#then a bruise across his jaw from Bruce

[frogaroundandfindout]

My first thought was Dick not knowing about Jason’s death until after the funeral and thus being denied the chance to be a pallbearer and carry his little brother for the last time. The next time he saw him, Jason was too big for him to carry at all.

@thebluespacecow

Dick used to give Jason piggyback rides when he was a kid and got hurt or overworked and the first time Dick got hurt when they went out on patrol together they both froze when they realized that Jason was now big enough to give Dick piggyback rides in return

[saltymarshmall0w]

beatdown buddies

(You always read fics where the pit is instantly calmed by Danny’s presence, but what if it didn’t?)

Now, you have to understand, that Jason was long past attacking strangers in a blind fury. The Bats? Sure, all the time--- but he was working on that.

This particular scrawny, possibly-homeless stranger hadn’t done anything more than simply exist in Jason’s proximity. If it was any other Crime Alley resident, Jason would be much more likely feel a surge of protectiveness.

This guy though– he was different.

Locking toxic-green eyes to toxic-green eyes made the pit in his skin violently react. Before he knew it, he was hitting the guy with everything he had, and the guy was hitting back.

The groceries Jason had left his apartment to get spilled all over the ground as the two rolled.

Pulled hair, split knuckles, and bruised bodies, the guy’s fist hit Jason’s jaw for the umpteenth time, cracking his head back and making him look at the gloomy sky.

They only used their fists. Jason could feel the familiar ghost of weapons hidden under the other guy’s hoodie, but neither pulled their hidden weapons.

Despite it all, Jason and the guy shared blood-tinged smiles. Blood boiled under his skin in an exciting trill. He was angry, and it was fantastic.

He’s pretty sure he just made a new best friend.

Someone hit Jason’s back with what could distinctly be identified as a broom. He vaguely heard the sound of yelling around him, but Jason’s only focus was getting his next hit in.

Eventually, they were stopped by a familiar shade of blue and black. Strong arms pulled him off the stranger and pinned his arms down, locking their arms over his chest to prevent Jason from getting free.

“You need to calm down!” Dickwing’s voice lectured in his ear. “You’re going to kill him!”

Surprisingly, Jason settled in Dick’s hold, fight and anger drained out of him in the space of a breath. The fire under his skin didn’t keep flaming and flaming and building it just– stopped.

“Oh, Please.” The stranger was grinning widely, despite the model of developing bruises and cuts across his face. A burly man who Jason vaguely recognized worked at the store they were standing right in front of was both holding up and holding back the guy. “We were just saying ‘Hi’.”

The guy made eye contact with Jason. Blue, no hints of green anywhere. The guy winked. “Danny.”

Frankly, Jason couldn’t quite explain his actions. He felt stupidly chastized by Nightwing’s patented older brother stare of disappointment. Apparently, the guy couldn’t explain his actions either, as he disappeared the instant no one’s eyes were on him.

-

Jason arrived an hour early to Wayne Sunday family dinner. He missed cooking alongside Alfred, and offered his help.

He let Dick wrap an arm around his shoulder for a few seconds as a welcome. He didn’t seethe at Bruce simply being there. He chose to sit between Tim and the Demon brat when it looked like new fratricide plans were being drawn up by the younger.

The pit didn’t scream under his skin to hurt. Little things didn’t set him off, making him have to leave early. He wasn’t tempted to throttle anyone for existing around him.

The pit was just… quiet. Peaceful even. Well, as peaceful as it could get in the Wayne household.

It was a massive improvement compared to six months ago— hell, compared to last month.

He shrugged off inquiries about his black eye, citing it would heal quickly anyway.

-

Jason should have known he wasn’t safe.

Sure, he was on a roof one could only grapple to, across the city from crime alley, and dressed up as Red Hood.

However, Danny always reappeared periodically like a well-timed extremely therapeutic punching bag.

One moment, Jason was looking down over the streets of Gotham the next, he was being flying-kicked by a lithe frame. Something instantly recognized Danny so, rather the putting a bullet in him, Jason picked himself back up into a crouch and lunged at Danny.

“Hood? Hood what’s going on?” Someone called in his ear— Oh, right he had connected comms with his family that night.

Danny stopped suddenly, straddling Jason’s stomach, one hand fisting his collar, the other posed to strike. He blinked. glowing green eyes turned blue. “You’re not like, busy doing vigilante stuff, are you?” He asked.

Every bruise and cut from their last fight was gone, his baby face appeared as though it had never been punched in his life, making him look all the more punchable.

“Nope.” Jason answered, driving an elbow into the kid’s stomach and in the same motion ripped the comm out of his ear to toss it to the side.

Minutes later Danny was pulled off him, and the fire under his skin died down.

He blinked back into his surroundings to find himself on a rooftop with half of Gotham’s vigilantes standing in a circle around him, an unease that he could only read because he was so familiar with them written in all of their body languages. Batman held Danny slightly behind himself, keeping a firm grasp on the guy so he couldn’t escape.

“You claimed the rage was getting better.” Bruce stated in the way that meant he was supposed to answer his unasked questions..

Jason waited for rage and indignance to rise up in him, but rather he just considered that Bruce saw glowing green eyes and a brutal beat down and made a logical leap.

“It has!” Jason argued anyway. He sniffed and ran a hand under his slightly bleeding nose. It didn’t sting enough to be broken. “I haven’t lost my cool in months.”

“That’s what he has me for!” Danny chimed happily. His nose was broken, but Danny didn’t seem to mind the twin streaks of blood running down his face. “We’re friends with Benefits. It’s always healthy to have a little dead-guy on dead-guy action. You guys should really fight with him more often, his ectoplasm is rank.”

[fanfic-obsessed]

Feral Tim

I have found I have a great love for Feral Tim Drake. This is a Tim Drake who has built his own moral code in an echoing, empty house and tracking vigilantes across rooftops. First it should be noted that Tim’s loyalty is tied closer to Robin than it is to Batman.  That his motivation for blackmailing Bruce to become Robin was more toward saving Robin’s Dad and Robin’s legacy than saving Batman. 

Little Tim Drake is Obsessively, Desperately, Dangerously protective of the Robin legacy and his predecessor Robins, particularly Robin #2 Jason Todd.  It becomes well known in Gotham, really quickly that it is not a good idea to insult Robin while Robin #3 is around.  

As always, I have no idea what is cannon here.

Like, if you insult Robin #3 to his face, you will get a laugh and an agreement-He will still stop you from your crimes but you won’t end up extra hurt. If you insult Robin in general, Robin #3 will be more aggressive in taking you down and you will get some extra bruises. If you insult Robin #1, you can expect at least one additional broken bone, which bone depends on the insult. However if you insult Robin #2, Robin #3 will bite and he will bite to the bone; you will be mauled and chances are Batman will have to pull Robin #3 off you. 

Count of Bites, before all of Gotham got the point: 4 low level criminals, 3 civilians (all of which were drunk, belligerent, and woke up the next day confused about their injuries), no less than 16 assorted Goons, and The Penguin. 

I want you to take a moment to picture Batman, who got a bit less violent after getting Robin #3 but got substantially less violent because he had to be a tired dad prying his little gremlin’s jaws off The Penguin. Everyone is distinctly uncomfortable with Batman apologizing to The Penguin. 

So Gothamites, no matter the type, learned that one does not insult Robin #2 ever. In fact avoid insulting Robins, unless you are specific enough to be insulting Robin #3 (Though they would not have cause to know for several more years, this protectiveness extended to both Robin #4, the girl Robin, and Robin # 5, the Stabby Robin). Batman gets less violent by virtue of now chasing after a child with negative fear responses (Seriously, Scarecrow once dosed him with his latest fear gas and Robin #3 did not even appear to notice). Gotham, as a whole (Goons, Civilians, all of the other Rogues, other vigilantes) and without consulting each other, decides that Robin #3 and The Joker cannot ever meet. There is a herculean, sustained effort by all of the Rogues and Goons to keep the Joker distracted until Batman can send Robin away whenever the Joker breaks out. Consensus is that no one quite knows which will come out victorious, but there would be substantial damage. Also, Robin would end up biting the Joker and no one is sure what the Joker’s blood would do to him.

We fast forward to Red Hood taking over Crime Alley. He does not notice but the first time he ranted about Robin every one of his subordinates, plus the three Black Mask Goons in the room, flinches. They all relax when it becomes clear that the Robin Red Hood takes offense to is Robin #3.   No one quite knows how to tell Red Hood that, for his health, he should stop insulting Robins (there had never been any real discussion about it). Black Mask and Ivy, at separate times, try to awkwardly pass on the warning but did not quite get the message across (there really is no way to phrase “The tiny child in the traffic light colors is dangerous and will do you actual damage if you disparage his personal hero, the dead Robin”). 

As soon as it got around that Red Hood hunts Robins, with Robin #3 specifically being a target, Batman does ship him out to Titan Tower at once, but not for the reason that Red Hood thinks.  It is not actually to protect Robin, not really. It’s because Batman has figured out that Red Hood was once Jason, and he knows down to his bones that Tim’s moral compass stays on this side of the killing line because he believes that both Jason and Dick would have a problem with him killing.  If he finds out that Jason, the preferred of the two, is ok with killing, that line goes out the window.  And then Batman is going to need to put Robin on a child leash. 

So Red Hood goes to attack a Robin far from the nest and it starts about how he expected. He got in a few good hits, and his replacement actually does have some decent moves. Then Jason makes a disparaging remark about ‘the Robin that died’ that, had he been allowed to finish his sentence, would have circled back around to insulting Tim. However he was not allowed to finish his sentence because instead of fighting on human teen, he was suddenly fighting some kind of demon (metaphorically), who in between mauling him (and how the fuck is this kid biting through kevlar, Jason would like to know) is screaming about how Red Hood was not allowed to talk about Tim’s Robin like that. 

For a few moments Red Hood gets to realize Robin is not locked in with him, he is locked in with Robin.  Then one of Robin’s attacks pulls off the helmet (no bombs at this time, thankfully). As soon as Tim sees Jason’s face he stops attacking and hugs him tightly, babbling about how good it is to see him alive and apologizing for attacking him as Tim thought it was just some villain being disrespectful.  Tim pulls him through to the med bay to treat his injuries. 

While Jason is being treated, and they wait for the lockdown to lift, Jason is struck by the realization that if he even implied he wanted it, Tim would go try to collect the Joker’s head for him.  This is quickly followed by the terrifying realization that Jason is 45% of this child’s moral compass (With Dick being about 30% with the remaining 25% being all Tim). 

The Pit Rage is practically running from this level of crazy. 

Jason finds himself escorting Tim back to the Cave, with Jason low key panicking.  While there is some sympathy in the form of Dick, it turns out that Dick and Tim have a similar way of thinking (except where Tim imprinted on the two Robins, Dick imprinted on Bruce and Alfred) and the same recklessness. It’s Bruce that Jason finds himself bonding with (Is Jason weirded out by the fact that, of his siblings, Jason-with his supernaturally enhanced anger and the bag of heads- is the most stable? Yes, Yes it does) as he desperately tries to keep Tim from doing damage (both physical and psychic) other people.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Matters of Fact

CW: Mentions of death, mentions of mind-altering drug use, manipulation.

The Arkham Knight knows what he is, until he doesn't ~1.2k words

The Arkham Knight is a bad person. He knows this. Knows it even as he slips under the covers of your bed. Knows it when he leaves grime and dirt tracked across your windowsill and the floor of your room.

The Arkham Knight is cruel. He knows this when he leaves after you ask him to stay. Knows this when he disappears for days on end to plan his revenge, to train his men.

Knows it when he makes you cry and beg for someone he isn't.

The Arkham Knight is twisted. He knows this when he kills the man who gave you his number. He knows it when he holds you close and consoles you, tells you that guy wasn't worth dating anyway.

Knows it when he tells you that you don't need anyone but him.

The Arkham Knight is obsessed. He knows this because he dreams of the way your lips feel against his skin, the way your fingers thread through his hair, the way your pulse flutters against his hand.

He knows this because he can't seem to leave you alone, even if it would be better for you, and for him.

The Arkham Knight is a liar. He knows this when he tells you Bruce is going to keep him from seeing you. That his enemies will hunt you down, hurt you to get to him. That it's safer, to be tucked away in his base with him.

The Arkham Knight is mean. He knows this when you yell at him over his men stopping you from leaving his base. He knows it when he yells right back, when he grins wickedly as you snap at him in return.

Knows it when you don't shy away as he stalks towards you, tugging off his helmet and grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss.

Knows it when you slam your fist against the plates of his armor before kissing him right back.

The Arkham Knight is sick, knows it when he slips a fine powder into your drink the night he takes over Gotham. It's nothing that'll hurt you, at least, that's what he tells himself.

The drug only makes you happy, relaxed, more compliant when he drags you from safe house to safe house without explanation.

The Arkham Knight is a mess. He knows this because he's not exactly the Arkham Knight anymore. His symbol torn from his chest, his helmet no longer blue but a bloody red. He knows this because he's crying.

He knows this because he's on his knees in front of you, and you look like you don't if you're going to hit him or hug him.

He knows he deserves to be hit. But he so desperately wants you to hug him. You don't do either. You kiss him. His heart is in his throat. He thinks maybe there's a chance for him.

He's not sure what that chance is. Maybe it's to be good. To be better. To really be with you.

But then you say goodbye. Then you break his heart. Then you leave.

He knows he deserves it for what he's done.

Red Hood knows he isn't good. He's not completely bad, but he's definitely not good. He knows this because people flinch when he saves them. He knows this because there's a trail of bodies in his wake.

But he also knows every single one of them deserved it. He thinks maybe that does make him evil.

Red Hood aches for you. He knows this because he finds himself following the familiar path to your apartment before catching himself.

He knows this because he still dreams of you curled at his side, your mouth pressing kisses to his jaw, your fingers tracing the lines of his back.

Red Hood is a shell of a man. He knows this because he goes back to his dirty, disrepaired apartment, and all he sees is gray.

He knows this because his days and nights are robotic, driven only by the mission. The hole that the death of Batman left in Gotham.

Red Hood is weak. He knows this because he opened the door when you came to his apartment. He knows this because he let you sleep on his bed while he stayed on the couch, unable to rest knowing you're so close but so far from him.

Red Hood is in love with you. He knows this because he'd do anything you asked, and everything you won't.

He knows this because when you break down in the morning over breakfast, when you finally tell him why you came to him, he tugs you to his chest and lets you cry.

Red Hood has no mercy. He knows this because he takes his time killing the man who frightened you. He knows this because he doesn't react to the begging, the screams, the terror in his eyes.

He only feels a sick sense of satisfaction, knowing you won't have to be scared of that disgusting creep ever again.

Jason Todd is dumbfounded by you. You keep showing up at his apartment door. He keeps letting you in, as if he could ever turn you away. You keep making him meals, filling his fridge, adding your things to his apartment.

There's throw pillows and blankets on his couch with your favorite colors. Your favorite movie is paused on the TV. You sleep in his bed more often than not, even if he never joins you.

Jason Todd has no idea how to treat you. He's only even made mistakes with you, only ever done things that should terrify you and drive you away.

But you keep coming back, even after the body of the man who hurt you was found by the police.

Jason Todd wants to be good, at least for you. So he tries. He knows he isn't great at words, but he tries to soften his voice. He knows his touch is rough, so he tries to be still and gentle when you lean into his side.

He knows he's scary looking, so he tries to be smaller when you're around. He knows what he does is dangerous, so he sets up even better security in his apartment, and with permission, yours.

He knows there's something wrong with him, so he reminds you not to hang around him so much.

He doesn't know why you don't listen. Doesn't know why you kiss his cheek, why you start to lead him from the couch to sleep next to you in his bed.

He doesn't know why you sleep curled at his side, on his chest, a leg thrown over his thigh. He knows a lot of things, knows a lot about you.

But does he understand why you kiss his scars and nuzzle his shoulder?

No. Absolutely not. But he doesn't think he needs to. Not when you tell him you'd like to sell your apartment. Not when he gets to help you move the last of your things to his your shared bedroom.

Not when he knows he loves you. Not when you say you love him. Not when he knows it's true.

[moonwqves]

⋮ 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

───〃★ bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — SUMMARY | shower sex after a night on patrol. ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.2k ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; pwp ; unprotected sex ; mentions of blood/injuries

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

most nights when bruce gets back to the manor, you’re still asleep. in the early hours of the morning, just before the sky begins to lighten, he doesn’t expect you to still be awake as he sheds all his gear and trudges his way upstairs.

but some nights you wait up for him, occupying yourself with a book or a new tv series as you sit curled up in your chair in the dark.

he assumes you’re still in bed sleeping soundly and he heads quietly into the bathroom to start cleaning himself up, not noticing that you’re silently watching. he’s known for being stealthy, but tonight you’re the one who’s slipping into the shadows.

his clothes hit the floor piece by piece as he turns the water on and strips bare, the steam from the shower quickly filling the room with heat and fogging up the mirror.

the hot water stings the bloody cuts on his knuckles, and he hisses as he runs his hands beneath the shower stream, watching the blood wash down the drain. they’re just minor scrapes and it’s nothing he isn’t used to by now, but it’s always a chore to take care of himself at the end of the night.

you open the bathroom door just a crack and peek your head inside to call his name, and instantly his head whips around at the noise. droplets of water collect in his eyelashes as he stares at you, his piercing gaze locked with yours as tears of black eyeliner roll down his cheeks, the warm water melting away his dark exterior. he's tired, he's aching and bruised from this routine of difficult nights, but everything disappears the second he sees you.

you pause as he wipes his hand across his eyes, smearing the fading makeup even further before he jerks his head to beckon you to join him, and you quickly start to undress. your clothes slip off, collecting in a pile on the floor next to his as you slide back the glass door and step inside.

your heart races as his eyes silently roam over your figure, streams of water trickling down his toned chest, and you can’t help but study him in return. you reach out to trace your fingers over the old scars that litter his skin, and you note the fresh scratches and cuts he’s earned himself while out in the city tonight.

you start to pull away to grab the soap, but his hand wraps around your wrist and you freeze, looking up at him. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

he leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms sliding down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

his hand on your hip travels lower to grope your ass, and he squeezes a little harder when you let out a gasp against his lips, relishing in the responses he’s drawing from you. he starts to move and suddenly you feel the ice cold tile of the shower wall against your back, and you arch away from it instinctively, seeking the warmth of his body.

a large hand grips your thigh and hikes your leg up around his waist, securing your ankle behind the back of his thigh for balance. his pelvis presses between your legs, and you can already feel his cock hardening against your skin.

“bruce,” you whine as you try to rock your hips against him, desperate for the friction he provides.

he doesn’t reply but he lets out a soft noise under his breath, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and he attaches his lips to your neck just below your ear.

he pushes himself into you and you gasp, your heat enveloping his length as you cling to him. your legs tremble as he begins to thrust slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck even tighter. you can feel his biceps flexing around you as he holds you against the wall, supporting nearly all of your weight as he starts to build up his pace. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the shower or if it’s sweat.

even after a night of patrol and the physical toll it takes on him, bruce’s stamina far outweighs yours. it only takes minutes before he has you whimpering and clenching around him, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace.

he pulls back to adjust his hips, giving him a better angle to drive his cock into you so that his tip kisses your spot with each stroke. he can tell you’re about to cum when he feels you starting to pull away from him, all the tension in your body building up like a dam about to break as your back arches and you squirm in his grasp.

with one more pointed thrust you come undone, a constant stream of whines pouring from your lips like the shower water pouring down his back. he doesn’t let up until your body goes limp in his arms, fucking you through your orgasm while you can barely keep yourself standing up straight.

suddenly he swoops in and presses his lips to your mouth once again, his perfect pace slipping and becoming more and more erratic, and you know he’s close behind. with your leg behind him you pull him closer, giving him just enough extra leverage to bury himself inside you as deep as he can go before his release slams into him.

his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he keeps you held tightly against him, letting out low, deep groans as he spills into you. warmth floods your stomach and you exhale a shaky whimper as you start to come down from the dizzying effects of your high.

just before you feel your leg starting to cramp up he pulls back, slipping out of you but keeping his arms still firmly around you to keep you supported. he tilts his head down to study you, secretly preening at the fucked-out look on your face. he looks much worse off, his cuts and scrapes still forming scabs and the black makeup streaked across his cheeks, but he’s still more concerned about you than himself.

he gives you a moment to stand on your own, and he smirks when you immediately reach again for the soap and start to scrub at his body with a loofah.

he lets you pamper him for now, because he knows neither of you will be getting any sleep until dawn.

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send an ask!

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :)

a/n: this is my first time posting outside of my main fandom, but it was a lot of fun to write && i am really excited to continue writing new things!! i hope you enjoy, please interact (reblog, comment, ask) if you liked it!

[kurogxrix]

Under Wraps

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

IN WHICH Bruce and you deal with the aftermath of your kidnapping.

WC: 1.8k

warnings: ANGST, mentions of kidnapping, injuries, PTSD, soft!Bruce.

A/N: Ive l’ost all motivation in writing as of recently and had to FORCE myself to write this for a whole ass month😭 so it’s really nothing great.

The tense silence that lingered between you two was suffocating, albeit all windows in the room being wide open. You just couldn’t get yourself to speak, and Bruce just didn’t know what to say. He never does, but you love him either way. it’s funny to see the cocky billionaire flaunt all of his riches out to the world while he softens for you.

You sat upon the edge of your shared bed with your head in your hands, unable to make out whatever you husband was fumbling with behind you. The feeling of being in the opposite man’s grasp was so fresh to you, like a new scar that your brain harboured. Not only mentally, but the haunting mark across your wrists and neck were yet another temporary reminder of what had happened to you that night.

Oftentimes throughout the night you found yourself being ashamed for a reason or the other. Your husband’s been through worse, so have your sons, and yet your brain couldn’t help but replay the disturbing images of the moment you’d lost Bruce at the gala. You sighed in the comfort of your hands, forcing your eyelids shut impossibly further than they already were to try and shoo the nightmares away. 

Your clothes laid messily somewhere across the floor, a bloody and muddy mess that Bruce had quickly drawn off of you before ushering you into a warm shower. He’d then dressed you in a silky robe, and that was the end of it before you’d end up on the edge of the bed, alone with your thoughts despite your husband being in the same room as you.

Your ears fell deaf to the sound of constant rustling of cloth, so much that you failed to hear him crouch before you as he settled comfortably on his knees. 

Rough hands gently pried at your own, pulling them away from their protective stance around your face. The sudden lack of covering made you scrunch your nose in dismay, but a quick look from those hazel eyes before you had you relaxing. Bruce made a quick work out of the situation, silent as ever as his hands came to undo the knot around your robe that he himself had previously tied. 

You didn’t complain as his hands pushed at your robe, revealing the naked torso that Bruce had seen so many times before. The soft sigh that escaped your husband didn’t go deaf to your ears, and you closed your eyes once more as you awaited for the tingly feeling of his fingers. Seconds passed in sterile silence before you finally felt the scarred skin upon your own, except instead of balm covered fingers, you were met with his warm, bare ones. 

You opened your eyes to the sight of your dishevelled husband staring down at your bruised torso, the balms and bandages that were once in his left hand now abandoned beside you on the bed. His right hand held onto your side like an anchor, wide thumb pressing against your stomach. Bruce kneeling between your open legs was a sight that you’d never get tired of, but this time you could only pray for it to end. 

Hazel iris traced the dark spots littering your torso with a shame that was beyond their ability. Tiny hairs across his hairline stuck to his forehead due to cold sweat, and you brought a hand down to smooth them behind, little to no care for the tacky fluid rubbing onto your hand. Slowly by slowly, you began caressing your way down his face, smoothing out the wrinkles accumulating on his face before stopping on the edge of his jaw. 

The feeling of your fingers, alive and warm upon his freshly shaven jaw caused his fingers to involuntary clench on your side. The painful hiss that escaped your mouth was enough to snap your husband out of his stance, fingers almost immediately unclenching from their grip. 

Masochistic as it was, you were somewhat glad for the pain. It reminded you that you were alive and well, there in the mansion with your husband. It also managed to get those brown eyes that you loved so much to snap upwards towards you. They held so many feelings in there that you believed you could not be able to tend to them all in one night.

“I’m sorry,” it left his lips faster than your brain could comprehend, and you were left dumbfounded yourself at those two little words. Meaningless in most relationships, those words were nothing that you’d ever hear coming on of the one and only Bruce Wayne’s lips. He was cocky, always flaunting his riches to those who seeked. 

“It’s okay, it only hurt for a second.” you lied, because the throbbing pain still coursing through your right side threatened to sell you out. You could tell that Bruce wasn’t buying it, so much for being Gotham’s greatest detective. Nevertheless, your hand resumed its delicate caressing upon his cheek, a ruse to take his mind away from the little slip up. 

You could practically see the gears turning inside his head, trying to decipher why in hell you would be lying to him about this out of everything. Yet again he’d worried far too much over you in one night, you wouldn’t let his mind collapse over something so minor. 

Bruce didn’t wait for your approval before shifting on his knees, hands grabbing at the balms that looked humorously tiny compared to his large palm. The cold paste spreads smoothly upon the tip of his fingers, and soon they’re on your skin. The sensation made you flinch, but the reassuring hand that laid on your knee made you calm down. You thought it was crazy how such a simple thing could make you relax so easily, yet again marriage and love were another crazy thing of their own.

Your fingers clenched on their own as you felt

your throat tightening. No. Hell no, you wouldn’t let Bruce see you cry after the hectic course of fucking hell of days that you’d put him through. That selfless side of you that was present most of the time was yelling at you to stay strong, and yet the sight of your burly, rough and yet caring husband doting after you following your accident, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

You fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging little crescent moon into the skin of your palm as

you gritted your teeth together to hold in a loud sob threatening to escape past your lips involuntarily. From his spot on the floor, Bruce froze at the sight of the soft, rhythmic movements that swayed at your chest. From the corner of his eyes nevertheless, and in the dimness of the enclosed room, his senses never failed him.

Tilting his face up to meet your own, his fingers unwillingly clenched around the poor tin can of balm upon his hands. The tears that you were trying so hard to keep in pooled at your waterline, entangling in your bottom lashes before escaping on their own accord. He watched as your chest shook, exasperation taking over your body before you could even cry to him. Yet you weren’t doing it, and for some reason Bruce knew that he had some part to play in it. 

He remained silent as his hand came to clutch onto your own. Then, the sobs shook you and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You jumped from your seat on the edge of the bed and straight into his awaiting embrace, arms thrown tightly around the broad neck. Bruce felt his heart squeezing at the sound of your distraught cries, like the Joker himself had his heart placed and chained on some sort of death carousel. 

Nothing was more painful to Bruce than family. The bad and the good hurt. Like when happiness would grasp at his heart so hard that it’d physically hurt. Only family could achieve that for him, yet life wasn’t always favourable, and the bat knew that better than anyone else. He could make a list of things, one shittier and more tragic than the other, that’s happened to Bruce ever since he was but a little boy, and yet, his heart never got more of in a twist than at the sight of a member of his family hurting. 

Your breath staggered, and your husband felt the warm exhale of you trying to stabilise yourself upon his neck. A large, ringless, and warm palm found its way to the small of your back like a collarless dog chasing home. Suddenly, another bare hand fell upon your back as Bruce embraced you against his chest fully. 

The room was void of any noise save for the agonising sounds of your pained sobs. Bruce didn’t need to ask anything, he didn’t need to inquire to know that you were hurt. All the more scared and traumatised after your encounter with the Joker. His large palm rubbed comforting circles along your back as you laid motionless in his warm embrace. 

“You’re home now,” he muttered, as though it would help appease all of the new scars and fears that you'd acquired in the span of a few days. 

“I’m glad.” you breathed out from your position in the crook of his neck, feeling like you’d break down again if you spoke too much. The both of you occupied your positions on the floor for far longer than normal, only splitting apart to rejoin the comfort of the soft mattress after you’d whined in pain following a slight movement to adjust yourself on his lap. 

Bruce made a quick and effortless job of carrying you back to bed, pausing in his movements when you’d told him you’d feel better to sleep with the side lamp on tonight. The frown on his face deepened at your comment, yet he didn’t allow you to see it as he kept his back to you despite complying. Settling in bed was even harder for you than you expected, unable to wrap your arms around the muscular torso of your husband and rest your head upon his chest as your injury unabled you to. 

Sleep didn’t come easy either, plagued with nightmares that previously didn’t exist in the far back of your mind. Bruce was here with you through it all, his sleeping habits aiding him to wake by the moment you’d stir awake. That night, Batman slept but Bruce didn’t, but the feeling of your pulse regaining its normal beat as you laid with your back against his chest erased Bruce’s ability to care. Safe and sound under the wraps.

-

anyways that was that….

[nouearth]

sweet surrender.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: there's nothing better than taking your anger out on someone you hate (and fucked).

wc: 2.3k. genre: smut. warnings: bale!bruce, top!bruce, bottom!reader, bigdick!bruce, bratty!reader breeding, mouth-fucking, rough!sex, hate!sex, choking, drooling, spitting, mentions of pain slash pleasure, bruce has a dick that won't quit.

hate sex with bruce included kissing you with a sense of urgency. he overwhelmed you with the intrusion of his tongue. you resisted, but the wet muscle parted your lips so easily despite your efforts, and all you could do was fight back with a stronger force.

he held you against the wall, pinned you, but you utilized a surprising strength to push against his hold and bit down on his tongue in midst. an accidental move on your part, but you hated him. it made your chest swell hearing him cuss you out, and so you did it again, across his bottom lip where he'd groan again, before licking the insides of his mouth as if you were the potion to soothe his wounds.

fuck you. he'd grumble, breathing hot into your mouth after he slammed back into the wall. he speared a glare at you, into the fervent display of your eyes, and forced his lips back onto you. he hated kissing you. he hated the way your lips perfectly fit into his. he hated how your breath mixed sweetly with the scent of roasted coffee beans of his. he hated the sound of your moans when he pressed his body into yours. he hated the fact that he was pressing so close to you, practically attached to your hip.

and he hated the fact that there was not a single moment where he wanted to pull away.

fuck you. you spat at him, leered at the way his hair sweatily yet perfectly hung over his eyes as if it was a protective barrier that prevented you from dissecting his current feelings and emotion.

bruce vied for control—a dominance—that was proclaimed triumphant when he put his hands on you.

one strong hand of his laced over your hair, thick bundles at his grip, and he pulled your head back in one swift yank. your eyes opened in shock followed by a rattled groan, and a somewhat unnerving fear that you didn't want to admit led you to avoid his eyes.

bruce took his time eyeing your throat, the slow bob of your adam's apple as you thickly swallowed the ghost of coffee beans down, awaiting his next move. was he going to kiss you again? mark hickies all over you? bite hickies into you until you bled? looking beneath your eyelashes, his eyes sharpened, and for some reason, you suddenly felt smaller.

the silence around you fell to a quiet, menacing drone when he raised his free hand and one-by-one, slowly wrapped his fingers around your throat. everything was precise with him. he made sure the protrusion in your throat was centered at the space between his thumb and index. he made sure to let go of your hair so he could press you flat against the wall again, restricting your movements. and he made sure to squeeze, triggering a defiance in you, beating and pushing at his chest that only made him squeeze harder, harder, and harder.

your breath was vaulted in the back of your throat with staggers of profanity managing to slip out. you pretended it didn't affect you. despite your losing grasp in reality as bruce gradually stripped you of air, you powered through and wore a glare that crowned you a champion. he groaned. a warrior. he clenched his jaw. a king. he squeezed. and your crown shattered in a million pieces when your vision blurs, when your eyes gloss like varnish on wood, and when you shut them and a tear rolled down the flush of your cheeks.

and bruce knew he'd won when he let go, and you were gasping desperately for air. heaving as you rubbed at your neck, wincing because the muscle fibers were signaling in thrums that you were going to be bruising the morning after. though, it wouldn't be long until you found your breath completely stripped away from you again.

hate sex with bruce included forcing you down on your knees before finding a perfect grasp on the back of your head and pushing your mouth down his cock. you hated how thick he was, making you look even more meek because it was a struggle to even take in the first few inches. you coughed when he pushed lower, then gagged when the girth of his cock weighed down on your tongue and pushed air back down your throat, blocking your air passage.

open your mouth. he wasn't satisfied, mocking in his tone as he yanked your head back, and you'd use the few seconds to catch your breath as you drew your tongue out, hanging your mouth open. it was intimidating to see him in this position, towering over you as if you were a peasant to his kingdom, or like an animal as your pants were akin to one, but you'd never admit that as you glared upwards. he extended your head further back, yanked again, before thickly spitting into your mouth. or in bruce's own words, lubing your mouth.

as much control he had over you, you weren't going to take it—not like this. you scrunched your face before spitting up back at him, a few speckles landing at his cheek. it was a daring move, one that silenced the room until you could hear your heartbeat resonating through the stereos in his house.

do that again, i dare you. bruce warned—demanded—as his grasp only tightened, his cock hardening before you as it pulsed with anger. and instead of spitting, you let your saliva completely spill out, pushing it out in bubbly sputters as your tongue hung out, a move to mock him and his demands.

or what? going to fuck my mouth or something? despite his grip on you, it was loose enough for you to allow you to extend your neck and lick a stride at the underside of his meaty cock. he watched you in silence, his bare chest gradually heaving more with irritation. he was breathing through his nose, an obvious attempt to control the flame you ignited him, while you continued lazily tonguing at his cock at the plump head. you added to the glorious sheen his pre-cum had bestowed upon the pink flesh over time, lapping the thick musk up in several licks.

you'd get your answer when bruce threw you over the bed and onto your stomach. your cock found pleasurable refuge in the tousled duvet beneath you and you rocked your hips into the pocket of fabric as you waited for him, hearing him uncapping a bottle of some sort and the sounds of sticky lathers after.

jesus, what's taking so— without warning, bruce intruded into your tight hole with a slow, yet unbearable push. you pushed away, or attempted to escape from the sheer amount of pain beneath you, but he reeled you back by taking your shoulders and pinning them down to the mattress. it knocked the breath out of you. his cock, spreading you open so vividly painful, you could feel every stretch of muscle being pried open despite your natural will to enclose around him.

you opened your mouth, thinking your whimpers would come out, but your throat constricted instead, locking them back in until bruce delivered one hard snap of his strong hips, dispelling the gate to which your groans poured out in staggered and bitter pants. your toes curled at the stinging sensation, and your hands fisted into whatever fabric was in your had, but why did you love it? why did you love feeling like a doll with absolute no use in the world... except for fucking? for bruce's fucking?

think you can still run your mouth? bruce asked with no expectations of a coherent answer from you. he squeezed hard at every flesh and bone he'd come across. the back of your neck, your shoulders, your arms, your waist, bruising while the driving of his hips seemed to have been at competition with his own physical touch to see which could make you break first.

his hand ran over your back muscles, the dip of your spine, before traveling back upwards to shove your face into the mattress, once again restricting your way to life, to living, to breathing. his thick cock fucked into you while a glorious amount of lube creamed out of your violated hole, squelching and squishing with every thrust bruce would deliver in strong and heavy rhythms. he hated you. his bruising touch was evidence of that, already blooming beautiful against your skin, and he hated that he made the mistake of marking you because now you're marked as his.

you'd whine for him to keep fucking you, only because his movements rocked you into the duvet, making you fuck into the pocket of fabric. soft yet fuzzy against your skin, it was uncomfortable but you knew bruce wouldn't make you cum through his own touch. it was up to you, and you were selfish, needed to be selfish to achieve your own desires and pleasures.

you'd gotten used to the pain, soon turning into bittersweet, eye-rolling pleasure, finding yourself fucking your ass back into his thrusts, back into his meaty and throbbing cock. your ass rippled every time your skin met his, slapped loudly in the lust-driven air, and the sweat on your kindled bodies only made it more inviting as it stuck and glued you two together in a sticky mess, intertwined and passionate.

bruce held you by the hips, his fingers digging to the bone, bringing your ass back into him while he thrusted forward, ramming into you as hard as he could muster the power to in quick bursts before pacing back down into long and steady thrusts. he loved doing that. he loved hearing your moans ratter with the quickness of his thrusts. your long and drawn out hiss when he pulled out almost completely. you'd desperately wish for him to put it back in, and bruce wouldn't absolutely comply until you began whining, begging for him like a whore in heat.

please, please, please. i need it. you desperately cried out, the rim of your hole clinging onto for sanity—the very tip of his cock that you could feel bruce teasingly swirl around your hole.

you need what? bruce asked for clarification, a strong emphasis on what, and he'd pull his cock out to sheathe it in between your ass cheeks. his palms spanked you once, then again when you wouldn't answer, before groping your two soft globes and firmly kneading them until he could visibly see his handprints imprinted on your flesh. he'd fuck himself in between your cheeks, groaning at the lack of tightness compared to your pretty asshole. he felt himself coming close, and if he wanted to, he could come just like this, selfishly watching himself pour his spunk all over your back.

your cock, please. i need your big cock in me, fuck. i need you to fuck me until i'm thinking about that cock for weeks, fuck me like you hate me— fuck! your words croaked into the bed sheets, and you were apprehensive if it was enough for bruce. it was embarrassing because of how quickly submissive you became all because of his cock. you hated bruce, but not his cock. you could never. you needed him more than ever because you were close and you needed to come so bad, so fucking bad. you humped into the blanket, your hole quivering at the loss of girth, desperately enticing back bruce with multiple puckers.

like i hate you..? i despise you. bruce breathed out his final words near the shell of your ear before sheathing himself completely inside of you with one push, then proceeded to fucking you without caring that his full weight was toppled on you. without caring that the neighbors could hear your grunts and his mixing like a choir. the sloppy sounds of skin-to-skin contact turning it into a symphony of delectable sounds that he could simply get off to if he wanted to.

you kicked your feet, the immense pleasure quickly building up as if bruce hadn't taken a pause with you prior, and you were back to fucking into the blanket again. over and over, your cock slid into the soft fabric deeper until you were practically fucking a pile of fabric rather than a pocket.

and you came. your cock released your desires in thick, full shots that would stain the material for a lifetime, and you'd cream into them because bruce continued fucking you. continued fucking your ass, churning his cock in and out of you wildly until he felt his own release coming in heavy marches, like soldiers preparing for battle.

you could hear him pant, breathe a little harder and quicker than before, and his grasp tightens around your hips when he pulled his weight off of you. he loved using like this. not fucking you, but using your body to fuck him. he used his remaining strength to maneuver your hips—your body—almost lifting you as he fucked his thick cock, utilizing your hole like a fleshlight until he felt his balls startle, then twitch, then pumped in several course as his cock swelled with a desire to fill.

with a guttural moan, he slammed you back into his cock once more before his balls dumped his cum into you. thick and heavy, you can feel it coating every inch of your walls, then creamy as bruce pursued an ambition to milk himself. his fucking sounded sloppier than before as he churned himself inside of you, over-filling you with passionate hate, and you could feel it dripping out of you, down your thighs and legs and an unfortunate waste as it most likely stained the bed, the longer he used you like an abused toy.

once his cock went limp, bruce pulled out and watched with undeniable admiration as your loose hole squeezed his cum out in thick dribbles, unable to hold his warm loads for any longer because you were deservingly well-fucked and bred.

god, i hate you.

hate you more.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[yasmindifference]

trick or treat!! 👻🎃

Jason very literally aches from head to toe--from his likely concussion to his broken toe and everything in between, including the cracked ribs, sprained wrist, and the deep puncture wound in his right shoulder.

He needs proper medical attention, probably. Definitely.

All he can really muster up the energy to do is collapse on his couch with a couple of ice packs.

After that, he either dozes off or passes out. Hard to say, really. Whichever one it is, he misses Tim's arrival. He has no idea he's not alone until a thump startles him back into awareness.

It takes a few panicky seconds to connect the sound to Tim, who's kneeling next to the couch and staring at him in horror, and then a few more to figure that thump was Tim's knees hitting the floor.

And he's definitely got a concussion, because it's not until after he's slurred out a worried, "What's wrong?" that he realizes the horror on Tim's face is for him.

"Jason," Tim says, shocked. He cups Jason's face carefully, fingers soft against the bruises blooming across his cheek and jaw. "What happened?"

There's a smart answer on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't have the energy for snark. "Lost a fight."

Tim's hand ghosts over his shoulder, gently feeling the edges of the bandage, and then skips down to hover over his ribs. Sitting up to look would be fucking agony, but Jason knows his whole ribcage must be covered in developing bruises.

"Jason," Tim says again. His hand returns to the bandage. "Do you need Leslie?"

Jason starts to shake his head, but luckily controls the impulse before it can do more than ache in warning. Kinda feels like if he moves it too much, it'll fall right off.

"Nah," he says instead. "He wasn't trying to kill me, just make me suffer."

Tim makes a hurt little sound. "Who did this to you?"

There's an undertone to it, something angry and dangerous beneath the sweet concern. That's Red Robin there, lurking in the back of Tim's gaze and promising vengeance.

Jason knows it won't last, of course. That's why he draws it out, why he waits a long minute to answer. He wants to enjoy the clear rage on his behalf before it becomes disappointment.

"Jason?" Tim prompts eventually.

Jason takes one last second to savor Tim's worry and anger. Then he sighs and admits, "Bruce."

The answer shocks Tim's face into blankness. His careful hands spasm, freezing in the middle of their subtle injury check.

"What," he says flatly.

"Bruce," Jason repeats. He tries to make it defiant, but thinks he only manages tired. His head is throbbing. "We had another little disagreement about my methods."

Tim's jaw ticks. "Did you."

It's not a question, but the request for more information is implied. Jason thinks about telling him--about recounting the entire, fuck awful night--but ends up looking away instead.

In the morning, he'll be able to summon up his usual fury and indignation over Bruce's fucking nerve, the way he dares to think he can dictate how everyone else in Gotham works--the way he acts like he owns the city and outranks every vigilante in it by default.

Right now? Right now every inch of him aches. He can feel his heartbeat in his shoulder, pulsing in the puncture wound the batarang left. All he can feel is exhaustion.

However much of what Jason's feeling Tim reads on his face, it makes him sit back on his heels. He takes a slow, deep breath.

"Okay," he says. "I'll be back in a little while, okay? You need anything while I'm out?"

Jason's eyes snap back to his. He was expecting either a lecture or Tim storming off, not a casual little goodbye like Tim's planning to go get groceries.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

Tim pushes to his feet, bracing one hand against the back of the couch as he leans in to press a sweet, careful kiss to Jason's mouth.

"To find Bruce," he says.

Jason's heart misses a beat. "Tim--"

Tim's next kiss lands on his forehead in such a tender gesture that it steals the words right out of Jason's mouth.

"I'll be back," he promises. "I just need to talk to him, okay?"

To find out what Jason did that was so bad it earned this? To find out if Bruce is still okay with them dating, in light of his latest tantrum?

"About what?" Jason asks, dreading the answer.

Tim's mouth thins. His eyes blaze.

"His fucking methods."

happy halloween! 🎃👻🦇 i gave up on the prompt generator, but wanted to write the classic Who did this to you? i hope you enjoyed! ♡♡

[ellesthots]

punished - kinktober 2024

ONESHOT!

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: after a disappointing night as Batman, Bruce wants you to make him suffer [not related to Fateful]

pairing: bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, orgasm denial, breath play

words: 2.3k

a/n: hi lovelies!! a little treat for the month of October 🎃 based on the 2023 kinktober prompt list (day 14 - orgasm denial), since they didn’t release an official one this year <3 comments, reblogs, etc SO appreciated 💭

It was your favorite position to have him in, and an opportunity that didn’t come often.

Sometimes, after an especially frustrating night crimefighting—say, the muggers got away, the clues led nowhere, or Batman came too late—he’d arrive back home with that look in his eye. A frustrated, ruminating expression that crowded even the massive rooms at Wayne Manor. A demeanor that screamed ‘I need to be punished’.

It floored you the first time he said as much, a few months ago. When he’d trudged upstairs with his eye makeup still on, the black mess smeared up into his browbone and blotchy in the hollow of his undereyes. The fire in his gaze nearly had you running to the bedroom, chasing fantasies of him fucking you into oblivion, blowing off steam. The promise of his bruising touch was the only thing keeping you satisfied on his long nights away.

But that night was different. The closer he came, the more the fire melted into something gentler, more vulnerable. Still, his jaw was tight, twitching in the way exclusive to angry curses and frustrated sighs. His voice was low and hoarse in your ear, the prick of his stubble grazing the crook of your neck. He exhaled a single, quivering breath before speaking. “Punish me.”

You felt faint. Bruce rarely relinquished control in the bedroom, save times he could tell how desperate you were to be on top. Before he walked toward his room, he caught your eye, a careful gauge of your comfort. As shocking as it was to hear it from his mouth, the big bad Batman, you would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your pulse race. You nodded, and he disappeared into the dark hallway behind you.

Alone in the hallway, a dozen lewd thoughts circled you. Your limbs tingled with anticipation, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of options. You’d asked him to punish you before, so this was far from unknown territory… you closed your eyes and imagined which sensations he’d allowed you that you wanted to return.

Choking him would be especially pleasing, and… your mouth curled into a grin and you suppressed a laugh. Of course. He wouldn’t think it was anything until he was already in too deep, a shock to his system, leaving him reeling… the anxiety melted away to a selfish excitement, waiting for the pinch in his eyes, how his face might look, his body tense and wanting, so close yet so impossibly far… fuck.

Your feet were light across the cool manor floor. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, and you were grateful for it. Too many times you’d been concerned he might overhear, but tonight that didn’t seem to be the case. Bruce wanted to be punished, wanted to suffer a bit. It wouldn’t be a feat silently won.

The dynamic had already been switched, entering to him sat on the edge of the bed, his spandex long sleeve he wore on every patrol in a pile by his nightstand. You could see in his eyes that he didn’t know what to expect, which was invigorating. He looked almost meek.

As you approached him, you nearly second-guessed it. It would be punishing for you too, not seeing, hearing, feeling his climax. But holy shit was it exhilarating to be the one standing over him, watching as his eyes deepened their focus on yours, fingers moving to undo his button. Was this the power and excitement he felt each time with you, as you tugged down your satin nightgown, unclasped your lace bra?

Your eyes caught on the slightest tremble in his hands while pulling down the zipper. You put your hand over his, and he halted on contact. You pulled yourself closer and dragged your lips from his jaw to his collarbone. His body was worn, muscles tired. It must’ve been a rough night. Your free hand caressed his back, tracing gentle, reassuring circles between his shoulderblades. “Remember your safe word?”

Bruce was putty in your hands, nothing more than a breathy, needy whisper. “Yes.”

Having said the magic words, you placed your hand around his neck, pushing him flush on his back against the mattress. You watched his eyes flash as you tightened your grip, swallowing like his mouth had gone dry. You placed a hand to his sternum as you climbed on top, where you felt his pulse thunder beneath your palm. You slowly dragged your fingertips along his sweat-soaked skin toward the waistband of his boxers.

His breathing hitched, feeling the movement in his throat as you slipped one, then two fingers underneath the elastic. A heady, potent feeling of intoxication swept you, having him completely at your mercy. His face bloomed pink under the pressure of your hand, his eyes a steady pulse of blue, singularly focused as a man starved.

“Were you bad tonight?” Your voice was sweet like honey. He nodded as much as he could within your vice grip, and his lashes fluttered, as if ashamed to admit it. The way the moonlight illuminated the curve of his biceps, caressed the snags of violence across his skin, you felt dizzy. His voice held its own echo, like he’d been hollowed out. “Very.”

Oh how you longed to kiss those lips… “Mmm, can’t have that.” You pulled your hand out from his boxers, as if you had changed your mind about touching him. Your fingers traipsed along the sides of his torso, causing him to shudder. The sensation brought sparks to your fingertips. His eyes searched your face, his desire increasingly evident, desperate to be taken care of. Your fingers caught on the subtle slopes and valleys of his abdomen, skimming the raised scars on his chest, moving agonizingly slower until they reached your mouth.

Bruce’s pupils dilated as he watched you throat your fingers, spit strings falling down your chin as you pulled them away. He moaned as your slick fingers found the base of his cock. He was already hard. Very hard. You squeezed your fingers firmer round his throat with each stroke, drawing strangled moans out of him that only made you press harder, move faster. His head dug into the pillow in glorious agony, the tension in his throat heightening each slip of your hand. You felt every reverberation of his moans within your palm. Every inhale, every exhale. God, it was so fucking hot… you pressed your knees together on the bed, feeling your pussy start to throb.

“Fuck, mmph,” his hands moved up to grip the edge of his pillow, his knuckles going white. He was becoming lost in it, obvious by the shivering moans gasping out of him, the way his hips drove up to match the rhythm of your hand. He was wound up, messy. His hair splayed in dark clumps across his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut, brows furrowing. Seeing him like this, so enraptured in your touch, it could’ve overwhelmed you if you weren’t so stubborn.

But he kept moaning, and his chest kept heaving, and the slip of his dick in your hand was mind-numbingly torturous… when you knew he could be inside you, and the only thing standing between you and his thick, long… you pumped harder, biting the inside of your cheek, hyperfocusing on his mouth like it wasn’t the precise thing making it worse. You noticed your hips subtly moving in concert with his, wanting to lean closer and fucking feel him. Your eyes trailed to his fingers curling around the linen pillowcase, pinching the folds, metabolizing what his moans failed to, and it broke the last thread.

You slowed down, his eyes snapping open at the shift, chest heaving. His pupils were blown, and goddammit, you felt like you could burst. You bunched up your shirt to get it out of the way and straddled him, shoving your thong to the side. If he wasn’t getting release tonight, you’d find it. Sinking onto him was otherworldly, his dick achingly hard, your cunt already puffy and soaked like you’d been at this for hours, welcoming him readily. Your grip slipped on his neck as you rode him, your vision blurring between the wet, slapping sounds of him driving into you, and the groans mingling in the space between your mouths.

He married his hands to your hips to pull you down harder, and it took every ounce of self-control to refuse him. Usually you savored the grip of his fingers, he knew it made you weak, but you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. In a movement that read to your body as blasphemy, as sin, you slammed forward, shoving your hand back around his throat. His arms slacked at his sides as you chastised him. “Manners, baby… only me.”

Your body flattened against him and you left sloppy kisses along his jugular, bathing in the sensation of him hitting your g-spot over, and over… your hands pawed at his jaw, shrieking as you felt tension coil in your stomach, your heart quickening to a fever pitch. Small trails of black fell down his cheeks, the warmth of your colliding bodies running his eye paint.

You knew him well, well enough to know he was lost in it, and that he knew you were there, too. He’d long abandoned the proposition of punishment, relishing in the feeling of your hot, cushioned walls enveloping him, drowning in the symphony of your moans. You could tell he needed this, the way his hips chased yours, slamming into you with increasing abandon. You were almost there, but he was too… if you finished, he would. God, now you really wanted to punish him.

In a swift motion, you slunk between his legs, his dick throbbing against your thigh as it slid completely out of you. A whine cracked the edge of his moan. He propped up on his elbows, panting, watching as you moved both hands to his shaft. By this point his cock was aching, possibly the hardest it’d ever felt. Every time your fingers glided over his tip you’d catch some of his arousal, mingling it with your own with each push, pull.

You had to get this over with now, or you were going to cave. You whispered your lips along his shaft, his hips jerking involuntarily with every gentle swirl of your tongue along the rim. Sweat and adrenaline closed your lips around his head, your hands working the base.

“Baby,” he whimpered, his head falling back. His shoulders relaxed into the feeling, his elbows slipping against his sheets. His lashes were fluttering, his abs tightening, his mouth parting a little, more, a lot… your body became tight with need, borrowing some of the anguish you were sure he’d be feeling soon.

You removed it from your mouth with a subtle pop, savoring the taste of him as you licked your lips. “Look how much of a mess you are.”

His brows knit together as your hands wrung the length of him, his breathing becoming increasingly labored. He was so pretty like this, writhing underneath you. So responsive…

The moans you were pulling out of him almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do. Almost.

A high-pitched groan paired with the twitch of his dick signified the building of his climax. He had no fucking idea, but he’d asked for it. Your brow cocked and he nodded, the edges of his breaths ragged and frayed. “I’m so,”

“Close?”

He nodded again, his inhales shallow and stilted as you increased your fervor, pumping him straight to the edge. His gasps could’ve split the windows, pitchy whines expelling from his chest. “Yes, yes,”

“So close, hmm?” You slowed down just so, barely, imperceptible to someone as thrown as he was. “So fucking close,”

“Just like that, oh, fuck, fuck,” His movements drew erratic, his hips fucking himself into your hand, sweat pouring down his face. You bit back a giggle, watching his body begin to surrender, wishing you could bottle this moment in time. The instant you felt his body prep a shudder, you shot back, ceasing all contact.

He choked on a strangled moan, his eyes flashing wide in shock, his mouth flying open. On your knees at the foot of his bed, you watched his body stretch toward release, unable to grasp it. He slowly attempted to get his bearings, his body heaving with unspent pleasure. You blushed as you witnessed his cock throb in vain—right there, but not quite.

You smirked at him as you ran your hands up his calves, his body vibrating. He blinked hard, whiplash ravaging his system. Your voice was a low, teasing purr. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His exhausted eyes held the hint of a glare, his teeth gritting hard as he accepted the loss. His heart jammed against his ribs, screaming in protest. He fell back against the sweat-soaked pillow, bringing his hands up to rub his face, hiding the bitter heat flushing his cheeks. “Christ,”

You stood, the bed creaking softly beneath you. You twirled your shirt off and tossed it by the door of his bath, all but skipping over to it. “I’d help you clean yourself up, but…” When you looked back, his dick was softer, his breathing starting to regulate. His eyes flicked over to you, his breath deepening, as if overwhelmed by the sight of you.

He hauled a sigh from the depth of his lungs, agonizingly situating upright. He steadied his breathing for a few beats, stomach coiled tight, body heavy. Jesus fucking Christ. As wholly, entirely frustrated as he was, he was undeniably impressed; his tense, electrified body the ultimate testament, unable to block a boyish grin from revealing itself to you. “Stop celebrating.”

You hummed your way to his shower, choreographing the shape of your hands slammed against the fogged glass. “Careful what you wish for.”

[arjudy224]

Death of a family

The Intern Collection:

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Once the warehouse went up in flames, the world went silent. A blinding light stuns my senses. Before I can react, Nightwing shields me from the shock wave as we both go tumbling down. For a couple seconds, the only sound I can hear is the pounding of his heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Frozen, I see my horror reflected in his pale blue eyes. We didn't make it in time.

The ash slowly descends while the two vigilantes rummage through the debris. Staying out of the way, I do my best to be productive by prepping the med pack. Prepping for the worst, but hoping for the best. A slight glimmer catches my eye from a hundred yards.

Narrowing my eyes, I stumble through the wreckage. Drawing near, I dust the fallen ash away from a metallic pendant. More specifically a metallic bird... no. oh God no. It's a Robin. Dropping the med pack in shock, I manage to choke out "Dick..."

Nightwing rushes to my side within moments.

"What is it?" He questions, "Are you hurt?"

His eyes dart across my face looking for any signs of injury. Following my gaze, he mutters.

"Oh..."

When the body is revealed, I feel nothing. I should be screaming. Crying. Cursing at a god I don't believe in... but I don't say anything. Time slows down. Once Batman takes vitals, I work on breathes while Nightwing does chest compressions. 30 compressions. 2 breathes. Every other rotation, Bruce and Dick switch out. CPR is brutal. It's hard to ignore the cracking of the sternum or the fluid spilling into the one way mask. Attaching the AED, I pray something changes. Pausing Bruce's CPR, we clear the area to deliver the first shock. Then the second. Sandwiched between rounds of CPR, the AED gives us nothing to go off of.

After a while, it becomes hopeless. Most hearts restart after the first two shocks. Bruce's determined gaze grows frantic. Using his entire body, Batman's chest compressions progressively become deeper. Too deep. I avoid looking at the face of the limp carcass. If I look at his face, then it means this entire afternoon actually happened.

"Bruce, STOP! This isn't doing anything. " Dick argues tearing the man away from his fallen son, "He's... gone."

My chest tightens at Nightwing's voice crack. This cannot be real.

Pulling himself together, the Bat's eyes meet mine. For the first time since I've met him, the calculated facade has fallen to the wayside. Pure anguish stares back at me. From the slumping of his shoulders to the tight line of his lips, it's clear as day. Straightening himself, the Bat swiftly moved the body back to the plane.

"I'll prepare Alfred for the service."

Service... Is that it? That soon?

Dick excuses himself claiming to need a bite to eat. With a lingering hug, he tells me that he'll whip me something up too. Haphazardly, I decline the offer. Dick's right of course. I haven't eaten in over a day, but... Every ounce of hunger left my body the moment, I smelled burnt flesh.

For the first time all day, I look at him.

Covered in soot, the burns are the first images that are seared in my subconscious. Black bruises lace around every external patch of skin. Underneath all the brutality, my jaw clenches. Did he always look this young? For a kid who was starting to develop a jawline, I forgot how round his cheeks were. How long ago was his birthday again? A few months? Fifteen. His thick dark lashes stay completely still while I brush the hair out of his face.

No... No.. This isn't right. This is not how our story goes... Prom. Graduation. We were supposed to be dumb kids in love. Not some high school cautionary tale.

Suddenly, it all sinks in. I can't breathe.

No more study dates at Wayne Tower.

No more reading together

No more lazy Sunday morning smiles.

No more late-night Robin visits.

Sliding down the wall, a single tear drops down my face. The pressure resting on my chest prevents any more tears. Everything in me wants to wail. Throw a fit. Kill the bastard who did this. Instead, I stare wordlessly at the smooth metallic wall furnishing.

I am too young to feel this old.

Tag list: @jjsmeowthie

[dccomicsimagines]

Shattered - Batfamily Imagine

Warning - Abuse, Abusive Behavior

Requested by Anon -  Can I request a batfamily x reader where reader is very quiet and one day Bruce pushes too hard and reader runs away. Then reader is missing for weeks and they find her badly injured and Bruce is feeling bad

Author’s Note - This took me forever to finish. Also it spiraled into it’s own thing, but hope you enjoy it!

***

You felt your father watch you from across the cave. The punching bag swung back to you. Your fists cracked against the bag, echoing in the silence of the cave. The bats screeched in the distance. 

Out of the corner of your eye, Bruce moved toward you. The tension in his shoulders, firmness of his jaw, you knew he was in a bad mood. You sensed it was caused by Damian. Damian and your father hadn’t gotten along well ever since Bane took over the city and Alfred died. Then again, Bruce hadn’t gotten along well with anyone since Alfred died. You swallowed back a lump in your throat. It hurt that you had to force yourself not to tense up when he reached you.

“Too practiced.” Bruce crossed his arms. His cowl was off. You caught the bag when it swung back to you, peeking at him shyly. “A live target won’t wait for you to punch them.” His eyes were ice cold steel. You wondered if your eyes were like that. Dick claimed you had Bruce’s eyes, but you never believed him. 

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Bruce’s lips formed a hard line. “Sorry,” you whispered finally. Your hand trembled slightly. You shouldn’t be nervous. He won’t hurt you.

“Sorry won’t save your life. Sorry will get you killed.” He turned and walked off to the sparring mat. Your eyes widened, blood draining out of your face. His hand gestured for you to follow. 

Your feet moved without you realizing. Suddenly, you were on the mat and facing your father. He took off his cape and tossed it to the sidelines. “Attack,” he ordered. You blinked before running straight toward Bruce. 

It occurred to you to surprise him as you flipped forward and sprang up to aim a kick to his jaw. He blocked it, pushing you away. You rolled with the push and landing safely on your feet. 

“Predictable.” Bruce threw a punch your way. You barely dodged it. He was so fast. “You need to be unpredictable.” 

The sparring session lasted a full hour. You had been thrown to the ground too many times to count. Your body ached, knowing you’ll have bruises the next morning. 

Bruce offered his hand. You took it and stood up. “You’ll need more training if you’re going into the field alone.” He glanced at the batcomputer when it beeped with a message. “Shower and get to bed. You have school tomorrow.” 

“Yes Dad.” You mumbled, holding his hand a moment longer. He allowed it and you felt comforted by it. You couldn’t remember the last time he hugged you. 

Bruce pulled away too quickly for your liking, heading to the batcomputer. He joined a call with Jim Gordon. They were discussing the murder from the night before. Bruce believed it was a serial killer, thus why you weren’t allowed to patrol with him until the killer was off the streets. 

You limped toward the showers. Your eyes burned with tears, your heart aching so bad you thought it was ripped from your chest. It confused you. 

After your shower, you slowly walked up the stairs. Bruce was still at the batcomputer. You knew better than to bother him. 

***

The next night, you sat by the batcomputer and organized files. You were still banned from patrol. The serial killer still on the loose. Your father was getting more and more unbearable. Biting your lip, you wished Alfred was here. He’d know how to get your father to stop and take a rest, but Alfred died a year ago. 

A little bit of anger sparked in your heart. Why were you left to deal with your father alone? Why could all the others run off? You cursed your age, wishing you were eighteen or at least well trained enough to join the Teen Titans or something. 

However, you took a deep breath, letting the anger go. You learned a long time ago that being angry with your father didn’t do any good. It was almost like he wanted your anger, so you didn’t give it to him. 

The file organization was mind numbing. You peeked at your father’s tracker to see him at GCPD. He was probably talking to Commissioner Gordon about the serial killer. You wished you were with him. 

Suddenly, the computer beeped that the batcave allowed access to someone. You opened the cameras to see a motorcycle flying down the tunnels. Excited, you got your feet to greet the motorcycle. As it came closer, you recognized the dark blue paint. 

“Hey,” Dick greeted, parking his bike a few feet from you. “How you doing, kiddo?” 

“I’m okay.” You crossed your arms tightly across your chest. “What are you doing here?”

Dick climbed off his bike. “Just visiting. Is Bruce here?” He came over to you, ruffling your hair.

“No, he’s out.” You bit your lip when he frowned slightly. Dick hummed, resting a hand on your chin to inspect the bruise on your cheekbone. You had washed off the makeup you used to hide it at school. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Dick pulled away. He took off his mask, looking you directly with those clear blue eyes. You avoided eye contact. 

You didn’t answer, simply turning to point at the tracker on the screen. Dick went over to look. You sighed in slight relief. 

“So a serial killer is on the loose huh? I saw it on the news, decided I should stop by,” Dick said, studying the screen to see all the files you were organizing. 

You swallowed hard and took your seat back by the computer to continue your work. Dick watched you for a bit. “I don’t know when he’ll come home. You should probably go meet him,” you said after you heard Dick sigh.

Dick leaned against your chair, resting his arm on the headrest. “I was going to borrow some surveillance equipment. I want to stake out a few of Blockbuster’s operations.” Dick smirked when you looked up at him. “Wanna tag along?”

Your heart skipped a beat in excitement. It wasn’t until now that you realized how much you missed going out. Two weeks of only the cave and school was restricting. “Dad wouldn’t like it,” you said, biting your lip as you glanced at Batman’s tracker on the computer. He was driving through the city now. You assumed he was going to check out the next crime scene.

Dick followed your gaze to the screen before looking back at you. “Kiddo, we can leave him a note. He won’t be upset if we’re in Bludhaven.” He ruffled your hair. Your lips pulled into a smile.

“Are you sure?” You jumped to your feet. 

“I’m sure. Go get your suit on.” Dick tapped your nose, grinning. “Heck, even pack an overnight bag. You can just stay over at my place.” You turned and ran off to gather your stuff. 

***

Dick frowned as he watched you hurry away. You were limping. If you had been in the cave for two weeks, where would you have gotten hurt? The limp could have been a sprain, but the bruise on your cheek? Dick shook his head, swallowing hard. “Bruce, what are you doing?” he mumbled, eyeing the tracker. 

Dick glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were out of earshot before tapping the comm button. “(Y/N), I don’t have time. If you’re done with the files, go to bed,” Bruce said harshly. 

“It’s me, Bruce.” Dick pursed his lips, holding back a scoff. “Is that how you talk to her?” 

“I’m in the middle of an investigation. (Y/N) knows not to bother me.” Dick shook his head. “Why are you there?”

“I stopped to borrow a few things and to check in on you and (Y/N).” Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Bruce, I’m taking (Y/N) with me for a few days. This isn’t good.”

Bruce didn’t respond. Dick knew what that silence meant. “Keep her safe,” he finally said softly. A moment of vulnerability.

“Always.” Dick held back the words he wanted to say. “I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

Bruce grunted and shut off the comm. Dick sighed. He would need to talk to the others about this. Dick felt responsible. He should have checked in on you more. He should have taken you with him once he first suspected. Dick swallowed hard as he heard you come up behind him. Forcing a smile on his face, he turned to you.

***

The weekend with Dick was a lot of fun, but you weren’t an idiot and Dick wasn’t that subtle. You knew Dick was concerned about your welfare. He had several calls during the weekend, calls you overheard when he thought you were asleep. 

It was a relief to be home. Bruce seemed happy to have you back. Well, as happy as he could get nowadays, which wasn’t much. However, you did receive a shoulder pat before he sent you off to train. You practically melted at the touch. 

You were on the balance beam, training in the balanced combat that Dick showed you. Bruce was at the computer, still going over evidence for the serial killer. He still hadn’t caught him. You were greatly concerned by the fact, but stayed quiet. 

“I don’t have the time for this,” Bruce said suddenly. You glanced over at him as you practiced landing a kick without losing your balance. Bruce got to his feet. “(Y/N), come here.” You blinked before hopping off the beam and running over. He gestured for you to go to the changing room. You frowned, confused. Bruce growled. “Get ready for patrol,” he said sharply.

“Really?” you asked, voice barely a whisper. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes sir.” You swallowed hard and ran to get changed. Bruce was already in his batsuit. 

You ran back out a minute later, strapping on your cape. Bruce marched to the batmobile at the sight of you. You jogged behind him. “I need you to stake out the other location.” Bruce hopped into the driver’s side. You got in beside him, holding back a smile at finally being in the batmobile with Bruce again. He drove off at full speed toward Gotham. “I have determined that the killer will strike in one of two locations. He leaves clues, a Riddler copycat.” He glanced at you. The hint of approval appeared in his eyes when he saw you were listening attentively. “He will strike tonight, so I don’t have the time to narrow it down.” 

“Yes sir.” You bit your lip to hide a smile. He was treating you like he did Dick or Tim or Damian. An equal. You couldn’t believe it. 

“I don’t want you to engage. If you see him, call me and stay in the shadows.” He suddenly stopped the batmobile by an old apartment building deep in the city. “Tracy Apartments. Watch for a man in a blue coat.” The hood opened and you hopped out. “Do not engage.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at you.

“Yes sir.” You nodded before grabbing your grapple gun and flying up to the rooftop. The roar of the batmobile sounded behind you almost like it was lifting you up and away. Landing on the roof safely, you sat on the edge of the roof, determined to do your very best.

***

Nothing happened except a few random people walking home from the bar on the corner. A homeless person entered an alley. You sighed, resting your elbow on your knee and your chin in your hand. Your father hadn’t messaged except to say he arrived at the other location. 

The clock tower, only two blocks away, struck two. Your eyes grew heavy. Slowly, you drifted off only to be jerked awake when your elbow relaxed causing your head to fall. Panic filled you as you checked the apartment building. Nothing change. You relaxed, heart pounding away. 

Another half an hour passed with you pinching your arm to stay awake. Just when you were about to fall asleep again, the man with the blue coat appeared. You tapped your comm. “Batman, the man is here. He is entering the apartment building.”

“Good. Don’t move until I arrive. ETA five minutes.” Batman’s comm clicked off. You got to your feet, staying in a crouch as the man entered the building. Tapping the side of your mask, you turned on your thermal camera to watch him move through the lobby. Strangely, the man took the stairs.

You traced him through the building, grateful for the building’s thin walls and the man’s gait. He stopped at an apartment on the far end of the third floor. You moved to the other end of the roof to peek in the window. There was two women inside watching TV. Two glasses of wine and bowls of what looked like ice cream sat on the table in front of them. 

One of the women stood up and went to the door. A scream came from inside. The other woman on the couch stood up, grabbing the lamp next to her and throwing it at the attacker. You hesitated a moment. Bruce would be very angry. No more patrols for a long time. However, when both women disappeared out of your view, you pushed that out of your mind.

Leaping into the air, you used your grapple gun to accelerate toward their window. Using your feet, you broke through the window, somersaulting into a kick to the man’s face once you were able to pinpoint where he was. The two women cowered in the corner. 

The man fell back against the door with a shout. “Stupid kid!” He struggled to his feet. You wondered if that’s why he attacked women. A inferiority complex with a dash of psychopathy. He held a knife up. You smirked at the knife, shaking your head. He came at you, but you dodged it easier and disarmed him. The man screamed as you put him into a hold and knocked him to the floor. 

Curses sputtered out of his mouth as you quickly handcuffed his wrists and feet. “Robin.” You looked up in surprise to see Batman at the window. His jaw was a mask of pure fury. You swallowed hard and quickly got to your feet. “Go wait in the car.” He moved toward the man. You hurried to the window. The two women thanked you as you grappled down to the waiting batmobile. 

It slid open as you approached and you hopped inside. Snuggling into your seat, you felt sick to your stomach. You knew that look your father gave you. A shiver ran down your spine. It was a look only Damian and Jason got when they disobeyed him. 

***

“Disobeying direct orders!” Bruce grabbed one of his spare gloves and threw it across the cave. You flinched at the movement, putting your hands behind your back so he couldn’t see them shake. After changing out of your suit, you were told to stand in the middle of the changing room as your father let loose. “I expected more from you, (Y/N)!”

You opened your mouth, but a glare from him had you closing it again. The cave was colder than normal. You wondered if it was really colder or if it was just you. “I’m sorry, but I needed to step in,” you whispered, unable to speak louder. “He would have killed them.”

Bruce spun to you so fast that you flinched. “He could have killed you!” You looked into Bruce’s eyes, seeing the fear mixed in with his anger. It hurt.  Bruce spun away from you, running a hand through his hair. Curses mumbled from under his breath. You watched him.

It was so tiring, so painful to live here with him. He was hard on you, mean even. You understood he cared about you, but did he love you like a daughter? Or were you just his child soldier? Tears filled your eyes as your heart ached for Alfred. Alfred would make this better, reason with him or at least be a comfort to you. You couldn’t remember him treating any of your brothers this way, but then again, they always had Alfred. You had no one.

“I’m taking you off patrols indefinitely,” Bruce said, his frown deepening when he turned back to see your tears. You quickly wiped your face with your sleeves. “And I think...you should go live with Dick, (Y/N).”

“What?!” You gasped, hands shaking violently. “Why?!”

Bruce took a deep breath. “I’m not...I’m not the man I used to be. You aren’t getting what you need from me.” He crossed his arms. His face was a steel mask. You wondered if he actually cared. 

“No.” You shook your head before turning and running out of the room. Bruce was right behind you. Your chest tightened, suddenly you felt trapped. You failed to help him. You failed as a Robin. 

“(Y/N)...” Bruce reached out to catch your shoulder, but you shook him off. Each breath hurt. You ran up the stairs of the cave and burst into his study. There was no footsteps behind you. Funny enough that was what hurt most of all.

***

The next morning, Dick ran up the steps of the manor. Bruce left him a message to come collect (Y/N). Is your daughter something to collect? Dick wanted to argue with him, shout at him, but Bruce wouldn’t pick up the phone. He tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. 

Dick turned the knob, eyes widening when it opened. It wasn’t like Bruce to leave the door unlocked. Security risk and all. Dread festered in Dick’s gut. Something was wrong, he could feel it in the air. 

“Bruce? (Y/N)?” Dick looked around. The manor looked the same except for the dust and stale air.  He swallowed hard. Alfred would have been so upset seeing the manor this way. The only response he got was silence. 

Biting his lip, Dick ran up the stairs toward your room. You were probably packing and couldn’t hear him. 

Dick stood outside your door. It didn’t have the drawings and stickers like it used to. He wondered why you took them off. Alfred hated them, but never had the heart to force you to remove them. Dick ran a hand through his hair, knowing he just answered his own question. His heart sank to his feet. 

There was a lot Dick regretted. He regretted not being around enough after Alfred passed. Too absorbed in his own grief and his own problems. The others were strong, but you were so young and Bruce was so...Bruce.

“(Y/N)?” He knocked on the door. Silence followed. Dick took a deep breath and tried the doorknob. It turned. Dick’s eyes widened slightly as he peeked inside your room. 

Your room was barren. He almost didn’t recognize it. You used to have toys around, pictures, posters, things that made the room yours. He remembered how happy you were when Tim gifted you several posters of your favorite actors and actresses to put up. Those were all gone. Just the bed, dresser, and partly ajar closet. 

The bed was neatly made except for the note on the pillow. Dick sighed. He should have came as soon as he got the call the night before. Grabbing the note, he opened it. I’m sorry. Dick blinked, turning the note over to see no other words. “Fuck.” He bit his lip and stormed out of the room. 

Bruce’s rooms were as empty as was the kitchen and the study. Dick went to the grandfather clock, turning the hands to 10:27 before sprinting down the stairs. 

He saw red when he found Bruce sitting at the batcomputer on a conference call with the Justice League. Bruce had his cowl on, acting like the stoic, coldhearted asshole that he always was. 

Dick marched over. “He’ll have to get back to you,” Dick said sharply as he reached over to end the call. The surprise on the League’s members’ faces did nothing for Dick. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Bruce pushed Dick away from the batcomputer. Dick stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the computer. 

“Did you even bother to check?” Dick threw the paper in Bruce’s face. Bruce caught it and crumpled it in his hand. “You told your daughter you were sending her away and you didn’t bother to check on her?!” Dick threw his hands in the air. “She’s gone, Bruce! All she left was that note saying she was sorry!” It was selfish, but it felt good to yell at Bruce. Dick only hoped his words sunk in.

Bruce tensed. He took off his cowl, revealing the new lines on his face. A bit more gray in his hair. Dick’s shoulders sank in relief as Bruce smoothed out the note to look at it. 

“Damn it.” Bruce set the note on the computer before sinking into his chair like all the bones left his body. Dick’s anger cooled at the sight. The reaction is what he needed to see to know there was hope for Bruce, but a minute passed without Bruce moving. 

Dick tapped his foot. “Well, are we going to look for her?!” Dick crossed his arms to stop himself from reaching out to shake Bruce’s shoulders.

“You have custody now.” Bruce turned away, running a hand over his blank expression. “It’s best you handle it.”

Now Dick was a bit of a hothead in his youth. It took him years to cool his anger, but it took that moment alone to strip all those years away. In a blink of an eye, Dick’s fist flew and sucker punched Bruce in the face. 

Bruce took the hit, probably because he wasn’t expecting it. In a flash, Bruce was standing, fists flying toward Dick. Dick ducked. “Yeah, that’s right. I can take your hits,” Dick spat. “Is this what you did to (Y/N), Bruce? Swung at her without warning.” 

“I never hit her!” Bruce dropped into full Batman mode. Dick dodged, flipping out of the way of every hit, playing the defensive. The reasonable part of Dick knew that he threw the first punch, but Dick at this moment didn’t care. 

“Sure you didn’t. Where’d she get those bruises, Bruce? You grounded her from patrol.” Dick didn’t duck fast enough and took a hit to the side of the head. He saw stars, but quickly spun out of the way of Bruce’s right hook. 

Suddenly, Bruce grabbed the front of Dick’s shirt and held him very close to his face. “I wouldn’t hurt my kids. We sparred, she didn’t block. I didn’t go easy on her because going easy means death in our line of work. You know that, Dick.” Bruce shoved Dick to the floor. Dick grunted, his back hitting one of the crates. 

Bruce turned away, grabbing a taser from one of the tables and threw it across the cave. It shattered with a boom that echoed. Bats screeched. Dick slowly got to his feet. He was going to feel it all later. “So help us look for her. If you love her and care for her like a father should, then you need to help us find her.” 

“She doesn’t need me.” Bruce turned to give Dick a pained look. “I make her flinch.”

Dick pursed his lips. He sighed, taking out his phone to message the others to get the search for you started. Most of his anger faded, but his disappointment remained. “Well, we’ll be on the comms. Join us if you want.” Dick turned and started up the stairs of the cave. He stopped after a moment and turned back to Bruce. “You know, if you believe she thinks you don’t love her, then maybe being the one to find her would be enough to prove otherwise.”

Bruce didn’t reply. Dick sighed and turned away, calling Barbara to start the search.

***

You sat down on the sandy beach, dropping your backpack next to you. The sun was warm. You closed your eyes, enjoying it’s shine. The last time you had been to a beach was...you couldn’t remember.

When you slipped out of the manor about an hour after your father told you that you were being sent away, you didn’t know where to go. You didn’t want to go to Dick or the others. They’d say you were a failure. They were all good partners to your father. 

You swallowed hard, opening your eyes to watch the families on the beach. Some kids were playing in the water while their parents watched. You wondered what that must be like. Your heart panged. 

It wasn’t your plan to come to the beach, which is why you stuck out like a sore thumb wearing jeans and a sweatshirt while everyone else was in bathing suits. All you wanted was to get out of the city and the first bus out of town was to a beach town in North Carolina. 

You laid down on the sand, taking a deep breath of the salty air. It was only a matter of time before one of the family found you. You didn’t cover your tracks well, using a credit card to pay for the bus ticket and a snack at the station. 

The sand was so soft. You dug your fingers into the sand and let it fall through your fingers. 

Footsteps approached you. You tensed, reaching to hug your backpack to your side tightly. A shadow blocked the sun from you. “So you ran away from home to lay on a beach?” 

Your eyes flew open to find Jason Todd staring down at you with a smirk. An ‘eep’ escaped you as you scrambled away from him. Jason’s smirk fell into a frown. 

“What’s wrong with you, kid? I got Dick telling me that you’re missing.” Jason sat down next to you, keeping his distance though. You forced yourself to relax. “I caught you walking through Gotham on your own while I was heading home from a...meeting.” Jason cleared his throat. “So what’s going on?”

You pulled your knees to your chest, looking out at the ocean. A father held the hand of his young daughter as she walked in the surf. You swallowed hard, trying to remember if your father held your hand like that. Probably not. 

“Kinda a long way to follow me, isn’t it?” you whispered. Your throat tightened, taking your voice with it. 

Jason shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him and slipped off his leather jacket to reveal his black t-shirt under it. He looked as out of place on this beach as you did. “Not every day you find your youngest sibling walking around on their own at four AM only to see them go to the bus station and buy a one way ticket.”

You curled tighter into yourself and rested your cheek on your knees to look away from him. Jason, for his credit, waited for you to speak, people watching. He didn’t usually have the patience, which meant he probably already knew about how you failed your father.

“He’s sending me away,” you finally whispered after swallowing past the lump in your throat. Jason studied you, shifting closer to you. Your eyes burned. A tear slipped out your cheek without warning. “He said he wasn’t the man he was and he can’t love me anymore.” 

Jason was quiet. You sneaked a peek at him only to see his mouth a firm line. His eye twitched, barely concealing rage. “He told you that?” 

“Basically. I could see it in his eyes.” It felt like you opened the flood gate and it all spilled out. “He hasn’t been the same since Alfred died. I try to do my best, but he never finds anything I do good enough. He hits hard when we train and doesn’t seem to care if I can’t dodged his attacks or not. We never stop to rest until he’s done.” You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your eyes stayed on the sand in front of you. Jason probably thought you were weak. “Then last night, he let me on patrol for the first time in weeks only to yell at me and send me to live with Dick because I disobeyed his orders.”

You looked up at Jason fast, worried he would yell too. “People were in danger, I had to go in. It could have been too late for them.” However, Jason’s eyes shined with emotion. You knew it might not be anger, but that’s what your mind only saw. “I’m sorry. Don’t yell at me.” You covered your ears and rocked yourself back and forth. More tears slid down your cheeks as you mumbled sorry over and over again.

Jason sighed before you felt a heavy arm fall around your shoulders. He pulled you into his side. The touch surprised you. You melted into him, filling a hole you didn’t realize you had in your heart. 

“You did nothing wrong, nothing to be sorry about,” Jason mumbled, resting his chin on the top of your head. His hand rubbed your arm. “You’re okay.” 

It felt so good to be held. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until now. A sob slipped out of you as you buried your face into his chest. Jason hummed and wrapped his other arm around you. 

Jason’s heartbeat was soothing in your ear, better than the ocean only a few meters away. “Is she okay?” A stranger asked Jason.

“She is now. Thank you,” Jason said to them. He tightened his arms around you. His lips pressed against the top of your head. “I love ya, kid. Even when you threw up on me when you were a baby.” 

You laughed softly, hiccupping. “Jay, you never knew me as a baby. I was three when you came to live with us.”

Jason chuckled. “I think you don’t remember.” He pulled away to look you in the eye. His smile reached his eyes. “I was spinning you around. You loved it until I went too fast and you just upchucked all over me.” 

“No, I didn’t.” You shook your head, wiping away from your tears. Jason’s shirt had a damp spot on it. Your face burned at the sight. Glancing at Jason in worry, he just grinned and brushed some of the sand out of your hair. 

“You did. It was terrible. Alfred was so ticked, but I heard him laughing in the next room.” Jason bit his lip, eyes softening. Your heart sank. “So let’s go get something to eat, maybe get a place to stay.” Jason stood up, brushing the sand off his jeans before offering a hand to you.

Sniffling, you took his hand and got to your feet. “Okay.” You grabbed your backpack. Jason snatched up his jacket and wrapped his arm around your shoulders to lead you off the beach and toward the boardwalk.

***

His phone beeped with a text from the family group chat. Dick was asking everyone for an update. Jason stared at the text, watching the others respond. They knew you bought a bus ticket, but weren’t sure what bus you got on. Bruce wasn’t part of the search.

Jason didn’t think he could be this angry at Bruce. At this point, he was back to ‘just back from the dead to find I wasn’t avenged and replaced’ stage. He took a deep breath before texting he didn’t find anything yet. 

You sighed in your sleep and rolled over in the hotel bed. Jason looked up from his phone. He was lounging on the armchair in the corner with his booted feet up on the end of the bed. Once you had a full stomach, Jason got the room and you went to bed right away. 

Bruce didn’t deserve you. You were so sweet when you were little, back before he died. Besides the vomiting incident at least, but to be honest, Jason always smiled when he remembered. 

Of course, he knew he shouldn’t worry the family. He would be pissed if he knew that any of them knew where you were and didn’t tell him, but Jason couldn’t. 

Bruce needed to suffer. He needed to feel the guilt and the pain that he had put you through. Borderline abuse. If Jason had known, he would have gotten you out of there. 

Jason sighed and closed his eyes. Dick mentioned something about being concerned in the group chat, but Jason had muted it. 

His mind went around and around for a long time. He opened the chat several times, but couldn’t make himself type the message. 

A whimper came from you. Jason dropped his phone and instantly went to your side. He sat on the end of your bed, gently carting his fingers through your hair. Your eyes squeezed together. A soft ‘I’m sorry’ slipped from between your lips. 

“Hush, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. Big brother is here,” Jason whispered. He took a deep breath to still the rage that bubbled up inside him. You relaxed, soothed by his touch. Jason’s heart swelled and in that moment, Jason decided a little vacation away from your father and the rest of the family was just what you needed.

***

After the first week passed and you weren’t found, Bruce started his own investigation. He was impressed by how fast you disappeared, but he felt sick knowing you were out in the world somewhere alone. 

By the second week, Bruce followed leads only to find dead ends. None of the family found anything. Bruce had concluded you had to have been kidnapped. There was no other way you would be gone without a trace.

Third week, Bruce tracked down Ra’s al Ghul, Deathstroke, and Lady Shiva. None of them were part of your disappearance. He did checks into Task Force X and the government, but those were dead ends as well.

Bruce marched through the watchtower. It was the fourth week and no sign of you. He knew he looked rough from how Fire and Ice looked at him as he passed. A month old beard on his face. You would have left a razor by his suit in the changing room by now. There wasn’t time to eat or sleep, not when he needed to find you.

A flash of you as a little girl, running to hug him when he got home from patrol. You had a big smile on your face. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled. 

Bruce shook his head. Focus. He marched into the meeting room to find Diana, Clark, and Hal waiting. 

“Woah, Bats. Have you showered recently? Sheez.” Hal held his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. 

A growl slid past Bruce’s lips. “My daughter is missing. I don’t have time for you, Jordan.” Clark and Diana shared a worried look. Hal just whistled.

“We know. Nightwing asked for our help,” Clark said, getting to his feet and reaching out to touch Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce flinched away from him. “We couldn’t find anything, Bruce. I’ve been sweeping the globe every few hours.”

Diana stood up, studying Bruce carefully. “When the last time you slept?”

“Let me know if you find anything.” Bruce turned sharply and started out of the room. He stopped when a green wall appeared in front of him. 

“Nah, we can’t let you go like this, B. You look like you could collapse at any moment,” Hal said. Bruce spun to face him, glaring darkly. Hal was straight faced. Both Diana and Clark took a step toward him.

“Let me ask you.” Bruce held up a hand, stopping all three. “If it was your daughter, would you stop to rest?” He jabbed a finger at Hal. “You don’t have children, so you can’t understand, but I will only ask once for you to let me leave.”

Clark sighed. “Bruce...” He took another step forward. “Just sit down for a minute. I’ll do another sweep. Hal will too. Please. You passing out won’t help (Y/N).” 

Bruce took a deep breath before melting into one of the chairs. The three heroes looked surprised. Clark and Hal flew off while Diana sat down beside him. “We’ll find her, Bruce,” Diana soothed. Bruce rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He remembered the look on your face when he told you he was sending you away. It sent a shiver down his spine. He needed to find you soon. That will not be his last memory of you.

***

Jason laid back in his lounge chair, watching you and Artemis walk along the beach. Bizarro laid on the sand next to him, snoring away. After you had woken up, Jason offered to take you to the Outlaws’ Island. You happily agreed. It had been four weeks now, and Jason could see the changes in you. You smiled more, laughed more, your confidence and sense of self blossomed. Jason chuckled, watching Artemis and you race down the beach. 

The island was off the grid, had protective shields that blocked it from radar and anyone with super sight or hearing. Jason still didn’t tell the family he had you. He hoped Bruce was suffering, sick with worry. Jason only felt a little guilty.

“Superman didn’t fly by again,” Bizarro said, waking up with a jerk. “He’s not looking.”

“I know.” Jason crossed his arms and relaxed. “But we’re not going to worry about it.”

“Bizarro is worried.” Bizarro laid back down and quickly went back to sleep. His snore shook Jason’s chair. Jason snorted. Superman was probably looking for you. 

He smiled when he saw you and Artemis diving into the water for a swim. Spending time with Artemis was good for you. Jason knew from the first few days how much you craved attention from anyone. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of you and Artemis joking and laughing at each other. 

***

“I got information about an ancient Greek artifact being auctioned off in a week. Maxie Zeus is planning on buying it,” Artemis said as she walked into the den. Bizarro sat cross-legged in front of the tv, awed by The Lion King. A movie Bizarro picked out. Jason was reclining in the armchair. The chair was big enough for you to lay beside him, fast asleep and snuggled into his side. 

“Good, we’ll make a plan in the morning,” Jason said softly, glancing down at you when you shifted closer to him. 

Artemis sat on the couch. She raised an eyebrow at the tv before studying Jason with narrowed eyes. Jason ignored her gaze, watching the tv. 

You woke up once the movie was done. “I’m going to bed,” you yawned, stretching your arms. Jason put the footrest down and helped you up. “Good night.” Jason ruffled your hair, Artemis patted your arm, while Bizarro waved wildly.

“Bad night, (Y/N).” Bizarro smiled big before turning back to the tv as the credits rolled. 

Once you were out of the room, Jason turned to look at Artemis who was still staring at him. “Okay, what is it?”

“We can’t keep (Y/N) here forever.” Artemis crossed her arms. “Superman flew over the island fourteen times today. They even officially announced her disappearance with a million dollar reward for her return.” Jason pursed his lips. Artemis stood up as if her height would make her point. “You have to at least let them know she’s here. I understand your cause. Her father doesn’t deserve her, but I think he may have suffered enough, Jason.”

Jason stood up, puffing his chest out a little as he looked up to meet her gaze. “He abused her.”

“A man who doesn’t love his child wouldn’t spend four weeks running around the world, pulling favors, attacking super villains, and who knows what else just to find them.” Artemis smiled rather sadly at him. “I read the reports you’ve been keeping on their search for her. She needs to go home.”

“(Y/N) said she not homesick.” Bizarro turned to look at the two. Jason bit his lip, backing away from Artemis. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Bruce hurt her, Art.” Jason’s eyes burned. He turned away quickly before they noticed the shine in his eyes. “(Y/N) is the sweetest kid. She didn’t deserve to feel like nothing, to feel like no one cared about her. When I found her, she was craving for attention, love. That bastard didn’t even care she was gone. He didn’t start looking himself for a week.”

Artemis sighed. “I’m not saying that we just hand her over.” She laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “But they need to know she’s safe. Jason, they already may not forgive you for this.” 

Jason groaned, rolling his eyes and running a hand over his face. Part of him refused to do it, wanting to keep you here and safe, but then he realized, he was acting a bit like Bruce. Locking you away on the island forever wouldn’t be possible. 

His shoulders dropped. “I’ll talk to (Y/N) after the mission. It has to be her choice.” He looked at Artemis. “Not anyone else’s.”

Artemis nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Bizarro grinned and gave Jason a thumbs down. 

“We might as well start our plan to get that artifact since you’re all bleeding hearts right now.” Jason straightened his shoulders and gestured for them to follow him out of the room. Bizarro pouted, but got to his feet. Artemis just rolled her eyes.

***

“Hey Jay?” you asked, peeking into his office to find Jason sitting at his desk, studying a set of building plans. “What are you doing?” You opened the door wider when he looked up and smiled.

Jason chuckled. “Going over the plans of the auction house for the mission.” His eyes stayed on you as you wandered over to pull Mansfield Park out of his bookshelf. 

“What mission?” You hugged the book to your chest and joined him at his desk. He tugged on a strand of your hair. 

“Right, we talked about it after you went to bed.” Jason rubbed his chin. “Artemis found out a Greek relic is being auctioned off and Maxie Zeus is planning on buying it. We’re going to get it first.” He crossed his arms, frowning slightly at the plans. “It’s just...this auction house is very old and doesn’t have the best layout for an escape.”

“Why don’t you go in quietly?” You studied the layout. “Go in disguise, buy the artifact, and get out of there before Maxie Zeus knows what happened.”

Jason hummed. “That’s a good idea. Just that Artemis and Bizarro can’t do undercover work. Maxie will be looking for anyone looking like an Amazon or a Super.”

“I mean I could.” You bounced on your toes, looking up at Jason with sparkling eyes. “He wouldn’t be looking for me.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Now that’s a thought.” He looked back at the building plans. “But you can’t go in alone. You’re too young. It would raise suspicion.” Jason sat back in his chair. “But if I came with you...” He chuckled. “That could work. If you’re up for it, (Y/N)? I don’t want to push you.”

You grinned, leaning against the desk. “I’m game.” You bit your lip. “Dad wouldn’t be mad about it, would he?”

Jason paused. “Kid, we don’t have to worry about your dad. It’s just a mission.” He reached up and ruffled your hair. You batted his hand away, giggling. He looked down at his copy of Mansfield Park. “Really? You chose that one instead of Emma?” 

“I already read Emma.” You put a hand on your hip. “And you said Mansfield Park is one you have to read once in your life.” 

Jason scoffed. “I guess I did, but be ready. It’s got nothing on Emma.” The two of you fell into a book debate. You admitted you hadn’t been this happy in a very long time.

***

You stepped in front of the mirror and wrinkled your nose. “Are you sure I have to dress like this? No normal rich kid dresses like this, you know that.”

“But it fits the type, doesn’t it?” Jason said as he leaned back against the chair in the dressing room. You spun around, hating the outfit. It reminded you of what Vickie Vale wore at the last Wayne Tech party when she was trying to get your father’s attention. Too fancy and the cut on you was awful.

Jason put on his sunglasses and adjusted his suit coat. He looked like some trust fund baby. Of course, you were pretending to be his daughter. You pointed out that you would have been a teen pregnancy. Jason thought it was funny, and said it frankly worked with the part you were trying to play.

The store attendant came in and poured her attention over Jason. You listened in, pretending you loved the clothes. Jason played the part well. You wished you got a video of this, maybe to use as bribery in the future. “I think that’s all, but is it okay for my little bean to wear this out? She just loves it so much,” Jason cooed to her.

“Of course, I’ll have everything else bagged up and sent to your hotel as promised.” The woman almost drooled. 

“Thanks Daddy.” You had to swallow a bit of vomit. Even Bruce was only Dad, you never called him Daddy ever. However, you forced an adoring smile on your face as you skipped over to kiss Jason’s cheek. 

“Anything for my baby.” Jason patted your back before turning to the attendant. “We must be on our way. I have an auction to get to.” 

The attendant saw them out, continuously talking even when you both were out the door. “Can I never call you Daddy again?” you whispered as you approached the Red Camaro. 

Jason got in the driver’s seat. You hopped in the passenger side. Once the doors were closed, Jason turned to you. “Never again. It was weird, but fit the part. Good job.” He winked at you.

Turning on the Camaro, Jason zoomed down the street somewhat recklessly. “Is this really going to work? Us pretending to be rich dummies and outbidding the artifact from Maxie Zeus? I thought we’d take the smart museum curator approach.” You bit your lip and adjusted your outfit. 

“Do you think I could be a museum curator? Maybe Tim could, he’s boring enough.” Jason smirked. “Besides, Art and Bizarro are already in position. It will be fine.” 

You hummed, closing your eyes. After a moment of silence, you dared to speak. “Jay, have you heard from Dad or the others at all?” Your heart ached slightly. No one tried to contact you in the month you’ve been gone. Jason would have told you if they did. 

Jason flinched, glancing at you before focusing on the road. He worried his lip. “I didn’t tell them you were with me.” Your eyes widened in surprise. Jason blushed. “I wanted you to have time to figure things out, to heal, but they’re all looking for you. Even publicly announced your disappearance.” 

“Is that why you had me change my hair color?” You touched your hair, feeling the cheap dye that hadn’t been all washed out. Dyeing your hair in an airplane bathroom hadn’t been easy. 

“Kid, they have a million dollar reward for your return.” Jason sighed, clenching at the steering wheel. “Listen, I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait until after the mission. You don’t have to decide anything right now, because it is your choice. I’m happy to keep you with me forever if you want.” 

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you grinned. “Thanks Jay.” 

Jason relaxed with a chuckle, looking at you. “You’re welcome, kid. Now let’s just focus on the mission for now. Hakuna Matata.”

“Sure Pumba.” You bit your lip to hold back a laugh.

Jason gasped as he stopped at a stop sign. “Hey, I’m Simba if anything. Prodigal son and all that.” You both laughed hard enough that Jason missed his turn.

***

Dick walked through a homeless shelter in Coast City. He saw several young teens. His heart ached for them, but none of them were you. 

A beep came from his phone. ‘Call me. We have a sighting of (Y/N).’ Dick hurried out of the shelter, tapping Barbara’s name as he walked down the steps. Damian was waiting outside, tapping his foot impatiently. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dick held up a hand to stop him.

“My program caught her face on a security camera in a boutique in Greece. Jason was with her. Her hair was different, but it was (Y/N),” Barbara said, not bothering with a greeting. 

“Jason? I should have known,” Dick said. Damian’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “How long ago was the sighting?”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll send the jet to meet you. ETA ten minutes.” Barbara hung up. 

Damian huffed. “Todd had her this whole time?” His fists clenched. Dick laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently as if to take away the tension.

“Let’s just focus on the fact (Y/N) is safe.” Dick took the car keys out of his pocket. “We got a jet to catch.” The two men headed off.

***

Bruce stood up so fast, his batcomputer chair flew back and fell onto the floor. Barbara’s message was loud and clear. Bruce had hacked into her system to monitor their progress on the search. The tension in his shoulders drained out of him. He dwelled in the moment, knowing you were safe.

However, rage filled him at the thought of Jason keeping you from him. Not letting anyone know where you were. Irresponsible. Selfish.

The computer beeped with the location of the sighting. Bruce grabbed his cowl and ran toward the batplane.

***

You swung your legs as you sat on one of the hinged chairs in the theater-like room of the old auction house. Jason was off getting a drink and mingling to learn the lay of the room. You were taking mental notes of your own. There was a hidden door in the bottom of the stage, but the quickest exit was the door on the left. If you remembered the map Jason had you memorize, that door would take you down a long hallway toward the kitchens.

The entrance doors banged open suddenly. You spun around in surprise. Maxie Zeus announced himself with a booming voice as three men dressed like gladiators carried him in on a throne that looked like clouds. “That’s insane,” you mumbled. 

“I know everyone needs a theme, but it’s stupid,” Jason said, appearing beside you with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He handed another glass to you. You raised an eyebrow. “It’s just a coke. Calm down.” He sat down next to you, eyeing the room. 

Taking the glass, you sipped at it to confirm. “He’s got plain clothes men in the corners,” you said softly. The men all had lightning symbols on their ties. Not subtle at all.

Jason smirked. “Good catch. We might have a hard time leaving if we outbid him.” Jason downed his drink. “I have Art and B moving to interfere. Unfortunately, this won’t be as quiet as we wanted.” He handed his glass off to a passing waiter who was relieved to have a reason not to approach Maxie Zeus. “I want you to run if this becomes a fire fight. Put on your suit and follow Art’s lead.”

You blinked. You assumed you would be told to run, not come back. “Will do.” Take a sip of your coke, you hid a smile. Your heart lifted. Finally, you were trusted in the way you always wanted. People began to take their seats as the auctioneer took the stage.

***

Dick and Damian skydived out of the jet, parachuting toward the auction house. “You have company,” Barbara reported quietly. “I got Batman on one of the cameras inside.”

“So B does care.” Dick pursed his lips as he and Damian floated down to land on a roof about a block from the auction house. 

“Father is here?” Damian unclipped his parachute, letting it collect itself back into the pack. 

“Yeah, so we’ll have to stay sharp.” Dick put his own pack together, dropping it on the roof for pickup later. “(Y/N) and Jason are in a tight situation.”

“TT.” Damian suddenly tensed, grabbing Dick’s arm. Dick looked at him in surprise. Damian was looking up. Dick followed his gaze to see Bizarro floating above them with a smile on his face.

Dick pursed his lips, fighting the urge to attack. Bizarro was on Jason’s side, and Jason was on their side. Hopefully. “Red Him said you were coming,” Bizarro said after a moment.

“He knew we were coming?” Damian hissed, reaching for his sword. Dick gestured for Damian to stop.

“No, Bizarro speaks in opposites.” Dick smiled. “Hi Bizarro, we’re looking for (Y/N).”

“(Y/N) isn’t in auction house with Red Him. We aren’t on a special mission for Red Her.” Bizarro landed on the roof with a thump. Damian eyed the roof nervously before checking to see if they had been seen. The streets were busy this time of evening. Lots of tourists. “Bizarro wasn’t ordered to help little people when nothing happens.”

Damian snorted, crossing his arms. Dick held up a hand. “Let us help. Can you take us to Artemis?”

Bizarro shook his head with a big grin. He grabbed Damian by the back of his cape. Damian grunted in protest, but stayed quiet. Dick just grabbed Bizarro’s other arm and they were in the air, heading toward the auction house. He updated Barbara as they flew.

***

Bruce frowned from his position in the rafters of the auction house. You were in the middle of the room, in the direct line of fire if Maxie Zeus broke the peace. He swallowed hard. His comm beeped. Bruce answered without thinking.

“Batman, Nightwing and Redbird are here. They are assisting the Outlaws in taking down Maxie Zeus and retrieving a Greek artifact. Can I connect your comm with theirs, so you can coordinate?” Barbara’s voice startled him only slightly. Dick and Damian were here too. Bruce frowned, too many risks here.

“My priority is (Y/N). Nothing else.” Bruce’s voice barely above a whisper, knowing sound would travel. He frowned when he saw how badly your hair was dyed. The clothes you were wearing were so unlike you. 

Barbara sighed. “Please, Bruce. We’re more likely to get (Y/N) out safely if we’re all working together.”

Bruce knew she was right. He had more children here now. “Fine, patch me in.”

***

Jason grabbed your hand, squeezing gently as the artifact was brought on stage. It looked like nothing special, a simple wooden box. However, inside was a old arrowhead. The auctioneer said it has the arrow that killed Achilles.

You leaned over to him. “Really?”

“Art says so,” Jason mumbled, frowning slightly. You remembered he had a comm in his ear. The Outlaws only had three of them, so you didn’t have one. “We have company by the way.”

“What company?” You glanced at the doors, but they were still closed. Maxie Zeus still had the same amount of goons as before. 

“Your father is here along with the double Ds.” Jason pursed his lips. “I should have known they had face recognition software looking for you.” 

You tensed, a shiver running down your spine. “He’s going to be mad.” Your heart pounded so hard, it could have burst out of your chest. 

Jason grabbed your hand. He squeezed tight. “He can’t hurt you. You are Robin,” he whispered in your ear. “You earned it and that can never be taken away from you.”

Blinking, you felt blood rushing to your face. “Really?”

“Really.” Jason smirked, kissing your cheek. “Now let’s focus.”

You nodded, watching the stage as the bidding began. 

“A hundred thousand Drachma, young mortal.” Maxie’s voice boomed throughout the room. You glanced back at him. He was brimming with confidence. 

With a shit-eating grin, Jason raised his hand. “Two hundred thousand Euros.”

The air was sucked out of the room. You forced a smile on your face. 

“You dare?!” Maxie waved his bolt of lightning around. “Foolish little nothing. Three hundred thousand Drachma.”

“Four hundred thousand Euros.” Jason took your hand. “My baby wants it, so she gets it.” He threw you a smile. You acted like you were excited, hopefully others will not notice you were shaking with fear.

“One million Drachma!” Maxie screamed, pointing his bolt of lightning toward a empty chair. Electric energy hit the chair. You could smell the smoke. Some people screamed. You only flinched. Jason just hummed.

“Actually sir.” The auctioneer cleared his throat. Nervous sweat dripped down his face. “Drachma is not one of our accepted currencies.”

Several people quietly began to move toward the doors. Maxie’s men blocked them from leaving. “Okay, this is about to blow,” Jason hissed. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Bizarro is going to bust through the far door.” Jason nodded toward the door. You eyed it.

“He can’t. It will hurt civilians.” You pursed your lips. 

Jason let out a slow breath. “Fine, but move once he strikes.” 

Maxie Zeus raised his bolt and aimed it at the auctioneer. The auctioneer held up his hands, knees quaking. “No one defies the King of the Gods.” 

Time slowed. Jason pushed you down. You heard the crack of energy from Maxie’s bolt. The auctioneer cried out as a familiar black form soared from the rafters and tackled him out of the way. The bolt hit the curtain behind where the auctioneer stood and it burst into flames.

“Go,” Jason said. You sprinted toward the door as Maxie’s guard pulled out their own lightning weapons. With no hesitation, you leaped at one of the guard blocking the door and kick the weapon out of his hands. 

You heard gunshots behind you, but you ignored it, punching out the guard. Civilians ran through the door. You disappeared into the panicked crowd.

***

Bruce moved off the auctioneer. “Run,” he whispered in the man’s ear. The auctioneer didn’t need to be told twice and joined the crowd leaving the room.

You were safe. Bruce caught a glimpse of you in the crowd. He relaxed slightly before standing up to face Maxie Zeus.

“Aww, Hades. Why are you here? You never did care much for weapons,” Maxie said, studying Bruce in his full batsuit. 

“I don’t.” Bruce growled. “Stand down Maximilian.”

Jason hopped on the stage next to Bruce. His red hood suit was on along with the helmet. He picked up the box with the arrowhead inside and slipped it into his pocket. “Tell your demon to put the box down. He is unworthy to touch it,” Maxie said, aiming his bolt at Jason. Jason dodged to avoid the blast. The fire began to spread. Smoke filled the room.

“We need to get him outside,” Jason said into the comm. He coughed. Bruce grabbed Jason’s jacket and pulled him out of the way of another blast from Maxie. “Bizarro, put out the fire, will ya?”

“We’re going to have a long talk after this is over,” Bruce snapped, throwing a batarang to knock Maxie’s bolt out of his hand. Maxie scrambled after it.

Jason hummed. Bruce could feel the iciness of his gaze even though his eyes were hidden under his helmet. “We do.”

Bizarro burst through the far wall and shot ice beams at the flames. Bruce’s mouth twitched as Jason suddenly ran forward to attack Maxie. Maxie’s men swarmed, firing wildly. Bruce dodged and joined Jason in the fight.

***

You hid behind a corner in the chaos, changing into your makeshift Robin suit.  Tossing the ugly outfit into the flames nearby, you helped some people out of the building. 

“Robin, keep helping with the rescue,” Artemis ordered once you met her outside. You nodded. She patted your head and sprinted inside with her battle ax. 

You guided people out. A young woman ran out, sputtering in Greek. You grabbed her when she stumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, mind swirling as you tried to remember what little Greek you knew. 

She gestured back inside. “Papa...he’s...”

A boom echoed from inside the building. Parts of the roof collapsed. People screamed in horror. The woman burst into tears, mumbling incoherently. 

Your stomach sunk to your feet. You told yourself that your family all knew what they were doing. They were experts.

“I’ll go get him.” You helped the woman to lean against an emergency vehicle. She collapsed against it, sobbing. 

Time slowed. You eyed the building. Artemis told you to help with the rescue, but you knew she meant for you to stay outside. Your blood ran hot. A flash of Bruce’s angry face appeared before your eyes. 

“You’re Robin.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Pushing yourself forward, you sprinted into the building. 

***

Bruce ducked another blast from Maxie’s bolt. “Red Hood.” Jason’s head tilted slightly, glancing Bruce’s way. Bruce gestured to his forehead then chin. Jason nodded and slipped out of Maxie’s sight.

Dick and Damian were evacuating Maxie’s unconscious men. Bizarro and Artemis were attempting to prevent the building from full collapse. However, given the amount of debris falling, Bruce knew it was only a matter of time.

“Maximillian, you’ve lost.” Bruce stood tall, straightening his shoulders. 

“Zeus never loses!” Maxie aimed his bolt at Bruce’s chest. Bruce held out his arms and waited.

The tip of the bolt glowed. A smirk pulled at Bruce’s lips as he saw Red Hood jump out of the shadows and struck a nerve strike to Maxie’s neck. Maxie fell like a ton of bricks. 

“The building is going to collapse, there is nothing we can do,” Artemis said through the comm. “We need to get out now. Are you done toying with Maxie Zeus?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Jason grunted, picking up Maxie’s bolt and tucking it in his belt. Bruce came to his side and picked up Maxie. Jason quickly supported the other side and both men dragged him out. Damian and Dick led the way, carrying the last of Maxie’s men between them.

The building groaned around them. Debris fell from the ceiling. They made it to the lobby. 

“You’re going to be alright.” Your voice drifted from somewhere off to Bruce’s right. His blood ran cold.

“Who’s got eyes on Robin?” Bruce demanded into the comms. Jason grunted, Bruce took more of Maxie’s weight as they neared the entrance.

“Robin was outside, helping with the evac,” Artemis said. Her voice cracked. 

Dick cleared his throat. “No sign of her out here.”

“Civilians last saw Robin going into the building.” Damian’s voice sounded very young. A lump formed in Bruce’s throat. 

Bruce felt Jason’s gaze on him as they paused just inside the doorway out. Jason sighed deeply. “I got Maxie. Go get her,” Jason mumbled softly. 

Bruce carefully shifted all of Maxie’s weight to Jason and sprinted off toward the direction of your voice. 

***

The man’s leg was trapped under a piece of the roof. You knelt down next to him, trying to soothe him as you assessed the damage.

Dust showered from above combining with the remaining smoke from the fire. You coughed, glancing around the hallway. It looked like it led toward the backstage of the main theater where the auction was held. You wondered if the roof debris fell on the man when Bizarro broke through the building. 

There was a big hole to your left, leading through another room, then to the lobby. 

You swallowed hard, taking out a flashlight to study the man’s leg. It looked like it wasn’t wedged, which meant you could move it off without causing him pain or life threatening injury. 

The man tapped your arm rapidly, babbling on. He pointed to the ceiling. The building whined around you.

“You’re going to be alright.” You took his hand and squeezed it gently. The man relaxed, still mumbling what you couldn’t understand. He closed his eyes. 

You gripped the side of the roof and pulled. Your arms almost came out of their sockets. You bit your lip, using all your strength, but the roof piece didn’t move. 

“Damn, I wish I had a comm,” you mumbled, letting go. The man looked at you with a scary look of acceptance. He spoke and pointed to the exit.

“No, I’m going to get you out.” You tried to lift it again. The man just closed his eyes again. “Come on.”

More dust fell. You coughed again, but you kept pulling at the roof piece. Suddenly, you felt the roof move.

You almost laughed, watching the man’s eyes widen in fear as he slid out from under the roof. 

“Robin.” Your heart stopped. You turned to find Batman holding onto the roof piece. “Let go. I’m going to drop it.”

You jumped back. Bruce dropped it. The bang echoed throughout the building, kicking up more dust. It went straight into your lungs.

Coughing hard, you swore you saw the man ran out of the building after a sharp word from Bruce. 

Bruce’s arms wrapped around you and your face was shoved into his shoulder. Your legs left the ground. Air rushed around your ears as you heard the crack of the building’s walls giving out. 

You couldn’t get air in your lungs. Black swarmed your vision as the sound of shattering glass filled your ears. Bruce’s arms disappeared from around you and you felt a flash of pain before darkness overtook you.

***

Pain flared through your body. Your ears rang. You lifted your arm only to feel someone touch it and gently guide it down. 

Suddenly, you were weightless, pressed against a warm mass. It was hard to breathe, your lungs heavy as two stones in your chest.

A mask was placed over your mouth and nose, fresh air filled your airways. You coughed, reaching up to pull at the mask only for another hand to hold it there.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Dick’s voice broke through the ringing. Your eyes felt sealed shut. You reached up to rub them only for someone to push your hands down again.

Suddenly, you were laid down on a hard surface. “Relax, kiddo. You’re okay, we’re all okay,” Dick soothed again. A hand held yours, you squeezed their fingers. “Good kid.” Lips pressed against your forehead before pulling away.

Voices bubbled to the surface. The panic in them made you shiver. A blanket was laid over you as Dick continued to soothe. The edge in his voice scared you. 

You forced your eyes open, blinking at the bright lights. A dark shadow hovered above you. Your head hurt as you focused enough to see Dick’s head was turned.

“Straight to the Watchtower. Damian, call them, have the med team ready for when we come in,” Dick said. His hand tightened around yours. “Jay, take B off first. He’s worse off.”

Your heart stopped. Ice cold sunk into your body as you turned your head to follow Dick’s gaze. 

Blood dripped onto the floor from the tip of a gloved hand. You choked when you realized it was Batman’s glove. 

You gasped, causing pain to flare in your chest as you tried to sit up. Dick’s attention was back on you as he held you down.

“(Y/N), you’re fine. Bruce is going to be fine too, but you need to stay still and calm for me, okay?” Dick looked into your eyes. His mask was off. You knew it meant something was very wrong. He never would have taken his mask off in the field. 

You fought harder, ignoring the pain. Dick swore, holding you down rather roughly. Artemis appeared beside him with a needle in her hand. You screamed through the mask as you felt the prick of the needle. 

The strength seeped out of you like water down a drain. Black swarmed your vision. “Sleep now,” Dick whispered, running his fingers through your hair. The last thing you saw was the tears in his eyes.

***

You woke to a loud snore. A dull pain throbbed in your head as you opened your eyes. The lights were dim. You reached up to rub your eyes only to feel the pull of an IV.

Another loud snore. You blinked to find the snore coming from Jason, who was fast asleep in the chair next to your bed. 

You took a breath, feeling the itch of the oxygen tubes in your nose. The heaviness in your lungs was still there, but the oxygen seemed to lighten it somewhat.

The walls were the familiar dark grey of the watchtower and a viewport to your right showed the stars. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly very dry.

You couldn’t remember how you got here. The last thing you remembered was...Greece. The building was about to collapse and you were trying to save a man who was trapped. Did you save him?

The door opened to your left. You flinched to find Damian in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. It would have alarmed you to see him in such casual clothes on the watchtower, but the domino mask over his eyes reassured you. 

“TT.” His shoulders relaxed as he came to your side.

Another snore burst from Jason. Damian sneered in disgust. “Let me guess, his incessant snores woke you,” Damian said, glancing at the monitors above your head. 

You followed his gaze.“Wh...” You paused to try to wet your mouth. “What happened?”

A frown flickered on Damian’s lips. His dark eyes turned back to you. “You don’t remember?” You shook your head. Fear crept up your spine.

Jason snored again. Damian grabbed a cloth from your bedside and hurled it at Jason’s face. Jason sputtered, choking slightly as he jerked awake.

 “The building was going to fall...and the man...did he make it out?” you asked, studying Damian’s steely face. Damian pursed his lips. 

“He made it out,” Damian said. 

You blinked. “But I didn’t make it out?” Damian glanced at Jason, who held his gaze. The silence was heavy.

Jason sighed and reached to take your hand. “You made it out, kid, but...Bruce didn’t.”

Images flashed before your eyes. Bruce beside you, holding up the piece of roof. The feeling of his arms around you as your ears hurt from the noise. Dick’s face sharp with fear. The blood dripping from Batman’s glove.

Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe like your lungs had been transformed into thin paper straws. Black crept into your vision. 

“Woah, hey.” Jason grabbed your shoulders. His eyes looked directly into yours. “He’s alive, just hurt. Calm down.” He took a deep breath. You struggled to copy him. 

“You’re an idiot, Todd.” Damian’s voice somehow made you relax.

“Shut up, demon-brat.” Jason sent a glare Damian’s way. You felt your lungs expand, letting you breathe normally. Your heart slowed. 

“I’m too old to be considered a brat,” Damian retorted.

“That’s what you think.” Jason smirked as he released your shoulders and sat back down. “B is stable, but he’s got a long road ahead, even for him.”

You relaxed, falling against your pillow. “Can I see him?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “TT, of course, but later though,” Damian said, sitting on the edge of your bed. He sent Jason a glare, which he met with one of his own.

“Rest now.” Jason reached over to squeeze your shoulder. “You hungry? Thirsty?” He got to his feet. You shook your head. “I’ll bring you something anyway. You need to eat.” Jason left the room, stretching his arms above his head. Damian watched him go. 

“You’re not mad at him?” You shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around you. 

“I was, but...well, it doesn’t matter now.” He patted your knee. An odd sense of affection from him, but it felt nice though. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay with you.”

You felt the exhaustion deep within your bones. Slowly you drifted off. “Damian?” You yawned.

He hummed, watching you with a shine in his eyes that you weren’t sure you ever seen in him before.

“Dad isn’t mad at me, is he? I failed him as Robin.” You opened your eyes in time to see him flinch. 

“No, he’s not upset, nor did you fail.” Damian took your hand, squeezing it tight. You smiled. The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was how rough the calluses on his hands were.

***

Dick’s arm was around your shoulders, very warm in comparison to the cold air of the watchtower. Even with Damian’s sweatshirt, you were cold. You leaned into him as you both walked down the hall toward Bruce’s room. 

“Just remember he’s got a long road ahead of him. He got out of his last surgery about three hours ago.” Dick smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You nodded. “Thank you.” Your throat tightened, heart skipping a beat. It was all your fault. You should have been stronger, faster. A better Robin.

“We’re here.” Dick kissed the top of your head. You looked up at him to find him studying you. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “I need to see him.”

Dick ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah, okay.” He opened the door, gesturing for you to step in. 

You took a deep breath and stepped inside. Superman was sitting by the bed, looking up with a friendly, tired smile. You smiled back before focusing on the bed.

It didn’t look like him. 

You bit your lip, stepping closer. He was covered in casts and bandages. Monitors beeped around him. An oxygen mask was over his mouth and nose.

“He’s awake,” Superman said, getting to his feet. “Still groggy from the anesthesia.”

“Dad?” His eyes flickered open. You rushed to his side. Your hand floated above his casted arm, not sure if you could touch him. “I’m so sorry.” Tears filled your eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough and got you hurt.”

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly. His arm moved into your hand. “Don’t.” His whisper barely escaped the mask. 

Superman removed the mask and stepped back. Dick rubbed your back, making you jump slightly because you had forgotten about him.

“Don’t cry,” Bruce rasped, coughing slightly. 

You wiped your eyes with your sleeves. “I can’t help it.” Your lips trembled.

“So strong, so brave.” Bruce lifted his arm. He winced, but kept moving until he could touch your cheek. “You didn’t fail me. I failed you.”

The breath left your lungs. “What?” 

“I wasn’t the father I should have been.” He brush away a stray tear with his thumb. You leaned into his hand like it was the most natural thing to do. “I’m so proud of you.” He choked slightly. Superman stepped up to try to put the mask back on him, but Bruce shook his head. “You are good enough, always were.”

“Don’t say that.” You took his hand in yours and rested it back on the bed. His arm shook from the strain. 

“I’m not angry at you or Jason.” Bruce gasped, blood draining out of his face. He turned his head toward Superman and let him put the mask back on. His color came back with a few breaths.

Dick grunted, stepping to your side and pulling you against him. “Well, I’m sure he’s still a little upset at Jason. I know I am.” Dick smirked when a snort came from Bruce. 

A smile tugged at your lips at the sound. “I’ll have to ask him and Bizarro how I couldn’t hear you or them for the month you were missing,” Superman said, crossing his arms as he retook his seat by Bruce’s bed. 

Bruce squeezed your hand. You met his eye, seeing the love in them for the first time in months. A love you wondered had always been there, but just hidden.

 You perched on the side of his bed, careful not to hurt him. Bruce’s eyes closed as Dick and Superman made small talk. You kept your hand in his, feeling so small and safe at the same time. 

***

“You want some more, Dad?” You asked, holding out the pitcher of lemonade. Bruce shook his head, shifting in the lounge chair to find a better position. He still had his casts on, but he was healing. 

You took your seat next to him and sipped from your own glass as the sun shined down and warmed your skin. 

The gardens at Wayne Manor were a bit overgrown. Bruce had hired a few gardeners, but it would take time to reshape it to where Alfred had left it. 

A month had past since Greece. Bruce was living at the manor with Tim and Cass taking care of him. You lived with Dick for now. Eventually, once Bruce had healed both physically and mentally, you would move back with him.

However, you made sure to visit a few times a week. Recently, Bruce insisted on sitting with you outside as the days turned sunny and warm for Gotham.

“How’s Bludhaven?” Bruce studied you. You kept your eyes on the gardens.

“Good.” You glanced at him. His lips were pursed, he turned back to the gardens as if to avoid your gaze. You smiled. “Not as cool as Gotham. I can’t wait to come back.” 

A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. He sipped at his lemonade, wrinkling his nose. His jaw was relaxed, something you couldn’t have imagined seeing months ago. 

“Jason wants me to spend the week with him,” you said. You almost laughed when Bruce narrowed his eyes. “With permission this time. He said I had to ask you and Dick. Dick said it was fine, but what do you think, Dad?”

“As long as you have your phone and you check in every day,” Bruce grumbled, crossing his arms. It was hard to do with his casts, you were impressed.

“I will.” You bit your lip. Your heart felt full. “I love you, Dad.”

Bruce looked at you, eyes sparkling slightly. “I love you too,” he mumbled after a moment. A lump formed in your throat as you felt yourself almost burst. You finally had your father back and nothing could have been better.

[confused-wanderer]

How would Jason react, or even know about Bruce nearly killing the joker?

He doesn’t hear it from Damian, Dick nor Barbara. It’s only when a few years have passed and relations between Bruce and him slowly start cooling that he starts being able to return to the Manor more often without feeling pangs of guilt, longing, nostalgia and overall the Lazarus Pit screaming to be let out.

However, he isn’t dumb. Whenever he complains to Tim about how Tim’s been treated better and loved more than he was, he’s quick to notice how Tim’s jaw tenses, with fingers spastic as if they wanted to curl into fists. Nor does he miss what Tim whispers under his breath twenty minutes later.

If only you knew..

Bruce keeps trying to make amends, tries engaging with him face to face before a few bullets got the message across and he retreated. But Jason could still feel him waiting, hovering, for the signal to light up and let him know he was needed.

He could go to hell though.. Every single time he looked at Bruce he felt safe, followed by fierce anger burning through his veins. He hated that he felt at ease when Bruce entered. Hated that he almost fell back into their old banter. Hated that he missed him. Hated that he still trusted him.

Hated that he still loved him.

One night, after giving Bruce the cold shoulder the entire time and watching in satisfaction as Bruce’s shoulder slumped in defeat, he felt the sudden need to comfort him. He’s the batman, he chided himself. If he could get over your death, he can get over this.

Standing out on the balcony, he never spoke to the presence already there.

“Master Jason..”

���Hey Alfred, it’s pretty cold out you sure you’d be fine?”

“I’ve faced worse winters.”

Jason sighed. That old man always had an air of expectancy around him, just like when he was robin, like a mother waiting for their child to tell them what they did wrong.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what the bloody hell you think you’re doing?”

That caught Jason’s attention. Hatred and stoic ness quickly melted and all he could do was stare at him in shock.

“Why are you tormenting him?”

“Are you fucking kidding me??-“ “Language master Jason.”

“Alfred. You were there.”

“There was nothing master Bruce could do to save you-”

“I DONT CARE ABOUT THAT ALFRED! He-“

Shoulders slumped, he looked down.

“He replaced me.” Jason whispered. “He didn’t even wait till my body was cold he just fucking went ahead and replaced me. Even after knowing I died, he still put another child in that suit, MY suit! And then, HE DIDNT EVEN AVENGE ME!! He just took Joker back to Arkham, which is basically just like a vacation for him, and LEFT. After all these-”

A shivering cold current of electricity ran through his body and he could feel the Lazarus Pit rising, making his body grow colder by the second.

“After all this time.. he never did anything.” Jason muttered. “So yeah, not only was knowing I was dead for four years a slap to the face.. but to come back home to find another kid in my room and business as usual? As if I never existed? That just made me realise I didn’t matter.”

CLINK

The tea cup in Alfred’s hands was shaking, and a wave of concern overtook Jason. He was about to reach a hand out to steady it when Alfred put the cup down, sighed and looked at the moon.

“Master Bruce never gave Robin to Tim. I did.”

“.. Come again?”

“I gave it to him myself. After you died.. he was a shell of himself. He started pushing himself more, brutalising criminals to the point of hospitalisation. After you died.. a big part of him did too. He refused to be around people, friends, to be happy, to eat. He was punishing himself for your death by refusing to live. And I never forgot you either my boy.. Every night for months I stood by the windows, staying awake and looking outside..hoping to catch a glimpse of you. For the first time in my life I prayed for you to be beaten and bruised, but alive. Locked myself in your room, in your memories, as if standing over your bed was guarding you even in death..Master Bruce missed you so much he played tapes of your missions, just to hear your laugh.”

The older man shook his head and refused to look at him.

“He rejected Tim, but I couldn’t watch him destroy himself. I’d already lost one son..” Alfred paused, looking at Jason with such fondness and pain. “ I wasn’t going to lose another.”

A long pause lingered in the air, and Jason could hear his heart racing as it processed what he’d heard.

“As for Joker,” Jason looked up, and saw the most terrifying scowl he’d ever seen before, with eyes filled with hatred and a craving for retribution.

“Jason Bruce almost killed him too. Like you said, I was there. I was always there. He had chas- hunted Joker down, torturing him slowly and violently until the air was thick with his screams. How every bone was shattered, with so much blood you couldn’t even tell the tiles underneath were white.”

Alfred closed his eyes, and Jason couldn’t help feel that though he was remembering the scene, he was also reveling in it. “His body shattered, smile gone replaced with pain and the howls of misery that he emitted that night.. alas-”

“He didn’t kill him.”

Alfred’s eyes bore into his, and reflected the darkness of the shimmering sky.

“You’re not hearing me. He damn well nearly did. There are things worse than death in this world and Bruce made sure to make Joker feel every single.one. But Superman.. heard him. He heard the roars of fury and grief, and stopped him. All while Bruce stood over the broken body of what once was human. All while muttering your name over and over again, like it was a prayer that kept him grounded. With every hit he took, with every ounce of pain he delivered, he did it with your name on his lips.”

They both just stood there.. shadows in fading moonlight as the noises of life started waking the world with their song.

“Unfortunately, his voice was recorded on one of those surveillance cameras. Tim wiped it, but we kept one copy.. and though the footage is corrupted, the sound is crystal clear.”

Alfred hesitated, before gently cupping Jason’s hands and placing a cold weight on them.

“I hope you never hear it..my boy. I’d rather you burnt it. But if you want to hear the raw truth.. I wanted you to have proof.”

Sunlight burst through the horizon, and with it came the dawn of a new time.

Jason heard the tape as soon as he left.

And burnt it right after.

Alfred was right.

All he had heard were the guttural cries of a broken man..

A father, grieving for his son.

Jason finding out Dick killed joker post:

[beatleszeppelin]

Kidnapped with Bucky

Chapter 1: Wet Hot Shower

Summary: You read the title, you know what this is about, this chapter however starts with a very frustrated Bucky, needing a shower.

Warnings/Includes: Crying, lots of Bucky crying in the shower, worries about self harm, (barely mentioned), mentions of burns. Tell me if you catch any more

Word count: 1300

A/N: This is only the first chapter, I've got more in the docs... Reader is female, relationship can be read as platonic or otherwise.

Steve droned on about his plan, his grand idea to stop the next evil. Everyone listened intently, sitting around the table, drinking and talking.

Bucky leaned all the way back in his chair, squeezing a stress ball in his human hand. “And what should I be doing while you “infiltrate from the air”?” He used air quotes with his unoccupied hand. 

“Well, Buck, I was thinking you could take this one off, stay home and rest a bit.” Steve’s voice got high, “You’ve been looking a bit tired recently.”

He tipped his chair forward and leaned in close, “I am, but I can help.”

“Look, pal, I’m not saying you’re not an asset to this team, but…” he stopped himself. 

“An asset?” Bucky scoffed, stood, and slammed his open metal palm into the chair. It smashed into the wall, leaving a dent in the shape of the chair’s corner. A hand came up and forked through his long hair. Everyone stared as he walked out of the room, shaking his head and flexing his jaw.

Stark was the first to speak, “I think baby’s gonna need a nap.”

Reader shot a look at Steve; he frowned and then dropped his head onto his folded arms.

“I think that’s a good place to call it,” Bruce got up and pushed in his chair.

The group dispersed into various floors and rooms of the tower; Steve put on his headphones and swayed his head to the music, still in his chair. 

Reader went to her room to work on her project. She heard the water start through the next door. Bucky was the only other one with a room on this floor, so it was most likely him taking his scolding punishment shower.

She peeked out, steam clouded from the edges of the door, where Steve sat one ear out of his headphones listening. 

“It bad?” She asked.

He nodded slowly.

“I don’t want him to get hurt…” Steve drew his eyes away from the ground and up to Reader, “I don’t want him to hurt himself.”

After Bucky left the meeting, he felt like punching something. Steve would be a good choice, but it would only serve as proof that he can’t do this. He walked down the hall, past the bathroom, into his room. Grabbing the navy pillow off his bed, with one solid fist, clenched so hard he shook. He silently screamed. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. Bucky threw his pillow back to the head of his bed. His shoulders sank. He grabbed some clothes off the end of the bed and took them to the bathroom. 

Bucky closed the bathroom door quietly. He stands with his hand on the light switch for a while before flicking them off. He pulls off his jacket, and drops it in front of the door, to cover any light coming in/ to protect him from people finding out he is in the dark. 

He can barely see himself in the mirror, but he can see the outline of his face and the bruise across his cheek. His eyes feel hot, and tears sting themselves into vision. He silently screams, digging his nails into his legs.

“I can’t do anything,” he says in such a quiet whisper he thinks he just mouths it to himself in the mirror. Bucky prays no one can hear him, not Steve with his super hearing, or any of Tony’s little robot camera listening things. But it does almost hurt to be quiet.

He takes a deep breath with an open mouth and a clenched jaw, and tears slowly fall. 

He turns on the shower to the hottest he can touch. Hydra used to do this, burn him. The showers here don’t get nearly as hot; it only makes his skin numb, but doesn’t sting like it used to. 

His pants dropped, belt still weaved in. Then his shirt gets pulled off over his head. Bucky holds his shirt in his hands for a beat before shoving his face into it and screaming. The splashing of the water and the muffling of the shirt contained the broken scream. He drops the shirt and gets into the shower. 

He cries. His chest turns red from the water, and his face is wet and sticky. His long hair clings to his face and jaw and sticks up in different directions, frizzy from the steam that slowly fills the dark room.

His eyes squint shut, and he uncontrollably sobs. Muscles flex in the hot water, and all his fresh cuts burn. 

He doesn’t notice a slight moving glow of light from the hall outside refract off of the steam, showing how heavy the air has become. Glistening drips run down the mirror’s face.

A knock on the door startles him sober from his crying. 

Steve leaned his head back against the wall, “he’s crying, I can hear it.”

“He’s allowed to…” Reader defended, “If you put your headphones on you, won’t be able to hear it.”

“I need to make sure he’s okay, like he’s always done for me.”

They hear the muffled scream, and Steve’s lip quivers. He looks at Reader with big doe eyes, full of anguish.

“Okay, give him a minute to cool down. If he’s in there, crying, then you can hear he’s alright. Yeah?” He nods. 

They sit outside the door; minutes pass, and Reader and Steve play jacks. Steve has won twice, but Reader snagged the last win because he got too cocky. He listens to his headphones, rocking back and forth to the music. 

After three or four more games, Steve starts listening again. “It’s been a while, right?” He asks.

“I guess, but I take long showers too.” Reader says, bouncing the ball against the opposing wall in the hallway.

“You’re right, but you don’t sound like this.”

“Like what?”

He took his headphones off, and leaned his head back, “He hasn’t stopped yet.” Steve checked the time, “38 minutes straight.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s too long.” She cleaned up the pieces, “Get in my room.”

“You’re not my mom,” he cocked his head.

“Here,” she shoved the jacks into his hand, “take these with you.” 

He listened and took the game with him.

She knocked at the door.

“Hey, Buck,” Reader yells through the door with only a slight infliction of panic.

“What?” his voice cracks, weak as he tries to talk. He clears his throat softly. 

“I just… uhh… I needed to pee and I just wanted to see when you’d be out.” She would never let him know the real reason was because she was worried about him.

“Sorry, I’ll be like another minute.” He spoke clearly.

Bucky wiped his nose with the back of his hand as water dripped down his face. Snot covered his hands, and everything was wet and hard to clean. He blew his nose into his hands and ran his face under the water. It was too hot for a face and made him wince at the contact. 

He didn’t know how long he had been crying, or how long he had been in there. And he can’t imagine how long it was before she noticed.

So, he rubbed himself clean with his unscented soap. (Any scents were just too much for him after the serum). He hugged his body for a minute while he rinsed off before shutting off the water and getting out.

He flipped the light on, wrapped the towel around himself, and stared in the mirror. He looked fucked.

Bucky opened the door and saw Reader waiting outside, leaning against the wall in the hall. He rubbed his eyes, trying to hide his face. 

“You okay?” She asked.

“I just washed my face,” he wiped his eyes to prove it, “soap, it got in my eye.”

His face was sticky and dry, his body naked, and his chest was bright red and splotchy from where the water scalded him, and she saw it all.

[tomboy014]

The Prince's

So, I hadn’t originally planned on doing anything for Dani, but this post from @aziraphale-is-a-cats-a-cat got me thinking about things, and I ended up writing this.

So, while the men of the Justice League are trying to figure out who Dani is a clone of, Wonder Woman takes one look at the black haired, blue eyed, mischievous girl and can’t help but see herself in her and claim, “Mine.”

The rest of the League try, but there’s no arguing with Diana now that she’s set her mind on something, but Bruce and Clark have kids and know it’s not as easy as it looks to take care of them.  She’s only ever been the “fun aunt;” she’s never had to get into the dirty, exhausting parts of parenthood before.  It escalates to a full-blown argument, but if Dani has any say in it, she’d rather chill at Wonder Woman’s place for a while.  It sounds better than staying in some gross cave or ice castle, and space isn’t her thing (the same way it’s Danny’s), so she’d rather not stay in the Watchtower.

Arguments about clones and custody continue over the next few weeks, not helped by the fact that Dani is still pretty unconcerned about the whole situation.  Or, she was unconcerned until Vlad showed up.  He’d decided enough was enough and it was long past time he collect his property.

It only takes a single scream.

Diana bursts into the room, fist connecting with Vlad’s jaw, and he’s knocked across the room.

“Don’t.  Touch.  My child.”

She proceeds to hand his ass to him on a bronze platter before he flees into the night, bruised and bloody.

Now it’s Dani’s turn to latch onto Diana’s leg, shouting “Mine!”  This is her new, kick-ass mommy and no one else can have her.  Dibs!  No take backs!  Well, it’s settled, now.  Diana is officially Dani’s mom, and no member of the JLA can stop it.  She scoops Dani up in her arms, and before she’s even out the door, she’s already telling the other Amazon’s the good news and making plans to take Dani to Themyscira to meet her γιαγιά Hippolyta. 

The two work on figuring out family life, and all’s good for a while.  Dani’s got a (relatively) stable home life and is quickly adapting to life as “Danielle Prince.”  She likes that the name sounds similar to Diana’s, like it was on purposeful choice rather than a cheap knockoff of her original’s name, and she’s getting a lot more comfortable with it.  Bruce, thoroughly defeated and resigned to put away the adoption papers, helps her enroll is a good school and finds tutors to catch her up on the years of schooling she didn’t live through.  (This includes Jason Todd, who has volunteered himself as an excuse to hang out with Wonder Woman more.)  Louis helps her get legal paperwork and documents for Dani (something she helped do for Kon).  She makes friends with Damian and Jon.  And she’s just as skilled as Danny with language, so she’s picking up Greek rapidly.

Since Diana’s adopted her and she’s gained an army of superpowered babysitters, Dani is finally starting to feel comfortable enough to share some information with the League.  It’s not much, but she lets them know Plasmius is the one who cloned her, and her last name used to be Fenton.

Oh, no.  Between those colors and facial features, Clark has a pretty good guess at which Fenton family she came from.  Still, the family is enormous, so he doesn’t know which Fenton exactly was cloned, but the family reunion is this year, and wouldn’t hurt to give Dani a bigger support system.  Would she and Diana like to come?

Vlad, meanwhile, has recovered and is pissed.  After shadowing Wonder Woman from a healthy distance, he finds out she’s supermodel Diana Prince.  Plasmius may not have been a match for Wonder Woman, but billionaire Vlad Masters is more than capable of taking some supermodel down a peg or two.

So, he approaches Diana at work, telling her he knows who she is and that he wants his “daughter” back.  His “minion” might not have been a match for her, but if she refuses to comply, he’ll ruin her career.

And she laughs.  Laughs right in his face.  Loudly.  Because she knows he’s bluffing.  A billionaire and supermodel isn’t anything new as far as the media is concerned; it’s a cliché.  But a deadbeat billionaire dad threatening to steal back an illegitimate child from an abandoned single mother?  After years of not paying any child support?  The media would eat something like that right up.  Something that could drop stock prices and ruin political careers.  That’s something anyone would be desperate to keep hushed up and out of the media spotlight, and she’ll drag him kicking and screaming into said spotlight if he comes anywhere near her daughter.  Or maybe the media would prefer to know the real story about his illegal cloning?  After all, that went over so well for Lex Luthor. 

Vlad leaves, and Diana makes a few calls.  First, she makes sure Clark heard everything in that conversation and sets him on the warpath against DalvCo if need be.  She gets Bruce up to speed, and if there’s one thing he’s in the best position to do, it’s to hit Vlad where it really hurts: his wallet.  Vlad was already a pretty scummy businessman.  Wayne Enterprises didn���t need much of an excuse to cancel or back out of business deals with him.

But Diana is still shaken up by the event, even if she’s not going to let it show.  Right now, she wants to send Dani away to Themyscira behind a wall of Amazons where she knows no one will be able to touch her, but Bruce and Louis talk her down.  Dani’s finally settling into a normal-ish life, and uprooting her now will not help her, and if push comes to shove, trying to whisk her away will not look good to the courts.  Louis knows a great lawyer, and Bruce is willing to foot the bill.

For Vlad, that did not go as expected at all.  He hadn’t expected her to know Danielle was a clone, and he doesn’t want Danielle to be public knowledge.  However, he has no intention of getting lawyers involved; she’d be expecting that.  No, he has something far more insidious planned.  It’s been decades since he’s attended one, but the Fenton Family Reunion should be coming up soon, and as far at that family is concerned, once a Fenton, always a Fenton.  She’s prepared to fight lawyers?  Well, Let’s see how she fares against an army of angry grandparents and disapproving aunts demanding that his poor child be returned to him once he sets the family on the warpath.

[moonlight0934]

Only Around You

Tim scratches at his arm, staring at the ugly stitches that Bruce gave him yesterday. He got hit by a knife on patrol, but for some reason, Alfred wasn’t home at two a.m. So, Bruce stitched up his arm, and now it looks like someone just attacked his arm with the stitches too. He was shaking so badly, and Tim has no idea why. He’s never gotten stitched up by Bruce before, but he’s seen Bruce execute perfect stitches on numerous people, and that includes himself.

Tim forces himself to his feet, wincing as the large bruises on his back rub against the chair. The cave is quiet, so he turns on some rock music, and gets to work. His music is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear the alarm from the monitor that watches news channels. He flips the music off, and pulls the alert up on the main computer over his case.

Ivy and Harley are trying to take over downtown again. Tim pulls himself to his feet, wondering how they got out of Arkham so fast since they were only put there a few weeks ago. He rushes through getting his gear back on, then slips a comm into his ear.

“Bruce? Batman, are you there? If you are, we have a situation downtown. Ivy and Harley are trying to destroy everything again, and I need backup. I’m heading down there now, so just meet me when you get this message.”

He also texts Alfred to come down the stairs if he has the time. Alfred texts back almost immediately saying that he’ll be there in a minute, and that Tim can contact him over comms if he needs anything. Then Tim heads out. He makes it downtown, but no one is there. There’s no carnage, no broken buildings, and no crazy, screaming bitches trying to kill people. Tim pushes down on his comm.

“Hey, can you check the alert again, please? I think I’m in the wrong place, but I’m sure this is where it said.”

Static crackles through the comm, and Tim frowns.

“Agent A?”

Still nothing. Tim turns to grapple to a higher vantage point, but something hits him from behind. His jaw slams into the concrete, and stars dance across his vision. Everything fades to black quickly after that. Tim wakes up quickly, jumping to alertness. Tim’s eyes scan the room immediately. It’s dark, but it looks like he’s in a moldy basement. He’s restrained, and it’s pretty good, but definitely something he can get out of. His comm is still in his ear, and his mask hasn’t been tampered with.

A light flips on overhead while someone comes down the stairs. He can’t see them until they get all the way down the stairs, and Tim feels like he recognizes the young man, but he can’t put his finger on where he’s seen them before.

“Ah, Robin, you’re awake.”

“What do you want?” Tim asks, sounding annoyed already. He can tell that this is only a half professional job, and this guy was the one hiring people to do the professional parts.

“I want to know why you’re here.”

Tim pauses, confused.

“I think it’s because you kidnapped me, but now I’m not so sure.”

He walks over, and slaps Tim across the face. Tim winces as his already swollen jaw is dealt more damage.

“Wait, I know where I saw you before. You were the one at the second Robin’s memorial every year. You were the one that gave a speech.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there until you stole his costume and his partner.”

“I didn’t steal anything, and I was there. You just wouldn’t know. I think I know what this is about now. I looked up to him too, and I’m not trying to replace him. Batman needed someone to reign him in.”

“Yeah right. You realize that you’re causing more harm than you’re helping, don’t you? Batman didn’t usually almost die, especially saving his partners. Robins didn’t get hurt so much, and criminals didn’t used to get away.”

Tim stays quiet, not planning on telling this kid that Batman is the one hurting him most of the time, and the reason why most of those bad things happened. He’s not wrong about one thing, it never used to happen to the other Robins. Bruce was only this way around him. Part of him knows that it isn’t his fault, but the other part whispers in his ear that it is.

“You ruined him, and you’re ruining the legacy of Robin. He needs to be helped, and you’re not doing that.”

Tim bites his tongue as he resumes his work on the knots tying his hands.

“Are you even listening?”

“Yes, I’m listening. Don’t worry, I hear ya. I’m the worst, and Batman could do so much better. He should just bring the last Robin back from the dead. Then all of his problems could be solved. Oh, wait, he can’t do that. Whoops.”

The man slaps Tim again. Then he pulls a gun out of his waistband. Tim raises one eyebrow.

“You’re going to shoot me?”

“Yes, then Batman can move on from his extra baggage.”

Tim sighs.

“Jeez, I freaking hate fanatics.”

“I am not a fanatic!” the man screams, pointing the gun at Tim’s head.

The ropes drop from Tim’s hands, and he launches to his feet. The man gets two shots off before Tim snatches the gun, and slams it into his nose. Maybe it was a little harder than he had to, but he doesn’t stop to worry about it. Tim gently places a hand against the waistband of his suit. It comes away red, and he curses. He reaches up to flip his comm back on. It crackles to life instead of the static from earlier.

“He must have had something to block the communication lines. Is anyone there?” he asks, pushing down on his comm. There’s no answer, but he’s pretty sure that he’s getting through. “Ugh, do I always have to do everything myself?” he mutters, grabbing the rope.

He ties the man up as fast as he can before lugging him up the stairs. He’s bleeding heavily by then, and starting to get a little light headed. He uses the function on his comm to call the police station, and tells them to meet him at the man’s address. They get there within twenty minutes, and Tim has stopped the bleeding as effectively as he can by then.

“Gordon, hi,” Tim greets from his position on the floor.

“Robin, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just bleeding a little bit. I am going to have to track down the people that this guy paid to help abduct me, but he’s mostly harmless. He’s just another fanatic.”

Tim pulls himself to his feet.

“I’m going to head out though. I have all my gear back, so I’m going to get off the streets for the day. Let me know if you need anything.”

Tim doesn’t actually wait for an answer before heading out of the door. Alfred is fretting around the cave when Tim gets back.

“Master Tim, where were you?”

“I got kidnapped. I tried comming you a little while ago.”

“I was trying to get a hold of Master Bruce, I’m terribly sorry.”

Tim’s vision starts to tilt.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Can you patch me up? I got shot.”

Alfred nods, and takes Tim to the infirmary.

“So, what happened?” he asks as he’s taking the bullet out.

“It was another Jason Todd fan who thinks I’m the bad guy.”

“You know you’re not, right?” Alfred asks after a quiet minute.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just really tiring, you know?”

“Yes, I understand. It must be quite hard being in your shoes.”

Tim laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, sure.”

What an understatement.

“I’m always here if you need anything, sir.”

Tim smiles.

“Yeah, thanks, Alfred.”

[002yb]

Jason living happilly with Dick, thinking everybody knows they are dating: :)))

Every single member of batfam, thinking they were just good friends until Dick kissed Jason goodbye before going out for a misssion: >>:○

Even before he's pulled away from Jason, Dick is smiling.  For as old as he is, Dick thinks kissing Jason might always make him feel giddy.  Young.  He's helpless to the stutter skip of his heart, the overwhelming affection as Jason chases after him for another kiss.  Dick laughs against the soft press of their lips because he might feel invincible like this - giving Jason more, anything, everything.

'Not going to want to go if you keep this up,' Dick teases between kisses.  He leans back only to press forward again, a peck to Jason's lips once, twice before Jason's beckons for more - his hand warm along the back of Dick's neck as he brings Dick back to him.

Dick accommodates although he really should be going.  He braces his weight on either arm of the chair Jason sits in, stooping over again so that Dick can crowd Jason’s space the way he likes; so that he can kiss Jason right.

‘Yeah, yeah.  Get outta here.’ Jason tells him, breathless between kisses.  Boneless - hand slipping away from Dick’s neck until Dick reaches up to hold it steady.  Turning away just enough to press a kiss to the heel of Jason’s palm.  He marvels the flush that warms Jason’s cheeks, the way his lips are swollen and kiss bruised.  

Handsome, Dick can’t help but think to himself.  So damn gorgeous.

‘Stop looking at me like that.’ Jason scoffs, turning his head away in embarrassment.

Dick snickers, tickled by Jason’s bashfulness. ‘Not looking at you any way but normal.’

Long suffering as Jason’s expression is, there’s a familiar affection beneath it that makes Dick’s lips quirk at their corners into a smile that’s boyish and smitten.  He presses one last kiss into the white of Jason’s hair before resting their foreheads together.

‘Yeah, I’m going.’ Dick tells him, a direct contradiction to how he stays.

And Jason smiles, crooked and biting, devastating and wonderful.  His nose scrunches, a blush dusting soft across its bridge and along Jason’s cheeks; his freckles and scars.  It’s charming the way it warms him, how he glows from such small affections.

His gaze softens.  It’s a wonder how he’s ever been able to refrain from public displays like this, though maybe it isn’t.  While it was Jason’s preference first, over time Dick thinks it might have become more his than anything.  Because while Jason likes his privacy, Dick likes keeping Jason to himself.  Selfishly, shamelessly.

Even with having turned Jason’s chair to face away from everyone before Dick kissed him though, the display might have been too much.  Dick can’t even admire how breathtaking or sweet Jason is because everyone in the cave is staring at them.  Which isn’t a problem, per se, but their wide eyes and slack jaws speak of scandal and misunderstanding and Dick gathers quickly they didn’t know.

It’s not like Jason and he have been subtle with their relationship even with the general lack of pda, so what the hell is with the genuine dumbfoundment?

Dick feels just as dumbfounded.  Jason and he have been called out for bantering on the comms countless times.  They’ve been caught sneaking off together more than once before and during patrols.  They go home together every night.  To their apartment!

Private, not subtle.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jason asks when Dick stays hovering over him, keeping Jason caged on his chair.  With a cheeky smirk, Jason taunts him with a sweetly drawled challenge, an invitation, ‘Decide you need backup after all, Nightwing?’

With how Bruce is looking at him (flummoxed as he is, he’s clearly, actively plotting Dick’s demise), Dick can’t help but weakly laugh, ‘Something like that.’

Jason turns his head to look behind him, attention catching on their flabbergasted family.  In response to their attention Jason seems to bristle.  He clicks his tongue and scowls, ‘What?’  You got something to say?  Say it.’  And because Jason is Jason, he zeroes in on Bruce - still unfortunately glaring at Dick, and sneers, ‘Stop looking at him like that.  What’s your deal?  He’s my boyfriend -’ Dick sighs, both resigned and pleased as Jason stands up for them, for him. ‘ - he can kiss me if he damn well pleases and - ‘

It’s only because Bruce’s eyes widen further that Jason stops talking, mouth snapping shut with an audible click as he comes to the same conclusion as Dick.  His attention shoots back to Dick and Dick smiles at him – reassuring and sheepish and every bit as lost as Jason feels.

It’s so dumb.  A family of detectives, ‘the world’s greatest,’ and a relationship like theirs slips them by?  It’s something to laugh about later after Dick has talked Bruce down.  The man looks ready to have an aneurysm knowing that months ago when Dick asked if it was okay for Jason to move in with him, it was decidedly not as a roommate - not as a means of keeping an eye on Jason, but rather a more efficient way to keep Dick’s hands on him.