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spidernuggets · 4 months

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Jason Todd x Reader

Part 2 to this.

Thanks for the support guys, sending lots of love <3

It's been 2 years or so since you moved out of Gotham. Well. Not moved out moved out. You couldn't leave. Gotham was your home. And even with those painful memories of Jason demanding you to leave, he's still the same person who you shared those long-lasting kisses with, who texted you every 5 minutes while he was on patrol to make sure you were safe at home, who was able to give you the first, real experience of love and devotion for the first time in your life.

But now you feel numb. Every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection from puddles on the ground or the shine of a window, you saw that gut-wrenching, eerie grin of the Joker. The grin of your father who once killed your ex-boyfriend and your passionate love.

But you broke Jason's trust. Maybe if you told him sooner, he wouldn't have cast you out. Maybe he would've sat down for a second and realised you aren't the same person as your father.

Staying at the next town over beside Gotham wasn't a bad idea, however. You were able to reflect on yourself, realising that you had no power over your father, and there was physically nothing you could've done to save Robin. But you've repeated in your head over and over that you are not the Joker. You weren't the ones who committed those crimes. You weren't the ones who killed so many innocent people. The only guilt that would eat at you was that you were selfish and a coward to stand up to the Joker and at least attempt to save someone. Bht you didn't. And you hoped that if someone knew your name, who knew your story, that they'd understand. That they'd be scared, too.

You were able to buy a run down... apartment?..house? Whatever it was, it was, unfortunately, all you could've afforded at the moment. And worse, it reminded you too much of your room in the warehouse. Minus the dried blood. But it had a horrible stench of weed, which took you forever to get rid of.

Unlike the warehouse, however, you were at least able to make it a little more homey. You didn't have any furniture, but you did have a cleaner mattress plus bed sheets, knick knacks scattered across the floors, a fake plant, or two on the floor beside you bed. And lastly, though you really should move on, a framed picture of you and Jason. You put this directly beside your bed, where it would be the first thing you see in the morning.

You know that what Jason told you was cruel. You could never forget it. But you had the decency to understand him. He dated someone he trusted. And unfortunately that someone just happened to be the daughter of his murderer. Of course, he'd think you're working with the Joker. Especially if that camera footage showed that you showed no effort to help Robin.

So, what the hell have you been doing when you went away? Well, as said, you couldn't stay out of Gotham for very long. You always went in and out, just for the nostalgia. Just because you had bad memories in Gotham didn't mean you didn't have good ones either. You just assumed that since your leave, you've been fired from Bat Burgers, so you decided to avoid that vicinity for now.

The real reason, though, was the soup kitchen. You could never step foot inside ever again, in fear that Jason would still be volunteering there, and you wouldn't want him to have a breakdown. So you just anonymously dropped off bags of produce of whatever you could afford during the day and quickly departed without being seen. But you missed the kids. Yeah, Jason made you feel loved romantically, but those kids, they felt like family. And how you missed diane so much, too. She was like a mother to you.

It pained you that you couldn't go see the kids anymore, but as you heard them laugh and yell just from the other side of the entrance, you smiled. You always took quick glimpses of them, and some of them grew taller. Some of them formed freckles on their faces. But your smile would slightly falter when they mention how much they missed you. And by that time, you'd just drop off the bag and make your way back home.

You weren't proud of it, but when you found yourself completely broke, you decided, fuck it, and started nicking a things from grocery stores, just for you to survive. And in moments like them, you think to yourself... am I slowly becoming like...him? You shake your head, thinking that the Joker had committed the most heinous, unforgivable crimes, while vigilantes wouldn't really care for petty theft, and the cops wouldn't give two shits anyway, especially if it's only stores running on the poor side of Gotham being robbed.

God, how you hated the police system. They'd only help when the richies were being mugged. Even Batman neglected the poor. Sometimes, you'd smile when you'd see Jason helping the kids of Crime Alley. The memory warmed your heart. Too bad you couldn't make more memories similar to those ones.

You rushed your quick drop off of fruits and veggies to the soup kitchen. It wasn't much. You think an empolyee spotted you trying to conceal a small box of strawberries in your jacket.

You felt some familiarity when you turned to make a run for it when you ran into somethi- someone.

"oW- literally what the fuck-" You hiss, grabbing onto your scrunched up face, not noticing the person you walked into. "Watch where you're going, nit-" You looked up to glare at the person, but oh, how you could never forget those gorgeous green eyes. Those green eyes you fell too far in love with. The green eyes that would sparkle when its owner would rant about the new chapter he was reading in The Catcher in the Rye. The ones that used to look at you so lovingly. But now, it is replaced with burning resentment.

"You're the one not watching where they're going."

What a familiar setting. But instead of the joking tone of Jason correcting that you're the one not watching their step, he means it now. As if he was some stranger to you, annoyed that some rando foolishly walked into him and tried to blame him.

And suddenly, you're back at the Batcave. Suddenly, you're back on your knees, looking up at the hurt, screaming man who towered over you. Suddenly, you hear once more if I ever see you again, I'll end you.

You don't reply to his spiteful response. But you notice your breathing getting heavy. You try to make a run for it past him, but what he says next makes you stop.

"You're selfish for coming here," he grumbles, barely audible, but you hear it. You hear it so clearly. And it pisses you off. What the hell does that mean?

"I get you hurting me because I was Robin. Because I'm close to Batman. But coming here to hurt these kids?"

You turn to him, disbelief on your face. "Excuse me?" You spit.

"These kids did nothing wrong. So leave them alone. Leave Diane alone. Leave Gotham." He says, surprisingly pretty calm.

You already feel the tears brim your eyes. "Fuck you," you say quietly, choking out a sarcastic laugh as you turned to walk away. But before you can leave his line of sight, you turn to face him once more. "I didn't do shit, okay?! I made a mistake, but I didn't. Do. Shit,"you claimed as you walk away in a fast pace. And this makes Jason fume in anger. Yes, you did. You lied to him. He told you his secrets. You were about to give him up back to the Joker. You put his family that he worked so hard and long to make amends in jeopardy. Right?

Jason follows after you in anger, pulling you through a narrow alleyway. Luckily, the neighbourhood was quiet, and no one was around to see this private situation.

"Don't talk to me like you did nothing wrong," Jason hisses. And you yank yourself away from his grip.

"You never told me you were Arkham Knight. Why do I owe you who I was?!" You snarl at him.

"But I did!" He yells back. "At least I eventually told you because you were always nagging that I was out late! And you didn't even return the favour by telling me you're the daughter of someone I hate the most! You didn't commit any of the same crimes he did? Fine. But you're still an accessory. You stood there watching him torture me. And I bet you stood there with every other victim that he killed, feeling absolutely no remorse. That makes you just as disgusting as him."

By this time, tears were already rolling down your cheeks. Your cheeks burned red, and you could feel a headache forming.

"And the worst part," Jason continues quietly. "I still can't get you out of my head. A stupid itch at the back of my mind saying that I still love you," he says in shame.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. What the fuck? No. No, why the fuck would he say that. That's selfish of him.

"Fuck you!" You yell. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so fucking sorry, but I couldn't do anything! You saw it yourself! I was a kid, I couldn't do anything! I was scared! And I did NOT watch him torture you- I wasn't even aware you were there until he killed you! I didn't even remember it was you when I first met you!"

"BULLSHIT"

"IT'S NOT FUCKING BULLSHIT," you cried, panting, your adrenaline dying down. You rake your hair back, tangled between your fingers as your tears begin to dry up.

"I'm sorry, Jason," you sighed. "I really am, I- I'm sorry I couldn't save you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was but.. but not telling you was protecting you! The fewer people who knew who I was, the safer everyone would be, especially after you told me that you're Red Hood..." You took a breath. "I spent my whole childhood believing my dad when he told me that no one could love me. But then I met you. You taught me how to love and- and how to be loved! And I fucked this up, and I'm sorry. But I'm too tired to keep arguing. I finally accepted that I'm not the same person as my father and- and I'm not going to let you take that away from me because it's the only thing I have left.."

Jason stares down at you. You have no idea what's going through your head, and right now, you don't have the energy to find out what it is. So, you slightly shake your head in defeat and start to wall out of the cramped alley.

"Oh," you say before leaving. "And for your information, I already left gotham. Just stopping for a visit," you mutter before finally leaving Hason on his own.

He shouldn't believe you. How can he trust you?

You arrived back at your house. Your body went limp, laying on the mattress as a final tear soaked through your pillow.

You absolutely hate how you know that you still love Jason Todd. He was the first person to ever help you what love truly felt like but also showed you how fast such a strong bond can crumble in a few minutes.

As Jason is remained to be alone in the alley, he thinks to himself. It's crazy. You've been raised by the Joker. The Joker. How are you raised by such an abomination but still be the most angelic, beautiful person to cross the planet.

He walks out of the alley and goes towards the soup kitchen where he'd start his volunteer work. Before he walks in, he notices the small bag that you left behind. He picks it up and opens it to see fruits and vegetables inside. He shrugs, not trying to think so much about it and heads inside.

As soon as he steps in, he's greeted by the kids, and his gave brightens in delight. But he sees some of the expressions falter.

"Where's Y/n?" One of them asks. "You two are always together... we haven't seen her for a long, long, loooong time," they frown.

Jason was about to awkwardly answer when Diane came up to him. "Jason, my dear boy! How was your rest, honey?" She asks. Ever since he found out you were the Joker's daughter, he couldn't work, he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. He didn't have the energy of volunteering, so he rang up Diane saying that he wasn't in the best spirits, in which she completely understood, saying that you would be around to help anyway. He was about to answer to say that he wasn't so sure about that, but Diane hung up, telling him to get a good rest, and that she'll see him soon.

Jason nods and sends her a sweet smile. "Yeah, thanks. Had a lot in my hands at the time," he explains, but Diane shakes her head.

"Don't even worry, sweetie. It's been calm the past few days," she says, looking down at Jason's hands, and a sad look reaches her eyes. "Is that from Y/n? She always left a bag of food outside, thinking she's slick. Tsk, foolish girl," she jokes. "She hasn't been around in a while. You two are dating, no? What happened? Of course, it's not my place to know. But I'm here if you need to talk, sweetheart," she says, placing a comforting hand to his cheek before walking back to the kitchen.

A little girl tugs on Jason's jacket.

"Jay-jay?" She calls out as Jason bends down to her eye level. "Is, N/n okay?" She asks, worry in her face. Jason attempts to send her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure she's fine," he responds. "She's a big girl, like you. I'll check up on her to make sure she's okay, if that'll make you feel better," he offers.

"You promise?" She asks, holding her tiny pinky out.

Jason sighs. "I promise," he says, intertwining his larger pinky around hers.

Unfortunately for Jason, he never breaks a pinky promise to the kids. And he would never lie to them. So, on Jason's next scheduled patrol, he'll ditch and find you to make sure you're safe. That's it. Nothing else. He doesn't need to speak to you. Just a quick glance to see if you're not doing anything stupid.

Wait.

God fucking damn it.

You told Jason you already left Gotham. How the hell was he supposed to find you??

Shit, right. Diane said you always leave bags of food outside their door. So you couldn't have lived far, right?

Okay, he'll do a quick sweep of the ourskirts of Gotham, then he'll check the edge of the next town over.

It's been a long, tiring night, to say the least. He started searching the outskirts of Gotham around 6 pm and started his search of the next town from 1am.

He was about to give up his search when he heard a man yelling. He looks down to see a figure running out of a 24 hour convenient store as a man in a uniform yells after you. Jason rolls his eyes, hopping down to the roof to stop you.

You run pretty far, but you look back to see if the store owner was chasing you. You smile to see that you weren't being followed, but as you face back forward, your head hits against an extremely hard, metalic surface.

"Fuck! No- why!" You yell, pressing a palm to to your forhead, where the impact was laid. And low and behild, you see the infamous Red Hood standing in front of you.

"You know I'm always not looking where I'm going! Can you at least have the decency not to be in my way!" You hiss, swerving past him. "Besides, I don't want to speak to you," you mutter, heading home, which wasn't that far.

"I'm not here to talk. Anna just wanted me to check if you're safe." He claims as you scoff.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" You sarcastically say, grabbing the keys for your door. Jason inspects your house.

"This is where you live?" He blurts out with clear concern.

"What of it," you mumble, stepping in. Neither of you really commented on the fact that Jason let's himself in, continuing to critique your humble abode.

"There's mould and cracks everywhere," Jason says, looking around.

"Great observation, sherlock. Guess what? I don't care. It's a roof over my head, and it's a 10 times upgrade compared to the warehouse. At least there isn't dried blood everywhere," you say.

"What? You didn't have a proper room?"

"Joker wasn't really a 'world's greatest dad mug' kind of guy." You say, laying on the mattress, keeping one leg bent upwards as the other lays flat. One arm is tucked under your head as the other is laid over your eyes.

Jason wanders around the run-down bulding, looking at your belongings scattered on the floor, which used to sit on the shelves and windowsill of his much more comfortable apartment.

But a shimmer catches the corner of his eyes. He sees a frame, the picture turned away from him, directly beside where your head lies.

He cautiously walks towards you, taking a peek of the picture. And he could already tell, by the smiling faces and puckered lips of the photo, that it was his favourite picture of the two of you. He had a copy of the photo stuck in his room somewhere in his apartment.

And the guilt slowly eats at him.

"I'm sorry," Jason quietly says.

"For what?" You mutter, obvious that you're exhausted.

"Everything I said." He replies, sitting on the floor beside you. "For telling you to leave Gotham, thinking you were anything like the Joker... saying I'd kill you if I saw you again.. I didn't mean it," he says, his voice getting raspier by the second. "It was horrible of me to say."

"It's whatever, Jay... Jason," you reply, shifting to turn away from him, your back facing him. "I'd probably think the same if I were you."

His heart sunk.

"I should've believed you," he says, his voice raising a little. All he needs is for you to say you forgive him for saying all that shit. Because of him, you think so lowly of yourself, and that you love in such a horrible state, where instead the two of you could be cosy, wrapped in softer blankets in his bed in what ysed to be your shared apartment. He doesn't think he can take it if you think so harshly of yourself.

"But you didn't. And... and that's okay. I mean.." You try to hide your sniffle by burying your face into your pillow, but you aren't as discreet as you think as Jason obviously catches you. "I don't think anyone in this world would trust the daughter of a psycho," you try to joke, sending a weak, pathetic laugh.

"But you proved to me so many times that you aren't him. And I completely ignored all those times and started labelling you for someone you're not! How are you not mad- how are you not yelling at me?" Jason says, almost in a desperate whine. He needs some sort of emotional reaction from you. But you look so... dead.

You sigh as you sit up, avoiding eye contact. "Because you were right, Jason. You had every right not to trust me. I broke your trust by not telling you- I couldn't even save you."

Jason shakes his head vigorously. "No- No, no, no. Sweetheart, no," he didn't mean for the nickname to slip out, but no one mentions it. He reaches for your hands, which fit so perfectly in his larger ones. He held your hands in his grasp, pulling them to his chest, making sure you're looking at him.

"I was wrong- It wasn't your responsibility to save me. You were a kid- we were both kids! There was nothing we could've done. We were both kids dragged into Batman and Joker's stupid game of theirs! This isn't either of our faults! And you didn't tell me you were Joker's daughter... and that's okay. I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand why you didn't tell me. The Joker is wrong, Y/n. You can be loved... You are loved. Because I love you so much that it hurts," he admits, brushing strands of your hair away from your face so that he can look into your eyes. And you can look back into his. His gorgeous green eyes that can finally see love again. "And I understand if you don't lo-"

"I love you so much, Jay," you sniffle, smiling at him. Jason's eyes soften as he smiles, his head leabing forward and his lips resting on your forhead. "I'm sorry," you say, and Jason just shushes you, but you continue. "And I forgive you for what you said to me," you quietly say, shifting to lean your head on his shoulder.

"I forgive you, too, my love," Jason replies, his hand reaching up to softly caress your cheek. "I'll stay the night. Okay? Then tomorrow, first thing, you pack your stuff and move back in with me, okay?"

You smile as you nod, your tears finally withering away as you lie down in your bed, watching Jason strip off his heavy armour, laying in with you in just his tactical pants and compression shirt on. He wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, and suddenly, you feel safe again. You feel warm again.

You feel loved again.

I'm so sorry if this is ass 😭. I really wanted this finished, and it's like 2am. But i really hope you'd still enjoy!! 🙏🙏

Taglist 🏷: @tyrone200 @pank0w @lorosette @havlindzk @achromaticerebus @demonicparalysis @fairyeoll

sorry if you requested part 2 and was not tagged, maybe because of mention priv settings? nonetheless, i hope you like it!

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

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ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #cfau #childhood friends au #danny and jason are such best friends i love them so much #BUT YEAH ASK ME MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT CFAU I'LL SCREAM #AND THEN TRY AND ANSWER THEM TO MY BEST ABILITY #like i could go on RANTS almost SPECIFICALLY about rath (dan) and then about jason and danny #and their friendship like i've thought about this au with a combined soulmate au and immediately hated the idea because no!#no! i can't call them soulmates. i can't it doesnt fit. their bond goes DEEPER than that. its *better* than that #this wasn't written in the stars it was forged in the back alley streets of gotham with all the broken glass under their feet #and the smell of nicotine weaving itself into the fabrics of their shirts. their souls aren't intertwined because the universe said so #they're two balls of yarn tangled together because they batted it at each other and decided to play cats cradle. and then never bothered #to untangle the string from one another. you'll never know where one ends and the other begins #i actually have a cfau miscellaneous facts post in my drafts that i need to finish too and i might do that today because of this ask <33 #the fastest way to starry's heart is through her ask box #asking me questions about my aus is the fastest way to make me make more content about them ajshld #see: clone^2 (i've been coasting off the fanart i got from them for the last two days) and now this #i need to stop more before i start waxing more poetic about jason and danny's bond with one another.#also also jason is equally as feral about danny as danny is about him (see: him plotting joker's demise since he was 14) its just not #showing as much since a lot of this is from danny's pov. like dw this isn't one-sided obsession its mutual.#see: jason seeing danny's scars and immediately wanting to find out who caused it and getting murderously angry about it #its not a starry post unless its long #idk maybe im just obsessed with the idea that relationships are chosen and forged with time and that the bonds we have arent because they #were predetermined but because we made them to be. Like how clone^2 said 'i choose to be brothers' and how danny and jason said #'i choose you. i will always choose you. you're my other half. the one who watches my back. i choose you.'

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any-mouse · 4 months

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Ra’s Al-Ghul Is Why We Batclan Can’t have Nice Relationships Things.

Ok, so. I am not someone who knows a lot about the DC fandom, but fics and the DCxDP crowd (who are why I’m here) have given me information and research binges have given me more. And here’s a take I haven’t seen about Jason’s death, and why Batman not killing Joker made things dangerous for Robins. Or did it?

Batman could not win. If Ra’s decided the only thing that would get his chosen heir, or at least son-in-law, into killing would be to kill Robin, it’s time to send his assassins in. Batman keeping to the “no-killing” rule is the only thing keeping a bunch of kids and teens from facing down, not the gangs and henchmen of Gotham, but a literal death cult.

Which is one thing that makes me wonder if that’s hadn’t been Ra’s’ plan, only manipulating the Joker into doing it for him. Which casts Batman undoing Nightwing’s killing of Joker in a very different light.

But there are other things that go along with that. And why Ra’s is a bit, fixated, on poor Tim. With how wrathful and brutal Batman became after, everything, it was only a matter of time before someone died. And then all Ra’s has to do is, wait. Drop hints or little reminders of the League, maybe have Talia swing by a few times. Allow the previous rapport to rebuild itself. In the meantime, build up Jason’s rage, anger, betrayal, and then unleash him on Gotham. Watch as the two brutal titans clashed, until Batman kills Red Hood. It would utterly destroy Bruce to have been the one to kill Jason a second time.

But, ah, there is a chance to fix this. The Lazarus Pit. Bruce will do anything to undo this fatal mistake, wrought at his hands and driven by his wrath. And in his grief stricken desperation, as he looks back on his rampage with despair, at all of the people he maimed, crippled, and killed in his agony, in steps Ra’s. Don’t worry, Ra’s has been collecting them. Fixing them. He does not agree with Bruce’s decision to leave, he still does not support Batman’s policies. But he knew it was important to Bruce so he took steps to ensure that no irreparable damage was done. Slowly, carefully, drawing a grateful Batman back into the fold. Wearing away at morals already cracked by grief and rage, using soft words where harshness has failed. Reviving Jason once again, keeping the two of them orbiting each other like binary stars, unable to leave, but always wanting to stay.

And it’s all foiled by one rich brat who’s stealthier than he has any right to be. Tim knows that Batman is going off the rails of sanity at an ever quickening pace. If he’s close enough for good pictures, he’s close enough for first aid and responder calls. So there is A Lot of damage and wreckage left in Batman’s wake, but nothing that isn’t salvageable. Ra’s won’t have a cadre of former henchmen and goons brainwashed into serving as Gotham’s foot soldiers but that would have been secondary. But Tim does more than that. Tim throws himself between Gotham and Batman because no one else will. Tim is a highly intelligent and self-sufficient child. His self-worth is in the toilet, thank you very much Drake bio-donors.

So Tim out-stubborns Batman and glues himself to his side and pulls him back. He cuts off the roaring rampage of revenge. Batman starts healing and Ra’s just can’t have that, oh no. But this is an easy enough fix, and it’s even better than the first plan. After all, loosing the last Robin to a violent villain led them to this point. How much worse would it be, to have started to heal, only to have it happen again? To destabilize that way again? Oh, Batman will never be able to resist, there had always been the possibility that Red Hood would win. Not high, and not an unworkable outcome, but snuffing out yet another Robin would ensure Red Hood would die, and then Ra’s would have another knife to twist Jason to his will. Taking pointer from his killer, not just his name, tsk tsk.

And it’s not like he couldn’t revive Tim as well, play the two of them off against each other and Bruce. Using their enmity and bitterness to wound Bruce, using Bruce to keep the two of them from spiraling out of control in their rivalry, make them resent Bruce for picking sides, rubbing salt into Jason that Bruce cared enough to avenge Tim but not him. Taunting Tim for what Bruce dragged them all into over Jason. Throw Damian into it just when it seemed to be settling into an uneasy dynamic equilibrium. Setting the boys on Blüdhaven, drawing in Bruce. See which way Bruce jumped, to protect Dick from the boys or if Bruce will try and recruit Nightwing for the League.

Ra’s has so much to gain from Joker killing Jason. It wouldn’t be difficult to send in a few assassins disguised as henchmen to plant the idea. Sacrifice a pawn or two, to gain a queen and rook.

#dc extended universe #dc fandom #ra’s al ghul #batman #batfam #league of assassins #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #jason todd #red hood #dc joker

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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"Despicable" - yan!Bruce Wayne x Reader

A/N: currently reviewing my book to send it out AGAIN because apparently, I can't let go

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || Batman-inspired playlist

SUMMARY: While Seline is Bruce's eyes at 44 Below, he spots someone absolutely showstopping. Unfortunately, you're Joker's girl. Bruce is determined to save you from that despicable criminal.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

[TW: yandere themes, explicit language]

Part of Bruce was glad he didn't step foot inside 44 Below. Judging from what Seline was showing him, it was nothing more but a relatively glorified dive bar. It seemed as if corruption could be the sweetest fruit if one simply made it look out of reach or in some way special. It was the pinnacle of human pride and greed to always desire the unattainable.

Despite the supposed prestige of the underground club, he could hardly notice anything out of the ordinary when compared to any other bar one could find in Gotham: young women in skimpy clothing and old, rich men who salivated over them. Drugs. Alcohol. Smuggling. Trafficking. The only visible difference was very superficial - their clothes and jewellery were significantly more expensive. Aside from that one easy-to-overlook detail, 44 Below was exquisite in its lack of exceptionalism.

The swarm of people seemed to be unending. Although the lower level was supposed to be more deluxe, more selective, there was about the same amount of people as on the upper level. Seline was walking through crowds of personalities too important or powerful to want their attention on her. Turning her head in all directions possible, she had nearly given herself whiplash when her stare merely glazed over a figure so brilliant they could hardly be perceived as real; an after-image of a fabulous fantasy:

"Wait, turn around. That woman in a green dress by the bar. Who is she?"

"Fuck no, Bruce," she hissed back at him as she continued marching on. "You know a guy who goes by 'Joker'? The psychopathic mass murderer? That's his girl."

"Look at her," he demanded again. "I need time to scan her face. What do you know about her?" It was a generous half-truth: while he did need time to perform scans, he didn't need yours specifically.

Seline let out a heavy sigh. Reluctantly, she directed her eyes towards you - leaning against a bar, drinking an Old Fashioned, and nibbling on honey-coated roasted cashews. Needless to say, you were completely oblivious to the attention you were getting at the moment. If you could have your way, you wouldn't have been there - 44 Below was an over-glorified workplace for you, waiting for someone who might need a little favour they're willing to repay for.

Bruce's thoughts were running rampant but they lacked coherence. There was a strange feeling in his chest - one he couldn't quite name but it was completely overwhelming and it forced his attention to focus on you. His eyes were eating up your image, his insatiable hunger only grew as he stared at you. The longer he admired your aloof demeanour, the more he was unable to find any flaw in your appearance. It seemed like something taken out of a cliche movie: a diamond found among the filth. How could you have ended up with some lunatic?

You were leaning against the bar counter, bored out of your mind as if you were waiting for someone to show up and get you away from that disgusting place you never quite fit into in the first place. He could be that someone... He wanted to be.

"Ever since Joker got locked up, she's taking care of the business. The whole operation went deep underground and now even the unimportant people wear designer clothes."

"How do you know all that?"

"Penguin's her fan." Seline seemed to not have noticed the lack of emotions in his tone. Bruce wasn't very interested in the criminal part of your life - it will all be left in the past soon enough. "Oh, shit, she noticed me."

Bruce's heart jumped in his chest as if there actually was something that could frighten that man or take him by surprise. Staring at the screen, he met your warm gaze. Words became stuck in his throat, completely awestruck, although you weren't even looking at him per se - you didn't even know about his presence. And he realized he knew no greater frustration.

"Hey, Seline, how are things going on?" you asked. The cheerfulness of your voice seemed genuine. "Haven't seen you working 'round here before."

Dear God, how he began yearning the moment he heard your voice. What darkness and bliss would it bring him to hear you speak his name?

"I'm doing some overtime."

To Bruce's utmost pleasure, you leaned towards Seline. Your face was the only thing on his screen and he truly wished it could stay like that.

"The offer still stands," you whispered. Your eyebrows raised slightly and your eyes had that soft gloss over them. "Give me a call and you'll make a better dollar in better circumstances."

"What offer?" Bruce inquired but Seline ignored him.

"Thank you but I'm still not interested. I'm good."

She promptly turned around and began walking away, her eyes shying away from the bullyboys you brought with you. Rumour had it they didn't need much to happily get involved.

"What offer, Seline?" Bruce repeated. He sounded impatient.

"None of your business," she spat out as she entered the bathroom.

His eyes became bloodshot and dry from staring at the computer for so long. He knew not how many hours had passed and, to be frank, did not care. Nirvana was playing in the background but he barely registered the sounds. None of his attention could be diverted from the picture of your face. Bruce knew perfectly well what he had to do, it was the question of how that kept him up until the early hours of the morning.

The obsessive thoughts inside Bruce's head were too loud to let him hear Alfred come in. "Who's that?"

"Someone important," he answered quietly. For a moment he felt angry that someone else was looking at you but he quickly dismissed that thought as he did with most of his emotions.

It was true but not in the way Alfred understood. Perhaps, Bruce himself did not yet understand the nature of your importance. It was as if he was frantically evacuating and kept asking other people what was going on; smoke was burning his eyes but he did not know the source of the fire.

Seeing as Wayne was even less talkative than normally, Alfred silently left him to continue doing whatever it was that he was doing. Sometimes he got tired of nagging at a grown man.

As it was mentioned before, Bruce knew what he had to do - it was a fact, not a thesis that had to be proved. He was going to save you from that animal you lied to yourself you loved. Bruce had a habit of subduing his feelings, therefore he told himself that it was simply his duty to return your independence to you, completely ignoring the overwhelming yearning that burned throughout his body. He made up his mind that he was going to save you from the filth you'd been stained with, no matter whether you wanted it too. Bruce had seen evil and he was convinced he knew what was best for you.

Oh but Cupid could be a truly despicable beast.

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haveihitanerve · 6 months

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erm. not sure how you guys feel about the batfam yet

but here ya go. have a lil smth i came up with at two in the morning-

I have a headcanon that bruce will use ‘im batman’ as the only justification he needs to his kids, and it makes them laugh but also, makes them feel warm inside. Example:

“Do my parents still love me?” Dick asked quietly one night. Bruce stilled. “What?” he asked, voice barely louder than a whisper. Dick shuffled around from where he was sprawled across bruces lap and looked up at him. “Do my parents still love me?” he repeated. Bruce brushed a loving hand through his sons hair. “Of course they do chum. Why would you think they didn't?” Dick shrugged, burying his face in bruces stomach. “Dno.” he murmured, voice muffled. “How do you know?” he asked, voice even quieter than before. Bruce ran his hand in soothing circles along dicks back. “Because Im Batman.” Dicks laughter reverberated through his body.

“....” Bruce sighed, squatting so that he was eye level with his eldest daughter. “Believe me sweetheart. You are better than them.” “....” Cass eyes stared into his with question and longing. “Because im Batman.” his daughters lips twitched.

“Im a bad person.” Steph sniffled miserably. Bruces heart ached. He hated seeing her like this. She was like a flaming bright light of joy and happiness that had cartwheeled into his life and refused to leave. He regretted ever trying to make her. He wanted to tell her all this. Hug her and never let her go. “No you're not.” he said instead, bumping his shoulder against hers, trying to convey everything into the simple touch. Steph stared at him. “How do you know?” she whispered. And suddenly it was dicks bright blue eyes shining up at him in question, asking if his parents loved him. Suddenly it was jason's inquisitive stare. Suddenly it was Tim’s calculating gaze. Cass’s warm brown eyes. Damian sparkling green ones. Bruce nudged her shoulder with his again. “Because im Batman.” Spoilers laughter rang across Gotham.

“Okay, be safe. I love you Jay.” Bruce said, the words leaving his mouth before he registered them. He froze. Jason's foot halted, hovering just between the doorway and Bruces office, one foot still inside. He turned. “What did you say?” his voice was carefully neutral, but bruce could hear the tremor in his sons voice. Gods his sons voice. How long had it been since bruce had called him that, even alone in his head? Too frightened of overstepping. Being overbearing. Chasing him away again. But it was now or never. Bruce swallowed, clearing his throat. “I said, be safe. I love you Jay.” Jason eyed him for a second, but, miraculously, hopefully, his foot stepped back into the office. Not running away. Jason crossed his arms. “I don't believe you.” he said, glaring at Bruce. He stuck up his chin stubbornly. “Prove it.” Bruce stared at him helplessly. “Im Batman?” he offered. Jason stared at him for another second, then his face collapsed into laughter. Bruce grinned and was out of his chair in seconds, around the desk, and enveloping his son in a hug.

“I don't deserve to be Robin.” Bruce’s heart stuttered. He looked up. Tim wouldn't meet his gaze, eyes downcast as he fidgeted. He held out the robin outfit. “I bullied you into taking me in. You don't need me as robin. And i don't deserve it. Tonight proved that.” Bruce stared at him in disbelief. “Timmy, darling you deserve to be Robin just as much as Dick and Jason did. You definitely deserve Robin, as far as Im concerned. Tonight proved that. Anyone who says otherwise can suck it.” Tim finally looked up, eyes wide. “Really?” he whispered in awe. Bruce nodded firmly, standing and walking over to his son. “100%” he said without hesitation, pushing as much conviction as he could into it. Tims eyes glinted. “But what power do you have to make that call?” he asked quietly. “Innocents could have died tonight b.” Bruce stared down at him. “Timmy, darling, Im Batman.” Tims lips spread into a grin and he laughed, jumping into Bruces arms.

“Can someone have two dads?” Barbara asked one day. Bruce blinked in surprise, but turned to face her nonetheless. He had sort of been expecting this conversation to happen. One day. He had hoped it would come maybe a bit later, but he was glad it was now too. “Of course.” he answered with certainty, knowing it was what she was looking for. Barbara shook her head. “Let me rephrase.” she looked anywhere but at him. “Is it okay for me to have two dads….” she took a deep breath and finally met his eye. “And can you be one of them?” Bruce blinked, unsurprised to find tears in his eyes. “Oh babs.” he choked out, moving towards her and crouching so he was eye level. “Of course darling. I would be honored to call you my daughter.” Babs smiled lightly. “Really?” she asked quietly. “Cause i googled it and-” Bruce rolled his eyes. “Google is a very reliable source of information!” she protested. Bruce snorted. “Sure babs. You, of all people.” Barbara huffed. “Fine.” she said in annoyance. “How do you know that then?” Bruce looked at her in mock surprise. “How do I know? My darling Babs, haven't you heard? Im Batman.” Laughter echoed through the house from both parties as her shoe connected with his face.

“I have dishonored the family.” Damian said quietly, eyes downcast. Bruce looked up in surprise, frowning at his youngest. “How so?” he asked carefully, keeping his voice neutral and (hopefully) kind. “I-i killed an ant today.” damian confessed. Bruce bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Oh baby. Don't worry about it.” He soothed, reaching out a hand for his youngest and pulling him up and onto his lap. “Thank you do telling me.” He clearly hadn't been specific enough when explaining the no killing rule to his youngest. He rubbed damian’s back soothingly. “You know,” he said quietly. “Because you were so honorable and told me this,” Damian sniffled, placing his head against bruces chest. “We could get ice cream on our patrol tonight.” Damian gasped, looking up at him. “Really?” his eyes shone and bruce cursed himself for not having introduced ice cream runs into their routine earlier. Especially if it so easily got his youngest excited. Damian's mood dimmed. “But- is that allowed?’ he asked doubtfully. Bruce laughed and stood, swinging damian up into the air and cuddling him close. “Of course it is baby. Im Batman.” Damian giggled.

#so.....#lmk what you think #i tried to get steph and bruces relationship down well #theyre my fav honestly #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #timothy drake #barbara gordon #add wayne to the last name of each of those #yeah

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albatmobile · 5 months

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Cardinal Sins Chapter 1

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: M | 6.5k fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter One: Everybody Wants to Rule the World

It’s only been mere hours since Bruce had handed you three sets of keys.

You’d met him in the lobby of your current place after you got a random text that he was in the neighborhood.

“The keys activate the elevator,” He dangled a set of gold keys in front of you before handing the rest over. “These act as keys to your new place.”

“Mine?” You questioned with a raised brow.

Time’s really flown.

You, Roy and Jason had been dating for a year now and your lease at your old apartment was coming to an end next week.

He smiled, patting you on the shoulder, “The lease is in your name.”

“That’s too much!” You shook your head, making to give back the keys but he refused the action with a chuckle.

“You’re practically one of my own.” Your heart thrummed in disbelief. “It’s the least I can do, seeing as I own the place and all.” You didn’t know why, but you though you saw a twinge of pride in his eyes. “Alfred’s cooking a Sunday roast for the family,” He opened the lobby door and began to walk backward out of the building, facing you all the while. “The four of you should stop by the manor once you get settled in. The movers should already have new furniture all set up, so it’s just a matter of unpacking.”

Ever since freshman year of high school, you’d found your life intertwined with everyone who’s stepped foot in that manor.

Damian had taken you in as a stray within your first week at Gotham Academy. Soon so did Tim, your lockermate and Stephanie, his on-again off-again girlfriend. After that, you were over at the manor daily and spending the night nearly every night of the week.

Jason had been unexpected, having quite literally crashed into your life.

After him, Roy had been an easy addition; that is, as soon as you got through Jason’s prickly exterior. They were both three years older than you, but it hadn’t stopped you from chasing after them.

When Jason and Roy had disappeared before their graduation, you hadn’t realized you wouldn’t hear from them for another 5 years.

That’s right- it wasn’t until nearly two years ago that they finally reached out to reveal what had kept them from you for so long. Though, it hadn’t actually been that easy because, well, Jason and Roy are also Red Hood and Arsenal.

You showed up at their apartment door to find Roy with a bionic arm and a kid and only much later did you figure out their secret identities.

Soon after they reappeared in your life, your parents did as well. Them and a barrage of Gotham’s finest criminals, which ultimately ended in a dockyard fight with you and the entire Batfamily.

“Sounds good,” You’d waved him goodbye, smiling as he sauntered away with his Bruce Wayne persona. “Thank you for everything, Bruce!”

At his name, flocks of people turned around and began to pull out their phones. He’d turned around to shoot you an annoyed, yet obviously mirthful look at the fact that you’d started a media frenzy.

You stood there a moment longer, watching as he avoided questions with grace before disappearing into his flashy Lamborghini with a small wave back.

Now, here you are piled into a fancy elevator with Jason, Roy, Lian and a shit ton of boxes.

“Old man never gave me shit,” Jason grumbles as he turns the key in the penthouse slot.

You were surprised by the generosity as well.

You’ve always considered Bruce a father figure ever since he stepped in to help you fight, well, your actual father. That dockyard battle for example??? Yeah, that shit had all been organized by your biological parents.

Ever since your conception, it had been planned that you would be Gotham’s reckoning.

Your parents had created a trust fund for Gotham’s criminals to funnel money, meaning your death had been planned from the start. All the while, you were to be used as a lab rat for the Joker’s experiments, which were to then be used on the organization’s enemies.

Picture this: 15 years old, wearing a ballgown your mother had stolen to the Wayne Gala only to get beaten and injected by the Joker and his goons. Now, picture 20 years old, surrounded by your found family while your actual family tried to murder you for the

Talk about trauma, right?

Lian giggles at Jason’s curse, leaving Roy to glare in the raven’s direction. “Oh, so the safehouses he paid for don’t count now, Jay?” Jason merely glares at him in response, undoubtedly saving Lian’s ears from any further cursing.

Recently, Lian’s taken to repeating everything. Literally everything.

From the weather report, to Titus’ barks, to curses and anything and everything she hears from her superhero cartoons, she repeats it all.

You can’t help but feel stuck on what Bruce said when he’d handed you the keys.

“He said I was ‘practically one of his own,’” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, looking to Jason for an answer.

“Told you,” Roy mutters under his breath, seemingly to no one and everyone at the same time.

Ever since your biological family had given you up, you’d felt misplaced and unwanted.

Yes, you had Jason, Roy and Lian, but you wanted a parental figure, something you’d never had. Part of you was starting to feel like Bruce was that, but you could never be too sure. The man kept his cards close and his emotions closer- practically the paragon of a closed book.

“I do, you know,” You trail off self-consciously, rubbing at your forearm for comfort, “view him as a father figure.” You’re not sure who chokes first, but both of them immediately begin coughing. “I mean, like, in the least weirdest way possible!” You attempt to rectify your statement, but it’s too late. Your cards are on the table.

You see, while Jason isn’t biologically related to Bruce and neither are you, you both see him as a father, which does tend to make things… odd.

“Well,” He drawls, “that didn’t sound grammatically correct in the slightest.”

Of course he’d deflect.

You let out an annoyed sigh, “Fuck you.”

So, the honeymoon period is definitely a thing.

For real.

Not that it wasn’t currently still going on, nor do you doubt the feeling will ever truly wane with two men like Jason and Roy. All you’re saying is that cracks in the relationship and points of contention have been becoming more obvious. You tell yourself that it’s only natural this happens, though you’re not entirely sure since this is your first long-term relationship.

One point of contention being: Jason dodging any and every serious conversation.

Example: right now.

Even Roy, who seems to rely on humor to get out of tough situations can sit down and talk it through. Jason, on the other hand? He needs a lot of coaxing and it’s not the way you roll.

“Hey,” Roy rubs your shoulder with his bionic arm before the two of you can start squabbling. “We’re just glad you have family and to be your family. Technicalities and all,” He gives your shoulder a light squeeze as the elevator comes to a halt.

The doors open to reveal a penthouse not even Damian could dream of.

“Holy shi-,” Jason’s elbow to the chest prevents Roy from finishing the curse, though Lian already has it memorized.

“Oh, shit!” She squeals as she breaks into a run. She manages to dodge Jason and Roy’s attempts to collect her and calm her down by squirming and ducking under all the new, read: expensive, furniture.

“Looks like the latest edition of Architectural Digest in here,” You whistle lowly as you take in the expansive room with wall-to-floor windows.

Roy’s too busy following after Lian, grabbing falling lamps and vases that she’s run into to respond.

Jason still seems stuck on your irritation in the elevator, but, as usual, he says nothing. All you want is validation from him that you belong in his family, yet he refuses to give it to you and you can’t pinpoint why.

“Since when have you read that shit?”

You know moving’s hard, so you take it easy on him.

For now.

“It’s called manifestation, whore.”

It’s at this exact moment, of course, that Lian sprints into the main living room with an attached kitchen and dining room.

“S’called manifestation, roar!” Lian screeches with a devilish smile.

“Oh, thank fuck she heard that wrong,” Roy hurriedly runs past you and Jason who are still stationed in the entryway.

“Oh, thank fuck!” She maniacally giggles as she crawls out from under the couch and makes her way back over toward you and her daddy.

As she’s passing, you reach down, catching Lian in your arms. She attempts to keep running even in your strong grasp but eventually tires out like a wind-up toy reaching the end of its winding.

Eventually, she settles down for a nap in her new lily pad styled bed. The whole room looked straight out of Princess and the Frog with dreamy shades of green, purple, pink and blue scattered throughout.

Tiny pixie lights were strung up and cascaded their twinkling glow down the walls.

While she’s conked out, you, Jason and Roy set to work on unpacking the few boxes you’ve brought. It doesn’t even take two hours, but it’s enough to leave you exhausted.

You plop down to your new sectional with a tired huff.

Jason and Roy are in the same boat.

Jason groans as soon as his body hits the couch, “God, I can’t wait to not fucking do anything.” He closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge between them, “We’re going to stay on this couch and order pizza.”

“Pizza,” Roy tiredly agrees from next to you. “Definitely pizza.”

“I forgot to mention,” You clear your throat, catching both of your boyfriend’s attention as you do. “We’ve got dinner at the manor.”

•••

When you get to the manor, everyone’s already mulling about, laughing as they help Alfred set the table.

Once you’ve greeted everyone and handed Lian off to Dick and Wally, everyone helps themselves to a plate from the kitchen and takes a seat.

It’s truly a full house with your family of four and Bruce and Alfred, of course. Dick brought along his fiancé Wally, while Damian seemed to have a similar idea as Jon is also milling about in the kitchen. Barbra’s here, but what you can’t figure out is why Tim and Stephanie seem to have both brought Conner Kent to dinner.

You vaguely remember him from the college party all those years ago, but since when had either of them been that close to Connor? As far as you’d heard, Tim and Stephanie had been official ever since the dockyard battle, soooo what the fuck is Kent doing at Sunday dinner?

Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing, but with him being a half-blooded Kryptonian and all, no one raises the question.

“You wanna talk embarrassing?” Dick scoffs, “Wally, over here, decided last Hanukkah,” Wally groans, shaking his head in his hand, “that it’d be a good idea to do a ‘Secret Santa’ for it.”

“Dick, dude, do you even know the definition of embarrassing?” Roy goes into a whole reenactment of the coffee shop debacle, back before you knew about them being heroes. By the time Roy gets to the main part of the story, nearly everyone’s in tears, “And then she smashed a toilet lid over his head, swear,” Roy has to catch his breath, “funniest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. Jay went down like a ton of bricks and the whole time I had to stay in character.”

Where Dick, Babs and Steph are doubled over laughing, Jason looks like he’s already planning where to hide your other boyfriend’s body.

Damian ‘tchs,’ “Pathetic, Todd. You allowed an untrained girl to disarm you so easily?”

“You,” Jason brushes him off easily, “you, I don’t want to hear from.”

“Refusing to hear the truth?” Damian scoffs. “Even more pathetic than I thought.”

Connor looks around the room, gauging everyone else’s reactions, though everyone’s already used to their constant bickering.

“No one likes you, pipsqueak,” Jason sneers like the true older brother he is.

“I like him,” Jon pipes up, smiling sheepishly when Jason’s heavy glare falls upon him from across the table. “But, you are being a bit over the top, Dami. You should apologize.”

You’re pretty sure, no, you know it’s Dick who ‘coos' at their interaction and you can’t help but agree.

Jason’s glare drops as he, instead, nods approvingly Jon’s way.

Throughout your friendship, you and Damian had been in a tangled web of miscommunications, hormones, and wrong-doings. Once Jason and Roy came back for good, you knew you and Damian were meant to remain as friends.

Damian and Jon, though? They’re definitely made for each other.

Damian, honest to god, pouts at his boyfriend before turning back to sneer at yours.

“Todd,” His voice rumbles lowly.

“Brat?” Jason’s smirking now.

Damian mutters some unkind words under his breath he’s lucky Alfred’s too old to hear before continuing, “I apologize. It appears I’ve taken things too far, though your skills still are very much questionable to me.”

Jason huffs, “Whatever.”

Tim waits a moment for the chatter that follows to die down a bit before he brings up what everyone’s been dancing around.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors that, uh,” Tim shoots an uncomfortable look at you and Jason, “Joker’s back. A few of my sources say if he hasn’t broken out already, he will soon.”

You watch as Jason’s fists clench under the table, noting how Roy’s hand immediately chases after to soothe it.

Dick shakes his head, “He’s as good as locked up. Bruce, Damian and I checked out Arkham last week. He hasn’t moved since they put him in there after his Thanksgiving bombing.”

Tim still seems unconvinced, “He’s still making moves, then.”

“Do you want him to escape, Tim?” Jason sneers, “Because that’s what it’s sounding like.”

Connor bristles, though Stephanie’s gentle hand on his shoulder has him backing down immediately. Your brow raises, thinking back to Roy’s similar gesture with Jason just moments ago. Are Stephanie and Tim back on?

Jon looks as completely bewildered as Conner does as they observe the Batfamily semantics.

Wally and Roy look like they want to step in but, ultimately, don’t want to get involved in family drama.

For Barbra and Stephanie, this is just another Sunday.

“Master Jason,” Alfred’s wise timbre stirs from the end of the table not occupied by Bruce, “Master Damian. Is it too much to ask for just one civil dinner?”

“Sorry, Alfred,” They both grumble in unison.

Soon, everyone begins catching up once again.

Alfred cuts Lian’s roast for her at the same time Roy cuts her potatoes, Jon keeps leaning over to whisper things to Damian that draw a small smile. Dick, Wally and Roy reminisce about the Titans, eventually going over their wedding plans with Barbra and Stephanie’s excited input, while Tim and Jon argue horror movies with Jason and Connor.

And there Bruce sits; all the way at the end, hands clasped watching it all.

Your stomach is warm, filled with the inexplicable feeling of love in the room.

You listen in on it all with a huge grin that’s been present on your face ever since you arrived. You go to drink your water when, suddenly, your hand falters.

One moment, you’re there in Wayne Manor at the dinner table with your family and now you’re….

You look around, watching as groups of men swarm a truck. A group of two men present you with a box, which, when opened, reveals a stem.

You blink.

Suddenly, you see people in some kind of uniform running all around you. When you look to the right of you, you want to stumble back, but your body only continues to run.

Joker?

You must’ve been out of it for a while because, when you come to, you’re left with 13 pairs of concerned eyes on you.

“Uh,” Stephanie chucks a potato from her fork from across the table at you. “Are you having a ‘That’s So Raven’ moment, or are you and the dickwad’s using a remote-controlled vibrator?” You shake your head, mind still clearly picturing what you’d just seen. Stephanie’s words, however, go unnoticed. Suddenly, you hear her saying your name, “You good?”

You blink.

You’re back in the manor, back at the dinner table, but your mind is clearly elsewhere.

“What?” You ask, looking around the table at everyone’s concerned faces.

Jason’s brows are furrowed in a silent question of ‘are you okay,’ while Roy’s hand rubs gently at your back.

Are you okay?

You clear your throat and force a smile you know won’t pass in a room full of detectives, but, hey, what can you do?

The last time you had a vision that intense had been…

Your brain screams with a sting of sharp pain that leaves you clutching the tablecloth for relief.

In the dockyard, Joker had injected you with two syringes. Immediately following the initial toxin, you’d been met with a vision right as the Joker made his escape in the helicopter. Though you’ve tried hard to remember what you’d seen in the past year, for some reason it had never been clear until now.

Joker’s hands, the glaring lights of the city below, the scrawny man beside him…

“Yeah,” You clear your throat again as you force another smile. “Acid reflux,” You shrug to solidify your false excuse.

The table’s conversation slowly stirs again, though Jason and Roy’s eyes never leave the side of your face. You’re not ready to meet their eye contact, knowing you won’t be able to meet their concern.

“So,” Bruce begins, “I’ve heard you’ve been somewhat involved in their operations for some time now. Have you thought about what your future involvement may look like?”

“What do you mean?”

He takes a coy sip of water, “I mean, are you content with staying behind the screens? Or, is there a plan to eventually join them in the field?”

Point of contention #2: neither of your boyfriends ever wanted you involved in any confrontation.

Sure, behind the screens as ‘their own personal Oracle,’ as they called you was fine. Anything else?

Nope. No. Nada.

They wouldn’t have it.

Total double standard, but they’re too fogged in their love for you to care.

“Says the man who threw three kids into the field before they’d hit puberty.”

“Believe me,” Bruce says tonelessly, “you’d hit puberty, Jason.”

“Old enough to see through the bullshit, maybe,” Jason snaps back easily. “Dick was fucking 8, Bruce. Damian, 10. You don’t care about the logistics, let alone the safety. I do,” He glares at his father, “and I don’t want my family getting hurt.”

“Jay,” Dick frowns, making to put his hand on Jason’s for across the table, but Jason easily retracts his hand. “I love you and appreciate you, really, I do,” He puts his hand over his heart, “but I don’t need you to stick up for me. We’re all working on our issues; it takes time but I know we’ll all eventually get there.”

Damian seethes quietly across from you, though you know it’s in defense of his father.

“Get there eventually?” Jason snorts, throwing out his hands dramatically. “I’m sitting here, a few years off of 30 and still fucking going through it. You think she needs to go through this contention too?”

“She,” You start with purpose, “is not a child,” You reference his earlier rebuttal, “and she can stick up for myself! Uh, I mean, herself.” You shake your head in annoyance before starting over. “I’m a grown woman and I appreciate you wanting to look out for me, but that’s so hypocritical when you’re both going out every other night to do the very thing you don’t want me doing; isn’t it?”

It’s deadass quiet.

Like, you’ve never heard the manor so quiet with this many family members in it.

“Speaking for me,” Barbra’s sweet voice stirs slowly as if she’s picking and choosing her words carefully. “I went from Batgirl to Oracle, not the other way around like you.” You nod, interested in where she’s going with this. “Being Oracle has made me so much more aware of everything, regardless of physical training, being Oracle comes with its own set of skills none of you possess and that gives her an edge.” Your heart swells. “We’ve all seen her on the battlefield and seen how she can handle her own under pressure.”

“You’re a strong woman,” Stephanie concurs, saying your name as she does so.

“At the end of the day,” Roy finally speaks up from beside you. “What you’re all saying is true and we can’t stop her. It’s her decision and we’ll support her either way.”

An actual end to the contention?

Your head snaps over to catch Jason’s reaction, but he’s glaring at the painting behind Tim’s head, “I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes.” His teeth aren’t necessarily gritted, though it sure sounds like it.

No one speaks, there’s only the clinking of forks and Alfred’s low humming to occupy the large dining room.

“Well,” Bruce’s domineering voice suddenly captures the attention of everyone at the table in an instant, “if you’re going to be going on missions, you’ll need to have a suit.”

He gives you a pointed look that you can’t help but smile at.

“I,” You trail off, looking down at the mahogany dining table. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I’ve got that part covered,” His smile is warm, however small it may be. “You’ve got an appointment with the new co-chair of the R&D department. Right, Damian.”

Damian glares from a few seats over, correcting his father, “Head.” No matter how old he gets, he never outgrows his signature scowl.

Bruce smiles lightly, “Of course.” Though his correction is largely ignored by his youngest son.

“Tomorrow, 10 o’clock sharp,” Damian’s eyes narrow your way. “Don’t be late.”

•••

You arrive at 9:55 in the morning out of nerves and sheer excitement.

Jon’s already there to greet you with another man you’ve seen around at a few Chrismukkahs at the Manor. The raven is quick to explain that Damian got caught up in a meeting and introduces you to the gentleman in the suit.

“Meet Luke Fox,” Jon stands a few inches taller than the darker gentleman in front of you, but he’s still quite a bit taller than you. “He co-chairs the department alongside Damian.”

The man in front of you offers a smooth smile and a firm handshake to match. “I know I’ve seen you at parties, but I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.”

You nod, “Definitely nice to finally put a name to the face.”

He then gives you a tour of the entire floor dedicated to R&D, though you haven’t been able to get one thing off your mind.

Luke seems to sense your staring and turns around to smirk, “What?”

“You said co-chair,” He nods politely, meanwhile, Jon seems to know exactly where your line of questioning is going. “Why is Damian the head?”

“Have you met the kid?” You and Jon both snort. He flashes his badge at a scanner on the wall before dragging the two of you through another long hallway. “My dad, Lucius Fox headed this department for decades before he was finally made CEO about three years ago.”

Suddenly, Jon cuts him off as a loud gust of sound affronts your ears.

“Woah!” Jon grabs your hand and pulls you over to one of the windows in the hallway. It looks into a lab where someone’s using a flamethrower to torch a small piece of odd-looking metal.

“This is the innovation section of the floor,” Luke explains. “Right now, they’re testing on something called Nth Metal.”

“Neat,” Jon nods, sufficiently satisfied with his answer and finally allows your group to move along.

You fall back into step with Luke and Jon.

“So, when did you start at R&D?”

He scratches at the back of his head, “Probably around that same time.” His laugh is as charming as his professional disposition. “Damian and I seem to know what the other doesn’t, so it’s been good to have him around.” He leans in like he’s telling you a secret, “Well, that and I get paid more, but he doesn’t need to know that.” You smile easily, failing to hide your snort. It’s something Jon catches immediately and quirks a brow at, but Luke continues on like nothing happened. “Co-chair just means I can spend less time leading and more time nerding out.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a Wayne heir right alongside Damian. Hell, you know Luke’s probably 10x more professional compared to Damian’s order-barking leadership style. With what Luke said, though, it seems like they’re a pretty functional team.

“Trust me, Luke,” Jon sidles up beside you like a coy cat. “This one knows all about nerding out.”

“Shut up,” You stare at him with an admonishing glare. He merely rolls his eyes, snickering all the while. “Besides, you know this is the nerdiest thing I’ve done in a while.”

Regardless of your previous warning, Jon takes it upon himself to catch Luke up on the past, oh, six years of your life? Well, as long as he’s known you for, that is, so Sophomore year and beyond.

You’re all rounding the corner to come face-to-face with a giant vaulted door, but Luke seems to move swiftly past it.

Too swiftly.

Your eyes narrow slightly, tuning out Jon’s excited chatter to catch every detail you can.

There’s a giant red ‘ACCESS LEVEL: 84T BADGE ONLY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED,’ sign that takes up a majority of the door, but there’s a smaller print beneath it.

You quickly glance ahead. Luke and Jon are still just in front of you, but you’re clearly lagging. You shoot one more glance at their retreating forms before taking a look at the fine print.

You shake your head, confused, but Luke seems content to get as far away from the door as possible.

“Ah,” Luke says a little too smoothly for someone who just rushed past a super-secret vault, “here we are.”

He inputs a lengthy code, then scans his retina before the door finally budges to reveal the impressive space.

The design room is huge, yet somehow, there’s not an inch of free space.

Mannequins and large rolls of fabric take up a majority of the space with the rest taken up by drawing boards and fancy-looking sewing machines.

“Not gonna lie,” Jon nudges you as he guides you further into the room, “Luke and I have kind of taken on this project by the horns, so I wanted to be here when you went over design ideas!” You look down at the table and begin shuffling through Damian’s sketches. He laughs when you shoot him a teasing brow, “No, I did not sketch those. You’ll never let me live down my drunken art skills from Damian’s penthouse party, will you?”

You snort, “It was so fucking bad, Jon.”

“Fuck off,” He bumps into you playfully. “Oh, wait! Go back a page.” You easily comply. “Okay, the body of this sketch,” He trails off as he searches through the pile. Luke easily hands him a sketch that compliments the previous pick, “Oh, for sure with these ears.”

“So, you haven’t entirely figured out the final design yet?”

“Of course not!” Jon says at the same time Luke speaks up.

“Wouldn’t really be your suit if you didn’t actually have a say.”

You can’t argue with that logic.

With that, you peer over their shoulders at their mismatched collage, realizing that you don’t have any critiques. “Well, I like what the two of you have done so far, but what about functionality?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Luke nods, stepping back from the table pensively. “What weapons would you be comfortable with?”

You think back to Jason’s advice. The one that’s rung clear in your head from the moment he’d said it.

“Nothing that I wouldn’t want used against me.”

Jon shoots Luke an inquisitive brow as if to ask if he has any ideas.

“I think we can work with that,” He says before he begins on a rough sketch. It’s obvious to you now that Damian was the most likely culprit behind the original drawings on the table.

For the next few minutes, you and Jon both chime in with ideas as Luke switches between erasing and drawing.

When he’s finished, Jon nods excitedly. Once you give the thumbs up, Jon uses his quickly arranges the final look.

“Okay,” He sets down the last paper with a wide grin. “What about this?”

“Honestly,” You squint down at the selection but are, ultimately, unable to put it all together, “Damian probably needs to sketch it out for me to fully see it.”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Damian’s signature deadpan scowl graces your line of sight.

“I heard my name,” Damian makes his dramatic entrance, sidling up beside the two of you. Jon ruins the entrance, however, by giving him a sweet peck on the lips that sends Damian into a brief state of shock. He blushes, obviously startled by the action and clears his throat and greets you both by your last names to cover it up. “Glad to see you’re still punctual.”

“Glad to see you’re still not,” You tease easily.

He ignores you in favor of flipping through the selected pages, “Oh, good. You’ve both shown her the sketches.”

Jon nods excitedly and begins explaining the new design. You watch in amusement as they work together seamlessly to transfer the three of your ideas to paper via Damian’s hand.

After another hour of planning, you hold the final design in your hands.

Damian clears his throat, catching your attention. “I’ve been preoccupied with some other cases recently, but I wanted to get back into what happened last year.” You nod, feeling very much in the same boat. Jason and Roy seem eager to put it in the past, but you have the gnawing feeling no matter how much they try to bury it, the situation will resuscitate regardless. “Deadshot’s a good place to start. He might have a good lead that you can follow.”

Deadshot.

The same man who’d been sent to kill you not even a year ago.

“Great,” You trail off. Meanwhile, Damian seems like he’s biting his tongue. “What?”

He sighs, looking over at you with his hazel eyes for the first time since he’d greeted you. “You don’t have to do this, you know? It’s not fun and games being a hero; people die. Heroes die every day. That’s what you’re getting into when you put on the suit.” He’s staring deep into your soul, stealing your breath as he does so, “This isn’t a comic. There is no next page, there is no second run and there is no do-over. This is real life,” Your name is barely a whisper. “You already came so close last time…” He trails off, “Just be sure this is what you really want.”

Before you can open your mouth to defend yourself, Jon butts in.

“I just got my powers. I’ve been going out almost every night on patrol and I’ve never once heard this talk from you, so why are you giving it to her?” It’s not a jealousy thing, but rather Jon pointing out his hypocrisy. “You think that just because I’m half Kryptonian doesn’t mean all of that doesn’t apply to me too?”

You nod appreciatively in Jon’s direction as Damian takes in his words.

“I,” Damian trails off again, looking at Jon for confirmation on what to do next before finally giving in, “apologize.” He briefly meets your eyes, then looks back at the design. “Do you have any questions?”

You smile lightly, accepting his apology easily. Luke, however, appears dumbfounded by words he’s obviously never heard from the Wayne heir. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

Damian speaks up, “You’ll have it sent to your new apartment before your next mission, trust me.” He scans your face up and down, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

If he means the suit, or the hero life, you don’t know.

What you do know is that you’re ready for it all.

You look it over for a moment before facing them, “Does it come in red?”

•••

You want that lead.

You text in your group chat with Jason and Roy about Deadshot as soon as you get out of Wayne Tower.

Jason responds instantly, ‘Meet us at the park.’

The park wasn’t an unusual place to meet.

You try to go on walks and let Lian run around the playground there every day if you can, seeing as it’s just a block away from the old apartment. Now, it’s a bit more of a trek to get to, but it’s well worth it.

When you arrive, you’re expecting to see Jason, Roy and Lian.

You’re definitely not expecting to see Deadshot.

You don’t see Jason or Roy anywhere, so you immediately take up a defensive stance.

“Still got that spark, eh, kid?” He smiles placatingly at you and steps aside to reveal Red Hood and Arsenal sitting peacefully on the bench. “Not here to kill you this time, beautiful.”

“Watch it,” Red Hood’s robotic tone warbles from behind as he stands up.

Deadshot’s hands immediately surrender, though he’s wearing an obvious smirk. “Can’t hate the player.”

“I can,” Red Hood threatens lowly.

The heart-stopping click of a gun’s safety being turned off is enough to wipe the smirk from Lawton’s face. “Now, now. Let’s play nice.” He tilts his head off to the right where, off in the distance, you notice a security guard. “Wouldn’t want anyone stepping in on our fun, now would we?”

It’s a thinly veiled threat and you know it.

Luckily, Arsenal steps in calmly. “We’re just here for information.”

Deadshot scoffs in amusement, crossing his muscular arms, “Didn’t think to wine a dine a gent? Just went straight to threatening?” He sighs dramatically. “What’s this profession coming to?”

“Listen,” You speak up. Everyone seems startled you’ve spoken, so you take their moment of surprise to get what you came here to get. “We need to know who hired you.”

The evening was coming on with the sun nearly being set as you all stood there in the desolate park.

Tiny songbirds spouted out as they settled into their homes for the evening while a chorus of crickets chirped a cacophonous background melody.

“You’re cute,” He starts, regaining his smirk as he continues, “but we both know you’re not that naïve.” He chuckles, stepping away from Hood and Arsenal to come closer to you.

Immediately, your boyfriends flock to your side, but Deadshot pays them no mind. He backs you against a tree, putting a hand right beside your head to trap you. “What’s your game?” You ask before your partners can intervene.

“Well, ring-a-ding-ding,” He drawls with a slight purr. “That’s what I’m looking for now, right?” He smiles at you like he knows he’s about to get whatever he wants. “An exchange is only fair in this business, right, gorgeous?”

He makes to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, but you smack his hand away before he can even get close.

“I know about Task Force X,” It’s your turn to smirk. “Now, talk.”

His face instantly drops and his voice deepens, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, little girl.”

You don’t dare look over Deadshot’s shoulder where Arsenal’s undoubtedly holding Red Hood back from doing something stupid. No, instead you focus on the mercenary who’d been trying to kill you a year ago.

“I’m not a little girl,” You put all your power into pushing him away from you. He stumbles backward, nearly tripping over the bench they’d originally met on in the process, “and I do know what the FUCK I’m talking about.” You come up on him and send him flipping over the bench anyway, advancing on his fallen form before he even has time to draw his guns. You straddle him, pinning his arms above his head as you knee him in the chin. “TALK!”

“You know,” He drawls, “even when you think you’re not giving me what I want,” Deadshot winks, “you’re still giving me exactly what I want.” As if to prove his point, he bucks his hips up. You know it’s an attempt to throw you off, but you hold steady and land another knee on him- this time his side, “Hgg!” He laughs through his pained grunt.

“Information,” You knee his other side as you continue to straddle and pin him. “Now, Lawton.”

He scoffs, “You’re don’t get to call me that. Not unless you actually give me what I want, gorgeous.“ You continue to glare at him until he rolls his eyes and continues, “You do realize I’m letting you do this, right, doll?”

You wring his wrists at the same time you knee his side with all your might, unleashing a yelp from the man.

“Yeah,” You twist his wrists tighter until his face twists up in pain, “that’s exactly what’s happening here. Besides,” You start with an airy tone, “I thought you said I was giving you exactly what you wanted.” You turn your head menacingly at him, “Now, which is it, Lawton?”

You give him your best intimidating look, which is apparently enough to finally break him.

“Fine, fine,” He winces at your grip. “Black Mask hired me.”

You finally break eye contact with Deadshot to peer over at your partners You motion down with your head at him and they nod, so you release him.

When he stands, he rubs distastefully at his wrists.

“What did Sionis want with her?” Arsenal asks.

Deadshot sighs, “It was a two-parter. Protect the package, kill the girl.”

“What package?” Hood demands lowly.

“Dunno,” Deadshot shrugs disinterestedly. “They switched out hired guns halfway through.” He side-eyes you, “Picked up the damn thing from Gotham Botanical Gardens, but that’s all I have to offer. Merc’s honor,” He places a sarcastic hand over his heart, but you believe him.

Red Hood and Arsenal go over a few other things with him, but all you can think of is your vision.

You’d seen a rose and Deadshot’s lead was, well, leading you to a garden.

It couldn’t be a coincidence, right?

“Not that this hasn’t been fun catching up, but I have a girl at home waiting for me,” He snickers at your horrified look. “Don’t look so jealous, beautiful; it’s just my daughter. Anyway, au revior.” He gives a half salute before disappearing off into the night.

By now, the sun had completely set, though you weren’t itching to get home just yet.

You looked between Red Hood and Arsenal with your hands on your hips, noting they seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“We need a plan.”

A/N: my first sequel!! super excited to share this with you and to introduce the badass on the cover!!!

keep an eye out for the next chapter where more will be revealed! in the meantime let me know what you think!

[next] || masterlist || pinned

#my fic: cardinal sins #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd #cover characters created by stais-world but would stronglyy caution against working w them #x reader

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miscmonstro · 2 years

Text

The Uno Reverse Adoption Saga

First: You are here

Next: Chapter 2

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman (DC)

Specifically, Halfa!Trio Au crossover with Batman

Current Characters: Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton, Jason Todd

Summary: Forced to attend a gala by her parents as she is every year, Sam Manson was resigned to suffer through the stifling three-night gala until something pulled at her core. The something turned out to be a someone. Just who is Jason Todd and can the trio gain enough of his trust and help him before his struggling proto-core collapses?

👻 {Chapter 1 Below!)

Danny groaned within the confines of his mind, exasperation and irritation and just a bit of fear welling up in his chest.

His disgruntlement did not go unacknowledged. Danny wasn’t alone, even in his mind, and he hadn’t been for quite some time. Somewhere in Amity Park Tucker sent a wave of comfort in return, and he too was uneasy of the trip Danny’s eccentric parents had forced him to accompany them on.

Sam, on a plane to Gotham, had her own problems and replied with a simple vague sentiment akin to ‘what can you do’ with less words. Her weariness seeped into it, making it feel quite resigned. It was as though she was awaiting some awful fate she’d long accepted and… no, that's exactly what it was.

Tucker broke the relative silence across the link with an unrepentant, “At least one of us is going to survive to Christmas.”

Danny responded with the impression of bashing his own head onto a wall and Sam began to seethe. Despite her best efforts, her mind circled back to the annual gala her parents demanded she attend alongside them. It was hosted by a different snob every year, and while the scenery might have been different, the atmosphere was always the same. Without fail it would be simmering with thinly concealed flaunting and heavy with thick lies pasted atop one another.

Sam wished she could tell her parents no. She wished she didn’t have to do this. She would never voice those complaints and misgivings about the Christmas gala ever again, and not just because of Desiree.

Every year Sam wanted to scream and every year she smiled and let her parents pick her outfits and acted like the perfect daughter. She couldn’t afford to be anything less at the Christmas galas and it made her want to hurl at the plastic cutout she endured becoming for those horrid days. Hurl, or commit a murder.

“I’m doomed. You’ll have to break me out of jail,” Sam muttered in her mind as the second option grew in appeal. “I swear these rich assholes get dumber every year.”

“And my parents get more insane,” Danny added gloomily.

There was a hint of something from Tucker that Sam could tell wasn’t thought out and she mentally kicked him before he could put his metaphorical foot in his unphysical mouth. Tucker swatted her in retaliation but understood, switching tracks.

“Uh… yeah. That sucks. But we’re halfway through our junior year and then one more year before we’re free from our parents!” Tucker tried to comfort. Danny’s gloom lightened ever so slightly.

For a few minutes, Sam looked out the window and imagined that she was going anywhere else to do anything else. There was a growing serene calm shared across the link, the tinges of uncertainty ebbing away. She could hear keys clacking away as Tucker typed and she could feel affection for Jazz from Danny as he texted her.

And then Mr. Fenton startled Danny and unveiled a new anti-ghost device and Danny’s mood plummeted like a twelve ton rock to the bottom of the ocean.

Tucker winced and tried to think of any joke that wasn’t a pun to lighten the mood.

Sam sighed. It was going to be a long, long break.

👻 {Boo!)

All too soon the plane landed and Sam zoned out while her parents immediately fought over what she should wear like they hadn’t ordered whatever the clothes were weeks ago. Sam had mentally checked out for self preservation the moment she stepped foot off of the plane. This wasn’t her first rodeo and she had the act down pat. Giggle when she was supposed to as her parents showed her off and stand silently behind them when they weren’t. At the seamstress or at the hotel lobby chatting with other rich people, the script was the same. It wouldn’t change for the gala either.

At least the previous two years hadn’t been as horrible with Danny and Tucker a mere thought away.

The days dragged like an ant crawling through molasses and then the dreaded day arrived. The first night of the gala. Wayne Manor was old, she noted as their limo drew nearer. She could appreciate the architecture at least, and maybe such an old house had a ghost. At least that would be interesting.

Danny pointed out that she didn’t have a thermos.

She quietly conceded his point and wished for something regardless while she smiled blankly as her parents greeted Bruce, the host of the gala this year. With a polite greeting of her own the Mansons departed from the entrance and swept into the manor.

Straight away her parents engaged in some conversation and Sam stood a step behind them. Allowing herself one sad, longing look towards the quiet corners of the room, Sam bitterly wondered why the Christmas galas made her parents fanatical every year. They let her get away with whatever she wanted within reason the rest of the year, but as soon as Christmas was involved they expected her to be a doll.

With that last break of character she let a calm wash over her, perfected from years of galas, and let her perfect daughter mask snap firmly into place.

“At least they’re only like this once a year,” Tucker commented, trying to look at the positives.

Sam agreed. If they were so controlling year round then she was sure she’d have run away from them.

“And at least the fruitloop is a shut in,” Danny added. The three shuddered at the thought of Vlad at the gala, Sam in particular. She didn’t want to handle him alone. Even between the three of them it was tricky to drive him off sometimes, never mind one on one.

The clock ticked on at an agonizing pace. Eventually her parents sent her off to dance with the son of some CEO they were chatting with and she used the opportunity to escape after the dance. So long as her parents didn’t see her doing anything “unseemly” then she’d be golden for the rest of the night. She made her way over to a relatively secluded corner and cursed at the dress limiting her movements. Just walking felt like a chore in the wretched thing. Sam might have come from a family with money but she rarely dressed it.

“Mission accomplished for the night,” she told the boys. “If I have to dance in these heels one more time…”

“You’ve almost made it through,” Danny encouraged her.

“And now you can scope out the room! Are there any cute girls?” Tucker prodded cheekily.

Before Sam could mentally reply a strange sensation washed over her. It felt like a gentle tug at her chest, at her core. Her lips parted and a faint golden-yellow mist emerged.

“Ghost. There’s a ghost here,” Sam said, head snapping up from her cup of stuff she technically shouldn’t have been drinking as she began scanning the room with a critical eye.

“Ask and you shall receive. You totally jinxed yourself Sam,” Danny said, though his concern belied the light comment.

“You can handle it,” Tucker added at her uneasiness. “You’re-“

“No, this is different. I- I feel something in my core,” Sam said with growing alarm as the feeling didn’t fade. “Guys…”

Now it wasn’t just Sam who felt alarmed but they knew by this point how to prevent a crippling spiral of positive feedback. Dread settled in her gut and Sam couldn’t even tell if it was hers.

“I think it’s tugging me,” Sam noted after a moment of observation. She stepped toward the crowd, toward the pull, and Tucker recoiled.

“Um, hello, reason here. Shouldn’t you not be heading toward it?” he said.

“But what if it’s hold on her core gets stronger? She needs to do something,” Danny pointed out.

“It doesn’t feel malicious so I’m assuming the worst. I might need you guys to pull me out of a mind trap,” Sam relayed as she weaved between the other guests.

There were twin nonverbal agreements from Tucker and Danny. Being connected to two other people usually meant that items and people looking to ensnare the mind needed to nab all three of them for anything to take effect, and for that Sam was grateful.

Sam paused as the pull led her to a wall. Wherever she was being led was outside of the main room. Glancing around, Sam spied a confectionery table and she ducked behind it. Without a thought she turned herself intangible and invisible and walked through the wall, following the pull. After several rooms, some occupied by guests and some not, Sam came across a balcony.

Hunched over the railings was someone wearing a tux. Sam couldn’t see anything spectral about him and that put her on guard more than anything. The ones that were strong enough to appear perfectly human were the ones that always brought the most trouble. She stepped into the empty hall and dropped the ghostly aspects from her human form.

“Are you alright?” she asked. That was usually a good way to start with nonviolent ghosts.

The person stiffened and whirled around. The first thing that Sam noticed was the tuft of white atop his head and the second thing-

A small cry for help. The tug increased and it almost felt like it wanted to yank her core out of her chest. She swallowed thickly and stood her ground.

He narrowed his eyes at her ever so slightly.

“Fine,” he replied curtly after a moment.

Sam scowled in return, a spark of temper rising. “Obviously not.” As much as she’d wished for a ghost earlier she didn’t want to deal with one so late at night, especially not one that could do whatever this was to her core-

“Deep breaths Sam,” instructed Tucker.

Sam inhaled deeply.

Danny prodded her and she refocused on the ghost. He hated when their attention was away from potential dangers for too long.

“Sorry, I’m a bit short after dealing with,” Sam motioned in the direction of the main room, “all that. But seriously, what’s up?”

The ghost man scoffed and eyed her. “I’m not keen on spilling my guts to a stranger,�� he said, voice barely above a hostile growl.

“Fair enough,” Sam said, appraising him. She was given the impression that he too found all the rich people business distasteful. Striding forward, she noted how he tensed as though he was ready to bolt at the drop of a hat. Thrusting her hand out in a very ill-bred manner and hoping it would put him at ease, she said, “I’m Manes.”

The man snorted. “Jason,” he said, accepting the handshake.

Several things became apparent one after another.

Firstly, she could feel his core as it reached for her. This ghost’s core was so weak, so fragile that it wasn’t even really a core. It was a proto-core, meaning that it wasn’t formed from a death, and this ghost shouldn’t even be outside of the Ghost-Zone. He was basically an infant.

Secondly, the hand was warm. Warm as a human hand was, warm like it was alive.

And with how solid the man was and how fragile the proto-core was, there was no way that he was a ghost.

Sam tried not to stare at the very human man who was also a baby ghost.

Jason raised a brow at her and she yanked her hand back like the contact burned when she realized that she’d been holding his hand for longer than what was polite.

Danny seemed to be coming to some conclusion as he turned the information around in his mind and Tucker was rooting through what they knew about ghost formation from some of his files.

“Are you sick?” she blurted. It was the only thing she could think of. If Jason was slowly dying and had something he was passionate enough about to become an obsession then it might be possible that a core had started forming.

Jason huffed out a puff of air that might have been a laugh. “No.” One of his hands made an aborted motion towards his side, like he was going to grab something and thought better of it. “I just got out here. Can’t I get even a moment to myself?” he complained.

She snorted. She would’ve been more than happy to leave him to his own devices and would have if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a baby ghost. “Guess not,” she replied instead.

“Is he a halfa?” Danny wondered.

Sam immediately refuted it, but Tucker wasn’t so sure.

“It’s better to check,” insisted Danny.

“How can we tell? I have no equipment,” Sam reminded them as she shifted her gaze out over the snowy trees surrounding the manor. Aloud to Jason she said, “This is a pretty spot.”

She was skeptical. They’d been told over and over how rare halfa were. Besides the three of them, Dani-with-an-i, and Vlad-the-supreme-fruitloop there were no others of their species. The common denominator, excluding Dani who had her own circumstances, was Fenton tech. Sam couldn’t fathom how Jason might have been exposed to a portal unless he was a clone. Turning, she looked him over again.

He was well built, likely had an active lifestyle, and had black hair and blue eyes. Sam found her own eyes drawn to the tuft of white on his head, and now that she thought about it, Vlad had a streak of white in both of his forms. Yet, Jason didn’t look like Vlad.

Tucker added that he could’ve been a test tube baby and you didn’t have to have one person for that.

“I don’t think he’s a Vlad experiment. Vlad would’ve never let him go, weak core or no,” Sam pondered.

“Unless he escaped,” Danny agreed.

“But then how’d he end up here?” asked Tucker. That was the most damning question, but life was stranger than fiction. However unlikely it was, they couldn’t discount it until they had proof.

There was a mental knock from Tucker and Sam let him in. He was seeing though her eyes, she could tell, and she made sure Tucker could see Jason’s face.

“Wait- that’s Jason Todd!” Tucker exclaimed with disbelief.

“Who?” Sam and Danny chorused.

“One of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. He supposedly died before he turned up alive. Or well, maybe he’s not so alive…”

Danny’s presence joined Tuckers in seeing through her eyes.

Sam was going to have to look into more Jason Todd later, but right now she was incredulous. “He might actually be like us?”

“Or maybe that’s just typical of resurrection?” Danny tentatively offered. “It’s not like we know if he really died or not. And we deal with the already dead. Have we ever even met a resurrected person? Can you really resurrect a person?”

“What do you mean, might be like us?” Jason asked. The hard edge to his voice was back.

“I’m going to tell him,” Sam decided.

Tucker agreed enthusiastically and Danny cautiously. Jason had a core, however faint, and that meant the Anti-Ecto Acts applied to him.

Sam looked around. “There’s no one nearby, right?”

“No, there isn’t,” Jason replied guardedly.

Sam squinted at him but decided to get on with it. “Alright. Look. You have a core. A weak one, granted, but that’s enough to get you captured and vivisected.”

“What the hell?” Jason asked, rearing back with wide eyes.

“I have your attention? Good,” Sam said, leaning toward him. “You really died, didn’t you? And when you came back you… well look. Ghosts are real, alright? And you are basically a baby ghost. It… your ghost part is basically screaming for help, that’s how I found you. But!” she said when he opened his mouth, likely to interject, “This means a set of laws called the Anti-Ecto Acts apply to you. By law you are not sentient, never mind other rights. If you get caught you’re toast.”

“Lady you’re insane,” Jason barked, stepping away from her. His core was agitated.

“I’m trying to keep you after-alive,” she corrected. “The government has these floozies called the Ghost Investigation Ward, but everyone calls them the Guys in White since they wear white. If you see them, run, alright? They’re the ones who will capture and hurt any ghost, even if you’re just minding your own business.”

Jason shook his head and inched into the hall. “How drunk are you?” he asked.

“Not at all. Listen, just be careful,” Sam sighed.

Without a backwards glance, Jason left her on the snowy balcony with a snickering Tucker and a pensive Danny.

“Dude, you scared him off,” Tucker chortled.

“I needed to give him the important stuff in case we never meet again,” Sam replied dryly. “Ghosts are hard to accept outside of Amity.”

”I think I’m going to look into how he died and how he might have been brought back,” Tucker announced. Sam could tell he’d already connected with his PDA and was delving into the web for preliminary information, looking for promising leads.

Danny was nervous but determined. “That’ll help us figure out what he is.”

“It is a new situation,” Sam thought to them as she peered down the hall.

With a sigh, Danny mentally flopped onto a floor. “I guess I could ask Frostbite about coming back to life and baby ghosts when I get back.”

Sam’s initial, knee jerk reaction was to object and say that they should all go together, but Tucker was already in Amity so Danny wouldn’t be alone.

The two would be fine.

Oh who was she kidding? This was Team Phantom she was thinking about. Something was bound to go awry and she was in no position to help them when the inevitable other shoe dropped.

White, misty condensation swirled in the air as Sam exhaled noisily. She hated this time of year with a passion.

👻 {Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.)

Next: Chapter 2

#Halfa trio pretty much from DarkNymfa's Third Time fanfic #I love that story #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc #fanfic #sam manson #tucker foley #danny fenton #jason peter todd #jason todd #crossover #Halfa!Trio Au #halfa biology #sort of?#but later so spoiler I guess #yeeting this into the tumblr void and hoping someone has a name for this trainwreck #fanfiction #miscmonstro writings

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pastel-books12 · 7 months

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Book One - The Man Who Loved Cole Flores by K.A. Merikan

Ten years ago, a vicious gang called the Gotham Boys descended on a homestead in the mountains like a pack of wolves, leaving nothing behind but death and destruction.

Ned O’Leary was the only one to survive the ordeal.

He lost hope for revenge long ago, but its flame erupts in his heart when the gang is spotted again. By a stroke of luck, he is recruited to infiltrate the Gotham Boys and bring them all to justice. Ripped out of his wholesome life on a ranch, he has to find his footing with a band of ruthless outlaws who challenge his morals every step of the way

But the one who tests him most of all is Cole Flores. Deadly, full of himself and unpredictable, the gang leader’s adopted son should be a man easy to hate, but instead, he sparks illicit desires Ned has never felt before.

Torn between love and revenge, lust and loyalty, Ned has to face impossible choices that are bound to leave scars, no matter how hard he tries to do the right thing.

Book Two - The Man Who Hated Ned O’Leary by K.A. Merikan

Seven years ago, Cole Flores was betrayed by the man he loved, and his very soul was left charred. He vowed that day that he would find Ned O’Leary and kill him, even if it was the last thing he did.

But Ned disappeared, and life went on.

Despite the flame of hate burning deep inside him, Cole’s hope to find Ned had dimmed. At least it left behind a lesson to never trust, never love, and never attach himself anywhere. That was the only way for a wanted man to stay off the noose in a world filled with liars and cheats.

Just when Cole stops looking for Ned though, he finds the deceptive bastard, and life turns on its head again. Their reunion goes nothing as planned, and unanswered questions rise to the surface, poisoning Cole’s mind with lust and longing that have never gone away.

Torn between love and revenge, lust and sanity, Cole has to find out if the bruised and battered heart of an outlaw can ever trust again, or if he’s bound to fulfill his promise and be Ned O’Leary’s doom.

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figsandphiltatos · 7 months

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wip whenever

i was tagged by the incredible @johaerys-writes

tagging all the folks i usually do, no pressure! @dearestaeneas @deadchannelradio @sarcasticbeanie

listen y'all if we're lucky emily wilson will knock some sense into me and i'll start writing actual shit again soon, but for now have new dc comics oc lmao

"What you're doing is dangerous. You understand the risks, right?"

Silas gave the strange man-beast in front of him a withering glare. He was a living dead abomination—he wasn't worried about a little danger. The threat Elijah posed to him should he be found out was not nearly as abstract as this creature might have thought. Silas had fought Elijah on several occasions. The outcome had never been better than a quick-to-heal black eye and tepid congratulations on his progress. He knew that if he was found out, he would not win.

"I do." He spoke through bared teeth. Working with these children did not feel right. One of them, positioned near the back and wearing a mostly blue suit, was a Bat. Silas had seen them swinging through Gotham. He had caught them snooping through the Court's old headquarters. They were the enemy.

And yet, Elijah was growing more erratic by the day. Silas didn't want to put his brother at risk, but he needed help. Silas had read about transformations like these in old logs and journals of Grandmasters and Judges; Worsening Electrum dependency, mercurial moods, a lack of obedience even to the Court, all these things had been observed in Talons before. Electrum slowly ate away at their humanity while the grueling cycle of hibernation and rebirth wore on their sanity until they were nothing but a violent shell. Perhaps an alliance with the Bats—With the Wayne Family—would save Elijah from the same fate. He would understand, when it came time to tell him. And if he didn't, it wasn't as if he could do worse than he'd already threatened. But Silas was doing this for him.

"Good," The strange beast with whom he was brokering a deal nodded its head. Despite its immense size, its odd proportions and scratchy voice gave the distinct impression that Silas was speaking with another adolescent. The rest of the team were children, too. Bluejay, who Silas had been first to meet, was only a few years older than him.

The beast held out something for Silas to take. His hands—much to Silas' relief—were not hoof-like in shape or texture, though they were rough and ashen gray. The object was only the size of the creature's relatively large palm, and Silas squinted down at it. What exactly it was was hard to say. It appeared, at first glance, to be an impossibly smooth, rectangular black stone. It seemed to him to be a strange offering, but perhaps this was custom in the future to which he still felt so ill-adjusted. Or perhaps it was a common tradition of horsemen—of whom Silas had only ever met this one. Either way, it felt rude not to accept.

It was cool to the touch, and no thicker than a quarter inch. Its surface was a sleek black on both sides, but was clearly constructed from metal on one side and not the other. So, not a stone. Still Silas couldn't piece together what it might have been. The metallic half was the only stretch of black interrupted, with a square piece of glass covering some small piece of metal, or something too alike it to be told apart when it was so small.

"If you find something, or need our help, contact us." The horseman spoke with an earnestness that washed over Silas. He looked up from his examination, awkwardly holding the gift—just slightly too large for him to comfortably wrap his fist around—by his side. "I'm Taurinus, by the way, but you can call me Polk."

A nervous ripple passed over his teammates. Some shifted from foot to foot, one clad in black and red with intersecting lightning bolts on his chest made a motion with his hands so quickly they blurred in Silas' vision. A girl with long black hair stepped forward, as if to interrupt, but seemed to think better of it.

"I am Talon." Silas said, words slow and deliberate.

"You’ve gotta have an actual, real name." Bluejay blurted out from where they were standing next to a redheaded girl whose suit was also ornamented with lightning bolts.

"My name is Talon." Silas would not be called by another name. He had not quite earned the title yet, but he would soon. He would accept no other form of address from these strangers. "How am I meant to contact you? Any correspondence would almost certainly be intercepted." And he had been given no place where he could send information, besides.

"With the phone," Polk's explanation felt more like a question than an answer, and it did not serve to clear anything up for Silas, either.

"I don't have a telephone." He insisted, feeling the heavy weight of eyes on him and the distinct sensation that he was making a fool of himself. It was his turn now to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. He had vague memories of the telephone that used to hang in the first floor of his childhood tenement building, the pleasant voice of the operator and the eternally-long line of others waiting their turn. He now had access to no such thing.

Silence stretched on for a beat too long. Silas watched as eyes slid from him to the smooth object in his hand.

"That’s a–well, uh, it’s a cell phone.” Polk pointed with his large hand towards the odd gift Silas was still holding by his side.

A cell phone. Silas was already well aware that the world he now lived in was nothing like the one in which he’d grown up, but he couldn’t begin to anticipate the technology he’d encounter. Gotham itself had changed with the years, all glass and steel now. He had taken comfort in finding places he could recognize–the clocktower, Gotham Cathedral, even Wayne Manor which he remembered lording over the city from its perch in Bristol an entire century ago. Looking at Gotham for the first time again felt much like staring down at the reflective surface of this small black rectangle. There was the strange sensation that he was an alien on an altogether unfamiliar world. How was this meant to be a telephone? There was no receiver, no dial, no cords.

“Oh shit, right.” Bluejay spoke now, taking a step forward. “I think the Talons are from the past, sometimes.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be doing research on these guys?” The girl who had almost interrupted Polk spoke up, voice dry and unimpressed.

“I did! They hibernate or something!”

“For how long? This poor kid doesn’t even know what he’s looking at!”

Their squabbling faded into background noise as Polk stepped forward. “Here, let me show you how to use it.”

#please be nice to him it's my traumatized son from 1910 #also don't mind me fucking around with all the dead kids of past titans #i decided they were interesting wayyy before dc decided to bring them back from the dead #and i actually have legal custody of them now #so dc can literally burn all their plans for the future i'm the captain now #oc: future titans #silas #wip wednesday #figs sillies #oc silas walsh #my writing

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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DPXDC Prompts Masterlist #48-100

48. My Friend Under Gotham

49. Black and White. Alive and Dead. Perfect Symmetry

50. Trapped In Amity

51. What Cores Each Robin Has

52. Field Trip AU

53. His Molecules Got All Rearranged Ever So Slowly

54. "I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again. You Are Never Gonna Keep Me Down"

55. Too Scared to be Thinking Straight

56. Granny Goodness's New Fury

57. Beware My Power Ghost Green Lanterns Light!

58. "Ripped from a Corpse so Freshly Dead, Together with our Hellish Hate, We'll Burn you all--That is your Fate!"

59. Two Halfas of a Whole

60. Lois's Favorite Aunt: Maddie Fenton

61. The Main Man(s)

62. My Strange Time Stream Companion

63. A Ghostly Bird hit my Window

64. Mystery of the Ghost Kid

65. Therapy Time With Your Local (Un)Dead Child

66. Egad! A Ghost!

67. Trick or Treat

68. Hip With The Kids

Nice. Do Not Eat

70. Defying Gravity

71. Artistic Liberty

72. Kryptonians In The Ghost Zone

73. "What Do You Want To Tell Danny Pantum Right Now?" "Sup Baby, Take me Out To Dinner." "aYO-"

74. Catching Up with The Nerd You Threw Into Lockers in High School

75. A World Without Grownups

76. Never Step Foot in Crime Alley

77. Duplicate of a Duplicate

78. Oh my What Big Teeth You Have!

79. Freebee from a Ghostie

80. Built in Reverse

81. AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

82. Pay no Attention to That Man Behind The Curtain

83. Making Ends Meet Is Worth A Few Bones

84. Airway Traffic

85. The Spirit of Gotham

86. Topped With Gold Dust

87. The Chauffeur of Bleeding Children

88. My Saviors Are A Bunch of Idiots

89. Take me to Dinner First ;)

90. Portals Collide

91. Clone of Another

92. The True Tragedy of Heroic Deaths

93. "Oh God I Think I Just Complemented Nightwing's Ass to His Face."

94. The Risks and Rewards of Company Mergers

95. Seeing The Horrors Within (Literally)

96. EGGxactly Where You Least Expect

97. My Primordial Father

98. It's Been Years Since English Last Left My Lips

99. "You're Trespassing!" Says The Trespasser

100. Riddle Me This You Rat Fuck

#bones masterlist #ayyyy I got to 100 lets goooo. only a hundred more to go

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obito76 · 11 months

Text

Shadows of the Heart

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Arella Roth.

Part 1 of Azarath and Gotham

She always had a soft spot for gala’s, despite them being filled with pretty, rich, ignorant people, like talking to a waiter filled with ego in a cheap three star restaurant. Complete and utter boredom, the only thing entertaining was the champagne, or the genuine people trying to have fun with a smile without causing too much of a scene. Still she walked up the stairs in a tight white dress, off the shoulder and velvet going down to her feet. Silver jewelry with diamonds hanging from the earrings complimented her indigo eyes and light makeup, red lipstick blending with the dress. The jewelry by far was one of the good choices she made, simple and elegant at best like most but no one would ever notice, they never seemed to anyways.

“May I have your name ma’am?” The lady with a welcoming smile and a clipboard in her hand asked.

“Mrs. Roth.” Giving the same smile she saw on her face quirk, keeping her face calm and collected as she watched the woman scramble to find her name.

“Of course, Enjoy the evening ma’am.”

Arella knew she would never find someone with the Roth last name on her clipboard, perhaps it was the call she made, or something else but it sure made her say sorry a lot.

Taking a glass of champagne she turned to see the familiar and unfamiliar faces snickering to one another, their partners by their side with an annoyed look. Young audience, arms around one another and looking already buzzed while others sat on the sidelines talking. She walked past, not offering much of a hello but a polite smile on her face, they didn’t see her anyways. Instead she sat in the back, trying to find the reason, why she came here.

Before it was for him, or just to feel alive. That was when she was a kid, now she made enough to never step foot onto Gotham's streets again, she should be turning to home, not an old school apartment she used to live in when she was still young, a fool who ran away from her home, in search of something she shouldn't have. Now though, parties and galas still were all too boring but still held a soft spot within her. Maybe it was overtime suits or the midnight that grew too arousing for her body to get used to the same old things, or maybe she just wanted feel alive again.

“I see you got my invitation, Mrs. Roth” A deep voice made the hair on her neck stand up.

Turning around she saw him, standing tall and broad in an all black suit with his hair gelled as usual, holding a drink between his two fingers. “Yes, It is an honor to be included in such a prestigious event, Mr. Wayne,” She smiled, “and I was truly looking forward to attending.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Looking around he saw the guests now, more than ever, staring at them both. He grew used to the looks, the whispers and the talking, it wasn't uncommon for people to talk about him. Usually he would push them aside but tonight he wondered what to do, their voices mixing and nearly overcoming his own. “Do you?”

“Dance? While I am honored by your invitation, I still prefer to enjoy the evening in solitude.” Shaking her head she watched Bruce’s face twist and smiled at it, “But perhaps somewhere else?” Whispering she gently ran her thumb, over the edge of her champagne glass, before gently placing it down as her body passed his and she went to where no one would be.

The wind curled through her hair, body shivering slightly before she heard the very door she came from open again, and turned to see him emerging into the dark where she was. Walking up she met him halfway, middle of the rooftop where her high heels stopped clicking for a moment.

“Well, May I have this dance?” Bruce said, looking down and extending his hand with a gesture that bespoke both elegance and reverence.

“You may.” Grabbing his hand she put it on her waist, grabbing his other and slowly starting to cascade around the concrete.

“I’ve heard there's an exquisite art exhibition happening in the city. Have you had the pleasure of attending?” Spinning her he watched Arella’s body twirl before going back to flush against his, creating body heat.

“There is?” Pushing the question aside with her own she pretended to be intrigued, as if she hadn't already explored that very art exhibition he mentioned, smiling at the conversation before she laid her head on his chest for a moment.

“Then, with great pleasure, I shall accompany you to the very esteemed event.” Speaking for the hell of it he noticed the words that left a little too late. Blinking a few times he looked out past the woods, seeing the almost city with them. Did he mean it? It was always push and shove with women, tom and jerry for years even as he matured. He wouldn’t be an idiot to say it wasn’t thrilling. The chase, wanting it to end so badly but if it did, the only thing spoiled would be the fun of it all.

“Quite the commitment, isn’t it, Mr. Wayne?” Arella smiled, pulling away a little as she didn’t see his face falter. It was just as cold as her own, their own emotions flooding silently through like a dam bursting open. She once wanted someone, knowing enough the mere act of stay should have been the first sign but with how long it had been. As time passed, she couldn't help but marvel at his resilience, how much she pushed him and how much he bounced back, not taking no for an answer in the most extraordinary way. She remembered first meeting him, throwing it all aside, walking the line just for him. She had put her life in danger more than once and only got angry at the outcome, angry at herself, for letting him in without a second guess.

He could still hear the echo of the throat closed goodbye from someone he once really wanted more than anything, attempting to call it quits, on the rooftop with their eyes on beautiful horizon. It was unthinkable to throw her away, the truth he came back less than three months later, falling into her bed, into her embrace and never wanting to leave. He figured she longed for him as well even if they were together, but in the end they were all memories.

They were just young, fool and dumb kids, who were in love. One with a hero and one with hell.

Pushing her head back as if to conceal her expression Arella kept dancing, even when his feet stopped, she waited for it, waited for time to shift when she stared into his sapphire eyes. Feeling the adrenaline, the touch of his hand as he went down her dress, slowly making her chest turn to breathe heavier. It was torture, the more he moved, the more he touched, the more she felt teased, body hot, leaving her mouth ajar, lips grazing against the fabric unintentionally.

“Care for a tour of the manor?” Bruce whispered in her ear, taking nothing but a nod of agreement before he placed both hands on her waist and forced the woman’s body around, pushing her down the stairs and back into the manor.

She felt the dress fall way faster than the door closed. Talking, stumbling, still entered the room away from the whispers and murmurs, but his lips coating her neck made Arella care less to tell, her painted fingernails running through Bruce’s hair. She moaned softly, his name going over the people chatting below.

“Would you kindly maintain silence, Mrs. Roth? Solely for my sake, if you may.” Running his fingers between her thighs he got back up to face her, pushing her legs until they hit the bed and he could crawl on top, only thing left, his boxers. His muscles flexed, legs made from a sculpture in clay themselves pushed her soft thighs apart, abs running down her toned stomach as he laced their lips, tongues and every thing making their mind grow wild. “I never thought you would actually come, Mrs. Roth.” Kissing her neck he felt her body move, legs sliding before he forced his hand upon them once more.

“M-Mr. Wayne!” Gasping as his fingers entered her pussy and she arched her back, feeling his thumb rub her clit softly as she began to move more, growing wet and hot by the every passing moment. “M-Me neither!” Scrambling for words as his fingers moved faster, biting her lip to stay silent she opened her eyes to see his face, a small smile playing as her own hand cupped his growing arousal.

Stopping abruptly, Bruce got up and forced down the boxers, sliding his tip against her, feeling the wetness coat as he groaned, slipping in without halt to hear her whimper, fingernails now grabbing, leaving marks on his shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful.” Thrusting in and out he looked down, watching her breasts move with every thrust, nipples hard as his tongue lapped over them while her head was thrown back in pleasure, eyes blown up like his. “God Mrs. Roth..”

His deep voice only turned her on even more, trying to move her hips as well but he had gotten faster, making her moan at every thrust and little movement, wanting it to never stop. “P-Please! I.. ah- Mr. Wayne please.” Moaning out she ran her nails down his back, in an attempt to urge him go harder.

Without word he ran a hand down, gently rubbing her clit as she jumped, scoffing darkly he began to fuck her harder, his cock making slapping sounds through the room before he lost himself and roughly moved his thumb, not bothering to stop ever after he heard his name in a loud moan, after her body grew limb and he had still not finished. Instead he felt her body jerk and quiver every time, not stopping one moment of euphoria until he jerked and emptied himself inside her.

“Shit!” Forcing his cock deeper he stopped, huffing out a sigh as he stopped and fell back onto her.

“It appears that I am granted the opportunity to spend the night, am I not?” Taking his weight on her, Arella smiled, fingers running through her damp hair before she saw him look up and smile softly, pecking her lips, until she chased his lips again. It was never a question she would take his offer to take her to the exibition, everyone from guests to security knew, the question was do they really have a future? Between the fights and work, the confusing emotions and scary past,

Do they really want a future?

#robrae #dickrae #teen titans #raven roth #smut #Arella Roth #angela roth #azarath #Gotham #Bruce Wayne #batman #Arella x bruce #bruce x arella #dc #dc comics

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ggomos-maribat · 2 years

Text

D-DAY Chapter 5 | 6 Days Before

They had decided to meet up in Gotham Museum, since Marinette had never stepped foot in the place. Tim had a last minute errand to run, so she took the liberty to explore the place for a bit while waiting. She paused in front of a large square painting, a realistic piece showing a horde of townspeople crowded around a faceless figure.

She buried her hands into her jacket pockets and stared. The paint strokes were immaculate. Each direction led the flow of emotions in the representation of each person. An oil medium, it looked like. The warm colors sweeping around were drowning the villagers in either a sunset or the flames of hell.

Marinette sat down on the bench, absorbed in the painting.

"The Recreation," a woman next to her uttered. She wore a long-collared coat and a pair of reflective sunglasses. "Wouldn't it be nice to have the power to reform the world?"

"That would be playing god." Marinette never broke her gaze.

"But if you had the means to undo a tragedy, wouldn't you take the chance?"

"For such actions, there are always equivalent consequences." Her lip curled in distaste. "Erasing and rewriting reality isn't anyone's decision to make."

"Does that mean you will let Paris live with its scars for the rest of your life?" From the corner of Marinette's eye, she could see the woman smiling a little.

Says the one who kills without hesitation.

"It means that I know people would like to change the past." She lowered her tone. "But I also know people who don't. The events of Paris have caused misery and grief among the people but it has also strengthened their wills. I have no right to take that away from them."

"Besides . . ." Marinette continued, "Even at the hands of the League, I don't think the Miraculouses will be used for honorable intentions, Talia."

"We might," Talia taunted. "Don't you want those jewels to be taken off your hands once and for all? Wasn't the guardian duty thrust upon you at a young age?"

"That is true. I do want to get rid of the burden. I'm too young to handle my current responsibilities." Marinette's fingers tensed around her arm. "But I'm not incapable or stupid. I'm not letting the Miraculouses fall into the wrong hands."

"It's a shame. You don't doubt your decisions." Talia stood up, brushing down her coat. "I suppose I'll come see you another time."

She slipped into the bustling crowd, blending perfectly against the unsuspecting Gothamites. Marinette pressed a hand against her chest to calm her pounding heart. For a minute, she'd thought Talia would pull off a trick even at the risk of causing a commotion, but she didn't do anything but leave her with a few words.

You're wrong, she wanted to say. I do doubt my decisions. Everyday.

She had the power to reverse the disasters that had haunted her city for years. The power to bring back the life Adrien wanted for his family. The power to give herself a chance to live as an ordinary person, who didn't wake up in the middle of the night screaming or hid tears in front of other people.

She could readily offer herself as the sacrifice.

But what about the others? The Parisians who found meaning amidst the distress? The rest of the world that didn't know how much one city had suffered? Was that fair to them at all?

She felt her kwami's reassuring pats from the inside of her jacket. Marinette took a deep breath. Everything's over now, but at the same time, it's not. She was tired. Dead tired. But she couldn't stop fighting because that was all she ever knew in her life.

She looked at the painting again. 'The Recreation', huh? Her jaw clenched. Those people don't look too happy about that.

---

"Want a bite?" Tim pushed his slice of carrot cake towards her, eyes gleaming. "You've been staring at this for a while now."

Marinette's cheeks burned as she broke her staring contest with the cake. "No—no it's okay."

He laughed, handing her a fork. "Come on. You can have some."

She reluctantly accepted his offer, not wanting to admit that she barely had anything to eat that day. As she took pieces off the cake, she was careful not to take too much.

Marinette took a sip of her iced latte. "I should open your gift now."

He arched an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't opening it until we got home."

"I want to see it now."

The sound of ripping paper joined the loud calls of orders from the register, the whir of the frothing machine, and the murmurs of the other customers around them. The inside of the box had strips of paper for cushioning, enclosing a pink French press with a gilded top. Plum blossom patterns swirled on the glass body, with branches of other flowers.

She sucked in a breath. ". . . Tim, I love it!"

He stopped fidgeting. "Really? I, umm, I actually wasn't sure what to get you in return for that jacket you made me. Alfred helped a little."

Marinette took the gift out of the box to inspect it. "You didn't have to return that favor, you know."

"I know, but I wanted to."

She laced her fingers with his from across the table. "I'll make sure to use it all the time."

The smile that broke out on his face was contagious. Every time she was with him, she felt like she could temporarily forget about the world. Ignoring the sliver of guilt she felt, she wished that being with him was something she could always come back to.

"You spoil me." Marinette tucked the press back, placing the box carefully under the table.

"You deserve to be spoiled." Tim sipped on his drink. "You deserve so much more."

He looks sad. Or tired? Marinette noted. She could guess the hidden meaning. "That goes the same for you. You've been working so hard recently."

He shrugged. "WE's busier than usual. Nothing new."

She chuckled. "I'm close to kidnapping you away."

"Is it kidnapping if I'd willingly go with you?"

Damn.

She held herself back from closing the distance between them. She focused on the aroma of caffeine and spices around them, but all her other senses were overwhelmed by him and only him.

"Maybe not," she said weakly. "Where do you want to go?"

He answered automatically. "Paris. Your home." The feather-light touches of his fingers glided along the back of her hand. "Or a faraway island somewhere."

She snorted. "An empty island. How romantic."

Tim grinned toothily. "Only if you're with me."

She should be used to it already: trading bold comments with him with the occasional diabolical and outlandish plans they came up with. But she was still a victim of blushes. Of the skipping of her heartbeat.

"I can get us fake identities," he proposed, "Make our locations untraceable."

"Didn't know Mr. Drake-Wayne would lavishly spend his money like that," she teased.

Tim looked proud of himself. "I should let you know he does that on a regular basis."

Marinette ran her thumb on his palm. If only it were that easy. To drop everything right at this second and abandon all our priorities. It was tempting, really. He had the capability, she had the reasons. She wouldn't have to worry about carrying lives on her back, or look out for her enemies.

Strangely, freedom was the same thing she was offered earlier that day.

But freedom with Tim was much more appealing.

---

Tim stretched on the bed, waking up from the cold. With his bleary eyes, he saw Marinette sitting up and looking out the window of his room. He yawned and nudged her with his leg. "Mari? What's wrong?"

She looked back at him with a tired smile. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep again after I woke up."

He opened his arms to welcome her warmth. She crawled to his side as he wrapped the sheets around them. "Thinking?" he whispered before planting a kiss on her cheek.

She nuzzled his chest. "Yeah. Lots of things."

"Tell me about them."

"Future plans," she mumbled. Tim moved his hand to stroke her head. "My responsibilities."

"Mmm. I have those thoughts too."

Thoughts that were unlike hers. Heavy. Looming at the back of his mind.

He had begun to trust her with his life, but was he trustworthy enough to protect her? He desperately didn't want her to be involved with his family's secret job. He even thought she'd be better off not staying in Gotham. This city eats you up and spits you out as a different person.

She didn't need to be caught up in any trouble.

Marinette snuggled deeper into his hold. "Comfy."

"Only with you."

"Tim?"

"Yes . . .?"

She looked up at him, eyes a stark contrast against the night. "What if I'd have to leave someday?"

"I'll follow you," he assured. Slow strokes of his thumb traced her jawline, up to her cheek. "I'll still be right by your side."

"Won't you be sad?"

"I want you to do whatever you think you should," he said softly. It wasn't like he had the right to be the sole reason for her to stay. He couldn't hold her back like that. "And I'll keep in touch. Or go with you. No one can stop me."

She put her hand at the back of his head and pulled him in for a soft kiss. The brush of their lips deepened into a fervor and when they'd pull away for a brief second, they would find their way back to each other again.

The words sat unsaid at the tip of his tongue.

"Let's get some sleep now." She buried her face on his neck whilst wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Good night," he said softly.

"Good night, Tim."

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#d-day #timari #timinette #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fanfic #maribat fic #ggomoz #maribat tim drake #maribat marinette dupain cheng #dc x miraculous #again enjoy the fluff #while it lasts #teehee

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mayhemproduces · 8 months

Text

Dyln Blaine vs Fukigen Death vs Hyper Misao- MPW Stardust Championship

As this very… Interesting match is set to get underway, it could be noted that Dyln Blaine, the MPW Stardust Champion, seemed to be hanging back outside of the ring, standing with Eric and Mikey in front of him, and very close to Lilith, who seemed to be giving him some sort of pep talk, as Dyln looked hesitantly about getting in the ring- in fact, one could maybe even describe the look on Dyln’s face as… fear?

Referee Jessica Carr tells Dyln to get in the ring, and he straight up refuses, as Carr shrugs and rings the bell anyways. Dyln paces outside of the ring, his eyes never ever leaving Fukigen Death as he does, as Fukigen kind of stares down Dyln the entire time. Dyln looks like he may get into the ring, but as he tries to step onto the apron, Fukigen Death takes a single step toward him, and Dyln seems to lose his nerve as Dyln quickly jumps back, and shoves Eric and Mikey in front of him. Lilith looks sympathetic to her protege’s plight, but as Dyln continues to circle the ring, we get some insight. A fan shouts for Dyln to get in the ring, and Dyln turns around to shout back.

“Shut up! I’m scared of clowns!”

So that was it. Dyln was terrified of the clown in the ring, Fukigen Death, and apparently wanted no part of her. Dyln looked to still be steeling himself, when Hyper Miaso sneaks up on Fukigen and rolls her up!

1…2…

Fukigen manages to turn it around and get Miaso’s shoulders down instead!

1….2…

Miaso reverses momentum and manages to get Fukigen’s shoulder’s down again!

1…2…

Fukigen reverses again!

1….2… Kickout!

As Miaso shoves Fukigen off of her, she shoves Fukigen towards the ropes, right as Dyln decided he was gonna try to get back into the ring again, putting Dyln face to face with his worst nightmare. Fukigen the sad clown gives Dyln a frown, and Dyln screams as he once again gets back down off the apron, hiding behind his faction once again. At some point Dyln’s gonna have to get into the ring to defend his title, but right now he seems wholly unwilling to do just that. Back in the ring, Fukigen turns around, just in time for Hyper Miaso to try and for the Hyper Gotham Crash, but Fukigen blocks it and pokes Miaso in the eyes! Miaso stumbles away, and is taken down by a shoulder tackle from Fukigen. Fukigen then takes a seat on Miaso’s back, and starts miming smoking a cigarette, as Miaso struggles to get out from underneath her.

Suddenly though, from behind, Dyln gets into the ring, and looks like he’s building up courage… before launching himself at the back of Fukigen’s head with a HUGE leaping dropkick! Fukigen gets rocked, and Dyln gets up, screaming and pounding on his chest, as he shakes the ropes and jumps up onto the second one, still beating on his chest.

“I! FUCKING! HATE! CLOWNS!”

Dyln jumps down off the ropes, fired up, only to immediately get caught in a schoolboy pin from Hyper Misao!

1….2… Kickout!

Dyln out at two, but his brief outburst almost cost him his title! Dyln gets back up as Misao hits the ropes, wraps her legs around Dyln’s head, and throws him with a Huricanrana, but Dyln cartwheels out of it, before turning and NAILING Misao with a huge Cyclone kick! Misao nearly gets her head taken off, but as Dyln gets back to his feet, he’s once again face to face with Fukigen Death. Fukigen points to the sky, and as Dyln looks up, Fukigen stomps on his foot! Dyln hops around on one foot, clutching it in pain, as Fukigen chuckles to herself and turns to hit the ropes, only for Dyln to charge her. Fukigen drops down though, and takes Dyln out at the legs! Fukigen then sits on his chest, smiling down at him as she covers the champion!

1…2… Kickout!

Dyln manages to kick out and roll out of the ring, as Fukigen gets up, and continues to mime smoking a cigarette. She approaches Miaso to try and pick her back up, when Miaso catches her and rolls her up again!

1….2…

Fukigen turns it into a roll up for herself!

1…2…

Misao manages to escape, and trap Fukigen’s arms at the same time, as Misao lifts Fukigen up, and plants her with Vanitas! Right down on Fukigen’s head!

Misao might be looking to end things, as she starts climbing up to the top rope as Fukigen starts to stir…

“I AM A HERO!”

Miaso leaps off, crashing down onto Fukigen with the crossbody, Misao hooks the leg!

1…2… Broken up!

Dyln Blaine charges in and CURB STOMP’s Misao’s head into the mat! As Misao tries to regain herself, stumbling back to her feet, Dyln springs off the ropes and drops her with the Rocket Strap! Goodnight, Hyper Misao! Cover!

1…2…3!

“Here is your winner, and STILL MPW Stardust Champion, Dyln Blaine!”

0 notes

visionofhope04 · 3 years

Note

Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck.

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky.

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same.

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment.

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position.

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two.

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close.

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself.

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you.

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual.

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him.

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it.

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes.

“You promise?” Conner urges.

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise.

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for.

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position.

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed.

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear.

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking.

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing.

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right.

“Why not?” Conner questions.

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast.

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable.

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it.

You answer with a snort.

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants.

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left.

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence.

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time.

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it.

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie.

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever.

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