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j0kers-light · 1 year ago

Note

Y/n being as crazy as Joker.....but can sorta hide it.

Imagine joker sitting at the table, trying to think of a way to carry out a robbery but every plan he thinks of had a fault and it's stressing him out. Without thinking y/n just blurts out a plan that is mind-blowing and perfect. She just says 'it's the voices in my head'.

However the plan goes left because some goon did something stupid. Joker gets caught by the batman and is sitting at the back of the police car in hand cuffs being sent to the asylum. When the police officer talks to him, he recognises the voice and the eyes from the rearview mirror and its his bunny blended in as a cop. Recklessly driving away and ending up in a car chase with many police cars and even a helicopter on their tail.

His Lighthouse: Paint the Town Red (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Paint the Town Red - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

OOOOOOOOOOh my GOSH! Thank you to the moon and back @chelsea-xxx2003 for your patience! This request was a long time coming but I love love love loved writing it! This request is so old it makes me wanna hide in the box of shame!

But anyhoo!!! I hope you enjoy my love! Thank you once again for your patience (omg😭 please don't hate me!!) and if its not to your tastes, let me know! I can try again!🖤✨

Of course the song that inspired the plot 🤭

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @clemdango04 @l3ejm @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

The saying, “You are known by the company you keep” could be misconstrued in so many ways.

For how can someone say they truly know a person?

Joker felt that he knew you both inside and out; his stubborn yet highly intelligent Y/n. He loved you to a toxic degree and he knew the feelings were mutual.

He’d only known you for a year, but he knew the itty-bitty details that made you unique. You were quiet when necessary and rowdy at the most inopportune times. Your literary skills were profound at the cost of your social prowess.

J loved how you stumbled your way through conversations and your cute little ums were to die for! But if given a pen and paper, you could move the masses with your words.

In Joker’s eyes you were just shy of being perfect. Sweet, innocent—you couldn’t harm a fly. He thought he knew his soft-spoken Bunny.

Come to find out: he didn’t know you at all.

Your dining room table was a war zone of stationery and mindless clutter.

Joker had parked himself there early this morning and had not moved since. You brought him breakfast and snacks but he would only grumble a quick, “Thanks Bun” to you before resuming his work. He was so fixated on this new heist idea that nothing else mattered. He couldn’t focus on anything if it wasn’t the blueprints in front of him or his phone that would chime with more reliable intel.

Come to think of it, you didn’t see him take a bathroom break. This robbery couldn’t be that important. You tried to get his attention despite failing every time.

Nothing was getting through to your dark clown, so you stopped trying.

You could tell planning was stressing him out, but once J was in his thinking mode, either he would finish or throw a murderous tantrum until he figured it out. All you had to do was wait for the outcome.

In the meantime, something you loved about Joker was his handwriting. It resembled nothing of the infamous madman. His penmanship was legible and slightly feminine with hints of cursive in unexpected places. Only Joker could get away with writing slaughter in pretty script. You did not expect him to have neat writing. It was a huge contrast to his deranged mental state.

It was soothing to watch J hunch over his notebook plotting out his next heist. There were so many intricate details that ultimately found their way into his notes—and you got to see the magic unfold in real time. You almost missed him groaning at the ceiling. He finally stopped plotting and started mumbling to himself under his breath.

A tantrum was imminent, so you decided to intervene before he went out and started killing innocent people.

“What’s bothering you, J?” You asked him.

His stressed-out green eyes immediately found yours from across the room.

You watched his pupils dilate taking in your beauty. You tried not to let his awe-struck reaction get to your head and instead focused your attention on his response.

“It's nothing to worry that uh.. pretty little head of yours with, Bunny. Am I... bothering you sittin’ here?” He gestured to his mess at the table while raking a hand through his dirty hair.

He needed to wash it but if he was going out, he needed to dye it. You would miss his natural sun kissed strands until the green faded out. A pity he covered up something so beautiful.

You shook your head, walking closer to him. “You are never a bother, J. I just came to see if you needed anything. You know... like a break.”

You made grabby hands at Joker’s hair and waited for him to voice his consent.

With a happy squeal, you carded your fingers through his greasy locs. The texture was a bit unusual, but it was an honor to touch Joker in such an intimate way that you overlooked your own discomfort to establish his.

Joker’s head fell back against your stomach in bliss. Your nails felt so good on his scalp, all his thoughts about the upcoming mission just melted away.

It was crazy how you automatically knew how to calm him down. J purred under your touch and you smiled at the overgrown cat at your mercy. This man worked so hard, he never stopped to take breaks and care for himself. He was blessed to have you around to remind him.

Not much it did with the stubborn clown, but the thought was appreciated.

The snacks you brought J were left untouched except for the sugary treats you added last minute. Joker and his sweet tooth. You rolled your eyes and they landed on his scattered plans.

From your advantage point, you could read everything from over Joker’s shoulder.

The heist was thoroughly thought out even in its rough planning phase.

Joker planned to rob the mob run bank in downtown Gotham, but you noticed there was something missing to tie it all together. He couldn’t seem to figure out how to access the bank’s service panels on the roof. You skimmed over the goons’ hired for the job. They were familiar names from your past and you remembered their individual skill sets. You knew who needed to be where to extract their ultimate usefulness.

The heist was scheduled to be done at the day’s end so that Joker could blend in with the district's school buses that drove by the bank everyday like clockwork.

It was perfect. Too perfect, hence why Joker circled alarm panel three times in red marker at the top of his notes and underlined, eliminate idiots twice.

There were open gaps within his idea. He didn’t know how to fill them.

Your poor clown was overthinking this and his little doodles on the plan’s margins were a sign of his restlessness. The solution was so easy; you couldn’t stop yourself from spelling it out for him.

“Baby.. have John John and Razor zip-line from the adjacent office building down onto the roof. John John can access the alarm panel and disable it. He’s got more situational awareness than Razor, so he’ll regroup with the two idiots you stormed the bank with. Tell them... it's only five shares, they’ll off each other to hoard all the money for themselves. Greed will have them turning their guns on their own accomplices. You won’t have to do a thing but watch. Before the bus gets there, there should be only one guy left. That way...”

You leaned down to kiss Joker’s scarred cheek. “You can kill him and the bus driver and make off with the cash. Easy.”

You resumed stroking his hair as if you didn’t solve his day long conundrum.

It was a mind blowing and perfect plan, one that he could’ve crafted if he weren’t so stressed but coming from his Bunny—it was even more diabolical. It was a glimpse at a darker side of you that he’d never seen before. He honestly didn’t know one existed.

He turned to stare at you in disbelief and you had the audacity to look surprised.

“I’m sorry, did I scratch too hard?”

You were worried about his hair rather than the plan you just orchestrated on the fly. How did you string it together?

He glanced down at his unfinished notes scattered on the table. Frost still had trouble decoding Joker’s long code, it was so complex, but you managed to decipher it and fill in the blanks within minutes.

“Can ya read that doll?” J pointed to his notes.

Were you not supposed to? It was clear as day, but you didn’t want to hurt Joker’s feelings if he didn’t like his own handwriting or something.

Joker stood up slowly, seeing you hesitate. He hoped he was just overthinking this.

There was no way his precious Light was some secret criminal mastermind. You wouldn’t harm a fly, yet he couldn’t ignore how easily you read his coded text. No one was supposed to unless they had previous skill in certain circles.

You sensed a shift in Joker’s demeanor and quickly backtracked.

“Um well, I.... I mean not really, no! The um voices in my head.. kinda filled in the gaps? Perks of being a writer, I guess? We can read anything! You have pretty handwriting if that’s the problem! Haha.. Wow! Would you look at the time? A-Are you hungry? I was thinking lamb stew with some fufu for lunch!”

You laughed and all but sprinted towards the kitchen, leaving a perplexed Joker staring after you.

Perks of being a writer? Was he really supposed to believe that? Although he did blush at the compliment you made towards his penmanship. You somehow managed to talk your way out of his suspicions with your sweet nature.

Joker watched as you washed your hands and forgot about the odd moment altogether. Watching you cook was the perfect way to distract Joker. It must’ve been a fluke for you to be able to read his code.

But why did he have the feeling you were hiding something?

Your plan was so foolproof, Joker didn’t change a single thing.

The day of the hit came, and everything went smoothly as if you personally knew the mindset of his hired goons. They played their part as pawns perfectly and Joker was able to drive the school bus out of the bank with no issues. His Light was secretly a genius!

What neither of you predicted was the loyalty of the bus drivers in front and the one behind Joker’s decoy.

Despite the hush money given, they still snitched to the GCPD, and the authorities had Joker surrounded by the time he broke off from the fleet. He couldn’t put up much of a chase in the worn-down vehicle and was quickly apprehended.

There was nothing Joker could do to get himself out of being hauled back to Arkham by his arch-nemeses, Batman.

J’s triumphant day was instantly a catastrophic failure.

The caped crusader was standing around, giving Jim Gordon the rundown of events as if he did all the work. They were talking for almost an hour now with no end in sight! All Joker could think about in the meantime was how many strings he had to pull to break out of Arkham to get back home to you.

He didn’t want you to worry when the news of him being captured aired. It was an inevitable outcome within the relationship, one that you mentally prepared for; but Joker had always planned on saying goodbye should this situation arise.

Joker hardly gave you a kiss when he snuck out your apartment for this robbery. He was so confident in your plan that he didn’t fathom the possibility of being caught and skipped his traditional goodbye. It was a small mistake that he regretted terribly.

Without a doubt, Joker knew you would sit up all night waiting for him only for a breaking news bulletin to squash your hopes of his return.

Escapes from Arkham took careful planning months in advance and eight times out of ten, they ended in failure. Joker couldn’t survive a day without his Light. Now he would be separated from you for an undisclosed amount of time before he could even begin plotting an escape. He was screwed.

He banged his head against the window in anger. Jim and Batman glanced over at the noise and didn’t notice a rookie cadet snatch the handcuff keys away from Jim’s belt.

Joker’s world was crumbling fast and the voices in his head were making things worse.

What will Bunny think deserting her like this?

She’ll never love you again for leaving without a word.

You’re gonna lose her forever.

No one said anything about the rage filled tantrum Joker was having in the backseat. They could hear his yelling and saw how the car was rocking violently as he flipped out.

Batman spent enough time talking with the Commissioner. It was time to transport Joker before he grew too volatile and risked an escape attempt.

Jim turned around and got the attention of a cop he trusted. “Hey, Cruz! You and the rookie take the clown back to the precinct. We’ll follow after we finish here.”

Cruz nodded and slapped his newly appointed partner’s arm. “Hah! Let’s go rookie. You drive.”

Joker was still fighting against his restraints when he spotted the two cops approaching the vehicle.

He found it odd that Batman wasn’t escorting him straight to Arkham Island. Instead, two average looking police officers were tasked with the job. Much to his amusement, one of the cops stuck another with a needle about halfway to the car.

Cruz crumbled to the ground and was dragged out of view of the surrounding GCPD officers. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see a corrupted cop and for that Joker didn’t raise an eyebrow at the sight.

He grew curious when the rookie hopped into the car and cranked it up.

They didn’t waste any time stepping on the gas pedal and flooring it straight out of the parking lot. It was only after they drove through the police barricade did a fellow cop shout, “HEY!” thus alerting the squadron of the situation.

Shouts rang out in attempts to pierce the tires, but the cruiser was screeching away like a bat out of hell. Joker couldn’t balance himself being handcuffed as he was.

He tumbled roughly into the door and had a mind to complain about it. “Who taught ya how to drive?!”

He was unsure if this person was his savior but his answer came when other GCPD vehicles gave chase. Even more surprisingly, the Batmobile was not in pursuit just yet.

“I know how to drive, thank you very much.” The erratic driver mumbled towards the backseat.

Joker’s head shot up hearing the voice. There was no way.

Despite the fast speeds and harrowing turns, he managed to right his balance and peer through the dividing glass at the driver. Your e/c locked eyes with his shocked green through the rearview mirror.

“Y/n?” Joker was sent headfirst into the passenger side door after you made a sudden turn onto the highway, literally on two wheels. Okay that jerk felt a little intentional.

J shook off the pain and overheard you laughing in the front seat. He was in shock seeing this rare side of you. Was he dreaming?

Joker almost didn’t recognize his Bunny dressed undercover—mainly due to the scarlet red wig you wore. This had to be a dream. Your e/c eyes were wild with excitement and much to his horror, there was a natural ease to you.

You were in your element speeding down the highway with an apprehended criminal in the back seat.

The police cars caught up and opened fire, yet you laughed at their pathetic attempts even as a few gunshots cracked the back windows of your cruiser. The odds were stacked against you, however you continued, swerving in and out of traffic, causing wrecks and utter chaos in your wake.

You spotted a familiar SUV driving parallel to you and waved at the driver. Joker was about to ask if you knew them when they introduced themselves in a bold fashion.

Two men leaned out the backseat windows and returned fire at the police. Their aim was true and hit the police tires, stopping them in their tracks.

Joker was speechless. How was any of this happening?

His brain didn��t have time to process anything when a helicopter highlighted the car from above. You groaned in anger but reached over to grab a walkie talkie.

“Up top! Up top! Up top!” You chimed into the device.

Then it finally clicked to J. Somehow you were in on this daring escape. He didn’t care about his fate; you were the only concern on his mind.

Joker banged his bound hands onto the divider glass to get your attention. “Bunny! This is dangerous! Ya gotta stop!”

All you did was roll your eyes and scoff. “Mm that’s cute coming from you!” You shifted gears when you spotted something up ahead. “Thank God! Our backup has arrived!”

Joker glanced out the window and only saw Gotham civilians trying to get out the way and the all black SUV shooting back at the GCPD. That wasn’t backup? He didn’t understand anything at this point. The spotlight overhead was keeping you and him visible to the authorities so what could you possibly have in mind to escape?

“What are ya talkin�� about doll?! What backup?” Joker saw twin 18 wheelers up ahead open their hatches. His green eyes widened at the heat they were packing.

What he didn’t see was two more SUVs entering the highway, already aiming at the police helicopter with rockets.

In response to his question, all he received was your maniacal laughter as you reached one hundred and twenty miles per hour. From there, everything happened simultaneously.

You spotted the tank Batman called a car fast approaching and radioed to your men. “Light em up, boys.”

Your cruiser whizzed past the two trucks and the now three support SUVs at the precise moment they blocked the highway and unleashed their weaponry on the unsuspecting police.

It was a war zone. News outlets later on reported that the highway sustained so much damage, it would need to be repaved.

A brave civilian caught the battle from the southbound lanes on his cell phone and it was a literal massacre to witness.

The helicopter was shot down and exploded in a fireball onto the first two cop cars leading the chase. Once a wall of fire separated the GCPD from you and Joker’s getaway car, your goons opened fire and brutally murdered the rest of the fleet of police officers.

Batman tried to save the day but his tank suffered heavy structural damage from the RPGs and other arsenal fired at it.

The bat had no other choice but to flee the scene.

The authorities were severely outgunned and quickly outmanned by a few criminals. Jim Gordon was at the end of the chase and his face paled seeing the insignia painted on one of the 18 wheelers.

It was his cue to call out the immediate, fallback orders to his men. But it was already too late.

It had been decades since Jim Gordon had seen the haunting image of a cobra coiling around a bouquet of nightshade.

The Mors Atra Lux Syndicate. Their Latin translation meaning; death is a dark light. They were the deadliest gang in the east, dating back as far as the Great Roman Empire. And now their current leader was making their stand here in Gotham City by allying with The Joker.

The ominous air was palpable. This was the beginning to a very long bloodbath.

But it wasn’t that deep to you.

All you did was call in a favor the second you saw Joker landing himself into trouble during his heist. You were worried about his poor choice of a getaway vehicle right from the beginning. The school bus would help him blend in, but after separating from the yellow procession, he would be vulnerable.

And you couldn’t have been more correct. Through surveillance and radio, you watched Joker be apprehended. It was now or never, and you acted fast.

You called your uncle and exhausted your one-time favor to rescue Joker.

The consequences of your actions would sink in later. You didn’t care that asking for help was your Defacto swearing in ceremony into the gang. There was no way out once you got involved.

None of that mattered as you exited the highway and drove to the predetermined meet up spot. Joker had yet to stop yelling in your ear.

He was giving you a mouthful about the events that were unfolding around him. He too recognized the ancient gang’s insignia and its importance. The Mors Atra Lux Syndicate was the greatest active gang in the world and to have them as an ally was legendary.

His mind was still reeling to discover his Bunny was affiliated!

You screamed whenever there was a bug in the apartment. He shielded you from his own organization due to your intolerance to violence. That’s the Y/n he thought he knew.

His Light wasn’t pure as he thought.

That much was evident when you pulled into an abandoned junk yard, turned off the car, and faced him. “SHUT UP, J! Just.... be quiet, I can’t hear myself think!!” You closed your eyes as Joker stared at you in horror.

You were mumbling to yourself with an eerie smile on your face. Whatever you were discussing was resolved for you quickly composed yourself and grabbed the keys to unlock his handcuffs.

You joined him in the backseat and without hesitation, you grabbed Joker by the neck to kiss him.

He wished it was the interaction mutual but the shock factor of discovering your dark side was hindering his ability to function properly. Just how deep was your affiliation? Should he be intimidated or aroused?

You caught onto Joker’s wary demeanor.

You smoothed down his wind tossed hair, “I’m sorry baby, I’ll explain m-more later but right now? We need to get you somewhere safe.” Your attention wavered after hearing a car door close.

Joker sputtered seeing you pull a gun from your waistline. It even had a silencer on it, he was impressed!

Thankfully you didn’t need it, yet he knew you were a seasoned warrior based on your stance. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You had nothing but murder on the mind and a steady hand.

You recognized your first cousin Flex approaching from his armored SUV and lowered your weapon.

“Bella.” He nodded at you before giving Joker the up down. He wouldn’t judge your choice of a partner. “We’ll take care of him from here.” Flex noted.

Joker was positively mind blown. He waited until you freed his hands to ask. “Uhhhh.. Bella? Is that your err real name, Y/n?”

You and Flex snorted. You hugged your cousin and whispered something in his ear as Joker looked on, growing more and more annoyed by the second.

Finally, you replied to J’s question. “No. It’s an honorific in our Syndicate. Flex will take you to your hideout. Don’t. Kill. Him. I won’t be able to save you if you anger the order. I’ll see you at home for dinner, okay J?”

You kissed him one more time and smoothed out his suit, as if you didn’t pull off a highly dangerous recovery mission to free him.

Joker’s head was spinning as you urged him to follow Flex back to the car. Nothing made sense. Everything Joker thought he knew about you was apparently a lie.

You were already destroying the cruiser’s license plate and removing your wig to revert back to your harmless civilian look. You fluffed out your natural curls and then proceeded to coat the cop car in gasoline. The fire started inside the vehicle as Flex cranked up his SUV.

Joker watched you stay behind, staring at the growing flames with that eerie smile on your face. He was staring at a stranger. A devil in disguise. He thought he knew his soft-spoken Bunny.

Come to find out: he didn’t know you at all.

159 notes · View notes

luv-lock · 3 months ago

Note

For SpiderGirl Y/N, how would they react to her being injured or dead. I wanna see them suffer. Only if you are ok with it. Love all your stuff, btw.

If you being injured:

The mission had been brutal, the enemy relentless, and the stakes higher than ever. But somehow, they made it through. Barely. And now, there you were—injured but alive, laying on the med bay table like the biggest diva Gotham had ever seen.

“Oh, God, I’m dying,” you groaned, clutching your side dramatically. Your hand was caked in blood, but it was far from life-threatening. Still, that didn’t stop you from milking it for all it was worth.

“You’re not dying, Y/N,” Dick said, crouching beside you with a worried expression. “The wound isn’t even that deep.”

You shot him a glare, your lips curling into a pout. “Easy for you to say, Golden Boy. You’re not the one bleeding out.”

Jason snorted from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s got a scratch, and now she thinks she’s in a soap opera.”

“Shut up, Jason,” you snapped, though the bite was lessened by your theatrics. “I’m injured! I could have bled out on the battlefield. The least you could do is pretend to care.”

Jason rolled his eyes but walked over anyway, leaning down to inspect the wound. “You’re fine, princess,” he said with a smirk, ruffling your hair.

“I’m not fine!” you whined, slapping his hand away. “I need love and attention. Lots of it.”

Dick’s Turn

Dick was always the softie, and you knew exactly how to play him. You reached out with a trembling hand, your eyes wide and watery. “Nightwing,” you murmured weakly, “I don’t think I’ll make it. Hold me.”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing and sitting on the edge of the table. Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

“There, there,” he said softly, stroking your hair. “You’re gonna be okay, Y/N.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning into him. “You smell nice,” you muttered, nuzzling into his neck.

Dick blushed furiously, but he didn’t pull away. Jason, on the other hand, gagged audibly.

“God, get a room,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed.

Jason’s Turn

You turned your big, watery eyes on Jason next. “Jay… my favorite outlaw… my knight in shining armor… can you carry me? Please?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Carry you? To where? The couch is like ten feet away.”

You pouted, batting your eyelashes. “But I’m injured! And it’s your fault for being so handsome that I got distracted during the fight.”

Jason stared at you for a long moment before groaning. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to listen to you whining all night.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, and you wasted no time wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so strong,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

Jason’s ears turned red, but he kept his expression neutral. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Tim’s Turn

When Tim walked in with a first aid kit, you immediately perked up. “Timmy! My hero!”

He sighed, kneeling beside the table to inspect your wound. “Let me patch you up.”

You let him work for about two minutes before you got bored. Then, with a sly smile, you reached out and pulled his head into your lap.

“Y/N, what are you—” Tim stammered, his face turning bright red.

“I need comfort,” you said innocently, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a good boy, Timmy.”

Tim froze, his brain short-circuiting as you hummed softly, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.

Damian’s Turn

Damian stormed into the room, clearly irritated. “Why are you whining like an infant?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

“Because I’m injured, you little gremlin,” you shot back. “Now come here and give me a hug.”

Damian scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

But when you held out your arms, looking pitiful and teary-eyed, he hesitated. Finally, with a huff, he walked over and awkwardly patted your head.

“There. Are you happy now?”

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug. “Aww, you do care, baby bird.”

Damian squawked indignantly, struggling to escape, but you held on tight. “Let me go, you lunatic!”

Bruce’s Turn

Bruce entered the med bay last, his expression as stern as ever. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Jason said, gesturing to you.

“She’s injured,” Dick corrected.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, stop harassing them and let me see the wound.”

You pouted but let him approach. As he carefully inspected the cut, you leaned your head against his arm. “Daddy Bats, you’re so gentle,” you teased.

Bruce froze, giving you a pointed look. “Do you want me to help or not?”

You grinned. “I do. But a kiss on the forehead would speed up my recovery.”

Bruce groaned, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. “You’re impossible.”

By the end of the night, you were bandaged up, pampered, and thoroughly satisfied with the attention you’d received. And while the boys all pretended to be annoyed, they couldn’t hide the fact that they cared.

If you die:

The night was eerily silent, as though the city itself knew it was about to lose its spark. Gotham was cold and unforgiving, but it had always been alive because of you—chaotic, unrelenting, and fearless. And now? Now, you were gone.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Dick (Nightwing)

Dick was the first to find you. Blood pooled beneath your broken body, your mask torn to reveal your face—pale and eerily peaceful. For the first time, he saw you. He saw the girl who was tired, scared, and brave all at once.

“Y/N!” he screamed, sliding to his knees beside you. His hands shook as he cradled your head, desperately searching for a pulse. “No, no, no! Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine!”

But you weren’t fine. You’d fought until the very end, trading jokes for grit, determination, and a ferocity none of them had truly appreciated before. And now? Dick was left holding your lifeless body, sobbing into your blood-soaked suit.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispered, his tears falling onto your face. “You were supposed to be invincible, dammit.”

Jason (Red Hood)

Jason was next, drawn by Dick’s anguished cries. The moment he saw you, his heart stopped. You, who somehow made him laugh even on his darkest days—you were gone.

He didn’t cry, not at first. He couldn’t. Instead, he fell silent, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Who did this?” he growled, his voice trembling with rage.

When no one answered, he turned to Dick, his eyes wild. “WHO DID THIS?!”

Jason’s fury was all-consuming, but beneath it was a grief so raw it threatened to break him. He knelt beside you, brushing the hair from your face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his shaking hands.

“You weren’t supposed to go out like this,” he muttered. “You were supposed to annoy us forever, you hear me? Forever, Y/N.”

Tim (Red Robin)

Tim didn’t want to believe it. He stood frozen, his mind racing to find a way—any way—to fix this. You couldn’t be dead. You were the one who called him “good boy,” who smothered him with affection, who always seemed untouchable despite your reckless behavior.

“This… this isn’t real,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “She��s faking it. She’s… she’s messing with us.”

But you weren’t. And when Tim finally accepted the truth, he collapsed. He crawled to your side, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “You can’t leave us,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I need you. We all do.”

Damian (Robin)

Damian didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He simply stood there, staring at your body as though willing you to get up. You always did when he told you to. Always.

“Get up,” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. “You’re not allowed to die.”

When you didn’t move, his composure cracked. “Y/N, I’m serious. Get up! Stop… stop playing around!”

And then, for the first time, Damian fell to his knees. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. “You’re a coward,” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice thick with emotion. “You left me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Bruce (Batman)

Bruce arrived last, his face as stoic as ever—until he saw you. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he wasn’t Batman. He wasn’t the Dark Knight. He was just a man who had failed someone he loved.

He knelt beside you, his gloved hand brushing against your cheek. “You were just a kid,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “You deserved more time.”

Bruce had seen death before, but this? This was different. You weren’t just another casualty. You were family. And he had failed you.

“I should have stopped you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you.”

Alfred’s Grief

Alfred was the one who had always known how to handle you, from the moment you spat in Bruce’s face as a child to the day you showed up in a spider suit, smugly proclaiming yourself Gotham’s best hero. You were incorrigible, maddening, and unapologetically yourself, and Alfred adored you for it.

When he heard the news, Alfred didn’t cry. Not at first. He simply closed his eyes, placed the tea tray he’d been preparing on the counter, and leaned against the sink. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge, the weight of your loss sinking into his bones.

“She was just a child,” he murmured to no one, his voice thick with grief. “My child.”

That night, Alfred cleaned your suit. He worked silently, meticulously wiping away the blood and patching up the tears as if you might walk through the door and demand it back at any moment. When he finished, he folded it neatly and placed it in the Batcave beside the others, his hands lingering on the fabric.

“She would have wanted it spotless,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The Manor felt colder without you. He found himself pausing at the sound of laughter, only to realize it wasn’t yours. He missed the way you teased him, calling him “Alfie” and sneaking cookies from the kitchen. Most of all, he missed the way you brought life into a house filled with so much darkness.

The Funeral

The Manor was silent in the days following your death. No one spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, it was barely above a whisper. Your absence was a gaping wound none of them knew how to heal.

Jason stayed in his room, punching walls until his knuckles bled. Tim buried himself in work, desperate to distract himself. Damian trained until he collapsed, refusing to let anyone see him cry. And Dick couldn’t even look at your room without breaking down.

Bruce tried to hold them all together, but even he struggled. At your funeral, he gave a speech, his voice steady but his eyes filled with sorrow.

The Aftermath

They all dealt with your death in their own way, but one thing was constant—they would never stop missing you. Every quip, every smile, every moment of chaos you brought into their lives was etched into their memories forever.

Jason would often find himself staring at the night sky, muttering, “You’d probably call me a softie for this.”

Tim would keep a photo of you on his desk, a constant reminder of the person who always believed in him.

Damian would visit your grave, silently promising to make you proud.

And Dick? Dick would tell stories about you to anyone who’d listen, keeping your memory alive.

As for Bruce? He’d sit in the Batcave late at night, staring at your suit and wondering what he could have done differently.

You may have been gone, but you would never be forgotten. You were their light. And the hole you left in their lives would never be filled.

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