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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Harley's Plea for Help ch. 6

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6-- you are here

Yet another night of barely any sleep, but this time Marinette didn’t have the coffee-angel Red Robin at her rescue. No, instead she had to go completely uncaffeinated until she and her class got to Wayne Enterprises. Madame Mendelieve could only sigh as she watched Marinette scamper off to the café as soon as they made it past the initial security of the building. A couple of her classmates chuckled or snorted at her familiar behavior.

It was the same barista at the register as before, but this time Marinette felt too tired to properly order or be adventurous in looking for new flavors.

“I feel like death. I don’t care if it tastes like pure bean oil today. Flavors will take away from the amount of coffee you can shove in one cup, right?”

The poor barista blinked, eyeing the deep bags forming under the poor girl’s eyes. She sighed. “I had hope yesterday that you were just a normal caffeine addict. Now I see we actually have a second Mister Drake,” she said it as if she was mourning at Marinette’s grave before poking a few buttons on her touchscreen order station and turning her head. “One Insomniac CEO, but not for the boss!” She called out. The barista making the drinks paused for a second with wide eyes.

“We have another one?!” He asked, shocked. “Piece of advice?” He turned to Marinette. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the dead,” Marinette deadpanned back. “I got stuff I need to do today.”

The guy just shook his head and sighed, making the drink as Marinette paid and left a good tip. The drink came out fairly quickly, and everyone behind the counter stopped for a moment to stare as she gulped down the hot drink with no concern for her tongue or throat. A satisfied sound left her as she finally pulled away from the cup.

“This is really good!” She complimented, turning to the Baristas with a still-tired smile. It would take a minute or two for the coffee to have full effect, but she already felt better. “A little too bitter for my usual tastes, but perfect for days like today. Thanks!” She waved at them before turning around and seeing that her class was already gone again. Before she could fully process that though, a hand slapped down onto her head and ruffled her hair.

Surprised (really, not a lot of people could sneak up on her anymore. Just how tired was she?) she let out a high pitched squeal.

“You’re a good kid,” the soft, slightly scratchy voice that said that made Marinette’s shoulders drop and eyes widen. Tilting her head back she was greeted with the widely-grinning face of Jason Todd. He was once again in the uniform of a security guard.

“Wha— Uh,” Marinette couldn’t quite find the right words right away. She was too stunned. Jason just chuckled, jerking his head to indicate the same door her class had gone through the day before and leading the way over there. Marinette scrambled to catch up.

Once they were far away enough from prying eyes and ears, Marinette cleared her throat.

“Um,” she started. “Did… I mean, do you..?”

“Yeah, our mutual friends had a chat with me last night,” he confirmed casually. He sent her a meaningful look even though his grin never left his face. “Like I said; you’re a good kid. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re not responsible for the things your parents have done, you know.”

The girl at his side hummed noncommittally, not fully convinced but also not wanting to argue.

“You’re not,” he repeated firmly, stopping in the middle of the side-hallway. They could see her class at the other end getting checked in, but didn’t make a move to join them yet. “I mean it. The stuff that happened to me, none of that was you. Hell, you were a little kid back then. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it, either. I’m not gonna hold anything against you just because you’re his child. You didn’t ask to be,” he shrugged. “Besides, I get it. Biological relation doesn’t equal family. Trust me,” his grin was gone and a tired one replaced it. “I know that better than most people.”

The pigtailed girl could only gulp, taking a deep breath as she forced down the tears that wanted to bubble up. She had had this conversation with Adrien a few times, but even then she had been convinced that he just didn’t understand. He was just being nice. But this— Jason’s words were more valuable than gold to her. He had no reason to be nice, so it had to be at least partially sincere.

“Thanks,” she whispered once she was positive she wasn’t going to break. She lifted her cup up and took a long sip of her coffee. The slight burn against her tongue helped ground her. “That means more than you know.”

Jason chuckled. “Nah. The fact that you stood up for me to the Bat,” his grin returned to his face full blast, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Now that, you have no idea how much that means to me. You must have some serious guts to lecture that guy, too. Is it too late to adopt you for myself?”

That tore a quick laugh out of her, making her classmate’s head whip over to the opposite end of the hallway where she and Jason were. She quickly quieted herself, but her eyes danced with amusement as she looked up at Jason. “You’re too young to be my parent anyway, but I wouldn’t say no to a brother,” she joked. Jason’s eyes sparkled.

“Good, exactly what I was aiming for!” He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything, got it?” He turned to resume leading her back to her class and she quickly slipped the paper into her pocket before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. “And I mean anything.”

Marinette just smiled and nodded. By then, they were close enough for Alya to smirk and ask; “What took ya so long, girl?”

“Oh,” Marinette shuffled a little on her feet before an observation gave her a last minute idea and she straightened up with a wide smile. “We just got distracted talking about motorcycles!”

Jason’s eyebrows raised for a quick second before he settled his expression again and played along. He had figured that not many people knew about her biological family. That part made sense. But she had been a total mess just the day before when she had tried to lie about Paris’ little villain problem in front of Bruce. How was she able to actually come up with a good lie this time around, when she had been just as much put on the spot? He wondered to himself about what was different about this situation to allow her to lie more easily. Maybe Bruce not being there was part of it— she seemed easily flustered by famous people.

Think of the devil, because no sooner had that thought finished developing in Jason’s mind before Bruce Wayne walked into the hallway with a paparazzi-ready smile. Jason rolled his eyes and sunk to the back of the group silently, sinking back into his job and keeping an eye on their surroundings. He listened as Alya laughed softly and elbowed Marinette even as the group turned their attention to Bruce.

“You and your bikes,” Alya teased. “If someone knew enough about motorcycles, I bet you’d marry them on the spot.”

“Nah,” Marinette whispered back. “If they gave me a really nice one though? That’s marriage potential for sure.”

The two girls laughed for a second before focusing back on the tour. Adrien wasted no time making his way to Marinette’s side, silent questions in his eyes. Jason watched with interest as the two seemed to silently communicate with one another. It was obvious that Adrien was calling her lie, and Marinette was essentially silently telling him that she would explain later. It was so seamless and subtle that if Jason hadn’t been extremely familiar with that kind of communication already, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Once again his eyebrows rose a tick on his forehead, and he made a mental note of the interaction. That kind of silent conversation wasn’t an easy thing to do with people. It was most commonly seen in married or otherwise long-term couples, childhood friends, family, or hero partners. The childhood friends and family sections were already ruled out from their background check on her and Harley herself had mentioned that even though Marinette had once crushed on Adrien, she had unofficially adopted the boy as her brother since then. Though, their time as close friends was only documented as having lasted about a year. That wasn’t quite enough time for that sort of effortless silent communication to be possible.

Of course, Jason had his suspicions already. But there was no rush, either. The Clown was on the move and more important to focus on for now. He could focus on the puzzle that was Marinette and Adrien later.

Bruce took over the tour as he had the day before, and the class was instantly riveted once again. If the fact that they were being led through the building by the very man who owned it wasn’t awesome enough to get everyone’s full attention, the man’s personality was. He came off a little carefree and very kind, but there was an obvious undercurrent of just how much he loved his company that showed that he did take it and his job seriously. Just, not too seriously either. And he interjected everywhere he could with personal stories and anecdotes and little bits of his family history that the normal tour guides might not have known. It was not long after he announced that he was going to take them to a lower lab set aside specifically for their class’ tour, so that they could do their first interactive activity, that jason found the opportunity to sidle up next to Marinette on the opposite side from where Adrien walked alongside her.

“So,” he said casually. “How’d you know I ride a motorcycle?” he smirked to show he wasn’t upset as he looked down at her curiously. Marinette blinked, taking her attention away from Bruce to look over at Jason. Once his words registered, she smiled widely and pointed to one of his pockets. The corners of his bike gloves flopped over the edge.

“I noticed those. I figured you’d have a negative reaction that might give us away if my lie was too off the mark, and I do have a habit of saying stupid things if I don’t have a clue or something to play off of. I also had to make it believable for the class, and they all know that my Nonna has played a huge part in my love for motorcycles. I plan on getting a license to drive one when I turn sixteen later this year,” she told him softly. “I tend to gush whenever I see a cool bike, so I knew they wouldn’t question it.”

Jason huffed a little bit of laughter under his breath. It was like the trope of a character looking at random items in the room to come up with a fake name, but somehow it had actually worked for her. She was quick-witted and clever, he had to admit. And observant.

“I was running late, so I must have left them in my pocket when I was changing,” he admitted, unbothered. “Ah, here we are,” he nodded to return the two teen’s (he had noticed Adrien paying close attention as he and Marinette had their conversation) attention back to the tour. Bruce opened the door for the class with a flourish, gesturing for everyone to go in.

“Since these first few days are going to be tours and lessons about working in general, your first activity of your trip is to solve various problems we’ve given you based on real situations that WE employees have been in before. Split up into groups, and choose a table. Each table has a different problem covering a different industry. Reporting, Science— specifically research and development, business management, and entertainment…”

—*—*—*—*—*

“It’s straight,” Adrien assured her, trying to keep himself from laughing as Marinette straightened his tie for the millionth time. “I promise. And you look fantastic.”

Marinette stepped back, nodding at Adrien’s appearance in approval. “I know. We both look great, but…” she fidgeted and then stepped forward to go right back to over-straightening his tie. Adrien snorted, grabbing her hands before she could touch the poor thing again and lowering her arms to her sides.

“Calm down. Like you said, we both look great. You don’t have a single hair out of place, the outfits you made us look amazing, and my tie is at a perfect ninety degree angle to my collar. Take the model’s word for it,” he teased with a lopsided grin. “We look ready for the front cover of a magazine. So just take a deep breath, because we should get down to the lobby soon to wait for the ride he’s sending for us.”

“Right,” Marinette nodded. She followed his advice and took a deep breath. Once she was suitably calmed, she opened her eyes and nodded at him. Adrien smiled and held out his arm, making Marinette snort as she took hold of it gently and let him lead her to the elevator.

Bruce had not specified whether the dinner was going to be casual or formal, but with the fact that his kids were going to be present and it was at his own house, Marinette had a feeling it was going to be more of a casual thing than if they had went out to a fancy restaurant with a black tie dress code. At the same time, this was the Wayne manor they were talking about. She didn’t want to be underdressed, either. Not to mention that it was her design skills that had played a huge part in her winning the contest in the first place, so she felt like she had to show her work again to prove that they had chosen the right person.

A playful wolf whistle greeted the two of them when they got down to the lobby. Alya was, to no one’s surprise, the perpetrator. She stood in the lobby with Alix, Nino, and Max, who all had known about the dinner and agreed to be there to see the two of them off and put Marinette’s worries to rest. The four of them jogged over, Alix smiling and adding her own soft whistle of appreciation.

“You guys look great,” the short skater assured them, taking the time to skate slow circles around them to make sure that nothing was wrong with their outfits. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mari! Very cool.”

Alya nodded eagerly, bouncing in place with a wide, beaming smile on her face. “Ah! The both of you look ready to kick ass and woo rich people!” she added. Max pushed his glasses up on his nose with a small grin.

“There is a ninety-five percent chance of your work impressing all of the Waynes,” he said in his own version of encouragement.

“You guys got this!” Nino shot them a thumbs up. “They beat me to all the stuff I wanted to say.”

Marinette beamed, laughing along with her friends as she allowed herself to relax a little. Adrien’s outfit was of her own making, a subtle way for him to rebel since his father had sent him with his own Gabriel brand suit should an appropriate opportunity to wear it come up. Adrien had no plans of ever putting his father’s suit on his body. In an effort to spice up formal men’s wear a bit without making the whole thing white and silver like Gabriel wanted, Marinette had made him a classic silk shirt in black, with short sleeves that fell at that perfect halfway point between his elbow and shoulder. The sleeves had thick cuffs in a dark forest green, with decorative straight stitches on the seams in a bright magenta pink thread. On top of that was a corset-style sleeveless vest with a deep V. The majority of the vest was the same black as the shirt, but with dark green hand-stitched swirls that were just barely bright enough to be contrasted against the black. It created a very subtle pattern that would be hard to see in the wrong lighting, but would make it look that much more expensive and elaborate in the right lighting. The lapel of the vest was in the same dark forest green as the cuffs of his shirt, with a few decorative swirls embroidered on the very corners. The piping of the corset-vest made three curved lines on either side of his waist, curling from mid-rib cage to his waist. It gave him a slightly more feminine twist to his outfit, making his waist look smaller even though it wasn’t actually pulled very tight on him— it was mostly the illusion made by the piping rather than the actual tightness of the garment. The two outside piping lines were done in a magenta pink, while the middle piping line was once again in dark forest green. Unlike most corset-style vests, this one had no buttons or zipper on the front at all. Instead, it was closed only by corset lacing in the back, the laces done in such a dark shade of green that it was almost black, while the eyelets that the laces were threaded through were that same magenta pink as the piping and decorative stitches elsewhere on the outfit. The tie that Marinette had spent so long making sure was straight was almost entirely soft lace, but it was layered in such a way with layers of sheer green and pink lace that it looked like it was a constant swirl of the two colors. If someone got close enough to see the pattern of the lace tie, they would notice that it was a pattern of cats chasing a butterfly.

Underneath the artistic top of the outfit were black dress pants, once again with thick forest-green cuffs on the bottoms. But instead of the decorative stitching, the pant legs flared a bit at the ankles for just a little extra drama. Magenta-pink Oxfords peeked out of the wide cuffs. The green detailing made Adrien’s eyes pop, while the pink accents gave his boyish charm a little more of a feminine touch that almost seemed to highlight his naturally sensitive and charming nature.

In contrast, Marinette wore a sleeveless pink pantsuit. It was the same shade as the pink accents in Adrien’s outfit, and had a built-in corset as well that went only around her natural waist. The corset boning on Marinette was a solid black, while the rest was just the same base pink as the majority of the suit. The black of the boning seemed to flow downwards, changing from boning into thick hand-embroidery in thread of the exact same black. The embroidery flowed down the sides of both legs, in the shape of tree branches and apple blossoms. Pale green accents in the form of swirls at her high neckline and a pale green lace capelet that was the only thing covering her shoulders helped tie her outfit in with Adrien’s. She also wore pale green low kitten heels and her black hair up in a braided bun. With how her pant legs were form-hugging until they flared out slightly at the heel, and the lack of sleeves exposed her toned arms and shoulders and emphasized her strength there without making her look unbalanced or too masculine for the rest of the outfit’s style, she looked ready to rock the business world. Her bright blue eyes clashed with the green details of the outfit just enough to bring attention to them, assuring that people who met her eyes would not be able to easily look away.

The quick snap of a phone’s flash went off, drawing everyone’s attention to Madame Bustier. She was beaming at all of them, and had just taken a picture of her two students all dressed up. She waved her phone happily. “I’m sending this picture to the both of you. I’m so proud of you guys!” she gushed.

Marinette and Adrien both blushed deep red, shifting in their spots. They were confident in their looks, and Adrien was just as proud of his pseudo-sister, but neither of them was very good at handling so much positive attention aimed only at them. Especially not from their extremely sincere friends and teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” An older gentleman with a British accent turned everyone’s attention to him. The first thing Marinette thought was that he had kind eyes. He also had soft wisps of white hair on his head, carefully trimmed and slicked back. Of course, Marinette and Adrien also couldn’t miss the high quality and perfect press of his carefully maintained suit. Once he had shown all the proper credentials to Madame Bustier, he introduced himself to the two well-dressed teens with a shallow bow. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for Wayne Manor. I am to escort the both of you there for supper tonight.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur Pennyworth,” Marinette said, walking up and shaking his hand. Adrien was right by her side the whole time, matching her smile watt for watt and shaking Alfred’s hand with just as much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, thank you for having us over. I know it was technically Bruce who invited Marinette, but you’re probably the one that has to do all the work. So, thank you. We really appreciate it,” he told the man sincerely. Alfred’s answering smile was soft, almost fond.

“Yes, I admit I am in charge of most of the work for tonight. But you shouldn’t worry, it’s no different from any other day at the manor,” he said lightheartedly, a little bit of good natured snark shining through his otherwise proper behavior— “Every last one of the Waynes would die in less than a week without me to keep everything in order,” he joked. “Allow me to lead you to the car.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind Alfred. She didn’t know if it was the calming aura he put off, or if it was the gentle way his eyes sparkled that made her want to look after him. But whatever it was, she found herself wanting to protect this kind old man already. Which is why her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Before climbing inside the luxurious town car he had brought for them, she couldn’t help but turn to Alfred and ask;

“I hope you aren’t overworked. I don’t want to overstep, Monsieur, but isn’t the Wayne family rather large for one person to look after on their own?”

Alfred laughed gently at that, his eyes once again softening. “Do not worry about me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. They are family to me. And though, yes, you are correct in assuming they are a handful, they are also wonderful people. They help me where they can, but taking care of themselves is not their forte. Being able to do that for them is my greatest joy.”

The wrinkles in Marinette’s brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s so sweet. You’re making me want to meet them all even more.”

Something about that twinkle in Alfred’s eye made her feel like he was laughing at some joke she didn’t hear. “I’m sure all of you will get along swimmingly.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“I FOUND HER FIRST!”

Alfred had barely opened the manor’s doors to let Marinette and Adrien inside before the chaos started. Or rather, before they were let in on it— it seemed as if the chaos had already been going on for a while.

Jason skidded across the floor in a mad dash, having to grasp the doorframe he was running out of so that he could turn the corner sharply and veer towards them.

“Tell them, Marinette! I found you first, you’re my sister now, don’t fall for any of their Jedi mind tricks!”

Marinette just blinked, a little caught off guard. It hadn’t exactly sunk into her head until right that moment that ‘Wayne Family dinner’ would include Jason. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that she was seeing him out of his security guard uniform for the first time. He wasn’t dressed up at all, in a well-loved brown leather jacket over a white shirt and dark wash jeans. He still had his motorcycle gloves on. Marinette looked down at first herself, then Adrien.

“Are we overdressed?” She asked with a grimace. Jason huffed.

“Of course not, you guys look amazing! But seriously, tell them that I claimed you as my sister first and none of them are half as cool as me.”

Marinette and Adrien traded glances before laughing together.

“If we’re being technical here,” Adrien drawled mischievously as he straightened out his vest. “I met Marinette first, and she adopted me as her brother long before we met any of you,” he pointed out with a sharp grin.

“Ha!” a younger man laughed pointedly, following after Jason. The newcomer was dressed more formally, in a dress shirt under a very luxurious looking burgundy designer sweater. Under that, he wore black perfectly-pressed slacks and nondescript oxfords. His collar showed signs of housing a tie earlier, but he had clearly taken it off sometime earlier. His hair hung slightly long, framing his face with two long locks while the back of his hair slightly stuck up in all directions in natural tufted curls. Like Jason, his hair was jet black and he had bright blue eyes. He was also about half Jason’s size, much shorter and leaner than his adoptive brother. “He’s got you there, idiot,” he snarked smugly at Jason before turning to the two guests. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Mister Agreste. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne, it’s nice to finally meet both of you,” he introduced himself as he walked over to shake their hands. “And your outfits are amazing! Did you make them, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Marinette,” she corrected with a lopsided grin. “My last name is a mouthful, and I prefer to just go by Marinette anyway. And yes, I made both of these outfits before we left Paris,” she admitted, trying her best to seem professional. She had already ruined her chances of that with Bruce and Jason, but this time she was prepared!

“They are just as impressive as the rest of your work that I’ve seen. And call me Tim, it’s only fair,” and then he smiled.

Damn his boyish grin. He wasn’t someone Marinette had a crush on— he wasn’t her type— but damn he was unfairly charismatic and charming. His smile temporarily short circuited her brain. That was exactly the kind of boyish smile that had started her crush on Adrien, and that she was unfairly weak for. Now she felt a deep-seated urge to protect this boy and his smile or so help her, someone would be sent to the ER if he was hurt and it wasn’t gonna be her. And she didn’t try to dissuade herself from that strong protective urge, her mother had already assured her that all the Waynes were trustworthy and that Tim in particular shared a lot of her bad habits. She could allow this little bit of vulnerability. Hopefully.

“... I’ve only known you for two minutes, but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” she breathed. Adrien elbowed her hard, making her yelp.

“You said that out loud Mari,” he deadpanned. A deep flush immediately came over her face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry— but you— just forget I said anything. Please!”

Tim was visibly shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Jason snorted, overcoming his own brief moment of shock pretty easily.

“Careful there,” Jason chided good-heartedly. His gaze met Marinette’s with a slight weight in it though. “You barely know the guy. He’ll annoy you out of your mind soon enough.”

Marinette caught the hint, wincing and changing the subject. Jason could see that she had done exactly as her mother had warned— she had gotten attached to Tim almost immediately. And while he wanted to believe Marinette when she said that the same wouldn’t happen with Joker, that she was not going to repeat her mother’s mistakes…

He couldn’t help but worry. Joker was a slippery bastard, and good at getting past people’s defenses.

Tim eventually led them all to the dining room, where several people were already sat waiting for them.

“We decided it would be best if we didn’t all swarm you at the door,” Tim explained, grinning at her kindly. “Take a seat wherever you want, Alfred is probably going to be done with dinner soon.”

Marinette and Adrien both nodded, going to sit by each other’s side. Adrien put his hand on her knee when they sat down, and traded a meaningful look with her.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “We’re not in Paris. And if you slip, I’ll catch you. Promise.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed a little. Yeah, she could trust Adrien to make sure she didn’t slip up too much. Get too careless. He’d watch her back like she did for him. She’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

“Thanks, Adrien. I needed that.”

—*—*—*—*—*

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catxsnow · 3 years

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HAPPINESS B.W.

Request: Will you do a Bruce Wayne x reader where the reader gets hurt because of his life and he just like super sorry and regretful? If you wanna change the bat boy that'll be okay.

Warning: mentions of blood and injury, fluff, angst

A/N: hello good day one and all, my writing inspiration has plummeted even more but I hope everyone enjoys this.

Word count: 1.9k

Bruce never wanted you to be part of his life for this reason. He didn't want an innocent civilian to get caught up in his life as Batman. Someone who couldn't take care of themselves like he or his kids could. He didn't want you to be trapped in the crossfire of his battles and be the one to suffer the consequences.

You knew the risks of being with him. One night he may never make it home because of his fights. Or maybe that one of his sons or daughter would fall again, and this time never return. You knew that maybe, you would somehow be the one to get the bullet instead of someone that would have known how to dodge it.

Maybe if Bruce would have been faster, or if he ignored his pride and asked for help everything would have turned out fine. Maybe if he sacrificed himself, you would have ended up safe. Instead, you laid in a hospital bed. Cast around your arm, brace on your neck. Cuts and bruises laced your skin from the accident.

Except it wasn't an accident. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time and there was nothing that Bruce could have done to help, no matter how much he beat himself up over it. He was saving the lives of others - you would never shame him for that.

Being Batman was something you had to learn to deal with, but his need to save lives was something you could never chastise. You had your fights over it, the crying and screaming matches that seemed to go on for hours. Your pleads to get him to stop when things were going too far.

The times a young Jason Todd would come into your room with red eyes because he heard you and Bruce fights. An older Jason coming to you for comfort after hearing yet another argument with your husband. Tim crawling into your bed with you as Bruce headed out for a night on his own after yelling at you.

Dick, the child you never got a hand in raising, but being there for you because he knew Bruce's antics more than anyone. All his kids adored you, and they all knew what it was like to be on the other end of Bruce's stubborn Wrath.

Bruce was worth it. He was worth every tear, every kiss, every second. Every moment you spent with him, whether it be love or hate, you wouldn't change it for anything. Even if his love was the reason that you were in that bed.

"It's not your fault, Bruce," Dick stood behind the chair in which his adopted father sat. He came back to Gotham the moment that he heard about what happened. Damian had told him scene by scene what occurred - nothing of which Bruce could have stopped. Maybe not even if he was Superman.

Unfortunately, Dick knew all too well that Bruce would feel guilty for this. He was more protective of you than anyone else in this entire world. He would go to any length to keep you safe.

Bruce held your hand in his. The faint pulse was the only thing keeping him sane in that moment. His hair was tousled, likely from the stress he had been under these past few hours. It wasn't often Dick saw him like this. Then again, it wasn't often Bruce ever let anything happen to you.

"I knew a day like this would come and yet I still agreed to let them into my life," Bruce's voice was hoarse - nearly as much as it was when he was under the cowl. The only difference, was now he wasn't hiding behind a mask, he was forced to face the reality of what could happen to those he loved because of his life.

"Growing up, I never thought I'd see the day that you'd fall in love," Dick sat down in the chair across from Bruce. He refused to take his eyes off you, even with his son showing himself. "And then you met (Y/N). I remember them coming over to the mansion for the first time. I wasn't living there anymore but you wanted me to come to meet them.

"I've never seen you laugh, genuinely laugh, so much in one night. I could tell, from that night that they were different than the other woman you brought home. You cared about them from the start, Bruce. (Y/N) wasn't just some other person that you seduced to uphold your playboy act. They knew what they were getting into with you. You can't just force everyone away because you're scared of potential outcomes - that's part of life. Even for Batman."

"They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me," Bruce tried to argue. Always the glutton for punishment, even when the hand didn't need to be delivered to him.

"And they might have ended up far worse if it hadn't been for you," Dick spoke, his voice steady. He too hated seeing you like this - but if Bruce wasn't going to be the stable one then he had to take that burden. "If there's one thing in this world that people like us struggle to get... it's happiness. You found yours in (Y/N). Don't lose that because of one accident."

"Father."

It had been days since you had been admitted into the hospital. Yesterday morning you woke up sore, but alive. Bruce was yet to leave your side. Stubble littered his face from going days without shaving. A look that you weren't able to truly appreciate from being asleep half the time.

By this time the next day, you would be allowed to leave, but that didn't make your husband any less worried about your well being. Bruce still blamed himself for what happened, even after you had told him it wasn't his fault in the slightest. You could see the guilt on his face, just as he wore every time something went wrong with you involved.

"I brought you food," Damian held a bag of take-out in his hand. If he knew his father well enough, he'd know that he hadn't eaten anything all day. It was confirmed when he heard the loud growl of Bruce's stomach the moment that he got a whiff of the food in the room. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Bruce waved off his son. It was clear he was in need of something to eat, though he was too stubborn to take care of himself while you were in need. Even if it was just watching over you while you slept. Damian shoved the bag directly in front of his face until he reluctantly accepted.

"You need a shower," Damian's nose curled up. He stood looking down at his father. As worried as he had been, he also was acting immaturely. Refusing to take care of himself, constantly under surveillance while you were in good hands as it was. "(Y/N) will be perfectly safe with me. Go home. Get some sleep. We'll be here in the morning and ready to go home."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Damian eyes the food until Bruce took a bite. It wasn't often that he was worried about his father, but it had been days since he had properly looked out for himself. It was clear how far his love for you went after seeing him like this. Or more so, his guilt for letting this happen. "Do you not trust me to take care of them?"

Bruce's jaw tightened. Truth was, he didn't trust anyone with you. Not even himself. Not even Clark. Damian took his silence as an answer. Of course not. Bruce couldn't trust him for a night out alone on patrol, how was he supposed to trust him with his partner?

"It's my fault they're here, Damian," Bruce sighed. "I've never been so scared before."

This was the first time that Damian had ever seen his father so truly vulnerable. Never in his life did Bruce admit that he was scared, yet here he was completely unscathed and terrified. Dick was right, he found complete and utter happiness in you, and the thought of losing you hurt more than anything else.

He wasn't just scared. He was horrified. Nothing in this world put more fear into him than seeing you suffer, or worse.

"It's not your fault, Father," Damian assured, just as his older brother had. "You always taught me to be brave, to face what scared me most. There's nothing wrong with feeling scared sometimes. It reminds us that we're human, that we're allowed to feel things. (Y/N) loves you, this won't change anything."

"Bruce would you stop hovering over me, I'm fine!"

You thought getting back to the manor would mean Bruce would finally be off your back about your injuries. It couldn't be more of the opposite. He was constantly trailing behind you, ready to give you aid whenever you needed it. Honestly, you weren't even that sore.

The brace on your neck was gone before you even left the hospital. Your dark bruises were lighter in color and the cuts that required stitches were healing just fine. The only noticeable injury was the cast on your arm, and you could still function just fine without it. Bruce was just being his overly-protective self.

"If I would have known that all I needed to do to get this much attention from you was to get myself hurt, I would have done it a long time ago," You tried to joke. He remained stoic about your comment, your health was no joking matter. You placed your palm on his cheek, the warmth of his skin being soaked up by your own.

"Seriously, hun, I feel perfectly fine. I'm just thankful for you being there." He didn't look convinced. There was nothing worse than failing you, and he had done exactly that.

"Except I wasn't there," he muttered. Bruce tilted his head in shame. He wasn't there to save you fast enough, he should have been. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry that my life put yours at risk."

"Bruce, my love," your fingers caught under his chin. He reluctantly met your eyes. Shame filled his entire body, he was supposed to be able to save the world, and yet he couldn't save the one closest to him. "I will never blame you for anything like this. I need you to know that. No matter what happens to me, It will never be your fault."

"I love you," Bruce's lip trembled. You were quick to bring him into a kiss. After everything that he's done, the last thing that he deserved was guilt. "I can't live without you. You're my happiness, my everything. I was, I was so scared. I can't live without you, (Y/N)."

"And you'll never have to."

Taglist:

@pricetagofficial @mora-miserium @babymango-writes @redrobin-yumm @simp-is-what-i-am @catsofsmoke @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek @spiitfiires @pinkdiamond1016 @childish-kiwi @givetimdrakeacoffee @gunnedrobin @local-fandom-trashcan @bikoncon @foenixphire

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly.

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight.

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed.

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp.

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes.

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table.

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian.

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.”

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts.

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here?

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world.

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run.

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian.

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now.

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins.

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest.

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously.

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation.

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs.

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look.

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain.

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring.

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes.

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs.

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says.

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in.

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason.

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes.

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies.

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks.

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics?

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine.

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse.

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful.

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud?

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd.

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest.

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears.

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’.

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris.

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him.

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods.

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him.

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise.

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere.

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath.

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps.

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne.

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two.

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien.

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again.

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car.

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts.

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs.

“Yeah right.”

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right?

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason.

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-”

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks.

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.”

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns.

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs.

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again.

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness.

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement.

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

#daminette #maribat #maribat fanfiction #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #maribat platonic adrienette #platonic maribat adrienette #damian x marinette #maribat damian wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #maribat jason todd #maribat dick grayson #This Side of Normal

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flying-nightwing · 3 years

Text

Throne of Blood (2/3)

It’s ya local simp back again with the praise/devotion kink sweating out of this series in waterfalls. I set this on three parts, and potentially a bonus chapter *wink wink*.

This is still marked NSFW for the same reasons as part 1, so minors still DNI

Part 1 in masterlist (Bio + pinned)

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader x Roy Harper

Word count: 4919

Warnings: Same as part 1 babes

“I still don’t believe it”

The sky was clear and the sun was high, reflecting on the crystal white of the snow covering the land. A cold wind blew over the western watchtower, reddening Roy’s cheeks in a similar tint to his coat. He looked down to you and grinned.

“Say what you may,” He replied, pulling slightly the string of his bow twice. “I’m hitting that target, darling”

“So smug” You sighed, twirling the arrow in your fingers before handing it to him. “Let’s see, my dear. One chance, gotta hit the mark”

He only winked and armed his bow, carefully drawing his bowstring. He paused there and closed his eyes, feeling the force of the wind and calculating his aiming angles. You could see in the distance the Wayne Kingdom’s guarding post and a small dot pacing around. Roy reopened his eyes and angled his bow to the right, then up. As he breathed out, he let the string go.

First thing you knew, the little dot fell over the ledge of the tower.

“I…” You mumbled, your jaw going just a bit slack. You couldn’t stop staring at the guard post.

“That’s right!” He laughed, pumping his fist in the air. “I told ya I was gonna make it”

“Well, I know to admit when I’m beaten” You sighed again, looking back at him. His eyes were shining with pride and mischief. “How many golds did I owe you again? 4?”

“Mhh, forget the gold” His cold hand trailed up your neck to rest behind your ear, tangled in your hair. “That baffled expression on your face is more than enough to satisfy my ego”

“Are you sure?” You teased further, letting him invade your personal space. “Your ego is pret-ty big sometimes”

“You’re right” He breathed out, rubbing your temple he was so close to you, his lips were almost on yours. “Maybe there is something you could do for me after all”

“Name it” You said, smiling. “I owe you one, after all”

He didn't answer, only closed the short distance between you two. His cold, chapped lips met yours in a soft kiss as his other hand snaked around your waist. You could feel his bow digging into your back, but you didn’t care. Your hands went around his neck to pull him even closer to you, letting him shield you from the harsh wind. He was so warm, you wanted to stay against him for hours more.

“Did we ever do it on the western tower?” He asked as he pulled back to breathe.

“On the south tower, we did” You nodded, panting. “There was also this one time with Jason on the north balc-- Fuck”

Your eyes shut as he bit the skin of your neck, then sucked on it. “So we never did it on this watchtower” He hummed against you. “Right, because that guard definitely had a field glass. But now he can’t spy on us”

“My Lord, my Lady”

You shut your eyes, trying so hard not to snap at the boy. You could never have a moment of intimacy in this castle, it seemed. Roy recomposed himself first, straightening his back and facing him. He didn’t even look shameful or bashful at all, instead, he was pretty relaxed.

“Yes?”

“His Majesty requires your presence in the throne room” He said, his cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment. “It seemed pretty urgent”

You both shared a concerned glance. Without another word, you swerved passed the boy and walked straight to the throne room. You were a bit far, but you believed you set your record on how fast you could cross the entire castle. Your strides were long and purposeful, and your hands were not far from your weapons.

You ended up in the large room sooner than later, your eyes scanning for any imminent danger. Instead, you found a small crowd of seven people in front of the throne’s pedestal. One of the men caught your attention--and everyone else’s probably--by his looks alone. Tall, dark hair, wide blue eyes and one stunning armor. The blue bird on his chest contrasted the black of the armor, sticking out from the silver gray of his guards. His posture was tensed, but not as much as Jason’s on the throne. You and Roy slowly took your place on his side, finally making you be seen by the handsome man. His eyes found Roy first, and they exchanged a long glance. Then, it was your turn. He studied you for a moment before he turned to Jason again.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble” He said, holding his hands up. “I’m only here to warn you”

“You could have sent another message if it was that important” Jason sneered. So this was his brother.

“Jason, I’m serious” He rubbed his nose. “Father is done and through with this will he won’t he. He is determined to stop you”

“Let him come” He snorted. “I know his every move, Dick. He can’t touch me”

“He knows that,” He argued, frustrated. “That’s why he issued capture warrants for both of them, effective as we speak”

Jason froze as his brother pointed at you and Roy. His face betrayed no emotion, but you knew a sensitive chord had been hit. You didn’t like how his own father tried to hurt him that way, and it made you angry. How dare he try and hurt your Jason.

“He’s not gonna kill us” Roy spoke, but even he had a subtle uncertainty in his voice. The mighty King Wayne didn’t kill, but this moral guideline might have wavered if Jason had pushed him far enough.

“He won’t” Dick replied. “But it doesn’t mean pain won’t be involved”

“If he even tries, I’ll kill him myself” Jason grumbled. “He’s not ready for--”

It happened fast. Your attention was divided in between the two brothers, so much that you failed to do a visual sweep of the room. You missed the two shadows on the higher balcony, or the draw of a bow that was aimed in your direction. It was the quiet sound of the arrow flying through the air that tipped you off, making you turn on the side by instinct to protect yourself. You felt the sharp steel of the tip pierce your shoulder--instead of your heart--and you fell on your knee. Before you could touch the ground, Roy fired and dropped the two shadows from the balcony before they could shoot anyone else. In a blink, Jason was over you and Dick was barking orders to his men to stand down.

Then came your scream of pain.

“Hey, hey, look at me” Jason called, bringing your attention to him. Your breathing was shallow and you wanted to pass out from the pain. You could feel the arrow tear and burn your flesh at every muscle contraction, and the hot blood slowly and steadily flow down your back. “You’ll be okay. Don’t pass out just yet, stay with me”

“I’m sorry” You rasped out in between two shallow breaths. You were pretty sure the arrow had been barbed by the pain that was pulsing through your entire upper body. "I didn't see him sooner. That was a rookie mistake"

“No, this is on me, not you” Jason’s beautiful face was twisted with guilt. “I-- I didn’t see him, I should have known-- Fuck”

His hands started trembling around the arrow he was holding steady. His hands were red already and you were getting drowsy; you had no more feeling in your right hand already, your entire arm hanging limp from your body. Black dots veiled your vision that was becoming blurry by the second, only dissipated for an instant when Roy appeared in front of you.

“Dick and Commander Garret got it” He told Jason before holding your head in his hands, forcing you to focus your attention on him. “You’ll be fine, but we need to move you. It’s gonna hurt. A lot”

“Can’t be worse” You joked, your voice slightly slurred and your smile resembling a grimace more than anything else. His expression turned sorry while he offered you back a pity smile. Oh, it would be a lot worse.

And he was right. They lifted you easily, both their strength more than enough to support you, and carefully made their way to the side room. You bit your cheek hard enough to draw blood so you wouldn't scream again with every step they took. There, with one swipe of his arm, Jason threw everything off the stone table in the middle of the room, sending flying some probably priceless items on the floor. He didn’t care. They laid you face down, then rushed to stop the blood flow.

“The doctor is on her way” You heard Roy say as you felt fabric pressed around the shaft of the arrow. You tuned in and out of the conversation, unable to keep focus on their voices for more than a few seconds at the time. A nap seemed so good right now.

“How did we not see them--”

“Don’t start blaming yourself again--”

“Well, it’s pretty much my fault if--”

“Jay, we are your guards, we knew--”

“Still! I’m the one who’s supposed to--”

“If you want me to take out this arrow, you’ll need to stop arguing and start helping me--”

“Yes ma’am”

“Sorry ma’am”

Some doctor she was. If only you could see their faces. You felt them working around you, something cold on your skin, followed by the arrow being pulled out of your shoulder. At this point, everything felt the same. Your pain was just everywhere, but now you knew at least the arrow was out. You heard the doctor shoo out Jason and Roy, then you passed out.

---

The tremble in Jason’s hands went away when Roy closed the door of the room behind them. His eyes turned as hard as steel as he faced the throne room, and without looking back, went straight for it. All heads in the room turned at the sound of him coming in again, and he had an idea why they kept staring. Your blood was still on his arms, reddening his skin up to the elbow. His hair was a mess and his eyes read violence. He stopped in front of the still moving body of one of the assassins. Roy’s arrow went through his cheek, but he was still alive. He glanced briefly at the other body, still with two arrows in the throat, then back to the one at his feet. Nobody else dared to move, not Roy, not his brother, not the guards around him watching the scene unfold in front of them.

Roy had a similar posture. Despite shooting in a reflex, his rage had left him guide his aim in the fire of the action. He had known in that split second that the man who fired the arrow didn’t deserve a quick death, that an arrow to the chest like his friend would be a mercy. Instead, he had gone for the painful shot that would leave him alive for the wolf the devour. Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for Roy to have them both to himself.

Jason bent down and grabbed the man by the back of the neck, dragging him along with him. The man couldn’t talk, only moan in pain as he was forced to follow Jason’s angry pace. Roy wasn’t far behind, eager to see what would happen next. Jason wasn’t a predictable man, especially not when angry. And now, it would be an understatement to say he was furious.

Jason dragged the man through the room, then out of the castle and across the stone bridge. He stopped only when he was out of the fortified gates, where the towns citizens passing by eyed the scene with horror. A crowd gathered around, and Jason waited until there were enough people around to speak. He must have looked insane like this, bloody and disheveled, unhinged and on the edge. He usually wouldn’t have gone in public like this, but he needed to pass a message.

“This man has committed a crime against the crown” He began, and silence fell over the crowd. The man writhed in his hand, but he was too weak to escape the iron grip on his neck. “He snuck into the castle and attempted to kill my personal guard and advisor under a mandate issued by a neighboring Kingdom. If anyone has any idea to follow in his footsteps, this is what will happen. No one trying to claim the bounty will end up any better than him. Somebody fetch me a rope. A sturdy one”

It didn’t take time for one of the guards to come back with a thick rope and give it to him. He kicked the man down and held him there with his foot, ignoring his moans of pain as he worked on a noose. He looped it around the man’s neck and pulled him back on his feet. The sound of his sword sliding out of its sheath was deafening, and even more so the footsteps he took to stand in front of the man.

“Death is too kind for your crime” He muttered. “But it’s what you’ll get today, because I don’t want to see your face ever again. Tell the devil I said hi when he pulls out your guts”

With a quick movement of his sword, he sliced his stomach deep enough for his insides to spill on the pavement. Jason stood there, watching him for a minute before he walked away. He only paused when he was shoulder to shoulder with his guard.

“Hoist him up the gate” He instructed, but there was no place for arguments and the boy knew it. “So he can serve as an example for the rest of them”

Then he kept walking.

---

“Your progress is impressive”

You looked up from the gourd you were drinking from, your chest still rising quickly after the effort you just made. You had stopped outside a little road town and set camp in the woods. Like always, you’d take an hour or two to train with Jason. You had a lot to learn to even get close to an acceptable gap between your skills and theirs, but they were patient with you.

“Thanks” You nodded as you closed the gourd again. Night was setting in soon, announcing the end of today’s training session.

“I think you are ready to choose a weapon of your own” He said as he put back his sword in its sheath. “One’s choice of weapon is personal, and it can be quite telling about its wielder”

“Choose a bow and arrows” Roy called as he came back from the woods, dinner in hand. He had caught four rabbits and a bird. “There’s nothing quite like it”

“See, Roy chose a bow,” Jason explained further. “This tells us that he’s an idiot”

You laughed as Roy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Ha ha” He laughed dryly. “You’d look like a clown if I wasn’t your long shot”

“I’m not gonna choose a bow” You shook your head, chuckling. “I’ll leave the exclusivity to you”

You turned around as they kept bickering, looking over to the small bunch of weapons your party carried. Swords, curved blades, barbed sticks and one sharp looking spear were staring back at you, but nothing caught your eyes. That was until you spotted the two bodies laying a few paces away from your camp, reminding you of the two mercenaries who tried to ambush you earlier to catch the reward for your heads. Tried being the keyword, because the two amateurs had no idea who they went up against. Despite their sharp battle axes, they were taken down in a blink. You wandered toward them and picked up the two weapons beside them, then came back.

“I want these ones”

They both turned to you, surprised by your choice. Jason stepped closer to you, gently pushing up your arm so he could have a good look at one of the axes. The double edge was kept sharp, and it seemed balanced. He looked back at you.

“Those are quite heavy weapons. Warrior type, devastating things” He hummed. “You need quite some strength to wield them precisely and inflict damage. Are you sure?”

“You think I can’t do it?” You raised your eyebrow in challenge. He smiled.

“Oh no, I know you can do it. I even think the axes will suit your style” He chuckled, holding your stare. “All I’m saying is you’ll need to put the work into it”

“I’m ready” You lifted your chin up. “I don’t want to feel powerless ever again”

“With these, you won’t” Roy said as he passed behind you. You could just hear the grin in his voice. “Whoever will stand in your way will have no idea what came for them”

---

Jason already hated meetings, but this one had been particularly long. Not only because he was worried for you, but because he was alone. Roy was with you, making sure nobody got to you while you recovered, which left Jason off to bear the entire meeting without at least his favourite people by his side. But it was crucial for him to be there, because it was when he decided the counter offensive to adopt. His troops had been sent across the border, blocking all the roads to his territory. No army could march in without being met with resistance. He was well aware he was escalating the tensions tenfold by doing that, but his father deserved everything that would come his way.

The sky was cloudy, but the weather was nice for winter. He stepped outside, spotting the man in black and blue observing the frozen garden with little interest. At the sound of Jason approaching, Dick faced him.

“Well, you got a grip of yourself quicker than I expected” He hummed, noticing the lack of blood on his hands and his combed hair. He had changed to his black and red armor, leaving behind more formal wear for the time being. “I’m surprised”

“Don’t be” Jason snorted as the two men began slowly walking side by side. “I am aware I have a duty that I must do, no matter what happens”

Dick eyed him without commenting on that matter. “I suppose I am not allowed to leave just yet”

Jason smiled without humor. “That’s right”

“You know I could easily escape on my own”

“And you know if you did I would drag you back here by the neck”

“Obviously” Dick rolled his eyes. “What about my men?”

“Escorted out of my territory with the soldiers who are heading east” He replied.

“Why are you doing this?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Why, to make our dear father sweat a little” He shrugged. “His golden son close enough for me to strike down quickly if he even thinks of pulling that shit again”

Dick remained quiet for a moment, his head down. He was aware his brother was watching him, looking for any sign of guilt or responsibility in that matter. “You know I would have never let those men tag along with me, right?”

“Do I, now?” Jason hummed. “They used your presence here to sneak in. I’m sure you know how this looks like”

“Jason” Dick sighed. “I don’t want to see you fall. I might not agree with some things you do, but there is a reason I came here to warn you”

He didn’t answer.

“Besides, I would have never tried to hurt the woman you love. I wouldn’t have done that to you” He added. “To you and to Roy”

Jason’s head snapped up, his wide eyes setting on Dick. How did he know?

“It’s quite obvious. Both your reactions were one of love, and there is clearly no competition between you two. It wasn’t very subtle” Dick explained. “And no, you did not say that out loud, but your face did. You forget sometimes I know you both better than you want to admit it”

Jason sighed. Of course, Dick would see it instantly. It’s not like he was ashamed of his relationship, on the contrary, his staff already knew it all about it judging by the number of times they barged on them in compromising situations and he did not worry about them knowing. But he knew decorum frowned upon it and a lot of people who already had something against him would only use it to further their case. He wanted to protect his family more than anything.

“You’re lucky to have them, and they’re lucky to have you” Dick spoke again after a moment. “I hope she’ll be okay”

“I hope she’ll be too, for your sake” Jason turned serious again.

“What does that mean?” He grew wary, straightening his back. Keeping him here was one thing, and he’d quietly stay if it could appease his brother to have him somehow prisoner, but he wasn’t sure he’d accept being threatened.

“Whether or not it was voluntary, you brought those opportunists here” Jason didn’t back down. “If she doesn’t make it, I will rain hellfire on everything Bruce loves, starting by his most prodigal son”

The two men stared at each other in confrontation, shoulders squared and the tension so tight it could be cut with a knife. And that knife was apparently named Roy.

“I think it won’t be necessary,” Roy said carefully, breaking the heavy silence. “She has been awake for a few hours, the doctor is changing her bandages. You should go see her”

Jason looked in between both men, then nodded at Roy. “I guess you two have things to talk about. I’ll leave you to it”

He walked away without looking back, and instead focused his thoughts on you. His feet guided him to the infirmary while his mind was far away from this reality, spiraling down what ifs and worst case scenarios. He paused in front of the door, then knocked and pushed the door open.

“Ah, King Jason” The doctor greeted as she washed her hands. “Just on time. I’ll leave you two in a second”

“Is she okay?” He asked.

“Ask her yourself” She smiled before wiping her hand on a rag and leaving.

You blinked slowly as the voices registered around you. You were feeling tired, but you wanted to stay awake a bit longer to speak to him as well. Roy had spent the majority of the day with you, well past sundown. You turned your head and smiled at him, easing just a bit of concern off his handsome features.

“Hey” Your voice was weaker than usual, and you had no doubt you looked paler too. According to the doctor, it was possible to make a full recovery if nothing got infected before the wound healed at least a little bit. She’d have to check in inflammation as well, but it looked not so bad so far.

Jason couldn’t help but smile back as he reached you and sat on the chair left beside the bed. He brushed hair away from your forehead with the back of his hand, relieved he couldn’t feel the heat of a fever coming out of you. “How are you feeling?”

“Just peachy” You chuckled, then flinched at the pain in your shoulder. “Ow”

“Take it easy” He soothed, caressing your uninjured shoulder. His touch was so comforting, you wished he’d never take his hand away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner”

"S'okay" You replied. “I know you must have had a lot to do after this shit show”

“Still” He sighed. “I should have just--”

“Don’t start blaming yourself” You frowned. “None of this was your fault. I don’t want to see this expression on your face anymore, now”

He snorted. “Roy said the same thing, you know?”

“Well, he was right” You smirked. “You should listen to him sometimes”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course you choose this time to gang up on me”

“I dreamed about you” You changed the subject before he could find a new way to blame himself. “Well, I don’t know if it was a dream or a vivid display of a memory. Everything was too hazy to make the distinction”

“What was it about?” He asked, rubbing his thumb in circles on your shoulder.

“When I chose my axes” You answered. “It’s a good memory. It did make me feel better”

“If I recall correctly, it was also the first night I kissed you” His tone turned teasing. “First night Roy kissed you as well. Beside the fire as the summer began, right after wiping out the guild members on the edge of the Kingdom of Blüdhaven”

“Hmm, I recall we did more than just kiss”

The soft glow of the fire, three naked bodies intertwined as they moved in sync, breathless moans and wandering hands. Jason had to chase that perfect picture away from his mind before it could lead him somewhere inappropriate for the situation, no matter how he wanted to close his eyes again and let the memory play out in full. You did it on purpose, he knew that much, probably to cheer him up or pull his mind further away from the less than pleasant reality.

“You’re going to kill me one day” He grunted, and you let out a little laugh, careful not to pull your stitches. Your hand found his and you squeezed it lightly, making him look down briefly at your locked fingers. He took a deep breath and sighed longly.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter” He shook his head, but you didn’t back down your stare. Finally, he caved. “The assassins. They’re dead, and the one that did this to you is… Well”

You could only imagine his death was nothing short of horrible and painful. You didn’t know if finding satisfaction in this made you a terrible person, but you took comfort in the fact that he suffered more than you did. You only wished you had been there to see it.

“But my father, I…” He gulped. “He’ll know what happened here. If he strikes, which will be most likely the case, I’ll need to be ready. He won’t take you, not on my watch”

“I won’t let him take me, or Roy for that matter, away from you” You reassured him. “I’ll be out of this bed in no time and back at your side, just watch”

A small smile stretched his lips. “Always the warrior spirit” He leaned down and kissed your head. His lips lingered on your skin and your eyes fluttered close to prolonged contact. “But you’ll need to take it slow to recover. You need not to rush for me”

“I’ll always rush for you, my King”

You noticed the hitch in his breath and the adoration in his eyes. The crystal shine of tears gave them an innocent glow, one you rarely observed on his face but appreciated every single time you had the chance to. It was easy to forget how young he actually was under all the weight that has been put onto him, he always seemed so much older and stern. You reached your hand for his face despite every single of your muscle screaming against it, and he leaned into your touch, softly closing his eyes. He allowed himself to relax just then, finally convincing himself that you would be okay. You had this gift with him, how you always managed to sneak into his heart and mind and bring him peace. He had been bewitched from the moment he met you, he had known right then and there he was already yours. And the fact that this connection transferred so easily to Roy, that you could make equal space in your heart for both of them only amplified his affection for you. You were their missing piece, and he would do anything--anything for you.

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered, gently taking your hand on his cheek and kissing it.

“It’s not luck” You smiled. “You took care of me when I needed you the most, I’m only returning the favor however I can”

“She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?”

You and Jason looked up at the new voice joined in, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at Roy’s wide grin. He walked closer and gave Jason’s shoulder a little squeeze, sitting on the arm of his chair. Your shoulder hurt but now that you had them by your side, everything seemed better.

“So, what are we going to do now?” He asked, eying you both. Jason took a deep breath, repeating Roy’s question in his head a few times. He didn’t have much time to think about something concrete, but it wasn't the ideas that were missing.

“Well, this seems to me as a pretty clear declaration of war” He said, slowly trailing his eyes from yours to Roy’s. “We should react accordingly, don’t you think?”

“Hit ‘em hard and fast at the source, won’t matter if they see it coming or not” Roy nodded in approbation. “This is what you were thinking, right?”

A sinister smirk appeared on Jason's lips. It was thrilling and frightening all the same, promising a terrible retribution. “My loves, we’re going to war”

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let’s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step.

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left.

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #aladdin au

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

Still a Little Bit Yours (Part 2) - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, various Batfam Pairing: jondami Summary: If there was one thing the world needed to learn, it was that you don’t hurt those Jonathan Kent loves. A/N: This is just basic smoop sprinkled with angst. Bruce gave Cass and Duke special permission to be extra rough on those who kidnapped Damian/hurt them in the first place. Jon and Damian wake up to Bruce on the chair and like half the fam sleeping on the end of the bed. Damian gets so mad at them. Let him sleep with his boyfriend in peace, dammit! Jon ends up now never leaving the bed and basically becomes Damian’s personal pillow as his recovery continues.

Part One | Part Two

That call. That was all they needed, it turned out. The call that shattered Jon’s whole world was the one thing that might help piece it back together.

Even though it’d been over a month, the Bat-tech was able to hone in on the signal easily, and they were in the air and on their way back to France within three hours of Jon and Tim’s arrival to the Batcave.

Bruce wasn’t thrilled. He’d told Jon to go home at least seven times, that they’d contact him when Damian was safe. But at this point, Jon couldn’t believe that, not when they didn’t tell him he was missing in the first place.

He was even less thrilled when Jon grabbed the Justice League communicator out of his hand and smashed it, when Bruce said he was going to call Clark to take him back to Metropolis.

“I’m not ten anymore, Bruce.” Jon reminded with a dark giddiness as he dropped the shattered pieces onto the table. “And Damian is my boyfriend.”

“Is he still?” Jason quipped from nearby, hooking guns to his holsters. Tim had caught them all up with Jon’s side of things. “I mean…you just spent the last month thinking you were broken up and getting over him, right?”

“As part of the family that went to Apokolips to collect his dead body and resurrect him, I don’t think I have to tell you, Jason.” Jon grinned widely. “You don’t just get over Damian Wayne.”

Jason thought a moment, then snorted a laugh and clapped a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Okay. I get why he fell in love with Boy Scout Jr. now.” He chuckled.

“…For what it’s worth.” Jon added sheepishly, though, as Jason moved away, and Cassandra and Stephanie approached, moving towards their jet. “…Even if the breakup was real, I…I still wasn’t coping very well with it.”

The women both just smiled knowingly, and Steph jumped up to ruffle at his hair. And for a moment, Jon remembered that, for as much as he missed Damian the last month, he missed seeing the other Bats almost as much.

Bruce grumbled the rest of the time they spent gathering supplies and weapons about how Jon shouldn’t be there, and he didn’t want him nor his help. It was eventually Dick and Duke who took Bruce to the side and had him see the light. Begrudgingly allow Jon to come along.

“On one condition.” Bruce demanded, stomping up to him near the jet’s door. It’d already been decided that Jon would fly alongside the plane. “You do not engage. This is still an open investigation, and I don’t need you accidentally destroying any evidence.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m only there for Damian anyway.” Jon returned just as gruffly. “You guys be offense, I’ll be defense and extraction. No problem.”

Bruce glared at him for a moment more before raising his cowl and disappearing into the ship. Dick sighed from nearby, following after.

“He’s just worried.” He promised. “About you and Damian. And after already losing Damian like this, the thought of what might happen to you, he…”

Dick trailed off, and Jon was suddenly reminded that he was a lot closer to fifty than thirty these days, and had already lost a lot. Had already lost Damian a lot. And, clearly, it never got easier. Not for Dick or Bruce, or anyone in their family.

“…He’s still alive, Dick.” Jon whispered with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “I can still hear his heartbeat. He’s still here, just…waiting for us.”

Dick nodded absently, before he met Jon’s gaze and let his mask of cautious hope fall across his face. “Then let’s go get him, Jonno.”

The flight was long. Too long. And even alone outside the ship, Jon listened through the communicator as the Bats planned their attack, outlined the known schematics of the compound that they found, and any potential hidden areas they might have missed.

At least every ten minutes, Bruce was reminding Jon that he was to not get involved. That he was there for Damian’s defense and safety only.

Jon only rolled his eyes, muttered an exasperated, “Yes, sir.” And focus on the heartbeat that got closer every second.

(Closer…and slower. But he didn’t share that part with the rest of the rescue party.)

The compound wasn’t far from where Duke and Cassandra had been beaten and abandoned, but the reason they couldn’t find it afterwards was because it was underground, and seemingly cloaked with tech none of them had ever seen before.

“Alien?” Duke had asked as they neared it.

“Or bankrolled by some selfish rich fuck.” Jason countered. “We’ll find out if Bruce Wayne does a hostile takeover of any companies here in the next week or so, I bet.”

“Hm.” Bruce grunted. But it wasn’t a no, so they all shared one last pre-battle laugh anyway.

They circled the area for a moment, doing some last minute recognizance. “I hear at least twenty-five heartbeats besides Damian’s, Batman.” Jon called. He flicked to his x-ray vision. “And they’re spread between what looks like two rooms.”

“Evenly?” Tim asked.

“Mmm, it doesn’t look like it.” Jon decided. “Looks like a 70-30 split.”

“Damian?” Cassandra asked softly.

“Can’t tell for sure.” Jon scanned the space again, just in case. “One body looks like it could be him, and it’s in the room with less people.”

“Remember, Superman-” Bruce started, but Jon, suddenly out of patience, cut him off.

“I’m defense. You’re offense. I’m there to get Damian out and that’s it.” He rolled his eyes. “I know, Batman.” He curled his hands into fists. “Now are we just going to hover up here all day or are we finally going to go get him?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Bruce calmly, emotionlessly, stoically announced:

“On my mark.”

For as grouchy, bossy, and by-the-book Batman always acted – he was still just a big kid with big toys. And his mark wasn’t a word, but an action. And that action was turning the nose of the jet towards the ground, so he could crash land into the underground bunker of the freaks who’d kidnapped his son.

Jon grinned, and suddenly remembered why Batman was a lot of people’s favorite superhero.

He stayed off to the ship’s side, just in case. In case Bruce actually lost control of the ship, if any of the other Bats ended up hurt in the process. So he listened as the nose slammed into the earth for any screams of pain.

But all he heard was the screeching of metal, and the crashing of ceiling materials as the jet lodged itself into the roof of the compound. There were screams now, of surprise from the building’s inhabitants, and shouts for some to grab weapons.

One last shout from Stephanie as Bruce opened the cockpit, and the Bats began to file out like ants. “Oh fuck yeah, was that fun!”

Everyone was fine. Everyone was safe.

So time to do his job and find the one that wasn’t.

He dove through the lingering smoke, dodging bodies being thrown by the mini-army of vigilantes that had just arrived. Dodged weapons from the incoming henchmen as they raced into the room to help their colleagues.

Jon didn’t pay them much mind other than to notice that their clothing was a little off. There wasn’t any body armor or helmets. Just dark maroon robes, sashed belts. They almost looked like priests.

You know, if they weren’t running at him with guns and knives and…was that one carrying an unlidded jar of acid?

He didn’t care. The Bats could handle them.

He tried to remember what he saw with his x-ray vision as he weaved through the halls. Bruce had crashed into the room with the most people, so that stood to reason that the pseudo-priests Jon had seen were coming from the room with less people. The smaller room, the room where he thought Damian was.

Well, if those priests came from where Damian was, that was even less people to take out than he was originally planning.

He let Damian’s heartbeat guide him. And for a moment, he remembered when he listened for it after the ‘breakup.’ How he thought the slowness of it meant Damian was calm, relaxed.

God, how could he be so stupid? It didn’t mean he was calm. It meant he was fucking dying. How could Jon be so dense? How could he not notice?

He reached a closed door and could hear panicked voices behind it, could hear Damian’s heartbeat at the loudest it’d been so far.

The door didn’t stand a goddamn chance.

He recognized that Damian wasn’t near it, so kicked the door as hard as he could without a care. It practically disintegrated under the heel of his boot. He heard the other people in the room scream as they were showered with splinters but didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything else right now.

He let his heat vision take over his vision as he stepped into the room. There were three people in here, each holding crude weapons – a stick, a shattered bottle and a chair.

“Leave.” Jon ordered. The people cowered only slightly, but stood their ground. And Jon didn’t have time for that. “Or I’ll make you.”

They gave it one last moment to try and be brave, and any other time Jon might commend them for it. Try to talk them down, be more like his dad.

But this wasn’t any other time.

So he turned to the chair and used his heat vision to turn it to ash.

And that was enough. The other two dropped their weapons and held up their hands. Jon shifted out of the doorframe and watched them as they ran for safety.

He stared after them until they turned a corner, going away from the sanctuary Bruce and the others were in, a bonus of course, though he knew the Bats could have handled them. Then he quickly turned back, scanning the room.

It wasn’t a jail cell, or a dungeon. Just an empty, ugly, dark room. There was a table in the corner, and a TV that showed the field outside, acting almost like a window.

There was a closed curtain in the corner, that clearly hid an alcove of some sort. Damian’s heartbeat was coming from there.

Jon doesn’t know how he crossed the room. One second he was by the door, and the next he was at the curtain, slowly pulling it back. Did he float? Did he run? He didn’t know.

“Damian?” He whispered as he tugged the sheet away. “Can you hear…?”

The question died on his lips at the sight in front of him. It was Damian all right, half naked and huddled against the corner of this makeshift pantry. He was thin, so thin, like he hadn’t eaten in the month since he’d been taken. His hair was longer, past his ears, and dirty. The grease shone in the dim light.

There were bruises and cuts all over his body, some of them looked infected. His eyes were black and swollen, his lip split in multiple places. Dried blood caked along his nostrils.

But that might not have even been the worst part.

Though, really, was there just one single worst part? Were the heavy chains around Damian’s neck, wrists and ankles that latched him to the wall the worst part? Or was it the barrage of needle marks that twisted up his inner arms all the way up to his jaw?

Jon’s eyes filled with tears. But not from pain, like they usually did. Not from hurt or emotions.

From utter, blinding fury.

They did this to him. Those fucking fake priests that he’d just showed mercy to did this to him. To Damian. To the love of his fucking life.

He’d kill them. He’d go snap all their necks right now. Break every bone in each of their bodies and let them die slowly and painfully. Then burn them into ash and throw their remains in a dumpster.

He even felt himself take a step back, to do just that. But stopped when he heard Damian let out a wheezing exhale.

“Damian?” He asked again. Damian had never answered the first time. Was he even conscious? Was he aware of what was happening? He took the last few steps forward and kneeled, putting a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “D, can you hear me?”

Damian tensed at his touch and tried to jerk away, but just ended up bouncing his shoulder painfully against the stone wall behind him. When he looked up, his eyes looked almost feral, but them immediately softened as recognition took hold.

He blinked once. Twice. “…Jonathan?”

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded with a sad smile.

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked, even as Jon shifted his hand from Damian’s shoulder to his face. Damian’s skin was cold. “They…” Damian’s eyes were suddenly angry. “If they’ve laid a hand on you, I swear I’ll-”

“Nothing of the sort.” Jon promised. “We’re here to get you out of here. Take you home.”

Damian blinked and slumped back. “We?”

“Your family.” Jon explained vaguely as he let his hand fall, run gently over a scab along Damian’s chest. “God, I’m so glad I found you.”

“…I’m sorry.” Damian murmured, and Jon looked up at him in confusion. “I…I lost track of the days some time ago, but you must have been worried sick. I’m sorry for causing you any distress.”

Jon’s stomach twirled in guilt. Because he wasn’t worried, not at all. And was now the time to say that? To say ‘Oh, no, I wasn’t worried, because it turns out the psychopaths who kidnapped you pretended to be you and broke up with me.’?

No. No it absolutely fucking wasn’t.

“…Nothing is your fault.” Jon decided on. He reached forward and grabbed the collar around Damian’s neck, snapping it with a quick jerk of his hands. He followed suite with the chains around his arms and legs too. “Can you walk? Your family is taking care of the others, my only job is to get you safe.”

“…I don’t know.” Damian hummed honestly, eyes fluttering slightly. “And I don’t know if my body is strong enough to try right now.”

Jon looked back up at him with another smile. Less sad this time, more genuine. Let it reach his eyes. “No problem.” He returned his hand to Damian’s face, gently pushed his long hair out of the way. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed Damian as gently as he could, then pressed their foreheads together. “Jesus, I’m just…just so glad you’re alive.”

Damian scoffed a quiet laugh, and opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly there was a noise from the room behind them. They both looked back to see Batman storming in through the door.

“Superboy?” He asked as he stopped, glanced around Jon. “We…all good here? You found him?”

Jon squeezed Damian’s face just slightly before standing and turning back. “Yes, sir. Alive and well.”

Bruce nodded. “And the rest are taken care of. So let’s get the hell out of here.”

Jon nodded. “Can you help me get him up? I don’t think he can walk real well right now.”

Bruce seemed to hesitate, glancing past Jon’s shoulder again, but nodded, and took a step towards him.

And as soon as he was close, Jon grabbed the side of his head and slammed it through the closest wall.

“…That’s twice now you’ve gotten my name wrong.” Jon spit, looming over the man as he groaned in pain. “And that’s twice you’ve done a piss poor imitation of someone I care about.”

Batman looked up at Jon in confusion, borderline hurt. But then the eyes widened in realization, and instantly shifted from Bruce’s icy blue to a sickly yellow. “You.”

“Me.” Jon grinned wildly. “And I’ll admit it – you got me the first time. Because I had no idea what had happened, so of course, why wouldn’t I believe the phone call I was getting?”

Batman began to shift now, lose his muscle mass, his uniform began to change to a deep maroon.

“But then I was told the truth, and all the clues that didn’t make sense before suddenly began to piece together.” Jon hummed, picking the man up by his collar. He was much smaller than Bruce. Much thinner. Much older. “So when they said they were coming to kick your ass, I knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He slammed the man into the wall again, but held him there. Used his other hand to grab the man’s throat.

“Why.” He hissed. “Tell me why.”

The man choked slightly, feet scrabbling for floor, hands grabbing at Jon’s. “Lazarus.” He wheezed. “He…he carries the waters of Lazarus in his blood. I saw it in his eyes. The green of his eyes. In the field. I knew.” A cough. “I knew it was fate that we found him. He was the one who was going to make us immortal.”

Jon’s eyes widened. The needle marks. The acid the other man was carrying from this room. Experiments, no doubt. To get the magical Lazarus waters out of Damian’s blood that they believed was there.

But Damian was stubborn, and probably put up a fight. So they beat him into submission, tortured him, stabbed him with needles to drain him dry. But they couldn’t kill him, oh no. Because if Damian died they’d lose their chance at the power of the Lazarus Pit.

They were using him, like he was no more than a thing.

Jon’s nostrils flared. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you bastard.”

“…Beloved.” Damian whispered, and Jon found himself turning towards him without thinking. Damian looked tired, still slumped against that wall, head leaning against the stone. “Don’t.” He closed his eyes. “Just…leave him for Batman.”

Batman’s demands came rushing back. They were offense. Jon was defense.

Jon’s only job was to get Damian safe.

Silently, Jon nodded, but instead of dropping the man, gave himself one last piece of revenge, and threw the man across the room into the table and fake-window TV. The man gave a low moan, and it sounded like music to Jon’s ears as he walked back over to Damian, and gathered him into his arms.

Damian didn’t complain about being held, didn’t complain about being coddled. Just wrapped an arm around Jon’s neck and leaned against his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and Jon just kissed his forehead, trying to ignore the mere fact of how much pain Damian must have been in. How exhausted.

But as he crossed the room, he stopped near the door, just once, and turned to the man.

He didn’t care who he was. What his name was. But he did care about one thing.

“Why did you call me?”

The man didn’t uncurl from his fetal position, didn’t even open his eyes. “Because we knew you would come for him.” He hissed. “The lovers always do.”

Jon blinked, and watched the man for a moment, before turning and walking out of the room, Damian a calming weight in his arms.

It was a cult in that underground bunker, Jon learned later. One obsessed with becoming immortal so they could be gods. They’d kidnapped, tortured and killed at least ten people over the years before they took Damian, all for the same reason.

Jon honestly couldn’t care less.

After escaping the compound, Jon flew to a previously agreed upon spot in Geneva, where Batman had a safe house that Alfred had flown ahead to. He radioed onto the open line as he did so, and Duke, mid-battle, shouted an affirmative, and promise that they’d meet him there.

Damian could barely hold onto consciousness during the flight, and it only made Jon fly faster, to an almost dangerous speed.

Alfred met them on the balcony, and motioned for Jon to follow him after he landed. A penthouse in Geneva wasn’t exactly a hospital, so instead of a medical cot, Jon carefully laid Damian in an extravagant king-sized bed.

Jon helped where he could, which, admittedly, wasn’t in very many places. The thing he was best at, he found, was getting in the way. But, bless him, Alfred never chastised him. Never told him to move.

“This is almost a luxury.” Alfred had quipped at one point as he checked Damian’s IV bag. “Normally I’m trying to work around at least five anxious persons, not one calm one.”

Jon had tried to smile, but it didn’t come out right. Alfred seemed to understand, though, and just gave Jon’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he passed him.

Finally, Alfred proclaimed himself finished, having done all he could. He’d disinfected and wrapped wounds, given Damian painkillers and set up the IVs to replenish Damian’s fluids. The rest of his healing would come in time. For now, he’d be in the kitchen fixing Damian something gentle to eat, before preparing food for the rest of the rescue party’s eventual arrival.

Jon nodded, and sat at Damian’s bedside.

It was almost midnight by the time the rest of the Bats arrived. They explained to Jon and Alfred their investigation, and what the cult had told them. Got checked out by Alfred, came and checked on Damian, and then one by one, they each went off to another room to settle down for the rest of the night.

Jon remained at Damian’s side.

And he didn’t move. Not to sleep, he just laid his head on the mattress. Not to eat breakfast or any meal, just balanced it on his lap. He didn’t even get up to offer his seat when anyone came in to visit their brother.

He just sat there, staring at Damian’s battered face and holding his cold hand.

Damian didn’t wake up that day, or even the day after. He could tell the others were starting to get antsy about it, and agitated. What if Damian didn’t wake up? What if that cult had actually killed him, and he’d survived just long enough to see them all again? To get taken to safety?

So the Bats threw themselves into the investigation to distract themselves. Who was cult? Who funded them? Who had they killed?

Jon just stayed on his stool at Damian’s side.

It was the morning of the third day, some time before dawn. Jon had his head pillowed against his arm on the mattress next to Damian’s elbow, half turned to watch the moon reflect off the clouds through the balcony doors.

He listened as Damian inhaled, but paid it no mind. Not until: “…What are you doing?”

Jon sat up so fast he made himself dizzy. In the dim light, Damian’s half-lidded sea foam eyes almost glowed.

“W-what?”

“What are you doing?” Damian repeated groggily.

“I…I couldn’t sleep, so I was just watching the stars…” He started, but trailed off when Damian lazily waved a hand.

“I mean, why are you sitting on that stool?” Damian asked. He flopped his hand out to the open side of the bed. “There’s clearly space here. Even if you can’t sleep, at least let yourself be comfortable.”

Jon instantly dropped his gaze to his knees, and even half conscious, Damian noticed.

“Beloved, what’s wrong?” He asked sleepily, weakly reaching his hand towards Jon.

Jon pulled his hand away.

This time, Damian’s inhale was sharp. He pulled his hand back and dropped it onto his own stomach. “…Alright.”

“No, it’s not…!” Jon suddenly realized how that looked. Knew how Damian would take it. “I don’t…You didn’t…” He sighed, dropped his face into his hands. “I don’t deserve it.”

“What?” Damian asked. “Deserve what?”

“To hold your hand. To lay in your bed.” Jon groaned. “You.”

Damian hesitated, grunted softly as he shifted. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The day you went missing, they…that shapeshifter guy, he stole your phone and he called me. As you.” Jon closed his eyes, trying to hide even further. “He…he broke up with me as you. And I…it didn’t make any sense, it never made any sense to me, but I believed him.”

Another moment of quiet. “…Oh.”

“I know. I’m an idiot.” Jon lamented. “Because how could I not know my own boyfriend? How could I believe you would break up with me over the phone?”

“Or…ever.” Damian agreed. “Unless you want…”

“Or ever!” Jon cut off dramatically, curling his covered face to his knees. “How could I believe you’d do that, and not question it! Not question that you never answered your phone after that, never told anyone, never came back to Metropolis for any reason! Even dream you tried to tell me and I just…”

“Dream me?” Damian asked. Suddenly there were fingers stroking at Jon’s hair, and he held his breath. “You dreamed about me?”

“I thought about you every second of every day.” Jon admitted glumly. “I felt like such a loser, not being able to get over you.” He paused, curled into himself more. “For believing it all in the first place.” He shook his head. “I don’t even deserve to be sitting here next to you, Damian. I don’t.”

He felt Damian’s fingers stroke for a few more seconds, then heard Damian scoff a laugh.

“Jonathan, you’re so funny.”

Those fingers in his hair were instantly at his chin, tilting his face up and out of his hands. Damian, looking beyond exhausted, was smiling at him.

“Come lay with me.” Damian asked softly.

Jon stared up at him for a moment, let his eyes wander down the bandages and new scars, then back up. “You shouldn’t want me to.” He breathed. “In fact, you should break up with me for real, because I’m such a fucking-”

“Do you want me to?” Damian asked seriously. “Do you want me to break up with you? Would you like us to remain apart? Because if after this past month that’s what you’ve decided is best for you, then I will do my best to give it to-”

“No.” Jon said instantly. “No, I…” His breath trembled. “No, I don’t want us to be apart anymore.”

“Nor do I.” Damian agreed with a gentle smile. He laid his arm across the bed. “…Please.”

Jon stared at him for a moment, then sighed and stood, carefully floating over Damian to drop onto his other side.

Damian weakly reached up to pull Jon into his arms, like a child grabbing for a balloon, and Jon let himself be dragged into Damian’s side. Latched onto Damian’s waist and hid his face against Damian’s chest.

His heartbeat was loud now. Still slow, a little too slow for Jon’s liking, but loud, and right under Jon’s ear, right where it was supposed to be.

“I’m sorry.” Jon whispered, as he felt Damian kiss at his hair, gently run his fingers along Jon’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Damian.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should apologize to you, for what that shifting bastard did.” Damian hummed, and already Jon could sense he was falling back into unconsciousness.

Because he feels safe, Jon didn’t let himself think. He feels safe here with me.

“…I love you.” Jon breathed, closing his eyes, squeezing Damian as tightly as he dared. “I love you so much, Damian.”

“I love you as well, Jonathan.” Damian answered just as softly. “For as long as I live. No matter what anyone tells you, please always remember that.” He carefully laid his hand over the one Jon had on his hip. “…Thank you for finding me. For saving me.”

“Always.” Jon smiled, looking up at Damian. Damian’s eyes were already closed once more, his breathing evening out. “Always and forever.”

“Forever and ever.” Damian mumbled as he drifted off. Jon watched him for a few more moments, until he was sure Damian was asleep again. Then he leaned up and left a careful kiss to Damian’s cheek. Lingered for a moment, then curled up under Damian’s chin, clung to him like he was a giant teddy bear.

He let his boyfriend’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.

#Damian Wayne #jon kent #jonathan kent #jondami

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gaitwae · 3 years

Text

The Dark Angel [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Possibility of being bad, it’s a sequel.

Length: 8k

Summary: Bruce Wayne and Charlene fluff, i don’t really know XD

Ring, ring, ring.

The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon when the telephone rang, violently and loudly. Internally, Bruce knew it wasn’t an emergency — it was someone trying to reach him before the day started. If it was an emergency, the caller wouldn’t have dialed the Blackberry. It wasn’t the red phone; the small cell was for business, not pleasure, so it wasn’t that either; he had a small rotary for the boys in case they were sick or held up at the university or high school (or in Damian’s case, soccer practice). The ringing phone was the Blackberry.

His thoughts were all over the place. In the beginning, his first thought was that he really needed to change the ringtone. It sounded like Christmas bells on Kryptonian steroids. The darn thing was just outside of Bruce Wayne’s reach for the first time in years; that thought alone was infuriating to him. The more he dwelled on someone calling the Blackberry…

Ring, ring, ring.

“Not today,” he swore, heaving a sigh and hoisting himself off of the bed. His Blackberry kept buzzing and playing its tone on the nightstand like an angry massage tool from Tartarus. He wiped his face, and just before the contraption could finish its next Ring, ring, ring, he answered the call. “Bruce Wayne.” His tone was gruff; he wanted to make sure the caller knew that the excuse better be good. The billionaire wasn’t in the mood to play games with the idiot on the other line.

“It’s Clark,” the voice on the opposite end answered. Bruce tensed. Clark had no reason to call him this early — had something happened with Charlene? Did their trip to Smallville get tracked?

“Clark —”

“Don’t worry; this isn’t life-threatening. You left something in that suit jacket you lent me,” his friend explained. “We should talk… Soon.”

The tension that built in Bruce left instantaneously. He had almost forgotten: Weeks ago, an envelope had been slipped into the inside pocket for Clark to find. He couldn’t risk saying something around Charlene, or anyone else who could have found her, when the risk was so high. He didn’t expect Kent to find it immediately, but he didn’t think it would take weeks to discover the note.

“I placed it in the jacket intentionally,” Bruce replied. He laid back down, closing his eyes. He would have to go downstairs soon. The boys would need to be woken up. Alfred would reprimand him about his sleep, telling him that a ‘sound body and mind cannot operate under such conditions,’ when he came downstairs. He could already see where the day was taking him. “I was banking on you finding it much earlier. Why did it take you so long?”

A pause.

“I don’t think she’s going to like this, Bruce.” He could hear shuffling over the mic, the crinkling of paper. “She really won’t like this. She just bought a house; this is quite a big commitment.”

“I’m not proposing, Clark; calm down.” Bruce rubbed a finger under his eye once or twice. He didn’t have the patience so soon in the day. He reached over to his bedside table and switched on the lamp. “She would despise that, not to mention how we haven’t talked about it, yet.”

“I didn’t even know you two were really together.” Clark’s tone reflected an edge — either protective, disgusted, or judgemental — that told Bruce exactly how much trust he had when it came to Charlene Park. “The last I heard about the two of you was your most recent trip to Metropolis.”

“When I met with Luthor,” Bruce guessed. He chewed his cheek; he didn’t mind talking about Char, but when it came to his relationship with her, he preferred not to be bothered — his affections didn’t need to be questioned left and right. Char was a grown woman. She chose Bruce; that should have been the end of it. “We’ve seen each other in Gotham since then. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you.”

“Yeah, with Luthor. Char said you had coffee and she babysat Damian,” he said. His voice was rising. For having impermeable skin, Bruce was having surprising luck getting underneath it. “And what do you mean ‘surprised she hasn’t told you’? What are you implying? That you’re sleeping together?”

“We’re taking it slow,” Bruce answered. “If we were sleeping together, I’d be the one to tell you. You’ll be glad to hear that we aren’t.” Clark scoffed over the phone; clearly, he didn’t believe that. “I just thought you’d like to know what I’m planning; Diana will need to be informed as well. This is important. Char’ll need all the help she can get.”

“You know, I never did take you for the type of guy to be with Charlene,” the other man continued. “You’re brooding and dark; she’s not like that at all. You’ve got some nerve—”

“Is this all you needed, Clark?” the billionaire deadpanned, cutting the Kryptonian off. He looked over at the bedside clock. It read 4:22 AM . Superman was far more worried than he was letting on if he was calling at the witching hour.

He didn’t need to be. Bruce would make sure that the woman was safe above anything else — he loved her too much to just put her in harm’s way.

“You know she’ll be fine,” Wayne reassured.

“Do you think this is safe for Charlene? This lifestyle?” the journalist whispered into the phone. “Lois couldn’t handle it; who knows if Char can?”

“She’s more involved than we ever anticipated,” Bruce said. He wet his lips. Lois left Clark? Unsurprising. “She’ll be excited to join. She has the potential; why waste it?”

“What will the boys think? They’ll think they’re getting a mom.”

He huffed a half-humored laugh. The boys didn’t know yet — no one knew. Clark was the first to be told. “They love Char. It shouldn’t be an issue to let them think that. Damian already told her she would be the only acceptable candidate for a stepmother. In the next decade, they might have one.”

“You can’t be serious. You’d marry Char? She’s going to join the League?”

“I’m plenty serious. She’s going to be part of the Justice League’s inside informants if she wants to. Whether you approve or not.” He didn’t answer the marriage question. Marrying Charlene would require more time. He wasn’t ready; she hadn’t hinted at anything more. She had only stayed at the manor twice — he felt that was enough of a leap for now.

He didn’t need to marry her out of the blue, did he?

“I don’t approve. She’s delicate. What if she thinks that your attempt at being personal is —?”

“Goodbye, Kal-El.” Without another word, Bruce hung up the phone. Clark had too many worries; too many things on his mind. He was so preoccupied with Charlene’s life that he had to ask about her relationship instead of the plan to incorporate her into the League. He needed to let go and learn to trust others’ judgement… But then again, some could say the same thing about the Batman.

Bruce sat up in bed. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Charlene or said he never thought about fully committing. It had been three years since the gala; things were going well between them. If he was just a billionaire, he might have tried harder, pressed for marriage instead of bringing it up every now and then.

But he wasn’t just a billionaire.

Bruce wiped his face again and looked out his bay window. He could see the area of town where he first saw her… where the Batman thought Charlene Park would jump to her death. He hadn’t expected to even meet her after that. He hadn’t expected a wonderful woman who understood him. Meeting her seemed so long ago now. It seemed against reality to think he hadn’t known her at one point in time.

He could make a few calls before seeing his family, maybe create a funding account for Char when she was ready to join the League; he knew she wouldn’t say no if he explained himself the right way. She was warming up to the idea of helping him with all aspects of life — he was warming up to the idea of domesticity. At the same time, making the calls would be presumptuous. Who knew if Charlene wanted that, yet? He didn’t want to do anything without talking to her.

Char may have understood the Batman, but he certainly couldn’t predict her. The identity guessing and the kiss and the entire history of their relationship proved that fact over and over and over like a natural law. Everyone thought they were gravity: dangerous; inevitable; fitted perfectly to the human body like Earth’s atmosphere.

He thought they were just a coincidence that turned into a gift. Charlene was an angel; he was her knight in shining armor.

“Time to start the day,” Bruce mumbled. He got up from his bed. He looked out the bay window once again. He sighed deeply.

Gotham City.

Would this place really be safe as Charlene’s future home?

He looked away, resting his head against his pillow and trying to sleep again. The attempt wasn’t very fruitful — eventually, he got up and dressed for the day. He tinkered with the gadgets he had created for Char, tweaking it and wondering whether or not to pick up the phone and call her. Every day was another failed attempt to be the hero she needed.

“Ah! Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred Pennyworth greeted the dark knight as he descended from the stairway. The old man handed him a glass of water and the stack of letters that had been delivered overnight. “I take it you had a restful night?”

“Barely,” he sighed, squeezing his old friend’s shoulder in appreciation. Bruce drank from the glass, feeling the coolness spread downward. It was calming, but not the calm he needed. “I got a call from Clark Kent at about four in the morning. How are the boys? Are they all up? I had something I wanted to talk to them about.”

“Damian is awake; Dick has left for school; Tim is still sleeping; Jason never slept, I’m afraid.” Alfred cocked his head, eyebrows lifting as he studied his former ward. He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a careful breath, asking in a wary voice, “Is everything alright, Master Bruce? Was Mr. Kent’s call that important, sir?”

“Yes and no,” Bruce answered. He didn’t clarify; he couldn’t think of an answer for each question. He scratched his neck, taking Alfred with him as he walked down the hall. Each picture on the walls was of the Wayne family, and as he got closer to the end of the hall, each of the boys. Dick with his acceptance letter to Rutgers University; Damian’s birthday; Jason against a tree; Tim playing guitar. Countless family pictures. There was a spot on the wall waiting for Char, he realized. “We’ll just have to talk about it when Dick comes home. I’ll sit the other boys down and tell them not to leave.”

“Sir?” Alfred asked, now flabbergasted. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” he said. He tried for a smile. Alfred didn’t relax, so Bruce stopped. “It’s just about Charlene.”

The butler nodded deeply. He leaned in and looked about the room to make sure no one was spying on them. The corridor was empty. He held his breath to listen, but the only sounds were their shoes clicking on the tile. “Sir, is Charlene… leaving us?” Alfred whispered. “I thought you and she were getting along rather nicely.”

Bruce didn’t react. “I’ll talk about it later tonight, Alfred. I’ll need to see Char when she comes back from Kansas — if she’s leaving, we’ll find out after I visit her.” He clapped Alfred’s shoulder. “But if she isn’t, we might have to reclean the guest room.”

“The guest room, sir?” Pennyworth grinned.

Bruce found himself surprised at that. Another joke, obviously, but he just hadn’t thought about that sort of arrangement with any seriousness. “Yes — she’s not going to be in my room, Alfred.”

“A woman who’s not so worldly, eh?” the butler chuckled.

Bruce smirked. “No, it would seem not.”

°°°

Charlene would have to say that her morning wasn’t going perfectly. Going down to see Johnathan and Martha was one of the best parts of the year. It was the best part of the upcoming summer season! But this morning, this last week, she had noticed that Clark was acting insane. Her instincts told her to ask, to say something, but she got swept away with her pseudo-parents fluttering about her and asking how life was in the big city.

“You look so grown up, now!” Martha cooed. She set her hands on Char’s shoulders and turned her about, checking her face over. Charlene had stayed with Martha and Johnathan for two years when she was a teenager. They were the closest she had to family. Every summer, she returned to stay with them for two weeks — whether or not Clark was there. Martha, now satisfied with how Charlene’s physique and health was, found her gaze set on the newscaster’s newest gift from Bruce: A small locket pendant graced with a rose-shaped diamond, tied around her neck by a silver chain. “I love this new piece of jewellery you’re wearing, sweetheart. What is it?”

“Has Clark finally made a move?” Johnathan asked. He took a sip from his coffee cup, craning his neck to see the necklace. He turned his head sideways at it, then hummed. “It’s gorgeous, honey. Whose gift was that? Was that from my boy?” He laughed, looking over at Kal-El. “Did you buy that for Char, son?”

“Er, no.” Char laughed nervously, holding the locket in her hand to hide it. “He isn’t going to make a move. He didn’t buy it. I’m seeing someone else; it’s going pretty well. He’s a businessman, single father.”

“Who are you seeing?” Martha gasped. She pushed a mug of coffee into Charlene’s hands, shuffling about the kitchen to try and find some food for everyone. This conversation was just before breakfast. “It’s such a nice necklace! When can we meet him?”

“He doesn’t want to push things too fast,” Char explained. She smiled brighter than she wanted to; she was nothing but happy when she talked about Bruce. She hadn’t seen him in almost three weeks due to work and flight preparations, his business meetings, and whatever secret project he was working on. “He’s got three sons and a ward who’s planning on surprising him with adult adoption papers for next Father’s Day.”

“That sounds just…,” Martha trailed off, pressing her lips together as she thought of the words. Charlene knew she was a little wary, almost disappointed. Seeing a man with multiple children either meant he was one of the sweetest men in the world or one of the more careless. How he raised his children was a completely different story. Not wanting to spread Bruce’s life story around to everyone, she just figured it was better to keep quiet about it. “How old is this man?”

“He’s thirty-seven,” she continued. “He, uh, adopted two of the three sons. The youngest was a different situation. Clark’s met him already.”

Johnathan nodded. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to Clark, who was still acting off. “So he’s a good man, then?”

“One of the best men,” Charlene swore. She opened the locket, looking at the picture of Bruce holding a rose to the camera on the inside with an inscription on the opposite side: “More than you know. - B.W.”

She showed Martha and Johnathan. Martha set a hand on her heart and Johnathan’s shoulder, smiling at the picture and carved words. “We’re taking it slow and old-fashioned; eventually, I’ll bring him down here for you to meet. Or he’ll invite you to his home — whichever comes first.” She grinned, closing the locket. Martha smiled at her.

“How long have you two been seeing each other? It seems like this man loves you,” Martha said. “Does he know your history? When did he give that pretty thing to you?”

“Yes, he knows my history. He gave me the locket about two months ago. I took him to my favorite spot in Metropolis and gave him a few written letters about my feelings.” She scratched her scalp. “The next time he saw me, he said he couldn’t just let me be the only one who ‘let their affections come to light.’” She laughed at her imitation of Bruce. Martha gasped and grinned.

“So you’re taking it so slow you haven’t told him you love him, yet?” Clark scoffed behind her. “You wrote a letter? After two years?” Charlene rolled her eyes, turning to see her best friend of nearly twenty years. The Kents’ faces drew up in surprise, but Char just frowned. He had barely said anything last night and this morning. Why did the first thing have to be about his distaste for Bruce?

“He knows I do; you know he isn’t big on words. We’ve found other ways of telling each other.” She crossed her arms. Clark mirrored her movement, rolling his eyes. He took his glasses off and set them on the table, pinching his lids closed. “How many times are we going to have to talk about this? I know you don’t like the idea of me dating anybody, but it’s going to happen. I might even get married; are you going to make nasty comments about that, too?”

“I might if it’s him. He’s going to get you killed, Charlene. Do you have any idea what he’s got planned for you?” He raised his hands and then dropped them.

“No, not really. Gosh, Clark, you realize it doesn’t matter. You’re Superman. He’s not any different from you. Let it go.” She waved her hand in dismissal. She tried to turn back to Martha and Johnathan. She didn’t want to get into the I’m-dating-Batman explanation today.

Kal-El screamed in frustration, hovering off the floor by a few centimeters. He combed his hair with his fingers — with both hands — giving away how anxious he was. Charlene knew there was more than he was telling her. “No, I won’t, Char. You need to be careful! He left a note in the suit jacket he left me, I called him—”

“Wait. Stop,” Char said, cutting him off and trying not to sigh in exasperation. She was getting tired of being constantly questioned over her boyfriend. He wasn’t dangerous, he wasn’t rude, he wasn’t going to kill her. Bats tried to actively keep her out of the dangerous details of his life; eventually, that would change… but wasn’t going to change yet. “This is about you two not communicating, again. Isn’t it?”

“I—,” he started. Charlene pointed her finger at him, hushing the alien. He shut up quickly at her silent threat. They both knew she couldn’t hurt him. Sometimes just the idea of her trying worked, though. He set his feet on the floor again. Char set her hands on her hips, taking a step back.

“Deal with that on your own. Please. I don’t want to break up with him because you’re acting like a kid, Clark.” She wiped her face. She knew that Ma and Pa were watching them argue and she didn’t like it. She hated being the center of attention (one of the Wayne boys would say that was ridiculous, considering she was a newscaster). “I appreciate you worrying, but I know what I’m getting into.”

Clark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And what if you find out years along the way that you don’t want to be Bruce’s wife?”

“That’s why we’re taking it slow, Clark. I’m not going to abandon you like Lois did; I’m not going to do the same thing to him, either.” She looked at the clock. “It’s six in the morning. Let’s help with chores, yeah?”

“You’ve gotten quite commanding since I’ve last seen you,” Martha chuckled. “Does all this change come from that Bruce?” She used the name in a teasing manner, which made the younger woman laugh. The old mother set plates out for breakfast.

“Yes, it is,” Char said. “He and Clark work together. He’s not too thrilled with me being a hero’s partner, yet.” She shrugged, sitting down at the table. Johnathan clapped her shoulder lovingly. Clark sat down next to Pa.

“They’re a good brand. If Clark trusts him enough to work with him, I don’t see why you can’t go with him.” Johnathan snickered. “Speaking of going with people. Son, have you heard back from that lovely Amazonian woman? You know, since you’re not with that reporter lady and, apparently, you gave us the wrong idea about Charlene. Honestly, I’m not too surprised about the Charlene bit; you two could never figure out if you were friends, siblings, or edging something more for as long as I can remember.”

“Pa, come on,” Clark whined. He crossed his arms, his cheeks colored with a red flush. Char didn’t know the Man of Steel would get embarrassed over Wonder Woman. She suppressed a giggle. And then he started stuttering. “Diana isn’t interested in me — Be-Besides, it doesn’t even matter. She’s a — She’s a very nice woman and I’m her colleague. That’s all. I’m going to steer clear of dating for a while. Sorry we didn’t tell you Char was seeing someone.”

“You should be sorry!” the old man said sternly. His smile never wavered. “What if I’m a grandpa and I don’t know about it? I understand Charlene not telling me, but you? Oh, Clark, come on!”

“Pa, it was her place to tell you.” Clark sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table’s edge. “I’ve been busy, too.”

“You never know if a relationship is working until you start talking about marriage, boy.” He held Char’s hand and Clark’s. Martha placed the last of the foodstuffs before the family. She sat down next to her son. “You two need to figure things out. You’re stuck with each other for life — you know you are. You’re going to have to trust each other. Now hush: let’s say grace.”

They all did as they were told. Johnathan prayed over their food, they ate, breakfast went by quickly. When they were cleaning up, Char’s phone went off.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Ma asked.

Charlene read her screen. Her eyebrows drew together. “I’ll have to leave a day earlier than expected; there’s a change in my work schedule.” She frowned a little bit. “I’ll have to make a call.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. Don’t worry about it,” Martha said. She patted her back. “Do what you need to.”

“Oh, I will,” she smiled, but in reality, she wanted to scold someone. She knew exactly what happened.

Bruce changed her scheduling around without telling her.

°°°

After staying as long as she could — about a week — Char had to board a plane and find her way out of Smallville. Somehow, getting on the plane and sitting on it for five hours wasn’t the issue. She could afford to be patient when she knew she had a plane to catch. She had just enough experience to practically ignore the takeoff, the flight attendants, and the goodbyes.

That all went smoothly. It always did.

And then there was the airport after the flight.

Being at the airport was one of the worst experiences Charlene ever had. She hated air travel with every bone in her body, but there was no other way to get back to Metropolis: the trains didn’t go that far, the buses would have taken too long, and Charlene didn’t have enough money to rent a car. She felt safe flying when she had another person to count on; this time, she was alone. Standing in the middle of the bustling, glassy terminal made her heart pound. Was she supposed to call for a taxi? Walk home? She had driven to the airport with Clark. She had no ride.

Walking through gates and managing to find her luggage without difficulty, she passed every single crying child, scolding mother, complaining grandfather, and fussy TSA member. She had jet lag. She had a headache. She missed Bruce. She was a little bit irritated with him, too, but she could talk about it — calmly — at a later time.

Her eyes were clouding up with sleep. Her mind was wandering. She didn’t even know what time it was. She was trying her best to walk out of the terminal.

“Charlene,” a familiar voice called. She picked her head up, her heart swelling with gratitude. Dressed from head to toe in black, Bruce stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His feet were spread apart. He had that look about his face — the one he wore when he was amused but didn’t want you to know it. She all but sobbed as she ran to him.

“Oh, my goodness!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him. Bruce’s arms encompassed her. “You’re here! How?” She buried her face in his shoulder and let the hero keep her steady.

“Clark said you were leaving early,” Wayne laughed. He took her suitcase out of her hand, absentmindedly rubbing her back. Charlene thought she must have been dreaming. She nearly forgot about trying to ask if he rearranged her work plans, again. She opened her mouth, but Bruce was faster. “Before you ask, I didn’t mess with your schedule this time. I was working on a —”

“— project, yeah, yeah. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask the producer what happened,” Char sighed, taking in Bruce’s metallic scent. His shirt was scratchy, but soft from wear. She dug her fingers into it, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth from her boyfriend. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured. He broke the hug. “Let’s get in the car. The boys are going to be worried sick. I can call the studio, tell them you’re under the weather if you don’t want to go to work.”

“Are you okay, Bruno?” Char asked, yawning. She covered her mouth, minding to use the other nickname rather than just calling him “Bats” in public. “You’re edging a ramble; that’s unlike you.”

“I’m fine. There’s just some things we need to talk about; Clark doesn’t like it, despite how it could benefit our life.”

“‘ Our life’?” she asked, voice slurring with the need for slumber. She took his hand. He held it back, but gently. He was being somber. Solemn. Serious. That usually only happened at home, behind closed doors. And behind another set of doors, he let himself truly smile. “I wasn’t aware you were thinking about a future so soon.”

“I am,” he said. His fingers tightened their grip on hers as they swung through the air. “I want to help you into all sides of my life, even for just a little bit. I heard perspective can help a marriage last longer.”

“Marriage?” Charlene laughed. She swung their hands. The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched, again. She started grinning like a madman — no, like the Joker. “You intend to make me an honest woman?”

“In the end? Definitely.” Bruce walked her outside. It was raining. He opened an umbrella and handed it to her. Charlene took it in her hand and tried to hold it above Bruce’s head, but it didn’t work — he was too tall. He just shrugged at it, smiling at her softly. “Depending on when you’re ready, darling, I’ll propose.”

“‘Darling,’ now? My, my, my, aren’t we affectionate today, Mr. Wayne.” Charlene giggled and poked his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s not every day you’re calling me pet names and talking like that. In fact, I think the last time you said the words ‘I love you’ was April Thirtieth.”

“The thirtieth wasn’t that long ago,” he frowned. He walked her to one of his antique cars, opening the trunk and putting her suitcase in the back. She took down the umbrella and set it back there, too. “It’s only mid-June. It’s not like I never tell you.”

“Bruce, other couples say it daily,” Charlene smiled. The rain started pouring down harder. It was mussing Bruce’s neatly-combed hair and dripping down his nose. She could feel it soaking her back and coiling her locks. She was sure she looked just as messy as Bruce looked adorable. “I know you don’t need to say it for me to hear it, but it’s still nice.” She paused for a moment, playing with the locket. She knew that just this gift alone was worth a thousand “I love you”s. Then she added, “And rare. Clark thinks we haven’t said it at all.”

“Rare,” he repeated. He opened the car door for her. She slipped into the passenger’s side. “Nice to know. It’s not Clark’s business whether or not I tell you I love you.”

“So what if it’s rare?” she asked with a permanent smile. “It just makes it even better to hear.”

“Are you going to cry when I deliver my wedding vows?” he asked in deadpan. He buckled in, turning the engine. “I have about seven years to prepare them; I’ll make sure to make them as sensitive as possible. The boys can say a line each toward the end of the ceremony.”

“Are we going to have a Jewish wedding?” she asked. “I’ve never been to one.”

“No,” he answered. “Not entirely. My parents were Jewish, but I… I don’t know. I haven’t done anything in regards to faith in years. I think we should just have a small ceremony for the boys and Clark and his parents. The only people who matter. We can blend in some Jewish tradition.”

“I can understand that,” she said quietly. She set her hands in her lap. She could already imagine a ring around her finger. Would it be an older design? Would it be intimate? With meaning behind it? Would it be big? Simple? “I don’t want anything huge, but I don’t want to rush into this. We have forever and a half, Bats.”

“We have longer than that, angel.” He looked behind him and pulled out of the parking lot. “I brought the boys from Gotham. I hope that’s not a big deal.”

“Did you get a hotel room?” Char looked out the window, then watched the wiper blades scrape water off the windshield. They made their way onto the highway in no time at all. “Or are they hanging out in the apartment?”

“A hotel room. I didn’t want to go into the apartment without asking.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “Was that an invitation, Miss Park?”

“Mr. Wayne, I am a woman of class,” she teased. She sat up a little. “Of course, you and the boys can stay. We can all sleep in the living room. You, the big, bad billionaire, can lay on the carpet floor next to the common damsel.”

Bruce scoffed. “As if there’s anything common about the woman I’m going to marry. Not everyone can be trusted. Not everyone can handle this life.”

Char shrugged. “We didn’t meet like common people meet.”

“We certainly don’t love like normal people. Kent can’t seem to stop reminding either of us of that fact.” He sighed, cracking his neck. Char wondered how that phone call Clark had talked about a week ago went. “Is he in love with you? Is he worried? Whatever his issue is, I can’t figure it out. It won’t change the fact that you and I are romantically involved.”

“You have a taste for danger,” Charlene answered. She vaguely recalled hearing from Dick that Bruce used to have a relationship with Catwoman. Damian was the product of an affair with an evil mastermind’s daughter. Batman, for the majority of his life, had been married to the cowl. “That’s his issue. You have mass intellect and he has superpowers. He could catch me from the sky, but you can’t. I’m a casualty waiting to happen.” She laughed sadly. “In his mind, I’m not safe with the Batman.” Bruce exhaled slowly to show exactly how much he agreed with that idea.

She could tell it was more than he wanted to admit.

“That’s why I can’t propose yet.” Bruce kept his attention on the road. “I need to make sure that you know how to defend yourself. If something ever happened, you’d at least be able to throw a punch or two. When the need arose, we would be prepared to keep the family safe. Right now, you need constant surveillance; I know what that does to you.”

“Constant surveillance?” she questioned. “Why?” Her heart dropped several levels. Had she been right all along? Was she being duped or manipulated into giving Wayne easier access of keeping an eye on her?

Bruce took a while to answer, creating more and more fear in Char’s mind. Finally, he opened his mouth. “I want you to gather intelligence for the Justice League. Whenever you’re ready, you’ll train with the boys at Wayne Manor. Just say the word, baby.”

“Is… Is this the perspective?” she asked, wary and unsure. She felt her eyes burn and her throat tighten. She didn’t want to ask this, again, but she felt she didn’t have a choice. The last time she asked the question, Bruce had kissed her for the first time. It ended up just being a publicity stunt. “Are you sure you actually want to marry me? That this isn’t just to make sure I don’t accidentally tell the world Bruce Wayne is the Batman?”

Bruce’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Charlene, how many times do I have to explain myself? If I wanted to keep an eye on you, I wouldn’t be talking about making you my wife. I wouldn’t let you interact with my boys. I wouldn’t be setting up a whole room for you at Wayne Manor. I love you. I have no reason to be picking you up from the airport other than my own desire to make you happy.”

“I know,” she sniffed. “I’m sorry. You were just acting funny. I didn’t know that you actually wanted to stay with me for… for as long as we live.” Charlene took a deep breath to calm herself. Man, did she feel like an idiot. “Bruce, you said you didn’t want to be part of that kind of domesticity two years ago. When did you decide you wanted to marry me?”

“Char, I didn’t need to decide. I still don’t want the picket fence type of life.” Bruce turned to exit the highway. “Our relationship has changed over the last two years. I would be lying saying I didn’t rely on you whatsoever.”

She swallowed. “You need me?”

He didn’t say anything. Yes. His cheeks colored. She let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh.

“I need time to think this all over, Bruce!” she exclaimed, slapping her palm to her forehead. Her pulse accelerated. Her legs felt tingly. “Marry you someday…”

“You don’t feel the same?”

She watched as the city blended into the street instead of Bruce’s unchanging expressions. If she wasn’t careful, he would turn investigator on her. “I had no idea you were so sure about us. It isn’t that I don’t feel the same, baby, I just need time to process this.”

“I understand.” He hummed. “Don’t tell the boys, yet. They might get excited.”

Charlene dropped her hands in her lap. She would be getting stepsons. She would have a husband. She would be a freelance spy. “I’m getting excited. I’m nervous, scared, sad, happy. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Bruce pulled into a parking garage. He got out of the car and took her luggage out of the back. “Say you’re going to be sure before you tell me you’re ready to start training.”

Charlene got out of the car, too, taking Bruce by the hand once more. “I will.” She cupped his face. “I will, Bats. Now kiss me.”

°°°

Walking to the hotel room, using his stealthy steps across the hideous patterned carpet, Bruce found himself holding his breath. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were going to blow this out of proportion, make Charlene uncomfortable. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him — but then again, how could they not? This was his whole family’s future at stake. This was an opening to expand the family. “Char.”

“Yeah?” she asked. She twisted her head to see him. “You okay?”

“Only tell them about the Justice League. Let’s ease into this.” He was practically pleading. He didn’t answer her question, but she nodded in understanding. Charlene took his hand and kissed the back of it, then dropped it.

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a winning smile. He managed not to sigh out the flood of fuzz that rushed in his soul. He was the Batman. He should be braver than to push Char away.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling gently.

“Ready.”

Wayne took her hand this time. He watched her, studied her. She had a lingering smile she was trying to wipe. She didn’t need to. Charlene was happy. When Char was happy, he was happy. Her hand shook in his; he was nervous, too. Committing to this would change so much. There would be no backing out. Even asking her to be on the same page could have scared her away.

He was quickly realizing he needed to trust Charlene. Whose life was going to be altered after all this? Whose life would never be the same once this process was over or ended? Not his. Not to the extent Charlene’s would be. She would be the first-time parent, not him. She would be the one who knew nothing about business or vigilante work, not him. She would be the one most affected.

She deserved so much from him. He thought he was asking for greater than she could handle; Char was there to prove him wrong again. Again, again, and again.

Bruce put on a big smile, opening the hotel room door. The boys all stood up to greet him, and all spoke over each other at the sight of Charlene: “You’re here!”; “How was the flight?”; “How long are you staying? Alfred’s—”; “We missed you!” They brought the woman into the residence with glee.

He couldn’t be more grateful to the boys. They always did their best to welcome Char and put a smile on her face. They loved her too much for their own good. She loved them, too. Bruce brought her into the room, setting her bags on the queen bed where Damian had left his shoes. The boys were swarming her, hugging her and asking question after question.

“Hey,” Bruce said. “Give her space; we have to talk about something important.”

“What is it, Bruce?” Dick asked.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

Bruce beckoned the kids to the floor where they could all sit. He took Charlene, pulling her next to him. He held her hand. “We’re thinking about making Char part of the Justice League’s informant group. That way, she can see the world from our perspective. We’re hoping…” He trailed off, uncertain of how to finish.

“We’re hoping this can further our relationship and give me a chance to spend more time with you,” Charlene filled in. She smiled, moving under Bruce’s arm. He held her tightly. “We’re not getting married, yet; just thinking about how to make it work.”

Jason was the first to speak up. “So… after Selina and Thalia — sorry, Damian — you’re finally going to settle down?” He grinned. “You’re going to marry Charlene?”

“When it’s the right time,” he said. “Don’t tell Superman.” He chuckled a little at his own joke. At least the boys approved. They deserved to know what was happening. Damian scooted over to sit closer to Charlene, who ruffled his hair.

“Are you going to stay at Wayne Manor?” Dick asked. He folded his hands in his lap. Out of all four of the boys, he copied his mannerisms the most. Secretive, stoic, at times, and would sometimes hum more than speak. The only difference between his mannerisms and the Batman’s was the smile that he allowed to grace his features.

Charlene shook her head. “No; not until we have everything sorted out. It’s probably unusually old school, but it’s what we want.” She smiled up at the Batman. He smiled down. Tim, quietly, went “Oooooh,” but that didn’t stop the small moment of perfection. As suspicious as it seemed, everything was perfect for a little while. A small pocket of happiness he had allowed himself.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t going to be so hard to relate to, anymore.

Damian took his chance to ask a question, practically jumping up and down with excitement. Tim pulled him down on his bottom, which made Dick and Jason laugh. He usually wasn’t so excited. Actually, none of the boys were. “Did you pick out a codename for her, Father?” Damian looked at Charlene. “What will we call her?”

“Nothing.” Bruce shook his head, feeling a bit dissatisfied with himself. This whole situation was unorthodox for him, but that was something he could live with. It wasn’t unlike him to embrace change, but it wasn’t like him either. He had no idea what nonsense the boys would bombard him with once Charlene was gone for the night. He could guess… and his guess told him it wasn’t anything he’d enjoy. “She doesn’t have a codename, yet. As soon as she’s comfortable, I want you boys to start training her to fight.”

“And then what?” Jason asked. He crossed his arms. He leaned forward, looking between the two of them. It was as if he was trying to figure out how soon the relationship would end. After all, the Batman was alone. Selina didn’t work out, Thalia didn’t work out, countless others didn’t even get a chance. Charlene’s odds were stacked against her.

Yet he loved her more than either of those women.

Bruce laced his fingers with Char’s habitually. The domestic affection had only happened behind closed doors, and any kisses or lingering hugs happened within closed doors behind closed doors. She looked up at him with slight surprise when their fingers slid together. “And then we’ll figure things out as we go along.”

Everyone made noises of excitement at that. The night went on in the hotel room, with giggling and laughter and games. Questions were passed back and forth. Food was ordered. Near midnight, Charlene had to go home. She had work the next day, and Wayne’s surprise had been laid in her home. Asking her to join the League hadn’t been the whole package; he and Clark both knew what was waiting for her there. He knew it was a rushed decision — one of his stupidest ideas by far.

Legally, as a billionaire, he could practically do anything for Char. As Batman, he would kill anyone for her — her and the family. She was family, now. He wasn’t going to push her away.

Taking Char home was one of the first times Bruce had felt this nervous in years. There weren’t enough roses or lockets or even words to express how much he cared about her other than that paperwork he had hidden away.

It wasn’t a proposal. She would only have to sign it if she was ready. The rest of the work to make it real would come in time.

“Are you okay?” Char asked as he drove. “Your fingers are turning white on the wheel, Bats.”

“Fine,” he answered with a clipped voice. “Just tired.”

“You never get tired,” she reminded him gently. He could feel her eyes on him but he stared only at the road. Metropolis was easier to drive through, but it only made the impending doom feel even worse. There was no possibility to stall. Not when he was certain.

“I’m fine, angel,” he insisted. They were quiet the rest of the ride, minus the exchange of a kiss and goodbyes when he dropped her off.

Now all he had to do was wait.

After all, he didn’t switch around her schedule for nothing.

°°°

After that worrying ride through the city, Charlene trudged through her door. She looked about the living room, noticing how something was different about her apartment. A few of the pillows had been moved — it was as if they’d been sat on. There was a letter and a gift bag on the table. She set her bag down on the floor. “What on Earth?” she muttered to herself.

Bruce’s metallic scent lingered in the air, but it could have just been from when she sat in his car. She walked past her old dog, rubbing his head and checking his bowl. The pet sitter had fed him, then… and he had been given a new collar. Hmm. That definitely wasn’t the pet sitter. She beckoned him over as she checked out the present on the table.

The letter was the first thing she opened. As Char sank into the couch, she folded it open and quickly read the words. It was a brief description from a lawyer about what… what…

“Legal marriage to Bruce Wayne would entail”?

Her heart stopped. She fished through the gift bag and found a marriage license in a different envelope. A pink glass rose. A small set of glass earrings and an article clipping of the night of the gala. If anyone ever accused Bats of being unromantic, they were seriously, seriously wrong. This wasn’t a proposal — she could see that. He wasn’t asking for this. He wasn’t telling her to try and find out. There was no trying! And along with all that silly stuff, there was a mask and a tag in his script that said, “Dark Angel – Can be changed”.

He just laid it all out for her, knowing this was their future.

With clammy hands and a voice that was barely working, she dialed Bats’ number. It chimed for a few rings, but he eventually picked up. The familiar “Hello?” followed by, “Char?” was so sweet to hear, to let her know it was real…

“I’m signing,” she said. “And I’m keeping the codename.”

#Batman x OC #Batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x OC #Bruce Wayne x reader #gaitwae writes

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aros001 · 3 years

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Going in blind: Watching season 1 for the first time. Random thoughts.

This show is kind of nice because I have no memories of the original She-Ra show, or even any of He-Man, honestly. I'm not sure if I ever watched the original, so I have no frame of reference for how the series is "supposed" to be. I can just take it and judge it as is.

Of the bat, all I know is that supposedly She-Ra and Catra get together as a romantic couple later, but I'm also a huge My Hero Academia fan and the fandom around me ships every character with every other character, so for all I know that might just be shipper wishful thinking I've been seeing and hearing. Given fandoms for Gravity Falls, Thor, and Supernatural ship even siblings together, I've learned not to trust anything except for what I see in the series for myself.

By the way, this isn't a review, just random thoughts and comments I'm having as I'm going through season 1 for the first time.

Episodes 1 and 2: Right off, I really like Catra's "No duh" response to Adora about the truth of the horde. She knows they've been lying to them and have been doing terrible things, she just doesn't care. If she and Adora play their cards right they could end up being the ones in charge and then they'd have all that power. Not necessarily to make things better but enough to where they could do whatever and live however they want. That's a good build for an antagonist. Not ignorant to the fact what they're doing is wrong, just simply so selfish that they don't care.

Episode 3: It really feels like there was no good reason why Glimmer didn't just outright introduce Adora to her mother and every reason she should have known it was a bad idea to try and hide her for a surprise. Being a former horde soldier she'd probably get treated with hostility if Glimmer brought her to the front gate but you'd almost guarantee Adora would get arrested or outright killed if she got caught while no one else knew she was there.

On the other side, we have Hordak being pretty intelligent in promoting Catra. He probably knows Shadow Weaver already doesn't like him, so it's not like he's losing anything making her upset with him, and it's clear she favors Adora way more than Catra, so that little bit of advancement towards Catra probably goes a long way in earning her loyalty to him and a person on the inside with Shadow Weaver.

Also, I'm not the only one who saw Madam Razz and immediately thought Adora had found her Yoda, right?

Episode 4: I don't know how it was in the original She-Ra and He-Man series but I kind of like She-Ra being this title from legend. Adora is not the first She-Ra, given what Razz was talking about with a Mara, so instead of being something new, impressing everyone with abilities they've never seen before, and creating the legend, Adora is placed in a position WAY over her head where she's having to live up to what came before her.

Episode 5: Calling it now, as long as her personality is genuine I think Scorpia is going to be one of my favorite characters in this show. She's...endearing, I think is the best word. She's like a mix of Kronk and a nicer Shego.

For a little bit I thought Mermista was voiced by the same actress who played Poison Ivy in the Harley Quinn animated series. She's not but they do have the same kind of Daria-ish inflections, thus by confusion. Given the prom episode, Sea Hawk feels kind of like her Kite Man.

Episode 6: Okay, now it's between Scorpia and Entrapta who are likely to be my favorites by the end of this. She's fun and quirky.

Episode 7: Quite the lore drop. Shadow Weaver was once a Mystacor sorceress known as Light Spinner. I like to imagine we'll get more on that later. Her haunting Adora reminded me of the Teen Titans' episode where Robin was similarly haunted by Slade. This didn't go as far as that but that's probably for the best, since TT had two and a half seasons to build that dynamic up with Robin and Slade while we're only now halfway through the first season.

Episode 8: Well dang. Again, I don't know for sure if Adora and Catra do end up together but boy do I buy why they're shipped together after that dance. Also, good on Bow for standing up for himself. It's clear that he'll always be Glimmer's friend and this won't change that but that doesn't mean he has to just accommodate her. I understand where her issues stem from but I am still glad he gave her a reality check. It helps him feel a little more like his own character.

Also, another nice little bit of lore and worldbuilding. Scorpia's a princess, the horde landed where her people lived, and they seemed to join them willingly.

Episode 9: Surprisingly don't have a lot to say about this other than I don't buy for a second that Entrapta is dead (EDIT: She's not). This was mostly action.

Episode 10: Not going to lie, this one kind of annoyed me a little, at least the first half. The conversation between Glimmer and her mother saved it a bit. It was a bit of a trifecta. You have the alliance breaking apart, saying that the loss of Entrapta only happened because they were all together...even though Entrapta only "died" because of her own machine obsession that caused her to deliberately walk back into the purging chamber. You have Entrapta who might be turning to the horde's side because she feels abandoned by the other princesses...even though they thought she was dead, and again it was her fault they got separated. And you have Glimmer refusing to tell her mother that Shadow Weaver's dark magic has caused her powers to go on the fritz and is causing her great pain. It just feels like none of this would be an issue if most of these people would stop being self-absorbed for three seconds and talk like any normal person would. It feels very CW drama, like something I'd see in a bad season of Arrow or The Flash. The only person whose issues I buy is Adora, who is basically a soldier who was never properly raised to deal with emotion or loss and is already struggling with the burden of being She-Ra, the legendary savior. I get why she's beating down on herself for not being able to do more even if nothing that happened was her fault.

Episode 11: JEEEEEEEEEZZZZ, that was such a good episode! Focused entirely on Adora and Catra and their past together. Like, just showing someone this episode alone could probably get them to want to watch the series. That was everything you needed to know about their dynamic and history together.

Also, that moment when Catra and her past self are looking at each other, while obviously Catra takes the opposite lesson, it reminded me of this fanart I'd once seen of Jason Todd, the Red Hood, looking at his past self as Robin. The past says to the future "You ruined everything". Catra could be happy but, ironically for someone who hates Shadow Weaver, she's probably going to be a lot like her, sacrificing everything for power and ambition.

Given the way she looked, I'm guessing Shadow Weaver is either addicted to the power of the Black Garnet or she suffered some kind of past injury and its power is the only thing keeping her going. Or both.

Episode 12: I'll be honest, Swiftwind being able to talk kind of gobsmacked and I needed a moment to recover. What a great voice they chose for that character.

So She-Ra is kind of like the legendary heroes from Rising of the Shield Hero, coming from a long line of people chosen to wield the sword. I tend to dislike chosen one types of stories because I think prophecy takes a lot of weight out of the character's actions, so this and Avatar are more what I like. The MC is special but not the only one who's ever been special and they can still easily fail. Their destiny was only to be able to use the weapon, not that they would succeed in any specific purpose.

And dang, Catra's turn against Shadow Weaver happened faster than I thought it would but I'm not complaining. That great "This is what you've really been preparing me for" speech and Hordak, again, being an intelligent villain. "Oh, this experiment could net me a MASSIVE gain and all it could potentially cost me is this rock I already gave away to someone who lately hasn't been producing any results and has been consistently disobeying me. Yeah, I'm going to let this play out."

Episode 13: That was kind of a brutal fight between Adora and Catra. Not the worst I've ever seen even in other shows for this age range (Samurai Jack, for example) but those punches are connecting and those claws are leaving marks.

Also, maybe I'm just misunderstanding the exact situation but shouldn't the good guys' side be called the Resistance instead of the Rebellion? Being a rebellion would imply they are rebelling against an established power or rule over them, but the actual conflict we are shown is the established power and rule that is the kingdoms of Eternia resisting an outside force that wishes to establish a new order over them.

Season 1 verdict: I'm into it. I'm definitely more invested in the villains' side of things but that's not a fault of the series, that stuff is just way more geared towards me than the current princess stuff. I actively am at attention whenever the horde main characters are on screen. For the good guys it's mostly Adora and the She-Ra stuff I'm invested it. That isn't to say I have any real dislikes for that side. Bow especially I'm liking much more than I thought I might. He has kind of this gravitational pull around him. You will be his friend regardless of how much you might want to resist. He's definitely the rock for everyone else to hold onto.

Minor side note, kind of like Korra in Legend of Korra, I love how even when her powers aren't active Adora is shown to still be pretty strong physically with how easily she was lifting people up at the prom.

And I was right, Scorpia is my favorite side character.

On to season 2!

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/nyll2e/going_in_blind_watching_season_1_for_the_first/

#she ra #she ra spop #random thoughts #reddit repost

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years

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Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt.9

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 8

Part 9 (HERE)

Part 10

This will probably be the last update for awhile, I start student teaching this coming week and I’m nervous as all hell right now

____________________________________________

It took a good twenty minutes to calm down the Miraculous Team, during which Max had changed back and needed to feed his Kwami, Kaalki, before changing back.

Tim mentally edited his profile for the Horse hero, while his brother's teased the teenagers.

Max ????- Baskerville Font Deep Golden 13, Codenamed- Pegasus. Kwami- Kaalki, the Horse. Main Power- Voyage. Time limit of Ten Minutes after using Voyage before Forced Detransformation.

He’d need to ask later if this time limit existed for the other heroes as well. He was also going to have to hack Collège Françoise Dupont’s register to complete these kid’s profiles apparently.

The other heroes offered to detransform as well, but Ladybug suggested they wait until after the meeting Bruce had set up as they only had minutes before he told the other heroes to connect.

“Ready?” Bruce asked as he pulled on his cowl, the domino masks quickly being tossed to the correct brother as the Paris heroes exchanged looks.

“Nope,” Bunnyx answered as she flopped down into her seat next to Viperion, “let’s get this started,”

The Heros of Paris all held hands as they sat on the side of the Conference table that the active camera couldn't see. The Batfamily sat across from them with Batman at the head of the table as he opened the video call.

“Hey Bats,” Flash greets as the founders all joined the video chat, “What’s with the emergency meeting?”

“This is highly unusual for you, Batman,” Superman added, “Should we be heading for the Zeta tubes?”

“While urgent,” Batman answered, eyes narrowed, “What I’m about to say isn’t exactly time-sensitive, but it is dire that we come up with a plan to assist soon.”

Green Lantern raised an eyebrow, “That doesn’t sound good.”

Marinette could feel her team growing restless around her from beyond the view of the camera. After so long trying and failing to reach out, this was their chance to end things. Seeing Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter so close nearly made her heartbeat straight out of her chest.

It was unreal…How much had her world view shifted in the last twelve hours? The blunder of a Billionaire that more closely resembled a zombie gorilla then human if woken up before 8 am was THE Batman, The nearly thirty-year-old police officer that still thought Captain Crunch was a suitable dinner was Nightwing, the man who tried to sneak in and steal macarons out of the oven only to pout when he burned himself was Red Hood, the much too young CEO who routinely did his paperwork in green crayon to anger those filing it was Red Robin, and oh not to mention her boyfriend who had sworn her into secrecy after crying during Tangled was the latest Boy Wonder.

“Paris has been under attack for nearly four years,” Dick answered from where he sat directly to Bruce’s right, “They’ve been fighting the threat alone, despite the villains' potential. to destroy the world.”

The seasoned heroes all stiffened.

Martian Manhunter was the first to speak, “What is the threat and who are these heroes?”

“A villain known as Hawkmoth rose to power almost four years ago,” Batman told them, “He has the power to control those that express intense negative emotions and give them powers of varying intensity. Ladybug and Chat Noir have been fighting him back since he first-”

“Did you just say Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Wonder Woman cut him off, “Do you perchance mean the Ladybug of Creation and the Black Cat of Destruction?”

All eyes were on the princess as she stared down Batman. He didn’t move but Marinette could feel his eyes flickering past the camera and towards her, letting her make a move if she wanted to.

She hesitated before clicking the button Red Robin had given her to enter into the video call, “Yes. That is exactly what he meant.”

Wonder Woman’s eyes flew open wide as she saw the bright red outfit, arms snapping in front of her, crossed at the wrists, head bowed, “My Lady!”

Marinette cocked her head to the side, confused, “There’s no reason to call me my lady, honestly you just sound like Chat. I’m surprised that any of the League knew of the miraculous.”

Diane lowered her hands, looking up once more, “As you wish Ladybug, and every Amazon know the tales of Ladybug. After all, my mother once wore your earrings and held your mantle with Herakles as her Μαύρη γάτα.”

Ladybug broke into a smile, “Hippolyta… Tikki has told me stories of past users, Πασχαλίτσα was one of my favorites to learn about.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah!” Flash waved his hands frantically, “Are we saying that she’s on par with your mother?!”

“Now I won’t-”

Diane cut her off, “Yes. All of Themyscira would follow a ladybug into battle as willingly as they follow my mother, their Queen.”

The young heroine blushed as Chat, Bunnyx, King Monkey and Abeille laughed, Viperion Pegasus and Ryuko smiling at the shocked faces on the League’s faces.

“ Good to know my Lady is so highly respected,” Chat finally spoke up leaning into frame from her right. Marinette sighed, honestly surprised he remained quiet this long. Silently she clicked the button that made the camera pan out to bring her entire side of the conference table into view.

“As I’m sure you guessed,” She said to the gathered heroes, “I am Ladybug, and this is my partner Chat Noir. The other members of our permanent team are Abeille, the Bee of Subjection, Ryuko, the Dragon of Power, and Viperion, the Snake of Chance. On our reserve team is Pegasus, the Horse of Teleportation, King Monkey, the Monkey of Jubilation, and Bunnyx, the Rabbit of Time.”

Wonder Woman looked worried, “So many active, your war must be devastating.”

Abeille scowled, “Paris would have been nothing but bloody rubble within a month had Ladybug not had her Miraculous cure. Hawkmoth, Butterfly of Transmission, and Mayura, Peacock of Emotion, have been attacking us for almost four years at this point trying to take Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s miraculous, and our requests for help from the League have been ignored up until this point.”

“Requests?” Superman questioned as the elder heroes all stiffened, “What requests?”

The Paris team gave them skeptical looks.

“You’re kidding right?” Chat Noir asked slowly, “My Lady and I sent probably two dozen requests for aid since we were given our miraculous before being sent what might as well have been a cease and desist request that was just signed from the league because it was thought that everything that had leaked out of the city had just been fancy video editing and CGI. How could you guys not know?”

“As one of the main reviewers of requests,” Manhunter replied monotoned even as his jaw clenched, “I never saw any of these messages.”

“Yeah man,” Green Lantern added, “Neither did I, and I help out a lot up in communications when I’m not out on business. Plus we’ve never sent out a ‘stop calling us’ message before.”

“Well someone had to reject us,” Pegasus argued, “Logically speaking it has to be someone from the League as the other option is an unknown individual hacked into the League’s database and the only detectable thing they did was delete the messages from Paris.”

“I don’t care who it was, Find them,” Robin growled, white knuckles clutching his katana hilt, “I wish to disembowel them.”

“You will not.” Ladybug’s voice was low and pointed, “Not only have we handled ourselves well, but I won’t condone infighting just because someone messed up. I don’t care who rejected us at this point, Paris has a strong team protecting it and the League is lending us their help now, something that might have been detrimental a few years ago.”

“Detrimental?” Wonder Woman questioned, a twinge of hurt in her voice, “How would the League of been detrimental?”

Flash scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, how would The League being in Paris be bad, kid?"

“Pfft,” Bunnyx just laughed, “Geez, Kids? Could you guys be more condescending? It’s not like we’re seasoned heroes in our own right by now or anything.”

Ryuko's gaze flicked over all of them, “Your trust in us is lacking because of our age, but you want to give us a chance to show you how we operate since we have been taking care of our city. During our battle today the entirety of the Batfamily was watching us from the shadows and yet never felt like they needed to intervene with a team that already works efficiently with each other, yet you still question us.”

“You saw us?” Jason asked a little startled, “Damn Onna-bugeisha, you’re sharp,”

The girl smiled softly, “I appreciate the praise, however, I would suggest not wearing a large bright red bucket on your head next stealth mission. I was already on the lookout for red so it made spotting you and your family easy.”

Dick snorted, “Told you your helmet wasn’t slick,”

Jason just glared and shot back, “Discowing,”

“We’re not speaking of that atrocity. I’m going to need eye bleach to forget it already,” Marinette shuttered before becoming serious again, “The point we were trying to make is that I and my team have your trust. With Wonder Woman, Batman and his team speaking for us, you respect our claim to protecting Paris and the fact that we are the most knowledgeable people when it comes to Miraculous and our villains. Would we hold that same respect in your eyes if you arrived when Chat and I only held our miraculous for a few months? When we were inexperienced and improvising? Or would you have swooped in here with promises to fix things while shoving us to the side, upsetting us to the point where we might have been akumatized because of how little say we were given in protecting our city and stopping the villain that threatened our friends and families?”

The league heroes all shifted a little uneasy. The girl had a point.

Inexperienced heroes had to earn the League’s respect through hard work and proving their worth, something that could have left them open to akumatiation, giving the villain exactly what he wanted.

“Another thing,” Ladybug added eyes scanning over their faces with a serious glare, “This is our city and we have experience with the villains here and what to avoid. With that said, I believe the only members of the Founding Justice League I would trust to be in Paris before Hawkmoth and Mayra are relieved of their miraculous are Batman, Martian Manhunter, and The Flash.”

“What!” Green Lantern yelped, but the Paris team all nodded in understanding.

“Ooh Yeah,” King Monkey cringed, “The last thing I want to do is face an akumatized Wonder Woman.”

“Dude, you’d be the only one safe from an evil Green Lantern,” Bunnyx groaned, “Can you imagine the damage? It’d be like Mr. Mime on Steroids!”

Viperion turned to Pegasus and asked, “If Superman got akumatized what is the likelihood that Luck Charm would just give us a chuck of Kryptonite?”

“Considering she’s dating a Bat,” The younger man started ignoring the bugging eyes of the League, “There is a higher chance that it will just give her an indication to use Voyage to retrieve him and the kryptonite he no doubt possesses. On the 17.85% chance, it gives us Kryptonite, I’d be worried about using it as all of the Lucky Charms are red and black. Red Kryptonite usually causes a bloodlust, or uncontrollable rage in Kryptonians, while Black causes the being to be split into a good and an evil version of themselves.”

“Soooo,” Bunnyx draws out, “Use Uproar to take their powers away, then the kryptonite so that we just have too really angry dudes fist fighting each other in the middle of Paris?”

Pegasus nods, “Yes that plan holds an 85% chance of working should we be put into that situation.”

Batman just rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Should I ask where you learned so much about Kryptonite?”

“No.” The Paris team chorused.

The Martian looked intrigued, “Back to the original statement, May I acquire what sets us apart from the others so much that you’d be willing to accept our help but not theirs?”

“Easy,” Chat answered, smirking slightly at the flustered looks that still remained on the rejected heroes faces, “Hawkmoth and Mayra prey on negative emotions, whether that’s anger, frustration, fear, sadness, or disgust. The more powerful the emotion the stronger the Akuma or Amok is that we have to face is. Superman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern are known for using their emotions as strength during a fight.”

“What about Flash?” Green Lantern barked, looking miffed, “The dude isn't exactly Mister Stoic."

"Oh Oh!” King Monkey had his hand raised above his head, “I’ll take this one!”

“Go ahead King,” Ladybug offered with a bemused look.

The Burly teen grinned up at the monitor, “We’ve found there are two great ways to keep from falling into Hawkmoth’s hands, thought considering everyone but Ladybug has been akumatized at least once this is mostly through trial and error. We’ve come to realize that either you need to be like Ladybug, Pegasus, and Ryuko, confident and professional to the point you don’t have time to let negative emotions, and how Chat and I deal with it and it’s probably the same way Flash deals with the horrors I’m betting all of you deal with on a biweekly basis, if not more.”

The speedster gave a tired smile, “An over cheerful, bantering mask?”

Chat clicked his tongue and shot duel finger guns at the monitors, “Bingo Bongo,”

Abeille rolled her eyes, as Ladybug smacked him lightly over the head, “Nerd.”

King just smiled wider, “Yup! We flirt, we banter, we joke around with our partners and the villains, cause it makes it easier for us to deal with after we're out of danger.”

Superman’s eyes grew a little far away, “You pretend not to take things seriously?”

Chat shrugged, “I mean kinda? It’s more like knowing that if everyone was serious then it would start wearing on us. We’re all people, we can’t stay serious 100% of the time, plus I know that when I crack puns the other may groan but their attacks are a little less sloppy, My lady may say she hates it when I call her Bugaboo, but it pulls her away from a bad headspace and helps her focus. It’s just our way of dealing with the dangers we face.”

“The Heart of the Team,” Batman spoke with a heavy reverence that had each of the seasoned heroes looking over the Paris group with understanding.

“Alright,” Green Lantern sighed, “Supes, Wonder Woman and I will stay out, but why don’t you explain what’s happening exactly in Paris. What is this Hawkmoth guy after anyways? What’s his end goal?”

Ladybug’s eyes grew hard as her team straightened around us, “His goal is to obtain the Ladybug of Creation’s earrings, and the Black Cat of Destruction's ring. Whoever possesses both shall have unimaginable power, and the ability to grant one wish by rewriting the very essence of reality.”

Flash let out a low whistle, “Wow, and his wish is lovely I’m sure.”

Chat’s voice was soft, but held immense weight, “His wish could be of pure intentions and goodwill, but it doesn’t matter, because the balance must be maintained and the price is always much more destructive then one can ever imagine.”

Ladybug nodded in agreement to her partner before taking over, “An Italian father wished for his family to never know sickness like that that took his sister from him when he was young, to live long happy lives free of sickness. The wish came true and nothing worse then a cold touched the family, even today, but three days after the wish was made the first ship that was contaminated with the Black Plague landed in Italy.”

“A teenager, whose homeland was riddled with war and bloodshed,” Chat chimed in again, even as the surrounding group looked sick, “He wanted for the fighting to stop, for his parents to not have to risk themselves anymore to keep their city safe, for him not to have to take up the blade in only a few short years. His wish was granted the fighting stopped and he no longer had to worry about his family dying to senseless war… because his entire city, the city of Atlantis had sunk into the sea, almost two-thirds of the population perishing as the last third realized they had an unknown ability to breathe underwater and survive the harsh conditions of the sea.”

Aquaman looked uneasy, “So much damage for such simple wishes?”

Chat just nodded, “Balance needs to be maintained, and each wish is a lesson in human’s foolish nature to try and fix the universe for their own needs and wants. The simple truth of the matter is no lesson is painless. Even the Kwamis can’t change that.”

____________________________________________

“Why don’t we head to my hotel?” Abeille asked as she stretched. The call to the League had drawn to a close leaving the teens mentally exhausted but giddy, “That way we don’t need to transform again, and we can just tell our parents that we were hanging out in my room instead of each coming up with a cover story. The fact that the Waynes are also staying there just makes it easier for us.”

“Good idea,” Ladybug agreed, “But I want to remind all of you are under no obligation to share your identity if you don’t want to, Red Robin won’t share it with the others even if they ask.”

“I knew Bruce’s identity for like 6 years before I broke into the cave and asked to be Robin. I think I can manage not to spill your secrets” He revealed with a little laugh as his family gave him strained looks.

The Paris heroes laughed before Pegasus, asked for the room they were staying at, quickly opening a portal.

Alfred simply raised an eyebrow, “Well, I expect the meeting went well then?”

Marinette flopped onto the couch with a groan as her transformation fell away, “You guys were not exaggerating with how much of a boy scout Superman is!”

Jason snorted as the other Paris heroes agreed, “Yeah Supes always had a stick up his rear, but J’onn is looking forward to meeting you guys, the dude doesn’t get off the Watchtower much.”

“Maybe he’ll bring M’gann,” Dick suggested, “She always loves meeting new heroes, and I’m sure she and Supey would love to talk magic.”

“Change first,” Bruce ordered, ushering his children back towards the main bedroom, “Then we can hash out anything else we wish tonight.”

____________________________________________

Tim felt himself relax more as the transformations fell around the teens, one by one, each taking time to introduce themselves and their Kwamis to the Bats. Profiles gradually began to fill further in his mind.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Cursive Soft Pink 15, Codenamed- Ladybug. Kwami- Tikki, the Ladybug of Creation. Main Power(s)- Lucky Charm and Miraculous Ladybug. Possible time limit, estimated to be 20 minutes after use of Lucky Charm

Chloe Bourgeois- Delicate Canary Yellow 14, Codenamed- Abeille. Kwami- Pollen, the Bee of Subjugation. Main Power- Venom. Possible time limit estimated to be 15 minutes after the use of Venom.

Kagami Tsurugi- Calligraphed Burgundy 13, Codenamed- Ryuko. Kwami- Longg, the Dragon of Power. Main Power- Elemental Transformations. Possible time limit estimated to be 15 minutes after the use of all three elemental transformations.

Adrian Agreste- Bubble lettered Neon Green 15, Codenamed- Chat Noir. Kwami- Plagg, the Black Cat of Destruction. Main Power- Cataclysm. Possible time limit, estimated to be 20 minutes after use of Cataclysm

Max Kanté- Baskerville Font Deep Golden 13, Codenamed- Pegasus. Kwami- Kaalki, the Horse of Teleportation. Main Power- Voyage. Time limit of Ten Minutes after using Voyage before Forced Detransformation.

Lê Chiến Kim - Buffon Font Grayish Brown 13, Codenamed- King Monkey. Kwami- Xuppu, the Monkey of Jubilation. Main Power- Uproar. Information points towards some type of time limit, but currently unknown

Alix Kubdel- Thin decorative font, Norwolk probably, Icy Blue 13, Codenamed- Bunnyx. Kwami- Fluff, the Rabbit of Time. Main Power- Burrow. Information points towards some type of time limit, but currently unknown.

Finally, he turned to the snake-themed hero, the only one who hadn’t changed back yet only to have considering aqua eyes peering back.

????- ?????, Codenamed- Viperion. Kwami- ?????, the Snake of Chance. Main Power- Second Chance. Possible time limit estimated to be 15 minutes after the use of Second chance (in a single time stream).

The only puzzle left on the Paris team.

“So I’m the only one you haven’t figured out yet,” He asked, a considering look flashing over his face.

Tim shrugged, “The miraculous mess with my power so I can’t see your number while you’re transformed so yes. I haven’t figured out a thing about you yet.”

“Well,” Viperion hummed a sly grin as he leaned into The older hero’s space, “I’m not going to give you an easy answer then, Bird boy.”

Tim couldn’t help the indignant huff, “Bird Boy? I’m older than you!”

“Hmmm,” The smirking snake just served to make the other Bat’s share a look at the display, “Well, Bird Boy. Let’s see how fast you can find me,”

“It’s Red Robin-”

“Yumm~”

Tim’s cheeks burned as his brothers, Chat Noir, Bunnyx, and King Monkey cackled behind him, the other heroes hiding smiles. The younger hero finally pulled back and leaped out of the window and disappearing into the night with a final wink at the stunned hero.

"Looks like you're following in B's footsteps," Dick teased clapping his shoulder, causing the others to laugh harder as Tim tried desperately to find his tongue.

____________________________________________

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

The multiverse trip trope, with the canon Batfam ending up in a No Capes AU, where their counterparts, being equally hyper-competent but having no secret identities to hide or vigilantism as the primary focus for channeling their energies into....are equally ridiculous to all vigilante versions of the Batfam, but in vastly different ways.

With no need to hide his athletic abilities or to try and distance himself from immediate association with his past acrobatics, Dick focuses his time and efforts on gymnastics after Bruce takes him in. He’s an Olympic gold medalist before he’s twenty, hailed for practically reinventing the nature of high-bar routines thanks to his innovative ways of melding elements of his former acrobatics with his gymnastics regimens.

Because of his many medals and natural charisma, he’s also a highly sought after brand face, asked to endorse or act as a spokesmodel for all kinds of things. He takes a particular savage joy in having his revenge on society as a whole, for the grief they gave him growing up, between the jokes about his circus background and ‘garish’ ensembles he patterns after his old costumes. Each year, he himself quietly seeks out talented designers who because of their backgrounds and the elitism of the high fashion world, are only able to advance so far in that industry.

Acting as a silent investor for them with the funds from his endorsement deals, he charms his way through backroom deals and opens the necessary doors to get his designers into the high profile fashion shows that can make designers’ careers, allowing them the much needed opportunities to showcase their designs and get them out into the world and in front of potential buyers.

But in addition to their own designs, Dick then commissions the designers he patrons, to design for him the most absurd things they can come up with. The kind of high fashion wtf’s that Ugly Betty’s wardrobe department could only dream of making, and then making into a punchline. Design for me an outfit you wouldn’t even inflict on your most hated enemy, Dick says to them.

And each year they do, and Dick models those looks personally. Then he sits back with his siblings and cackles with malevolent glee as the snobby ‘it crowds’ of his generation later turn out in droves to purchase his ‘signature looks.’ Strutting around town in imitation of the poise and charisma he pulls off effortlessly - but those, no amount of money can buy, and given they’re the only reason Dick Grayson alone can get away with wearing this stuff and still look as good as he does when doing so - well, the socialite circles inevitably end up looking utterly ridiculous. The harder they try and sell it with artificial confidence that Page Six and talk show hosts see right through, the more they get shredded to pieces with scathing jokes and headlines that put anything they ever managed to come up with to shame.

Meanwhile, the revenue from their frenzied purchases of these ‘must-have’ looks of the season? More than enough to launch the careers of Dick’s designers, right up to the A-List, where Dick leaves them to do what they want and make the most of it, with his eternal gratitude for humoring him and his rich kid eccentricities. (Not that his designers haven’t all since long figured out the joke and gotten vindication of their own out of it, as the designers and buyers who tried previously to shut them out because of their humble backgrounds, now all rush to try and rip off their more out there and high profile ‘Dick Grayson Looks’ with their own versions, over-saturating that particular market demographic just as people start catching on that these designs were always doomed to fizzle without Dick wearing them himself......leaving Dick’s designers with an open, uncluttered path right to the demographics they actually want to sell to, with the designs nobody’s attempted to imitate yet because they were too busy keeping eyes glued to Dick’s peacock ensembles).

Bruce has long since given up expecting he’ll ever understand his various children without them making an effort to translate first.....so the first time he walks in on Dick, Jason and Duke watching E! with a focus they’ve never displayed for sports, and with the coffee table covered in so many papers and flow charts and graphs, the den looks more like a War Room rather than just three of his boys watching Entertainment Tonight with frightening intensity.

Bruce just waits in the doorway for them to notice him and arches one eyebrow when they do. Oh, there’s a point to all of this, he’s sure. But damned if he can figure out on his own just what the hell it might be.

His eldest just beams at him with his thousand watt smile.

“Love me or hate me, they all want to be me,” Dick sing-songs. Then he shrugs innocently, as though that explains it all.

It doesn’t, Bruce is fairly certain.

“Why?” He asks somewhat plaintively, after his struggle to select one of the many, many questions buzzing in his head glitches on that one syllable and refuses to budge until he at least voices that much.

“We’ve been over this, B. Its part of our Twenty Seven Step Plan to Destroy the Upper Class,” Jason says impatiently, still jotting notes in pen on one of the graphs, eyes still locked on the TV. “God, its like you never listen, I fucking swear.”

“That running joke you two had when you were in high school?” Bruce asks blankly, focusing on his two eldest. Duke is paying absolutely no attention to him any way, leaning over to cross something out on the same graph Jason’s working on, scrawling some kind of correction while Jason nods like that makes total sense in whatever bizarre arithmetic they’re all working off of.

Dick sighs in the fond manner of a parent whose child has just done something particularly endearing. “You gotta admit, its kinda cute he still thinks we’re joking when we talk about class warfare.”

“Eh,” Jason grunts noncommittally. “Benjamin Button he is not.”

“If you boys don’t mind, could you do me a favor and make sure to clarify when you’re making fun of me? I have trouble spotting the insults otherwise,” Bruce says dryly.

“But that’s what makes it fun!” Duke says, beaming with his own version of Dick’s thousand watt grin. Equal in intensity, but where Dick’s tends to burst into being all at once like a supernova, Duke’s tends to sneak up on you, slowly increasing the illumination until you realize you’re blinking spots out of your vision and it hits you that you haven’t been able to see anything but blinding luminescence for awhile now, and you don’t even know for sure how long.

“Well how about just this once, you boys take pity on me and cut your old man a break,” Bruce says, still in tones as parched as Saharan dunes. “Explain what I’m looking at here as though I’m five.”

“Christ, B, you’re not freaking geriatric,” Jason mutters. “You’re only in your forties, its way too soon for you to try and milk the senility angle.”

“We’re documenting record of public reactions to the latest fashion crimes of Gotham’s A-List,” Dick cuts off Jason, taking the aforementioned pity on his father as he provides an explanation that is in no way helpful.

Bruce squints at the screen. “But aren’t those the same outfits you wore during your Fashion Week thing last month?”

“Well yeah, but on me they look good,” Dick shrugs.

“Don’t gloat,” Jason says to his brother. “It’s tacky.”

“Facts are facts,” Dick says without a hint of apology. “Lying in the name of false modesty would be the true dishonesty.”

“Incredible. You even manage to put a pious-sounding spin on being an egotistical shit,” Jason marvels. “How do you do that?”

Dick shrugs again. “It’s a gift.”

Bruce clears his throat. “And what’s all this documentation for, anyway?”

“Dick’s book,” Duke says matter of factly. Bruce would be flattered by his children’s apparent belief he can intuitively leap from one esoteric comment straight to an epiphany like some kind of goddamn gazelle - if he weren’t still so lost.

“Dick has a book? Since when? I thought Jason was the writer in this family,” Bruce frowns. “And I’m quite certain there was a big to-do made when you were all much younger, where it was decided that each of you would focus yourself on distinct pursuits not overlapping with any other siblings’, so as not to kill each other in your inevitable quest to be number one.”

“Well first off, Dad, if you couldn’t handle a little competition between your children, you shouldn’t have adopted competitive children,” Dick lectures absently, still scribbling away at those damn pages.

“Its not like you all came labeled with future character traits,” Bruce says crankily. They ignore him.

“And secondly, upon discovering that the agreement we all signed was the end product of carefully dropped hints aimed at making us believe we all came to the table of our own volition, when in fact, they were merely the machinations of the mastermind known as our meddling father,” Jason intoned, finally looking up at Bruce to raise one eyebrow at him significantly, “the Treaty of Wayne Manor’s South Family Room circa 2012, was thus deemed by all signatories to be fruit of the poisonous tree, and subsequently rendered null and void.”

Bruce’s frown deepens. “How did you figure that out? And why are you suddenly talking like a Bond villain?”

“Well it was mostly more of a theory until just now,” Dick beams at him. Dammit. You’d think he’d know better than to walk right into things like that by now. “But Tim had a hunch pretty much from the start, except then we all ended up branching out towards different interests anyway so it didn’t seem to matter that much, and we figured why not let you keep thinking you got a win there, you know?”

“I have the most thoughtful children.”

“We do try,” Jason hums.

“We try,” Duke snorts. “You add snarky commentary.”

“That was implied.”

Duke rolls his eyes and rolls right past that. “And Jason’s talking like that because he’s got that book tour coming up in a couple weeks, and he’s test driving new Eccentric Author Aesthetics.”

“Gotta give the people what they want,” Jason shrugs. “My fanbase expects the precociously grumpy darling of the New York literary circuit to be baffling and unpredictable, I give them baffling and unpredictable.”

“And here I thought you’d said you hated your fanbase. And rather then giving them anything, last I heard you were claiming to be withholding your sophomore manuscript just to spite them,” Bruce says. His voice is still lost and wandering in the desert, not a hint of precipitation to be found. “In fact, I distinctly recall wanting to take you out to celebrate the rave reviews of your debut novel, the week of its release. Only you were busy having a diatribe about how ridiculous the reviews were and how nobody had any business calling the barely coherent linguistic finger paintings of an emotionally stunted twenty-one year old the ‘next great American novel’ and it called the entire slate of reviews’ credibility into question as any brains capable of producing thoughts that erroneous should be required to display a count of their individual brain cells before anyone even considers viewing any thought produced by them as potentially being credible.”

“And you thought he never listens,” Duke snickers at his older brother. “Sounds like a direct quote to me.”

Jason just shrugs again, not remotely moved. “Yeah but I hate everything, so its not like that really means anything. Also, I’m full of shit. I thought everyone knew that.”

“He’s not subtle,” Dick informs Bruce.

“Subtlety’s for losers,” Jason defends himself. “Like tact.”

Bruce clears his throat again. “Back to the matter of Dick’s book?”

“Oh, right!” Dick chirps. “I have a book. Well, will have. This is research for it.”

“So you are taking up writing after all?”

“Hah!” Jason barks out loudly. “Dick can’t write for shit. He can’t even write a thank you card, forget about a whole fucking novel.”

“Umm, I can write, I merely choose not to,” Dick sniffs pointedly. Then he rolls his eyes in disgust. “And Jesus Christ, chill, Prince Passive Aggressive. I can’t believe you’re still making such a big deal about that. Let it go already.”

He and Jason both shoot quick looks over at Duke about two seconds after Dick’s last sentence. Duke looks up just in time to catch their glances darting away again.

“Hang on, why did you both look at me, like you thought I was about to start singing that stupid song from Frozen?” Duke frowns at them suspiciously. “You guys do know that I’m not Stephanie, right?”

“Yeah but you have been hanging around her an awful lot lately, and she’s contagious,” Jason points out. Duke’s frown deepens for a moment, but then it wings out of sight and he shrugs, perfectly at ease again.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Anyway, its Dick’s tell-all book on Gotham high society,” Jason continues on. “I’ll be the one actually writing it of course. He’s just the pretty face getting slapped on the cover, but I mean, that’s the only reason people are gonna wanna buy it, so I’ll probably just phone it in anyway.”

Bruce focuses on the only part of that reveal he can handle at the moment. “Jay, you’re not remotely capable of ever phoning something in.”

“How dare you accuse me of having a work ethic. Rude and disrespectful. My reputation isn’t built to withstand that kind of slander.”

“And feel free to mock all you want, but my pretty face on that cover is what’s going to earn me my first SCPF,” Dick announces loftily.

Duke looks up. Opens his mouth. Shakes his head. Closes it. Looks back down. Sighs. Looks back up again.

“Not that I don’t know better than to ask, but what the hell is an SCPF?”

“My version of an EGOT that I just made up while Jay was being offended by a compliment to his work ethic. Spokesmodel, cover model, print model, fashion model. The four cornerstones of the modeling world, which I will then have conquered, leaving me free to move on to other endeavors.”

Jason studies his older brother gravely. Then he shakes his head.

“Even as a complete and utter joke, that combination of words disgusts me. You make me physically nauseous sometimes, you know.”

“Another gift of mine, I suppose. I have so many,” Dick muses, leaning back and examining something on the chart he was scribbling on, as if trying to take in another angle for some no doubt ridiculous reason. Why were his children like this.

“Before this migraine finishes settling in and pitches its tent for the night, anyone care to tell me just what exactly this tell-all will be telling?” Bruce sighs. It was never too early to start damage control when this particular combination of his kids were conspiring together.

“Oh, everything,” Dick says breezily. “Who had affairs, who embezzled from their companies, who bribed or blackmailed or bought off this or that. All kinds of juicy sordid stuff, real page turner stuff, you know? You’d think important people would do a better job of keeping high stake secrets all hush hush instead of dropping them all willy nilly at various galas over the years, but c’est la vie.”

“Its almost like there are potential hazards to condescendingly assuming the uneducated circus brat someone adopted as an obvious PR stunt, like, just can’t understand a lick of what people say around him, what with his thick foreign accent obviously conveying he just don’t know English words so good nope, nope, nopers,” Dick concludes merrily, a familiar sparkle in his eye. One that usually heralded social cataclysms to come.

“And so you’ve taken it upon yourself to warn the public of those potential hazards. Good for you, son,” Bruce says sardonically. Despite his best efforts, the corners of his lips keep tugging stubbornly upwards.

“Just trying my best to give back to the community that’s given me so much,” Dick shrugs in the closest approximation to an ‘aw shucks’ vibe that Bruce has ever seen his son manage in as long as he’s known him. Jason reaches over and smacks the back of Dick’s head.

“Hey!” The elder brother snaps back, rubbing the back of his head with wounded dignity. He glares at his smirking brother.

“My bad. I thought you were against false modesty. Just trying to help keep you honest, bro.”

Dick narrows his eyes at him. “Touche,” is all he says.

“Last question before I give up and admit defeat,” Bruce interjects before that escalates. As tends to happen in moments like the previous. With no limit to how long or how far that escalation might last. By his count, his two eldest boys were somehow still engaged in four entirely different extended, longterm feuds they seemed somehow able to treat as separate and distinct from each other, with one of those stretching all the way back a good ten years, and still no end in sight as far as anyone knew.

How did they determine what fights would end in minutes and which warranted stretching out over a course of years? Bruce really couldn’t say. How did they manage to stop and start the same argument off and on for all that time, without letting the last-addressed state of the argument affect how they interacted when their fight was back on ‘pause’? No idea. How did they seem able to treat each different matter they fought about as its own distinct entity that had no bearing on anything outside that particular argument, with no overlap or cross-pollination as far as anyone else had ever been witness to, and why did they even bother doing so in the first place? God, Bruce dearly wishes he knew.

Unfortunately, for all that his entire horde of children often at times seem to exist on a wholly separate and private plane unreachable by the rest of humanity, Bruce’s first two children to fill the halls of Wayne Manor with laughs, screeches and occasional declarations of war and an intent to maim, dismember and murder -

Well. They at times seemed to possess a language and extra senses unique just to them, and baffling to the entire rest of the world and their own siblings as well.

Oh well. At least Bruce could take some small comfort in Duke’s occasional glance of wary confusion, thrown towards one or both of his brothers when they weren’t looking.

“Yo, this is Planet Earth, hailing one eternally out of touch bachelor billionaire way up in the atmosphere,” Jason sharply cuts into Bruce’s distraction with a snap of his fingers. “Are you trying to milk the senility thing again? We’ve been over this. You need at least another decade of mileage before we’ll validate your senior citizen card.”

“Right.” Bruce rolls his eyes at his son, but shakes his head to clear it nevertheless. Ah, yes. “Yes. Indulge me, please. What exactly does what you’re watching have to do with Dick’s....tell-all, and how does whatever all of this is count as research?”

“Oh, we’re just keeping record of public shaming of every snobby rich jackass to buy one of the fashion monstrosities Dick wears at Fashion Week, only to then look utterly ridiculous and absurd when they try and wear it in public and everyone points and laughs,” Duke chimes in.

“I see,” Bruce says, his lips twitching again. “And this of course all ties back into class warfare and...what was it again...oh yes, the Twenty Seven Step Plan To Destroy The Upper Class?”

“That’s right,” Duke nods.

“I even know what the title is going to be already,” Dick smiles with bared teeth. “I’m going with: ‘Weapons of Choice.’“

“Of course, as I keep explaining to him, nobody gets final say on the title of their book, and there’s every chance the publisher will end up changing the title to something they pick,” Jason says with a pointed look at his brother.

Dick’s willful obliviousness visibly deflects Jay’s arched gaze long before any point can hit and make an impact. “And as I keep explaining to him, if they try and change the title, I will simply explain to them that they are incorrect and it already has the perfect title and one can not improve upon perfection.”

Jason strangles a gutteral, incoherent growl before it can fully escape from his throat. “I want to throttle you.”

“I know,” Dick says sunnily.

“Well, as long as you’ve thought this through, which you clearly have, I have no doubt you’ll get the results you’re after,” Bruce says. Doubtfully. Though of what, he’s not entirely sure. His sanity, thinking that yes, half a dozen precocious, willful and utterly incomprehensible children, that’s the ticket, exactly what my life needs. Yes, that was probably the matter actually in doubt.

“Ugh, B, you’re not getting it,” Dick complains. He exchanges frustrated glances with his brothers. “He’s not getting it.”

“It’s not rocket science,” Jason says patiently. “Basic rule of street fighting....the most effective takedowns come from aiming at someone’s weakest point. Whenever possible, go for the throat. What’s the equivalent of the throat as far as Gotham’s upper class is considered? Public image.”

“Destroy their public image, destroy them,” Dick finishes cheerfully. “They crack, get egg on their face like the nursery rhyme says, and bam, Humpty Dumpty has a great fall and all the queen’s knights working as a team still can’t put them together again and while they’re distracted the pawns can slip past them and become queens!”

Jason stares at him. “I know what you’re doing and its not going to work.”

“What am I doing?”

“Deliberately mangling the fuck out of a bunch of different well known sayings that you know perfectly well how they really go, while doing that thing where you act like you’re the most airheaded ditz to ever live and have a brain that runs off of helium instead of oxygen like the rest of us. Because you know damn well how obnoxious that is to anyone who knows exactly how intelligent you really are and that you actually have a mind like a steel trap that remembers fucking everything, no matter how inane, which is fucking rude, because that’s wasted on you and also, stop it. I told you. Its not going to work.”

“Oh Jay.” Dick tilts his head to the side and grins wider. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Uh huh,” Jason says, unconvinced. “Then what, pray tell, are you doing?”

“That thing where I trick you into believing I’m doing the more obvious seeming thing and then annoy you with my fake airhead routine until you end up flattering me and paying me compliments when pointing out why my airhead routine could never work on you and is thus just annoying,” Dick says brightly.

Jason’s eyebrows inch incrementally together with the slow, ominous scrape of stone grinding across stone. Dick is entirely undeterred, and simply shrugs again with a painfully fake display of innocence.

“Its dinner time and my ego needed feeding. Thanks for that bee tee dubs, it was getting hungry. Nom nom.”

“Yeah,” Jason says casually, after a good ten second pause. He nods decisively. “Okay, I’m going to murder you now.”

He lunges for his brother, but Dick’s resting pose is the equivalent of anyone else impatiently waiting at the starting block of a race. He’s up and on his feet, gracefully dancing out of range of his younger but bigger brother’s wider reach, and has darted halfway towards the other exit to the room by the time Jason finishes scrambling to his feet. Not that any of that delays the younger man from taking off in a dead sprint in pursuit of his laughing sprite of a brother the second he does.

Bruce stares after them for a moment and then shifts his gaze down to Duke, who’s still seated contentedly on the floor, blithely unaffected by Dick and Jason’s mad dash out the room as he continues scribbling down notes.

“I will pay you all the money I have, not to grow up to be like them,” Bruce says in the gravest possible tone he can manage. “You don’t even have to wait til I’m dead.”

Duke sighs and shakes his head. “B, c’mon, man. I’m clearly on Team Class Warfare. I’m insulted you think I can be bought.”

Bruce frowns. “You all are way, way too fond of this trolling thing you do.”

“Mmm. Agree to disagree.”

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cleverbxrd · 4 years

Text

What Were You Expecting?

WHO: Dick Grayson / @cxrcusbxrd , Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd / @rxdshood , Ra’s al Ghul MENTIONED: Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Talia al Ghul WORD COUNT: 4,141 LOCATION: Ra’s’ current evil hidey-hole THE BASICS: Two Birds (and a Bat) walk into a secret League of Assassins base... TW: Comic/Action Movie Level Violence, Slight Trauma, Injury, Murderous Intent, Past Death Mention, Deus Ex Grayson

DICK: None of this was easy. Nothing about having to rescue a member of their family, their little dysfunctional clan, was remotely easy. It had taken them this long to even find out a possible place where Tim had been taken to, and even then something felt very off. Maybe it was uncharted territory, maybe it was the fact that he'd told Jason to lead the charge alone, call him over com if he couldn't find anything. The seconds were ticking away, and he wasn't keeping as strict a timer as he felt he should. Nightwing was currently on lookout duty, guarding their secretly made entryway into the compound, looking out for what he could only assume were ninja, assassins, that Ra's had employed on monitor duty. No one in or out, sounded on par. Luckily he hadn't run into anyone he needed to crack the skulls of, but even that put him on edge. It was like the Demon's Head was just waiting for them. If Steph hadn't been enough of a warning, this eerie silence while he waited for his younger brother's call... Ah Hell, Jason wasn't going to get back to him, not like this. Guy was probably looking for the source. Who could blame him? They were all reckless, very much to their own faults. If they wanted to be smart about this, though, they couldn't take the direct path to the one who started it all. Maybe a crash-course in their strategy would've been effective. Dick had to stop himself in his mental tracks. Relinquishing lead was hard, but he trusted Jason, trusted his instincts. They'd both been trained by the same guy... So why was he so damn nervous?

Maybe it was the fact that he felt someone's eyes on him in the fraction of a second he'd had a momentary panic about weather or not they were approaching this entire situation correctly (and really, who's going to say if it was right or wrong? Sometimes you have to call a shit-ton of audibles). Dick's white-lensed eyes squinted into the darkness, a hairline trigger activating infrared to see if he could really find who he was sure was watching him, watching them. It didn't take long before he reached behind his shoulders to pull the electrified escrima sticks from his back, settling into an all too familiar low defensive stance. If there was one thing he was sure of he wasn't going to take this impromptu mission any less seriously than his more 'normal', less paranoia-inducing ones. I'm getting my brother back.

"I know you're out there," He finally called out, the weapons crackling to life with charged light, just barely illuminating the small area that he stood his ground. "Show yourself!"

BRUCE: The boys were doing what the boys did, ignore his orders and get themselves into trouble. It was an old song and dance by now, one he had hoped they already knew the steps to, though he supposed that their urgency, their panic, blinded them to the inevitability of it all.

Did they truly think they would go on a rescue mission without him finding out? That he would really allow them to charge headfirst into Ra’s hands without him having a say in it? He didn’t know if that reflected poorly on him or proved that as grown as they were his sons were all still boys in the end.

Bruce perched atop the roof, his brow furrowed underneath his cowl as his planted device hummed, an EMP knocking out the motion sensors throughout the grounds before the bat took a running leap to glide closer to his target, Dick.

He landed with a dull thud, his jaw clenched as he stood to his full height.

“You’re jumpy,” Bruce said simply, his attention turning to the ‘Thwip’ of two guards being lifted and secured behind Dick’s back, “and sloppy. I was under the impression you two were conducting a stealth mission.”

DICK: Ah. Shit.

Hi dad. Er, second dad. The dad that didn't bother to adopt him officially until he'd been well past Ward status.

Still, the familiar sight of a bat-eared cowl did nothing to prevent the squinted lenses from narrowing further, the stance he'd taken relaxing only a fraction. He was still on edge, still on high alert. Bruce was good, as he always was, and caught him off guard. Sloppy.

He didn't need to be told twice, less-than-happy flashbacks of hours on hours of training popping in and out of subconsious memory... this wasn't the time to be reminiscing on weather or not you actually wanted to give the old man the argument of a lifetime.

"It was," Nightwing sighed, absently twirling one of the lightened sticks in his hand. "But something tells me it's a bit hard to be stealthy against literal ninja." Assassins, same difference. Squaring his blue-lined shoulders, the former sidekick faced his mentor with a grimace. "How the hell did you find us, Bruce?"

BRUCE: Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes at Dick's tense posture. He was glad he was on guard, they always had to be in these situations, but a bigger part of him wanted to scold him for following Jason into this suicide mission without backup, without him.

Tim was his ward, his robin, his son. He needed to be here.

For more reason than one, given the boys lack of forethought.

He simply hummed in acknowledgement. He could dissect their plan at a later date. Tonight was about getting their boy back.

"There are trackers imbedded into the fabric of your suit." He answered plainly. Dick didn't need to know about the trackers he had on Jason, nor the ones he had in the very sticks he held in his hands. A bat needed some secrets, after all.

"Come on, there are guards to the north that we need to clear out for our escape route."

DICK: Maybe it was the fact that he'd been on edge ever since Tim had gone missing without a trace. Maybe it was years of pent up aggression that he'd never fully let himself come to term with. Maybe it was the fact that he was still being treated like a sidekick. There were reasons Dick had made the jump to Bludhaven, then New York; He had to get out of The Shadow. Easier said than done, apparently

"Track-?" The hushed word fell short as his eyes suddenly went wide, looking down at the no-doubt invisibly weaved nanotech. God damnit, Bruce. "... You..." Seething, he hissed through clenched teeth instead of finding the right word. Of course he would've slipped up on that minor detail in his blind rage, the sudden need he had to bring his brother out here and bring Ra's to justice. No doubt, he was getting a full mission report after this, as if it wasn't his own, Jason's own, mission to carry out.

Still... Having one of the best in the biz probably wasn't the worst thing in the world. With the Batman, this mission could take less time than he was sure it would've taken them. Hell, he hadn't heard the signal yet. With a bit of time, he was sure he'd hear that familiar tweet. He really hoped so anyway.

"Fine," Nightwing huffed, semi-reluctantly dropping his head. "You'd better be prepared. This creep's been waiting for this for ages."

~~~

JASON: There was something unnerving about any and all League bases to Jason. It made his skin crawl and feel the urge to turn tail and run as fast as he could away. A child turned into a weapon, blood staining hands that couldn't be washed away now. Some for people deserving of it, some for those perhaps that didn't, but it was too late to try to attempt to feel remorse now. If he even did at all. It was apart of him now, a way of life he had come to accept and wasn't something he shied away from. Memories from this part of his life were broken at best, flashes of memories he could vaguely recall. Hands around the throat of someone he had been ordered to kill, the offense unclear, but the order firm, the anxiety bubbling up. Too intimate, too much, too close. Finishing the job and resolutely deciding silently from then on killing from a distance was mandatory. Maybe there was some psychology behind Jason's decision to choose guns as his primary choice of a weapon, but that wasn't something he ever really wanted to get into.

For now, Jason had to push away the anxiety and insistent jagged memories to push forward, steel himself to do what he came to do. Save Tim, bring Tim home. Dick had told him to lead the charge, be the leader for once. Jason hadn't really known what to do with that other than take the reigns and push forward, take the information they knew and act. It had been long enough, far too long, and they were getting their little brother back.

Things were quiet. Too quiet. It only added to the anxiety that stayed firmly building in Jason's chest he refused to show, thankful for the helmet that hid any and all facial expressions that might slip through the ever so diligent Bat training. Winding halls and diverting from any potential hiccups. Naturally, a few heads were knocked together, silencer on his gun as he shot to take incapacitate—not kill. No matter how much he wanted to put the bullet through the assassins' eyes rather than a knee.

Inching further along, Jason got to where he intended. Not Tim, no. Ra's al Ghul. "Love what you've done with the place, Ra's. A lot more spooky chic than you had before. I'm sure Talia would hate it." The younger man hummed, a few quick shots sending the remaining assassins in the room sprawling out on the floor. "Don't worry, nothing a few surgeries can't do to fix them right up. Or do you prefer to put them down? Memory's a bit spotty from when I was here last time." He sneered under the helmet, gun trained on the man in question now—though silently he was unsure if this was a genius plan or completely idiotic. Probably the latter.

"My brother. I want him back. I'm not leaving without him."

RA’S: Ra's was no fool. He hadn't expected the Bat clan to simply roll over and accept that Timothy was out of their reach now. Many of Bruce Wayne's children had ended up under Ra's care over the years, before or after meeting the billionaire: Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra.

One would think that eventually, Bruce would get better at keeping them out of his hands. But getting to Tim had been easy.

Keeping him was bound to be a bit trickier, so Ra's had called in some reinforcements. One could never be too careful. Loading the board visibly wouldn't be much of a deterrent but would show his hand, so instead Ra's had kept the halls of this hideaway under their normal guard--at least, as far as could be seen. Timothy was locked away deeper into the complex , accompanied by a handful of men under orders to put a bullet in the boy's head before letting him be taken back.

He'd never professed not to be possessive.

Jason came charging into the chamber where Ra's was waiting, and the ancient assassin didn't even blink as his men dropped with groans around him. Nor was he particularly bothered by having a gun leveled at his face.

"Well, since you're asking--yes, I would prefer you aim for their heads in the future. Saves me the work," Ra's answered calmly, taking a step in Jason's direction. The man's demand earned an amused scoff. "Ah. Well, then, I'm afraid you won't be leaving. Timothy will be staying with me. You're welcome to request visits." Ra's smiled, icily. "I do so miss having you around, al'ahmar. You were very entertaining." Ra's reached up to his own throat, unclasping his cape and laying it over a chaise in passing.

"Now, where is your father? I do prefer dealing with the one in charge. Smoothes the process. And I know they didn't trust you to run it, not their little stray bird."

Ra's smirked. "Did Grayson tell you, by the way? That you and dear Timothy have a new shared experience?"

JASON: Jason always could feel the oncomings of his pit rage. It had taken a good few years to be able to do just that. At first, it was uncontrollable. He lashed out at so many of the men that worked for Talia and destroyed a hotel room once in a fit of rage upon finding out he had been replaced. Now his said replacement was someone he considered his little brother and wouldn't be leaving without. If he wouldn't be leaving then so be it. As long as Tim left.

Jason snarled under the helmet and could feel the haze creeping forward in his head, if his eyes were visible he was sure they'd flash an even more eery shade of green than they had been changed to from the pit effects. Every word that left Ra's mouth only fueled and poked at the fire. "He's not my father," a reflect, venom dripping from the four words. "You get me. No big bat or other birds to play babysitter. I don't do so well without supervision, I hear."

Jason didn't see red. No, he saw green, and in an instant he surged forward and whipped the gun across the older man's face. He shoved it back into his thigh holster as his other gloved hand closed around Ra's throat. He wanted his blood to paint the walls, to see him choke on his own blood and die slowly. The urge to do what he could to finish him clawed at his chest violently. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking watch you choke on your blood and step on your throat to make it even more agonizing. To put you in a fucking body bag would be a goddamn dream come true!"

RA'S: Jason was so very easy to get under the skin of. He had died scared and angry and came back scared and angrier, the former beaten out until all that was left was rage. Ra's knew better than anyone else on Earth what the Pit could do to the mind, the way its haze could seep through the mind and obscure all but the urge to tear people apart. He'd had centuries to adjust.

Jason had not--he was a constantly ticking time bomb. And Ra's enjoyed prodding at him to set him off. "Oh, my. You still hold a grudge about being replaced, and yet you're here to retrieve your replacement. Interesting choice. But then, you never were the bright one."

It was, of course, the mention of what he'd done to Timothy that set the man off fully, and even Ra's had to concede that Jason was fast. The blow to the face stung, but Jason shoved his gun away as quickly as it'd come out, opting for more up-close fighting.

Poor choice.

Ra's let the man tighten his grip, brought both arms up between them so his forearms were against the man's shoulders, and then hooked his leg around Jason's and pushed, sending them both to the ground.

He snapped an arm up to deliver a sharp elbow to the chin, and then used the momentum to snap the same arm back against the one with the grip on his throat, hitting the crook of Jason's elbow to loosen his hold.

"You know better than to think you can beat me, let alone kill me, al'ahmar. But I won't deny the pleasure of a fight if that's what you insist on--it'd bring me no greater pleasure than to have Bruce Wayne know that I took you from him again. One more dip in the Pit, and maybe the madness doesn't stay back." His own eyes flared with that poisonous shade of green.

"You won't kill me, even if you could. He'd be dead before you ever got your hands on him."

JASON: Jason's head jerked up and he tasted blood immediately, likely from biting down on his tongue. The minor pain was nothing compared to the burn that was spreading through him as he fell into his Pit induced rage. His arm buckled, fingers loosening around Ra's' throat. That only served to piss him off further. He was literally rolling in the dirt with Ra's al Ghul. His life was a joke, but whatever the cost. He'd get Tim out of this. Even if he didn't—

"I didn't know you were in the business of making balloon animals now, al Ghul. You're taking credit for a clown's handiwork. Do you prefer Boo Boo the Fool or Chuckles?" Jason spat out through the voice modulator of his helmet, bringing a knee up to connect with any body part he could reach, gain some traction. Maybe he wasn't the best at hand to hand combat compared to the other birds, but he wasn't bad at it by any means. He also had size on his side, more muscles and height than the others did to use to his advantage.

The hand that loosened from Ra's throat snapped up to shove palm up at his nose hard and fast, disorient him any way he could. "Maybe I won't, but I do know I'll make it hurt like hell before you can even think to get your grubby paws on him again. Where do you prefer your stab wounds? You know what? I'll surprise you!" In the scuffle of their bodies, Jason whipped his knife out of his belt and slashed at his torso.

RA'S: A clown? Really. Ra's felt his anger ratchet up another notch at the mockery, hissing out between his teeth as Jason's knee collided with his ribs. The younger man wasn't much for technique, but he was strongly built, and even stronger when the Pit started pressing its way forward. Ra's could take blows from your average man with barely a shrug, but Jason, despite not being particularly skilled as Grayson and Damian were, could land some stinging blows.

"He put you down the first time," Ra's grunted, just barely managing to avoid the blow at his nose, "but I'll be happy to do it the second go round. But I took you from Bruce in the ways that matter, didn't I? Seeing you dead was one thing, seeing you a killer was another. Does he still look at you like you're someone else?"

Jason's threats were nothing. What was pain to a man who'd lived as many lifetimes as Ra's, who'd been hurt and killed and brought back more times than he cared to count? Ra's would always come back. Jason Todd would die and stay dead the next time he went down. Jason grabbed at a knife, swiped at his side, and the blade sliced through cloth and skin like it was so much paper, even as Ra's started to roll off the man. The ancient assassin snarled, and drew a dagger of his own as he got to his feet, ignoring the crimson that started to paint the side of his robes. His own eyes were the same poisonous green as Jason's now, the Pit rearing to the forefront at the drawing of blood. "The only one who can set your brother free is me, Todd. My men will end his life before you get a foot through the door if I don't give the order. And you think you can make me? You're even stupider than I gave you credit for."

JASON: The younger man was entirely too thrilled in seeing the old man get irritated by his poking and prodding. Jason knew one of his assets was his ability to piss people off purely by speaking. Maybe it was reckless to get the already rage filled man angry, but it was his job after all. He was only doing what he was supposed to, lead the charge. If that had some consequences...oh well. At least they'd be getting Tim back. He wasn't leaving until they did.

The words had Jason biting his tongue, the blow landing as he was sure it was intended. He practically snarled. "What can I say? I've always been the black sheep of the family. Even before the whole 'Jason, this isn't the way!' shtick he was on." He pushed himself to his feet and flipped his knife in his hand, letting out a pleased chuckle to see the red staining the assassin's robes. "I'm sure you can get that out with a little scrubbing. Nothing a little elbow grease can't do. You do know how to do that, right? Manual labor?" Even with the helmet, he was visibly bored. He was angry, but then again, he was always angry. He was good at putting a front, lying was easy, especially for a bat. Might as well poke and prod some more while he was at it.

The stupid remark made Jason's jaw tic and he only laughed. "I didn't need to make you do anything, al Ghul. I just had to distract you." There was a pause and Jason let out a Robin call, the signal to Dick. The signal all Robins knew. "How's it feel being played by someone you think is stupid?" He sneered and immediately pushed forward, slashing out with his knife once more.

RA'S: The jab seemed to land as intended, judging by the moment of silence that preceded the sharp-toned reply lobbed his way. It had never been hard to get under Jason's skin, and it certainly wasn't hard now that the Pit ran through his veins.

Unfortunately, that same Pit had amped up Jason's speed, too. Ra's glowered at the taunts. "Don't you condescend to me, boy. You know nothing of work." Ra's took a step closer, feinted for a stab at the man's side before swiping for his throat beneath the helmet.

I just had to distract you. Ra's eyes narrowed for a moment before he recognized what the call was, and then he sneered, retreating back as his gaze flicked around the room for evidence of the imminent arrival of the rest of the little flock. "Needed a babysitter after all, did we, Todd? Wise of them not to trust you to manage this yourself. Now why don't you go run along while I deal with the grown ups, hm?"

DICK: "Who're you calling grown up?"

The quip was too easy to let loose, even though every bone in his body refused to add any humor behind it. The blue bird stood just behind Jason, hidden partially in the shadows while he approached the apparently on-going fight. He was putting a stop to that, stopping the recklessness of his younger brother... From doing exactly what he would be doing too. "You're pretty twisted if you think both of us wouldn't come for Tim, Ra's." Not to mention the big bad Bat doing all the hard work in the background. Granted, he'd upped security tenfold for this kind of invasion. Clearly, they didn't keep quiet about their invasion. That would be something they'd be scolded for later... Well, himself, mostly. Just one look out of the corner of his eye looked like Jason would be laid up in Alfred's infirmary for a bit... And he didn't even want to think about how bad Tim had it.

"Don't even think about following me," Dick sneered, the white lenses of his mask thinning in his hard squint, moving to hook an arm quickly around the back of Jason's shoulders, attempting to not topple over from the sudden transfer of weight. He was hit that was for sure now. He didn't have time to assess, but they needed to get back to Gotham stat. The glowing stick in one hand, he tapped the non-electrified end against his hip, two black marbles bouncing onto the floor. Without looking down, the vigilante placed his heel on top of the two, drawing his teeth back in a final animalistic sneer. "And don't fuck with my family."

Just the barest transfer of weight had the two spheres busting open under his foot, thick smoke filling the area where the two Robins once stood. Dick was sure this was one of the oldest 'ninja' tricks in the book, that they'd be easily tracked, but that would have to wait for worrying later. It took adrenaline and effort, but he was running with the intent to save. This time, he wouldn't be stopped.

No Robins left behind, he thought, breaching through to the rendezvous point, nearly letting tears loose when he saw the other retrieved bird being hoisted into transport. Never again.

#discord tag tbd

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onceuponanotherassumption · 4 years

Text

All that I know is I don't know a thing (Jason Todd x Reader) Part 4

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Bruce and Selina, and is dating Jason. She used to work at the city’s hospital but had to quit when she found out that someone has been stalking her at work.

(A/N) I’m sorry for the long ass wait, I don’t know why it took this long but it’s here now—rising from the dead. Hopefully some people are still looking forward to the last of this series.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

It must have only been a few hours ever since (y/n) woke up in the basement and yet, she already has a perfect grasp of her captor’s unstable mentality. Depending on her choice of words, Jack was either civil or downright manic. As if his behaviour was always tipping on the precipice between normal and aggressive. But if the right cards were played, she could easily get herself out without warranting the need to maim anyone. Too busy with her thoughts, (y/n) doesn’t hear the door unlock until Jack crouches down in front of her with a frown on his face.

“I brought you a gift.” She slightly jolts at his sudden appearance, not expecting for him to show up. Jack tilts his head towards a certain direction, and (y/n) follows suit. She pales at what she finds. There was now a cork board hanging on the wall with numerous pictures of her pinned on it. Majority of them were obviously stolen photos, some even had Jason on them but his face was scribbled on with a marker. “I have a lot more photos, but those were the best ones. Do you like it?”

“Jack...” (y/n) tries to voice out a proper response but her mouth felt too parched to even utter a single word.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?” There was genuine concern in his tone, like he really did care about her well-being but (y/n) knew better than to trust him.

“I need to go home—“

“No! You’ll be staying here, you can’t leave! This is your home!” And there it was, his manic side taking over. Jack slams a hand on the wall as if to prove a point, a pained look on his face as he eyes (y/n). “Why can’t you understand that I love you?!”

(y/n) couldn’t help but flinch at the loudness of his tone. The cuffs were starting to chafe her wrists the more she tried to move her hands, and there weren’t any nearby objects behind her to help her get them off. What else could she do? Her eyes survey the basement once more, stopping at the sight of her pictures hastily pinned on the corkboard. A thought crosses her mind.

“Jack...?” She calls out, immediately getting his attention. “Can’t you just let me go?”

“No! You’re not allowed to!”

“Didn’t you say that love you me?” She tries again in the most pitiable voice she could muster. Jack recoils, face reddening from her words.

“I do...”

“But you know what would really make me love you?”

“What?”

“If you take these away.” (y/n) gestures to her bounded hands. “It’s starting to hurt my wrists, won’t you at least get rid of it?” She sees him contemplate his choices, a hesitant look on his face as he approaches her.

“Promise you won’t run away?”

“I promise.” (y/n) mutters softly, holding his gaze. A few seconds of silence pass by before Jack leans down on one knee in front of her, taking out a small key from his back pocket. With a surprising amount of care, he unlocks the metal cuffs open.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll come back in a moment with your food,” He gets up, still on guard in case the other tried something. When (y/n) remains seated on the ground, rubbing her reddened wrists, Jack backs away and heads for the door. At the sound of it being shut and locked, a breath of relief escapes (y/n). What was the best course of action for this kind of situation? Although Jack’s personality was bordering on the erratic side, he has yet to harm her nor take advantage of her vulnerability. The man had an obsession over her but (y/n) didn’t want to stay long enough to find out if it was harmless or not. While walking in circles to soothe her aching limbs, she spies a glint in the dim-lit room from her peripheral vision. She raises a brow in curiosity.

——

“I found her.” Selina immediately drops what she was doing and heads to where Bruce was seated in front of his many monitors, trying to make sense of what she was looking at. “She’s still wearing her necklace, so that made everything easy. Jack may have managed to take her but he isn’t smart enough to check for trackers.”

“There’s a chip in my daughter’s necklace?”

“Jason gave it to (y/n) on her birthday.”

“And he had it chipped with her permission?” Selina questions once more, not believing for a second that her daughter would willingly let herself wear a tracker at all times. (y/n) had a personal vendetta against them, she had a great dislike at the notion of her whereabouts being monitored and had made it absolutely clear to everyone. Even Jason, who was all for making sure that his girlfriend was out of harm’s way, respected her decision.

“Uh...Jason doesn’t know it’s chipped, neither does (y/n).” With squinted eyes, Selina urges him to continue. “I...may have replicated the original necklace and hid a tracker in it...”

“Bruce!”

“I did it in case of emergencies! And now we know where she’s being kept.” Bruce avoids the sharp glare directed at him, and moves away from Selina to grab an earpiece off the side to turn it on.

“We’re talking about this later.” She says with finality, a dangerous aura surrounding her.

“I know. But there are more important matters right now,” Turning on the earpiece, he hears two of his sons bickering back and forth. Bruce could already feel a headache coming. “Boys, stop arguing. I got (y/n)’s location.”

“Where?!” Bruce flinches at the sudden loudness, the sound making his ears rings.

“Jason, you need to—“

“Bruce, where is she?!” Jason exclaims, a combination of panic and impatience clear in his tone.

“Second house in Cremore Street, the one with the windows boarded up. You aren’t that far away.”

“On my way.”

“Jason, don’t go by yourself! For the love of—“ Before Bruce could say anything else, Jason had already disabled his own earpiece and evidently shutting off communication.

“Should’ve known he would’ve done that, Bruce.” Dick lets out a small chuckle, finally making his presence known. Bruce couldn’t help but groan in frustration. “Still need me to come there?”

“No, we can handle it.”

“Gotcha. Call me in case you do need any help, I’m just a car ride away.”

——

At the sound of a door lock being fumbled with, (y/n) mentally tries to calm down while hiding a rusty old wrench in the back of her jeans. She found the thing earlier behind a dust-covered storage box in one side of the room, relieved that she finally had something to defend herself with when the situation called for it.

In all honesty, (y/n) didn’t understand why she felt odd towards Jack. She knew how to defend herself, and her hand to hand combat skills weren’t that bad as well. She was a vigilante on the sidelines for the love of all that’s good. There was nothing to be afraid of. But...the man just exuded this uncomfortable aura around him that made her skin crawl. Then again, (y/n) couldn’t just attack him all willy nilly without a plan. The man was most likely armed and one wrong move could lead to her getting injured.

“(y/n), I brought you food.” Jack kneels down to her eye level and places a platter of food on the ground in front of her, only providing a fork for her to use.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on, just a couple bites. It would make me happy, sweetheart.” (y/n) so badly wanted to cuss him out for the pet name but decided against it. She stares down at the food in distaste. It looked as if he just chopped up some leftover vegetables in the fridge alongside a small portion of some kind of meat.

“I’ll eat it later—“

“Eat it. Now.”

“Jack, are you forcing me to eat when I just told you I wasn’t hungry? That’s not the way to behave if you want me to like you...”

“N-No! I’m sorry! It’s fine, you can eat whenever you feel like it.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” And with that, he turns his back on her. (y/n) keeps her eyes on his hand as he rummages for the keys in his pocket. Without making too much of a noise she creeps closer, pretending to be enthralled by the collection of her photos hanging on the wall. Once she hears the door knob turn, she purposely pulls the board off the wall and it ends up crashing on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I was just looking at the pictures.” (y/n) fakes a gasp, turning to the man with widened eyes. Jack shakes his head to tell her that it was fine, and goes to collect the board to hook it up again. When he bends down, (y/n) takes the wrench hidden behind her top and brings it down to the back of his head.

The rusted old wrench proved to be not so completely useless as Jack drops to the ground, knocked unconscious from the force of her hit. She didn’t feel an ounce of guilt at all, there wasn’t any blood nor did she whack the back of his head hard enough to cause potential brain damage. So excluding the sizeable bump on his head, he was practically scotch free. Heaving a long sigh, (y/n) takes the keys from Jack’s pocket and unlocks the door to the basement. She didn’t have any of her belongings with her. But then again it wasn’t like she was given a choice to do so, considering she was kidnapped in the confines of her own home. Jack should at least own a phone, the only problem was where he kept the thing. Luckily, she didn’t need to do a lot of searching when a familiar ear-piercing sound of a motorcycle echoes outside. (y/n) perks up, heading to the front door that happened to be carelessly left unlocked.

“Shit, are you are alright?!” Jason comes running up towards (y/n) the moment he sees her figure by the door. He pulls her into a crushing hug, ignoring the noise of protest coming from the young woman. As soon as he releases her, he starts checking from head to toe for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine, very much unscathed as you can see.”

“You can never be too sure.”

“Look, I’m absolutely unharmed. He didn’t do anything to me.” At the mention of her captor, a look of anger washes over Jason.

“Where’s that fucker?”

“Calm down, he’s knocked out in the basement.”

“How…how did you escape?”

“I just want to go home right now, I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

Jason relents with the questions, figured that the girl had enough for one day. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew that was (y/n)’s way of telling him that she didn’t want to talk about the incident anymore. It will eventually come up again sooner or later. With a hand on the small of her back, he nudges her over to where he haphazardly left his bike. All of a sudden a black car comes speeding by and abruptly stops next to them, tires skidding noisily on the road. Jason has half the mind to curse the driver out for being so reckless but the door to the passenger side opens as Selina comes bounding up to her daughter.

“Are you okay?!” She hurriedly lets out, almost suffocating (y/n) in her embrace.

“Let me breathe properly, and I will be.” (y/n) chokes out, tapping her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Selina doesn’t show any signs of letting go, and (y/n) glances at Jason for help. The latter only shrugs in response with a smirk on his face, and she couldn’t help but scoff. “I’m okay, mom.”

“Jack Summers, where is he?” Bruce closes the car door behind him and walks up to the two with a serious look on his face.

“In the basement—wait, dad!” With the amount of strength that she could muster to set herself free from her mother’s hug, she tugs his sleeve to keep him from walking towards the house. Bruce could only look at her with silent confusion. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing but don’t be too hard on him. The guy’s harmless—“

“Harmless enough to kidnap you from home?”

“Look just…I’ll explain later.” When Bruce continues to look unconvinced, (y/n) heaves a tired sigh. “Dad, please?” She mutters in a small voice.

“Fine.” Bruce abruptly responds, before heading inside the house to presumably take care of Jack.

After a couple more minutes of fussing from Selina, she reluctantly lets her ride back home on Jason’s bike promising to meet up at the manor for dinner to discuss a few important things. Ergo, a certain tracker in someone’s necklace (but she didn’t need to find out about that yet). (y/n) tiredly smiles at the sight of her mother waving a hand at her and she reciprocates the gesture, watching the elder get inside the house in search of Bruce. Jason starts the engine of his bike, handing her a spare helmet for her to wear.

“I don’t think I’ll be working any time soon…not after what happened. A break sounds nice at the moment.” (y/n) belatedly sighs, running a hand through her hair before putting the helmet on.

“Well, in that case…”

“Hmm?” She makes an acknowledging noise from the back of her throat, taking a seat behind the other.

“You know, we never really got to go on our date.” Jason smirks when he hears the other scoff in amusement.

“How about…” (y/n) moves closer towards him, arms winding around his waist. With amusement twinkling in her eyes, she rests her chin on his shoulder, looking up at him. “We stay at home, cuddle, pass out from watching cliche romcoms, then have dinner with the family?”

“Sounds exciting, I’m down.”

#look who came back to life #mega oof #jason todd x reader #Selina Kyle x Daughter!Reader #red hood x reader #reader insert #reader #jason todd #red hood #dc reader insert #dc fic #dc #dc fanfiction #Selina Kyle #bruce wayne

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