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strawwritesfic · 2 years

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Bruce Banner x Female!Civilian!Reader: Oh My Dear [Ch. 17]

Summary: For [F Name] [L Name], Manhattan was nothing but a hellhole. She got out and wasn’t ever coming back. When a set of cut-rate superheroes tears the city apart, however, her grandmother sucks her back into that familiar life of loneliness and angry customers. Even worse, one of those superheroes has decided to use [Name] in another crazy plan to “help” his best friend. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Tony’s plan just might work-if only for a few months.

Challenge: “#1 AVENGERS ULTIMATE CHALLENGE!!!!“ by DancingBubbles on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; manipulative friends who won’t take no for an answer; dead parents; difficult relationships with family members; some language that might border on verbal abuse from a family member; angst; contrived coincidences; a generally unresearched depiction of paraplegia; set post-Avengers (2012) and pre-Age of Ultron; Tony & Bruce friendship)

Pairings: Bruce Banner/Female!Reader; Tony Stark/Pepper Potts; Past!Bruce Banner/Betty Ross

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List

Chapter 17: Just Beneath the Surface

If Tony expected no reaction from Bruce after your flight from the tower, he was to find himself for once thoroughly surprised. Bruce hardly knew you; each and every “date” you two had been on had ended in abrupt disaster. Once Tony found out how Doris [L Name] became a widow, he really couldn’t rationalize forcing the relationship anymore. He did the unthinkable: Tony Stark gave up.

But far from not reacting, Bruce seemed happy. Not over the moon, obnoxious happy, but happy in a strange, quiet Bruce way. Tony caught him smiling when taking notes in the laboratory more than once–and even being slightly more willing to spend time outside of his room. Could he really be that thrilled to have [Name] out of his life?

“Of course not.”

Tony looked up and across the living room to see Pepper gazing at him from her desk.

“Did I say that out loud?” he asked after a brief pause.

Her eyes flicked back down to whatever she was doing, then she pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’m afraid so. Why would you think Bruce was excited to see [Name] gone?”

“Because he’s happy.”

Pepper’s lips twisted into a half-smile; her fingers contracted slightly around the stack of papers she held. “And you object to this?”

Tony bit his lip and ran a hand across his hair. He had decided not to mention to anyone what he had found out regarding the Hulk. All revealing that news would do was make Bruce sad, and there didn’t seem to be much point with you thoroughly out of their lives. With Pepper looking so close to laughing now, Tony had to wonder if what Rhodey called his “emotional immaturity” had caused him to make the wrong judgement call on how any of them would feel.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Bruce and [Name] have been seeing quite a lot of each other lately, you know.”

“I–What? When?”

Pepper shrugged. Tony could see her attention turning back to her work, so he took a few steps closer. This did the trick of catching her eye and bringing her back to the present situation.

“Mostly during her lunch breaks, sometimes evenings on the weekend,” she replied.

“I haven’t seen her around.”

“And that’s surprising, given how you treat her?”

“Hey, she started that last fight. Hating the Avengers! When has Steve ever–” His throat closed around the words, making it impossible for Tony to continue. Because saying that reminded him of why you hated the Avengers–and Bruce had no idea. “When are they going out next?”

Clearly sensing the change in tone the conversation had taken, Pepper threw Tony a look with wide, concerned eyes and a gently furrowed brow. “I think he should be leaving around now. Why–”

Tony didn’t stick around to hear the end of Pepper’s question. He rushed from the room and down the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly in the mostly empty hallways. Was that the sound of the door to the street opening? His hands braced themselves against the door frame as he burst into the room.

“Bruce!”

The other man stopped with one foot out the door. Distracted by his momentary relief at finding Bruce still in the building, Tony only barely noticed the way Bruce’s eyes widened at seeing Tony there, or his wearing one of Tony’s old jackets. After a moment’s hesitation, Bruce stepped back inside and closed the door, a casual smile playing at his lips.

“Hey, Tony. What’s up?”

Tony slipped into the room, his brain drumming away inside his head. How many times had this occurred? Tony Stark was never at a loss for words. Standing there in the tiny downstairs entryway, he really couldn’t think of anything to say. It occurred to him as he stood there that Bruce had not told him he was still seeing you. No, Bruce had told Pepper.

Maybe there was a reason for that.

Tony couldn’t let him bother him. At least, he couldn’t at that very moment. It may have hurt that his best friend didn’t trust him with such information. While Bruce waited, staring, his hands in his pockets, the silence was dragging on and on.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked as casually as he could.

Bruce shrugged a single shoulder and twiddled with one of the little knickknacks Pepper had set on a small table near the door to “brighten the place up.” “Oh, just…out.”

Tony rocked forward on his toes. Still nothing? “Anything important?”

Another shrug. “I guess.”

“Really? ‘Cause…I was thinking maybe we could run some more of those tests on JARVIS. He’s still a little under the weather.”

“Tony, you don’t need me for that. I just sit there watching you.”

“I appreciate an audience.”

There was no fooling Bruce. His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the edges. “What is this really about?”

You killed her grandpa! Tony wanted to blurt out. Although not strictly true–everyone flipped-flopped on whether or not Bruce and the Hulk were really the same person, and at the very worse the incident was criminally negligent manslaughter anyway–that was how Bruce would see it when he knew. He would declare himself a murderer, maybe even run off again. If he cared about you now, that would only make things worse.

If you found out, you would undoubtedly hurt Bruce. Tony couldn’t see an end result where you swallowed all your venom and wanted to keep things going. At the same time, if he told Bruce now, that would hurt him too. After everything Tony had seen, heard, and read, he could not bear to hurt Bruce himself.

He forced a smile and clapped Bruce once on the back. “Nothing. Glad to see you willingly getting out more. Have fun.”

Bruce looked as if he didn’t quite believe Tony was letting him off so easily. Then he pressed his lips together, nodded once, and opened the door again. “Thanks.”

******

Ten minutes past twelve and the street outside was empty. Well, not empty exactly; the usual crowd moving up and down the pavement remained, occasionally interrupting your distracted thoughts by jangling the bell tied to the door as they sidled inside. The sidewalk was, however, vacant of the only person you wanted to see.

“Miss [L Name]!”

You gave a start and looked wildly around. There, standing right in front of the front desk, was Hailey, a twenty-year-old girl with her elbow-length blonde hair in a messy bun. Her well-painted fingernails flashed color over the advertisements in her hands. Judging by the worried look in her pale blue eyes, she had probably been trying to get your attention for a while.

“Uh…I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked intelligently.

Hailey moved her head slightly to the left. “Miss [L Name], are you all right?”

Before you could stoutly insist that you were, Mr. Banner cackled. “Don’t mind her, girl,” he called from the back, where he was probably trying to pry more frozen goods off their shelves. “She’s just mooning over that scientist of hers.”

“Scientist? Are we hiring a scientist? Cool!” Another head, this one dark and belonging to eighteen-year-old Preston, poked out from the fruit section.

“What would we do with a scientist? Honestly, Preston,” you said, now embarrassed enough by the attention to be irritable.

“We could crossbreed!” he answered while gesturing wildly with a banana. “Just think–Orples! This store would be world famous!”

The rest of the shop workers stared at him. Even ditsy Hailey couldn’t seem to think of a reason to encourage this.

“Just finish stocking,” you said into the silence. “This lull won’t last forever.”

Preston disappeared again, muttering something that distinctly sounded like “unappreciated.”

Hailey placed her fliers down on the counter and sidled closer to you. “So, a scientist. You like them smart, Miss [L Name]?”

“I’m not mooning over anyone,” you said, more to Mr. Banner than Hailey.

The former walked into the main room carrying several frost-covered frozen pizzas and snorted.

“You wouldn’t be, if you were reasonable. I thought his association with Tony Stark would drive you off of him.”

He wandered away before you could think of a reply to fire at him. Hailey, meanwhile, appeared quite eager to avoid more work, as she decided to take it upon herself to continue the conversation with yet another inquiry:

“You’ve met Tony Stark?”

You grunted.

Hailey squealed. “I’m so jealous! You know, I’ve lived here my whole life and never once ran into him.”

“He’s only lived here for a little over a year.”

“Still. He’s so handsome, isn’t he?”

“Sure. Why not?” You rolled your eyes.

She did not notice. “Do you think he’s still seeing that Potts woman? Because if I married a millionaire, no way would I have to keep this grocery job!”

You opened your mouth to tell Hailey that you were very sure Tony and Pepper were still in love, but then you spotted something outside the window. There was Bruce, waving sheepishly from outside. “I’m going on my lunch break!” you shouted as you pulled your purse out from beneath the register.

Hailey wrinkled her nose in confusion at the abrupt end to your discussion, but made no move to stop you as you rushed by. Just as you yanked the door open, you turned to yell:

“Preston, if I find out you tried to smoke the cabbage again, I will tell your grandfather!”

Without waiting to hear him grumble in response, you stepped outside and pulled the tinkling door behind you. Bruce stood a few feet away, his usual tiny smile on his face. You grinned and grabbed his hand before setting out down the street.

“So where to today?” he asked without preamble.

You smiled without looking back at him. “It’s Thursday, so we’re having a picnic.”

By picnic, you meant the two of you were going to sit on a bench in a nearby fountain area and eat sandwiches you made in your apartment the night before. Cheap, sure, but that was kind of the point. It was expensive eating out every day, and Nana would have a meltdown if you ate any of the customers’ food. You tugged gently at Bruce’s hand and he barely avoiding tripping after you.

“Come on, I’ve only got forty-five minutes,” you said.

The little courtyard wasn’t too far from work, which was why it had become your weekly habit to go there. It was a little crowded, but considering the time of your lunch hour, not many people stuck around to get in your way. Once there, you settled on a bench, and, after making sure Bruce had followed suit, handed him a saran-wrapped baloney sandwich from your purse.

You took your first bite while watching the various pedestrians mill about around the fountain. Try as you might to focus on a little girl throwing a penny in, you were uncomfortably aware of Bruce’s eyes on you. He liked to watch you, for some reason, and generally with a tiny, disbelieving smile, as though he weren’t quite sure how any one person could be as dumb as you were. Or at least, you thought he did. No matter how quickly you looked back, you never could catch him staring. This time, for instance, he had his eyes glued on his meal.

“So, how has your day been?” you asked, once you had had enough of people watching.

Bruce kept his head down, but his eyes moved up toward you. “Pretty good,” he answered. “Tony caught me heading out here.”

Your free had stiffened around your knee, and you swallowed your mouthful of food a little harder than necessary.

Bruce, on the other hand, continued as though he had not noticed this. “I just told him I was going out, so you don’t have to worry.”

You pounded a fist once against your chest and choked, “Worry about what?”

He blinked, looking confused. “About him knowing about the two of us.”

The conversation had to pause while you dug around in your bag again, this time to find a water bottle. You gulped down several lukewarm mouthfuls and at last obtained your usual voice to ask:

“He doesn’t know?”

Bruce shook his head. “I didn’t think you would want me to tell him.”

That threw you. Did you want Tony to know? It wasn’t really that big a deal if he did, but then again, the thought that Tony would know he was right about something involving you was infuriating in its own right. You looked away to answer:

“I never said you couldn’t tell him.”

“I know,” Bruce said, and the lightness of his tone caused you to look back up at him. “It’s easier this way. Now he can’t chaperone our dates.”

“That is an excellent point.”

Bruce smiled again and took a bite of his sandwich. You only half-smiled in return, your eyes already back on the little girl from before. She was peering into the fountain and pointing, perhaps at the coin she had thrown in. Beside her stood an elderly man with cane, nodding and beaming at her. The sight hit your stomach like a physical punch. Hadn’t Papa done the same for you, when you were just a child? Not at the same fountain, obviously, but still.

“Hey, Bruce,” you said, your eyes still on the two. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

He sounded wary, and you wrenched your gaze away to look at him. His brows were pushed together. It didn’t look exactly like Bruce was going to automatically say no, but his obvious concern still put you on your guard.

“You can say no and I won’t be upset,” you hedged.

“What kind of favor?”

You blew a short breath upwards, causing a few loose tendrils of hair and bangs to blow back. With your eyes focused on your forehead as you tried to force the strays back down, you were able to speak more easily:

“I want to go see my grandpa’s grave.” When you turned your attention back to Bruce, he was frowning. Not like he was upset, just…confused. You seemed to have that effect on him frequently. Before Bruce could voice his obvious question, you tried to answer it. “I don’t want to go alone.”

He nodded slowly, as if this was something he understood. “Why do you want to go?”

You shrugged and looked back over toward the fountain. The child and her grandfather were gone. “It’s been coming on for a while now. I never went to see it after he died, and I showed up too late for the funeral. Nana wanted things over with as quickly as possible. Ripping it off like a Band-Aid, she told me.” It dawned on you that you were babbling. You broke off to bite your lip.

Bruce didn’t look away. "You don’t want to go with your grandmother?”

“It would be too difficult to get her there in her wheelchair. Besides,” you ducked your head, “Nana and I don’t really see eye to eye on Papa. I want to thank him for some stuff I’d rather not have her hear.”

“But you’re okay with me hearing them.”

You felt your eyes widen. “Only if you want to!” you hastened to assure him. “I mean, if you want to wander off and look at other graves while we’re there, that’s okay! I just don’t want to go there alone. I’ll probably lose my nerve.”

“How do you plan on getting there?”

To be honest, you hadn’t given it much thought. You’d only toyed with going to visit Papa’s grave thus far. The thought of actually going was a little scary. Not that his vengeful ghost was going to pop out of the grave and curse you, but you didn’t really feel like you deserved to visit. Taking Bruce would make it a little less awful, wouldn’t it? Like introducing your boyfriend to your parents. After all, you couldn’t really introduce Bruce to Nana, who was growing awfully agitated at any plans of yours to leave the apartment for anything other than work.

“A taxi,” you answered.

Bruce nodded vaguely and looked up toward the cloud-strewn sky. “I could ask Tony,” he said, “if we could have Happy to take us.”

“Does that mean you’ll go with me?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you!” You launched yourself forward to wrap your arms around Bruce’s shoulders.

He stiffened momentarily, then patted you twice on the back.

You extricated yourself as quickly as you could. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Shall I ask Tony, then?”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said, still too elated to feel much frustration at getting help from Tony Stark. “After all, if he decides to come along, that’s just more people. Papa always liked a party.”

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

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Favorite color

Ever since he was born, his world was filled with colors, a beautiful rainbow at his fingers. He’d look down at them at night, or when his parent’s leaving made him want to cry, or when a horror story told by a classmate in the playground scared him half to death, and find comfort in their silky touch and bright hues.

He was seven when he learned the meaning behind them. And the blaring lack of red signaled the first, but not last, heartbreak of his life.

Blue, green, purple, black… and bright yellow. A teacher, a missed opportunity, a first love, life and death… and friendship. No eternal love for Tim, it seemed.

Well. He hadn’t really expected any different. Who would love him forever, when his own parents didn’t?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He had forgotten it, and it escaped his notice for many years. Until one night, following Dick Grayson as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, when he noticed his purple string moving in synch with him. Pointing towards his hero, the boy who had given him his very first hug that night at the circus. His First Love, his Not Meant to Be.

That night, Tim packed up early and went home. He just couldn’t stand the red uniform contrasting sharply with his purple thread.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Dick left, he thought maybe now he could go back to his old habits, to run the streets looking for flashes of the new robin without the baggage of avoiding to look at his own hand.

No such luck.

The green made a whole lot of sense when news of Jason’s death reached him, tough.

It wouldn't be the last night he’d cry himself to sleep, holding the frayed ends of his fated Almost.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Becoming Robin was both easy and painful. Comfortable, because the blue string pointing him towards Bruce meant this was always supposed to happen; heartbreaking, because it took a kid dying. Because Tim might not have a romantic soul mate, but his hands, that had made a green string break to grant him access to the blue path, were stained red nonetheless.

Wearing Robin’s red, with all the hurt and bad memories it carried, felt like a subpar punishment.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Meeting his Yellows almost passed his awareness. In the middle of a crisis, every adult missing, no mentor to guide him, he couldn’t exactly spare a thought for the kids looking shellshocked at him, each other and their hands.

After, when Young Justice was officially formed, he firmly avoided looking at Bart, Superboy and Wondergirl. Their eyes followed him, pleading, but he’d learned no good ever came from strings that weren’t red.

And the red in his soul wasn’t from love.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite himself and his best efforts, they grew closer. Life or death situations had that effect on people, after all.

His own reluctance, which had in turn provoqued Kon’s anger, Bart’s dejection and Cassie’s confusion, slowly began to crumble. He was helpless in the face of their unrelenting friendship.

The strings grew shinier, stronger, healthier, the yellow a stark contrast to frayed (dead) green, cold blue, distant purple. Scary black.

Tim still despised the rainbow in his fingers, but… he could maybe withstand the sparks of yellow he’d catch from the corner of his eye, knowing just who were at the other end.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It wasn’t exactly team training. Greta, Anita, Cissie, Slobo and the others didn’t join them, for whatever reason. It was always the four of them, leaning on and learning from each other.

When Kon’s strength frustrated him, when the world around him seemed to be made of bubbles and sea foam, Tim stayed late at night every weekend to help. Every spare moment directed towards coaching him, again and again, through exercises he had to come by himself (Clark was no big help, here), until exhaustion made his muscles tremble and Kon’s anger had burned out from frustration to soft acceptance that he just wasn’t like the rest. Until he could hold still and let Superboy trace the side of his jaw with a careful finger, and exchange proud little smiles when his face remained unbroken.

Bart being raised by video games had the expected outcome; he had little to no practical, day to day life knowledge. He was the closest living thing to a Looney Toon. Which was fun and good when crime fighting, his crazy ideas often saved their ass last minute, but unacceptable if integrating him into society was to be considered. So Tim would take him out, hand in hand so he didn’t forget himself and ran on his own, to leisurely stroll down busy streets, arcades, schools, libraries. Talk to people in parks and visit recreational centers, barter with street vendors and ask the little boy selling flowers on Jump Street how his mother is doing. Whatever Tim could think of that would soften Bart’s cultural shock.

In that regard, Cassie was a godsend. With her own attentive mentor, and raised like a normal girl until she obtained her powers, she was the most well balanced member on their team. Tim had started to feel a little restless (how can he help her, how can he convince her to stay…), when he noticed her frustrated, sad face whenever Donna was mentioned on Tv, when any reporter or older hero compared the two Wonder Girls. Familiar as he was with imposter syndrome, Tim would rest his arm around her shoulders and turn to the rest of the team, loudly reminding everyone to ‘speed up guys, Cassie here’s already done with her training routine’ or slump tiredly against her while complaining about ‘how immature they are, I can’t deal, thank God you’re here to remind me competent people do exist’.

It was familiar, to help them along. To nudge them forward and watch their backs as they went, firmly making their way towards being the awesome men and woman he knew they’d become. Lending a hand here and there, working on steading their foundations, so he’d be remembered fondly when they inevitably took off and went on with their lives.

He was used to that, to looking for ways his fated people would want him around. Being a good brother to Dick, an eager student to Bruce (a good mourner for Jason).

What he wasn’t used to was reciprocation, though.

Tim had learned how to fly from the best, from Dick Grayson himself.The boy with no powers that looked at gravity and laughed, sayed “thanks, but no”. But there were some things only a true meta could experience, ways to move his body just so, to take advantage of wind currents to either speed or slow his movements. Kon also visited him in Gotham, unknowing or uncaring about its meta restriction, risking pissing off Batman himself just to spend time with Tim.

There was Bart, kind, cute, friendly Bart, who would stop eating and playing around to drag Tim to the training grounds and run laps around him, as silently as he knew how. Making Tim used to fighting against someone quicker than him, lighter on their feet. To count incredibly soft steps even when they made no sound, and use other senses to pinpoint exactly where the next hit was going to come from. And after they were done, there was always a warm smile and some sweet treat (always different, as if Bart was determined to figure out Tim’s preferences by trial and mistake), the new knowledge and delicious prize worth the dirt in unmentionable places.

As stated before, Cassie was an absolute godsend. But it wasn’t just because she was easier to deal with than the rest. Or because she understood the pressure he had on his shoulders, being raised in the shadow of two incredibly renowned heroes. When Tim’s position as leader had been taken away (after Bruce’s plans for taking out the league became known, and ‘what if he has the same for us’), she took him aside. Hugging him, promising him the team’s anger was going to pass, that she could see why those contingencies might be necessary, that even if she was officially in charge, she’d always defer to him when it mattered. Her trust in him and his heart was unshakable, firm as the arm he’d put round her when self doubt arose its head.

(It wasn’t supposed to be this way; if they reciprocated, they didn’t owe him, and then how was he supposed to keep them close? To convince him to stay, to love the boy with loveless fate?)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jason was unexpected, but Tim couldn’t hold it against him. Even there, bleeding out in the Tower, he felt… at ease.

His predecessor was back. Bruce’s son was back. The prodigal Robin had returned, by some miracle. Tim’s shift had come to an end; even if he died here, he had succeeded in keeping Bruce sane, and now that the real deal was in town, Jason could take over and everything would go back as it should have been. Everyone (B, Dick, Babs, Alfred) would be happier. Maybe they’d mourn him, for a bit, but with such a joyous occasion as a beloved one returning home, it wasn’t like grief could stay for long.

Someone yelled, near. Warm hands shaking as they touched his face infinitely careful, small fingers intertwined with his in a very familiar hold, a strong and slender arm around his back as he’s being held in a half hug. Cries, pleas, demands.

And while nothingness claims Tim, drags him to a well of black, yellow still clings to his eyelids. A touch that keeps him warm even though unconsciousness is supposed to be so cold.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Death and life. Damian.

Tim can see the first one, what with all of the brat’s attempts to end him. It’s the second one that has him stumped.

He knows not all strings go both ways. His purple one, for example; even if Dick was Tim’s first love, everyone and their mother knew Babs’ was his. Dick had a string pointing towards Tim, but it was a mentor-student one. Same as the one he and Bruce shared. Jason, too; Tim’s side of the string was the green of Almost, while the former Robin’s color was black (Tim taking his place as Robin, and being the only one in the family offering his hand again and again despite his murderous actions, was in some poetic sense the death of an old role, and the birth of a new family dynamic).

Damian, though… Well. He was almost sure they had the same color for each other (how else to explain such dangerous rage), but really, unless the kid was willing to share, it was only suppositions for now.

His only comfort remained the three beams of light, of a yellow almost golden in its healthy shine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Tim changed his suit following Conner’s death, everyone thought it was an homenage. A way to pay tribute to a hero that was his closest, dearest friend. A way to never forget (as if he could, ever, with the lifeless line of pale beige, once yellow, dangling from his twitching finger).

They weren’t wrong, but it wasn’t just that.

Red had always pained him, in a deep, almost forgotten place. A thorn on his side, scratching against his heart. For the longest part, yellow had filled him to the brim, until hurt and yearning had no place inside him. With Kon’s warmth missing, red bleed in the place between Cassie and Bart, despite their best efforts to close ranks and keep it out.

Their sad eyes followed him during the funeral, knowing what the color meant to him. Just how much he was hurting himself, right now. But, lost in their own grief, there was little to be done.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time Tim got the call about Bart, he already knew.

He ignored the ringing phone, holding a sobbing Cassie in his arms, both desperately clutching at their only remaining yellow string.

Between the two of them, color like blood seeped.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Every so often, when Ra’s voice in his ear became too familiar for comfort, where lines draw in sand begane to erode and blur, he’d raise his hand, eyes locked on the three yellow strings, and watch as Cassie’s moved, disappearing end pointing always in her direction.

He was fairly sure that, wherever she was, she was doing the same. Reminding herself he was alive as well, hadn’t left her behind.

Her absence from his life was necessary, finding Bruce a priority, and the red of his new suit (his new name) was proof of just how deeply it all ran. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t yearning for her lighter color.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They were back, and he was hiding.

He wanted to run to their arms, hug them and never let them out of his view, far from where he could protect them (keep them). He wanted Kon’s hand on his face, delicate despite his strength, un-trembling when Tim’s own would softly join it on his check and held it there; Bart’s fingers between his own, too steady and constant for the boy who didn’t know how to sit still; Cassie’s arm on his waist, his own on her back, as they shared the weight of the world in their shoulders.

And because he wanted so damn much, he couldn’t do it.

He was covered in red. His first love discarded him, his Almost died so Tim could have his Teacher, his Life and Death was so heavily focused on the last bit… his hands lacked red, but oh, how much he leaked of it in his soul.

He couldn’t let them die again, be stained by his twisted fate; even if it meant he could’t hold them close any longer.

Letting go was more painful than holding on, but he was used to it by now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They find him. Of course they do; even without Kon’s senses, they all have beams of gold pointing them towards him, like Dorothy’s yellow brick road.

Tim knew it, was ready for it. And as such, had prepared the words that would push them away, to where it was safer.

Or so he thought.

“We are not leaving you.”

“Who cares about fate? You are ours, Rob.”

“It’s been long enough, Tim. Time to come home, we are done waiting.”

He denies them, shakes despite his usual iron clad control over his body, heart wrenching painfully at their decided expressions.

“You don’t understand. I’m Red Robin now. I’m not… I’m no good for you.”

“I could literally snap your back with the flick of a finger, shut up with that ‘I’m dangerous’ bullshit.”

“Yeah, even Bart could be dangerous given the right circumstances, you aren’t the only one here to watch for. It doesn’t mean shit to us.”

‘

“That’s right, I- wait, what do you mean ‘even Bart?”

“Not the point, Imp.”

They don’t get it. He takes his mask off, wants to give them a good look at his eyes, to read his emotions there and finally realize what’s wrong about him.

“Almost all my strings have something to do with death, or were touched by it. Don’t you see it?” He raises his hand, despite knowing they can’t see his strings, only their own. “I have no red here, only blood. I can’t… I’m not safe to love. I’ll never be loved.”

Kon snaps, something he had rarely done since their Young Justice days, hands on Tim’s shoulders, seemingly torn between shaking him and pulling him close. The latter wins.

(As it always does)

“This is love, you idiot! WE love you!”

Tim chokes on something (saliva, his own breath, emotions). Gasps, tears coming to his eyes unbridled.

He feels two pairs of arms joining the first one, a cocoon of warmth and unconditional love forming around him.

Bart’s sad eyes watch Tim from under Kon’s hug. “I don’t have red either, Rob. Romantic, platonic, filial… who gives a fuck”, he shrugs, before hiding his face against the red of Tim’s uniform. Uncaring of all it represents for him or perhaps doing his best to defy it.

Cassie just holds them all in the circle of her own embrace, forehead to the back of Tim’s head. Her hold is the tightest, and he just realizes- she lost all of them, didn’t she? To death and grief, all too far to touch, and now that they’re back in her arms, there’s little chance of her ever letting go again.

“Love has more than one form, Tim.”

He shudders in the middle of this weirdly emotional dog pile, and thinks. About Bruce and Dick’s pride when they successfully taught him something new. Of Jason’s reluctant smile when Tim first tugged him along to some joined patrol, sneakily edging him closer to the family with every interaction. Of Damian, who would often look down at his own hands (and Tim would honestly kill someone to know just which color the young boy had for Tim) and then at him, with something like hope in his green eyes.

He thinks… yeah. And this one…

(He gives up, closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into Kon’s chest, knees buckling but staying up thanks to his three rays of sunlight holding him in place between them.)

This one’s shape might just be his favorite.

#my writting #core disaster week #day two #Red string of fate #tim drake #kon el kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #angst #you've been warned

133 notes · View notes

imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 17/?

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name.

So, when I started this, I didn’t expect it to become what it is, or for it to really be taken seriously. I wrote it because I wanted to get better at storytelling, and now I’m averaging 20 notes a day. That’s insane to me.

Warnings: Eludes to sex, mentions of trauma, mentions of court system, victim blaming, mentions of injuries, swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Waking up next to Jason was becoming something of a routine for Y/N. It had been 4 days in a row that she woke up next to him or with him in arm’s reach. She loved that about their relationship, how quickly they both could fall asleep with each other.

She rolled over in her bed and realized Jason was sweating and clutching the sheets. She leant over him slightly and turned on the fan, hoping he would sweat less so he could be in less pain.

She didn’t know what would actually stop the pain, she didn’t actually know if he was in pain. She reached out to stroke his back, just trying to comfort him, it seemed to work. He didn’t exactly reject her advances to rub his back. But he did jump a bit when she touched him.

She didn’t want him to be hurt by her touching him, so she did attempt to wake him up. He didn’t answer her though, so she got up from her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked rough like she had been crying all night about the trial. Makeup running, eyes puffy, bloodshot. But what else did she expect after that trial? She didn’t remember anything.

She decided to shower, in her own shower. It had been 3 days since she last showered, which was okay but it wasn’t something she was used to.

She got into her shower and just thought. She was fucked up. She had been fucked up this entire time, she had hidden secrets from Jason, from everyone. She thought it was selfish, immature, and irresponsible that she did that. But she also didn't know how to talk to them all.

How do I even start that conversation? Hey, I’m fucked up, help me. I’m sorry, I messed up, she thought, I can’t do that, I can’t.

She got out of the shower and glanced at the clock like she would normally, it was 4:00am. That’s new, she thought, I didn’t know it was this early, maybe I should not have showered.

She smiled to herself a bit and took care of her face, doing a facial routine, just trying to calm herself and come off that high she was on for the majority of the day before. She knew she had to take care of herself to help her become stable again.

She knew what she did yesterday was linked to trauma, she just knew it. She didn’t know what it was, or how to combat it. But she knew she would probably not be mentally capable of watching the rest of the trial, and that was okay with her, she didn’t want to watch the rest of the trial. She would ignore her professor if he asked her to write anything about the trial. She knew he likely couldn’t because of her connections, but she wasn’t going to get mad at him.

She didn’t want to get mad at anyone for this. Opinions about the trial, asking her to talk about it, anything, she didn’t want to hate.

Jason was still asleep when she reentered her room. She smiled at him, wishing he was awake with her at that moment. She went to her notes at her desk and sighed, she guessed she would sit down and do some work. She pulled out her journal and wrote;

To each member of my family, somehow we reached here,

I’ve ended up with people wanting to hurt me,

Here we see the pain of there,

Maybe three.

I guess I can’t write poetry,

Maybe it’s all I see,

The pain, the torture, the people who hurt,

What am I doing?

She scribbled down a dying rose. She didn’t know why she did all of that. Normally she didn’t feel like that. Poetry was a good way to get all of the emotions out. Her journal had a lot, a lot, of insane writings and drawings of things she felt.

She guessed she was fucked up. But she thought the things wrong with her would make her art better. She needed therapy, probably. She was going to look into that, she decided in those moments. Therapy may help her cope with a lot of the stuff that she dealt with.

Or was she aware that she’d never be fixed?

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

She sat at her desk after making a quick coffee. It was still only 5:00am, and she was organizing her notes, just thinking. Maybe she’d paint something. Maybe she’d get a picture of the Wayne Manor Gardens and paint it. She just wanted something to fiddle with if she was going to be harassed if she left the house. She probably wasn't going to be able to leave the house for a while.

She was fine with that, she didn’t like it but she didn’t hate it either. She just wished for the trial to be over, even if the man was found not guilty of the charges.

And the longer the painting project, the longer she could spend locked away from the media. That was just all that she wanted, to walk away from the media while still keeping Jason.

He was still sleeping. She didn’t notice because she was so entranced in her own art, but he was struggling at that moment.

And then she noticed.

She got up and went to her bed and sat beside his head on the floor. She stroked his hair and tried to comfort him when he woke up.

“Hey,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

“You alright?” she asked.

He turned his back to her, so she stroked it.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright, baby,” she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She crawled into bed with him and became the big spoon for a bit. She didn’t say anything to him, he didn’t say anything to her. He was sticky and sweaty, but she didn’t care.

Silence was killing for most people, but she sat through it and allowed him to be quiet.

She wished for the stories behind his scars, but she didn’t want to push for them. They hadn’t been together for long enough for her to ask about it. But she loved to trace his scars with her fingers, just letting him know she knew about them. She didn’t know how he felt about it. But she tried to be kind and loving towards his scars.

Some were small holes. Some were small lines. Some were long lines. One was Y-Shaped on his chest. One existed on his cheek and she couldn’t make out what it was.

She didn’t think that he was lesser because of his scars. He thought he was lesser for his scars.

“Hey, Jay. Do you want to eat breakfast? It’s 6:00am, we can dip to get food?” she asked, trying to make him feel better.

“If you don’t mention the nightmares, sure.”

“I won’t.”

He rolled over to her and smiled before kissing her.

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

They got up a couple hours later, clothes strewn across her room, boxers and pants torn. She laughed, hoping he would still have clothes to wear.

“Don’t laugh, I might have nothing to wear!”

“I hope you have something to wear, babe.”

“And what if I don’t? We were pretty messy.”

“We were, but still. If you have nothing we’re kind of fucked,” she said, glaring.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re cute. Just stop staring at me like that! It takes two to tango!”

“The forbidden horizontal tango,” she said between laughs.

“The forbidden horizontal tango is now the only way I am going to refer to sex.”

“I mean as you should.”

“My family is going to kill me for calling sex that.”

“I mean as they should,” she laughed, “Did you find clothes?” she asked, having already gotten dressed.

“Okay that’s unfair, you can’t wear new clothes when I’m stuck with ripped boxers.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have worn them in the first place,” she said, laughing, “And to be fair, Jay, I’m the one with clothes and you didn’t follow your own suggestion for an overnight bag.”

“Okay, listen, first of all,” he grabbed her, “That’s obviously my fault but shush, secondly, you’re dressing very black today,” he observed.

“Felt I would look the part of dating a Wayne.”

“No one’s going to see you.”

“That’s the point. I’m an invisible partner of a Wayne.”

“Well, I think you look nice.”

“I’m glad,” she laughed, “How ripped are your clothes?”

“Decently. Not noticeably, but decently.”

“Fun! Shall we go?”

He laughed and grabbed her arm, pulling her lightly to the car and getting in to drive.

“You ever think the vigilantes around here have complex lives?” she thought aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do they have crazy, fulfilling lives like us, or are they just there to be heroes of the night? Are they sitting there wondering if they’re going to come home to their partners or if their parents are worried about them?” she questioned.

He sat there, looking forward. If only you knew. If only you knew what I go through, what everyone goes through. He managed to laugh and blow her off, “Maybe they’re just robots made to fight crooks in alleyways.”

“I’m serious. What if they’re all out there worried they’re going to die?”

“C’mon now.”

“Jay! They’re people!”

“They’re probably okay, baby. I doubt they’re out there almost dying.”

She wanted to say ‘You almost died’ but she bit her tongue, “That’s probably true. But it’s always something I thought, even when I lied in Metropolis with god damn Superman. I always wondered if he had a home to go to.”

“Who knows. Who knows.”

“They would. Maybe I should get a job as a reporter, interview some of them. Say ‘Fuck it’ and know if they have homes.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“How?”

“My Aunt, Iris, Barry’s wife? She’s a reporter. She’s on the frontlines for the supervillains and the small-time crooks of the world.”

“So anything and everything in between? Festive.”

“Well, that’s the life of a reporter. Journalists? Like my Uncle? He deals with a lot less bullshit unless they link him to Bruce. Iris is a reporter so she’s constantly there, Clark is usually never there.”

“Well, we at least know the elusive reporter and journalist have families,” she joked and he laughed.

“The elusive reporter and journalist in their natural habitats, my favourite National Geographic episode.”

She looked out her window at the streets and the people. She hadn’t been outside at night recently on the streets of Gotham, and she missed it. There was always something about it that made her keep coming back. Maybe it was the orphaned kids that she would go and make sure were okay. Maybe it was the fact that she watched one of the vigilantes swing to another roof.

She still remembered that moment well. She thought it was amazing, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her to have experienced. She wished she knew more, even if she just knew which one they were. So she could go on the forums and ask if people had spoken to them. Maybe it wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, maybe others had witnessed what she did, but she wouldn’t know if she did not know which it was.

“Hey, random question, do you know the vigilantes' names in the city?” she asked Jason.

“Uh, yeah? Why?” he responded.

“Okay so, the first night I walked home from your house after my car got towed right? I saw one of them. I’m not familiar with the vigilantes of the city, so: Do you know which one is the one with the blue bird symbol on their chest?”

“Oh, that one’s Nightwing. He seems cool, I don’t know, never actually met the guy.”

“Don’t Wayne Galas get attacked by villains on the regular though?”

“That doesn’t mean we get to talk to them,” he laughed, “It would be cool if we did, though.”

“Yeah it would. Would be a killer story for your Uncle and Aunt.”

“They are the only tabloids I liked because they leave us alone.”

“No reports from the Daily Planet about the Waynes?” she joked.

“God, Dad would probably half-jokingly sue Clark over that. Like sue him for 3 dollars or somethin’ levels of jokingly suing him.”

“Now, that, that would be a story for the tabloids.”

“Remind me to tell Dad about that, maybe it’ll get the press off your back.”

“You say that like your extended family cares about my trials.”

“They do, they wonder how you found yourself wrapped up in 2 crimes in the span of 2 weeks.”

“I wish I knew how I did that.”

He laughed, “If only we knew.”

“I guess we go get breakfast now, fast food?” he asked.

“Obviously, I’m not eating in a restaurant with this high of a profile recently, my god,” she laughed.

“Alright, anything in particular? I can just order for you if you’re not up to talking to some people.”

“Go for it.”

“Alright.”

She didn’t pay attention while he ordered, instead she opened her lovely cellphone. And there they were, the tabloids click baiting the trials she was involved in. She rolled her eyes, knowing most of them were wrong, when she saw the article written by Clark Kent about it. She was tempted to read it, to know what Clark said. She figured he’d be an unbiased source fo information, but also likely more on her side than the defendant’s side. She didn’t even know the defendant's name.

She tapped on it and began reading.

The Case of The Court Versus David Brown.

Brown is a man known to the courts of Gotham, and the county jail of Gotham. When he was accused of assaulting a young woman, Ms. Y/N (Last name), not many members of the Gotham Police Force were shocked.

On the first day of the trial, Brown was asked to plead, to which he said, “Not guilty, your honor,” which is under a lot of scrutiny of those who have seen the video of Ms. (Last name) running from Brown in the alleyway where she head-butted him.

The prosecution opened their case,

“Ms. (Last name) was assaulted by the defendant, there is no question about it. The question here is if his motive was for the ransom Ms. (Last name) referenced in her interview with police after the event. The defendant very clearly went after Ms. (Last name) because of her ties to the billionaire Bruce Wayne, who would have easily paid the ransom for her if she hadn’t escaped.

The defense opened their case,

The question of whether or not my client assaulted Ms. (Last name) is not up for debate, he did assault her. However, it was in self-defense. She had assaulted him first, pulling him into the alleyway and attempting to make advances on him. She twisted the story in her on words to include the head-butting incident, in reality, my client punched her for her advances.

The people who watched the first event of the trial have noted being “Disgusted” and “Annoyed” at the practices that the defense brought to court, “Slandering the name of Ms. (Last name) when she is the victim.” many people are upset with the defense in this trial.

The next day of the trial should take place within a week. Until then, the questions are not going to be answered.

She looked at the defense's argument numerous times. She was in shock that they would accuse her of such bullshit. She was terrified that they would get away with this, when Jason pulled her out of her thoughts with a coffee.

“You shouldn’t get so involved in the tabloids right now, love.”

“Sorry, if it makes you feel better your Uncle wrote it. And thank you.”

“Anytime. I guess Clark wrote it well, but you watched the trial?”

“I don’t remember it.”

“You’re probably not going to watch more of it, are you?”

‘No way,” she said while drinking her coffee as they drove back to her house.

“That’s fair. No one expected you to be able to be able ot watch it.”

She nodded and kept drinking, “They made up so much bullshit.”

“They did, oh my god, I was pissed, baby. I was so god damn mad. Because what the fuck do you gain from lying?”

“Don’t even put that question in the universe, you know they’ll try to answer it the next time they’re in trial.”

“God you’re right,” he laughed, “Got you a breakfast sandwich. At least the dammed tabloids can’t take that away from us.”

“Thank god,” she laughed, “Thank you.”

“Seriously, anytime. It’s worth it.”

“You’ve spent so much money on me.”

“Pocket change.”

“Well, duh. Trust-fund baby.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ll take you somewhere when I’m less high-profile. Maybe we’ll fake a breakup to keep everyone off my ass so we can go somewhere.”

“Fake a breakup? Wouldn't that just make you hated?”

“I’m already hated. I’m a gold-digger, a whore, a cheater, a statistic, a suicidal maniac, a homicidal maniac, a psychopath, I can go on and on about the shit being said about me.”

“Man, people need to keep their mouths shut.”

“You could say that again- don’t actually. But like, what the fuck did I do to deserve this, honestly? All I did was go on a date with you to get bombarded, yes, I do treat the press unfairly, but I do my best to never say a bad word about them publically, just jokes,” she joked, “I hate this,” she laughed.

“I hate tihs too,” he laughed, “You’re worth it though.”

“Oh man, a week into dating, two weeks into knowing each other and we’re here.”

“We should be anywhere else but in the midst of these terrible circumstances.”

“It’s unfortunate.”

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

Drinking her coffee on her bed with Jason beside her was something else, it was probably the most they had branched out in 4 days. The silence was lovely now that neither of them were having issues. They ate and drank in silence. They didn’t need constant conversation to prove that the enjoyed the presence of each other.

She took a minute to take it all in, the messy shelves in her bedroom, the place on her desk where her laptop belonged, the broken handle to her bathroom door, the sheets on her bed which had been pulled and ruffled from Jason and her having fun.

She looked out her window and looked at the rain starting to pour and decided to cuddle closer to Jason. He was warm but had a presence of underwhelming coldness to him, like he gave off fake body heat. She didn’t know what it was, but the extremes of his body were something she enjoyed but hated.

The exposition between his black hair to his white tuff of hair, the rough eyebrows to the small and delicate freckles, the blue of his eyes which seemed to glow green. The way it was like she was driving down a road, full speed ahead, and crashed into a wall, that was how it felt to be with Jason.

But who doesn’t love to die in a fiery accident into a wall at 500mph?

She laughed internally at her own joke about him before grabbing his hand and yanking him into the living room and past her roommate, A/N. A/N did not question it, because there was a new life to her roommate recently.

She dragged him out into the rain, to which he protested.

“What the fuck, respectfully?”

She laughed, “Don’t be respectful, and trust me. I’m going to make a movie moment.”

“I’m getting wet.”

“That’s my job,” she joked as she turned on a slow song before going to Jason and dancing with him.

“Well, can’t say I’ve done this,” he said.

“I don’t think most couples do.”

“Then why are we?” he asked

“Uh, yolo? You only live once, might as well dance in the rain with one of your lovers?” she retorted.

“One of them? Am I not the only one?”

“Oh no, you are,” she laughed, “But who knows, maybe we’ll fuck monogamy up the ass,” she joked.

“Probably not.”

And they danced for a few hours. Twirling and dipping in the rain. Watching the clothes they were wearing get more and more wet until the the white parts of Y/N’s dress were see-through, which took a while considering how small they were.

Their hair was soaked and her makeup was running but they didn’t care. They were having fun, and no one was going to stop them, not a villain, not a vigilante, no one. He would wipe away her makeup since it was basically already off her face and laugh.

“Your makeup looked nice before we came out here.”

“I bet! The rain’s probably washing it all way, did I look like I was crying?”

“You looked like you were sobbing.”

She laughed, “You love to see it, you really do.”

The music was basically drowned out by the rain. It was on her phone, so it was probably water damaged from the rain, but no one cared. They just wanted to have fun.

But the dancing got tired because of the fact that Y/N was in heels, so she went and picked up her phone. It wasn’t damaged. She looked at her recent texts while Jason tugged her lightly to the bathroom, to see that Bruce Wayne, Jason’s dad, had paid off her car and it was being driven back to her house.

“Hey baby?”

“Y/N?”

“Did you tell your dad to pay off my car?”

“Oh, yeah. I figured it’d get impounded and my dad could just wait a while for you to pay back. It getting impounded was going to cost you more money.”

“God you're right and I hate that.”

He laughed and kissed her before turning on the shower.

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

That was the second time that day that they had had sex. It was impressive that they had had sex that many times, and that many rounds. They thought it was fun as all hell to have sex whenever they had the chance.

Maybe they were saying “Suck it” to Bruce, or maybe they were just having fun. Maybe it was both.

“You look so cute with my hand around your neck,” he said behind her before lightly grabbing her neck and pulling her head back to his chest. He buried his face in her shoulder.

“He says while looking down,” she joked.

“I’ll squeeze.”

“Jay, we just showered. C’mon. Keep it in your pants.”

He groaned, “No fun,” he tilted his head into the crook of her neck and started leaving little kisses.

“Jay, C’mon.”

He sighed, “Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I guess we can stop,” he jokingly-whined at her, “At least we can kiss.”

“That’s true, but get dressed.”

“Get dressed!” he whined to her, “In this economy!”

“God dammnit,” she laughed, “Stay naked then and I’ll eat your food.”

“Don’t you dare.”

#dcu #dceu #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #male oc #female oc

36 notes · View notes

baticorngirl · 3 years

Text

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

______________________________________________________

Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

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her-world-on-fire · 3 years

Text

Atlas {Jason Todd x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 3,720

Prompts: ii. and vii. ❝i am calm. i am nothing but calm all the time.❞ ❝no, you're not. you're fifteen seconds from starting a fight at all times.❞ & ❝i'm surprised you haven't killed him yet.❞ ❝i keep trying but nobody ever let me get that far.❞

"JASON CALM DOWN!" I pressed my hand against his chest, looking into his eyes fiercely, we didn't the time for his temper. He broke away and walked away but not before he shot the guy in the leg. "We weren't here, or the next one goes in your brain." He said slowly and then turned back to me. His piercing blue eyes felt almost cold, I blinked in shock. I've seen him angry more times than I can count but this was unsettling."I am calm. I am nothing but calm all the time." He said through clenched teeth, making me scoff as we jumped off of the roof. We broke out into a sprint, by now I regained my composure. "No, you're not. you're fifteen seconds from starting a fight at all times." Jason was a hothead, he was so angry at the world. He tried his hardest to make sure it was safe at night but he felt like he didn't make a difference so he was pissed off. He was pissed off that so many bad people got to live and kill good innocent people. The bad people got to tear mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, from their families. So his solution ironically was to do the same thing. He would kill those who he thought deserved it. Contradictory but his temper always got the best of him. Normally I would let him be angry, but not tonight. We had an agreement with Bruce, we needed his help. The agreement included no killing. As much as Jason hated it we couldn't do it ourselves this time, it was bigger than us.

For months we had been trying to investigate why the number of children missing spiked. At first, it was hard to notice. Street kids those who wouldn't be looked for. Then foster kids would be adopted more frequently finally, normal kids began to be abducted. Street kids would never leave each other, they were the closest thing to a family they had. So when they began reaching out to us we got worried and looked into it. We went around Gotham talking to them, they knew who we were and confessed everything. "Something is going on Jay. Something big." We climbed on his bike and went back to our apartment. We had been living together shortly after we started working together. We would always end up together at the end of the night too tired to go back to our own apartment. So we decided to get an apartment together. We each had our own rooms because we needed time apart sometimes. That was one of the most important things I learned. Sometimes you just need to be alone. It can be overwhelming spending so much time with one person. Especially the lack of sleep, and frustrations over unsolved cases, it all just took a toll on us. He took his helmet off and sighed running a hand through his hair. I pulled up my computer and looked into news articles. Of course, nothing had been mentioned about street kids. I was just about to put the paper down when my eyes drifted to a suggestion.

Percentage of foster kids adopted in Gotham rises

"No fucking way." I breathed, Jason loomed over my shoulder. I looked back at him, we shared a look. This wasn't a coincidence, someone was taking kids. No bodies were being found so why were they being taken? I had a couple of theories already. I stood up from the screen and pulled on my jacket, "Where are you going?" He asked following after me, keys still in hand. "To find out what the hell is going on." We tried to figure it out ourselves but it seemed like we were always 10 steps behind. So I suggested we get help. Outright, Jason was outraged I even suggested it so I walked away and let him cool down. Sure enough, he came around once he began thinking straight. I handed him his helmet, I had already turned his bike on, I smirked. He tossed his cigarette, "Not a fucking word." He growled as I tossed it to him and he caught it.

He got on and sped off, to the Wayne Manor. He scowled, as we arrived at the gates. The doors opened and he pulled in, we were greeted by Alfred. "To what do we owe this surprise?" He asked and I elbowed Jason, he remained silent. I rolled my eyes at his immaturity, "It's nice to see you again Alfred. We're here to talk to the boys." Jason turned to me, even angrier than before. Alfred looked between us and I gave him a polite smile as he walked us in. I lowered my voice, "Don't give me that shit. You know the boys are going to listen in if we want them to or not, better they know straight instead of getting crooked details." I rolled my eyes and gave him a begging look. I took my hand in his, I knew this isn't where he wanted to be and I was trying to keep him calm.

He huffed and then we arrived at the study. It took a while to get there since the Mansion was so big. Jason was boiling, he was so dramatic. We were greeted by Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian. "Both of you are here this can't be good." Damian commented as Jason growled, "Fuck off, Demon spawn." I gave his hand a squeeze and then looked at him Dick sighed as he and Tim exchanged looks. Bruce was deadly silent, waiting for us to explain why we were there. I wasn't going to speak this time, Jason had to say more than 4 words. I cleared my throat and nudged Jason giving him a stern look. He shuffled forward and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "We need your help." He said directly looking at Bruce, both holding their glares. It was amazing how incredibly alike they both were, and they refused to see it. I brushed my fingers over his knuckles, they were icy cold. His rings were even colder making a shiver run down my spine. I didn't even know if he was going to agree. Jason lost control the last time Bruce agreed to help us and I had to work without him. Jason was a pain the whole time, he kept asking for information but I wouldn't give it. I knew if I did he would follow and piss Bruce off. Bruce didn't speak for a long time. I assumed he was still holding the grudge.

"I'll keep him in check." I paused looking at Jason to make sure he didn't make things worse. He pressed his lips together, no doubt restraining himself by biting his tongue. Still, he didn't say a word. "Please we wouldn't bother you if this wasn't important." The two finally looked at me. Tim stepped forward this time, he spoke in a flurry. He stumbled over his words, "You're not bothering its really good to see you. Not just you. But not that it's not good to see you. It's good to uh see you both." I smiled, some of the tension was gone now. Dick clamped a hand over Tim's mouth to keep him from babbling further. The boys claimed he had a crush, I thought it was sweet. I looked up at Jason if looks could kill. Tim drove Jason crazy. Dick pet Tim and sighed as Damian snickered, "We talked about this Tim, too much caffeine makes you jittery." Dick chimed in a sing-song voice, almost gloating he told him so. "Speak for yourself I don't like seeing these ugly mugs around here." Dick smacked the back of Damian's head and he growled.

Jason almost pulled me behind him, it was pure instinct. He was already on edge being back at the mansion. He hated being here, he felt so out of place. He felt like a failure the rest of the boys were still under his wing, it was like he was replaced and pushed out. I wouldn't have dragged him here if I didn't think I had to. He was immediately silenced when Bruce put his hand out to shut everyone up. He rubbed his temple and sighed, "Jason is an adult, he should be able to control himself. If he can't and crosses a line again you're both done." Jason gripped my hand tighter, I knew he was seconds away from giving up keeping his mouth shut. His patience by now was paper-thin. I decided it would be best if I did the rest of the talking. "We understand."

Alfred called Bruce away and he excused himself leaving us with the boys. I saw Tim nudge Dick, and raised an eyebrow. I only caught a fragment of what Tim said, "Please, just ask." He rolled his eyes at his brother letting out a long sigh before he turned to me. "Is your wiring still acting up?" This caught Jason's attention, the wiring in the apartment wasn't acting up. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for my response. I was confused for a moment until it hit me. In my other apartment my lights used to act up, I told Jason about it but he was asleep so I told myself I would tell him later. I never did. "Oh! No, I'm not in the apartment anymore!" I said, making Tim's head drop in shame. I mentioned something about the wiring and Tim most likely wanted to fix it. He seemed very interested whenever there were problems in my apartment, in fact, I'm sure he fixed every broken appliance. It was another reason to move in with Jason. "Oh," Dick said and then looked to Tim, he stepped forward. "You found a new place already?" I looked at Jason. He squirmed under my glare, the boys seemed interested, they could sense it.

"Actually, I moved in with Jason." 3 jaws simultaneously dropped. Jason scowled at them and I smirked, "You didn't tell them as I told you to." My voice seemed nice but my eyes were screaming murder. What if they needed me and couldn't reach me? This was something to bring up in private, judging by his look Jason knew that too. Jason turned to me and I pulled his arm and held a finger, "One second," I made it clear that we would continue the conversation later. The boys couldn't hear anything but he was in trouble. There was no hitting so that was a good thing. Tim whispered, "They moved in together? What does that mean?" Damian rolled his eyes, and Dick sighed. We made our way back to them. "I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet." Damian paused, "And a little impressed you've put up with him for so long."

"I keep trying but nobody ever let me get that far." There was a swarm of questions I shut my eyes and put my head on Jason's shoulder. My face turned bright red, Jason smirked and whispered in my ear. "I knew what the fuck I was doing darling." He said slowly taking in the fact that he was right. I underestimated the boys, and he was reveling. He pulled away and gave a short shout. They all stopped clamoring. "God, you guys were going to give me a headache." I brought my fingers to my temple and looked into their eyes. "One at a time please." Dick pushed the two aside murmuring he had privileges. Despite being older, he was just as curious as to his younger brothers. "Why did you move in?" I looked at Jason pleading, and he shook his head. "Not touching these questions with a 10 feet pole." I groaned but accepted my punishment. Maybe there was a reason for the secret. I thought about my answer for a moment then replied, "Well it was more out of convenience. One of us would always end up at the others, and my apartment had bad wiring. So we chose his. He got tired of having to go to mine and get his things. So he suggested it and now we live together."

Dick looked between us and nodded, satisfied with his answer. It was like an interrogation, and I was taking all of the heat. It was Tim's turn he even raised his hand. I pouted, he looked upset. I never took the whole crush thing seriously. Now I could really see it, this whole time I thought the boys were just teasing him. "Are you two together?" He hesitated and I froze unsure of how to answer. I didn't want to get his hopes up or break his heart but I honestly didn't know what to tell him. It seemed like it, we lived together, we slept together, but we never really talked about it. I looked at Jason he held the same panicked expression. How do could we explain that sometimes we had sex and then never talked about it? I tilted my head to him, to signal for his help.

He gave me a look, I asked for this. I really did. Nevertheless, he saved me. He too was thinking of the hookups, making him smirk. I covered my face and turned away trying to regain composure. In fact, I knew under Jason's shirt, there were purple marks trailing down his chest and I had ones that matched. He made his higher, and if my shirt were to shift, he could see. "We need to figure that out ourselves as well," Jason replied. It was a valid answer, Tim didn't seem to torn up about it. My hands absent-mindedly went over to rub my neck. Suddenly, it was hot. Judging by his look, Dick's suspicions were confirmed. Damian broke the silence pushing past Tim. "Do you kill people?" I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip. I was so tempted not to answer. I knew it could backfire. Jason looked to me, wondering if he needed to save me again. I shook my head and looked back at Damian. "Due to my past, yes. I try not to now." Growing up in a sketchy place, I learned at a young age you can't depend on people. I fell in with the wrong people and made questionable decisions. However, every time I did kill I felt justified. I used to be as angry as Jason and I lost control a lot. But now working with Jason I calmed down, one of us needed to have a level head and I knew it probably wouldn't be him. I felt dirty now. I really opened a can of worms with that one. When it comes to his brothers I will never doubt Jason again.

In the next few weeks, we worked closely with the boys. Each night we got closer, to finding the source. We spent most of our nights in the Batcave tracing leads. Jason was getting antsy, so he went out and patrolled. Lucky that he did, because he caught an abduction as it was happening. "On 45th! They took a group of kids into a van." Jason's voice shouted in my ear. Dick shot up from his seat. The boys pilled into the Batmobile. I took my bike and followed close behind. Jason gave us the coordinates. "How far out are you?"

"11 minutes."

"We can't wait that long." I could hear the desperation in his voice. He knew exactly what those kids were going through. He was reliving his trauma. "Jason, if we blow this we lose them all. Wait for us. We can't let a single one alert the rest of the group." He went silent. Sensing the urgency we all sped up even more. The Batmobile was easily recognized and most civilians cleared a path. We arrived and saw Jason's bike parked in a nearby lot. He was set up on the roof overlooking the building making sure no one got out.

"I'm sending the drone," Tim called and released his bird into the air. He guided it into the building giving us a full view of what was inside. Children were in cages, surrounded by men with guns. In the center of the room, there was a table with computers. "They're waiting for the signal." Dick looked at all of us. "This has to be flawless. No mess-ups. We get one shot."

"Tim, I want you on those computers. I want to know everything on there. The rest of us have one job. Make sure no one gets away." Having received our orders we all grouped up. Tim ran another scan of the building. "Two from the roof, one from the back door, and two from the front." Jason and I took the roof, Dick took the back door and Damian and Tim took the front.

We all waited for the signal. "Now." Dick spoke into the comms. All at once, we each infiltrated the building. Tim went straight for the men by the computers. He took them out with ease and then uploaded his drive into the computer. Damian kept anyone away from the table. Jason and I focused on the guards who were standing by the children. We were mindful of their weapons and kept them away from the children.

Each of the men was bounded, ready for the GCPD. "Which one of you fuckers has the key?" Jason asked looking at each one of the men. Neither of them spoke a word. "Fine." He grabbed the closet man and took his hand. He took his index finger and in a swift movement pulled it back. An agonizing scream came from the man, and a loud cracking noise followed right after. I moved to Jason, "Do you really want to traumatize them even more?" He thought for a moment and then looked back at the man. "What about this one?" He grabbed his ring finger and then man yelped. "It's him!" He pointed to a blonde man across the room. I went over and reached in his pockets, sure enough, there was a key. I breathed a sigh of relief and began releasing the children. "How much longer on the drive?" Dick questioned Tim, "30 seconds."

Dick nodded and looked at me. "Alfred I need GCPD and medical."

"Right away, ETA is 3 minutes."

Jason took the same man by the collar and dragged him out of the room. I followed after him. "GCPD will be here in 3 minutes. We stopped them. We know where all their warehouses are, and everything we need is on that drive." I whispered to him but he didn't budge. "I only need 2. This one's a talker." He moved away and then looked at the man. "Who do you report to?"

"He'll kill me, he knows everything-" Jason didn't let him finish before he landed a devastating blow right to his face. "I don't have time for this. What is his name?" He grabbed his hair and held his face up. Blood trickled down his cheek. "But my-" Once again another blow landed on his face. The man coughed up blood, Jason didn't ask again. He waited for another few seconds. As he went to strike him again, the man pleaded. "Wait! David Benjamin." He managed to get it out.

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

Jason and I only got to stick around briefly. Our relationship with the police wasn't as amicable. Due to our spotty record, we had warrants out for our arrest. Once the children were taken by the EMTs we went back to our apartment. Jason was sitting on the fire escape. He still hadn't changed. The blood still seeping in his clothes. "Hey, come in." Jason looked down and obliged. Once he got in I shut the blinds. I guided him into the bathroom. "Let's get these off." I slowly took off his gloves, he inhaled deeply. I looked over them, they were bloody and raw. I sighed and turned on the warm water. "The rest of these too." My hands moved to his shirt and I pulled I off over his head. There were a few small cuts, but nothing that needed stitches.

Jason had been silent. I knew what was bothering him. He was thinking about those kids, he saw himself in each one of them. I guided him to the shower and helped him take off the rest of his clothes. I helped him into the shower and once he was under the warm water, it was like he was out of his trance. "Get in here."

I hadn't changed either. I was too worried about him. He was admitting that he needed the company. I agreed and stripped off my clothes. We both stood under the warm water. Neither of us spoke as we washed away the deeds of the night.

Once we got out of the shower we got dressed and sat on the bed. "We did it, Jason. They're safe now."

"I know." He said softly. I took his hands and gently ran my fingers across them. He sighed and looked at me. "Let's go to bed." I moved to the lamp by the bed and shut it off. I pulled the covers on the bed back and climbed into bed. I sighed and felt the warmth comfort me. My body ached, but it was worth it. I felt Jason tug me closer to him. I moved closer and rested my head on his chest. He ran his fingers through my hair absentmindedly. "Thank you." I looked up at him and he exhaled. "I don't know what I would do without you." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips. His other hand moved around me and rested on my side. "I love you."

"I love you, Jay."

After weeks of restlessness, Jason finally closed his eyes and slept peacefully.

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #batfamily #batman #batman x

158 notes · View notes

hailxhydra · 3 years

Text

the more you say (the less I know)

By @hailxhydra for @iwritedumbshit

via @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Steve Rogers & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Summary: TONY STARK IS DEAD. The words were plastered on the front page of every newspaper across the world. Tony Stark, the resident genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, was dead. Completely, irrevocably, unchangeably, dead.

Or was he?

After the events of Endgame, Peter Parker decides he has to go back in time to save his mentor’s life, finds out that Tony wasn’t everything Peter thought he was, and chaos ensues.

“You sure about this, kid?” Steve asked Peter, coming up from behind him to clasp his hand on his shoulder. Looking out into the crystal clear lake and the surrounding forest, Peter gulped, trying to get rid of that unsettling feeling at the bottom of his stomach bubbling up until it overflowed, and he broke down right in front of everyone.

“What?” he said, swallowing the lump at the back of his mouth. Turning to face Steve, he shook off the hand on his shoulder, which immediately went straight into the pockets of his black pants. He glared at Steve, though obviously not in a malicious way. He was met back with a blank stare. The impassiveness of it was relieving; Peter didn’t need any more emotion from anyone, let alone the person who had abandoned his mentor for years, without a goodbye, nor some contact information. The bleak, vacant gaze held a sort of comfort for him, being something steady, something that he could hold on to while all around him, there was chaos. It was a lifeboat.

“Look, we’ve all been there. Believe me, I know what it feels like. I was in ice for seventy years. I lost everyone. But I had people to help me through it. You do, too. You don’t have to do this.”

“What’re you trying to get at?” he blatantly asked, rolling his eyes and turning back to the lake, the calm lake, the lake that had absolutely no problems, the lake that was steadfast and balanced, the lake that was everything that Peter wanted to be. “Are you implying that I might do something? I can’t change what happened either way, what with the implications, plus, the Grandfather Paradox is a bunch of bullshit, it just creates an alternate timeline, like with blue robot lady one and two, and anyway, how would that work without any local quantum interference? It’s crazy, I mean like-”

“I’m not talking about the science behind it. I can’t know what you think, but, looking from the outside, it is pretty clear what you want to do. Now, I don’t know if anyone else realizes it, and maybe it’s just because we’re so similar that I would have taken the same line of action, but you have family here. People who care about you. Just, spend a few minutes mulling over your decision. You have to be completely sure before you do anything drastic,” Steve said, starting to walk away after he was done.

“You’re really big on monologues, aren’t you? It’s a very 40s vibe you give off!” Peter called after him, a smile gracing his face in this tough moment. Steve just made a peace sign in return, his back still facing him, and continued his conversation with Sam. He looked around, taking in the serenity of the lake house. Tony had bought it during the Blip, so Peter had never gotten around to seeing it with him. He quietly stepped inside, making sure not to make any noise as to give away his position. He wanted solitude, without anyone barging in every few minutes to check in on him, or to offer him some juice, or to whack his head with a newspaper (although that last one was mainly Sam and Bucky, and he didn’t know from where they even got the endless supply of newspapers).

The inside was nice. A change of scenery from the dark outfits everyone wore outside. Built almost entirely of walnut wood, the lake house served as a reminder that he would never get those five years back. The five years, in which everything had changed. He wondered if May had gotten dusted, too. If she had gotten married again, or had a kid. They didn’t have much time before the funeral to catch up, always being whisked away to talk to one person or another. He led his fingers across the panels of wood, taking in the peacefulness inside. Feeling a presence creeping up behind him, he swiveled around to punch the person in the gut. He widened his eyes when he realized who it was.

Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, aka the White Wolf, aka the most dangerous man on Earth, was keeling over, hands on his midsection, looking like he was about to puke.

“OhmygoshI’msosorry,” Peter rushed, hands outstretched, but stopping in mid-air, as if he was rethinking his decision to help him up.

“Come on, kid. Why do you have to do that to a hundred-year-old man? Ever heard of ‘respect your elders’?” he groaned, stabilizing himself by putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders and lifting himself up.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up and turn scarlet before muttering a small, “I said I’m sorry.”

“What I came here to say was before you so rudely knocked me over, was that I think Bruce is firing up the machine. He wants you to suit up and get ready. It’ll be ready any time now,” Bucky said, giving a Chesire cat-like grin before turning away to talk to someone Peter didn’t know.

Peter laughed and shouted, “That wasn’t a good pun at all!”

Bucky looked back at him, gave him the middle finger, and yelled back, “I’m a hundred-year-old assassin, give me a break!”

Peter shook his head and turned to look at the suit in his hands. The suit itself was grey, with streaks of red running down it (the Avengers were very fashionable, to say the least). It had a leathery texture, but not quite leather; it was comfortable, yet effective at the same time. Most importantly, it would protect him from the quantum energy and radiation that came with time travel.

Looking at it, Peter felt unworthy, but, wearing it, he felt like he could do anything that he ever wanted. He felt like he was an Avenger. It wasn’t like anything else in the world. It was special. It was distinctly his, not anyone else’s; his.

“My wittle spidey is all gwown up now!” May exclaimed, smiling at Peter in his new time-traveling suit.

“May, I’m not a baby!” he pouted, stomping his feet on the ground, purposely acting immaturely. “I’m not your ‘wittle spidey’! I’m a grown-up kid!”

“Whatever, it’s fine. Just come with me. They’re all ready for your big superhero entrance.”

Getting there was a long hike. For some absurd reason, Bruce had decided to put the time travel machine smack in the middle of a dense forest, and it took quite a while, even in his super suit, to reach the destination.

“Peter? You ready?” Bruce (Professor Hulk) asked. He put his big green hand on his shoulder, and Peter felt something break there.

He suppressed a cry and said weakly, “Yeah.”

“You sure about that? One of us could do it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bruce gave a soft smile and led Peter over to the launching pad.

“So what do I have to do again?” he asked.

“Just stand there. Make sure you’re holding the stones and the hammer. You need to return those things at the exact time they were taken. If you don’t, it’ll-”

“Create another timeline, I know. That’s all I have to do. Just return the stones. To the right time. Okay, let’s do this.”

He stretched out his hands and legs and went to go and stand at the pad. Surveying the crowd, he caught a certain someone’s eye. Steve took off his hat, bowed down, and smiled at him. He gave a small thumbs up to Peter, reassuring him that this was the right decision. Peter cleared his throat, nodded a few times, and gave Bruce the signal.

“Five… four… three… two… one.”

“How long will it take?” Sam asked. “I need a break.”

Bruce looked at his monitor in confusion. Typing something into it, he showed Sam the calculations. Sam just raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not some science genius. You’re going to have to explain it to me.”

“He was supposed to come back in two seconds. He should’ve been back by now.”

“What?” he asked, although there wasn’t anything he could do, and he knew that. Steve smiled a bit and turned around to face the wilderness. Unfortunately, this action did not go unnoticed by Bucky. He lunged towards him and pulled him up by the collar. He raised his eyebrows to his hairline and gave Bucky a bewildered look.

“What did you do?” he threatened. Steve gave a smirk and raised his hands, surrendering. He shrugged (which was really hard, given Bucky was still holding onto his collar), and slowly took Bucky’s hands off of him. Once they were completely off (and into his jacket’s pockets), Steve huffed.

“I did nothing, Buck. It was his decision, not mine.”

“Will you tell us where he is?” Sam asked, coming up from behind them. Steve simpered, looking Sam straight in the eye.

“No, I’d rather not.”

“I know you did something you little piece of-”

December 16, 1990 || New York City

The streets of New York City were bustling with people trying to do last-minute Christmas shopping, the shops illuminated with strings of Christmas lights. Although the rain dampened the mood (in more ways than one), the crowd hurried from store to store, trying to acquire the perfect gift for their friends and family, brightening the otherwise bleak scene.

The women, clad in their voguish outfits of pantsuits and tinted oval sunglasses, directed their tired husbands to different toy stores, presumably to buy a set of some knick knacks and trinkets for their children. The little boys and girls dragged their mothers and fathers to various windows, pointing at the numerous playthings propped up in the front.

The teenagers, dressed in baggy sweatpants and flannel jackets and too many chains to look good, looked bored as hell, and were smoking in some neglected corner in the adjacent alleyway. They laughed, sending puffs of smoke billowing into the atmosphere, seeming so carefree in that small moment.

Muffled conversations could be heard throughout the streets, though no one was paying much attention to the stifled voices, choosing to focus on the more fortunate aspects of life. A man, speaking into his phone in hushed whispers, hugged his briefcase tight to his chest and sent out panicked glances if anyone came in close proximity to him. A woman, an unlit cigar hanging from her mouth, clutched her handbag, a small purse dog whining in it, and grinned at any unsuspecting young man that came near her. A young couple, looking like they were physically connected to each other, walked along the jam-packed street, sneaking in kisses as if they weren’t allowed to be seen in public with one another. There were, in total, at least a few hundred people in that small street, all trying to get away from the stress of day-to-day life.

Although it was a lighthearted scene down on the streets below the towering skyscrapers, the rain poured down onto the throng of people, the immense clouds covering the full moon, giving the place an eerie aura.

In an alleyway off to the side of the square, Peter dazedly woke up, scratching his eyes, just recovering from the gripping experience of time traveling. He had returned the infinity stones to their particular places and time periods. The soul stone to Vormir in 2014, the Tesseract to that old SHIELD laboratory in 1970, the time stone to the Sanctum and the Ancient One in 2012, the power stone to Morag, the Aether to Asgard in 2013, and the mind stone to the oblivious Hydra agents at the Avengers Tower in 2012. So, as you can see, it had been a really long day for Peter.

He groaned and raised his hands, only to find them covered in dirt and some wet, slimy substance he couldn’t remember the name of. It wasn’t just his hands; the whole alleyway was covered in this substance.

“Ew,” he groaned, making sure not to be loud, so that the horde of people wouldn’t see him. That would cause multiple complications in Peter’s plan, probably resulting in him being sent to an orphanage because they couldn’t find his parents. It could also be more drastic and he could end up in some government facility because his name wasn’t on any of their rosters. He might also have been classified as an alien, and that would definitely thwart his mission.

The pitter patter of the rain woke Peter up from his delusional fantasy, and, putting his palms on the damp, muddy ground, he stood up. Tip toeing out of the alley, he surveyed his surroundings in order to make sure no one was watching him, and wandered out onto the street. People shouldered their way through the crowd, always looking behind their back to see if someone was following them. Peter did the same, though for different reasons than them.

He walked along the street for a while, getting whisked away by the crowd. There wasn't really a place to go for him right now, so he just wandered around, window shopping (though he had absolutely no money), trying not to think about the past Christmas he spent with Tony, eating food until they threw up, and opening the presents they gifted each other, Rhodey, Pepper, and Aunt May.

There were a lot of… characters on the road. Some of them smiled at him very creepily, staring at him as though he were something enjoyable to eat for supper, and others were confused as to why a child, dressed up in a weird suit without his parents, was solemnly walking along the boulevard - Halloween had passed two months ago, and it was now Christmastime. One couple was kind enough (or evil enough) to hand him a Hershey’s chocolate bar. Not those bite-sized little ones that Peter used to get from Delmar’s or that one grocery shop in Queens. This one was king-sized. It could’ve lasted Peter at least a month if he were back in Queens in his apartment.

A sense of dread overtook him. The mission. He couldn’t fail it. No, he had to prove to himself that he was ready.

But what if he wasn’t?

He pushed his way through the mob of people. They stared back at him, eyes wide in shock. He didn’t care. He sprinted all the way across the road to the other side of it, shoving away the people who got in the way. He reached the empty wall, feeling the bile rise in his throat.

He puked onto the wall. The people moved away from him. His heart pounded in his chest. Blood throbbed in his ear. Holding onto the wall, he sobbed. The world seemed to turn fuzzy, and everything he saw was distorted, as if he were in a VR game that was malfunctioning. The wall in front of him turned wobbly. Instead of a straight wall, it was now a curved structure. The ground underneath him seemed to give out. He was falling. He was falling to his death. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t call for help. No one wanted to help him. Another round of bile seemed to erupt from him, and he puked even more of his lunch onto the wall. The world was ending. The world was ending, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He couldn’t save people from dusting. It was his responsibility to save them. People were counting on him, and he let them all down. He let Mary and Richard down. He let Ben down. He let Aunt May down. He let Mr. Stark down.

He could hear people in the distance, calling for help. He also heard an indistinct sound of laughter. A familiar sound. This sound, unlike the multiple other people screaming, he knew. He knew this sound.

“Mr Stark?” he mumbled from force of habit, pausing to throw up for the third time. All the sound ceased. The tears didn’t, though. They continued flowing in wet, fiery streaks down his cheeks. He could see the crowd make a partition, though his vision was seriously warped. A teenager, probably around his age, walked through the space. He could hear the crowd whispering and pointing at him, although the other man paid no attention. He had to squint his eyes to see him, choking back a sob. He couldn't embarrass himself more than he already did. He cried violently, and the man crouched down and cocked his head to the side. Almost, but not quite, as if he was observing him. As if he was some experiment in a glass cage.

He sobbed harder, and he retched, wishing something would come out so the man would move away from him. The man just tilted his head to the other side and squinted his eyes. He looked at all the other people and shooed them away, and they obliged. Peter and the man were left in solitude, a small sort of bubble forming around them, giving them some peace and quiet.

“How do you know me?” he asked in a low, menacing voice that made Peter cry even more.

“I don’t know!” he bawled. “I’m sorry!”

The man picked Peter up by the arm and looked him straight in the eye. He couldn’t see well through the tears in his eyes, but the man looked truly scary. He heard some shouts in the background, cheering the man on. He grunted and threw Peter onto the ground, walking away to his group of friends.

Peter tried to pull himself up, but, through his severe panting and sobbing, he could not sit upright. He then resorted to lying on the murky ground (on which there were some questionable substances). Gasping for air, Peter tried to calm down.

Key word: tried.

The tears never stopped flowing. The memories didn’t, either.

Memories of Mary and Richard. Of how his last words to them were, “I hate you!”’ before they boarded that damn plane.

Memories of Ben. Of how he died in his arms, bleeding out from the gunshot wound, while he couldn’t do anything to save him.

Memories of how he left Mr. Stark for five years. Five freaking years. And, just as he came back from the dead, Mr. Stark had to go and sacrifice himself for the universe.

Lying there, on the ground, the crowd walking around him to avoid stepping on the child, he fell into a deep sleep, unbothered by the disgusted looks thrown at him by the supposedly “posh” people of New York City.

#this is just chapter one #i'm going to add more at some point #i hope this is what you wanted!#ahhh i'm so excited #i hope you like it #peter parker #tony stark #time travel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #ben parker #may parker #irondad #spiderson #endgame #avengers #avengers: endgame #i tried basing the sort of panic attack on ones i've had

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