#raising gothamites
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I love when the Riddler or Poison Ivy are loose, because it’s the only time the skills my mother insisted on come in handy. Can my sisters or I cook or drive? Absolutely not, but I can solve riddles and shoot a bow and identify things in nature like it’s NOTHING.
#just gotham things#only in gotham#gothamite#summer in gotham#the essential skills only#who needs to know how to drive#gotham be like#life in gotham#onlyingotham#raising gothamites#poison ivy#riddler
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It would be hilarious if villains loved Nightwing and were terrified of Officer Dick Grayson.
Dick Grayson- who is used to open spaces and adrenaline- being stuck in a boring bleak office, surviving on shots of coffee and red bull with caffeine that would make Tim concerned.
The thugs soon realised that unlike most of the other cops - Dick was from Gotham.
No one fucks with Gothamites.
Villain *shooting at Dick with machine guns*
Dick *appearing from the shadows behind him*: Boo.
Villain: THIS IS A FIVE STOREY BUILDING HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET HERE
Or
Thief *throwing a counting down bomb at Dick*
Dick: *catching and tossing the bomb at a safe distance before turning round and shooting it so it explodes mid air while running after thief*
Thief: .. what the actual fuck
Dick: Gee look at all that time you had! Shame you threw it away :D
Thief:
Dick: I’m from Gotham
Thief *realising they fucked up* : Please don’t steal my bones
OR
Shooter: *sets elaborate booby traps throughout the houses in an active hostage situation*
Dick *using his training as robin and inhuman flexibility to surpass them with ease*: Ah been a while since I got to have a nice stretch thank you.
Shooter:
Dick:
Shooter:
Dick: .. Hi :)
Shooter: Are you Satan?
AND
In interrogation room
Murderer: I think I’ll take your eyes and add them to my collection
Dick *running on spite and caffeine that could give Superman a sugar rush* : Funny.. I was going to say the same thing to you
Murderer: .. what
Dick: I wouldn’t take your eyes though.. they look like the inspiration behind the whole Medusa’s “look at it and you turn to stone” thing-
Murderer: Hey! Take that back before I gut you
Dick *smile stretching wider without blinking* : oh? Or what? I know everything about you. Who says I can’t kill you and walk out with everyone being none the wiser? I know how to kill someone too..you aren’t special.
Murderer:
Murderer: I’m scared for my safety.
Because the thing is, Nightwing is who Dick really is. It’s who he can be free as, be himself as without red tapes and regulations. Where he can give as good as he gets, and he’s kind and empathetic. He gets to help the downtrodden and goes easy on most of them if they give up right away, not to mention the fact that he never causes permanent damage.
But officer Dick Grayson is a different story. He runs on sleepless nights and no self preservation. Seeing an officer with an uncanny skill set they’re scarily good at, not to mention the cheery attitude he always has scares the shit out of criminals. Cuz no way in hell is a smiling Gothamite not a deranged one. He chases crimes like a bloodhound, and isn’t afraid to make good on threats he makes to ensure they never hurt anyone again.
Bonus if the batfam doesn’t know about this.
Red hood: Shit I can’t believe we ended up in Bludhaven
Red Robin *tying up the corrupt politican* : Since this is a sensitive case, we need someone we can trust to make sure it is seen through.
Red hood: .. So we paying a visit to Officer Grayson?
Politician *screeching* : NO NO NO NO! PLEASE NOT HIM!! JUST KILL ME INSTEAD AND TAKE ALL MY MONEY I CANT DEAL WITH HIM!
Red hood: .. is he fucking serious?
Henchmen: Sir he is. And we agree. Please take our bones and kill us but don’t take us to Officer Grayson.
Red Robin: Wait what did he do?
Henchman 1: He asked boss if the hat was sentient.. and said that if it was would it make that hat the top and boss the bottom.
Henchman 2: Last time we met I tried to shoot him but suddenly my gun was blank and he raised his hand and let the ammo drop
Red Hood: Well even I could do that-
Henchman 2: They were my bullets. I had selected the colour personally.
Red robin *growing concerned*
Henchman 3: He sang a lullaby to a child when we were holding the station hostage, and replaced the people with my family members. He even sang their social security numbers!
Henchman 4: He’s the most dangerous of them all. I ain’t shitting ya when I say he’s as scary as the bat from Gotham.
*all nodding in agreement*
Red hood:
Red Robin:
Red hood: Nah that doesn’t sound like Dick
Red Robin: Agreed. Let’s go there Hood.
*villains’ sobbing intensifies*
#batman#dick grayson#jason todd#red hood#nightwing#tim drake#batfam#red robin#officer dick grayson#batfam headcanons#dick Grayson headcanons#dick grayson police officer
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what’s up, toon town ? i got some updates for this blog which is basically just that babs and jaybird will be by (friend's) request/plot only so essentially not a part of the regular roster anymore because while i love and adore them they are not muses i can beckon at will and also that she ( my favorite latina muder [ but not really? like she couldn’t kill Pistolera so rly she’s more like extort, torture, maim... but more on that when i actually write her] lesbian with prehistoric daddy issues ) is coming
#and also probably renee montoya my favorite latina righteous lesbian...#since i'm always crying about how ppl should pick up the less popular bats/gothamites i should put my money where my mouth is#but we shall seeeee i gotta read all her stuff but im dying for more latine muses#i was already (slowly) making my way through ss knowing i'd pick up scandal and i didn't even know she was brazilian now its a done deal#well her shitty dad is cro-magnon so prehistoric man that came up around the region of france#but she was raised in brazil and had a brazilian mother SO#˗ˏˋ ⋆ communication breakdown . ooc#i'm getting serious about this blog i swear !#gotta get through wally's newer appearances too v_v
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Alley Drunk!Danny AU- Part 3
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4]
“Have you considered anger management classes?”
The Batman turned sharply, cape flaring out as he raised his weary fists in preparation for another fight. Only to pause, as he caught sight of a bedraggled man leaning against the pockmarked, water worn, Gotham variety stone of the abandoned post office. Non-hostile. Scent of booze, not strong enough to be fresh, but prominent enough for him to clock the stranger as a habitual drinker. Young. Sympathy softened Batman’s stance. Still, Batman kept his guard up. Good thing Robin was benched, he was off his game today if he hadn’t noticed the young man.
“Nevermind. You run around as a bat. Clearly anger management classes aren’t on your to do list.”
“What do you want.”
He’s young. Not as young as Robin, but… enough that it made Batman gentle his approach. The young man pushed away from his spot, fearlessly slouching towards him. Casual. Unafraid. How curious. Even Gothamites were wary around him, correctly assuming and witnessing his takedowns of Gotham’s Underbelly.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?” The bedraggled young man asked, head tilted neutrally at the bodies strewn around the Batman.
“Hm.”
“Why do you never swing by Crime Alley?”
Batman’s guard faltered at the blunt question, but he regained it quickly.
“I do.”
“You don’t.” The man disagreed amiably. He reached down towards the victims but Batman grabbed his arm in an iron hold before he could rifle through their belongings. The young man laughed and pulled back agreeably. “Is it classism, why you avoid us? The poor isn’t good enough to deserve protection from Gotham’s knight?”
“No. I do this for Gotham. All of Gotham.”
“…Well, there’s always room for improvement, I guess?”
The stranger pulled back and broke Batman’s hold, which had the vigilante sharply focusing onto the man. The stranger was strong, despite how skinny and starved he looked. Few people could casually break his hold and tonight, he added one more to the tally.
“You should tell your sponsor to look into creating job opportunities in Crime Alley. The problem isn’t actually the crooks,” the man told the vigilante, gesturing around them. “That’s just the symptoms. The actual problem is the poverty.”
“I know.”
“And yet, you still avoid Crime Alley.”
“Who are you.”
The man began walking away, throwing a dry “The Crime Alley Drunk, apparently,” behind his shoulder. When Batman took to the roofs to track him, the man had thoroughly slipped away.
“Agent A, did you catch that?”
“Yes, Batman. It appears you’ve gotten the wool pulled over your cowl by a rather mysterious youngster.”
Batman heard a younger snort of laughter. Robin. Who was supposed to be doing homework.
“Please stop making fun of me.” Batman sighed half heartedly.
“Not on your life, B.” Robin chirped.
——
“Ya talked ta Batman?!” Jason crowed at him, excited. Danny had done as promised and met him at the chili dog stand at the correct time, which increased his credibility in Jason’s eyes.
“Sure did. He knocked out like, five guys by himself. It was pretty cool.”
“Fuckin’ woah.”
“Right?” Danny smiled tiredly at the kid. He stayed up all night to pull his shit together, and outright bought an apartment for them to stay in. That safe had a lot of cash, after all. “Come on, kid. We’re heading back to base but before that, we gotta pick up a few things.”
“Like what?” Jason asked suspiciously.
“Like curtains in the color you like, groceries, and blankets and bedding, and general cleaning stuff.” Danny ticked off a finger per item.
“We killin’ someone?”
“What? No!”
“Ya said general cleaning stuff!” Jason defended himself. The raggedy kid peered at Danny cautiously, and brightened when Danny only snorted in amusement.
“Oh my ancients, you Gothamites. No, those are for like, actual cleaning. You know, for the apartment I just got you.”
Danny missed the burn of booze, but when Jason looked at him like the child he’s supposed to be had Gotham’s streets never laid its claim on him, Danny didn’t want to fail the kid.
Even if the kid thought he was buying chemicals to clean up a body. He’s the son of two mad scientists, he knows how to get rid of a body, obviously. As if he’d need chemicals to begin with, honestly. His ghost powers are quite versatile.
“An apartment?”
“Yep. It’s shitty, but it’s got all the utilities and I kind of miss having warm water to shower with.”
Jason straightened and trotted alongside the Alley Drunk with a little more purpose. People avoided them. Danny lead the kid to the apartment, handing him a key and letting him explore the sparsely decorated place.
“So, first thing’s first. You go shower. Then, we’ll go shopping for clothes, register you for school, get your school supplies, and grab some lunch. Not necessarily in that order, but ya know. And cleaning supplies.” Danny grinned.
Jason whipped his head around from where he was closely inspecting the windows for insulation- like Danny would let the actual kid live somewhere with drafty windows- and spluttered. Hope, fear, uncertainty battled across Jason’s face as he tried to say something. Danny watched Jason open and close his mouth several times before he finally managed to whisper something.
“I- I c’n go to school?”
“Yes. You are, in fact, legally required to do so, Jason.”
A pause as the kid grapples with the idea, of something he didn’t think he’d ever get to do. A grin bloomed over his face as he realized Danny’s sincerity.
“Then what are we waitin’ for?!”
“For you to shower. C’mon grubby, the shower’s that way. Towels are in the cabinet, and there’s some extra clothes in here,” Danny tossed Jason the plastic bag of clean kid’s clothes he bought from Gotham’s version of Walmart, a store that somehow had the energy of a Tesco and a Denny’s parking lot.
“Fuc- I mean- yeah! On it!”
——
Clearing out the drafts- feel free to continue ^^
#me the entire time writing this: Justice! for Gotham! Batman needs to go back to the batcave!#alley drunk Danny#danny phantom#batman#bruce wayne#dc x dp#dcxdp#jason todd#bamf danny phantom#Danny: Batman u got issues#alfred Pennyworth#alley drunk! Danny AU
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I saw a thing talking about how the Fentons are so unhinged bc they were the first mad scientists, marry other crazy people, raise their kids to believe that they're the normal ones or something, and the cycle repeats. Fentons are genetically wired for mad science and/or supernatural bullshit.
I also read a fic that mentions that Amity's town history museum was called the Fenton Family History Museum because they're synonymous, those people were there in the beginning and will be there til there is no Amity.
Just, imagine an Amity Parker in Gotham complaining about Gothamites being a bunch of wusses because "that's barely even mad science, where's the homemade tank? The cheeto bombs? The risk of complerly legal vivisection? The portal to the afterlife in that one kid's basement?"
Bc you see, Amity Parkers have been predispositioned to believe Fenton Mad Science TM is the standard. For centuries.
Now isnt that something to look int- wait what do you mean legal vivisection?
A passing remark to the Joker bombs looking pitiful compared to ones back home causes Gothamites nearby to do a double take at the figure walking with their pal.
A colleague talks to another colleague how cars are far less tank like here and how traffic is so calm in Gotham rush hour that it's a breath of fresh air.
A roommate complains that the smog doesn't feel as bad to breathe in as their hometown and they almost miss the poor air quality.
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Thought Bubble:
Batfam and superfam swap places?
As in Bruce was the son of two farmers and after they died he was raised on the farm by one of their old employees and becomes Batman after moving to Gotham. every weekend he returns to the farm with his ever growing hoard of children. This is the perfect disguise because nobody whose heard of Batman would even consider that he was just some middle aged farmer that worked in Gotham. No Batman could only ever be a true Gothamite.
Clark on the other hand fell out of the sky into thr sprawling grounds of his parents mansion. He was raised as the heir of a company but decided to be a reporter instead at the Daily Planet. Nobody could even guess that the fucking trust fund baby who writes as a hobby would be the amazing Superman.
#batman#dick grayson#bruce wayne#dc#jason todd#batfamily#dc comics#tim drake#batfam#damian wayne#clark kent#kon kent#jon kent#superman#superboy#superbat
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Take Out for Dummies - Part 2
Ship: Dead on Main
Previous | Masterpost
Note: So I was planning on sitting on this until I was about done with part 3, but then @yeetyeetedyote, who tumblr doesn't allow me to tag, did a meme for part 1 and I couldn't help but post it. So hope you enjoy.
Jason did not know what to wear. It was Red Hood who had a date, but going in his full uniform seemed very excessive somehow. But there was also no way he was going unarmed. He pondered his closet with a frown. What clothing did he even own that were suitable for a date? He’d never had to ponder this before. What level of formality was expected? Probably not formal, considering there would be no dinner. Also he was Red Hood, there was no way he’d do formal, he had an aesthetic.
He finally settled on jeans, a red henley and the brown leather jacket he used as Red Hood. He held up the jacket and inspected it critically for blood spatters, that at least he felt certain wasn’t appropriate.
One hour later saw Red Hood rolling up to the curb in front of the building. Only one person was leaning against the brick wall there, absorbed in their phone; it had to be Danny. The rest of the people there were just walking past. It was Crime Alley, Red Hood barely got a glance of interest. Gotta love Gothamites.
Jason had not been able to really get good visual on Danny in the dark, aside from the fact that he was rather short and had dark hair, the night vision in his helmet could only do so much. He had not been prepared for how he looked up and the wide blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. Nor the way the button down shirt and the jeans hugged close to broad shoulders and slim waist in a way the hoodie he’d worn previously had clearly not.
Somehow in all his musings about how this would go Jason had never considered the possibility that Danny would be hot.
“Hi,” Danny said still smiling as he came up to him. He raised his arms out from his sides a bit helplessly before letting them fall back. “So how do you want me?”
Jason’s brain screeched to a halt as those words brought a decidedly not appropriate image to his head. He was so glad he was wearing his helmet right now. Jason must have stiffened or given away his embarrassment some other way, because Danny’s cheeks flushed as he too realized how his question could have been understood.
“I meant on your bike.”Jason hunched over, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Because that was not helping at all.
Wordlessly Jason held out the extra helmet. Danny took it gratefully and stuffed it over his red face.
“Front.” Jason said over the radio connection between the helmets.
Jason had to give Danny a hand to get him situated in front. He had to hold on near the center of handlebars and he didn’t really have good place to place his feet and had to hold them curled up.
It was neither safe nor legal, but Jason was not about to have a potential assassin at his back and besides who was gonna arrest Red Hood for traffic violations? The small hitched gasp when Jason curled around Danny’s back to reach the handlebars had his lips quirking up, and he might have pressed him just a bit further forward just for that.
“Where to?”
“Sommerset.”Jason raised an eyebrow at that as he kicked off the curb. Carefully, as he got a feeling for the different weight distribution, he drove them in the direction of the Trigate Bridge.
“If a tour of Old Arkham is your idea of a date, I think I’m gonna have to shoot you.”
Danny scoffed.
“I promised you fun, didn’t I?”
At Jason’s lack of response, he slumped further.
“There’s a traveling carnival on the fair grounds at the edge of town.”
“Huh.” Jason was trying to think of a time he’d actually visited a carnival as a visitor and not a vigilante to stop some villain plot. He was coming up short. There was a feeling in his chest he had a hard time identifying, an uncertain thing, but it wasn’t bad. If nothing else he was gonna have an experience?
Oo o oO
They parked the bike in the attached gravel parking lot near the fair grounds. Jason had to step off the bike first and then promptly had to catch Danny as his legs refused to carry him when he stepped off the bike.
“Oh wow, my legs fell asleep there.” He laughed and stepped away on wobbly legs as he pulled the helmet off. He handed it to Jason who put it into its compartment.
He took another wobbly step forward and Jason couldn’t help the way he reached for him to steady him. Instead Danny grabbed his hand firmly. Jason was baffled at the action looking from Danny to their hands, uncertain how to react, but Danny just smiled and changed his hold so their fingers were twined together.
He looked mightily satisfied about it too as he tugged Jason forward toward the fair grounds. A fair bit of the rides were visible because of their heights and Jason could easily imagine how the place would light up with multicolored lights once evening came.
Once they entered the fair grounds they drew quite a lot of attention. Lots of people stopped and pointed at Red Hood and his companion. Phones were pointed in their direction and Jason found himself tensing.
Danny leaned closer and spoke lowly, “Don’t worry, nobody will believe them. Regular digital cameras are odd around me, so they won’t get usable footage.”
Jason’s mind raced, what did that mean? Did he have some sort of jammer? Was it a meta ability? Was it related to his ability to sneak up on vigilantes on Gotham rooftops?
“And,” Danny continued, “if anyone asks, we can always say you’re a cosplayer.”
Jason grimaced. Danny slapped his chest as if he could see right through the mask.
“Hey! Cosplay is a great creative hobby.”
“That’s not- I’m a former crime lord. I don’t understand why anyone would dress up as me.”
“Pffft, don’t sell yourself short. Also you have a cool recognizable thing going on with the helmet. It will be especially funny if someone critiques it for not being accurate.”
Jason couldn’t help his chuckle at how gleeful Danny looked at the prospect.
“This is the real reason you want me to claim I’m cosplaying?”
“It would be so funny, admit it!”
Jason huffed. It would be pretty funny.
“Ha! I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, time to show off some of those shooting skills and win me a plushie.” With that statement Danny pointed towards a game booth with truly ridiculously large unicorn plushies hanging from it and tugged Jason forward. It was only at that moment he remembered they were still holding hands. It was…
It was nice.
Danny glanced back at him and he was smiling, warm and excited. Jason didn’t remember the last time someone had smiled that much at him. Jason found himself smiling back, and he was suddenly grateful he couldn’t be seen behind the helmet.
The shooting booth operator eyed Red Hood warily until Danny broke the tension in a voice that carried, “my friend’s cosplay is pretty awesome right?”
The operator’s shoulders fell and he chuckled, “pretty brave of him to wear that this close to Gotham proper.”
“Sure is! But not to worry if there’s any trouble I will protect him,” Danny said seriously, with a glance and a wink at Jason.
The man took in Danny’s skinny and less than imposing appearance and burst out laughing, and just like that any remaining tension was gone.
The operator explained the game. There were different tiers with bottles lined up on shelves and flat rings of different widths balancing on top. You got points if you knocked the ring down over the bottle neck. The slimmer rings offered more points.
It was a pretty simple game.
Danny put down cash for the game and looked at Jason expectantly. “Show us some of that Red Hood skill.”
The operator chuckled. Jason rolled his eyes and stepped up.
Immediately, as he picked up the air gun it felt clunky in his hand. It was sharp-edged where it should be smooth and was weighted all wrong especially with the pressure cable attached to it, but that was not going to stop him. He loaded it with one of the five cork stoppers the operator handed him. He seemed to be enjoying Danny’s teasing as much as Danny himself.
Out the corner of his vision he saw Danny lean forward expectantly as he took aim.
He pulled the trigger.
The cork stopper was ejected with a loud pop and promptly hit the edge of a shelf bouncing backwards to land on the floor where it rolled around three times before stopping.
Danny looked at him wide eyed before bursting out in helpless snickers. Jason shoved him in revenge, but he couldn’t help smiling. There was just something refreshing about how despite knowing he was the real Red Hood he was so completely unafraid of him. Not even his family was that relaxed around him.
He didn’t want to bring his mood down contemplating that, so he reloaded the clunky gun and took aim again. He considered the points on the rings and the available prize tiers. Four shots left, with a bit of luck he could still do decently.
Aiming higher and slightly more to the right of how he would aim a real gun he shot the first maximum point ring down around the bottle neck. Three more fell in rapid succession.
Danny cheered, pumping his fist in the air.
“That’s four hundred points, that gives you the choice of a large prize,” the operator said impressed.
He pointed at a large unicorn plush, it wasn’t quite the extra large ones that hung on the outside of the stall, those required cumulative points from at least two games, but it was still a very decent size.
Danny was the very opposite of disappointed when Jason handed it over. He squished it in his arms and absolutely beamed up at Jason. Jason looked away, embarrassed for feeling so satisfied and warm just for winning a silly game.
The operator snorted giving them a knowing look. “Have a nice evening boys.”
“You too,” Danny replied, sidling up close and entwining their fingers again as he pulled them away and off towards the various rides.
Jason eyed their once more joined hands in bemusement, not really sure what to think, but he’d already allowed it once. It sold the appearance of a date, made it all the more likely to the bystanders that Jason was just some cosplayer with a death wish, so it was smart to keep holding hands. And Jason found himself reluctant to give it up.
It was an easy illusion to give into.
He squeezed Danny’s hands and he turned his head to look at him, smiling like this was a real date and not one of his odd jobs. Jason nodded towards the bumper cars and Danny’s grin turned into feral delight as he dragged him in the new direction. It was so easy to pretend Jason was just here to have fun with a friend who was maybe just a bit more.
That was something he could have had maybe. If he hadn’t been Robin. If he hadn’t died and come back wrong. If he wasn’t a former crime lord just trying to find his footing with a family he wasn’t sure wanted him and not just the dead boy he’d been.
But for just a little while he could pretend.
Until Danny turned out to actually know he was supposed to kill him, until everything crashed and burned like usual, he could allow himself a little fun.
Like ignoring every sign saying the bumper cars were not meant for driving into each other. The bored teen operator certainly didn’t care to uphold that rule. The bumper car ride was a war zone, a giant free for all and yet Jason managed to have only eyes for Danny. He was a tricky driver to catch. Jason had no idea how he managed to maneuver the car like that, it was verging on supernatural.
They were both laughing when they exited their cars after Jason had finally managed to bump into him proper instead of the earlier glancing blows.
“Remind me to call you if I ever need a getaway driver.”
Danny snorted knocking their shoulders together. “Only if I get part of the cut.”
I’ll give you more than a cut, Jason was about to say, but thankfully didn’t. Because what did that even mean? Instead he knocked his shoulder back.
They continued on towards another ride, a small rollercoaster, and as they queued Danny started telling him about how his dad’s driving was so infamous in his hometown that the local news included a segment to warn for it when he was on the roads. Because of that nobody had wanted to give Danny driving lessons and that’s why technically he didn’t have a license, but he’d once landed a space shuttle, so that should count for something. The story verged on so impossible it had to be true, but Jason was sure if a civilian had actually landed a space shuttle it would have been all over the news or at least known among superheroes - it was entertaining nonetheless.
Jason wasn’t sure when they’d started holding hands again only noted the absence when Danny left him by a bench several rides later with stern instructions to protect the princess with his life, aka the unicorn plushie.
The lights had flickered on a while ago and bathed the darkening grounds in multicolored lights. Jason leaned back relaxing against the bench. Taking in the lights and the happy atmosphere as people passed him by. There were a few people who pointed and snickered as they walked by, but clearly the unicorn plushie was just as good as Danny to convince people he was just a guy in a costume.
“It’s a pretty good costume.”
Jason turned his head to find a man with a superman shirt had stopped. He stayed silent waiting for him to elaborate. He obviously wanted to, there was something in his drawl.
“The casual look is pretty well put together while remaining recognizably Red Hood.”
“But-“ somehow there was a but- “if you were actually from Gotham you’d know that the real helmet is matte and the brow section is more slanted giving it an angrier expression.”
Jason stared incredulously at the man in the Superman shirt accusing him of not being a Gothamite. Never mind the helmet thing, that was just ridiculous but accusing him of not being a Gothamite, now that was an insult he wouldn’t be taking. Jason stood up to his full six feet and saw the way the man shrunk as he realized he might have made a mistake.
“There you are, babe,” Danny inserted himself smoothly into the situation snaking an arm around his waist and pressing close. It was distracting. “Come on let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Jason snorted as he let Danny move them forward. He didn’t need the intervention, he wouldn’t have attacked the man or anything.
He couldn’t help but pull them to a stop however as they passed him.
“Your information is outdated, this is the current helmet.” He spoke lowly and ominously only made more ominous by the voice modulation.
The man eep’ed and scrambled to get away.
They watched him go with no small bit of amusement.
“I thought we agreed to keep it on the down low.”
Jason shrugged, “he asked for it, besides you said it yourself, nobody will believe him.”
“Alright then.” Danny left the place beneath Jason’s arm, he had only a moment to feel bereft however until his hand was grabbed again and pulled in the direction of the parking lot. “Speaking of proof, do you mind me taking a selfie of us so I can prove I took you out?”
Jason frowned. “I thought you said cameras didn’t work around you.”
“They don’t, I’ve had to modify it to be able to take any pictures.”
“You gonna tell me what kind of meta ability you have?”
Danny chuckled. He pulled their joined hands up and pressed a kiss to Jason’s scarred knuckles. Jason was so distracted by the action he almost didn’t hear the, “I like you Hood, but that isn’t a first date conversation.”
There was a pause in their conversation as Jason contemplated the absurd idea of there ever being a second date, the fact that this one was nearly over and how he’d actually had a lot of fun.
“So, selfie?”
“Uh sure.”
Danny juggled the white plastic bag that Jason only noticed now onehanded as he pulled out his phone. It was a broad phone with actual buttons and Jason would believe it was modified alright. Danny smiled and leaned close as he raised his hand, a small flash went off and Danny looked the picture over in satisfaction.
“What’s with the bag?”
“Huh, oh this is food. Our next stop, if you’re still willing, is the ice rink, but I figured we could take a break on the roof and eat back to back or something, what with the whole-” he indicated the helmet by waving a hand in front of his face.
So it wasn’t over yet. Not if Jason wanted to continue. It was an easy out, Jason could just chose to drive Danny to wherever he wanted to be dropped off and he could go home and still make it easily in time for patrol - or he could prolong the evening.
Jason popped open the compartment under the seat of his bike and took the warm bag of food from Danny to put in as he considered. Danny had already put on the extra helmet.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Jason could practically hear the smile in his voice even if he couldn’t see it through the opaque helmet.
“Okay,” he confirmed.
The small fist pump was kinda adorable.
So first part of the date, it was getting a bit long so I cut it in two, but hey that's the only reason I could even upload it. Jason is in trouble, he's just not quite realizing it yet XD
I enjoy hearing your thoughts on the story, so please continue to share <3
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A little blurb based on this thought that I had
When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt. 1
Pt. 2 Ao3
This is not ideal. Danny thought deftly as he stared in shock at the absolutely massive problem he had just created for himself. He blinked slowly, trying to bring his brain back to speed. Definitely not Ideal.
Not even one week in Gotham, that was all it took to make such a big mess, thank you very much Fenton Luck. Danny had been accepted into Gotham U, having qualified for practically a full ride scholarship, and started next week. He had been in town to get settled for about three days when he was walking back to his apartment from a nearby Batburger.
Unfortunately a certain clown mistook him for a Wayne and well… yeah, he needed help with this.
“Hey Danny what’s up?” Sam’s voice rang as the call finally connected.
“Sam I think I have a problem,”
“What? Your roommate’s too Hot?΅ she joked
“No- no it's not my roommate-” he squeaked out. Shit how would he explain this? Logically Sam would be perfectly normal about it, probably even ecstatic, considering he did just-
“I killed the Joker” Danny blurted plowing past the sputtering noises coming from the other end of the line, “I didn’t mean to, i was just walking back to my apartment and he jumped out of an alley and tried to kidnap me, and you know I hate clowns and he caught me off guard, and well humans are a lot more squishy than ghosts and I think I used a bit too much force, but yeah.” he paused for a breath, “I killed the Joker, At least I think it's him. Ancients, Sam the bats are gonna kill me for this”
The tinny laughter he got in reply did nothing to calm Danny’s fraying nerves.
“Sam don’t laugh what am I meant to do?’’ He hissed
It took a few more moments for Sam to collect herself before she responded. “I’m sorry Danny, that's just so you of you to manage killing the Joker your first week in Gotham. Holdup, I'm gonna get Tuck real quick.”
As the sound of shuffling and footsteps filled the receiver, Danny tried calming down. Breathing deeply he walked over to examine the body. Yep, he thought, definitely the Joker, that pasty face and greasy green hair were hard to mistake, even for a non-Gothamite. Danny wrinkled his nose at the acrid stench rising from the smoking crater in the clown’s gut. You can never be too sure though, so Danny reached over to check for a pulse. Nothing.
The distant bickering died down as Tucker’s voice rang from Danny’s phone.
“Duuue, did you really?”
Danny took a shaky breath, raising the device back to his face, “Y-Yeah, he’s dead,” God please don’t let him come back to haunt me. ”Tuck what do I do?”
“Honestly man, I think you should just leave him, someone will find him eventually,” Tuck replied, the nonchalance oozing through his voice.
“I don’t know, I feel like we should tell someone or something-”
“Holy Shit!” Danny froze at the new voice coming from behind him. “Is that really him?” Red Hood asked incredulously. Ancients that's THE RED HOOD. Danny is so double dead.
“Tuck, I think someone found out,” he whispered into the mic, not taking his eyes off the imposing Figure that was the literal RED HOOD.
“It’s probably fine,” but Danny cut him off with a strangled yelp as Red Hood turned to face him Muscles tensing, shifting from shock to Ancients Danny hoped that rage wasn’t directed at him. That hope slowly dwindled as the vigilante stalked toward him, hand drifting toward the holster at his hip. Danny gulped.
“Did you do this?!” Hood seethed, and Yup Danny was going to die again today. What should he say? ‘Yes mr red hood sir I killed the Joker please don’t kill me’ no, no he should not say that. So he settled to let out a strangled squeak and a small nod.
Danny couldn’t breath as Hood crouched to assess the body. I didn’t breathe when Hood stared him down. No Danny didn’t even breathe when a distorted laugh rang through the air, or when Tucker and Sam anxiously screamed at Danny to respond.
“I Can’t believe the Fucker’s finally dead,” Hood breathed, kicking the dead clown for good measure. “What’s your Name Kid?”
Finally Danny let a relieved sigh escape his lips, he Probably wouldn’t die again tonight.
“Um, Danny?” he said tentatively, his voice rising toward the end making it sound more like a question. Hood just laughed more.
“Well Danny, do you like burgers? I've got to thank you somehow.” Dany was in shock. What. the actual. Hell. slowly he nodded because what else was he supposed to do when RED freaking HOOD offered him food for killing a literal terrorist on accident. “Good, I have to make a few quick calls but don’t go anywhere.” and he walked a few paces away, leaving Danny in Shock and confusion.
Slowly he raised the forgotten phone to his ear. “Uuuuh Guys…” he waited a moment for the yelling to die down before continuing, yeah, this might be interesting.
#danny phantom#dp x dc#red hood#danny killed the joker#it was an accident okay#he forgot humans are squishy#oh god is hood going to kill him?#nope just take him for bugers and a milkshake#buckets writes things?
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Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘
Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!
I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️
Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻
“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce
Words: 15.8k words
Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...
A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!
Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.
Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3
Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.
You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"
Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?
Either way, he was enthralled.
"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"
"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."
"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.
"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.
"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"
""Your money back?"
"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."
"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"
"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."
"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"
You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.
"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."
You only seemed to get better by the second.
Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.
"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.
"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"
Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.
"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"
The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.
"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.
"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."
You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.
"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."
"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.
You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?
"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.
"After you."
Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?
"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"
He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.
"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.
"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."
You pondered your options.
You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.
And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."
It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.
And Bruce loved it.
Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.
But above all, he loved you,
And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.
Alfred was very fond of you too.
The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.
Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.
Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.
Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.
"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"
"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."
Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.
"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.
"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."
Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".
But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".
It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.
When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.
Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.
"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."
The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.
That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.
After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.
He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".
"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.
"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"
"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."
"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"
"Just get on with it."
"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."
Bruce looked at you.
You looked at him.
Bruce looked at you.
You looked at him.
Bruce looked at you.
And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.
Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.
"You're wearing the suit next time.”
Your engagement was happily lived.
You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.
“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”
“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.
“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”
“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.
“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.
“I did my best.” Was his response.
“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”
Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.
“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”
“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”
“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”
Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.
“Is that a promise?”
Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.
“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.
“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”
“You bumped into me.”
“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.
Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”
“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”
“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”
You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.
Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.
What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.
You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?
“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”
And thankfully, he usually did.
You two had a sort of unspoken deal.
Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.
“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.
“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”
“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.
Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.
“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.
“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”
“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.
“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.
“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”
“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”
You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.
As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.
Unfortunately, the future held other plans.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.
Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.
“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.
“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.
“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”
Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.
“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”
The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.
He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?
“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”
What?
How did he know about him?
Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?
“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”
In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.
“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.
“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.
“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.
“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”
Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.
Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.
“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”
Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –
A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“I didn’t say you could shoot –“
“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.
Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.
That had been close.
Too close.
The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.
That was too close.
Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?
“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”
“He knew who I am.”
Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.
“Did he now?”
“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”
Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.
“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “
The Batman was gone.
“ – Best.”
He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.
What was he going to do?
Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.
It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.
And Bruce couldn’t have that.
He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.
Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?
He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.
You couldn’t.
Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.
He tried hard to think of what to do.
And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.
He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.
And yet, it would keep you safe.
Bruce loved you.
So, so much.
He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.
It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.
There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.
He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.
What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?
And that’s when it hit him.
You had to see it.
It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.
You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.
“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.
“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.
“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”
“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”
“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”
“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”
Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?
He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.
Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.
“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”
“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.
“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”
Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.
“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”
“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”
“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”
“I suppose so, Miss.”
You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.
“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.
What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?
You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.
No.
It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.
You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.
“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.
“Yes, Miss.”
“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.
The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.
A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.
You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?
The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.
“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.
“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.
He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.
“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.
“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”
You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.
“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.
But it was for your own good.
“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.
“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.
You were quick to move aside.
“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”
“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“
“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”
“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”
“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”
“I’m sorry – “
“I’m sure you are.”
“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.
“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.
You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.
And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.
“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.
“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”
“But?”
“We can’t be together anymore.”
Your eyes widened. What?
“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”
These words hit you like a truck.
Didn’t love you anymore?
“What?”
“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?
“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.
“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”
“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”
“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.
And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.
“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.
“I…”
“Just tell me, Bruce!”
Bruce sighed, looking away.
“Three months.”
A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.
The whole situation made you nauseous alright.
As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
You couldn’t stare at him any longer.
“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”
How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.
You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.
“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”
You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.
You sneered.
“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”
“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”
“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”
“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.
There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.
“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”
Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.
“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.
And walked out, suitcase in hand.
“Alfred, make sure you take her – “
“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”
With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.
As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.
He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.
Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.
But all of that was over now.
He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.
Master Wayne was miserable before you.
He was sure he’d get worse now.
“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.
“Did you pay her?”
“Yes.”
“Enough?”
“She won’t tell a soul.”
The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.
In his head, this was the only solution.
“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.
“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.
“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”
The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.
“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.
Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?
After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.
“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”
“Is there anything you wish, sir?”
“No, you’re dismissed.”
And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.
He’d lost you, sure.
But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.
And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.
Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.
But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.
You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.
At first, Bruce was terrified.
If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?
“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”
“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”
“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”
Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.
“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”
“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”
Bruce tried to follow that mentality.
For months, he tried to forget you.
Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.
During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.
The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.
But he was left with nothing.
You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.
And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.
Days passed; seasons changed.
The daily cycle continued, interrupted.
The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.
Winter became spring, spring became summer.
And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.
He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.
It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.
Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.
Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.
One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.
The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.
“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.
“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.
“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”
“Not nearly, sir.”
“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”
Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.
After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.
“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”
“Really?”
“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”
Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”
“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”
Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.
“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”
Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.
It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.
Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.
He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.
But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.
And what he saw stole his breath away.
You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.
But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.
Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.
You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.
Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.
And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.
Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.
“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”
Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”
“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.
The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.
“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.
It was as if the whole world faded away.
Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.
You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.
"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.
When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.
"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.
Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.
"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.
You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.
"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."
Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.
"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."
What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.
He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?
Was it selfish of him to want you back?
Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.
But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.
He needed you back.
That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.
He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.
Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.
"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."
Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.
"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."
"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."
"Please."
The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.
You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.
Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.
And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.
As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.
"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."
"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"
It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.
Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.
"Tomorrow is fine."
"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"
It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.
Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.
"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"
"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.
Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.
"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?
"May I ask why, sir?"
Bruce beamed.
"We have company."
Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.
On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.
On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.
Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.
"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.
"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.
The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?
"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.
"I think we can manage."
You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.
"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.
"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "
"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."
With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.
"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.
Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.
"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.
"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."
"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,
"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"
"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"
"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.
You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.
"Please, do sit down."
You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"
Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.
"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."
"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.
Still home.
"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.
"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?
"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"
You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.
"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."
Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.
"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."
"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"
Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?
No, not bitter. You were right, after all.
"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."
"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.
"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."
"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."
"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.
"I just need to tell you what really happened."
Another sneer.
"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."
"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."
"Tempting."
"But please, just let me speak."
"Okay."
Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?
"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."
The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.
"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."
You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."
"I ran into Crane."
It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.
"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.
"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."
Your face was pale with worry.
"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"
"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."
You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.
"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."
In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?
"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."
"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,
"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."
"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.
"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."
The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."
"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."
Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.
"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."
"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"
"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."
"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"
"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?
"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."
"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."
"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"
Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.
"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"
"By breaking my heart."
"It had to be done."
"It didn't.
"I was thinking of you."
"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"
Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.
"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."
"You left me!"
"I was protecting you!"
"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"
It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.
"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."
"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"
"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.
"Is the child mine?"
You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.
"You have no right to ask that."
"Please. Just... Is it mine?"
You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.
"Yes," you mumbled, softly.
Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.
"When did you find out?"
"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."
"Him?"
"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."
Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.
"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."
These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?
"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"
Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."
"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."
"You don't love me anymore?"
"That's not what I said."
"So you do?" A hint of a smile.
"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."
"I understand."
Bruce sighed and stood up.
"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."
Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.
"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?
"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."
Your eyes widened.
"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.
You looked away at the ground.
Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.
"Have you been with anyone, after..."
"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."
You nodded thoughtfully.
"Would you like to feel your son?"
"Huh?"
"He's kicking. Would you?"
Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.
"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."
You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.
"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...
"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."
You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.
"But... I'm willing to try."
Bruce's head shot up.
What?
"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?
"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.
And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.
It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.
"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."
Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.
"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."
It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.
"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"
He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.
"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."
He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.
"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."
He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.
"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.
You replied in kind.
"Please."
And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.
His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.
You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.
When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.
"I love you." You spoke.
"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."
You smiled.
Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.
You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.
But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.
You'd finally found each other again.
A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!
So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.
So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.
A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"
This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.
I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.
I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.
Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x you#bale!bruce wayne#bale!batman x reader#bale!batman#bale!bruce wayne x reader#the dark knight#the dark knight trilogy#nolanverse#the dark knight fanfiction#the dark knight fanfic#nolanverse fanfiction#bruce wayne fanfiction#batman fanfiction#batman x reader#batman x fem!reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader
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Anyone know who the rogue of the week is? Cuz my water is coming out green and we aren’t sure if it’s just Gotham Gothaming or if someone fucked with it
#only in gotham#gothamite#raising gothamites#summer in gotham#working in gotham#gotham be like#i love gotham#onlyingotham#it kinda smells sweet too
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Dp x Dc fic idea
Part 2
So I've been re-watching Yu Yu Hakusho lately and was struck with an idea. What if there was a tradition in the Infinite Realms that the Ghost King would conduct a multiverse level fighting tournament? It probably started as control measure of some sort or stress relief for extremely powerful beings and the Ghost King is the only one who's true neutral enough to judge and powerful enough to kick their asses if they misbehave.
And the final prize is that the Ghost King would grant you a wish? As well as one time access to Zeroth Hour? And that's a reward no one can resist.
I'm imagining a scenario where Darksied or something was gearing up to once again invade Earth, and the JL and affiliated all prepared to defend the planet but before the attack could be launched, a green blob appeared right in front of Darkseid and somehow it actually makes the tyrant flinch. That made everyone pay attention. And then the blob announces the beginning of the tournament and Darkseid promptly packs up and leaves, leaving the heroes dumbfounded.
So something like this:
The air was rife with tension. All eyes were on Metropolis, at the gaping maw of the portal opening right above the city. The forces of Apokolips were once again invading. Darkseid had declared war.
Earth's heroes stood grim, ready to give their lives in defence of the planet. Their gazes were fixed on Darkseid, standing in front of his army, surveying his opponents. His general stood behind him, primed for combat.
Abruptly the pressure doubled, and the heroes tensed, readying for battle.
Darkseid raised his left hand, to light the spark of war. But before he could bring it down, the space between the two factions, right there in the middle, twisted.
And from the distortion, a titanic, green, humanoid...blob appeared.
The heroes stared. The New Gods stared. The creature did not stare, as it had no eyes, nor did it care.
It then spoke, with a solid, booming voice completely incongruous with its make.
"Uxas of Apokolips!"
The heroes watched in bafflement as their greatest foe jolted.
"The Infinite Realms hereby declares the beginning of the Grand Tourney. You are cordially invited to participate on behalf of Apokolips."
Among the Earth forces, one John Constantine felt dread overcome his body as he realized what exactly was happening. Shit, was it that time of the millennium already?
Captain Marvel seemed to be on the same vein of thought as the Wisdom of Solomon as well as the knowledge of his predecessors filled him in on what was going on.
The Dark members in the know had similar reactions. All across the planet, and in the dimension, magical entities who had tuned into watch the fatal confrontation, felt excitement racing through them as they realized what this meant. Other beings? Not so much.
Batman was cataloguing these strange turn of events carefully. Superman was puzzled but still held himself ready. Green Lantern was trying to figure out why exactly his ring was behaving strangely and giving out sparks. Martian Manhunter was analyzing the curious psionic readings he was getting from the creature.
Wonder Woman and Aquaman however had the dawning expression of recognition on their faces, which did not go unnoticed by their Gothamite colleague.
Surprisingly the Flash was looking at the creature as if it wasn't the first time he saw it. That too was noted by the Dark Knight.
On the Apokolips side however, there were no signs of puzzlement. Instead it looked like excitement was spreading like wildfire through the army, and even Darkseid looked eager.
The creature took note of none of these developments and continued.
"The first event is the Great Hunt. As an invited participant, a hint would be provided to you should you accept".
It bent its great, gelatinous head towards the Apokoliptian ruler.
"Do you accept, Uxas of Apokolips?"
In response, Darkseid stepped forward. "I accept."
And in a flash, before the New God appeared a pitch black card, and the creature announced, "Uxas, Ruler of Apokolips, Participant Number R813."
It straightened to its full height. "Your first hint is on Apokolips, young ruler."
And the next second it was gone, with the same exact warping of space it had come from.
The two factions were left alone, sans eldritch green goop.
Most of the heroes had one thought: What the fuck just happened and did the green goop thing call Darkseid young?"
Darkseid did not waste anytime however. He turned to his army and ordered, "Retreat!"
And just like that the great army filtered back through the portal they had come from, and the mortals heroes of Earth watched, perplexed. They still held themselves at the ready, in case this was all a ploy of some sort, and half of them believed it was. After all, what could make an obsessive tyrant like Darkseid turn back?
A good portion of the heroes were trying to figure out what the Grand Tourney the creature had mentioned was.
And those in the know? Well they knew chaos was incoming.
The portal closed and just like that, Earth lived to see another day. Via interruption by magical goop.
..............................................................................................................................
And there you have it! Personally I think a scenario like this is hilarious. Imagine you're on the battlefield, facing a gargantuan, godly army, readying yourself for a battle that could kill you. And then the battle was cancelled cause your opponent had somewhere urgent to be.
I don't have a clear cut idea on what Zeroth Hour is beyond it being a great timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly thing, so any ideas are welcome.
The Tourney only happens once every 100,000 years, and it takes place across the omniverse, on different terrains, different timelines, different dimensions and so on. The card that Darkseid got acts as an access key to tournament sites he doesn't normally have access to. The card also monitors participants and is programmed to hell and back to not allow the participants to misuse it. There are dire consequences if you do.
There are 14 stages in total, and the final, combat stage is conducted in a ever evolving, ever changing battle ground on the edges of the Ghost Zone.
Faerie here is not the Fair Lands in DC, and does not follow the dc fictional mythology.
Infinite Beings do not take part in the Tourney.
The last victor was a half dragon, half god prince from Dimension 976123065. He asked for the opportunity to court Princess Dorothea. It was a reality show moment for the Ghost Zone.
Also some extra details:
The JL would of course come to know what the Grand Tourney is, and then realize that if Darkseid won, he would get the anti-life equation that way. And before they could panic their mind would be blown by the fact that apparently, Darkseid is not likely to win at all, cos there are bigger players in the game.
Constantine would be forced to admit that even if you don't get an invitation, you can still participate if you register. Though you won't get the opening hint or any other boosts until Stage 5. He can't understand why anyone would want to considering that those who do get invitations are on the level of Darkseid and higher.
Batman would insist they check it out.
Constantine would say that he has no idea where the registration office is.
Captain Marvel would chime in that the office was most likely in the Faerie.
Constantine would then insist that they have no business messing around in the Faerie. JL Dark would nod vehemently in agreement.
Batman insists they at least watch the tournament. Constantine gets conned into organizing a watch party.
PART 2
#DP X DC#DC X DP#Man I've been obsessed with dp x dc lately#Here's another one#Darkseid#Justice League#Bruce Wayne#Batman#Clark Kent#Superman#Diana Prince#Wonder Woman#Billy Batson#Captain Marvel#J'onn J'onzz#Martian Manhunter#Hal Jordan#Green Lantern#Arthur Curry#Aquaman#Barry Allen#The Flash#John Constantine#Yeah Darkseid just dipped like that#How would you even respond to that?#First the goop#and then this#Yeah the JL is bamboozled#The supernatural world on the other hand is super excited#Its their favourite and most entertaining show
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Jack Fenton is From Gotham, a Headcannon
So, Jack Fenton, Big, caring, Dad Shaped Individual who cares about Family and his Profession and would more than likely choose family if things went Funky. The Guy who has ran through multiple walls and is capable of fighting Ecto beings BARE FISTED and winning. This guy, who just looks at the mayhem around him and goes “Ah, a peaceful day.” while Maddie is losing her entire god damned mind. You can only really get that sort of attitude about chaos in a few places, and I think Jack was born and raised in Gotham, and furthermore, I think his parents generation of Fentons lived in Crime Alley.
The IDEAS this gives me, like in a reveal gone sideways with the GIW finding out Jack takes Danny and hides out in his childhood romping grounds and the people just go “Oh Hey, Jack’s back.” and they just melt into the underbelly of Gotham, no one really the wiser and the GIW constantly losing vehicles and Agents to the meatgrinder that is Crime Alley.
Give Me Jack Fenton who has SEEN SOME SHIT, Give me Jack Fenton who has DONE SOME SHIT. This man knows how to do a lot of things and the legality therein can get very Sketchy. Then give us the glory and horror of Gothamites slowly emigrating too/immigrating from Amity Park and it’s just like, That Explains A LOT.
I ran away with this, I shall now tag folks who I think would like this.
@stealingyourbones
@captain-krow-drozdov
#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny phantom#batman#gotham#gothamites#jack fenton#crime alley#dc#Jack Fenton is From Gotham au
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Vampire Cass, DC vs Vampires
Cass had to keep going, she had to keep running(Thirsty). Her family was turned or fighting, Gotham was dark, and Batman(dad) was dead. She knew his contingency plans. Every undead apocalypse had the same plan, coordinates in Illinois.
For some reason when Damien and her were (Betrayed,Thirsty) bitten they didn't lose themselves in the vampiric transformation. She was running to the coordinates now, full vampire speed the whole way. She didn't tire but she was...(Thirsty). The thought distracted her long enough to run face first into someone's chest. Even with her enhanced speed and strength the figure didn't budge. She looked up seeing a beautiful, Ethereal (Tasty) boy with white hair and green, Lazarus eyes. He was saying something, shes lost herself, shes so thirsty, she opens her mouth with vampire fangs, and bites right onto the boys mouth.
Her mind snaps back as the bloody tongue enters her mouth. Shes surprises, shes ashamed, and shes confused. Is blood supposed to be green? should she be enjoying this? why did this feel so right? She pulls back finally noticing the boys arm around her waist and that they are floating in the air on the outside of a town. She hears something then. She looks behind her and sees them on the dark horizon. A horde of vampires, turned gothamites, had been chasing her, and she lead them right to an innocent town.
Before she can sign, before she can pry herself from the boys grip a black crown ignited by green fire appears on the boys head. The crown seems to burn brighter and ignites like a lazarus solar flare that burns the horde in green fire and reduces all vampires to ash. The boy raises his other hand and Cass notices a ring. A ring that reminds her of the Red lanterns, but instead of the burning rage there is a Winter's cold wrath.
She realizes shes here at the cordinates and the boy who holds her is Batman's contingency against all undead, The Ghost King. She found him. Shes so tired now, so she puts her head on his shoulder and falls asleep.
(people really seemed tp like the last one so i wrote more)
#vampire cass au#ghost king danny#dc vs vampires#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#fanfiction ideas#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc prompt#vampire cass#cass is very interested in danny#cass x danny#cassandra cain#dead silent#vampires#vampire! Cass
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AU List
Hello! Welcome! This is my attempt at keeping the AU's boiuncing around in my head in order. They should be mostly in chronological order.
Some of them are getting turned into full length fics! The list (and it's open to suggestions) can be found here: Fic List
A couple of things:
Please feel free to write your own fics based on any of these! No need to ask, simply link it so I can also read it <3
If you have any specific scenarios you have an idea for and would like me to write- my asks/prompts are always open! I can't guarantee quality as I do most of my writing at like, 3 AM but I'll try my best!
I don't condone racism, bigotry, homophobia, etc.. I do not welcome it here. I acknowledge that I have biases that I've yet to unlearn. If there's something that makes you feel unwelcome in the things I write, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.
I write these mostly on little to no sleep (that’s when I get creative I guess?) so good luck.
Squatter! Danny Raises Tim AU:
[Here] In which Tim finds a squatter (Danny) in his house and gets a brother.
[Here] AU of Squatter!Danny where Tim finds Danny squatting in the Nest as Red Robin and thinks he's a coffee-fueled hallucination.
[Here] Tim and Danny stalks the Dynamic Duo and freaks them out.
[Here] Tim and Danny goes shopping, Jazz Fenton casually suggests murder as a means of sibling adoption.
[Here] Tim meets Jason! Robin and fanboys his way into thinking he could become Robin. Danny tries to temper Tim’s stalking habits.
[Here] Family Bonding
Ghost King and the Justice League:
[Here] The JLA summons Danny and Constantine regrets his poor life decisions.
[Here] Writing Prompt: Ghost King!Danny can hear the screams of the Joker's victims.
[Here] Batman tells Hal Jordan to babysit the unconscious Ghost King because Hal’s neon green.
[Here] Zatanna helps the dying ghost boy by repairing his grave and hunting down the GIW
[Here] Zatanna retrieves the gravestones of Phantom's subjects and gives him a safe space to grieve.
[Here] Ghost King!Danny babysits Wonder Woman at the behest of the Goddess Hera.
[Here] Ghost King!Danny munches on some demons.
[Here] Local space ghost scolds superhero club because they littered in space.
[Here] The OG Young Justice team summons Danny in a private school bathroom
[Here] The JLA failed to prevent cultists from summoning the ghost king. Luckily, they get Danny instead, who seems to be the king's assistant.
Alcoholic! Danny Adopts Jason Todd AU: (Fic)
[Here] Alcoholic!Danny saves Jason Todd from a mugger and gives up alcohol to be a big brother.
[Here] Alcoholic! Danny confronts his stalker, buys chili dogs for his new little brother, and kills a pedo in that order.
[Here] Going Sober!Danny meets Batman, and then gives his new little brother an apartment and tells him he can go to school.
[Here] Going Sober! Danny takes his little brother back to school shopping
Spider in Gotham AU: (Fic)
[Here] In which Peter Parker gets isekai'd and shrunk, commits crime, and adopts a Gothamite street kid for a brother.
[Here] In which Peter Parker’s alternate memories haunt him in the form of nightmares, his identity gets made by his roommate, and he talks to a concerned vigilante with poor sleeping habits about his own poor sleeping habits.
Gotham! Danny and His Bats:
[Here] Writing Prompt: Cryptid Danny predates the Bats.
[Here] In which Danny is both Tim Drake and Gotham's City Spirit.
[Here] Writing Prompt: Danny and Gotham’s Bay that’s full of dead bodies, ghosts, and a very alive Red Hood
[Here] Gotham Spirit Phantom has a moment of introspection and would like people to stop blowing parts of the city up
[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in and proceeds to have a bad time and decides to DIY mental health.
[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in, pt. 2: Danny bullies Bruce into self care.
[Here] Writing Prompt: Shade! Jason stumbles across a ghost Danny, adopts him, gets turned into a full-fledged ghost, eats cookies, and gets pulled back into his human body.
Danny in Gotham:
[Here] Accidental Crime Lord! Danny Phantom and his takeover ft. a gaggle of orphans and a stressed Batman
[Here] Writing Prompt Lawyer!Danny Fenton and heroism within the confines of the law.
[Here] Lawyer! Danny prompt fulfillment
[Here] Coffee Shop Owner! Danny enforces the shop's neutrality by beating up the Joker with a chair and accidentally seduces the Red Hood.
[Here] New to the City! Danny dropkicks Red Hood in his stupid red helmet
[Here] Danny vs. Mr. Muffins
[Here] In which Bruce, Alfred, and Dick grieves while Danny wonders why they were grieving on an empty grave.
[Here] In which Danny did not get the memo about Gotham's pharmaceutical companies
Sea Cryptic! Danny AU:
[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans up beach after local vigilante explodes his plane over the ocean.
[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans the Gotham bay and does broke college student things.
[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny extorts money from Batman for blankets.
[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes a friend and calls Red Robin broke.
[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes Batman a debtor and makes friends with the best vigilante recyclers in Gotham.
[Here] Tim asks Danny to introduce Tim to Danny, Jason has a post-zombie crisis.
[Here] Batman tries to adopt another kid, Danny gets Vlad flashbacks, and the Bats finds out that Jason is stinky.
Danny Gets Yeeted (Yoted?) Into Gotham AU:
[Here] Danny gets dropped on the Batmobile and acquires minions
[Here] IOU One (1) Big (Harvey) Dent
[Here] Danny trolls the Waynes by telling them he's died before (and pretending he doesn't know they're vigilantes).
[Here] Tim makes bad excuses for vigilante injuries and Danny forgets about the knife embedded in his stomach.
[Here] Sleepy, assassin-trained Damian accidentally stabs civilian Danny and feels bad about it.
[Here] Danny's Knife Collection (but not just knives).
[Here] Ghostbusters but they don't actually catch the ghost (Danny)
[Here] Danny’s in the goddamn walls!
[Here] Danny's first family game night: trauma, eating paint, and aiming the Bat cannon at the GCPD and firing feral vigilantes out of it.
[Here] Cassandra Cain (former Feral Child) reassures Danny (who is Ghost Feral) that they're siblings.
[Here] Danny gets ice-cream with Duke, Bruce vs. (corrupt) CPS
[Here] Danny does gardening with Alfred
Danielle "Dani"/"Ellie" Phantom:
[Here] "Ellie" visits Gotham and encounters a Stinky Red Hood.
[Here] "Dani" trades "removing corrupted ectoplasm" for "a meeting with Batman about the GIW" ft. Stinky Red Hood and a confused Nightwing.
[Here] A paralegal gets reincarnated/isekai’ed as Danielle “Nellie” Phantom, Prompt
Gremlin Genius! Timothy Drake:
[Here] Toddler! Tim is irritated at his heroes for showing up late at their own Gala.
[Here] Tower Scene AU
Reincarnated as Gamer! Timmy Drake (fem Tim): (Fic)
[Here] The Dissociative Experience™️ of realizing your afterlife is a cosmic oopsie (and that you’re now playing a game as a female Tim Drake).
[Here] Art for the fic
New Tim-line, Who Dis? AU:
[Here] Time Traveling! Tim has a crisis on a plane and hires Deathstroke to off the Joker.
[Here] Time Traveling! Tim takes over Bludhaven's underground at nine years old by terrorizing them and takes out his big brother's enemies via blackmail and Amanda Waller.
[Here] Tim Drake Vs. The Education System round 2
[Here] Dick Grayson remembering his dumbass, self-sacrificing little brother from a different Tim-line.
Prompts Found:
[Here] Tim is a sleeping cat and the law is: you can't move.
[Here] Heartbroken Danny leaves Dick Grayson with a table full of cold anniversary dinner.
[Here] Tim beefs with Superman.
[Here] Triplet Tim
[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 2
[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 3
[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4
[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4.5
[Here] The Trio escapes Amity via train
[Here] Dick Grayson plays dumb... a bit too dumb
[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- Too many beds (dcxdp)
[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss (dcxdp)
Thoughts about DC/DP:
[Here] Richard Grayson's successful image change
[Here] DC vs. The Fan Ability of Saying "No"
[Here] Jason's Pit Madness
[Here] Gotham's City Planners
[Here] Jason and Cass discusses their kill/no kill policies and comes to an understanding about each other.
[Here] Danny can be a twink OR he could be buff as hell.
[Here] DC Canon is soup.
[Here] Damian's relationship with art throughout his short life.
[Here] Ra’s could have revolutionized the medical field but decided to be a creep and clone a minor
[Here] Tim Drake is that troll from Trolls the movies, Branch
[Here] Butter Sock
[Here] Gotham city’s unanimous agreement not to fish dead bodies out of the bay
[Here] Danny in Hogwarts.
[Here] Reincarnation Manhwa + the Bats
[Here] The Bats, Supernatural AU
[Here] Jason's sick fic
[Here] Damian is lost in Amity Park
[Here] Tim, Danny, and floating down a river in a wine barrel
[Here] Reincarnated into Damian Wayne's older sister.
#AU list#masterlist#pls read#I apparently have too many brain worms#tbh I didn't think it was this bad#dcxdp#tim drake#jason todd#batman#batfam#alfred pennyworth#dick grayson#nightwing#batfamily#red robin#damian wayne#red hood#danny phantom#phantom#danielle phantom
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THE SOUR BITE OF BETRAYAL
Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader
Prompt: He was back, digging up your cold heart and clenching it in his bloodied fist. But scars changed people, morphed them and adapted them. He wasn’t the boy you loved, nor were you the woman he adored.
Words: 3.2 K
Warnings: Graphic Injuries, PTSD & and signs of depression, heavy angst with a light dusting of fluff.
A/n: taking a minute from our regular scheduled program to write for my fav batboy!
Ghouls haunted this city. It was no surprise that Gotham was a city full of anguished souls—spirits that died in such horrible ways that they were betrayed and angry, still haunting the alleyways of the rainy hellscape.
Civilians that lived in Gotham were trapped in iron bars, forever enclosed unless they tore out their ribcages and discarded their bones. Blood tainted the sidewalks, maybe not visible, but the haunting scent of iron never left.
You deserved to be here. In the very darkest pits of Crime Alley, where dealers cackled in the shadows, murderers showed their faces with no shame, and drug and human trafficking were at a high. The area burnt down the remaining tissues of your heart, effectively turning it to ashes as you watched the horrendous crimes.
Once upon a time, you’d stop the horrific crimes. Stop the petty thieves and cold murders with a veil over your head.
You could nearly laugh now; how naive you were. Such a child that thought she could make a difference under the iron fist of a hypocrite. You’d been no younger than twelve when the Batman sent you out in the night, dodging lead bullets and twisted knives. You'd come back to school with purple bruises and aching muscles, something you had to have expertly concealed to avoid complications.
There was a time you thought Bruce Wayne had saved you, but it was never the case. You'd have better luck trying your hand in the dirty streets of Crime Alley where he found you.
The pitter patter of rain brought no comfort to you, the chilled air escaped through the hooded windbreaker you wore, making your skin raise in retaliation. You limped down the sidewalk, your knee aching particularly today, as it usually did when it rained.
Night had already settled in, only streetlights luminating the area, if the bulbs weren't already shot and littered with bullet holes. Most of the sane Gothamites were already at home, locks triple checked and barricaded. You however, hardly cared if you lived or died.
Besides, you were hungry.
On the rare occasion that you did eat, you never had the energy to cook anything, rather settling on walking a couple blocks to a shitty takeout place, the place you frequented many times before the accident. You avoided it for a long time, as the rundown place just haunted your thoughts of him.
Now it served as a reminder that you were human. A metaphorical bandage, that ripped your flesh raw. it was pain to hold the memories of him, but now, you were happy to just feel that pang in your chest as you pulled open the lodged and uneven door.
You sat in the same worn-down booth you always did, the wooden frame showing through the moth-bitten cushions, and questionable stains displaying what was left of the thin material.
With all the robberies recently, the restaurant only served what they were famous for- soup dumplings, so it was no surprise when a little boy, maybe 10, settled a steaming ceramic bowl in front of you before he left back into the kitchen.
Only one other person was inside, likely a homeless man in search of warmth before the owners kicked him out. Your eyes narrowed at him as he wolfed down the dumplings, he didn't seem like too much of a threat.
Your gaze travelled to the window, catching on any bodies moving down the sidewalk, nothing excited you, so you settled for watching the fat raindrops fall down the glass. You carelessly shoved a dumpling in your mouth, wincing at the scalding broth that burnt the back of your throat.
The telltale scraping and groaning of the door signaled another customer had entered the space, just as your eyes travelled to the noise. A tall, hooded figure sat in the booth next to you, way too close for comfort, specifically because the room was nearly empty. You sniffed, taking the time to study the nice sneakers he was wearing, and the hint of blue that patterned the inside lining of his hood.
The stranger made no motion to acknowledge the steaming broth in front of him, instead he tilted his head to you, staring for perhaps too long, until you could make out the crystalline blue of his iris.
Immediately your hackles raised, fingers clutching too tightly to your plastic spoon, nearly breaking it.
"Are you just going to gawk, or are you going to tell me why you're here, Grayson?" Your unamused and careless tone made the man's shoulders sink, but he stood anyway, slipping into the booth across from you, his knee nearly bumping into your bad one.
"How have you been?" He stalled, pushing his hood back so you could see his pretty-boy face. He'd always been handsome, pretty blue eyes and dark hair. The prodigal son- it was enough to make you want to gag.
The dark bags under your eyes and your fatigued appearance spoke for itself, you were miserable. "Peachy." Your sarcasm leaked through, just as you took a petty bite of another dumping, once again burning your throat.
You hadn't seen Dick in almost four years, not that he hasn't tried to contact you. You just wanted out from the whole superhero business, especially after such flawed business. Grayson left a bitter taste in your mouth, reminding you far too much of Batman.
“I stopped by from Blüdhaven, I wanted to see how you were holding up.” He adverted your glare and backtracked, as he always did to avoid tension.
You kicked him in the kneecap from under the table, watching him wince more than he usually did after such a weak hit. Your eyebrow arched in question.
“Did ole Bats get to you too? Kicking you while you’re down like some weak puppy?” Venom dripped off your words as you recalled that time in your life. Dick sighed, but didn’t stir the pot of your internal anguish, not knowing how far it’d be until you erupted.
“No. That’s what I came to talk about. Bruce has been fighting this guy for a week now, he is big on the drug trade, and good. Like stupid good.”
You shrugged, everything was a trade in Gotham. Anything worth more than a dollar was exploitable one way or another. “How is this my problem?”
Dick pursed his lips, obviously growing frustrated with your careless demeanor, he fished into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a paper-clipped folder with a sigh.
You had half the mind just to ignore it, but curiosity burnt at your fingers, urging you to reach for the paperclip and pry it open. You swallowed at the contents, eyes welling slightly in anger and fear— a dangerous combination.
There were newspaper clippings, all zoomed in on a red helmeted figure, brown leather jacket, dark Kevlar armor. Your teeth clenched together, nearly cracking as you zeroed in on the symbolic scarlet of the helmet. How this criminal had taken the time to study who the Joker had been.
The Red Hood.
“Fuck you.” You spat at Dick, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the piece of garbage that reminded you of that clown. How the horrendous criminal had smiled as you beat him down, laughed at your grief of losing Jason. Arkham wasn’t good enough, he needed a bullet in his skull, death was the only answer.
You were about to leave, long ago losing your appetite for your dumplings. Dick grabbed your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. He knew Batman’s name, his real one. And he knew yours too.” Grayson gravely warned, you wavered, deciding to sit back in your seat as you glanced at the papers again. This vigilante knew your name? Your personal name, not expired alias?
You sighed, “What all do you know?”
Your keys jangled as you struggled to see the keyhole, feeling around blindly until the metal slid in and you unlocked your thin and flimsy door. You still held onto the folder with a tightened grip, mind running uneasily.
This new vigilante had your warning bells going off, that much you knew.
It was dark and freezing inside your one room apartment, as you couldn’t afford to have the heat on for long periods of time. You relied on a small propane heater that sat on the minuscule countertop space you had next to your mattress.
Electric bills were tight too, resulting in you only turning on lights when necessary and giving just enough time to watch the news. You never liked not knowing what was going on, a habit imprinted in your mind since childhood.
You dropped your bag with a huff, running on autopilot to the small stove countertop that help your electric kettle. You planned on getting no sleep, with the air turning colder, it reminded you more of the weather the day of Jason’s death. Nightmares came easy as did the frost that coated your windows.
You filled the kettle, hoping the cinnamon tea would help calm your nerves and ease the ache within your bones.
Your attention shifted to the remote, turning the television on while waiting for the water to boil. You flicked the power button, the channel already adjusted to Gotham Local News.
Your eyes narrowed in on the headline, skimming the words until a certain name made your blood run cold.
Joker Escaping Arkham: Live
Your fists clenched around your mug, anger boiling in waves as you watched the feed of the clown on top of a security truck, his chilling cackle making your insides swirl in panic and disgust.
You flicked off the channel, immediately going to the loose floorboard in the small apartment, stomping to feel for the hollow echo it released. You could get rid of your alias and stop fighting crime; But, you would always be ready to take down the clown when he escapes again. You made sure as you pulled out the sniper rifle, loaded and readied it to fire straight into his deranged brain.
You’d get justice for Jason, whenever Batman agreed or not.
You slung it over your back before exiting the apartment, not particularly worried about being caught, especially in Crime Alley.
It took you little time to make it to the bridge, feet expertly scaling the rusty rungs and wires until you were basically on top, wind whipping at your face as your eyes narrowed. You crouched low, resting against the metal while you popped the cover off the glossy scope, hoping to find the clown in your sights.
He was easy to find, blue and red sirens basically highlighting him in a showcase. He was alone, signature purple waistcoat blowing as he stood on top of an armored vehicle.
The unmistakeable cackle of his laugh had you seeing red, disgust coating every pore of your body. You barely heard the familiar roar of the Batplane flying straight towards the clown. You had to hurry, before it was too late.
You exhaled, lining up your shot with the steady red laser, making sure the clown saw it before he would die. Your finger hovered over the safety, clicking it off as it returned to the trigger. Just a quick press and it would be over, all those constant traumas and deaths.
A small smirk curled around your lips, until you heard the faint creak of metal from behind you, alerting you to another presence. You whipped around, hairs raised as you caught onto the Red helmet broadcasted all over the news. He was only a foot from you, large boots next to your chin. He was the man who knew your name.
The one who said it now, in a surprised grunt.
“Sorry sweetheart, but he’s mine to kill.”
You anticipated the attack, dropping the rifle as his foot raised slightly off the ground, going for a kick. You raised your hands, protecting your face from your crouched position. Instead, the vigilante extended, kicking your sniper rifle off the ledge, watching it fall into the stopped traffic.
“No!” You growled, eyes widening onwards in despair as the Batplane projected a grapple, picking up the clown you could no longer kill.
The vigilante stalked from the perch, seemingly to forget about you entirely. He crouched, collecting his energy before he jumped from the iron rungs, falling for a moment before latching on possessively to the clown.
You bit your lip as you glared, frustration and grief once again igniting, sadness left to flood as you watched the damn psychopath slip through your fingers again. You wanted to break something, watching as the vigilante flew out of sight.
All you could do was walk back to your apartment, grief once again swallowing you whole.
He hadn’t expected to fight so distracted, his mind keeping him from fully concentrating. He had so much bottled up, emotions and anger, longing to be avenged. He was hurt, hurt that Bruce hadn’t killed the clown that haunted him for five long years. Hurt that his girlfriend, (perhaps, ex-girlfriend now that he died) now lived in the slums of Crime Alley, disowned and alone.
He barely felt his hand through the grief, but looking down, he could see the pearly wetness of bone, blood leaking perhaps too quickly. Smoke and cement caked his revived lungs, making him cough and heave as he made up for the loss of oxygen. He’d fully hoped that Batman would kill for him, only for it to all crumble down when a Batarang lodged against the barrel of the gun, effectively blowing his hand to smithereens.
He left the scene before Batman could find him, wallowing in defeat. How could a father, ever treat their son this way?
There was much to think about, but too little time. He would bleed out, and quickly if he didn’t get medical assistance.
It was about time to pay his girl a visit. When he saw you on top of the bridge, wind whipping against your face, he nearly collapsed, all the anger and mush from the Lazarus pit melting away, instead replaced with a cold ache that made his spilt soul clench.
You’d gone to kill the Joker, something that made his heart swell in gratitude, knowing that at least one person would save him.
It wasn’t a far walk to rickety apartment complex, the area eerily close to where he grew up. The scent of smoke and blood was a constant, but perhaps he was just smelling himself.
When he weakly climbed your fire escape, he heard your voice, rough and growly, just as you had always spoke when angry. He could barely hear through the cracked window, but could make out the hysteria in your voice.
“What do you mean he’s alive?” You choked out, not noticing his hunched figure bleeding outside. You were pacing, fist clenched with the skin taught against your knuckles.
“Where is he?” You growled, pursing your lips and huffing. After a beat of silence, you hung up, no longer entertaining the conversation. You glanced slightly in his direction, doing a double take as you stood straighter, catching onto the tattered remains of the armor he wore.
Your eyes swelled, just as all of his breathing caught in his throat. You had just seen a ghost— But Jason knew he was alive, simply based on the fire that erupted inside him. Not even the freezing Gotham winds could chill the fever of his beating heart, waiting and waiting to press against your own.
He wondered if you still thought of him as much as he thought of you? He wondered if you still smelt like honeysuckle? He wondered how you received that scar that slashed through your face, lip to ear? He wondered why you favored your left leg as you hesitantly made your way to the sliding glass, hand pressed against the handle.
He was hit with a blast of warm air, a shield from the wind, and a promise of something he could not yet guess.
“Jason?” Your voice seemed so small, not like the girl he used to know. Maybe you had died with him.
“Hey baby.” He whispered, hoarse and full of an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. Was it grief? Regret? Adoration?
He stepped into the home, dripping blood onto the cracked tiles. You’d glanced down at him, immediately straightening and retreating. He watched as you pulled out a red kit from under the measly kitchen sink, settling it against the counter.
“Sit, please.” You addressed. Jason moved, sliding onto the barstool as he studied your features. Cold, broken eyes stared back for a moment, before fixating on his bloodied fingers. You didn’t look surprised to see him reanimated, which made him come to the conclusion that it was Bruce who had just spoken to you. Yet, the steady shake in your hands made him realized you weren’t quite prepared to have been this close so early.
You were a stranger, as was he.
He’d barely felt the disinfectant you placed on his wounds over his broken heart. It was just like when he was a boy, how you’d patch him up, always volunteering so he wouldn’t have to hear Alfred’s lectures.
It was the same, yet so different.
As he watched you work, he glanced closer at your features, studying the scar upon your lip closer, visualizing the sharp shape of a bat. A Batarang.
It wasn’t hard to guess how you got it, based on the rifle you had almost shot the Joker with. You’d been trying to avenge him, and Bruce would rather almost kill you than defy his code. Nausea rose up his throat.
You finished the bandages, glancing up to catch onto the frightening green of his irises.
“I don’t know what to say.” You muttered. His breathing stopped, just as he brought his good hand up, gliding it slowly to the soft skin of your neck, feeling the steady thrum of a pulse. He felt you swallow against his palm.
He knew there was no good thing to say. Nor bad. Perhaps at some point he’d be able to tell you what happened, to fix the scars that settled over you both.
For now he was okay with feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, to know you were okay. Different, yet the same.
“What… what do we do?” You spoke again, scared and pinned like a trapped animal, backed into the corner but not afraid to strike.
“I don’t know.” He murmured truthfully. Taking a moments peace just to replay your voice in his head. Final able to remember the sound he had mourned.
“Will you hold me?” You asked brokenly, as if you had crossed a boundary.
Jason let a small smile grace his lips, extending his arms outwards to bring you closer. You fell into his chest, wet drops of tears falling from your eyes, just as his own watered. You molded together, warm and comforting. He traced your spine with his fingers, closing in his eyes and breathing in honeysuckle.
He sighed, knowing that at least one thing had stayed the same.
Perhaps the two of you could heal together, patching wounds and crumbling walls. But for now, he was content with holding you against him, a chaste kiss placed on top of your head.
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Gotham is WEIRD, especially the schools
So, just going to say it, gym classes in each and every Gotham city school, and Gotham private school, result in Gotham educated kids who don't skip gym class being just a little less than world class martial artists by the time they graduate high school. There are some who are better than others of course but for the most part, if you went to school in Gotham and you did your best in gym, you developed the ability to beat up an average of five non Gothamites without breaking a sweat. You also had an immediate edge if you wanted to try stunt work or feature in the action genre in movie or tv shows thanks to your elementary/middle/high school gym classes. This is how Batman can still have trouble with mooks in Gotham. It's not just quantity that gives him trouble, they have some legit skills to go with size, strength, and willingness to try to break someone's skull for money. Most gym teachers in Gotham are defectors from a martially adept cult, retired assassin with no concept of how normal not in Gotham gym classes are generally conducted, or Gothamites who were raised with the weird gym classes so they're teaching what they know and what they know is how to beat the snot out of people who have less than Bat level training. And the rest of school administration is generally too intimidated or doesn't care or they're happy the kids have an extra edge in case of school shootings to say or do anything about the scary gym teacher.
This definitely helped both Jason and Tim when they started their Robin training. This helped Stephanie when she decided to be a vigilante under her own power and gave Duke an edge when he had to go through his whole mess. This also made Dick's childhood athletic antics and Damian's current school antics stand out a great deal less than they would in schools outside of Gotham.
So yeah, only in Gotham is your gym teacher 100% a former assassin/mercenary/goon/mafioso who will make sure that you can hold your own in a fight against almost anyone.
Unfortunately for those who end up being goons or rogues, almost does not include the Bats.
#bruce wayne#tim drake#batfamily#batman#jason todd#dick grayson#damian wayne#stephanie brown#duke thomas#batfam#gotham#cassandra wayne#only in gotham
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