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odos-bucket · 3 years

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In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batman #batfam #dc #my writing #fluff and angst

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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I will forever squint suspiciously at a fandom that overall makes a bigger deal out of Dick Grayson expressing he didn’t want to replace his father when he was still young and actively grieving than they do Tim Drake literally hiring an actor to be his fake uncle and saying no to Bruce’s first actual offer of adoption.

Like, if you can get on board with Timothy Drake-Wayne after that, because Tim changed his mind after he was further along in his grieving process, you can get on board with the idea that at some point after the age of ten or twelve Dick similarly changed his mind about thinking a second father would be an insult to his first father’s memory.

*Shrugs* I just don’t get how hard some people go to bat for the idea that Dick never wanted or needed someone he viewed as an actual parent at any point after he was eight. Because you can’t deny that whatever Dick has said about that in the comics, he’s NEVER made it nearly AS big a deal as most fans who cite it at all do. Like, when you run with the most extreme extrapolation of that but gloss right over Tim’s far more extensive efforts to keep Jack Drake the sole father figure in his memory at first, I feel like something else is going on there.

(And I’m not trying to turn this into a Tim vs Dick thing, btw, I’m honestly just using Tim’s story there as a benchmark for how a clearly parallel sentiment is overwhelmingly referenced in regards to just one character but not another. My issues with the way people engage with this particular idea in regards to Dick like, exists without Tim being in the equation at all. That was simply an example of the fact that there IS a discrepancy.)

But point being, as all roads in this particular direction of thought almost always seem to lead to Dick being slotted into some nebulous category separating him from the rest of his siblings, where he’s only partially Bruce’s kid but not FULLY, not like the others....I am the Wary.

Because whatever the surface intentions behind that, it almost inevitably voids some of Bruce’s responsibility to him as a parent, while at the same time making it easier to heap parental or caregiver style responsibilities for the others on Dick. If Dick’s more like Bruce than he is like his siblings in the overall family dynamic, this not only lessens the need to show him on the receiving end of Bruce being a parental figure, it simultaneously heightens the urge to make him a parental figure to the others to pick up Bruce’s slack there, because they’re more partners than they are father and son, see. So why wouldn’t Dick pick up Bruce’s slack and help him out there, and why would he need Bruce to actually be fulfilling that very role with him instead?

All the things people are critical of Bruce for in his parenting with Dick aren’t quite as bad, right, when Dick’s not fully his son or doesn’t quite view Bruce as his father....its easier to reframe it as fights between colleagues. Or recast Dick’s estrangement from Bruce as not actually a failure on Bruce’s part to reach out and cement exactly what Dick meant to him every time Dick flat out says “I want to know what I mean to you, give a name to it, give me an explanation for why you made these choices that isn’t that you don’t want me because all I see when I look at those choices is you expressing you don’t want me.”

Because if Dick doesn’t actually want that explanation ever, if Dick doesn’t actually want that rock-solid expression of Bruce putting a name to what he feels for Dick and what he views him as, then the arguments between Bruce and Dick in his late teenage years DO become two-sided. Its just them butting heads back then. Rather than what they actually WERE in the comics, which was Dick clearly expressing insecurities about his place in Bruce’s life and Bruce repeatedly letting him leave or outright telling him to leave without actually giving it to him.

(I’m not even talking about NTT #55 for once, I’m actually talking about when Dick went to Gotham after he found out about Jason being Robin now. And as the events of that issue get referenced a TON in fandom, its HIGHLY suspect that one specific part of that issue gets rewritten in particular: where its acted like it was Dick that stormed off in a huff there or Dick who didn’t want anything more than to confront Bruce about Robin. It really doesn’t get addressed enough IMO that yes, Bruce said outright that he did it because he missed Dick....and then two panels later, Bruce literally asks Dick to go now. Says I would like you to leave now. Bruce is the one who blew up and lost his temper, literally smashing something while Dick was just heated because he was understandably upset, while Bruce somehow made it like he was the one being hurt by Dick and asking for space from him. Yeah, he said I miss you, but he never DID anything with that and in fact just turned around two seconds later and drove Dick away again, like Holy Mixed Signals, Batman! Y’know? Like what exactly was Dick supposed to do with that? “Oh, so Bruce misses me, but also he didn’t want me there, like I was literally RIGHT THERE for the first time in seventeen months and he missed me so much that....he didn’t even ask me to stay for dinner? Or call or reach out to me afterwards? So....my conclusion is.....what, exactly?”)

Ultimately though, my big beef with the stuff about adoption or Dick not wanting to replace his father, its not even about those specifically. Its about that period when Bruce very visibly was NOT in Dick’s life....and that was BY BRUCE’S CHOICE. That is the thing that needs addressing in my book, and far too often goes unresolved. No matter what the particulars of Dick’s views or wants re: adoption, there is literally no confusion about the existence of comics where Dick is repeatedly the one to reach out to Bruce, at a point in his life where he no longer had any legal ties to Bruce whatsoever.....and clearly express in one way or another that he is there and willing to talk, that in fact he WANTS to talk about why Bruce doesn’t seem to want HIM, specifically.

It was Dick who brought up the issue of Bruce adopting Jason but not him and asked WHY at that one issue with them at a party. It was Dick who returned to Gotham and asked Bruce WHY he made Jason Robin when he hadn’t wanted Dick to be Robin - (and for the record, NO version of events where Bruce is the one to make Jason Robin aligns with Dick voluntarily giving up Robin.....the one and only continuity in which Dick did that, HE made the choice to pass Robin on to Jason. Mixing and matching continuities specifically to make Dick unable to claim hurt or resentment for the identity he crafted for himself being given away to someone else without his approval because ‘he was the one who said he didn’t want it anymore’ is yet again, suspect, as it serves absolutely no purpose other than to lessen the hurt done to him and abdicate Bruce’s culpability in hurting him when he did that).

It was Dick who returned to Gotham after Jason died with no intention but to express his condolences and share their grief, and it was Dick who returned to Gotham to check on Bruce after Tim said he was worried he was going to get himself killed, as well as again more longterm in order to help with Tim’s training.

And in each and EVERY one of those situations.....it was Bruce that ended those encounters, and ALWAYS without ever offering Dick any actual resolution or change in their dynamic. Despite Dick’s very presence in each of these being a very clear sign that Dick was unhappy with their estrangement and wanted a change to it or else he wouldn’t even be there, he would be off being comfortably estranged somewhere else and totally content with that.

THAT’S the bigger issue and always has been, I think. That no matter how else you parse it, Dick repeatedly looked for and asked for reassurances, some kind of actual TIES to Bruce, and that Bruce for whatever personal reasons of his own, repeatedly did not give....even when Dick walked him right up to the perfect opportunity to just fucking say “I would like you to come home more, I want you here, I want you as part of my family even though you’ve already aged out of our existing legal bond.”

Bruce still just WOULD NOT SAY IT. Dick was very clear about needing and wanting something from Bruce that Bruce DID NOT GIVE HIM. Bruce gave him basically nothing to work with in these encounters more often than not.

(In the interest of not being disingenuous here, I do admit that at the party when Dick asked Bruce why he’d adopted Jason and not him, Bruce did give a fairly touching response about how by the time he thought Dick would be open to it, he thought that Dick was too old to actually want or need it anymore. BUT, problem is, even with that it does absolutely nothing to change or address how the very fact that Dick was expressing insecurity about this now meant that Dick WASN’T actually too old to want or need it. It was literally a smack in the face that Bruce’s conclusion was wrong and not actually about Dick’s wants. And Bruce knew this, even referenced it at later points when he threw it back in Dick’s face to accuse Dick of resenting Bruce adopting Jason and not him.....which is a clear indication that Bruce knew it was something Dick still wanted or else there would be no reason for resentment, and THAT is the issue there. That no matter what Bruce said at that party about his reasons for not adopting Dick sooner, that very conversation itself should have been reason enough for Bruce to rethink his stance then there....but he didn’t. Also he ended up adopting Dick like five years later soooooo.....if he could do it then when Dick was even older, that doesn’t work as a barrier for him not doing it then.)

And that’s the troubling part.....how many people try and make that period of their lives unclear with no other visible purpose than to make the fact that Bruce WOULD NOT OUTRIGHT CEMENT DICK AS FAMILY OR ASK HIM TO STAY, like.....less problematic.

And as I’ve said before and will no doubt say again.......that logic process bugs the hell out of me, because it ultimately tries to claim the responsibility for Dick’s unhappiness in this regard back then is at least as much his fault as Bruce’s. That it was some kind of fight between equals, or that it was something Dick initiated or that Bruce had no power to resolve on his own via just his own choices or gestures.

Because it wasn’t! That’s not remotely what all of that was! And like I’m also always saying, you don’t HAVE to stick with the canon by any means. You can literally rewrite things so Bruce adopts Dick before he’s eighteen and they never HAVE that period, you can rewrite things so that Bruce reaches out and ends that period early on by DOING THE WORK of being the parent in that situation, you can ‘fix that’ by any number of means......yet over and over we see that period of estrangement repeatedly upheld as a thing that exists in the history that fics and headcanons reference having happened......but with the only ACTUAL change from the comics being that its framed as though it was just growing pains or Dick being stubborn or a dozen other things that somehow keep coming back to Dick doing something wrong there instead of repeatedly standing in front of Bruce asking for him to clarify their relationship and Bruce changing the subject or asking him to leave.

Again. THAT’S the problem.

You want Good Parent Bruce Wayne? Then WRITE Good Parent Bruce Wayne. Don’t just write Stubborn Teenaged Asshole Dick Grayson who btw doesn’t even really want Bruce to be his parent so there’s absolutely nothing Bruce could have done to bridge that gap back then anyway.

(As that’s an equally critical part of the equation here as well. See, since Dick DID clearly express a want for a clear connection to Bruce back then, acting like Dick never really wanted a second father is a super convenient way to write over the part where Dick spelled out for Bruce how to bridge the divide between them and make things good again.....by demonstrating an actual WANT to have Dick in his family!)

But writing Stubborn Teenage Asshole Dick Grayson Who Did This To Himself.....that is something entirely different from writing Good Parent Bruce Wayne. You haven’t actually done or said anything with BRUCE’S character by just making Dick the fall guy for every conflict between them as though they were just equals all along and there was never any kind of actual parent child relationship or even a DESIRE for there to be a parent child relationship. Where the responsibility for being the PARENT like, lands on the....y’know. Parent.

And for the record, I don’t think this issue is confined just to this period of the comics, I think rather that its kinda the point of origin of a very large recurring problem in Dick’s conflicts with other people.

Because like I said, it was abundantly clear that Dick was expressing a want to be acknowledged as family, or just flat out acknowledged by Bruce at all, during this time. And if people can somehow make THAT period into just his fault.....then of course it should be no surprise that they can make any conflict he’s part of into his fault. Its a freaking blueprint for doing just that!

And that’s exactly why this pattern recurs so damn often with EXACTLY the same fanon beats......whatever role the other character plays even in initiating a conflict is shifted onto Dick and somehow made into his own proactive choice and not something he’s actually reacting to. Thus Dick does double duty as both the CAUSE of the conflict and the resulting EFFECT - aka how he reacted to that thing that originally, he did not actually cause or initiate. While meanwhile, the other character not only gets off scot free bearing no actual culpability....no, now since DICK is the one making all the actual choices in the conflict from start to finish, now the other character is actually his VICTIM in it as well.

And that’s just.....so....blegh.

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

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prompt: Yay it's finally letting me ask you! I'm wondering if you could do anything with sick Jason? that'd be awesome. thank you for taking the time to read this :). and also, you're easily my favorite author, and I love you so much. thank you for all you do <3 - anon

prompt: Hey there. Could you do anything, like literally anything with sick!Jason? - @lettheseabirdscry

“Is everyone in position?”

Tim spares a glance down to see Damian crouched behind a large trash bin, the Robin’s starting position for the recon mission Bruce called all of the bats too, but when bringing his gaze back to the rooftop across from him, it’s empty.

“Hood’s not here,” Tim informs with a frown, unable to shake this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.

“Unsurprising,” Damian scoffs into the comms, his flat tone clashing with Bruce’s deep sigh.

“Robin,” Dick warns over the comms. “One sec; I’ll call him.”

Tim waits, staring hard at the empty spot across from him as if expecting Jason to just manifest before his very eyes, to just stretch through reality’s fabric with some quip about being fashionably late.

“Damn. No answer. Oracle, can we get a ping on his location?”

“He’s probably out becoming intoxicated with Harper.”

Tim doesn’t need to see Damian’s face to know the pull of muted disgust twisting at his lips.

“Arsenal’s out of town,” Barbara mutters flatly in the comm. “And Hood’s phone tracker is showing he’s in his apartment. I can’t get much of a read on anything else. Looks like he finally cashed in on his word that he was going to rig his security systems to block us out.”

“We should move forward with the mission without him.”

Tim considers nudging a loose brick over the ledge of the roof, right above Damian. “He said he’d be here.” Tim knows Jason is a lot of things; he knows that Jason thrives off of disappointing his family, but he’s not one to go back on his word, not with something like this.

“Maybe something came up in Crime Alley? He did say he’d meet us after patrol.”

Tim can hear the worry hidden behind Dick’s easy tone, and he assumes Dick’s carefully redistributing his concern, spreading it out evenly so he doesn’t lose his cool.

“Huh,” Barbara mutters absently into the comms. “His phone tracker says he’s been in his apartment all day.”

“Maybe he left his phone in his apartment?”

“I don’t know. I’ve pulled security camera feeds from Crime Alley, hitting all the locations he frequents, and... well, nothing. Not a single sight of him all day.”

Tim stands fully, narrowly scanning his surroundings for any sign of Jason. He can’t shake the uneasy pull at his chest, and though he’s not physically close to the others, he assumes the feeling’s mutual based on the silence that follows.

“B, I don’t like this. He promised me he’d be here.”

Dick’s no longer working to hide his concern, and that just heightens Tim’s anxiety that something isn’t right. He tries to puzzle together and explanation based on the four times he’s seen Jason this week: twice in Crime Alley on patrol, once two days ago at the Bat Cave, and yesterday walking out of a convenience store. He can’t recall anything out of the ordinary, but Jason’s closed off, more so thanks to the lingering pull of the Lazarus Pit, so normal, outward, physical appearances mean little to nothing.

“Can we delay the recon?” Tim asks. “I’m only ten minutes from his apartment. I can go check and see if he’s there.”

“I don’t want you to go alone.”

“B,” Tim fights back with a groan. “You and Nightwing are thirty minutes out from my location. I can be there and back before you even get here.”

“Take Robin,” Dick says, and Tim has to fight back the unconscious need to sigh loudly. “I know you’re capable, Red, but humor me. You two are stronger together.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Damian’s voice is bleeding annoyance, and for once, Tim can agree with how he’s feeling.

“No,” Bruce mutters, sounding almost distracted. “Hood has made many enemies since coming back to Gotham, and you have no idea what you are walking into. You both go, and you both come back immediately if he’s not there.”

“Keep the line open, and stay in contact, Little Wings.”

Tim rolls his eyes and grapple hooks off the building, landing near Damian. “Okay,” he mutters into the comm, and Damian only scoffs at him and starts off toward Jason’s apartment, leaving Tim to catch up.

***

“You’re going to hack his security system?”

“Yes?” Tim frowns at Damian. “How else are we going to get in?” He starts tapping at a keypad outside of Jason’s apartment door.

“Knocking?”

“Tried that once,” Tim mutters, mind half-focused on the conversation and half-focused on working around Jason’s security. “Almost got shot.”

“You what?” Dick’s voice is alarmed in Tim’s ear, but he disregards it.

“And you think breaking and entering won’t get us shot?”

Tim shrugs, working around the final code until he hears multiple locks click open. “Don’t get hit,” he mutters, slowly opening the door. He tenses to alert, and he can see Damian match his stance at his side.

They step inside, quietly and carefully, and though Tim’s been here before, he’ll never not be mutely surprised at how domestic the entire place is. There are books stacked on a small coffee table. A blanket’s draped across the couch, and the TV’s on with the sound muted. The lights are on in his living room, kitchen, and bathroom.

Tim glances at Damian, sharing a silent conversation before they begin their quick, quiet search. Tim starts to the kitchen while Damian pads silently down the hall.

The kitchen’s a mess. Dishes are piled high in the sink and are littering the small kitchen table. There’s a bag on a counter, the same bag Tim remembers seeing Jason walk out of the convenience store with. He moves to it, looking to see various medicines tipped over in the bag. Frowning, he makes to pick one up, but then he hears a very loud gun shot accompanied by a very uncharacteristic curse.

“Damian!” Tim drops the bag and whips out of the kitchen to the bedroom, ripping his domino off as he walks in to see Jason shakily propping himself up on one elbow in bed with an even shakier hand aiming a gun at Damian.

“Jason, stop! It’s just us!”

“Was that a gun shot?”

Tim ignores Dick’s frantic question in his ear, instead edging around the room, eyes searching over Damian in the dark. “Were you hit?”

“Of course not,” Damian spits out, stepping forward toward the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Jason’s hand. He clicks the safety and drops the gun to the floor, and then he’s tugging a glove off and slapping a hard hand to Jason’s forehead, interrupting Jason’s deep, wet coughing.

Damian clicks his tongue, a frowm sharp on his face. “You’re burning up.”

Jason weakly slaps Damian’s hand away, staring a look filled to the brim with sharp daggers between the two, stopping on Tim.

“Did you break into my fucking apartment? Again?”

“Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Ignoring Dick once more, Tim reaches around to hit the light switch on the wall, frowning when Jason winces hard.

“You didn’t show up for the recon,” Tim supplies, his stomach twisting at the sight of Jason, of the angry red splotches coloring his otherwise pale cheeks, the sweat shining on his forehead, the inconsistent shivers wracking his broad frame. He studies the way Jason’s face twists around his words.

“That’s because it’s Thursday.”

Tim’s heart clashes with worry, and he and Damian share a glance. He’s surprised to see Damian sporting a similar look of muted concern.

“Jay, it’s Friday.”

“No, it ain’t,” Jason grumbles, hand slapping around on his bed until he finds his phone.

Tim watches as Jason’s face falls.

“Oh.” Jason spares a glance through his messages, unable to read much because his headache is making it hard to concentrate. He looks up from his phone, turning to see a rubber bullet lodged into the wall beside Damian’s head. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” Damian mutters, frowning. He slips around the room, pausing by Tim on his way out. “I’m going to talk with Father and Grayson. You should get a read on his fever.”

Nodding, Tim waits until he can hear Damian’s quick talking with Dick and Bruce before he moves to Jason’s bathroom to find a thermometer, snagging a traditional, under the tongue, mercury one before making his way back to Jason’s room.

“How long have you been sick?”

“How did you hack into my security systems again?”

Tim sighs, cocks his head to the side. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Fuck,” is all Jason replies with, and he takes the thermometer Tim hands him and slips it under his tongue.

“Three minutes,” Tim says, ignoring the sharp look Jason shoots him. “You know they make thermometers now that will tell you your temperature in seconds, right? Why the hell do you have this old thing?”

“Alfred left it a few months ago.”

“No talking,” Tim points out, and Jason glares hard under glassy eyes.

“Then stop asking me fucking questions.”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut, and once he counts to the 180th second, he leans forward and snags the thermometer from Jason’s lips, studying the 102.4 degree reading, equating it with Jason’s other, apparent symptoms.

“Have you been around anyone who’s had the flu recently?”

“I don’t have the flu,” Jason mutters despite the chesty coughs that rip up his throat. “Just a cold.”

Tim takes a step back and crosses his arms. “High fever, coughing, chills, I imagine you have a headache based on the wince when I turned on the lights, and you probably have a sore throat since your voice is physically hurting my ears.”

“What? Are you a doctor now?”

“No, I’m just not an idiot,” Tim spits back, and Jason only grunts and flops back against his pillow, tugging his blanket up with a hiss.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll suit up.”

Tim... does not expect that, and he’s about to scold Jason in a way he’s sure would make Dick proud when Damian slips back into the room.

“Father called Clark. They are pulling in backup for the recon.”

“Well, why’d he go and do something stupid like that?”

Tim rips his eyes from Damian back to Jason to see Jason shuffling around his room for his suit.

“Jason, what the hell?” Tim spits out, moving to Jason’s side when Jason starts to sway. “Sit down.” He nudges Jason back toward the bed, but Jason, despite how sick he is, fights against him.

“We have a recon, don’t we?” He turns to Damian and barks out a cough. “Demon, call B and tell him we’re coming.”

“Todd, you’re too sick. You’d just hold us back.”

Tim takes the distraction to lightly shove Jason back onto the bed.

“I think I’d rather have Dick here,” Jason groans, coughing harshly into his pillow. “At least he has good bedside manner.”

“He and father are already on their way.”

“Fantastic,” Jason growls, curling in on himself and coughing harshly.

Tim moves to pull the blankets up over Jason’s shivering frame, stopping when Damian’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Let me go, Dami.”

“No. I have very specific instructions to relocate you away from Todd.”

“What the hell? Why?” Tim digs his heels into the floor when Damian pulls on his wrist, but he stumbles forward when Jason lazily kicks him in the back of the leg.

“No spleen, idiot. Get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” Tim tries, but Damian’s grip is hard enough to bruise, so he relents with a loud sigh. “Jesus, fine...” He rips his hand free and stalks to the door. “Get him medicine and make sure he doesn’t die.”

***

The deep inhale of nicotine burns Jason’s lungs and brings forth a chesty round of coughing that hurts. He absently rubs at his chest, shivering, and takes in another puff of his cigarette, and then another, desperately repeating this action to chase away the edge of angered anxiety that comes when he’s near Bruce. He leans over the balcony with another shiver, watching his shaking exhale cloud before him.

He hears the balcony door open, but the footsteps are too light to be Bruce’s. They are also too determined to be Tim’s, and too deliberate to be Damian’s. He doesn’t look back when a blanket is draped over his shoulders, and he only scoffs quietly when Dick plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it over the side of the balcony.

“You would still smoke when you have the flu.”

Jason doesn’t reply, not finding the energy for a snarky retort. “What have you all been doing out there?” he asks instead, tugging the blanket tighter around him to fend off the chills.

“Damian’s cleaned your kitchen, and now he’s reorganizing your movie collection. Tim started reading one of your books, but he fell asleep. And Bruce has been staring at your bedroom door as if willing you to run out and give him a big, bear hug.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that quickly morphs into deep coughs. He can feel Dick’s hand on his back as he coughs into his shoulder.

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m alternating between Candy Crush and Words with Friends with Barbara. She’s kicking my ass.”

Jason smiles, tired but genuine, feeling the anxiety flutter off with Dick’s presence. “How long til you all get the fuck out?”

“I don’t think Bruce is going to leave until he’s sure you are okay. Not sure that we can wake Tim right now, and Damian won’t leave until Bruce does.”

“And you?” Jason repeats, and Dick cocks his head to the side with an easy smile.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”

Humming, Jason shivers again, and he allows Dick to guide him back into his room and to his bed. Dick carefully tucks him in, and Jason’s too tired and too feverish to mind.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out suddenly, and Dick’s hands freeze, and he frowns.

“For what?”

“I promised I would show up.”

“Hey, Jay, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick brushes the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead, a sympathetic hum slipping up his throat at the heat. “No more smoke breaks until you’re better. You’re still burning up.”

“You’re saying you’ll support my chain smoking when I’m all better?” Jason bats his eyelashes, and Dick sighs and stands, swatting at Jason’s covered leg.

“Don’t twist my words. I’m going to toss all your cigarette packs out.”

Jason growls lightly, a few coughs mixing with it, and he curls onto his side, wishing the stupid medicine Damian forced into him would kick in a lot faster. “You have until 99,” he mutters to Dick, who’s already filling a small trash bin with cigarette packs.

“What?”

“99,” Jason repeats with a harsh cough that hurts his chest. “When my temp hits 99, I want you all out.” There’s no heat to his tone, and he struggles against the fatigue pulling against him.

“99,” Dick clarifies with a soft smile. “You got it, Jaybird.”

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mirrerover · 3 years

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High on the Fumes

“Straying a bit far from the nest, Dickiebird,” Jason says. He’s got one hand shoving his mask back up into his hood, revealing just his mouth and the sharp line of his jaw, while the other digs in the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing for cigarettes. A beaten-up carton gets waved in Dick’s general direction, offering a cigarette Dick never accepts. Not like this. Not in the Nightwing suit, at least.

They’re currently overlooking Crime Alley, seated on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the side. Jason hadn’t seemed surprised when Dick had dropped down next to him on the ledge. But Red Hood wouldn’t be Red Hood if Jason didn’t know the coming and goings of the various vigilantes creeping on Gotham's rooftops at night.

“Ran out of bad guys my side of the pond,” Dick says in the easy way he says lots of things. The patented Grayson charm. “What can I say—I’m just that good.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Jason. A genuine one. One that has his mouth stretched apart in a smile that makes Dick think beautiful.

“No criminals in Blüdhaven. I knew moonlighting as a police officer would be bad for you. Six months on the job and they’ve already got you on their payroll.”

“Thought you’d be proud of me for lasting as long as I did.”

“Sure thing, Princess.” There’s a fancy Zippo in his hand now, one Dick has never seen before, lighting the first cigarette of plenty to come. Dick wonders if Jason lifted it off some crook he left for dead. “You probably broke some departmental records. Most Blüdhaven cops are on the take before they’ve even stepped off Academy grounds.”

Dick chuckles the way you chuckle when watching your own house burn down to ashes, all your mortal possessions still inside. Blüdhaven is a corrupt cesspool with no fast and easy fix. Maybe not even a slow and difficult one—and she’s all Dick's. He stuffs the thought somewhere deep and hidden and eagerly shifts his eyes to Jason so he can forget. Just for a while.

It’s hard to read Jason’s face, hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the body language is clear; no apparent stiffness or major sore spots. Jason looks relaxed, if not a little tired, fingers nimble when they lift the cigarette to his lips. So the bloodstains aren’t his own.

“Slow night?”

Jason shrugs. “Petty criminals, mostly.” His lips tighten into a harsh line. “Some creep who thought he could set up shop and play pimp. Fuck that. My girls work for themselves.”

His girls. And that, Dick thinks, is the difference between Bruce and Jason. Bruce has his villains, his meta humans, and when that well runs dry there’s the League. A galaxy full of nemeses for him to fight. Big players and even bigger stakes. Abstract concepts of freedom and peace, and the liberty of dealing in absolutes. Jason has his people. The concrete reality of kids not being cornered by predators and sex workers keeping money in their own pockets. And his people love him. Prefer the Red Hood taking an iron pipe to the face of their abusive ex-husband, their kid’s drug dealer, or the rapist next-door, to the untouchable Bat Symbol high up in the sky.

Maybe Dick’s been staring too hard or maybe Jason can tell he’s thinking of Bruce because the next time he speaks, he’s extra crass: “I need a cock so far up my ass I’ll be seeing stars, a good meal, and a shower with better water pressure than the usual geriatric-taking-their-midnight-piss nonsense that’s rife this side of the city.” He sucks long and hard on the cigarette, posture thoughtful, before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Dick snorts. Maybe there’s more than just the one big difference. “That really something you wanna yell off the rooftops? Thought you were some big bad crime lord.”

“The fuck's that s'posed to mean, Big Bird?” Some might assume that toting around eight severed heads in a duffle bag once would make it hard to take the moral high ground on anything. Dick knows for a fact that Jason doesn’t really give a shit about either morals or the high ground but it doesn’t stop him from taking both and making them his bitch. “Think I’m weak for taking it up the ass? How ‘bout you dial back on the homophobia, you bigoted prick.”

It might be more impressive if Dick was a little less familiar with Jason and his rage. Jason doesn’t settle his actual grievances with his words. This is foreplay.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Little Wing. Got the best thighs this side of the equator. Ain’t nobody calling you weak, babe.”

“Don’t you forget it, asshole.”

Dick hums, lowering himself onto his back, arms stretched high above his head. There’s a weird serenity to being verbally abused by Jason as the Eastern sky is starting to brighten. The sound from the street feels distant and Jason feels so close, their thighs mere inches apart. When Dick lets his head rest on his arm, Jason’s broad shoulders fill up half his vision and he knows if he buries his nose between his shoulder blades it’ll smell of leather and smoke and sweat.

Jason twists his torso towards him. “Were you even listening, Fingerstripes? Just told you I want a cock up my ass before the night is through. Need me to grab a pen and a piece of paper and spell it out for you?” Jason gives a depreciating grunt. “And Daddy dares to say that you’re the smart one.”

“Jesus, Hood,” Dick teases. “Can’t tell if you’re trying to go for seductive or insulting.”

“Shows how shit your instincts are. I’m doing both. You turned on yet?”

Dick shrugs good-naturedly, arches his back and gives Jason the Grayson smile, blinding, crooked, winning. “Little bit.”

There’s another laugh, another smile. Another beautiful in Dick’s head. Then Jason’s lying down beside him, shoulders brushing, and voice bleeding a warm: “thought you would be, you big slut.”

When Jason finishes his cigarette he kills what’s left of it on the concrete. Wordlessly lights another. The new Zippo burns big and bright.

Dick lowers one arm, carefully drags his fingers across the busted knuckles of the hand holding the lighter. Sometimes, those hands will leave red streaks on Dick’s skin and Dick won’t know if the person it came from is still a person at all. And he thinks Jason painting him with blood should probably bother him more than it does. But it’s hard sometimes, between the night job and the day job and the things he sees during both. Between Bruce, who puts principles before people, and Jason, who puts people before Bruce, is Dick, who doesn’t want to choose between either, who wants to have both—but let’s Jason mark him up with the blood from Gotham’s criminals, anyway. So, maybe he’s made his choice.

"Make me a coffee tomorrow morning," Dick says, Jason's hand warm beneath his own. "With those fancy beans. From that specialty shop where they roast and grind the beans on the spot and you watch them like a hawk 'cause you're both anal and a snob."

"Just the coffee?"

"Just the coffee."

"You're one cheap fucking lay, Boy Blunder."

“Only for you,” Dick says. "The Bat family discount.” Dick wonders if there’s a little something special in those cigarettes when that doesn’t get him punted off the roof immediately. The vicious elbow stab to the gut seems rather mellow.

“Asshole,” Jason murmurs under his breath. The vitriol dripping off that single word makes Dick honest-to-God giggle, chest feeling light like flying.

He thinks they’ll stay here a little longer. Maybe one or two more cigarettes—all Jason. Dick will smoke after. After the sex, and the shower and the sleeping and the coffee. Long after the morning is gone. When Dick has been stripped of his suit for hours and Jason the same for his mask and guns. Then Dick will sit naked in the afternoon sun on Jason’s windowsill, grab that Zippo and smoke.

One cigarette. Just then.

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

@wethatake I wrote a thing. Can you believe it? I sure can’t

#jaydick #jaydick fanfic #jason Todd #Dick Grayson #mirre writes

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nightwingmyboi · 4 years

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Dick Grayson and Temper

For whatever reason, Dick’s temper has become one of the main traits that people focus on when looking at Dick’s character. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, since he does have quite the temper, but since it has become one of those essential aspects of his personality for a lot of people, I just wanted to clarify a few things I think get misconstrued?

Certain people take Dick having a temper and equate it with him having anger issues or thin skin. It’s bled into art, text posts, fics...where Dick is described/shown essentially as a petty asshole, someone who has a tendency to overreact and lash out at family and friends, someone who is whiny and always complaining (@bigskydreaming goes a little more into this perception here). I don’t think this is a fair interpretation of Dick’s character at all. There are two main things I feel like people need to keep in mind when thinking about Dick’s temper.

1.) Dick’s infamous temper is, 9 times out of 10, directed at criminals.

Nightwing (1996) #65

When Dick mentions struggling with his temper, he is almost always talking about the anger he feels towards criminals, not loved ones. When he sees people hurt or in danger, especially those closest to him, he gets pissed and can go too far. He often gets angry in defense of his family and those he protects.

Titans Vol. 2 #29

Batman and Robin #12

In fact, one of the biggest examples of his temper is him beating the Joker to death, as a result of the Joker killing Jason and Tim. Like many heroes, Dick struggles with not crossing the line when faced with crime; this doesn’t mean that he is the same way with those he loves.

2.) In most circumstances, Dick has demonstrated excellent control of his anger. So, Dick may have a bad temper...but it usually doesn’t make an appearance unless he is under an immense amount of pressure (and sometimes not even then).

Injustice Gods Among Us #16

Dick’s not a doormat and he can be confrontational if that’s what is needed to get the job done, but he is also known for keeping a cool head under immense pressure and stress. He’s known in the superhero community for resolving conflict and has often been called “the glue” that keeps various teams together. That wouldn’t mesh with the idea that he is constantly losing his temper. In fact, his middle name might as well be de-escalation, because that’s pretty consistently what he does. Look at how he acts in various arguments:

Example #1: While Nightwing is off-world with the Titans, Jason dies. Likely struggling with grief, Bruce doesn’t attempt to contact Dick while he is off world or when he returns. Dick is left to find out through a teammate, Danny Chase. Despite being left in the dark, Dick still goes to the cave to try to support Bruce. He puts his feelings to the side, and doesn’t even bring up the fact that he was hurt by Bruce’s exclusion. Unfortunately, the conversation derails regardless, and Bruce ends up hitting Dick and telling him that it was a mistake to invite Dick into his life.

The New Teen Titans #55

Look at how Dick reacts. Even when Batman hits him and yells extremely harsh things at him, he doesn’t lash out in turn or yell back. He keeps calm and continues to talk to Batman; he likely understands that this is a product of Bruce’s grief and as a result allows his feelings/hurts to go unaddressed.

Example #2 (inspired by @hood-ex post here): Garth loses his temper when he learns that the Titans won’t help him with a problem he’s having. When Robin tries to stop the fight, Garth punches him.

Teen Titans (1966) #28

After he takes the hit, Dick continues to try to keep people from fighting, and in the end, Dick once again puts his bruised feelings to the side and doesn’t say a word of complaint to keep team unity. He still goes and helps Garth with his problem.

Example #3: After Donna’s death, Dick was devastated. He spiraled into depression. In the aftermath, he was stricter and quicker to anger than he would normally be. Even his leadership of the Outsiders was effected, and as a result, Anissa, Black Lightning’s daughter, was seriously hurt. Black Lightning is not pleased; he slams Nightwing against a wall and yells at him.

Outsiders (2003) #16

Even when Dick is emotionally compromised and short tempered, he still isn’t looking for a fight. He doesn’t retaliate when Black Lightning slams him against the wall, and he doesn’t interrupt when Pierce tears into him (for a whole page of the comic). It’s not like Pierce goes easy with his criticism; yet, Dick remains stoic and takes it. He doesn’t say a word of complaint or defense, and he doesn’t lash out. He keeps his temper under control. (Just an fyi for those wondering, but this is definitely one of those times Dick deserved a harsh talking to, lmao, support you Black Lightning!!)

Example #4: The Batfam is fighting a villain known as Mother, who is known for brainwashing people. Anyone could be in her control, so when Tim is acting suspiciously, Dick decides to investigate to ensure that Tim is not a double agent. Dick finds out that Tim secretly kept his family in a hidden location to protect them, and unintentionally brings trouble to their door. On the flip side, Tim gets angry at Dick for sneaking around behind his back and putting his family in danger. Though Dick tries to explain his actions, Tim won’t hear it and instead throws a punch.

Batman and Robin Eternal #5

Even when Tim punches him out of the blue, ironically because he can’t control his temper, Dick just takes the hit and lets him walk away. He doesn’t ever push Tim for an apology, and Tim never gives one. The rest of the series, people give Dick crap for betraying Tim’s trust, and despite Dick’s reasonable concerns being the impetus for his actions, Dick accepts the other’s criticism without complaint.

Examples #5-57: Just think of all the times that Damian insulted Dick and told him he couldn’t cut it and generally was acting like a little shit, when Dick was struggling with Batman’s death and with taking on the cowl and with running Bruce’s life, and Dick still never gave up on Damian and gave him Robin. Very patient, very thick skin.

And I could add even more moments! I don’t mean to go overboard, but the idea is that, over pretty much his entire history, from Robin to Nightwing to Batman and back, there are more times that Dick puts his feelings to the side and lets people yell at him (and basically physically assault him RIP) for the greater good, then times he flies off the handle and loses his temper, especially when compared to other characters in the Batfam. Seeing people say that Dick is secretly an angry asshole when pushed a little or is always blowing things out of proportion and being whiny is just annoying, especially when Dick canonically has worked very hard to keep his cool and mediate in various tense situations, even when he has reason to get offended and retaliate.

And this isn’t me saying that Dick can’t lash out, cause duh he’s a human being and he’s not perfect. He does have a temper and sometimes can say harsh things to those he loves. But, he doesn’t usually lose his cool, and when he does it is usually a surprise. The rarity of Nightwing giving into his temper is part of the reason it is so impactful when he does fly off the handle.

A lot of the panels you see floating around about Dick’s temper are 1) from times he was brainwashed or mentally influenced (Dick yelling at Donna, Alfred, and Joey are all from a single time when he was brainwashed by Brotherblood for example), 2) from times he was in great emotional/mental distress from the deaths of those close to him, or 3) examples of times that Dick is standing up for himself, that I don’t really see as him having a temper? And a lot of those fights/arguments that are shown are not as one sided as tumblr makes them seem, lmao. Either way, most of these times aren’t really representative of his normal behavior or attitude.

In conclusion, Dick isn’t some petty jerk with anger management issues; he’s a human being, who sometimes gets angry and upset like every other human being in the world. He has a temper, but I don’t feel like it should define him in the way and to the extent that it currently does.

P.S. This isn’t me trying to excuse the times that Dick has been nasty and let his temper run away from him, obviously. Like I said, he’s human and he’s made mistakes. But he doesn’t lash out normally or often. I’m just trying to put things in perspective.

#batman is prob the only one who can really make him lose it #and bruce kind of deserves a little talk back in my opinion lmao #plus his temper has literally vanished into thin air #in these rebirth comics #so for people to be making it so integral #is just trying to make Dick out to be a jerk lmao #nightwing #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #teen titans #outsiders #temper #dick grayson temper #character analysis #meta

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batarella · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Hate You - Part 5 (Jason Todd x Reader)

will i ever find true love? with standards like this? will i ever find someone who’ll quench my thirst like jaybaby does?

nah.

(If you haven’t already noticed, since the reader is inspired by Jade West, ALL the songs in her singing scenes come from the covers by the iconic Liz Gillies! This one’s scene is inspired by Liz’s live story right here)

WORD: 6908 WARNINGS: EVEN MORE FLUFF BWAHAHAHAHA

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Jason: ‘don’t do it.’

Jerry the science teacher was starting to catch on to him with Jason’s eyes darting to his crotch for no reason and his hand under the desk, but Jason managed to fool him by pulling out his notebook right where his phone was and pretended to take notes with his free hand. It was getting harder to hide it though, especially when he’d crack into a wide grin in the middle of a boring discussion all of a sudden. He looked like an idiot.

Y/N: ‘I’ll fucking do it.’

Jason: ‘she’ss a teaacher.’

Y/N: ‘that hasn’t stopped me before.’

Jason was writing scribbles onto his notebook at that point, lingering his eyes on the teacher for as long as he could while his other hand blindly texted barely readable typos. How were you able to text so well?

You sent another text before he could respond. ‘I’m totally doing it.’

Jason: ‘I’m sure she wasd looookin behind yuu’

Y/N: ‘no. she was definitely looking at me. Who else would she look at when she’s talking about baby murderers.’

Jason: ‘oh.’

Jason really wanted to laugh now. He double texted.

Jason: ‘I get it now.’

Y/N: ‘im not a fucking serial killer.’

Three dots floating in a bubble followed after.

Y/N: ‘yet.’

Jason kept his eyes on the board. Thankfully, this was chemistry. Bruce taught him more about that subject than Jerry ever will. He didn’t need to listen.

Y/N: ‘it’s just her divorce.’

Jason: ‘you have got to stop asking facultyyyt memberd how their divorce is going.’

Y/N: ‘why not’

Jerry definitely caught him by now. His glances at him included unbothered shakings of his head and flattened lips. But he didn’t say anything and went on with the discussion. He probably didn’t bother. Jason would end up with the highest test score no matter what he was doing in his desk. And the man had large bags under his eyes that screamed ‘I really don’t give a fuck about any of you’ to his students.

Jason: ‘you’re worse than a serial killer.’

You: ‘Im no Amelia Dyer.’

Jason: ‘remind me to look her up.’

You: ‘she killed 400 babies and had a infant farm for 20 years before she got caught.’

Jason: ‘sounds like something you’d do’

Y/N: ‘I don’t kill babies. I just scare them.’

Jason: ‘that’s the first step right there.’

You sent a middle finger and it made him silently cackle. Somehow, your sense of humor through came off a lot less dark, maybe because you didn’t sound like you were serious, when in actuality, you probably were. It didn’t matter though. He was smiling like a crazy person in the middle of a discussion about balancing equations.

Jason placed his phone back into his pocket and waited for the bell to ring so he could go meet you at the library for the fifth week since you started. You were halfway through your sentence. He never thought he’d get there. Somehow, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the end of it as he thought he would.

Just yesterday, he told himself it was wrong to enjoy watching you scream at the stoners hiding behind the encyclopedia sections knowing no one would go in there at all. You were, quite literally, kicking them out of the library while Ms. Peterson backed you up like a shrieking duo. One of them cried while you charged at him, looking like you were about to tear his hair out and you threatening to stick his blunt up his earhole.

It went from something so obnoxious to something so amusing to watch. Perhaps the wrong was in him.

Jason listened to the teacher for the last ten minutes of the class, then the bell rung and everyone started for the exit. He picked up his bag, then took out his phone to tell you he was on his way.

“Texting in class now, Todd?”

He wanted to throw his bag, or anything he had on his hands really, to that source of that voice. Brandon. Fucking Brandon. With his still throbbing new nose and football varsity jacket over his shoulders that made him look even more loathsome than he already does. He came up to Jason and stood him off.

“Every single day for the past week, you text in class.” Brandon brought his leg up to rest on a chair beside Jason. “What? You think you’re so much smarter than everyone now?”

“I’m smarter than you, that’s for sure. But that’s not really much to brag about.”

“I can tell on you, you know. How’d your GPA like that?”

“Didn’t know you were a dirty snitch, Brandon.”

“Who you texting?” he raised his arms up to intimidate him. “That psycho bitch you hang out with all the time?”

Bruce told him to keep his rage in check even more so in class than he barely does in patrols, but at that moment, in a dizzying blur, Jason skillfully pushed Brandon against the wall and pulled his fist behind him without much care for the onlooking crowd.

“Want a new nose again, jackass?”

“Fuck you-“

“ALRIGHT, ENOUGH. STEP AWAY FROM HIS NOSE.”

Jerry. Poor Jerry. The tired teacher grabbed onto Jason’s shoulder and pulled him away from the linebacker. Jason backed down, lowering his arm, then kept his glare on him while he puffed up his jacket.

“Both of you. Get out of here. Todd, you don’t want me to send you to the VP’s office again before I call your father. Everyone walk away. Yes, everyone. Walk on. Get on with your business.”

He kept his head craned down while Jerry screamed at anyone sparing him a look. Jason shoved his bag over his back and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door, he walked to the library and found an empty table waiting for him with a cart full of books at the side. Ms. Peterson had her hand on her hip, snarling at him when he took the seat. “Get to these by today, boy.”

He ignored her and sat down, leaning forward to take yet another nap with his arms folded under his head.

All it takes is one triggering moment. One thug to taunt him. One word from the Joker. One lecture from Bruce. One threat to his humanity. And now his head’s all boiled up and all he wanted to do was block out the rest of the world and take a nap. And even then, he knew he wouldn’t wake up feeling any better.

“Jason,” Bruce told him a five weeks ago, the first day of his library sentence. “Anything going on in school you should tell me about?”

“Nothing. What makes you think that?”

“You caused trouble,” he said. “You picked a fight.”

“I’m fine. I’m not letting it affect my grades.”

“This isn’t about your grades. You can't let your business from the field affect you and hurt innocent people.”

“I’m not-“

“The next time the principal calls me with you starting another fight-“

“You’ll what? Take away my phone privileges?”

“I’m taking away your suit.”

He stormed out of that room before he could say anything more. Bruce never brought it up again, but Jason knew he was going to keep his word no matter what.

Jason didn’t even notice when you took the seat across of him with that prolonged, annoyed grunt that most often came with an eye roll. You placed your bag to your side and poked at his arm.

“Ey. You gotta help me with this.”

He didn’t look up when you pulled out your notes and your textbook. “WAKE UP.”

You repeatedly patted his shoulder until he let out a large enough grunt to make him crane his head up, eye squinting at you and his black hair covering his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“What do you want now?”

“You weren’t this grumpy this morning.” You smirked. “I have to make a lit paper.”

“Why can't you do it yourself?”

“’Cuz you're the expert here. And I need that A.”

He buried his face back into his arms. “I’m not in the mood, Y/N.”

“Come on,” you said. Your voice prolonged the last syllable and you started to sound more annoying. “Don’t be a baby.”

“Just do it and ask me questions or some shit.”

“But I need your help-“

“And by the end of this, we’re at each other’s throats. I really don’t have the time for that now.”

You backed up, scoffing. “’Cuz you have something so much better to do?”

“Yeah,” he snarled. “Like taking a nap.”

He didn’t even glance at you taken aback and ignored you cursing under your breath. “Fine. Eat a dick, asshole.”

You took your stuff and drowned them into your bag, shuffling out of the table. A girl came up to you with a voice lower than a whistle. “Uhm, excuse me-“

“NO!” you screeched, then headed for the next table before she could ask anything more. The poor girl was trembling on her knees by the time you found an empty seat and pour out everything in your bag. His head was a mess, and the silence was the first step to actually making him clear his grime-covered mind. Jason kept shutting his eyes closed and focused on the blunt colors that appeared before his eyes in the shape of spirals.

For half an hour, he kept at his nap, falling asleep for a good ten minutes before he awoke to the sound of your screaming at a guy too stupid to ask you if the seat next to you was free while you were fumbling with your assignment. Jason groaned into his arm, feeling his head swell and ache and already knowing Bruce was waiting for him at home with yet another long, agonizing lecture on picking fights he never wanted in the first place. His eyes started to hurt from the force he used to shut them close, and everything in his mind was as hot as fire.

Leaning back against the chair, he knew this was going to bite him in the ass, sooner or later.

And one of the very very very few reasons he got to smile or even laugh all day was now violently taking notes while reading a book with the most fed up, furious expression on her face. He pulled out his bag, taking a water bottle and finishing its contents down his throat before he shot up and pushed his chair back.

Jason stood in front of your desk, his hand on the back of the chair across of you and waited for you to take notice of him. Your glare was terrifying. And it actually made him want to step back for once. But he stood his ground and sighed. “Can I help?”

“Get out of here.”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t need an asswipe telling me off.”

He took the chair despite you and you stared at your notebook, still with your eyebrows arched way up.

“Sorry.”

You ignored him and kept with your notes. He peered over, his elbows on the table, and you practically hissed at him when he got too close. Raising his hands up to surrender, he snarled at him before you continued your work.

“How many of reports have you done so far?”

You didn’t look like you were going to respond, and you kept writing like he wasn’t there in front of you at all. Jason couldn’t help but smile seeing you so angry and focused, knowing you were trying your best to block him out and failing miserably when he could see your eyebrow twitch and your eyes darting at him every few seconds.

Squirming his hand to you, his finger tugged on your gray sweater and scratched you like you had an itch. You pursed your lips and pulled your fist out so you looked like you were about to punch him, but he playfully held your hand and backed off. That was when he was fully smiling by now. He could block out all other thoughts easily when it was so fun to bug you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you finally looked up to his eyes. “Come on. Let me help.”

You licked the outside of your teeth and let out a long sigh that came with your usual grunt. Knowing you’d hate and love it at the same time, he ruffled your hair and you charged at him, almost stabbing him with your pen.

You finally managed to smile, then you gave in and handed him your notebook.

“The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe,” you said. “What do you think?”

He leaned over the table, glancing at you, then taking the time to read your notes on what you understood from the passage. “This is good.”

“I’ve read the whole book like ten times by now.”

That made his chest feel just a bit warmer. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you took out the collection book he gave you. “Ms. Peterson has no idea. I’m supposed to have four weeks-worth of penalties because of this.”

Knowing he gave you something, and you happened to like it so much that you wanted it to be your report for literature class, and with you writing a decent paper about it, with you reading it over and over, it instantly became one of the things he won't easily forget.

He never grinned so much in a while, probably since a week ago in the gym. Jason watched you take back your notebook, continuing to write as he gazed too long at your parted lips. Feeling his flesh burn, he looked away.

“I won't bite you if you change anything, you know.” you said, your eyes keeping on your notes. “Go nuts.”

You tore off the page and handed it over to Jason, then you gave him a pen. Smiling at you, he took it, then started to circling words he thought you should change and other ideas he had of his own. A moment of silence, you didn’t scream anything at him when you he gave you the corrections. You graciously nodded, then started rewriting them onto a separate page. Your hair was falling to your cheeks, and it touched your skin so delicately and soft. Pretty.

So pretty.

He was gawking. He was so gawking. You’ll never let him hear the end of it. He shook his head and pretended he wasn’t just resting his chin on his hand like a teenage girl.

The thought of you reading Poe’s works still hadn’t left his mind. It wasn’t even a complete collection. There were so many more stories out there, most just on the internet. Maybe tonight, he could send some to you and you might enjoy them, too.

Or, maybe not. Patrol. Bruce has been telling him not to text so much while he was out supposedly beating criminals. But he couldn’t help it.

There was just something about making you happy, or even just smile or let out a bit of a laugh that made him feel a whip of a breezy rush. You were often sad when you were alone, and whatever you felt at school, it was so much worse at home. Everyday, you told him bits more of how it was like with your parents.

He saw so much of himself in you. You were eerily similar. Too similar. The hidden rage, the angst kept within. Maybe that was why he liked making you laugh so much.

“So what story did you like most?”

You grinned. “I’m not entirely sure. The Black Cat’s definitely up there. I don’t know. I really like all of them.”

“I’ve read that. The Black Cat,” he said, leaning back. “What makes you like it so much?”

“I like the idea of a cat being the whole reason his life goes downhill, kills his wife, and eventually gets caught. Like his whole life was being dictated by his pet.”

“That’s dark.”

“I know,” you smirked. “That’s why I like it so much.”

He had his arms crossed over on the table to cover his chest. “You becoming a serial killer seems more possible now.”

“Fuck you,” you said, sticking your tongue out.

It was almost 4:30. He didn’t even notice the clock. You and Jason had the most civil conversation, not an insult or a mean comment on anything other than a playful back and forth. You closed your notes, then your book, then you stretched out your arms.

“Ms. Peterson’s gonna be pissed. We haven’t done any work today at all.”

“Just put the cart behind that shelf over there. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

He laughed, and you went with him as he stood up and did exactly so. “I can take you home today. But we have to leave now. Bruce wants me to go with him on this… thing.”

“Nah.” You pulled on your sweater as you headed out the door. “I’ll stay behind. Dad’s usually awake at this time. He won't be asleep until like, an hour from now.”

Jason respectfully understood, and you watched him as he walked out through the halls, turning at the corner.

He pulled out his phone. There was a text from Bruce.

‘You coming tonight?’

He didn’t bother to respond when he was already on his way home. Yesterday, Penguin and Two Face both had their own bank robberies at opposite ends of town. He repeatedly told Bruce he could handle Cobblepot on his own, but he refused and demanded he go with him while they take them out one by one.

Jason was reluctant of course, and it wasn’t like he had a choice. But he did a great job at finishing off Two Face’s crew that it didn’t take long for them to go all the way to the other bank and catch Penguin before they even got to half the bank’s vaults. Bruce told him he had the option to go with him to patrol tonight or not, but if he were, he had to come home early and not laze around in school like he often did.

Tonight, he chose to go to patrol. He thought he needed an outlet and imagine Brandon’s face on the heads of drug dealers. The thought alone made him grin.

Jason walked out the exit and reached for his keys.

Except he totally forgot he wasn’t even wearing his bag until he’d walked to his motorcycle. Groaning as he walked back into the school’s entrance, he sprinted for the library, catching the door open just as Ms. Peterson was about to walk out with a deathly glare on her face at him. Jason ran for his bag, took it, then gave Ms. P a fun little hug before walking back out.

He took out his phone, expecting a text from you, but there was nothing. So he asked you where you were before heading back out.

Out into the now empty halls, Jason walked pass the lockers, the dark classrooms, the one bright light at the center, he kept his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Piano keys.

Piano keys?

Playing. Simple chords played out but had a familiar tune he couldn’t get out from the back of his mind.

And singing.

A voice he’s only heard so often, yet he could pick out from a million others.

The music room was one he didn’t go in too often, but the sound came from there. The door wasn’t closed, and slowly, he peered it open.

A beam so little from the window, yet he could see how your back was so straight up, how your lean fingers rested gracefully onto the keys, playing the chords in perfectly strewn out notes that he could just tell you’ve been at this for quite some time. From an angle slightly to the left, you couldn’t see him, but he could see a bit of your face, the side of it, how your eyelids looked closed looking down at your own fingers.

Then you sang.

I've seen the world, done it all

Had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I've got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

You…

Yeah.

You were beautiful.

So beautiful…

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

You just… kept going.

And there was nothing, not ever, in the entire length of his existence, of his years at the streets, of his few years as Robin, of his time at either a ratty apartment or a manor, of all the people he’s met, of any song that he’s heard.

Nothing. Nothing compared to your voice. Nothing compared to you.

Hot summer days, rock and roll

The way you play for me at your show

And all the ways, I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul

Breathy, low, and everything he’s kept to remember. His chest never felt so light, yet his heart was beating out of his ribcage. His bag was almost dropped down his shoulder, his mouth was parted, his face deeply flushed. Even when you played the wrong note, cursed, then went on just as perfectly as you ever could, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

His eyes were so relaxed on you, and nothing, not even his trembling shoulders could make him look away.

You reached the higher notes with a perfect falsetto, then your voice echoed out even with the room as small as a stuffy classroom. His eyebrows were up to his forehead and he didn’t know if he was still breathing, when he was standing so still, frozen like a block of ice.

You had so much deepness and soul, and you were often whispering the words, but then your voice would go up in a perfect blend.

Perfect. That was all he could think of. Perfect.

His bag was on the floor now, the only thing keeping it up was a single finger.

Lana Del Ray. You sung it better than her. In his most humble, honest, totally not biased opinion. Shit, he even felt like he wanted to cry. His chest was heaving and his face never burned up so much, at almost the end of the song, he finally had it in him to move from his place and throw himself back against a wall.

Breathe. Fucking breathe.

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?

That last note, you breathed it out so nicely, it went straight into his soul, biting his lip, then closing his eyes.

He smiled like the biggest fucking idiot for the nth time that very day.

Jason looked like a fourteen year old girl cooing over a boyband. He laid his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling, hearing you sing vocal runs and pressing randomly at the piano. And he couldn’t stop showing his teeth, his face was hurting like a bitch, but fuck.

FUCK.

He’s never felt anything like this. Like his head was lighter than the air around him, lighter than the softness of your falsetto. He was still catching his breath and grinning above him, then at the ground, then back at the wall. It wasn’t on what he stared at. Your voice ringing in his ears, like angels were flying around playing their little harps over his head, like the sun was shining so brightly against him that he couldn’t see even a smidge of darkness anywhere in the world. How your face scrunched up, how your eyebrows raised, how you’d close your eyes and feel the song as it flew out your lips.

He rubbed on his chin and mouth to ease his aching muscles. Jason kept with his breathing, the fluttering in his chest. Everything. Everything.

Jason needed to wash his face with ice cold water at this point, gathering enough courage, he looked back into the room.

You were staring back at him.

-----

You didn’t look mad.

Though you definitely, most probably should.

You didn’t even notice he was there until the end of the song when he hit the wall with his back. Idiot must’ve thought you wouldn’t hear him.

But you weren’t mad. Not at all. Not from the way he was looking at you. Not when he was staring at you in a way no one ever had in your whole life. Not when you could see how his lips were parted and how his chest was visibly rising and how cute his face was all embarrassed and shit.

You could only smile.

Standing from the piano and grabbing your bag, you walked over to him. Jason gulped down and backed up against the wall with you standing right in front of him.

And after five weeks of knowing him,

Jason Todd finally looked like he was scared shitless of you.

But you didn’t want him to be scared of you. Not anymore. It just doesn’t seem like something you wanted anymore.

“You heard all that, huh?”

Jason was an absolute mess. He cleared his throat three times and hesitantly nodded, keeping his head to the ground.

“I-I’m uh,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be.”

He didn’t look like he had another answer. Jason scratched the back of his head. “Uhm-“

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You walked first, but looked back to see if he followed. Jason rushed to your side, making sure his blush wasn’t so evident even though it clearly was. You were better at hiding your own embarrassment, so you nudged his shoulder.

Jason laughed out loud and looked at you the same way he looked at the stars. You looked back at him the same way.

“You gonna take me home?”

He managed to form a sentence. “I thought you wanted to stay longer.”

You shrugged. “I guess I can take it.”

When you stepped out the gate, Jason walked you over to his bike and handed you his second helmet. Playfully, you hit the side of his and chuckled when you sat behind him, clutching onto his waist. You felt him tense, but he eventually relaxed and you leaned in to him.

You leaned your head on his back this time. You never did that before. Your clutch was tighter, your eyes closed. If it were anyone, it could pass for simply wanting to be more secure. But that day you just wanted to hold someone you actually didn’t mind being with before you’d get home and all this would end in an abrupt stop.

After a long while, you still couldn’t smell smoke emissions from cars or even hear the horns or bells or shouts from all the city folk near your apartment. Looking up then around you with the sun still shining brightly even at this time of day, you were in the countryside. Away from the city.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

“YOU’LL SEE.”

You could smell cow dung, and the earthy scent of grass you should be more used to than you actually are. The road ahead of you was wide and long, and the air was so much lighter than it was at home. You closed your eyes, this time feeling the wind against your skin.

Jason was smiling through his helmet. Further down the road, you held onto him. “I THOUGHT YOU HAD SOMEWHERE TO GO TONIGHT.”

“I TEXTED BRUCE. I’M NOT GOING WITH HIM. JUST HOLD ON.”

You smiled and looked on when he made a turn into a forest with tall trees getting taller as you rode further down. There were no people around you. Not even houses. You leaned into his shoulder and rested your chin on top.

Jason started to slow down when you reached deeper into the trees, finally stopping his bike by the curb. The air was cold, and you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body after you’ve removed your helmet. “Where are we?”

“Come on.”

Jason walked towards the trees, where there was a little cement pathway now covered in weeds and grass growing out of its cracks. You had trouble making your way through, especially when your boots had a bit of a heel in them, then you walked to Jason’s side as it became clearer what you were there for.

An old, abandoned house. Something out of the dozens of horror movies you’ve saved in your laptop.

“Dude…”

“You like?”

It was small, but its picket fence and flaking white wooden walls just screamed fifties to you, with a triangular roof, two windows on the second level, a half-circle glass wall on the right side of the first floor, and a door so rickety and old, colored in an earthly brown that had mixed in with the debris and rot. Vines were all over its porch, and there was even a rocking chair sitting right outside by the entryway, also covered in vines. Outside of the house was an old pickup truck that had rusted beyond use, sinking into the ground like it was pulled by the earth.

“How’d you know I always wanted to go urban exploring?”

“I just figured.” Jason smiled. “Come on. We can go inside.”

“Are you sure?” you eagerly started for the door. “It won't break?”

“I’ve been here once. The stairs are broken so we can't go to the second floor. Just be careful.”

Pulling the unlocked door open, and Jason right behind you, you flashed him a smile before stepping inside.

It was seriously from the horror movies you’ve watched over and over. The first thing that greeted you was a nice little foyer, with a table in the middle and a vase that used to house flowers for sure. Then behind it was the broken staircase Jason mentioned. It was made entirely out of wood, and it had fallen in so bad that it was basically a wall by now. So much of the wood was on the ground, and there were lots of papers, books, clothes, and several others cluttering all around the floor. You had to walk all over them.

There were two entry ways at the sides of the foyer. One leading to the living room, and one to the dining room and kitchen. Everything further down had been blocked out by wooden planks and even more clutter. The living room was beautiful with the glass walls that formed a half circle and a petite grand piano standing in the middle. Its cover was up, and its keys had completely gone. There was still a bit of light coming in to the windows, which shone on the room so nicely, it was perfect.

The couches were completely ruined, and you wouldn’t dare sit on it. At the center of the room, though, which caught your eye the most, was a beautiful, broken chandelier that had fallen to the ground, which was why there was so much broken glass around the floor.

At the other side, the dining room was a bit more modest. A table seating six was still intact, but the chairs were either toppled over to the ground or broken in half. Even more clutter was on the table. Nearby was the kitchen, with an island in the middle, an old-fashioned fridge you probably wouldn’t want to go near to, and other kitchen supplies scattered around.

You both took out your phones and took pictures of the place. It was too good to witness.

“Jason…”

“I know,” he raised his arms up, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Amazing.”

You covered your mouth, then walked on over to the piano. You ran your hands over it, ignoring the mountains of dust that formed over your fingers. “I dare you to play it.”

“There’s barely any keys left.”

You watched him laugh, then you both walked around the chandelier. “Getting a bit of the Phantom of the Opera vibes in here.”

“Don’t touch it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You eyed it carefully, then you looked up at the empty ceiling. It looked almost like it was going to fall in. Hopefully it wouldn’t.

“The family that used to live here, they left around fifty years ago. A mom, dad, and two twin girls. They both had tuberculosis and died in this very house. The parents just left it after they died. Never took anything along with them.”

“That’s terrifying. You think they’ve got a listing on this place?”

Jason chuckled. “The twins used to be theater stars. That’s why they’ve got a piano. To practice. And they built the whole place around it so the sounds would echo nicely.”

You finally got it. Shaking your head with a knowing smile, you turned to Jason. He had his hands stuck to his hoodie pockets, his head craned down, his hair falling to his eyes, and his smile all over the bottom half of his face.

“Is that why you took me here?”

“You have…” he gulped, never looking away from your eyes. “The most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life…”

You had to look away. For your own sake. You were turning red so much, it was embarrassing. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. You never told me you sang.”

“It’s not exactly something I hid. I’ve sung in school a couple of times. Like in middle school graduation.”

“So I’m basically the only one in school who hasn’t heard you sing?” He placed his hand on his chest. Then pretended to scoff.

“Why don’t you sing. Right here.”

“Todd. No.”

“Come on. We have the place for it.”

You looked up at the ceiling, which was high for a house so small. It probably went all the way up to the roof. “No way.”

Jason kept nudging you, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t help your smile though. You and Jason walked over to the kitchen and just looked at all the things the family left behind. Even the toaster was untouched, and you’ve never seen an oven so old fashioned before, it still had that pastel green color on the parts that hadn’t been taken over by rust.

It was starting to get dark. But you never wanted to leave. “Thank you.”

You said it without looking directly at him, but he got it. Going back outside before everything would completely dim out, Jason walked over to the pickup truck and jumped on its back.

You didn’t have the agility to just jump on top of it without possibly pulling a muscle, so you just watched Jason sit on the edge of it and swung his legs in the air. Standing beside him and leaning your back against the truck, you both watched the house as the sun started to set behind it. You could see the beams scatter just at the center of the roof where it angled down. The sky had grown from a brightly lit yellow to a dark orange.

-----

You and Jason were a recipe for trouble.

Was it because you were too similar? Harbored the same anger? The same hatred for a number of people you didn’t even know? Was it because you both stirred trouble when it wasn’t asked for?

It was a recipe for trouble because, according to the young adult romance novels and movies, Jason was supposed to be with a nice, sweet, innocent girl who’d bring out the good in him and was kind to everyone, have just enough of that spice in her that would draw attention but still be a sweetheart, and she’d be made of happiness and rainbows and would be what brightens up Jason’s darkness.

You were not that girl. You were the opposite. You had that same darkness as he did. You had so much anger, and instilled so much fear onto anyone you didn’t like. Maybe you were even darker. And if it were up to those same novels and movies, you were supposed to end up with basically the same type of person, someone who was bright and yellow and happy. Not Jay.

But with you both being so similar, so full of angst and dread and hate, in a world were opposites were supposed to belong together,

why does he bring so much light and hope?

How does someone just as unhappy as you are come along and make you laugh like the world was about to end?

How does someone just as full of pent up rage as you are come along, and make it all go away for a sweet, short moment?

How was it all possible? How could two people, two very similar people, fit into a puzzle that called for them to fill it what you didn’t have?

How could someone supposed to fuel the fire already inside you end up being the sun?

Jason never thought of that either. In fact, he thought he might end up with someone in his line of work. Another vigilante. Not a mean girl from school who terrorizes students with a pair of fucking scissors.

But, somehow, it all just made everything he was turn into what he was supposed to be. You could say the same.

With you in your little room and Jason in his significantly larger one in the manor, you both sank to the ground, backs against the wall, and you pulled out your phones.

You had left a message first.

Y/N: ‘Urban exploring should be more of a thing.’

Jason smiled.

Jason: ‘Nah. People would crowd those places and vandalize them.’

Y/N: ‘True. I’d want them all to myself anyway.’

Jason: ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

You felt your heart jump. God, this had to stop.

Y/N: ‘I did. Thank you.’

Jason: ‘Should I get used to you being nice to me now?’

Y/N: ‘Probably not.’

He laughed and shuffled his knees.

Y/N: ‘Send me the pictures you took.’

Scrolling through his albums, he selected everything he took that day and sent it all to you. Leaning on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he waiting, Jason imagined the look on your face when you first saw the house. Your eyes never shone so brightly.

You looked through the pictures and found several, about eight of them, centered on nothing else but you smiling at the ceiling, at the piano, at the chandelier, at the tables.

Y/N: ‘Dude. Why this angle of me?’

Confused, Jason looked through the pictures.

And he cursed out loud, over and over, burying his head in his hands when he saw he’d accidentally sent eight pictures he’d secretly taken of you. Fuck it all. This is how he dies. This is the death of Jason Todd.

You were smiling out of your face, and instead of saying anything mean or the thousands of jokes that instantly came up to the front of your mind, you did the same and sent him pictures you took.

And Jason’s heart rose up from where it sank to the floor when he saw you’d taken just as many pictures of him, doing the same things as you did and some with him holding his phone up. One was just his face.

He was a fucking grinning mess by then.

Jason: ‘Don’t I look good.’

Yeah, you cooed. You certainly do. But you didn’t say that to him. You just went along with him and he changed the subject.

Jason: ‘Huge favor.’

Y/N: ‘Shoot.’

Jason: ‘Send me a voice message of you singing.’

Y/N: ‘Absolutely not.’

Jason: ‘Please.’

Y/N: ‘No.’

Jason: ‘I’ll do your library work for three days.’

Y/N: ‘not even if you beg, Todd.’

Jason: ‘I keep my promises, just so you know.’

Y/N: ‘Still no.’

Jason: ‘Sing in the library tomorrow then.’

Y/N: ‘Ms. P will throw me out the fucking window.’

Jason: ‘Yeah, she probably will.’

Y/N: ‘Do my shelving work for three weeks. Then I’ll send you a five second audio message of me humming.’

Jason: ‘Make it a minute of a song of MY choice. Then I’ll do it for a week.’

Y/N: ‘not a chance.’

Jason: ‘what do I have to do then.’

Nothing. You gripped your phone to your chest. I’d sing for you if it makes you smile any day.

Y/N: ’Two weeks. I get to ride on the cart while you shelf my books.’

Jason: ‘Deal.’

You threw your head back, then you made a two second audio message of you screaming “NICE TRY, TODD.”

Jason: ‘Mother fucker.’

Y/N: ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.’

4 am. You slept at 4 am that night. And only because your eyes couldn’t take it and Jason was drooling on his bed after doing exercises to stay up and talk to you.

He had it bad.

Really bad.

And, not surprisingly, so did you.

----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Taglist: 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 shadowsndaisies river9noble

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood #robin x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #dc comics #dc fanfiction #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

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fuckingdeadbutroyal · 4 years

Text

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 5

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

“The fuck"

That was NOT what Chat was expecting to happen. Yeah sure he has never experienced a First Meeting before, but he was certain that they didn't usually go down like this.

Chat really wanted to laugh about how they were in fact, literally going down, but thought it to be funnier if the endangered couple would be actually concious to hear it. That's how he found himself, a cat may I add, diving for two sleeping heroes. It was only thanks to his superstrength, that he could lift the gigantic man of a soulmate back to the surface and heave him over one of the upside down boat benches, hoping for it not to break under his and Ladybugs combined weight. Not that the girls weight was of any significance in that equation, with her currently looking as fragile and weak as a corpse. Usually Adrien would never even think of comparing her to anything but beautiful and gracious. Right then and there though, she did not look delicate and fit, did not seem like her outer appearance was just a bluff meant to hide her true skill and strength. No, the heroine looked completely worn out. Chat was debating over taking her to an akuma-shelter and asking for help. If that’s what she looked like with Tikkis’ protection, what would happen if she were to detransform? Chat made sure she was laying down safely before turning his attention to his other rescuee.

The man next to Ladybug looked much healthier in comparison. Somehow he even seemed familiar. Adrien swam around him, trying to decipher who it was he had just saved. He noticed heavy combat boots, a red hood with cut outs on eye-level, a utility belt and several guns. The man's hair was incredibly dark, the blackness only enhanced by the bright grey patch of hair right above his forehead and the cold water dripping down from it. His eyes were closed, an eyebrow slit by a clean white scar and his lips tugged into a small and serene smile.

Adrien had to admit he was pretty good looking. Apart from that, the Cat was weirdly relieved to find him armed. That meant he was capable of protecting his lady instead of Chat. The boy knew that she was capable of protecting herself but he needed that reassurance. His best friend had to be safe, especially in situations as dire as the one they were currently facing.

A few moments had passed with Adrien deep in thought about what to do next and how to act out their plan in case she didn’t wake up in time. The city was quiet, with everyone hiding in their shelters (or simply dead). The akuma was waiting. Everyone felt it’s presence and no one dared disturb it’s silence . Another quiet before the storm. Only it wasn’t actually quiet, not silent at least. Adrien noticed a tiny voice coming from the sleeping mans ear, firmly demanding attention.

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

“Red Hood are you there?”

“Red Hood I’m sending Batman to get you.”

“Red Hood your heart rate is very low, are you asleep?”

“Batman is almost there, hang o-” “What do you mean “Batman”?!”

Tim jumped. Alfred, who was standing next to him and worriedly observing Jasons unmoving red dot on the screen, only blinked in surprise.

“Who are you? What happened to Red Hood?”, Tims voice was firm, but Alfred saw the hidden fear in his posture. Tim loved his brother dearly and was understandably worried about him. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises didn’t like letting his emotions seep into his work, but he really couldn’t help it, It was a scary situation.

“I am Chat Noir, hero of Paris. I am currently protecting Red Hood and Ladybug. Who am I talking to?”

“Red Robin, from Gotham. Batman is coming to help you. Any precautions he should know about?”

Chat told him everything they knew about the akuma and explained their situation. Tim transfered it to Batman who immediatly ordered every member of the family to move to a shelter each. He claimed for it to be necessary so they could protect the civilians in case of an emergency. Everyone knew though, that he was mostly worried about his childrens safety.

“Chat Noir, are you aware of a place near you, where we could place them to let them recover?”

Chat didn’t like his idea. It was disturbing to say the least and made his skin crawl with unease. But it was close, and it has already paid the price for helping them.

“Yes, but we’ll need a distraction.”

“On it.”

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

Stephanie didn’t like following orders. Especially not such uneffective orders as Batmans. To explain the following operation, there are a few things you need to know: Her bond to Tim constisted of two parts. For one, there was the literal, string like, red bond connecting their hearts. For the other, she could hear everything he heard, only if he happened to keep the link open, of course.

They needed a distraction and were currently coming up with something loud and ultra visible. Stephanie Browns father was a literal villain, so she knew how to think like one and was fairly certain that neither Hawkmoth nor the akuma would fall for the improvised bullshit Dick and Damian were about to pull off. No, Spoiler did not want to be seen. Aside from scanning the streets for any lost victims, she tried to seek cover in the debris all around them. Steph had a plan. Tim did not approve of it and Batsy hasn’t even heard about it but she honestly just did not give a damn. Stephanie has been handling things on her own for a while now. She was not about to start following orders today, not if she did not agree to their necessity.

Her plan? It was risky, very much so. She could not depend on succeeding, but for once she could allow herself to take the risk without fearing the consequences. If it were to come to the worst case, she could always just hope for the miraculous cure to bring her back to life. Now, when she tried to “not be seen”, that did not apply to the villain they were currently chasing. She had a tracker on herself and was connected to Red Robin but she knew that for once, hiding in plain sight would have worked. “Plain sight” was the akumas weakness. If the Dustybitch were to see her baiting him while walking down the streets, he wouldn’t even spare her a second glance. While she’s “hiding” in it’s dirty habitat though? While she’s pretending to be all alone and vulnerable? If Hawkmoth and the akuma believe that keeping the “tiny blonde girl” hostage could be benefitial and she just walks right into their arms?

It had to work, she had to get closer to the Dirtmonster and gain his attention, even if just for a bit. If she could figure out it’s weakness, get it’s akumatized object to Ladybug or at least inform her about it’s whereabouts while doing so? She’s all for it. They could fix this...no, they would.

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

A large flying shadow emerged from between the debris. Bruce somehow wished for a mask similar to Jasons. Red Hoods red hood at least covered his mouth and therefore made it easier to breath in the dust. But even as he came out to the river, he still couldn’t allow himself to breathe freely. His son was asleep on the battlefield, with whom Chat Noir claims to be his soulmate being the cause of his situation. Bruce knew Jason had one, a soulmate that is, but he for sure did not expect them to be a french heroine in a red spotted suit.

“Red Robin, is the distraction ready?”

“She... Yes. Wait for my signal.”

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

Tim was so, so done. The “game” he had formerly enjoyed in his overcaffeinated state, has just taken an unpleasant turn. “Why are you so stubborn? Your plan is foolish, you will die!” “No I won’t.” “Stephanie! Plea-” “Just make sure I don’t sacrifice myself in vain, will you? I am doing the right thing. I can feel it. Trust me.” “It already is in vain! There are other options-”

“I love you.”

And with that she stepped into the abandoned ruin of a building, eyes wide and innocent, voice loud and echoing, calling for Ladybug and Chat Noir. She knew they were on the other end of Paris, the akuma did too. But damn, Hawkmoth could not pass out on such an opportunity. A weak hero as a hostage?

“Let’s end this battle for good.”

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

Tim was listening in horror. His hand was trembling and even Alfred throwing a blanket over his shoulders did not help. That didn’t stop him from doing his job, though.

He heard the akuma by using Stephanies ears, recognizing him even before she did.

“Now.”

With that, Batman jumped onto the boats, running towards the one he noticed moving, not knowing that his daughters life was depending solely on his success.

A second message went out to Chat Noir. Upon hearing it he grabbed the sleeping beauties and tugged them under water. There he positioned them on his shoulders and used his hands to hold on to his baton so he could use it as a jumpstarter. It expanded both up- and downwards, hitting the ground and catapulting the trio out of the water. While in the air, Chat caught side of the big bat, who was kind of comically standing on a red-spotted boat. “Catch!” he called while locking eyes with him and dropping Ladybug in his arms. Adrien knew that giving him the man was not an option, no matter how strong Batman was. The Cat knew it’s physics and could not trust the vigilante to withstand the impact of catching a body of the same mass as his own, while literally standing on water, without toppling over.

Instead of toppling over from the weight of his son, Bruce caught the petite girl, followed the flying cat back to the shore and into one of the destroyed buildings, a former bakery, it seemed.

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

Meanwhile, Stephanie was standing in a cloud of dust, caughing and trying to cover her eyes to stop the dirt from blinding her. She had expected the akuma to attack, but did not think he’d drop to such low methods. He didn’t give her a chance of fighting back, did not face her. Instead he started another earthquake right beneath her feet, just weakened her to near suffocation.

Tim, with his one hand on his soulmatebond and his eyes on the rescuing mission, listened as the villain grabbed her. “Red, there’s a violet light, he’s still connected”, his soulmate whispered. After that she went completely silent, having finally given in to the akumas torture and lost conciousness.

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

Chat really wanted to close his eyes. Even more so, he really did not want to be in the room of his recently deceased friend Marinette, especially after having been the cause of her and her parents death. They were upstairs when it happened, right where the dustsnakes attack was the most powerful. ‘All because of me’, Adrien thought, ‘all because I called for them from above. I shouldn’t have let them come up the stairs, I should have joined them down in their basement.’

That’s where they were in that moment. In the Dupain-Cheng-Bakeries’ basement. It was a dark, dry and surprisingly clean place. It’s walls were covered in shelves full of cheese, wine and flour, with the middle kept empty. The empty space was being used by four sleepingbags and several full bottles of water laying on the floor. They were probably meant for each one of the family members and a possible plus one. Marinettes soulmate, maybe? One of the sleeping bags was surprisingly big, though it did make sense if you knew about Tom Dupains size. Chat reluctantly placed the man from his shoulder into the sleeping bag, which turned out to be far more difficult than he had expected it to be.

While he was at it, Batman managed to place Ladybug into the one next to his son, and contact Red Robin for an update. Chat detransformed, completely disregarding the fact that his identity was no longer secret and let Plagg fly off to recharge on the endless supply of cheese. Adrien himself chugged down a bottle of water and crawled into the fourth sleeping bag, smelling Marinettes home, curling up into a ball and silently crying himself into an exhausted sleep.

Bruce, who was for once thankful to be the only concious person in the room, slid down the door he had previously barricaded, not holding back his tears. Tim had just told him about Stephanies sacrifice. Sure, she wasn’t dead yet, but she might as well be. Bruce was so tired of loosing his Robins, so tired of losing his family. He couldn’t be tired now, though. He had people to protect and lives to safe. Currently that meant staying in this basement and keeping an eye on those broken heroes.

Chat Noir was laying there in front of him and Bruce was afraid. Afraid for him, afraid of the past he had to live through and afraid of what the future held for him. He was 17, maybe 18. So young, too young to carry such a burden. Bruce Wayne did not understand how two single heroes have managed to deal with this on their own. He knew he that if he were in their place, he would have succumbed to it a long time ago. Though who said they haven’t lost to it aswell?

They really did look broken, Ladybug especially. Bruce noticed her and Jason shivering in unison. Slowly he stood up and walked over to them, carefully lifting the girl and placing her in Jasons much to wide sleeping bag. They immediatly stopped shivering, laying there with the Red Lady safe and secure in Red Hoods arms. He even proceeded to hug her closer, with a smile gracing both their lips.

“Welcome to the family”, Bruce whispered. She was going to fit right in.

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

Marinette was in a tower, standing in front of a gigantic panorama window. The city in front of her was all black and blue, shining, illuminating the dark as if it were full of aquamarine stars. But no stars were visible. “How sad”, she thought to herself. “All that sky, all those people, all these lights. But no one sees their home.”

“We build our own home, here on earth.”, a voice behind her made it’s appearance. She wasn’t surprised. He should be here, in her dimension, her world. It felt right. “How could we build a new home with our ancestry staring us down?”, she asked looking down at the city beneath their feet. The cloud they were standing on felt like a cold shower, light and unbinding, but firm.

“Those are my favourite clouds”

“Cumulonimbus?”

“The mightiest of them all.”

Jason looked up at the stars. “Do you fear them?”

“I use their power.”

Black and blue filled his vision. Her soft skin was white as marble, with bruises forming colorful paintings of history, present, past and future.

She stood next to a little boy, looking up at him. Her summerdress was so very pink, his hands were so very red, the wheels of the Batmobil were so very black. He lifted the wheel into the air and began soundlessly rolling it away. A black figure illuminated by blue light was watching him. “Hey! What are you looking at, weirdo?”, her tiny voice spoke, filling the air like thunder. Metall flashed behind the tall figures head, hitting and breaking him. He dissolved into bits and pieces of stone, onyx and sapphire glistening in the dark. The boy took her hand and they ran, giggles and huffs filling the silent streets.

Jason sat with his eyes closed and his back leaning on Marinettes. She was leaning on his back, too. Each others weight was crushing their partner. “They aren’t staring at you.” “Our ancestors?” “They are staring at the ones who tried to hurt you.” Their weight found a balance, he was holding her heart in his hands, lifting her off the ground she was afraid of sinking in.

Eyes opened, sapphire blue met aquamarine cyan.

“The stars never left.”

Black and Blue and White.

Bruises and Scars.

Silk hair, Vibrant eyes and Shining hope.

Black. Sleep. Night.

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

Jason awoke in the middle of the night. He felt weirdly serene, comfortable. He needed a moment to remember where he was. The memories were coming back slowly, his mind took it’s time emerging from the fog it has been swimming in. The sound of two voices talking next to him startled him, reminding him of every danger he had endured in the past 24 hours. His senses sharpened, he suddenly recognized that the body laying next to him was not his own. It felt weird, he could sense everything she was sensing, after all. Jasons breathing was unusually calm, her breath was a bit too fast for someone who was in deep sleep. They were completly synced. He should be feeling creeped out, like his personal space was being invaded. Jason didn’t though. He liked it. It felt... safe.

The voices, one of which he now recognized as his fathers, while the other was unusually high, startled him out of his thoughts. Wanting to find the source of the second voice, he reluctantly let the girl next to him go, though they never really lost contact. He sat up, immediatly sensing the seperation and already regretting his decision. She didn’t move in the slightest, as he stood up and walked over to the man who sat there with his back foolishly turned towards the sleeping heroes. Jason didn’t silent his steps, wanting Bruce to hear him. He could’ve used the moment to mess with him, but he didn’t want to wake the parisians behind him, so he painfully discarded the urge. The high voice stopped in it’s speech. Jason still couldn’t see where it was coming from, but Bruce was calm so he trusted it to be safe. His father turned his head, looking up at his son from his seating position, before standing up and pulling him into a firm embrace. Jason was not at all used to physical contact from his father so hee stiffened for a few moments, but when the young adult realised that the man was not about to let go, he relaxed and returned the hug. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”, he heard the gruff Batman voice, though he was quite certain it wasn’t intentional, probably just a result of stress and exhaustion.

“Yes, I’m good. What about you?”

He knew he wasn’t, he could tell just by looking at the unmasked face with those deep bags under his eyes. This man needed some rest.

“Ah, I guess I’m getting old. Time to retire soon, don’t you think?”

A chuckle escaped Jasons throat. Yeah, maybe he should retire too.

“I won’t be able to stay much longer. I need to get back to the team and follow Barbaras traces. She said that Hawkmoth has to be someone from the upper class, since they are the only ones who aren’t hiding in the shelters. And with Spoilers and Reds inside-information we-” “Wait, hold on. How did they get inside?”

Bruce winced. It was a ridiculously miniscule movement, but Jason still noticed. He waited for the other man to tell him in his own pace. Such patience was unusual for the Red Hood, but he saw how it comforted the older man so he was grateful for his new personality trait. It wasn’t patience per se, he’d rather call it empathy. Something he has almost forgotten since his resurrection in the Lazarus Pits.

“Spoiler she... she offered herself as a distraction so we could get you, Ladybug and Chat Noir to safety. She... baited the akuma and is now being held hostage. Tim can hear what the akuma is doing, now that Stephanie is back to conciousness and keeping us updated.” Batman voice was even, which either meant he was collected or he was in rage. Jason bet it was the second option.

Instead of adressing it though, Red Hood just nodded. He was worried for Stephanie and sorry for Tim, but unlike his father he wasn’t mad. He knew that if he were in her place, he would’ve done the same.

Speaking of the devil, Tim chose that very moment to contact the both of them: “Hood! Glad to see you’re awake, please go back to sleep. Batsy, Orakel is waiting for you. She has coffee, so rise and shine and good luck! I’ve sent you your route. Check those mansions and make sure to download the local roomplans, I’m certain some of them have hidden rooms and dungeons full of dragons they haven’t mentioned in their tax-reports.”

“Red, when was the last time you slept?”

“What, you want me to go to bed? Let Alfred handle the situation? I mean he can do that but who will take care of your fucking Wayne Enterprises while he’s keeping y’all company? Fucking Catwoman? Harley?? The Joker?!? No? Now get your ass up and drink your coffee, we’ve got work to do.”

With that the line went silent.

Bruce let out a huff, glancing at Jason and the parisian duo.

“He’s right you know, go back to sleep. Ladybug needs your strength just as much as you need hers. Tikki here, promised to keep an eye on you and wake you in case of an emergency.” Before Jason could even ask who he was talking about he noticed a tiny red creature float up from behind his back, munching on a cookie twice her size. They were peering into his very soul with eyes way to terrifying for someone of their mass. The man couldn’t help but compare them to Damian, though the boys deathglare wasn’t even coming close to the sheer power of the creatures gaze.

Suddenly a second, similar creature joined the first ones side. Jason vaguely recognized it looking slightly catlike, which led to the information he was currently bombarded with finally making sense: “You are Ladybugs and Chat Noirs metas.”, he stated, recognition clear in his voice.

“Kwamis, actually, but yes, c’est nous.”, answered the cat-creature, “allow me to introduce myself. My name is Plagg, I am the God of Chaos and Destruction and this-” he lifted his tiny, finlike limb in the direction of the ladybug-themed Kwami, “-is Tikki, the Godess of Luck and Creation.”

Jason nodded, for whatever reason not feeling surprised, feeling just like Marinette did whenever she picked up a new book and already new it’s contents. Their partner has already implanted the information into the other ones head, all that was left was to refreshen it. “My name is Jason Todd. I am a vigilante from Gotham. I work under the name of Red Hood. We came to help you deal with Hawkmoth, though I’m sure Batman has already told you as much.”, speaking of his boss he turned to look at him. The men wordlessly bid their good-byes. A “please be careful”, was hanging in the air for both to hear. No need for voicing it. As Batman was leaving, Jason turned his gaze back to the two flying creatures in front him. His gaze landed on Tikki specifically. “I’m also sure you already know that as well, but I am Ladybugs soulmate.”

This was the first time he said it out loud. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting himself feel the impact of those words. It felt like... vulnerability. But as he opened his eyes again and met the azure eyes of the godess, that feeling shifted into something different. Something better. He felt empowered.

A moment passed, a connection between the two was forming and no-one dared complain (apart from Plagg, who was quietly grumbling about being left out.) Then, the godess’ demeanor changed completely, a smile now visible and a softness Jason wouldn’t have thought were possible redesigning her whole appearance. She flew up to him and, much to Jasons surprise, softly landed in his hair. “I approve.”

Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Now go back to sleep, my chosen is still unstable and you have to help her get back on track. Go, go!”

The man did not dare argue, didn’t even want to, really. So he just made sure the door was properly barricaded, gulped down a bottle of water and layed down next to his soulmate. She immediatly nuzzled herself closer into his embrace, a smile now gracing their lips, again.

“I could get used to that...”, Jason thought as he drifted back off to sleep.

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

The other vigilantes had spent their nights in the shelters and were ready to go out the next day, on their way to handling more damage control.

The last earthquake has moved the debris a bit, but it hasn’t destroyed any new buildings. The city now consisted of ruins, with only the Eiffeltower, the lower levels of “Le Grand Paris” and a few high security mansions still standing. Only a few of the rich houses, who’s owners could afford the most secure stability precautions for earthquakes the world had to offer, were offering to share with the refugees who had lost their homes. Adrien was ashamed to see that his fathers home did not belong to the chosen few.

One way or another, Chat Noir was about to find out. Having waken up before the others, he decided to use the little time before the realization of Ladybugs plan to make sure there was enough space for every surviver, which mostly meant breaking and entering into the homes of the rich, if they didn’t open the gates after his first time asking. His fathers home he had saved for the end, not certain what to expect and definetly not wanting to deal with possible emotional effects. Adrien didn’t actually know what he was hoping for: for his father to be dead, which would explain that “decision” or for him to be alive and well, which would simply mean that his family was safe and sound.

“I’m coming home...coming home, tell the world I’m coming home...”, his quiet voice echoed through the derserted streets of the City he once loved so dearly.

No tune and not a single lullaby could have prepared him for what he was about to find.

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

Hey!

So todays chapter is literaly twice as long as the last one, but I could not divide it into two seperate chapters because of the Jasonette percentage the chapter legally has to fullfill. Writing my world down took so long but it was so fun and now i have the build up I wanted “on paper” so I am mostly happy with the outcome. I honestly feared their relationship would be moving too fast but I guess my real life commitment issues did the trick, so HERE WE GOoooo...

Talking about commitment: THANK YOU DEAR MESSAGE LEAVERS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH if it weren’t for you, I probably would have given in to my doubts and stopped writing. You know, fun anxiety stuff. But you make my anxietini evaporini and I (as always) just can’t stress enough how much it means to me.

Also, my taglist has grown! Your existance fills my heart with joy. If you want to be added to that fabulous group of names you are about to read, feel free to message me in any way. I’ll be happy to add you to the circle of the constantly updated \o/

(Also if you want to be removed from the list, please don’t be afraid to ask me, I will not bite and I pinky promise not to cry~ )

Tag List ^^:

@maribat-is-lifeblood @lokilex @amayakans @readingismyoxygen @zalladane @sunspritethedestroyer @toodaloo-kangaroo @purplesundaze @yeet-this-bitch @ratherbereading125

Thanks for reading ^^

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Little Pistol - Millstone

Chapter 4

First Previous Next

This feels almost like I'm starting a new story and in a way I am. Tim's story. His side of this world in creating. That being said, for those who only got into DC and Batman and the Robins through the Maribat fandom, this actually gives a lot of background on Tim that isn't normally covered from what I've seen. Or at least, not in depth. Sure, I'm giving my own perspective on how canon events could of turned out, but all the way up to Damian taking up Robin is technically canon compliant.

That being said, here we go. (Song is Millstone by Brand New. All songs are featured on my Timinette Angst Playlist)

LP Taglist

@zalladane @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @elmokingkong @queen-in-a-flower-crown @karategirl119 @dreamykitty25 @danielslilangel @melicmusicmagic @xahriia @sassakitty @yin-390 @zotinha456 @indecisive-mess-named-me @heldtogetherbysafetypins @theatreandcomicfreak @alexandriamw @messymessyml

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @jardimazul @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-alice-of-hearts @vixen-uchiha

~---~

Traveling downhill seemed so much easier than trekking up. In truth, it all depended on how you went. Slowly making your way on foot could end in braced, straining joints and burning calves from the effort of keeping balanced on steeper angles and rougher terrain. You could bike down faster, but you might miss everything that happens along the way or hit an edge and end up crashing to never see it through one way or another. Taken out of the race too soon. Running proved dangerous and much the same as a bike. One could always roll down the slope, but that leads to veering off course and coming up dizzy and disoriented. Falling was easy, but there was no control on how you went or how fast and many end up injured or lost by the time they hit the bottom.

Tim decided to mark his own path. He hadn't necessarily meant to find the bottom, it sort of found him to be honest, but nevertheless, he chose to make his way slowly down from the start. Twisting and winding carefully, every step deliberate and calculated until he stood where he is now, living in the brownstone with Jason Todd of all people. His would be murderer.

Funny how that worked.

It started early on, far sooner than most would guess, with his blackmailing his way into the mantle of Robin. Sure, it was ultimately Bruce's decision, but what else does one do with a kid with photographic evidence of your identity who saved your skin and insists on helping any way he can? Train him, send him around the world, and hone his skills under the nose of his parents, apparently.

Then his mother died and his father went into a coma. Bruce feared he'd fall to anger and vengeance, bringing up Jason as a reminder of what not to do.

It was interesting, the amount of times Jason was brought up as a form of warning. As a guidance for what not to be. It came to a point where he resented hearing the name, equated it to disappointment and idiocy. To brashness and brute strength. To death. His opinion of Jason was similar to that of a dumpster fire. Contained and expected, but needing to be put out before it could do any real damage to something actually important.

That was in part due to being a child who'd grown up watching Dick fly in the Robin colors and seeing how his successor performed afterwards. In some ways, the magic of the Robin suit transferred with its new owner, still amazing Tim with its ability to make Gotham a little brighter, a little safer. But the disconnect between Robin and Jason was too strong for him to see them as the same person. He still thought of Dick as Robin, despite knowing he wasn't in that suit. Then Jason died and soon after he began his training, not really out of desire to BE Robin, but more for knowing someone had to do it.

Then Bruce and in parts, Dick himself, kept reinforcing the story of Jason as something bad. As something to be avoided and better than. Jason was no longer a person at all in his mind. More of an urban legend told in bedtime stories to scare children into being good. It only furthered the disconnect he felt between looking at the case with the old Robin suit and hearing the name Jason Todd.

It was a while afterwards that his next step down occured, with his return to no man's land, his rescue and finally, his father barring him from Robin and Stephanie taking up the title. He didn't mean to feel resentful, but it happened nonetheless. He fought so hard to be good enough, to hold the Robin title and be worthy of it only to have it ripped away by Jack Drake's form of blackmail. Oh, the irony of it being the same as his own from long before.

It took manipulation and carefully working from the other side, but soon he convinced his father of his need to be Robin. Of how Gotham needed him. And Jack let him. Too bad it led to him being killed.

He faked an uncle to avoid being completely under Bruce's thumb. Wanted a say in his own life and felt adoption wouldn't be the way to go about it. Didn't want to replace his dead dad so soon after losing him.

Things went faster after that. Stephanie died. Then Kon. He switched his colors in remembrance of his fallen friend. Became a little darker. Colder. Distant. Bart died. He fell further. Stephanie was alive. She let him think she was dead. Batman knew and felt no need to tell him. She lied to him. Bruce lied to him. Everyone he loved left him one way or another. Jason tried to kill him. More than once.

Surprisingly, almost dying at his hands was what began to help Tim see Jason as he truly was. A human being. He opened up the files on Jason and began his own research, no longer taking his mentors for their word. If Jason was alive, he needed to know who exactly he was up against. And he did, now. He knew who Jason was. A guy who'd been just a kid, taken off the streets and thrown into the nightlife of Gotham. A kid who loved his mother and did what he could to keep her alive. Who did what he needed to keep himself alive. Who loved school and maintained perfect grades and read classic literature. Jason Todd wasn't some punk who died because he was a brash idiot who got in over his head. No, he was just a boy who found out his birth mom was alive and went looking for her. Who died trying to protect the woman who birthed him, despite being the one who betrayed him. The Robin costume wasn't magical. Wasn't it's own living thing. The mantel was only as strong as the one who wore it and Jason had worn it well.

Funny how the resurrected version saw who filled the suit now and decided to try and kill him. Guess he couldn't really fault him for it, though. Talia threw Jason in the pits and practically siked him on Tim. If only she had kept Damian to herself.

Tim took the child's attempt on his life to heart, despite the pardon to Jason for much the same. See the difference there was that Bruce didn't treat the two attempts the same. Both tried to kill Tim. But while Jason was condemned and seen as the enemy for it, Damian was barely punished. Sure, Bruce expressed anger and disappointment, but all and all, that was it. Quite frankly, Tim thought Jason was more justified and yet, he received the harsher treatment.

The injustice and unfair treatment of the Robins was never more clear than in that moment.

The true fall of Tim, however, was after Bruce died, leaving the others as orphans to battle over the cowl.

He never wanted to hold the title of Batman, but Dick was so reluctant and then Jason started posing as Batman, so Tim took him up. Just to put an end to it. To make the madness stop for just a second.

And finally, finally, Dick took his rightful place. After the loss of his father and adopted father and so many friends and teammates, Tim was ready for a semblance of normal. He'd worked under Dick before and it'd gone so well, he knew this is what they needed. What the city needed. Something was finally going to be okay.

But then it really wasn't. Dick gave his position to Damian. To the kid who killed, who tried to kill him. To an ungrateful, insubordinate, murderous child who held no morals or standard for anything that wasn't an animal. Dick took the only thing Tim had left and gave it away to the person who hated him most.

Well.

It should have come as no surprise that when Jason showed up, offering him refuge, a place to belong, a place at his side. He took it.

He took it on his own terms.

Taking up the mask, not behind Jason, but at his side, as his partner, Tim took over the Brownstone building and created his perch. His and Red Hood's basis of operation. Dick thought Gotham needed a cruel, brutal, ruthless Robin? Fine. He'd give it one.

Sipping on his mug of hot chocolate and looking out into the night, he couldn't help the twinge of a frown that creeped onto his face. The downhill descent was a difficult one, yeah, but one way or another, he found his way to the bottom.

#maribat #ml x dc #timinette #Dark!timinette #timari

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spooky-z · 5 years

Text

Field Trip

Maribat is from @ozmav

I want to make two things very clear:

Near the end there are homophobic and racist lines. So, please, be careful.

This is almost 9K.

That was D-Day. The day of the field trip at Wayne Enterprises.

Marinette knew she shouldn't be so excited, because please, she knew that place like her palm. But that didn't stop her from being excited to be able to introduce her friends to the employees there.

Every time she promised to take them to meet each other, but there was never a good enough opportunity for that to happen, since Adrien's father, Gabriel, was the biggest problem of the equation.

She was in the bathroom, finishing getting ready and had shared the hotel room with Alix, who from what she could hear, was jumping on the bed like crazy.

“Al, don't you get tired?” Marinette sighs as she leaves the bathroom.

The pink-haired girl - dressed in denim shorts, a black shirt with Batman logo, jacket tied at the waist and a black hat - stops jumping. Laughter ready to go out.

“It depends.” She replies. “Will you stop letting the rest of the class step on you because of that snake?”

"Al..." The warning tone clear in her voice.

Alix rolls her eyes and gets off the bed. She, like Kim, kept debating that Marinette should stop bowing her head to the class antics because of Lila. The girl had arrived in Dupont and destroyed the brunette's reputation just because of Adrien.

“Okay, I get it. I don't say anything else…” She says grumpy and Marinette smiles “For now.” And laughs at her best friend's frown.

“… I don't know why I still try. Really. You guys are a pain in the ass.” Marinette complains.

"It's love." Alix countered. "Let's go now. Those losers must be waiting in the lobby.”

Marinette picks up her bag from the bed, ready for the trip.

She was wearing black jeans, sneakers (they would walk a lot) and a big white long-sleeved sweater. Her hair was messed up on purpose.

Alix put on her old traditional all-star and opened the bedroom door for her friend.

When they were inside the elevator, Marinette turned to the girl. The high finger, like a mother lecturing her children.

“Remember: no trying to compete with Kim inside the building. If you don't behave, I will end you.” She warns. “And you know I can handle it.”

The pink-haired girl rolls her eyes but nods in agreement.

“I will behave myself. Promise."

"Great."

"Nice."

"Good."

"... You are unbearable." Alix says.

"I know." Marinette winks and they both burst out laughing.

They keep laughing until the elevator arrives in the lobby and bump into their friends, separated from the rest of the class, talking about something.

Alix pulls Marinette into the group, catching the attention of the rest of the class.

They ignore the scornful glances cast.

"Hey, losers." Alix nods when they get to them.

"Good morning, guys." Marinette smiles.

Adrien looked like he'd been kicked out of bed - his hair was messier than usual, a black sweatshirt with little cats, ripped jeans and the orange all-star he wouldn't let go of - his eyes barely opening to nod in acknowledgment, almost lying upright in Kim's arms.

Kim dressed similarly, except for the sweatshirt, which was several bats and the jeans were black, as were the sneakers. His hair was like Adrien's. Soft.

“Good morning!” He replies, holding Adrien with his right arm and waving his left hand.

"It's about time." Chloe complains. "I thought I would have to send Mr. Robot here to wake you up."

She was wearing light jeans, caramel UGG boots. The yellow jacket was open, giving a view of the white - which Marinette was sure was Alix's – shirt with Wonder Woman print underneath. Her blond hair was loose and her makeup minimal.

Max was wearing something Marinette never thought she'd see him wear before. A large hoodie - from Adrien, we should make clear - with Naruto print, black jeans and black vans too. He had the dreadlock — had grown since he was twelve — pinned to the top of his head.

"We took so long because Marinette was getting ready for her sweetheart." Alix teases.

Marinette feels her face burn.

"ALIX!"

Sabrina laughs. "Good morning, girls."

She wore a long green pleated skirt, white sneakers without a sock, a white shirt and an open button-down denim jacket. Her hair was tied in a braid on the side of her head and her makeup was minimal too.

Max looked like he was going to say something when Ms. Bustier appears, a man by her side.

“Class, let's go. The bus has arrived. This is the driver, Philip.” She points at him.

Marinette glanced quickly at the class and her eyes met Lila's. The smile the Italian sent her was freezing her blood.

“It looks like today is going to be interesting.” Adrien, who seemed much more awake, says.

The seven friends couldn't help but agree.

×××

The bus ride had been fun.

As they were many, someone would be left to sit with someone in the class and that was something that Alix did not allow to happen. Then she squeezed herself between Marinette and Sabrina, while Max sat next to Chloe and Adrien continued to use Kim as a pillow.

Marinette was wiping out her cell phone memory by taking pictures.

Proof, she says. Blackmail, replies Chloe, who was also taking pictures.

Alix and Sabrina were busy with the landscape, Max was studying about WE and Kim was playing something on his cell phone.

As the bus pulled up in front of the huge Wayne building cluster, Marinette felt anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

She had promised Dick she would not pretend to know anyone - Marinette didn't like to draw attention - so when she saw any of them, she would have to act like herself.

It had been a long and tiring conversation. The Wayne complaining that she never introduced them to her friends or that she always pretended not to know them.

Jason had even teased that she was ashamed of Damian and Damian retaliated by saying he was ashamed of his brothers. The two started fighting and it took Selina to intervene for them to stop.

Anyway. She had promised and Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not someone to break her promises.

She just wished her classmates were quiet and said nothing... graphic. Otherwise, she couldn't defend them from Wayne's fury.

Caline Bustier gets up from her seat and turns to the class, still sitting in their seats.

"We're here," she begins. “But before we get in, I want to make some things clear. IW has tough rules that should not be disregarded for anything.” Says “I know many should not have read the permission paper I gave their parents to sign, so I will warn them: they signed an NDA along with the permission. If you break this agreement, you can and will be sued. They don't care if you're seventeen.”

She looks each other in the eye, serious. Wanting them to understand the seriousness of the situation.

“Now I'll go over the rules.” She takes a piece of paper from her purse and starts reading it. “It's not allowed to take pictures, walk around the building without the guide or someone authorized, enter forbidden places and most importantly: do not disclose anything you saw inside. If a person breaks any of these rules, they will be banned from any Wayne buildings and prosecuted.” Caline lowers the paper. "Let's go now! We have a lot to learn.”

And get off the bus, followed by the excited class. The seven friends right behind, putting a certain distance.

"I'll finally meet the famous Timothy Drake." Max says, his face serious as if on a mission.

Marinette feels the warnings ring in her head. Max had built a rivalry since Tim figured out in a day how to solve a riddle that had left Max sleepless for months. That had been almost a year ago, but the flame of rivalry still burned in the boy's chest.

"Look, I don't know if the boys will be here." She says "I know Dick will be here, because he told me he would be the guide, but I don't know about the others."

Kim pouting, Adrien joins him and Alix too.

"But I thought I would meet Jason in person."

She shudders thinking about this meeting. No. Nope. That would not happen. Otherwise, she thinks Gotham wouldn't be whole.

"Neither Duke?" Sabrina question.

“I really think it's just Dick today, guys. I'm sorry."

The five sighs in dismay. Marinette sighs with relief.

"Let's go. They're leaving us behind.” Chloe says and points to the group ahead of them, already entering the building.”

"Shit."

And they run to catch up.

×××

As much as Marinette has spent much of the past two years walking these corridors, getting into the WI building was always breathtaking. The architecture was out of this world.

“… Thank you so much for getting this tour, Lila!” She hears Rose squeal excitedly.

Adrien snorts at her side, annoyed. He knew very well that the one who had made the trip had been Marinette. Lila was lying again and Ms. Bustier made no effort to dismiss the girl.

Marinette tightens the blonde's hand, trying to distract him from class.

“It was nothing!” Lila brags. “When I told Brucie that the class needed a trip as a graduation gift, he offered it to us. You know, he likes me a lot, since I'm his daughter-in-law.”

The class begins to praise her as a strange kind of cult and Marinette rolls her eyes at the familiar scene.

“What a nasty little girl we have here.” A voice purrs in Marinette's ear.

The girl jumps in surprise, a little scream escaping her lips. Everyone turns to look at her and she turns to find out who she was.

“SELINA!” She shouts excitedly.

The latin-looking woman smiles. Black hair in a pixie cut, plump lips and green eyes. She wore a black pencil skirt, a white blouse with lace at the shoulders and Louboutin high heels.

"Hello, kitten." Marinette hugs the woman.

They had not seen each other for a long time. Selina and Bruce were traveling a lot on their honeymoon, to make up for the times the marriage had been postponed.

“I missed you.” She pulls back, the firm smile on her face. “How was the honeymoon?”

“Wonderful.” Selina responds. “And how have you been?”

“Great.” She turns to her friends. “Guys, this is Selina Kyle.”

And then turns to Selina again.

“Selina, these are Adrien Agreste-” He smiles. “Chloe Bourgeois-” She waves. “Sabrina Raincomprix-” She says hello. “Max Kanté-” He waves. “And Lê Chiến Kim. My friends.” He winks charming.

The woman analyzes each one, nodding in approval in the end.

"They seem to be good people, kitten." She says. "I hope they can come to dinner with us tonight."

Marinette's smile gets impossibly bigger.

"Of-"

“Who is this, Marinette?” Lila's voice cuts the girl off. And the good mood of before changes to a sour one.

Selina looks away from the girl and looks at the rest of the class with Lila.

The girl had a despicable look on her face, a fake smile and sharp eyes. The class around her wasn't much better, since they didn't even pretend for politeness.

The woman observes the situation. At how once happy friends came together as if they were forming a barrier between Marinette and the other girl. How tempers became exalted.

Selina takes the lead, wanting to avoid a scene.

“Selina Kyle.” She replies. “And you? Who is it?” Question. The sharp tone leaves no gap for jokes.

Lila takes this as an opportunity to lie. Again.

“Lila Rossi. Damian Wayne's fiancée.” She extends her hand. “I’m the one who arranged the class trip.” Selina squeezes her hand.

"Damian's fiancée?" She hisses in displeasure. "Interesting."

Caline Bustier watches the commotion, unsure what to do.

She was sure the intrigue in the class would calm down over time, but it had only gotten worse. Worsened to the point that the Dupain-Cheng threatened to sue the school and report to the council, as no one seemed to see the toxic situation that became the classroom.

They were being dark days for Dupont. For Caline

All were under investigation. Mostly her, since she was the one that suffered the most accusations not only from Marinette's family, but also from Max, Kim and Sabrina as well. This trip had been an excuse for everyone - her - to get away from Paris and the rabbit hole they had gotten into.

A man dressed all in black - button-down shirt, slim-fit pants and oxfords - with styled hair appeared with the driver.

Caline guessed it was Richard Grayson, the guide they had informed her.

He smiled at her and held out his hand to greet.

"Good morning, I'm Richard Grayson." She squeezes the offered hand, feeling her cheeks heat up.

She could be a teacher, but she wasn't dead.

“Good morning, Richard. I'm Caline Bustier, the teacher.” She drops his hand, kind of disappointed to have to.

Ms. Bustier turns to the class and catches everyone's attention. She watches the Latina woman kiss Marinette's cheek and leave the building. The security guard waving respectfully at her.

“Guys, please.” And their attention turns to her.

Marinette's group still distracted by something the girl said.

"Good morning, Dupont." The man says. "My name is Richard and I will be your guide on this field trip."

The class cheers up again and Marinette turns her head so fast that Chloe is sure she heard the bone crack.

"DICK!"

The whole class chokes. Lila takes the opportunity to make a scene.

“Oh my god, Marinette! Have a little decency.” She whines shrilly. “Apologize to Richard right now or I will make arrangements.”

Dick raises an eyebrow at the Italian.

“Now there is no need-”

“There is a need, Mr. Grayson.” Lila cuts off the man. “She's being disrespectful to you and as I am the most influential person around, I must place order.

Alix and Sabrina snort, hands over their mouths trying to hide their laughter. Chloe doesn't care about hiding. Kim and Max were obviously filming. Adrien had such a big smile on his face that Dick knew it must be hurting.

Marinette was frozen. He knew that expression.

"... not necessary, Miss." He says again. Already losing patience with the girl. “Minette didn't disrespect me. She just called me by my nickname.”

Lila looks like she's just been slapped. Bewildered.

"The what?"

“Do you know Marinette?” Alya asks, her nose twitching with the scent of an exclusive.

Dick tilts his head, his arms crossed and a teasing smile on his mouth.

"Of course. She is my sister in law."

... What?

Adrien was right. That day would be interesting.

×××

"This is where Wayne Technologies starts." Dick says, pointing to the floor where the elevator stopped. “You'll see our specialists at work, so avoid distracting them.”

The class walked the floor marveling at the technology and the scientists at work.

Adrien was practically drooling next to Max.

"Dude, close your mouth." Alix jokes.

The boy's cheek burned in embarrassment and he closed his mouth in a loud snap. The hand rubbed his face just to make sure there was no drool.

Marinette laughed at her friend, but stopped abruptly as she watched the red tuft of hair in one of the tech rooms. That was when she remembered that she had promised Adrien to introduce him to one of the smartest people she had ever met. And a physics freak like him.

She takes the boy's wrist and drags him away from where Dick was leading them all.

“Come, Adrien. I want you to meet someone!”

“Wait-Don’t you need authorization-” He doesn't finish, as Marinette puts her palm on the hi-tech lock and the light flashes green before the door opens. "Oh."

The brunette pulls him into the room until she comes across a woman, not much older than 30, who was fiddling with a metal plate.

"Carmen." She calls and the woman looks at her, a lively smile appearing on her face.

“Mari! How long!” She gets up and gives the girl a quick hug.

“Yes, yes!” They laugh. “Remember I commented on a friend of mine who was a physics nerd?”

Adrien protests softly. He wasn't a nerd... just very passionate.

Carmen looks away at the boy and he nods shyly.

"I suppose this is the physics nerd?"

"Himself. Adrien Agreste.” Marinette replies. “Adrien, this is Carmen Leonhart, WI's head of technology research.”

As they begin to talk about numbers, statistics and many other things Marinette didn't care to know, she turns around, ready to leave the room.

Just to face the whole class, Ms. Bustier, her friends and Dick, standing in the doorway. Dick with the biggest fucking smile on his face.

"... what?" She asks. Confused with the audience.

Chloe gives a mocking smile.

"I didn't know you were allowed into these rooms, Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette realizes what she has just done and the embarrassment only gets worse.

She had been so excited to introduce Adrien and Carmen to each other that she had not thought about what she was doing in front of her classmates. Sure, she had promised not to hide her relationship with the Wayne family, but that didn't mean she liked to show off like this.

Lila doesn't seem to like the attention Marinette was getting at all. Her face in a sour frown and the fists clenched.

She sent Marinette a warning look before masking her dislike with a sweet expression.

“Oh, that's no big deal.” She says waving her hands in disdain. “I asked Brucie to authorize our class. He was generous enough to include Marinette on this list.” The scorn barely masked by the disinterested tone.

The class seems to take this as truth (as always) as Nino puts his hand on the girl's shoulder. A proud expression on his face.

“Thanks so much for all this, dude.” He says. “You didn't have to go that far for us.” And the class agrees. Raining compliments on the Italian.

Chloe doesn't disguise the grimace and Alix rolls her eyes so violently that for a moment, Max fears she was injured.

The class leaves the room, following Lila like sheep being herded, leaving the group of friends and Dick behind. Ms. Bustier didn't take long to leave either, which left them finally alone.

"Ok... Now where is my hug, Minette?" He turns to the girl and she runs to hug him. "Much better."

Marinette laughs, the hug lasting a few more seconds before they let go. Dick turns to the other five - Adrien and Carmen too distracted by whatever it was - and extended his hand in greeting one by one.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"The same." Sabrina smiles.

“Now we have to go. There are a few more things to see and a surprise.” He winks at Marinette and the girl feels the danger in that expression.

One thing Marinette was sure of: There was no anxiety to know what this surprise was about.

Anyway, getting Adrien out of the room had been difficult because the blonde didn't want to leave. Carmen had to promise that she would give him a free pass so he could visit her while the trip to Gotham lasted.

The friends had no doubt that the blonde would live in the building and never leave the scientist alone.

Going on.

The rest of the tour had been less dramatic around Lila and her minions. Of course, she continued to lie about everything. How Bruce Wayne and his wife Selena loved her; the fact that Ricardo Wayne - the eldest son - had died in an attack on Wayne Mansion by the feared villain, Clown; that Jackson - the middle child - was an award-winning scientist; Thomas was unfortunately an addict, but Bruce tried with all his might to rehabilitate; and finally, that Damian was an angel in love with her, very sweet and romantic.

Marinette never thought she would have trouble controlling herself, but it was hard not to laugh at the Dick’s expressions and her friends laughing openly.

But apart from The Tales of Lila, the class left them alone.

As they passed the corridors of WI, Mari was being recognized by the staff and she made a point of introducing her group of friends excitedly. That didn't include the rest of the class and Lila, of course, could make some excuse for them.

Honestly, Marinette was surprised that no one showed distrust in the Italian. It was obvious she was lying.

But that didn't last long. Someday the lies would have to be revealed, and apparently that was the day.

They took a break to eat in the cafeteria.

Dick had gone out with Ms. Bustier to talk somewhere which, in Marinette's opinion, would not be a very good conversation. Or happy.

Adrien, Sabrina and Mari with a classic burger and fries; Max settled for a fettuccine; Kim, Chloe and Alix got pizza (not very healthy, but one day just wouldn't hurt). They were seated at a table separate from the rest of the class, but close enough to hear a word or two.

Marinette was chewing on her burger lazily while her friends talked when Jason Todd and Timothy Drake showed up. Both with expressions that said everything but good intentions.

"Oh my god." She whispered; the eyes wide. The cheeks full of food.

They scanned the cafeteria, probably looking for Marinette, and when they turned toward her, Mari used Adrien's height as a shield. Trying to keep them from seeing her. Which didn't work, since Adrien was shaking (laughing) and the conversation at the neighboring table (her class) had been cut short.

“Why are you hiding, Maribug?” Jason asks, his voice malicious.

Marinette sighs before surrendering to her destiny.

She stepped out from behind Adrien, face was red.

The girl swallowed the food.

“Hi Jay. Tim.” A smile appears on her face despite the embarrassment.

Tim raises an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. Jason doesn't disguise the shitty smile growing on his face.

"She hid, but at least she didn't pretend not to know us." Tim points out.

Marinette rolls her eyes, the shame already forgotten.

"I don't break my promises." She says.

She pushes Adrien aside to make room and points them both.

"Sit down and introduce yourself to those you didn't know yet."

They waste no time quickly pulling two chairs off an unoccupied table and placing them in the open place. As they sit down, Jason throws his arm around Marinette's shoulders in a hug.

“We miss you, Nette.” He says. “Demon spawn has been unbearably unbearable.”

She elbows his ribs for talking about Damian and he groans in pain.

"Even though you're a pain in the ass, I missed you too, Jay." Marinette laughs at the offended face he made, before squirming so she can look at Timothy. "And you too, Timmy."

Tim winks at her before turning to the rest of the table. The family (but Selina, since she spent more time traveling than at home) already knew Adrien, Kim and Chloe from past visits, but this was the first time they had met the other three: Sabrina, Max and Alix.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Timothy Drake, Damian's brother.” He reaches out first for Sabrina to shake, then Alix and lastly Max, who narrowed his eyes defiantly and squeezed his hand a little harder than usual.

Tim knew that the boy had a certain rivalry against him over the puzzle. Which was good, since he enjoyed a good and healthy competition.

Jason throws his idle hand on the table, startling the others.

“I'm Jason Todd. The best boy.” He says excitedly. “Nette's favorite!”

Chloe seems to be offended by the man's words.

"I doubt it." Sneers. "Everyone knows I'm her favorite."

Adrien chokes around a fry.

"Now, we know I'm the favorite." He chews loudly.

It was kind of gross, being honest.

"Oh, shut up, Agreste!" Alix throws a potato at the boy. “It is common knowledge that I am everyone's favorite.”

The boy looks scandalized at her, but doesn't take long to throw the fry back at her in revenge. Alix dodges and the food ends up hitting Kim in the forehead.

He narrows the eyes irritably, Tim and Jason laughing, Marinette wanting nothing more than to go back to her hotel bed and sleep 12 hours straight.

Damian chose that moment to appear with Titus and Dick. And as much as Marinette was happy to see him, this was the worst moment ever.

She knew her friends. Knew well enough to know that the cafeteria had become a war zone and that they would be bombed at any moment.

As soon as he opened his mouth to greet her, Kim got up ready to pounce, but before he could, Titus ran and jumped on Marinette. Almost making the girl bang her head against the table by his strength and weight.

There was a general panic at their class table, probably afraid of the dog, but she ignored everything in favor of giving all the attention and love Titus deserved. Because he was the best boy, not Jason, thank you very much.

"Who's the handsome boy, huh?!" She pampers the dog excitedly, which licks her face. "I missed you too." His tail looked like a whip.

Tim and Jason turn to the brothers.

"Yo, Dick." Jason nods lazily.

"Demon spawn." Tim says.

Damian frowns in annoyance, but doesn't respond to Timothy's provocation. The attention fully turned to Marinette with Titus. Dick waves back.

"What are you guys doing here?" He asks.

"We came with father and Cass." Tim replies.

Marinette jumps at the conversation.

“Are your father and sister here?” She shouts.

God! She was not prepared to handle all Wayne and the class at the same time.

"Duke too." Jason adds.

Marinette moans in pain and buries her face in Titus's soft fur. She would not come back alive to the hotel or Paris.

Damian approaches the girl, ignoring the prying eyes of her class. From what he managed to find out (both from Marinette's friends and what he investigated) if he had to interact with any of them, the no-kill rule would probably have to be broken.

"Angel." He calls, crouching in front of her and placing his hands on hers in Titus.

Marinette looks up to look at him.

"Hey, Dami."

She stretches over the dog (who was calm, almost asleep in her arms) and kisses Damian's lips tenderly.

"I missed you. Too much.” She whispers against his lips before pulling away.

"Me too." Damian answers and pecks her lips. "And-"

"Marinette, aren't you going to introduce us to your boyfriend?"

Alya's voice scares Marinette, who jumps away from Damian and Titus. Which makes both Wayne and the dog growl in irritation.

He gets up and Marinette follows him. Her friends comfortable in their seats, Dick standing (without Ms. Bustier) and the class waiting for an answer.

She sighs and turns to face the class. Damian was firm by her side and she also knew her friends would be supporting her.

Alya had her arms crossed. The rest of the class was not much different and Lila's expression soured, since everyone's attention was solely on Marinette.

"This is D-"

"Mari!!!" A shriek interrupts the girl.

They all turn to the source of the voice, only to find Bruce Wayne, a black man and an Asian girl running toward them. More specifically towards Marinette.

The little girl's hair was black, combed into familiar pigtails. She was wearing a red, black polka dot dress, with a black bow around her waist. On the feet were ballet shoes.

She jumped into Marinette's arms, which squeezes her into a warm hug, grinning.

"Hey, young lady." The little girl squeaks as Marinette kisses her cheek.

They watch the brunette put the girl down and start a... peculiar conversation. Where the child signed and Marinette responded verbally.

"You're so cool, Cass!" Kim compliments excitedly, apparently understanding what the girl was talking about. She smiles proudly at the compliment.

They (Marinette and co) continue to talk to the little girl while most of the class remain stunned by Bruce Wayne's presence.

Alya jumps excitedly and looks at Lila.

"Girl!" She practically screams "Did you get Bruce Wayne to meet us?!"

The Italian loses at least half the blood on her face. Increasingly pale with the situation. Her lips were almost sickly and her eyes wide. She swallows hard before letting out a clumsy laugh.

“Y-yea… very kind of him!” The voice comes out weak even to her ears. “B-but let's not disturb his conversation. You know how important he is.” Mumbles.

Lila's hands were shaking. She needed to get out of there, needed a plan urgently.

Alya's excitement diminished, taking Lila's words into consideration, but she kept staring at the men, holding back not to scream.

“Guys, I'm not feeling-”

“Papa, Duke!” Cass shouts again, the dog barking along and Bruce Wayne, with the other man, looks at her. “Mari!” She points at Marinette, jumping and twirling her dress.

Both Bruce and Duke(?) smiled before approaching them and Lila panics. Everything could go wrong at any time!

She turned to the class, making the most innocent expression and trying her best not to let despair overtake her body.

“Guys, please, I'll pretend I don't know him so as not to attract unwanted attention from the staff.” She whispers. “It's something we always do when we're around strangers, so don't be scared.” No one noticed Timothy's disgusted look toward them.

"Stay calm. We get it.” Nino soothes her, the class nodding in agreement.

She sighs with relief, having managed to avert a catastrophe.

"Good afternoon, Dupont." Bruce greets, the serious stance of a businessman. "I'm Bruce Wayne and this-" He points to the other man. "It's my protégé, Duke Thomas."

Duke nods in acknowledgment, then soon mutters something in Richard's ear, laughing at the other's disgusted expression. He made no attempt to approach the class to introduce himself.

Nathaniel felt that what has been said to the guide, was not something minimally pleasant. He felt that the class was the subject of comment and did not like it at all.

Rose, being the most outgoing, reaches out to greet Bruce Wayne.

“It's a pleasure, Mr. Wayne. It's a dream to be here!” She says. “We were very lucky to get this trip.” And tilts her head to wink at Lila, who smiles secretly.

He shakes her hand and waves seriously, pretending not to see the exchange between them. When they release their hands, Bruce turns to Marinette, a soft look on his face.

"Hello, Maribeetle." His tone softened before smiling.

"Hi, Dad." The obvious laugh on her face.

There are choking sounds, but neither pay attention.

She doesn't wait for him to say anything more before she comes closer and hugs him. He returns the hug, making the girl disappear into his arms and kisses her forehead.

"I see you had a welcome committee." He raised an eyebrow, looking his sons.

Dick is the only one who looks minimally embarrassed, while the other three (Jason, Tim and Damian) pretended the issue wasn't with them, looking around.

The class (without Ms. Bustier, who was missing) frozen in shock. Lila was about to pass out. She could hardly believe what was happening.

"Hey, Mr. B." Adrien nods.

"Bruce, what's up!" Kim says.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne." Sabrina greets.

“Wow, B! You look soft.” Alix teases.

"By my calculations, Alix is right, Mr. B." Max straightens his glasses. "You've lost some muscle."

“Congratulations on the adoption. Cassandra is a sweetie.” Chloe says.

Bruce snorts and releases Marinette, who bends down to take Cass in her arms again.

The boys not even trying to hide their laughter. He could see the tears in Jason's eyes, Tim was bent over Dick while they both laughed, Damian had the hand over his mouth hiding a smile and Cassandra imitated the two older ones.

Duke bit his lip trying to contain himself.

"It's good to see you again." Bruce says, hands firmly on Marinette's shoulders. "I remember the last time, Adrien and Jason got into a fight with the police and were almost arrested."

Adrien feels his cheeks heat up and Jason stops laughing, feeling attacked.

"I really thought it was a fantasy." The blonde mutters.

The class begins to whisper, clear confusion on their faces.

Alya was choking on surprise; Nino looking at Adrien as if the boy had grown two heads; Rose had retreated to Juleka's side, not liking the situation and Juleka was the same; Nathaniel bit his thumb uncomfortably; Mylene and Ivan looking lost; and Lila... Lila could see her world crumbling slowly and with frightening rapidity.

The dog barks once more, waking Alya from her mental confusion.

She swallows hard, her throat aching from the action.

“What's going on?” She asks, her voice breaking through the dryness in her throat.

Everyone stares at her. The confused Wayne family, Marinette and friends with the neutral face and Duke... Duke was fiddling with his cell phone.

“Why do you know Bruce Wayne? Why did Marinette call him ‘dad’? What's up with everyone greeting her and who is this boy she kissed?” She looks straight at the girl, her eyes accusing.

Damian frowns at her, his fist clenched, ready to say something that Marinette or his father probably wouldn't approve of, but Bruce stops him.

"What don't you understand yet, Ms. Cesárie?" The question was blunt. "I think if Marinette was kissing Damian, that means the two are together."

Alya gets annoyed with the answer.

"And why did she call you ‘Dad’?"

Chloe sneers in the background. Alix rolls her eyes, Adrien tilts her head, Kim swears under his breath, Max stares in disbelief and Sabrina was busy talking to Timothy.

"They can't be so dumb, can they?"

Jason's attempt to whisper didn't work, as everyone listened to what he said.

Alya's cheeks burn with humiliation.

“That's a fair question!” Nino goes to his girlfriend's defense and Damian rolls the eyes sarcasticallyy.

"Answering your question, Ms. Cesárie, Marinette calls me that because she's engaged to my son." Bruce says. "My son Damian." He adds as he notices the confusion.

Lila sucks air between her teeth. Panic rushing through her body.

“But…” Mylene looks at Lila. “Damian Wayne isn't dating Lila?” She asks.

The Italian freezes when everyone looks at her.

“Lila? What Lila?” Damian asks venomously. "I don't know anyone by that name."

Alya grit her teeth. The anger clear in his expression.

“How not? She grew up with you in the mansion. Bruce Wayne practically adopted her!” She shouts. "Explain it to me!"

“Wow! This is kind of impossible, since demon spawn came to live with us only after he turned ten.” Timothy says.

Alya feels a dizziness start in her muscles.

"But Lila said that..." She mumbles. “She said Selena Kim, Bruce's wife, was her aunt. That you were a family!” Exclaims exalted.

“Look, I'm sorry you and your friends were fooled, but that's the truth: We don't know her. Selina Kyle has no nieces, Jason is not an award-winning scientist, Timothy is not an addict, Damian is anything but a sweetie. And the main thing is, I didn't die and the Joker never attacked Wayne Mansion.” Dick ends a little breathlessly.

The class is at varying levels of shock. No one daring to say anything, Lila wondering how to get out of that mess and beside her, Alya looked like she'd been slapped.

Marinette wanted to feel sorry for her classmates, but failed. She had tried, so had her friends, but no one would listen.

"So, you mean everything was a lie?" Nino asks. A dangerous edge in his tone.

Lila shudders, moving away from the class and almost falling in the process. She was afraid she wouldn't lie about that, but the class had a murderous expression in her direction.

“N-no! Of course not!” Babbles. "Can't you see this is Marinette's plan to make me look bad?!" She points to the girl, who was playing with Cassandra and Titus, no longer paying attention to the drama.

The class seems to believe at least a little, as they turn to the girl, probably to fight.

Adrien, Alix, Kim and Damian form a human barrier to stop them. The look on Adrien's face was no less deadly than Damian's.

"Don't even try." Adrien says. “I'm sick of you. Mostly from you, Alya.” He looks at her. “You can be worse than Lila and her lies. I thought you were smart enough to figure it all out, but it seems I was wrong.”

The girl's eyes was wet with tears, but she kept her posture steady, noting that her friends were no better off.

“You only say that because Lila didn't want you!” She screams. "You who can be worse than Marinette, Agreste!"

Sabrina and Chloe chokes before bursting out laughing. Max and Kim not far behind.

"Oh my god!" Sabrina moans "Is that what she said?" She sighs trying to control herself but failed and laughed again.

"That's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard!" Chloe says, wiping her eyes.

Nino is offended on behalf of Alya.

"What?" He asks.

Adrien feels his cheeks burn because he didn't want everyone to know, but if it was to help Mari, he would do that.

"Mm..." He begins. "I've been dating someone since the first year."

Lila looks shocked. More than their classmates.

“What?!” She shouts, forgetting the situation she was in.

The blonde scratches his head uncomfortably.

"Did you finally surrender to Chloe?" Ivan asks.

Both Adrien and Chloe made a face of disgust.

"Ew, no!" Chloe protested. "I'm fine and happy with Kagami."

“So, who is it?” Lila demands. "Who are you dating, Adrien?"

"Me!" Someone says.

And everyone turned to look.

Was a tall, well-built young man. Hair was black and messy; the eyes were incredibly blue. He was wearing torn jeans, a red vans, black Star Wars shirt and prescription glasses.

He was behind Bruce, probably coming in during the mess.

“God damn it, this became an event and I didn't know?” Duke whispers to Bruce, but the man doesn't respond.

"What the fuck are you doing here Ken-"

“Jon!” Adrien cuts off Damian and runs to Jonathan, who picks him up.

They kiss passionately and Marinette puts her hands in Cassandra's eyes, trying to protect the little girl's innocence. The group of friends moan in disgust. The Wayne family too.

"OK! I think everyone already understands.” Marinette says. “Now let go. Cass is here too!”

"That was horrible." Max mumbles.

Adrien releases the boy, his face red. Redder than Ladybug's uniform. And the other boy smiled, not at all embarrassed.

“Are you gay?!” Lila asks, the accusative tone clear in her voice.

"What-"

"I can't believe I did this all because of a fa*got!" She snarls, venom dripping from her words. “You owe me three years of my life, Agreste!”

There is a shocked silence from everyone. Even from Marinette and friends. They didn't think Lila could be so rotten and ugly inside.

Marinette puts Cassandra on Damian's arms and walks slowly to the Italian. She seemed to be marching to war.

"What the hell did you say?" The voice came out dangerous.

"What? That he's a fag—” A slap popped on the girl's cheek before she could finish.

The force of the blow caused her to become unbalanced and fall to the floor.

They all walked away giving them both space.

"I dare you to repeat that."

She approaches once more, but Damian stops her. Cassandra in Dick's arms.

"Don't do anything you'll regret later, angel." He whispers and she sighs, moving away from the Italian on the floor. “Drake, do something useful as a CEO and call security. I want this person out of here as soon as possible.”

“You'll pay for it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” Lila growls, the hand gripping her bruised cheek. "If you think you're going to get rid of it, you're very wrong!"

Bruce, who remained quiet, bent down to pull the girl by the arm. Fed up with all the drama.

"Enough!" He says. “Ms. Rossi you will do nothing. Otherwise, I will be required to report you.”

Lila snorts offended and tries to release her arm from his grasp.

“Do you really think that just because you have money, will you get away with it?” She attacks, the eyes wide and crazy. “I have diplomatic immunity! You just became complicit with this disgusting muso giallo*!”

Marinette notices Bruce's knuckles go white from the grip and decides to separate the two.

“Dad, please let her go.” She grabs his arm, stepping between Lila and Bruce. "If you keep going, it might be worse later." But he doesn't even blink. Lila begins to moan in pain.

Five security guards enter the cafeteria, all huge and serious.

“Father, the security mans are here. You can let her go.” Damian puts his hand on the man's shoulder and only then does he move again, releasing the Italian's arm.

She drops to the floor, crying while holding her arm.

"I'm sorry, I blacked out for a second there." Bruce sighs, patting his head.

Marinette hugs the man, comforting him. She knew he had some problems after years of fighting crime, especially fighting the Joker. Sometimes he was a little more blunt and rude, unaware of it. It was sad for her to see him in this state.

But unfortunately, it was a side effect of having to save the world every time.

"Mr. Wayne, we were asked." One of the security guards says. "Who would be the person to be escorted?"

Timothy points to Lila who was still on the floor, but this time Alya was by her side, helping her.

"She." Answer. "The sausage hair."

The security guards do not hesitate to pull Lila away from Alya, dragging the Italian out when she strained and stood still.

"HEY! Let me go!” She leaves screaming. WI employees don't even look twice at the scene, seeming used to it.

"You can't do this to her!" Alya complains. "Where is Ms. Bustier?!"

“We can and are doing it. It amazes me that you're defending her after finding out that besides being a liar and a racist, she's homophobic.” Jason says, no humor in his tone. "And your teacher is already on a plane to Paris."

The whole class chokes on surprise. The whole class.

“What?!” Adrien shouts and Titus cries at the loud noise. He quickly caresses the dog, apologizing. "Sorry buddy." Jon smiles, in love with the blonde.

“She had to go back to Paris for an audience with the minister of education.” Tim replies. “She and Dupont's principal have been charged with negligence and cover-up. If they are found guilty, both will face the law “

"And they'll be fired." Damian adds. The morbid pleasure shining in his eyes.

"But why? She did nothing!” Rose complains. Her face was red from crying.

“Exactly, Tinker Bell. She did nothing.” Duke says. “She saw bullying, witnessed it and never did anything to help or try to stop. She just threw all the responsibility on one person thinking she was making the choice of the year.”

"And what does the principal have to do with it?" Nino asks. He was the only one who seemed to have understood the gravity of the situation, but was slow to believe.

“Dupont's principal has been a coward for a long time. He left a lot behind the scenes because he didn't want problems with people bigger than him and that was his mistake.” Bruce replies.

Everyone in the class is silent for a while. Each in their own thoughts, digesting everything that had happened. Meanwhile, Marinette and her friends were talking animatedly to Jonathan, who had his arms around Adrien like a koala.

“So… did Lila really lie to us all this time?” Mylene asks, her voice barely coming out.

"Unfortunately, Ms. Haprèle." Bruce says. The solemn face.

Nathaniel puts the hands to his mouth, the eyes wide with dread and everyone looks at him.

“I-I didn't send my portfolio to the university I wanted to get into because Lila had promised me an interview with a famous comic book author!”

And there is a mass reaction of the same kind.

Apparently, Lila had promised to help them in their careers, with their supposed connections in high places. Which now, they saw how fake it had been, since Lila had promised to introduce Nino to Steven Spielberg since Dupont's sophomore year, but it was years and she always made an excuse for not having happened yet.

Alya fell to her knees, devastated.

"T-that's why they turned me down." She says tearfully. “They said they couldn't accept someone who published gossip and lies, but I never understood what they meant. Until now. "

Marinette felt bad for them. She didn't think Lila had clenched her claws so deeply that it would damage their future. She knew Alya would have complications to be taken seriously, but she didn't think it would be to the point of refusing her university entrance.

"I-" Alya mumbles and looks up at Marinette. "Mari."

Marinette shakes her head.

“No.” She says. “I'm so sorry for you guys. Really. I hope you can follow your dream, but I don't want your apologies.”

“But-” Juleka protests.

“I spent years being trampled and scorned by you because someone you barely knew accused me of bullying and being a jealous bitch. I will not accept your apologies. I'm glad you finally opened your eyes, but that's all.”

“Are you going to throw years of friendship in the trash just to punish us?” Nino attacks.

“What friendship?” Marinette says. “All I remember about this supposed friendship, is to do everything for you and you not repaying even 1% of it.”

"You forgave Chloe after all she did, so why not us?" Nathaniel points out.

“Because she was honest with me. Because she sought help. Because she got better and was genuine for it.”

"And we're not?" Rose whimpers.

"No. You're apologizing because you saw your golden ticket was false.” Growls and everyone shuts up.

They shut up because she was right. They were not genuinely sorry for what they did. They didn't feel guilty about it because it was Lila's fault! Only hers. She deceived them, she who lied. Not them. So why feel guilty about something they didn't do?

But they were guilty. Lila only gave the wick, but they came with the lighter, set it on fire and sat down to watch the candle melt. She didn't force them. They did it willingly and with unprecedented excitement.

"I think we're done for today." Bruce Wayne interrupts the moment. "They'd better be taken back to the hotel." He was talking to Duke, who quickly put the phone to his ear and spoke to someone.

"Come on, I'll take you back to the bus." Dick says, helping Alya to her feet.

The class begins to move, following him out of the cafeteria, but they notice the absence of the others.

"Mr. Grayson, aren't Marinette and the others coming too?” Ivan asks.

Dick glances over his shoulder before looking forward again.

"No. They will stay with the family for the rest of the trip.”

Because Bruce Wayne was so protective of those he loved and Dick doubted he would let Lila Rossi get close to Marinette again. Not when he had the power and influence to prevent it.

But then he would have to face Damian in the witch hunt. Dick was sure the young man already had at least two plans underway. One fatal and one less fatal.

Because that was how their family was.

And Lila Rossi was nothing more than a gum stuck in the sole of their shoe.

EXTRA 1:

"Okay, whose idea was it to bring everyone to WI?" Marinette questions idly.

"Dick." Damian replies without bothering to toss his brother under the bus.

“DAMIAN!” The eldest complains.

"What? I'd rather you angry than Marinette.”

"Okay, fair." Dick sighs. “But the idea was not mine. I just passed it on.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow, demanding.

"And who did?"

"Tikki."

"WHAT?! I'LL KILL TIKKI!” Marinette shouts and everyone runs away from her fury.

×××

In Paris, more precisely in the box of the Miraculous, the kwami of creation stops playing with others to sneeze.

"Wow, I think I'm getting sick."

"Or maybe someone is talking about you." Mullo answers.

“But who-” She widens her eyes in panic.

Plagg begins to laugh wildly.

“Looks like we'll have kwami barbecue soon.”

“PLAGG!”

×××

They didn't have kwami barbecue, but it was pretty close.

EXTRA 2:

"Do you think she would have gone crazy right there if I said you're not my only boyfriend?" Adrien asks.

"... It would have been awesome!" Jonathan responds dreamily.

"Can you pay attention to me? I'm feeling left out." Luka complains.

"Sorry sweetie!" Jonathan smiles.

Adrien thinks he wouldn't trade it for anything in this world. Not even if his lady showed up asking him in marriage.

... Which would not be a bad image. The four together.

×××

Probably Damian would kill him if he accepted.

×××

But still a good image.

[glossary]

Muso giallo – literally "yellow muzzle". It is an offensive term used to refer to Chinese people, sometimes to Asian in general, with intent to point out their yellowish complexion as an indication of racial inferiority. The use of the word "muzzle" is in order not to consider them humans, but animals.

I searched for racial slurs, but I was so pissed off at what I found that I needed to scream at the pillow.

[tag list]

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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years

Text

Chapter 13 - Alone Again

Word Count: 15,835

TW: mentions of child r*pe, mentions of p*dophilia, mentions of self-harm, mentions of trauma, unconsensual biting, unprotected sex, mentions of mental breakdown.

A/N: Hey guys! I felt very bad for updating so slowly, so here it is early! Happy Valentine’s! Special thanks to those who has sent me fanart and kofis!! I appreciate them all, honestly, it’s really amazing.

Masterlist

Kofi

The ding of his phone woke Jason up from sleep. Even during the grogginess of slowly regaining consciousness, Jason knew who it was.

He blinked his eyes a few times to get used to waking up, and cleared his dry throat. He laid there in bed for a few moments, staring at the tin roof of the safe house he was so proud of. He wondered whether the text would be business or pleasure.

He liked it when you were there with him at night.

But you were too fucking stubborn, and was still hesitating to continue seeing him. It had been a month since the first time you joined him, and since then you went out with him a couple more times, only to investigate the elite pedophile ring that plagued Jason’s mind ever since he found out that it existed, and that Bruce had kept it from him.

Your dilemma meant that you weren’t with him all the time and got upset every time he killed someone.

Jason wasn’t a patient person, but the two of you still texted and called. Discussions, or banter. It was as if you were his friend.

As if everything wasn’t as fucked up as it was.

And however hard he tried to separate his feelings from his goals, to keep you at a distance, to wall himself off, he had obviously failed.

Because now he was smiling to himself at the thought of waking up to your texts.

He had freaked out at first, confused as to why he had started to hate you less and less over time, but now he realised that it didn’t matter how he felt anymore.

As long as he could snatch you away from Bruce.

The fact that you made him feel like he wasn’t alone anymore was only a bonus.

***

To say that it was troublesome to have Dick around would be an understatement.

He had originally mentioned that he was only going to stay for a week, but one week became two, and a month later, he. Was. Still. Fucking. Here.

The fact that you were living under the same roof as Batman meant that you were almost constantly on your feet, but now Nightwing was added to the equation, it felt suffocating.

At least Bruce didn’t like to poke into your personal life as much. Dick Grayson on the other hand, loved to play the doting older brother. You weren’t fooled, though. You knew he was still suspicious of you, and was using his caring nature to his advantage, touching the line between concern and straight up paranoia.

You sighed out loud.

Michelle Myers turned her head to glare at you. You stuck up your middle finger to her, earning an audible gasp.

Shit, you hadn’t meant to do that. You forgot where you were for a second.

School was one of the ways to escape the prying and ever analytical eyes of your older brother, and a way to run from the feelings of growing distance you felt between you and your family.

It was all Jason’s fault.

You had let him get into your head ever since he told you that Bruce had kept a disgustingly huge and important piece of information regarding Gotham’s elite society- the society that you were a part of.

You felt as though there was an invisible line that separated you and Bruce now.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

“What the hell was that?” Michelle came up to your desk as you were packing to leave.

“I’m sorry?” you feigned innocence.

“You bitch!” she hissed, “You know what you did!”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Rob interjected.

“I have no idea?” you lied.

“Michelle?” Rob turned to her.

“She- she- she showed me the middle finger!” Michelle fumed.

“What?” Robert asked, “No way. That’s not something she would do. Would you?”

He turned to you.

You wondered if his parents were part of this human trafficking ring. You wondered if Michelle’s parents were.

“Of course not!” you defended yourself, “That would be unbecoming of me!”

“Michelle, it’s not nice to make up stories,” Rob rolled his eyes.

Rob’s father was the CEO of Gotham’s number one cybersecurity company, his mother inherited generations worth of wealth. Her lineage meant that she had an iron grip on Gotham and was often Bruce’s rival when it came to influence. If she were a man and didn’t take her husband’s surname, Bruce would probably have lost to her on countless occasions. The possibility of one or both of them secretly running an organized crime was high.

“I’m not!” Michelle snapped, “I’m telling the truth.”

Michelle’s mother was Gotham’s famous socialite in the 80s, her father a nobleman from England. Both very rich, but Mrs. Myers was new rich, and Mr. Myers wasn’t born and raised in Gotham. The chances were there, but probably not as high.

“Even if you were, and she did show you the middle finger, what’s the big deal? Stop being so uptight, Michelle,” Rob scolded her.

Michelle looked like she was about to pop a vein in her temple.

“Thanks Rob,” you said, “But really, it’s okay. I think Michelle might have made an honest mistake, that’s all. I’m sorry too, Michelle. Maybe I was brushing my hair aside and might have accidentally made a vulgar gesture.”

“There,” Rob smiled warmly at you, “Just a mistake. You going back now?”

“Yes, I think Alfred should be here already,” you nodded, “I’ll see you guys next week?”

“Good luck studying!” Rob wished you, “Though mocks would probably be a breeze for you.”

“I doubt it, but thank you Rob,” you made your way to leave. You turned your head to Michelle and gave her a knowing wink you knew would make her lose her mind, and walked away.

“Dick?” you called out to your older brother, who was attracting a lot of attention on the sidewalk. He had parallel parked his car on the side, and was leaning against it with his sunglasses on. He waved at you once he saw you approach him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Picking you up,” he shrugged.

“Where’s Alfred?”

“Home,” he simply said.

“And why did you come to pick me up?”

“Because why not?” he grinned, opening the passenger door for you to enter.

You narrowed your eyes at him and entered the car.

Dick had always made you feel comfortable, and you naturally felt at ease when you were with him, but lately, it was different.

You felt stiff, alert, and on guard when Dick was around because it felt like he was just waiting silently for you to fuck up, to let something slip. You hated it.

You hated how your family felt so far away from you because you had betrayed them.

“Hey, Dick?” you asked after five minutes of unusual silence.

“What’s up?”

“What does Bruce do when he’s on patrol alone?” you brought up.

Did Dick know about this elite pedophile ring? Was Dick keeping secrets from you as well?

“He patrols, I guess?” Dick answered.

“No, I meant during the nights when he tells me that he doesn’t need me around,” you explained, “What does he do then?”

You saw Dick frown.

“I don’t know,” he stated.

“Did he ever do that to you? Tell you he doesn’t need you and go off alone?” you probed.

“All the time,” he sighed.

“And you never found out what he was doing?”

“I- well- look, what’s this about?” Dick turned the question back at you, “Did something happen? Did you find something?”

“What am I supposed to find?” you interrogated.

“I don’t know!” he answered exasperatedly, “Sure, I wondered a lot back then, but that’s- that’s just how he is! He keeps secrets and leaves us out of a lot of things. Like Jason being alive for fuck’s sake. If he can keep something like that a secret for so long, God knows what he’s up to when he’s alone.”

“Didn’t you ever stop to question it?” you argued.

“Didn’t you?” Dick retaliated, “All these years as Robin, why are you only bringing this up now?”

You fell silent.

“Did something happen?” he repeated again.

“Nothing happened,” you insisted, looking at the cars zooming by outside the passenger window.

Silence again. And then-

“Jason used to question it all the time,” Dick sighed, calming down. “Even followed Bruce out. That was hilarious. Imaging trying to tail Batman.”

“He asked the right questions, then,” you grumbled.

“He did,” Dick admitted, “Didn’t get him anywhere, though.”

“Except six feet under,” you muttered bitterly.

Dick never replied to that.

***

“We still don’t know her identity, she pops in and out seemingly randomly, has mediocre tech, mediocre skills… I don’t know, Bruce. What kind of purpose does Jason have for her?” Dick stated.

You tried not to clench your jaw upon hearing that.

The three of you were in the Cave, discussing your next step for tracking Red Hood down. Bruce had suggested going after V instead and hoped that she would lead you to him. You were treading dangerous waters, and remained silent most of the time.

“The fact that she has still remained elusive shows some form of skill,” Bruce argued.

It was hard not to defend your alter-alter-ego. But, you were relieved. You had tried your best to ensure they wouldn’t suspect you, even changing your fighting style to something you weren’t too familiar with.

“Still doesn’t explain why she’s with him,” Dick shrugged, “Nothing on the traffic cams?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You had also made sure to avoid all cameras, even parking and changing blocks away before meeting with Jason. Jason, on the other hand, drove the same fucking car, or the same fucking bike, though he frequently changed plate numbers.

Still, this was Batman and Nightwing you were talking about.

“Only one thing,” Batman replied, before pulling up a security camera footage.

Fuck.

“This was taken along Jackson Avenue in Old Gotham,” Bruce continued and played the footage.

It showed a very low quality pixelated video of you wearing a black hoodie and a black cap covering your head. You had a surgical mask on to blend in better with the crowd instead of a black mask that would automatically made you suspicious. Your face was unidentifiable.

You walked into an alleyway and never came back out.

“How are you sure this is her?” Dick asked, “She wasn’t seen in Old Gotham.”

“Height and body type are a match,” Bruce justified, “That backpack could be carrying her weapons and clothes.”

You hid that backpack in an unused dumbwaiter of a guestroom all the way on the other wing of the manor that Alfred did not bother to dust.

“Or it could be carrying textbooks,” Dick scoffed.

“There is also this-”

Bruce pulled up another traffic footage. It was of you in the same clothes, with Jason next to you on a nearly empty sidewalk with shops already closed. Jason was also wearing a hoodie that covered his head, and the camera was far away. The two of you were walking away from the camera.

“This was three hours later on Schnappe Avenue, three blocks away from Caprice, where they were last seen together a week ago.”

You had followed Jason to Caprice, a bar that hosted many criminals, and was owned by the Italian mob. Red Who was simply there to take his profits and ask a few questions regarding their connections to certain politicians in Gotham.

Rendezvous with Jason was complicated, as you both had to protect your identities. You would leave the manor two hours early, park somewhere very far away, then walk or take a taxi to a location maybe 3 kilometres away from where you would meet Jason, duck into a dark alley to change into your gear, and then grappled to where Jason parked. From there, the two of you would grapple to your location. Once you were done, you would go to his car where you stashed your bag. You would then reverse your steps and go home.

That night however, Jason, the fucking dickhead, got hungry and insisted that you followed him to a diner, which was why the both of you were in casual clothes walking together in the streets. Good thing that by fucking sheer luck, no security cameras picked you up at the restaurant.

“There were no cameras to follow them after that,” Bruce grit, “They must have strategically chosen the route.”

No, Jason was just hungry.

Dick remained silent, so you turned to look at him. You frowned at his expression. Dick’s eyes were glassy and soft.

“Is- is that really him?” he whispered.

“High possibility. It’s too coincidental to dismiss.”

“Wow,” Dick breathed, “He looks- he looks different.”

Ah, it was Dick’s first time seeing new Jason without his helmet on.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded stiffly.

“How different?” you spoke up for the first time.

You were curious.

“Well, he’s much bigger,” Dick chuckled, “And taller. Good for him. He always complained about his height. Used to bet with me that he’d grow taller. Can’t see his face, though. He used to whine about how I was stealing all the girls too. Pretty sure he had a crush on Barbara.”

Dick gave a sad smile, and you saw Bruce had turned to face away.

“Anyway,” Dick cleared his throat, “How do you suggest we go about this V girl?”

“Uh,” you started, “Why not interrogate the guy they were meeting?”

Fat chance Elio Bianchi would spill anything with what Red Hood threatened him with.

“Already did last week,” Bruce answered.

You didn’t patrol last week. Bruce suddenly extended your “grounding”, but you suspected that he wanted to keep you away from Jason.

“And?”

“Refuses to speak. Red Hood must have something on him.”

Yes, the age, location, and photos of all three of his daughters.

“So what next?” you wondered.

“We wait for his next move,” Bruce sighed, “He doesn’t seem to be doing anything too rash lately since making Elena Ciobanu shoot Victor Ibenescu. He is waiting for something.”

“Or maybe he’s finally got control?” you suggested, “Over everyone? I mean- the reason why he did all those violent things were all gang-related, wasn’t it? Maybe now he’s made his point, so everyone is following his rules?”

“Maybe,” Bruce hummed, “But this wasn’t about taking control. Now we know who he is and what his motives are.”

“He did kidnap you,” Dick added, “It’s more likely that he’s planning to do something like that again.”

“Which is why,” Bruce continued, “I don’t think you should be out with us for now.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce,” you complained, “You already grounded me for an extra week!”

“It’s not about punishment. It’s about keeping you safe.”

“I wasn’t even in uniform the last time he kidnapped me!” you debated, “I’m the safest with you.”

“In the event that we do find him, I would need to talk to him,” Bruce insisted, “Having you there might trigger something in him. It’s best if you stayed away.”

“Dick!” you turned to your older brother for help.

“Sorry kid, but I’m with him on this one,” he gave you an apologetic look.

“He could kidnap me in the middle of the day!” you ranted, “He could blow up the school, the train, hell, even the library again!”

Both Dick and Bruce frowned.

“Again?” Dick repeated.

Fuck.

“Yeah, I already lost one library, he could very well just find out where I am and blow it up or something,” you covered.

Bruce remained silent, just looking at you with intensity. You tried your absolute best not to recoil, not to give away that your heart was beating so violently against your chest that you could hear it in your ears.

“How important is your exam?” Bruce spoke.

“It’s my mocks, Bruce,” you grumbled, “Scholarships are waiting for mocks results. I’m not letting a delusional psycho with daddy issues get in the way of my future, no matter who he is.”

You intentionally aimed those words at the both of them. Jason was Bruce’s son, and Dick’s brother, and you wanted them to feel it.

“Then you’re only to go to and from school,” Bruce directed, “No staying back, either, and Alfred will wait outside the whole time.”

“Seriously?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Fine! Fine. I just- I just wanted to test myself. Whatever.”

“Test yourself?” Dick asked.

You looked at Dick straight in the eye and said, “I wanted to see if I could face him after he kidnapped and sexually assaulted me.”

With that, you stormed off after manipulating the people closest to you to make sure you throw them off of any suspicions of you.

You locked yourself in your room and collapsed on the bed with a frustrated huff. You took out your phone to send Jason a text.

You: What are you doing tonight?

Five minutes later, your phone dinged.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Usual. You coming? You: You have any leads? Sexy Hunk From Library: Possibly.

You stared at your phone, assessing the risks if you were to go out with him that night. Then, your phone dinged again.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Kill time with me?

The corners of your lips twitched upwards.

You: Miss me that much?

You saw that he was typing, then stopped, then typed again. Until finally-

Sexy Hunk From Library: Are you coming or not?

It was funny how you could still chuckle to yourself despite how fucked you were. You were fucked because you betrayed your family, you were fucked because your family was suspicious of you, and you were fucked because for the past couple weeks of occasionally seeing and texting him, you realised that you had begun to like him more and more.

The dangerous and violent parts of him still made you wary, but despite all that, you couldn’t help but want to be by his side. It confused the hell out of you, because sometimes he didn’t act like how you would expect him to act at all.

Sometimes he was actually nice.

For instance, he had treated you to that burger when he insisted that you went with him to the diner.

Or the time when he argued with you over pineapple on pizza, as if you were friends who didn’t hate each other.

And even when you almost got punched in the face by a massive brute who had been dealing to kids. The punch never landed because Red Hood stopped him, beat him half to death, and then shot him in the kneecaps, before turning to you and asking if you were okay.

You thought that was sort of nice of him.

Fuck, you wanted to see him.

You texted him back.

You: Time and location?

***

Jason waited impatiently for you to arrive.

He was tapping his fingers rapidly against the steering wheel. Somehow he felt like he was going to be sick.

Despite the gentle drizzle that fell against the glass windows and the cold wind blowing outside, Jason felt hot and stuffy.

He looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, coming into contact with his tired, sunken, blue eyes. He tried to fix his hair, combing it to the side with his fingers then groaning before ruffling it up again.

Fuck, what was he doing?

He spent the next minute trying and failing to fix his hair, that he didn’t notice you approached the vehicle until your rapped your knuckles against the window. He jumped at the sudden sound, earning a raised eyebrow from you. He unlocked the door and you climbed inside.

“You’re late,” he grumbled, aware of his hoarse voice. It was the first time he had spoken to anyone in two days.

“Only by five minutes,” you pouted.

“Late is late,” he snapped.

“You’re okay with killing people, but will bitch if I’m slightly late?” you scoffed.

“Just be on time next time,” he grit.

“Fine, I’m sorry I’m late,” you rolled your eyes. “Now can we get to it?”

Jason gave you a glare, his jaw clenching in frustration. He took a few moments to calm down.

“You know Maria and Joseph Powers?”

“Of the Powers Group?” you frowned, “Powers Hotel? Sure, I know them.”

“I have reason to believe that they’re one of the people involved in this child trafficking business,” Jason revealed.

“W-what?” you gasped, “Do you have evidence?”

“Some,” Jason replied, “They’ve been investigated before. I guess Batman played a part in that, but everything seems to have been dropped. Document trails, eye witness statements, physical evidence- all disappeared.”

He saw that you were struggling to keep up, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned, “Get a hold of yourself.”

“Bruce knew?” you whispered.

“What doesn’t he know?” Jason scoffed.

“I sat on the same fucking table as them last Christmas ball,” you growled, “I went to their kid’s fifth birthday party. Bruce shook hands and smiled at them and then invited them over for drinks.”

Jason resisted a smirk. He finally got you to understand. Your arms were crossed, and your face in a scowl, obviously pissed.

Bruce probably did all of that to keep them close so he could keep an eye on them, maybe even find some more details. But Jason wasn’t going to tell you that.

You still had a lot to learn, but Jason was willing to be the one to teach you.

“Where will he be tonight?” he asked.

“I… I’m not too sure,” you said quietly.

Jason raised an eyebrow at you.

“What’s this? He didn’t tell his beloved Robin his plans? Again?”

You remained silent, looking straight ahead.

“I was wondering about that,” he continued, “Friday night and you’re here with me instead. Something happened?”

This time, Jason waited patiently for you to respond, enjoying the way you were obviously uncomfortable with his interrogation.

“He…” you started slowly, “He won’t let me out with him.”

“You got into trouble again?” he smirked.

“No, it’s because of you,” you shot him a sharp glare.

If only looks could kill.

“He knows you have it out for me, so for my safety,” you spat, “He won’t let me out.”

Jason blinked at you once, twice, then let out a booming laugh.

“Oh, man. Oh, sweetheart,” he pretended to wipe away tears, “Look at you, all angry at me.”

He reached across towards you and booped you on the nose. You swatted his hand away violently.

Jason loved teasing you. It made his heart all warm.

You were looking away again, and had the mask covering half your face, but even in the dark alley, he could make out your long lashes, clumped together because of the rain, and the way your shiny hair framed your face, also damp.

Your smell was intoxicating, filling his car with a pleasant scent of vanilla and strawberries. The longer Jason spent time with you, the more he felt himself getting pulled deeper and deeper in-

“He’s investigating me,” you interrupted his trance. “Well, not me specifically, but V. He’s got footage of us walking to that stupid diner-”

You paused to shoot daggers at him.

“-good thing I kept the hoodie and mask on, and thank the fucking stars that there were no cameras after that leading to to the diner. We can’t be reckless like that again, Jason.”

Jason rolled his eyes at your lecture

“So now what? You gonna kill the Powers’? How did you find out about them anyway?” you asked.

“Through the Ibenescu problem,” he explained, “Whenever they trafficked girls, I’ve always found a few kids. Always not more than ten at a time. Didn’t add up. All this while I’ve made sure there were no kids involved, be it local or foreign. And after going to each and every single fucking brothel and threatening every single pimp in Gotham-”

Jaon let out a tired sigh at the memory of going all over Gotham to turn over every rock, paying and threatening people for information. He allowed sex work as long as they kept to his standards, and as long as they weren’t trafficked. He made sure all the girls were well taken care of, and he made it very clear as to what would happen to the pimps if they weren’t.

The girls all loved him.

“- no sign of kids. Which meant that Gotham was being used as a proxy and they were being transported outside of Gotham, or there were other powers at play. So I dug in deeper. Hacked into GCPD records, looked at the political scandals and allegations that got dropped and was never brought to court. The Powers and some others came up a few times, but not too heavy. Tax evasion and stuff like that. Until I hacked into the FBI.”

“The FBI?” you gasped.

He smirked to himself. You were paying careful attention. It made him feel like he was some sort of mentor.

“It’s really not that difficult when you know people,” he scoffed, “Anyway, the Powers’ were originally under investigation for money laundering because the Powers’ Group Executive Accountant, who mysteriously died of a suicide, reported large sums of money that didn’t belong there. Then they got an external auditor, who is also deceased, reported inconsistencies with signatures and accounts.”

Jason reached to the back seats of his car and passed you a thick file that contained the FBI investigation.

“After that, they checked emails. Nothing. Then they wiretapped them, and recorded conversations regarding child sex trafficking from all over the world, for other politicians and rich pigs in this goddamned country- whose names are redacted in the files. However, they didn’t keep the audio evidence. Everything’s been terminated.”

“Wait, this can’t be right,” you frowned, flipping through the pages. “This case is almost twenty years old and… dropped? In 2012!”

“Exactly,” Jason grit.

“How long have you been investigating this?”

“Over the last two months.”

“So you already knew the Powers’ were involved,” you looked at him in suspicion, “Why haven’t you killed them yet?”

Ah, you caught on quick. Not bad.

“Because of tonight, sweetheart,” he answered, “I wiretapped them myself. There’s a shipment tonight, and one of the Powers’ need to confirm it half an hour before docking, or else they won’t dock, and it’ll be a bitch to track down again.”

“Then this is great,” your eyes widen, “We catch them red handed at the docks, take photos, spread them online, make it go viral. They won’t be able to cover it up when there’s a public outcry.”

Jason started chuckling.

“What?” you demanded.

“Look through the files. Do you see any pictures? Videos?”

You frowned.

“Do you really think they would be stupid enough to physically be there, where the authorities can, and I quote, catch them red handed?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Even if they were there, pictures can be easily faked these days. Hell, even videos. Audios, easiest of the two. They would just claim that someone was slandering them, then move on. If the feds don’t want to charge them, do you really think the cops could? And what happens if they were brought to court anyway? They can easily pay off judges and jurors.”

Jason liked this. Educating you.

Just face it, baby girl,” he added, “The system is fucked. Batman’s been trying for over a decade, and the Powers’ are still having Christmas balls.”

You let out a sad sigh.

“Let’s just get to the docks, then.”

Jason put on his mask and helmet, and drove away.

***

You were sick and tired of Dixon Docks, but criminals just couldn’t stop choosing that location for smuggling. There was also Port Adams, but the port was located near Blackgate Isle, so the marine security was tighter.

Any normal city, a place like Dixon Docks would have much tighter security after countless cases of illegal smuggling, but this was Gotham.

The security that GCPD put out on patrol with what little resources they could spare were easily bribed. The dock security company themselves were probably owned and bought over by a crime lord, not unlike the one beside you right now.

“They’re here,” Jason pointed out. The both of you were on the rooftop of a warehouse on the docks.

You squinted in the distance and saw a ship coming nearer. You missed Batman’s tech whenever you went out with Jason. Your lack of state of the art domino mask made it harder to see faraway objects and in the dark.

The docks were quiet, except for the sound of the water currents and sea breeze, and the twenty or so hired guns grumbling about the weather. You theorized that this operation was usually similar in the past, where it went smoothly without much obstacles, judging from the lack of hired security. Jason also mentioned that the kids were usually brought in along with older trafficked victims from other operations to help cover up, but since his harsh crackdown on human trafficking, they were forced to operate alone.

You waited until the industrial ship dock amongst the other unoccupied ships, and then heard some voices yelling in the distance. From the ship came out 4 girls and 3 boys in tattered clothes, malnourished and with frightful eyes. Their ages ranged from about 12-15 years old.

Accompanying them were three armed men, shoving the children to walk faster. Your blood started boiling at the sight.

“This should be easy,”Jason stretched, getting ready to make a move.

“We shouldn’t underestimate them,” you advised, “We should think of a strategy to-”

Jason leapt from the age of the rooftop without warning.

“Wait! Red Hood! Fuck!” you whispered angrily, and followed suit.

Red Hood ran ahead of you with inhuman speed towards the children, guns out and firing at the men.

You heard the children scream, the men shouting, and more guns firing.

It all happened so fast, that by the time you reached there, Red Hood was standing tall and proud over more than a dozen dead bodies.

“What the fuck?!” you shoved Red Hood as hard as you could. He didn’t budge. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“What?”

“You opened fire when there are children right in the middle of everything!” you yelled.

“I’ve got an excellent aim and I caught them off guard,” he defended, “They couldn’t even respond on time.”

“The kids could have caught a stray bullet, you fucking dickhead!” you shoved him again.

This time, he growled at you and gripped your wrists tight, pulling you harshly to him.

“If you do that again, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he threatened you with a low voice that sounded even more hostile through the voice scrambler.

You wanted to say more, but then you heard a cry from one of the children. You wrenched your hand away from his grip and walked towards them.

They were kneeling on the ground, gripping each other tight by the clothes and arms. They were Asian. You guessed maybe South or South East.

“Hey,” you gently called out, slowly kneeling to their level. They recoiled at your approach.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” you said, putting your arms up in surrender to convince them. “See? No guns.”

Their expressions didn’t change. You were just another threat to them.

“Don’t any of you speak English?” Red Hood grunted.

You glared at him.

“What? It’d help,” he shrugged.

“Even if they did, do you really think they’d speak to you?” you snapped.

You turned to them again, and despite the risk, pulled down your mask and hoped that there weren’t any cameras nearby.

“Hey, we’re here to help okay?” you maintained a slow, low voice.

Two girls then looked at each other, and one of them spoke up.

“I- I can speak English,” she said in a shaky voice.

“That’s great,” you smiled sweetly, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Magdeline,” she whispered.

“Nice to meet you, Magdeline. I’m V,” you pointed at Jason, “And that grumpy tomato head there is Red Hood.”

You saw Magdeline and two others share a smile. They must have understood you.

“We’re not going to hurt you, okay? We just want to help.”

“Are you going to take us home?” another girl squeaked.

“No,” you winced, “But, we’re going to take you to the police, and they will help, okay?”

They nodded, wiping tears from their eyes.

“So what we’re going to do is that we’re going to call-”

You stopped mid sentence.

Suddenly, you felt a chill down your spine, as if someone dropped an ice cube down your shirt. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you hurriedly put on your mask again.

“What’s wrong?” Red Hood sensed. You stood up straight, your heart beating fast.

“We need to go,” you told him, hearing the blood rush to your ears, your eyes darting quick to every shadow, to detect any movements from the darkness.

“What?”

“He’s here,” you whispered.

Red Hood looked at you for a moment, and then-

“Fuck. Come on.”

“Please don’t leave us,” Magdeline fisted your clothes, “Please.”

She looked like she was going to cry again.

“It’s okay,” you told her, “Someone’s here to help you.”

“No! Please! I want you!” she wailed.

“Shh,” you tried to calm her down.

“V, we don’t have time,” Red Hood growled.

“He’s a hero,” you ignored him, “He may look big and scary at first, but he’s a hero, okay? I promise.”

She continued to wail. You forced her off you and stepped back.

At the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow in the sky, and felt your heart drop to your stomach.

So this is what it felt like to be hunted by Batman.

“Come on,” you told Red Hood, and the two of you ran in the direction of Jason’s car, swerving between shipment containers for more cover.

Then, in the distance, you heard a loud familiar boom.

“JASON!”

The man in question who was running ahead of you started chuckling, then raided two middle fingers up in the air.

You looked behind you, but Batman was nowhere to be seen. Not in the sky, not on the roofs, not on the shipment containers, not even in the shadows.

Perhaps he saw the children and stopped-

You ran into Red Hood’s hard back. He had come to a sudden stop.

Fuck.

You peeked from behind him, and was relieved when you only saw Nightwing standing about ten feet away from you.

“Jason,” he called out, “Hey, buddy.”

“Quit your Golden Boy act, Grayson,” Red Hood snarled, “You’re almost as guilty as he is.”

He took out a handgun and aimed it at Nightwing.

“Come on, Jay,” Nightwing tried, “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

“You wanna bet?” he growled and cocked it.

You remained behind Jason for cover in fear of being recognized. Half your face was covered and you were wearing contact lenses that hid your true eye color, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Who’s your friend, Jason?” you felt Dick’s eyes on you, “We can helo her too.”

Jason responded with a dark chuckle.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name?” Nightwing stepped closer in your direction.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Jason fumed.

Dick stopped in his tracks and raised his arms back up in surrender.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, “It’s fine. Let’s just talk.”

***

Jason felt a punch in his gut when he saw his older brother appear in front of him.

Grayson had aged slightly, his hair longer, face more defined. It was guilt that Jason was feeling. Grayson had always been there for him. Training him, teaching him, giving him advise on girls and on being a teen.

Yet, even at that time, he had felt immense anger towards him, jealous that he was constantly in Grayson’s shadow no matter how hard he tried to be his own man.

And now? Grayson didn’t do jackshit to Joker either, the person who took the life of his supposed younger brother whom he said he always loved and cared for. No, Grayson was the same as everyone else.

Once Jason was out of the picture, they all gladly moved on and replaced him with you.

So fuck talking.

“No,” Jason tried as hard as he could to not let the tightness he felt in his chest affect him. “Move. I won’t repeat it again.”

“We miss you, Jason,” Dick pleaded, “You have no idea how happy I was when I found out you were alive.”

His throat was constricting, his breath shallow. No, Grayson was lying.

“Alfred spent the whole night crying,” Dick chuckled.

Stop it. Don’t talk about Alfred.

He felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“He was saying that he couldn’t wait to make your favourite-”

BANG!

“Fuck!” Dick screamed out in pain, collapsing to his knees and clutching his left thigh.

Jason heard you gasp behind him, and he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to run with him to his car.

“You shot him,” you quietly whispered.

Jason was speeding away, the docks long behind him.

“He’s had a lot worse,” he grunted at you.

“You didn’t have to shoot him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snapped, “Would you rather he caught the both of us? Unveil your identity? Show him how you were with me all along?”

“We could have taken him down together,” you muttered.

Jason let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re fucking stupid if you think the both of us can take down Grayson with just hand-to-hand,” he sneered, “Even if we could, let’s waste time and wait for Batman to catch up, right? Was that what you wanted?”

You remained silent.

“Didn’t think so.”

Jason gripped the steering wheel tight while he drove to the rendezvous point, selected carefully based on the absence of cameras in the area.

“I need to get back quick before they do,” you spoke up, “With Dick injured, they’re probably rushing back as well.”

“How do you plan on sneaking back in?” Jason asked out of curiosity.

“I deactivated the motion sensors.”

Jason frowned. Interesting.

“And I rented a motorbike a while back specifically for this. I park it outside the gate, hide it in some bushes so I don’t need to make noise opening and closing the gates every time I go in or out,” you explained, “I either play music in my room or play recorded noises of me doing things.”

“You’ve truly mastered the art of sneaking out now,” Jason teased, a small hint of pride swelling in his chest.

He made a turn into the same alleyway as before and switched off his engine.

“I need to go,” you moved to leave.

Without thinking, as if on reflex, Jason reached out and grabbed you by the wrists. You looked at him in question, an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to say something.

Jason looked back at you, the nauseous feeling returning again.

“Nothing,” he let go of you, “Sorry.”

You hesitated, as if you wanted to say something. In the end you nodded stiffly and left.

Jason took off his helmet and let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, coming to terms with the realisation that the nausea he felt was actually butterflies.

***

You tripped over your chair as you were climbing into your room from the window, causing some things on your desk to fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

You hurriedly took off your shoes and changed into your pyjamas, kicking the backpack full of your gear under your bed to be hidden in your secret place later. You ruffled your hair and then looked into your mirror, realising that you hadn’t taken off your contact lenses yet.

You heard footsteps approaching.

“Fuck, fuck, ow!” you accidentally poked yourself in the eye.

The moment you put in the last contact lens in its case, you heard a knock on your door.

“It’s me.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, then went to open the door.

“Yeah?”

Bruce looked at you with serious, tired eyes, still in his Batsuit sans the cowl.

“Dick got shot,” he stated.

“W-what?” you widened your eyes in shock, just as practiced. “Is he okay?”

You rushed out the room and hurried to the Manor’s infirmary where all of you went if there was a serious accident besides scrapes and cuts. Rushing out in panic would cover any body language that could reveal anything.

“He’s fine,” Bruce followed you from behind, “Lost a bit of blood, that’s all.”

You opened the doors to the infirmary to see Dick in a t-shirt and boxers on a bed, hooked to an IV bag. His left thigh was already bandaged. Alfred was adjusting the flow of the IV.

“Dick!” you rushed to his side, “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve had worse.”

“What happened?” you repeated, sitting on the side of the bed.

Dick exchanged a look with Bruce.

“We were patrolling near the docks, then we heard gunshots,” Dick explained, “Turns out it was… Red Hood.”

“He… shot you?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he groaned, “I really didn’t think he would.”

“You have to stop thinking that this is the Jason you used to know,” you scolded, and then turned to Bruce with angry eyes, “Both of you. Don’t you think your judgement’s been clouded? That’s why it’s better if I’m with you. I never knew him, I’d be more objective and-”

“No,” Bruce said sternly, “End of discussion.”

You scowled. “What was he doing there anyway?”

Dick glanced at Bruce again.

“Weapons exchange,” Bruce answered, “He was hijacking a weapons exchange.”

If you weren’t there, you would have believed Bruce without a doubt. You clenched your jaw, making sure you don’t reveal anything.

“Why did he shoot at you?” you turned to Dick.

“He was probably being protective,” he said.

“Protective?”

“Yeah, the girl was there,” Dick recounted, “You should have seen him with her. It was like he was protecting her from me. His body language, stance and everything made it seem like she was precious cargo.”

You frowned.

“If I had to guess, she’s probably someone he cares about,” Dick smiled softly. “I’m sort of happy, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s… going through a lot,” Dick went on, “I’m glad there’s someone with him.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and saw that Bruce was long gone.

“You don’t think she’s his prisoner or something?” you tried, “Maybe she’s being blackmailed or forced into staying with him.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, “She looked like she was depending on him to protect her.”

Your left eye twitched in annoyance.

“Really,” you grit.

“Yeah, I mean,” Dick elaborated, “She looked scared. I guess I can’t blame her. It’s Batman.”

You remained silent to recollect your thoughts. Then-

“What are you going to do once you catch him?” you pursed your lips.

“Help him,” Dick replied like it was the most obvious thing.

“What if he doesn’t want help?” you pressed on, “Are you going to lock him away?”

“Only as a last resort,” Dick said, “But maybe being with family will make him see sense. Hopefully.”

“I guess you and Batman defy your own system too, huh?” you scoffed, standing up.

“What do you mean?”

“If Red Hood wasn’t Jason,” you argued, “If he was just some random guy who wanted to take matters in his own hands using violence and murder, you and Bruce would just lock him up either in Arkham or Blackgate depending on whether or not he pleads insanity. But because you know Jason personally…”

“You’re saying we should just lock him up instead of helping?” Dick asked perplexed.

“No, I’m just saying it’s kind of hypocritical that just because you know him, you’re giving him an out that you wouldn’t give anyone else,” you shrugged.

“We don’t just know him, he’s family,” Dick reminded you, “We don’t abandon family.”

You remained silent.

“Look,” Dick sighed and looked at you sympathetically, “I know what he did to you was wrong, and trust me, Bruce will make sure he atones for that. I’m not suggesting that he automatically come back and live here, especially because, well, you won’t be okay with it. Which is fine. You don’t have to put up with him. And we’re not making up excuses for him either. Like I said, Bruce was… very upset when he found out what happened to you. And that’s putting it lightly.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. You really didn’t care much about all of that. You had since then voluntarily asked him to do more to you than just suck hickies on your neck.

“But, this isn’t Jason,” Dick went on, “I mean, yes it is, but, he’s not rational. He’s angry and lashing out, and needs help. I’m not siding with him for what he did to you and we’re not dismissing it. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled, “Get some rest. Text me if you need anything.”

At least Jason’s sense of righteousness was simple and straightforward. You harmed innocents? You get his gun. There weren’t loopholes and justifications and complicated principles.

Plain and simple eye for an eye.

You turned to leave, unsatisfied with the lies and hypocrisy.

*** From the first crack of lightning you saw in the dark sky, you should have used it as a warning to stay home that Saturday night. But somehow you couldn’t help but go out to see Jason, knowing what he was planning to do.

You could have been in your bed, studying for your mocks with a mug of warm green tea in your hands and a plate of cookies on your desk, but instead, you were clutching the leather of Red Hood’s jacket, slippery and glistening from the downpour as he zoomed on his motorbike, you seated behind him.

Unlike the Robin uniform, though it wasn’t waterproof, the clothing you wore on nights with Jason was not state of the art. At least your Robin uniform didn’t get heavy when wet, and at least it wasn’t as absorbent. The rain made the zylon even heavier, making it difficult for you to move around.

The sound of rain pounding hard on your helmet was almost as loud as the wind. Jason didn’t care that the ground was slippery, he was still going recklessly as fast as he usually would.

He made a sharp turn into a lonely, dark road, with nothing but trees surrounding it. The road was going uphill, away from the city centre. You were approaching a mansion- modern style with glass walls.

Right before the trees cleared up, Red Hood swerved the bike into the bushes without warning, and then stopped once the both of you were deep enough within the cover of the trees. He cut off the engine, and you hurriedly climbed off.

Red Hood followed suit then, and you tried your best to not let your eyes linger on the way the water trickled down his chest, past the the red bat symbol, and down again, dipping into his-

“Fucking Gotham,” he grunted, voice crackling through the scrambler.

“At least you have a jacket,” you grit, teeth clenched as to not let them clatter.

He turned to look at you for a moment, and then started removing his leather jacket.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you refused, “It’s too big and it’ll be hard for me to move in. It’ll just be a hazard.”

Inside, your heart fluttered at the rare display of kindness.

“Whatever,” he shrugged it back on. “You remember the plan?”

“Plan?” you scoffed, “You mean sneak in, look for the master bedroom, then kill the Powers’?“

“You’re not going to stop me, are you?” he came closer to you, “If you’re going to mess it up, I’d rather tie you to the tree.”

“My, Red Hood,” you smirked, knowing that he couldn’t see it underneath your mask, “I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“I’m serious,” he growled, “If you try to stop me, I will make you pay for it.”

“Whatever, let’s just get inside,” you turned away, “I’m fucking freezing.”

It would have been tough for anyone to sneak past all the security, cameras, bypassing alarm systems and into the mansion. But you and Red Hood weren’t just anyone. Both being trained by Batman, plus whatever it was that Jason gained over the years he wasn’t with Batman, it was only trickier than average.

Once you were in, you had to admit that you always thought the Powers’ had good taste. The interior was minimalistic, with furniture that were all neutral tones that went with the glass walls and with marble tops of exquisite design placement. You glanced at the exit to the backyard, which was a glass sliding door that spanned all the way from the ceiling to the floor.

It had only been one year since you were last there for their daughter’s birthday, ignorant of what was going on.

What the hell were you doing there?

“Split up,” Red Hood whispered from behind you, “Look for the master bedroom. Let me know when you find it.”

He gripped your hand and forced an earpiece in it.

Both you and Jason went up the marble staircase and stopped at the top. The hallway stretched from one end to the other, nothing in the way but a few potted plants.

He went right, and you took it as an instruction to go left.

Fuck, what were you doing? Were you going to stop him?

But the Powers’ deserved it. There was no other way, or else Bruce would have done something already.

Still, were you just going to stand by and watch while he murdered people?

You peeked into the first room, and saw that the bed with pink sheets was occupied by a small figure, wrapped in the covers like a cute little burrito.

Carrie Powers. Sleeping soundly while her parents were about to be killed.

Oh, God.

But how could they do this? Traffick other children when they had one of their own?

“Down the hall, first door on the left,” Jason’s hushed voice appeared in your ear.

Fuck, you had to stop him.

You closed the door quietly, and went to the room Jason had mentioned. It was opened by a crack, and you pushed it softly.

The view you saw made your heart skip a beat.

Red Hood had taken off his jacket and dumped it on the white setee in the middle of the very large master bedroom. He was standing by the super king sized bed, pointing an oddly shaped dagger at Maria Powers, who was fast asleep.

The power he so obviously exerted as he was standing over her, muscles taut with anticipation, contemplating which angle was best to slit her throat- it made your breath hitch.

“What do you think, V?” he said out loud, “How should I do it?”

His voice stirred the Powers awake, but before they could react, he grabbed Maria by the neck and lifted her so she sat upright, immediately pressing the knife against her cheek.

“Any of you scream, I’ll carve a smile into her face,” Red Hood threatened.

Joseph Powers, who finally snapped out of his groggy state, scrambled to his feet.

“W-what? Who are you?” he panicked, “What do you want?”

“No sudden movements,” Red Hood ordered, “I’m thinking whether or not I should make this quick and easy, or have some fun first.”

“We have money,” Joseph started, “Please. We’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt us.”

“Oh, it’s not money I want,” Red Hood said cooly, “No. I want names.”

“What? What names?” Joseph asked, perplexed.

“Names of every politician, judge, CEO, or beat cop who is in on this little operation of yours.”

“I- I don’t understand,” the man stammered, “I think you’ve got it all wrong. We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Jason played along, “Maybe I’ll give you a little reminder.”

Red Hood snapped his head towards you, his red helmet glowing ominously in the dark.

“Bring the girl.” Despite being soaking wet in a weather that would usually make your bones clatter, hearing Red Hood say those words in a calm voice made a chill run down your spine for the first time that night

“No,” Maria whimpered, but silenced herself when her captor tightened his grip.

“What?” you gasped.

“The kid,” he growled, “Bring her here.”

“We’re not involving the kid,” you stood your ground.

“V,” he warned, “Don’t make me repeat myself. You better-”

“Mommy?” you heard a small squeak at the door and turned to see little Carrie, with her big chocolate eyes wearing her purple butterfly print pyjamas.

“Carrie, go back to your room,” Joseph ordered, “Please. She’s innocent.”

“And the kids you have kidnapped, shipped, and raped aren’t?” Red Hood fumed.

You saw the microsecond momentary realisation in both the Powers’ eyes, before they tried to cover it up again.

“Daddy? Mommy?” Carrie called in a shaky voice, “What’s going on?”

“Go back to your room, Carrie!”

“Carrie, do you want to help mommy?” Red Hood drawled.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Come closer, Carrie,” Red Hood persuaded.

“Red Hood,” you protested.

“If you’re not going to help, then shut the fuck up,” he snarled.

Carrie entered the room but stood quietly behind you.

Her father looked at you with desperation in his eyes, “Please help us.”

“You’re filth to me,” you snapped at him, enjoying the way he cringed.

Joseph was usually a proud man, handsome for his age, with a fit body and perfect salt and pepper hair. The man you saw then was pathetic. DIsgusting,

Filth.

“But I won’t hurt your kid,” you added.

You expected to see relief printed on his face, and clenched your jaw when you didn’t.

“I can’t promise he wouldn’t, though,” you nodded at Red Hood, feeling like shit for using his daughter as leverage, “So you’d better give us names.”

Joseph looked like his brain was about to explode, his eyes quickly darting back and forth from his wife, to his kid, to you. He was running his hands through his hair in obvious distress.

“You don’t understand,” he admitted, “If we give you names, we’re as good as dead.”

“Joseph!” Maria yelled.

She was furious at him- and you thought at first it would be because he wouldn’t compromise to save her. After observing the way he took a small step back and the way she was holding him by the eyes, you realised that she was warning him not to confess.

She was obviously the one calling the shots.

“If you don’t give us names, you’re good as dead,” Red Hood told him, “Or would you rather me convince you in other ways?”

He nodded at Carrie. You felt a little protective of her, standing up straighter to defend her from Red Hood.

Joseph and Maria ignored the threat and was looking at each other intensely, trying their best to communicate without words.

Then, Joseph calmed down. He straightened up into the proud man you always saw him to be, a smirk playing on his arrogant features.

“I’m sorry, but this is business,” he sneered, “And we swore our clients’ secrecy.”

Red Hood paused.

Then-

“We’ll see about that.”

He grabbed a fistful of Maria’s cropped blond hair and pulled her to the dressing table. You heard that Carrie had started to sob behind you.

“Put your right hand flat on the table,” he demanded.

“Red Hood-” you tried.

“Now!” he barked.

She raised her shaking hand and rested it on the table hesitantly.

The first thing you heard was Maria’s cry- muffled by Red Hood’s large gloved hand- before you registered what had happened.

In an instant, Red Hood had cut off her pinky finger, and then raised the dagger, which you now saw had a blade that was wavy from the bottom to the tip, glistening a sticky, sickly dark red.

“Mommy!” Carrie screamed.

With all the commotion, you wondered why the security still hadn’t heard you yet. Then you realised that the glass walls were probably shatter and bullet proof, making it thick enough to be almost sound proof.

That shook Joseph slightly, his smirk had been wiped off clean and his forehead had beads of sweat.

“I can do this another nine times,” Red Hood snarled.

You had to stop this before it went too far. Slowly, you approached him.

“Red Hood,” you cautioned, “Let’s continue this another time, when the kid isn’t around.”

“Stay out of my way,” he turned to you.

“Let’s think rationally here,” you went closer, trying to speak over Maria’s wails, “There’s no way we have the time to torture for information when there’s a dozen armed men outside who might notice that something is off.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he scoffed, “So you can deal with them.”

“Do you really want to deal with them in front of the girl?” you tried again, “She’s five. She shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“They were going to wait a few years before selling her off anyway,” he seethed, “I’m doing her a favor.”

“No!” Joseph denied, “Not her. Never her.”

“How sweet.” Red Hood hissed sarcastically.

“Red Hood, come on,” you persuaded, “We can pick this up again another time.”

“And what?” he yelled, “Wait for them to run to the other side of the world? Where I have to hunt them down all over again? I do not have the time or the patience to- what the fuck did you just do?!”

Red Hood shouted at Joseph, who had moved quickly to the bedside table. His eyes widened in panic, and so did yours when you saw he had pressed a button on the underside of the table.

“Fuck!” Red Hood swore, “This is your fucking fault!”

He brandished the blade at you. “Fine,” he pulled Maria up again, “Looks like playtime’s over.”

Without warning, you saw him raise the dagger to Maria’s neck, and as if in slow motion, you just looked on by as he carved a big red smile across her throat.

The next thing you felt was a gush of warmth spray all over your face and torso. The blood that had gushed out of Maria was like a pulsating fountain of red.

“Maria!” Joseph screamed, “You fucking bastard!”

Red Hood leapt across the bed and pushed the man violently against the glass wall.

“Names!” he growled, taking Joseph’s head and thrusting it against the glass, leaving a smear of dark red.

Yet you were there, just frozen and blinking on the spot as you stared at Maria’s lifeless body on the grey carpeted floor, blood still splashing from her throat in the rhythm of her slowly dying heart.

Everything was red, and smelled like metal, and tasted like metal. Ew, did some get in your mouth? But you were wearing a mask. Why was there so much of it?

Did humans have this much blood in them? It seemed endless. Are we all just bags of blood in the end?

Carrie’s wails snapped you back to reality.

You rushed to her and kneeled down.

“Hey sweetheart, listen to me,” you tried to get through to her, “You have to go hide in that closet over there, okay?”

You picked her up. She was light, her body fragile and weak, and you opened the closet to reveal a walk-in.

You set her down on the floor and tried to comfort her again, “I want you to close your eyes, and close your ears, and then sing a song, okay? Don’t stop singing until the police comes. Can you do that?”

All she did was cry.

Fuck, she wasn’t going to listen to you.

So you just closed the closet door.

Red Hood was still smashing Joseph’s head against the wall. You noticed that he was now missing an ear.

Then you heard footsteps approaching you fast. Lots of them.

You took out your escrima sticks and got ready to fight a dozen armed men while Red Hood tortured Joseph Powers for information.

***

“Did you even get any names?” you monotoned.

The both of you were at the rendezvous, with Red Hood leaning against his beautiful black superbike and you standing awkwardly, holding your arms.

The smell and sight and taste of blood still consumed you. You hoped that the rain would have washed it away, but against all your luck, the moment you escaped the mansion, the rain had stopped.

Red Hood and you left behind a crying kid in the closet, a woman with a slashed throat in a pool of her own blood, a man beaten to death so bloody that he didn’t have any recognizable human features left, five unconscious and seventeen dead men in that house.

Red Hood simply looked away from you and took off his helmet and mask. He looked clean, because even in the midst of everything, he had managed to take his jacket from the settee.

“No?” you smirked, “So all of that for nothing?”

He gave you a glare, cold blue eyes piercing yours.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” you sighed, taking off your mask as well. It was soaked in blood.

“What?”

“Were you really going to hurt the kid?”

You saw his jaw clench.

“I don’t hurt innocents,” he looked away from you again.

You felt a wave of relief alongside your nausea, but however relieved you were, it still didn’t get the image of him slitting a woman’s throat out of your head.

If the circumstances were different, maybe you would have been turned on by that, as fucked up as it was. By the power he exhibited, the precision, the danger - you knew that you had a thing for that.

But he killed her in front of her own daughter, who shouldn’t have had to see that. Hell, who shouldn’t have had to be there in the first place.

It made you question him even more than before.

“Nope, you just traumatize them for the rest of their life,” you scoffed.

In a flash, his hands were around your throat.

“Don’t fucking talk to me that way,” he growled, “I haven’t forgotten how you fucked things up for me.”

“Fucked things up for you?” you repeated.

“You distracted me,” he told you, “And that prick went and sounded the alarm.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for trying to convince you not to murder a mother in front of her daughter!”

“Sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, “You’re playing with fire.”

Jason’s pupils had started to dilate, as if it was a black hole that was eating away at the blue. Your eyes fluttered towards his lips, which were slightly parted.

And then he smirked.

“I guess I have to punish you for disobeying me,” he drawled.

You gulped loudly, trying hard to not let the warmth in your stomach spark for the man in front of you.

“You know,” he whispered, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest, “I’ve always imagined what you would look like covered in blood.”

Oh, fuck.

So did you. You had imagined what he looked like when he was beating a person half to death, how the muscles in his back would ripple with every blow.

You were so fucked up.

“And what do you think?” you bit your lip, squeezing your thighs together.

You were just upset at him a moment ago, and now you were turned on? You pieced together that you had a dangerous coping mechanism.

The fingers that were around your throat were caressing your cheek now, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Better than I imagined,” he grinned, dipping down to kiss you.

He pushed his wet tongue into your mouth without hesitation, fucking it while he grabbed your ass and squeezed hard, almost painfully. He would bite and nip at your lips before licking them.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, “You taste like blood.”

You felt him grind on you, though you knew the hardness was from the protective cup he was wearing. You still couldn’t feel much either, due to the soaked body armor.

“Bend over the bike,” he commanded.

“Wait, what?” you gasped.

“You heard me.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you slowly approached the vehicle. When you were at its side, you glanced behind you. Jason had the most arrogant smirk ever while his arms were crossed.

After taking a deep breath, you tiptoed and winced in embarrassment when you positioned yourself bent over the seat, your ass jutting out.

Warm hands started rubbing your waist, going down to your ass and thighs.

“How do I take this off,” you heard him complain.

Your bottom was only latex tights.

When Jason finally figured it out, he pulled down hard, exposing your ass to the cool air.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his hand roaming to massage it.

“Jason, we’re in public,” you reminded him.

“So?” he responded, “It’s 2am, and it’s Gotham, baby. Public indecency is the least of everyone’s worries.”

You felt him shift behind you, and gasped when you felt a long, wet strip from your clitoris to your hole.

“Taste so good,” he groaned.

His tongue felt good.

He continued to tease you by licking your wet opening but never dipping inside, just making you wet with your own juices and his saliva. But suddenly you felt a sharp, piercing pain on your pussy flesh.

“Fuck!” you screamed and turned to look back at him grinning at you, “Did you just fucking bite me?”

“What did you think I was going to do when I said you needed punishment?”

“I don’t know, spank me or some shit?” you breathed, “Not fucking bite me!”

“Oh, but you would like to be spanked,” he told you, “And that wouldn’t be much of a punishment would it?”

He bit you again, but this time soothed the pain by licking you after.

Still, it didn’t stop the jolts of electricity that stung you every time he did.

“Fuck!” you gasped again, “Stop it- oh, fuck.”

He had slid a finger inside you- you noticed it was ungloved.

And then he started a barrage of confusing sensations, biting and nipping at your pussy to cause you pain, and then licking it away while pumping his finger inside of you to spark pleasure.

It didn’t take you long until you were moaning and panting and fucking sweating in the post-rain weather.

The warmth was building and building as he kept licking and biting and finger fucking you, twisting inside of you and touching your most pleasurable spots. You felt yourself start to tighten around his finger as the now familiar sensation of approaching orgasm started.

And then it was all gone.

Jason removed his finger and stopped licking. You turned around furiously to see him smirking at you with dark hooded eyes.

Oh, now you understood. The punishment wasn’t the biting at all.

He wouldn’t let you come.

You spent the next minute glaring angrily at him, refusing to say a word while he just stared back with intense eyes, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

And then he dove back in.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as the pleasure built and built and built again.

And then stopped.

You wanted to fucking yell at him, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He continued again, this time even harder with the licks and bites, harder with the way he fucked your cunt, even inserting a second finger that drew the most vulgar sound from your lips. You felt yourself building again, but when you expected him to stop, he didn’t.

This time, he kept you going higher and higher, your knees growing weaker, until you reached and were just dangling on the edge of-

And it was all gone.

“Jason!” you yelled, “Come the fuck on!”

You heard him chuckle behind you. And then you felt him grind against your ass, rough and heavy and desperate.

Probably because he was still wearing a protective cup, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to feel much. You wanted him to take his cock out already, so he could start fucking you senseless as you were bent over his bike.

But then, he stopped. And he pulled up your pants to cover you up, even giving you a small smack on the butt.

“What?” you straightened and turned around.

“What?” he pretended to be clueless, even though you saw the obvious lust that was etched on his handsome yet tired face.

“You- I- why don’t- fuck!” you stuttered, squeezing your thighs together. You were so wet that you felt yourself soaking through the tights despite it already being wet from the earlier rain.

“Oh, did you want to come?” he asked innocently, “Sorry, but girls who disobey my orders don’t get what they want.”

“You’re torturing yourself as well,” you grit, and to prove a point grabbed his crotch, earning yourself a hiss from him.

He grabbed your wrists to pull you closer, “We’re in public. Remember?”

Then he took a step back and gave you a shit eating grin.

“Whatever,” you sighed frustratedly, “I’m fucking covered in blood anyway. Fuck, I need to get PEP tomorrow. You should, too.”

“What?” he frowned.

“Post-exposure prophylaxis,” you explained, “We’re covered in blood, Jason, ever heard of HIV?”

He blinked once at you, and then broke into a fit of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” you defended, “It’s just for a just in case!”

“I’m pretty sure Maria fucking Powers does not have HIV,” he teased.

The mention of Maria brought the image to your mind again. The Jason in front of you had a twinkle in his eye, his expression soft after laughing at your logic. It was hard to imagine that under an hour ago, he had slit a woman’s throat.

In front of her own daughter.

Jason must have noticed your expression change, because he became serious again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, concern in his eyes as he held you by the waist.

Was he actually concerned? Or was he still playing mind games with you?

Why would anyone want a dirty whore like you?

And, there it was. Mother was back again.

“Nothing,” you looked away. “I just need to get all this blood off me.”

“We’re done here,” Jason informed you, “You can go back any time.”

“Well,” you started hesitantly, “I don’t think I can go back like this. All this blood- it’s too hard to cover up. My clothes, my shoes, everything is just covered in blood. Why is there so much fucking blood-”

“Hey, hey,” he stopped you, “Calm down. It’s fine. You can come back with me.”

“W-what?” you looked up at him. He seemed so genuine. Was it a trap?

He must have noticed as well, because his face immediately turned into a scowl, “I trust that you won’t tell Batman. After tonight, you’d be fucked along with me if it ever got to him. Take it or leave it, I’m not offering again.”

He let go of you and climbed on his bike, turning on the engine.

He looked back at you, who was still stunned on the spot.

“You coming or what?”

Oh, you were so fucked.

***

Your jaw dropped when you saw the interior of his safe house.

From the outside, it looked just like an abandoned shipment container amongst many other abandoned shipment containers in an abandoned shipping dock. You had expected it to be just a mattress, some pillows, with his weapons dumped messily on the floor.

No, his safe house looked like an actual safe house.

His bed was an actual Queen sized bed with matching bed sheets and pillowcases. His weapons were arranged in a glass cabinet display neatly against the freshly painted cream colored walls- the walls weren’t even the tin walls of the shipment container. He must have added another layer of plywood, with some sort of insulator in between which kept the room warm.

You noticed a beautiful katana resting on its stand. He had a wooden dining table with a fucking oriental tea set on it.

“The shower’s through there,” he pointed at the far corner of the room, which was separated by a wall. “Take off your clothes and just dump it in front of the washing machine.”

A fucking washing machine.

You nodded silently and followed his directions, turning into the corner. His bathroom was simple, yet still elegantly placed with tile flooring.

He had the time to put fucking tiles in his fucking toilet.

The white porcelain of his toilet and sink shined brightly in the warm lights of the bathroom. Next to the toilet was the shower, the segment separated by a curtain. The only thing that was out of placed in his entire makeshift home was the mirror over the sink.

It was cracked. You only saw glimpses of yourself in the pieces that were big enough to catch your reflection- a pair of tired eyes and skin that was covered in dried blood that had long ago oxidized and turned dark brown.

You stripped off your clothes, struggling to peel them off your skin, and then dumped them on the floor in front of the washing machine and stepped into the shower.

You turned it on.

The bastard even had hot running water.

You moaned at the relief and looked down on the floor, watching as the water turned brown, washing away the blood and sweat and filth on your skin. You reached for his shampoo and couldn’t help but giggle at his choice.

It was pomegranate scented with red packaging and labelled Long Term Relationship.

Well, it smelled divine. He had great taste in scents.

Look at you. So desperate to smell like him. Pathetic.

“Him and hundreds of other women, probably,” you muttered.

Once you were done, you stepped on the floor mat and saw a neatly folded towel and clothes on top of the toilet seat. You dried yourself off and put on his t-shirt.

It was too big on you, the sleeves went down to your elbows and the hem went down to your mid-thighs. You saw that he also set aside a pair of shorts, but there was no way you were going to be able to wear that without them sliding down.

You breathed in.

The combination of the shampoo, and the smell of his t-shirt made you smile. It was familiar, but you never really noticed it besides the fabric softener.

Yet, it was unmistakably him. Now all you needed to do was rub gun-powder all over yourself and voila.

You stepped outside to see he had shrugged off his jacket, and was sitting at the dining table, wiping his helmet down with hand sanitizer.

“Shower’s free,” you approached him, passing him your wet towel and his shorts, “Thanks for the shirt, but the shorts are too big.”

His jaw clenched when he looked up at you. You saw the way his eyes darted from your own and down to your body.

He snatched the items from your hand and got up. “Don’t touch anything.”

You heard the shower turn on.

And then you were alone, standing awkwardly in the middle of his safe house.

Everything seemed so normal.

There weren’t many personal things lying around aside from clothes and a few books that he had arranged on a bookshelf, but it didn’t scream ‘Go away’ or ‘Psychopath’. It was simple, homey, warm.

Until you noticed a pinboard that hung in front of his bed.

The nearer you got, you saw familiar faces. Mainly yours.

A blurred photo of you as Robin with Batman. A few articles regarding Batman handing Joker over to the authorities, a couple about Bruce Wayne adopting you following your parents’ deaths, and photocopied police statements about the investigation of your parents.

You frowned.

You knew he had done extensive research on you, you knew that he had shimmied his way into your life and manipulated you for his gain, you knew all that. But seeing everything out in the open made your heart ache.

A whole portion of the board had many of your pictures on it, as well. Stalker photos, as you liked to call it. Zoomed in from far away, candid shots of you in your uniform, swimming, smiling and waving at your classmates, walking in the mall, studying in the library.

“Like my photography skills?”

You jumped at his voice. He was so silent whenever he approached you. You should have noticed that much earlier on.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” you shook your head, still looking at the photos, “But I have to say, I didn’t know I looked this good in my uniform.”

“Oh, baby girl, if only you knew,” he chuckled.

“Please, I-”

You finally turned and choked on whatever words you were going to say.

Jason was standing at the foot of his bed behind you with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and dripping droplets of water down onto his bare chest, his arms crossed and accentuating even more the size of his biceps. He looked so clean.

So normal.

Well, his hotness was hardly normal, but he didn’t seem like some trigger happy crime lord.

He raised a knowing eyebrow at your expression. You didn’t realise your mouth was open.

“I should burn this fucking place down for what you did to my library,” you shot at him.

“It’s been months, get over it,” he rolled his eyes, and sat on the bed, back resting against propped pillows.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Why would I? I’m in my own bed.”

You gulped.

“Bruce- Dick- Everyone-” you stammered, “They’ve probably figured out that I’m not in my room. It’s three thirty in the morning and the music is still playing loudly in my room, I mean, someone has probably knocked and didn’t get an answer so-”

“Your clothes will only be ready in two hours,” Jason interrupted you, “Or would you rather go back home in just my shirt with no bra and panties?”

“I can actually think of an excuse if I did,” you chuckled nervously, “Dick thinks I’ve been sleeping with a guy named Carter.”

“Who’s Carter?” Jason demanded, his expression changing into one that was furious.

“No one,” you quickly explained, “He saw your stupid texts, so I told him your name was Carter and that we were going out.”

He relaxed at your explanation.

Wait a minute.

Was he jealous?

You smiled to yourself, entertaining the possibility.

“And I do actually have a change of clothes in my backpack,” you said, “Which is in your bike.”

“You’re not leaving me with the laundry, princess,” he scoffed, “Stay. Once your clothes are done I’ll even fold them for you.”

“How hospitable,” you snickered.

You stood there awkwardly again, not knowing where you’d be welcomed.

“The bed won’t slit your throat, you know,” he teased, “You can lie down and sleep until you need to go.”

You pursed your lips and played with the edges of the shirt. You knew what was going to happen in that bed.

You went to the opposite side of bed and sat down nervously. You put your feet up and stretched it, just like Jason’s .

The bed was comfy, the pillows fluffy and warm. You could finally feel yourself relaxing into it-

Jason grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, your back flushed against his front. And finally, finally you could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your ass.

“I’ve been hard ever since you came out of the shower,” he breathed into your ear, grinding against you.

You wanted to moan at the feeling of his heavy length on you, you wanted to grind back onto him and turn him on even more, but mother started screaming.

ARE YOU A LADY OR A WHORE?

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Nothing,” you turned to him. “Kiss me.”

He granted your request and gave you a searing kiss.

Rolling in bed with a dirty criminal.

“Shut up!” you screamed.

“What the fuck?” Jason yelled, “I didn’t say anything!” “No,” you shook your head, “Sorry. Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.”

He looked at you suspiciously.

“I- I hear my mother sometimes,” you admitted.

You waited for him to call you crazy, but he never did. Instead, he looked at you seriously.

“Tell me more.”

“Not physically,” you started, “But I imagine what she would have said to me if she were watching me- which is why I never kissed a boy before this. Or masturbated. She stops me from doing anything filthy.”

“Filthy?”

“By her standards,” you elaborated, “Filthy or vulgar or inappropriate, she controls my actions.”

“How long,” he asked.

“Ever since they died,” you sighed.

“But you were fine all those other times,” he inquired, “Why now?”

“It gradually became less and less frequent,” you explained, “Like, when we did those things through video call, I felt comfortable and it just- it felt right. And it stopped completely during my first time with you.”

“So you saying it doesn’t feel right, right now?” he clenched his jaw.

“It’s not you!” you added quickly, “It’s me. No matter how much I want to, I just can’t help it. She’s there.”

“Look, I get it,” he sighed, leaning onto the propped pillows, “Fuck, I get it.”

“You do?” you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“What? You think getting beaten to a pulp with a crowbar, getting exploded, and having to crawl out of your own grave wouldn’t fuck you up?” he growled, “You’re not special. Get over it.”

Even though he said it in a way that was harsh and definitely not conventional, he basically told you what you needed to hear- that you weren’t the only one that was fucked up, and if there was any comfort at all, it’d be the fact that you were fucked up together.

You smiled when you saw him, his arms crossed, eyebrows stitched together in a frown, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“Well, I really wanted to,” you paused, “You know.” Jason looked over to you then. “You said she screams in your ear, right?”

“Yeah?”

He smirked, then came closer to you again, caressing your cheek and tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear, where he leaned in to whisper.

“Then that just means we need to be louder.”

He gripped your thigh and forced your legs open, cupping your sex with his hands.

He’s defiling you.

“I hated you,” he slipped a finger between your folds and gently ran it up and down, gathering your slick, “But now I just can’t seem to keep on hating you anymore.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession.

He teased your clit, giving only light brushes on it, barely even touching you.

But everyone else will hate you.

“Talk to me, baby,” he instructed, “Tell me you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I-” you panted, “I don’t hate you anymore.”

A filthy man for a filthy girl.

“Mmm, good girl,” he purred, now adding pressure to your clit, making you squirm.

The praise did wonders to you. You felt your cheeks heating up, your heartbeat going faster and faster.

I raised you to act like a lady, not like a bitch in heat.

His other hand slipped underneath the shirt, trailing up from your waist to cup your breast and gave it a squeeze.

You moaned out loud when he started pinching them.

Vulgar sounds will only get you dirty men.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that,” he rasped against your skin, hot breath sending goosebumps all over. “I want you to moan for me, beg for me, scream for me.”

“Jason,” you sighed.

He started properly rubbing on your clit now, sending tingles right to your toes. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet. It makes your pussy look so fucking pretty,” he praised.

At least prostitutes get money when they sleep with other men, and you’re doing this for free.

It was so confusing. On one hand, you had your mother’s voice ringing in your head. On the other, Jason’s dirty, sexy mouth made you think you could actually die from sheer horniness.

He finally slipped a finger inside of you, eliciting a long moan.

You’re going to be loose before you hit-

“Mmm, you like that, baby?” he husked, “You always like it when I put my finger in, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

No one will want you after-

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

Ruined goods-

“Please,” you whined as you spread your legs further apart.

YOU BELONG IN THE-

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased.

You could only mewl.

LISTEN HERE-

“Please stop?” he added a second finger, and started pumping in and out excruciatingly slow.

STOP IT-

“Please make me come?” he increased his pace.

HORRIBLE-

“Or just… please? .”

He suddenly switched into a brutally fast pace, causing you to scream.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason please just put your cock inside of me and make me come, fuck!” you begged.

He stopped finger fucking you and chuckled out loud. He was hovering over you, his towel long gone, aligning the tip of his dick at the entrance of your cunt.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, and then pushed inside in a swift motion.

“Fuck!” you cried.

“So fucking wet for me,” he panted, pounding into you. “So tight.”

“Jason,” you could only say.

He dipped down to push his tongue into your mouth, fucking your mouth the same rhythm he was fucking your pussy. You were in a state of desperation and euphoria, hazy to reality.

The only thing you were hearing at that moment was the wet sound of flesh on flesh and Jason’s loud grunts into your mouth.

The combination of his cock repeatedly pressing onto the spot within you and his tongue in your mouth made your pussy tighten in no time, closer and closer to orgasm.

“You wanna come, baby girl?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded hysterically.

“Come for me then, come all over my cock,” he commanded, fucking you faster.

The tight coil in your core exploded, and you felt yourself pulsating all over his length which was still moving.

Jason didn’t give you time to rest.

“Get up on your knees and face the wall,” he growled.

You immediately obeyed, afraid that he would start biting you again if you didn’t. Jason pushed aside his pillows and you placed your hands on the headboard.

He took off the oversized shirt and his hands started roaming your body from behind, squeezing your breasts, running them up and down your thighs, all the while he was kissing your back.

He pushed his cock inside you again without warning, and in the post-orgasm sensitivity, you accidentally gave out and collapsed backwards against him.

“Woah there, baby,” he laughed, gripping you tightly by the waist to stabilize you. “I want to make you come again.”

“Please,” you rasped.

“Yeah?” he started moving slowly behind you, “You want to come again, baby?”

You nodded weakly.

“Tell me, baby girl,” he nipped your earlobe, “Tell me.”

“I want you to make me come again.”

“What a fucking good girl,” he licked your ear.

You could only whimper in response.

He hammered his hips into you hard and fast, all the while gripping your tits with one hand and your waist with other, fucking himself up into you.

And because you were so sensitive from the first orgasm, the fact that he was fucking you again soon after meant that you were already fast approaching your second one.

“Hold out for me just a bit more, sweetheart,” he breathed in your neck, “Please?”

That ‘please’ sort of made your heart melt.

“Anything, Jason,” you replied, trying your best to maintain a level head while he fucked you.

“Ah. fuck, baby,” he stuttered, his hips stuttered, his pace stuttered. “Okay, come with me. Come with me, fuck, fuck.”

The heat you felt before started spreading again, and this time you allowed it and let go. You reached behind you to hold Jason’s head, running your hands in his hair and gripped on it tightly for leverage as you came loud and long.

He withdrew from you so fast that it almost hurt, but then you felt warm splashes on your lower back, dripping down to the globes of your ass and to your thighs.

Your whole body gave out, and you fell down on your front, crashing into the soft bed.

You heard Jason chuckle, and then felt him get up. He returned with his towel and wiped your back, and then joined you on the bed next to you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Better than okay,” you smiled.

“Mother quiet?” he frowned.

“Surprisingly so,” you yawned.

“Good,” he nodded.

The two of you just stared at each other, and soon enough you got lost in his face. His tired eyes, his crooked nose, his scarred skin. He gave you an odd expression. It wasn’t anger, or hate- hell he was hardly frowning.

He just looked… content.

You guess killing someone would take the energy out of you.

***

When Jason stirred awake, the first thing he felt was the warm body next to him.

For the first time in his entire life, he didn’t wake up alone.

He blinked his eyes open, and nearly laughed out loud when he saw your face next to him. You weren’t a graceful sleeper. Your hair was messy, your mouth hanging open with a little drool on dribbling at the corner.

Yet, he couldn’t help thinking about how absolutely gorgeous you looked.

He felt his chest tighten.

He shifted to the side to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was already 6am. Your clothes were long dry already in the dryer.

“Mmm,” he heard your voice, probably waking up because of his movements.

He turned back to you and saw that you were indeed already awake, facing tummy down with his blanket covering you up to your waist so he had a view of your beautiful, smooth back.

“What time is it,” you asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Six,” he answered, “Your clothes are probably dry.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He loved it when you swore. “I’m going to get into so much trouble.”

“You’re a teenager with a so-called boyfriend,” he snorted, “Make something up.”

“That’s the plan,” you grinned.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and laid on your back.

“I should go,” you sighed sadly, and then sat up.

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm.

Fuck, what was he doing?

“Don’t go,” he whispered, “Stay.”

“I guess I’m already fucked anyways, right?” you smirked.

“No, I meant-” Jason paused, his words catching in his throat. “Stay with me forever. Leave them.”

He saw the many phases of your thoughts written clearly on your face. You blinked with realisation, stopped yourself from smiling, but finally settled with a deep troubled frown.

Fuck.

“I can’t,” you croaked, “I’m sorry, Jason. I can’t do that.”

He felt like taking the keris and ripping out his heart.

“Fine,” he clipped, “Whatever. You want me to send you back, or what?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll find my way back,” you got up and walked to the dryer to change into your gear. Jason reached for the shorts that you didn’t wear.

He walked you to the door silently, awkwardly. He had given you your backpack from the compartment in his motorbike.

“Jason,” you suddenly turned to him, the frown still evidently clear, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” he grit, his heart dropping to his stomach.

“This thing with you,” you explained, “I can’t see you again. The next time I see you, I’ll be on Batman’s side.”

He felt like someone was throttling him, squeezing every ounce of sanity he had left out. He felt his nails digging into his palms, fists closed, still refraining from doing something he knew he would regret.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” you said, “I won’t tell them about you. If they find you, it will be completely because of them, not me. Okay?”

He didn’t want to look at you. He didn’t want you to see through him.

“Just go,” he managed to choke.

You pursed your lips and then nodded, turning away from him.

He slammed the door shut, and then rushed to his room.

“FUCK!” he roared, grabbing the bed and flipping it over.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

He went to the dining table and swiped the tea set off, hearing it crash into tiny pieces on his floor before proceeding to flip over the table as well.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he cried, aware that his cheeks were wet with his tears.

He couldn’t breathe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He crumpled to the floor and picked up a broken piece of china, closing his fists around it and feeling the stinging pain as it cut into his flesh.

He was losing his mind.

He didn’t know what was up, or down, or what was real or wasn’t.

He wanted it to be all just a long, shitty fucking dream.

He wanted to just wake up back in his room in the Manor, fifteen years old, with the sound of Alfred knocking on his door, asking if he was alright.

It was a different kind of pain that he felt as compared to the one Joker had inflicted on him. It was the same hurt, the same stabbing feeling in his chest when he found out that Bruce had replaced him with you.

The same feeling when he found his mother on the floor with foam in her mouth.

In the midst of pulling his hair, and contemplating on whether he should really use the keris to carve his heart out or slit his own throat, he eventually calmed down after an hour of broken sobs and choking on air.

He sat there on his floor, the blood on his hands now sticky and brown, listening to the deafening silence of his room.

He was alone again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red who #jason todd reader imagine #under the red hood #red hood and the outlaws #batman #dc #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #nightwing

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