply. Jason still stink despite the relief of being with his mate. Roy plans to propose him to eat then to shower when a deep purring stop him.

“You smell so good, Roy.”

Damn! Roy’s blood starts abandon his brain. He have to calm down now and not like a “stupid bitch in heat” like a bad porno. He is better than that. He comes here not to take Jason’s knot but to take care of him.

Without know the conflict inside Roy’s mind, Jason begins to suck Roy’s scent gland, groping his butt and making him go sit on the desk.

Roy is so wet with so little, he have to stop that now before he doesn’t want to.

“I heard you said that you were thinking of me. What were you thinking?”

Ok that’s it. End of the game.

Just thinking of what he did this morning make him hard.

He pushes a little Jason so his scent doesn’t confuse him as much, but when he sees Jason’s expression he can’t stop them.

Yes, Jason is pretty horny right now, but there is insecurity too. Like he could be possible that Roy doesn’t think of Jason in good term.

He lost the battle.

“I was thinking of you. Roy finally said. There was some Jane Austen adaptation on TV and it made me think of you. I imagine you next to me on the couch.”

While Jason untie Roy’s belt, the redhead completely forget where he is and why. Roy can just help him lower his pant and boxer and keep talking.

“At first, I …Ah …”

How Roy survive without Jason’s smart fingers? He doesn’t know.

“I just … Fuck … imagine what you could say about … about the adaptation … Fuck! Slow down … just a little … Just …. Fuck … But then I started to … started to …

-Started to what?”

Roy almost insult Jason for not putting his damn finger inside him already. He takes a deep breathe, that make him remember that Jason is still on the edge, then answer:

“I started to languish of you.”

Roy can’t keep his moan down when Jason penetrates him with his finger. Regardless of what Roy may think, Jason doesn’t teasing him. He’s really anxious that Roy could say to stop at any moment and orders him to back off.

He was sure that Roy was started to realize he was better without Jason.

“I started to touch myself. You have no idea how much I wanted to call you, heard your voice but … Fuck! One more, please! But I … knew that you were with your pack and … that would have be awkward.

-I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.

-Don’t be I found a good alternative.”

Like he’s under a cold shower, Jason is calm down immediately and take a step away from Roy who yelps to the sudden loss of touch.

“What?

-What?

-With who?”

They hadn’t anymore an open relationship. How could Roy think it would be ok to sleep with anyone else and tell him like that?

Roy’s face turn white by Jason’s distress before turning red when he understand what’s going on.

“No one. I swear Jaybird. I didn’t mean that like that.

-What’s it then the alternative?

-Oh please, don’t make me tell you. Roy begs embarrassed

-Who it was?

-No one. It was … Fuck! Do … Do you remember that dare with Kory?

-Which one? Jason asks trying to remember all the dares they did involving other people

-The dildo one, Jay.” Roy answers a little exasperated

Jason frown then he opens his eyes wide.

One time, before Roy and Jason were lover, Kory, who must have known before them their feeling, dared a little too drunk Jason to gift Roy with a dildo shaped like his dick. And he did.

“I lie when I say that I never used it, ok? Roy admits his cheeks as red as his hairs. I used it a lot since you gave it to me. I used it yesterday because … Because I needed you, your cock, your fucking knot. Fuck I need it now.”

Jason doesn’t need much more to drop down his pant and penetrate Roy.

“I’m sorry I believed … Jason start to say

-Keep fucking me and we’re good.”

And Jason does just that like it may decide of the future of their relationship. Roy forgets everything that isn’t the two of them. They don’t even realize how loud is the sound of the desk beating the wall as the same rhythm as Jason’s thrust.

Would Jason aged of fifteen be proud to discover that one day he will bring the most gorgeous omega he met in his room or would he be outraged seeing his books and pencil fall loudly on the ground?

Who knows?

Only when Jason’s knot finally calm down, that Roy remembers why he was in Jason’s room.

“Fuck, I was supposed make you eat and take a shower. Roy groans

-Well, I won’t say no to neither of that, so mission successful.

-Yeah, my plans are always perfect.” Roy jokes before they kiss

If Roy succeed make Jason eat and take showers, on the other hand, they don’t leave the room all the evening. Fortunately, all the kids are at school, and Bruce leave for Wayne Enterprise soon after Roy’s arrive. Alfred is smart enough to avoid this part of the Manor.

                                                  ~*~

“Damian could you please tell Jason and Roy that’s dinner is ready, please. Bruce asks when he realizes their absence

-Out of question. It reek sex twenty foot around his room. Damian refuses disgusted

-What do you mean?” Bruce demands perplexed

All his children and Alfred look at him with wide eyes unable to believe Bruce.

“Wait you mean you don’t know?

-I don’t know what?

-Roy and Jason are a couple. I thought everyone knew.

-I thought they are just friend.

-Well is it not like an omega and an alpha can be only friend. Tim says amused by the fact Bruce didn’t know about Roy and Jason’s relationship

-What you said it so absurd I don’t know where to start.” Duke says

Tim tries to defend himself, to qualify his words, but Bruce interrupts him with a hiding smile:

“Does that mean Clark and I should make sure Conner and you have always a chaperone?

-It’s not the same. The younger alpha furiously blushes

-How so?

-Well, Conner is half krypton so he is not really an omega.

-Don’t think everyone will agree with you.”

True is Lex Luthor wouldn’t be. After all, he didn’t make sure that Conner will be an omega so the next Super would be easier to make, only to have his kind of son being treat like he is not a perfect omega.

“Sorry. We’re here.” Jason says entering in the dining room without stop blushing Roy just behind him

If Bruce doesn’t know before, now he is sure about what kind of relation Jason and Roy have. Even with their best effort, they didn’t success hide their bite marks.

Jason is uncomfortable when Bruce keeps looking at him. He knew that he should have prepare the lunch and the diner and serve his pack.

“Relax, Duke says, Bruce didn’t know that Roy is your mate that all.”

A cocky smile appears on Jason’s face even if he is anxious about what Bruce will say about it.

“You really didn’t know?

-Does that mean I have to leave?

-Not at all. Bruce reassures them. Obviously, you keep Jason calming in a way we can’t.

-Oh my … Please tell me you didn’t that like that.”

Bruce ignore the blushing and outraged children during all the diner. If they could make fun of him, he can make fun of them. That’s the law.

                                                     ~*~

This night too, Jason insist for everyone to sleep on the living room again.

Damian installs himself when Jason takes him in his arms to smell him.

“Unhand me right now, Todd! Jeez, I prefer when I was an only child.” Damian groans

After another breath, Jason let him go to say:

“You will present soon. Tomorrow you stay here.”

[iphoenixrising]

For 700 Followers!

Hi babe.

That is terribly angsty and now I’m intrigued.

(Just a note for babe not familiar with No Home for Dead Birds or Fracture: I write a scene in which Tim literally has a gun to head. This is not lighthearted angst, please be warned if you read this.)

**

At one time, his colors had been red, gold, and green.

At one time, he’d been part of something bigger, something important. A legacy.

At one time, he’d been able to fly without being afraid of falling.

Being Robin had been the epitome. Even with all the terrible things he’d endured, all the injuries, all the catastrophes, all the insane megalomaniacal baddies breathing down his neck, he wouldn’t have traded the tunic for anything in the world.

(Dick had known it, had known how painful it was for Tim give it up once his Dad found out.)

He would have died with the R on his chest and never had a single regret.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been Robin forever, and he’d known that someday he would have to give it up and either move on with his life as a regular person, or take on another name, another mask, to keep fighting the good fight.

He hadn’t expected Dick would take it without a thank-you or fuck you to mark the end. That hadn’t been in the plan.

But it’s fine because Dick was the first and Robin had been his anyway, right?

Right.

Wrong.

Staring down the .45 in hand, the gun his father hadn’t had the chance to use to save his own life, Tim Drake wonders how it all came down to this.

(Last one left standing. Of fucking course.)

How it had all come out so badly, how he could barely step foot back in Gotham, how he had to avoid the Manor, the Carriage House, his own family home. How he couldn’t pick up the phone or answer texts coming from his former team. How he could barely keep himself the fuck together now that Bruce was back. How his hands would start to shake when the Manor phone number popped up (Alfred). How his mind’s eye would go back to Dick at the Big Computer in the Batsuit, telling him they were still equals. How he would imagine what would happen if he hadn’t caught himself when that zip line was cut. How he would sit in his safe house, off the Bat radar, and mourn the times when he was actually–

(happy)

–part of a family.

The pictures from an old Vans shoebox, the ones he’d taken back when he’d had the run of Gotham, following Batman and Robin (Jason), are burning in the kitchen sink. He watches Nightwing’s blurry face melt away and pretends there aren’t tears in his eyes.

The old memorabilia from Haley’s Circus is in a storage unit outside the city, along with a box that has his last Robin suit.

The lawyer has strict instructions to deliver the key and a letter to his former adopted father, Bruce Wayne, upon news of his death so anything incriminating can be properly disposed.

(They wouldn’t need any of it anyway. They could just shred all of it and wash their hands of him. The Robin that never should have been.)

A map with all his safe houses would be send to Conner Kent, along with a letter of apology.

His favorite nerd shirts would go to Ives.

The sundries in his Perch would be for Steph, and the penthouse itself would go to Babs in case things in the theatre went sideways.

Bart would get a zip drive with all their old shenanigans on video, the only copies left once his systems uploaded relevant data to Titan’s Tower and his electronic footprint would be–

gone.

The box with the Red Robin costume he wore was already sealed and addressed to Jason Todd. The note on top was short and sweet: You were right. It never should have been me after all.

He’d already arranged for his share in Wayne Enterprises to be returned to Bruce Wayne immediately, handing him his family’s company back without any strings attached.

Months ago, he’d returned The Red Bird to the Cave when he was sure no one would be around to catch him. The implication that Robin would need the car one day right there in the fact he’d brought it back because honestly, it was never really his in the first place.

Alfred would get his pick of antiques from Drake Manor, and the house itself would be given to the city to be used as a halfway home for runaway teens. He’d made sure the funding would be there to run it for a few years. The donation was made in his mother’s name.

The hilt molds to his palm, the barrel glinting bright in the night. To his credit, his hands aren’t shaky when he slides the clip home and pulls the slide back to put one in the chamber.

(The team had been working fine without him for a while now. Even if they did need someone, there was another Robin to join the roster and keep them moving forward.)

An abrupt light in the darkness, his phone screen lighting up with a missed call notification.

Missed call: Dick the OG

Ironic since the last time he’d come this far, it had been him calling out to the last person he thought could pull him back.

(Not this time. He has a new little brother, a new Robin.)

Slowly, without putting down the .45, he presses the ignore when the phone starts buzzing against with another incoming call. He thumbs the button on the side to turn the phone completely off without listening to the voicemail.

The clip makes a difference, but the absurdity of it, of the last time he did this, was when his future self was a murdering, gun-toting Batman, and the only way he could see to stop it was to stop himself.

The press of the barrel is familiar, and not in that soothing kind of way.

He blinks, just blinks, and his face is wet, which is really stupid because no one is going to miss him any damn way.

His chest gets tight when he fingers the trigger guard, giving himself the time he needs to do it right. In the final moments, he inanely thinks about the time he was huddled against Dick, right after he'd almost tried cloning his dead best friends in an insane attempt to bring them back. It's really the last time he remembers being held, being warm, feeling like he still fucking mattered. It was Dick holding him tight with restraining, breathing against the top of his head, fingers buried in his hair.

It's when he could be weak while still in the mask, babbling to Dick about how he can't do this, he can't lose them all. He was crying then, too, when he told Dick about his mom and dad leaving, leaving, always fucking leaving. About how he got used to seeing their backs more than their faces. How he was left standing on his own for too damn long to just let it keep happening. He couldn't keep losing them, couldn't keep seeing people walk away, how it fucking breaks him.

And in the here and now, his chest hitches, eyes fluttering, hand tightening down because he'd said...and Dick had...

"But I'm here, Timmy. I'm always going to be your big brother!"

It had been the last time he'd been surrounded by the famed octopus hold.

(It was the last time for a lot of things.)

He laughed, smothered in Dick shoulder, something further away from a sob. "Then I guess you'll at least never leave me, right?"

"You will never be able to get rid of me. C'mon. We're going the hell home and having a movie day. Screw the Lazarus Pit, Robin. It's time for some R and R."

Dick had half-carried him to the waiting Batplane and talked him down out of trying to use the Pit for his own gain ever again.

The first knuckle rests on the smooth curve, a six-pound trigger.

(In the end, they all leave.)

(Not again.)

Conner's terrible mohawk and leather jacket.

Bart racing Wally at a hotdog eating competition.

Cassie running full tilt to throw herself at him when he'd come to Titan's Tower to ask them for help when Ra's was going to kill everyone Batman ever loved.

Raven nuzzling Gar out of plain sight so no one would think she was totally gone for him.

Jason coming to the Tower, alive good God, and the Robin he used to be super-imposed to be his hero and enemy in the same ghostly figure.

Bruce putting a hand on his shoulder on a ride back to the Cave, chasing the dawn, the Good work, tonight tired but sincere, and his whole body lights up.

His mother looking at peace in her coffin, a lily in her folded hands.

His eyes close on the out-of-the-way safe house, the plain beige walls, stripped and soulless. He keeps the team in his mind, the times he was happy.

Now.

Instead of a resounding boom followed by his grey matter splattering his personality, intelligence, imagination, him all over–

the wall to the safe house caves in under a super punch.

Conner is white as a sheet on the other side, brick and mortar crumbling under his hands. "No! Tim. Tim. Put. The. Gun. Down."

His mouth is dry and his brain pan full of nothing but pain and disappointment.

(But you brought it all on yourself, didn't you? The Robin nobody wanted. The son nobody asked for.)

He isn't numb enough to be calm, cool, and collected. "All...all you have to do–" a hitch in his breathing "–is walk away."

The meta floats in a little closer, hovering over the flooring instead of outside. His hands stretch out, gaze focused and intense.

"Can't do that, buddy. Looks like I should have been more of an asshole after all the League of Assassins shenanigans. Sorry, my bad."

Kon knows he's in trouble when Tim Drake doesn't laugh.

"Tim," he goes to serious in about two point five seconds because the hand holding that shiny automatic tightens enough for him to hear the screws in the hilt strain, "Tim. It's me here, okay? It's just you and me, just like it's always been. We’re besties, whether you're Robin or Red Robin or Tim fucking Drake because that guy is so damn cool." He inches closer, wondering if he's fast enough, wondering if he can really get to Tim in time–

Like the former Robin can read his mind, those violet-blue eye give him a blink.

"I’ve always wondered if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."

“No!”

(...as it turns out, he isn’t.)

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/49466486

Blanket Disclaimer:

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn’t know and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn’t care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (Rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #soulmate aversion #secret identity 

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): In which as time passes, Jay's not having an easy time coping with all this soulmate stuff, and Tim's still trying to figure everything out. And Alfred is his usual awesome self.

________________________________________________________________

“Forget almost being assassinated, how did he not die just from tripping over something in the dark, or eating expired food?” Jason asks as he looks around the disaster zone that is Tim Drake’s apartment. There are takeout containers and empty coffee cups covering every surface, and clothing soiled with dirt and blood and what looks like sewer sludge strewn across the floor. Packaging and bubble wrap twist around the legs of tables and extension cables create startlingly effective tripwire traps. “Can’t you people afford a maid service?”

“Surely even you aren’t so thick that you don’t understand why that would be a bad idea,” Damian points out as he walks in behind him, carrying several large boxes from the local hardware depot. As he deposits them, he surveys the apartment with something more like horror than disgust. “This is the residence of the man my grandfather considers his equal?”

“He’s not usually this bad,” Dick says with a sigh as he closes the door behind him with one hand and deposits his own burden of packages. His eyes rove across the open concept living area with a worried expression. “I was here like three weeks ago and it was spotless. I mean, his room was a disaster zone, but that’s just Tim. Messy genius, you know?”

“If this is how he lives, perhaps the social workers are correct that he needs a more qualified minder.”

Dick ignores that. “I don’t get it. It’s like he just gave up. What the hell happened?”

Jason remains quiet; he has a nasty suspicion he knows exactly what made Tim stop caring.

Whatever, I’m making up for it now, aren’t I? In fucking spades…

He’s been avoiding Tim’s apartment for weeks now, stubbornly squatting in different buildings every night or shelling out for a motel when he wants an actual bed or shower. But the last few days he found several itching bites on his skin, and hell no. He swore when Bruce took him in, he was done with bedbugs and lice and any other critter that can be found in questionably cleaned bedding.

As luck would have it, Dick was on his way over here with Damian to install handicap bars in Tim’s bathroom and check the place over for any other chores or tasks that needed doing.

“I still don’t see the point of that,” Jason says, nodding at the boxes of tools and components. “In what universe do you see B letting Tim leave the manor any time in the next year or so? Even when he gets his memories back.”

“It’s a compliance thing,” Dick informs him. “Now that Tim’s making actual strides in recovery, social services will be coming at some point to check that everything is set up for his rehabilitation if he chooses to come here. If it’s not done, it won’t look good.”

“That chick’s still pushing this?”

“Oh yeah. She keeps coming up with new requirements she insists be filled. Independent psych evaluations, bi-monthly physicals performed by state doctors—she even wants him to attend mandatory rehabilitation at some government facility in Blüdhaven.”

“What? Why there?”

“Aside from the fact Gotham’s mental health infrastructure is riddled with the criminally insane?”

“Fair…”

“Babs looked into her and it looks like Bruce had the right idea. Gillian Sato’s a nobody. Completely average in everything, trying to make a name in her department by going after a big fish. And you know that Bruce has been CPS’ great white whale since he took me in. You too.”

“I remember,” Jason says with a scowl.

It was shortly after he was taken in by Bruce. He had just started as Robin, was beginning to see Bruce and Alfred as family and the manor as home. And then some do-gooder social worker with the ‘best intentions’ and a dislike of Brucie Wayne exploited a technicality that let her remove Jason from the Wayne household. The next weeks and months dragged Jason through such an emotional wringer that his already abundant trust issues increased by orders of magnitude. Even before he and Bruce started to butt heads later, Jason would never truly be at ease in the manor ever again.

Or anywhere, really.

People let you down. People left. People could be taken away from you. These were the facts of life, and Jason vowed never to forget them again.

It’s yet another reason he’s so resistant to the idea of soulmates. Having one just makes it easier to be let down or to have them taken away. Hell, he’s seen that firsthand, hasn’t he? A simple errant bullet and he almost had to watch his die. He can’t even imagine what this whole ordeal would feel like if he was close to Tim.

Lost in his thoughts, it takes him a moment to realize Dick is still talking.

“…her higher-ups barely know anything about her. Most of them are willing to let this thing with Tim go, but she’s the one who keeps pushing it. Poking for loopholes whenever she hits a new roadblock.”

“So have Barbie make her go away,” Jason suggests.

“And give support to the idea Bruce Wayne is above the law because of his money?” Dick challenges. “That would put a lot more attention on the issue than anyone wants. For now, we just play it the legal way. Once Tim’s eighteen, she’ll have lost a major avenue to exploit.”

“Which means you guys have to put up with her trying to wrap you in red tape for the next four months at least.”

“This is ridiculous,” Damian mutters.

“I know.”

“Not that—although yes, this farce of legal compliance is a waste of everyone’s time. But I’m talking about how no one has done anything about Drake’s condition other than wring their hands.”

“Excuse me?!”

“If we’re ever going to go on with our lives, he must be fixed, and faster than some useless stretching is going to do.”

“Kid, how exactly do you think your dad got back to fighting condition after Bane broke his back?” Jason questions. “‘Useless stretching’ was a big part of it.”

“And a hell of a lot of drive,” Dick adds. “Which Tim doesn’t really have enough of right now. I mean, I know he wants to get better, but it’s not the same as if he knew who he was.”

“Exactly. He would already be walking, I’m sure,” Damian nods. “Then you’re in agreement with me.”

“Well, yeah—wait. What am I agreeing with?” Dick asks, suspicious.

“Through my observations of the situation, I have determined that Drake is unlikely to ever regain full functionality or his memory. The easiest way to fix this would be a Lazarus Pit. I happen to know of one in Cuba.”

“Holy no Batman!” Dick cries. “Did you forget what happened when I tried doing that for Bruce?”

“It would be different in this case, since we know for sure that it’s Drake and not a decoy,” Damian argues. “At least, the body bit. And Todd recovered from brain damage thanks to the Pit.” He considers Jason. “Well. More or less. I did not know you before, therefore I have no basis of comparison.”

“And you also missed the murderous rampage that happened afterward,” Jason growls. “Not being able to control yourself sucks. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Even Tim.

Especially not Tim.

“If anyone possesses the ability to fight off the effects of the Lazarus Pit, it’s Drake,” Damian insists. “He does not have the same latent anger or violent tendencies as Todd’s files say he had.”

“Hey, stay the hell out of my business!”

“Tim might not be as violent as Jason is or was—”

“Screw you, Dickhead.”

“—but he definitely has the capacity for anger. And as it is, he suffers from severe depression,” Dick informs them soberly. “To the point where he’s considered suicide at least once in the past.”

Damian and Jason’s eyes snap to his face.

“What?” Jason demands.

“That was not in his file.”

“Because he didn’t want it there,” Dick tells them, weary. “In case someone tried to use it against him.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of fucking important to people know about?” Jason demands. “Especially if they have to go out in the field with him?”

He’s having a sudden flashback to the night when everything came out into the open, when he swooped in to save Tim from a fall that he should have been able to divert himself.

Shit. What if that wasn’t an accident like I thought?

“We all have things in our history we don’t want in the files,” Dick reminds them, his face becoming hard for a moment as if he’s remembering something. Then he shakes it off. “Tim’s been dealing with it. He’s on medication, he reaches out when it gets bad…but it’s an ongoing process. I don’t need to tell you guys that.”

“If he didn’t want anyone knowing, he’s going to be pissed you tattled.”

“I’m only speaking up so Damian understands what a bad idea it would be to put Tim in a Lazarus Pit. Depression on top of Pit madness? I don’t want to even think about what he might do.”

Not to mention bringing him anywhere near where Ra’s might pop up is asking for trouble, especially since he can’t fight him off right now.

“So, you are insisting on this waiting nonsense,” Damian concludes, looking frustrated.

“It’s all we can do for now, Little D.”

The kid’s expression remains stormy.

⁂

Damian strides into Tim’s bedroom one morning, wearing a determined expression and followed by his gigantic dog, Titus.

Tim feels a little wary, not so much because of the intimidating canine, but because his younger brother rarely comes near him voluntarily.

“I have read in numerous medical journals the benefits of animal companions in increasing the likelihood of recovery from traumatic brain injuries,” he announces. “Since Father is adamant, we are not getting another dog, I have decided to allow you to spend time with Titus while I am engaged in my studies. I am confident it will contribute to improvement in your condition.” He gestures at the dog. “Titus, stay with Drake. I shall collect you later.”

Then he nods to himself, as if concluding business, and leaves the room.

Tim stares after him, utterly bewildered at the turn of events. Titus watches the boy go, whines for a moment, and then looks over his shoulder at Tim, head cocked to one side as if wondering what that was all about.

All he can do is shrug, which he feels ridiculous about a moment later because Titus is a dog and has a limited understanding (even if Damian speaks to him as if he’s a human being). Still, a beat later, the dog wanders over to Tim’s bed, and rests his head upon the mattress, gazing up at Tim with curious eyes, his tail wagging somewhat.

Slowly, Tim reaches out with his right hand and places it on the dog’s head, causing the tail-wagging to speed up, and scratches him behind the ears.

Titus thus becomes a semi-permanent element of Tim’s recovery process. Damian comes by every morning to drop the dog off as if he’s a parent leaving a child at daycare or school and leaves for several hours. Titus then goes to Tim for obligatory head-pats and only lets up when it becomes clear Tim’s energy is flagging. Even then, he doesn’t go anywhere, simply curling up beside Tim’s bed. When Damian returns, he pokes his head in, nods again, and gestures for the dog to depart with him.

The whole situation is bizarre, but Tim thinks it’s the way Damian expresses worry.

Having Titus around has the added benefit of intimidating Gillian Sato whenever she comes for one of her ‘visits’. Jay can’t always make it there before she does, and she somehow manages to insist on meeting with Tim privately to avoid bias (which he doesn’t understand). Those visits when Jay isn’t present are as short as possible to comply with her wishes, but they’re long enough that Tim is always exhausted and confused at their end. With Titus there, he’s at least a bit more comfortable; the dog appears to sense when his anxiety is climbing or when Ms. Sato says something that makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s rather concerning, Timothy,” she tells him in a voice meant to be kind. “Considering all the resources Mr. Wayne has at his disposal, that he insists you recover here. Instead of in a facility specifically created to rehabilitate TBI patients. It’s almost as if he’s trying to keep you here under his watchful eye.” She leans forward, expression worrying. “You want to get better as soon as possible, don’t you?”

Before Tim can try to parse out exactly what she’s asking him (because he knows somehow the words don’t match her intention), Titus hackles raise, and he begins to growl.

Almost that same instant, Alfred will sweep in and declare that Tim is quite tired today, perhaps they can continue this interview some other time?

Tim wonders if he isn’t standing at the door eavesdropping, even though somehow, he can’t reconcile that image in his head.

Depending on the time of day that Ms. Sato arranges her ‘visit’, the family member that sits with him changes. He much prefers when it’s Jay—he’s the only one whose presence helps Tim calm down quickly after such an interview—but he’s learning to appreciate and trust everyone else in his family.

He’s come a long way since waking up in the hospital and seeing nothing but a bunch of strangers.

Bruce continues to make efforts to spend time with Tim when he wakes up in the mornings. In addition to the sudoku and crossword puzzles, which Tim has started trying to do himself in his spare time, Bruce has started playing other games with him. First Go Fish, and later Memory.

They were games suggested by Dr. Thrussell to help with Tim’s mental rehabilitation, but it turns out playing with Bruce is fun. His expression is awfully serious for what Tim knows are simple children’s games, but he always becomes exceedingly pleased when Tim makes a correct guess.

Dick, who Tim has learned from Alfred is a police officer, is not always around due to his work shifts being somewhat irregular, but when he is, he goes out of his way to help Tim with whatever he might need. It’s both touching and overwhelming; Tim likes Dick, but he feels the same amount of mental exhaustion when he leaves as he does when Ms. Sato does.

How does one person have that much energy?

His favorites besides Jay, are Cassandra and Stephanie.

Steph is nice, as well. She’s affectionate with him, has a good sense of humor, and unlike everyone else who seems wary about touching Tim beyond helping him groom himself or for physio, she’s very tactile.

And she smells nice.

He feels a level of comfort with her that is like when he’s with Jay, which he supposes is because they used to date before she and Cass discovered they were soulmates. Perhaps it’s why he doesn’t question her presence in his life the way he still does sometimes with Bruce or Dick or Damian.

And then there’s Cassandra, who’s just…amazing.

Because she’s like him, somehow.

There’s intelligence in her eyes, but she has trouble getting the words out just like he does. When she sees him struggling with his brain to mouth disconnect, she looks empathetic and he knows it’s not pity or guilt.

The latter is a look he’s started to recognize in Jay, and he doesn’t like it.

He wonders if whatever makes him look like that is the reason he doesn’t get along with the rest of the family. He wishes he could ask, though he suspects even if he could, he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

He’s not sure if that’s normal for this family, or if it’s just another attempt to keep from upsetting Tim. Ever since he started to improve, everyone seems to be wanting to keep him occupied and entertained. Sometimes it’s fun—like today, with Steph egging him on while playing Candy Crush—and other times, it’s just…

Exhausting.

His convalescence aside, Tim has noticed there are times when he feels exhausted and strained for reasons other than his injury. He doesn’t know where those feelings come from, just that he dislikes them.

⁂

One evening, a little over three months following the shooting, Jason shuffles into the manor and wonders how this became routine for him.

It should worry him; how easy it’s been to slip back into the habit of being greeted by Alfred. Into toeing off his boots in the entrance closest and loitering in the kitchen to see if there’s anything left over from lunch or dinner.

It’s deceptively simple to fall into the mental trap of calling this place home again, which is why he never lets himself stay longer than a few hours. Even when Alfred keeps offering to make up a guest room or tries to tempt him with homemade scones for breakfast the next morning.

(He can’t go near his old room, the mausoleum to shattered dreams and stolen childhood.)

Jason’s usual arguments against that are quieter right now, his mind on what Damian said the other day: that no one is trying to help Tim.

In the strictest sense, the sentiment is bullshit; everyone in the Family has been bending over backward trying to make his rehabilitation priority, to protect him from two-faced social workers and asshole paparazzi looking for a story. But there’s been no headway on the shooting, and he wonders if anyone else but him is still looking into it.

Which is stupid, because he knows for a fact that Bruce is a dog with a bone and won’t let any case go, let alone one where his kid got hurt.

So why hasn’t he found anything yet?

He knows from experience, both as Robin and Red Hood, that some cases take longer than others. Bruce spent an entire year investigating the Holiday killings before Jason got involved, and during their years together there were several ongoing cases that dragged for weeks and months before a break could be made.

There are some that remain unsolved to this day.

But this is Tim, you’d think he’d be more motivated. Unless…

Unless he has found something and just doesn’t want to share it because he thinks Jason’s going to go on a vengeful, murderous rampage.

He clenches his fists.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Bruce kept something from him or anyone else if he’s on a case he’s decided is his. He even keeps Dick out of the loop on stuff like that, and he’s the golden child.

Jason’s probably just being paranoid.

Except…

Except he learned paranoia from the best, and that paranoia isn’t always just paranoia, and if Bruce thinks he’ll react badly to something, of course he’s going to keep it from him. Which means they’re going to have a problem because this case isn’t going to get solved if they can’t share important information.

Instead of heading toward Tim’s bedroom, Jason changes course and makes a beeline for the Cave entrance in the study.

He reaches the bottom of the staircase just in time to see Nightwing and Robin peel out of the garage on two bikes. A cowl-free Batman is hunched over the computer, looking up something on the main screen, while the ones off to the sideshow various CCTV feeds from the Narrows, Tricorner and Burnley.

He catches flashes of Black Bat and Signal in the latter two, and scowls.

“I should be out there.”

“That’s not your concern right now,” Bruce replies without even turning around. “You should be upstairs with Tim.”

There’s a derisive snort at that, and Jason glances over to see Blondie balanced on her own bike, adjusting her hair beneath her cowl.

“Problem, Bat-chick?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t sound like nothin’.”

“Just seems like certain people are easier to forgive than others.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce warns, still not looking at either of them.

“No, it’s fine,” she replies. “Let’s keep tiptoeing around the giant pink elephant in the room. And by giant pink elephant, I mean crime lord.”

“That what you’re goin’ with?” Jason challenges. “You’ve been stewin’ on that for three months, and you’re gonna give me grief over bullshit that’s over and done with?”

“Clearly it’s not over and done with.”

“If you’ve got a problem with me, strap on the steel tits and own up to what it’s really about.”

“Okay, fine!” Blondie hops off the bike to march forward, stopping a good foot away from him and shoving a finger at him. “You might be his soulmate, but don’t think that gets you off for all the crap you’ve pulled. Especially since you’ve known this whole time.”

“What I know or knew is none of your business. But if you really want to have a competition about who hurt him most, my name ain’t the only one on the list.”

“Are you seriously trying to pull the ‘everyone else did it too so it’s okay’ defense?”

“No, I’m telling you to be careful in that fragile fucking glass house of yours.”

“Speaking of houses, how long are you going to keep playing house with Tim before you break his heart again? Are you going to do it right when he gets his memories back, or wait a few days for him to adjust and then drop him?”

“You think I’d be that big an asshole?”

“I know you’re that big an asshole. And so did Tim,” she shoots back, merciless. “He told me you were dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And then you weren’t. And he still always told that to anyone who asked. He knew whatever this is with you, it was never going to happen, but it also wasn’t going away. So, he was trying to move on. And if he’s smart—which we all know Tim is, memories or not—he’ll stick to that gut feeling. Because the longer he’s involved with you, the more hurt he’s going to be when you inevitably break his heart. If you were any kind of decent, you’d get the hell out of his life before he finishes imprinting on you like a baby chick.”

“That’s enough,” Bruce says, and this time he does turn around. “Stephanie, patrol.”

“I’m going,” she replies. “But not because you told me to.”

She stalks toward her bike, and after a few angry revs of the engine, speeds off out of the cave.

Bruce is still looking in Jason’s direction; he can feel the frown. “Provoking her isn’t helpful to anyone, least of all Tim.”

“What argument were you watching?” Jason shoots back. “If anyone’s provoking anyone else, it’s her. And I’m telling you now, B, if she wants a fight, I’ll give it to her. I’m putting up with enough crap because of this soulmate thing, I didn’t sign on to let Timbo’s pissed off ex-girlfriend take shots at me.”

“The lack of evidence in this case is frustrating everyone.”

Jason gives him a disbelieving look—there’s no way that Bruce can be so emotionally stunted that he can’t figure out what Blondie’s little tiff was all about.

Then again…yes, he is.

Rather than stew over Blondie’s accusations (and the fact that she’s got more of a point than he’d like), Jason decides to focus on what Bruce actually said.

“So you haven’t found anything on your end, either?”

He leans against the giant computer, keeping a conspicuous distance between him and Bruce, and trying not to feel awkward and naked without his helmet on. He doesn’t actually remember the last time he was down here and not in uniform.

“No.”

“Really. Nothing? Not a single goddamn clue? This is all just some random person that decided to take the kid out?”

“It’s not the first time someone has attempted to assassinate Tim.”

“Yeah, but I heard about that, it was all planned for. This wasn’t.”

“Hence the continued investigation.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no way you’ve been on the case this long and haven’t found something.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment and then nods. “Based on the lack of available evidence, whoever did this was a professional. Elite even.”

“No shit. We knew that from Day One.”

“I’ve since narrowed down a list of suspects from around the world, who have the capability of pulling this off.”

“And?”

“And they’re all either accounted for or dead.”

“So why do you look more constipated about this than usual? You’ve had harder cases with less evidence.”

“Almost all of these snipers were trained by David Cain.”

The name makes Jason tense. “He’s dead.”

“Yes. But before he died, he mentioned something to me. That there were others.”

“Others like Cass, you mean.”

“Hn.”

Jason grits his teeth. “So, your theory is some designer assassin Child o’ Cain decided to come to Gotham just to shoot Tim?”

“It’s not a theory. Just a possible connection. There’s too little evidence to support it.”

“Then what the hell are you spending the time on it for?” Jason demands. “If we’re going for wild conspiracy theories, why not an alternate universe or time travel? It’s just as easy to speculate someone came back in time to assassinate Tim or put him out of commission for whatever reason.”

“I won’t discount those theories either,” Bruce allows, because of course. “But in either situation, anyone coming here for Tim specifically would likely be enhanced to survive whatever means brought them here.”

“Or it’s one of us.”

Bruce doesn’t meet his gaze, but there’s a subtle tensing of his shoulder muscles.

“I saw that,” Jason points out quietly. Bruce says nothing. “You think it would be me, don’t you?”

“I never said that.”

“If it were one of us, I’m the best marksman, so if it were anyone of ours to come back and put a bullet in his head, it’d be me.”

Bruce stands then, agitated. “You’re jumping to conclusions and letting your feelings cloud your judgment. This is only one of many theories, not even the one that’s most likely—”

“Except we both know that ain’t the case!” Jason snarls. “You know as well as I do, I’m probably the reason he got shot in the first place!”

“Jason—”

“I did this, B! I was in the middle of a pissing contest with some asshole moving in on my turf and Tim got caught in the crossfire. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself!”

“You did not cause Tim to be shot,” Bruce snaps.

“That’s not what you thought when it happened,” Jason reminds him bitterly.

“And I’ve since revised my opinion. I don’t believe this to be related to the contract that was put out on Red Hood.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a totally glowing recommendation!”

“Whoever is after you obviously isn’t aware of your civilian identity, or they would still be pursuing you,” Bruce replies. “Going underground would only keep you safe for so long, and it’s been months. Whoever is targeting you may have been watching Red Hood, but they weren’t watching you. Therefore, the likelihood of Tim’s shooting having anything to do with your activities is low.”

“Seriously? That’s your explanation?”

“Jason,” Bruce sighs, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture of exhaustion. “I’m trying to tell you I don’t think you’re responsible for this. Why are you fighting me on it?”

“Because nothing is ever that easy with you! And you’re usually the one driving the ‘Jason messes everything up’ bandwagon. Don’t tell me that’s changed all because I happen to be the kid’s soulmate.”

“That has nothing to do with it. I’ve already explained my reasoning, and it’s enough for me at the moment.” He fixes Jason with a calculating look that he doesn’t like. “The question is, why are you so determined to make it your fault?”

Jason opens his mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in his throat as he realizes he has no idea how to answer that.

Bruce continues. “Your behavior is inconsistent.”

“Hell, yes, it’s inconsistent! It’s been months and I still have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to deal with all of this!”

“Perhaps you should take some time,” the older man replies, turning his attention back to the computer. “Away from here.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “Away from Tim, you mean.”

“He’s at the point where he is no longer uncomfortable with the rest of us, and you did make it clear that you only intended to stay by his side until his condition improved. I’m sure with some explanation you could take some time. It might help.”

“You just…that’s not even…”

Jason falters, not sure how to respond, because really, this is his get-out-of-jail-free card. He did say he was only going to stick around until Tim was doing better, and the kid is doing better. He can get back to his search for the dick that got him to go to ground, can get back to living his life the way he wants it and not based around a convalescent’s schedule.

But the idea of it just now, makes him feel queasy, like he’s running a dirty deal.

And on top of that, it bothers him that while Bruce is certain he’s not responsible for Tim’s injury, he still obviously has an issue with the fact they’re soulmates.

It shouldn’t bother him.

It absolutely should not bother him.

And yet.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” he snaps, and heads right back up the stairs, mind racing and unable to settle on a single conflicted thought.

Upon reaching the study he finds Alfred on his way in, a tray of tea and sandwiches in hand. The older man takes one look at him and purses his lips, and puts down his burden.

“From your expression, I suspect Master Bruce will be sulking too much the rest of the evening to be interested in dinner.”

“Like I care,” Jason grunts, slamming the false front of the clock entrance closed.

“Were that the case, you would not be damaging the furniture.”

Jason scowls, though it’s somewhat tempered when Alfred offers him the sandwiches he was obviously about to bring down to Bruce.

He takes a petty satisfaction in polishing off every bit of food and tea while Alfred pretends to busy himself with tidying the already pristine study. Although he’s clearly remaining nearby should Jason need him, he doesn’t try to force a conversation.

How does he always know…?

Jason surprises himself when he’s the one to break the silence. “Why the hell does this soulmate shit have to be so complicated? Everyone else just gets it, and I just want to jump out of my fucking skin because it’s making me crazy.”

For once, Alfred doesn’t comment on his language.

“As I understand it, you have never had another person with whom you could confide about this before. You had not manifested your mark when you first came to us, and Master Bruce does tend to avoid matters of the heart and soul except when necessity requires it.”

Jason grumbles, “No kidding.”

It’s not just now, either.

Years back, Bruce got through the sex talk with his usual emotionless, detached aplomb, but didn’t bother with any of the other stuff. Jason would have thought the guy had no heart at all, except he saw how invested he got with the women in his life that mattered.

“And I would imagine discussing it with Mr. Harper and Ms. Anders has not helped, given the substantial difference in circumstances.”

“You got that right…”

“Then perhaps I might offer my own understandings if only to provide another perspective.”

Jason shrugs. “Why not? It’s not like anyone else cares, other than to look like I kicked a puppy whenever I’m in the room with Tim.”

“It has always been my belief that one’s soulmate is the person who will have the most impact on one’s life.”

“So why isn’t mine the Joker?” Jason shoots back spitefully.

“As if that creature ever had a soul,” Alfred scoffs.

“I’m just sayin’, your logic’s flawed.”

“And if you think a homicidal clown gets to claim to be the biggest impact on your life, I wash my hands of you. Do you realize you are scarcely 21 years old? You have an awful lot of life ahead of you to have that one moment, traumatic as it was, to define all of it. Perhaps in those first few months or years following the incident, yes. But you have a future, Master Jason. Soulmates are not just for the moment, but for the breadth of your lifespan. And however much strangeness we see on a regular basis in this world of ours, none of us have the ability to discern the future.”

“Except maybe Duke.”

“Except perhaps Master Duke,” Alfred allows, his mouth twitching somewhat. “But even that only comes in flashes. He cannot know it all. And neither can you.”

“Is that your convoluted way of telling me ‘chin up’?”

“That is my convoluted way of telling you that you are not the only person to find the matter of soulmates difficult to navigate. And no one—not even Master Bruce—is expecting you to figure it all out right away.”

Jason snorts. “You sure about that?”

Alfred simply raises an eyebrow as if insulted by his pearls of wisdom being questioned, and Jason raises his hands in surrender.

Never question Alfred. He knows everything.

Still, he suspects that Bruce will be getting a rather pointed talking-to in the near future. It makes him feel marginally better about the whole thing.

“Now,” the older man continues in a businesslike tone, “Timothy is in the family room this afternoon. However, I would understand if you do not feel up to seeing him today and would be perfectly willing to make an excuse for your absence should you require it.”

Jason almost accepts the out, but then remembers Bruce making a similar suggestion—albeit with more suspect motives—and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he sighs. “Knowing Timbers, he’s been waiting up all day. Least I can do is say 'hi'.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agrees neutrally, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests approval.

As long as no one else decides to ambush me with their emotional crap today, it should be fine, Jason decides, leaving the study and wandering down the hall.

⁂

Tim is sitting in the family room watching Arranged.

He spends most of his time there, either alone or with whatever member of the family is still at home that day. After so long being practically bedridden, he’s desperate to be anywhere that’s not his bedroom.

Alfred wheels him out into the gardens whenever it’s not raining or damp or windy (which, being May, it almost always is), and he’s since enjoyed the sun on his face for the first time that he can remember. He also got to experience his apparent first sunburn, because it seems his skin is notoriously sensitive.

Worth it though, to be outside.

He shifts, sitting up on the couch in front of the large television. He’s surrounded by a staggering number of blankets and pillows; Tim’s not even sure he really needs them to support him anymore—he’s been sitting up on his own for a while—but Alfred insists it’s better safe than sorry.

Titus is lying on his feet, dozing but alert. Tim’s wheelchair stands beside the couch, with Alfred the Cat (Damian seems to not have much imagination when it comes to pet names) curled up on the seat. Occasionally he opens one eye as if to check on Tim, and then returns to sleep.

He’s not a bad recovery-cat, I guess.

On-screen, Cordelia de Vere and Bertram Montmorency get to know one another and discover they actually get along, being of complementary temperaments. They have undeniable chemistry and their dialog is full of witty diatribe and veiled insults that he can’t help enjoying. It’s much more interesting than what Cordelia had with her soulmate, which he agrees with Jay about. Tim’s not sure if it’s a better match than Bertram and Maurice, who the prince continues to see in secret. Meanwhile, Gerald seems to be getting along just fine, joining the army and vowing to build himself up to meet the standards of Cordelia’s parents. He doesn’t actually seem outwardly bothered by her absence, except for several sequences of him writing her love letters.

“Never mind a bullet, this is the kind of crap that gives you brain damage,” a voice informs Tim, amused and somewhat mocking as usual.

Tim’s eyes snap instantly to Jay as he appears in the room, and he feels a smile break out on his face.

“Hi.”

It’s one of the words he’s been working on in therapy and can finally say it without having to mentally or actually hum through a children’s nursery rhyme song. It gives him a thrill of accomplishment, albeit one that pales at the thrill when Jason’s eyes widen in surprise, and then something that Tim imagines might be pride.

“Hi back,” he replies and glances around the room. The car glares up at him like he expects him to question or end his occupation of the space, but Jason simply throws himself down on the nearby easy chair—it’s the only piece of furniture free of pillows and blankets—and squints at the television. “I can’t believe you’re still watching this.”

Tim snorts and shoots Jason a wry look, mentally telegraphing his thoughts. And what are you doing right now?

“Don’t give me that, I’m humoring the invalid.”

“Uh-huh,” Tim grunts.

“That’s a lot of sarcasm for someone who can’t manage actual words yet.”

Tim doesn’t take Jason’s abrasive comments as an insult. Along with Steph, he is the only one that doesn’t try to coddle him. He talks to Tim the same way he talks to everyone else, which, like he’s equal to them even though his brain is making things hard for him right now.

Still, the reminder of his lack of verbosity directly on the heels of his recent accomplishments strikes something in Tim, something like annoyance. Something that suddenly wants to prove a point.

He frowns in effort, trying to line up thoughts and words and the movement of his mouth.

“This is seriously predictable,” Jason complains. “Obviously the writers are trying to set it up that he shows up again and sweeps her off her feet. Then the rich boy goes back to his boyfriend and watching all this is a total waste of time.” Tim doesn’t respond, and Jason glances over at him to gauge his reaction. Only to notice now that Tim is watching him instead of the show, mouth turned downward in a frown. “What?”

Tim’s lips part, then purse, and he makes a kind of humming noise in his throat, closing his eyes in concentration. He takes a deep breath and then utters a sound.

“Ju…jjuh…juh-ay…”

He blinks, somewhat surprised by himself. Jason seems to echo it. “Did you just…?”

Tim’s mouth quirks upward and he feels almost smug. Then, he slowly sounds out the word again. “Ja-ay.”

It’s slow and stilted, and his voice is raspy from disuse, but it’s there, decrying his enforced muteness.

Jay is sitting up ramrod straight now. “Holy shit, you’re trying to talk.”

The naked awe on his soulmate’s face makes him feel warm, and so Tim plods onward, ignoring the way sweat breaks out on the back of his neck or the way he feels a little dizzy.

“Th…than…kyuu…”

Jay’s expression appears to shutter, awe becoming confusion. “Uh…for what?”

“Sa…say…” Tim is panting a bit from the effort now.

“Hey, forget it, don’t push yourself,” Jason implores him, sitting up and making a pacifying gesture. “Three words is enough progress for—”

“Say-ved,” Tim interrupts doggedly. “Safe. Me. Heard…duh…di…Dick…say. You. Say-ved me.”

There.

That was almost two full sentences. He knows they’re crude and basic and maybe not quite what he was trying to say, but he managed to communicate on his own without blinking. It fills him with a buoyant glee, a bubbling temptation to laugh though he knows from experience that doing that would just make his head spin and throb.

He expects Jay to look proud again, happy or relieved—maybe even a sarcastic, teasing quip.

What he doesn’t expect is the wild gleam in Jay’s eye or the way the blood rushes from his cheeks. He looks like someone punched him, and then he’s standing, backing away.

“That…” He swallows. “I’ve got to…”

He doesn’t finish and instead turns and practically bolts from the room, leaving Tim staring after him in shocked dismay, wondering what just happened.

________________________________________________________________

To Be Continued

Poor Timmy. And just when he's starting to show some of his old spunk, too...

Things are heading for their first boiling point. Someone's got to knock some sense into Jay, either literally or metaphorically (who wants to take bets on who it will be?).