#bruce lives in fear now that he knows alfred is willing to go this far. he has no idea when he’s going to be next. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Cheshire cat: Jason Todd x fem!reader

It was bad.

It was really, really bad.

She was shaking, the whole world was spinning, her head was killing her and she had that clenching feeling in her heart telling her that something happened.

Jason Red Hood was on the undercover operation and she hadn’t seen him for almost three weeks and it was killing her. Quite literally. On the first week she fell sick, on the second twisted her ankle during training with Tim and on the third headaches and nausea started.

Of course, Dick and Tim were making sure she was doing fine. Even Damian took some interest in her well-being. Alfred was constantly checking up if she was all right and everyone were trying to convince her to move to the manor for some time, but even Bruce could not convince her to actually do it. She only felt at ease in her own apartment. In the Wayne household she would constantly stumble upon Jason’s stuff, his books and his old clothes and would spend the entire time in his old room which will only amplify the pain and fear for her. Besides, she had been through it once, when he was killed by Joker, and doing it again would definitely brake her. So she refused, staying in her own house, only meeting boys for patrols, when it was needed.

Y/N was a long-time friend of the family. Her father was one of Bruce’s most trusted RD employee, the very first to learn Wayne was actually Batman. Sad thing that this knowledge got him killed and the man left a daughter alone in the world. So, being chased by some slight guilt Bruce took her in, soon after he adopted Dick. So at the point, instead of one sidekick he had two. Robin was mostly the second line of attack, but Y/N, who took vigilante’s name Cheshire was supposed to be the distraction. For some reason she was extremely good with playing with people’s mind and the silent words she used to make them confused and turn them into a bunch of sheep, lost in the dark was kind of her thing. Sure, she was capable of kicking asses but observing criminals losing their shit just because of well-chosen words was far more entertaining. She truly was like a Cheshire car in Alice in Wonderland, from whom the girl took the name.

And from the first time she was on patrol with Dick and Bruce the things started accelerating.

After a few years, Dick left, Jason came in and became Robin.

And then, despite clear potential for being more than friends with Y/N he was killed by Joker, leaving the only thing happening between them in the form of awkward flirting.

And then Tim came in. And Damian.

And then Jason came back to life. Only he was not the same.

She was the first person he showed himself to, not able to stay away. She was his anchor and he wanted her back, now truly ready to be more than friends. And he was willing to fight for her, to go through the desert, climb through the highest mountains, crawl the jungle and to do any crazy shit just to prove to her what she meant to him. Luckily, she let him in without such extreme display of affection, however making him work for it. She trusted him, even if his new alter ego, Red Hood was probably a bit too violent and angry, Y/N knew the motives behind that. And many, many times she had to remind him, she was in relationship with Jason Todd, not Red Hood when it was hard for him to differentiate and literally drop the mask when he was with her. She knew it and never complained, because she loved him too. Sometimes, being with him was like living hell, but most of the times it was … peace. Knowing that no matter what will happen he was there, ready to protect, hold and love her. And she reciprocated it all. Just being there with her in their own bubble built in the shithole Gotham was. She would never complain or ask him to stop his action, after all she was a vigilante herself so it was easier to understand.

But still, when he was gone for some business and she could not come the fear crept in. No message, text or anything for three weeks. That was the standard procedure to keep her safe (Jason’s words, not hers). But there was also one more rule. If a month came without any sign of being alive she was allowed to start one-person search party, without involving any of his brothers. She only had to go through one more freaking week.

***

Y/N knew the location of most of his safe houses, so when 4 extremely long weeks passed she dressed up in her Cheshire gear and started her solo mission. Much to her annoyance and unease he was nowhere. Even his best friend Roy, who she never get to meet before was not in any of the places. So there were two options: she could sleep in the place she found herself in at the moment and reopen the search next night or risk losing consciousness on the street due to tiredness. The choice was obvious and she just slumped onto the bed, drifting off instantly, still in her gear.

***

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” a strong hand clasped around her wrist lifting her from the bed. The man who was brave enough to do it was taller than Y/N so her feet just dangled in the air for a second. “Are you trying to burn this place!?”

“Let. Go. Of. Me” she wriggled desperately kicking her legs and finally kicking the man in the groin.

“You little rascal! I’m gonna get you and ….” He reached for her again but she jumped away and crashed into someone else’s strong chest, immediately feeling a pair of arms encapsulating her and familiar scent became palpable.

“What the fuck Roy! What the hell were you doing?!” Jason held Y/N closer to his chest, shocked by his best friend behavior.

“She broke in! She put us at risk, Red! She should be…..”

“SHUT UP! Just shut up! So it happens, she is allowed to come here any time she wants. Unlike you, she can keep quiet.”

“Fuck, Jace. You are holding her like you know who….. oh…..” his eyes widened in realization “so, she’s the she.”

“Yes, Roy. She’s the she. It’s a shame you two met like this, truly.”

“Wait.” Y/N let go of Jace for a second and turned around to face the other guy. “You’re the Roy? The Arsenal?”

“I am.” He mumbled a bit embarrassed now “Sorry about that. I can be a bit…. Extreme when it comes to safety.”

“I can tell who taught you that” she smirked her gaze landing on Jace, who just shrugged. “Oliver send his regards, then. You know, despite everything you could let him know you are alive. Oh, and you should work on your grip, your hands got a bit sweaty when you were holding me making it so much easier to just slip away. Maybe some new gloves would help with that.”

“I see why you fell for her, Red. She’s a fast talker.”

“What were you expecting?” Jason smirked “She’s the Cheshire after all.”

“The real name’s Y/N. It’s only fair I tell you mine if I know yours.”

“Ok, if you two are done with your pleasantries, get the hell out Roy. I’d like to have some alone time with my girl.”

“For god’s sake just keep it quiet, will you? the walls are thin and I’m not a fan of hearing anything from what you two are going to do…..”

“GET OUT!” Jason yelled and seeing him shaking in rage Roy was quick to leave the room, moving to the bathroom.

“Y/N….” only now Jace took of his domino mask and his alerted gaze met hers

“Hi, Jay.” She whispered softly and just the sound of her voice made him relax “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s been four weeks, hasn’t it?” he sighed deeply and cupped her cheek caressing her skin with the thumb making her lean into the touch instantly.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. I guess I lost track of time.”

‘I can see” she chucked pointing towards the pile of bottles in the corner of the room “bet it was quite a party here.”

“It’s not like that…..”

“Hey, relax, I’m joking. A bit.”

“Were you worried a lot?”

“Me? Worried?” she scoffed “Nope. Never.”

“Really?” she could be denying but he noticed her pale skin, bags under her eyes and how she was now shaking in the attempt to keep herself all together. He put her through it. What was worse, there was a eschar on her hairline, clear sign she was back at her poor habit of head scratching during stress. Extreme head scratching. Normally, he made sure she wasn’t hurting herself but for the last weeks he couldn’t and it was showing.

“Absolutely.”

“Then why are you here? You were clearly looking for me?”

“Sure. To kick your ass. Wait, did you think I was going to fall into your arms like a freaking Disney princess?”

“You got your name from Alice in Wonderland, so Disney it is.” He shrugged and she smacked his head playfully “but you act more like Rapunzel.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her into his chest delighting in her warmth, feeling her tensed shoulders and back relax a bit under his touch. “You’re only missing the pan.”

“I don’t need one” she muttered “I can still beat you with my bare hands” said hands were currently sneaking around his back.

“Sure you can, sweetie, sure you can. But definitely not now. You need rest. And so do I.”

“Jason.” she pulled away and looked into his eyes “are you ok? Seriously? Any injuries, bruises, broken bones?”

“Oh, you are worried….” He cooed grinning

“Once again, never. I’m only trying to assess the scope of damage I can cause you myself without breaking you.”

“there’s only one thing you can do to really break me.” He whispered leaning his forehead on hers

“and that being….?”

“breaking my heart. That’s one thing I don’t think I could recover from. “

“That’s one thing I’m not planning on doing.”

“Good.” He leaned forward and pressed his chapped lips onto hers. Just this second he realized how much he missed her. The way she always melted into him, locked her soft hands on his neck and let him kiss her. Never pushing away, not even when he was literally taking her breath away. “Needy, huh?” he smirked

“Shut up. It seems so me like you are far more excited to see me than the other way round. I can feel what’s going down there, you know.”

“Should I check your……?”

“Shut up!” she turned red instantly and tried to wriggle out of his embrace, but he did not let her.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean anything wrong. And you are right. I did miss you, all right? You can’t hold that against me….”

“I don’t Jace, I don’t.” she pecked his lips quickly “I know it’s hard for both of us.”

“But it’s worth it, right?” his voice was now unsure, all the vulnerability and fear that one day she will just leave him to live easier life creeping in “you won’t …..?”

“Of course I won’t. Come on, Jace. I love you, you know that. And you know too much about me and my alter ego to just let you walk away from me freely.”

“I love you too, you little pussycat.”

“Stop calling me that! God, Jace. Roy is next door! This is inappropriate….”

“What? You don’t want him to think you are turning into puddle because of me? That the famous Cheshire is not as tough as it seems?”

“I have my ways to compromise your Red Hood notoriety as well, honey” she stepped on her toes, hands moving up his chest painfully slowly and she whispered in his ear “I bought something new lately and so it happens I got it all underneath that skintight suit” he groaned and much to her delight tightened the grip on her hips “such a shame you will have to behave.”

“Y/N…..” he growled warningly

“Besides, now that I know you are safe I think I’m going to head home……”

“Forget it, you are not going anywhere and…..”

“Is it safe to enter? Are you two done now or do I have to keep my eyes covered?” obviously Roy chose this moment to interrupt them

“She’s staying the night.” Jason stated simply

‘Oh, Lord, why? I’m being tested right now.”

“You do realize what that means, don’t you?”

“That I’m about to be a witness to a show?”

“That you are taking the couch, you idiot!”

“Come on, that is unfair. She’s the guest and ……”

“Roy.”

“I hate you Todd. I really, really hate you. Do not expect me to cover your back again when we are patrolling.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m pretty sure if I got deadly hurt, Y/N would find me, bring me back to life and then kill me for dying. Isn’t that right, love?”

‘Sure it is, Red. Sure it is.”

901 notes · View notes

darkfearsandkittyears · 3 years

Text

Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!

Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].

Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.

Then I realized.

I literally forgot that September comes right before October.

I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.

One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.

Anywho, let's get on with the show!!

"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle. Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms. Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little. "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant. The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit. Oh well. "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep. Looked like Bruce, a little. House of Wayne. Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker. Godamn it, Talia was right. Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything. Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face. He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara. For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad. Not a hard fight. Especially when Jason had the upper hand. "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym. A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound. The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too. Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of. But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder. A support beam. "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit. Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a

glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered. An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert. A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air. Fire. Then realization hit. Damian was no longer in his arms. "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble. But there wasn't a sound. Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him. A lever. Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it. His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away. Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even. But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives. Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it. "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them. "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him. Rage, and pain. Great combination. He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe. No Jason. No. His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail. Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself. But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!" Not a soul

stirred. "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically. Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!" Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness. Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted. "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred." That voice. Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed. "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints. They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead." "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say. "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son." "Jason." Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?" "I put a batarang in your throat?" Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes. "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him." "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault." "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly. "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son." There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce. For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned. Did he break him? "Bruce…?" "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered. "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin." "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!" Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways." "If I had known-" Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?" Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm

so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained. He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else." "I can't promise that." "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?" Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room. "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer. "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't. "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely. Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason." "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face. It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes. This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space. Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him." "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?" "Touchè." Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed. Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said. Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points. Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?" Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days. Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster. But he just couldn't help himself.

#jason todd angst #jason todd #batfam #batdad #baby damian #whumptober 2021 #writers on tumblr #Wrote it in school #Okay Batdad #Batman #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dcu #detective comics #dc comics #batman fandom #red hood angst

37 notes · View notes

sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

Text

I Was Lost For You to Find — Chapter One

Read here on AO3!

Summary:��

(Civilian AU in which Bruce is a foster father and takes in each of the batkids over the years.)

“Are you certain about this?” Alfred asks for the thirtieth time since Bruce first began the paperwork.

Bruce has his phone in his hand, already punching in the number for the social worker who will be releasing Dick into Bruce’s custody. It will take a while to work out the details, and a judge will have to give the final okay, but hopefully Dick will be out of juvie and into a proper home by the end of the week.

“Taking care of a child is a big commitment. Are you sure you are up to the task?”

Bruce presses the talk button and holds the phone to his ear. “How hard can it be?”

Bruce hasn’t been the same since the circus.

He tries to block it out. Being there when the Flying Graysons fell, seeing it happen with his own two eyes...it was like reliving that night in the alley all over again.

His nightmares now take the shape of two bodies slamming into the sawdust floor of that damned tent, their limbs twisting into unnatural, snapped angles on impact. He will forever be plagued by the immortal fragrance of peanuts and popcorn lingering in his nostrils, the scents themselves now laced with shock, horror, tragedy. Bruce will never again be able to enjoy a movie theater without his ears ringing with the screams of the crowd around him, each spectator doomed to watching the devastation as it fell fifty feet before their eyes.

Most of all, he hasn’t forgotten the absolute terror in the littlest Grayson’s eyes as he watched his entire world come crashing down, right in front of him. It’s a terror Bruce knows well—one he wished no other human being would ever have to experience.

“I can’t just leave him, Alfred.”

The morning paper is laid out on the table in front of Bruce, its headline a gut-punch all its own. “Haly’s Circus Acrobats Killed in Tragic Stunt, Leaving Behind Orphaned Son.”

Alfred clicks his tongue as he clears away Bruce’s breakfast plate. “Social services will take good care of the boy, I’m sure. That’s what they are there for.”

“In this city? Do you really believe that?”

“Can’t we put that awful circus tragedy behind us? I understand your concern, Master Bruce—I often myself find myself worrying about that poor boy. But you cannot save the world on your own. I fear that getting too close to this tragedy will do you more harm than good.”

He’s right. Bruce knows he’s right. It’s only been three days and Bruce is still just as shaken as he was in the tent. He can’t imagine how Dick Grayson must be faring right now, so soon after watching his own parents die. And in such a horrific manner, no less. The last glimpse Dick had of his parents was their contorted bodies lying on the ground, their necks bent and eyes staring emptily, endlessly, lifelessly. Bruce shudders just thinking about it.

“Why are you so hung up on this?” Alfred asks, swiping a crumb from the tablecloth. “What makes this boy so special to you?”

Bruce has been asking himself the same question. There were hundreds of people at Haly’s that day. Why Bruce? Why should the responsibility of saving this boy fall to him, a stranger who happened to get unwanted circus tickets from his secretary?

“I saw something in his eyes that day, Alfred. I recognized it. I felt it. It was like I was watching my own parents’ deaths all over again.”

Alfred presses his lips together grimly. “I had a feeling you would say that. I can’t say that I didn’t feel it as well.”

“I know exactly what Dick is going through. I have been in his shoes, felt the exact same pain that he’s feeling right now, only I didn’t have to handle it alone. You were there to guide me through it, show me that life was still worth living. Dick...he doesn’t have that. And no amount of child psychologists and social workers will change the fact that he’s completely alone.”

Alfred sighs. He places the stack of plates he was collecting back on the table and puts a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “The world is so dreadfully unfair when it comes to the innocent, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

That afternoon, Bruce sets himself on a mission. He gathers his checkbooks and researches what happened to Dick Grayson after that night. Some donations to children’s centers is a start, just to take the edge off, but Bruce needs to go deeper. Provide help right at the source, funnel every cent he has to spare into whatever orphanage or children’s center Dick was sent to in the hope that it will be enough to get Dick the help he needs, along with as many other kids as possible. And maybe a trust fund for Dick too, just in case. It’s unlikely that a pair of circus performers was able to salvage enough savings for a college fund.

Less than an hour later, Bruce storms into the pantry where Alfred is organizing the week’s groceries. He slams his phone against a shelf. “Juvie. They sent him to juvie, Alfred.” It’s difficult just getting the words out past the outrage clogging his throat and making his fists shake.

Some bullshit regarding an issue with the Graysons’ wills, the files said. No one at the circus was able to take Dick in, so he was left to the state, which was already packed to bursting with hundreds of other Gotham orphans whose parents were either killed in any number of crime-related accidents or simply dropped their child off when they couldn’t afford to care for them any longer.

So, with nowhere else to put him, it was decided that the Gotham Juvenile Detention Center was the most convenient place to shove their newest problem. Unbelievable. Inexcusable.

Something needs to be done.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Bruce starts filling out the paperwork to become a foster parent.

It’s a mostly straightforward process—do you have a valid driver’s license, what is your social security number, have you ever molested a child before or plan to do so if we give you one—you know, the usual questions.

“Alfred, do we use propane in our appliances?”

“Alfred, are their child locks on our windows?”

“Alfred, have you ever been convicted of a felony?”

“Which felony were you convicted of and why was I not made aware of it until now?”

“You’re being unusually quiet right now.”

“Alfred.”

Twenty-four hours and so many phone calls later that Bruce wants to burrow into his mattress and sleep for the next two hundred years...it’s official. Bruce Thomas Wayne is a foster father in the state of New Jersey. The application process is traditionally a far longer one, but anything can be sped up if you’re a billionaire, and Dick has been in that horrible detention center long enough.

“Are you certain about this?” Alfred asks for the thirtieth time since Bruce first began the paperwork.

“Taking care of a child is a big commitment. Are you sure you are up to the task?”

Bruce presses the talk button and holds the phone to his ear. “How hard can it be?”

Read the rest on AO3!

98 notes · View notes

current-interest-writings · 3 years

Text

December 3rd

“Batboys X batmom

Hot Chocolate was the one thing all of the boys could agree on... as long as you were the one who was making it.

it was how you bonded with all of your children when Bruce first brought them home. you still remember all of the interactions:

DICK

he was just nine when he was brought to the manor, he had just lost his parents, just brought into a new life that he was going to take a while to adjust.

But you being there with a warm cup of hot coco at 3 am when he had nightmares made it easier.

the first week he had been with Bruce and you he had issues adjusting, he was having nightmares nightly and it broke your heart to hear it.

so on his eighth night in the house you heard his screaming and you bolted out of bed. you gently opened his door and turned on his lamp, he was shaking and frighted and you slowly moved towards him.

“if you don’t want to talk about it... would you maybe want some late night/ early morning hot chocolate?”

He just nodded and seemed unable to speak, but he followed you and watched you make the hot chocolate.

it made him feel cared for and it felt nice. you didn't know it but your nightly routine would be changed forever. but hot coco at 3 am was the perfect bonding for the two of you. no words needed, just two people enjoying hot coco.

JASON

Jason had a rough childhood, parents who didn't seem to care what he did or who he was around or if he was even around at all. and when you had heard that you had been pissed off. how could someone not love this little boy!

but he didn't have 3 am nightmares like dick did or at least he wasn't so loud if he did. but he would stay awake late and just think about his parents and compare them to you and Bruce. you gave him love without him needing to beg for it. Bruce paid attention to him far more than his own father did. and Dick seemed excited about him being there.

but he was still waiting for you to decide to just send him back to the streets. that was his biggest fear that he wouldn’t be able to fit into your family and you would make him leave and he would be lost again.

on his eighth night dick knocked on his door “are you awake?” he whispered to the door. Jason almost wanted to say nothing but instead “ yeah why?”

“come to the kitchen there’s something i want to share with you!”

and he could hear dick walking down the stairs and Jason decided maybe this was Dicks’ way of telling him to get lost and that there was only enough room for one kid in this house.

but when he got down the stairs and into the kitchen he saw you and dick, dick was sitting at the counter and happily waved him to sit next to him. and he did slowly. as soon as he sat down two mugs were placed in front of the boys

“Do you want whipped cream or marshmallows?”

he was shocked not sure if this was a trick but next to him he could hear dick

“ can i have both?! Jason you have to try it. its soooo good. Oh and don’t tell Bruce or Alfred. this is our little thing. just the three of us.

you weren't kicking him out... you were inviting him into something and sharing apart of your family traditions with him. He felt so loved in that moment and eagerly nodded. and you gave him the most loving smile.

and even after his death the same thing still made him feel like he belonged was hot coco at “ridiculous hours of the night with his mom and siblings.”

TIM

Tim had parents, not great ones but he had them none the less. while you hated the way they treated him you still respected them being in the picture in general.

even though you had loss Jason and nothing could ever fill that void in your hear, it felt good to have two boys in the house again. and while Tim knew he had parents he still would hoped to be allowed to see you that way.

you treated him better than his mother ever had. with more love and care and even taking a few days to just understand what he was interested in. and Dick was friendly with what seemed like everyone, so he didn't think much of it.

but after Tims parents had passed, he was adopted into your family. and this time you were the one to invite him to have hot coco. it wasn't the first time you had asked him but he never said yes because he felt like it was invasive like it was something that he shouldn't be doing, but this time you didn't give him the choice.

so he joined and you all laughed and for a moment while drinking hot coco he could just live in the moment and enjoy the company and the hot coco.

but when Jason came back and seemed to hate him, Tim stopped showing up to hot coco time until you dragged him out of his room. and told Jason that Tim wasn't his “replacement” he was his new brother and he could be angry but not during hot coco time.

DAMIEN

He had come in with an attitude that he is better than anyone, which you did not appreciate so you didn't bother to give him the reactions he wanted. He was a child who was merely raised and told to think he was better than everyone else because he was blood, which in this house meant nothing.

but after being at your home for a few months damien had learned of the hot coco time in the kitchen. and as much as damien wanted to be apart of the family he didn’t know how to ask, nor did he feel he should have to as he is the blood son of batman.

but you could see past the facade that the kid was putting on, but you were waiting to see how the kid would change before inviting him to hot coco. the boys and Bruce and poor Alfred were having to deal with the kids attitude worse than you.

but you could see the kid who just wanted to be loved, much like Jason, Damien just didnt have that parental physical affection that a child deserves. but he would get to be better and you would be more than willing to be his mother when he was ready.

but that time didnt come for almost a year, and that was because Damien had come to you after a rough day at school and having to deal with comments about his appearance or the fact that he was a person of color in what seemed like a sea of white kids at the Gotham academy.

he had come to you upset and vented his feelings to you without insulting you or his brothers the entire time. it greatly impressed you. and he had asked “can i join you and the others for your nightly ritual of drinking whatever is in those mugs?” you smiled at the young boy

“of course you can, no one can be upset when drinking hot chocolate. especially not my family recipe.”

and Damien smiled. he would have a fun time with you and the other boys.

they seemed shocked to see him there but quickly got over it and invited him over to sit with them and talk while you made hot coco. it was one of the biggest bonding moment for you and your boys.

============================================================

bruce knew about the hot coco gatherings in the kitchen during most nights. he knew because you and him used to do them before you adopted Dick, but now it was more you and your boys tradition. Bruce still shared hot coco with you. but he also got to share a room with you. he knew it was magic in a cup.

but he saw how it helped all of his sons begin to relax more. they were all mama’s boys and your hot coco was how all the kids began to open up and trust more.

============================================================

the boys all knew when they had a rough day or were having problems with eachother they would put it aside for a few hours every night, to sip hot coco with their mom and just be able to relax and enjoy the holidays and the year.

#batfamily and batmom imagine #batmom x batfamily imagines #batman #batman x you #batman x reader #bayboys #richard grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damien wayne #bruce wayne #bruce wyane x reader #25 days of ficmas

197 notes · View notes

redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

It’s Cold in Here Part 12

Hi everyone! Here is Part 12 and I hope you all enjoy! Stay safe! 😘

WARNINGS: Language and violence.

Stone cold. Ice Queen. A beautiful dead corpse is all I see when I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The midnight blue off the shoulder long formal dress I’m wearing is worth more than my apartment. The diamond belt around my waist is something I’ve never dreamt of wearing. The two slits above my thighs is something I’ve absolutely never dreamed of showing before.

I didn’t pick out the dress. Alfred had delivered it to my apartment this morning.

A hairstylist and makeup artist that Bruce had hired had come by just three hours ago to do my hair and makeup. My long hair is pinned up in a beautifully bun, and two long strands of my hair are let down, and frame my face nicely.

My makeup is natural looking. I’m grateful the lovely woman had noticed my discomfort and decided against the heavy makeup, and instead had given me natural look.

After she had left, I remained in my bathroom in a frozen, unsure state. On the counter lies a large jewelry box from Dick, with a note I hadn’t exactly looked at.

I inhale sharply and gaze down at the note.

Wear this jewelry with the new dress. You’ll look stunning. Love, Dick.

I can feel my chest ache with nerves and uncertainty. Opening the jewelry box, I’m instantly shocked to see a gorgeous diamond choker, two large diamond stud earrings, and a simple diamond and sapphire bracelet.

I don’t want to wear any of it. I already feel guilty enough to have to go to Bruce’s gala tonight. And even worse...

Accepting Dick’s marriage proposal.

I slip on the jewelry and finally look into the mirror with my head up high. I notice that I look exactly like the girls Dick used to date back then. The kind of girls I would never become.

A gold digger.

Eye candy.

Fame seeker.

I’m aware that I’m starting to slowly lose myself to Dick. After that awful night of him forcing me to do sexual acts with him, I notice he’s become more distant than I was. We haven’t even spoke since; only text messaging and having Alfred be the messenger between us.

Poor Alfred...he has absolutely no clue of what’s happening between me and Dick. I know for a fact that Dick must have lied to him. Dick must have told Alfred he’s nervous about proposing to me or something.

The thought of Dick manipulating everyone makes me wonder how far and long he’s willing to go just to save his face and reputation. Would he even manipulate Bruce?

If Bruce truly believed our “engagement” was real, then he would surely be fooled like everyone else. And then that would be very humiliating and disappointing for the detective; the so called Dark Knight.

I slip on my black high heels and force myself to head to the living room to wait for Alfred to pick me up. I mentally scold myself to get my shit together just to get through the night. But it’s obviously hard to put on a brave face when all I want to do is lie in bed and ugly cry all day and night.

No one will ever understand what is going on between me and Dick.

My best friends Artemis and Zatanna.

The Batfamily.

Justice League.

All of Gotham.

Jason.

I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes just thinking about him. Jason Todd. He was my last hope. The night I tried calling him to come help me was a failure.

He was supposed to break free from whatever Mad Hatter did to him.

He was supposed to help me figure out how to end Deathstroke’d evil bullshit.

He was supposed to save me from Dick Grayson.

Jason was supposed to be my hero.

My doorbell rings, interrupting my thoughts as well as bringing me back to the harsh reality. I grab my black clutch that holds my cell phone and surprisingly hides my knife.

Just in case...

Alfred smiles at me the second I open the door. “I must say, you are an absolute beauty tonight. I’ll have to fight off men for you, Miss Y/N. Are you ready to leave?”

“Thank you Alfred. And yes, I’m ready please,” I say, stepping out and locking up the front door before Alfred escorts me to the elevators.

I’m grateful that Alfred keeps to himself most of the time. He keeps a space between us until we reach outside; the dark gloomy sky of Gotham sends a shiver down my bare back. I immediately regret not getting my white shawl to cover my shoulders. Alfred guides me to the limo and opens the back door for me to climb in.

“Master Dick is already at the gala. He said he’ll meet us out front for the red carpet pictures.”

I want to scoff. But instead I respond as nicely as I can. “Okay, thank you.”

My cell phone rings. I quickly open my clutch and tense up when I see the unknown number.

Deathstroke.

I look at the unread text message.

You better make sure you accept his proposal, Y/N. You’ll have to see it through if you and Dick want to live.

I can feel myself choking up from just the fear of this text message. Before I could even think or really do anything, the limo stops. We’re here.

Alfred opens my door and holds a hand out for me to grab onto. “Here we are, Miss Y/N,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Alfred,” I say, with a small smile.

Alfred helps me out of the limo and as soon as he releases me, the paparazzi surround me. I’m forced to shield my eyes with a hand from what feels like a hundred cameras flashing at me. A hand grabs my wrist and I’m pulled closely to a warm, tall body. I look up and see Dick Grayson.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Dick asks, kissing my forehead, smiling down at me, pretending to be my loving concerned boyfriend.

I’m frozen from the affection but it doesn’t last long as Dick leads me inside the humongous building that’s holding Bruce’s gala.

I’m completely dazed from the million lights shining down on us when we enter the room. The ballroom is like a dream; marble flooring and exquisite art and statues surround everywhere. Men and women are dressed to the nines.

I even spot some Justice League members in disguise. Clark, Diana, Oliver, and Dinah are here and dressed so good.

I even spot Artemis with Conner and Zatanna with Tim, and even Damian, who are clearly shocked to see me here and with Dick.

I don’t blame them for being surprised as hell considering I’ve been MIA since...the last time they saw me or even spoke to me.

I frown and try to pull away from Dick’s strong grip to go speak to my friends, but he only tightens his hold on me.

My gaze shifts over to where bachelor and striking Bruce is standing in front of a tall man and blonde woman. My heart suddenly stops when I see Jason, handsome and sexy as ever in an all black suit with Isabel on his arm. He turns around and notices I’m staring at him. I expect him to glare at me or even give me a weird look since he clearly doesn’t remember me because of Mad Hatter.

But Jason doesn’t. He actually looks...confused.

I notice his dark hair is gelled but the messy spikiness is there. Possibly from running a hand through it. I automatically want to run my hand through his hair. I even want to hug him. I want to kiss him.

I want him.

I want Jason.

Dick practically drags me to the stage where he lowers his head to look me straight in the eyes.

“It’s going to happen right now. I can’t wait any longer,” Dick admits.

I swallow hard. “Okay, but could we talk about this first? Please?”

Dick shakes his head. Is he really going to ignore and pretend that this is all real? “It’s happening. I’m...I’m going to ask you to marry me. You’re going to say yes. You’re going to kiss me. And-and we’re going to live happily after. Do you understand?” he snaps, barely quiet enough for others to not hear.

My eyes glance over at Jason, who blinks a few times and looks all around himself and appears to be more aware. He turns to Isabel and he becomes angry; startling her and Bruce, and even others around them.

I look back to Dick, but I suddenly gasp in shock when I see Wally entering the gala in a suit. He stops walking as soon as he sees me and Dick closely together.

This is wrong.

I can’t say yes to Dick.

I can’t do this to Jason and Wally. This isn’t fair to them.

Wally loves Dick.

And I love Jason.

And the thought of saying yes to Dick makes me feel guilty because I don’t want to marry him.

I can’t lie.

I can’t pretend anymore.

I can’t do this.

We’ll find a way to stop Deathstroke. We’ll find a way to help Dick.

Dick stares down at me. His blue eyes are burning into mine. He looks pissed at me. He looks like he hates every single part of me. He sees me as his enemy.

But he can’t or won’t see how this is killing me.

“I...can’t. I can’t say yes and I can’t marry you,” I confess quietly. “I’m sorry.”

I notice Dick’s hand is squeezing my wrist tighter. The pain he’s causing me makes me wince and whimper in pain. His other hand is digging into his pocket and he reveals a small black jewelry box.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Jason, Bruce, and Wally approaching us with concerned looks.

Dick lowers his face closer to whisper in my ear. “You’re going to say yes to me, you fucking selfish bitch. I don’t give a shit about what you want or don’t want. You better say yes, and you better be my wife before I make your life a living nightmare,” he threatens quietly before he chuckles darkly. “Just like your past nightmare with Daddy Dearest.”

My eyes widen in horror when Dick mentions my stepfather; the man who emotionally and physically hurt me with sexual abuse. I lower my eyes to the floor. I know this has to be the final straw. Dick has crossed a line that I don’t even think he could take back or make it right.

I force myself to look back up at Dick but my attention is taken away from him and is now on the sky roof. Across the way on another building stands Deathstroke, who has his gun aimed directly at Dick’s back.

Oh my fucking God. Deathstroke is going to shoot and kill Dick!

Deathstroke knows I said no. He knows I’m not going to accept Dick’s marriage proposal. He knows I’m not going to do what he wants me to do.

I have to do something. I realize I have a choice. I know what I have to do.

And if I die, at least I die knowing I did care and love for Dick Grayson.

Even if he doesn’t love me back.

I follow my instincts that I was trained to act on. Without a second thought, I jump in front of Dick; allowing the faster-than-fuck killing bullet to pierce through my flesh at my right shoulder.

It burns. It’s making me bleed. It hurts like fuck.

I fall back onto Dick. He catches me and we crash to the floor. I can feel him sit up and gasp loudly in panic when he sees I’ve been shot and am bleeding.

“No...no!” Dick cries out. He puts his hands on the seeping wound and puts pressure on it.

Through the stinging pain, I can see everyone around us is frozen and staring in fear at the window where the bullet came from. I follow their stares and notice what they’re looking at.

Deathstroke is on the roof across the way. Everyone sees his gun is aimed right at the building. He shot me.

He waves at me and shoots his grapple gun to come straight at us.

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x reader

78 notes · View notes

reddrobins · 4 years

Text

of coffee cups + criminals - one [j.todd]

TW: none

TWO - THREE

chapter one:

The newfound silence was the most comforting sound that could possibly be heard at this hour. It was almost 11:00 pm and she had yet to flip the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’. It was an oddly busy day at Gotham Grounds - the local coffee shop just west of the Narrows. To say that it was the busiest day that [Y/N] had encountered thus far would be an understatement.

The small shop was used to serving thirty, maybe forty customers per day. This bustling autumn night however, [Y/N] found herself running out of coffee, having served well over 100 people throughout the day. Luckily, the young barista had finally used up the shop's total stock, forcing her to close up.

“Hey IRIS, call Jason.” She called to her cell phone, hands too full with empty cups to dial the number. Cleaning the counter space in the front, she patiently waited for the dial tone to stop, hoping to hear the voice of her boyfriend on the other end.

After a minute or so, the ringing stopped. [Y/N] stilled in her place, giving her full attention to the call. “Hey, you know who this is, leave a message. Or not, thanks!”

The [H/C] rolled her eyes, swiftly going back to cleaning. When Jasons voice message finished, she hollered to her phone, “Hi Jay, it's me. Finishing up work right now. Be home in,” She paused, surveying the cleanliness state of the cafe, “eh, maybe a half hour. I hope… anyway, see you then!”

Juggling the mass of collected cups into one arm, she picked up her cell and ended the call.

The prospect of going home clouding her better judgment, [Y/N] dumped the cup load into the sink and instead of engaging in her routine cleaning, decided to leave the dishes for tomorrow. If it were any other night, having a load of dirty cups just sitting in the sink would have driven her mad, but it was almost midnight, and all [Y/N] wanted to do was go home.

Being one of the owners of Gotham Grounds did however give her liberty to leave the shop as she wished and so, deciding that her half-assed clean up was enough, [Y/N] locked the front door and strolled onto the sidewalk, not once glancing back.

Jason was having one hell of a night.

First, big old Batdad was being a prick, as always, and lectured Jason to no end. This time it wasn't about his objectively harsh vigilante methods, rather his familial engagement… or lack thereof. Bruce went on about how it was the third family dinner he had missed this week, that Alfred missed him, that he wasn't letting anyone in. Jason had had enough of his father's scolding and abruptly left the cave, not bothering to even take a peek at the case files he originally came for.

Secondly, just with Jason luck, Black Mask had disappeared. The tracker that Jason had previously put on Sionis’ car no longer had a ping. It seemed to Jason that the idiot had finally caught on and disposed of the vehicle, annoying the vigilante to no end.

Not only did he have to deal with stupid familial problems, but now his one lead had vanished. On the bright side, Jason thought, this night could not possibly get worse. But of course, he was proven wrong.

In the midst of his Red Hood business, Jason had ignored the vibrating of his phone - brushing it off as Dick trying to make amends for Bruce’s actions. So when he finally settled atop the Wayne Enterprises building, he then saw it wasn't Dick that called, but [Y/N].

He quickly redialled her number, hoping that the two of them would not be starting a game of ‘phone tag’.

“Hello?”

Jason smiled to himself from under the mask, just hearing her voice was enough to turn a shitty night into something tolerable. “Hey.”

On the other end, [Y/N] too found herself smiling at his voice, “Hi, nice to finally hear from you.”

Jason let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, he hated not being able to answer the phone all the time. Truth be told, talking to [Y/N] was the only thing Jason really looked forward to. “Yeah,” He started, “Sorry about that doll. I got kinda hung up at work.”

This piqued [Y/N]’s interest. Though she knew only as much as Jason was willing to reveal about his ‘night time activities’, any chance he opened up about them intrigued the girl. “Oh?” She asked, “Is everything okay?”

Nonchalantly, he brushed it off, “Oh yeah, all good. Just a minor inconvenience s’all. Don't worry about it.”

Upon hearing his insouciance, [Y/N] shrugged off the conversation, nodding into the phone. Jason then turned the questions towards her, “What about you love? What’re you up to on this lovely Gotham night?”

[Y/N] laughed at his sarcastic tone, “Just getting home now actually.” She started, only to be interrupted by Jason’s surprised outburst of, “really?”.

She nodded into the phone again, then remembered that alas - Jason could not see her, “Yeah, really. It was like scarily busy today. I’m pretty sure all of Gotham, hell, maybe even Metropolis too, all came to grab coffee today.”

Jason let out a low whistle, “Damn, guess I missed the memo.”

[Y/N] chuckled as she dug a set of keys out of her jacket pocket. The coffee shop was not too far from her apartment, luckily, and she had been a good ways through the trek when Jason called. “I know, I hoped to see you stop by. Tim came, by the way, it was nice to see him.”

Jason knew that she didn't intend for there to be a double entendre within the sentence, but he took it as that. With his closing in on Sionis, he had pulled away from the Batfamily and as an extension, so had [Y/N]. He knew it wasn't fair to her, within the months of their relationship she had gotten close with his siblings. Just because he wasn't investing in the relationships didn't mean she couldn't.

“Jay?” Her call shook him out of his rabbit hole of thought.

Jason cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m still here. That's good… I’m uh, I’m glad he stopped by.”

Sensing her boyfriends uncomfortability, [Y/N] changed the focus off of his family. “I just got home, do you want to swing by or…” closing the front door, she hung up her keys on the hook, waiting for his response.

“Uh,” Jason pulled his phone away to check the time, it was quarter to twelve. He sighed, “I don't think tonight, no. Sorry love, it's late and I don't want you waiting up for me.”

“Jason,” She began to lightly scold, “I told you, I don't mind-”

Silence gripped the phone line.

Jason furrowed his brows, waiting to hear [Y/N]’s voice again. After a beat, he spoke, “Doll, you still there?” It was as if metal flooded his veins, cold fear encasing his body until she finally replied.

“Yes… I- I’m going to have to call you back.”

Before Jason could even get a syllable in, the line went dead.

“Jason,” [Y/N] started as she went further into the apartment, “I told you, I don't mind-”

Now on most nights when [Y/N] came home, she would be the only occupant in the living space. But she already knew today was not like other days.

There, lounging against her kitchen island stood a man she’d only ever seen on the news.

Roman Sionis gave a mocking wave at her frozen frame. Fear seeped into every ounce of her body, words unable to form a cry of help.

“Doll,” Jason’s voice briefly brought her back, “You still there?”

She opened her mouth, trying to sift through the mile-a-minute thoughts in her head, trying to form a coherent sentence, a cry for help.

Words bubbled to the tip of her tongue, but were quickly popped as Sionis lifted his hand towards his face, a black-gloved finger held up to his lips, shushing her. Something flickered in her peripheral vision, in the Black Masks other hand a pocket knife flipped open.

[Y/N] knew in this moment, her cry for help would turn into one for death.

“Yes…” She said slowly, searching Sionis’ face for an ounce of approval, “I’m going to have to call you back.”

#jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #batman #batfamily #batman imagine #batfamily imagine #red hood #red hood x reader

113 notes · View notes

batarella · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Hate You - Part 14 (Jason Todd x Reader)

Hi. this is batarella’s friend speaking. she said she’ll be in hiding for the next 24 hours until the next chapter is posted before an angry mob shows up outside her house.

WORDS: 7337 WARNINGS: THE AMOUNT OF ANGST IN THIS ONE IS ASTRONOMICAL. SO MUCH VIOLENCE. HEARTBREAK. FIGHTING. SELF HARM.

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

At the back of his car, parked in the school’s driveway, he pulled you into the backseat before he was just about to take you home.

Your legs were over his lap, his arm around you leaning against the car door and his other hand resting comfortably over your breast, you sighed into his warmth. And because it was heated inside, the windows were too fogged up for anyone to see you.

Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason.

For one thing, the sex was phenomenal. He was getting so good at it.

So good at it. You could have all your filthy daydreams all day.

You just loved it when he takes careful notice of how you react to the million different ways he touches you, how he explores your body well enough to give you an even better orgasm than the last one. And how he handles you, so gentle, cherishing each part of you, making you feel so treasured and precious. If there was a book on how to love someone, this was an entirely new section you never found out about until now. Fucking was one thing. But doing it with someone you’d give up your own life for, someone you loved so tremendously, it was certainly the most beautiful thing in the world. He’d kiss every part of you, make you feel like you were made of gold by the way he holds you so delicately. But when it calls for it, your hips end up getting bruises and you’d barely be able to walk the next day. Fuck, you were obsessed with it. It had only been a few months, and still you could barely keep your grabby hands off him.

But that was just one thing. You haven’t had a fight in so long, you could barely remember the last time you were mad at him. And when you did, you wanted nothing more than to forget it. As far as you knew, each second you spent with Jason was the last, and it would all be a waste if you weren’t trying your best at being happy with him. He kisses you more. Tried better to make you feel like you were the world. Every Friday he stays over at your place for the night and you’d end up staying awake the whole time watching movies, talking, fucking, or sneaking out into the city.

And the urban exploring. There were so many places abandoned in Gotham it was a surprise the city was still up at all. From all the monstrous villain attacks that end up leaving some mall too destroyed, a church too unsafe to have people in, an old toy shop forgotten, carnivals, mansions, and most of all, asylums. You and Jason have gone through so many of these places, it was always going to be something special that only you and him shared. Even when the places were borderline haunted, you’d hold his hand, look around and up at the roofs about to fall in, and it would be the best things to remember.

But…

There was just one thing that held you back.

“Hey,” you whispered, and he went down to kiss your neck. “Can you take me home now?”

“Just a sec.”

You gasped when he took your earlobe in with his teeth.

“Let’s continue this at home.”

Jason smiled, then his phone rang. You kissed his cheek and neck while he answered, hand trailing down his crotch.

“Bruce?”

You kept going, straddling his lap while licking his neck. He held back a groan, but he grinded up to you.

“Shit. Can I take a pass?” he said. He held the back of your head and pulled you away before he’d moan, but you kept going.

“Fine.”

He hung up, then you felt him sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to take you home now. I got to go…”

You stopped, then pulled away to look at him in the eye, then look down. “Hey,” he kissed you again. “I’ll call you tonight. I won't be out too late.”

You slid off him and forced yourself to smile.

“It’s fine.”

You hadn’t told him yet. And frankly, you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you believed it yourself.

“What is it that he’s asking you to do, again?”

You watched every detail on his face.

“He wants me to work in his company. I’m his assistant. Some sort of sidekick,” he laughed.

You forced yourself to buy it.

So even with a thought at the back of your mind, something that had lingered for months since that night of your first time, you chose to ignore it, or just not believe it entirely. Whatever it was, it wasn’t true. What you saw wasn’t actually there. And if it was true, it would break everything you worked so hard to build for months. You weren’t going to let that happen. So as long as he was okay, alive, with you, nothing else should matter.

Should it?

-----

It would have been so easy.

Penguin. On his knees, unarmed and struggling to even get up. There were dozens of guns around the room left by his unconscious goons. And with Robin standing over him, having the liberty of doing whatever it was he wished onto this sick, corrupted little man, Robin had every reason to end this son of a bitch’s life. Just a few weeks ago he put Dick in a coma in Bludhaven. This was supposed to be when they bring him to justice, to bring everyone he’s ever killed to justice.

A pistol, sitting right in front of him. It was so easy to pick up, place right up against Cobblepot’s twisted skull, and pull the trigger.

But then…

Then…

He found himself doing that very same act, just when he thought it had only been a thing of his mind. Robin held a gun in his hand, pointed it right into the Penguin’s head. And in that split second, he realized what he was doing.

A batarang came flying in and pierced his hand. Robin dropped the gun, hissing and falling to his knees on the ground.

Batman never looked at him so furiously.

Brought into the cave, Robin started for the door.

“Good night.”

“Jason-“

“I said good night.”

“JASON.”

He knew what was about to happen. So many times, he’d been warned. Weeks and weeks have happened and still, Jason managed to do that. Any second longer, Cobblepot would be dead, and Jason would be a killer. He proved to everyone and himself that he was willing to take a life, something Robin wasn’t supposed to stand for.

Jason stopped, his hand injuring itself from gripping too hard.

“Take that suit off,” Batman said. “And leave it here. For good.”

“You’re kidding me-“

“FOR GOOD!”

He looked at Bruce dead in the eye. The larger man was unmoving, furious beyond belief, and had just about enough of his rebellious antics. Jason knew exactly what was going to happen and did it anyway. Did he do it on purpose? To show Bruce that despite being by his side for so many years, his beliefs never rubbed off on him? That after all those years taking care of himself, he, having twice as much street smarts as Bruce and Dick combined, knew that the only real way of ridding the world of a villain’s horrible doings was to rid the world of the villain entirely?

Bruce wouldn’t know. He’d been sheltered far too much in his life. But Jason’s life was a disaster enough for him to know Robin’s ideals just weren’t for him. That he was destined for something so entirely different, far from what Dick was doing, from anybody else. He was right. He was no Dick Grayson. He never will be.

So fine. Let Bruce take the suit.

“You know damn well keeping him alive kills hundreds more, Bruce. How do you live with that?”

“I live knowing I keep myself from being just as much of a killer as he is. You don’t know half the things I’d do if I fell into that hole.”

“Then you're a coward,” Jason fired back. “You can't control yourself. That’s on you. Think of all the people you could have saved.”

“And the people I’ll kill? So many more.”

Bruce left the cave.

Jason stormed into his room, ripped his suit off and threw it right across the hall.

Then he punched the wall hard enough to leave a small dent.

He didn’t scream or break anything more. He was lost. He knew he wasn’t going to find himself for a longer time than he’d think. He stayed against that wall, his fist in a hole, long enough to find any thought he could focus on, but it was true, no matter how much he tried to go with Bruce’s fucking morals, he ended up falling right back into his own.

He did kill that man. The one that fell four stories off a building. He killed him. The blood was on his hands. And all this? It was all just a way for him to justify what he did so he wouldn’t get eaten up by the guilt. Or the lack of guilt, thereof. That was what he feared of himself the most.

Because even after he’d realized he’d killed that man, he felt nothing. In fact, he was proud of it. And he’d do it again. Over and over. So long as it were the people who’d killed so many more, left so many families empty and broken, he’ll never feel a shred of regret. And that was what he was trying to make up for. He was afraid of himself, of what he’ll become.

Being Robin was the only thing holding him back from being what he was truly meant to be. That he had ideals to follow whether or not he agreed to them. He had something to tell him what was supposed to be. And now, without the suit, he knew he’d have to succumb. He’ll have to become someone he had always believed in. and even though he loved Bruce, Dick, Alfred, he was always going to fight for the people. Not justice. Not himself. For the people. No matter what it takes, that’s where he’s headed.

And good god, did it scare him. It scared him to death.

His phone rang. You. He forgot he promised to call you that night.

“Asshole.” He heard your voice, and he slid with his back against the wall, eyes shut close.

“Sorry. I was just about to call.”

“You sound beaten up. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m tired.”

“Are you sure-“

“Yes,” he sighed, running his wet palms over his scrunched-up face. He wanted to break everything he could get his hands on. His whole room. Everything he could touch. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

But everything with you was going so well...

“I can come over if you want. I have a movie I’ve been wanting us to watch.”

“It’s fine. You stay there.”

You were silent. For a while.

“Can we watch it this Friday?”

“I don’t think I can go there tomorrow. I’ll just see you in school.”

“Why not?”

He counted to ten. The last thing he wanted was to lash out on you.

“Just… I’ll try, okay?”

“Fine,” you grunted. “I’ll just go to bed, then.”

“Good night.”

He heard you scoff. “What is wrong with you?”

“You said you wanted to go to be-“

“Fine. Maybe I will.”

You hung up.

Months since your last fight. And just like that, you hated him again.

The dent in the wall turned into a hallowed-out hole he’d punched over and over.

-----

You had every right to be mad at him.

But, after knowing what you know now, you chose not to.

Jason kept his eyes on his food and tried his best not to look at you. Expecting you to ignore him, or possibly destroy your tray like you’d do when you fought, he looked up at you in surprised when you suddenly took his hand.

His eyes. They looked so sad, and yet so beautiful. You had changed. For him.

“I’m not mad at you…”

He swallowed his food, licked his lips, then with a long, deepening sigh he nodded at you. “Okay…”

“If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong.”

He rubbed his thumb over your hand, then slowly pulled away so he can go back to eating. You let it slide.

And this. It went on for days. You didn’t fight. But he wasn’t happy, either. He still kissed you, held you when he could. But he had so much in his mind you just knew he was never going to tell you. One thing you did notice, in fact, the bruises he came home with had almost completely disappeared. So with that, you were contented.

Until…

“Y/N and Brandon. You will be partners for this project.”

“Absolutely not,” you cried out in class. “I want another partner.”

Another jock stood up, “I’ll be your partner, hot stuff!!”

“DOWN!” You screamed, and he fell to his chair shivering.

“I want another partner,” you said to the teacher. He brushed you off, however. You wanted to choke him right at that second.

Brandon, on the other hand, looked amused. And when class ended, you went straight up to him.

“Football Freak. Tell Jerry we can't be partners.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun. If you want I’ll take you over to my house-“

“I will tear out your eyes and step over them with my heels, you shit-headed troll.”

“There you go again with those petty little insults.” Brandon stood you off, and he’d gotten bigger now. “We both know you want thi-“

His body hitting the lockers was loud enough to turn everyone’s head. And they immediately looked at you.

But you hadn’t moved a muscle.

Jason, with the veins on his forehead looking so close to popping, grabbed Brandon by the collar once again and held him up against the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Todd?!”

He didn’t even respond. Jason started punching him mindlessly on the floor. Hit after hit, you saw how his knuckles bruised. You called out his name, but he didn’t listen. Brandon’s blood already spilled on the floor and he kicked him off, and Jason landed on the ground. Wiping the blood off his lips, he lunged after Jason.

One hit to the face, but again, Jason was far too skilled for him. Grabbing his foot, he stretched it all the way to his back, and smashed his face to the ground. The crowd erupted in cries, some cheering for Jason. Some for Brandon.

They rolled on the floor. No one was trying to stop them. Jason managed to stand back up, grab Brandon by the shirt and slammed him right against the concrete walls. You heard a loud grunt and a tooth might have fell out.

And just before he went after Brandon again, you stepped in.

You didn’t even hold him back, or grab his arms just to stop him. All you did, and the only thing you needed to do, was stand in front of him, hold your hand up to his chest, and look at him straight in the eye.

So many times, Jason held you back from doing the same. He’s stopped you from almost pulling a girl’s hair right out of her scalp, from slamming someone’s head right into a concrete pillar. He’s stopped you from ruining someone’s life just by the psychological twisting of your words. You had your own jealous rage that was so easy to lash out on. Even just talking to another girl made you all crabby. And you knew he had his own as well.

But his jealousy. His was so much worse.

Now. Just now, you hoped he’d listen to you just as you’ve always listened to him. He did stop. And you forced him to look at you in the eye.

You saw him try to calm himself.

“ASSHOLE,” Brandon cried out. “YOU JEALOUS I WAS TALKING TO YOUR BITCH OF A GIRLFRIEND?!”

Jason’s head boiled and he tried to push you away, but you didn’t let him. You stood your ground, grabbing his shoulders. “Jason, stop-“

“NEWSFLASH. WE USED TO DATE, JACKASS. ALL THE WAY BACK TO EIGHTH FUCKING GRADE.”

“SHUT UP!!!”

You never let go. You still held on to him. Grabbing his hand, you pulled him towards the door. “Jason, let’s go home.”

“HOPE YOU FEEL GREAT ABOUT GETTING TO TAP THAT ASS, JASON TODD-“

You grabbed a book from one student’s arms and slammed its spine right at Brandon’s already bruised face. He fell to the floor.

“Jason, take me home right now.”

He tried so hard to shrug you off, but eventually, he went with you, and you both stormed out of the school, went right to his car before any of the teachers would find him.

You felt his hand shaking. His whole body was at that point. And when you reached the car, you tried to grab hold of him.

And he pushed you away so forcibly you almost tumbled. “Jason-“

“Get in the fucking car.”

You watched him wipe the last of his blood from his busted lip, then walk over to the driver’s seat before slamming the door so hard you could have sword the window broke behind him. Swallowing, you went in the passenger seat.

He never drove out of that parking lot faster than he did.

The best thing you could have done was console him, speak in the lightest voice you could and make sure you let him know you didn’t think he did anything wrong. That was all he needed.

But you didn’t do that.

Instead, you looked straight forward, blocking out all the noises, and sat as still as you could.

“Jason, we were barely even talking-“

“I don’t want you anywhere near that guy.”

“I wasn’t-.”

“Is it true?”

You bit your lip. “What?”

“You and Brandon? Is it true?”

You desperately wanted to go back somehow and beat the crap out of Brandon yourself. You wanted him unconscious. Worse. Dead.

You wanted to put all the blame on him instead of admitting this time, that you were in the wrong. So wrong.

You gulped, took in the cold, stale air, then whispered. “Yes…”

He slammed his fist against the car horn and you flinched at the horrible, ear shattering noise.

“YOU SAID YOU NEVER DATED ANYONE BEFORE.”

“IT WAS IN EIGHTH FUCKING GRADE. IT LASTED A MONTH. IT WAS STUPID AND IT DIDN’T MEAN SHIT. I TELL THAT TO EVERYONE ’CUZ I WANT TO PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED WITH THAT ASSHOLE.”

“YOU FUCKING LIED.”

“IT WAS NOTHING. WE WERE KIDS. I WAS BEING STUPID. IT WASN’T EVEN A REAL RELATIONSHIP.”

“YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I FUCKING HATE HIM.”

You breathed. But nothing has felt so hard to do. Your visions became so much of a blur and nothing in front of you made much sense anymore.

“I remember. You told me in that fucking library. That he hit on you and you rejected him…”

You bit your lip. “How was I supposed to know we’d get together…”

“You could have told me anytime the past year, Y/N,” he faked a laugh. “Never once did you mention any of that.”

“You hated that guy to the bone. If I had told you, you’d have hated me, too.“

He violently stepped on the break, and your body was thrown back against the chair. He was an inch away from slamming into another car.

“You. Lied.”

“It wasn’t a big deal…”

“It is to me.”

“So this is what you mean when you get just as jealous as I do?” you scoffed. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion-“

“YOU ALMOST KILL PEOPLE WHEN THEY SIT NEXT TO ME.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T DO THE SAME THING JUST NOW?!”

“YOU-“ he slammed his fist against the window. “FUCK THIS.”

You weren’t crying, though you really fucking wanted to. You wanted to show him just how much he hurt you. And nothing came out. You sat there, an empty, dry-eyed idiot.

“I’m not going to apologize for this,” you said.

“You’re proud of what you did? That’s big. Even for you.”

“I told you. It was nothing.”

“That dickhead didn’t seem to think so.”

“If it weren’t him, would you still whack his brains out?”

“Y/N,” he growled. “If it were just about anyone-anyone-in the whole damn building, I’ll beat them to a bloody pulp.”

“How fucking romantic.”

“Like you're just so adorable when you get jealous.”

“GOD, YOU-“ you stuffed your head into your palm. When was this fucking car ride going to end?

“What other things are you keeping from me?”

“OH. SO WE’RE BACK TO THAT FUCKING CONVERSATION?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t go out at night? You don’t get into fights? You’re not hiding anything from me at all?”

“I told you I-“

“That you’re what?”

“I get into fights! Exactly like this one!”

“At night?!”

A volcano just about to erupt. There was no way you can keep this down anymore. You couldn’t hold this in. Not for a second longer.

And when you watched Jason being silent, looking away from you with his whole face as red of anger as your own, you knew it was true. He was practically outrightly admitting it right now.

And your heart. It never once felt as heavy as it did now.

“I know you’re Robin.”

He reached your house, stopped just by the curb.

Silence.

Your heart was beating so frantically in your chest, yet you didn’t move. You stopped breathing. You looked right in front of you and he did the same.

You wanted desperately for him to say just about anything to contradict what you’d said, to tell you convincingly that it wasn’t true, that you were being insane. Perhaps even tell you another truth that would have been less believable but a lot better to take in. You wanted him to tell you he never hid anything from you, and you’ll happily take the fall for this one.

If he denied being Robin, you’ll apologize for what happened with Brandon. You’ll pour out you're entire fucking heart and soul to beg for his forgiveness. You’ll lose just about everything about yourself trying to prove to him that you’ll always, always be truthful and that you never once thought of lying to his face knowing it would hurt him in the end. All you needed was just a word of denial. Fuck it being so convincing. If he just said it wasn’t true, then you’ll willingly let this go.

But all you heard was the heartbreaking, bitter silence.

His head frozen in place, eyes locked onto the window. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you.

And at that, your heart broke beyond repair.

And you knew nothing was going to get you out of this. Every fight. Every argument. It never felt like you’d never get through it and you always ended up forgetting what happened, move on, and be just as happy with him as the last day. No fight ever made you feel like you’d never want to go through it all again if it meant you didn’t get to lose him.

But now. There was no getting through this. There was no fixing this.

He got those bruises from fighting, alright. He didn’t lie about that. He just completely left out the part about him being a costumed vigilante, blatantly walking right into death’s door willingly every single night. And he had been for years. He never once hinted anything to you.

And even if you did fix this, would you want a boyfriend you’d have to worry about every night? That he wouldn’t come home at all? Would you marry him, have a family? Have your kids understand that their father died for people he didn’t even know? Would you survive that heartbreak?

Well, your heart was definitely broken now.

“We’re done…” Jason said.

It all didn’t seem so real.

“For good.”

But you understood. Entirely. What did he expect? That you’d object? That you’d beg for him to stay despite everything and apologize on his behalf?

He lost you the moment he admitted to it, despite him not saying anything at all. And now, you lost him. Forever.

“Goodbye, Jay.”

You slammed the door behind you and never looked back.

-----

Now

You were crying your heart out by now. And the therapist, well, she just watched with so much pity for you, you’d have been embarrassed if it wasn’t her job to watch you cry.

“I never once thought that thing with Brandon affected him so much…”

“I think,” she said. “It was amplified by all the other things he was dealing with at home. You said he was already in some kind of mood before all this happened?”

“Yes. He was. Days before. Something happened with him and Bruce. He was upset for a while.”

“It wasn’t just with Brandon, then. It just happened to coincide.”

She gave you a box of tissues, and you took it, taking three from the box and wiping your eyes.

“I guess… but it was after I told him about what I knew when he broke up with me.”

The therapist nodded. “I see. And do you regret letting him know that?”

You looked at the ground.

“If I’d have seen him in school, have the time to realize I should call him back, I don’t think it would have done us any good to keep it more of a secret…”

You gulped.

“But I had known that was the last time I was ever going to see him…”

There it was. Three years-worth of guilt, all put into words. It came crashing down like the shittiest story ever told and the therapist looked at you like she was about to cry as well.

But this was your story. Your shitty story. Everyone cried from this.

“If I had known, I would have happily kept it for the rest of my life…”

The therapist looked at the ground with you as well.

“I don’t think… that would do any good…”

“He died a few days after that,” you blurted out. “Our break up got him depressed, and he ran away from home one night, chased after some crime leader in his neighborhood to air out his anger and it cost him his life. That’s why I blame myself for all this. That’s why I’m gonna have to live with the fact that he died because of me. I let him go too soon. I shouldn’t have gotten out of that car. I should have told him how this was all going to work out. But no, I didn’t. I got out of that car and he died from it.”

Another lie. You knew exactly how he died. It wasn’t from a small-time thug in his neighborhood. It was from someone too utterly deranged to even mention.

“If I had just stayed behind, told him how much I loved him, that I never would have wanted to waste what we had for nothing, he would still be alive. None of this would have happened. I was a coward and I had an unbelievable amount of pride. He died because of that. Because of me.”

The therapist took her mug from the side table, sipped from it, and looked at you. You were covering your face with your hands. “Y/N…”

You looked up at her, your face a mess.

“You can't blame yourself-“

“I do. And I always will.”

She sighed, then gave you the moment you needed of silence.

“He didn’t die because you subjected him to it without his consent. He died because of the horrible way he dealt with it. He died from himself. He picked that fight because he was afraid he’ll lose you. And he did the same when he actually did lose you.”

You looked up.

“It was beyond your control.”

“I could have stopped it…”

“You wouldn’t have known…”

“And that’s why I’m always going to live with it. I didn’t know. I was stupid enough to think he was strong enough to keep himself alive. I have to live with the fact that the last time I ever got to see him was in a stupid fight…”

She stood up and went to her table, grabbing a mug and filling it with water. She gave it to you, and you took it. “Thank you,” you said with your nose filled.

She took her seat. You were silent now. You were giving her a chance to speak. Hopefully to change all this.

“Sometimes, we end up losing people too soon, and we most often regret what we said, or what we didn’t say, the last time we saw them.

“But what of the last few months? You said it was perfect. The best months of your relationship. You were happy with him. And that’s months compared to the one single day you fought. Sometimes, it isn’t about where you got to in the end. It’s about how you spend most of the days you did have. And you were happy. He was happy.”

You looked up from the floor and watched her kind eyes.

“And I think your boy had many issues with himself. At home. With a dysfunctional family. It wasn’t just you, Y/N. It was everything built up. You breaking up was just a symptom of it. All you did was make his life more bearable. Better. I think he would have said that right now if he were here.”

You sipped at your water, feeling the cold pour down your throat.

Better. Sure. Like you didn’t absolutely ruin his life right after that.

-----

Then

Love was never truly something to understand.

You never understood it at all. Neither did Jason. But you both knew it was something so beautiful, something you thought you could only ever have with each other.

They said love is just a type of sanity that society accepted. And it was true. Definitely. You fell so hard for him you were borderline insane. And love made you hurt in so many ways you never thought it could. It was never something to understand. It was just something to feel.

Love isn’t about light and darkness. It isn’t about how people are compatible. It is about depth. It is infinite.

And when it destroys, it hurts more than any kind of physical hurt there was. Love destroys so much; it has ruined so much of the world. The fucking Trojan War was caused by love. And how many died from that? Thousands, not including the civilians affected in battle. All because of a woman named Helen. Men fought over her, for love. And it ended up burning cities.

It’s both a beautiful and ugly being. It is, in fact, a being. An entire entity. And it goes around, striking so many in the heart and leave them helpless beyond fix. It chooses who to hurt. Some, just one sided, and it hurts like a bitch when it does. And when they’re lucky, two people fall for each other.

And when it ends, it hurts even more.

Wrecked beds. Walls filled with fist-shaped holes. Glass broken on the floor. Sheets thrown out. Books torn. Desks almost destroyed. Clothes thrown out in piles. Chairs thrown against the wall. Shelves falling to the ground. Mirrors broken in pieces.

Jason destroyed everything in his room. And you destroyed everything in yours.

Two people with equal darkness. Equal anger. Equal demons. In so many ways, you were perfect together. In some ways, it creates the kind of chaos no one could possibly interfere with.

Jason grabbed his desk chair, the one he’d just bought after he destroyed the last one, and slammed it on the floor repeatedly until it was in three separate pieces. And even then, he took a piece, and slammed it again.

You grabbed your brush. Your pencil holders. Your books. Your bags. Your fucking laptop. And you threw everything all the way to the other side of the room. Your mother probably heard you by now. But she didn’t think to knock.

Jason threw the chair pieces away and started for his desk. His fist was bruised by now, but he could barely feel the pain if it was even there at all. He threw everything off the surface, started balling his fist and slammed it right against the table. Over and over. He wanted it destroyed.

You still felt that rage. You wanted it gone. You took your clothes, started tearing them with their bare hands, then you let your tears fall as you took everything out from your closet. Nothing. Nothing worked. It was just as strong as it had been. It was always there.

His phone started to ring. He didn’t care who it was. He took his phone, threw it against the wall and heard the sparks burst out of it. It fell into pieces on the ground. He went over it, stepped on it with his foot repeatedly until it was broken beyond any kind of repair.

Your scissors. Your fucking scissors. You took your entire fucking drawer full of scissors and started hauling them right into the wall, one by one like you would with darts. They stuck on their sharp ends. You grabbed them, threw them at the door. And when your mother walked in, dodging a pair of scissors just before it landed near her head, you screamed for her to get out.

Bottles. From when he drank a boatload of booze the night before. He grabbed them, started throwing them against the window. Each time he did, it created a new crack, getting larger and larger the harder he threw the bottles. Finally, the window broke, and he shivered at the new rush of cold air.

You wanted to punch something. Anything. You started with the pillows but the lack of pain did nothing to ease your muscles. So you went for the wall. You punched it. Repeatedly. Then your hand broke by your own strength and you screamed immensely at the pain.

He tore his bed. The sheets. The pillows. The whole floor was filled with feathers by now and he couldn’t care less. He ripped everything with his bare hands, threw them across the room. The mattress was all that’s left. And even then, he started to tear it open.

You started hearing his voice. His damned voice. The one you’d hear when he’d console you, rub your back, places kisses on your head. You cursed at that voice and screamed your heart out just to block it out. But nothing worked. It was all you heard.

All he could see was your beautiful, untainted face. And he desperately wanted to forget it. He wanted to forget everything about you. He saw you in the mirror. And with his fist, he slammed it until it shattered around him.

You still couldn’t stop hearing his voice. This time it was screaming at you for what you did. It was all over the room. Echoing so loudly within the walls of your skull. You fell to the ground and started pulling your own hair. You screamed at the pain.

He closed his eyes. You. you. you. It was all he saw. Your face when you’d calm him down. The look in your eyes that always made his heart melt. He stopped punching. He stopped destroying. In the middle of his wrecked room, he sat down and leaned against the foot of his bed.

The tears that you unknowingly held back were here. And they wouldn’t stop pouring out of you. uncontrollably. They fell. You were crying, screaming into the cold, empty air, and still, you heard his voice screaming just as painfully.

Jason never cried so much in his life. Not when his father left. Not when his mother died. Not when he almost dies of hunger one night in the streets. Not when he was first told he was adopted. Never. Not once did he cry. And now, his head against the mattress so torn and destroyed, he sobbed, and your face was all he saw.

You pressed your face against the floor. You hated him so much. You hated how he made you fall in love with him so fucking hard and leave you hurting this much. You hated how he ruined your life, changed you when you never asked to be changed. You hated how you loved him. You hated how you still did.

He wished he was dead. He wished everything never happened. He never should’ve picked that fight, or accepted that detention sentence in the library. He wished he never met you, never fell in love with you, never hoped for something and lose himself so far off that he’d never climb out of it.

The anger was all too much. You hated him, but you hated yourself even more. You hated yourself for everything that happened, how you ruined it. How you ruined him. And you hated yourself most of all, because all you could think about right at that moment was how, despite everything, you still wished he wasn’t nearly as hurt as you. You still cared so deeply for him, enough that you wished he’d be okay.

Jason was never going to be okay. He’ll never get out of this. He threw his head against the hard mattress and sobbed his heart out. He screamed, gripped on his hair. And he swore, with all his life, he was never going to replace you. he was never going to find anyone else that could possibly fill in the hole you left him. Let that hole be. He didn’t want himself fixed. If he were to be hurt, he only wished that it were by you.

You gripped on the carpet and let the burn seep through your palm. You never needed him this much before. Ever. You never yearned for his hold, for his real voice to whisper in your ear as much as you did now. You never wanted his lips on you, his hand holding you up as much as you did now. You never wanted him to hold you so tight to make you believe this couldn’t possibly be over anymore… as much as you did now. And it was. It was over. You lost him.

Jason lost you. Over something he could’ve easily told you a long time ago. You would have understood. You would have taken cared of him. None of this would have happened if he’d just been less of a coward. He lost you. And he was going to hate himself for that for the rest of his life.

You just laid there, silently on the floor, and kept the tears flowing and the cries echoing. You let the hurt fill through you, and you made sure to punish yourself by letting you feel every inch of it. You let yourself realize that you were going to have to go through the next days of your life living through his hellish nightmare.

Jason gripped his hair again. What the fuck was he thinking? Of course, he won't expect you to understand. Of course, he didn’t want you to get hurt like that. Subjecting you into that life, forcing you to have a partner who was putting his life out on the table every night. You didn’t deserve that pain. You didn’t deserve him. He never should have met you. He never should have let you fall in love.

You crawled to lean against the wall, just to have something hold the weight of your body. You never felt so heavy. And when you looked up at the ceiling, you screamed into your palms. Jason would have been worth it. He would have been worth all those reckless nights. And even if you were to lose him to that lifestyle he had, it was better than a life without him at all. A life you were going to have now.

Jason threw one last punch on the floor, and nothing changed. Nothing eased up. There was still that pain in his chest. He looked up the ceiling, letting himself see your face again. He let himself cry over the fact that he was never going to hold you, touch you, kiss you, ever again. You were everything to him. And you were gone. He let you go.

You wanted him. You loved him. You were still undeniably in love with him. And it was the most painful thing in the world knowing he wasn’t yours anymore.

He was always going to love you. Always. And tomorrow, he was going to have to wake up without hearing the sound of your voice.

You swallowed, sobbing silently into your hands. You didn’t want this anymore. You wanted to wake up with all this being a dream.

He needed to talk to you. just once more. He needed to hear your voice. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown it all away.

You looked at your phone. Hoping he’d call. Hoping he’d try to reach out, telling you how much of an asshole he was and that this was all going to be okay.

He’d broken his phone, so he rushed to his drawers, rummaged through the piles he’d thrown on the floor to find the old, broken phone he stopped using after being locked in the library with you.

Maybe you should call him first. Apologize. Tell him you’d willingly go through all that just as long as he was yours. But your finger was stuck hovering over the black screen.

He took his phone, plugged it to the wall to charge. He was shaking so hard. And the minutes felt the longest waiting for the screen to light up.

You turned your phone on and his face stared back at you. Your wallpaper. A picture of you and him in bed. Your faces smiling. Your lips on his cheek. Him winking at the phone. Your heart broke all over again.

His phone finally turned on, and he forgot his sim card was still in his other broken phone. He raced to it, his fingers trembling, and put it in his old one. Without a moment of doubt, he called you.

Your heart stopped when his name popped up on the screen. He was calling you.

You weren’t answering. Five. Ten seconds passed. Nothing.

You wanted to answer. But you ended up staring at your phone with your heart blowing up all the way up your throat.

‘Please answer. Please, Y/N. I love you.’

You took too long. His name disappeared. And it ended up a missed call. You dropped your phone to the ground.

His heart shattered at the blank, empty sound at the other end of the phone. He sobbed on the floor, clutching his phone to his chest.

You looked away from the screen before his picture changed your mind. His beautiful face. You made the decision. You let him go.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Everything was going to change.

You were gone.

Jason is a memory.

You destroyed him.

Jason ruined your life.

It’s over.

It was done.

----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

----

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries @knightfall05x @l-horizon11

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader angst #batboys #dc comics #batarella #batarella fluff #batarella angst #i don't hate you series #i don't hate you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd reader insert #batarella series

130 notes · View notes

octalove · 4 years

Text

III: We Met

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader goes out, and finds herself in an alley with no one to call. An old memory is brought up. Part one and part two.

Who the fuck leaves a batarang lying around when they’re spying on a supervillain?

A week had gone by. A week where every day I tried to wake up and smile at my family and go to school and do calculus, but all I kept wondering was what kind of idiot leaves a batarang when they’re spying on a supervillain? I glanced over at it; I’d left it lying on my desk as a reminder. Every time I looked at it, I felt the sharp edges biting into my palm as his hands closed around mine. I smelled leather and the musty scent of unsettled dust in the warehouse. It was the same shape as the angry red bat on his chest- eye level with me.

How did he know who I was? How did he know I was there? How was it he just knew I’d show up to that same warehouse four days afterward in the middle of a school day?

“Tell Batman,” He’d said. If the secrets weren’t ringing around my head already- there it was. The line that kept echoing. Tell Batman, tell Batman. Telling Batman wasn’t an option. He’d lock me in the cave until I was thirty and growing liver spots. I’d never be Batgirl again. No way in hell was I standing before that black cowl and confessing two weeks worth of bad decisions.

That blue evening, Gotham was alive and breathing with the heat of something organic; rhythmic heart-beat in the muffled cars on the street, and the jazz clubs, eyes wide open in the bright, excited lights dotting the spiring skyline. The breeze bit subtly as the city shook the shackles of summer, and moved into early September.

I stuck close to Batman, almost apologetically obedient for the night as I tried to convey some sort of negotiation on my part; I’m sorry for acting weird, I’m on my best behavior tonight.

Robin didn’t so much appreciate that sentiment, because Batman’s side was his place, but patrol began civilly enough. Car theft on Nettleton (Red Robin dealt with), some questionable sex work in the Row (I oversaw and made sure the women were safe and willing), a robbery call (Batman and Robin checked it out- false alarm). By one in the morning, we were all mostly still in one piece, and lulled by the mildness and coolness of the night. I was dragging my gaze over Haytham Parkway when Oracle’s staticky voice came through the coms.

“Batman. There’s been a Red Hood sighting at the H&P in Gotham Village. It’s Falcone’s men.” Swiftly and gracefully, the three of us scaled rooftops, pillars and cell towers. We arrived within twelve minutes, and then planted ourselves like gargoyles. Listening. The Village was one of the more quiet parts of Gotham. It was all settled with blue collar, passive criminals, instead of outright violent ones. A few minutes passed. The building looked undisturbed.

“Do you think-“

Bang.

A gunshot followed by glass breaking. In a hair’s width span of time, Batman, Robin and I descended on the building and swung through through the shattered display window. Inside, broken glass littered the floor, along with disheveled items from the shop, stung around haphazardly. Two men were dead on the ground, blood around them like a premonitory chalk outline. They were unassuming men, but I recognized the patches on their matching shirts as Hadley’s Deli. They were Maroni’s men.

“Robin- the back rooms. Batgirl- check the perimeter. If he left the building, he won’t be far.”

I shot past them and into the dark, grappling to the roof for a better vantage point. From there I swept my gaze across the northern and eastern neighboring streets. Movement. Like a twitch in the darkness. I raced down a fire escape and into an alley adjacent east of the H&P. It was quiet. The sound of my own boots on the asphalt as I halted. It was small and enclosed- the shadows weren’t deep. If he was here, I’d know.

Click. And now I did.

“Easy,” He said, a rumbling, buzzing sound that was becoming familiar. “Easy.” The second order was much slower. I felt his presence as it drew closer, but I didn’t turn around. I was a damn good martial artist, but a gun would always be faster and deadlier than me.

“I just keep findin’ you, don’t I, little bird?” He stopped a couple feet away from my back. “Where’s Batman?” He asked. I scowled.

“He’s with the men you murdered.”

A deep chuckle. “You saw that? Maroni and I have been havin’ a… disagreement. He’s comin’ around.”

“What, he won’t submit to you?” I pressed, hoping since he was so keen on entertaining me, I might be able to probe for some information- figure out his long game.

“Something like that.”

“So all this. Is it just to get to Batman?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward. I tried to look for something to catch his reflection in- a window or something. I felt the cool metal of his gun part my hair like a curtain and press against the nape of my neck. Then, slowly, his gloved hand ghosted lightly across the side of my face, slowly, slowly, upward toward my temple until he found the button. Click. And just like that, my coms were down. No Batman’s voice in my ear. No updates from Oracle. No calling for help. How did he know that was there?

“What do want? Who the hell are you?” I said, letting frustration and anger deep into my voice. I stood cemented to my place as he drug himself around to stand in front of me, until I was staring back at that angry red bat on his chest. He’d holstered his gun.

“Why don’t you find out?” It was one part threat, one part joke that I wasn’t in on, growled contemptuously in that electronic flare that masked his voice. Whether it was rhetorical, or a genuine invitation, I took the opportunity to cautiously raise my hands to his helmet, feeling along the edges of the jaw until I found a matching set of release triggers. The architecture of the helmet was oddly congruent with something Bruce would’ve cooked up. Another mockery- like the bat.

His passive stillness terrified me. Like he knew just what was under the mask and just how I would react. Like it was all part of his plan, and I was playing my dutiful role. I pressed. A hissing noise as the inner workings went slack and released, giving me the freedom to push it up and over. When I saw his skin, then his mouth, I stopped. I stopped because he was actually letting me- and there was no reason he should be letting me except if he planned to kill me afterward. There was a long strangulation of the air between us. Gotham City- the buildings and streetlamps and gaudy, glittering marquees- seemed to quiet just to watch in anticipation. In a very coy way, his lips battled a grin. I felt like saying something witty, but stayed silent for fear of pushing time back into motion. He leaned forward, and lightning leapt in my stomach, despite myself. The dusk had alleviated, leaving only black across the sky that was rather vapid in comparison to the shining city reflected on his helm, still covering his eyes and nose.

“Scared?” He asked; quite spitefully considering my hands were trembling. Of course I was scared. But his voice was so human- smooth, but a little raspy, like anyone who gave orders for a living might have. It was low and deep, and I preferred it to the voice scrambler.

A dog barked from somebody’s fenced balcony, and some passing car shook with jaunty bass. Loud engines, sirens, honking, distant voices. The sizzling of a street taco stand. And still, somehow I was close enough to hear his drawing breath as his chest rose and fell. I went to push my fingers along the bottom of the helmet, to remove it entirely, but he grabbed my wrist.

A tiny, pinpoint red light was flashing on the breast of my suit. Batman was trying to contact me- unable to reach my coms.

“Daddy’s calling.” He looked wolfish there in the dark; featureless but a mouth displaying a cheshire grin that was wickedly snide. In a fluid motion, he released his grip on me and replaced his helmet, turning on his heel into the shallow shadows.

6 years prior

I hated this. The music, the marble, the champagne- all of it. I caught Alfred’s eye as he exchanged formalities with some distant-cousin-twice-removed of Bruce’s. I knew what he was looking at me for. The glint in his eye said it all.

Please behave, was the message. I’d already heard it twice this evening; Bruce told me how important this party was for the investors (aka, please behave), and Dick gave me some casual line about how he’d been looking forward to tonight all month (aka, please, please fucking behave).

It’s not like I had anything better to do. I couldn’t drink (no, not even the wine), and the only thing I had in common with company investors was that I was under Bruce’s thumb, too. Occasionally, some sweetly overbearing lady would appear, pinch my cheeks and pat my head, then disappear just as quickly. Thirty minutes passed as I sipped my ginger-ale and counted untied shoelaces, until I decided to find my brother. It was easy, really- just follow the laughter.

Dick wasn’t born in Gotham- not like me- but his rearing in the city had no doubt left a strong imprint. Everything about him proposed Gothamite glamour- even his voice. Far removed from the expensive private grammar lessons Bruce had bought him, he swung his vowels, and let his ‘a’s hang in the air, leaving an irresistible air of cocky, laid-back swagger. Some equilibrium between wealthy socialite and ‘man of the people’ he seemed adept at finding.

I found him at the snack table. He wore a perfectly-fitting suit of all black with navy satin accents, dark hair slicked back, and a very beautiful woman (I would come to know as Maya. Or was it Moira? Mara?) on his arm. A couple of his academy friends stood around him- freshly graduated, and so much wiser for it. It all suited him well. Not as much could be said for me.

“Hey.” He said, throwing me a grin.

“Hey.”

Maya Moira Mara excused herself to freshen up for a moment, and Dick put his hands in his pockets.

“Make any friends?” That was always his first question. I rolled my eyes.

“No. But you have.” It was a pointed jab- he and Babs had just taken a “break” and Maya Moira Mara’s silky red hair marked her as a painfully obvious rebound.

He sighed, decidedly ignoring me. “What about uh... what’s her name?”

“Who?”

“Ah, I forget. Her parents are international law something or other. Bruce works with ‘em. They have a daughter about your age.”

I just grunted. No use in making it seem like I was desperate for company now, considering I’d spent the last hour alone.

“There-“ He pointed to a girl standing alone, apparently abandoned by her respective international lawyer parents. Before I could slap his hand down and tell him it was rude to point, she spotted us. Following that, I’d look even weirder if I didn’t say anything, so after a nudge from Dick, I walked over to her.

“Hi.” I said, immediately wishing I could take the monosyllabic word back and try again. “I’m Jason.”

The girl smiled at me. A small, bashful sort of smile that you give when you’re the only people your age at a christmas party, so you slam together like two magnets.

“I’m Y/N.” She replied.

144 notes · View notes

thelittleredrobinhood · 3 years

Text

Oblivion

Hey everyone, sorry I haven’t posted in a while but I’m hoping to be more active now! This is a song fic I’ve been working on for a while. Warning it’s pretty much all angst.

Length: 2,156 words

Song: Oblivion by Bastille

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne

Ratings: Teen and Up

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death (Canonical), Blood Mention, Kidnapping, Police Mention. If you would like me to add any please let me know!

Summary: Damian lay peacefully sleeping in his fathers arms, Bruce only hopes his peace could last forever. But nothing lasts forever, especially in a life lived on the edge of oblivion.

Damian’s breathing began to even out halfway through some movie Bruce couldn’t name. He was too busy watching Damian, enjoying a moment where his son truly looked like a child, with no walls, no glare, just peace.

Patrol had been rougher than usual, had been for a while now. Slowly but surely Gotham was losing to the darkness within her, no matter how hard they tried. It was as if Gotham had given up, that she knew the war was already lost.

As the voices on the screen grew louder Damian shifted in his sleep. The man knew he should shut it off and carry Damian up to bed, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare risk ending the moment of peace his son had found, wherever he had gone behind his eyes.

When you fall asleep with your head upon my shoulder.

When you're in my arms but you've gone somewhere deeper.

As the end credits rolled Bruce finally shut off the TV, picked Damian up and carried him to his room. It always shocked him how light Damian was, that even with all he was capable of, he was still just a kid.

Gently he placed Damian under the covers and tucked him in, just as Alfred used to do for him. Though instead of leaving he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair from his sons closed eyes. He never showed this affection when the boy was awake, he couldn’t. As much as he loved him, he knew his child needed a mentor, not a father. And he couldn’t possibly be both.

So, he found himself in times like these crossing that invisible line. Letting himself care and love, but also worry. His son had been forced to grow up far too quickly and yet had so much growing still to do. And in these small moments, no matter how hard he tried not to, he always wondered if it was worth it.

This was a path that had taken so much from both of them, and one miss-step could cost them what little they had left. But hadn’t they given enough? Hadn’t his son given enough? Because as proud as Damian acted Bruce knew deep down the boy still felt like he needed to give more to make up for his past, to prove himself. That no matter what Damian said, he never felt good enough.

Bruce only wished Damian would know that he was proud.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to age without mistakes?

Slowly Bruce stood from the bed and made his way out of the room. Pausing only for a moment, he took one last glance at his son, then he closed the door behind him.

He stopped in the hall and drew in a long tired breath, slowly raking his hands down his face. It had been a long day, the exhaustion ached in his limbs. He should sleep, but that never seemed to help anymore.

Bruce released his breath with a sigh and began the short walk to the Batcave. An action he had done so many times he barely noticed when he came to a stop in front of the large computer, and began pulling up today’s files.

Though as many reports as he finished, there seemed to be an ever-growing number behind them. He wondered idly if it would ever end; he hoped so. If only for his children’s sake.

He turned for a moment to the glass case behind him. Inside his suit stood proud, the symbol on its chest unmistakable, even when surrounded by the darkness of Gotham. The symbol that kept some awake at night and yet let others sleep soundly.

At first, he had loved the thrill, the freedom of no identity, of no one knowing who he was. No one judging his every move, measuring him up against a man he barely even knew. He was finally free of Bruce Wayne, but then Batman became an identity of its own.

Sometimes he wondered if he was better off without the mask, but the good they do can’t be done in the light. At least not yet.

Are you going to age with grace,

Only to wake and hide your face?

The daylight came and went as if it had never been there at all and Batman once again found himself jumping into the fray, Robin by his side. As the Bat finished off his last thug, he turned to watch his partner. There were still two men left standing, but it was nothing Robin couldn’t handle. Though as Batman watched he couldn’t help but see the boys that came before him.

Dicks energetic grace, Jason’s ruthless accuracy, Tim’s calculating stare. All of them willing to die for this cause, his cause. And in the end, they all will. One way or another this fight will take them all. Whether it’s their bodies in the field or their minds once they leave it, the people they were when this started won’t make it out alive. Unlike himself who doesn’t have a choice.

No matter what happens to him neither Batman nor Bruce can ever change. Both a symbol, one of justice and one of hope, and both far too needed in these dark times. Neither can ever falter. Neither can ever die.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The night air was cold in his lungs as Batman watched the fight unfold around him. A small group of thugs had kidnapped a little boy from his bedroom window, hoping to make some money.

They were in an old abandoned warehouse, near the port. If you listened you could almost hear the waves, but Bruce had other things on his mind. There weren’t many kidnappers left standing, there had only been six to begin with, but a few tried to make a run for it.

“Robin, fall back and make sure they don’t escape,” he ordered over his shoulder as he threw a punch, knocking the man he had been fighting out cold.

“The police can handle them,” Robin replied, finishing his last opponent and going to help the child.

“Now, Robin.” The tone of Batman’s command left no room for arguments.

His partner sighed but followed orders, turning his attention to the two fleeing criminals. They had barely made it twenty feet, stumbling around in the chaos, their weapons lost in the fight. Robin went for his batarang when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

The kidnapper Robin had just fought had gotten back up and was heading for the child. Disobeying Batman’s order Robin abandoned the escaping men and ran for the young boy.

The thug made it to the child first and pulled out a knife. Thinking quickly Robin tackled the man, taking his knife and lodging it in his shoulder. A non-fatal wound but a painful one. The man quickly dropped to the ground screaming in pain, blood pouring out of his arm.

Robin ignored him and turned to the small boy, who jerked back in fear. Slowly, he undid the small child’s bindings and helped him stand. Batman had finished with the other kidnappers and the police were quickly making their way inside.

After handing the kid over to the cops, Batman and Robin left the scene. Their job finished for the night, though the ride home was made in silence.

The Batmobile came to a slow stop and Damian was quick to leave, ready to put the night behind him when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Robin, you disobeyed my order,” Batman stated, his voice echoing off the cave walls.

“I saved the boy, doesn’t that matter?” Robin aske, turning on his heel.

“Of course it matters, but you also stabbed a man in front of him, Damian.” Removing his cowl Bruce looked into the eyes of his son.

“I had to take him down!” He replied, the anger and frustration clear in his voice.

“Not like that. We can’t do that; we can’t be like them,” Bruce responded, the frustration growing in his voice as well.

“I’m not one of them, stop acting like I am! I don’t need you or anyone else controlling me,” Damian shouted.

After a moment’s hesitation his son turned back around and marched up the stairs, ending their conversation for the night. This isn’t the first fight they had like this and Bruce knows it won’t be the last.

When you play it hard, and I try to follow you there.

It's not about control but I turn back when I see where you go.

With a frustrated sigh Bruce turned to the computer and started on the night’s files. In the corner of the screen, he pulled up the news coverage on what happened. He paused for a moment when he saw the boy reunited with his parents. He truly is proud of Damian, but there’s more to it than that.

The boy is crying, held in his parent’s arms. Robin may have kept him safe but there are more types of pain then physical. The kid had to watch it all up close; that affects people. They are supposed to be heroes, the ones good people aren’t afraid of, but what happens when you’re scared of the good guys, too? What road will that lead him down?

When Bruce says Robin can’t be like the criminals they fight, it’s not that he thinks Damian is evil, it’s that he doesn’t want people to think he is. His son has a chance to be something new, not just the weapon his mother wanted him to be.

He can make his own future now.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to leave a path to trace?

A hand on his shoulder snaps Bruce out of his thoughts, though more than anything he wishes he could go back. Wishes he didn’t have to face reality quite yet. That everything was just as it was then.

Damian lay in his arms again, just as he had the night Bruce carried him to bed, but he wasn’t sleeping. Or maybe he was, that’s how some people choose to rationalize it. But it isn’t rational, it isn’t fair, though what in their lives ever were.

He looked so relaxed. More relaxed than Bruce had ever seen him with his eyes open. He should close them, but he feels frozen in place. Those eyes had been so full of life only a moment ago, now they might as well have been made of glass. But while lifeless they also held no pain. Bruce chocked back a sob; his son was finally free.

A voice spoke behind him, though he didn’t hear the words. The syllables and tones sounded meaningless and foreign, but he knew what they meant. It was time to go, but he couldn’t. The hand on his shoulder grew firmer, the words louder, but he didn’t dare move. His eyes locked on his son, his child. Now forever, just a child.

But oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The wind blows through the trees, but the sky is clear. No storms or rain, hail or snow. Just the bright light of a new day. A day his boy will never see.

It’s almost ironic, that the one day the sun shines through Gotham’s clouds is the one day no one wants it to. The one day it won’t be cherished. The one day it won’t be remembered, because no one is looking up. Their eyes cast to the ground, to the new stone among the old, to the name engraved upon it. Damian Wayne.

A meaningless name for a meaningless boy. A lie for the people, an act for the world. This name was only a burden to him, an unbearable weight. A brand on his life that forever marked him for greatness. Forced him to surrender himself so that he may be molded into what others wanted. The heir to Bruce Wayne. The heir to Talia Al Gul. The heir to a future of anyone but himself.

No, his son’s true grave lies deeper, under rocks and dirt. A simple glass case, with a small scrap of fabric, a costume covered in blood. A monument to the boy he really was, to Robin. To his hardened eyes and tattered edges. He may not have been free in life, but it was the closest he ever got.

He can only hope the real Damian is remembered, that after everything he’d done, that after everything he fought for, his redemption came. And that the rest will fade into oblivion.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

#bruce wayne #damian wayne #batman #dc comics #tw: major character death #tw: blood #tw: kidnapping #tw: police mention #angst #bastille #sad

13 notes · View notes

anakinthetrashking · 4 years

Text

How’s the Heart?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871853/chapters/65565265

Somehow I made it and it is FINISHED!!!! This is my fic that I wrote for @batfam-big-bang !!!!

The biggest of shoutouts and THANK YOUUUUS to my incredible betas: Ace, Skye, and Em!!! @toomanyfandoms21, @timmydrakewings, and @geekinthecorner !!!! I’ve never actually had a beta before, but for this i had 3??? You guys were so kind and patient with me and my last minute tendencies. Thank you for all your suggestions and edits!!! [heart eyes]

and then!! ARTISTS!! you guys really put your heart and soul into the pieces you made and i just,,,, want to cry,,,,THAMKKKKK YOUUU!!!! keep being awesome! im love u: Butter, Dean and Lucy!!!!!! @heybabybird, @greenbean-riverdean��, and @houser-of-stories !!!!!

Its a Tim-centric 3+1 Three times Tim is helped or comforted by his family, and one time where he's doing pretty alright. (TW: Depression, Anxiety, Suicidal thoughts, etc! full tags on ao3)

1) Here I am to Share the Fear (Tim & Damian & Dick) Bruce is back and everything seems to be going well- so of course old fears pop up again. Damian notices his absence and tries is best in his own way to offer some comfort.

2) Fly Towards the Calm (Tim & Steph & Cass) Steph notices that Tim's failing at basic self care again, so she declares Movie Night. She and Cass try to remind Tim that he needs to take the time to care for himself and not just continue pouring himself out on behalf of others.

3) Night Will Come But Not to Stay (Tim & Bruce) Turns out catching the Clench and loosing his spleen have more lasting effects than they thought. Tim tries to ignore and push past his new found limitations, Bruce notices that something is off and is there for the inevitable breakdown.

+1) Fair Winds, Another Tale (Tim & Alfred) A rare event of relaxation, the Waynes have a picnic at the manor. Alfred worries about his family, but for now, it seems like everything is alright.

Read it under the read more or on AO3 !

Here I Am To Share The Fear

Too much. Everything was too much.

Bruce was finally back, and Tim was glad that everyone was so happy - despite them all being wrong.

Wrong.

WRONG.

He shook his head and put a light smile on his face, trying to focus on the conversation in front of him, but Dick was so loud. And there were far too many people in the mansion - in the same room - Tim swallowed and grit his teeth against the feeling of his organs crawling up his throat.

There were eleven people in the room.

Ten roses in the flowered centerpiece on the buffet table.

Nine cups scattered about the room.

Eight candle flame shaped light bulbs in the chandelier.

Seven white socks (why was Dick only wearing one?)

Six voices in variating clarity.

Five… Five? Five fingers on each hand.

Four windows, none open.

Three lamps, all unlit.

Two doors.

One exit. Viable exit, at least.

Zero people looking at him. Perfect.

It was time for him to go, so he took his exit as quietly as possible, noticing the volume of the crowd drop as he walked out. No one stopped him. No one seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Good. That- that was something he could deal with.

As he fled to his room, he couldn’t help but notice how alive the manor was. So many lights were on, even in empty rooms. Little things littered the place as if people actually lived here. A book on the table here, ready to be picked up and read from where they left off. A suitcase full of clothes there, waiting to be unpacked. Doors open instead of closed and locked. Bed covers turned down, ready to welcome them home.

Tim reached his door and saw the life that had flooded there as well. Posters, pictures of family and friends covered large portions of his walls. Little trinkets given to him were lovingly placed around his desk. It was more than he could take, so he ran. He ran and ran through hallways and past open doors until the warmth of the occupied portion of the Manor turned to the chilly halls of the guest wing. Back in the furthest unused room is where he finally stopped, willing his heart rate to slow down.

The room looked like something out of a book, everything covered with sheets and layered with undisturbed dust, no signs of life. The evening light cast the room in cool tones of blues and greys, shadows soft and hazy. The attached bathroom was much the same, cold tiles sucking the heat from his feet.

Sitting down, he hugged his knees to his chest, letting the lines of the sink cabinet dig into his back. Tim stared for a while, trying not to think, and letting the clock tick a rhythm into his head.

The clock sounded so loud, and his breath seemed even louder. Nothing felt ok. Exhaustion pushed at the edges of his vision while panic seemed to well up inside of him and claw into his throat. Everything felt like it was closing in on him so he pushed back, laying on the floor and stretching his arms and legs as far as they could go. The cold seeped into him and he vaguely wondered if that’s what it felt like to die. To let your warmth bleed out into the universe. Death… was a calming thought. As humourless as that was, it forced a short laugh out of his throat.

Death would be preferable, he thought, to whatever feeling this is.

Bruce had been back for a month, and for a little while the triumph of bringing him home had been, well, satisfying. Relieving. Exhilarating.

But now, somehow, he was left feeling empty. Hollow. Carved out. His skin was pulled taut over his bones and there was nothing inside. Each day was an empty victory. A consolation prize. An uphill battle against an unseen enemy.

Eating, drinking, getting dressed, sleeping, showering, all done out of the necessity of existence. But most of the time he didn’t feel like he existed at all. Just a doll or a robot - there, but not really. Tossed aside until needed again. Some sort of empty, semi-existent thing. It felt too much like being five again and waiting by the phone for that occasional Sunday call from his parents.

A single tear slipped out, unbidden. It left a quickly cooling trail in its wake.

Everything is so stupid. Tim thought, frustrated by his own stagnancy, willing himself to just do something, instead of just lying there considering the logistics of several stupidly lethal ideas. He was working on kicking out the thoughts when he was distracted by the sound of light, purposeful footsteps. Damian. With footsteps like that it meant he was trying to be considerate. Creepy.

“What do you want?” Tim sighed.

“Drake.” Tim could feel rather than see the curt nod Damian gave him. “Pennyworth brought out those blueberry scones you seem to favor. However, you were not present. So I…” His self-assured tone faltered.

Tim turned to look at him for the first time. “You came looking for me?”

“I would hardly call it looking. You frequent a few spots and the conclusion was obvious by the number of people that are currently within the Manor.” Damian sat cross legged on the floor, pushing a scone into Tim’s hands.

“But why would you…?” Tim sat up, arching an eyebrow.

“It is only natural to know your enemy, Drake. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” Damian sniffed and waited for Tim to take a bite. Then he continued. “Then you will best know how to poison them.” A (dare Tim say it) friendly smirk showed itself on Damian’s face.

Tim snorted, and for once they seemed to have gained a sort of mutual understanding.

They lapsed into silence again. Damian shifted, obviously wanting to say something but didn’t know how. The expression on his face looked so scrunched that Tim almost wanted to laugh.

Instead he asked, “Is it still unbearably loud out there?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “With Grayson in the room? Obviously.”

Somehow Damian seemed even more frustrated. There was a good chance that any moment now he would jump up and leave, but not before throwing out an insult to cover his wounded pride at having to retreat. In his own way, he was trying to offer an olive branch, and as tired as Tim was, something in him couldn’t let that opportunity pass. He could almost hear Dick’s voice in his head, telling him that if he would just talk with Damian, have a conversation, maybe they could find common ground.

For once, he could see the clumsy effort that the brat was making, and he knew deep down, more than anything they both yearned for warmth. Not the sort of warmth that contrasted the grounding feeling of the cold tile beneath him, but the warmth of human connection. The numbness that had been growing in him twisted at that thought and he decided to take a chance.

“It’s nice to have everyone around, but…” he glanced over to try to gauge a reaction, “I can’t seem to settle into it.”

A sort of recognition, reflection, sparked in Damian’s eyes at that, and some of the tension began to leave his body. Tim continued.

“I guess it’s just that there’s always been something. If I do well enough in school, maybe my parents will take an interest in me. If I become a better Robin, maybe Batman will go back to normal. If I bring Bruce back, maybe we can all be happy again… But it never works. It’s never enough, and now- now there’s just… nothing.”

A few moments passed, and Damian’s own internal battle ended as he found the words to reach out in return.

“I, too… Mother’s time was very limited. I trained and studied hard for any extra moment of time or nod of approval she could give… and after Father denied me, it was much the same, trying to rework standards and limits for his approval. Not having something specific to work towards does indeed seem… disconcerting.” Tim searched his face and found sincerity there, though his eyes seemed to be distant as he turned away.

Damian once again found himself at a loss for words, so he thought about what Grayson would do in such a situation. A hug was… out of the question, but- he lay his hand in-between the two of them, palm open. This, he supposed, he could do. Tim took it, surprising them both. Damian’s hand felt almost unbearably warm after the cold of the tile floor.

They sat again, together, in silence. It was more companionable, though still awkward and stilted in ways neither knew how to fix.

“There’s nothing more I can do for this family. There’s nothing I can think of.” The silence stretched before them, and Tim hesitated to put his fear into words.

Finally, he whispered, “ There’s no excuse for me to stay now.”

Damian’s face whipped around to face him. “As usual, you are wrong, Drake.” He scoffed, “Don’t you know you can’t choose who your family is?” pausing, he let go of Tim’s hand and stood up, turning to leave. “You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

Quick but light footsteps sounded out in the hallway.

“Grayson!” Damian called, “Come fix Drake before Father requires his assistance again!” Nodding to Tim he left without another word.

Dick then came skidding around the corner into the bathroom, one socked foot sliding out against the tile. “Tim! Are you ok? What’s wrong? Why are you here of all places?”

Overly warm hands, distant eyes, honest feelings? Tim let out a deep sigh. “You should be more worried about the little gremlin. I think he’s got a fever.”

Dick tensed as if to sprint off again, and Tim held in a sigh of disappointment, knowing that Damian would be the priority, yet again. But instead of running off, Dick simply pulled out his phone and sent off a text, settling down into the spot on the floor that had been recently vacated.

“Bruce is on it.” He glanced out the doorway as if he could still see Damian storming past. “Did he-?” The question of his behavior went unsaid but not uncommunicated.

“No, we had a completely civil conversation. One might even call it a heart-to-heart, by our standards.”

“Therefore, he must be sick?”

“Other signs, too. But yeah.”

The buzz of an incoming message confirmed it, but Dick put his phone away instead of typing out a reply.

“A heart-to-heart, eh? I always knew you guys could get along if you just tried talking.”

“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” Tim shot a glare at Dick who was failing terribly at trying to look affronted at the very thought, “but it does seem like we are a lot more alike than I realized.”

“Who would’ve known?” Dick teased.

“Never mind, just say I told you so next time.” Tim grumbled. “Anyway, it seemed like he was really trying, and that he wanted to help in some way. I guess I just couldn’t ignore that.”

“Yeah.” Dick had his proud big brother face on. “I'm glad you guys are finally getting along. What did you talk about?”

“Oh, you know, feeling worthless without having something to focus on, questioning our places in people's lives, the usual. “

“That does seem to be a common theme in our family.”

“He called me family,” Tim murmured. “Or, well, he implied it. But for him, that’s basically saying it.”

“Tim, that’s…” Even Dick looked astounded.

“Unbelievable?”

“No, not unbelievable.” He chided. “But definitely surprising.”

“That’s one way to get me out of a bad mood, I guess. I was so surprised that it jarred me right out of my own downwards spiral.” Tim closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “Most everything still sucks, but that’s a bright spot, at least. My therapist keeps telling me to look for those. I guess I have another one to add to the list.” He turned his head to share a small smile before standing up to stretch. “That and Alfred’s blueberry scones. I sure hope there’s some left.”

Dick matched his smile with a blinding one of his own and reached over to ruffle Tim’s hair.

“You know, if you ever need to talk-“

“I know.” Tim bumped his shoulder into Dick’s. “Thanks, Dick.”

Fly Towards The Calm

“Think fast!” Stephanie’s entrance was about as subtle as a stampede. She must have been hanging out with Jason lately. As the door behind her swung closed, she tossed a tightly, carefully wrapped package at his face. He caught it with one hand as he finished reading the last paragraph of the proposal he was looking over.

“Evidently I’m the Wayne family errand boy now,” she whined as she jumped up to sit on his desk. “I drove the brat home from school and got enlisted by Alfred to deliver food to your sorry butt.”

“You could have said no.” he muttered. Peeling back the folded wax paper revealed a tuna fish sandwich, exactly how he liked it, though a bit squished from being thrown across a room.

“Refused? Alfred? Are you joking?” she asked, over dramatically taken aback. “Besides, I was rewarded with my own delicious sandwich and not one but two cupcakes.”

“Two?” his eyebrow raised.

“Well, he only gave me one, but generously allowed me to snatch a second. I didn’t eat yours because I’m nice.” She dropped the rest of his lunch on his now closed laptop.

“Indeed, I shall never be able to repay your kindness,” he said around his own mouthful of sandwich.

“You got that right. Anyway, Cass and I are gonna have a night on the town tonight, wanna come with?”

Tim hummed in agreement.

“Great! I’ll text her. You should probably get a nap first though. Come on, you can eat on the way.” She popped the last bite in her mouth and hopped off the desk.

Gathering his things, he glanced at her in amusement. “Alfred put you up to this, too?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you even have to ask?”

Looping her arm in his, they headed to the door. He noticed a slight hesitation in her steps and turned to find her looking at him funny. But she just shook her head and let whatever it was, be.

Until they got in the car, of course.

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she sped down the road she asked, with a tone he couldn’t quite decipher , “Did you use my dry shampoo?”

His mind ground to a halt. Of all the questions he thought she’d ask, that was not one of them, and for the life of him, he couldn’t reason out why. They constantly borrowed each others’ things without issue, and for that matter, so did the rest of their mismatched clan. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he needed that nap after all.

It had been a minute, maybe he should answer the question.

“Got my own bottle.” He said carefully, “Seemed useful.”

“Hmm.” God, now she sounded like Bruce. How many odd habits had she picked up from them?

“Tim…” she sounded soft and hesitant, as if he were fragile. He hated when they did that. “When’s the last time you took a shower? Or ate a full meal?”

He contemplated it with a hum. “Patrol,” he said finally.

Stephanie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel for a moment. “Has it been bad lately?”

“What? …Oh.” Oh. “Not… really? It’s just been numb. Quiet. A bit like the way everything is muffled when you’re underwater.” A bit like drowning, he left unsaid.

She nodded and made a sudden U-turn. When he looked at her in askance, she shrugged. “We’ll patrol together another night. I’ll update Cass when we get to my apartment, but go ahead and text Alfred now. We’re going to have a self-care night with movies and facemasks and whatever other dumb indulgent Pinterest crap I can think of.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue but found he was too tired to care and yawned instead. “Nap first?”

“Shower first. Then nap.”

[BREAK]

He woke the moment she opened the door and turned his head to meet her gaze as she poked her head in with a grin.

“Ca-“ he broke off in a yawn, “Cass!”

With a quick glance behind her, she continued into the room, holding out a steaming mug. Tim sat up in bed, gleefully accepting it as she sat down next to him.

“Coffee,” he sighed in delight.

“Coffee.” She agreed with a solemn nod.

The silence was comforting as they sat there, leaning against each other, Tim soaking in the rare precious moments where he wasn’t rushed, or pulled this way and that. Reaching the bottom of the mug, he set it aside, wrapping his arms around his sister instead.

“You are a blessing upon humanity,” he said, “we don’t deserve you.”

She laughed and tightened the hug. The moment felt just like flying free above the streets of Gotham, and the thought of staying in for the night felt right. Cass pulled away just enough to look at him face to face, an amused twist to her lips.

“You smell like a Steph!” Squeezing him once more, she slipped away and was halfway out the door again when she turned as if she had just remembered something. “Oh!” her smile turned sly, “Decaf!”

“Hey!” He jumped out of the bed to catch up with her, but when he rounded the hall into the living room he was stopped in his tracks.

It seemed that somewhere in between dropping him off at her apartment to take a nap while she met up with Cass and “gathered necessary supplies”, and returning with said supplies, the original objective had been lost.

“It looks like you brought back half the manor’s supply of blankets and robbed a concession stand… and is that the old DVD case? I thought I got rid of that.”

“Yeah. Me and Dick saved it! Having everything digital may be convenient, but having a physical folder of DVDs just feels right!”

Tim suppressed the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and decided to leave the debate of Digital vs. Physical for another day.

“Anyway, you’re up just in time to help us set up the blanket fort!”

An hour later found the living room unrecognizable under the piles of pillows and draped sheets. Tim and Steph stood in the kitchen sorting snacks and discussing the night’s activities.

“-and then there’s this green tea and honey one that’s really great, very soothing-“

“Steph, you don’t have to explain them all to me, you know I’ll always let you test your facial concoctions out on me,” he cut in.

“Of course I know that. I’m not rambling about them for my benefit- I’m rambling about them for yours”

A head tilt was his only reply.

“Ok, let me try to explain this in a different way.” she put down her phone to look at him. “Tonight, Cass and I are going to attempt to teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“I know-”

“Not in the way that you’ve done or that you know. Your version of taking care of yourself is to fool the cameras, the public, to fool Batman into thinking that you’re at your best.” she shoots him a look. “You’re not. You’re running on fumes and you can’t fool your family.”

“Taking care of yourself is NOT finding the lowest number of hours of sleep that you can ‘function’ on.” She makes quotes in the air with her fingers. “It is not replacing a meal with a power bar, even if the calories are the same! It’s not only taking showers when you have to leave the house, or shutting yourself in to do casework all the time!” her hands fly up in the air and she huffs.

Taking his hands in hers she looks him square in the eyes before saying more softly, “Self-care is eating full, balanced, Alfred-cooked meals as often as you can. It’s doing your laundry every week and brushing your teeth twice a day. It’s taking naps even when you would literally rather be sorting through the 5-year backup of paperwork in R&D. Or better yet, getting a full 8-10 hours of sleep regularly! It’s looking in the mirror and saying to yourself, everyday, ‘I am good enough. I am worthy of and deserve all the love me friends and family try to give me.’

And tonight! Taking care of yourself is having a spa night with Cass and I while we watch anime movies and eat copious amounts of junk food, because we all know that patrol burns an extra 2,000 calories anyway! Plus, we can look at the Affirmations board I have on Pinterest! Cass likes practicing saying them while she beats up bad guys. Says the look on their faces is priceless.”

“Funniest one, I said, ‘I aspire to be a blessing and an inspiration to others.’” Cass recites popping her head out from the mass of blankets, “Guy completely stopped! Then I punched him.”

Night Will Come But Not To Stay

“I cant- I can’t do this anymore! I won’t do this anymore!”

“Promise?”

“…What?” his tears paused for the barest moment, before overflowing again. Bruce was crouched in front of him, tear tracks staining his face.

A moment ago Bruce had been standing with his back to him, untouched by Tim’s words, or perhaps instead, disgusted?

But perhaps that conclusion was wrong. As Tim searched his face now, it looked more like he was the one in pain and exhausted beyond belief.

His lips were moving, and Tim struggled to catch up.

“What?” he repeated, softly and sniffly, a cord of self-disgust lashing out within him at the pathetic sound of it.

Not just tear tracks, it seemed. Bruce was still shedding tears as he repeated himself.

“Do you promise? That you won’t do this anymore?”

Tim’s mind felt like sludge as he tried to piece together how that request could possibly fit into the context of the last few minutes.

They had been training, not so long ago. Bruce had reached out to Tim first, this time. Offered to train together like they had in the past. Tim had jumped at the chance. He should have known better.

It had been going fine, at first. Great, even.

But his insomnia had been worse than usual this past week, and his other symptoms had been acting up, too. In response to the lack of sleep, maybe, or just the continued pattern he had observed, gradually worsening over time.

Honestly, it was probably a great big mix of things.

But he hadn’t been willing to cancel - not the first thing that he had actually been looking forward to in… too long to think about.

So, he’d shown up anyway, his body begging him to just rest.

They’d warmed up and started sparring.

Well.

It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes of sparring, and his body went from begging to outright rebellion.

He went down and couldn’t get back up.

And for some stupid reason, Bruce had decided to yell at him to get up.

So, he yelled back.

Yelled.

Screamed.

He’s not even sure what all he said, just that this last added bit of disappointment piled atop the ever-building terror of symptoms and lit the fuse that exploded within him and stole the earth from under his feet. It ripped through him and tore out his throat, multiplying as his view was constrained to the back of the man he respected most, seeming to be utterly unmoved by it all.

His obvious confusion and continued silence spurred Bruce to try to explain.

“Promise me that you’ll stop running yourself into the ground. Please.” He tilted his head to try and catch Tim’s eye. “I know you’ve been struggling, and not just lately. Alfred said you’ve seemed like you’ve been having an especially difficult time for quite a while. He said he had been meaning to bring it up to me before… and that he had tried to talk to you while I was gone, but that he couldn’t get you to stay in one place long enough to broach the subject. I know something’s going on. Tell me about it. Let me help.”

“Something’s going-? Help?” his laugh was incredulous and desperate as he dug his fingers into the mats beneath him before forcing them to relax. “No. You can’t- you can’t help me.” He scoffed. “Was this-“ he waved his hand around to try to indicate this situation that he couldn’t find words for, “this, supposed to be helpful?”

“Well,” Bruce looked a bit sheepish, “when you get stressed, I know you tend to internalize all of it. Direct it all at yourself. I thought if you had something outside yourself to direct it at instead… It had worked for-“ he cut himself off. “Well.” He said again, letting it rest a moment before continuing at a different angle. “What do you mean I can’t help you?”

“I mean, you can’t. I- I already researched it. There’s nothing- I mean, I sure had enough time. I had thought, with how tired I am, that maybe it’d help with my insomnia. You’d think so, right? But no. No. I’m still awake, but now I’m lying there, and I can’t do anything. Because I’m too tired! I’m so tired, Bruce. I thought- I thought I knew what tired was.”

“Tim, you’re not making sense. What’s going on? Why are you so tired?” he shifted to sit down and lifted his arms to give Tim a hug but stopped short, holding there, offering.

Tim fell into his arms and Bruce gathered his son as best he could.

“Turns out The Clench has permanent effects that the cure couldn’t reverse. They’re only just beginning to research it, but I’ve been tracking symptoms. Chronic fatigue and pain, nerve damage, migraines- other things they aren’t sure are connected. There isn’t a cure, and it’s gradually been getting worse. I’ve tried the suggestions though it's hardly any change: diet, exercise, rest, the basics. But it’s all just maintenance, and I can’t-“ he went limp as his eyes filled with tears again. “I can’t do the things I used to be able to. I’m barely making patrol- the rest of the day I’m in bed. I can’t do classes. I had intended- I was going to finish High School, or maybe get my GED. But I have to lay down after taking a shower. I can hardly think anymore. I have to drag myself out of bed to go to the bathroom. I used to be able to do everything, and now I can’t do anything! I can’t help you anymore! And you can’t help me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bruce pulled him closer to his chest and rested his cheek on his head, rocking them back and forth. “It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out.”

“No, it won’t! It’ll never be ok again! Can’t you see? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think! I can’t think, Dad! What use am I now?” his voice broke and Bruce felt his heart break with it.

“Tim,” he gathered Tim’s hands in his own from where they were clutching his shirt, and planted a kiss on his knuckles, smoothing over them with his thumb. “Son, listen to me. You were not born into this world to be useful.” He stopped him before he could interrupt. “I know you like being useful. I like being useful, too. But I need you to listen to me. You are more precious to me than all the stars in the sky. Nothing will change that. When I say, “We’ll figure it out”, I’m not talking about a cure, or some way to make sure you are, quote unquote, “useful”. I mean that we’ll figure out a way for you to live a happy life. A successful life in whatever capacity that it may mean for you. When I say “it’ll be ok”, I don’t mean that I have a fix, I just mean that no matter what, the others and I will be here for you, however you need us. I mean that no matter what happens, you have a place here. You are my son. I love you.” Bruce cradled Tim close again, and their tears mingled where their cheeks pressed together.

“It’s ok. I’m here”

(+1) Fair Winds, Another Tale

Despite still being in the middle of setting things up, the picnic mood was already in full swing. Large blankets were being weighed down by pillows and baskets of assorted snacks. Tables were being laid out to hold the main meal, soon to be a large potluck. No matter how much Alfred insisted on being the one to cook it all, each attendee persisted in bringing something to share. He faintly wondered if they would run out of table space again this time ‘round.

With the majority of the tasks already accomplished, and the remaining tasks hijacked by the ever-enthusiastic young people, Alfred found himself with nothing pressing to do. He made his way over to where Tim sat, transferring water bottles and pop cans from cartons to coolers.

“As much as I appreciate the help, I do so wish they’d stop flinging cutlery across the lawn.”

Tim looked up to watch Steph and Duke and Jason for a moment, trying to suppress his own smirk at the sight of them gleefully tossing said cutlery to each other.

“I mean, it's just plastic, right?”

Alfred sighed as he sat in a camping chair set up next to the coolers. “Yes, but that’s not quite the point. The job is getting done, though, I suppose.”

They sat a moment in pleasant silence, watching as their family milled about, more relaxed than Alfred had seen in years. He hated to break the quiet, but with the entire family around lately and as busy as ever, he had hardly had a decent conversation with any of them. He worried about all of them, of course, and their shared inability to ask for help, but Timothy was an especially quiet lad, when it came to facing problems.

“How are things?”

“Well, all the drinks are already chilled, and we have plenty of ice.”

He shrugged a little at Alfred’s pointed look. “I think they’re ok.” He fiddled a bit with the boxes and tied a fresh garbage bag to the back of a cooler. “Not great, but ok. The weight, the fog… It’s lessened, somehow?”

“Your medication is helping?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a big part of it. But more than that, the way that I think about things now, it’s- I mean, obviously, it’s taken months, and ‘better’ isn’t a word that I’d use- but there’s been progress. And for once? It’s like I can let that progress just, be? I’m not sure how to explain it, really.” He leaned back to stare at the sky. “ I’m still working on things, and putting effort into it, but I guess I’m not expecting things to be fixed completely and immediately.”

Alfred hummed in response encouraging him to continue.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s still frustrating to no end. Trying to ‘let go’ of perfectionism and the control issues… Sometimes I feel more like I’m chopping off parts of myself with the issues rather than just ‘letting them go’. But I’ve been finding new ways to define myself, and it’s been more manageable lately. I can work with manageable. And when it’s not, I have people who make it bearable.” He looked off to where Bruce was welcoming their first guests. “That’s more than enough for me.”

“Master Timothy,” Alfred waited until Tim met his sincere gaze, “I am so proud of you.”

The small smile Tim shot at him reminded him so much of the shy grins that were common when young Timothy had first entered their lives. Alfred’s heart ached for the many children whose smiles he had seen stolen over the years. The moment was cut short as Jason stormed over demanding,

“Tim, Steph is insisting that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice is better than the 1995 version. You have to tell her she’s wrong.”

Steph came bounding over with Duke. “What's wrong with you? Do you hate Kiera Knightley or something?”

Jason took a dramatic step back with his hand on his heart. “You should know better than to ask that question! But the 1995 version is still the better version. It's more faithful to the books! The delivery is stunning! The banter is unsurpassable! And it has Colin. Firth.”

Duke breaks in, “I mean, he’s got a point. They took the time necessary to keep as many details as possible from the book. Elizabeth’s take down of Darcy is unparalleled. When it comes to banter that’s definitely the one to watch. Also, the 2005 Mr. Bennet is kinda creepy, not gonna lie.”

“See? Duke here is a man of taste.”

“But the aesthetic!” Stephanie cried, “The finger twitch! Darcy looking like a sad puppy in the rain! Elizabeth kissing Darcy’s hand!!! 2005 is a masterpiece! Tim, you tell them!”

“Don’t look at me, I think they’re both great. Besides, I like Jane Eyre better.” Tim says.

The other three stop and stare.

“You know, that makes sense.” Duke said with an assessing look. “Personally, my favorite is the Count of Monte Cristo.”

Jason threw up his hands in defeat. “You guys aren’t even talking about Jane Austen anymore!” They all turned as another car came up the drive. “Oh thank god, Babs is here! She’ll take my side.”

Their conversation faded into the distance as they paraded back across the lawn, dragging Tim into their argument as they went.

Bruce watched them fondly out of the corner of his eye as he approached in turn.

“The Kent’s are here, save Clark. Lois says he tried a new recipe and wanted to run it past Martha first. Diana’s running a bit late, but for the most part it seems that everyone else will be here in an hour or so. How are things coming along?”

Alfred knew he was asking about more than just picnic preparations. “All is well, Master Bruce. For once, all is well.”

#bbb2020 #batfam big bang 2020 #batfam #batfam fic #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #Stephanie Brown #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst and fluff #holy crap i cant believe this is finished #tw depression #tw anxiety #tw suicidal thoughts #also talk of chronic illness #part three might hit a little too close to home during current events sorry #shout out to my fellow chronic illness peeps who are grieving the loss of health #i def cried while writing it #tim drake gets a hug #also everyones in therapy btw #all is well alfred says until clark shows up with that accursed sweet tea and restarts their ongoing battle over tea #please imagine the intense eye contact across the lawn as clark sets down the sweet tea at the drinks table smugly #it wouldnt fit in the fic but it fits in my heart #also u better believe that Dev is there!!!#im just too shy to write him

23 notes · View notes

rhub4rb · 5 years

Text

Home is Where the Heart is

AO3

First Chapter Next Chapter

Here it is! Be prepared for angst and fluff for the next many chapters to come! Without further ado~

-_-_-_-

Running around Gotham and living in abandoned buildings had never really been part of Marinette’s plan. Not that Marinette had much of a plan in the first place, but pretending like she did made her feel slightly better about her situation.

It was her third night in Gotham, trying to find one Alfred Pennyworth.

Master Fu hadn’t known where the former Miraculous holder was, and it had only been because Duusu could sense Alfred slightly that Marinette was even in Gotham in the first place.

She didn’t get to Gotham with a plane like a normal person though, she got there with the help of Kaalki.

It was kind of hard to take a plane somewhere without any type of legal papers.

She had no ID, no passport, no birth certificate.

Marinette had tried different ways to find Alfred, she had even checked to see if he was dead, despite Duusu being able to sense him, just to be safe. It had all been a bust so far, but Marinette wasn’t planning on giving up.

She wasn’t quite sure what she would be doing if she did.

At least she didn’t have any issues with money. Master Fu had left all of his money, which was a surprisingly high amount, for her when he passed away. Marinette didn’t try and bother with sleeping at a hotel though. Most places in Gotham wanted some form of legitimization, and when all she had was money upfront, not many people would be willing to rent her a room.

Her first night in Gotham, Marinette had rented a room in a Motel, and after that, she swiftly made the decision to never do that again. She still got shudders when thinking about it.

It was after a long day of a lot of searching, and a lot of nothing, that Marinette found herself sitting on the roof of a random building at night, looking over the city.

It reminded her of late-night patrols with Chat Noir, resting at the Eiffel tower, teasing and talking to one another.

Marinette hadn’t even registered that she was going to cry until the tears fell down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, despite no one being around to see her cry. It was in the small things, and it made it hard for her to concentrate on her new mission, but Marinette wouldn’t break. Breaking meant to her that she regretted her decision, and Marinette couldn’t regret her decision. She just couldn’t.

Marinette was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and she was quick to get on her feet and look for the source of the sound.

There, on the building next to the one Marinette had been sitting on, was one Nightwing, a Gotham vigilante, if Marinette remembered correctly.

He took a step forward, opening his mouth to say something probably, but Marinette never gave him the chance.

She ran.

Nightwing shouted at her to stop, but Marinette didn’t listen. If he caught her, Marinette didn’t know what she would do or say. The risk was too big.

She reached the edge of the roof, and rather than stopping like Nightwing probably expected her to, Marinette jumped.

For one heart-stopping moment, she didn’t touch the ground, until she landed on the other building in a roll. Marinette didn’t look behind her to see if he followed, focusing instead on just getting away.

It was a regular patrol, the bat family splitting up to cover as much of Gotham as possible, when Dick spotted a girl sitting at the edge of a roof on a tall building. Her shoulders were shaking, as if she was crying, and his mind immediately went to the thought of the girl jumping off.

Dick took a step forward to stop her. She must have heard him when he started approaching her, because her head snapped up to look at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, but Dick couldn’t see much more than that. The lower half of her face was covered by a black surgical mask.

Dick was going to talk to her, but before he even got the chance to, she bolted. He yelled at her to stop, only for her to jump off the building. Dick thought for a moment that it was it, that she was going to fall and he wouldn’t be fast enough to save her.

But then she landed on the other side in a roll and just kept running.

Dick stopped at the edge where she had jumped, just watching as her form became smaller and smaller the farther she went.

He touched the comm in his ear, his brothers’ voices going off, asking him what happened.

“I think I just ran into another street kid.”

He couldn’t see her anymore.

“I thought she was going to jump off the roof, but…” Dick shook his head. “I’ll explain more at home.”

Still, the image of her red puffy eyes stuck with him through the rest of the patrol. Her distant look was familiar to him. Grief. Mourning. Dick didn’t like thinking of the implications of what it could mean.

She didn’t look very old either, probably around Damian’s age if Dick had to make a guess.

His mind ran through the possibilities of who she could possibly be, but he knew that this wasn’t his place of expertise. Tim could probably come up with more answers than he could.

The girl must have been trained in some way though. She shouldn’t have been able to make that jump, couldn’t without some form of training. It was too fluid, clearly something she had done before. She had been fast too.

Maybe he should have chased after her…

Marinette let out a tired sigh as she slipped inside the abandoned apartment she had been sleeping in.

All the windows were covered and blocked with planks, as were the doors, but Marinette had found a loose plank that she could pull off to get in.

She sat on the cold floor, resting her head against the wall and closing her eyes for a few seconds, trying to calm her hammering heart. She took off her backpack, where the Miraculous box was in, and placed it in her lap.

“That was close.”

Tikki.

Marinette cracked an eye open, looking at her kwami and giving a tired nod.

“We’re still no closer to finding Alfred,” Tikki added, making Marinette sigh tiredly.

“I know Tikki, I… I’ll figure something out, I promise.”

It was quiet for a moment, as Tikki just looked over her chosen.

Bags way too big for a seventeen-year-old were under her eyes, and her hair was a mess from the wind after she had run away. Marinette looked exhausted.

“Don’t worry, Marinette, it’s going to be okay,” Tikki nuzzled her cheek, and Marinette fought hard not to cry again.

“It’s just- it’s so hard.”

Tikki had been Marinette’s rock since the final battle against Hawkmoth. She had been against Marinette’s plan, but she also knew there was nothing she could do to dissuade her chosen from the plan that Marinette had made.

So instead, Tikki supported her chosen through her grieving, not letting her be alone when she was hurting.

Marinette had always put others before herself, and it was painful to see her force herself through this mission. It made Tikki worry.

Would Marinette dedicate her life to the Miraculous and the order? Tikki hoped not.

Marinette didn’t even have a sketchbook with her. She kept saying that it was because she simply didn’t have the time, but Tikki knew better.

Perhaps she could talk Marinette into taking a break tomorrow. Alfred Pennyworth was probably not going anywhere, and if he did, then Duusu would be able to tell.

Tikki just didn’t want to watch her chosen wither away.

“There’s no threat right now, it’s okay.”

Marinette took a few shaky breaths before giving Tikki a watery smile.

“Thank you, Tikki. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for Marinette, you deserve so much more than all of this. After we find Alfred, we’re going to look for a new home.”

The look Tikki gave Marinette left no room for argument, and Marinette found herself agreeing with her Kwami.

She couldn’t continue living the way she was now, staying in abandoned places. It was cold, and Marinette was worried about what she would do once it was winter. She would be going into hibernation mode, and without a proper place to stay, Marinette feared she would freeze to death before she managed to rebuild the order. It just wasn’t that easy when there was no documentation of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

But, she could think about that later. For now, her first priority would be to find Alfred.

“What happened out there?” Asked Bruce, looking at his oldest son.

“I don’t really know, if I’m honest,” Dick said, looking at the rest of his family with furrowed brows. “She was crying, I’m sure about that, but…” Dick trailed off, shaking his head.

“You thought she was going to jump?” Bruce asked. He had heard what his son had been saying over the comm when it happened, but he wanted to be sure.

“She did jump, over to the other building,” Dick said, eyes trying to convey what he was saying. “She took a leap of faith with a three-meter distance.”

It was quiet in the Batcave as they all stared at the oldest Robin in disbelief.

“She jumped between the buildings?” Jason asked, just to be sure.

“And all the other buildings after that. She has experience of some kind, but why?”

Dick was mostly confused about the whole thing. He knew that look in her eyes though, for that split second he saw them. She was grieving.

“I think she might be a new street kid,” Dick said, and the others looked at him in confusion.

“Why do you think that?” Tim asked from his seat by the computer, trying to find the girl via security cameras around the city.

“She was crying when I spotted her, it was part of the reason that I thought she was going to jump off in the first place. She must be new to the streets,” Dick said, shrugging. “Doesn’t explain her experience with free-running though.”

Tim let out an annoyed sigh by the computer, before turning around to face the others.

“Either way, I can’t find her on any cameras. Don’t know how that is but…”

It was concerning, and a tense quiet took over the family, as they thought of the possibilities.

“We’ll keep a lookout for her. If you spot her running rooftops, you’ll report and try to approach her cautiously. She’s too much of a mystery for us to not be careful,” Bruce ordered.

It wasn’t rare for the members of the bat family to spot street kids. Honestly, they saw them on a daily basis. But one running across the rooftops with expertise was more concerning, and when they didn’t know if she could actually pose a threat, they needed to be careful.

Dick just felt bad about it. And he was worried.

He was convinced that she was going to jump off. He didn’t know what he would do if he was unable to stop it before it happened.

-_-_-_-

@serenacross200 @valeks-princess @skyel0ve

#Home is where the heart is #why do I always go with the longest possible titles #maribat #marijon #probably didn't expect that did you #unless you read my posts #or part of the discord #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #prepare for the angst in this #joninette #jonette

540 notes · View notes

what-if-i-imagine · 4 years

Text

Days to be Remembered (Fourth)

(4/5) Five birthdays Jason and Alfred remembered the most throughout their lives.

Ao3

(Jason)

“Jaylad,” his dad’s voice called, gradually pulling Jason from his sleep. “Jaylad, it’s time to get up.”

“Dun’ wanna,” Jason slurred, pulling the blanket farther over his head.

His dad chuckled, the sound vibrating across Jason’s skin, and gently pulled the blanket down again. Before Jason could try and pull the second blanket over his head, there was movement under him followed by the feeling of weightlessness.

Which is when he realized he wasn’t in bed at all, and what he was pulling on hadn’t been a blanket. He had fallen asleep on Bruce’s lap at the batcomputer, both his own and his dad’s cape pulled over him for warmth. The feeling of weightlessness had been caused by Bruce standing to carry him up the stairs and into the house.

Jason caught a glimpse of the time on the grandfather clock as it closed behind them and saw that it was around 5 a.m..

He had slept for five hours then.

“Happy birthday Jaylad,” Bruce whispered as he carried him through the halls,

“Thank you Dad,” Jason mumbled, curling more into Bruce’s chest.

“Alfred is going to have my head for letting you sleep in the cave the night before your birthday,” Bruce said.

“That I will,” Alfred’s voice startled Bruce based on his jolt. Bruce turned and Alfred was there, still in his pajamas, with his arms crossed over his chest. It was rare that Jason saw the man outside of his butler uniform, but it was one of Bruce’s rules as master of the house that Alfred couldn’t work on his birthday—a rule Jason had learned over the past two years to hate just as much as Alfred as Bruce didn’t let him go out as Robin all twenty four hours of August 16th.

“Happy birthday Alfie,” Jason mumbled, giving Alfred a sleepy smile.

“Happy birthday my dear boy,” Alfred smiled in return. He uncrossed his arms and held them out expectantly. His dad hesitated, his grip on Jason tightening for just a second, before he pressed a kiss to his temple and handed him over to his grandfather.

Alfred ran a hand through Jason’s hair and held him close, and Jason could feel all of his tension drain away. Jason smiled a little wider and snuggled into Alfred’s arms when he carried him to his room and laid down in his bed with him.

He had been trying for three years to break Jason of his co sleeping habits caused by being raised in a studio apartment with a pull out bed. He had been partly successful, with Jason now being able to fall asleep in a room alone, but he still tended to have panic attacks when he woke up alone in the middle of the night, and often seeked out Bruce when they got too bad. Their birthday happened to be the only day of the year Alfred would sleep in bed with him.

It was also the one day of the year Alfred was willing to sleep in later than 5:30 a.m. which meant Jason got to sleep in later with him.

Alfred fell back asleep first, but Jason wasn’t far behind. When he felt the strings of his consciousness slip away, he made a wish, even though he knew that was supposed to be saved for candles. He wished for this to never change.

(Alfred)

“I would like to request tomorrow off,” Alfred said.

Bruce looked up from his newspaper, eyebrows furrowed when he spoke, “Alfred, you always have your birthday off. You don’t have to request it.”

“I am aware,” Alfred nodded. “But I wanted to be sure you knew I would not be in the manor for the entire day. I will return before dinner with Master Dick though.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Bruce said. ”Will you be going out with Commissioner Gordon?”

“We will be meeting for breakfast.”

“It’s been a long time since you two had alone time,” Brcue said, his expression softening by a bit. “Have fun.”

“We will try,” Alfred gave a slight bow, and left the dining room.

Bruce never had to know that Alfred had not gone to his bedroom, but to Jason’s.

Alfred had enjoyed their shared birthday for a multitude of reasons. He would never admit that one of those reasons was that he always slept better on those two nights in those twenty four hours when he allowed Jason to indulge in his co sleeping habits.

When Alfred woke around 8 a.m. he quickly dressed and left for his breakfast with Jim.

Their breakfast was held at a cafe not far from the GCPD station, where they chose to sit outside at a table in the slightly chilled air. Jim carried most of the conversation, knowing Alfred was too emotionally tired to do so at the moment. When they parted, Jim surprised him with a ghost of a kiss and a soft smile.

“We need to go out together more often,” Jim said.

“We do,” Alfred agreed. They didn't speak of further plans, or make promises they couldn’t keep. That had been the issue with their first attempt at a relationship, not emntioning the act of being a same sex couple in that time. They were both busy men, but they would always find a way to make time for each other, even if that time was months and years apart.

Jim walked Alfred to his car, and kissed him one last time before Alfred drove away.

He stopped by the bookstore first. He needed to pick out a birthday present for Jason, and had waited until the last minute, something very unlike him. He ended up buying copies of Persuasion and Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, and the Hamlet, Macbeth, and King Lear editions of No Fear Shakespeare. He of course knew Jason loved to read the shakespearean plays in their original form, and was intelligent enough to have understood everything that happened in them without the modern english adaptations, but he also knew Jason had been eyeing these editions for months.

Alfred then took a stop at a flower stand, grabbing a bouquet of white lilies and whire roses, then took a stop by a chili dog stand. He carefully wrapped his chili dog to save for lunch, and drove across Gotham to his true destination.

Jason Todd-Wayne. Loving son, grandson, and friend. May you rest in the light.

Alfred took a seat in the grass in front of the four month old grave. He first laid the books down, then the flowers, and smiled.

“My dear, sweet boy,” Alfred said. No one was there to see it, so he let the tears silently fall down his cheeks and into the grass. “Happy birthday. Fifteen is quite the special year. Master Dick has told me sophmore year was his favorite. I’m not sure you would enjoy your reading list, so I brought you some books to read on the side to keep your wits about you.”

How Alfred wished he were spending his birthday in a park like he had his thirty third, and not in a graveyard where his grandson had been buried next to a woman he had only known for a day.

#willow writes #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily

13 notes · View notes

elareine · 4 years

Text

clock ticking (sudden silence)

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Loss, Grief/Mourning, Age Difference, Identity Reveal Summary: For twenty years, Dick Grayson has waited for his timer to begin ticking. When it finally does, there are only two issues: Jason is thirteen. And the timer only reads eighteen months.

Read here on ao3

The thing about the timer was: It didn’t tell you anything about your soulmate, only how long you would have together.

Dick had heard people talking about how they ‘sensed’ who it was before they ever met the person, how they just knew their soulmate(s) would be sweet and gentle and fiery and perfect. Some even said it came to them in dreams, the vague shape of a face they loved more than anyone else.

Privately, Dick thought that was bullshit. It was a timer, nothing more. They all had the same lettering, the same number system, everything. There was no way of knowing what the other person would be like.

When he had been a child, he’d thought he would meet his soulmate in the circus for sure. He couldn’t imagine anything different. Perhaps it would be an audience member, coming up to meet him after the performance. Maybe one of the countless children that tried to sneak in to watch, one of the ones that looked so poor, the circus owners decided to turn a blind eye and allow them some joy, therefore helping Dick meet the love of his life.

But deep down, he’d always thought it would be another acrobat. Someone joining the circus. Someone who knew the sheer joy of flying, the thrill of danger and an audience. Someone to become part of his family.

That dream crashed spectacularly, of course. Try as he might, Dick never found quite another dream to replace that one. Would they be handsome or beautiful? If they were his soulmate, he would think so for sure, and that was all that mattered. Would they be kind? Supportive? A rock to lean on?

He’d told himself that it wouldn’t matter until his timer started, and maybe not even then.

Bruce’s timer, for example, was ticking. Dick had spotted it for the first time months into their partnership. He’d been confused, had asked if he had met Bruce’s soulmate—where were they?

In those days, Bruce had still been willing to answer Dick’s questions. He said: Sometimes, even soulmate relationships didn’t work out. It was a chance, a hint, nothing more. With him being a vigilante, the choice to be together wasn’t as easy as kids’ movies made it out to be.

(He had never actually mentioned the name of his soulmate. Back then, Dick had thought he knew anyway. Now, he wasn’t so sure.)

(He also thought Bruce had been full of shit that day.)

His teenage years were pretty good, romantically speaking. Sexually, too. Some lovely puppy love, a bit of experimentation, the conclusion that yep, he was going to continue using the gender-neutral ‘they’ for his future soulmate, but probably not in the plural sense.

Still, he kept waiting for his timer to start ticking.

He heard about the new kid before he ever met him. He and Batman weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the time, but. Rumors spread, and soon, so did videos of the kid in the Robin mantle. Seeing how Dick was now twenty and very much not built like that anymore, the conclusion that he had been replaced was pretty much inevitable.

It would be accurate to say Dick didn’t react well to the news. Bruce had every right to take in another child, but how dare he call him Robin? Nevermind that Dick himself had moved on from that title. It wasn’t Bruce’s to give.

So his first time meeting the kid was already tense as hell. The fact that his timer started ticking the exact moment he laid eyes on Jason didn’t help.

Dick was panicking.

Jason was thirteen.

He was tiny.

Okay, he wasn’t, he was pretty average for his age, he went up to Dick’s chest, even, but the keywords here were ‘for his age’ because Jason was thirteen.

Dick wasn’t a pervert, okay. There was nothing sexy about a teenager that had just hit puberty to him. His replacement, nonetheless. His brother.

But maybe all of that would’ve been fine. They could’ve become friends or made sure to meet up later in life when the age difference wouldn’t seem so monumental. Seven years wasn’t so much once both of you were out of puberty. Dick could’ve morphed from a big brother figure to something closer over time. He’d have enjoyed that, probably.

But none of that would happen because the timer only had 18 months left from the day it began.

Dick didn’t say anything to Jason. When the younger sought him out, he kept their interactions short. His ongoing problems with Bruce were a good enough reason to stay away from the manor, from Gotham, and to never talk about this. Either he would die far away from the kid, never to be mourned, or Jason himself would die, having lived unencumbered by soulmate that was way too old for him. It was better that way.

His friends found out in one of the worst ways possible: by accident, two days before the timer was due to stop.

Jason had disappeared over a week ago. Dick had tried to warn Bruce, had fully intended to at least be in Gotham and try to stop it from happening because although these things were rarely wrong, he knew he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for not trying—but Jason had disappeared so much earlier than he’d thought.

In a way, that made it worse. If Jason had indeed been kidnapped (and according to Bruce, signs were that he’d left on his own, but you never knew what the incentive for that might’ve been), then Dick didn’t want to imagine the torture Jason would have to suffer in the week before he died.

He still did, of course. That was why Kori and Wally had caught him staring at the ticking time bomb on his wrist.

There was no need to explain, no way to hide what was happening. Kori sighed, “Oh, Dick,” and Wally was wrapped around him in a hug faster than Dick could tell that he was fine.

“Is there anything we can do?”

Dick looked into Kori’s beautiful green eyes and seriously considered the question. A speedster, an alien, a man trained by the world’s greatest detective. Together, they had saved the city—heck, the world—from certain disaster more than once.

But they couldn’t fight against fate. Dick shook his head.

Eventually, they made to leave, and truthfully, Dick was glad. He didn’t know how to talk about this. How to tell them that no, he had no idea where his soulmate was because he had rejected him, hadn’t even kept a close watch.

But Kori turned around.

“Just,” she closed her eyes, “is it one of us?”

Understanding her fear all too well, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “No.”

At least there was that. No one here would miss Jason.

Bruce didn’t tell him when he found a lead, he just went. Dick wasn’t even mad about that. He hadn’t been entirely honest with Bruce, either.

Besides, when he got the alert that the Batplane had taken off and saw his timer tick down its last hours, he already knew that Bruce would be too late.

00:02.

Dick watched the last hours tick down on his timer. Now that it was happening, he would give anything to be in Ethiopia. He barely knew the boy—nothing beyond his history and that he was Dick’s soulmate; that he was Robin—but he knew that Jason didn’t deserve to die alone.

Bruce hadn’t reached out to him at all. Neither had Alfred.

00:01.

It was agonizing.

00:00.

Jason’s last hour had begun. Dick set the stopwatch on his phone for sixty minutes. The timer didn’t go into so many details. He’d tried to find out just how accurate it was; the results had been dispiriting. Jason could, as of now, be dead. Or he could live and breathe and hope for another 59 minutes.

The whole time, he prayed for his display to change. That Bruce would do the impossible once more, defeat fate, and buy Jason more time. Buy themmore time, now that Dick suddenly and painfully realized that he wanted there to be a them so badly, in any way he could get.

His stopwatch beeped. It was over. Dick hadn’t felt a thing, couldn’t have told you when his soulmate died, but it was over.

When he heard about what actually happened, it was worse.

Here’s a secret Dick never told anyone: He still wished Bruce had not even tried to revive the Joker. The old bastard had died that day like he deserved—unmourned.

Once Dick went through Jason’s things.

Bruce wasn’t home—gone on one of these trips he took these days, the ones filled with revenge and darkness in a way they hadn’t been before. If Alfred knew what Dick was doing, he didn’t comment. And after all, Dick thought mutinously, why shouldn’t he be here? This had been his room, once upon a time. He had a right to see what happened to it.

There were books there now. So many books. Jason hadn’t been choosy; classic French literature was crammed in next to space operas and cowboy romance. When Dick idly pulled one out, he could see scrawled comments in the margins. Apparently, Jason had considered “The Great Gatsby” to ‘suck ass.’

The room itself was much more orderly than when Dick had been responsible for tidying it. No way to tell if that was because Jason was a neat-freak or because Alfred had cleaned it out since his death, though.

It took Dick a second to realize what was missing. There was only one photograph, Batman and Robin heading into the night. Where were the family pictures? Dick remembered his own collection: his parents, the circus folk, his friends, Bruce and Alfred and Babs and Clark…

Maybe Jason had taken them with him when he left.

Still Dick’s eyes searched the room, hungry for something more personal than books and tidy clothes on a hanger. Finally, he saw it: a simple brown teddy bear, almost hidden by the curtains.

“Hey, little buddy,” he murmured, crouching down. “What’re you doing in the corner like that?”

In his mind’s eye, Dick could see Jason arguing with Bruce—or maybe just quietly seething in anger—, finally throwing the bear into the corner, his decision made.

Dick hesitated, but—he couldn’t leave the bear. It shouldn’t lie here, abandoned in a mausoleum. It went home with him that night, and to every home since.

It was such a fucking cliché, but after that, life went on.

Dick could see the empty space Jason left behind in Bruce’s life, in Alfred’s, hell, even in Tim’s, in Gotham itself—but the only thing for him that had changed was the nature of his guilt.

Eventually, he started dating again, unwilling to be chained to the ghost of a what-if. It was okay. People had relationships after their soulmates died. Sure, there were forums full of people complaining that nothing compared to dating The One. Wasn’t like Dick had anything to compare it to, though, so he was in the clear.

He and Babs really gave it a try. There was no universe in which Dick wasn’t glad that they did. She would always be one of the most important people in his life.

After they split up, the responsibilities keep piling onto him. Being a full-time vigilante with duties to more than city, to more than one team, heck, even to an international spy agency—it kept him busy. Distracted. Until fate found him again.

Dick’s timer was ticking again, only this time, he genuinely had no idea who had set it off. Maybe he’d been too busy, too numb to notice during patrol. It wasn’t unheard, people gaining a second chance at a soulmate. Dick just hadn’t exactly considered the possibility for himself, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

It read two years.

Dick wanted to throw something against the wall. Why? Why would he only be granted so little time? How much of it had he already wasted because he hadn’t noticed when it started ticking?

How many chances would he be granted, just for his love to leave him? Was this to be his doom?

You sound like Batman.

Dick stopped and pulled himself up. The last time this had happened, he’d been twenty, unsure of his place in the family and the world, ill-equipped to handle an already devastating situation.

That wasn’t him anymore.

This time, he would take whatever time they had. And when it ended, he’d be grateful for it, and keep living his life.

He just had to find them first.

There was a new vigilante in town. For months, he was but a rumor of a red helmet and dead bodies left in his wake—until he made his big move.

The takeover of the Penguin lounge had been well-planned and viciously executed, and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it, not when all the Red Hood’s minions were loyal to him and his precautions excellent. He stayed far away from Batman and Robin; he seemed to have an understanding with Catwoman; his policy seemed to be to protect the street workers.

Somehow, he’d moved himself to the bottom of Batman’s list. Still, Dick knew he made Bruce uneasy. All their attempts to find out more about the man failed. Even when Tim managed to listen in on the club’s communications for almost a whole day, all they got was a name: Red Hood.

He was a rumor, until the day he sought out Dick on the rooftops.

“Red Hood.”

“Nightwing.” The other man’s voice was metallic, a voice modulator giving nothing away about its original timbre. “What brings you to Gotham?”

“Helping out on a case.” Nightwing’s connection to Batman wasn’t a secret. Dick would be astonished if there was still a citizen left that didn’t know Nightwing and Robin I were the same person. “What brings you to this roof?”

“You’re going after Sionis.”

“Yes.” Or at least, he was now.

“He hurt one of my own. He’s mine now. Stay away.”

Dick did his best not to snort. That was bullshit. His own interest in the Sionis case had been cursory at best. If Red Hood had just waited three days to eliminate him, Dick never would’ve noticed.

“What about him is so interesting that it warrants you coming out of hiding?”

The helmet tilted to the side. Dick would be damned if he could tell you why he found the movement so provoking, but he did. “Who says it’s Sionis I’m interested in?”

“Uh.” Dick was sure his eyes were wide behind the domino. Was Red Hood… hitting on him?

“Tell Batman to stay out of my business.”

With that, the other man shot a grapple and vanished. Dick made no move to follow him.

Dick expected that to be it. He returned to Blüdhaven, leaving Gotham and its secrets for Bruce to deal with. Except that particular secret seemed to have singled him out.

The first time he saw Red Hood in a fight in his city, he did nothing, merely observing the other’s fighting skills critically. Not bad. He had clearly been trained in a variety of fighting styles and was quicker than you’d expect for a man of his size. His left hook was good enough to rival Bruce’s.

Dick was still pretty sure he could take him in a fight.

“Are you just going to watch?” Red Hood called out, gripping one of his attackers by the throat and dangling him into the air.

“I dunno, you seem to have it pretty well in hand,” Dick sniggered.

“Never mind.” Red Hood dropped the now-unconscious man, turning to disable the next one with a well-placed nerve strike. Dick noted that unlike some of the scenes he’d seen in Gotham, Red Hood seemed to have no interest in killing these men. That implied he had some sort of value system. Interesting. “Please leave. That was terrible.”

Dick eyes the entrance of the alley. A group of armed thugs was gathering, clearly ready to strike. Decision made, he jumped from the roof, landing right beside Red Hood. “Sorry, but I can’t let you have all the fun.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You come into my city and then complain when I help you?”

“Oh, is that what you call this? ‘Cause all I can see is you standing around and jibbering.”

Dick thought the criminals he was currently sending a few thousand volts through might beg to differ. Between the two of them, they had the entire gang out in less than ten minutes.

It was, Dick reluctantly conceded, fun.

It became something of a regular occurrence after that. Nightwing would drop by Red Hood’s territory whenever he was in Gotham, and Red Hood would return the favor with regular visits to Blüdhaven. They’d banter, punch out some criminals, collect whatever they had come for, and go their separate ways. Not exactly a friendship, but something easy. Comfortable.

Until the night they busted a heroin ring in an abandoned warehouse and found some kids hiding three rooms down.

Dick saw the boy first. He couldn’t be more than twelve. His body was skinny, and not in the way teens sometimes got after a growth spurt.

Not knowing what else to do, Dick gave a wave. “Hi. I’m Nightwing. What’s your name?”

“I don’t want to tell you.” As soon as he uttered the words, the boy tensed, visibly expecting punishment.

Dick smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll tell you a secret—Nightwing’s not my real name, either.”

“Well, duh.” The teen scowled, but he did look less afraid. Then he looked over Dick’s shoulder and asked: “Who is that with my sister?”

Dick turned around to see Red Hood kneeling and… wearing a blonde wig? He blinked.

The little girl in front of him hiccuped, still crying but visible distracted by the big shiny helmet. Wearing a wig. Where had Hood even found that?

“That’s Red Hood,” Dick told him, trying to sound as if all of this was perfectly normal. God, he hoped the kids hadn’t heard the fighting. What a terrible time to pick this warehouse.

“What’re vigilantes doing here? Is something happening? Were there guns?”

“Sort of. I’m afraid this place isn’t safe, but we can bring you somewhere else for the night,” Dick said.

Red Hood looked up and suggested: “The sisters on St John Street. They’re good people.”

“No one will separate you,” Dick added. “Just help. Get you some food, somewhere to sleep safely.”

The boy looked at them. “We’re not going back to—to—”

“You won’t have to,” Red Hood promised, and Dick nodded. Not if he had anything to say about it—and once he would investigate whoever it was that they were running from, he would have.

“How about we accompany you?” Dick suggested.

The boy looked hesitant, but the girl suddenly gave a giggle. “You can’t walk like that,” she told Red Hood.

“Why not?”

“You look silly, dummy!”

“Well, that’s very rude of you to say.” And just like that, the wig still perched on the helmet, Red Hood stepped out onto the street. He was walking rather uncannily like a model, Dick noted with some amusement.

The girl followed him, still laughing and pulling her brother along. “No! Take it off!”

“But I feel so pretty!”

The distraction worked, and the walk to the center for vulnerable children passed quickly. Only there did Red Hood take off the wig, making a big show of stuffing into his belt to hide his ‘shame.’ “Your wish is my command,

The girl’s priorities seemed to have changed, though. “C’mon,” told her brother, “they said there’s food in there.”

But the teenager hesitated, looking at Dick. “Are you sure they’re okay?”

Dick was about to reassure them again, heartbroken by the hesitant hope in their eyes, when Red Hood said: “Yeah. I stayed with them a few times when I was your age. They get it.”

He didn’t mean the boy’s age, Dick realized. Jesus.

“Okay.”

Dick let them head in alone. They needed to see that they would welcome on their own, vigilante accompanying them or not. He would talk to the workers in a minute or two.

Red Hood’s metallic voice broke the silence. “So, I’m assuming you’re going to look into whoever did this to them.”

“You bet. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes. You better be quick.”

Dick had already planned on that, but: “Why?”

“I do not like child abusers, and I clean up after myself.” With that statement, Red Hood gave a little wave. The casual movement was belied by the suppressed rage that suddenly seemed to pour out of his every pore. “See you.”

Dick stared after him, undecided.

He had allowed himself to be judge, jury, and executioner once, and never regretted it. Not once had he since felt the desire or need to be in that position again.

Didn’t mean he didn’t get it.

In the end, he decided to head inside. The kids needed him, and they were what was important here.

Still. Life had just become a lot more complicated.

“We should eat.”

“Sure. Let’s have a picnic. Just you, me, the stars, and the person we’re staking out. How romantic.”

“Shut up.” Red Hood casually dropped a lunchbox next to where Dick was sitting. “You haven’t eaten in all day.”

“I’m not in danger of fainting, you know.” Still, Dick couldn’t help but open the box. “Pasta salad?”

Red Hood shrugged. “Carbs.”

It honestly smelled terrific. Red Hood had even brought a fork. Dick was ready to dig in when he realized something.

Red Hood was still wearing his helmet.

“So… you’re just going to sit there and watch me eat?”

Red Hood crossed his arms. “Well, if you say it like that, it just sounds creepy.”

“Yeah, exactly. You don’t want any food?”

“I’ll eat later.”

Dick considered him. “I bet you I could get that off you in less than two minutes.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to.”

For the first time, the other vigilante turned his back to Dick. There was what Dick recognized to be a trigger device at the back of his helmet. Dick shuddered. Red Hood would rather have his head explode than someone see his face without his consent.

“Okay, don’t take it off then. That looks like it would spoil the meal.”

“My point exactly. Do you always talk so much when there’s food on the table?”

Dick grumbled, but he did start eating after that. Damn. That pasta was goood.

Three days later, Red Hood shot a man that was about to decapitate Dick with an ax. He even left the criminal alive. Dick tried not to be charmed.

“Well, fuck.” Red Hood stared at the little dot on Dick’s display in dismay. “Guess it’s back to Blüdhaven for us.”

“Looks like it.” Dick sighed. Just what he’d needed. His ride was back in Blüdhaven since he’d taken a detour through space on his way here. Looked like he’d need to borrow one from Bruce. It was that or public transport.

As if he’d read his thoughts, Red Hood asked: “Want a ride?”

“You got a car?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, but no.” Hood fiddled with something on his belt. For a minute, nothing happened. Then Dick heard the noise of a smooth motor approaching. Red Hood made a ‘ta-da’ motion with his hand as a red and silver machine turned the corner. “I got a bike.”

Dick whistled. “Wow, my little brother would love that.”

“He got one of his own?”

“Nah, he’s thirteen, just a kid.” That may be slightly too much information to give out, but Dick had honestly stopped caring at some point. “It’s all about skateboards for now.”

“Is he turning his sick tricks in the local park or on the rooftops?”

“You could always just meet him.”

Red Hood snorted. “I have no desire to meet any more bats or birds.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “Dunno why I keep doing this to myself.”

Suddenly feeling defensive, Dick crossed his arms. “Hey, we’re not that bad.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“You haven’t even met them.” Or Bruce wouldn’t be trying to milk Dick for information about their meetings.

“Oh yes I have.”

Red Hood froze. Dick pounced. “When?”

But it was no use. “Look. I’ll make you a deal. We don’t talk about Batman anymore tonight, and you get to drive.”

Dick considered that. “If I say no, are you just going to leave?”

“Yupp.”

“Fine.”

Ten minutes later, with Red Hood’s arms wound tightly around his middle, the bike humming between his legs, Dick couldn’t even be mad.

Sometimes, Dick worried. Red Hood was too casual about his own life. Even as he made friends—not just Dick, but Roy and Kori and Artemis and, somehow, a Superman clone—he threw himself into the kind of situations that made even Dick take a step back and evaluate.

He was too reckless. It was as if his life didn’t matter. If Hood went on like this, he’d be dead within a year or two—Dick froze.

Could… could Red Hood be his soulmate?

His timer had begun ticking again before he met the other vigilante on that rooftop. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have passed him on the street one day before that, though. Or rather, one night: It must’ve been in his Nightwing garb. If Red Hood knew, or suspected, that would explain why he sought Nightwing out.

Granted, the odds were slim. But it was possible.

Funnily enough, Dick never once asked himself whether he wanted Hood to be his soulmates. Why wouldn’t he? Underneath that anger, he suspected Red Hood to be one of the kindest men he’d ever met, and he’d been nothing but supportive to Dick.

Still. He had to treat this with caution.

Look. Dick knew he should be with his friends and/or family, celebrating his birthday, not out here, jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Blüdhaven. It just felt… right, this year. Days like these, Dick couldn’t bear looking at what was left of his friends. All he would do was count the empty spaces. Patrol was safer, somehow.

Of course, the one time he was looking for a distraction on his birthday, he didn’t find any. Blüdhaven was weirdly quiet. It took Dick two hours to figure out why.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, bemused.

Red Hood, visibly startled, turned around—then swore when the two-bit criminal he’d been cornering took the chance to sprint off into the sunset. “Dammit, was that necessary?”

“Eh, you’ll catch him. So?”

“I was in the area, and I didn’t expect you to—never mind. What are you working on?”

Dick shrugged as casually as possible. “Nothing in particular. Just patrol, business as usual, you know. How about you?”

“I was following a lead, but it just fled for the hills.” Red Hood sighed, always a funny sound through the helmet.

“Ooops,” Dick said, not apologetic at all. “How about that. Whatever are you going to do with your evening.”

He’d meant it as a joke—there was always more crime to hunt down—but the other man paused. “Actually. There’s something I wanted to show you.”

‘Something’ turned out to be yet another rooftop perch, this time in one of the poorer districts. Dick didn’t get what was so special about this until the first family left their house. Another followed, and another, until there were about thirty people gathered, nearly half of them children.

“Watch,” Red Hood murmured.

One man put down a large bag and took out an object. For one terrible second, Dick thought it was a missile—but no. A rocket, but one of the harmless variety.

The kids cheered as several of the adults prepared the fireworks. The first rocket went up, bathing the street in the light of its beautiful golden rain. It was quickly followed by a serious of smaller, purple blasts, underlined by a wheel of blue lights.

“They do this once a month,” Red Hood told him. “To bring some light to the city.”

Dick pressed his shoulder companionably into the other man’s. “This is neat. Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Ah, there was the embarrassed grumbling again. Dick had learned to tell. “Shut up already and watch, you’re louder than the fireworks.”

He didn’t move away, though. Dick counted it as a win.

“It was supposed to be me,” the woman whispered, over and over again.

Dick kept his grip on her shoulder tight to keep her from running to into the fire and to her soulmate. He’d seen the body. There was nothing they could do. “I’m sorry, but—”

“You don’t understand!” she yelled, suddenly furious. “That’s my wife! My soulmate!”

He wanted to tell her: “I do understand.” However, did he really? Jason had been more of a concept than a real person.

(Red Hood, however little information Dick had about him, was very, definitely real. Dick tried not to imagine the kind of hole someone like that would leave in his life.)

Instead, he said: “She wouldn’t want you to follow her.”

With one last anguished cry, the woman collapsed against his chest.

As he watched the police car drive off, Dick considered going home. As far as he was concerned, this night could go fuck itself. But… he didn’t want to be alone.

“Can’t be easy, something like that.”

Relief flooded Dick at the metallic voice even before he turned around to greet the other vigilante. With Red Hood, he wouldn’t have to be alone. He knew that deep in his bones.

“No,” he replied belatedly. “No, it can’t be. Isn’t.”

“Are you alright?”

Dick frowned. “Yes? This hasn’t been a great night so far, but patrol is nearly over, so—”

“You’re bloody.”

“Oh.” Dick lifted his hands and studied the scratches that now marked him. “It’s fine.”

Red Hood, though, took one of Dick’s hands in his and studied it as if to inspect the wounds. “Those are gouges.”

“She was desperate.”

“Understandable.” Red Hood dropped Dick’s hand. It felt cold. “I think if I lost my soulmate, I would go searching for them in any way I could. Try to save them, somehow.”

There was something pointed about these words. Dick couldn’t quite grasp it. “Destiny doesn’t negotiate.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Brought me here, didn’t it?”

And that was—

Dick closed his eyes, just to think for a moment. The way the other man was behaving, there was good reason to think he might suspect himself to be Dick’s soulmate. All Dick would have to do was ask, and maybe, just maybe, something he’d wanted for a very long time would be within his grasp.

But Jason’s shadow still loomed over him. He couldn’t forget that boy. He mustn’t. It was the least of what he owed him.

“I had a soulmate before,” Dick told him.

Red Hood cocked his head to the side. “Had?”

Somehow, his tone was more surprised than emphatic. That didn’t exactly fill Dick with confidence, but he continued: “He died. My timer was set for only eighteen months. He was—he was just a boy, really.”

Suddenly he realized he was crying. It was the first time he’d let his guard down, really down, about this, and something about Red Hood made it impossible for him to pull it back up.

Embarrassed, he covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Gloved hands settled on his shoulders. “Hey, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to—“

“I fucked it up, Hood. Left him alone. It was selfish and stupid and I—I can’t—” Dick stopped talking. It wouldn’t come out without sobs, anyway.

Red Hood’s hands stayed on him during the minutes he cried silently, pressing down hard enough to hurt Dick, to anchor him; but he didn’t say anything. He just waited, and when Dick was coherent again, he asked: “What happened?”

“He died,” Dick said simply. “I murdered his killer, but that does not bring him back.”

There was a long silence. It should’ve been tense, nervous, now that even the last of Dick’s secrets had been exposed. Instead Dick felt resigned. Either this would be too much, even for the Red Hood, or not.

This was who he was. There was no changing that, no matter how hard he’d tried.

“Well, fuck, now I’m not even slightly angry with you anymore, what the fuck.”

Dick frowned. That… wasn’t what he’d expected. “What do you mean?”

“You know I fully intended on some kind of revenge plot here? I thought maybe a dramatic reveal in front of all of the bats, you know, or at least something accompanied by a lot of yelling and triumph, not to mention bloodshed,” the Red Hood told him almost conversationally as he stood back and began fiddling with the mechanism at the back of his helmet. “But no, you have to go and be a much better man than I thought, Dickie. Of fucking course.”

All the alarm bells began to ring in Dick’s head. “What did you just call me?”

The helmet came off.

“…Jason?”

They were so different. Hood was taller than Jason; a man instead of a boy. His hair was dark, yes, but there was white streak running through it. His jaw had filled out, his bearing straightened, his eyes turned slightly greener.

And yet.

Dick knew.

“Yeah. Uh. Surprise. Guess you didn’t know? I wasn’t completely sure before today.”

Dick filed the notion that Jason thought him (or the rest of the family, for that matter) capable of just quietly ignoring his resurrection away for some other day. Right now, he was too busy trying to breathe.

“Dick?” There was concern in that voice now. “Are you okay?”

“Am I—” Breathing. “How?”

“Maybe you should sit down?” Jason looked like he expected Dick to faint any minute now. Dick admitted that might not be too far from the truth ‘cause what the fuck, but it didn’t matter right now, because: “You died.”

“Yes.” Jason ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Don’t ask me how or I got out of that grave, I don’t either.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to that.

“Talia al Ghul rescued me,” Jason continued, talking more quickly as if wanting to get it over with. “I wasn’t whole, so… Lazarus Pit. And then she trained me and told me a whole bunch of stuff, some of which turned out to be true, some of which didn’t. And now I’m here.”

“But—” he whispered. This was dialogue straight out of a terrible Hallmark movie, but he needed to know. “My timer—”

“Dick,” Jason looked at him with a steady gaze, “my timer has read the same time ever since I met you.” He lifted his wrist and pulled off the leather glove.

46:04.

Dick stared at it helplessly. That was the kind of number he’d only ever dreamed of. And it was supposed to be his and Jason’s?

His and Jason’s. Because Jason was his soulmate, returned to him from the dead without Dick’s knowledge or help. That, finally, what was got through the shock, rattling Dick back into reality.

Dick looked him into the eyes—and God, those eyes; if there hadn’t been that helmet, that modulator, Jason would’ve had no way of hiding himself—and said something he’d wanted to say for seven years: “I’m sorry.”

“I told you I’m not angry anymore.”

“I should’ve been there for you,” Dick insisted.

For the first time, Jason looked away. “In a way, you were.”

“I was what?”

“There with me. I can’t speak for what was happening when I was dead—don’t remember, mostly glad about that—but when I clawed my way out of that grave, I had no idea who you were. I had no idea who I was, really. But I saw that timer and knew that someone, somewhere, was waiting for me.”

Dick couldn’t help himself, reaching out with trembling hands to finally, finally pull Jason close. Burying his head in the other man’s shoulder, he whispered tremulously: “I was, Jason. I didn’t even know it, but I was.”

Strong arms wrap around him to hold on just as tightly. For the first time in years, Dick felt his head quieten.

Still he had to ask: “How can you forgive me?”

“Okay, one? As an adult myself now, I completely understand why you freaked out. Teenagers are babies. A+ not taking advantage of me.”

Dick chuckled wetly.

“Two… I’ve seen you open your heart again. Tim, he’s actually your brother. Your friends.” Jason was talking into his hair ear now. Maybe it was easier that way. “You keep doing that, Dick, just opening up and taking people in and being vulnerable, and I don’t know how you do that, really, it’s kinda worrying, but—I cannot blame you for being tired just one time of losing people.”

“You should,” Dick told him, “I do.”

“Yeah, well, no-one said you were smart.”

That got a laugh out of Dick. He let it shake through him, then asked: “Why did you hide when you came back?”

“I didn’t want to see Bruce. Still don’t.” Jason’s voice was matter of fact.

Dick knew they would have to talk about that. Not now. “Why come back at all, then?”

“It’s my home. Also, I didn’t want to just give up on you, you know?”

The side of Jason’s neck was naked and vulnerable without the helmet. Dick pressed a kiss there in gratitude.

“When I didn’t know if you figured out my identity or not, I wanted to see what happened,” Jason continued. “I figured, this situation is fucked up and all, but it’s also a chance.”

“A chance?”

“My last turn as a vigilante in Gotham was kinda a shitshow. So I thought I’d just prove that—that I could be what you want. That I could do better. I don’t know if I can ever be good, not the way you and Batman want me to be—”

“Jason,” Dick interrupted him, pulling back to look at Jason; his voice fierce with the obviousness of what he had to say, “you are exactly what I want. If I had ever taken any time to know you before, I’d have known that, and I wanted you since I got to know you as the Red Hood. If you think there is any way I am letting you go again—“

Now they were talking in circles. Jason seemed to notice that, too, for he cupped Dick’s jaw mid-sentence and kissed him.

It was a hesitant kiss, slightly at odds with the confident way Jason acted otherwise; Dick realized with a pang that, of course, his teenage years hadn’t lent themselves to the same experimentation that Dick’s had. Still, he was so gentle, not letting go of Dick even as his hand trembled on his face, and the soft sigh he let out when Dick cupped his nape was nothing short of sweet.

There was a softness in this that warmed Dick from the inside out.

When they pulled apart, Dick had to giggle. This night had been an emotional rollercoaster; he felt air-headed and silly with it. “We probably shouldn’t do this here.”

“Not good for the reputation,” Jason agreed, his voice low. Dick liked it.

“Come home with me?”

“Sure.”

When Dick looked surprised at Jason’s easy acceptance, Jason shrugged. “I’ve been dying to take that mask off of you. Knowing you, it’s glued on with a special mixture only you got the remover for, though.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “Oh,” Dick said, remembering something. “Actually, I got someone at home who would love to see you.”

“Don’t tell me you got a kid that I somehow missed.”

“Nah. Better.” Dick smiled. “A bear.”

The next morning, after he woke up in Jason’s arms; after they showered separately and ate breakfast together and just tried to parse out what this meant for the rest of their lives—that morning, Dick looked at his timer and saw that it now read 07:22.

Jason seemed fascinated by the change. “I think I read a study about mismatched timers before. There’s a theory that they reflect our choices really more than our fate, and are meant to influence our actions—maybe I should look it up…”

“I think,” Dick said firmly, “that we should cover the damn things up and never look at them again.”

Jason considered that. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.”

#jaydick #elareine writes #well that only took a year or so

54 notes · View notes

apple-grass-and-smiles · 4 years

Text

A Death By a Thousand Cuts Would Be Easier

Summary: A brief history of some of the moments concerning Bruce Wayne that Selina Kyle will remember until the day she dies.

Author’s Note: So, a bit of an explanation of how this whole thing works. The italicized headers are each things or phrases from the bridge of the stunning “Death By a Thousand Cuts” by Taylor Swift. Under each header is a drabble (none are exactly 100 words, so please forgive me) that is in some way connected with whatever the header is. They are not in chronological order, but hopefully it shouldn’t be too confusing. There are also some shoutouts to some of the wonderful Batcat Fam sprinkled throughout the story as a sort of thank you for being such amazing friends. Also, thank you to Itzel for clarifying what dances Bruce may have actually learned in Mexico.

A Death By a Thousand Cuts Would Be Easier

Looking back on it, Selina gave a lot of things to Bruce Wayne. And when he left, each of those things cut her as they left with him. Her heart, her trust, her love all cut her as he flew away on a plane that didn’t have a seat on it for her. The wound he gave her when he left wasn’t what had nearly killed her. It had been the thousands of cuts those pieces of her had left.

My Heart

Selina’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. Obviously she knew that wasn’t possible, but it felt like it. She hadn’t even been a tenth as afraid as she was now when they had been fighting that stupid fence to try and get the necklace a hour ago. But making her next request was probably going to be the most terrifying thing Selina had ever done.

“Will you return it?” Selina asks, putting the pearl necklace on the table.

She couldn’t bear to do it herself. The very idea of walking into the house where Ivy had killed that scientist and acting like returning a stolen necklace was the same thing as bringing back the woman’s husband made Selina want to run and hide for the rest of her life. When she weighed the cost of returning the necklace herself against the terror that would accompany asking Bruce for such a personal and vulnerable favor, her fear of facing the woman whose life and necklace she had stolen was just ever so slightly more terrifying. She could trust Bruce to take her heart and not destroy it, but there was no way she would trust herself to return a necklace to a woman whose heart had been eviscerated while Selina took her pearls.

My Hips

Bruce claims he learned how to salsa when he was in Mexico. Selina thinks he’s lying but has no proof to back it up other than that a trip to Mexico does not fit into the timeline she’s working on forming of the past ten years of Bruce’s life since he skipped town. But, his salsa dancing was really good. Like, really, really good. It seemed insane that Bruce had left Gotham a decade ago unable to do much more than a basic waltz and returned a master of just about every style of dance they’ve encountered at galas thus far. Filing away a mental note to interrogate Bruce later about his new found dancing ability, Selina returned to focusing on the mission, searching the room for Penguin.

That is until Bruce moved his hands from her back and down to her hips and any hope she had of looking at anything other than Bruce’s eyes flew out the window.

My Body

Lying paralyzed in a hospital bed as she heard the sounds of Gotham falling to pieces around her was a nightmare so horrible Selina couldn’t even have imagined it. She still wakes up every couple of hours with a jolt and, sometimes, a scream from dreams that seem so real she expects Jeremiah to be the one grabbing her and not Bruce or Alfred or one of the nurses. It had been a week since everything had collapsed in on itself and her world had been torn apart by a bullet and the bombs that blew the bridges and she was only just now beginning to reach a point where she was willing to talk to Bruce. It was stupid to blame her new, useless body on him because he wasn’t the one who pulled the gun’s trigger. He hadn’t made her go to the manor that night. He hadn’t forced them to be friends. He hadn’t made her lie about seeing who killed his parents. But if she didn’t blame him for the bullet that might as well have ended her life, then the only person left in this hospital to blame would be herself. And, at the end of the day, it was better to believe she’d given up her body, her freedom, and her life for the boy who had spent the last 96 hours in a hospital chair next to her than to think about how all the choices that had led her to this moment were her own.

My Love

For a young woman whose entire appeal is that she slinks in and out of people’s lives like a cat with absolutely zero emotional connection to those she interacts with, Selina loves a surprisingly large number of people, places, and things. She loves to play with the cats who frequent her apartment. She loves the little Mexican bakery around the corner from Cornelia Street. She loves her collection of black leather jackets that has only continued to grow. She loves Gotham and punk music and greasy, cheap pizza and the way the sky turns pink as the sun sets and rises each day. But, and this is a fact she buries so deep down inside that it only has a chance to surface when she stays still for more than a handful of seconds, she loves Bruce Wayne at least as much as all of those things combined. She never really told him when he was in Gotham and she swears she’ll never tell him even if he comes back one day, but it’s a small fact she keeps tucked away and it makes her heart just a little bit more full than it was before.

Like a Bad Drug

Selina hadn’t done drugs before. It was a bit ridiculous considering she was 18 and had been living on the streets her whole life. Most kids with stories like hers got their first taste of drugs before they were 10, but Selina’s ability to pick pockets and get in and out of places undetected required her to be sober, so drugs had been firmly off the table. Other kids could be high and still get by, but if she was even the littlest bit not completely in her own head, any attempts she made to steal things would be a catastrophe.

Selina hadn’t done drugs before, but she also hadn’t been abandoned by Bruce Wayne without a good-bye beyond a small note before. Well, there’s a first time for everything, Selina thought as she snorted the white powder.

In a Haunted Club

Rumor has it that Bruce Wayne is in England. No one has any proof, but there are pictures of an heiress named Kayliegh wandering London with a guy dressed in all black who if you look at the picture from exactly the right angle and have no idea what Bruce looks like, could be the missing Wayne. But Selina actually knows what Bruce looks like, has memorized every line of his face and can still hear his laugh sometimes as she falls asleep. But the tabloids with the pictures were everywhere today and she’s tired of hearing his name whispered by Gothamites everywhere she goes.

So she heads to the Sirens and hopes the sound of the club will drown out the idea that maybe he had moved on and maybe he was in London and maybe she wasn’t part of his story anymore. The alcohol doesn’t help her shake the feeling that a ghostly Bruce Wayn is watching her from just outside of peripheral vision, but that’s not enough to dissuade her from taking another shot.

Our Songs

Once upon a time, Selina had tried to learn to play the ukulele. Someone had thrown the instrument in the trash when she was about seven and Selina had picked it out of the dumpster. It had been painted blue with a picture of a flower on it and she had plucked at the strings and dragged it along with her for a couple of weeks. In the end, it had been abandoned one day when she had to run from the police who were very intent on bringing her back to St. Maria’s. It had just been another one of her dreams that got discarded on a Gotham street, just like she had been.

A decade later she’s stuck in a hospital bed and the doctors are talking about how she needs to adjust to this new normal and that there are plenty of new skills she can learn that don’t require her to actually move much. Selina only half listens to them because the other half of her mind is occupied with trying to think of a reason to keep on going. Bruce brings her a ukulele the next day because he figures it’ll keep her mind off of the impending surgeries and that if she can at least learn one song maybe the doctors will stop hovering as much. They learn how to stumble through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” together and even though Selina doesn’t put any of her heart into the song, Bruce is enthusiastic enough for both of them.

Our Films

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen Star Wars?” Bruce is 15 and completely incredulous. Selina is curled into a ball on the couch, completely and utterly unperturbed by Bruce’s impending, Star Wars-induced breakdown.

“When was I supposed to have the time to sit down and watch a bunch of movies? It’s not like I have tons of downtime to spend watching Spock hit people with laser swords.” Selina gestures impatiently for the bowl of imported European chocolates by Bruce’s left hand while Bruce blinks in shock at his friend.

“Well, you have time now. I hope you’re comfortable because you’re not leaving here until you understand how wrong you are when you say that Star Wars is about Spock hitting people with laser swords.”

“Whatever. But if I’m going to be stuck here for eternity you better hand me that chocolate before I smother you with a pillow.”

Bruce hands her the candy and joins her on the couch as the opening crawl appears on the screen. What he doesn’t know is that Selina has a secret: She’s seen every second of Star Wars multiple times before, but she figured that a Star Wars marathon would be the ideal way for her to try every sweet in the Wayne manor. No one could say that Selina couldn’t play dumb when it suited her.

United We Stand

The Year the Bridges Blew always feels a bit like a dream when Selina looks back on it. She can’t quite pinpoint many details from the year and so much of it seems to fade when she thinks about it too hard. Granted, if it were up to most of the citizens of Gotham, that year would be erased from everyone’s mind so that they could all move forward without the looming fear that one day they will be trapped in their city again.

But there are some memories from that time that Selina wouldn’t erase. She likes to revisit the summer evening she spent one day with Bruce, lounging on a rooftop, watching some teens below trying to set off fireworks. Despite the kids' shouts, the claps of the fireworks, and the general noise that always seemed present in Gotham and hand only gotten louder since the bridges blew, the moment felt quiet. She had slipped her hand into his as a red firework had started and sputtered out and for a single, glorious evening she really felt that she had a teammate. Someone who would still be there the next morning and the morning after that and so on until they had no more mornings to wake up to. In that moment, she felt united with Bruce in a way she never had before. You’d have to offer her a fortune larger than the Waynes’ to get her to give up that memory.

Our Country, a Lawless Land

Gotham was Selina’s city. This fact was the only one she knew so well that it felt like it was ingrained in every muscle and sinew and bone and ligament in her body. She had been born here, had grown up here, had been abandoned here, had been killed by Jeremiah here and then brought back to life here. To try and separate Gotham from Selina would be like trying to separate a single thread from an intricate tapestry. It might be possible, but why would you even bother?

That’s why, no matter how hard she tries, Selina can’t understand why Bruce left, why he always kept leaving Gotham. They built their relationship on the sound of their feet running on Gotham’s street. They had laughed together on Gotham bridges. Had shouted and whispered declarations of love with Gotham’s skyline as their backdrop. Every single part of what made them them was entrenched in the city. And, somewhere in the back of her mind, Selina realized that if Bruce could leave Gotham, the city that had made him, then that meant he could leave her too.

Our Paper-Thin Plans

“I think I’d want a house with a window seat.”

“A window seat? Out of all the things a house could have, your request is for a window seat?”

“Yeah. I like them.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the window seats back home?”

“Yeah, if you and Alfred aren’t bothering me that’s usually where I am.”

“How have I never noticed this? Alfred, did you know that Selina loves window seats? … Okay, how did everyone know this but me?”

“Maybe your powers of observation just aren’t as good as you think they are.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll make a note that when we rebuild the manor to add in more window seats.”

“You better or else I might have to find some other billionaire to hang out with because window seats are a deal breaker in this whole thing.”

My Time

Selina’s time is a valuable commodity. Every second she’s spending doing something is a second she could be casing a jewelry store or picking pockets downtown. But, sometimes even a young thief needs a night off. Selina’s plan is simple, she’ll feed her current cats- Isis and Coco- and then take a shower before eating some Chinese from the place across the street that always has just a bit too much food left over come closing time.

At least that was the plan before Bruce Wayne knocked on the door (He knocked. Like she paid rent for the place.) and asked if she was up to anything. Of course, when she planned on a quiet night, Bruce wanted her to keep him from dying on some fool’s quest. She only rolled her eyes once before grabbing her leather jacket and heading out the door. She’d always have time for him.

My Wine

Selina doesn’t usually drink wine. She’s had a variety of them, ranging in cost from a couple of bucks to more than a year’s worth of rent, and she honestly hasn’t liked any of them. But a couple of times a year since she’s turned 21, she gets a small invitation in the mail inviting her to a quiet dinner at the new Wayne manor. Alfred always pulls out a bottle of what he promises her is good wine and they usually finish it by the time dinner is pushed to the end of the table and desert is being savored. Sometimes the invitation is for a special date, like Christmas or Alfred’s birthday, but other times there is no rhyme or reason that Selina can discern for the dinner. This time the invitation comes and is signed by both Alfred and Bruce and a not small part of Selina is bitter that Bruce is trying to infringe on the bond that she and Alfred forged in, and because of, his absence. She doesn’t show up on the appointed date and instead hacks the Wayne bank account and makes a very generous donation to a local animal shelter in Bruce’s name. Alfred sends her a bottle of wine a few days after they were supposed to meet that he claims is spectacular. She can’t taste the difference between it and the box wine she bought one time.

My Spirit

Selina’s birthday is either December 1st or December 3rd. Maria says it’s the 1st, but all her official documents cite it as the 3rd. Selina knows it’s weird to not really know her birthday, but it’s not like she grew up with birthday parties so it never really was an issue. But then she accidentally reveals that she has two birthdays to Bruce when they’re 13 and suddenly these previously mostly meaningless days in December are arriving with more pomp and circumstance than she had ever anticipated.

They throw a party on the 1st with games and food and gifts at the manor. Alfred prepares all the fanciest foods and Selina is asked to wear a dress to the party. (She does, but she complains about it the whole time.) It’s a fun, if strange event, and Selina enjoys herself. But then the 3rd rolls around and she returns to her apartment exhausted from running all over town in the snow to find Bruce with an enormous pile of take out from at least half a dozen of her favorite restaurants. He’s brought a projector and some movies and pillows and blankets. They make a pillow fort before settling down with the food. Snuggled beneath a pile of blankets, with some old movie about a guy in a wheelchair spying on his neighbors from his window, Selina has a shining moment where she truly understands peace. For once her mind, her spirit, her body, her heart, every part of her, feels completely at peace. It’s the best birthday gift anyone could have given her.

My Trust

She doesn’t wear the ring on her finger for a multitude of reasons. It could get lost or she could scratch herself or it could get caught on something or it could be noticed by someone and then the whole world might know about the secret Selina had been carrying around for about two weeks. It isn’t that she is ashamed or embarrassed about the engagement, but she likes the idea that this particular moment is being shared only with the people she trusts to treat it with love and kindness. She knows that the world, that Gotham, will pry and pick at the happiness her engagement is giving her, but if she keeps the ring on a chain around her neck, close to her heart, then maybe she can keep this beautiful moment going just a bit longer.

A Thousand Cuts

The bells ring louder than she had expected but the crowd of people are even louder. Selina’s still not used to the public side of being connected with this new Bruce Wayne, but she loves the private part of him too much to be dissuaded by camera flashes and people shouting his name. As they race from the the entrance of the church (Martha and Thomas got married there, so Bruce felt getting married there was the closest he’d get to having his parents at his wedding) to the open car, she focuses on the rhythmic ringing of the bells, blocking out the shouts and questions and rice that is being thrown at her. And each ring seems to to call out to her:

Bong! Don’t give up on him.

Bong! He’s got you.

Bong! He may have cut you a thousand times…

Bong! But he’ll heal you a thousand and one.

#Me proofreading this: Consistent tenses? I don’t know her.#I’ll also have you know #I actually had to do research on what onomatopeia to use for church bells.#This ended up being a lot less angsty than I had originally anticipated #Thank you for reading!#I still know I have a writing tag somewhere and I still know I don't have a clue what it is #gotham #bruce wayne #selina kyle #batcat #silence emily

24 notes · View notes

m00nslippers · 5 years

Note

In a dream world where we are getting a Red Hood live action trilogy, how would you want the three movies to be? Like what plotlines, characters, villians, what arc to develop, how to present his character to appeal to the general audience and such :D

Oh man, this is an interesting question.

Well first of all, this might sound strange, but I absolutely do not think that Under the Red Hood should be adapted to Live Action. I believe this because it already exists in animated form and is perfect. No live-action remake is going to compare unless they recreate it scene by scene and they never will. The dialogue is too good, it cannot be made better, only worse. So, that being said, RH1 should not be a retelling of UtRH, rather that movie/storyline should exist as backstory for the first Red Hood movie. They should communicate the events of that story without retelling it wholesale as the plot in the movie. They should also go ahead and go with the Lazarus Pit explanation of Jason’s resurrection because the superboy-smashing-the-universe thing is too vague and requires more context than a standalone movie can really provide. I would amend it though so that it’s actually more like Arkham Knight games, in that Joker had Jason for over six months torturing him before he finally killed Jason and sent the tape to Bruce. At that point, Ra’s and Talia got a hold of Jason’s body and resurrected him.

I have a really solid idea for the first movie, a more vague idea for the second one and a really vague idea for the last one. I’ll write you guys the synopsis of the first one up here.

Red Hood Movie 1

So, the movie opens on some brief scenes of a seemingly ordinary guy as he goes through his day. He wears blue collar clothes with a leather jacket thrown over the top, rides his motorcycle to work and stops to give money to a homeless guy on the street. He works construction or something, shows himself to be really smart and maybe a little over-competent for his job, he can jump down from high beams like he’s an acrobat, he does complex math in his head, but when colleagues ask how he knows so much he just plays it off. He seems friendly but he’s secretive, keeps to himself. He goes home from work, he’s the only one there, he works out, punches a punching bag, he checks a secret compartment in his house to make sure no one has tampered with it, but we don’t see what’s inside. He eats alone and when it gets dark he walks a ways to a local dive and sits in the corner until a red-headed friend comes in.

He and the friend bullshit together, clearly they’re close. His friend asks if he’ll babysit his daughter so he can work on a case, he says sure. They’re in the middle of talking about the daughter when something on one of the televisions playing in the bar catches his eye. It’s a breaking news feed of an Arkham breakout in Gotham City, with the building on fire, lead by the Joker. He flinches and you see this snarl of twisted fear and rage and his friend reaches out to grab his arm. “Jason, don’t. He doesn’t have to be your problem. You don’t owe Gotham anything.” And Jason looks Roy in the face and says, “Gotham owes me everything. And I’m going to get my payback.”

Jason leaves the bar, goes home, opens the secret compartment–it’s full of guns and all of his Red Hood gear. He packs it up and leaves on his motorcycle bound for Gotham.

Switch over to Bruce being Brucie at a WE function for a charity. He’s called up to give a speech and he talks about how his second son was a boy from Gotham’s streets who’d been exceptional but just didn’t have the opportunities because of his poor background. Unfortunately he was dead in a tragic accident, but Bruce had dedicated this charity in his name for underprivileged youth to fund scholarships and community support, etc. He steps down and has to glad-hand some people until his phone vibrates and he looks at the screen. It’s Oracle telling him there’s a Gotham break out.

Bruce slips away and he’s in the Batcave putting on his Batman gear as Alfred and Barbara–over the computer–fills him in on what’s going on and talks about how most everyone is out of Gotham at the moment, it’s just Bruce and Oracle, and asks Bruce if he wants Alfred to call in Nightwing or someone else for help. Bruce says no he wants them to stay out of it as he’s looking at the Memorial case of Jason’s Robin costume that’s still damaged. Alfred reminds him that since it’s the Joker, Jason is bound to appear, Bruce just grunts and says he’ll deal with that problem as it comes and has Oracle on the look out for any activity from either of them.

Bruce shows up at Arkham and talks to Gordon briefly, who tells him there’s a riot going on inside and they’ve already confirmed the warden had been murdered. Bruce busts in and starts kicking butt and capturing everyone, getting various people to safety that he finds as he makes his way through the building. All the while Oracle is giving him tech support. Bruce finds Joker’s cell but it’s been broken open. Suddenly he thinks he sees joker and and chases him down, capturing him but it turns out it’s just another inmate dressed like him–there’s a whole bunch of fake Jokers running around the building. Oracle tells him they’ll never be able to confirm if it’s really him from cameras alone like this and Bruce has to admit that’s true. But also says the Joker is probably already long gone, and they need to stop worrying about containment and start searching the city for him.

Cut to Jason riding into Gotham. He opens up a derelict safehouse with yet more guns and suits up and hits the streets. Everywhere he goes, he sees flashes of memories–of him as a kid on the streets, of Bruce catching him stealing the tires from the batmobile, him as Robin, him fighting Bruce as Red Hood. He questions homeless people and hookers and roughs up some dealers. They all know him, they’re all afraid, he’s the King of Crime Alley and remember when he ran out Black Mask. After some investigating, someone tells him a certain crime family’s men were hired to riot outside of Arkham and sow even more chaos.

Jason attacks the guy in his big mansion, mowing down hoards of mobsters with guns, all to get to the head guy and question him. He says Joker put out the word he wanted some grunts to help with the breakout and Black Mask had done a deal with him to provide men. The head mobster is Black mask’s man outside of Blackgate prison. The meeting was held in Gotham’s abandoned Amusement Mile between Joker and Roman’s proxies. Jason kills the mobster and leaves for the place he mentioned.

As Jason is on his way, someone hacks into the comms on his helmet–it’s Barbara, she found him after the attack on the mobsters–and she’s trying to get Jason to stop and leave Gotham. He and Bruce had a truce, that Jason would say out of Gotham and stop being Red Hood. Jason says that truce ended when he let Joker escape and now he’s going to kill him. Barbara says he’s not the only person Joker hurt, we see her in the Clocktower in her wheel chair with a picture of her and Gordon. Jason says he’ll kill Joker for both of them. Barbara says she’d rather the Joker be alive than Jason dead at his hands, and Jason says, well that’s where they differ.

Jason investigates the place, an empty funhouse or something. Down a hallway he thinks he sees the Joker and he runs after him but there’s no one there. He keeps seeing images of when he got captured by the Joker in the mirror, sees his younger self bloodied and dead. He’s getting increasingly unhinged. Then Bruce appears as Batman, tells Jason he broke their truce, he came back to Gotham and he killed people, but Bruce is willing to overlook it if he just leaves. Jason goes into his issues with Bruce, about how that’s his problem, he’s unwilling to go as far as necessary to really protect people. About how if Bruce had killed Joker from the beginning, Jason wouldn’t have died or become what he is, and Barbara wouldn’t be in a wheelchair, and all the people who died in the Arkham break out would still be alive.

Jason attacks Bruce, they have a huge badass fight. They are mostly fighting to a draw but they are both getting heavily injured. In the middle of their fight they think they see joker and Jason cuts off Bruce’s path and goes after him alone–only to get clocked with a crowbar from behind and dragged off.

Bruce finally makes it around to where Jason ran off only to a smear of blood on the ground that he runs through the computer and is told belongs to Jason by Alfred. Spray painted next to it is a Joker smile and the location where Jason first tried to get Bruce to murder the Joker.

Bruce goes to the location and finds the Joker there with Jason completely beat up and tied down. “Remember this Batsy? It was a fun little game, wasn’t it? It really had potential.” He’s missed his broken bird in Arkham and getting out has made him feel nostalgic, but alas he has better things to do, so it’s time to tie up this loose end for once and for all. He doesn’t need Red Hood getting between batman and his games, so he’s going to play one final round, winner takes all. “I think we should play again, but this time with a twist,” he says. Joker has set up Bruce to kill him or he’s going to kill Jason again–he’s like you can’t do it can you? Not even for your little robin. So he’s going to die–again.

The confrontation ends exactly like it did in Under the Red hood. Bruce throws a batarang that slits Joker’s throat but doesn’t outright kill him. Joker runs away laughing as Bruce goes to Jason, with Jason weeping and telling him to go after the Joker. Bruce refuses and says Jason’s injuries are more important. He tries to take him to the manor and Jason says no, he refuses to go there, to take him to a hospital. Bruce says if he goes there Red Hood will be arrested for killing the gangster. Jason doesn’t care, he refuses to have anything to do with a father who chooses the joker over his own son twice, he doesn’t get to treat his wounds and act like not going after the Joker was him saving Jason. it was just him betraying Jason yet again.

The last scene is Roy visiting Jason in Blackgate prison. He shows him home videos of Lian and brings him crayon pictures from her. He tells Jason if he ever wants out, just to say, but Jay says no, he’s got some unfinished business to handle. We see Black Mask, also there in the prison…

The End.

—

So pretty much the first movie has the Joker as the main villain in a re-working of the UtRH story, pretty typical Jason stuff.

The second one is where things are a lot less typical and almost brand new and not from the comics because let’s face it–Jason doesn’t have a lot of good stories that don’t involve the Joker. In the second movie Jason is in prison for most of the plot. And the villain? Astrid Arkham, who is the Arkham Knight. How does that work, you may wonder. Oh I have ideas and it’s twisty~ If you guys want to know how I think that one would go, I’ll write it up later.

The third one I’m thinking a League of Assassins thing. Basically Talia comes to Jason to try to get him to lead the league and we find out a lot about the circumstances of Jason’s death and resurrection and training. I’m much less sure about the exact plot for this one, but I think by the end of it Jason should finally forgive Bruce enough to go home and stop killing.

#Red Hood #Jason Todd #red hood movie #Under the Hood #Batman: Under The Red Hood #Bruce Wayne #Batman #oracle #barbara gordon #batgirl #Joker #dc comics #headcanon #movie ideas

53 notes · View notes

barefoot-joker · 5 years

Text

Yandere!Ecco X Reader One Shot

Hey, guys and welcome to a Yandere one shot starring Ecco! I apologize if it seems rushed but I hope you enjoy it either way! As always feedback is appreciated and let me know if you’d like to see more. Now...onto the show!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sighed as I sat in bed staring out my window, the moon bright in the sky for the early hours of the morning. It was another restless evening for me as thousands of thoughts ran through my head, all revolving around one despicable woman. She’s not going to find you, Y/n. You haven't been spotted yet. She’s far off your trail and soon you'll be home free with Bruce.

Looking over at my makeshift nightstand I groaned at the time. 3:00 AM. No point in trying to sleep now.

Getting up I pulled on my black overcoat, tall burgundy socks and light tan boots before lacing them up. Grabbing my gun I placed it into its holder around my waist and hid a switchblade in my boot, both I got as a precaution if I ever ran into the twisted female. Taking one last look at my room I headed out into the streets of Gotham, my head lowered and my fingerless gloved hands swinging at my sides. The current place I was staying was near the Dark Zone, the area that Jeremiah and Ecco reigned over. As much as I didn't want to go through it I had to as it was the only way to get to the Green Zone to see Alfred. Walking along the dirty streets I watched as Ecco's minions wandered about, signaling I was in their territory.

I was honestly terrified that one of them would recognize me as I knew she gave every detail about my appearance in hopes of finding me. I frowned. What did I do wrong to gain the attention of one of the most feared women in all of the city?

{Flashback}

It was a lovely afternoon in Gotham, a rare thing indeed. I was at Wayne Enterprises delivering some baked goods to surprise Bruce. I knew he was stressed out lately so I made him his favorites of mine: brownies and angel food cake. I strolled up to the front desk and smiled at the secretary. "Well good afternoon, Miss L/n. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Wayne. I have some things to drop off."

She typed into her computer and then smiled back up at me. "I'll let him know you're here. You can have a seat while I contact him."

I nodded and went over to the sitting area, joining a young dirty blonde woman. We looked at each other for a brief moment so to be friendly I gave her a smile. She grinned back at me and gave a little wave. Not wanting to be rude I looked down at my hands that wrapped around the tin container, one that came from my small bakery.

As I sat waiting I heard the click of a camera but thought nothing of it. It was probably just somebody impressed with the design of the building. "Miss L/n, Mr. Wayne will see you now."

I stood up and made my way to the elevator, pressing the button to Bruce's office level. Just as the doors closed I noticed the dirty blonde woman holding her phone up towards me. Before I could question what was happening the elevator door slammed shut and took me to my destination.

{End Flashback}

I should have known something was wrong in that moment but I was so naive then. If only I knew that the woman would turn into one of my admirers I would have never looked at her. Ever since that moment my life was turned upside down. It all started with small visits from the woman I came to know as Ecco every Tuesday to my bakery. She would always make small talk with me and bring in a flower or two to brighten my day but I always got an uneasy vibe from her. It didn't help that she would always glare whenever I helped a male customer, her brown eyes seemingly burning into my soul. It wasn't until a handsy patron came in that I began to fear for my safety.

{Flashback}

It was a slow day at the shop, one or two people sitting and enjoying their drinks and pastries. I looked at the clock and frowned. 1:00 PM. Ecco should be here in 5....4...3...2...1.

Right on cue the door opened and in strolled the dirty blonde woman with a grin on her red painted lips. "Good afternoon, Y/n!"

"Hello, Ecco. What can I get for you?"

She looked down at the glass case, examining each and every good until she decided on a piece of raspberry cheesecake. Taking it out of the case I sliced her a fairly decent sized piece and put it on a plate before handing it to her. "That'll be $2.50."

Reaching into her tan leather jacket she pulled out the necessary amount and I plumped it into the cash register. "Enjoy!"

With that Ecco sat herself at her usual table and I felt her eyes on me as I cleaned the counter and went in the back to grab more product. About 15 minutes after Ecco arrived a man in casual clothes entered, his hands in his pockets and a cocky attitude surrounding him. "Hello, sir. Welcome to Y/n's Bakery. What can I get for you today?"

I felt a bit uncomfortable as his eyes scanned down my body and a smirk appeared on his lips. "How much are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant what can I get you from the case?"

"I'd like a piece of you, sweet cheeks."

"I'm not for sa-"

"Oh come on! Everything has a price. I'm willing to pay top dollar~"

"I'm not interested."

"We won't have to do anything out here in public. We can go in the back~"

At this he grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, his breath smelling of tobacco. "Let go of me!"

"You're a little feisty one aren't ya? I like that!"

Just as I was about to retort a punch sent the man sprawling to the floor. I gasped and looked over to see Ecco glaring down at him, her teeth clenched and her eyes full of fury. "Don't ever touch her like that again, you hear me! I never want to see you in here or near my Y/n again!"

"O-Oh yeah? W-what are you going to d-do about it?"

I clenched a hand over my mouth as Ecco began to kick the man repeatedly, him releasing grunts of pain as her heel dug into his side. "Ecco, stop!"

I ran around the counter and was quick to grab her wrist, her attention being brought to me. Her brown eyes widened and then softened as soon as they focused on me, the movement making me nervous. The man on the ground realized his chance to escape so he got up and ran. As the door slammed shut Ecco pulled me into a hug and held me rather tightly, her chin placed on my shoulder. "Don't worry, darling. I can assure you he won't be coming for you again."

My eyes widened at how possessive she sounded and at the fact that I thought I heard her sniff my hair. "T-thanks, Ecco."

"Don't mention it!"

"I think I'm going to close up e-early."

"Oh! Well I can stay behind and walk you home if you'd like."

"N-no I'm f-fine."

I got a bit freaked out as I saw her shoulders sag but she just nodded and headed for the door. "See you later then, Y/n. Take care."

I gulped as she left, a negative vibe staying behind.

{End Flashback}

I trembled as I recalled the memory, it not being one of the worst. From that moment on I always felt her piercing gaze on me and would every so often spot her following me. Soon my friends began to notice that I was very paranoid, always looking over my shoulder, and they grew concerned over me. It got so bad that Bruce offered for me to stay but I always denied in fear of disturbing him and Alfred.

Crunch!

My heart leaped out of my chest as I looked out of the corner of my eye to see one of Ecco’s minions looking at me. Please don't notice me! Please don't notice me!

I continued to walk out of the Dark Zone even as I heard the man mumble something. As soon as I got out of his eyesight I sprinted to the Green Zone, my desire to see Alfred becoming greater and greater with each stride. When I finally got to my destination I took a deep breath and zoomed up the cement steps, knocking on the wooden door in a special pattern. Stepping back I watched as the door swung open and I quickly stepped inside, it slamming shut behind me. "Miss Y/n, I was so worried you wouldn't bloody make it!"

"Neither did I, Alfred. Neither did I. Ecco has really amped up the followers on the streets."

Alfred led me into the living room, I taking a seat next to the fireplace that was roaring. "Would you like some tea, lassie?"

"Got anything stronger?"

"Of course."

I sighed and leaned my back, closing my eyes as bottles clinking and liquid pouring hit my ears. "Here you are."

I opened my eyes and took the glass of whiskey from him, downing it in one gulp. "You must be exhausted, Miss Y/n."

"Very. But you must be too, Alfred, working all day."

"I'm used to it."

"How's Bruce handling all of this?"

"He was a bit upset when he found you gone but he knew you were doing it to protect him. Otherwise he's been volunteering at Jim's safeplace with Selina to keep himself busy. He's also terrified that he'll find out you're captured some time."

Me too, Alfred.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. For all of this. I-"

The faithful butler put his hand on top of mine and stared me stare in the eye. "None of this is your fault, mate. Don't blame yourself."

I gulped down my guilt and nodded. "Bruce, Selina and Jim thought you should stop by his safeplace. It's far from the Dark Zone, there's all the essentials and the police are there. You'd be safe, Y/n."

"If I go that's just more innocent lives that I hold in my hands. I am not willing to put hundreds of lives at risk for my sake."

"At least think about."

"I will. But I better be going. Ecco is usually in Jeremiah's church around this time."

I stood and Alfred gave me a big hug, his hand slipping into my pocket. "Stay safe, lassie. None of us want to see you hurt."

"Thanks, Alfred. For all that you've done."

"No problem at all."

I gave him a small smile and quickly headed out, my hand going into my pocket to find a map. Most likely to Haven.

Looking around to see if anyone was following, I was quick to get out of the Green Zone and back home.

Now in the Dark Zone I resumed a walk as to not look suspicious when suddenly my wrist was grabbed in a death-like grip. "Hey! Let go!"

The man didn't listen to me as he dragged me to the infamous Church of Jeremiah, all the while I was yelling at him to let go. Chucking me inside an empty pool, I groaned as I landed on my back. Sitting up slowly I noticed a table with a red cloth draped over it and blood spatters everywhere I looked. What is this place?

Before I could think too far the sound of shoes scuffing against cement made me turn my head to see a figure in a black, red and white striped robe with a gray and black tinted mask on their face, the hood up. I scrambled to my feet as they came closer, my heart pounding a mile a minute. "Welcome to the the Church of Jeremiah, child. What might be your name?"

"B-Benjamin."

I gulped as the female came closer, her black gloved hand caressing my cheek. "You remind me of someone I know."

"I-I get that a lot."

"She's quite the good looking gal if I say so myself. In fact…”

My eyes widened as she tore off her mask to reveal Ecco, white makeup smeared on her face as well as red lipstick and two black eyebrows drawn on above and below her eyes. She gave me a huge grin before tearing my jacket off, her hands quick to grab my arms. “Ah yes. You’re most definitely my Y/n! There’s the little scar on your right forearm and the birthmark in the shape of a heart.”

She then grabbed my chin and turned my head every which way. “Oh those are the beautiful e/c eyes I remember! And the pierced ears that always wore simple silver earrings every day.”

I struggled to get out of her grip but Ecco simply gripped my shoulders and let her grin spread ear to ear. “Y/n, my darling! I have been looking everywhere for you! Oh, I’m so glad I’ve found you!”

I screamed as she gave me a big kiss and attempted to push her off but Ecco was having none of it. “Oh puddin, I’ve been so worried about you! I thought that maybe Brucie or his butler got a hold of you and hauled you away, that I would never see you again! I’m so glad one of my pets spotted you!”

“LET GO OF ME!”

“Never! Now that I know you’re alive I’m never letting you go.”

She went in for another kiss and I couldn’t help but let out a muffled shriek. Pulling away Ecco seemed to be in utter bliss as her cheeks turned pink under her makeup, her eyes seemingly having stars. “I’ve been searching far and wide for you, dearest. Every day I showed up at your bakery only to find you weren’t there. I thought that man had come back for you or worse that billionaire brat was making love to you. But none of that matters now. I finally have you back!”

She ran her hands through my hair but stopped when she found it not as long as it originally was. “Oh Y/n, I’ll admit disguising yourself as a man was very clever but going to such great lengths as cutting your hair makes me sad. I already miss your lovely locks. But I know they’ll grow back! I’ve got all the time in the world~”

I felt tears leak out of their prison as my fate came crashing down on me. I wasn’t going to be with Bruce or even see any of my friends anymore. I was going to be a caged bird, only there to entertain my feminine master. “Don’t cry, hon. Even looking like this I still love you just as much!”

She leaned in and gave my forehead a light peck, the tears falling harder. “I know! Let’s get you changed into something more comfortable and we can talk and cuddle in our room! That’ll cheer you up!”

I didn’t even struggle as she pulled me away as I knew it was pointless to resist her. My sobs echoed around us as we came upon a dark hallway, Ecco opening a door to the left. She gently pushed me inside before shutting the door and going over to a dresser, I taking the chance to look around. The room was fairly big and contained a queen sized bed, a dresser, vanity and a bathroom off to the side. A three pane window held a seat beneath it and allowed me to see the world outside. “Here we are!”

I was snapped out of my daze as Ecco came to me with a slightly revealing pale red nightgown. “This should work for tonight. Now let’s get you out of those clothes. They’re almost drowning you.”

Before I could stop her she ripped off my shirt to reveal the chest binder that held my ladies flat, her eyes widening. “Oh, puddin! You must be suffocating! Here let me get that for you.”

“DON”T!”

Rip!

I shrieked as I held my arms protectively over my chest, frightened because I’d never been topless in front of anyone before. “There you go, babe. Must be a lot easier to breathe now!”

With that she pulled at my bottoms but I screamed at her to stop. She paused in her movements and looked at me. “I-I can get dressed m-myself!”

“I know but I haven’t seen you in so long. I want every chance to hold you close, to feel your skin.”

I bit my lip as she pulled the pj’s over my head before taking off my shoes, socks and baggy pants. Laying me down in bed she pulled the covers up around me and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now you just wait here, puddin pop. I have to finish up some things for the boss and I’ll be up as soon as I can. Then we can cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms~”

She leaned down and gave a smooch to my tear stained cheek before whispering, “Good night, my love.”

I watched as she shut the door and locked it behind her, trapping me in her crazy world. Crying I turned onto my side and curled into a ball, my mind racing and my body trembling.

Please help me….anybody….

#ecco gotham #ecco #ecco x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gotham x reader #x reader #one shot #Gotham #gotham tv show #gotham on FOX #gotham fanfiction

41 notes · View notes