Tumgik
#alfred just deadpans this
girlcored · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
oh okay they agree with me nvm.
0 notes
ew-selfish-art · 6 months
Text
Dp x dc AU: the watchtower gives out very strictly limited passes for visitors. They don’t need the world knowing that their HQ is in space after all, but sometimes family needed to visit.
Batman was the one to install the day pass system back when Dick was Robin- he needed the excuse to send Dick home to Alfred after a certain amount of time has passed and it just stuck. Unless you were a full time member, day passes were the best you got. Engineers and other supportive staff that weren’t members weren’t afforded day passes however- but Jazz is determined to be the one exception.
Jazz Fenton has been a psychologist for the JL for a year now (she just had a very productive performance review, thank you very much) and it’s been killing her to not tell Danny her office is in space. They do weekly dinners that he portals in for, and he knows that she takes a Zeta tube to work, but he’s technically not allowed to know that her office is a satellite. So, she sets a meeting with the man who started the system in the first place.
Batman is hard to read for most but she’s been his therapist for a while now, and she can tell he’s at least considering her request. Dinah couldn’t speak more kindly on Jazz and she’s been an asset to the JL in many ways since she was hired. Jazz’ arguments aren’t preposterous either- she’s submitted all of his identification papers, his background check, his job description and all of his friends names. She assured him that Danny will be able to keep a secret but when pressed she doesn’t reveal if he has any of his own.
Turns out, months of back and forth and negotiations were going be basically worthless- the second Danny got his little wrist band day pass, made it up via the zeta tube and got presented the view of Earth from the observation deck: he immediately transformed. Like zero caution, just went ghost and hyper fixated on the stars.
“You could have mentioned your Brother being Phantom. He’s been an ally to us for a while.” Batman grumbles in the way that only his family and she can tell through his deadpan.
“Yeah, I just thought that would’ve been a second visit conversation.”
3K notes · View notes
dcxdpdabbles · 6 months
Note
Cave boy Danny just casually mentioning things that correspond with Bruce, like the time he stole an experimental power suit and shot a god corresponding with Bruce shooting Darkseid or the Infi-map being like the time Bruce was lost in the time stream, and the bats wondering how this kid can remain a civilian
Danny tried his best to not blink too quickly, as it may cause the stranger to shoot him. He honestly has no idea how he ended up here, but somehow, he was taken hostage alongside a bus full of people on his way to buy some chips.
He got tired of Alfred's instance to ban all junk food from the manor and had snuck out while the Wyanes had been busy going over plans for some big showdown with a guy named Scarecrow.
Danny doesn't know who that is and doesn't care to find out. The less he knows, the less likely he will have to deal with rouge. He's on vacation, dang it.
Or he was until the bus was taken over by a group of men wearing gas masks. They forced their way onto the bus when they stopped for some passengers, forcing the driver at gunpoint to drive them off course, and now they were heading to a wear house. People were crying, but Danny felt like screaming.
He just wanted spicy chips, and- maybe if he had the time- he would swing by the old junkyard to find a steering wheel for his ship! Fenton luck strikes again, it seemed.
"I wouldn't be so smug, Kane," One of the people in a gas mask shouts at him. He blinks up at the woman pointing her gun at his head but scoffs at her stance. His mother would throw a fit if Danny or Jazz ever placed their feet so off balance like that while wielding a weapon. "Once Dr.Crane is done with you-"
"I'm sorry did you just threaten me with myself?" Danny cuts her off. She pauses seemingly thrown before she sputters.
"No- not Kane, Crane."
He blinks at her. "You just said the same thing"
"C-R-A-N-E." She spells in a huff.
"Ohhhhh. Sorry, the mask makes it hard to understand you. Okay, so where were you? Dr. Crane is going to do what with me-?" Danny asks, leaning back in his seat, and waving his hand at her.
There is a moment of silence before she hits him across the face with her gun. "Don't you mock me!"
"Ow." He deadpans, rubbing at his cheek, and wonders if it was supposed to hurt. His healing had vanished the pain before her gun left his skin. "I thought we were having a conversation, but forgive me, I had no idea you had an inferiority complex and assumed everyone was mocking you. Let me guess, no one has ever told you they are proud of you, and now you are defensive of every action you take because-"
"Shut up!" His voice wobbles and Danny knows he hit the nail on the head.
"Does it keep you up at night? Does it freak you out that everyone can see your issues on your face as bright as day? I bet it does it. Bet it causes you to cry like a sad little confused kid who still can't figure out how to ask for help." He doesn't mock. He states it as fact because that is what it was. Fact. She does break down about it; he can tell by her reaction, and his tone makes it all the harder to swallow.
"I'll kill you!"
"Do it." He smiles. "Saves me from your boss. But will that keep you safe? Let's find out! How long will it be before he breaks you down? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes? And he will break you; you know he will. He's already halfway there."
"I-" She stumbles away from him. He doesn't have to see her face to know it's gone pale. Ha.
One of her crew hits her shoulder, having heard him speaking while the rest of the bus stares. "Stop letting him into your head!"
"Oh, what's your name?" Danny asks, blinking his large blue eyes at the man, watching his body language for clues. His eyes zero in on three belts and how they all match up at the buckle despite the fact that they are stacked on top of each other. Didn't Jazz once say that a belt with that much control hinted about attention to detail?
Hmm.
"Is the plan falling apart- can you not control it? The way life just moves on without you and that freaks you out doesn't it. The lake of control?" He asks, and the man jerks back. Bingo.
"Holy shit," A teenager whispers in the back horrified. "It's Dr. Crane jr."
"No, that's the Rabid Dog," Another answer. "Heard he made three elites cry after talking to him for more than ten minutes."
Danny is about to open his mouth when suddenly Robin crashes through the front window. Rude. There is glass everywhere now.
Hours later, Alfred franticly checks him over for injuries while the rest are freaking out. Apparently, they had feared to find Danny screaming from terrible visions but instead found him mentally breaking the hired goons with Jazz's training. "It's not like they did anything. I had a harder time stealing a super suit than those fruitloops-"
"You stole a what?" Tim cuts him off, eyes narrowed. Danny shrugs.
"I mean, haven't we all stolen a super suit?"
"Literally, no one here has done that," Steph tells him, and Danny tilts his head.
"You guys must have had boring childhoods. Surely you at least tried to organize your school into a battle-ready militia? No one can finish school without doing that at least once."
Dick raises a hand. "Brucie, how common is this in your world? Because that's alarming."
"All the kids at my school do that. My graduating class has done it three different times back in freshmen year." He shrugs. Cass makes a strange noise in the back of her throat.
"Not a lie. Brucie is strange," She tells the group, and everyone stares in bewilderment at the boy sitting on the medical table, even Bruce.
Danny smiles at them sweetly like he would at Vlad when the fruitloop is over, and he gets his parents to throw him out sooner than he wants to leave. It curves with just the right amount of innocence and mischievous nature that no one can tell if it's a positive or deadly expression.
"You are from a war-torn world?" Damian inquires, fingers under his chin with a frown. "How are you so carefree?"
"Oh no, we haven't had a war in about- eh fifty years? Give or take." He answers and once again Cass confirms the truth of his words.
This does nothing to settle their nerves.
"Every day I learn more about teenage Bruce, and every day I am more unsettled," Jason announces, and the rest of the Bats nod. Danny's smile turns broader and softer. It makes him more attractive but unsettling in a way.
Alfred sighs with a fond smile. "Oh, the memories. Master Bruce used to smile at his dates in the same way. I can picture him taking that sweet girl to the movies as if though it was yesterday."
"Bruce, how in the world did you get people to date you? That's creepy as hell. " Dick accuses the man who only shrugs.
"Oliver once told me it was part of the thrill. The idea that I could kill them."
"Why!?"
"I wish I knew chum."
Danny slips the control into his sleeve- he will rip it apart later for the Bluetooth piece. He will wait till the Waynes are too busy with Bruce's old stories about his first few dates to take apart the fear gas bomb he took from the woman earlier today. Could he use it as a fuel?
He'll have to do some tests.
2K notes · View notes
clockwayswrites · 7 months
Text
Tim Jr., Coffee Machine Extraordinaire
WC: 2314
Dick worried his lip between his teeth as he looked Tim over. His little brother was standing, zombie-like, in front of the Cave’s coffee machine.
Not that it was unusual.
Just the thing was, Tim had been doing better. His dark circles had been fading, his snippy moments less often, his focus better, and he’d even been putting on some much needed weight. Dick had been so proud (as had Alfred and Bruce). But now the circles were darkening again and Tim was staring at the coffee machine like he used to— like it was his only salvation.
Jason stepped up to Dick’s side, joining him in the bird watching.
“Hey Timbit,” Jason said, breaking the silence of the moment. Trust Jason to get down to it.
“Hum?”
“What happened to your hand?”
Tim blinked down at his gauze wrapped hand as if he had forgotten about the injury. Not a good sign with Tim. Dick was betting on over 48 hours without proper sleep at this point.
“Oh.” Tim said, the exclamation was emotionless. “Tim Junior bit me.”
Dick and Jason exchanged looks. Who now?
“Um, did you get a pet, baby bird?” Dick gently asked.
“Hum?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Who’s Tim Junior, Timberino.”
“Oh.” Tim said. The brothers waited impatiently for Tim’s brain to roll over. “My coffee maker. Little brat refused to make me any…”
“Okay, yep, alright. No patrol for you tonight Timtam,” Jason said with a clap of his hands.
“Wait, what? No. Just let me get some coffee and I’ll be ready to go,” Tim whined.
“I think Jason’s right, Tim,” Dick said, stepping up to gently guide his brother away from the coffee machine.
Tim looked back over his shoulder at the machine as they walked away. Dick could practically see Jason building a plan as he lead them over to the vehicle area.
“We’ll go back to your Nest, Timbuktu. We can keep an eye on the ops from there while the rest of the idiots have to run around in this damn cold. Bet it’s going to sleet later,” Jason said gleefully.
“I see how it is, you just want to be warm. Sure you aren’t just faking those broken ribs to get some extra time off?” Dick asked, playing into the show of it. They just had to keep Tim distracted until Jason had him bundled back up in his apartment.
“Oh no. You’ve found me out,” Jason deadpanned as he tossed Tim his helmet. At least Bat reflexes were still in play and Tim caught the helmet without even looking at it.
“I knew it!” Dick cried, dodging Tim’s smacks as he doubled checked that the helmet was secure. “That’s it. I’m crashing your Nest Party after patrol so you better save me some food.”
“What makes you think there will be food?” Jason asked. His words were tough, but Dick watched him tug Tim’s arms until the other gripped him tightly. Baby bird was in good hands.
“Jaybird,” Dick said, “it’s you, of course there’s going to be food.”
Jason’s short was almost lost over the sound of the motorcycle starting. Dick waved enthusiastically as the bike sped out of the cave before he let his hand and smile both drop.
He really hoped that Tim just needed some sleep.
-
Dick landed silently onto the balcony. The lights were on low inside, changing subtly enough that Dick could tell the T.V. must be on. He found the hidden panel to flip up and enter his codes for the door’s locks to hiss open.
Jason was watching him from over the couch and even without seeing it, Dick could tell when Jason’s fingers relaxed around the gun he must had been holding. He raised a finger to his lips, and Dick gave a little nod back.
Dick slunk silently over to the couch, bracing his arms on the back right next to Jason’s head. He had to hold back a coo at the sight of Tim curled up under a fluffy green blanket with his head pillowed against Jason’s thigh. Jason must have known how close Dick was to making a noise because he smacked his hand into Dick’s face.
Hands raised, Dick backed away with a silent laugh. After rinsing off quickly in the shower he dug out some sweats from ‘his’ drawer in the guest bedroom. Tim might act like he never wanted them in his space, but he still kept a drawer for each of them stocked with civilian clothing and relaxing wear. And Dick knew his favorite cereal was stocked in the pantry too. Stomach rumbling, Dick padded back out to the open living space.
Jason must have pulled an Indiana Jones and slipped out from under Tim because he was in the kitchen making up a plate of left overs for Dick. Dick bounded over to peer into the boxes. “Ooh, Thai.”
He skipped back a step as Jason smacked at his hand with the serving spoon.
“How long has he been out?”
“Not long after eating. Food got here right after us, so most of the night,” Jason said, his words a low rumble in his efforts to stay quiet.
“Just tired then?” Dick asked, still hoping that was all it was.
Jason’s frown didn’t reassure him.
“What?”
“Sleep was restless for hours. He kept… dun know. Searching for something,” Jason said with a little shrug. “Not nightmares but not easy rest.”
Dick sighed and leaned back against the counter. He chewed idly on his thumb, wondering what was bothering their baby bird. “New cases?”
“Not from me. Wrapped the last one up last week and B’s out of town.”
“Damian wouldn’t ask. Steph is busy with the girls. And there’s nothing from me. Something made him take a turn.”
Jason just hummed and popped the plate into the microwave. Dick was never sure if Jason knew how much the noise sounded like one Batman would make. He never risked mentioning it. Dick glanced over at his brother and then past him as the shiny red caught his eye. “That it?”
“What?”
Dick jutted his chin at the coffee maker. “Tim Junior”
“…guess it is. Odd looking machine, aint it? Think he messed with it?”
“Someone had to,” Dick said, moving around Jason. The coffee machine did have a distinctly home brewed look to it. None of the knobs matched and the one panel was a slightly different shade of red like it had been spray painted to match.
“Freak’n mad scientist,” Jason groused as he stopped the microwave before it could beep.
“More engineering then he normally does,” Dick murmured. He reached out to flip the top of the machine open. It felt like solid work… the lid snapped back down with a clack.
“Shh.”
“…it wasn’t me. The machine moved.”
“Shut it, dickface.”
“I’m not kidding,” Dick hissed. “I just went to open it—”
The lid snapped open on its own.
Dick reached out to blindly smack at Jason’s arm.
“Stop it. I saw. Could just be a spring—” Jason reached out to touch it and the coffee machine lunged forward, narrowly missing Jason's fingers. "Holy fuck!"
“Did his coffee machine really bite him?!?” Dick screeched.
(Quietly.)
(He refused to wake Tim.)
“Maybe really, really strong springs?” Jason hissed back as he reached for the machine again.
Dick tackled the coffee machine as it sprang off the counter. The machine struggled, snapping its top open and closed as it strained for Jason. It was starting to heat up in his arms.
“Unplug it!”
“It’s not even plugged in!”
“What do you mean it’s not—”
The lock in the front door turned with a click and both brothers froze. The coffee machine snapped again in Dick’s arms and he shushed it without thinking.
The door creaked open.
“Tim? Starlight? You awake babe?” Whoever it was spoke quietly, like they knew how much of a light sleeper Tim was. There was a soft bang and a quiet curse as a slight figure slipped into the apartment hauling a carry-on suitcase and messenger bag that he dumped by the door. He turned away from locking the door and froze.
Three pairs of blue eyes blinked at each other.
“What are you doing to Tim Junior?” the stranger whisper screamed as he scrambled forward.
Dick let the guy snatch the coffee machine, backing up with his hands raised to show he was harmless. Not that he was, of course, he was running through all the places that he knew Tim had hidden weapons.
Not that the guy looked like much of a threat with the way he was petting the coffee machine and cooing at it. “It’s okay baby, the bad man doesn’t have you any more.”
Dick swore the coffee machine was purring back.
“Okay, who the fuck are you,” Jason growled.
Jason only got a single threatening step forward before he froze at a whine that came from a couch. Tim pulled himself up by the back of the couch, draping himself half over it.
“Danny?”
The guy— Danny— glanced at them before looking at Tim. “Hey starlight. So. Um, your brothers are here tonight?” The end of his sentence rose up in a little squeak.
Tim froze, going pale in a way that scared Dick a little as his eyes darted between all of them. “What day is it?”
“Sunday, babe.”
“Oh shit…”
“Want to introduce us, Timmallow?” Jason rumbled.
Dick was pretty sure that answer was ‘no the fuck I do not’.
Seems Danny thought the same as he jerked the hand not holding the coffee machine behind him. “I can just… leave and pretend I was never here?”
“No!” Tim said, scrambling over the back of the couch and sliding to stand next to Danny. “No, um. I should have—”
“It’s fine, babe.”
“No it’s not! I’ve been meaning to introduce you to them but— ugh.” Tim buried his face in his hands.
“Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” Dick suggested. He made sure to plaster on a cheerful smile. “Though, um, maybe without Tim Junior?”
Danny snorted and moved to set the coffee machine down on the kitchen island. Dick and Jason both gave it a wide berth as they headed over to the couch to sit. Dick steered them to stay on one side of the L-shaped couch while Tim and Danny sat on the other.
An awkward silence settled over the group.
Well they couldn’t have that. “So, Danny was it?”
“Yep, Danny Fenton. You’re… Dick? And Jason?”
“Yeah! Tim talks about us?”
“Of course, you’re his brothers,” Danny said. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess… you haven’t heard about me?”
“Um, no,” Dick admitted. He could feel his smile falter for a moment at the hurt in Danny’s eyes.
“Danny—” Tim started.
“It’s fine.”
It didn’t sound fine.
“No it’s not,” Tim said. “I kept meaning to tell them but they— do you know how over the top they are? They would have been over here in five minutes to meet you and then for the next, like, week as they all got back into town. They would be everywhere for weeks and…”
Tim picked at his sweat pants, looking small and nervous. “And you just really moved in a few weeks ago and I wanted you to myself for longer.”
“Hey, starlight,” Danny said and reached out to curl his hand over Tim’s. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not and I’m sorry. So, officially, Danny, these are my brothers, Dick and Jason. Dick, Jason, this is my boyfriend Danny Fenton. He’s an engineering student at Gotham U.”
Dick offered his best smile. “I guess that explains the coffee machine!”
“Like fuck it does, that thing is alive,” Jason snapped. “It bit me!”
“You were grabbing him!” Danny said.
“It bit Tim too!”
“Aw, Tim Junior, no,” Danny sighed, taking Tim’s other hand and looking at the bandages carefully. “I wasn’t even gone for a week and you two were fighting?”
Tim whined. “He wouldn’t let me have any coffee!”
“How many cups were you on?”
Tim ducked his head in a mumble.
“How many was that?”
“Seven.”
“Tim!”
“You were gone! I couldn’t sleep,” Tim sulked.
The fight seemed to just drain out of Danny at that and he kissed Tim’s knuckles gently. “Ask your family next time before it gets so bad, okay babe? They’re obviously willing to look after you. And then Tim Junior won’t bite you.”
“Yeah Timmander, we won’t let you suffer,” Jason said with a smirk that had Tim narrowing his eyes at him.
Dick elbowed Jason (which was as effective as going for a brick wall). “We won’t. We’re happy to be around if you’re feeling lonely. Especially if it keeps you safe from your coffee machine!”
“Seriously,” Jason said, “What is that thing, er, Tim Junior made of?”
“Oh! Ectoplasm,” Danny said with a smile.
Dick paused. “…um, what?”
“Ectoplasm. You know, ghost juice?” Danny held out his cupped hand and green liquid pooled in it as if seeping out of his skin.
Jason leapt up and behind the couch before Dick was even registering what he was seeing. “What the fuck!? Why the fuck can your boyfriend make pit juice Timmy?”
Tim buried his face in his hands. “Not pit juice.”
“Ghost juice. Adjacent but very different, from what Tim has explained to me,” Danny said, the liquid fading away.
“That sure looked like pit water!”
“It wasn’t, see, pit water is pulled from the living while—”
“So,” Dick said quietly, leaning over to Tim. “Maybe not just that you wanted to keep him to yourself, huh?”
Tim just groaned and tried to bury himself under the green blanket and into the couch. “I should have just let Tim Junior eat me.”
-----
AN: Thanks to spite, finally got back to this and finished it up! I know not the firmest ending, but it covered what I wanted to~
Make sure to be better than Tim and hydrate and rest! Also stay delightful, darlings!
1K notes · View notes
raineydays411 · 9 months
Text
My Father's Daughter
Part 9
Summary: You've been at the Wayne Manor for over a month.
Tumblr media
In some weird way you understand Christine.
You understand why she tries so hard to spend time with you while you're in her home. Why she begs for you to get off of your phone and cook with her. You get why she tries to make the other kids be nice to you. Scolds them harshly when they make snide comments underneath their breath about you.
Truly, you do.
You just...genuinely don't give a shit.
You don't care that she feels bad that she abandoned you for a completely other family and you don't care that she feels like she's losing time to create a bond with you.
You did not care.
Really, you didn't.
"Um,kid... you know I love you but I'm really not that kind of doctor" Bruce Banner said awkwardly over facetime.
You sigh. "Yeah I know B. You were just the first one to pick up the phone."
"Ouch." Banner laughed, " you know, you really are your fathers child."
You smile, one of the rare times you actually did nowadays. " How is the old man?"
You haven't been able to call him since he was paranoid whoever wants you would track your phone calls and find out where you are.
"Your father is even more annoying now without you than he ever has been in my entirety of knowing him" Banner deadpans, " He misses you a lot kiddo, we all do."
You smile sadly, missing your family.
It was hard, seeing these people you barely knew, with a mother you barely knew, stuck in a house you barely knew.
And the fact that they feel like a family. They argue and play jokes on each other. They eat with each other every afternoon ( Bat activities at night), Bruce kisses Christine goodbye when he goes to work. It was so domestic in its weird little ways.
But you didn't fit in.
They laughing and the jokes stopped whenever you walked into the room. The conversations were stale.
It was depressing.
It's not like they ignored you, oh no. That would've been preferable.
No half of them trip over their feet to try and include you in whatever they're doing.
Dick will turn blue chatting your ear off about whatever he thinks will get you to open up to him and Christine?
She will bend over backwards, frontwards, and sideways just to get you to acknowledge she gave birth to you. Every night she comes into your room and tries to talk to you about your life. And every question is met with a dull answer
"So any boys that catch your interest here?" " I don't know, I can't leave the premises"
"Were you in any sports? You look like you'd be a cheerleader like your momma!" " I was in mathletes and debate like Pepper"
"You really are beautiful my baby" "Thanks, everyone says I look like my dad"
It really was a struggle to get you to open up. Almost everyone at the manor had a hard time even starting a conversation with you.
Everyone except of course Alfred and surprisingly Jason Todd.
Alfred won you over as soon as you moved in. He vouched for you when you needed time alone and brings you snacks>
Jason is a whole different story.
See, the reason why it's so hard for everyone to talk to you is because they all refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room. They're treating you like you were some other orphan Annie they decided to adopt and you just have no family waiting and missing you.
Jason doesn't.
In fact, it was him who caught you trying to sneak out of the mansion the first week you were there. Instead of scolding you or telling on you, he took you out.
"A cap and sunglasses? Kid, that's not a disguise."
"What do you mean?"
He took you to a diner he frequents, a tour of the rooftops to avoid people, and to the safe house he took over from Bruce.
"Tell me about your life." He demands, not asks.
You smile and tell him about it. Your life growing up with the Avengers, school and what major you're going for, that brief fling you had with Pietro before you had to move to Gotham.
It was nice. To be with someone that didn't want to change you. He didn't try to force you into forgiveness and let you vent. He even gave some pretty sound advice.
"You know, at some point you are going to forgive her." He says ignoring your indignant stare, " You don't gotta be bestfriends with her or anything, but that anger is going to either slowly consume you or slowly go way. And believe me, you want it to slowly go way."
And he was right in some ways. The longer you're there, the less anger there is and the more hurt replaces it. It festers inside you like some disease. The symptoms slowly leaking out every time one of them calls her mom.
Every night she comes into your room and tries to pry into your life as if she didn't voluntarily leave it, you feel it.
Everytime you see her brush Cassandra's hair out of her eyes, or kiss damian on the forehead. It's the gentle way she smiles whenever she sees Tim hyperfocused on mission reports, and the way she gets so excited whenever Dick or Jason walk through the front door. Hugging them and chiding them for not visiting more.
It hurts you that they truly are a family.
And after a while, it gets hard for you to try and say that you truly didn't give a shit.
Because honestly, you did
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @stupendousnightmaretrash @opheliaas-stuff
858 notes · View notes
connorsbonez · 4 months
Text
Stalkers and Cryptids
Meeting the Bat Family
1. Danny
Since him and Wes got together with Tim at the same-ish time, it was decided that they’d get introduced to the family one at a time before going together, and for some reason, Danny got chosen to be the first to go.
It went surprisingly well! The siblings loved him (at least, they think Damien does, maybe Danny will have to convince him through the means of Cujo) and it took Bruce a moment but he came around
Duke thought Tim managed to bring the personified sun into the house at first before realizing ‘oh, it’s a person’ and switched to ‘what the fuck is up with you’, pulling out some sunglasses before asking Danny who straight faced told Duke that he ate a lot of glow sticks as a kid.
Duke asked what they tasted like.
Cass and Danny stared at each other for five minutes before nodding and continuing on like nothing happened.
Steph and Danny had to be physically separated and it was agreed to never leave those two alone. No matter the circumstances. Tim is terrified and rightfully so.
So everything was going pretty great.
And then dinner happened.
Fenton Curse reared its ugly head in the form of Danny accidentally touching the chicken with his bare hands. He barely got in an apology before the chicken jolted upwards in vengeful fury and dragged everyone into a recreation of the Cold War. Food was splattered on everything and everyone, the table was flipped to the side in an effort to be used as a shield, screams of the damned as the chicken descended upon them with a large butcher knife, something was on fire, and Alfred was loading up his shotgun crouched behind the table with Danny on one side and Bruce on the other looking like he was astral projecting but not at the same time.
It was agreed that this dinner was never to be spoken of. Ever.
Danny wore gloves from now on when he came over for a meal of any kind.
Dick had to wear a hat for a bit after the chicken managed to take off some of his hair, leaving a bald spot (Steph tried to shave his head completely to ‘even it out’)
2. Wes
They waited two months before bringing Wes to the manor and after what happened with Danny, the family was a touch more wary. Dick jokingly(ish) asked if Wes would bring anything alive, he replied with ‘Not unless you pay me’ and didn’t elaborate further.
You’d think they’d calm down after interacting with Wes for a bit because it wasn’t like he was horrible, he meshed well with the others and they could find themselves genuinely liking Wes if not for a small little thing or two. It was going too well. Wes seemed to know how to interact with all of them, barely making any mistakes that came with interacting with new people, it was off putting to the vigilantes. (Except Tim, he didn’t notice a thing odd about it)
Along with the fact that the ginger seemed to sometimes ask very…interesting questions that made the others pause. Wes can’t help himself when it comes to knowing things about people that he’s talking too, he held off this long and now he can’t help but slide in a few questions and comments here and there…just to see if they notice.
Wes could acknowledge that he found it a little funny how much he was driving the Waynes up the wall.
Bruce kept staring at Tim, as if trying to telepathically get answers from him. Tim pretended not to notice his gaze.
Someone tried to give the shovel talk and Wes responded by saying their credit card information in a deadpan tone.
This visit also somehow managed to go to hell, this one didn’t even make it to dinner. The disaster kicked off with Wes and Damian, no one is quite sure what was said but it ended with an absolute cat fight, with Dick holding back Damian who had a bruise already blooming on his lower jaw and Jason holding back Wes who had a small knife lodged into his thigh and promptly bit Jason when he abruptly grabbed the ginger.
Jason later got checked for rabies.
Wes refused to give the knife back, having left with it still in his thigh. (Danny got it out and was unsurprised by the series of events when told.)
(Batman definitely went to their apartment later that night.)
3. Bernard
This wasn’t the first time he met the Wayne Family but it was the first time he’d be meeting them as Tim’s boyfriend instead of just friend.
So obviously the meeting went find, they already knew who Bernard was so it wasn’t a get to know you meeting but a shovel talk meeting + meeting the third boyfriend
Bernard was the only one really intimidated by the shovel talks
Most peaceful night, Bernard told some of his theories during dinner, including how Superman, Batman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Lex Luther were in a polygamy relationship. Jason was dying (metaphorically this time) during dinner as well as the other siblings, Bruce not so much and Damian tried to act like he didn’t find it funny (Dick swears he did).
He was the only one Bruce didn’t feel the need to heavily research. (Because he already did that when he and Tim first became friends)
( I kinda hate this but whatever, it’s been in the drafts for far too long. )
423 notes · View notes
amaramizuki666 · 5 months
Text
Dp x DC prompt
So we all know the sibling/ twin au with the batfam right. How about danny being Bruce's twin. Now your going to say then why don't they know eachother. Well because Danny got yonked as a child and Martha, Thomas, and alfred never told bruse out of grief.
___________________________________________
Danny just moved into Gotham. He was 45 and raising a deaged elle. He was sitting in the park letting elle play when another child, that kinda looked like him with tan skin and green eyes (looks kinda like how his original phantom form did without the white hair) walked up to him and said "father what are you doing here? Didn't pennyworth ground you?"
Danny looks at the kid confused "um sorry chum but I ain't your father" he says softly. The kids brows furrowed (it reminded him of angry sam) "father I will drag you back to the manor if I must" the child threatened. Danny smiled at the kid amused "Look kid-" Danny trys to say but notices the kids expression morph into one of horror "father do you have a concussion?! We must get you to the manor" The kid says and grabbed onto his arm and tried to tug him somewhere.
Danny figured it was no use fighting off the panicked kid so he just sighed and said "fine give me a moment". Danny walked over to elle and picked her up and walked over to the kid. The pre-teen deadpanned when he saw the toddler in Danny's hold "really father another one? Whatever we will deal with that laster lets go".
Danny dosnt know where the kid is takeing him but hopefully Danny can have a talk with the kids parents about how leaving a preteen unattended in Gotham wasn't the best way to parent.
430 notes · View notes
fanaticalthings · 2 years
Text
Bruce Wayne at WE meetings except every 5 minutes a random Batkid crashes the meeting just to pester Bruce with the most unnecessary stuff.
Bruce, in front of multiple top tier investors: So you'll see the uptick in our city's-
[Dick barging in and dramatically throwing himself over one of the chairs]: OK, so turns out that hoodie you said that I lost 5 years ago was actually stolen by JASON. What do you have to say for yourself?
Bruce, clearly annoyed: Dick, why-
Dick: YOU SAID I WAS THE ONE WHO LOST IT WHEN I KNEW IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN ME! SO NOW I KNOW YOU'RE AN ACCOMPLICE TO THE PILFERING OF MY BELOVED HOODIE.
Bruce:
Dick: I EXPECT APOLOGIES IN THE FORM OF FOOD BOUQUETS!
----
Bruce: And I feel that this new floor plan for the Gotham Child hospital wing would greatly-
Tim walking through the doors, sitting down and immediately chugging all of Bruce's coffee in one go: The kitchen is on fire.
Bruce: What?? How on EARTH did you-
Tim completely deadpan: Dick came over to raid the kitchen for food, but we were running low on groceries so Alfred went out to get more, then Jason came over and decided to cook with the remaining stuff we had left and Dick saw him and tried to take a bite out of his food and Jason got mad and told him if he wanted a share then he would have to contribute to the making of the meal, but he ended it off by saying Dick can't even boil an egg if his life depended on it, and Dick took it as a challenge, grabbed the first thing in the fridge he could find, said, "fucking watch me" then proceeded to burn down the entire stove because he overheated the oil.
Bruce, incredulous: You don't even need oil to cook an egg!
Tim: It wasn't even an egg. He grabbed a kiwi.
Bruce:
----
Bruce, making sure all the doors are locked this time: So continuing with our discussion on the investments towards Arkham's security system-
[Cue Damian crawling through the window, wordlessly dumping a box of baby squirrels on the floor before silently leaving through the same way.]
Bruce, frantically trying to follow Damian by crawling out the window, only to remember he's being watched by a group of business partners and investors: Damian yOU GET BACK HERE YOUNG MAN I WILL NOT BE TAKING CARE OF YOUR STRAY ANIMALS SO HELP ME GOD-
----
Jason strolling into the room after lock picking the door: Hey-
Bruce, no energy left, done with everything and just wants a nap: What do you want.
[Jason, without breaking eye contact, places a black, charred, spherical object on the table]
Bruce: What.
Jason: It's the kiwi :)
Bruce:
Jason: The one Dick used to almost burn down the Manor
Bruce:
Jason:
Bruce:
Jason: For good luck :)
Bruce: Get out.
----
[30 mins later]
Multiple high end business CEOs:
Bruce:
Random CEO: Um. Why the fuck is there a crime lord in our conference room??
Jason again, but in full Red Hood gear: Yo
Bruce, sighing: Just ignore him.
CEO: ???
3K notes · View notes
idyllcy · 8 months
Text
and on and on, i'll be by your side
Tumblr media
word count: 11.9k
warnings: non-explicit sex, unstable family relationship (reader)
summary: senior year romance means everything from fluff to angst to teenage hormones
Tumblr media
"I like you. let's date."
Jason chokes on his water, coughing as you hand him a napkin to wipe off the water.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"Let's date?"
"before that."
"I like you." You blink at him, raising a brow. "What? Can't believe it?"
"No. I was not expecting to get confessed to on the first FUCKING DAY OF SENIOR YEAR." He hisses. "Why are you even asking me out? You had a crush on some other guy all the way until like before junior year ended."
"Yeah..." You tap your chin. "You see, I had a revelation over summer while we studied at the library together."
"I don't want to hear it."
"Well too bad!" You shrug, smile on your lips. "I thought, hey, I've kinda been on and off with my feelings with you for a while now, why not just get the closure I need?"
"So you asked me out without expecting me to accept your confession?" Jason hands you the second sandwich Alfred packed.
"Yeah!" You hum. "Thank you."
"And if I accept your confession?"
"Then we date." You shrug. "I have no L in this situation."
"What if I leave you hanging?"
"I have one L in this situation." You grimace. "You're not that mean, right?"
Three years. Jason Todd has been in love with you for three whole years — sitting through your hopeless rants about how attractive you found the most mediocre guys in the school, on the verge of going insane when he had practically turned into your ideal type only for you to pat him on the chest and tell him he'd definitely pull. Jason Todd had not expected you to casually drop the bomb that you had liked him on and off or the question of dating on the first day of senior year, the two of you sitting in your shared English teacher's classroom. He can feel his teacher's eyes on the back of his head as he stares at you incredulously.
"I'm not that mean," He shakes his head, heart racing in his head. "We..."
You look at him expectantly.
"Is it taking advantage of you if I agree to date you?" He winces.
"Nope! If anything, it could be me taking advantage of you." You beam. "Is that a yes?"
"Uh, yeah." Jason really hopes this doesn't come to bite him in the ass later. "Sure. Let's date."
You grin. "Should I call you babe?"
"Too fast." Jason deadpans. "If you don't finish that half of the sandwich I'm going to take it."
You gasp in fake offense. "I'm savoring it."
"Not with the lunch bell ringing in five minutes."
"I hate you." You grumble, going back to your sandwich. "What do people who date even do?"
"Well, they—"
"If you pull a single date idea from one of your classics I will throw this sandwich at your face."
"Alfred's hard work!" Jason raises a brow. "You dare disrespect that?"
"Either this or my backpack." You mumble, finishing the sandwich. "The backpack it is."
"I was going to say we could start with the park, but if you're going to smack me with your backpack, then I'd say we just break up." Jason jests.
"World's fastest breakup." You mumble. "We could break a world record with that."
"That's impossible. Someone out there has broken up faster than this. Also, I never said we'd break up." He mumbles. "I was threatening you."
You shrug, the bell going off.
"What's your next class?"
"I sent you my schedule like two weeks ago!" You gasp. "You didn't memorize it?"
"Alright," Jason sighs. "What's my next class?"
"Creative Writing. Bingo, loser."
"You can't do this to me." Jason grumbles.
"Oh, I can and I will." You grin.
"Have fun in your TA period." Jason walks in the other direction.
"You did memorize it?!" You yell at him in the hall as he walks off. "Liar!!!"
Jason ignores you, speeding up instead. The realization would settle in later, he thinks. The realization that after three years of pathetic pining on his end, you had asked him out on the first day of senior year with no will to continue living in Gotham. It was uncertain. Maybe you were just using him so you could say you had a boyfriend in high school. He would let himself get used, as long as it was you. In that case, he might as well put in the full effort to have you fall harder. Starting with... your ideal date, he supposes.
He sighs, looking through the list of books you had sent him earlier during summer that you completed, grimacing at how many questionable ones you had read. Though, that's not his problem. The two of you loved reading, even if they were totally different genres. Thankfully on his end, you had ranked them based on how much you liked them. He starts with the first book, a long night ahead of him.
"Red."
"Hm?" Jason holds down the thug with his foot. "What?"
"Are you listening to an audiobook on duty?"
"What of it?" Jason knocks the man out with the back of his gun.
"Why are you listening to smut while on duty?"
"Little wing, did you get a girlfriend?"
"What?"
"Why else would you be listening to romance while on the job? Obviously for research."
"He could also have a crush."
"I think it's his friend from school." Dick reasons. "He's had a crush on her since forever—"
"Oh my god, can you both shut up?"
"Get back to work." Bruce's voice rings on the line. "I don't care what he's listening to. As long as he's getting the job done."
Jason lingers in the city once patrol is over, scouting out an area to take you that wasn't the park. You hadn't looked that excited for the park when he joked about it. You did mention an arcade at some point early on in your friendship, and there was one in the area. Jason would have to take you by bike there. It'd be hard to park in the area. He pauses at the sight of the mall. You work there, huh?
"Where?"
"Mall. Are you deaf?"
"I have work this weekend." You blink at Jason. "Did you forget?"
"You dumbass. You work in the mall. I'll take you after work."
"I'm going to be all sweaty and gross!" You grimace.
"You sweat from a gift shop job?" He raises a brow.
"That was an excuse. I'm going to be dressed in a white tee and jeans. I'm barely going to look presentable." You frown.
"I'l give you my jacket. We can match."
"And have your chest out for the whole world to see? No." You deadpan. "Oh... maybe a compression shirt."
"What was it about not letting the world see my chest?"
"If you're going to wear something slutty I wanna match. You can wear your baseball jacket." You tap your chin. "Or we can both wear tees and jeans. I wanna wear a compression shirt too..."
Jason contemplates the idea of letting the world see your chest.
"No complaints?" You tilt your head.
"Wear what you want. I can fight." He smiles.
"Omg," You gasp. "Like a booktok boyfriend!"
"I'm defenestrating you."
"Jokes on you I'd be into it." You grin, eyes crinkling from how hard you were.
"Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes?"
"No. I'll just wear my tee and jeans." You hum. "And your jacket?"
"And my jacket." Jason takes it off, helping you into it. "There."
"You can wear a white tee and jeans." You smile. "And bring a sharpie. I want to draw on your shirt."
"Got it." He hums. "Anything else you want?"
"Can you bring me coffee?"
"Your usual?"
"Yes please."
"Alright."
The rest of your friend group tells you you seem to be happier these days. You joke that it's because you're ahead on your college apps. They don't pester you beyond that. You're glad they don't. You don't know what kind of madness your friend group would pull if they found out you were dating your best friend. They'd probably... you don't want to think about it.
"Hey," Jason hums, handing you your cup of coffee as you step out of the store, shift over.
"Hi," You hum, pressing the coffee to your lips. "Thank you."
Jason fishes out a Sharpie from his pocket next, handing it to you as you find a place to sit down, the smell of the pen filling the air as you scribble weird characters onto his back.
"What are you drawing?"
"The skrunkly." You mumble.
"The soots from Spirited Away?"
"Yes."
Jason waits for your to finish, handing you his phone to take a photo of your artwork. You click into his BeReal instead, taking a photo of his back and then of you, sharpie still in hand. You are picking violence today. Does this count as a hard launch? You don't know. All you know is that the baseball team is going to jump Jason for not telling them he has a girlfriend. You type out a caption, handing him his phone back as he stares at the drawings.
"You should apply as an art major."
"I don't have a portfolio." You deadpan. "Unless you count the shirt."
"Or the sketchbooks full of our classmates' faces."
"Or that." You close the sharpie, putting it in your pocket. "Where to?"
"I brought my car. You wanna go anywhere?"
"I wanna go... with you? To your home?" You pat his shoulder twice. "I'm kidding. Let's hit up the arcade."
"Sure." Jason hums. "Oh, did you get sharpie on my skin?"
"Want me to check?"
"Please."
You run your hand under his shirt, lifting it as you check for marks. You pause, admiring his back.
"You've got a lot of scars."
"You know what it's from."
"Your nighttime activities."
Jason can practically see you wriggling your brows at him.
"Yeah. Call it that."
"Can I be part of that?"
"Depends how you want to be part of it." Jason hums. "No marks?"
You let his shirt fall back down.
"None."
"Shall we go?"
"Let's." You hum, standing up with him, slipping your hand into his, the two of you head for the escalators.
Jason SUCKS at dance dance revolution.
You discover it after hitting the arcade, his weird skills in pulling out plushes from the crane machine and his eerily good aim at shooting games knocking the air out of you, but you find that no matter how fast he was on his feet as Red Hood, he sucks at dance games. Which brought you to this point.
Jason gawks at how high your score is.
You laugh, tickets spilling out from the machine, holding the bar as Jason stares at his score, offended a score that low could even exist.
"I kicked Dick's ass last time we played."
"Sure, totally believe you." You grin. "How many years ago was that? Four? Five?"
"I'm going to defenestrate you."
You snort. "I thought I told you I'm into that."
"From the top of Wayne Tower?"
"I'll call Dick for help." You hum. "He'll save me with that tight suit of his o—"
Jason slams a hand over your mouth, glaring at you.
"I'm kidding." You pull his hand away. "Why would I ask him for help when my boyfriend is right here? Oh, right. My boyfriend's the one defenestrating me. I should call Tim instead. He'd probably be in the building anyway."
"Sweetheart."
"Or maybe your dad. He'd probably be in the building too."
"Babe."
"Or I'll just fall to my death and force you to live with the guilt of—"
Jason grabs you by the face, glaring at you. "That's enough."
You jut out your lips, grinning. "Are we about to kiss?"
"Too fast." Jason sighs, letting go. "Are you happy with your plushies or do you want more?"
"How many more coins do you have?"
"Sixteen."
"Can I get three more?"
"Which ones do you want?"
You hold onto the bag of plushies as Jason wins you four more, the coins running out and a laugh spilling past his lips when you ask him for help. It was nice to not play at a rigged crane game, but Jason's ability to pull every single plush on the first try was baffling.
"Hey, how are we getting home? Didn't you take your bike?"
"I drove today." He deadpans. "Your memory game is still real strong, huh?"
You gasp, feigning shock. "I have GREAT memory."
"When's my birthday?"
You purse your lips. "Can you get my phone?"
"I'm hurt."
"August 16." You laugh. "I celebrate it with you every year. Did you actually think I didn't know?"
"You have terrible memory."
"I'm offended." You grumble. "We can split the children."
"Shared custody?"
"We're not... divorced?" You raise a brow at him. "Unless this is a breakup call—"
"Nope. Which ones do you want?"
"I want the franchised ones."
"So like, more than half of them."
"I'm kidding. I want the Nightwing one."
"Not the Red Hood one?"
"I didn't finish saying which other ones I wanted. I want all the Batman-themed ones." You mumble. "Especially the Red Hood one."
"Why the plush," Jason leans down, lips to your ear, blowing on it, "when I'm right here?"
"Are you saying you'll stay at my place forever?" You raise a brow at him, leaning back.
"I don't see why not."
"Absolutely not. My parents would have a heart attack if I brought a boy home." You grumble. "You've met them before."
"They've seen me. They've never met me." Jason shrugs. "Do they know you're on a date?"
"No." You hum. "I can tell them you dropped by and we were at the arcade."
"They're fine with us hanging out?"
"They just don't want me to date. Not when college app season is in swing, at least." You pause. "Where are you going?"
"Gotham, obviously."
"Ugh." You grumble. "Wish you'd leave the city with me."
"Can't."
"I know." You mumble. "You have to stay."
"And you have to go."
There's beauty in Gotham, you admit, but it's not the city you can see yourself living in the long term. Not even when your boyfriend would make sure you never die or get hurt. Not even if his entire family ran around keeping the city safe. You wouldn't be able to live in a city like this, even if you were used to the spontaneous kidnappings and death threats floating around the city. Even if you were used to the life in Gotham, you couldn't see yourself continuing down the road.
"What happens to us after high school?" You grimace.
"We'll figure it out." Jason hums. "Enjoy what we have for now."
The drive home is quiet, a silence that's comfortable for the two of you. It's a silence that rests in the air when the two of you are too tired to talk to each other, familiar to the two of you, a constant in your lives. You bring everything upstairs, falling asleep immediately, too tired to explain where the plushies came from and why you had been gone for so long.
Jason watches as you apply to the bigger schools, a thousand extracurriculars tucked behind your application, a hundred awards to cram into the five slots. You had more than he could imagine. He knew you had been an overachiever, but he hadn't known how hard you worked. It showed on your application, and it showed in December when you were accepted into your dream school with a full ride.
"You're leaving for good, then?" He rests his head on your shoulder, watching as you accept the offer.
"Yeah." You chew on the straw to your milk, puffing air into your cheeks.
"Will you miss me?"
"Babe, it's December." You remind.
"Yeah, but will you miss me?"
"I'll miss you more if you take me to Winter Formal."
"I already have a proposal in plan. Be patient." He grumbles, biting into his apple. "Are you going to ask me to Winter Formal?"
You smile. "Apple."
Jason sticks his tongue out, a piece of laminated paper on his tongue, glancing at the words.
"Yes. I'll go to Winter Formal with you. How'd you even get the paper in there?"
"Secret." You laugh. "I rolled it up and jammed it in there and then put edible paint on to cover the marks."
"Creative." He grins. "Love you."
The two of you stare at each other as you register Jason's words, and your lips part before closing again.
"You love me?" You crane your neck to look at him better.
"You don't?"
You laugh. "I love you too."
"Maybe I should apply there." He mumbles.
"You can't leave Gotham."
"It's not that I can't." He corrects. "it's just that I don't want to."
"Right, right." You nod. "But it's fine. Gotham needs you."
"Yeah." He mumbles. "That's not far, is it? I can still visit."
"Yeah." You hum. "No. It's four hours."
"Oops."
You laugh. "We'll figure something out."
Jason matches with you for Winter Formal, showing up with your favorite flowers, flowers matching the color of your dress and his corsage, your house empty for the night. Jason wonders some days why you never introduce him to your parents, but it's not his place to pry. He had terrible parents on his own. He doesn't even want to think about what could have happened had his birth mom gotten the chance to ruin his life like she wanted to. But it didn't matter, especially not when Winter Formal is crashed by a supervillain and he's forced to take action.
You laugh when he finishes, hand held out to help you from the ground. His siblings are scattered throughout, Dick and Bruce talking to Gordon, debriefing the whole situation. He lingers by you, checking your skin for any injuries of sort.
"Sorry Winter Formal got ruined." He mumbles through the helmet.
You pat his chest twice. "Can we get Batburgers?"
"With my helmet on?"
You roll your eyes. "Whatever you want."
"Yeah, we can," He hands you his car keys, swinging onto a nearby roof to change out of his clothes, mask off. You open the door for him as he slides in, the two of you one of the last to leave. "You aren't mad Winter Formal got ruined?"
"No. I like seeing you in action." You smile. "Besides, your brother—"
"We have got to do something about your addiction to Nightwing." He grumbles, driving off. "Drive through or walk in?"
"Drive through." You observe the helmet. "Does this have any defense mechanisms?"
"If you try to pry it off my head, it cuts your finger. The needle has poison on it too."
"Damn." You mumble. "Anything else?"
"It's got a bomb built in."
"WHAT." You blink at him. "You can self-destruct?!"
"Mhm." He hums. "Your regular order?"
"Can I get ice cream?"
"Yeah."
You pull the bobby pins from your hair as he orders, staring at yourself in the vanity mirror. There are a couple of bloodstains on your dress that definitely don't belong to you, and you spot the same stains on Jason's dress shirt, tie loosened and unbuttoned to relax a little. You wonder why they targeted your school's dance. They could have gotten more money if they held the nearby private school hostage. You shrug as Jason pulls up to the window to pay.
"Here." He hands you your order as he pulls into a nearby parking lot, his own order on his lap.
"Why'd you think they targeted our school?"
"Because of me," Jason bites into his burger. "Billionaire's son."
"The private school has more rich kids." You reach for a napkin.
"Yeah, but my father's a billionaire. Those kids are all millionaires. Their net worth isn't even worth mine."
"True, huh."
"Are you sure Winter Formal wasn't ruined?"
"No. I got to see your tits bounce while you fought."
"Deadass?"
"No. Your chestplate kept it in tact." You chuckle. "I'd like to see you shirtless sometime."
"Why not now?"
"I am not fucking you in an empty parking lot at 2am."
"Really?"
"I am not letting that be my first time."
"Alright, fair enough." He mumbles. "Where should our first time be?"
"Forgot you're a virgin despite the body." You lick your fingers clean of the sauce. "Don't ask me."
"You wanna fuck in Bruce's room?"
"NO."
"Not a hotel."
"Definitely not a hotel."
"In the Batcave?"
"Jason, I love you, but we are NOT fucking somewhere where your dad can catch us on the cameras."
"Your house."
"No."
"Then where?" He picks up his soda, blinking. "College dorm."
"I'll let you fuck me at the hotel I'll be at before moving in for college." You shove the spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.
"Bet." He grins. "I'm holding you to that."
Jason's ability to drive in Gotham surprises you some days. The two of you have been to every corner of the city, even to the places the two of you are definitely not allowed to visit. The abandoned factories, the galas that you never receive invitations to, everything from head to toe had been visited before. But every place is an adventure, even when the two of you are laying in the grass of Gotham's empty parks, naming the shapes in the sky, bloody red mixed with a sickly green. You find that it reminds you of Jason's eyes, pretty grass-colored irises reminding you of flower fields.
"What shape is that?"
"I don't know," You mumble, staring at his face. "I'm not looking anymore."
"What are you looking at?" He raises a brow at you.
"Your eyes." You blink at him, a stupid smile on your face. Jason looks at you with the same smile on his face. The smile of two idiots in love.
"Yeah? What about them?"
"They're pretty." Your fingers press to his chest for support as you lean in closer, staring right into them. "They look like the fields in the Alps. Like a cottage in the fields I wished I lived in, like the comfort of the morning dew that helps ground me."
"You like my eyes that much?"
"I like everything about you." You mumble.
"Can I kiss you?" His voice is barely above a whisper.
"Always."
Jason kisses you with fervor — passion you forget he has sometimes. He kisses you like you're the last person in the world, making your lashes flutter and head spin from the taste of his lips, your nails digging into his biceps, moan slipping past your lips as his fingers dig into your waist to pull you to sit up. You pull away with a hard inhale, Jason chasing after your lips immediately, hands flying to your face, tongue pressed to yours, barely breathing himself. You wonder if his lungpower came with the vigilante business. You certainly can't keep up, pushing him away at some point, panting.
"One more."
"No." You grumble. "Can't breathe. Head spin. I'm going to die."
"Most that'll happen is you'll pass out." He grins.
"No more." You point at him, eyes hard. "I'm not passing out at a park... or getting arrested for public indecency."
Jason laughs, pulling you close, resting his head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist snuggly. You frown, running your hands through his hair, closing your eyes to see if you can listen to his heartbeat with how close his chest was pressed to yours. You hum gently, letting the vibrations rumble between the two of you, the sun peeking past the clouds in Gotham for once. You wonder how many more times you would get to do this.
"Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to miss you." You mumble into his skin. "A lot."
"I'll drive up to you every weekend."
"That's four hours and a shit ton of tolled routes." You mumble.
"Daddy's got money to spare."
You laugh, leaning further into Jason's body, smile making way onto your face again. "Yeah? How about you fly over?"
"Wow, babe, I thought you cared about my carbon footprint."
"Then go by boat." You hum.
"Not a bad idea. You want a rich boyfriend who knows how to sail?"
"And get to brag to all those rich kids who can't date for shit about it? Yeah." You hum. "Plus, you'd look so hot sailing while shirtless in nothing but swim trunks."
"You think about me shirtless more than I can imagine." He rubs soothing circles on your waist. "What else do you think about?"
"Think about your tits."
"Pecs, baby."
"Think about biting them."
"In a—"
"In a completely normal way. Just. The urge to bite and squish?"
"In the neurodivergent way?"
"Yeah." You hum. "But I also think about you at night."
"Oh?"
"Worry about you. Who's going to patch you up when I'm gone?"
"Alfred."
"Yeah, but," You swallow. "I won't know if you're alive or awake the next day."
"I can text you."
"I should just take you with me." You sigh. "Pack you in my suitcase."
"You want me to go to college with you?"
"Yeah." You mumble blissfully. "In my perfect world."
Jason opens his mouth before you cut him off by pulling away from him.
"Jay," You mumble. "Do you think we're going to break up?"
"Do you?"
"I hope not." You mumble. "I wouldn't dare to."
"I don't think we're going to break up." He hums. "Not with the way I'm in love with you, at least."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He whispers back to you, pressing his forehead to yours, noses brushing. "Not at all."
"That's all I need to hear." You grin.
Jason takes you to prom, as all high schoolers do, arm around your waist as you press the lemon water to your lips. There's no punch out of a fear that people are going to drug it, even when everyone is searched. You wonder if you want to go to the afterparty as you dump the rest of the drink. It's nasty. You wish there was soda. At least you could work a mocktail with a Sprite and the fruit on the table. The prom location is awful too despite the pretty paintings. It smells like a high school boys' locker room.
"There's karaoke in the back," He mumbles into your skin, pressing a kiss to your neck. That too. Jason's been getting more and more frisky. He should really have some sense of shame. "Without too many people."
"There's karaoke?" You ignore the way he squeezes your waist.
"Far back. Behind all the paintings."
"Oh, fuck yes." You mumble, making a beeline for the back, bolting to the first seat by karaoke you find. Jason texts you the list of songs available and asks you if you want to sing a duet. He watches you laugh at his text and send him a song, reminding him to ask when the two of you were going. He stands behind you, hands running up and down your neck, fingers digging into your back.
"You giving me a massage?" You rest your hand on his as he pauses.
"How are your feet doing?"
"Much better now that I'm sitting down." You mumble.
"Need to swap shoes with me?"
"I'll be fine." You hum. "You ready to sing?"
"Two losers who never speak up in class singing? You bet." He laughs.
You toss your friend your phone to record the two of you.
Jason may suck at DDR, but he's a great singer. His voice rings through the room, and you're sure more than one of the students in the room has fallen for him just based on his voice, but you're having fun singing a duet with him. It's always nice to be reminded that Jason sounds like an angel despite the build. You'd have him sing with you when he drives you up for college, you think. Yet, you yell the lyrics to the Taylor Swift song with him anyway, screaming the high note and bursting into laughter afterward. Jason continues singing, holding his hand out for you to get up.
It's the highlight of your high school life, you think. The highlight isn't when you got into your dream college, the highlight is Jason Todd serenading you at prom to a Taylor Swift song. You continue singing along with him, ignoring the way your heels hurt like a bitch. Maybe you'd have him drive you to get another Batburger. Even better, you'd have him grapple you to get Batburgers. That would make the night better, you think. You'd love to fly with him.
Jason finishes, mocking a bow to the crowd, the students cheering at him.
He pulls on your hand to have you bow too. You oblige.
The two of you leave prom early. Jason pulls you away from the karaoke room immediately when you finish, the two of you bolting for his car. Your heels click against the cement of the parking lot, digging into your feet, and you spin, your phone in Jason's hand as he takes photos of you. You hope he's good. Maybe he's one of those boyfriends who manage to catch photos of you at your worse. Oh well. The idea of it makes you laugh, the high from too many students ringing in your head, the deindividuation getting to you. You smile at Jason loopily, and your camera clicks in his hand, the moment immortalized.
"For your information," Jason catches you by the waist, showing you the photo of yourself. "You look gorgeous."
"Should've had Tim take photos of us before we left." You mumble. "Can you carry me back to the car?"
"My pleasure." Jason sits you on the sidewalk, helping you out of your heels. He throws you over his shoulder, resting his hand on your ass as he takes your heels in the other hand. "This good?"
"I feel like a sack of potatoes." You laugh. "But this is fine."
"Wanna go anywhere after this?"
"Can we grapple to get Batburgers?"
"You want to grapple?" You can feel Jason raise his brow.
"Yeah." You mumble. "Can we?"
"You good with flying? Your dress is too slippery, babe." He pats your ass.
"Oh, come on."
"Silk is too slippery." He hums. "We can do it another day."
You grumble. "Can we still get Batburgers?"
"With ice cream?"
"Yes, please." You mumble as Jason opens the door to your side, settling you into the seat and putting your heels next to your feet.
"I have a change of shoes in the back of the car because Dick told me that heels make your feet hurt after a while." He kisses the corner of your eye. "I also have a change of clothes if you don't want to ruin your dress."
"Jay, I'm going to marry you," You moan in bliss. "I'll pop the ring."
Jason laughs. "I can pop the ring."
"Yeah?" You turn your head to look at him, loopy smile on your face.
"Absolutely." He laughs.
The two of you sit in the parking lot again, Jason's shirt pulled over your dress to avoid ruining the silk, biting into the burger.
"This is bliss."
"Babe." Jason hums. "Why'd you ask me out again? Not the reason you told me. I think you asked me out for another reason."
You blink at him, swallowing the bite in your mouth. "I asked you out because I actually had a pathetic crush on you."
"Deadass?"
"Yeah. I fell for you as soon as you showed up looking like my type last Halloween. I didn't know if you did it on purpose, but holy shit I had to use every last ounce of self control to stop myself from just pulling you by the collar and making out with you in the middle of the hallway. Jay, you're hot as fuck." You muffle a laugh. "Wanted you so bad that day."
"Not anymore?" He raises a brow at you.
"Still do." You bite back into the burger. Jason watches as you chew and swallow. "If anything, even more now."
"Why haven't you told me?"
"Every time you've made out with me," You sigh. "We've been in public."
"What's a little public indecency? That's definitely not the most illegal thing I've done." He taps your thigh, squeezing it.
"It would be the most illegal thing I'll do." You grumble. "Nothing illegal before college, please."
"Anything for you." He reaches for the ice cream. "Can I have a bite?"
"Finish the whole thing if you'd like." You finish the burger, reaching for a napkin. "Got a little greedy tonight."
Jason laughs.
"Right." You make sure your fingers are clean, pulling the shirt over your head. "Chose this dress because it's crazy easy to take off."
Jason raises a brow as you reach for the ribbon on your back, pulling as the whole dress comes loose on your body.
"Isn't public nudity also a crime?"
"Sure," You reach for the shirt again, pulling it over your head. "Hope you liked looking at my tits."
"Would rather be sucking on them."
"Wow, Freud would have a field day with you." You mumble. "Maybe when we're not both dying."
"Do you have a curfew?"
"Told my parents I'm going to the afterparty." You shrug. "Clearly not."
"What time are you supposed to be back?" He runs his hand up your thigh again.
"We are NOT fucking in a parking lot."
"Never said we had to." He grins. "B's got a billion safehouses around the city."
"You're going to fuck me in a safehouse?"
"And? There's no cameras there."
"You're doing all the work." You grumble.
"Wouldn't dream of having you do anything your first time."
Your back slams into the seat as he races off to a safehouse.
Jason makes quick with what you're wearing, tugging his shirt over your head, lips pressed to your skin, biting and sucking where you would let him, desperate to taste every single inch of you. You whimper multiple times, and at some point, you stop him, fingers pressed to his chest, lashes fluttering as you struggle to stay awake, apology spinning in the air as your back met the mattress again, mumbling about your exhaustion. Jason leaves you alone after it, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, pulling your makeup remover from your purse, wiping the makeup from your skin as you rest in his arms. It was domestic. He liked it.
The two of you fall asleep like that — half naked, too tired to shower off the nightmare called prom.
Jason doesn't like visiting your place while in gear. He's usually bloody with someone else's blood by the end of patrol, and he'd rather bleed out in the Batcave than your room, but he doesn't have much of a choice this time, gash too big. He calls for backup with a press of the button, letting himself rest on your balcony for a moment.
"Jesus fucking christ," You throw your window open, first aid kit in your hand. "Do I need to get used to this?"
"Nope."
"You're fucking lucky I chose sportsmed as my pathway in high school, you nerd." You grumble, sterilizing the needle and disinfecting his wound. "You need stitches."
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and take it." You shove a cloth into his mouth. "That's clean. Bite if it hurts."
"I've taken worse befo— oW!" He bites into the cloth as you start stitching him up. Your fingers are fast, and in a couple of minutes, his wound is stitched up. You wrap the gauze and bandage around his waist, securing it. Jason notices you're frowning the whole time.
"Not the first time, huh?"
"I hope it's the last." You grumble. "Did you call for backup?"
"Night's coming."
You sigh, leaning back against the railing on your side. "What happened?"
"Some guy with a sharp ass knife."
You raise a brow at him.
"It was a henchman. Six to one."
"Fucking hell." You grimace. "You're not gonna die one of these days, right?"
"I've dodged death once. I can do it again."
"Don't say shit like that." You grumble.
"Little wing! Oh, hey," Nightwing smiles at you, and you nod.
"I stitched him up. Have Al check him at home too, please. He's got more experience than me."
"We will. Thanks for patching him up."
"I hope it's the last time." You grumble. "Are you going tomorrow?"
"Might stay home. Send me the notes?" You don't need to see Jason's face to see him wince.
"Sure."
You've visited the Wayne manor more than enough times to know how to get to Jason's room, showing Alfred the notes from school, a grin on your face. You apologize for intruding, only for Alfred to tell you you're welcome whenever. You wonder if his family knows the two of you are dating. You have a feeling Tim caught his BeReal from when the two of you first started going out. Oh, well. It wasn't as if you needed to hide it from his family. Your parents were the harder ones.
"Hey," You wave at Jason. "Brought your notes and homework."
"Thanks. Anything from Lit?"
"Nope. Still the end of year project. You gonna be there for AP testing?"
"Yeah." He mumbles. "You gonna sleep while testing again?"
"Yeah." You deadpan. "Hundred percent."
"C'mere," He grabs you by the waist, sitting you on his lap as he continues on his laptop.
"Whatcha up to?"
"Hacking the CIA's firewalls." He mumbles, fingers clicking on the keyboard.
"That's a Tim answer." You raise your brow. "Why are you doing it?"
"Wanted to see if I got rusty."
You watch as he does, blinking in surprise when he manages to get into the files, scrolling through the files.
"Are you deleting your file in the CIA database?"
"I do it to fuck with em." He smiles. "Wanna read my file?"
"Fuck, yeah." You mumble, scrolling through all the information they had on him. "They never got your blood sample?"
"Never. The goons who get my blood don't have the equipment for DNA matching, and they would definitely not work with the CIA."
"You're on a watchlist, then?"
"I run crime in Gotham."
"An antihero." You point at the line in the file. "You minimize crime by controlling it from within."
"It's good to have a leg in everything."
"That's a lot of legs." You count on your hand. "Way more than two."
"You know what I mean."
You grin. "Yeah. I do."
"Wanna go anywhere before grad?"
"Wanna drive to New York?"
"And blow daddy's money?"
"Your daddy's money," You tap his chest playfully.
"He won't even notice." He smiles. "Motor or car?"
"Car."
"Bet."
AP testing could be a lot better. You sleep through half of it, finishing your multiple choice and essay questions too fast, exhaustion all over your face when you finish, calling your friend your savior as she hands you your coffee order. You could leave early if you really wanted to, but you don't, for some weird reason, and you stick by the rest of your classes, physically exhausted from all of the APs. Your coffee does little to minimize the psychic damage you received while taking the exam.
Even when Jason takes you to get dinner together, you're half picking through your food, half actually eating.
"Tired?"
"I can't wait to graduate." You mumble. "At least we don't need to be here during finals week."
"You gonna travel?"
"Wanna fly to Bruce's place in Hawaii?"
"Too cliche," Jason mumbles. "How about his mansion in the Alps?"
You gasp. "Deadass?"
"I can ask. I doubt he'd say no." Jason reaches for a fry on your plate, his empty.
"Want the rest of them?"
"Not hungry?"
"Not really." You reach for the second half of the sandwich. "Burnt out, more."
"Wanna take two weeks of independent study to run for the Alps?" Jason blurts.
You blink at him incredulously. "My parents would kill me."
"Not if I have Bruce lie and say it's for a camp."
You tilt your head at him. "My dad hates your dad."
"He does?"
"Daddy issues. Inferiority complex." You chew on the sandwich. "Doesn't matter. Send me a ticket. I'll lie and say it was for a class project to try and figure out the probability of lotteries and by some weird stroke of luck I got it."
"Gotcha."
The lie works, and the two of you take two weeks of independent study for the Alps, something only three people know the real reason for. It's really only Jason's family. The two of you both have stellar grades — it doesn't matter if you take a break. You wander into the Wayne mansion, surprised at everything you see. It's kept in crazy good condition despite the lack of servants.
"You guys got a maid here or something?" You mumble at the lack of dust.
"Bruce had it cleaned a couple days ago because I said we'd be coming."
"Can we wear cute clothes and head to the farmer's market?"
"Of course."
You pause. "Are we still going to New York?"
"Do you not want to anymore?"
"No." You hum. "I'm down. I just figured since we're in the Alps..."
"We're still going unless you cancel."
"Not canceling." You cross your arms. "Definitely not cancelling."
You find out just how much money Jason gets in a month's allowance on the trip. You're not allowed to pay for anything, jaw dropping at the black card that you didn't know a teen could even own, and the sheer amount of cash that Jason had was just baffling. You felt bad at first, only for Jason to pull up his bank records and show you just how much money was in his account. You wish you were born as a billionaire's son. Maybe you should've stolen car tires to get adopted by Bruce Wayne — the thought makes you laugh.
"You feel better?"
"If dating you means self care trips, I'm going to get down on a knee and propose. If we break up, I'll haunt you to your death." You yawn, grabbing another handful of blueberries. "Kill myself, even."
"That's a little extreme. I have no plans to break up with you." Jason pushes his shades up, turning to look at you.
"How's Gotham? Aren't you supposed to be there to control crime n shit?"
"Burner phone." He waves the old device in his hand. "Henchmen."
"Loyal?"
"Enough." Jason hums. "Wanna go to the fields later?"
"Yeah. Let's bike." You grin.
The fields of grass remind you of Jason's eyes, a green that you only got to see during spring and the rare moments of peace in Gotham. Dare you say it, it reminds you of Ivy's plants sometimes. Or the look of that one time toxins spilled into the river. The green of his eyes is vibrant in all the best and worst ways, but it's still dazzling to you. Laying in the grass makes you remember your date in the park. This time, the fields are pretty much empty.
"Wanna pick up from the park?" Jason rests on his side, fingers tapping your chest.
"I thought I told you I'm not doing anything indecent in public."
"Making out is hardly indecent."
"Your teenage hormones and the way you've been staring at my tits in this dress? Indecent." You yawn, turning to face him. "Does Bruce have cameras in the mansion?"
"Not in the master bath."
"Deal."
"Don't fall asleep this time."
"Oi," You punch him lightly. "Rude. That was after prom. I was tired."
"Just saying."
You punch him again in retaliation.
Jason wastes no time in having you, fingers pressed to your skin again, harder this time, nipping and biting at your skin, ignoring the way you try to tell him not to leave visible marks. You could live with a couple hickeys for two weeks. He nips at your neck, sliding the sundress down your shoulders, tugging at the string hiding your tits from him, lips pressing to you again as your fingers thread through his hair.
Jason didn't think it would be possible to love someone to this extent. He watches as you breathe in his arms, head pressed to his chest, bare skin pressed onto his, chests meeting. His fingers brush your cheek, heart warm and alive, lashes fluttering as he continues staring, hickeys formed on your skin, something you'd probably smack him for later. But he's sure you enjoyed it. He made sure that you did. He holds his breath as you shift in his arms.
"G'mornin." You mumble.
"Mornin'." He smiles.
"'m sore." You grumble. "Bitch." You punch him weakly.
"Was it good, though?" Jason laughs at your frown.
"Yeah." You sigh. "I'll go make breakfast."
"I'll do it."
"You're going to burn the kitchen down. No." You grumble. "Carry me around... I'll cook?"
Jason lifts you in a chair as you tell him to move you around, laughing when he starts ignoring you on purpose, smile on his face when you call for him. He complies after the third time, helping you plate the food and adjusting your seat height so you were comfortable.
"You should cook for me forever."
"I think you should move into my college dorm with me." You deadpan. "Just join me there. Bruce can donate a building or something."
"That's illegal."
"And you're a white man. Pick a privilege."
"Should I go blonde for the full white man privilege?" Jason taps his chin. "Would I look good blonde?"
"You'd give your family a heart attack, that's for sure." You mumble. "We should photoshop you to make you blonde."
"Are you into blondes?"
"I'm into you." You smile, the two of you going quiet before a laugh breaks past your lips. "I've been waiting to use that."
"I can tell." Jason hums, lips pulled into a smile.
"If you go blonde..." You pause. "No. Don't go blonde. Blonde gym rats scare me."
"Excuse you, I am not a gym rat."
"You'll stick out like a sore thumb during patrol." You grimace. "It's all black and then your hair is glowing in the dark like you're a flashlight."
"That's just insulting." Jason covers his mouth. "I wear a helmet, babe."
"It's the truth."
"Bruce would have a heart attack." Jason hums. "Sounds tempting."
"We can bleach your hair while here." You offer. "Your whole head."
"And ruin my perfect hair? No thanks."
"Says the loser with white hair."
"Now that's insulting." He taps your nose, frowning. "You and I both know why I have white hair."
"Cuz you almost died?"
"Yeah."
The two of you settle with Photoshop instead, cutting and pasting some random guy's blonde hair on top of Jason's, making him bald in the process. You take a photo to send to Dick and Tim, putting blue eyes on top of Jason's too, turning him into the textbook white man. You fall over in with the chair from how hard you laugh, Jason left to deal with the result of you sending the family his white man portrait. Dick sends a portrait to get edited too, and you go through the whole family, giving them blonde hair and blue eyes. You send the family photo into the groupchat, changing all of their contact photos to the edited version of them in the process. Jason finds it pointless, but from how hard you're laughing, he lets it pass.
"So? Do I look good blonde?"
"You look good no matter what you look like." You hum, leaning into his chest as you delete any evidence of the images on the desktop. "But really, you should join me for college."
"Too much work."
"You're a valedictorian."
"So are you."
You sigh. "I'm going to be all aloneeeeee."
"I'll call you every day."
"You can't promise that."
"We can call while I'm on patrol."
"Babe, I'll be asleep by then."
"With your sleep schedule?"
You go quiet.
"That's what I thought."
"We should send each other photos every day."
"One of those cheesy phone apps?"
"Yeah." You grin. "Or make video diaries."
"I'm not making a video diary."
"I'll make you video diaries to show you what I do in a day." You grin.
"Will I get to see your tits?"
"When I change, sure."
The two of you fly back at the end of the week, the hickeys from Jason all faded and the scratches from you all healed. It was like it never happened — save for the teeth mark you left on Jason's chest before leaving. You just wanted a bite, nothing more.
Both you and Jason turn in all your work when you return, grades still intact, end of the school year at your fingertips, buying tickets for grad. Jason has to buy more tickets from the students because of how big his family is. You joke that Bruce is going to end up with 14 grandchildren. The way Jason grimaces makes you think that it isn't exactly impossible. You don't want to find out.
You help Jason pin his grad cap into his hair so he doesn't look bald.
"Where was this idea when I graduated?" Dick clicks his tongue as you pin Jason's hair down.
"Probably with the girls," You have Jason shake his head to check if the cap was secure. It is. "I saw your grad photos. It's the classic image everyone gets."
"You gonna pin my cap in for my grad too?" Tim hums.
"Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"No?" He raises a brow.
"Huh. Thought you did." You shrug. "I'll do it if you don't have any friends who figure it out."
The two of you head out, waving bye to the Wayns as Jason sits in his car.
"We're meeting in the gym, right?"
"Yeah. No bags." Jason hums.
"I'll just clip all of these," You clip them onto your gown.
Graduation is a blur as you take photos with your friends and with Jason, fireworks going off in the back, lips pressed to his in the darkness, pulling away when the two of you break into your own respective friend groups, photos taken with each other. You wonder if you should just introduce Jason to your parents officially at grad. You find that you don't have much of a choice when you spot Dick with your parents. You have no idea how he did it.
"Little wing!"
Jason groans at the nickname. "Hey, Dick."
"You're done!" Dick puts Jason into a headlock, and you take the flowers from your parents.
"Congrats." They smile at you.
You smile back. "Thank you. Ah, uh, this is Jason."
"We've met." Your mom smiles at Jason and he stands up, sighing.
"Dick, don't be rude."
"No, like," You pause, grimacing. Jason takes your hand, rubbing soothing circles, speaking up instead.
"We're dating."
"Oh." Your mom blinks, eyes wide.
"How long?" Your dad cuts in.
Jason looks at you as you swallow, squeezing his hand. "Since the first day of senior year."
Your dad is about to speak up when Dick spots Bruce and the rest of his siblings, waving for them at the spot. Your mom squeezes your arm, almost as if to tell you that you would talk later about it. Jason pulls you off to meet the rest of his family, Cass placing a lei around your neck, congratulating you for graduating. You smile at her thanking Bruce as he hands you a card. You don't want to think about what's inside of it. You slip that into the gift bag Tim hands you, thanking his family for the gifts, only to get pulled to the side by your other friends' families, more photos taken and leis thrown around your neck. You catch Jason end up pulled to the side by his friends, and you somehow end up in the mix.
By the end of the night, you're thoroughly spent, slouching in the back of your parents' car, exhaustion all over your face.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Your mother's voice is quiet.
"Didn't think you'd approve."
"Then why date him?" Your dad speaks up this time, voice hard. "If you knew we didn't want you dating that Wayne kid, why did you—"
"Cuz I like him." You sigh. "Love him a lot. Love him like the two of you love each other."
"You can't guarantee that. You're only in high school." Your mother reasons. "I'm sure there are—"
"Don't want another." You mumble, curling into the gift bag Tim handed you. "I know he's the one."
The car stops at the red light, and you glance to look at your dad's expression.
"Since when?"
"I told you, start of the school year—"
"No. When did you decide it was alright to keep secrets?" He raises his voice, and you wince.
"Honey, she's young, she'll—"
You blink, exhaustion in your body making it impossible for you to argue back with him, the arguing would have been futile anyway. You wonder if Jason is enjoying his graduation party. Maybe he's getting the night off from patrol since it was graduation. Maybe you'll text him later when you get home. You probably won't. You're too tired for it. Your dad's yelling is tuned out automatically, your body on autopilot when you bring everything to your room and drop it to the ground. You really hope Tim didn't bring you something that would break easily. You'll look tomorrow.
The knock at your window after you shower makes you pause.
"What are you doing here?"
"Wanna go grapple?" Jason smiles.
"My hair is wet. I don't wanna catch a cold."
"Put it in the helmet. It's waterproof." He pops it off his head, locking it around your neck. You glance at his domino mask.
"Do I need shoes?"
"I'll carry you the whole time." He hums. "Lock your door."
"Already did." You adjust the helmet on your head, wrapping your arms around his neck as he warps an arm around your waist. You hear the sound of the hook launch, and you stare through his helmet as he swings you into the air, the city of Gotham beneath you, warm wind of summer blowing against you, the cityscape rendering you breathless. The sound of screams and cars cancel each other out as Jason lands on a roof, adjusting his hold on you so you'd be more comfortable.
"So?" He raises a brow at you.
"It's gorgeous." You grin, turning to look at him. "Do you see this every night?"
"Only when I grapple. Usually I don't get to see because I'm grappling to catch a criminal."
"I love it." You hum.
"Want a batburger?"
"Fuck yeah."
The two of you swing down to the place as Jason puts you down in a booth to order. You fold your legs up, grinning at Jason as he hands you an ice cream.
"How'd you know I didn't want a burger?" You raise a brow.
"Too late for burgers." He hums. "You said you only liked ice cream after two."
"Thank you." You beam, watching Jason stare at you. "Something happen?"
"Your dad looked like he was going to hit you." Jason mumbles. "Did he hit you later?"
"No. He just got mad I kept it from him..." You pause. "And that I'm dating you. They think you're going to break up with me."
"Hope they have fun at the wedding, then." Jason hums. "You're alright?"
"I tuned them out on the car ride home." You smile.
"Alright. Dick was worried too. He said your dad looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel when I pulled you to my family." Jason hums. "Should I have dinner with them sometime?"
"No. They aren't going with me to move for college, so it doesn't matter." You mumble.
"You need help packing? I can send Cass."
"It's fine." You tap his hand. "I promise."
"Are you cutting ties with them?"
Your breath catches in your throat. "I... don't know."
"If you do, Bruce says he'd be more than willing to fund your education." Jason whispers.
"Woah, I'm already part of your family?" You gasp.
"Yeah." He nods. "So if you cut ties with your family, you have mine."
"I'll be fine." You mumble, staring at his hand. "I promise."
Your parents don't catch you. As mad as they could get, they didn't really care about what you did in your free time. Not even when you snuck out. You don't know why they're so mad about the whole dating situation, but given Bruce and Dick's public images, you aren't surprised they'd think Jason would do the same — even given the fact that you had been friends with him since you started high school.
When you get ready for work the next day, you barely notice the way your parents are sitting on the couch like you owe them a conversation.
"Young lady, where are you going?"
"Work." You turn to look at them.
"Or on a date?"
"This is what I wear to work." You repeat yourself.
Your dad raises a brow at you but doesn't speak further when you leave.
You're really contemplating running away from home. You don't have an actual reason to, so you stay home for the most part, ignoring the knocks on your door and hopping out your window when you wanted to go somewhere. Jason resorts to calling you when he isn't jumping in your window to talk with you for a bit. You can do with the distance, but it isn't ideal. The exhaustion from your lack of mobility is catching up to you.
"What do you think could change their minds?"
You frown, finishing first in Mario Kart. "Nothing."
"Not even a dinner?"
You frown. "They don't like the rich."
"They know I'm adopted, right?"
"They won't like that you're an orphan either."
"They're picky."
"Really picky." You grumble. "Last time I brought a boy home, they scared him off."
"They won't be able to scare me off, you know?"
"Yeah." You pause. "Maybe you should eat with them sometime."
"Dinner?"
You frown. "They're hosting a barbecue next week. I'll invite you."
"You're going to force me into the guest list?"
"It's better with more people." You mumble. "The fact that you were wearing a valedictorian gown might also help."
"When is it?"
"Next Saturday at 5pm." You mumble. "You know how to barbecue?"
"Would it surprise you if I say yes?"
"Yeah." You hum. "You know any of my friends' families?"
"Two. Good terms too."
"Alright. Don't be late."
"Should I bring meat?"
You seriously contemplate asking him if he wants to bring Wagyu, but you decide against it. "Bring beer."
"Ey, we can't drink yet."
"I'll rush to help you. My dad's probably going to get me to buy beer anyway."
"The expensive kind?"
"I'll send you a couple of brands." You pause. "Invite Dick too."
"To charm your mom?"
"Yeah." You grin. "To charm my mom and her friends."
You know your parents better than Jason realizes. When you help him bring the beer into your house, your father's expression softens, asking Jason if he wanted a bottle. Jason turns it down, mentioning that he still has to drive home later, also that he wasn't technically at the legal drinking age — not that it stopped people. You let out a breath you were holding when your dad pats him on the back and walked off to talk to the other people.
"So?"
"Went well." You mumble. "How good are you at barbecuing?"
"I'm on barbecue duty when we do it at our place."
"You're practically a barbecue dad." You gasp. "Woah."
"Yeah?"
"You have the build too. You're only missing a hawaiian shirt now." You pat his back. "You can go figure out how to help at the grill, I have to go check on my mom."
"Hope Dick hasn't stolen her from your dad."
"I sure hope not." You wince.
It ends well, the barbecue. You don't get yelled at for inviting Jason, and your mother tells you all about how Dick was such a charmer, a real ladies' guy. Your dad doesn't mention it, but from the way he kept eating, you can guess he liked Jason's grill skills. You should text him about it. Maybe you'd go for their summer barbecues sometime. You don't know.
Your dad pulls you to the side the next day.
"I'm sorry for lashing out." He pauses. "I was. It's stressful, knowing you're dating the second son of a family of players."
"I get it." You swallow. Not really. Your goal is just to make sure he likes Jason now.
"He's... he's good for you." Your dad smiles at you weakly.
You wonder if he's only saying this because Jason wouldn't leave your side earlier. Or maybe it was because your mother had told him that Jason looks at you like you're his whole world. You don't know why. But you suppose his acceptance is enough. At least you're allowed outside of the house now. You tighten the straps of your swimwear around your neck before leaving the house.
"He was good with you leaving?" Jason hands you a helmet for the bike.
"Yeah. Trusts you." You mumble. "Think Dick did a lot of work. Did you thank him?"
"Yeah." Jason hums. "Hope you're not tired of barbecue."
"Am I going to yours for it?"
"You can taste Alfred's cooking, and you can get a little more of mine." He hums. "Arms around the waist, babe."
"I'm excited." You mumble, lips quirking up as you wrap your arms around his waist. "Ooh, rock hard."
"I'm going to leave you here."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Love you too much for it."
The Wayne Manor is a mansion. Well, that much has been established, you suppose. You are, however, surprised to see a giant ass backyard with a huge ass pool. You've never been to the backyard, now that you think of it. Jason's never taken you.
"Did you bring swimwear?"
"Under the clothes," You pull your shirt over your head, ditching the shorts. "Tadaa!"
Jason laughs. "Put the shirt back on. Your tits are for me to see only, babe."
You frown. "Why not your shirt?"
Jason pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it at you. "That good enough?"
"Sure." You pull your arms through, placing your stuff to the side, jumping into the water to join his siblings.
You like the manor. Despite the constant bickering, the place felt warm, and that wasn't something you got often. The house is warm. It's warm as the Gotham sun burns into your back when you sit in the water by the ledge, head resting in your arms, it's warm when the charcoal in the grill burns, and it's warm when Cass pulls you out of the water to dry off before dinner. You could smell the food from where you were in the pool — you might just move here for the food.
Jason fills your plate for you, grabbing a little bit of everything, cutting your steak for you in advance as his family watches in awe.
"Little wing is capable of this?!"
"Steph, you owe me twenty."
"Bruce, you owe me 20k." Cass pokes at their dad as he stares at Jason.
"They bet on you?"
"Heard I got a girlfriend a while ago, and suddenly they started fighting each other over what kind of a boyfriend I would be." He switches plates with you, shrimp peeled and steak cut. "Oyster's clean, by the way."
"I'm gonna marry you."
"We've established this, I know."
You shrug, stabbing the shrimp. "Just reminding you."
"Don't beat me to the proposal, by the way." He points his knife at you.
"Master Jason." Alfred clears his throat, and Jason puts his knife down.
"Sorry, Alfred."
You hold a shrimp to his lips. "C'mon. As a thank you."
"Oh, at least you care." He bites down, chewing. "Don't beat me."
"I hope you get me a red diamond just to empty your pockets." You mumble.
"You want a ring with a gem worth a million dollars?"
"Yeah." You grin, holding a piece of steak to his lips. "You don't wanna give it to me?"
"I'll steal it."
"Oh, how romantic." You quiet down as you start eating the steak.
"You really want a red diamond?"
You glance at him, lips pulled into the fakest smile you can manage. "Yeah."
"Want it before you leave?" Jason raises a brow, the skin on his own shrimp finally peeled.
"You telling me you're gonna propose to me right out of high school? That's a recipe for disaster."
"Babe, we've been a disaster." He hums. "From you not telling your parents to me sneaking you to Switzerland to skip school, we have not been normal at all."
"Don't forget about New York."
"When is that again?"
You pretend to be offended. "I'm breaking up with you."
"I don't know what just happened, but I'm on her side." Dick cuts in.
"Me too."
"Me three."
"Guys." Jason groans.
"It's fine. We never set a date. How about in two weeks?" You hum.
"Yeah." He mumbles. "Wanna leave in the morning?"
"Sure. There's less cars then, huh?"
"We can stay at Bruce's penthouse."
"Does he have a house everywhere? New trivia game, where does Bruce Wayne NOT have a house?" You mumble.
"I don't have a place in Finland." Bruce calls from the end of the table.
You hold a hand over your mouth. "You got a place in Dubai?"
"A whole building."
"Woah..." You mumble. "How 'bout China?"
"Got a penthouse."
You blink in surprise. "Singapore?"
"Own a mansion there."
"You're not even a crazy rich asian." You mumble. "That should be a trivia game."
"For family game night?" Jason raises a brow at you, plate now empty.
"Yeah." You switch plates with him. "Which place does Bruce Wayne not own property."
"You're full?"
"Mhm." You nod. "You can have the rest."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." You mumble.
Jason's driving does not scare you. You feel like it should, considering he drives pretty rough, but it does not scare you. If anything, you're worried about getting ticketed. Well, not like he was driving past the speed limit. At least you have the aux.
"How'd you convince your parents to let you go?"
"Told em it was a girls' trip." You yawn. "Lied straight through my teeth."
"You're awful."
"You're the influence."
"Makes both of us awful I guess." Jason hums. "We're staying at a hotel instead of Bruce's."
"Why's that?"
"Wanna have you without his security cameras."
You laugh. "Your horny little teenage brain."
"Both of us."
"Nuh-uh," You shake your head. "I don't think about jumping you. I think about biting you nonsexually."
"Yeah?"
You go quiet. "And marking you up. No visible marks this time." You deadpan. "New York is a hot mess and I still need to try clothes on."
"You gonna go shopping on fifth avenue?"
"Will you let me?"
"Go blow my money."
"Then I won't go easy."
Jason leans on the wall as you show him different clothes, doing a little spin for him when he asked. You try a bunch of stuff on only to buy three articles of clothing. You still feel bad for spending his money. Besides, he was paying for the hotel. You really wonder if you should buy him coffee as a thank you or something. Though, as Jason rips the tag directly off one of the dresses you try on, the thought disappears.
"We'll take this one." He hands the tag to the cashier. "Keep it on. You look good."
"Thank you." You grin, taking the bags from Jason as he pulls out his card. You blink as he swipes it without thinking. You wonder if you'd get to live a life like that.
"Thinking?" He takes the bags from your hand again, card in his wallet.
"I wanna be a rich kid..." You mumble. "I'd love to be rich."
"You have me."
"Yeah, but it's still different from being rich yourself." You hum. "Let's head back for the day."
"Tired?"
You frown. "I don't want you swiping your card any more."
"Why not?" He moves his bags onto one hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "It's for you. Bruce is fine with it."
"Yeah, but." Your face drops. "too much."
"Alright. But this much," Jason holds the bags up. "That isn't really considered much if you consider—"
"I'm not one of them, Jay." You squeeze his hand. "I'm fine with what you've got me already. Wanna go to the ice cream museum tomorrow?"
"Sure." He smiles. "Make the reservations."
"Got it." You grin.
Because no matter how willing Jason is when it comes to swiping his card for you, he still respects your words. Even when you're telling him it's too much, he knows when you truly draw the line, in the way your eyes harden and your voice drops. Jason would spill his entire fortune for you, anything for you, just for your happiness. That was all that mattered to him — the little sparkle in your eye when you were happy, the small upward tug of your lips when you were content, the way your body relaxed when you were truly at peace. You. As long as you were happy, he was happy. Hand on your cheek and lips pressed to yours, he was happy.
"You gonna miss me in college?" He squeezes your cheek as you stare at the NYU banner.
"Definitely." You hum. "You should go here."
"Why's that?"
"It's where all the rich kids go." You grin.
"Daddy's money could get me into your school too." He smiles, leaning down to press his forehead to yours teasingly.
"Then why not use it?"
"Cause Bruce actually values honesty." He pulls away, glancing at the banner.
"And you?" You tilt your head.
"I don't care." He grins. "Want me to get in with Daddy's money?"
"Want you to join me next year with just your grades."
"Want me to leave the city behind for you?"
"Yeah."
"Just to join you?"
"Yeah."
"One year, babe."
"Bet."
You take a photo with him at your school when you move, scribbling 1 year in pencil on the picture.
A year later, Jason's your dormmate, a new photo pinned on the mini bulletin board in the room.
Jason presses his lips to your forehead as you shift in the morning sun, smile on his lips as he greets you. You mumble a greeting back, falling asleep again. His lips pull into a gentle smile, closing his own eyes. His breathing syncs with yours, hearts beating together, the rays of the morning sun warming his skin as he shields you from the light. You never liked waking up because the curtains were too sheer.
For him, even getting you a star in the sky seemed like a menial task.
After all, if you were happy, so was he.
And as he feels your body relax into the mattress, he's sure you'd say the same for him.
469 notes · View notes
kieran-granola · 4 months
Text
Sweet Sorries
(This is a little JayTim Chanukah gift for @silver-snow-77! Thank you for being a lot of fun 💕)
“We missed you at the Manor.”
Jason doesn't flinch but he tenses, his shoulders drawing up as he sets his helmet down on the table. Slowly, he turns around to find Tim sitting at his kitchen table all bundled up in a cozy sweater and scarf. The plate of sufganiyot that Jason cooked and abandoned earlier that day is waiting in front of him, the shape of it somehow accusing in the semi-darkness.
“Who’s we exactly?” Jason asks as he unholsters his guns. 
In the kitchen, Tim shrugs. “Alfred. Bruce. Damian. Me. Take your pick.”
Following his well-practiced routine, Jason unloads his weapons and puts them away in his safe. He'll need to clean them later — to make sure everything will be in working order tomorrow when he heads out into the streets again — but he's got more pressing concerns for now.
“You see me practically everyday, birdie.”
“We don't celebrate Hanukkah everyday, though.”
Jason shrugs off his leather jacket and sprawls on his couch to work on removing his boots. “Technically, for a week, we do.”
Tim's tongue clicks. “Jason.”
“Timothy,” Jason deadpans.
They stare at each other in silence for a minute, then Tim sighs. His shoulders droop, hurt clear on his face. When he speaks, his voice is thin.  “Why didn't you show up? I wanted to spend the night with you. I thought—I was hoping that you wanted to celebrate with me too.”
Shame and guilt bloom in Jason's stomach. Fuck. He's an asshole. He was so caught up in his insecurities, so worried about Bruce's judgment and Alfred's disapproval, that he didn't stop to consider whether Tim would be hurt by his absence. Stomach turning into a mess of knots, he kicks his boots off and stands up. 
“I'm sorry. I was planning to go. I mean—” he gestures to the plate of pastries, “—I even baked. But then I just… I don't know. I couldn't do it.”
Tim bites his lip. “You got scared.”
“I guess.”
“You could have told me. I would have spent the evening with you, we could have—”
“No!” Jason blurts out. “No. It's—You shouldn't have to skip family celebrations just because you decided to fuck the local pariah.”
Tim goes stock-still, his expression smoothing out into an impenetrable mask. “Is that what we're doing? Fucking?”
Dozens of memories flit through Jason’s mind — Tim's smile over shared fries, his strong fingers digging bruises into Jason's hips, heated debates in front of the TV, and days spent curled up together in bed — and his heart stutters. Dammit. He didn’t mean to imply that what they have isn’t serious. 
“No, it's not,” he says slowly. “You know it's not. You're as much of a detective as I am. You’ve got to know how I feel about you.”
“By that logic, you have to know how I feel about you too. But you still left me hanging at the Manor tonight.” 
Jason looks away. Maybe he does know. Maybe he remembers the way Tim took care of him when he was sick despite his own weakened immune system. Maybe he can picture the smile that blooms on his face whenever he wakes up next to Jason. Maybe he knows the shape of Tim's feelings intimately. Maybe he's let him write them across his bones with every kiss and touch.
Maybe it's not enough to compensate for his fear of Bruce anyway.
“I'm sorry,” he repeats. “I should have warned you. I was too caught up in my issues with B to think about you and that was unfair of me. I'll do better next time.”
Tim gives him a long, inscrutable look. Then he sighs. “Alright.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve got my own hang-ups when it comes to Bruce, so… Apology accepted. On one condition.”
“Anything you want. Just say the word.”
“I want a sufganiyah,” Tim replies lightly. “And a kiss.”
Gratitude fills Jason’s chest with sunshine. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Tim’s playful answer. To be forgiven so easily and reminded that Tim cares for him all in one fell swoop… It’s a gift he never thought he’d be given.
Eyes stinging, he moves closer and pushes the plate towards Tim. “Take as many as you want. Hell, eat them all. I can always make more.”
Tim grabs a beignet. He takes a bite, and powdered sugar sticks to his mouth, bright and enticing. 
Jason leans in reflexively at the sight. Every inch of him longs for a taste of Tim’s sweetness. As clumsy with his words as he can be, he knows exactly how to touch Tim by now. How to handle him with the care and reverence he doesn’t know how to express when he’s not borrowing a poet’s words. 
Tumblr media
(Art commissioned from the lovely @coffeexrage)
Tim notices him staring. He lifts his chin and gives Jason an expectant look, his blue eyes impossibly bright. “Well? That’s only half of what I asked for. Where’s my kiss?”
Laughing quietly, Jason crosses the distance between them and kisses the tip of Tim’s freckled nose. “There.”
Tim scrunches up his nose. “I meant a proper kiss.”
“Finish eating, you gremlin. I’ll kiss you as many times as you want after.”
“You sure about that?” Tim grins slyly. “Because I might need a kiss every day until I die.”
Jason rolls his eyes even as his heart misses a beat. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Oh, I can drive it harder.” Tim gives him an exaggerated wink.
Flushing, Jason takes a sufganiyah and pushes it against Tim’s lips to shut him up. “Eat or you won’t get any kisses at all.”
“Yessir.” Half-laughing, Tim takes a bite and the two of them share a smile. 
Jason doesn’t know what tomorrow will be like — whether Tim will insist on going to the Manor to light the candles again, and whether he’ll have the strength to accompany him if he does. What he does know, though, is that Tim’s gentle warmth is enough to make him want to keep making an effort. He might never be able to mend things with Bruce, he still damn well intends to nurture his relationship with Tim.
One kiss at a time.
207 notes · View notes
Text
Brotherly Love Pt.5
J.T. D.W
Tumblr media
Jason Todd x Al-Ghul/Wayne reader(platonic)Gender Neutral
Pt.[1][2][3][4]
Summary:Jason keeps finding ways to connect with you, Damian's a little jealous.
Warnings:Light fight scene, cigarette, a knife. (Also the pie recipe is a copy and paste from google)
~☆~
Bruce awoke with a fright, running down the stairs and down to the living area of the Manor. His short red robe riding up his thighs as he ran to try and find the cause of the loud bang he had heard.
"Hey, Bruce." Jason had lazily greeted, not taking his eyes off of the newspaper infront of him, hand scratching the top of Aces head.
"What was that sound?" The older man questioned, not even asking what Jason was doing at the Manor.
"You got new locks." Jason deadpanned whilst finally looking up at Bruce from where he sits.
"Why are you here?" Bruce finally asked.
"Waiting for Y/N, they sleep so much later than Demon spawn." Jason complained.
Bruce paused, thinking of what to say. He just knew he was glad Jason was finally coming around, and that you had a brother again, even if he isn't your actual blood brother.
"Can I borrow them for the day?" Jason asked, almost shy but Bruce knew better.
"Yeah, go wake them up." He told Jason, before patting his shoulder.
~☆~
"Y/Nnnnn.." Jason sung out, trying to wake you. You could feel the almost inhuman warmth radiating from his hand that rested on your shoulder.
"Y/Nnnnn.." The living dead man next to you sang again.
"What?" You moaned out, eyes stinging from the sleep wridden in them.
"Get dressed, were hangin' out." Jason informed, leaving a pat to the arm that his hand rested on.
~☆~
Jason ended up taking you to his apartment, asking you if Alfred had introduced you to his baking yet. Your answer left Jason at a loss for words, what do you mean Alfred hadn't introduced you to his infamous cookies, or his brownies?
"Well we may not be making his cookies, because he won't give me the recipe, but we will be making pie!" Jason exclaimed, a giddy grin resting on his face.
~☆~
The memories of rarely baking pies with Jason's mother when they had the supplies clouded his mind, how after her death it moved to baking with Alfred. Now as if it's some family tradition he's moved on to doing it with you, only this time he's the teacher.
Jason sprinkled flour onto his counter, before plopping half of the dough Alfred made for you to that morning on top of the thinly dusted surface.
"You ever baked?" Jason asked, his Gotham accent dripping in his word. You shook your head and Jason offered a smile whilst grabbing a rolling pin.
"Watch me." Jason's arms gripped the utensil, rolling over the dough just a bit so you could get the gist. His arm nudged against your own as he handed you the rolling pin so he could peel the apples for the filling. You delicately pushed down and rolled the dough into a thinner circle, Jason eyed you from where he stood peeling fruit so that he could tell you when it was thin enough.
"Alright, flour your hands." He whispered, walking back over to your side and taking the rolling pin. His hands peeled the edge of the dough off of the counter, before placing it onto your newly dusted hands. Jason placed a pie tin in front of you and helped you set the dough into it.
"Make sure it's tucked in." He instructed, pulling your wrist so that you could push the dough fully into the tin pan. You watched as Jason cut off the extra dough, and prick holes into the bottom with a fork before placing it into the oven.
"I'll peel the apples, you roll out the other half."
~☆~
Jason had peeled and cut all of the apples, now they were placed into a big bowl. The pre-baked crust had already been taken out of the oven, and all of the filling ingredients have already been measured.
Jason situated you infront of the bowl, handing you a spatula for mixing.
He handed you the sugar and the cinnamon to add to the bowl, pouring the flour himself. A spinkle of salt, and some nutmeg came afterwards, Jason poured in the little bit of lemon juice that came last.
"Stir gently." He whispered, watching as you mixed all of the ingredients into the apples.
Jason placed the pie tin infront of you once again, ordering you to spoon the ingredients into the crust-lined pan. Jason's fingers pinched the top layer of dough onto the top of the pie, before cutting a slit into the encasing. He placed tin foil onto the top of the pie, and placed it into the oven.
"Let's clean up." Jason spoke as he held up his hand for a high five, you stared at him for a moment before his opposite hand grabbed your wrist so he could guide your hand to meet his own.
~☆~
*After cleaning up*
"Okay, show me what you got."
"What?"
"Hit me."
Your fist came up without hesitation, aiming a blow below his sternum, his own hands grabbed at you before your fist collided with him. Jason moved quickly, prying a finger into your side, right under your ribcage. Your hand twisted from his grasp, and you landed a kick to his knee. Letting out a grunt in frustration he fell onto one knee. His hands wrapped around both of your legs before pulling you forward, letting you fall to your knees as well. Jason shot out an arm to grab you with, but you quickly caught his hand and got back onto your feet, rounding behind Jason's body so his arm was twisted behind himself.
The front door flying open alerted both of you, forcing you both to stand up in a correct fighting position.
"Hey!" A redheaded man yelled when he caught sight of the both of you.
Jason let out a sigh before wiping a hand over his face.
"Y/N, this is Roy." Jason introduced the redhead for you. The man stepped forward, shooting a hand out for you to take whilst a grin rested on his lips. You glanced at his hand, giving it a dissatisfied look before hesitantly taking it in your own.
As Roy dropped your hand he walked off into the kitchen, snooping around to see is he could find the food he smells.
"Whatcha' makin'?" He asked, neither you or Jason answered, only glancing at each other.
"Damian's more of the fighter, anyway." You shrugged, before walking off to follow Roy.
~☆~
You watched as Jason and Roy played a video game on Jason's TV. Your slice of pie that had previously been made was still being eaten by you, the two men that resided beside you and on the floor had already scarfed down their own slices.
You watched as their characters fought each other on the screen, your mind wondered, what if you and Damian were raised like this? What if the two of you were raised away from war? Gotham it's self had its own spike of violence but still nothing to what you and Damian were raised with. What if the two of you were "normal", raised playing video games, having sleepovers, playing catch with you father?
Part of you resented Talia for raising you the way she did, but another part of you loved her and thought about the times she actually acted like your mother. Like how when you were younger there were certain times when she would sit in her bed, you and Damian tucked on either side of her and she would read a book to you. She even had a painting that was made of you and your brother hanging on the wall of her quarters. But still, she raised you with all of that violence, training as the Al-Ghul heirs. Just because she was a little soft with you at times doesn't make her mother of the year.
~☆~
Before Jason dropped you back off at the Manor he cut a slice of pie and put it in a container with your name on it. Giving you firm instructions to immediately give it to Alfred, then he placed it into your bag.
"Y'know if you want more, call me." Jason told you, handing you the phone of yours that you didn't even know he had. "Roy's is in there too."
The redhead looked over at the sound of his name before throwing a smile and a peace sign.
"See ya' little dude." Roy bid goodbye as you passed him due to Jason pushing you out of the front door.
~☆~
After pulling up to the front of the Manor, Jason leaned on his motorcycle, a hand in his pockets, and the other holding his newly lit cigarette.
The two of you sat out there together, staring at the gothic chic Manor.
"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You broke the silence, not ready to watch Jason leave. The taller man only snuffed his cigarette out and put on his helmet.
"Sorry, kid." Jason muttered as the threw a leg over his motorcycle and drove off.
~☆~
Alfred opened the door as soon as you reached the front steps, he always had this strange way of forming at the door before you could even knock. As he held a hand out for your backpack you reached in and handed him your slice of pie that Jason had given you.
"Dinner is set."
"Thank you, Alfred."
~☆~
You headed straight for the dining room, without even changing your clothes first. It's not that you were hungry, you Jason and Roy had snacked on things that you could've never eaten back with Ra's, you just didn't want to be alone yet.
Your socked feet dragged against the hardwood floors, Jason had woken you up too early for your liking. After your grandfather's death and coming to America you've indulged in some things you've never done before, like sleeping in.
Your hand grasped the wooden chair that came in a set with the dining table, after slumping in the chair you sluggishly filled up your plate with food. Both your father and brother had stopped their movement's as they watched your tired state.
"Woke up to early." You sighed, before giving Bruce a big smile, one that he returned.
"Did you have fun?" Bruce asked, cutting up a piece of his dinner.
"Yeah, we baked...an-and I watched him play video games!" You excitedly revealed, missing the expressionless face Damian watched you with.
~☆~
After dinner you started walking to the bathroom for a shower, then you could pass out. Footsteps could be heard walking in sync with your own, familiar footsteps, the ones you know all too well.
Damian pulled you to a stop with a firm grip to your arm, one that your sure will leave Red marks for the next few minutes.
"Why do you keep spending time with him?" He asked as his green eyes bore into your own. You watch as he quickly swallows, before chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.
"That's none of your concern." You hissed before yanking your arm out of his grip before walking off, leaving Damian standing in the empty hallway.
~☆~
Tumblr media
Where are you from, or at least what time zone? Because I've noticed you guys are mostly active during 12-5 AM (my time). I promise that the next chapter will have action in it....just bear with me people...<3
Taglist:
@sanjanapm
@unofficial-jaytodd-wife
@morii-vx
@godknows-shetried
@wendds
@celestair
@lorosette
@knoxx-seresinbradshaw
@agent-nobody-knows
@5sos-wdw
@lil-baby-nor
@simligul
@luvly-writer
@neptunesdreams2007
@zonked-times
@i-3at-kidz
@myxticmoon
@xxgrimripp3rxx
@samstersv
@vanessa-boo
@greengarsstuff
@illya-roma
@luna025
@fruittiest-of-loops
@classymusicgalaxy
@randomlyappearingartist
@bluejay390
@venomsvl
@marvelworldlover
@ceshacat
@killercranberries
@hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog
@greenkiki
@herascave
@cryinghotmess
@ladyagagaslefttoe
@b-barnes04
@theitchbbbb
@theclassicvinyldragon
@loxbbg
@tami123
@lunalixya
@randobeetlehouse
@1lovehotmoms
@esposadomd
@american-idiot21
@mildvalue506
@ziaphene
@cryinghotmess
@persephil
@ya-mya-22u
@lilylovelyxo
@soupasses
@dnarez
@mandyboolove
@scorpionmotordemon
@dangerous-girls-world
@darkfaethedestroyer
@violet2507
@urminebutidontwantyou
@d3m0nch1ld
@mxtokko
1K notes · View notes
urmoonlightbebe · 9 months
Text
YOU’RE HERE NOW & I STILL LOVE YOU FOREVER || J.T. X FEM!READER HC PT.3
MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS
HEADCANON: the events after jason’s death and how you coped and healed but you didn’t move on from the love of your life.
MENTIONS: death, cemetery, anger from reader, guilt, arguing, little hint of violence, stalking
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
┌──═━┈━═──┐
- AFTER the funeral and everything else…you spent time just by yourself…you needed to heal on your own. everyone is different when someone they love dies. and in grief, is a pain in the ass.
- YOU overworked yourself way too much during your senior year. you grew more tired. the light in your eyes was gone.
- everyone gave you their condolences of course. you accepted a tight lipped smile.
- you always fidget with the ring jay got you after he died
- on SUNDAYS, you would bring flowers, jason’s favorite pack of candy, a green candle when you visit his grave. it’s a routine
- Bruce would see you from the balcony with the biggest frown on his face. he knows how much you loved his son
- DICK still tries to get into contact with you. like he doesn’t mean to be annoying but he just wants to see how you are
- you still have JASON’s clothes in your closet that you can’t touch anymore
- but when you do, you start bawling and sobbing into his shirt that always smelled like him.
- when GRADUATION rolled around, you heard that jason would of been valedictorian by now. god, you were so proud of him.
- you imagined he would of shrugged his shoulders with a tiny grin
- turns out, the school decided to do a little ceremony for him. Bruce made him actually.
- jason’s photo was on the screen and everyone just turned towards you
- you always that one photo of him that you took of him. one where he’s leaning against the wall of the school looking at you with a bright smile
- after the graduation ended, you met up with your family along jason’s who were there for you.
- you took a photo with everyone especially a photo of jason that you held up
- all of your plans with jason after graduation had ended…
- whether or not you decided to go to college, you did what you wanted to do.
- funny thing, if you ended up not going to college, bruce offered you to work for him as his receptionist or assistant
- you gave him the biggest glare thinking it was a charity thing
- dick likes to bother you and bribe you with hamburgers all the time
- you still go to you and jason’s spot including the hamburger joint
TWO YEARS LATER
- when it’s jason’s death anniversary, bruce invites you over to just be all sad tbh. you both talk about your fondest memories of jason.
- you’re now 19 (yes I changed the ages fight me), it doesn’t feel like you really are an adult now
- you quit the job from bruce’s since you want to do something on your own
- you tried to work on moving on is what bruce would tell you to do but you just can’t
- moving on is hard. some people ask you out but you always decline them. feeling like you betrayed jason if you did.
- bruce for sure did move on…a new ‘son’
- We all know the story with TIM DRAKE. and how did you know him? well…
you opened the door to your apartment, expecting the pizza guy or girl to be there instead it’s…a boy. maybe a few years younger than you. he almost looked like jason with the same messy raven hair and the same sky blue eyes. you quirked an eyebrow up in confusion, “you the pizza…kid?”.
the boy looked at you with huge eyes, papers in a manila folder clutched in his hands. “uh no?”, he says awkwardly.
you looked at him in disappointment, “than why are you here?” you flat out said with such rudeness even alfred would scold you for. the boy shuffled in his footsteps, “you’re y/n l/n right?”. you deadpan at the young boy. your nostrils flare with a deep breath. “no, fuck off”, you said angrily ready to slam the door in his face.
until his hand is up stopping you from doing so. “no wait! i know something about jason and bruce”
you immediately pulled back the door, it slams against the wall of your apartment. you stepped forward to him getting up in his face as you exited the apartment. “do NOT say his fucking name”
“just listen to me! please I know something. you may or may not know”, he pleads with you holding up the heavy file.
- in conclusion, Tim..had fucked up
- he exposed everything about bruce. about dick. babs. and…jay.
- the photos and files. the evidence was in front of you.
- you send dick an quick “fuck you you lying piece of shit” and blocked him. ALL of them knew. and never told you, keeping you in the dark.
- dick looked at your message like 🤨 “what I do?”
- tim felt bad for telling you, he was also scared of you cause you looked like you wanted to rip someone’s spine out.
- you just grabbed the files and took tim with you to the manor. this kid was gonna be the death of you right now
stumbling in the manor, you had your keys and the file in one hand and tim in the other. being practically dragged by you. alfred look at you confused on why you were pissed off and ready to tear someone apart. you love alfred but he kept it away from you as well.
“miss-“ “don’t…DON’T. you all lied to me…” you gritted your teeth angrily.
alfred stepped forward towards you ready to tell you to calm down and tell him what’s wrong. but it wasn’t alfred you were really mad at. “where is he?”, you asked the older butler with heaved breaths. Tim in your hand looked nervous and waved at alfred a little.
“where is Bruce?”, you asked alfred one more time.
bruce could practically feel the tension and anger in the batcave the minute you stepped him with Tim and Alfred. you stomped over to bruce as bruce looked at you in shock. why were you down here? “y/n?”, he questioned getting up from the chair.
not answering him, you let go of tim leaving him with the butler as you threw the files down on the floor in front of bruce. pictures of him, batman, dick as nightwing and babs as batgirl before.
bruce looked down at them, seeing them close as he step forward. his expression falls in devastation. you know.
about to explain to you, you pointed a shaking finger at him. “you- you’re such a fucking liar”, your voice cracked. eyes began to feel watering as a wave of emotions overcomes you.
the tears drip down from her eyes to your soft cheeks. “you LIED. you lied to me, for this long…” “y/n…please”, bruce tried to explain.
“oh STOP IT. you made him robin…YOU made him Robin. and he’s dead…BECAUSE OF YOU”, you yelled at him. it was quiet in the batcave, with Tim feeling awkward and alfred with his head down with shame and guilt. you sniffled feeling the mucus start to pile up in your throat and nose. pacing back and forth towards the two and back at bruce. your lips wobbled before sobbing, “how did he die? huh? tell me how he died”.
- you walked out of the manor with tears in your eyes. you never felt more angry than ever.
- you drove kind of recklessly that day. all because the secret was out.
- after a year, you stopped any contact with them. dick tried to talk to you but you refused. bruce, well he expected you to not talk to him
- you just carried on with your life. until you started to feel like someone’s watching you wherever you go
- until you heard a new ‘villain’ more like vigilante was in Gotham. terrorizing crime bosses, drug dealers, any horrible fucking human being.
- you did watch on the news with bruce as Batman fighting this ‘Red Hood’ while eating some cereal
- two days after that fight, dick came inside YOUR apartment. he didn’t leave at all
- you punched him though
- until he said the most unexpected thing ever to you…
“jason’s alive….”, he utters clutching his jaw. damn. you did punch hard.
you froze, your fist now by your side as you looked at dick with wide eyes and an agaped mouth. “what do you say”, you said with a gentle whisper.
“it’s jay…he’s red hood”, dick fixed his jaw a little feeling the ache from that forcing punch you gave him.
- all JASON remembered…was screaming his way out of the Lazarus Pit.
- he could hear your voice calling out to him
- he passed out the minute he got resurrected and brought back to life…
- talia *restraints from punching her* told him about the new robin bruce has and how he just left you all alone to grieve
- jason never felt more pissed in his entire life…
- he trained and trained, trained by the al ghuls themselves along other people
- he dyed his hair when the white streak came in
- all he could think about was you…and Bruce and that new rip off of him
- when you both got older, he got bigger, taller not the same scrawny kid you fell in love with
- he fucking misses you
- when he went back to Gotham as red hood, the first thing he went to see, was YOU.
- and when jason first saw you again, he could feel the same love he had and has for you to this day…
- he could swear the way his heart beat was gonna beat out of his chest. he could see how older you looked now. both of you now grown adults. and spent the last years without each other
- ok, he’ll admit, he did stalk you or well watch you and made sure you were home safe
- he stopped an almost mugging when a couple of hooligans tried to follow you and hurt you
- jason never held back with his punches…
- and when he fought bruce and revealed his identity, bruce had to mention you…
- jason wanted to throw a bomb at him for even talking about you
- as much as jason wanted to go and see you, he was afraid you wouldn’t love him the same…afraid you would think he was a terrible man now. he stills love you than anything in the whole world. he would burn the whole city for you. and yet, he remained in the shadows watching over you like an guardian angel…
╚══════╝
OPEN-NOTE: Hi my loves! here is part three! im sorry this took way too long! but I hoped you all enjoy! for requests and such it’s still in the making! along with the rest of my series! im just having a brain fart but pinky promise they will be released once im done! sending all my love you loves and stay safe!
LOVE,
𝓑𝓲𝓷𝔁 <3
tagged: @nick-scar @zennezii @isaidoop @isaentremundos @darlink-xoxo @khaylin27
305 notes · View notes
blackreaderfics · 7 months
Text
Checking In | Dick Grayson x Black!BatsisReader
↳ Pairing : Dick Grayson x Black!AFAB!BatsisReader
↳ Rating :  E (18+ minors dni‼️)
↳ Summary : After your brother Jason’s death, Dick Grayson keeps “checking in” on you. But as far as you’re concerned, he no longer has any right to be a part your life.
↳ W.C : ~5.2k
↳ Tags+Warnings : faux incest - step siblings (direct mentions), mild angst, hate(?)to love, sexual tension, not Titans DC!verse I just like the actor lol, canon divergence: set after Jason Todd’s death and before Red Hood, reader is a model (body type unspecified), referenced stalking, oral (f receiving), P in V sex, degradation (slut, whore), implied daddy kink, porn with plot!, special guest appearance by Booster Gold
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Hot date tonight?” 
You felt your eyes roll back into your head at the sound of the male voice that trilled like a mosquito in your ear. Fucking hell, you muttered a curse under your breath. After your shift of late-night vigilante duties, you always seemed to forget to take out your in-ear receiver. 
What was that thing Alfred always told you about breathing exercises? You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to quell your irritation.  In. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3. 
“No action tonight, dick?” You rebutted. 
“I can hear when it’s a lowercase ‘D’, Y/N. ” Unlike yours, his voice betrayed no hostility, rather, he sounded quite amused.
You and Dick Grayson had never been close. In fact, you thought of him as more a stranger than a stepbrother. Bruce Wayne had adopted you into the family after Dick had already packed his bags and moved out of the manor to Blüdhaven. The only times you saw Dick was when somebody died and you had to attend the funeral. 
You didn’t grow up with him like you had Jason. And now that Jason was gone, it was suddenly like the golden “boy wonder” had been trying to squeeze himself into your life to make up for it. Ever since the detective had arrived in Gotham last week on “private business”— whatever, you didn’t want or care to know—he’d been “checking in” on you a bit too often.
“Are you making small talk ‘cuz you’re bored or are you just being annoying?”
“I’m in the middle of something actually.”
You stilled to listen closely, and now that he mentioned it, it did sound like he was in the middle of a fight. 
“Well, I would offer to help you but— ”you paused, wincing at what sounded like a man being punched in the gut. “—seems like you got it covered.”
“More than covered, sweetheart. Unlike what you’re wearing.” He made it sound like he was joking; though, the remark itself had bite.
“What?” What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
“That dress. Seems a little much for a first date don’t you think?”
You heard a yelp of pain in the background. Dick probably had some guy’s arm twisted around. 
“How the fuck would you know what I’m wearing? Or that I’m going on a date?”
You eyed the room while putting on the other half of your earrings. The idea of privacy wasn’t exactly a thing at Wayne Manor. That was the whole reason you moved out and into your penthouse apartment in the city. 
If for some reason he had seen you, he would’ve seen your figure in a slinky black mini-dress. A tasteful, but still unapologetic show of legs, cocoa skin, and cleavage all in one. 
“That guy plastered you on a billboard in the middle of Gotham. So, y’know, doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. And relax, your comms was on. You ever notice that you talk to yourself? Like a lot.”
He was about to be talking to himself if he didn’t shut the fuck up soon.
Ok, breathe. In. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.
You were violently broken out of your breathing exercise when a screaming welp and cracking of bones sounded through the earpiece. 
Dick spoke again, slightly winded. “Bruce say you could wear that?”
“Yes, Dick. Actually, he’s the one that bought it for me,” You deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. Besides the fact that the old man would not give a flying fuck about your wardrobe, you were way too old to be slutshamed or worse, babysat.
“Now I know you’re fucking with me. He has way better taste than that.” You could hear the mirth in his voice; he was clearly just trying to banter with you.
“Oh like you would know anything about taste, Discowing.”
“…”
You got him there.
“Just make sure—”
“Good night, Richard.” You closed the line before he could give you another lecture and pocketed the listening device into your purse. 
You regarded yourself in the mirror one last time. It was a certified banger of an outfit, went quadruple platinum in all the clubs in Gotham’s nightlife scene. But that’s not where you were going tonight.
Feeling a little paranoid, you quickly scanned your apartment for any sign that you’d been bugged. Finding nothing, you shut the lights and locked the door behind you. Tonight you did have a date, with one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors at that. So you were going to look hot and that annoying buzzing in your ear was just going to have to deal with it.
Tumblr media
A sleek Tesla was waiting for you at the curb in front of your apartment building. You gave a small wave to a handsome blonde-haired man leaning against the sports car.
Your date was Michael Carter, some hotshot tech CEO you’d never heard of before until his company, Goldstar Inc. blew up out of nowhere. From what you knew of him he wasn’t as famous or rich as your billionaire adoptive father, but what he lacked in influence, he made up for in boundless persistence.
For the past month and a half, he’d been courting you with bouquets of roses, designer shoes and handbags, and more recently a billboard of you in the middle of Times Square asking you out. The billboard was what made you finally go out with him, not particularly because you liked grandiose gestures from douchebags, but mostly so he could leave you alone.
When you approached Michael he let out an appreciative whistle, and you let him wrap his arms around you in greeting. He looked down at you, appraising you and probably getting an eyeful of your tits at the same time.
“You are an absolute knockout. Who’s the lucky guy?” He quipped, eliciting an eye roll from you. 
Yes, he was also very corny but you decided you liked that about him. You’d dated too many men before that reminded you of the men in your family, and this Michael character was a blonde spark of life, a welcomed change from all the brooding and the fucking bats.
“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”
“Oh, I don’t mind waiting. Got a lot of time on my hands.”
You smiled up at him, steadying yourself on his arms and feeling the muscle underneath your fingertips. You had to admit, even though he was corny he was complete eye candy. Built like a football player, dimples, pretty face…Yep, you were definitely going to fuck him tonight.
Your eye caught sight of something from over Michael’s shoulder. You shuddered; not because of the temperature—It was a warm enough summer night— but because you could feel that you were being watched. There was… a shadow… lurking on a nearby building.
Michael followed your line of sight to peer over at the dark, confused at where you were staring. 
“Something the matter, princess? You cold?” He rubbed some heat into the goosebumps pebbling your arm.
“N-no. It’s nothing. Sorry,” You shook your head, breaking away from him to climb into the passenger seat, swiftly shutting your door before he could offer to close it for you. He scrambled back to the driver’s seat, clearly caught off guard from your sudden change in demeanor.
“How about we—” Michael turned toward you, mouth open in mid-sentence.
“Drive.” You cut him off.
“Excuse me, what?” He blinked in confusion. 
“Now.” 
“A-alright.” He paused, perplexed, then quietly obeyed, gripping the steering wheel as he pulled away from the curb. 
You fished into your purse, opening your messaging app to type out DON’T FOLLOW before hitting send. You didn’t need to see the reply to confirm your suspicions you were being stalked, and you knew Dick Grayson well enough to know he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t. 
Tumblr media
You frowned at the empty seat in front of you. You had already arrived at the restaurant and taken your orders, but your date had been taking a “business call” in the bathroom for over 20 minutes now. You were starting to think you had been ditched.
“This seat taken?” 
You looked up but instead of your date you were greeted by the sight of Dick Grayson in a crisp navy button-down rolled up at the sleeves. He looked like he could be a CEO in his own right, like the kind of CEOs people read in romance novels.
His forearms looked extremely capable, courtesy of his rigorous training; Broad shoulders and dense muscle made his shirt fit slightly too small. He cleaned up nice, a bit too nice since other women kept sneaking glances at your table. 
Dick was an undeniably handsome man, but you would never admit that to him. Instead you gave him a withering glare.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing but whatever it is, I didn’t ask.”
“So a guy can’t catch up with family after work now?” He sat down in front of you with a look feigning offense until it melted into a playful grin. He looked a bit too smug taking the spot of where your date would’ve been.
“You’re really shameless y’know that? You showing up and expecting me to just welcome you with open arms does not make you family.” You leaned back and crossed your arms. “What the hell did you do with Michael, Dick?”
“What did I do? What, you think I killed him? Like on some mobster Falcone shit?” 
“No, like on some Bruce Wayne shit. Real chip off the old block.” You scoffed. “I know you paid him off. It’s the same story with every other guy I’ve dated.”
He was silent as if mulling over whether or not to own up to the accusation.“I gave them an option and they took it,” he said simply as if there wasn't anything wrong with what he just confessed.
“And here I thought I was the problem.”
“Might be. If you keep choosing guys that’ll walk out on you at the whiff of a few bucks.”
“Fuck you, Dick.” You shot him two middle fingers and gathered your things to go. You weren’t gonna stay and hear this shit.
“They were all full of shit and you know it.”
“D-did anyone order the steak?” 
Dick broke his serious gaze from you and flashed a dimpled smile to ease the nervous waiter.
“We’ll take it to-go, thanks.”
Tumblr media
You watched your 5th Uber request get denied and sighed. You really didn’t want to have to resort to getting the Wayne driver, but these were incredibly desperate times. Maybe if you faked being in danger, they could get to you fast enough to escape from Dick.
You were in the middle of dialing the number up when you felt something heavy across your back; The smell of leather, wood, and spice interrupted your thoughts. You didn’t refuse the warmth; it was welcome. Somehow it had gotten colder than you had originally accounted for.
“Really good thing I was here. Looks like someone needs a ride,” you felt Dick whisper into your ear. He gave your shoulders a playful squeeze and walked ahead of you to his car. You looked up just in time to see him, head turned and smirking back at you.
“Shut. Up. Just take me home,” You gritted out.
“Your chariot awaits.” He tipped an invisible top hat your direction, bowing theatrically as he opened the passenger door to his car. God he was annoying. You slipped past him, and kicked off your heels as soon as you hit the plush leather seat.
The drive back to your apartment was quiet. You weren’t surprised that he seemed to know exactly where you lived. Which, due to the nature of your job was to be expected. Bruce probably had you all chipped anyway, but you appreciated the illusion of privacy at the very least.
You turned your head to stare thoughtfully at his side profile as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the shift. It was oddly intimate to watch him from this perspective. Gotham City’s lights waxed and waned across his face as you passed through the night streets.
“What?” He seemed uncharacteristically conscious under your gaze. 
“So…you’re saying I need to date some sort of incorruptible and righteous superhero. That would be good enough for you, right? Someone that can’t be bought or bribed?”
He glanced at you brow furrowed before returning his attention to the road. “Wasn't saying that.”
“Now that I’m thinking about it Hal Jordan’s kinda cute.”
“Real classy, Y/N,” He said, visibly irritated now.
“What? What’s wrong with Hal?” You pressed, knowing you’d struck a nerve. Dick was terribly predictable and fun to annoy when he wasn’t busy annoying you.
“Uh I don’t know, maybe the fact that he’s Bruce’s friend?”
“Please, they’re barely friends. Coworkers at best.”  Since when was that an issue for the dude who hooked up with the commissioner’s daughter anyway? The hypocrisy was truly baffling.
“No.”
“Fine,” You pouted at him. “Everyone cares about money, Dick. It’s Gotham. And you don’t even live here anymore, so who else does that leave that money won’t sway? Alfred?”
He gave you a pointed silence, not in any more mood for the topic of conversation. “We’re here.”
You blinked, surprised. Sure enough, you were in the familiar surroundings of your parking garage. Maybe you’d been too busy staring at the cut of the older man’s jaw to notice you were already home.
“You’re not gonna walk me up? ‘Cuz If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were my personal bodyguard.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.” 
“Cockblocker.” You muttered under your breath as you scuffed your heels back on. You shrugged out of his jacket and exited the car.
“Hey, wait! Keep the jacket on, it’s cold,” He called after you, but you only waved him off dismissively. You heard his car door slam shut and in a few strides, he was next to you again, draping the jacket over your shoulders.
He wordlessly joined you in the elevator, pushing the button to your floor like he'd been there before. At the door of your apartment, he passed along the plastic bag filled with restaurant takeout.
You briefly considered the raven haired man and then the takeout bag in your hand. “I’m probably gonna regret this, but…you hungry?”
“I could eat,” Dick shrugged, following after you into your apartment. 
You kicked off your heels and made a beeline to the kitchen. “Bathroom’s on the right. Just make yourself at home. I would give you a tour but, you probably already know your way around.”
“Thanks, but it’s the first time I’ve been in here, Y/N.” He replied drily, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I wouldn’t do that, ok?”
You only hummed, not really believing him. Dick Grayson wasn’t the type to lie, he was the type to withhold. 
You set down your bag on the kitchen table, reaching into the cupboard. “Wine?”
He jingled his car keys as an answer. 
“Ah. Right. ‘Protect and serve’ not ‘drink and drive’, got it.”
Dick seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the knickknacks on your shelf. You watched him pick up a few photo frames, inspect them closely for a bit and then carefully set them back In their places.
“You’re making my living room look like a crime scene, officer.” You chided strolling in closer. “What, are you gonna need a baggie for that evidence too?”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, humored. “I didn’t know you liked photography is all.”
“Yea well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“I know enough.”
“Like what?”
He looked around the room and then settled on the books and magazines stacked on your coffee table. “You’re into fashion.”
“Well yea, I’m a model, Dick. Not exactly breaking news,” You scoffed. “You sure you’re a detective?”
He broke into a grin, the kind of grin that made the dimples in his cheeks deepen. It was like he genuinely liked when you made fun of him. “Well, I also know you also have terrible taste in men so…”
“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to get laid?”
“No, and I hope that never crosses my mind." He made a face like the very thought disturbed him. "Besides, you don’t want that.”
You chose to ignore the blatant patronizing. “Not a want; It’s a need. A biological one. Girls have those too y’know.”
“Ugh alright, can we change the subject now, please?” He wrinkled his nose, cheeks faintly flushed. It would’ve been so easy to tease him about how cute he looked blushing.
“You’re the one that brought it up.”
“I did not bring that up. I’m…just saying that I know you’re not that type of girl.”
“Not that type of—And what would that be?” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“The one-night stand type. That’s not you.”
“How would you know what I am and what I’m not?” You retorted, agitation building. Getting date-ditched was one thing but getting mansplained to about your sex life was just the cherry on top of a shitty Saturday night.
“I know you,” He spoke slowly with an edge that confirmed your suspicions; The tone in his voice was backed by knowledge of your history—who you were before Bruce rescued you out of that hell and scrubbed your background clean.
“More like you’ve been stalking me. That’s not fair, Dick. You can look up all the data you want on me on that supercomputer but you don’t get to know me. It’s—it’s too late for that.”
You thought about Jason and how he was ripped away from you too soon. Tears fell faster than you could stop them. One second you were ok and the next, Dick had crossed the room to bring you into his arms. You fisted his shirt as you cried into his shoulder.
“You weren’t here. You left. You left us.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He comforted softly, tightening his arms around you.
“That’s not fair, Dick. It’s not fair.” You can’t remember the last time you cried this pathetically. He was rocking you gently now, whispering apologies in your ear.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m gonna make it right.” 
He gazed at you now, a sadness in his eyes. You wondered what exactly he meant by that. The only way to make it right was to bring Jason back. 
He gently held your face in his hands, thumbs swiping away stray tears. Years of training had calloused his fingers and you could feel them now against your cheeks.
“Let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
His soothing voice released flutters in your stomach—a bubbling concoction of fear, anticipation, and…something more. 
Inhale. 1. 2. 3.
Your breathing became shallow as he brought his head down, lips hesitant before yours. When you didn’t move away he brushed against you, softly first, waiting for permission until your eyes fluttered closed and you finally let him in.
Your cheeks burned. Something about kissing him made you embarrassed or maybe you were ashamed, like you knew you were doing something you shouldn’t.
You fumbled out of his jacket, now too hot, and pawed frantically at the buttons on his shirt. He kissed you with more passion, swallowing your moans as his hands shamelessly roamed your body, groping and grabbing handfuls of your ass. 
“Bedroom. My bedroom.” You said quickly between fraught kisses. If you hadn’t, he would’ve probably taken you right there on the sofa.
He nodded in agreement, picking you up with ease and swiftly treading to your room with you in tow. He set you on the bed and resumed where he left off until you were lying under him. That’s when you could feel him, all of him, pressing against you. 
“‘m gonna make you feel good.” 
Ripples of abs and lean muscle ground against you as he kissed down your neck. You gasped softly when his hand moved to rub you over the cloth of your panties.
“Wanna see you. Please, let me see you.”
He tugged the top of your dress down, undoing the clasp of your bra and revealing to him the peaks of your tawny nipples. You inhaled sharply, watching him take your breast into his mouth, eyes on you, as he licked and sucked.
You writhed under him, already overwhelmed by everything he was doing to you. He snaked his hand back into the front of your now-soaked panties, rubbing at first and then inserting a finger, then two until you were stretching around him.
“So wet for me, my pretty girl. Look at you milking my fingers in this slutty little dress. You were gonna let him do this to you, right? You were gonna let him finger your pussy too huh, baby?”
You whimpered his name, eyes wide as he continued to speak with his fingers squelching in and out of you. Normal, everyday Dick Grayson had the image of being a “nice guy”. He was probably that neighbor you’d ask to borrow sugar from; You would never expect to hear such dirty words coming from his mouth.
He hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and brought your hips to his face.
“Let me take care of you, huh? Let me take care of this pretty little cunt.”
You cursed softly, as he began to kiss and suck around your clit as he fingered you.
“Fuck,” He groaned, “You taste so good, baby.”
He lapped at your cunt, making lewd slurps and noises. When he removed his fingers, he replaced them with his tongue and the sensation made you squirm.
“Quit moving so much. Didn’t you say you wanted to get laid? Don’t you want me to eat you out?”
“Y-yes. I want—Mmhfuck.” You nodded, finally finding some semblance of language. The way he spoke down to you was so agonizingly frustrating. It reminded you how patronizing he'd been earlier that night, telling you to cover up and dictating your life for you.
“You haven’t been fucked in a while, huh?” He mocked. “That’s why you were gonna let some guy you met today fuck you—Such a fucking slut that’s why you wore that, right?”
You whined at his words, bucking to earn some more friction from him.
“Holy shit, you like that? You like when I call you a slut.” His smile grew as if he just made a huge discovery. “Yea, ‘course you like it. Should’ve spread your legs on that billboard that guy bought. Let Gotham see how much of a fucking whore you are.”
Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. You felt betrayed by the physical reaction you gave with how crudely he was speaking. He'd figured you out; You liked being treated like a cockdumb slut.
He planted a few more kisses on your thigh, unbuckling his pants with a free hand.
“Wait for me, babe. Touch yourself and wait for me like a good girl.”
You obeyed, rubbing at your throbbing mound to no avail. Your fingers didn’t feel as good as his did. 
He freed his cock from his underwear and you could see it now, leaking beads of precum from the tip, swollen and bobbing up against his well-defined stomach. Your mouth watered, you wanted to feel all of him on your tongue. But when you reached for him, he brought your fingers up to his mouth instead, sucking the pussy juices off your fingertips. He kissed your knuckles and returned your hand to you.
“Keep those pretty fingers busy, sweetheart.”
He stroked slowly, watching you tentatively squeeze one of your breasts, your other hand rubbing and dipping between your folds. 
“Fuck you’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned before he kneeled to position himself between your legs, aligning himself at your entrance.
“You just need a cock to fill you up, doesn’t matter which one, huh? That’s what you wanted, right?”
He rubbed himself against you, tip occasionally catching on a soft divot, but not fully being inserted inside.
“You’d even let your stepbrother fuck you, huh? That’s how much of a dirty little slut you are.”
You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of humiliation, frustration, and desire. How could your body like it so much when he was being so vulgar, so mean?
“Please, I need—“ You panted, trying to push yourself onto his cock for release.
“Mmh? Speak up, princess. What do you need?” 
“F-fill me up. I need you to fill me up.” 
“Only good girls get filled up Y/N. But you’ve been talking back to me all day like a fucking brat. You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?
You nodded dumbly in agreement. He pushed inside you a little deeper, only to take it out again.
“P—lease, I’ll be good. Just—need you inside.”
If only the patients at Arkham Asylum could see you now. They’d probably grab front-row seats to see you pathetically begging for some cock. 
“You could barely take my fingers, princess. You sure it’ll fit?”
He was right. It was a tighter fit than you anticipated, but you could feel him now hot and pulsating as he stretched you out.
“You’re doing so well for me, baby. C’mon you can take it.” He cooed, muttering curses to himself until he finally bottomed out, fully seated inside you.
You moaned, holding onto his forearms as he rutted in and out of you. You could see his length disappear and reappear with every thrust, gathering a ring of your cream around his base.
“How do you feel princess?” He grunted out, pace quickening. “How does it feel to have me balls deep inside that tight little cunt?”
“It. Feels. So. Goo—Ahmmhfuck.” You clenched around him, voice vibrating with every thrust.
“Fuck, you’re milking me, sweetheart.” He laughed, voice smug. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you. Fuck, you’re so fucking dirty. You been thinking about my cock filling you up huh? Being my personal fleshlight? It’s everything you ever dreamed of right?” 
You could tell he was enjoying this, enjoying degrading you as you laid helpless underneath him, your release depending entirely on him. It was infuriating that he had this much power over you, but the amount of pleasure he was currently giving you superseded your pride.
He pushed your thighs back as he went deeper into an unforgiving mating press, knees by your ears, not caring that you weren’t as flexible as he was. 
“Such a good girl taking my cock so well. Wanted this for so long. You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty. You feel so good; so good for me.”
He moaned into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your mouth and jaw.
“This pussy’s made for me. You’re made for me. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”
You felt his balls smack heavily against your ass as he continued to pound his fat cock into your sensitive cunt, reaching your G-spot.
“Whose is it, baby? Whose pussy is it? Please, baby. Say it’s mine. Just for me.”
“I-it’s yours. O-only. Yours.”  You gasped out, feeling a warmth blooming at the apex of your thighs as you came unraveled underneath him.
His length twitched as he unloaded thick ropes of cum inside you, some of it leaking out and down your ass as he thrusted deeper.
"That's right, take my cum. Take it, it's yours. It's all yours."
He continued to fuck his cum into you until your walls squeezed around him, coaxing out every last drop.
Tumblr media
It was morning now and sunlight peeked out from between the gaps in your curtains. You grounded yourself back into your senses. Your satin pillowcase cooled your cheek, but there was an unfamiliar warmth pinning you down—an arm wrapped around your waist.
He was half-hard now, erection resting lightly against the plump of your ass. You could feel his chest rising and falling, warm against your back as he slept. Deep breaths in. 1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3.
You liked the way you fit together, your soft curves snug against his hardened body.
You turned a little to try and meet his eyes but your stirring only prompted soft kisses at your shoulder, and a strong arm pulling you ever closer, willing you not to leave the bed.
“Good morning.” He said between nips and kisses, intertwining fingers in yours. “What do you want for breakfast, beautiful?”
“Hmm? You’re still here.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“‘m still here.” He mumbled against your neck. His morning voice became noticeably deeper when sleep still clung to it. 
“Not a one night stand type of guy?”
He chuckled softly, the contented sound losing itself in the groove of your shoulder. 
“Nope. More like one night and one morning stand.”
You smiled at the terrible joke but willed it away quickly before he could see it. 
“I saw that smile,” He accused.
“No, you didn’t.” You tried to smother the corners of your mouth downward again. “You know for someone so smart you say a lot of stupid shit.”
“Aww, you think I’m smart, babe?” You didn’t have to look at him to know he probably had the dumbest smile plastered on his face. 
You rolled your eyes. “You also realize you talk way too much right?”
“You weren’t saying that last night.” He palmed your breast, kneading it softly. “Got so turned on you were literally begging me to fuck you. You were all like ‘Please daddy, please fuck me.’”
“I did not say that shit, weirdo.”
“It was implied.” He simpered.
You couldn’t help it; you were giggling now too. “You are such a dumbass.”
“First I’m smart, now I’m a dumbass. Which one is it, hm?” 
“Hmm, let me see…Which one is the quiet one, again?”
“You wouldn’t like it if I was quiet, though.” His voice had a hint of challenge in it.
You pursed your lips. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“See? I know that filthy shit gets you going. Wanna test that theory, baby?” He murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. “See if you’ll call me daddy?"
Evidently he wasn’t the only one who got off to dirty talk. His cock was now fully hard and pressing against your ass.
He rolled on his stomach, pulling you closer to him by the thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed as he nuzzled into your sex, laving and sucking, deep blue eyes locked on you. His lips curled into a smile against you when you moaned and sighed with pleasure.
Dick pulled up briefly, pussy drunk, wearing his spit and your essence on his face like a badge of honor. He peppered a languid trail of drowsy kisses from your mouth and up your jaw as you spoke.
“Wha-what happened to breakfast?” Your question spilled out breathlessly from the way his mouth worked, a futile attempt at remaining coherent. Losing face now meant inflating his ego, especially if you proved his little “theory” a bit too quickly. 
“How about I eat you out first, then you let me fuck my cum down your throat later, yea?” 
His suggestive whisper sent a heavy wave of arousal straight to your heat. 
Fuck. 
Your bodies became a desperate tangle of limbs; your legs wrapped around his hips as you bucked up to grind against him, wanting—no, needing— him back inside you. Breakfast was definitely going to have to wait.
Tumblr media
©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers
261 notes · View notes
hana-no-seiiki · 1 year
Note
Are you familiar with Ms Marvel (Kamala Khan)? What about Yandere Platonic Batfamily with a reader who is basically like Kamala (Comics ver).
Just imagine how hilarious to find that their Fangirl knows their identities and made a few fanfics about them. Like for example-
Red Hood vs The Monster truck possessed demon!
Batman and Robin vs Evil Sewer lizard's from another world!
Nightwing and the Smog-Breather!
Y'know just Fanfic writer who's also a superhero.
Also I love your content. Make sure to take breaks!
Tumblr media
YANDERE BATFAM W/ MS MARVEL! READER
“Just to make sure. . . You’re totally Damian Wayne right?”
“What-“
“Cool! That means Batman has to be Bruce. And the robins…”
You may or may not have been knocked out during your first encounter with one of your favorite heroes. By Robin himself.
Look, Damian doesn’t usually knock out innocent civilians like they murdered his cat or anything but you were a liability and a half.
Yeah, maybe revealing that you knew everyone’s identities wasn’t a good idea.
Besides Damian was kind of iffy about you since you were feeling up his body when he swooped in to save you.
(Turns out you were just confirming your theories but still)
Now the surveillance started mostly due to your uncanny encyclopedic knowledge of the Batfam and basically every other hero and villain out there.
Once they figured out you were basically harmless and just needed to get a better filter when it comes to things you say, you were mostly home free.
The thing is, the Batsons might have formed an obsession with you. Since you’re asking a yandere blog here, it was definitely not healthy.
They liked the idea of someone knowing them in and out. You’ve had competitions with Tim to figure out who knew the other better while Bruce and Damian just deadpanned in the background.
Dick loved entertaining your ships and headcannon questions. Bruce was more reluctant but found it to be a great way to incentivize you to behave and work with him better.
Jason just adores you. You’re the only younger sibling that isn’t stuck up or reminds him of his low self esteem and struggle to be a good vigilante. He was definitely weirded out at first but grew to be like Dick and definitely fuels your fan habits. Both guys definitely not so subtly strip in front of you sometimes so you can get more “reference” material.
Which brings me to the next point, who you choose to write or draw on your blog definitely gets discussed. Your blog’s every post is actively monitored at all moments. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce installed a large monitor in the Batcave just to watch over it.
Him and Tim definitely analyze your stats and help you with growing your blog. Watch Bruce spend thousands of dollars to get your page everywhere (subtly cause the first time he did it, you were so embarrassed you refused to talk to him for a week). Alfred works as your personal assistant when it comes to timing/scheduling your posts and making sure you tag them properly + have the most aesthetic formats.
Anyways, back to the discussing your posts thing, you learnt to make sure your posts, heck even your drafts, are all equal when it comes to who it features. Otherwise prepare to get overwhelmed with love bombing.
It took Damian the longest to warm up to you, but when he realizes how much you mean to him there’s no turning back. It starts from him unconsciously humoring your questions to full blown out debates over how he’d definitely win in whatever battle you pit him in your fanfics.
Speaking of fanfics, Damian loves to blackmail you about them. He’s the type of brother to love tormenting you about your totally ‘weird hobbies’ while simultaneously reading every piece of literature/art piece in your blog as if you’re bringing out the modern bible and he’s a staunch believer in the God that is you.
He then proceeds to critique your art and written works if not outright bash them.
You’d have been in tears from the essays he writes about you if you didn’t already know it was him.
(Tim told you.)
Now when your powers awakened, you went from that one sibling that knew way too much to almost an essential part of their team.
Almost because every time you were allowed to go out, someone had to be on “mouth guard duty” for when you accidentally spill what you know.
(It’s usually Tim or Bruce)
You worked a lot with Bruce during those times. Who definitely flexes the hours you two spend in comparison to the batsons.
He doesn’t mind it if you get distracted by the boys, though.
Really, he’s glad you haven’t asked how your family has been doing or when you’re going home.
‘Cause he’d have a lot of explaining to do.
General Batfam Taglist: @the-sander-fander
625 notes · View notes
thegoliathbeetle · 4 months
Text
Got Your Back
A Christmas commission for @jinsai-ish! My commission info
Summary:
Alfred has a secret. He’s being bullied. And he can’t tell Matthew, because it’s seriously embarrassing. Luckily for him, his gentle older brother has a protective and ferocious side too.
(Implied homophobia; Athlete!Matthew)
Notes-
Alfred: 14 Matthew: 18-ish
xx.
Alfred recognises the blue car parked outside his high school. The sun sets at three these days, and the headlights are on. The silhouette leaning against the door, texting, is familiar too. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, and in the light of a passing vehicle, Alfred spots a head of blonde curls. “Matt?” He can’t believe it. Matthew was supposed to come home tomorrow. 
“Hey, Al!” Matthew calls, pocketing his phone so he can wave. Alfred doesn’t think twice. He won’t admit this out loud, but it’s been a bit lonely without Matthew. He bounds up to the car in a few large steps and yanks his brother into a tight, crushing hug. “Missed me, huh?” Matthew laughs, patting Alfred on the back as he lets go. 
“What are you doing here?” 
“Came home early. Surprise!” 
They pop the car doors open and Matthew takes the driver’s seat. Alfred doesn’t wait before pestering him with questions. “How’s college? Are the classes hard? How’s hockey? Are you dating loads of people?” 
Matthew’s cheeks, visible from the yellow streetlights, colour at the last question. He is shy and mild-mannered at the best of times. Honestly, he’s something of a pushover. Alfred likes that the most. It means Matthew can be easily coaxed into buying him snacks, lending him money, or driving him places. 
“College is fine, the classes are fine. Hockey is fantastic. And no, I don’t have the time to date,” he adds, a touch bashfully. “Between assignments and practice…” 
“You should just get drafted already,” Alfred says. “If you’re in the NHL you’ll have way more time. You won’t need to do math finals.” 
“I’m working on it. We can’t all be Connor Bedard.” 
“Who’s Conn—”
But before Alfred can finish his sentence, Matthew suddenly tears away from the road and stares at him, face pinched and serious. “Al,” he says, “what’s wrong with your face?” 
Dread bubbles in the pit of Alfred’s stomach. He was sure that the bruise had healed by now. The car is slowing at a stop sign, and Matthew takes the opportunity to reach out and grab his chin. “Look here? Let me see?” His eyes widen. “What the heck? Why do you have a bruise under your eye? Did you get in a fight?” 
“It’s nothing!” Alfred laughs, pulling away. “I was in a boxing match. I won, too. You should see the other guy.” 
Matthew’s expression is cool, deadpan. “I don’t believe you.” 
“You don’t think I can win a boxing match?” 
“I know when you’re lying.” 
Dammit. 
“Well, it’s the truth,” Alfred snaps, because a bad lie is better than admitting that he got beaten up in the toilets. It was because Alfred had refused to let Will and Sam plagiarise his essay. He’d worked on that essay for weeks. So they ambushed him and called him a narc and a loser and then they yelled a bunch of homophobic shit that didn’t bear repeating, and they walked off, laughing. Kiku had helped him in the aftermath, wiping the blood off and stuff. Alfred told Dad and Papa that he’d accidentally taken a basketball to the face. They’d believed him because they didn’t know how basketball worked. 
Anyway, Matthew cannot know the truth because Alfred is in high school now, so he’s basically an adult, and he should be able to handle this stuff on his own. He doesn’t need his older brother to mother-hen him. Matthew tends to do that and it’s seriously annoying. 
He stews in this irritation until he spots a Mcdonald's. “Wait! Stop! I want nuggets.”
And Matthew’s a pushover, so he sighs and pulls into the drive-thru. 
He’s contemplative as they sit in the parking lot with their food. He keeps watching Alfred, as if searching him for more injuries. The worst of it is covered by Alfred’s layers of clothing. Matthew steals the last nugget. “Are you being bullied?” he finally asks.
“No, that’s silly.” 
“Are you?” Matthew asks again, his eyes sharp. 
“No!” Alfred says, letting out a laugh. “I told you, I was boxing. We had tryouts last week.” 
Matthew still won’t stop staring. 
“So,” he says, “did you make the team, then?” His tone is deeply sceptical. 
Alfred slurps some Coke. “Yeah, but I chose advanced math instead.” That is technically true. He’s a nerd. He’s a geek. He and Kiku play video games and watch anime and solve crosswords in their spare time. He is nothing like his tall, athletic, handsome brother who he secretly looks up to. (Matthew doesn’t need to know that Alfred admires him—he’s already a nationally-ranked amateur hockey player, he really doesn’t need the ego boost.) 
“You can tell me,” Matthew says now, his tone soft. His long lashes flutter as he blinks, staring at the puddles of dirty snow in the parking lot. “If anyone’s bothering you…”
“Oh yeah, what’ll you do about it?” Alfred laughs. “You’ll beat ‘em up? Come on, we’re not kids.” 
“You’re fourteen,” Matthew reminds him. “You are a kid.” 
Alfred doesn’t know why, but he bristles at that. Matthew makes him sound like a child. Like a toddler. He drains the Coke in two gulps and scowls, arms crossed. “Let’s just go home.” 
xx.
The winter holidays are great, mostly. Alfred and Matt go ice skating three times a week. Papa makes an elaborate Christmas feast, as always. Dad picks the best presents—it’s the one time of the year he’s so indulgent—and the whole family watches idiotic Hallmark Christmas movies because Papa insists. It’s practically idyllic, but for the fact that Matthew doesn’t let it go. 
Alfred blames himself. The second time they went ice skating, Alfred slipped, and when he fell, he landed on his bruised side, and he let out such a stupid yelp of pain that Matthew had to help him up. Ever since then, Matthew has been keeping a frustratingly close eye on him. Whenever Alfred goes out with his friends— “Who are you meeting?” And twice now, Matthew has come to Alfred’s room to say things like “You know you can talk to me, right?” and “How has school been for you, really?” 
And Matthew’s really good at these emotional, sensitive conversations, so Alfred has to be careful. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing; he honestly does not want to talk about it. It was mortifying to get jumped like that. It would never happen to Matt. And Alfred is too proud to tell Matthew the truth.
Unfortunately, Alfred’s life sucks, and the truth slams him into a wall and punches his jaw. 
They’re shopping. Papa sent them out to get groceries and Matthew needed a new jacket since his is frayed and thin. For the sake of efficiency, Alfred had suggested splitting up. The assholes from school spotted him from across the street, just as Alfred was stepping out of the store, hands laden with bags. He couldn’t even outrun them. 
They’d dragged him off to the alley behind the store, and now the groceries are scattered around their feet. Bags torn, eggs broken, grapes squashed underfoot, and a glass jar of coffee shattered. Alfred tells himself he’s not going to cry, even though his face hurts and he can taste blood and Sam knees him in the stomach. 
Sam and Will are taller and bigger and more violent, and Alfred swears he can fight them off if he could just work up the courage. Will calls him a homophobic slur, and Sam laughs. Will, who holds him pinned to the bricks, rears back his fist and goes in for another jaw-shattering punch. 
And Alfred shuts his eyes. 
The pain never comes. 
Instead, he feels the weight of Will’s body getting yanked off him, and he very nearly tumbles off his shaky knees. He manages to catch himself on the wall and—
Matthew has Will's wrist clasped in a tight grip that looks practically effortless. He’s wearing a brand-new black puffer jacket. “Hey guys,” he says calmly, almost politely, smiling at the two bullies. “What’s going on here?” 
He drops Will’s arm and positions himself in front of Alfred. And it’s like being guarded by a human wall. It never occurred to Alfred until just then, but—Matthew is tall. He’s built like a redwood. 
“We were just—” Sam says. From their faces Alfred can tell that they’re nervous. Alfred has never had to be nervous of Matthew, so he has simply never thought of his brother as intimidating. But…but that’s true, isn’t it? Matthew is intimidating. He’s a national-level athlete and he looks it. 
“Yeah?” Matthew takes a menacing step closer. “Finish that sentence.” 
There’s a short, brief, terrified silence. 
And then, Will, the idiot, lunges. It takes both Sam and Alfred by surprise, but Matthew sidesteps his charge so smoothly it’s like he’s on the ice, dodging a body check. He grabs Will by the scruff and pushes him against the wall, hard enough to make a noise, but not hard enough to hurt. Alfred, at least, knows of Matthew’s strength. He has seen his brother play sports. Matthew is holding back—a lot. 
Sam, loyal to a fault, throws himself at Matthew too, and without peeling his eyes off Will, Matthew grabs Sam and pins him as well. “I don’t usually beat kids up,” Matthew explains. “But there are three things you need to know. First: I play hockey, and I’m very good at it. Second: My university is close by, only a couple of hours away. Third: If I hear that you’ve been bothering Alfred again, I will find you, and I will break every single one of your bones. Do you understand me?”
“Matt…” Alfred whispers. 
“Do. You. Understand. Me,” Matthew repeats each word in a dangerously calm tone, ignoring Alfred’s interruption. Alfred shuts the hell up. He has never seen Matthew this way. 
“Yes,” Sam and Will whisper in unison. 
Matthew lets go of their collars. “Apologise to my brother.” 
“Sorry Alfred.”
“Yeah, sorry, Al…” 
Alfred blinks at them, then up at Matt. He doesn’t want to forgive them, so he just says, “Don’t…uh, don’t do it again.” 
Matthew evidently approves of this. He throws a final, dirty look at them. “Now fuck off.” 
They scram, so quickly that Alfred imagines a cloud of dust in their wake. Matthew approaches Alfred next, his hands a lot softer as he examines Alfred’s cheek. “Did they hit you anywhere else?” His tone is lighter, but Alfred is still too shocked to do anything but tell the truth. 
“He kneed me in the chest…it’s not too bad, though.”
“Does it hurt when you breathe? Take a deep breath.” 
Alfred does as he’s told, and the air escapes him easily. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not excruciating. It satisfies Matthew, anyway, because he sighs and shakes his head, and then begins picking up the groceries. 
“...What the hell was that?” Alfred asks when he finally gathers command of himself again. 
“I’m sorry you were being bullied,” Matthew says, picking up some fallen cans of beans. “If that happens again, I want you to tell me. Okay?” he adds, in a stern yet gentle tone. 
Alfred swallows. “I didn’t know you could be so…” terrifying, is the word he wants to use, but Matthew chuckles before Alfred can finish that sentence. 
“Come on, Al,” he smiles. “Here, help me carry these groceries to the car. We might have to make two trips.” 
“Matt, I’m serious, what was that?” Alfred demands, when they finally sit. Matthew turns on the heater and begins driving in the direction of their favourite cafe.
“Hot chocolate? I think we’ve earned it, eh?”
“ Matthew .” Alfred grits his teeth. “You looked like you wanted to…like you could have…I don’t know… killed them.” 
Matthew rolls his eyes. “What, Al?” he snaps. “Should I have let them beat you up? Is that what you wanted? I’m pissed with you, too.”
“With me?”
“Yeah, with you!” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. Alfred can see the whites of his knuckles. “I told you a dozen times, if something’s going on, to talk to me. You could have been seriously hurt. What if they gave you a concussion? You’re smart, you know what a concussion is, right?”
Alfred scowls again, and stares out of his window. 
“It’s a brain injury,” Matthew says. “And trust me, it’s nasty. I’ve seen what that looks like up close. One of my friends, Ivan, got shoved into the boards during our last game and he still hasn’t fully recovered—it’s been six weeks. He might have to sit out the rest of the season. You want that to happen to you? Huh?” 
“No,” Alfred mutters, still unwilling to look at Matt.
“Or how about a broken rib? Those hurt. I’ve broken a rib before. And you said that guy kneed you in the chest? This isn’t a joke. Do Dad and Papa know?” In the silence, he huffs. “Of course they don’t. You should have told me when it first happened, and I expect you to tell me if it happens again. Those assholes shouldn’t be able to get away with it.” 
Alfred’s eyes are burning. This is the worst. “I can look out for myself. I don’t need you to protect me.” 
Matthew appears momentarily hurt, as if Alfred has said something cruel. But then his expression clears, and he just shakes his head. “Al,” he sighs. “Are you embarrassed? Is that what’s going on?” 
God, Matthew’s a fucking mind reader. He’s unbearable. Alfred hates him. Alfred loves him. “No,” Alfred sulks. But then he slumps in his seat. “It’s just…unfair. To expect that of you. I’m in high school now. I should be able to watch out for myself. I shouldn’t need my big bro to come save me, or whatever. It’s lame.” 
He’s not sure how Matthew will react, but he doesn’t expect Matthew to laugh. “That’s what big bros are for, dude. That is the whole point. That you’ve got someone watching out for you, that you don’t need to deal with bad things on your own.”
“It makes me feel like a loser.” Crap. Now he’s talking about his feelings? This is precisely why Alfred didn’t want Matthew to find out. He always manages to pry out cringey things, like it’s witchcraft. 
“Hey,” Matthew says. “You’re not a loser. I mean,” he grins, “you are a geek, you cosplayed as Elrond last year at Comic Con, which…I really don’t get, frankly, but whatever, you know.” He pokes Alfred’s shoulder with his elbow, making Alfred smile and swat him off. “You’re not a loser,” Matthew promises. “Those kids who were beating you up, those guys were the losers.”
The silence lingers, but it’s not as terrible as before. 
“We’ll get some hot chocolate,” Matthew continues. “Maybe even the chocolate cookies—I love the double choco chip that place has. And you’ll feel better, I promise.” 
“Thanks,” Alfred murmurs. 
“No problem! I was craving hot chocolate, anyway.”
“Not for that.”
Matthew glances over at him once more and raises his brow. He’s smiling. “Don’t be a dumbass.” 
Alfred swallows. “I got your back too. You know that, right? I mean, I can’t beat up anyone, but…” he trails off. Matthew laughs fondly and ruffles his hair.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, “I know you do.”
62 notes · View notes
brianwashere · 1 year
Note
How do you feel about a bat family x male reader in which the reader (adopted or biologically Bruce’s, up to you) figures out for himself that he is trans and struggles with telling the family
*laughs maniacally* how do I feel? How do I FEEL???
I was very excited omg :333
I wrote this at 1:00 am so I’m so sorry if it’s not as good as my usual stuff
**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from DC Comics**
Pairing: batfam x trans!brother!reader
Genre: slight hurt/comfort? There’s a happy ending
Summary: look at req
Tw: unintentional use of deadname, slight mention of skin picking
The Hardest Answer
You’d figured out you were trans a few months ago.
You didn’t wanna believe it at first. You didn’t wanna think about what being trans meant for you. For your family.
Eventually though, it became too much to bear. Weighing down on your chest and slowly suffocating you. You soon came to the horrifying realization you’d need to tell your family.
You knew at least three of your brothers wouldn’t have a problem with it. Hell, Tim had a boyfriend. But what about Damian and your dad?
Damian was obsessed with living up to the Wayne name, no matter how much he pretended he didn’t, and your father, he was always in the spotlight. Always pressured to be perfect, and by extension you were too.
The media was feral when they found out there was another biological child of The Prince of Gotham.
It was the Wayne’s monthly family dinner. It was awful, everyone kept calling you by that awful name. That name that just wasn’t you. It filled your ears and you had no choice but to respond to it.
“Hey ________ can you pass the salt?”
Or
“________ what do you think about doing our hair together tonight?”
You couldn’t handle it. So many people and none of them knew who you really were. You kept your eyes low and messed around with the various foods on your plate.
Tim was sitting next to you and seemed to catch onto you just picking at the food on your plate and not interacting with the people at the table.
“You good, _____?” He whispered to you.
You clenched your jaw and shrugged, forcing yourself not to scream about how you weren’t whoever the hell he thought he was talking to. How you weren’t a girl.
By now Damian’s attention has been caught and he was eyeing you up and down as well.
“_______, seriously if there’s anything you need to talk about I’m—“ Tim started.
“It’s nothing.” You deadpanned harshly.
Dick nudged Jason and they also looked at you with concern.
“If there’s something you’re not telling us, ______ you should really—“
Something in you snapped. You couldn’t handle it anymore.
“Oh my god! I’m not fucking _______! That’s not my name that’s not who I am!” You screamed.
You abruptly stood up and stomped off to your room. Leaving your family, their minds reeling and processing what you had said.
You slammed the door and locked it. You fell against the door and slid down burying your head in your knees. Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a gross sob.
You heard conversation downstairs but didn’t bother to listen. This was it. They were gunna kick you out or send you to conversion camp, or completely ignore it and act like everything was fine.
You heard steady unhurried footsteps echoing off the walls and approaching your room. You kept yourself quiet when they stopped in front of your door.
Two gentle knocks. Alfred. You stayed silent, picking at the carpet
“If there is something bothering you this badly I strongly suggest you talk about it.” He stated.
You noticed how he didn’t address you directly. You were grateful for such a small consideration.
“Did Master Tim say something to offend you?” He asked politely.
You sniffled, wiping your tear-stained cheeks and snotty nose. You slowly picked yourself up from the floor and unlocked the door, cracking it only enough to see Alfred.
“It wasn’t Tim.” You mumbled, looking at Alfred’s shoes.
“Mmm. I see. Something else then? Something deeper, maybe?” Alfred tried.
He caught on. He knew. You knew he knew. He’s observant like that. You pursed your lips, you felt tears full your eyes again but forced them down. You nodded.
“Well Young Master Wayne, how would you like to be referred to?”
You smiled and told him.
“An excellent name.” He complimented, a twinkle in his eye.
“Are…are you gunna tell the others?” You nervously asked.
“It is not my place. But if I were to give you advice, I would suggest you do tell them. They’re all quite worried, you know.” He rested a hand on your shoulder.
“They’ll accept you.” He reassured.
⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆
You walked downstairs and pushed the large doors to the living room open; Alfred had gathered them all there.
Damian was on the floor, petting Titus. Tim was sitting in a small armchair, legs dangling off of one of the arms. Jason was lounging on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table. And Dick was sitting crisscrossed on the other couch. Bruce was in a large armchair watching you with knit eyebrows.
You gulped and stepped to where all of the could see you.
Picking your cuticles and watching the floor, you cleared your throat.
“I’m—“ your voice cracked. “I’m sorry for lashing out at dinner but there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while now.”
Everyone watched with anticipation. You took a deep breath.
“I’m trans. I use he/him pronouns. I am not a girl.” You say strongly.
There’s no response. You get nervous, your eyes start to water.
This was all a big mistake you should have never—
Arms were around you. You looked up to see your Jason hugging you. You sobbed into his chest.
“Hey hey, you don’t need to cry. I’m so fucking proud of you.” He assured and pat your back.
“What’s your name, kid?” He asked.
You told him and he smiled.
“That’s a damn good name.” He responded.
The rest of your family caught up quickly. Tim and Dick hugging you and apologizing profusely as well.
Damian walked up to you. You looked down on him. He had his arms crossed.
“I guess one more brother couldn’t do any harm.” He said passively.
You pulled him into a hug as well; he was confused at first but then hugged you back.
Then your father approached you. You held your breath. He embraced you then pulled back to smile at you.
“You make me so proud, son.” He remarked.
You grinned and hugged him again.
Yeah, you were gunna be just fine.
528 notes · View notes