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#[MUFFLED GRAYSON VIOLENCE]
arguablysomaya · 1 year
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dick: When will the clown sightings happen again, that was fun
jason: Look in the mirror and they can start today
dick:
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qcomicsy · 1 year
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Phrases I bet were said on the Wayne Manor without context Part ll
Tim: You know, everytime we have to say "technically it's not murder" it doesn't sound as great as we hope it so.
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Dick, on the living room:
Duke, first time alone with him: So... Discowing, huh.
Dick: Alright-
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Alfred, very tired: I suppose I shouldn't ask about the 6'0 orange lady flying of your window this morning?
17 year old Dick Grayson: I'd really hope you not.
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Steph: I'm JUST SAYING, that IF "hypothetically" WE both showed up on patrol wearing my cape, hood down and then lifted up the hood just to show matching RedHood™ helmets behind it we could both have the joy to see penguin's henchmen pissing on their pants.
Jason putting his book down: I'm listening.
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Dick: Just- Just be nice about it, for once in your life okay?
Bruce: Hn. (lying)
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Bruce: I'd like to remind all of you that Diana has international political immunity.
Dick: The fuck you mean by that????
Bruce: No reason. Just saying. In case we all forgot.
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Alfred: We are all aware that Master Bruce isn't fond of violence *loads glock*.
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Bruce: Be nice to your brother
Jason: I'm not even nice to you.
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Jason, 10 years old talking about Dick to his school friend: Yeah, he just comes here, eat all our food, screams at Bruce for 45 minutes and goes away.
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Tim, 15 years old, also talking about Dick to his school friend: He just comes here-
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Bruce, very, very tired: So... a boat.
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Tim: Do it.
Jason, cleaning his gun: Dude what the fuck.
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Tim, 7 nights awake in a roll: Do you think if I just scream loud enough Clark will come here and put me out of my misery.
Dick as Batman, 12 nights awake in a roll: He won't.
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Dick putting Batman's suit: He couldn't at least had the DECENCY of cleaning- muffled cursing noises*
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Harley Quinn at 3 am: I'll pay you fifty bucks if you pretend you never saw me here
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Dick, 17 years old: The fuck are you doing here.
Talia, with a shitty ass grin showing the engagement ring on her finger: I live here.
Dick:
Bruce: Listen-
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jasntodds · 1 year
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Caving In [11]
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Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader
Words: 12,364
Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst :), blood, injuries, canon violence, canon injuries, violence, lots of self doubt from the reader and Jason, a panic attack, heights, Jason, reader, and gar blaming themselves a lot, “go through me” trope
Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.
A/N: I’ll tell y’all who the endgame is next chapter for reasons lol it’ll be in an author’s note at the end by my taglist!! Also, I did post some of this as a two-shot lol I changed quite a bit of it when I posted it so it’s different but some of it is the same lol I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!
series masterlist | masterlist | tag list
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Jason comes to, his arms hung and tied above his head. His arms are supporting his weight, his feet dangling a foot from the floor. His head is pounding, spinning a little as his head nods. The weight of his eyelids feels like cinderblocks. Everything comes back to him like a leak in a boat, slowly but fluidly. The panic starts to settle in again as the flash of you with the sword to your face, Deathstroke on the other end, hits him.
He looks around, seeing you tied to a second beam about ten feet away from him. You’re dangling further from the ground than he is, your arms tied above your head and your head is hung. From where Jason is hanging, he can’t make out if you’re breathing or not and the every idea that you might not be, makes his head spin and his stomach nauseous.
“Y/n?” Jason calls but he doesn’t get a response. “Y/n!” Jason raises his voice a little louder, trying to look around for any sign of Deathstroke or Dr. Light but he doesn’t see either of them. “Y/n!” Jason calls again, this time his voice breaking slightly.
You aren’t answering and he fights the rope holding him up, trying to free himself. He uses all of his strength to lift himself up, trying to get enough momentum to loosen the rope but it doesn’t work. He does this a few times before he hears someone walk in from behind him.
Jason can see hints of light from over his shoulder and the sound of energy being used fills the, what seems to be, basement. The walking sounded off to Jason and now the use of energy does, too. It sounds muffled and at first, he thought it was because he was still just coming to but now he’s thinking he took some real damage. But he pushes that thought away and Jason gets an idea. Dr. Light didn’t like Jason making fun of him so all he has to do is keep talking. Get Dr. Light to come over to him. Jason can free himself and if he takes out Dr. Light right now, it’ll be one less psycho to deal with. So, he looks at you once more and shakes his head, pushing the thought of you being dead as far away from his mind as possible so he can be annoying.
“Ah, Dr. Light.” Jason calls out before gaining the energy to give up a chortle. “Did you come up with that shit by yourself or did your parents saddle you with that bullshit? I mean, come on, what a lame fucking name.”
“Shut it!” Dr. Light yells, his voice already annoyed. Jason knows this guy stands no chance against him. He could do this for hours.
“What? Is my talking annoying you, dickweed?” Jason chortles once more. “Cause that’s the thing,” Jason’s voice is breathy. “I can do it all day.” Jason states as he hears Dr. Light moving towards him and he knows he’s just won. “All night and if you’re nice, twice on a Sunday.” Jason finishes just as Dr. Light stands in front of him.
“I said, shut the fuck u--” Dr. Light starts but he’s cut off as Jason kicks him in the lower abdomen.
Dr. Light curls over in pain and Jason doesn’t let up. He kicks him a few more times, once in the chest and then in the face. The kick to the face gets Dr. Light to turn on his knees, his back towards Jason now. Jason wraps his leg around Dr. Light’s neck and squeezes as hard as he can. It’s taking every bit of energy Jason has to hold himself to do this but he knows he has to if he wants to get him and you out of here. So, he holds on and fights through the pain until he feels Dr. Light go limp.
“Night, night, asshole.” Jason states with a slight relief in his voice.
He takes no time in dislocating his thumbs to free himself. It’s not always ideal, it’s not exactly comfortable to do but it’s his only option. He pops the digits out of place and is able to free himself. He drops to the ground and pops the thumbs back into place before running over to you.
Jason cups your face, the panic pooling back in his stomach. “Y/n? Come on, you gotta wake the fuck up.” Jason mutters, shaking your head slightly. Jason peaks behind you, not seeing any sign of Deathstroke. “Please…” Jason shakes your head again, his brows furrowed and hands shaking. He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking. He just wants you to wake up. “Y/n.” Jason’s voice breaks as the burning behind his eyes becomes almost unbearable. “Wake up. His teeth grit between words.
You groan and Jason lets out the biggest breath. Your eyes peek up slowly, your eyelids heavy as if you’ve only been sleeping for an hour after pulling an all-nighter. Your arms feel heavy and weak above your head, almost completely numb. Your head is pounding and there’s a ringing in your ears.  And your eyes finally open fully, seeing Jason.
“Jay?” Your voice is raw as you say his name.
“You okay?” He asks, his eyes rapidly moving across your face, his hands not moving from your face.
There’s blood coming from his right ear and you wonder why he’s asking you if you’re okay. He’s very clearly injured. But, you are the one still tied up.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m…I’m okay.” You nod, pulling at the restraints.
You’ve never seen Jason anything but confident and cocky and angry. A part of you wondered if he could even feel anxiety because he never showed it, not until now. You can feel his hands shaking against your face and his lip is trembling just a little bit. How is he ever going to recover from this?
Jason nods with you. “I’m gonna cut you down.” He finally moves his hands and lifts your hoodie only to see they, of course, took your knives. Your heart sinks and Jason sees the look of defeat cross your face. “No, it’s fine.” Jason brushes it off, pressing the R on his chest, and releasing one of the blades. “Got it covered.” Jason smirks at you and it makes you feel a little better about this.
You’ve been captured and it’s devastating. You swore it would never happen again and it did. How did you even let this happen? There were two of you and your one job should have been keeping a lookout. You both knew Deathstroke was out there because of Rose and yet, you were focused on Jason beating a fucking lightbulb. The throbbing kicked it because it always fucking does but you didn’t move fast enough. You’re not fucking good enough even with powers to save you and Jason. You can’t even free yourself, Jason is the one cutting you down and grabbing you to make sure you can walk.
“Can you walk?” Jason asks, his voice isn’t flat but it’s like he’s trying to hold it together.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod at him and Jason grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly as he leads you both to the stairs.
But, when you get there, Deathstroke meets you right at the top holding out a sword an inch from Jason’s face. Jason gulps and you want to scream out of pure frustration. Jason holds his arm out in front of you, not even thinking about it.
“Leaving so soon.” Deathstroke taunts.
Deathstroke takes a step forward making Jason step back, protecting you with his arm. The two of you back off the stairs carefully, Deathstroke not moving the sword. There are two of you and two against one is better odds. But, this is Deathstroke. He gave all of the Titans a run for their money and killed one of them. How are you and Jason supposed to escape this guy? You and Jason are confident, absolutely, but you are not stupid.
Dr. Light walks over, finally coming to. He is pissed. He walks right over to Jason, Jason pushing you back a bit more and more behind him, blocking you with his entire body. Dr. Light takes a swing at Jason, getting him in the face and that’s the straw that breaks you. Your hands glow more than they ever have before, your hands feeling like they’re on fire. Jason tries to fight back but Dr. Light has him by the collar again and that’s it.
“Leave him the fuck alone, you environmental hazardous fuck!” You yell moving from behind Jason, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted with your hands right in front of you. The green illuminates Dr. Light and his eyes widen. He knew you had powers from the tunnel but it didn’t look to be that serious. He pauses and Jason is able to free himself. “Touch him and I’ll turn into a puddle.” You move in front of Jason this time.
“Try it, kid. See how far that gets you.” Dr. Light taunts and you know it’s a trap. But, you can’t see how.
If Deathstroke were going to kill either of you, he would have done it. He’s waiting for something. It’s not you or Jason fighting back, though, he would have killed Jason already. But, he’s not and he’s just standing there as if watching to see what happens. Dr. Light isn’t who either of you have to fear. So, you shoot acid at him anyway, intentionally missing most of him. The acid touches a part of his forearm and he lets out a scream of agony, the acid melting some of his skin. Dr. Light charges you but you already had your arm out towards Jason and you move yourselves just as Dr. Light tries to grab you.
“Too slow.” You taunt and Jason can’t help but crack a smile from behind you.
“What? A little acid too much for ya, huh?” Jason taunts back, yours and Jason’s attention focused on Dr. Light but your attention becomes split between Dr. Light and Deathstroke as Deathstroke walks behind you. Your head is throbbing, following the direction of Deathstroke until it falls short. Nothing. And then you know.
“Don’t fucking touch him.” You spin around, facing Deathstroke as he’s pulling up his sword standing right behind Jason.
Jason pauses, unsure if he should move and instead, he looks to you. How the fuck did you know that? The combat clairvoyance only works for you so how would you know he was going after Jason? You glare at him, your jaw squared as your hands are pointed at him but Deathstroke isn’t scared of you or threatened. While he finds this interaction at least interesting, he isn’t bothered. He doesn’t care. He pulls his sword up and holds it against Jason’s back. Jason arches his back as he feels the blade touch him, but not penetrate.
“You will stop or I’ll kill him.” Deathstroke says, keeping his voice flat and unbothered.
You look to Jason and you knew this wouldn’t go well. You knew you didn’t stand a chance against him but you both tried. You lower your hands and Dr. Light grabs you. You don’t fight him and Jason hangs his head, the guilt seeping into his blood. But, neither of you have much time to even think about it before Deathstroke knocks Jason out and Dr. Light takes a few good swings at you before you’re knocked out again.
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Gar rushes back to the tower and goes straight to Rachel’s room. He knows he needs to tell Dick but Dick is busy with other Titans and he’s freaking out. He knows Dick is gonna be pissed and he just needs to tell someone that isn’t Dick right now. Rachel will know how to help, if she can. Rachel is logical like Gar. She’ll help. But, when Gar enters her room, she’s asleep and this thick, gelatin like smoke is surrounding her just like in the training room when she attacked Jason. Gar sticks his hands out, trying to see if he can stop it or wake up Rachel. But, it attacks him instead, clawing right as his wrist and impaling him. Gar yells, jumping back and waking up Rachel.
“What? I’m up.” Rachel shoots up, looking at Gar who’s visibly scared and in pain. “Gar? What happened?” She asks as Gar stands back, holding his wrist. “Shit.” Rachel sighs, quickly getting up from the bed to check on him. “I’m so sorry.” Rachel’s words are rushed as she tries to see the damage to Gar’s wrist. “Please, don’t tell Dick.” Rachel begs.
“Y/n and Jason…” Gar pauses, the words bitter and sour in his throat. “They’re gone.” He chokes out.
“What?” Rachel searches his face, confused. You all were in the tower when she fell asleep, how are you both…gone?
“What happened to Y/n and Jason?” Dick’s voice asks from the door, overhearing Gar. He doesn’t even look mad, he just looks scared.
Gar lets out a shameful sigh, looking to ground. “Dr. Light has them.” Gar says quietly, barely looking at Dick.
“What?” Now Dick is mad. “What do you mean, Gar?” Dick almost demands the answer but Gar is visibly upset and his head is hung. “Okay, come with me, now.” Dick’s jaw clenches and Gar follows him to the comms lab. The walk there is silent and he hates being in trouble. “Explain, now.” Dick says as he sits at the computer, pulling up Jason’s tracking information to try and locate him.
Gar starts pacing behind Dick. “We…we figured out that Dr. Light was in the train tunnels.” Gar keeps his hands in his pockets as he walks. “Jason wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t a reject. And y/n…well, Jason went with her to fight Jerry so she felt she had to go with Jason. I think she wanted to prove to you that she was useful.” Gar explains, his voice unwavering in shame and guilt. “We were gonna come right back. And then Jason wanted to split up.” Gar stops pacing, standing behind Dick. “Y/n said she would go with him to make sure he was safe and he didn’t do anything stupid because we both have powers and Jason doesn’t. And then…I-I heard them scream.” Gar’s voice cracks, hearing the two of you echo in his head. “And I ran but they were already gone.”
“Why did you go out there in the first place?” Dick says through gritted teeth, nearly cutting Gar off. He is fuming. “On your own, with no weapons, no backup?”
Dick fully expects this from Jason and you. It's part of why Jason was even sent to Dick. He's too reckless, doesn't put any thought into anything, he's a little violent. Bruce hoped some time with Dick would help but clearly, nothing is getting through to him. As for you, you did already go off on your own, Jason in tow to do what you were told not to do. Jason bringing up this idea, of course, you would go with him. The two of you together doesn't seem like it's the best for anyone. Now, Dick has to rescue the both of you while Deathstroke is out there. It was stupid and you both should known better and Gar should have known better and expected this to happen.
Gar feels bad enough and Dick is making him feel worse. It’s kind of his fault. He should have just called Dick. He should have known with the two of you. Gar knows you and Jason better than anyone else in the tower. He gets you and you both tell him things. And he sees how you both are. You are the same side of the same coin. You’re reckless and eager to prove yourselves. Jason just has so much to prove and you’re new. You think a little more about the consequences of everything and maybe that’s why Gar didn’t think this would end poorly because you’re supposed to be the responsible one out of you and Jason. But, Gar is supposed to be the responsible one of all of three of you and he’s just let you both down.
“I’m sorry.” Gar apologizes, the guilt still slithered in his words.
“I just need details.” Dick says. “Specifics. Just write down everything you remember.” Dick says as he hands Gar a notepad. “I’m searching for Jason’s tracker right now.” Dick has a suspicion there’s more going on because how could Dr. Light have captured the both of you? Reckless sure, but there’s not a doubt in Dick’s mind that the two of you wouldn’t have put up a hell of a fight against him.
“Subject offline.” The computer says once it’s finished loading.
Dick closes his eyes and Gar gets an idea.
“IF-if-if Jason and Y/n are still down there, all-all that concrete and stone it-it, it would mask the GPS signal from the satellite.” Gar offers, hoping he's right. He can't think about Jason's tracker being offline for any other reason. It's too grave.
“Yes…it would.” Dick says as if he has an idea.
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When Jason comes to, he’s blindfolded, tied to a chair, and his ears are covered with, what he assumed to be, noise-cancelling headphones. He can’t hear anything or see anything. He can’t move. He’s just trapped and his mind starts to race. It goes against everything he’s been taught by Bruce. He’s supposed to remain calm but how is he supposed to be calm when he can’t see or hear anything and doesn’t know if you’re here with him? He doesn’t know if they took you somewhere else. He doesn’t know if they killed you. He knows absolutely fucking nothing and it’s driving him insane. If it were just him, he’d be able to be calm and start thinking of his next way to escape. He’d figure something out because he’s clever but he’s not sure how he can escape and get you without getting caught again and he won’t leave you here.
You come to not long after and the throbbing of your head is worse this time. You’re certain you have a concussion and would really appreciate it if these grown men stopped using force. But, you’re tied to a chair, just like Jason with a blindfold covering your eyes and noise-canceling headphones covering your ears. You can feel that your hands are tied awkwardly. Your wrists are in agony, feeling like they might break if you move the wrong way. Your palms are facing up and outward from the back of the chair, the rope digging into your skin.
A lump forms in your throat because you’re back in a fucking basement and tied up. How fucking unfair is that? TWICE. TWICE. How does this happen twice? And now you’re here with Jason and this is your fault because you should have called Dick. You should have reacted quicker. You should have yelled for him. Done fucking something. You should have been faster, should have just shot Dr. Light with the acid and called it a fucking day. But, you didn’t. Because it was Jason’s mission and you wanted him to have this win. And then you fucking froze.
Not long after coming to, Jason feels something near his face and then it’s gone. He twitches in his seat, unsure of what’s going on. His heart rate spikes slightly as he waits. Deathstroke has a plan and the plan can’t be to randomly kill him now. Him and you are being used as bait. And he repeats that, over and over to try and calm himself down. If you’re bait, you won’t be killed right now. But, the thought flees his mind as he feels a stabbing and agonizing pain in his leg. Jason screams out.
“FUCK.” He bends his back forward and then back.
His legs is being carved into. The knife digs through skin and muscle as tears sting Jason’s eyes. And just when the knife stops the carving, he feel fingers in the wound and he flinches his leg, trying to get away but he’s legs are bound to the legs of the chair. He’s guessing it’s Deathstroke digging the tracker. The thing he felt near his face was likely some sort of device to detect a tracker and now he’s paying for it.
His stomach twists, nausea filling him as his mouth waters. He swears he’s going to lose it when the fingers are finally pulled away from the wound. Jason is left with the open cut on his leg, it pulsates with every passing second and he’s begging to pass out again just so he doesn’t have to feel it. Right about now, he’s starting to think Dick just might have had the right idea about taking the tracker out.
And a part of him, somehow, is so relieved that you don’t have a tracker. He wore the tracker as some sort of badge of honor. It meant that Bruce, fucking Batman, would be able to always find him. He was worth finding. Jason Todd was worth saving. And he liked that feeling but you never had one because Dick doesn’t like them and you weren’t picked up by Bruce. And he’s so happy about that because if you were, you’d be in the same pain he’s in right now and he never wants you to be in pain again. And the thought of this being his fault comes back to him.
This is his fault. This was his big idea to go rogue and prove himself. Dr. Light was easy and maybe that should have been the red flag but he was too arrogant to even think of that. He was on his little high horse about getting one over on Dick, taking down Dr. Light. It was accelerating. But, he never thought you would follow him. He never thought Deathstroke would be there. He never thought he’d be kidnapped with you. None of this he accounted for. It never even crossed his mind because he never thought of the consequences that could come from this. And that’s on him now. He should have been more careful. He should have listened to Gar. And maybe a part of him wishes he would have listened to Dick.
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An hour goes by, and you and Jason have been trapped in complete darkness and silence. It’s a bit boring and concerning. All you want to do is go the fuck home, wake up from this nightmare. You want to hear Jason make some sort of fucked up joke about the situation that you’ll find tasteless and funny. And you want to see Gar’s smile that brings you so much happiness. You want to be in the safety of either of their rooms. Anywhere but fucking hear.
And Jason’s leg is still throbbing. It’s not pulsating anymore which is nice but it’s still throbbing and it’s exhausting. Being in pain, is absolutely exhausting. And he doesn’t know how much blood he’s lost but he’s guessing it’s probably enough to be a slight concern. And the only thing he wants to do, is get the fuck out of here. Then, apologize to you every single day he’s alive after this. He’ll never live it down. It’ll eat him alive and he knows it. If he doesn’t get you both out of here, that’s on him. This was his thing, his responsibility. He’s Robin, for fuck’s sake. How can he be Robin if he can’t even protect the one fucking person who he genuinely and truly and whole-heartedly cares about? The one person who doesn’t care about him being damaged goods?
But, the two of you are ripped from your thoughts as Deathstroke yanks your headphones off your heads, Jason’s first then yours.
“You mean your little sidekicks?” Deathstroke asks and you wonder who the fuck he’s talking to. Jason doesn’t miss a beat though.
“Hey! Who you calling a sidekick, asshole?” Jason yells and you can’t help but crack the faintest smile. He’s alive and still definitely kicking.
You’re honestly just glad to hear him. You aren’t really sure how he does it. You assumes he’s under the same treatment you’ve been getting which is silence and darkness. It’s kind of driving you insane and you’ve been kidnapped by a raging homicidal maniac. But, Jason has so much fire in him and you don’t get it. Of course, you’ve been through this before and you weren’t pleasant the first few months but you weren’t like Jason. Jason will fight against anything and everything and you’re beginning to think Jason is the reason parents tell their kids a kidnapper would bring that for being annoying. Dr. Light probably would have tossed Jason to the street if it were up to him. But, then you hear what you assume to be a fist connect with Jason’s face and Jason yells out.
“Hey! Shitface! Leave him the fuck alone!” You scream out and you don’t even know why you do it. You’re tied to a fucking chair. And that proved to be a mistake because Deathstroke decides to take a turn at you, punching you in the face.
Jason’s heart shatters. It immediately consumed him. He hears you gasping and groaning and he wants nothing more than to kill this fucker. He knows you’re trying to help, trying to get Deathstroke to leave him alone but a part of Jason thinks he deserves this. He thinks maybe he deserves the beatings to teach him some kind of lesson because if it weren’t for him, you would be safe at the tower right now. Not, kidnapped and being beaten…again.
“Yeah? You like picking on girls? Fuck, man, get a better fucking hobby. How’s knitting? Maybe it’ll calm you down? Or, trying getting laid.” Jason snarls, the taste of iron on his tongue. "Release some of that pent-up tension."
Deathstroke goes back to Jason and starts punching him in the stomach then in the face and then back to his stomach. Jason groans and yells out in pain. And just for good measure, he moves back to you for a final punch to you stomach as you groan out in pain.
“You fucking bastard!” You can hear Hank yelling and that’s when you realize it’s a phone call. “Come try that shit with me!”
“Just tell us what you want.” Dick states from the other end.
You hear Jason struggle for a breath and your eyes dart behind the blindfold. Your heart plummets into your stomach. Is Deathstroke strangling him?
“As I was saying,” Deathstroke starts, the slightest annoyance in his voice. “If you want them back, hand over Rose.”
Jason struggles more and more to breathe and you’re filled of panic. You aren’t sure how much fight you have left in you and you know the only reason both of you are even still alive right now is because Rose is safe at the tower. If she wasn’t, Deathstroke would have killed at least one of you and then been forced to kill the other. Neither of you would go down without a fight, especially with the other knocking on death’s door. But, you also know Dick won’t give up Rose and you’re panicking because what if he doesn’t? Deathstroke will kill you both.
“How do we know you’re gonna keep your promise?” Dick asks.
Jason gasps and coughs beside you, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief knowing that he’s actually still breathing. Not well, but breathing.
“Tonight, 3am. Embarcadero Plaza. Outside, use this phone to confirm.” Deathstroke says before hanging up the phone.
He puts your headphones back on and your heart breaks for the boy beside you. A part of you blame him, blames Gar. It was Jason’s idiotic, impulsive idea. He never thinks anything through and you’re so fucking mad at him. But, you didn’t put up a fight against it because as much as you love picking on him, you want him to feel wanted and worthy and loved. You know he thinks this, had it gone well, would have been his thing. This would have been Jason’s big win for the older Titans. And you wanted that so fucking bad for him that you can’t say no. And you owed him one because he’s the only one that fucking gets it. So, you blames Gar.
Gar is the logical one, the one who thinks things through. He’s the one that listens. When you and Jason are going behind Dick’s back doing something he absolutely told you not to do, Gar is doing what he’s asked or not getting involved and just not ratting you out. He doesn’t argue with Dick or fight with Rachel. That’s all you and Jason. He’s the level-headed one. And he should have known better, too. He should have known better with you and Jason being together because surely, the only thing that comes out of the two of you teaming up is utter chaos. But you know it’s wrong to blame him, too.
You have powers and training. You can produce deadly acid at the drop of a hat and your control over it is a win. You don’t miss targets with knives anymore, it all came back to you within a few weeks. You’re better now than you ever were in Gotham because Jason helped train you with those, too. But, you could have tried to shoot Deathstroke from behind you with the acid. And you had something to prove tonight, too. Maybe you didn’t want it as bad as Jason, but if this had gone how it should have, it would have been enough for you, too. You would have been able to prove you’re useful, that you can do more than sit around a tower and train. You could have done a lot of things to prevent this. Instead, you froze and Titans aren’t supposed to freeze. How can you call yourself a Titan if you freeze? This is your fault.
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At some point, Deathstroke finds it in himself to remove yours and Jason’s blindfolds and headphones. The first thing Jason does is look to you but you avoid looking at him, keeping your stare at your lap. You know that if you look over, he’ll have a fat lip, blood probably on his face. Maybe he’ll have a black eye and it’ll eat you alive because his injuries are on you. If anyone could talk Jason out of this stupid, deluded idea, it would have been you. And you didn’t even try to stop him. And Jason’s heart sinks further into the pit of his stomach with you unable to look at him.
He looks away and he knows this is his fault but it hurts anyway because of all people, he expected you to make sure he was okay. To look at him and yell at him for this stupid idea but you’re quiet and looking to your lap. Your face looks defeated and there’s blood around your mouth.  Your injuries are his fault this time. You just fully healed not that long ago and now you’re back to being beaten and bloody and bruised and Jason never should have dragged you into this.
He should have insisted you turn around and go back with Gar. That would have been the right thing to do but he was selfish because he likes you. And that’s the first time he’s actually really thinking that but he knows that’s the reason. He likes you and he likes when you fight, he likes when you spar and he likes this look you give him when you watch him spar. It’s such an ego boost and if anyone would cheer him on fighting some psycho like Dr. Light, it’d be you. And Jason should have thought about what was best for you, not what he wanted. How are you ever going to forgive him for this?
“Y/n?” Jason says your name once Deathstroke leaves you alone. But, you don’t even move. No glance, nothing. You’re silent. “Y/n?” Jason’s voice is a little louder this time, riddled in guilt.
Part of your silence is just anxiety. You’re wrapping yourself in spinning anxiety, trying to figure out what to do. You can’t escape, not right now. But, you’ll probably be moved to a new location. Deathstroke hasn’t killed you now. If the plan was to use you as bait, it worked. The older Titans know you’re alive and kicking so Deathstroke could kill you now. Titans have the security that you’re alive. But, Deathstroke keeps you alive and you think it’s because he has something else planned. A guy like Deathstroke isn’t going to just give you up if Dick actually hands over Rose which you know Dick won’t do. So, you’re stuck worrying about that and you’re also just so fucking tired.
No one told you life could be so fucking exhausting. Your mom dies, you’re tortured, you get these powers you don’t even like, and now you’ve been kidnapped again. Seriously, you’re stuck on the fact this has happened twice and you want to know what kind of unlucky person actually gets kidnapped twice, in under two years. Why is it so much to ask to feel safe?
“Can you fucking look at me or something?” The frustration breaks Jason’s voice. You listen to him and Jason gets a better look at your face and he swears he’ll never forgive himself for it. And you think the same. Sure enough, he has a fat lip with blood around the corner and there’s a bruise starting on his cheek. “I’m so sorry.” Jason apologized. “I-I should have fucking listened to Gar.”
You shake your head and you won’t let him do this to himself. “Not your fault, Jay.”
“The fuck it is!” Jason nearly whines it out. “This was my idea!”
“Yeah, I know.” You scoff, shaking your head but your voice is flat. “And I didn’t stop you like you didn’t with me. I didn’t even put up a fight. So, it’s not your fucking fault, alright?” You look away, hanging your head slightly.
“I’m gonna get us out here, alright? I swear, I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” You snap, your attention is back at him and there’s venom in your voice. “What? You gonna kill him? Yeah, okay and look where that’s gotten us, Jay. Have ya noticed that Dr. Light isn’t around? You heard him lately? See him anywhere? Why the fuck do you think that is?” You ramble off and you’re just so mad at yourself over this, you don’t know how to handle it and you feel so much guilt it’s like it’s squeezing the breath out of your lungs.
“I’m sorry.” Jason doesn’t have any remark back, he’s just sorry.
You look back at him, tears welling behind your eyes as you swallow a lump. You open your mouth to say something but then stop yourself for just a second. “I’m sorry, I’m just….I’m fucking tired, Jay.” Your voice breaks.
“You giving up?” Jason asks, his voice like glass.
He didn’t think you knew how to give up. You got a guy to beat you an inch from your life to escape. You’ve been experimented on and tortured. You were thrown into this whole new environment. You’ve been through hell and back more than once. Jason just thought you didn’t know what quitting even was but he can see the tears in your eyes that you’re done. You don’t have anything left in you anymore. It’s broken you and that is something Jason will have to live with for the rest of your lives. 
“If he was going to kill us, he would have done it when he got off the phone with Dick. He’s planning something but my head fucking hurts and I’m tired and I don’t know what it is. I’m just…I’m just tired.” You let out a sigh.
“Well…you can’t give up, Y/n.” Jason states as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You fucking can’t, I won’t let you.” Jason boasts his chest, you quirking a brow at him. And hey, if one thing gets you going, it’s Jason being a flirty smartass and if you’re going to get the fuck out of here, he needs to give you a little bit of fight. “Don’t you wanna get the fuck outta here so you can…jump Gar or something? Have one of those shitty-ass cheesy reunions like in those movies you like so much?”
You shake your head once in either direction, as if processing the question. “What?” Your voice breaks as you nearly start laughing. What the fuck is he doing?
Jason gets that grin you like so much. “Ya know, isn’t there one in like the Notebook or some shit? They meet again and have this barf-worthy reunion? Don’t you want that with Gar?”
“Are you trying to distract me from being in here, right now?” You blink at him.
“Is it working?” Jason chuckles softly at you.
“No, because that’s stupid.” You can’t help but laugh.
“It’s your fucking thing!” Jason defends his stance and he feels a little bit better because you’re laughing.
“I don’t daydream about it!”
“It might help, you’re a bit uptight sometimes.” Jason offers with that infamous cocky smirk of his.
Your eyes widen, mouth ajar as you blink at him a few times. “Me?!” You laugh and Jason sees the light back in your eyes. “Dude, you’re a bit uptight! Maybe you're the one that needs to get laid!”
Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “I’ve been trying!” The comment leaves his mouth without him even thinking about it.
"Not hard enough, evidently." You continue to laugh with him and you aren't sure what he meant by the comment so you play along. It is making you feel better anyway and it's a good distraction. "Maybe you'll get lucky if you survive this."
"That an offer, babe?" Jason quips right back.
"Oh, you fucking wish, Birdboy." You chuckle with the roll of your eye.
"Yeah, I do. The fuck you gonna do about it then?" Jason strikes back and this is different than the other banter you normally get into. Jason doesn't normally admit to it. He dodges it, he dodges it better than you but dodges it nonetheless. This is new.
"Fuck you." You let out a sheepish laugh because you can't believe he didn't respond the way he normally does. You have a lot of things you'd rather say than telling him to fuck off but none of them seem right, especially right now. They all just seem like bad ideas. Distractions.
"See, you avoided it again." Jason holds a triumphant smile because no matter exactly what he's thinking about everything, he was just trying to get you to talk to him and cheer you up a bit. It worked. It doesn't matter if his comments were serious or not.
"One day, I'll be the one who's gonna commit to your little game and then you're not gonna know what to do." You fire back with a shy smile. "And I'll win."
"Yeah? Cause that still sounds like I'd win in that scenario." Jason grins at you, wiggling his grows while you laugh. He's so enduringly obnoxious. You adore him for it, too. Maybe one day, if you both survive this, you'll actually commit to it all. Maybe.
“Thanks.” Your laughing subsides as you offer Jason a cornered smile.
“Look,” Jason lets out a sigh. “Jokes fucking aside and shit, you know, I never wanted you to get hurt.”
“I know.” You nod your head. “I never wanted you to get hurt either.” You let out a breath.
You take a good look at him now, realizing that you’ll have to eventually and decide to get to it over with. There’s a part of you that fears whatever Deathstroke has planned isn’t going to be something so easily escapable. It’s probably something big, something to make some sort of point to Dick and the other Titans. You’re already pretty pessimistic and this is adding onto that. A part of you really thinks this might be it and maybe it’ll be the last time you get to see and talk with Jason. It nearly brings you to tears, the very thought of it is enough to destroy you. You’d be devastated if he died.
“Did he do that to you?!” You raise your voice as you can see the blood on his thigh, part of his suit cut open.
Jason moves his leg, as if to try and hide it like he isn’t tied down to the chair. “Yeah, bastard cut out my tracker.”
Your face drops and nausea fillsyouer stomach. “I’m so sorry, Jay. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jason brushes it off, pretending like his leg isn’t in excruciating pain. “All good, barely even feel it now.”
“Ya know, I’m like…the one person you don’t have to bullshit, right?” You ask, knowing damn well he’s lying. If it didn’t hurt, he wouldn’t have tried to move it away.
“I’m not.” Jason scoffs.
“If you’re in pain, that’s okay. I’m in pain, for the record.”
Jason hangs his head slightly before looking to you. “Yeah, it fucking hurts.”
You shake your head. “Jason, I’m….I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, it’s not your fucking fault, alright?” Jason grits his teeth. “I got us into it.” You watch Jason’s face fall as he scoffs to himself. He’s not being so witty right now, he didn’t fight you on bullshitting you. You’re worried.
“I just…I don't wanna die, ya know?” You lets out this ragged laugh. “I’ve been through so much.” Your eyes water again. “And I made it out of those things and I thought….ya know? I’d be happy and now we’re here.” You shake your head. “I don’t wanna die.”
“You’re not gonna fucking die.” Jason urges. “I don’t fucking care what I have to do, that fuck isn’t gonna kill you.” Jason’s eyes scan over your face.
“I don’t want you to die either.” Your voice is broken and soft. You suck in a breath, looking at him for maybe a second too long before looking away. "I just can't lose you."
Jason scoffs. “Dickweed can’t kill me. I’m not scared of him.” He's terrified of losing you, too. But, he can't bring himself to say it. It doesn't matter how, but he won't let you die. It's not gonna happen, one way or another, he won't let it happen. So he bites the comment back.
“Right,” You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m scared of him. Dude is fucking scary. And I’m scared he’s gonna kill you. I can’t…” You pause. “I can’t lose you, Jay.”
“You won’t.” Jason states, his voice low. “I’ll get us both out of here, alright?”
Jason is actually afraid of this whole situation. He’s hurt, his ear is bleeding and his hearing is still muffled. Deathstroke doesn’t care, he’d beat the both of you just because he could. Jason’s throat is sore from being choked. He’s tired. You look physically and mentally exhausted. It’s rough. This is the hardest night of his life and he has no idea how he’s supposed to get either of you out of here but he swears he’ll do it. He has to. He owes it to you.
He owes you for caring about him when he breathes pain into the very air you breathe. He owes it to you for giving him a chance. Jason doesn’t think you will be so forgiving when you make it out of this, and he doesn’t think he deserves to be forgiven. But, even if you never talk to him again for getting you kidnapped and beaten again, it’ll be worth it. If Jason is to save one person, it has to be you.
Jason loves to deny his feelings until he’s certain he’s safe with someone. Feelings are scary because they’re real. Once he says how he feels about something, it gets taken away. In one way or another, it gets ripped from him and torn to shreds. It’s like he’s this disease that spreads to everything good even when he really tries not to let it happen. Everything he touches turns into a fucked up mess. And saying how he feels, that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. But, he really cares about you more than he’s ever cared about anyone in that way. You just make him happy and he can’t let anything else happen to you. He’s let you down already and he needs to get you the fuck out of here.
Your eyes go distant again as you let out a breath so Jason keeps the conversation going. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.” You look over to him.
“How’d you know he was gonna go for me and not you? Your combat shit only works for you.” Jason’s eyes are slightly narrowed.
You shrug a shoulder. “Well, that’s the kind of the point.” You clear your throat. “Throbbing started, then it came to a dead stop and Deathstroke wasn’t gonna not do anything. So, it would have been you.”
“So, because the throbbing stopped, you knew he’d come for me?”
Jason’s never really felt completely protected before. Even with Bruce. At first, Jason didn’t trust Bruce because he was new, just some guy. It was all a little weird but then Bruce trusted him enough to ask him to be Robin. That changed things a little. He got the be the boy wonder and in a way, he felt protected because Gotham’s very own Batman was looking out for him and gave him these trackers to make sure he could always be found. But, with that also came being directly thrown into the line of fire. Jason loves it, wouldn’t trade it for the entire world. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but he is in the line of a fire a lot. You knowing your combat clairvoyance enough to know it meant Deathstroke would go for Jason, it makes him feel completely protected.
“Pretty much, would have looked really dumb if I were wrong.” You laugh softly. “Guess, uh, it can protect more than me, sometimes, right?” Jason gains a cheeky smile with your words.
Before Jason can say anything though, Deathstroke reappears with a large bowl filled with water and his sword. Jason pushes away his thoughts about you, focusing his head on Deathstroke. He’s just going to try to annoy him. It is his best quality.
“You really are a pathetic piece of shit, you know that?” Jason snarks and you roll your eyes. “Rose deserves better than you for a father.” The comment makes you look back at him, a bit surprised by the remark. Ballsy. “Some freak in a ski mask whose name sounds like a bad case of VD.” Deathstroke completely ignores him and at least the guy has that going for him. “My friends will never give her up. You know that.”
You wonder how Jason can just talk and talk and talk. He never gets tired, he never has a sore throat. That boy could actually talk someone’s ear off. You just don’t get how he does it and how he is so unwavering. You know he’s freaked out, maybe he isn’t scared, but the whole thing has definitely got him on edge. But, no one would ever know that if they didn’t know him. You think even Gar wouldn’t notice and Gar notices a lot more than other people. Jason hides it so well and you admire him for it. Maybe, not trying to piss off Deathstroke of all people, but admirable in most situations.
“Well, then, you’re both the price they pay.” Deathstroke says in his standard calm tone, picking up his sword from the table.
If you could, you’d bang your head against a wall because you didn’t even do anything. You’re not even saying anything. How is this right? Eye for an eye? HOW?
“Fuck you, you pretentious asshole. Hey, look at me,” Jason demands and Deathstroke does as he says. “I’m not scared of you.” Jason taunts and if you could slap him upside the head, you would. Deathstroke should untie you just to let you do it. Why does Jason have to taunt your captor? Deathstroke, of all people. There is death right in his name.
“You should be terrified.” Deathstroke warns. “But instead, you’ve been played by that charlatan, Dick Grayson who gives costumes to foolish kids making them believe that they’re heroes, leading you like lambs to slaughter. But, not to worry, soon, you’ll learn. For death leads to purification.” Deathstroke says while sharpening his sword.
This isn’t good for either of you. Deathstroke really is going to kill the both of you over some fight with Dick. You can’t quite figure out how that all adds up. It’s something you never understood in movies or tv shows. Going after kids because some dude is mad at the parent or mentor. What is the point? But, you’ve been through this before.
Jerry had issues with Batman once upon a time which prompted the experiments. You’ve been through this. Life or death. Do or die. You want to give up because this life is exhausting but you can’t because Jason fucking Todd is next to you bleeding and in pain and as long as you’re alive, you’ll protect him against everything in your power. You’ll fight for him because he does for you. You’ll do everything to make sure he’s okay because as far as you’re concerned, Jason Todd deserves a break and to know that he’s fucking cared about by someone. In spite of any fuck up he might do.
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A few hours go by, Jason and you not making much conversation with Deathstroke still around. You both thought Deathstroke might go find something to do and you could talk, but instead, Deathstroke walks towards you and unties Jason first, holding a sword to your throat. You eye him with annoyance as Jason stands up, his legs feeling a bit weak. The wound in his leg is much worse than he originally thought. It is agonizing trying to put weight on it but he looks at you with the blade to your neck and acts like he doesn’t want to burst into a screaming fit.
“Do something stupid, I will kill her here.” Deathstroke threatens and you roll your eyes. Jason nods his head, his expression clearly annoyed even through the mask. Deathstroke unties you with one hand and moves the sword just enough for you to get to your feet. “Walk.” Deathstroke demands, pointing in the direction of the elevator.
Jason leads, followed by you, and then Deathstroke with the sword held against your back. Jason wants to fight it. He wants to spin around and throw one of the Robin blades at him but he doesn’t. He keeps a steady pace to the elevator because if he misses, he gets you. If he hits anything short of a kill shot, Deathstroke kills you. Deathstroke knew exactly how to control the both of you. Just threaten the other. You and Jason think you aren’t transparent but you are. It’s obvious that you care about each other, more than just teammates and anyone within a 10-mile radius can see that, including Deathstroke. It’s a cruel, cruel form of control but it’s effective and Deathstroke doesn’t fucking care how cruel it is. So, you walk peacefully to the elevator and get inside, Deathstroke holding the blade against you the entire ride to the top floor.
Once at the top floor, you all file out of the elevator and go up a set of stairs that lead to the roof. Panic starts to hit you as you walk up the stairs. You’re terrified of heights. Petrified and now you’re going onto a roof. You just look around because of fucking course you’re on top of a skyscraper as if the night couldn’t possibly get any worse. Does Deathstroke plan to push you both off? That seems a little too easy for him. But, you’re worried anyway. Why else would he bring you to a roof of a skyscraper?
Deathstroke walks you and Jason onto a window cage that window washers use. It’s easy for him because you won’t make any sudden moves, not with Jason’s life at risk and not with you being twenty stories in the air. And Jason won’t risk Deathstroke killing you. This is in Deathstroke's control and it’s terrifying. He ties you both tightly to one of the railings and your hands start to shake behind your back as Deathstroke walks off. He uses a control in his hand to lower the two of you down a few floors. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you watch Deathstroke disappear the further down he sends you.
You look to Jason, fear in your eyes and you never told him you were afraid of heights. Sure, the two of you talk about trauma in a nonchalant joking way but actual real-life fears? No. That is unknown territory to talk about with the two of you but he can tell with your wide eyes and rapid breathing that you’re terrified. He can visibly see your chest heaving and your teeth chattering.
“You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you?” He asks as the cage comes to a halt, still several stories up.
“Uh-huh.” You nod, swallowing thickly as your mouth starts to feel like cotton mouth. “I hate heights. I hate them. I don’t go on Ferris wheels because I’m terrified of being at the top. Like what if I get stuck there? Some Final Destination rollercoaster kind of shit. What if we fall? That sounds like a fucking terrible way to go out.” You start speaking a mile a minute, half of your words almost slurring together from the rapid speech and chattering of your teeth. “OR WORSE WHAT IF WE LIVE?!?!? DO YOU HOW BAD IT’S GONNA HURT IF THIS FUCKER DROPS US AND WE LIVE?” The panic spits out like venom.
Jason has no idea what to tell you. He could lie to you and tell you it’s all gonna be okay, he’ll figure something out. Dick will save you both but he doesn’t think that’ll happen. Deathstroke has seemed to have a pretty solid plan up until this point. And he knows Dick won’t give up Rose which he kind of admires if he wants to be honest. But, there are two of you and one of her. Sacrifice two people that he knows for one girl he’s known for a day? That’s a bit unfair. But, he needs to find a way to calm you down because you’re going to pass out if you don’t. And he cannot believe heights are going to be the thing that freaks you out the most. Not Deathstroke or being kidnapped again. Or Jerry or fighting Jerry. No, heights.
“Can you get your hands out?” Jason moves his eyes behind you and back to your face. You shake your head rapidly, making the dizziness worse. You swear you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.
“Can someone actually die from a panic attack? Like is that something that can happen? Because it really feels like I’m about to die because I think my heart rate is like 150 or something. I don’t know what to do. Jason, you need to figure something out because I am literally going to lose it and I’m gonna have a heart attack and–”
“Y/n!” Jason yells just to get your attention and stop your rambling. He knows you’re scared, though he can’t pinpoint what about heights has you more afraid than Deathstroke. “Look at me.” He sucks in a breath. Your eyes lock with his and it’s like a switch flips in him. “The fuck you so afraid of heights for? Scared a bird is gonna attack you or some shit?” He snaps, just trying to get you to fight back, hoping it’ll be enough to distract you. “That’s stupid fucking fear, you know that?”
Your brows furrow and normally you’d understand what he’s doing. But, your mind is so blacked out with panic, you can’t find the reason screaming at your face. Instead, your heart sinks, still beating a mile a minute and you don’t know why he’s being mean, now of all times.
“We could–”
“Die?!” Jason argues. “Yeah, been a fucking possibility all fucking night but you’re freaking out now? We can escape, he’s not fucking here. Calm the fuck down and use the acid shit to get us the out of here.” Jason scoffs, trying his best to seem annoyed with you.
Jason thinks if he can make you mad enough, maybe you can concentrate on anything besides the heights. Maybe you can get you both out of this. It’s not fair and it’s mean and he knows it. He’ll have to feel bad about it later but right now, he can’t. You panicking next to him isn’t going to do either of you any good. It’ll distract him, too and you can’t afford that. You talked about your do or die moment with Jerry, well this is a do or die moment with Deathstroke and he needs you to focus on that. If Deathstroke drops you, at least you both can say you tried in some sort of afterlife Jason thinks will resemble Hell.
“T-that’s not…that’s not fair.” You shake your head, unsure if you can focus enough to produce any acid. “Why are you being mean?” You scream at him as your voice breaks.
It hurts a lot more than you would like to admit. Jason can be mean, he’s an asshole and you can be mean right back because you’re the same sometimes. It’s how you both function but you swore you could count on Jason to be understanding in a situation like this. You can’t help that heights are your downfall. And of all people, based on everything that’s happened between the two of you, you thought he’d be understanding but he’s just berating you and it hurts.
“Because this is fucking stupid!” Jason groans and he feels really guilty about being mean but it seems to be working. “You’re a Titan for fuck’s sake, get a fucking grip. Do something about it!”
“You do something about it!” You scream back at him. “You’re fucking Robin, aren’t you? You fucking do something! This was your idea!” The second it leaves your mouth, you knew you went too far and it’s all a lie anyway. But, you’re pissed and you’re scared.
“I can’t.” Jason grits his teeth as he tugs his arms against the rope and in any normal circumstance, he’d be pissed about you calling him out about Robin and he’d never admit to not being able to do something. He struggles against the restraints. “You have those freak powers, I don’t! Do you not fucking see my hands also tied?”
“I can’t focus enough to do it!” You scream at him and you’re actually worried that maybe you won’t be able to use your powers just because you’re scared. Maybe there’s a line with it. Maybe if you’re too scared, it shuts down. Maybe it stops working, then what? You’re too distracted anyway.
“Bullshit! You have more control over those stupid powers than anyone!” Jason fires back at you. “How fucking useless are you that you can’t use the acid to melt through some fucking rope?” He scoffs and he knows he’ll pay for this later but you’re not focused on the height anymore. And maybe if you can free both of you, he could scale the building and find a way to get you down. He doubts you’d start scaling the building with him if he finds a way to do that but there should be a wench or something on top of the roof.
You let out a scoff and look away from him. You already felt useless. You know. But, hearing Jason confirm it is devastating. You hate, more than anything, feeling useless and weak and now you’re trapped here, at your most exposed feeling just that with the person you swore you could trust more than anyone. And it just fucking hurts.
You dodge his reflection in the window and if you weren’t tied up right now. If you were a worse person, you’d fire back and call him useless because he’s fucking ROBIN and you are still stuck here in the same position. But, then you bounce back to this being your fault and maybe that’s not fair to only blame Jason for being mad at you.
You swear you have to be cursed. Kidnapped twice? Tortured twice? On two different occasions? It’s gotta be some sort of curse and maybe had you stayed behind, Jason would have been fine. Maybe Gar would have insisted to follow Jason and they would have been fine. But, you didn’t. You went with and you’re both kidnapped and stuck fifteen stories in the air.
Jason knows he went a step too far. The useless comment was a risk but he was hoping you’d prove him wrong. That’s more of your style anyway, prove someone wrong out of spite alone. It’s one of the things he likes most about you but this is a very different situation. Jason knows you aren’t useless, you’re just scared. There’s no doubt in his mind that if he weren’t here, you would have put up a hell of a fight against Dr. Light and Deathstroke. The only reason you didn’t was to protect him and he couldn’t protect you. So, Jason needs to find a way to either get you to use the acid or find a way to get you both out here. He owes you that much.
As Jason struggles, the blinds covering the windows go up, making him freeze. There’s Dick looking at the two of you with panic in his wide eyes. Any hope you had of Dick saving you went out of the window with the look on his face. He’s in the building and you’re pretty sure there’s some type of explosive on the side of Jason, you could see it when you looked at him. Deathstroke has the detonator with him and all he has to do is push a button and there you both go. Falling to your deaths.
Jason starts fighting harder as if coming to the same conclusion as you. He yanks and tugs, nearly pulling his shoulder out of socket. Deathstroke tied the rope a bit better than Dr. Light did. But he’s going to fight until the very last second. And you’re about at the breaking point. Why does this happen to you? And the people you care about? What is so fucking bad about you that it has to happen? You’re so sick of it and you’re going to fucking lose it. So, you struggle, too, pulling just as hard as Jason and focusing on the useless comment because it was fucking mean. And you focus on both of you probably dying.
“Jay?” You ask, looking over at him as you tug the rope harder. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
Jason pauses, looking to at you and there’s this darkness to your eyes, similar to what he saw at Jerry’s. “No.” He shakes his head, not even convincing himself. “No, Dick will figure it out.” He gains a little bit of hope with the look in your eye, maybe you have a plan. You’re at least fighting.
“He’s gonna blow the bomb and we’re gonna fall.” You state.
“Dick will get to it first.” Jason defends. Jason has his issues with Dick but he knows Dick won’t let either of you fall, not if he can stop it.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He will.” Jason says and it’s almost a plea that leaves his lips before he starts fighting the restraint some more. You both see Dick try to make a move, Deathstroke moving in front of him with a gun pointed at him. “He will.” Jason repeats.
As Jason fights, keeping his head forward, you both spot Kory. You piece together that the woman must be Kory given the lifted look Jason gets and the fact she’s the only one you haven’t met yet. That’s when slight relief kicks in for you. Two against one is a lot better odds especially when one of them is fucking Kory. Kory is such a badass from what everyone has said about her, including Jason and it’s like Jason gains the same hope because he tugs even harder as a fight starts going down in front of you, a helicopter circling from above you.
As the fight continues in front of you, you and Jason make work on your restraints, you can feel your hands finally starting to warm up. This is why you don’t like this power. It’s unpredictable. You can warm your hands with it, use it without even a thought, but when you’re in a dire situation, it decides to not wanna work. It is literally like there’s a block around it when you’re panicked and that’s bullshit. But, you get why Jason was so mean. He knew before you did and that means a lot, even if it was hurtful.
You pause for a second, hoping that if you stand still and talk, maybe it’ll work quicker. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” You state, keeping your head straight.
Jason pauses, looking to you with brows furrowed. “Don’t do that.” Jason scoffs before he continues tugging. It’s not your fault and he’ll go to his grave screaming it if he has to. “Not your fault.”
You nod. “I should have been able to though and I just… thought you should know that I’m sorry. And I care about you a lot.” You look at him, watching him struggle and it breaks your heart because he’s giving it all he has and you can tell by how he’s favoring his left leg that it hurts.
“This is on me, alright? My idea! My impulsive fucking plan! I’m sorry I dragged you into it.” Jason lets out a huff and he refuses to admit he couldn’t save you because there’s still time to be saved.
Dick rushes over to the window as Kory fights Deathstroke. “Hang in there.” He says before he starts hitting the glass.
Jason and you blink at him as if you were supposed to know what he had just said. You can only assume you were told to hang on or he’s coming to get you, something along those lines. Dick and Kory are putting up a hell of a fight and maybe they’ll win. Dick has been Robin for years and Kory, well, from what you’re told she blew up a hospital and from what you’re seeing, she’s fucking cool. So, you fight harder and you think about Jason reading to you and playing video games with Gar. And you choose to focus on those things and Jason telling you to put all your shit on him and Gar taking walks around the tower with you to make sure it’s safe. And your hands start burning.
Dick starts hitting the glass before Deathstroke throws something at Kory, the blue cylinders exploding as Kory uses fire against them. Dick looks over his shoulder, seeing Deathstroke walk over toward Kory. He has a choice to make and unfortunately, it’s not you and Jason right now. Kory is the priority because Deathstroke is a few feet away from killing her so he runs to her.
“Don’t tell anyone that I’m afraid of heights.” You warn him as acid drips from your hands and onto the restraints.
“Is that what you’re fucking concerned about?” Jason nearly laughs at your comment as you continue to tug, your arms and legs burning with every movement.
“HA!” You cheer, pulling your hands in front of yourself. “Yes.” You state looking at him, deliberately keeping your entire focus on him.
Jason lets out a relieved yell, a smile coming to his face. “Get me the fuck out of here!”
You move towards him and bend down. “I might burn--”
“Don’t care, do it!” Jason pulls the restraints taught, trying to give you room so hopefully you don’t burn him.
You’re able to free him and the two of you have a second of relief before you turn to face the building again. Inside, it looks like it’s getting messier. Deathstroke is putting up a really good fight against Dick and Kory. It’s actually completely insane to be watching right now. But Jason has an idea.
“Melt the glass of the window.” Jason nods his head towards the window.
Your eyes widen as you realize you’ll have to bend over the railing in order to do that. But you look back to Jason and he is unwavering. Maybe other people would think this whole night would mean you shouldn’t put your full trust into each other. You both got too caught up in everything to notice Deathstroke. You both didn’t think of backup and all of the bad shit that could happen. Both of you have failed to protect each other up until right now. But, for you, it proves you have every right to trust Jason because he fights like hell to keep you safe.
“I’ll hold onto you, you’ll be fine.” Jason assures you with a nod.
“If you drop me, I’ll come back from the fucking dead and murder you.” You blink at him and Jason chuckles to himself.
“Good luck with that, babe.”
You roll your eyes before walking over to the railing, taking a few seconds to let yourself panic about it. Your heart rate spikes but you lean over the railing anyway, Jason holding your hips so tight you swear it’ll leave bruises. Your hands press against the cool glass while your hands start to heat up once more. You keep your focus on melting the glass and Jason holding you. 
The window starts to crack beneath your palms and Jason gains a triumphant smile. He might have called you useless but he always believed in you. You’re bruised, broken, traumatized, and damaged, just like him and he gets up over and over and over again. You can do it, too and you do and he adores that part of you. Determined and resilient and he swears he’ll never let something like this happen to you ever again. But just a sense of relief fills your chests, a flashbang goes off inside the building, right in front of you.
The flash of the window shatters right from under you. You fall forward, Jason leaning back and holding onto you as tight as he possibly can while you scream. Your hands land on shards of glass sticking right up from the windowsill. Jason’s blinded for just a few seconds and when he gets a look inside the building, he spots Deathstroke off to the side with the detonator. His heart sinks and he knows. In a split second, Jason lets go of you right as Deathstroke presses the button.
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Gar is watching from the living room at Titans Tower. He was holding his breath the entire time. He saw you free yourself and then free Jason. He had this sliver of hope because surely Jason had some type of repelling system with the Robin suit and you’d be home free but then you went for the window. And he saw the flowing of your hands against the window. Gar was so sure you and Jason would make it out. You were melting the window and you could escape that way but then, the glass shattered.
Gar watched you fall forward and Jason nearly fall backward holding his grip on you and Gar’s heart sunk. He heard Rachel gasp from behind him. No one in the living room even moved, not a centimeter. Everyone became frozen. Gar had hoped that you would pull yourself inside and then Jason but his hope fell short. The bomb goes off and Gar spins away from the TV because he can’t watch the two of you die. It feels like a bomb went off in his chest and he can’t breathe anymore. His feet are cemented to the floor and everything in him aches and screams, wishing it had been him. Wishing misery had been kinder to him and let this happen to him instead.
“Gar.” Rachel calls because her eyes are still glued to TV, she couldn’t bare to look away like a bad train wreck. And Gar stays silent. “Look.” Rachel’s voice is quiet.
You have your grip on the windowsill and everything in you cries, sobs. Every bone in your body is letting out a wail of unfiltered pain. You can’t feel Jason anymore. You don’t care that there’s glass sticking nearly all the way through your hands because you can’t feel him anymore and the bomb went off. Your arms are weak and your eyes hurt.
Dick slides over to the edge, spotting Jason and he lets out a breath. “Hold on.”
He looks to you before looking over the edge. His rationale isn’t solid. The smart thing to do would be to drag you in because you’re closer to Dick, but Jason is more at risk right now. You’re right there, he can grab you in an instant. You should be able to pull yourself up but Jason is a few feet below and he looks like he’s struggling. Dick has to save Jason. Jason grabs Dick’s hand.
“Don’t let go.” Dick’s words are breathy and you nearly choke because you know that means Jason hasn’t fallen to his death. Not yet. But, then you hear him scream and see Dick freeze from the corner of your eye.
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where-dreamers-go · 10 months
Text
“Emotions Read” Dick Grayson x Reader
(A/N: A soulmate au featuring the 1960s Dick Grayson/Robin. The relationship between Dick Grayson and Reader is platonic. Reader has an unnamed and gender neutral guardian. There are multiple point of views.
Warnings: Some angst. Reader has social anxiety; trying not to panic at parts. Some violence, but nothing graphic; very comic/60s tv series. I made-up a book title? Use of (Y/N) and (Y/L/N) once.
Word Count: 4,671 words)
~~~
Joy was not your emotion for the day. You had to attend a dinner party in Gotham City because your guardian was invited to the get-together to celebrate a new charity. All proceeds went to helping give books to children. Your guardian was one of the attendees who donated books as well as money.
You were all for helping, however your mind fed you horrors of attending such an event. It was no doubt going to be full of Gotham’s socialites and important people.
So many people, you thought. Too many food options and probably designated seating. Which could be good. But what if it makes my stomach churn? Could someone mistake my words and think I hate reading? I love reading! I’d rather be reading. Small talk is strange anyway. What if I have to talk to someone I don’t know? What if I did something wrong or misheard someone? Again? Meaning it could be loud.
It would be much safer to stay home. That would bring you comfort. You could sit down for the evening and read. Maybe listen to music.
You frowned at the dress shoes that had been placed by your bedroom door. If only an ounce of distaste for a dinner party could ease away your overwhelming anxiety. All you had to do was show up, right?
“Everything will be fine.” You whispered. Your leg had been bouncing as you continued standing. An action that would be much more noticeable if you sat down in a chair. “Everything will be fine. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
You had to be gentle with yourself.
There was no way out of the party. You had tried talking your way out of it earlier. Unsuccessfully, obviously.
Your guardian only claimed ‘how fun it will be’ and ‘such a lovely dinner for a good cause’.
Again, you understood.
Taking a deep breath, you urged yourself to step forward. Your clothes for the evening were laid out for you on the bed.
“You can do this. It’s fine. It’s not forever. It’s fine.” You spoke to yourself again, trying to calm your mind even a fraction. “I’m f—.”
A zing of excitement leaped in your chest, muffled and not your own.
The feeling of it brought a lump to your throat.
Your soulmate was excited. Registering their emotions proved difficult if your own were too intense.
You felt guilty. Your emotions flooded into them and they were probably having a great day.
It was times such as these when you simply wanted to curl up underneath a blanket and hide for a couple of years. If only to save your soulmate from your negative emotions.
You couldn’t exactly apologize to your soulmate. Their identity was still a mystery.
Maybe, perhaps, you could be one step closer to meeting them.
Then I could ask them to help me get out of these big events, you thought, trying to distract yourself. You sighed. But this is Gotham City.
✧ ✧ ✧
The sun set across Gotham City. Citizens shifted into their evening routines and prepared for the night ahead.
A dinner charity event was underway.
Bruce Wayne and his ward, Dick Grayson, were accompanied by Mrs. Cooper as they mingled by the donation display.
Books were piled high and tucked away in boxes. A success to be sure as donations were given to support the cause. They, themselves had brought a full box of books.
“Curious minds must be nourished with knowledge regardless of where they live and especially those in low income areas.” Bruce Wayne spoke passionately to another guest.
Beside Mister Wayne stood Dick Grayson appearing attentive and calm. Always proper and respectful in an elegant atmosphere. A shining example of Gotham City’s youth.
He didn’t see the charity as a waste of time. Goodness, no. Dick Grayson enjoyed reading and through this charity he learned that not every student had books at home. It was a way of sharing an interest as well as helping others. They were making a difference.
He couldn’t be a hero all hours of the day. Well, not in his Robin suit anyway.
Smiling and mask-less, Dick stood proudly. An act he hoped would keep him calm and in turn hopefully help his soulmate.
It saddened him greatly how his soulmate’s nerves and fears only increased that day. The closer he was to leaving the manor, the more Dick felt his soulmate’s struggle. He was alarmed to be sure. There were no clues he could solve to help them let alone find them. All he could do was hope that his steady, calm emotions could ease them somehow. He wasn’t sure what else to do. It wasn’t something people generally discussed.
Guests were still filing into the dining room as others walked around to mingle. Networking and socializing was a normal occurrence in Gotham City. It was simply done.
A spike of fear signaled in Dick’s chest. His soulmate.
Across the room, a gasp grabbed his full attention. A young guest had spilled their drink. The adults around stared as the guest hurriedly grabbed a napkin.
Dread and embarrassment. Dick’s hand had reflexively went over his heart.
Squeezing by, a server rushed over to help with the spill.
There was a lighter feeling introduced and Dick exhaled.
They’re relieved. Are they…? I’ve never been introduced to them before. Have I? His blue eyes were focused solely on them. It’s possible.
On his shoulder, a firm hand stole his attention.
“Dick,” Bruce Wayne said. “We should take our seats before Aunt Harriet comes to get us.”
“Oh.” Dick nodded and tried clearing his head. “Right.”
Bruce eyed the hand Dick still had over his chest.
“I’m sure the dinner will be great.” The youth quickly found his aunt and headed in her direction. A table beside the drink spill and his possible soulmate.
They seem fine now, he thought. Both the emotions he received from his soulmate and the guest sitting down with a new glass far from their grasp.
The ward had building excitement at the prospect of meeting his soulmate. He could hardly keep his mind on the dinner that arrived a short time later. Sure, it was tasty, but the person less than five paces away could be his soulmate. He was about to burst into conversation with Bruce any moment if he didn’t drink some milk.
“—isn’t it wonderful?” Aunt Harriet voiced.
Others at the table responded. Dick Grayson had no idea what she had been saying.
Peering up, Dick caught his aunt’s questioning gaze. He blinked.
“Dick, here, had picked out most of the books we donated.” Bruce added in, rescuing him.
“Most are my favorites and those we’ve read in school.” Dick said. Smiling for a moment, he returned to his meal.
Until an unexpected and uninvited guest arrived.
The Penguin!
Oh no. Dick nearly groaned as he saw the Penguin stroll into the room.
A buzzing jump of fear flooded into him and he glanced over to his right.
✧ ✧ ✧
Seriously? You thought as your hands clutched the edge of your chair. As if spilling a drink all over the floor wasn’t bad enough with people just staring. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want—
“You have no business being here, Penguin.” The Chief of Police, O’Hara, stated firmly as he had left his seat.
“Easy, Chief O’Hara.” Commissioner Gordon said rather diplomatically.
“Can’t a man, a member of Gotham City’s society, donate books for charity?” The Penguin asked, aghast. “Surely you’re not against more charity for our city’s youth?”
“Of course I care about charity,” O’Hara exclaimed. The man was clearly insulted as well as irritated.
Could it be true? The Penguin wanted to help a genuine cause?
Something smelled fishy.
His goons in black had set down boxes by the donation table. Presumably, there were books.
“And what literature have you kindly brought us, Penguin?” Commissioner Gordon questioned with his head held high.
“Literature of unknown nature no doubt.” Piped up O’Hara. He was most distrusting.
You couldn’t blame him much. From what you had heard on the news, the Penguin had many tricks up his sleeve.
Maybe Batman and Robin will show up, you thought.
Your guardian sat beside you on your right, quiet as the other guests.
Guess I can stay home next time. Hopefully.
You doubted it.
“Why don’t we let the youth judge for themselves?” Penguin announced.
Your insides ran cold.
He glanced around the dining room until he spotted you and Mister Wayne’s ward. A bright grin lit up his mischievous face.
“No.” O’Hara stepped forward.
Agreed. No No, no, no. Absolutely not.
Your guardian laid a hand on your forearm.
“Oh, come now. A book never did any harm.” Penguin chuckled his little birdlike laugh low in his throat.
All eyes in the room had three main focuses: Penguin, you, and the ward. A stronger uneasiness spread throughout the room as the Penguin beckoned you both to the boxes.
No. Creepy. This is—he is creepy. And dangerous.
Between tables, the goons stood around. Their purpose unknown to the guests. Possibly awaiting orders.
Leaning closer, your guardian whispered to you. “Just look at the books. Then he’ll likely leave.”
You looked over at them as if they had asked you to give a speech on the window’s ledge.
“How much did you drink?” The words slipped from your mouth.
Soon enough, your guardian was pushing you out of your seat.
I’m done. This is the end. Traitor! You shuffled away from the table. The slow walk towards the stacks of literature felt…like it was the end.
Forced to do something you weren’t comfortable with again made you want to run. Holding in all of your energy that urged you to move quickly elsewhere put a strain in your limbs. You felt powerless.
Just a book.
You stopped about two paces from the table and Penguin.
The Penguin raised a hand as his gaze landed behind you.
“Wait your turn, boy,” he squawked.
Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the boy and he was sending a hard look to the foul fiend.
“Here, my dear.” Penguin handed you a book. “Take a peek.”
The volume had a weight to it you weren’t expecting.
A hardcover of a bird field guide. Not surprising for a man who identified with them.
Could the Penguin have turned a new wing?
You opened the cover.
✧ ✧ ✧
Large puffs of colored gas burst from the pages of the foul volume.
A trick!
Dick Grayson launched forward and caught you before you dropped to the floor. Your head hitting his chest.
“Get them!” Penguin ordered.
On either side of the ward, the goons swarmed.
What was he to do? He couldn’t be Robin.
What did the Penguin want?
Holy mislabeled book. Dick sank to the floor, trying to make the both of you inaccessible. Anything he could do in order to keep you out of harm’s way.
Screams and yelling erupted all throughout the room as the goons grabbed Dick Grayson. A struggle on the event floor. The young ward restrained himself from throwing punches. Yet he couldn’t let Penguin take you both.
“I think you need to be taught a lesson.” A confident voice announced from the double doors.
The goons stared and Penguin pointed his umbrella at Chief O’Hara.
“A bat?” The Penguin exclaimed.
Batgirl! Dick Grayson thought in both surprise and relief. She’ll help. Whoever she is.
No sooner had Penguin redirected his umbrella, Batgirl had kicked it out of his grasp.
TWACK!
Scrambling in a frustrated wobble, Penguin went after his umbrella. “Quickly!” He shouted to his foul goons.
Batgirl was faster.
POW! THUNK!
A man pulling at your ankles was sent flying backwards onto the floor. Another leapt at Batgirl as the other yanked on Dick’s arm.
“Let. Go.” Dick leaned the other way.
SOCK!
Batgirl unleashed a kick and sent the final man falling over. She stood taller, victorious.
Dick Grayson was about to thank her until movement caught his attention.
“He’s getting away!” O’Hara shouted.
Three goons clambered to follow as the Penguin fled out of the room with a book under his arm.
“Not for long.” Batgirl chased after them. Leaving the room in a new quiet.
Calming his breathing, Dick glanced down at you. Relief flooded him seeing you safe. He folded your hands over your stomach.
“Dick.” Bruce Wayne knelt beside him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I think so. That was close.”
“Fast thinking on your part, lad,” O’Hara complimented.
“Agreed.” The Commissioner added. “And it’s a good thing Penguin didn’t succeed.” His gaze landed somewhere behind Dick Grayson.
A series of muttering made Dick investigate.
Your guardian stood by with their hands over their mouth. Their eyes focused on your unconscious form.
Dick made a mental note of their reaction, being as they pushed you towards Penguin.
Why would they do that? Don’t they know how dangerous this was?
✧ ✧ ✧
The charity dinner ended shortly after medical arrived for you. Bruce Wayne guided Dick away as your guardian took up responsibility. Your form disappearing out of the room. Out of his sight.
It was reassured that you’d awaken, but in hours.
More than a few hours. Dick recalled the last time he had faced the umbrella’s trick. They had to come up with excuses for their whereabouts to Aunt Harriet.
He was quiet on the drive home. Wondering if he’d know for certain you were his soulmate kept his mind preoccupied. Even Aunt Harriet rambling about him and his future nightmares didn’t grab his attention for long.
It took more than a couple of hours to ease Aunt Harriet out of his hair. She was still so worried about him.
✧ ✧ ✧
Late into the night while most slept, the lights of the Batcave were in use.
The dynamic duo were reviewing the latest developments of Penguin’s bookish activities.
“Gosh, Batman. I just can’t understand why he’d donate books, but steal one. Couldn’t he have gone to a library? We have the same books at school. Is he just playing us?”
Batman had his eyes trained on the board. Possible connections and clues written for them to ponder over.
“Perhaps,” Batman started, “it isn’t the contents nor the title. Books, textbooks included, can be in print for many years. After some time, books are printed in their second edition and so on.” He walked over to the Batcomputer and started inputing information. “The question stands: How many known copies of the first edition of Gotham City History are available?”
Robin stood by quietly feeling confused and a little frustrated. All his own emotions.
In a few mechanical sounds, the Batcomputer had an output of information.
“It’s what I thought.” Batman handed the slip of paper over to the boy wonder to read next. “A first edition of Gotham City History has been out of print for over a decade.”
Robin held the small paper in his gloved hands.
“Your school has been phasing out the third editions, correct?”
“They were falling a part at the spine.”
Batman glanced up in alarm.
Blue eyes paid no mind to the expression. Robin fiddled and folded the paper.
“That is unfortunate.” Said Batman. “The condition of the book Penguin stole may suggest he is aware of its monetary value.”
“For money?” Robin exclaimed.
“It could be, Robin….but why attempt to kidnap (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Dick Grayson?”
The boy wonder punched his open palm. “Why, indeed.”
“Thankfully that attempt was unsuccessful. Thanks in part to Batgirl.”
“Thanks alright, but we don’t know what Penguin wanted or if he might try again. They’ll still be unconscious for hours. And the one with them practically shoved them toward Penguin.” His chest heaved and his frown was deep into his mask. “They were already miserable.”
Batman studied him carefully.
The long day straining the boy wonder.
“At the charity dinner,” Batman stated, “Dick Grayson wouldn’t leave the young guest’s side. Why is that?”
Here we go.
Robin lowered his hands. Bravely, he held Batman’s gaze.
“I think they might be my soulmate.”
✧ ✧ ✧
Another bright day. A new weekend full of possibilities; and a long weekend at that.
More socializing. You thought grimly. Can’t I have one weekend at home?
“Remember to smile,” whispered your guardian as they reached the front door.
“I will.” Your fingers pulled and plucked at your clothes.
Is this too casual?
An afternoon visit to the Wayne Manor.
The invitation had caught both you and your guardian by surprise.
Mister Wayne wasn’t really specific except for wanting to make up for the unfortunate events that occurred the other week. There were no social obligations for it, but he insisted.
Just an afternoon of small talk and tea probably. It should be a lot calmer. Thankfully. Hopefully.
Your guardian pressed the doorbell.
A swirl of surprise, excitement, and nerves alerted you of your soulmate’s current state.
They’re always excited about something, you mused.
The front door unlocked.
Guess we’re both a little nervous today.
An older man answered the door politely and lead you both inside the manor. The dark wood gave off a homey atmosphere. A comfort you accepted greatly.
“This way, please.”
Taking a short walk to the left brought you to a cozy room with a piano and a large set of windows set at the front of the manor.
Three people were there to greet you two: Bruce Wayne, Mrs. Cooper, and Dick Grayson. Each one had a genuine smile.
Unsurprisingly, your guardian went straight into small talk as you all sat around the coffee table. Mainly gossip and news. If you were lucky, they’d talk about food. An easy topic.
As long as they don’t bring up what happened last week, I’ll be fine. You thought and tried not to glance at Dick Grayson. How do I thank him without it being abrupt or awkward? After what he did to help me. It’s completely off topic. And they’re….talking about some new business or building? I don’t know.
Setting your sights up caused you to catch Dick’s blue-eyed gaze.
A zing of surprise was doubled in your chest. That alone lead to a swell of amazement and intrigue. The timing wasn’t to be ignored.
Movement of a plate broke your prolonged eye contact with Dick Grayson.
Cookies. Cookies?
“Holy fireworks,” murmured Dick.
You blinked and all but shook your head.
Is he my soulmate? He—oh my goodness. Did he already know? Does he know now? Is this why no one else is here? Am I just realizing this?
As if proving your theories, Dick gained you attention. His voice pulled you away from your racing thoughts.
“Would you like one?”
You frowned, confused.
“Alfred’s cookies are always homemade.” Dick added. His tone was uneven. Blue eyes softly observing you.
Happiness and…concern? Your throat tightened as the gravity of the situation sank in. The truth was sitting in front of you and there was no doubt to be found. Even the negative thoughts in your mind stayed clear.
Your heart beat rapidly.
Don’t. Panic. Just breathe, you’re fine. This is good.
Voices were white noise and the light coming through the windows was too bright.
What were you suppose to do? The subject of soulmates was private. It was all hush and whispers. Not everyone found theirs. You would eventually have to tell your guardian. They were sure to throw caution to the wind with the information and share the news with the world.
You didn’t want that.
What do I want? What does he want? We don’t even go to the same school.
Preoccupied with your thoughts, you almost leapt from the couch when your guardian squeezed your knee.
“Do you have something in your eye, dear?”
“What?”
“Perhaps you should go rinse it out in the bathroom?”
I zoned out, you thought in alarm.
Your guardian’s low voice only added panic as you saw their disapproval.
However, luck was on your side. More specifically, your soulmate.
Offering you his hand was a rescue in disguise.
“Dick will guide you, if you’d like.” Mister Wayne stated.
You took hold of Dick’s hand. He helped you up and you could care less of who thought you had something actually in your eye. You just needed a minute. Time to get your thoughts in order.
Thrusting a large amount of trust to your soulmate was definitely new. A weight off your shoulders as well.
Dick lead you to a hallway further in the home and seemingly private. The both of you stopped beside a closed door, alone and with about a thousand things to share.
“Is there anything I can do?” He asked, still holding your hand.
You inhaled deeply, slowly.
He tilted his head to the side, but said nothing more.
Oh-kay, okay. We’re good now. It’s quiet. Take your time. He’s patient. Okay.
“I’m sorry.” You blurted out.
“What for?”
“I don’t know….just…me? Probably overwhelming you with whatever’s going on with me—and the charity dinner. That was a disaster and a half. The whole day.” You spoke faster, frustrated with yourself. “And I’m ninety-nine percent sure you already knew that unless I’m misinterpreting coincidences.”
“You’re not.” He stately firmly. “You are not overwhelming. Never.” He stepped to face you fully. The hand holding yours only held on tighter. “You didn’t choose to spill a drink or to be tricked by that Penguin. It was a horrible thing he tried to do and—.” He exhaled loudly.
Whirls of anger and relief signaled to you his state of mind.
“Golly.” Dick shook his head and peered down at your clasped hands. “I was so worried about you. I could never do anything about it, but,” his tone turned more serious, “Penguin and his schemes. I’ve never gone so long without knowing how you felt. It was so….strange. Like a television without sound.”
“So we are…you know?”
His expression fell into a deep frown. Calculations and answers zooming behind his blue eyes. Reading into your emotions and words gave him more context clues. The obvious.
Dick nodded slowly as his expression softened.
“Soulmates?” You whispered.
“Yes. We’re allowed to say it. I told Bruce.”
“You did?”
“Well, gosh, I needed to. I almost told him at the charity dinner.”
“Oh.” You cracked a smile. “So…that explains the invitation for today?”
“Mostly,” he admitted and ducked his head for a second. “It was Bruce’s idea. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I was apprehensive when getting here, but at least I know it’s not all small talk and awkward silence. This is much better.”
Sparks of joy emanated from him. Seeing his smile as you sensed every ounce of positive emotions was a new rush. A pure bright, fluff of happiness. You’d live off of it if you were able.
It’s him.
You thought back to all of those afternoons when his excitement would zap into you. Always short lived and followed by a serious hum. Knowing where it originated was nothing short of a miracle. Finding one’s soulmate wasn’t common.
Where do we go from here?
Most likely sensing the tablespoon of anxiety spreading in you again, Dick added his other hand to hold yours he was already keeping close.
“Bruce suggested that we spend time getting to know one another. It’s a good place as any to start.”
“Take our time.” You nodded. “No rushing to tell every human in sight.”
“Whoa—no. We’re not doing that— All of Gotham City doesn’t need to know.”
“Oh! But wait, wait, wait…. Can you get me out of social events?”
His shoulders slumped. “I can’t even get out of them. Unless there’s an emergency—or we forgot something—uh, a meeting usually.”
“Darn.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll live.” You shrugged.
“What would you like to do? There’s—Oh. We’re going to a baseball game tomorrow, if you’d like to go. I’m sure we can get another ticket. I hope.”
“Could we sit together?”
His mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. Instead, Dick looked up thoughtfully.
It’s a little last minute. Er. A lot.
“It’s okay,” you said quickly. “I’ll have to ask my guardian anyway.”
Before Dick could nod in acknowledgement, Alfred the butler walked over.
“Excuse me,” said Alfred in a hushed voice, “but I was asked to check-in on your eye.” His inquiry held a backlog of information and care.
He knows too?
Alfred and Dick shared a knowing look.
Silly question.
“I’m fine,” you answered. For once, over the past week, your words were very truthful.
“Everything’s alright, Alfred. Thank you.” Dick added cheerfully.
The older man’s eyes glanced down to your joined hands. A soft smile formed on his lips.
“I see. Very good, Master Dick. Shall I inform Mrs. Cooper?”
“No.”
The speed at which he answered alarmed you and Alfred.
“Of course.” With a short bow of his head, Alfred led the return to the sitting room.
Quiet took over once more as your hands fell to your sides. No longer taking support from Dick Grayson’s fingers. Back to keeping everything inside.
Yet everything was different. There was change. You had a new acquaintance. On the outside perspective at least. Deep down there was a well of emotions from years of a connection. Distance allowed you both a nonjudgemental view of what others could misunderstand.
But you were both young.
Three pairs of eyes locked onto you as you entered the room.
An uneasiness was shared between you and Dick.
Your soulmate stepped up to apologize. An excuse given about you two talking and getting carried away.
Flashing a smile and all was forgiven.
It boggled your mind.
How, then, he and Bruce managed to change the subject towards joining them to see a baseball game so smoothly baffled you. Their social agility was astounding.
You hardly bothered to hide your grin.
Getting to know Dick Grayson might be more entertaining and refreshing than you realized.
✧ ✧ ✧
Fans cheered and shouted. It was a full crowd in the stadium of Gotham City. There was nothing quite as bright as an afternoon baseball game on a beautiful day. But perhaps the time shared with others could give it a run for its money.
Hiding his laugh in your shoulder, Dick Grayson offered you the small bag of snacks again. He couldn’t remember having a finer time out. What with you beside him and his aunt on the other side of him being invested in one player’s performance? It was a blast.
Some story you recalled to him from school had him grinning with how you spun the tale. He wished he could make his stories sound more theatrical for you. Based on your own smile, he was safe to presume he was doing just fine. Being himself was enough.
It was the beginning of a beautifully fun friendship. Someone his age who could understand him on a deeper level. Someone else to confide in. Although the unfortunate and inevitable time for excuses lined with secrets was fast approaching. That was a tricky problem for another day. One he wasn’t looking forward to.
Yet, that was not his present. He was spending time with you. No schemes to stop in sight. All was well.
Dick had been hoping all morning that for once he and Bruce wouldn’t have to rush off with an excuse. He truly wanted to know you better and let you know him.
So far so good. Great even. He smiled at the thought.
Beside him, you gave a small cheer.
Earlier he had been worried that the crowds were too much for you, but sitting beside one another seemed to brighten both your mood and his own. If that was possible. He was over the moon.
Dick and yourself might not know where your connection would lead, however you were both fully content to discover it together.
~~~
Part 2 - "Scattered Emotions"
~~~
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kikiiswashere · 7 months
Text
Children of Zaun - Chapter 16
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Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC
Rating: Explicit
Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut
Chapter Summary: Bone gets real with Heimerdinger. Grayson gets real with herself. Enyd becomes the real MVP. Katya feels real confused.
Chapter CW: In Grayson's part of the chapter, there is a mentioned and briefly detailed sexual assault.
Previous Chapter
Word Count: 5K
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Ivy pushed the drink cart into Heimerdinger’s office, the gold pitcher and crystal glasses rattling as it rolled toward the two wingback chairs by the ornate marble fireplace. Councilor Bone sat in one seat, his head in one hand while the other pressed a handkerchief to his mouth. He didn’t look at her as she approached, nor did he acknowledge the noisy cart. Heimerdinger stood in front of him, small hands clasped tightly behind his back. He nodded to Ivy as she came up, his blue eyes shimmering with concern.
“Thank you, Miss Banforth,” he murmured.
The corners of the aide’s lips ticked up politely and she poured two glasses of water, placing one on the end table next to Bone, the second, smaller glass on the table by Heimerdinger’s chair. The Yordle nodded again, excusing her. Quietly, steps muffled by the plush rug, she let the room. For a long while, the only sound in the spacious office was Bone’s wheezing breath.
“Drink, Jarrot,” Heimerdinger kindly instructed.
Bone grimaced behind his handkerchief, his teeth clenching in frustration. He didn’t want to drink the Piltovian’s pity water; he wanted to not be sick. To not be dying because of the labor he had done for them. He wanted Rynweaver and the other too-wealthy Academy benefactors to not grip their purse strings so tightly. He did not want the water.
Reaching out a shaky hand, Bone gripped the glass and brought it to his lips. The first sip he wrestled down, the following gulps came more easily.
Satisfied, Heimerdinger turned and stepped up the small stool to his chair, and sat down. The concern didn’t leave his eyes as Bone drained his glass. He left his own beverage untouched.
A long moment passed, the silence in the office punctuated by the Undercity Councilor’s phlegmy throat clearings. Still, he didn’t look the other in the eye.
“I am dying, Professor,” Bone grumbled after a couple minutes. He kept his eyes closed and his heavy head on his fingertips. His shoulder sagged, confessing the fact out loud. His throat clenched in a way that had nothing to do with his illness.
Heimerdinger’s long ears folded back and dipped. The concern that had molded his brow since adjourning the meeting transformed into weighty sorrow. His own small body mimicked his counterpart’s, his head dropping in grim respect for the mortality he’d never know.
“I am . . . sorry, Jarrot,” Heimerdinger whispered.
“I am dying,” Bone repeated. “I am running out of time to do good for the Undercity.”
The Yordle lifted his head. “You have, my friend.”
Bone sneered at the platitude.
“What have I accomplished, Professor?” he asked, his voice gravelly with illness and venom. “What real change have I managed to cement?”
“The new sanctions and regulations at the mines, for one,” Heimerdinger offered.
Bone’s hand dropped from his face and he fixed the professor with an icy stare.
“And can you guarantee me – guarantee the Undercity – that those will not be abrogated once I am gone?”
Heimerdinger’s ears dropped further. He was immortal; not a fortune-teller.
“The changes I have managed to enact are flimsy at best,” grumbled Bone. He brought his handkerchief back up to his mouth and coughed again. “I have barely been able to scratch my political agenda, and not only is my time running out, but Rynweaver and the other noble families are devising means to keep furthering the divide of opportunity between Piltover and her Undercity. Whose call do you think the Council will heed, Professor?”
The two stared at each other for a long while. Bone tired of his voice, the voices he spoke form being unheard; Heimerdinger uncertain of how to handle this diplomatically.
“Jarrot,” he began carefully, “it is the Council’s job to act in the best interest of the whole populace. Things advance for Piltover, they advance for the Undercity. A rising tide lifts all boats – “
“With all do respect, Professor,” Bone grit, “that is horseshit. If Rynweaver and the other benefactors get what they want, what will happen to Viktor, your prize pupil? His sister won’t be able to pay more than she already is for his schooling. What then? Toss him back into the Undercity’s maw to die? Let his spot be taken up by another Piltovian child? There is no bridging this inequitable rift between Topside and the Underground without massive change. And I have not been able to scratch away at anything because the rest of Council is only interested in maintaining the status quo.”
As he spoke, his eyes had become glossy, his voice desperate and aggrieved around the edges.
“This is not what I hoped my tenure on Council would be,” he whispered.
Heimerdinger watched and listened to his peer. His heart truly ached for the man in front of him. A sigh whistled through his mustache as he lowered his eyes.
“Change,” he said, “takes time.”
“Time is not something I have, Professor. There are plenty of other Undercity citizens who have a similar affliction – or something else. They don’t have time either. Viktor doesn’t have time.”
Heimerdinger winced at the mention of his student. It was likely Rynweaver and the benefactors would get their way. His stomach swooped and the skin under his fur became cold at the thought of having to send Viktor back across the river for good.
“This . . . variance between our cities is not what I had in mind when founding Piltover,” Heimerdinger confessed.
“I believe you.”
Heimerdinger looked up, ears lifting. Bone returned the look with red, watery eyes and a stern brow. He coughed into his handkerchief once more before continuing.
“I believe you that it was not your intention when founding Piltover to leave half of the population quite literally in the dust. However, it is what has happened. And do not distance yourself from the issue by using nothing words like ‘variance.’ It is prejudice, inequity, inequality, and violent classism. Piltover has built its progress on the corpses of Trenchers. And you have us dig deeper graves, day in and day out. Digging those graves is what is sending me to mine.
“The further the city gets from its founding, the broader the divide. This is a deep wound, Professor. Deeper than the Sumps. And in order to begin healing from it, changes must be made. And not just some rules and regulations at one mining enterprise. Piltover and the Undercity cannot move forward as things are now. Progress cannot bloom from prejudice.”
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The pale scotch in Grayson’s tumbler caught and refracted the dim light of her desk lamp. The crystal it had been etched from glowed with it. She sighed, took another sip, and leaned her head on the tips of her fingers. In the back of her mind, she heard her mother’s voice reprimand her for her poor posture.
“Ladies sit up straight, Theodora,” she would say. “Ankles crossed!”
When Grayson was old enough to dress herself, she had kept her corset slack so she could sit more comfortably. Unfortunately, her mother caught on and demanded to inspect her underthings before they had company or before she left the house.
It irked young Grayson for several reasons. Not the least of which being that she and her family were a lesser house. No one was looking at them expectantly. Atticus was an Enforcer, his wife a junior curator at a small art gallery. They weren’t nobles nor did they entertain any, so her mother’s insistence on ladylike etiquette was grating.
Besides, even as a young girl, Grayson knew she wanted to be an Enforcer. Like her father. She wouldn’t need to know which fork was for salads nor the correct order of dishes for an eight-course dinner.
The one thing she was able to use from her mother’s infuriating, demeaning lessons was how to listen, how to approach people, and how to sus out subtext within a conversation or interaction. They were skills that had allowed Grayson to climb the Enforcer ranks quickly.
Much to her chagrin, though, slouching did end up hurting her back as much as sitting stick-straight did. She grunted and shifted in her seat, flipping over a page of the report she was currently reading. One of the ones from the dossier Bone had given her that afternoon.
The case had been closed for a couple of years. It was similar in subject matter to the previous few cases she had looked at in the folder. It had been a brief investigation: An Enforcer was accused of sexually assaulting, and later beating, an Undercity sex worker. The woman was not an employee of any of the brothels – no establishment claimed her once the report was made.
The Enforcer in question was a young man new to the force, and the young woman accused him of raping and sodomizing her. Once she made the report, she returned to the station beaten and bloody saying the same man had jumped her. The photographs that accompanied the report were too few, but impactful.
Despite this, the subsequent investigation was brief and lacked depth. The Enforcer was not found at fault, and when the victim kept making a fuss, the courts proclaimed her mentally incompetent and sent her to Osweld Asylum.
Grayson sighed and closed the folder, pushing it away. She sipped again at her scotch and eyed the remaining stack of reports to her left.
“That being born in the Undercity increases citizens risk of being treated unjustly by a system that is meant to protect them. That is why Viktor looked at you fearfully. Because, like it or not, you were not taught to protect him.”
Councilor Bone’s voice echoed in her head. Her gut coiled. The liquor didn’t burn enough.
She knew that crime rates in the Undercity were higher than those in Piltover. It was common knowledge, even amongst the public. Piltover mothers – regardless of station – frequently prohibited their children from straying any farther than the boundary markets in the Promenade. There was a well-known dare-game among Piltover teens to go deep into the Undercity, and whoever got the furthest unscathed won.
The Undercity was dangerous. Everyone in Piltover knew it.
And yet, the unease that had rippled under Grayson’s skin when she met with Bone earlier in the day would not settle. It scratched at her stomach and questioned what she had thought had been her intuition.
But Viktor’s eyes . . . the handful of reports she had read . . . Bone’s notes comparing relatively similar cases between the Undercity and Piltover . . .
Her teeth ached and her heart squeezed.
She had wanted to become an Enforcer because she watched how her father loved what he did. He would speak to her about how fulfilling it was to be there for people in some of the darkest moments of their lives, and help them through it. How good it felt to be of service to his city and his neighbors.
The idea had warmed and fizzed Grayson’s insides. It made her full of pride and hope. She wanted to do that, not sip tea and attend garden parties. She didn’t want to uselessly and capriciously climb the social ladder. She wanted to be purposeful in a way she could feel and see.
And being presented with evidence that perhaps her endeavors were not that . . . made her numb.
She couldn’t feel it.
And she couldn’t unsee the facts Bone had laid at her feet.
Grayson knew she was on the track to eventually take over for Sheriff LeDaird when he retired. Her father would’ve been proud of her. What if she could help accomplish more than he or she ever dreamed? Ever knew to dream? What if she forded the river and bridged the divide?
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About once a month, Enyd visited the Clapper Textile Mill to purchase scrap fabric. For only a few washers and cogs she would be able to walk away with a small laundry bag of thread and a variety of swatches. It was cheaper than buying bolts of fabric. And the managers of the mill were happy to slip some extra money into their pockets while keeping the floors tidy.
No matter how many times Enyd entered the building, she was always taken aback by how loud it was. Even in the small and orderly front office area, the pounding and shrieking of the mighty looms just beyond the back brick wall burst through the mortar, rattling the filing cabinets and desks. She wondered how anyone got anything done as their pens skittered across parchment and dust motes rained down on their hair, having been shaken loose by the creaky rafters above.
Despite the cacophony, the mill’s secretary looked up as Enyd walked in and she waved her over, getting up from her vibrating desk. Birdy was a square-shaped woman with a flat face and one arm. The other had been sheared off in a looming accident years ago, after which she was transferred into the office. She was curt and belligerently independent.
Enyd wove around the manager’s desk, mumbling platitudes to him and the client he was speaking with. Neither gentleman looked up, their eyes glued upon the contracts and agreements quivering between them. She spared one last glance at the client, who looked too wealthy to be visiting Clapper, before slipping through the door Birdy held open for her.
“That girl has stockpiled quite an array fer ya this time,” Birdy quipped in her throaty voice as they ascended a set of stairs.
“Who was that man speaking with Amos?” Enyd asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
The secretary’s wide mouth pursed and she rolled her eyes.
“Some Topside muckity-muck.”
“Topside? Doing business here?”
 Birdy’s nostrils flared and her lip pulled into a thread-thin line.
“He needs . . . discretion, apparently.”
She offered nothing else. They arrived on a metal landing and the secretary opened the door crowning it. The clanging and whirring of the looms increased to bone-quaking intensity as the two women entered the factory floor’s catwalk. Below them, mighty metal mouths gnashed against the fabric tongues that slipped and pulled through their teeth, the width of the bolt increasing with each chomp; colors became deeper with each bullet-fast pass of the metal shuttle as more thread was added. Birdy was completely nonplussed by the volume of noise, but Enyd clapped her hands over her ears and quickly shuffled behind the other woman.
They traveled down the metal gangway, their footsteps a pitiful edition to the rest of the din. Birdy’s gaze flitted amongst the throngs of mill girls beneath their feet, all of them dutifully tending to their tasks (lest they end their shift short a limb, like the secretary). Her eyes widened as they fell upon her intended target: a tall teenager whose dark, almost black, skin stuck out from her pale peers like a sunflower seed in a bushel of ginko nuts. A broom was in her strong hands and she methodically swished it over the floor, gathering a pile of loose thread and fabric scraps.
Birdy beat her fist against the metal duct over her head in a methodical pattern. All at once, hundreds of faces looked up to the catwalk. The secretary locked eyes with the sweeping teen and pointed firmly at her. Enyd saw the girl’s face track to her own, and she nodded, scurrying down a tight row of machines to the back of the factory.
The two older women followed from above, finally escaping the main floor by way of another stairwell. Enyd sighed with relief and let her hands drop back to her sides. Birdy’s energy remained the same as she trundled down the stairs before them.
Weaving through a couple short hallways on the first floor, they arrived in the cutting room, and found the sweeper shoving a few more swatches into a small laundry bag.
“Hi Ms. Enyd!” she said joyfully, her white teeth a streak of starlight against her dark skin.
“Hello, Nasha. Those look like some interesting patterns you’ve collected for me.”
Enyd stepped to the counter and took up a short length of blue fabric with a paisley embossment.
“Make sure it’s t’yah liking,” Birdy called. “Then come find me in th’office. I gotta get back to work.”
Enyd nodded and bid her chaperone good-bye.
With the secretary gone, Nasha’s shoulders slumped and a breathy chuckle bubbled in her throat.
“Birds makes me so nervous,” she admitted. “The way she looks at me when she tries to get my attention gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“She’s fine,” Enyd tutted playfully, sifting through the materials. “She’s just a grumpy old-timer. Like me.”
Nasha laughed and shook her head, the makeshift bonnet she wore over her bushy hair swishing precariously.
“Nah. You’re not grumpy. And you’re not an old-timer.”
“I have a son older than you, dear,” Enyd countered with a cheeky grin.
Nasha shrugged and crossed her thick forearms over her chest. “It’s more of a state of mind, I guess.”
The older woman smiled at the girl’s generous definition and continued to inspect the fabric and threads. The silence between them was short-lived, because soon Nasha whispered excitedly, “Did you see the fop with Mr. Amos? The Piltie looking one? Was he still in the office when you got here?”
 “He was,” Enyd said carefully. “Birdy was not very forthcoming with the details, though.”
Nasha guffawed and shook her head again.
“He’s visited the mill a couple times in the past month. Caught all of our attention, you know? Mr. Amos rarely gets Piltie clients!”
“What does a Piltie want with an Undercity textile mill?” asked Enyd.
A Cheshire grin sliced across Nasha’s plump face and she leaned in conspiratorially.
“So, his wife’s family’s business is in window treatments. They do all the mansions in Bluewind Court. He’s got some management position at the Clockwork Vault. Apparently, he has racked up a lot of gambling debt with some Bilgewater crew. He’s ordering a bunch of curtain panels from Mr. Amos that he’s gonna be shipping over there.”
“Curtain panels? Why?”
Nasha leaned in further and whispered, “He’s been skimming the tops of some bigger accounts he oversees at Clockwork; gathering up enough coin to pay his debts. He’s gonna hide the money in the panels, and forge some shipping manifest to make it look like his wife’s family’s business is shipping the curtains.”
“How do you know all this?” Enyd asked, eyes wide.
“Because Gidgit, one of the other mill girls, sucks Mr. Amos’ dick at the end of the day, and he tells her things when he’s all spent and stupid. Then she tells me when I make her spent and stupid – “
“Yes, I understand,” Enyd brusquely hissed, wanting to bypass any discussion of Amos’ or Nasha’s sexual escapades. Besides, her mind was alight with possibility. Her stomach coiled and her heart tittered.
“Nasha,” she said quietly, “have you or any of the other girls heard of the Children of Zaun?”
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The journey into Piltover at the end of the week was much more pleasant than it had been at the start. The sun lazily danced in-between fluffy clouds and a cool breeze swirled off the Pilt as Katya crossed the Bridge to pick her brother up. While her body was tired from a stressful week at the mines, her heart was still light and fluttery from the meal and company she had shared the night prior.
And from seeing one half of that company standing in the clinic’s doorway earlier that afternoon.
Clean up was in full effect at the accident site, regular operations were starting back up, and the triage tents were taken down; injured miners either could get back to work or rest at home. Upon arriving, Katya had been directed back into the mine’s medical clinic by a pushy Topside physician, and there she relieved Will of rehoming and reorganizing the space.
The boxes she and he had packaged up the day prior were stacked in neat piles around the front office and exam room. Periodically, additional packages were brought down by random laborers. Almost all came and went without saying much, barely giving Katya a chance to instruct them on where it would be most helpful to set them down.
Around one in the afternoon, when she was elbow-deep in gauze and bandages, Silco appeared in the clinic’s doorway, his arms wrapped around yet another box. Katya felt her cheeks pinch at the sight of him.
“This one rattles,” he said by way of greeting. The corners of his lips lifted, and he asked, “Where would you like it?”
“It is probably some of the antibiotics,” she said. “I’ve been looking for it. If you could put it in the exam room, that would be helpful. Thank you.”
Silco nodded and wove around the maze of boxes, as Katya lifted to her feet and followed him.
“By the table is fine,” she sighed as he stepped into the small room.
He carefully set the box down next to the exam table, and she watched the way his hands and forearms flexed as he transferred the weight of the delivery to the floor. As he stood back up, the need to say something else pummeled her.
“Thank you again for having me for dinner last night,” she decided to say. “I had a lovely time.”
“I’ll pass on your gratitude to my mum,” he said with a lopsided grin. Then, something softer and more self-conscious flickered across his face, and he added, “We enjoyed having you. I hope you can join us again. Like my mum said.”
Katya smiled and nodded.
“I certainly will never try to wiggle out of one of Enyd’s invitations again. Her cooking is delicious.” She paused and said, “And the company was enjoyable, too.”
The tips of Silco’s ears went pink and the grin he wore twitched nervously. He cleared his throat and nodded, trying not to look too pleased. Together, they began walking back toward the clinic door.
“You’re picking your brother up today?” he asked.
“Yes. For the weekend.”
He nodded, and Katya thought she saw a glimmer of disappointment behind his eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and he fixed her with a warm look.
“Have a nice weekend, Kat.”
She bit the inside of her lower lip and smiled to herself at the memory as the Bridge attendant let her through. It was new, but it felt warm and intoxicating to belong. To be sought after. To be cared for.
Her smile fully split as she approached the fountain in Pilt Square, and she saw her brother and Ivy waiting for her. He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled back, waving in greeting. He stowed his book away, scooped up his crutch, and limped toward her. Katya wrapped her arms around him tightly.
“Oh, I missed you!” she sighed into his hair.
“I missed you, too.”
She drew back and cupped his face. “Did you have a good week?”
Viktor nodded and said, “I had lunch with Councilor Bone a couple times!”
Katya stared at her brother, flabbergasted. Before she could inquire further, Ivy had walked up, rucksack in hand.
“Hello, Katya.”
She handed off the large bag to the medic, and once it was situated securely across the other’s shoulders, she held out a cream-colored envelope. Katya’s smiled dropped as she reached out for the letter, recognizing Heimerdinger’s gilded sigil embossed on its front.
“Professor Heimerdinger scheduled Viktor’s midterm conference for next Thursday,” Ivy explained. “He’s written a letter excusing your absence from work, if that helps in your ability to attend – “
“That isn’t necessary,” Katya curtly said. She was aware that it didn’t make sense to be peeved with Ivy for the Yordle’s overreach, but she found she couldn’t help herself. “I will be there.”
“Excellent,” Ivy said politely. “I shall let Professor Heimerdinger know to expect you. Have a lovely weekend, Viktor!”
“You, too, Miss Ivy.”
Katya tucked Heimerdinger’s fancy envelope into her coat and guided Viktor back toward the Bridge.
“We have to pick up your brace at Pok’s before heading home,” she told her brother as they went.
“Can we go to Jericho’s then? Like last week?”
“Not today, Viktor,” she said. His lower lip pouted forward but he didn’t argue further.
“If the weather is good tomorrow, how about we try going back to the Shores to look at the boats?”
His eyes brightened. He smiled and nodded at his sister. She smiled back.
“How did you come to have lunch with Councilor Bone?”
“I was having lunch on one of the campus benches and he came up and asked if he could sit with me.”
He shot her an excited glance and his round cheeks glowed happily.
“Is that so?” Katya hummed playfully. “What did you and the Councilor talk about?”
“He asked questions about my classes, and what I like to build. I showed him my cane,” Viktor answered, flourishing the crutch out in front of him, taking a big swinging step.
“Careful, Viktor,” Katya chuckled.
“He told me a little bit about his life in the Undercity. Before he was a Councilor, I mean. He used to work at the mines.”
“Yes, I know. Papa nor I ever got to meet him though. It’s very exciting that you’ve made a friend in such a high place!”
Her brother laughed and they continued together toward the conveyor car station.
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Augmentation Alley was bustling like normal. Glowing deep oranges and yellows in the shadows of the Undercity. The smell of fire and hot metal made Katya feel like they were walking through an oven. Her shirt stuck to her damp skin under her coat, and her bangs began to glue themselves to her forehead.
She and Viktor weaved past stores and stalls, making it to Pok’s Parlor at the end of the alley. They were not the only customers, and her heart stalled to see the hulking figure in front of Mek’s smithing anvil. It was Vander. Both young men turned to see brother and sister enter the shop, and Katya gripped her brother’s shoulder, holding him in place. She was not ready for Viktor to know this part of her life yet. She hoped he didn’t remember the barkeep from bringing Benzo to their apartment; she prayed it had been too dark for him to recognize the strikingly tall and muscled man before him.
Fortunately, Viktor looked up at her curiously, with confused, wondering eyes. Vander saw the trepidation in her face and kindly turned back to Mek without formally addressing her. Katya swallowed, wetting her dry throat with an audible click, and awkwardly ushered her brother further inside.
“Da!” Mek called out. “Customers!”
Grumbling and limping, Pok staggered out of the back room. Upon seeing Katya and Viktor he grunted and nodded, waving them over with a gnarled, meaty hand. The siblings gave Mek and Vander as wide a berth as they could, walking over to the augmenteer’s workbench.
He rifled through the pieces of metal and leather hanging over his drafting table, eying the tags of paper attached to each. Finally, he plucked a piece from the far left end of the rack and laid it across the table between them.
Pok eyed the piece, then Viktor.
“Looks ‘bout right. C’mere, boy. Let’s try it on.”
He stripped down to his current brace, Katya helped unlace him out of it. She felt how worn and fragile it was as she took it and his shirt into her arms. With cautious excitement, Viktor stepped closer to the old man. Pok slipped the shoulder strap over the boy’s head and went about showing him wear to buckle and how to tighten.
Katya watched her brother’s face gradually grow into something relieved and excited; the expression of joy being pulled from him as if it were warm taffy. She knew how much this opportunity of independence meant to him. She clutched his old brace tighter.
Sometimes, when she was young – younger than Viktor – her papa would take her to examine tidepools near the mouth of the Pilt. She would get sad upon finding shell after shell of what she thought were dead crabs.
“No, no, Button,” her papa would say, plucking the delicate carapace from her small hands. “This is called an exoskeleton. Crustaceans and insects have them. When it is time for the crab to grow, it sheds its current exoskeleton so the larger one underneath can take its place. There’s a short period of time where the crab’s new body is vulnerable. But once it hardens, it is bigger and stronger than before.”
Katya’s throat squeezed watching Viktor undo and redo the buckles and straps of his new brace over and over again. Until he was comfortable with his new shell. He beamed up at her and she smiled back.
Satisfied, Viktor put his shirt back on, and Katya drew her coin purse out from her coat.
“I’ll give ya a small discount if you leave his old brace,” Pok said, nodding to the soft leather straps hung over her arm. “Materials are becoming difficult to come by.”
Katya paused, considering. She looked down at the old brace.
“I would prefer to keep it, actually.”
She paid Pok their agreed price, and she guided Viktor back around Mek and Vander, heading for the alley. She noticed how her brother’s walk was more easeful than when they first arrived. Noticed how he more readily stepped in front of her. Her heart swelled for him, and ached at the same time.
Before she followed Viktor back out into the Undercity, she spared one last glance at Vander. Mek had just lifted something onto the anvil between them, and the barkeep was carefully inspecting whatever it was. When he lifted it up into the bright glow of the furnace, Katya could see that it was a large, crudely constructed gauntlet.
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Notes: Thank you for reading! Did you like the fancy new scene change markers?? I'm not sure if I'm sold on them yet . . .
But most importantly! How are we feeling?? Heimerdinger and Grayson have much to think about, Enyd is really vying for that "Revolutionary of the Month" award, and Kat and Silco are sniffing around each other a little more . . .
Let me know what you think and reblog, please! Smooches!
Coming Up Next: Viktor finally sees his boats. Katya sees a creepy old dude with a basket of purple flowers. Nasha visits The Last Drop, per Enyd's request, and meets with Vander, Silco, Benzo, and Sevika. The latter of whom she takes an interest in *wiggles eyebrows*
Next Chapter
Tag list: @dreamyonahill @pinkrose1422 @altered-delta @beardedladyqueen @truthandadare
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ddaeng-danvers · 2 years
Text
fleeting moments and daydreams
pairings: dick grayson x reader, jason todd x reader, damian wayne x reader, gar logan x reader
genre: fluff, general musings
summary: homage to my dc fictional crushes
warnings: discussion of nightmares, anxiety, general canon violence
a/n: i haven’t written in a long time but here we are...this is what happens when i get into simp mode
masterlist
dick grayson (as robin)
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*reader is a meta-human on the young justice team, she has similar powers to Black Canary*
You know that the sweet yet predictable knock on the door is simply a gesture. You know Dick is coming to check up on you, regardless of your response. 
A recent mission left you with a few broken ribs, a hefty amount of bruising, and a concussion. Nothing a couple weeks of rest and low-profile couldn’t fix, and you would gladly use any excuse to get out of Dinah’s training and to finish the books you’ve had no time to read. 
Dick waltzes in, wearing your Gotham Academy hoodie that somehow still fits him (though you have a feeling he’ll finally reach his growth spurt sometime soon). His hair is messy, and his eyes are tired. He looks exhausted. You give him a smile and a small huff of amusement. 
“How you doing, Boy Wonder?” Dick gives a small chuckle in response. 
“School’s been rough without you. No one to gossip with, or cheat off of.” You laugh despite the ache in your chest. 
“I’m surprised the Bat hasn’t caught on to your suddenly high grades.” Dick smiles and moves from the doorway to sit on the edge of your bed. You can tell he’s keeping his distance. “You’re not going to hurt me, silly bird. Come here.” He scoots to move his back against the headboard, and you lean your head against his shoulder. 
“You need to get better soon, patrol is miserable without you.” Dick’s comforting presence and smell are already sending you off into dreamland. His hand drags up and down your arm, tracing your veins and the outline of finally fading bruises. “Sleep well, birdy.” 
dick grayson (as nightwing)
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*reader is a meta-human, she has similar powers to Black Canary*
The only thing better than waking up on a sweet, warm Sunday morning…is being woken up by Dick Grayson falling in the shower after a night of patrol. 
Normally Dick is lithe and quiet enough to make it through the window, into the shower, and under the covers without waking you or Haley, but not tonight. The thud sent Haley running to the bathroom door tapping and scratching at the floorboards. 
“Shh, Haley everything’s fine.” You groan as you turn over in bed, using a pillow to muffle the noise. The puppy continues to bark and paw at the door. It seems she won’t be settled until she can discover what caused such a stark, sudden noise from the bathroom. With a grumble, you throw off the covers and stumble to the shut door to the bathroom. But as soon as you reach to turn the knob, the door swings open. 
“You miss me that much?’ Dick asks with a swirk slapped across his face. 
“You’re acting far too cocky for this late at night.” You laugh. Dick looks down at Haley, who is sitting calmly and politely at the sight of her owner. 
“At least someone is excited to see me.” Dick smiles and leans down to pet Haley. Now that the dog is calm, you find yourself stumbling back to bed and Dick isn’t far behind you. 
“How was the patrol?” You ask once Dick finally finds himself by your side. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, urging you to come closer and lay by his side. 
“Nothing eventful, I’m much better now that I’m next to you.”
“I’ve known you for too long for you to be flirting with me like that.” You laugh. 
“Well,” Dick muses, “I gotta keep you around somehow.” 
jason todd (as robin)
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*reader is a non-meta-human on the titans team, with similar training to batgirl, spoiler, etc.*
“It’s the middle of the night, Jason your music is too fucking loud! And what in the hell are you listening to?” Jason is laying on the floor of his room, staring at the ceiling. There’s a vinyl spinning on his record player, something heavy and loud with absolutely no rhythm. “Hello? Earth to Jason?” 
He startles suddenly, like he didn’t realize you were there. “Sorry, spaced out.” He mumbled. 
“You sure you’re okay?” Jason doesn’t say much, but you can read the expression on his face. “Did you have a nightmare?” Jason nods, ever so slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” A few beats of silence pass through the room. 
“I don’t really remember much, I just felt afraid, like something was wrong. A-and I woke up on the floor all sweaty and something just feels wrong-” 
“Hey, hey you're hyperventilating, take a deep breath for me, Jay. In-and-out, just like this.” You give him a demonstration, and when he seems to have some control you move your hands to cradle his face. “I’m gonna change this vinyl okay? To something a bit more relaxing, and I’m gonna get you a change of clothes.” Jason nods, his breathing approaching normal. After a quick flip of the vinyl you snatch the closest clean shirt and hoodie out of his dresser and come back down to his spot on the floor. He changes hastily, and you pick up his dirty clothes and throw them towards the basket in his closet. You begin to pick up his room, hoping a cleaner space will clear his mind a bit. 
“Can you come here?” You look up from his floor, and Jason’s sitting on his bed with his head in his knees. You drop what you’re holding, and sit next to him. He turns his head out of his knees and looks at you. His eyes are glassy, and he looks beyond exhausted. “Can you stay here tonight? I think I’ll be able to sleep better if you stay.” 
“Jason, of course I’ll stay.” You run a hand through his hair. “C’mon, let's go to sleep.’ You both tuck under the covers, and Jason wraps his arms around your middle. 
Neither of you wake until the following afternoon. 
jason todd (as red hood)
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*reader is a non-meta-human, working as a nursing student*
“Sometimes I think you’re only dating me because I can patch you up so well.” You joke, because it seems humor is your only way to cope with the amount of fear and anxiety rushing through your head.
“Baby, I’m dating you for all kinds of other reasons too.” Jason laughs, which you take as an opportunity to close up his last stitch, causing him to wince at the stinging pain. 
“Sorry, sorry!” You startle. You hate seeing him in pain, but the alternative is to let him bleed out on your already dirty bathroom floor. “That was the last of them, Jay. All done.” He lets out a deep breath, a sigh of relief. 
“You’re gonna be one hell of a nurse, let me tell you that.” Jay laughs. You laugh along with him, leaning your head against his sternum. 
“I’m only so good because I have such a lovely test subject.” You press two chaste kisses to his collar and his cheek. “Do you need help showering?” Jason shakes his head. 
“No, you’ve helped me enough. I’ll be in bed in a few minutes.” You help Jason stand, and he’s steady, it’s clear that he’s been through worse. You help him pull off his outerwear and compression clothes, throwing them in a pile near the door. You lean in to turn on the water, making sure it’s warm enough for comfort and cold enough as not to disturb his bruises. Once he’s all in and settled, you pick the pile of bloody laundry off the floor. 
“I’ll be in our room.” You announce as you head to throw his clothes in the washer. By the time you’ve sorted everything and cleaned the blood off his chestpiece, he’s already waiting in your room, dressed, and laying down. You move to lay down next to him, and realize he’s already picked out your nightly read. 
“In the mood for a bit of Austen?’ 
damian wayne 
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*reader is a non-meta-human…both are seniors in high school*
You wonder what prompted you to rearrange your room shortly after you started dating Damian. At first you assumed there was no correlation. You wanted a change, so you moved your bed from the middle of the wall to the corner, so it was pressed up against a window. You moved the rest of your furniture accordingly and viola, a nice change. Nothing more, nothing less. 
But now, you think it was some subconscious part of you predicting the future, because now you now your boyfriend is not only the son of a billionaire, but Batman’s one-and-only bird-themed sidekick who loves to crash through your window at odd hours of the night while he’s out on patrol. 
Normally, it’s all innocent. Damian just wants to check up on you while he’s making his nightly rounds. But every once in a while, he’s got a bit more on his mind. Tonight, he’s clumsy. He struggles opening the window, he stumbles right over your legs and manages to roll over onto the floor. As you wake up from your slumber, you notice that he’s breathing hard, harder than usual. And he’s not wearing his Robin uniform. Only a solid navy blue hoodie and gray sweatpants. 
“Were you out on patrol?’ You mumble sleepily. Damian has since moved back into your bed and underneath the covers. His breathing is somehow still heavy and erratic, despite having time to relax after making it through your window. “Damian?”
“Um, no. I was not on patrol.” You suddenly feel much more awake, your head filled with questions. If he wasn’t on patrol, then what was he doing in your room at three in the morning? But before you could even ask, he answered, “I had a nightmare. Just wanted to make sure you were okay, beloved.” 
“I’m alright Damian. I promise.” Immediately, just with your words, he begins to calm. “Now let’s go to sleep. You just have to be gone-”
“Yes, beloved, I know. By seven.” The two of you lay together, quiet, breathing syncing. “But for now, sleep.” 
bonus: gar logan
*reader is a meta-human on the titans team, with the power to read minds*
At first, being saved by Dr. Caulder seemed like an honor and a privilege. He saved you from certain death, and gave you the gift of telepathy, something you could use to be better. But on days like today, you cursed the ground that man walked on, and only wished he could see and feel all the pain he has caused. 
This morning, you were woken up not only by the aching in your legs and core as a result of training from the day before, but a splitting, mind-numbing migraine, which is a direct result of your gift. Gar only noticed something was wrong when you didn’t come out of your room for your morning coffee, so he decided it would only be right to deliver it to you. 
He cracked open the door, expecting you to be hiding away somewhere in the dark. He’s been with you through enough of these episodes to know what to expect. “Hey, you doing alright in there, bub?” Your only reply is a softly mumbled no. The door closes with a gentle click, and Gar’s footsteps to your bed sound like stomps. He sits by your feet, and sets a few things down on your nightstand, as softly as he can. 
“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well,” He whispers. I left some coffee and water on the table, okay?” You nod, making a light swish swish with the blanket. Gar leans over, takes two pills out of a bottle, and taps your shoulder. “Bub, I’m sorry, can you just sit up for me real quick, just for some medicine.” You sit up slowly, as not to disturb your head any more than it already is. Gar hands you the medicine, and you take it as you have hundreds of times before. 
“I’ll leave you be, bub. Text me if you need anything.” As Gar makes a move to stand, you reach out and grab his wrist. 
“Stay, please.” You whisper. Gar nods and swiftly makes his way around the bed to your other side. He tucks himself under the covers, and lets you grab at his arm and squeeze his hand through the rest of the pain.
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theonethatslowlyfade · 2 months
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Rippers - Sweet, sweet revenge
**English is not my main language, please forgive my mistakes*** Thump. The rhythmic sound of fists against a wall. Thump. Thump. The pungent smell of blood. The obscene sketch on the wall, a stain around the remains of a mangled head on a body. A red rose that blooms, blow after blow after blow. Thump. Thump. His knuckles now crimson against the brick wall. Leather gloves cutted, torn, worn. A furious, primitive and hoarse cry is lost amid the crackling of the flames. Satisfaction. Empty, bestial satisfaction.
Thump. Thump. “Should we stop him?” Bly's is the only whisper in a multitude of held breaths. All the companions are observing the violence of the masked man against the now lifeless body. While the leather suit tightens following the wriggling of the underlying muscles, no one dares to intervene. Everyone maintains the necessary distance, just as a deferential God maintains that distance from his faithful. Thump. Thump. "Do you want to go there?" Sir Grayson is the only one to respond with a low, deliberate grunt. He is intently observing the silver plating of his lighter. "It's revenge for him." Thump. Thump. Bly would sell his soul to agree with the old man, but he can't take his eyes off the scene even an inch. He feels his gut twisting violently and that animated tangle that is his mind take shape around an image - a roar of applause, a man with his face covered, with his own voice, the shrill laughter and a flash of bared teeth in a smile. Monocle rejoices, kicks and crackles like an animal excited by the massacre. Thump. Thump. Felicita passively digs into her bag without focusing on any visual detail, her nose almost pointed at the ground. The glow of the flames shines on her golden glasses and her feminine profile, illuminating her worried face with terrifying clarity. Thump. Thump. Hubert at her side breathes as if he is marking time, the sure rhythm of someone who has already experienced that fragment of life. His chest rises and falls regularly without a quiver, while his hand reaches out to Felicita's shoulder. Bly looks at him dumbfounded, without understanding how the massive man can remain absolutely indifferent in front of that macabre spectacle. Then, he notices his feet. The more Yurei delves into the bloody remains of his prey, the deeper his boots dig into the ground. It is not the weight of the man that leaves footprints on the pavement - if anything, it is the will of the earth that leaves furrows on the man. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thu-
There is nothing left to break down. With a gesture of pure anger, Yurei throws the rest of the corpse to the ground, releasing a muffled bark. No part of his body is exposed, his figure completely shrouded in layers of black leather, fabric and tarpaulin. Yet, Bly has the impression of being able to see behind the clothes and behind the dark mask - a body marked by burns, a contorted face. The narrowed blue eyes, the lips tensed in an exposed grin. A demon as a lone avenger. A madman who he chose to follow. With a sob, the doctor feels his heart sink into his chest. He lowers his head, hoping to escape judgment. If not to that of others, at least to his own. And he curses whatever God made Yurei what he is.
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Tump. Il rumore ritmico di pugni contro ad un muro. Tump. Tump. L'odore pungente del sangue. L'osceno schizzo sulla parete, una macchia attorno al rimasuglio di una testa maciullata su un corpo. Una rosa rossa in continua fioritura, colpo dopo colpo dopo colpo. Tump. Tump. Le nocche ormai vermiglie contro il muro di mattoni. Guanti di pelle ormai sfondati, consumati, lacerati. Un grido furioso, primitivo e rauco si perde in mezzo al crepitare delle fiamme. Soddisfazione. Vuota, bestiale soddisfazione. Tump. Tump. "Dovremmo fermarlo?" Quello di Bly è l'unico sussurro in una moltitudine di respiri trattenuti. Tutti i compagni stanno osservando la violenza dell'uomo mascherato contro il corpo ormai esanime. Mentre la tuta di pelle si tende seguendo il guizzare dei muscoli sottostanti, nessuno osa intervenire. Ognuno mantiene la debita distanza, come un Dio deferente mantiene quella dai suoi fedeli. Tump. Tump. "Vuoi andarci tu?" Sir Grayson è l'unico a rispondere con un basso, deliberato grugnito. E' intento ad osservare attentamente la placcatura d'argento del suo accendino. "E' la sua vendetta." Tump. Tump. Bly venderebbe l'anima pur di dare ragione al vecchio, ma non riesce a distogliere lo sguardo di un centimetro dalla scena. Sente le budella torcersi violentemente e quell'animato garbuglio che è la sua mente prendere forma attorno ad un'immagine - uno scroscio di applausi, un uomo a volto coperto con la sua stessa voce, la risata stridente ed un baluginio di denti scoperti in un sorriso. Monocolo gioisce, scalcia e screpita come un'animale infervorato dal massacro. Tump. Tump. Felicita scava passivamente nella sua borsa senza focalizzare nessun dettaglio visivo, il naso quasi puntato a terra. L'ardere delle fiamme risplende sugli occhialetti dorati e sul profilo femminile, illuminando con terrificante chiarezza il suo volto preoccupato. Tump. Tump. Hubert al suo fianco respira come se stesse scandendo il tempo, il ritmo sicuro di chi ha già sperimentato quel frammento di vita. Il petto si alza e si abbassa regolarmente senza un fremito, mentre la sua mano si allunga sulla spalla della compagna. Bly lo osserva interdetto, senza capire come l'uomo massiccio possa rimanere assolutamente indifferente davanti a quel macabro spettacolo. Poi, nota i suoi piedi. Più Yurei scava nei rimasugli insanguinati della sua preda, più i suoi stivali scavano profondamente nel terreno. Non è il peso dell'uomo che imprime impronte sul selciato - semmai è la volontà della terra che lascia solchi sull'uomo. Tump. Tump. Tump. Tu- Non c'è più nulla da sfondare. Con un gesto di pura rabbia, Yurei scaraventa il resto del cadavere a terra, rilasciando un latrato soffocato. Nessuna parte del suo corpo è scoperta, la sua figura completamente avvolta in strati di pelle nera, tessuto e tela cerata. Eppure, Bly ha come l'impressione di poter vedere dietro i vestiti e dietro la maschera scura - un corpo segnato dalle bruciature, un volto contorto. Gli occhi blu assottigliati, le labbra tese in un ghigno scoperto. Un demone nei panni di un vendicatore solitario. Un pazzo che lui ha scelto di seguire. Con un singhiozzo, il dottore sente il cuore sprofondare nel petto. Abbassa la testa, sperando di sfuggire al giudizio. Se non a quello degli altri, almeno al proprio. E maledice qualsiasi Dio abbia fatto di Yurei quello che è.
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sparkie96 · 2 years
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FIRST LINE OF YOUR LAST 20 STORIES!
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line.
Tagged by @rinn-e (thank you thank you)
A/N: I'm gonna list some of my wips along with the last couple just to spice things up.
1. Pantoran Diplomacy (The Clone Wars AU; Omegaverse; Rated M; Obikin / Obi-Wan x Chairman Cho): This wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to make peace with the Talz and be on their way.
2. Little Girl Lost (Titans 2018; Dick Grayson-Centric. Rated T for Canon Typical Stuff): Although some nights of patrol were dull while in costume as Nightwing, he could at least get around and exercise or go from rooftop to rooftop doing his old Flying Grayson Routines. 
3. Intel (Batman: Bad Blood AU; Helena Bertinelli/Huntress-Centric; Rated T for Language): The sound of rain pelting the windows outside was all but drowned out by the sound of the old jukebox blaring out guitar ballads of a band no one knew the name of, nor did anyone care really.
4. Give In B-Man (Arkham Knight AU; Harley Quinn/Joker and Batman-centric; Rated T for Canon Typical Violence): Henry held the gun level with Batman's head, forcing the Dark Knight to stare down the barrel.
5. I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus (Resident Evil and Devil May Cry crossover; Chreon and Baby Nero-centric; Rated T for Language): Though there was Christmas back at Fortuna and at the Orphanage, Nero really didn’t get to experience any of that due to how the Nuns and elders had treated him as well as the fact that a lot of the people there didn't even believe in a Santa Claus. 
6. Long Journey Home (Resident Evil; Valeveira; Post Raccoon City and events of Resident Evil 3; Rated M for Canon Typical Content): The fact that she was alive right now was a goddamn miracle...Hell! 
7. Piecing Myself Back Together Again (Devil May Cry; Pre-Devil May Cry 5; Vergil-Centric; Rated M for Canon Typical Violence, Gore, etc.): According to their father way back when, he and his brother had been destined for great things. 
8. Korkie is a Kenobi (Just Not in the Way You Think) (The Clone Wars AU; PreObi; Omegaverse; Going to be Rated M for Canon Typical Violence, Language, and Content): Obi-Wan had been secretly dreading this trip.
9. Atone (Titans 2018; Omegaverse; eventually DickKon; Dick Grayson and Jason Todd-centric; Going to be Rated M for Canon Typical Violence, Language, and Themes): "I was wrong, Grayson...or do you prefer Richard? Dick? Ah, hell it doesn't matter."
10. Little Boy Found (Resident Evil and Devil May Cry Crossover; Chreon-centric and Baby Nero-centric; Omegaverse; Rated M for Canon Typical Violence, Language and Themes): It had been a long ass drive up to the Burton Mountain House, but damn, it had been worth it.
11. DickKon Prompt (Titans 2018; DickKon centric; Omegaverse; Rated M for themes and language): Dick let out a muffled sound, holding the wrist of the hand covering his mouth.
(I don't have 20 atm but I am working on a bunch of wips and they're not exactly in the "written" stages yet, so they're jumbled and all over the place! Sorry it took so long! Thanks for the tag!)
@fonulyn @willshowerthots @gffa @alicethelizard @locus-desperatus @priscilla-a-moreno @hipsterteller @janny-aqua (whoever else would like to do it!)
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lavidalunaa · 2 years
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The Bird and the Butterfly - Issue 0: Prolouge
Hello hello! This is the prolouge to my Dick Grayson X OC fanfic I’ve been working on for some time now. This will be a long running series that will eventually contain smut, and dark themes so 18+
The prolouge and the first chapter are basically just some world building and an introduction to my OC. The following chapters are much more fanfic-y and contain more DC characters. 
CW: gun violence, kidnapping, death of a parent
Cross posed to AO3 
GOTHAM - 18 YEARS AGO - 3:15 AM
I still remember the day my life was taken from me.
I was five. Or maybe six? Memories from my childhood tend to bleed together. Hell if I knew when it was. The events of that night will be burned into my mind for the rest of my existence. I’m still unsure if I ever recovered from what was lost. My innocence. My sense of safety. My childhood. My mom .
Everything was black. My hands and feet were bound and my body lying limply on cold, wet concrete. The air smelled like wood and pollen as if I were in a lush forest. The air around me was hot and humid, almost artificially so. My mind was hazy. Nothing made sense as if I had been dreaming.
Where am I? What’s happening? My mind raced. The last thing I remembered from that night was mom sitting on the end of my bed reading me my favourite story until I fell asleep.
Where’s mama? She would know what was going on, she would untie me and she would save me from my nightmare. But when I tried to shout for her, I realized my mouth was taped shut. This is when I finally started to panic. I jerked against my restraints, screams muffled in my throat as I thrashed against the pavement. The only thought on my mind was I want my mama.
A door in the distance was thrust open with great force that the noise echoed longer in my mind than it did in the large open room. Suddenly there was a blinding light. I instinctively shut my eyes but it wasn't enough to stop my pupils from burning. As I came to, I realized I was indeed surrounded by trees and vegetation. A large open space complete with floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass roof. I was in a greenhouse.
“Well look who's finally awake. I was starting to worry about you little one” an unfamiliar voice cooed.
In front of me stood a large man in a strange black and white mask. He wore black body armour from head to toe and his hands were covered by black leather gloves. Beside him stood another man in matching attire, next to him stood my mother. Stood was the wrong word, she was held up by her scalp, her feet just barely touching the floor as she dangled in front of me.
Her hair was wet. Her muscles were limp, and her face was drained of life. She was dressed in the same silk nightgown from earlier that night only now it was torn and stained with blood. Her dark skin was covered in deep purple bruises. The only thing that told me she was alive was the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she barely managed to breathe. The man holding her up tossed her onto the concrete next to me and she coughed as if all the air in her lungs was being knocked out of her.
What did they do to her? What were they going to do to me? More importantly, why was any of this happening? I couldn't make sense of my situation. All I knew was we were in danger.
“You’re a cute little thing,” the first man said, crouching down to look me in the eyes. His hand grazed my cheek as hot tears finally started to fall.
“Don't touch her!” My mother’s voice was quiet, hoarse and exhausted.
The man chuckled. “This bothers you?” He mocked as he continued to drag his filthy gloved hand down my face. My mother let out a groan at his action. As if she was in pain from the mere sight of his hand on my face.
“Now if that piece-of-shit husband of yours didn’t run off with our boss’s merchandise none of us would be here,” he sighed as if he was bored of this. He pulled a knife out of god-knows-where and slowly brought it to my face. “Now let's see if you scream as loud as your mama”
As if she suddenly mustered all the strength left in her battered body my mother let out a war cry as she pushed herself onto her feet. She lunged toward the man with the knife, grabbing ahold of his hand and trying to keep the weapon away from me. She and the knifeman shoved against each other in a fight for power. In a last-ditch effort, my mother bit his forearm to get him to let go. The knife clattered to the ground and slid across the slick concrete.
“You crazy fucking bitch!” he yelled. He shoved her over, knocking her on her back as he stood up and towered over both of us. I saw him reach for something strapped to his body armour. Before I had time to process-
BANG.
I watched as what little life remained in my mother poured out onto the concrete. I wanted to scream but my lungs betrayed me. My entire body froze in place. Mama.
“Dude, hostages are no use to us dead,” the other man scolded.
“We still have the kid,” said my mother’s killer with a shrug. “She was starting to piss me off.”
My stomach turned as if I were about to vomit. They were talking about her as if she was just some pest as if her life meant nothing. The panic overtook my body. I felt like I was on fire and I was numb at the same time. They shot my mom. He murdered my mother. I couldn’t breathe, it felt as if every function of my body failed all at once. I’m going to die.
Just as I was about to pass out the glass ceiling shattered and a shadow descended from the sky. A shadow in the shape of a bat.
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arguablysomaya · 1 year
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someone: did you really die jason: of corpse dick: that was so terrible. I'm gonna kick your ass for that jason: that would be a grave mistake
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ao3feed-brucewayne · 3 months
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Don't waste your time on me
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Un2jGbW by Unknxwnn Jason awoke with a groan, he had never been this dizzy before. He felt like he was underwater. The sounds around him were muffled, his vision was blurry, and he could barely think straight. He closed his eyes and took a breath trying to focus on one thing at a time. His hearing first. He focused on the muffled sounds of people talking and the breathing from next to him. Wait. The breathing from next to him!? His eyes darted open and across the room. No fucking way OR The one in which Red Hood and Nightwing are kidnapped. And Dick has to get them both out before he looses his brother (again.) Words: 658, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Nightwing - Dick Grayson, Batman - Bruce Wayne, Red Hood - Jason Todd, Original Character(s) - Character, Original Villain Character(s) - Character Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Angst?, Hurt, Kidnapping, Torture, Post-Lazarus Pit Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Characters act different from canon read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Un2jGbW
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strangerquinns · 3 years
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Paradise
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g.d x f!reader | ⚠️: 18+ w/ unprotected sex, violence, fluff & angst ft. posessive Grayson (slightly au) | trigger: sexual harassment | Masterlist
when being with the one feels like paradise, but how long can that truly last?
But I swear I've never loved you more. When you right here, I come alive - Paradise by Bazzi
You felt his soft touch against your stomach, waking you slightly, and causing you to nuzzle into his chest more. Grayson Dolan smelled like sunscreen, sandalwood with a hint of something else warm.
Grayson Dolan smelled like home.
His arms tightened around you more and soon you felt his lips against your temple. Then your forehead. A small smile curved up the corners of your lips. He felt it, causing a deep chuckle to come from his chest.
Grayson Dolan sounded like home.
“I know you’re awake, baby girl,” Grayson spoke with his voice a little deeper than usual. Making you whimper softly and clench between your legs. Something about his morning voice did something to you. “Come on I wanna see your face, and it’s currently buried in my chest”
“You’re warm and smell like sunshine, can you blame me?” You spoke, voice muffled against his neck as you moved up. You gently placed soft kisses along his neck up along his jaw, before coming eye to eye with him, “Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled, a twinkle in his eye that only showed when he was truly happy. “You sleep ok?”
Grayson reached to caress a piece of hair from your face. You nodded your head, too lost for a moment. There was something about Grayson Dolan that seemed to hypnotize you for a moment. Make you think; “Is he really mine?”
From behind him, you were able to see the sunshine, the soothing sound of the waves hitting against the beach. From down the hallways, the two of you could hear Ethan and Kristina moving about the kitchen. The familiar sounds of their voices along with the sound of cabinets closing. But neither of you wanted to move. You all came to Hawaii to get away. The boys needed breaks from work, and you needed to distress from your final semester of school.
“We should get up and go join them for breakfast.”
“Why would we do that? Why not stay right here in each other’s arms? Listening to the island.” You spoke softly.
Grayson hummed before moving you both, shifting till you were beneath him and he was between your legs. You felt the full weight of him between your legs, causing you to grind up into him. A deep, almost animalistic, growl came from him as your bare pussy pressed against him. His cock twitched and you smirked at the nearly instant reaction.
“You not get enough last night?” Grayson spoke, shifting his body down so his face was over your chest, your pussy now pressed against his stomach. He could feel your wet against his skin already.
You only responded with another hum as his lips pressed to the center of your chest, right between your breasts. 
You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft curls against your fingers, and closed your eyes. A soft sigh passed your lips as his tongue moved to press against your skin. Your hips moved up towards him for more friction feeling yourself becomes wetter and needier for him. Grayson palmed one of your tits, his thumb slowly rubbing against the hardened nipple, as he wrapped his other hand around your other. 
"Gray," You moaned and tightened your hold on his hair. 
Grayson moaned and nipped lightly at your nipple, eliciting a small gasp from you, and opening your eyes to look down towards him. A small mischievous glint was in his eyes as you stared down towards him. You moved your hand down towards the back of his head and pulled him up towards you. Capturing Grayson's lips in a deep and intense kiss, your other hand moving down his chest slowly before wrapping a hand around his cock.
He was already hard for you with precum dripping down his thick shaft. You loved the weight of him in your hand, gently moving it up and down, as he moaned against your lips. He won dominance in the kiss with his tongue dancing against yours, with his hips moving against your hand. 
"B-baby girl," Grayson choked on his words as you sucked and nipped at his neck, while he slowly fucked your hand. "God damn."
You moved away from his neck before laying back against the pillows, opening your legs wide for him as the hand that was once around his cock, moved down to tease your clit. Grayson's eyes seemed to darken as he looked down and watched you touch yourself. Your fingers now glistening with not only his precum but with your juices. His eyes were zeroed in on your pussy. Grayson was debating within his mind if he wanted to make you cum with his mouth. Or his cock.
His pulsating cock needed to be inside of you. 
Grayson moved your hand away and pulled you down towards him more before placing your leg over his shoulder. You were opened wide for him.
Gonna feel him in my fucking guts, you thought to yourself.
You nearly screamed his name as he thrust deep inside of you, gripping your thighs, as he fucked into you. Grayson placed a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gripped the white sheets beneath you. The bed rocked into the wall causing a rhythmic banging noise that let not only Ethan and Kristina know what was going on, but anyone that walked past the house. 
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Grayson cursed, dragging out the last one as you tightened around him more. He didn't know what to look at more, your bouncing tits or the faces you were making as he moved his hand away from your mouth. "God you feel so good, baby."
"Make me cum...oh god, Grayson...god!" Your chest arched up towards him as a wanton moan sounded from you. He could hear the wet noises that you two were creating. Making it more erotic and turning him on even more. You were dripping down his balls, your pussy pulling him in deeper and deeper with each thrust.
Grayson shoved his fingers into your mouth to silence you again as you become too loud. He was aching for you too much to last long and he knew that you weren't going to either. You were shaking beneath him and gripped around him tight. Watching you fall apart beneath him was what sent Grayson over. He called out your name as he slowly ground his hips against you, spilling deep inside of you.
Grayson moved the leg from his shoulder before pressing his body against you more. Your legs locked around his waist and pulled him in deeper, loving the feeling of him deep inside of you. The two of you laid together for a moment before Grayson was the first to move. You whimpered when you felt him pull out. He sat back on his knees for a moment and watched as he slowly dripped out of you. Grayson cursed to himself and moved away from you before he decided that neither of you would leave that bed today.
But instead, he picked you up from the bed and towards the shower to wash up. The shower just elicited another round from you both causing it to be longer. It was a while before either of you emerged from the bedroom and headed towards the main part of the house. Ethan and Kristina were nowhere to be seen. Their empty coffee mugs inside the sink, along with a note on the counter. 
Warn us next time, headed to the beach - E x.
You groaned internally as the slight embarrassment of being heard hit you. It wasn't like you'd never unintentionally heard Ethan and Kris together, but it still didn't mean it wasn't a little embarrassing. 
The two of you made breakfast together before slipping into your bathing suits. Grayson couldn't help himself as he moved up behind you at the bathroom sink, kissing along your neck as his hand softly caressed your ass. 
"We're not gonna make it out of this fucking house if you keep wearin' these suits." He nipped at your ear. 
"Maybe they'll help you with your self-control." You laughed, swatting his hand away, before moving towards your suitcase to grab your coverup. It was a white halter dress that stopped right at the top of your thighs.
Grayson just chuckled but leaned against the doorway as he watched you dress. When you turned around towards him, you saw the soft look in his eyes. One dimple showing from the small smile on his lips. 
"What?"
"Nothing just...I love you so much."
"Yeah?" You walked towards him and felt the butterflies in your stomach. "Good. Cause I swear I never loved you more than I do right now."
Grayson felt his chest spread with warmth as you rose on your toes and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands rested on your hips before bending down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. 
After a day in the sun, the rest of the group met up at the Dolan's house for the last night in Hawaii party. It Ethan, Kris, Ryan, Adele and others that joined them on the trip that were coming tonight for the party.  You slipped on your favorite skirt and cropped t-shirt, just wanting to have a low-key night with friends. When you walked into the kitchen Kristina handed you a mixed drink that you thanked her for, before taking a sip. It was strong and it was fruity. 
It didn't take long for the party to become crazy. People were laughing, drinking, and dancing. Even if it wasn't a large group, it somehow sounded like it, with the voices and music mixing. You'd lost Grayson mid through the party, him venturing off with Ryan, Mando, and Ethan - leaving you with Kristina and Adele. 
You stood from your spot on the balcony and walked, more like stumbled, back towards the kitchen for another drink. You weren't a lightweight, but a day in the sun and eating nothing but fruit and snacks weren't working well for your system.
You grabbed another cup of the mixed cocktail Kristina made, before trying to make it back to the girls. But when you turned around to leave towards the hallway, a figure was standing in the small doorway. 
Tyler was a new friend to Grayson and Ethan, who was also invited in on the trip. He was sharing another house with Ryan, Mando, and one other guy whose name you couldn't really remember. But the way his eyes slowly scanned up your body was enough to make the drinks you had wanna come back up. 
"H-Hey," You cringed at how slurred your words sounded to you. "Uh...where's Gray?"
"Outback with the boys. Was told to come and get some cups for pong."
Your eyes darted towards the red solo cups that were stacked by the fridge on the counter. He slowly walked into the room not moving his eyes from you. Your heart began to beat against your chest. Your gut was telling you to leave, but it was like your feet were planted where you stood. 
"Should get back out to 'em," You slowly started to walk towards the door the moment he was out of the way. 
But it was like he knew what you were doing, his hands stretching out in front of you and boxing you back in. You jumped back from his touch and shrunk back. Your eyes darted down to his hand that was on the counter before glaring up towards him.
"I'd like to leave,"
Tyler shook his head, stepping towards you "Why don't we stay and get to know each other, huh?"
"No," You flinched when his finger slowly ran along your arm, causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin. "Don't touch me,"
"Baby, know you don't mind. Hear how you are with Grayson." He stepped closer, his hot breath fanning out across your face. "He wouldn't mind sharing."
You let out a scream when his hand touched your thigh, using all the strength that you could to push him away. 
Grayson felt that something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something in the back of his head told him to go into the house. He looked around and saw that Tyler hadn't shown back with the cups. Deep down he didn't like the guy but agreed to let him come along, when Ryan asked. But something about the kid made his skin crawl. When Grayson walked through the threshold of the house, he heard a scream. Your scream. 
He didn't even second guess it as he rushed through the house and towards the kitchen. When he walked through the door, Grayson saw a scene that made him want to throw up. Tyler had you boxed in the corner part of the counter, his hand along your thigh with his face down by yours. You were trying to push him away, but the guy was near twice your size.
"Dude what the fuck!" 
Grayson screamed as the pure rage took over his body. He reached forward and yanked Tyler away from you, sending him across the kitchen. His back smacked against the fridge causing it to shake slightly. Grayson stepped towards him before fisting his shirt and slamming his back against the wall, his fist connecting with his nose. 
"What the fuck are you doing!" Grayson screamed, "Don't you fucking touch her!"
Ethan was running towards the house the moment his brother's booming voice ripped through the tranquil night. Everything around you was chaos and all you could do was stand there in shock, gripping the counter for support. Ethan moved to tear Grayson off Tyler, Ryan stepping in to assist.
"You got 'em. You got 'em" Ethan screamed into Grayson's face, trying to calm his brother down. He'd never seen this level of rage in his little brother. Ethan wasn't gonna lie, it scared him.
The girls rushed down at the sound of the noise. Kristina looked around and saw all the boys together, with you shaking in the kitchen with tears streaming down your face. She rushed towards you and pulled away from the noise and chaos, wrapping her arm around you protectively. Ethan saw you slip away with his girl, knowing that you were now away and safe. Tyler was knocked unconscious on the hallway floor with a blood all over his face, nose broken from the crooked angle. 
Grayson's breath was hard and labored as Ethan pushed him towards the living room. 
"Calm down, bro. What happened."
"I came in...and I saw...fuck! fuck!" Grayson screamed, fisting his hair tightly. "He was fucking touching her, bro. She was fighting him off."
Ethan quickly realized what Grayson was saying. He felt sick. He felt violently sick. 
"Where is she?" Grayson spoke, his eyes looking around wildly. 
"Kris is with her, I saw them duck back upstairs."
"I need to see her,"
"No." Ethan pushed on his chest, "Calm down and go see her, maybe wash the blood from your hand before you scare her even more."
As Grayson tried to calm himself, you were upstairs doing the same. It was like the initial shock wore off as Kristina took you to your room. The moment you sat on the bed, you dropped your face into your hands and cried. She knelt in front of you and wrapped you in a hug. She didn't pressure you to speak. She just holds you, being the support that you needed. 
"You're ok. You're safe." Kristina spoke softly, voice calming you and bringing you back and away from your thoughts. 
You don't know how long you sat there with her. But enough for the tears to dry and for you to sober up. At one point she helped you wipe away the smudged and streaked make-up from your face, along with switching into one of Gray's shorts and shirt, before leaving. You needed the smell of him around you. It made you feel safe and erased the memory of Tyler's breath. 
Grayson walked up the stairs after cleaning himself up and trying to make the kitchen look as normal as possible. Also, clean the blood from the wall. He didn't want any memory of tonight left behind. When he stepped into the room, Grayson stopped right in the doorway. You were in the bed bundled in his clothes. His heart ached for you. 
You felt eyes looking towards you and slowly opened your eyes and saw him.
Grayson walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He didn't speak, just stripped down to his shorts, before moving towards the bed.
"Can I get in with you."
You didn't speak, just looked towards him and nodded your head. He slowly sunk onto the bed beside you and hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. You instantly moved to lay against his side. Your arms moved across his chest to hold him close. Grayson relaxed into you more, before kissing the top of your head. 
"I'm so sorry baby," Grayson spoke after a long pause of silence. 
"It's not your fault," Your voice cracked slightly from the hoarseness of your throat from crying. 
"It doesn't matter...should've protected you." You knew what he was doing, beating himself up from something he couldn't possibly have stopped. 
"You're here now." You pulled back and looked towards him, 
"He didn't..." The question was left hanging in the air. You quickly shook your head. 
"C-Can we not talk about it...not now at least."
"Of course. I'm sorry."
You moved back to rest your head on his chest before closing your eyes. Enjoying the feeling of his hand moving against your back slowly. You were wrapped in his scent and felt safe in his arms. The fear you had before was still there under the surface, but with Grayson, he kept it away. 
"I love you," You spoke softly. 
"I love you,"
Outside you could hear the soft sound of the waves on the beach, bringing the memory of this morning. Reminding you of the paradise that you had hours before. 
eh I’m nervous about this one. please let me know your thoughts? let me know if you ever wanna be added to the permanent tag list for the Dolans 
~ Ever 💜
@lovingdolans
@peachyafshawn
@guiltydols
@millennial-teenybopper
@loveeharry
@bubsdolan​
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viktorshands · 2 years
Text
“You’re Mine” Silco x Reader Part III
Part three of a multi-chapter experience of deceit, double-crossing, and maybe eventually some spicy stuff. Fem!OC/Reader. Word count: 1.7k
Part I ♥ Part II
Warnings: Blood, graphic depictions of violence, cursing, brief mention of claustrophobia.
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Five years earlier.
Silently you perched upon the rooftops of the undercity slums. You had been tracking your boss, Sheriff Grayson, at her request as she followed a tip which would lead her to the arrest of the persons responsible for making a disgrace out of Piltover’s finest. She had asked you to follow along undetected, as she usually did when she went to the undercity. She trusted you, more than her own partner, and she was the only person you had to look up to - she had taken you in after your parents died. You breathed heavily into your respirator and watched, the smog obscuring your visibility, as Grayson and Marcus walked to one of the many seedy shops along the dimly lit street. 
Grayson lingered in the doorway and followed Marcus inside. The door stayed open, casting a sick yellow light out, and you could hear her voice talking to what sounded like another man. You thought you could hear a faint thumping noise too, like someone was punching a wall. Perhaps the criminal needed a “talking to” before being fitted into their handcuffs.
Only seconds passed before you heard what sounded like an animal, grunting on the street below, about thirty meters from the entrance of the shop and closing in.
You pulled your mask from your face and pressed your rifle to your cheek to aim down the sights at the quickly approaching characters from the south. You held back a cough as the thick air hit your throat. Fuck, who, or what, is that? You thought you could make out two figures in the shadows. One significantly larger than the other and seemed to be.. Glowing? Shit. You turned back to the shop and saw Grayson and Marcus exiting with two large men. You recognized one as Vander, Grayson’s “lap dog”. Why was he in handcuffs?
“Stop right there!” You heard Marcus yell loudly. From the shadows you saw the glowing monster spring faster than lightning and -
“NO!” Your hands covered your mouth as you screamed to muffle your cries.
Below, Grayson lay on the street in a quickly forming pool of her blood, her pistol lay next to her, the barrel still smoking.
She had shot the beast and it still had time to kill her.
“Silco!” You heard a man's booming voice ring out.
Hands shaking, you wiped the tears from your eyes and pointed your rifle at the men below. It was difficult to gauge the situation, you could hardly hear what the men were shouting about below as the sound of your heartbeat rang in a deafening volume in your ears. You gripped your rifle tightly as you heard the beast roar and slaughter another man in the street. The blood bathed the pavement.
Suddenly your world went fuzzy, the smog choking you, the dim lights playing with your vision, and the image of that beast scarred into your brain. You tried to shake yourself out of it. Focus.
The last thing you saw was Marcus holding coins in his hands. His payment. Your vision tunneled and the blackness overwhelmed you.
-
“TRAITOR!”
You woke up sweating. The terror of reliving the nightmare, of what brought you into this mess.
That fucking traitor. You cursed Marcus every day for what he did. And for what, power? The title of Sheriff? To have an in with the ringleader down here?
You hadn’t returned to Piltover that day, making you just another Enforcer killed in action over the course of that week. Everyone forgot about you amidst the chaos. It felt strange and poetic that the death of Grayson, your confidant and only friend in Piltover, was the cover up for your disappearance. Grayson had known for a while that Vander was going to be challenged in the undercity, and whoever or whatever that was, she wanted you to root it out. This was all for her. For revenge. To expose the shimmer ring, Marcus, and Silco. 
You leapt from your bed and paced your small room, hurrying to put your clothes on and tie your hair back. 
After you had gotten your in with Sevika at The Last Drop, you know it only had to be a matter of time before -
“Y/N!” Sevika shouted as her fist pounded the door.
You whirled around and grabbed the handle, yanking the weak door open on its hinges.
“Hey,” You made a face at her, scrunching your eyebrows, “I’m ready, let’s go!”
You and Sevika walked down the crowded street. It was early but you’d never be able to tell the time down here if it weren’t for the vendors just opening their shops. You could smell various foods being cooked on greasy stovetops, cheap perfumes, and the ever-present smog, though the latter you were quite used to at this point. 
“Pick up the pace, Y/N.” Sevika hissed at you. 
Sevika is not a morning person. You chuckled under your breath, thinking back to your nightmare you frowned, and neither am I for that matter.
After walking for quite some time you came to the edge of the city, a craggy outcropping of rocks intertwined with large pipes. The drainage area was a place you hadn’t visited before, but you knew of. All of the waste of Piltover flooded from the sewers of the city and fed into the murky “river” adjacent to Zaun. This looks like a place where you could throw a body without anyone finding out. You approached the seemingly unremarkable cliffside, not straying more than a few feet behind Sevika. To your surprise, as you got closer, you could make out the shape of a metal door. The keys jingled in Sevika’s hands as she unlocked the door with a loud - clunk - the door opened with the shove of her shoulder, creaking open loudly and dust floated down like powder.
“Wait here,” Sevika paused at the entrance, putting a hand to your chest, “This client is a dear friend of Silco, and he is very particular about meeting new people.”
The door closed in front of you and you kept watch for two, maybe three minutes when the door swung open. Sevika beckoned you into the darkness with a sideways tilt of her head.
You followed her inside and the metal closed behind you, sealing you in like a coffin. The cool, dank air hit your skin and caused a prickle on your neck. You drew your jacket closer around your torso and shivered.
You walked down a long corridor further underground than you ever wanted to be, and the claustrophobia was creeping in. Ahead, there was a faint green glow. Sevika led you toward the light, and you could hear distant sounds of water echoing in the cavern interrupted only by the sound of your shuffling footsteps and uneven breath.
A dear friend of Silco, you thought. What dear friend of Silco would be in a cave? The only people he holds close are people who he deems useful - which I suppose includes me now, but who the hell is this person?
The two of you rounded the corner and you were greeted by a lanky figure dressed in dark clothing, with a scarf covering his mouth and nose. He stood behind a workbench, covered with cluttered notes, and bubbling substances that glowed in the low light.
You looked right past him, trying to absorb everything in the strange space. Squinting, you tried to make out a foreign shape inside a huge tank that cast the sickly green glow on the room. 
A monster. Your eyes grew to the size of saucers and felt your throat tighten. You shook your head to focus on what Sevika was asking the man, but you didn’t hear her over your reeling thoughts.
The strange man spoke with a gravelly voice, “These are the ones they wanted. What they want, they get. I am a simple man providing a service.” He pushed a small velvet-lined case over to the two of you, inside it contained what you recognized as shimmer, bubbling and glowing, but it was a shade of red rather than purple. He must have noticed you eyeing the product, as he went on to explain, “It is a variant of shimmer, designed specifically without side effects. It has taken me a long time to perfect this form, thus its high price and requirement for protective handling until it reaches its requestor.”
Sevika closed the case and picked it up off the table. 
Leaving the man in his lab, your legs couldn’t carry you fast enough up the long walkway and you finally felt a small sense of relief when you were back outside. 
“So, who was that guy?” You asked as a distraction - you couldn’t free yourself from the horrific images in your brain.
“Singed. If you didn’t already piece it together, he’s the creator of shimmer.” She said plainly, “Now that everyone’s hooked on the stuff and Silco is rich, he has free reign to experiment. What we are doing is taking this variant shimmer to sell to the highest bidders of Piltover.” She spit out the last word, like it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“We’re going to Piltover?” You felt your heart still in your chest, the feeling of dread rising your throat.
“Yeah, is there a problem?” She leaned over to meet you at eye level, raising one eyebrow. “This is your job now, so there better not be.”
You didn’t know what else to say besides, “No, there’s no problem at all.”
The anxiety washed over you like the green river you walked next to; it flowed over the rocks underneath, covering everything in its path without a care. Your thoughts swallowed you whole, trapping you in the fear of reopening old wounds you tried so hard to cover.
How am I going to survive this?
-
Sorry for all of the lack of Silco… I guess I’m writing a book. There are so many side quests in my spider web of a brain. Working on Part 4 currently.
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Text
All Men Have Limits - IX
Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne
Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.
Word Count: 2,800+
Warning: Violence, Mentions of past domestic abuse
Previously on…
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A WEEK LATER...
Of course it had to be raining the night they needed to execute their plan. 
Y/N didn’t know if she was shaking because she was freezing or because she was so nervous. Even with all the layers and her knit hat, she couldn’t seem to warm up.
Y/N had been walking around for half an hour. They’d mapped out her route so her face would get picked up by as many street cameras as possible. If The Court was as sinister as rumored, they’d be watching.
“Scratch your nose if you’re doing alright,” Dick said in Y/N’s ear.
The whole family had explained how imperative it was for Y/N not to speak. They had to assume that Y/N was being watched the moment she left the manor. And if her lips moved, the Talons would know something was up.
So Y/N scratched her nose and looked over her shoulder suspiciously, just like they had talked about.
“Remember: you want out at any moment, just press the distress button on your watch,” Dick added for good measure.
Y/N wanted to roll her eyes at his worry and overprotectiveness, and say, ‘I know. I know.’ But she knew better than that.
“Someone’s tracking her,” Jason spoke up in the comms. “Civilian clothing.”
Jason started calling out the identifiers to his family, and in 30 seconds everyone spotted the man that was tailing Y/N.
But this was all part of the plan.
“I still don’t like this,” Dick muttered to his family, making sure he cut Y/N’s connection off so she didn’t hear his nervousness.
“’Course you are. We’re throwing your girlfriend to the wolves,” Jason commented.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Dick muttered with annoyance.
“Focus,” Bruce chimed in for the first time.
“She’s stuck to the route we gave her,” Tim commented. “All well-lit and crowded with people. They won’t make a scene with this many witnesses.”
The family moved across rooftops, following Y/N’s path from their designated points.
Dick and Bruce both hated this plan, but they were handling it in different ways.
Bruce had become almost mute with focus. He didn’t want a single thing to slip past him. His senses were acute as ever. He was barely communicating with them because he was too busy keeping an eye on Y/N. His eyes hadn’t stopping shooting around, making sure to cover all angles.
“She’s entering the warehouse,” Damian announced.
Everyone shifted their focus and made their moves.
Y/N stopped at the computers she had set up. Or really that Bruce had hired men to set up for her.
She started typing away rapidly, not sure how much time she’d have before deadly ninjas would start dropping on her.
With one final slam of a key, she let out a shallow breath. “Signal’s been sent out. We’re live.”
“Nice!” Tim answered.
Jason started to chime in, but suddenly his voice became crackly and then the line went silent.
“Red Hood?” Y/N asked.
Nothing.
“Anyone read?”
Nothing.
Y/N felt a chill go up her spine.
She whipped around to find three Talons awaiting her attention.
Y/N quickly took a step back and pressed the panic button on her watch. She hoped The Court hadn’t somehow intercepted that signal as well.
“You were lucky with our last encounter,” a Talon stepped forward to speak.
Y/N ignored him and took out both of the guns that had been hiding in her trench coat.
He laughed at the weapons. “Have we not already tried this?”
“At least I’m not a coward hiding behind a mask. Won’t even let me see the faces of the idiots who want to kill me?”
They all ignored her attempt to get them to unmask themselves, but started stepping toward her. “Not want. We will kill you this time.”
But before Y/N could answer or the Talons could get any closer, a smoke bomb was dropped in the space between her and her enemy.
Just as it erupted, Dick dropped down from the bannister above and shoved a gas mask over Y/N’s face.
This wasn’t just any usual gas bomb that Batman and the family used as a distraction. No, this was a special formula designed to burn eyes and cause coughing fits.
One thing was made quite clear, the Talon’s masks were not used to protect them from such attacks. They were meant to hide their identity and nothing else.
Y/N smirked when she heard the sudden coughing and groans of pain. They weren’t muffled by fabric, meaning they had no choice but to remove their masks.
“Stay back,” Dick warned her before lightly pushing her behind a pillar as the smoke bomb started to settle.
Barely giving them a chance, Dick attacked the weakened Talons.
But now the three of them were unmasked. Their eyes were burned red and watery with tears.
And their faces were exposed. 
Y/N’s stomach dropped as she saw Dick flip to them and attack.
But she had a job to do and started tapping away on the high-tech watch around her wrist. She was walking backwards, staying away from the fight, just as Dick had instructed. 
But then she backed into a body.
“Fuck,” Y/N muttered as she froze and her eyes widened in panic.
She whipped around to find a Talon with his sword drawn.
Then other blurs were dropping down from the banisters, more were joining the fight.
Y/N reached for both of her guns and was ready to start firing – despite that not benefiting her in the slightest bit last time.
But before she could take even one shot, someone dropped in front of her protectively.
Bruce was a like a wall of shadow, blocking Y/N from the enemy.
“Run, Y/N.” He demanded without breaking eye contact with his opponent.
She knew better than to fight him on it. This was what they had agreed upon: Y/N was to be used as bait and do her job, then get the hell out.
“No matter what you hear or see, you run like hell,” Dick had told her. His eyes had been desperate and his grip on her shoulders had been tight. Y/N hadn’t been able to find it in her to do anything but give a slow nod.
Barely a second passed after Bruce’s warning before multiple Talons were on him. But Bruce was a worthy opponent and was able to distract them enough for Y/N to get away.
She ran for the nearest exit.
But the warehouse was now crawling with Talons.
Two more blocked her path, making her screech to a stop and turn around, facing Jason.
“Get down,” he told her calmly as he raised two guns.
She dove to the ground and covered her ears as Jason cleared out his ammo.
Without waiting for further instruct, Y/N jumped back onto her feet and tried to find the least chaotic route out.
Tim was using his bow staff almost like a windmill, taking out multiple Talons at a time with just a simple swing.
Y/N looked across the warehouse to see Damian and Dick fighting alongside each other. Despite Damian’s capabilities, Dick couldn’t help but look out for the boy, and he was never far from his side during a fight.
Damian slashed down opponent after opponent with his Katana sword. Meanwhile, Dick had the boy’s back, using his escrima sticks and countless acrobatic kicks and flips.
They were all holding their own, which further urged Y/N to get out of the way.
‘Run, Y/N. Run!’ Her brain screamed at her.
She spotted her opening and sprinted for it.
With only a few yards to go, Y/N felt a sting in the back of her leg.
No.
It was more than a sting. It was a lightning strike of pain that threw her to the floor.
As she sat up, Y/N looked up to see that a knife had clattered to the floor with blood staining it. Her blood.
Then she looked at the back of her thigh to see that she was bleeding from an open wound. It could’ve been worse. The knife could’ve embedded into her muscle and flesh. But she had gotten away with a graze – but one that brought her to the ground.
It all happened so quickly.
One moment Y/N was looking at the blood dripping from her leg. And the next, there was a Talon standing above her – unmasked – with his sword about to swing down on her.
Y/N winced and shielded herself as best as she could. But there was no saving her from such a blade – and a blade wielded by a Talon of The Court.
Just when Y/N thought she’d feel the sword strike her, a presence flew between them.
Y/N opened her eyes when she heard the sound of metal clashing with metal.
Bruce’s forearms were crossed into an X, with his gauntlets intercepting the Talon’s sword swing.
Y/N crawled back to get out of the way, ignoring the screaming pain from her leg.
All she could do was watch as Bruce now fought the Talon one on one. They wielded two katana swords – one in each hand.
Meanwhile, Bruce was using his gauntlets and therefore could really only be on the defense.
It was clear that he was trying to disarm them and make the fight even.
Eventually, through many complicated maneuvers, Bruce knocked one of the swords out of the Talon’s grip. He picked it up.
Y/N didn’t know why it was so surprising to see Bruce wield a katana. Of course he had been trained in sword fighting. That just wasn’t his chosen weapon. It didn’t stop her from being amazed by his skill with the blade. 
But Bruce was getting tired. Y/N could see it.
His movements were still quick, but they had slowed since the beginning of this particular fight.
Y/N managed to clench her teeth and fight through the pain of her leg, slowly bringing herself to a standing position.
But just as she did so, Bruce’s sword was knocked clear out of his hands and the Talon followed it with a kick to Bruce’s abdomen and a punch to his face.
Y/N’s stomach dropped at seeing the infamous Batman get knocked to the ground.
Of all the footage she’d seen, Batman always seemed to have the upper hand. She never doubted that he was going to win a fight – and he was going to do so without killing the enemy, which as always impressive.
“Get up, get up,” Y/N hissed to herself as she watched Bruce struggle to get back on his feet.
“So much time spent protecting her,” the Talon patronized. “Such a waste.”
He landed yet another punch across Bruce’s face. A punch that was harder than anything Y/N had seen before. 
And it knocked Bruce out cold.
Y/N felt it – the death in the air.
Time seemed to slow.
She was about to watch Batman get slaughtered right in front of her.
Her eyes raced around her, looking for one of the boys to call for help or anything that could be used as a distraction. But Dick and Damian were suddenly being overpowered. Tim wasn’t even in Y/N’s eyesight. And Jason was failing to shoot every Talon that surrounded him.
Then Y/N saw the katana that had been ripped from Bruce’s grip. It lay just a foot away from her.
Without thinking, Y/N picked it up.
She lunged forward just as the Talon was bringing his sword down to finish Bruce.
With just an inch away from his victim, Y/N’s sword intercepted the final attack.
The Talon gaze whipped to her. And Bruce was oblivious to his life being saved.
Y/N’s eyes widened, realizing she acted without any sort of plan. And now she had the Talon’s full attention and she had no clue how to wield a sword of any kind – or how to physically offend herself to any degree. 
“You have been a nuisance long enough,” the Talon growled.
“Oh, but I’m not even done yet,” Y/N smirked wickedly.
He tilted his head to the side, choosing to amuse her instead of strike her down immediately.
“You really think I can hack the oldest and most powerful secret, but not every major news network in the country?” She asked offensively.
But then she smiled and tapped a button on her watch.
The screens in the warehouse flickered to life and their volume was turned all the way up.
Everyone ceased their fighting.
Each screen showed that every network was hacked, their signals interrupted with Y/N’s own broadcast.
It was live footage from inside the top secret base for The Court of Owls. All of its members were unmasked, either being gathered by FBI and Gotham PD or pinned to the floor, getting handcuffed.
“That’s not possible,” the Talon gasped.
Y/N tapped her watch and a tiny drone, almost the size of a bumblebee zoomed in front of his face. Then his face was being broadcasted across the world.
“Say hello to America, Calvin Rose,” Y/N announced as her face-recognition system instantly identified him and his name appeared on her watch.
Then the camera moved to another unmasked Talon in the warehouse. “William Cobb,” Y/N announced, adding his name to the screen when he appeared.
As her footage was live-streaming on all major networks, the names of each member were appearing on the screen as well.
Calvin Rose screamed in frustration. 
“Detonate the bomb!” He yelled to his men.
“You mean the bomb you first threatened me with?” Y/N cooed.
He whipped back around to glare at her, not understanding her meaning.
“You really think we wouldn’t be able to find it? After you gave us weeks to track it down?” She teased. “The bomb is in the possession of the FBI, safely neutralized. But not before I helped them reverse trace a signal back to the detonator.”
They knew they lost. But they had not only lost, they had been discovered.
There would be no recovering from such exposure.
And Y/N hadn’t even told them about all the evidence she had stored that tied The Court of Owls to every corrupt act they had performed in the last 20 years.
Sirens suddenly blared in the distance.
All the boys had stopped to look at Y/N, realizing that their plan was coming together.
“You lost,” Y/N declared as she lowered the sword to her side. “And they’re coming for you, too.”
That was finally what set him off.
He growled before stomping to her.
Y/N was surprised by this new attack and quickly stepped backwards, but not nearly fast enough. 
In one motion, he grabbed Y/N by the neck with one hand, lifting her off the ground with his sheer strength and rage.
Not a second later, he shoved his sword into her abdomen.
It seemed like the sound of metal cutting flesh and muscle echoed through the entire warehouse.
“No!” Dick screamed shoving his way across the warehouse to get to her.
In the same moment, Y/N was dropped to the ground like a rag doll.
Chaos had erupted around her, a new fight had begun. But she heard none of it.
Her hands warmed from the blood that was leaking from her abdomen.
The pain was something different to her.
She couldn’t even put a number on how many times her father beat her to a pulp. Nothing could ever compare to the pain of being physically hurt by the person who was supposed to love you the most in the world. This was nothing.
Y/N was just happy she’d die doing something good for the world. A final act of sorts.
Just as she was about to succumb to the tired and dark feeling threatening to envelop her, she felt a warm presence next to her.
“Y/N!” Dick yelled when he reached her side. “You’re OK.” His voice started to shake. “You’re gonna be OK. Y/N, I need you to hold on.”
Police and FBI agents flooded the warehouse as Dick pulled Y/N into his arms.
Y/N looked up to see tears had filled his eyes.
“It’s OK, Dick.” She tried to tell him. “I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”
But when she reached up to cup his cheek, she stained his skin with her own blood.
Y/N was starting to lose her grip on life.
She swore she could feel Jason and Damian’s presence move her side, and then hear Tim talking to the cops. But she could also be imagining it. She could be imagining it all. Maybe she had already died and this was just how she had wanted to go, her mind giving her that final wish.
Things went from being so loud and warm to cold and silent.
--------------------------
Part 10
I edited this really quick. And for that, I apologize. 
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danny-chase · 3 years
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Read on AO3
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Titans (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roy Harper & Dick Grayson & Donna Troy & Garth & Wally West, Roy Harper & Dick Grayson Characters: Roy Harper, Dick Grayson, Donna Troy, Garth, Wally West Additional Tags: Teen Titans as Family, Fab Five, POV Roy Harper, Dick Grayson Whump, Hurt/Comfort, getting stuck in small places, Dick pisses people off too much, cat carriers, Canon Typical Violence, roy is trying his best, Dick is bendy, Roy Harper is Speedy, Dick Grayson is Robin, Donna Troy is Wonder Girl, Garth is Aqualad, Wally West is Kid Flash, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, But he gets a kiss on the head instead, No Beta We Die Like Roy Harper, Stitches, Blood, Vomit, muscle spasms, TW for Claustrophobia Series: Part 2 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:
The one where Dick rescues the Teen Titans, and they immediately have to return the favor.
Roy cursed as his fingers slipped; he’d just been about to make some damned progress on the chain. But no. He was stuck, chained to a wall, in some godforsaken place. He was never gonna hear the end of it from Dick if he couldn’t get out of these cuffs.
 He slumped back against the wall of the dimly lit, empty little closet. At least Dick had gotten away. He’d owe one to Wally for listening to him.
 <em>“KF, get Speedy out of-”</em> He’d never forget the look of shock on his face when Wally scooped him up instead. Dick was gonna be pissed, they were in a lecture for sure, but Roy wasn’t dumb – he knew Dick had the best chance of getting them out of this mess.
 Especially because the JLA were off world.
 And the Teen Titans weren’t technically supposed to be going on missions right now…
 And he’d been the one to suggest they go out anyways.
 He fidgeted with the lock again, ugh. This was so embarrassing – he felt like a kid playing dress up rather than a superhero. Well, he couldn’t feel too bad – Donna and Garth had gotten grabbed first, and Wally got abducted on his way back to pick him up. So, he was at least the second to last man standing.
 The chains refused to budge – he was starting to get worried. It’d almost been an hour, they needed to get Garth out – no way fish boy would die of dehydration on his watch. If he had his bow, he could have picked this by now. He huffed in irritation as the chains slipped again, as he lost what little progress he made.
 Even if he got out the chains, he’d have to get out the door, find the others, free them, and somehow get out. And he had no idea where this even was.
 Dick could get them out of this… right?
 Maybe he should’ve let Wally get him out of there instead – but even then, what would he even do? No – he’d made the right decision. But in the eerie silence, he couldn’t help but feel a small amount of regret.
 The light coming from the bottom of the door flickered, a shadow appearing. Roy rolled to his side, trying to get a better look. There were two black boots, silently approaching. The doorhandle jiggled, quietly opening.
 He heard a shout as the door slipped open – Dick’s alarmed face appearing for half a second before recoiling. He threw a set of lockpicks in the room before Roy could hear his footsteps pounding away.
 Roy caught the lockpicks with his mouth, and carefully dropped them into his hands, immediately getting to work. He tried to tune out the sounds of a scuffle outside, tried not to worry as he heard Dick taunting whoever was out there, tried not to panic as he heard shots being fired.
 His hands shook as he finally heard the first click. His palms were getting wet with sweat – and he fumbled for a moment, the pick slipping out of his hands just as he started to work on the second lock. Fuck. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time – Dick’s taunts were starting to sound strained, from the sounds of things, he was outnumbered.
 He leaned back, grasping for the pick. More footsteps pounded through the halls.
 “For a count, you’re really bad at-” Dick’s voice cut off with a thud. Roy’s heart pounded against his chest.
 “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckkity fuckcakes.” His fingers finally found the picks, and he forced himself to breathe slowly, and stay calm. He could do this. It was no different then steadying his hands while using his bow. They worked under pressure all the time.
 The lock clicked open in what had to be record time. He quickly shook the cuffs off his wrist, and immediately started work on his ankles. Footsteps were walking away from him, by the time he got through, there was silence in the hall once more.
 “Shit.” He muttered, rubbing his wrists as he stood. He crept to his door, peeking out. The hall was empty to the left, though a few unconscious goons laid off to the right. He had two options. Try and find the others or try and find where Dick had gone off to. He couldn’t wait too long; Dick had a tendency to piss off his captors and Garth would need water if he’d been left high and dry.
 As he stood in the hallway, trying to make his decision, a near-silent pattering of footsteps began echoing closer. He leapt back into the room, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Quietly pulling the door shut, he held his breath.
 The quiet steps got closer, stopping in front of the door. He dropped into a defensive position, getting ready for a-
 “Speedy?” Donna whispered, cracking the door open. He sighed in relief, at least something today had gone right. She swung open the door as he waved. He was pleasantly surprised to see Garth and Wally standing behind her.
 “Where’s Rob?” Garth asked, his face falling as he scanned the empty room.
 “He asked me to get these two out and meet him here.” Wally explained hastily, pulling out a hand drawn map. Roy shook his head.
 “Sorry guys, he got grabbed while I was getting out of the cuffs.” A pit was forming in the bottom of his stomach. For something to go right with them, something else had to have gone wrong. “Follow me.” He whispered, heading off to the right.
 They slunk down the hall, trying to ignore the amount of blood and what seemed to be vomit scattered around the area where the skirmish had taken place. Roy could feel adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart leaping into his throat every time he caught a shadow moving in the corner of his eye.
Donna slipped her hand into his, looking just as anxious as he felt. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. He signaled with his other hand for them to stop at the end of the hallway. Silently he poked his head around the corridor. A flight of stairs led up to a higher level.
 He picked his path quickly and quietly, making sure nothing squeaked or creaked. As he climbed, he was acutely aware of a steady trail of blood speckled across each step. He let go of Donna, and motioned for the others to follow in his footsteps.
 He crouched down as he reached the top. The stairs opened into the back corner of the main headquarters of these assholes. He pointed at Wally, motioning for him to join at the top. He scanned the room, hopefully Dick was in here – Wally could grab him and they’d get the fuck out. There was a wall of monitors mounted on a desk in the back (some of which showed them still neatly locked up in their rooms). A table sat in the center; a few goons sat there keeping an eye on the screen.
 His eyes followed the trail of blood across the floor, it led to a box(?) under the desk, a navy blanket covered it, obscuring its shape. He nudged Wally, pointing it out, and Wally nodded back shooing them back down the stairs.
 Garth passed him the map, wordlessly showing him the route out as he reached the bottom of the stairs. They waited a few minutes, watching as Wally stood at the top of the stairs, readying himself for the perfect moment. In the blink of an eye, Wally was in front of him, the covered box in his arms.
 He ripped off the blanket, tossing it aside. He heard Donna gasp next to him and fought to stifle his own reaction.
 “I left you alone for five minutes…” He whispered, pulling the lockpicks out again. What he assumed was Dick was crammed into a cat carrier, his side/arm(?) bulging out against the metal bars. A hefty padlock rested against the side, another on the top. Roy’s blood boiled, his vision tinting red around the edges.
 Who the fuck would do that to a kid? Dick was annoying – but this? This was-
 “Get… out first.” Dick wheezed. Roy snapped back into the present. Blood dripped from the bottom of the carrier. “Not… safe… here.” Wally passed the carrier to Donna, and together, they quietly sprinted towards the exit.
   “I’m going to kill them.” Roy swore, from the safety of their Titans sub (because of course the base was underwater, why not?!?). He angrily attacked the lock with the tools.
 “’s fine.” Dick’s muffled voice peeped out from the cage.
 “We’re all safe.” Donna nervously stated from the driver’s seat. “That’s what’s matters.”
 “Does he look safe to you?!?” Roy yelled, the lockpick nearly snapping in his hands. “Safe my ass. What the hell?!?”
 “Uh, you should calm down a bit, or you’re not gonna get him out.” Garth noted.
 “’as a point.” Came Dick’s muffled response. Roy huffed, focusing on his work. Finally, the lock popped open. He opened the front door, freeing up some space, and started on the latch at the top.
 “How the hell did he fit in there?” Wally muttered disbelievingly. “All of you is in there, right?” He asked, eyes wide with worry. Roy clenched his tools.
 “He better all be in there.” He spat.
 “I think I am.” Dick replied. Garth timidly walked around the edge of the table, and poked Dick’s side.
 “Are you okay?” He asked, lifting the shirt to reveal the imprint of the cage. “There’s blood leaking out of the bottom.”
 “Garth, I wouldn’t call this okay.” Wally replied, waving widely at the situation.
 “Finally.” Roy muttered, missing Dick’s response as the top lock popped open. He threw open the door. “HOLY FUCK!” He screamed; people were NOT supposed to bend that way.
 “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Dick’s head popped out of the cage. “But… I can’t feel my legs… and I think my shoulders are dislocated.”
 “Rate your pain?” Donna called back.
 “I’m fine. My limbs fell asleep… like twenty minutes ago.” Dick replied.
 Wally threw up in the trash can in the back as Garth attempted to carefully pry Dick out. He’d been tucked into a tiny little ball of limbs, folded neatly in half, his legs pressed to his collarbones, and his arms folded in on themselves.
 Roy plopped on the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with them? What the actual fuck?!” He crawled over to join Wally. “Who puts a kid in that tight of a cage?” His stomach flipped, and he leaned over the trash can, waiting until he was sure he was safe – and thankfully, not losing his lunch.
 “Can I just break this?” Garth asked, gesturing to the carrier.
 “Be careful with him.” Donna warned from the front. “You don’t want him to get cut on any sharp edges.”
 “Whatever you do… could you hurry it up? Breathing… is kind of hard like this.” Dick wheezed. “Just get me out.”
 Garth yanked at the side of the crate, slowly bending its aluminum frame. Eventually it snapped off, and Dick practically poured out in a puddle of limp limbs.
 Roy rushed back to the table, he and Garth slowly helped Dick lie flat. Dick flinched at the movement.
 “Is it okay for his back to have bent like that?” Garth asked. “I don’t know about humans, but uhh…”
 “’m bendy, it’s fine.” Dick hissed through clenched teeth. “Roy woulda snapped.” He ignored the jab, there were more pressing matters.
 “Grab the collar just in case.” Donna instructed from the front. A rush of wind and Wally passed a cervical brace to Garth.
 “Unnecessary.” Dick groaned, as Garth carefully strapped it on.
 “Mm, sure, Batboy. Can you even feel that?” Roy muttered, probing a gash in his side. Dick groaned in response. “I’ll take that as a maybe. You need stitches, and we probably shouldn’t wait any longer.” Wally handed him a medical kit an instant later. He quickly wiped down the cut. “Guys, hold him still.” Dick squeezed his eyes shut as his muscles began spasming. Roy began threading a needle.
 “Wally swap with me.” Donna jogged back, hopping up on the table, sweeping Dick’s torso into her lap, cradling his head. Garth popped up next to her, gently massaging his twitching limbs. Roy held his breath, steadying his hands, and sewed his side back together.
 Dick gasped in pain throughout the ordeal, but it was hard to tell if was from the stitches or the muscle cramps. “Sorry.” Roy muttered as he finished tying up the end knot. “I’m sorry we got caught.”
 “Us too.” Wally’s knuckles were white as he grasped the steering wheel.
 “I’m sorry for this.” Garth apologized hesitating only slightly before popping one of Dick’s shoulders back into its socket. He yelped reflexively, trying to curl around the arm.
 “Sorry, sweetheart.” Donna tugged him gently into a flat position as Garth moved to the other side.
 “Please.” Dick asked quietly, eyes staring blankly at the roof. Sweat trickling down his brow – mixing with what looked suspiciously like tears, as Garth grabbed his arm. “Don’t-ahg” The second shoulder popped back in place.
 “Sorry.” Garth repeated sadly, rubbing the knots out of Dick’s triceps as some kind of apology. Roy wrapped the fresh stitches the best he could, as Dick continued to spasm uncontrollably, writhing in place.
 Roy leaned against the table, massaging Dick’s calf, it was rock hard – Roy cringed internally as he began working out the knots. “Sorry, kid.” He was only a year and a half older, but Dick was always so small for his age.
 “’m not a kid.” He grumbled back, “’sides, I’m sorry you guys had to save my ass.”
 “What are friends for?” Garth asked, leaning against Donna as he cradled Dick’s hand, gently curling and uncurling each finger.
 “For getting you out of cat carriers apparently.” He joked. “You know, maybe he’s really been a cat this whole time.” The muscles finally relaxed under his hands, and Roy moved onto the next one.
 “He’s bendy like a cat, and he does always seem to land on his feet.” Wally chimed in. Roy glanced up, watching as they approached their base.
 “Not always.” Dick groaned, closing his eyes again.
 “Well, at least you have friends who can catch you.” Donna smiled, gathering Dick up in her arms.
 “Thanks.” He replied quietly.
 “Thanks for coming after us.” Roy whispered back. Dick opened one eye.
 “Always.” He promised. “Thanks for coming after me.” Roy pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.
 “Always.”
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dumbkiri · 4 years
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Fate Changes Five
Parts: [1, 2, 3, 4, Here ]
Summary: After two months in an induced coma, [Name] finally awakens and remembers her fated night with death. All the hard work of slowly building a wall around her starts crumbling down when she remembers Jason Todd. She has a talk with him and he is still hurting her. 
Pairing: Jason Todd x Female! Reader
Genre: Slight Angst
Word Count: 5.2 k, 14 pgs
Warnings: Nudity, Cursing, Violence
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It's been at least two months since [Name]  was put into an induced coma. Her resting allowed her broken body to heal all on its own without her rendering the process. Alfred had finally removed the ice from her black eye during her first week of being in a coma. 
Her bruises were going away and what was left were scars of that night in Gotham. Alfred even had a doctor check up on her and the medical professional said that she might not remember herself being in a car accident. 
It also meant she wouldn't remember that Jason was alive. Bruce and Jason thought it was best that she didn't. Alfred argued saying that it was cruel. [Name] loves Jason. 
"Master Bruce I would advise that we remind her that Master Todd is alive," Alfred set the tray of tea cups and cookies down. 
Bruce removed his cowl and sat at the Batcomputer. He began typing another report of putting Riddler back into jail. "No, it won't do her any good. You saw how she broke down with the fear toxin." 
"Many break down," Alfred countered, "Master Grayson did. You did. We don't know what she saw or what she was afraid of. Miss [Name] was always a ray of sunshine in your dark days and now she rarely comes back to the manor. If we tell her that Master Todd, her best friend, is indeed alive maybe-" 
"We do know what she was afraid of." 
"And what is that, Master Bruce?" 
"Jason," Bruce stopped typing and he glared at the keys intently, "she was afraid of Jason." 
Alfred didn't believe the younger man's words, "What exactly was she afraid of?" He questioned again, this time wanting the details of the truth. 
Bruce turned his body toward Alfred, "She was afraid of Jason convincing herself to commit suicide. She felt that Jason would want her to die because she left him to die. She felt that he wanted payback and the only way she could give him that was to pull the trigger on herself." 
"Master Bruce, [Name] tried to kill herself before the fear incident in her own home. She wasn't hallucinating, we cannot deny the fact that she may and must be suicidal." 
"[Name] only saw that as a way out. To not suffer in Scarecrow's hands like Jason did in Joker's. At that moment, in her home, she was afraid of being taken away and suffering. She didn't want to go out like Jason did. She would rather die at her own hands." 
Alfred rested his hands on his hips, "Master Bruce, Miss [Name] is smart. She would think of a way to get out from her misery." 
"We'll have to see," Bruce went back to work. 
……
Alfred was changing [Name]'s bandages when she started moving in protest. The old man stopped and rested his hand on top of her head, "Miss [Name], can you hear me?" His hand combed her hair out of her face and saw her [e.color] eyes opening up. 
"Al...fred…" [Name] spoke up with a croaky voice and her dry lips parted, "wa...ter...plea…" She couldn't even finish the word 'please' and she gestured to her throat with a trembling arm and hand. 
Alfred understood and grabbed a new glass of water on the nightstand next to her bed, "Of course, but Miss [Name]," He set the glass down, "I need you to sit up right. Can you do that?" 
[Name] nodded her head and with the help of Alfred, her back was pressed against the pillows placed in between her and the headboard. 
"Good," Alfred smiled kindly and helped [Name] hold the glass with her shaky fingers. He tilted the cup into her mouth and [Name] drank the fresh cold water quickly. She licked her lips when the cup was empty and she rested her head back. 
"I feel like...I got hit by a tank," [Name] lightly joked and looked over at Alfred. 
The old man sighed and sat down by her legs, "Miss [Name], you were involved in a car crash. You and Miss Gordon were kidnapped and you managed to kick the bastards out taking control of the vehicle. But you ladies were chased down and you hit a tank head on." 
"I didn't know my driving was that bad," [Name] smiled and reached for Alfred's hand. She looked up at the old man's expression, "Why do you look so sad, Alfred? I'm okay, alive and breathing." 
"We almost lost you, Miss [Name]. Your body was under immense pain and all I could do was stitch you up and wrap bandages. I spent two months wondering if you were ever going to wake up." Alfred truthfully spoke and squeezed her hand back. 
[Name]'s smile went away replaced by sorrow. "I'm sorry for putting you through that pain, Alfred. I know I haven't been the same me, but I would never intentionally hurt you. I'll be careful from now on," She promised. 
Alfred nodded his head and pulled his hand back, "Right, I believe I should inform Master Wayne and Master Drake that you are awake?" He was asking her for permission. [Name] nodded her head and waved him off. The old man gave her one last look before he would tell the others she was awake. 
[Name] broke down when Alfred left the room. She muffled her sobs with her wrapped up hands and pressed her fingers tightly to her lips. Her eyes were shut tightly as she remembered that horrid nightmare in Gotham. That’s what that night was, it was a nightmare. She had been beaten and shot at. She was in a car accident and was tortured with fear toxin. Then what really tipped her over was that Jason Todd was alive. 
Her young love is living and breathing. He was somehow alive and her heart couldn’t handle the trouble that it came with. Jason left her to get beaten. He left her to suffer that night in Gotham. He used force on her and landed hits on her. Maybe this is what she deserved. Was this payback for her leaving him behind? 
She hurriedly wiped her tears away and moved the blanket on her body away. [Name] then moved her legs to the side of the bed, her bare feet dangling. Her feet slowly touched the cold floor and she steadied herself by holding the nightstand. 
[Name] sniffled and walked over to the bathroom. When she got inside, she had crumbled to the floor with her arms dangling over the bathtub. Her forehead touched the edge of the bathtub and she cried some more. 
"[Name]!" 
Her head snapped up and she looked over her shoulder to see Tim running to her fallen form. He carefully touched her sides and sat her up against the wall. "Hey, hey," Tim spoke softly and looked at her tear stained face, "everything is okay, [Name]. You're home now." 
She wished she could say the same to Jason. 
"I wanted to take a bath, but my legs had other plans," [Name] moved her hair out of her face and watched Tim as he bent over the bathtub to reach the faucets. 
“You couldn’t wait for one of us to help you?” Tim asked with a small smile on his face. He turned the knobs and the water started pouring into the tub. He plugged the drain and put his hand in the water, “Desired temperature?” 
[Name] touched the water and flicked the cold droplets on her fingertips at Tim’s face to which he withdrew with a chuckle. “I like the water hot, please,” She responded and tried to move her legs, but they didn’t budge. 
She cleared her throat and looked at the water before she could make eye contact with Tim. “Could you possibly help me get in the tub? I guess I haven't used my legs in a long time.”
Tim nodded his head and turned his body toward her. “Yeah, I can. I’ll make sure to be careful with you, not to reopen any wounds.” His hands reached the bottom of her shirt and he began lifting. [Name] lifted her arms up gradually  and cringed as her sore muscles ached. 
Her shirt was finally off and [Name] sighed when her arms laid at her sides, “Ah, that was energy consuming right there.” Tim laughed and tossed her shirt on the floor then he went to her pajama shorts. His hands hesitated when his fingertips touched the hem of her [f.color] shorts. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, “I can get Alfred to help you with this part if you want me to.” 
[Name] shrugged her shoulders and kept eye contact with the male, “You can do that. I honestly don’t care because we’re mature enough to understand-”
“Okay, I got the hint,” Tim interrupted and helped [Name] in taking her shorts off while she worked on unbuckling her bra. Tim slipped her pajama shorts off and tossed the clothing next to her discarded shirt. “You really did go through hell that night, didn’t you?” Tim questioned as his eyes examined the multiple light scars all over her body. The male hated that he couldn’t be any help to her. That he left her and Barbara alone to suffer.
[Name] noticed the regret in his blue eyes and she laid her hand on his shoulder, “Yeah, I did. It was my choice to walk with the Devil and I paid the price for it. I am sure that you and Bruce have regrets, but I want you both to know that it is not your fault. What I went through was because of the Arkham Knight and Scarecrow.”
“[Name], I could have been there for you. For Barbara. I could have helped stop them and you wouldn’t have gone through so much.” Tim admitted and brushed the stray strands from her face. He tucked them behind her ear gently, “I wanted to help, I really did.” 
[Name] nodded her head, “I know what it’s like standing on the sidelines helpless. I know that more than anyone else.” She was referring to the death of the second Robin. He must have known about Jason Todd by now. “Jason, my best friend, was killed by the Joker. Well, maybe not.”
Tim looked at her and took the last piece of clothing off of her. He needed to distract her. Tim picked her up bridal style and gently put her in the bathtub. The water barely reached her breasts and Tim stopped the water. “Do you need help with anything else?” Tim asked and stood over her small body. 
[Name] looked up at him and replied, “Just clean clothing. In my old room there should be clothes inside my closet and undergarments in my dresser.”
“Yeah, I’ll go get them right now. I’ll be back.” Tim stepped out of the restroom and he stopped when [Name] called out his name. 
“I mean it,” She spoke sternly, “It was my choice to fight.”
Tim didn’t say anything and turned away. He didn’t understand why she wanted to fight anymore. This life was dangerous and she barely survived. Tim walked out of the room leaving the female behind to listen to her thoughts. 
[Name] heard Tim leave the room and she sighed in exhaustion. She stared at the clean water and ripples were created every time she moved. 
“Stop!”
She flinched at the yell. She looked around the bathroom and saw no one nor did she hear anyone enter the room. 
“You don’t want to do this, [Name].”
The voice was modified and strained. As if that person was trying hard not to show fear. She could hear the cracking of that man’s voice. 
“Not like us, we remember it differently. I thought I was your home.”
[Name] took a shaky breath in and remembered his words. “And I thought the same, Jason,” She whispered and her tears finally emerged. “You were the one to protect me not cause harm.” 
“You don’t have to believe my words, you have to trust them.” 
She scoffed, “Trust? I can no longer trust you. What you did will forever stay with me. I-I--”
“Please, [Name], put the goddamn gun down.”
[Name] looked down and saw a black mass in her hands. The water obscured the image of the object, but the familiarity of it told her what it was. She picked up her hands and the water removed itself from the object. 
It was the gun. 
It was the gun she was going to shoot herself with that night.  
She examined the black weapon and turned it around. It felt so real and right now she couldn't tell the difference from reality and imagination. It was like the world was playing another cruel prank on her. Telling her to finally pull the trigger. 
What if she did? Her pain would finally go away and she wouldn't have to worry about anything. No work. No crime fighting. No family. 
No Jason. That's what it was really about. All that talk about being afraid to be another scapegoat was partly a reason, but it was because she wanted to forget Jason Todd. The boy she fell in love with so long ago. The man that let her suffer all that time. 
"Hey." 
[Name] jumped at the voice and turned her head toward the door. She couldn't believe who she saw standing there. 
His black hair was parted down the middle and his bright blue eyes shined in the bathroom light. His smile was contagious and she couldn't help, but to return it. 
"Dick, it's been awhile." She said and put her hands back in the water where the gun had dissolved, but she knew it would be back when given the chance. 
Dick chuckled and walked into the bathroom. He was carrying a plastic bag and it smelled of [f.food]. "Partly my fault," He sat down by the tub and presented the bag, "and as an apology I came with a peace offering." 
"Thank you, I really need some comfort food right about now." 
Dick gave her a saddened look. "[Name], did you know that the Arkham Knight was Jason this whole time?" 
"No," She responded harshly and immediately apologized for her tone. "I'm sorry, I just...I don't want to talk about him or even know him." 
Dick bit his lip, "But you two were inseparable always fighting the bad guys together. I was kinda jealous Jason got a partner while I had to deal with Bruce all on my own." He tried to lighten the mood, yet it was all in vain.
"That was before I left Gotham. Before Joker took him away from me and before he-- before he showed me who he truly was." She wasn't going to give in so easily. She no longer trusted her instincts anymore. 
Dick sat against the wall and turned his head to her. He could see the confliction in her [e.color] eyes. "I wish I was there for you. I should have helped." 
"Stop saying that!" [Name] suddenly cried and splashed the water angrily. 
Dick jumped up in surprise and watched the female yell. But it wasn't towards him, the anger was directed to the man standing out by the restroom door waiting for his cue to come in and speak to [Name]. 
"Everyone needs to stop telling me they wish they were there for me! I'm tired of listening to it because--" She started sobbing, "B--Because the one person that I wanted there for me was not helping me! I understand that I didn't help him when Joker had him. I mean I couldn't!" 
Dick looked to the door and knew Jason was listening to her hurt words. 
"But I also wasn't the one letting Joker play with him! I wouldn't work alongside a villain and watch those that I love suffer! I would give anything to go back in time and stop Jason from seeing his mother if I knew it was a trap! And that's the thing--" 
"[Name]," Dick tried to get her to listen to him. 
"No, I'm not finished!" She yelled and continued her rant. "He was the one to lead me into a trap. I surrendered in front of him at my house, I pulled the trigger and he saved me. I killed a man and crashed into a tank which should have killed me. But he ran into the burning car and pulled me to safety. Then the final act…" 
She closed her eyes and remembered that night so vividly. 
"There was so much fear toxin injected into me that I'm pretty sure I can bleed it. Scarecrow gave me another chance to hold the gun up to my head and this time, I thought no one was going to stop me. Even hallucination Jason coaxed me into doing it." 
"That's what you were afraid of? You were afraid of Jason?" Dick stared at [Name] sadly. 
She looked at him and cried quietly, "I was afraid of dying. I never once thought about suicide. But when Joker sent us that video of Jason strapped onto a chair helpless. I knew that if I was going to die, I would be the one calling the shots. I was going to be the one to determine when and how I was gonna go out, no matter how scared I was to die." 
"So Jason, hallucination Jason, was some reassurance for you?" Dick didn't know how to phrase the sentence although [Name] caught on. 
"He helped me subdue my fear of dying. At the time, I knew Jason was dead and he helped me understand that dying isn't all that scary. That idea changed quickly when the Arkham Knight told me otherwise." [Name] reached the front of the tub and pulled the plug letting the water drain slowly. 
“He didn’t tell me what death was like and I didn’t have to ask because it was obviously something he didn’t want to remember. So hallucination Jason disappeared and a monster attacked me, death terrified me.” [Name] admitted and looked away in shame. 
“I miss him already, Dick. I know he hurt me and I am willing to get past it when he and I talk. It’ll take some time to get used to his presence again. I am willing to try to be friends again and this time, I’ll be there for him.” 
……
“Hey, Robin, I know you said to track Sionis, but this warehouse is completely empty,” Batgirl spoke into the comm carefully scooping out the building filled with crates stacked in rows. 
“My information is never incorrect, Batgirl. Have you tried searching in the crates?” Robin questioned. 
Batgirl rolled her eyes and nodded her head, “Yeah, I checked some of them and the ones I checked  are empty, but I smell gunpowder. Someone must have tipped Sionis and he had his men move the weapons somewhere else.” [Name] played with her cape as she listened to Tim’s voice. 
“That was our only lead on Sionis, could you please give the warehouse one more look. His guys are sometimes messy, they must have left some tracks or clues to where they’ve gone.” 
[Name] sighed, but caved in despite her exhaustion. It was true. Bruce had tasked them with finding Sionis and stopping his gun trade. This was their first lead in months. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to contact you if I find anything. Batgirl, out.” 
She removed her finger from the comm device in her ear and looked around the warehouse. She had decided to start looking for fingerprints on the crates, but she was coming up empty. Not a trace behind on the wooden boxes. “This is so stupid,” [Name] muttered and kicked a crate in frustration. 
The female contacted her partner, “Robin, there is no trace left. No fingerprints, no tire tracks, literally nothing. This was definitely planned carefully. Sionis is never this careful.”
“Are you saying someone else did this? Sionis isn’t a team guy and never trusts anyone. He has trust issues, remember?” 
“Yeah I know that much. Sionis doesn’t cut shares and--” [Name] turned her head and found a lone cigarette next to a crate. She smiled and laughed into the comm, “Robin, I found our clue. I’ll bring it back to you asap.”
“Oh thank god,” Robin sighed, “I don’t know what we would have said to Batman if he heard we lost another lead. Let’s bring him down. Robin, out.”
[Name] walked to the burned out cigarette and crouched down. “Someone is gonna talk tonight,” She said happily and pulled a plastic bag from her utility belt. With her gloved hand she reached out and before she could touch the cancer stick, a bullet whizzed past her head and barely missed her hand. 
She turned around and found a man dressed in light grey clothing with a red bat symbol placed over his chest. He had a hoodie covering his head hiding his face. The man was holding a pistol in his hand and it was still aimed at her. “Back away from the bud, will you?” The man asked and jumped down from the ceiling. 
[Name] swiped the cigarette and put it in the bag. Then she put the evidence away in her utility belt. “You know smoking kills?” She joked and readied for a fight. 
The hooded man put his gun away and watched [Name] silently. 
[Name] smiled nervously, staring at the hooded man sent chills down her spine. It felt like he was judging her. Then again she would have to fight this guy no matter what. She pointed at her chest where her own [f.color] bat symbol rested, “You’re sending mixed symbols to me having that bat symbol on your clothing. Are you a fan of Batman?” 
“Hardly,” The man responded quickly, his modified voice sounding harsh. 
[Name] nodded, “Right, anyways, I have a job to do. I don’t have time to dance, so let’s just get this over with.” She picked up the crowbar she used to open crates and chucked it at the man to which he had dodged by rolling out of the way. 
“You don’t know, but throwing a crowbar at me is really offensive,” The man raised two pistols at her and began firing. [Name] had jumped behind some crates and took a deep breath in. She should call in backup although this guy must be working with Black Mask. He had to if he came back here to get rid of evidence. 
She grabbed a smoke bomb and smacked it against the ground. Immediately, she was engulfed in smoke and she yelled, “It was nice meeting you!” [Name] raised her arm up and pressed her palm twice which activated her grappling hook. It shot from her wrist and pulled her upward to the ceiling, yet her escape was futile because she was tackled midair. 
Her body collided with the hooded man and they both fell out of a window. The glass shattered from their impact and they rolled onto another building’s roof. [Name] groaned and opened her eyes, shaking her head. Her sight was a little blurry and after a few seconds her eyes readjusted. 
“Hand it over,” The man demanded while standing over her kneeling body. 
[Name] looked up and glared at the man, “Over my dead body.” 
The man flinched upon hearing her words and [Name] took advantage of his shocked state. She smacked the hand that was holding the pistol with one arm and used her other hand to discard the other pistol strapped on his hip. He was finally disarmed and she engaged in hand to hand combat. 
[Name] punched his face and she recoiled from the pain of her gloved fist meeting metal. The man scoffed as his face turned away from the hit. He used his index finger to tap against the metal mask he wore, “That must have hurt you more than it did me.” 
She kept her mouth shut and roundhouse kicked him. His body stumbled backwards and he caught himself before he could fall. “What? No more smart remarks from you?” He asked and watched the female rub her knuckles. She was glaring at him with so much anger and pity. 
“Look,” The hooded man spoke, “I don’t wanna hurt you. I just want that cigarette, it’s very important to me.”  
“I don’t see why you don’t fight back. I mean you did more damage to me before, haven’t you, Jason?” [Name] let her hands rest by her sides. She wanted to talk and she was going to make him talk. 
Jason stayed quiet. 
“Oh now you don’t want to talk after I figured out who was under that mask? You may have forgotten, but I’m smarter than I look. I was wondering why Batman had me work with Tim on finding Black Mask. Must have been because he wanted me to stay away from the new vigilante known as Red Hood. You’ve changed so much, Jason. Why do you kill so many people?” [Name] took a step forward and Jason took two steps backwards. 
“You don’t understand, [Name].” Jason whispered. 
“Then make me understand. What happened to you? Why didn’t you come back home?” [Name] stared at him with her glare softening. She wished Jason would allow her to see his eyes again. 
Jason cleared his throat and looked away from the glassy look in her eyes. 
“Jason, make me understand why you choose this path. I need to know why you choose this life.”
“Because Batman wouldn’t do the same. Nobody can pull the trigger, but me. You can’t do it. Nightwing or even that replacement.” Jason bitterly said. 
“Replacement?” [Name] asked, astounded by his behavior. “You should know better than anyone that Tim is not your replacement.”
“Yeah?” Jason said sarcastically while he chuckled, not at all happy, “How long did it take for you to find someone else? I know for a fact you didn't even search for me, [Name].”
“I came back home, Jason. I came back for you,” [Name] tried to reason and she kept her hands at her sides. Her hands ached to hold him. Her arms wanted to wrap themselves around his body. She wanted to feel his warmth again. 
“You came back too late. I was already dead before I was given the chance to see you. You left me alone even against my own wishes for you to stay by my side.” Jason countered with a sneer. 
[Name] couldn’t believe him, “I know, Jason. You don’t have to remind me what I could have done differently. Ever since...since you died all I dreamed about was us. How you used to crack jokes that made Batman laugh. How you used to hold me as we watched movies. How we used to send letters and I still have your letters, Jason. I never once forgot about you.” 
“I wish I forgot about you,” Jason admitted, his voice masking his hurt tone. He was putting up a front. 
[Name] shook her head, denying his words, “You don’t mean that, I know you don’t.” 
“Which only proves your ignorance and how much you don’t know me,” Jason responded and looked back at her to see her eyes shine in the night. 
“I do know you more than anyone else can say. I can’t believe that you would blame me for neglecting you when you did far worse to me. I’m not here to badger you and tell you how much you hurt me because I know that this--” She gestured to him, “is not you. You would never intentionally hurt me. If you didn’t care for me, you would have left my dead body to rot in my house. You would have never hinted at Romeo and Juliet.”
“You don’t know shit, [Name],” Jason cursed, pointing at her, “When I saw you pull that gun on yourself, all I saw was red. You had the audacity to take your own life when others who have died wanted to live. You thought dying was better than living.”
“And you thought that hurting me was okay?” [Name]’s patience was wearing thin. 
“This is different. I stopped you from taking your life twice and if I recall, I saved you three times.”
“I wouldn’t have to be saved if you didn’t put me in danger!” She yelled frustratedly. 
Jason stalked toward her angrily and before she could get away, Jason grabbed her by the collar of her costume. “You wanted to die! Tell me that was what you wanted that night!” 
“No!” [Name] cried and grabbed his hand with her tiny ones. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “Jason, I was afraid of dying like you.” Her voice was quiet and shaky just like her body trembled in the cold wind. 
“What?” Jason stared at her with a confused gaze. But all [Name] saw was the pathetic way she crumbled in his hands. She saw her pitiful reflection on his red metal mask. 
“I was afraid that I would die like you. In general, I am afraid of dying. I was traumatized by your death or that video Joker sent Batman. I know I told you I had dreams about us, but I also had nightmares. Our song, Fly Me To The Moon, when that song started playing in my dreams--it would turn into a nightmare.”
“[Name], you can stop now,” Jason slowly released her and took a step back. 
“You would be tied up in that chair donning your Robin costume and I would watch on as Joker would circle you.”
Jason removed his hoodie off his head, “I said stop.”
“Jason, listen to me,” [Name] said, “I need to talk to you about this. I really do, we need to go back to how things used to be.” 
“Did you get the evidence like I asked?”  
Jason momentarily forgot that Black Mask had ordered him to retrieve the cigarette left by one of his men. 
“Or are you still going to butter up, Batgirl. You said that you could handle her, boy. I thought the job would already be done. Get the evidence or I’ll kill her.”
Jason watched as [Name] continued speaking. She gave him a soft and kind look, “I still love you, Jason. I want you to know that.”
He clenched his right hand and breathed out, “I can’t say the same thing for you.” He raised his clenched fist and struck her right across her face. Her body instantly fell to the ground and she held herself up with her quivering arms. She felt a warm substance leak from her nose and blood dripped onto the roof. 
“Jason…” [Name] helplessly muttered. She looked up at him from her feeble position only to see him raise his fist again. He landed another harsh punch on her face and this time her arms gave out from underneath her. She laid on the roof in a daze, her eyes trying to focus. 
Hovering over her was Jason as he searched her utility belt for the plastic bag. He ignored the blood that flowed from her broken nose and the sound of her groaning. He flipped her onto her back gently and finally found the bag. He held it up in the air. 
“You really did catch her off guard, was she confessing her love to you?” 
Jason knew Black Mask was only joking, but it still made his heart ached because the villain hit home.   
“Deliver the last blow, I don’t want her following you and leading her to me.” 
Jason made eye contact with [Name] and he cringed when she choked on her own blood. The red substance was thick and vivid red as it poured from her mouth and nose. He lifted his foot up and he hesitantly knocked her out with a swift kick. Her unconscious body rolled to the side and Jason’s broken mind swirled. 
Her eyes were closed. The blood from her dripped onto the roof with a fast pace. Her arms and legs relaxed. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was dead. He wanted to carry her back to Wayne Manor where Alfred could treat to her wounds. 
“You are wrong about us, [Name]. We can never go back to the way things were.”
......
TAGGED Fated Changers:@anotherfan07 @httpfandxms @greyxdaze @zalladane @iwriteaboutstuff @cutiepoo16 @kaylinfayezink @thescottpack @izzieg3987 @loxbbg @seymoourr @terralupa @backstagepaige @downtownbabyyeah @http-used-eraser @laggyphone @osejn​ @realityshifter111​ @ishanequa​
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