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spidernuggets · 29 days

Note

Hey! If requests are still open for Jason, can I ask for something. If this too much or uncomfortable you of course do not have to write it, I just wanted to check and see

Hbo Titans Jason where he and reader have always been best friends since before he became robin, possibly they are secretly pining for each other (because I love that trope lol), anyway at titans tower the episode where Jason was gonna jump, could you write that he does and it starts a timeloop that reader is stuck in and she's the only one aware of it, and classic timeloop trope she's trying again and again to save him but it never works out until eventually she can't watch him die anymore so when the day restarts she goes straight to the roof and jumps. This breaks the timeloop and the day starts again, she is alive, jason is alive. And team titans somehow have all the memories from the timeloops so everyone including jason knows that she has had an unbelievably shit time and then her and jason talk and he's kinda really mad that she did that and really confused and that's when she admits that she loves him

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

"57 times I relived the day, 57 times I tried to save you, 57 times I failed, 57 times I watched you die!"

Warnings: continuous mentions of suicide from Jason and one suicide mention from Reader

Notes: A lottttt of dialogue

Love how you think, anon

You have no words to describe your feelings towards your best friend. You have no words to describe your intense, undying love towards Jason Todd.

Undying and forever concealed feelings.

You and Jason have been ride or die ever since you were kids. You were both orphans, but he seemed to get the better end of the stick once he got caught by Batman while he was stealing the tires off of the Bat Mobile.

But Jason never left you in the dust. He always came and visited you. Gave you the nicest food from the manor, told you about his role of Robin, taught you all the tricks and moves he learned from Batman.

He said he could get you a room at the manor. Pull some strings. But you told him that Crime Alley was your home. And you could rely on him, as Robin, to protect you, and the other people whom Batman seems to overlook when saving Gotham.

But when Bruce put Jason under Dick's care within the Titans, Jason practically begged you to join with him. Seeing as he'd be moving to San Francisco, farther away from you, he wanted you to be by his side. Not because he thought you couldn't make it on your own in Gotham. No. He knows how much capability of protecting yourself

He wanted you by his because of his undying and forever concealed feelings for you. He barely managed to go a day without seeing your smile back in Gotham. Who knows how he could've felt if he had to live months, maybe years without seeing your face.

So after getting in his knees, begging you to come with him, he pulled some strings and begged once more. Put his pride aside just for you, and convinced his older brother, Dick, to let you join the Titans. He said you were a fast learner, strategic, and absolutely amazing.

And that's when Dick saw it. That shimmer in Jason's eyes as he described this amazing girl. Dick knew how Jason felt about you. But without revealing this new knowledge, Dick just came up with the excuse that if your presence will get Jason to stay in line, then you can join.

And Jason's bright smile just proved Dick's theory of Jason's obvious love for you.

"Oh my god, I think I dislocated like 50 joints and bones," you say sarcastically, walking into the Tower after a long side mission. "Gonna take a fat nap, Dickwad," you yelled over to Dick before walking towards your room and Dick just rolls his eyes, smirks and shoos you off.

Gar shoots finger guns at you, telling you it was a good idea and headed off towards his own room to catch some Zs.

You changed into comfier clothing, you headed towards Jason room, right beside yours, before going to take a nap.

Ever since Jason's encounter with Deathstroke and his... fall, Jason was benched. So you regularly checked up on him and stayed by his side while he remained silent, staring out the window, and blasting heavy metal and rock music.

You rapidly knocked on his door and entered his room, knowing he couldn't and wouldn't hear it over the music and his disassociating state. He wouldn't let anyone in. But you're not anyone.

When you entered, you turned down his music, just a smidge, and walked by his side.

You stared at the side of his face. His eyes shifted up and down, and his breaths were shallow.

You sighed. "Hi, Jay," you whispered. He didn't respond. "You're not falling. You're okay." You reminded him every time you came in to check up on him.

You walk towards the window and slowly close the curtains. "Keep them closed, Jay. Okay? Today's mission got my limbs in a twist, so I'm gonna go take a nap and come back later, 'kay?"

Jason didn't reply, but you noticed his Adam's apple bob, telling you he tried to hum in response but just couldn't. But that was enough for you.

You were finally into a deep sleep, but around half an hour in, you were awoken by yellong coming from Jason's room. So you quickly got out of bed and rushed into his room.

"How fucked up are you?!" Was the first thing Rachel said when she stormed in. "All you do is give people reasons to hate you!"

"Uhm, what the fuck Rachel??" You exclaimed as she obviously isn't reading the room that Jason wasn't doing good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason lowly replies. You try to look into his eyes, but they're still directed towards the closed window, and your heart shatters at his emotionless state.

"The crosses on my mirror!" Rachel says.

Jason finally tears his gaze from the window and turns to Rachel. "I still don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Rachel's eyes and gem glowed red, and her voice became distorted as she shoved Jason, hissing, "Don't fucking lie to me!"

But you shove Rachel back. "Dude, what the fuck are you on about?!"

Before she could reply, Jason spoke up. "I'm tired of this shit." You heard the tiny quiver in this voice and your eyes sadden, watching your best friend grab his jacket and storm out of his room.

You quickly tail behind him as Rachel screams fuck, walking behind you, slamming the door shut.

"Jason!" You called out to him.

"Don't fucking walk away from me!" Rachel yelled out.

"Woah, hey, what's the problem?" Dawn tried to calm everyone down.

"Jason drew crucifixes all over my mirror!" She cries.

"Thats bullshit!" Jason argues back, with you defending him.

"Shut the fuck up, Rach, he was in his room all day!"

"Jason, it's okay if you're angry," Dawn says.

"He didn't do shit, Dawn," you replied, annoyed.

"Don't fucking blame me for her voodoo issues," Jason growls.

"Jay," you said his name, giving a look to calm down.

As Donna walks in, asking what all the drama is about, Dawn tries to explain how Rachel thinks Jason drew crosses all over her mirror, Rachel yelling that she knows Jason did it.

This led to pointing fingers towards Jason. This is not how you wanted to relax, coming home from a mission.

At this point, it was believed that Jason planted the bourbon bottle, the picture of Ellis, and the orange sida bottle around the tower.

"You people are insane!" His eyes started to water. At this point of you and Jason's friendship, you both can feel one another's emotions. Not accurately, but you wanted to sob for Jason. All he ever wanted was to prove he is a worthy hero. "I'd rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes."

"Jason," you quietly call out, your voice cracking in the process. Jason couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to see your face, thinking that you believed them over him. That would really break him.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing a sweating, wide-eyed Dick Grayson holding a small hand gun.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. But then your heart raced faster after Dick announced that Deathstroke was in the building, planting shit around everyone's rooms.

You knew it. You knew Jason would never do some crazy shit like that.

Speaking of Jason.

You looked around the room while Dick was further explaining the explanation. Jason was nowhere to be seen. Instantly, you ran past everyone, sprinting towards Jason's room, only to be met by a heavy silence.

"Y/n?" Gar called out behind you.

"I- I can't find Jay!" You exclaimed. You ran past Gar, heading straight to the roof.

When things got tough, you and Jason went to the roof, laid on the rough, pointy gravel, and talked to each other. Reminded one another that neither of you are alone.

And there may or may not have been a moment where you and Jason's eyes couldn't help but glance at each other's lips. But that was quickly interrupted when Gar and Rachel barged in and said they wanted to train.

But bursting through the door, the happy memories of your time spent with Jason were quickly erased. Now, all you could imagine when picturing the roof was Jason standing right at the ledge.

"Jay!" You cried out to him.

"I keep falling," his voice breaks.

Though he couldn't see you, you aggressively shook your head. "No, no. Jay, Jay you're- you're gonna be okay," you try to say through your stutters. "I- I wasn't there befire to catch you, but I will be now! Whenever you feel like you're falling, my hand will be with yours!"

"No. It won't stop. And.. And Bruce wasn't the first one who tried to help me. I can make a list, you know. Relatives, teachers, cops, Dick. Nobody's been up to the task."

"What about me, Jason? There's no way I'm on that list because I've been by your side since day one!" You took a step forward closer to him.

He shook his head. "I've got a poison in me. Shit spreads. It can affect even the healthiest people. I can't put that shit on you."

You dangerously took another few steps forward. "Jason, please. You know me- I know you! We help each other all the time! I'm not gonna stop now!" You didn't notice your cheeks getting wet and your vusion getting blurrier.

"Remember that time I was put into juvie? Four fucking people died. It follows me around like a curse. I'm the reason this place doesn't work. I'm the reason why everyone hates each other. I should have never asked you to come with me. You would've been better off back in Gotham without me." And Jason starts to cry. His tears mirror yours, salting and staining his cheeks, reaching down to his busted lips, leaving a slight sting to its wound.

"That's not true, Jason! You have no idea how much it means that you asked me to come witb you!"

Jason ignores you. "But I can fix it. Remove the poison."

"Jason what-" Your confusion was quickly cut off by your ear pitching shrieks. Jason steps off the ledge, his whole body falling limp.

You were too slow. You couldn't reach his hands. Your fingers couldn't even graze his.

You didn't want to look over the edge. You couldn't even if you wanted to. Your legs gave up on you, and the stones and gravel dug into your skin as you fell to the ground.

Your screams alerted everyone else as they all burst through the door, only to be met by your broken state that was crying and calling out for Jason's name.

It felt like you couldn't breathe when you woke up. You heard a bunch of yelling coming from the room beside you.

You groggily got up, wanting to see what the new commotion was on about.

You don't even remember going to bed or even coming down from the roof. It was probably because you couldn't stop thinking about Jason.

When you got out of your room, you heard the yelling coming from Jason's room.

Whoever the fuck was in there was about to get a real beating from you.

But when you walked in, there he was. Jason stared out the closed window, and Rachel accussing him of drawing crosses all over her mirror.

What the fuck.

Your head was pounding, but all you were thinking was that you had a second chance. A second chance to save Jason. A second chance to convince everyone that he was innocent. A second chance.

So you stormed up to Rachel, shoving her away from Jason.

"What the fuck, Rachel, he didn't do shit!" You yekl at her.

"And how would you know?! You were gone for the mission all day, then went to sleep right after!" She argues back.

You roll your eyes. "Because Jason was in his room all week, dumbass!"

"Jesus, you're just kissing his ass! Just because you're friends, doesn't mean he's innocent!"

"You're one to talk," you scoff. "You're the one following Dick around like a lost puppy! He isn't even here! For all we know, Dick could be the one who drew crosses on your mirror!"

"You don't get to talk about Dick like that! After everything he's done for you!" Rachel's eyes turn red.

"Dick has done fuck all for me. It was Jason who gave me everything!-" Upon the mention of his name, you turn your head and noticed he was gone.

Shit.

"Move," you mutter, pushing Rachel out of your way, ignoring the confused looks from Hank, Dawn and Kory as they watch you run towards the stairs that lead to the top.

"Jason, no!" You screamed out, only to watch him already step off the ledge.

"NO!" You shrieked again, living the previous nightmare. You hear the footsteps of the others running up, and as they got to the top, you gasped for air, waking up once again.

You quickly got out of bed and ran to Jason's room before Rachel could even get in.

This time, Jason looks at you in worry upon seeing you in a cold sweat.

"You're okay, Jay. You're okay," you quietly whisper out if breath, particularly to yourself rather than Jason.

But then, when Rachel storms in, you immediately shout, "Out!", pointing back through the door. Rachel narrows her eyes and walks out.

Now that she's gone, she can't accuse Jason, you have your eyes on him, and he can't walk off.

But the quietness was quickly faded when Rachel walked back in with Hank, Dawn, Kory, and Donna. Rachel quickly told them how Jason supposedly drew the crucifixed, which escalated to pointing fingers AGAIN.

And with this many people in one bedroom at once, it was hard to keep an eye on Jason. But you knew where he would be.

But even as soon as you got to the top, he ws already gone.

You couldn't even scream. But your breath was still taken away when you woke up again.

You didn't care how many times it took. You would watch Jason jumo off again and again. You would give yourself a heart attack again and again. You would get your breath stolen from you again and again. You don't care. No matter what, as long as you have these chances, you will save Jason. He is your best friend- he is the love of your life. And you'd do everything you can to stop him from jumping.

But this was attempt 57 to try and stop him. And you were running out of energy. Even though the day restarted, your vitality didn't.

And each time you woke up with short breaths, the longer it took for you to run up the stairs up to the roof.

Why isn't anything working. You tried to stop him from talking to Rachel, you tried to hold him back, you tried talking to him.

But what if he does stay? What if he doesn't jump? What if you do succeed?

Will the day continue? Will the day restart?

You were getting tired. You were getting tired of trying to shut everyone up, tired of trying to holding back Jason. You were tired of watching him kill himself.

Maybe this was your fault. You should've seen the signs sooner. You should've talked to him more.

Maybe he needed more. Maybe he needed more than you. Maybe you weren't enough. Maybe your friendship, your love wasn't enough.

You can't take it anymore.

You promised Jason that you'd be hy his side no matter what.

So you walk out of your room, the echoes of Rachel's yelling coming from Jason's room. But you don't walk there. You walk past the lobby, hearing Dawn ask where you were going. But you ignore her.

You walk to the stairs, heading up.

You didn't even give it a second thought. You walk off the ledge, knowing that you'd wait at the bottom for Jason. Because you can't even imagine a life without him.

When you woke up, it was different. Your breathing was even. Granted, you were still pissed off that dying didn't break the loop.

But there was no yelling. You couldn't hear Rachel's voice. When you walked out of the room and looked into Jason's, it was empty.

That's not right. It's too soon.

When you walked out of the lobby, you saw everyone standing around, huddled together in the middle of a discussion. But once they notice you, their eyes are full of sadness and worry.

"Y/n, I- I'm so sorry," Rachel speaks up first. Your eyebrows pinch together.

You look at your watch. Jason would've gone up by now. But he wasn't. He was standing with the others, looking at you with sadness and... and anger?

"What are you..."

"We know about... about the time loops," Dick says. "We don't know what caused it or why you were the only one aware of it during those times, but... It seems you've broken the loop with.. With your fall."

"And because you were the only one aware, and you took the fall instead of Jason... it must've cut off the loop," Rachel further explains. "But now it also made us remember all those times we had to relive the day."

"All 57 times.." Hank muttered.

You sucked in a breath. "I- I just-" You stammered, barely able to make a sentence.

But Jason walked up towards you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you towards his room for privacy. Dick was about to follow suit, but Hank grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head, silently telling him to leave the two of you alone.

"What the fuck, Y/n?!" Jason says once he locks the door behind you.

"Why are you yelling at me!" You bite back, still tired from the events.

"Why- why didn't you tell me you were reliving this situation, a horrible situation!"

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously I would, but there wasn't time! There was always a fixed time that you disappeared, ended up on the roof, and jumped! And with every attempt, the more tired I got, and the more late I was to get to you!"

"So you killed yourself?!"

"I just couldn't watch you die anymore, Jason!" Jason finally shut up. "And I knew I couldn't live without you either! 57 times I relived the day, 57 times I tried to save you, 57 times I failed, 57 times I watched you die! And I promised I'd always be by your side! That doesn't change, even with this!" Like the first time you watched Jason stand on the ledge, the same salty tears rolled down your face, Jason's eyes doing the same thing.

"That's- That's so stupid! I'm not someone to give up your life over! I'm not worth it!"

"You're worth it to me! Every day, I only wake up because I know you're gonna be there to annoy the hell out of me! I only wake up every day knowing I'm going to spend time with you! My life has no purpose without you!"

"Why?!" Jason raises his voice. "I'm a nobody! I'm an asshole! You're life is worth so much more than mine! Why would you only live for me?!"

"Because I love you, Jay!"

The two of you become quiet, staring at each other, waiting to see who was brave enough to confirm what kind of love you were talking about.

"Jason..." You whisper. "You are literally the best thing that has happened to me. Watching you step off so many times, knowing that I was becoming more and more useless to try to stop you, I felt like I wasn't enough for you to stay. So.. I just thought that if you jumping off that roof was inevitable... then I might as well join you.. Because I genuinely cannot live without you."

You could barely look him in the eye. You couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Your breath hitched when his arms wrapped around you. You felt his lips linger on the crown of your head.

"'m sorry, mama," he mumbled into your hair. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "Didn't mean to make you go through all that. Didn't mean to think that you weren't enough."

He loosens his grip around you, hands shifting to hold each side of your face as his calloused thumbs gently caress your wet cheeks.

"I love you too," he gently kisses your forhead. "And you are more than enough for me," he kisses your nose, making you let you a faint giggle and a slight crack of a smile. "You are everything to me." He places a quick but loving kiss against your lips. "I'm sorry I tried to leave you. I'm sorry I didn't stay."

"Will you stay now with me?" You ask, looking up at him.

"Of course I will, babe," he lowly says, pulling you in for another warm and safe embrace. "Now come on. Let's get you some proper sleep where you wake up tomorrow morning, okay?"

You hummed in response, ending the day in now screams or shrieks. Just quick pecks here and there, cuddled against Jason's warmth in his bed and wrapped in his blankets.

Eventually, you were going to talk to him about finding him some professional help, but that would be a talk and a probable argument for later.

Right now, you just need to bask in each other's love and warmth.

holy guac!!! that was long.

Hoped you enjoyed anon!!! 🫶🫶

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yarechano075 · 11 months

Text

one piece x y/n [part-4]

as we all know how much fanboy luffy is for shanks , so as he heard you he instantly said " oh you drew shanks fighting against marine ! it's so cool y/n !! " .

you've heard from garp that how much red hair pirate's captain shanks effect his grandson since childhood , you were not amazed but still you have to act like you don't know anything .

" yes ? but luffy did you know him ? " you asked , of course if anyone was in place of you would've asked it as luffy call shanks so informally .

" yes ! " luffy answered . " oh my god ! it's so amazing luffy ! you know red hair pirates " you said .

" shishishishi " .

and like that they chitchat all the time and sometimes ask questions to you as well . you found it strange that whole crew was talking to you and asking questions to you but zoro and sanji they were silent , they were just eating their food and somewhat observing you . of course you know how to earn trust of them as well .

after dinner everyone stay a lil bit more in kitchen as usopp and sanji clean up the kitchen they were still talking about their day . Its when you tried to start a conversation with sanji .

" the food " you said while attracting the attention of usopp and sanji .

" when I taste it , it remind me the taste of food my mother used to make " you continued .

" well I am really not into cooking but I hope I can eat food like this for rest of my life " you said while smiling .

in the smile you were looking just like a angle who just fall on earth from the heaven .

" I am happy that you liked it y/n " sanji said while smiling back to you .

" oh btw where is the bath and where am I supposed to sleep ? " you asked .

" the bathroom is on the left from there and the room opposite to the bathroom is boys bedroom ." usopp said while giving you the direction with his finger .

it was when you realized that you are going to sleep with them , even though you are not a deep sleeper but you talk in your sleep is for sure which was making you afraid now . and the second thing is you have to sleep with your chest binder on which is going to be pain in the ass for sure and what if by any chance your chest binder get dislocalized from it's position and what if they will know about your gender . you were so scared that you froze on you spot .

" what happen y/n ?" usopp asked .

" ah nothing " you tried to change the topic when your eyes met sanji's eyes .

SUSPICIOUS . his eyes were telling you loud enough that you heard them clearly that he is now more suspicious of you . congratulations your efforts were all waste at this point .

you proceed towards the bathroom , you locked from inside as you were afraid that what if someone saw your naked body .

you took off you cloths when you bare skin starts to appear your skin was rough , there were so many buries and cuts were on your whole body from fingers to toe , even you had stiches on your forehead as well which was easily get covered with you long bangs .

you washed yourself , you felt alive once again . after wearing your cloths and tight you chest binder double time you get out of bathroom .

you enter the boys shared bedroom , you saw luffy and usopp were lying on the bed , sanji and chopper on the other , franky and jinbei was sleeping on there seprate beds . you noticed that zoro and brook were not here so you get out from the room thinking there must be another room .

you climb up to the deck where zoro train himself and you were right zoro was sleeping there while brook was looking in some papers with robin .

" ah y/n san " brook addressed you . you went to them and took a seat next to robin .

" what are you guys look at ? " you asked out of curiosity .

" nothing much y/n kun we were just reading some historical books " .

" oh " you said . historical things never interests you and more likely you never gave any thoughts to history in past .

you take one of the book and read its title " the void ? what type of title is that . "

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #fanfic #anime #sanji #zoro #luffy #one piece #one piece x y/n #herwritingartcowboy #@herwritingartcowboy #djljpanda #@djljpanda #op

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toastedside · 3 years

Text

For Better and For Worse

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: angst, fluff in the end

Note: The last chapter for the miniseries! It was fun writing this, and I know it's been too long since I actually posted the first chapter. But it was fun. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Batman landed on his foot silently. His eyes scanned through the warehouse, before him was a gigantic machine with empty compartment that would fit one person. He quickly typed on the small computer on his wrist, sighing silently to himself as he waited for his scanning result to come.

“Batman,” come Superman’s voice through the comm. “Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Batman confirmed. “There’s a machine inside. It looks like somebody deactivated it before we come. I’m trying to transfer their data into my computer to get some information.”

“So Red Robin and Superboy were right,” Superman said again. There was a slight quiet sound of the wind behind him. Batman assumed he was flying as he answered through the comm. “The warehouse is empty as well. I think they had abandoned it.”

“We can’t be really sure about that,” Batman’s let out a huff as his computer displayed the transfer data has been finished. “I’m going to decipher some codes. Keep an eye on possible threat.”

Batman grunted softly as he squatted down to take a better look of the main controller device. It looked unassuming and tame while it was deactivated, but one better look alone could tell him that it would be deadly. He typed an override code on the main controller, his lips pressed firmly together as the machine slowly coming back to life.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of movement that he had known too well. “I already told you to let the League take care of this.”

“Yeah, but it was me and Conner who found it,” Red Robin came into the light. He quickly approached the main controller and eyed it silently. “I have just successfully deciphered few codes that might help. If there’s anyone that could help, it would be me.”

Batman stared at him for a few moments. He weighed his options before let out a tired sigh. Figured there’s no way Red Robin would back out now. “Only to decipher the code. After that you leave the rest to the League.”

Red Robin nodded before he dove in right away into his work. Batman lingered for a few moments to watch, but as the machine starting to wake up more and more from its slumber, he left Red Robin with the controller device as he investigated. He studied the empty compartment silently, taking notes in how the machine was built.

“B, what did you type to activate the machine?” Red Robin called. There’s a slight confusion in his voice that robbed Batman’s attention.

“The code that have been transferred to my computer.”

“That’s not possible,” Red Robin whispered. Now he sounded so alarmingly surprised. “It’s different from what I decipher earlier. B, I think– I think there’s an error in this.”

Batman was about to open his mouth when the machine whirling dangerously. Red Robin quickly tried to type in an override code, but the more he tried, the more the machine whirling dangerously and begun to rattle. He lifted his eyes briefly and saw Batman tried to tame the machine, his shoulder pressed against the empty compartment as he grunted loudly. Suddenly, the whole room was too bright from him to see as a bright, white light coming from the core of the machine shone brightly. Red Robin called for Batman a few times before the machine whirled for the last time and exploded, sent Red Robin flying across the room and the machine crushed underneath the rubbles into oblivion.

=======================================

The footage cut off right away after the explosion, leaving you heaved for a sharp breath as the camera went blank. You could see the reflection of you own face on the screen, how horror seeped right through your skin and welled in your eyes. You were unaware with tears that streamed down your face until you saw your reflection. Behind you was your children, all wide eye from witnessing the footage.

“So that was the explanation for your dislocated shoulders months ago?” Dick asked, his tone was demanding and worried.

“Yeah. I am sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner,” Tim said bashfully. Cass silently approached him and pulled him into a half-hug. Tim smiled in appreciation. “But did you see the light zapped from that machine briefly before it blows up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that light was what took Bruce away,” Tim said firmly. He had spent so many nights watching the footage over and over again, he practically could recite it in his sleep. “That would explain the lack evidence of his dead body. Besides, if you notice,” Tim pressed play on the footage again, and paused right few seconds before the explosion. “He was already gone when the machine blows up.”

“Are you trying to say that machine was a transfer device?” Damian asked, his eyes watched the paused footage before shifted into his brother.

“Could be. I tried to work with all sources that I have, but I can’t possibly decipher all the codes since the machine blow up before I could transfer everything,” Tim rolled his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers swiftly typed few codes that he had known by heart. The monitor showed a half-finished string of codes. “See. It’s all half-baked. My strongest theory that I can come up with it was the machine use the same technology used for Zeta Beams. More or less.”

“So… B isn’t dead from the explosion, he was transferred into another place before the machine blows up?” Jason asked slowly.

“Another place, another timeline, or dimension.”

“Shit,” Dick cursed. His fingers ran through his hair as he stared into the footage again. “If you were right, then Bruce is trapped and possibly having no idea on how to go back.”

“Call the League,” you finally found your voice back. You were surprised you could muster a coherent sentence with a firm voice. “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is dangerous. Call the League.”

“We have all the sources we could possibly need!” Damian argued. “From what I know, they abandoned the warehouse. The machine could still be there. We just need to salvage some data and move in motion after that.”

“I know that all of you are more than capable, but I am your mother. I have my limit. I have lost my husband; I am not going to lose my children too.” The firmness on your voice left no room to argue. You stared into your children one by one to emphasize your argument. “This is their mission after all. You all will work side by side with them. And none of you will work without them. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, let’s go upstairs and eat some dinner. I’ll call Clark first thing in the morning, for now let’s just take some rest.” you ushered your children towards the staircase leading into the house.

Dinner was normal to say the least. But there was a growing tension that everyone had tried so hard not to talk about for their mother’s sake. You practically could see all of your children twitched in impatience and anticipation, all minds already long gone into a battle that still yet to happen.

“We’ll find him, Mom,” Dick said with a kiss on your temple at night before bed. You mustered your best reassuring smile, cradled your son in your arms. For the first time in a long time, you were scared for your children’s life.

Sleep seemingly unwilling to come that night. You spent the night tossed around relentlessly; mind wandered far into all possible scenarios that you could come up with. Was Bruce really out there, trapped in a place he didn’t belong? It had been three months without him, you didn’t want to get too hopeful. But a tiny part in your heart longed to be with him once more and wished to hold him in your arms again.

====================================

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” Diana beamed as soon as her eyes caught your presence. It made her smile, as you walked towards her and quickly accepted her invitation for a hug. “I miss our girl’s night.”

You chuckled at the mention of your sacred night. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“No, no. No apology. I understand what you’ve been through was hard and hurtful,” Diana was quick to squish your apology. “Besides, looks like somebody’s a little jealous that she isn’t invited into our small reunion.”

You followed Diana’s gaze, and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight of Dinah lurked in the corner. You laughed, gestured for her to come. Dinah came right away, a frown formed on her lips as she crashed you into a bone-crushing hug.

“My God, you have no idea how relieved and happy I am when you called!” Dinah breathed. She patted your back gently.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

“I am glad either way,” Dinah said as she released you from her hug, but her hand lingered on your wrist before she let out a sigh. “We are here for you, all of us. We always will. And we’ll find him.”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful,” you said sullenly. “But whatever happen, I hope it helps the League to find the trail of whoever responsible behind this.”

The League had been called first thing in the morning, and now you had all of the superhero cramped together inside your house. You watched from the back of the room the briefing that Tim gave to the League upon the lead and dots he had connected in past three months. Your heart sank into your stomach like a sandbag upon watching the footage again where your husband presumed died three months ago.

Alfred came few moments later with a tray full of refreshment. He decided to stay at the back of the room with you, watching all of your children had meeting with the League.

“Even though I have witnessed this thousand time over, it’s never getting any easier,” you sighed as you broke the silence. “It feels like I am sending my children into a suicide mission with no precaution. To save their father. We don’t know the threat that might wait for them out there.”

“We never could shelter our children forever even if we wanted to. They ought to spread their wings out there one way or another. It’s their thing after all, they would never sleep before they find the answer,” Alfred offered a consolidation. “The best we can do is to make it as safe as possible. You have done that.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

==================================

It had been three weeks since the last time you witnessed all of the Justice League member cramped together inside your house for a meeting. Your children had been sent on a mission alongside the League. You couldn’t say you like it, but you saw the childish excitement Damian tried so hard to hide from the thought of fighting alongside the League, and opted to at least look approving. You were proud nonetheless.

The house was a little empty without most of your children’s presence as they’re out for a mission. Spared for Damian who was constantly sent home to attend school. Alfred had helped you to take care of Wayne Enterprise in Tim’s absence as you tore yourself in half between your work in hospital and taking the lead for the company, but it was still manageable at least.

Damian would tell you about the mission progress all the time, which sadly wasn’t much. But they still had baby steps progress nonetheless, and progress is still a progress. They have managed to salvage some valuable parts from the machine, but it wasn’t much of a lead to give them answer.

You get off from your car after you gather some courage to walk into an empty house again. The day had been long and tedious, you had just chewed out marketing department this morning and had to tended some patients in the afternoon. All of your muscles are sore and you wanted nothing but a long hot bath.

The house was empty just as you suspected. But you found a surprise as you stepped into the study room to grab some book to read. The grandfather’s clock was opened ajar, meaning somebody must have went downstairs into the Batcave. It could be Alfred cleaning up, but you found herself going downstairs.

Your eyes widened as soon as the sound of murmured conversations come into your ears. You descended down further; head perked up at the familiar sound you had missed so much. “Guys!” you practically shouted as you ran towards your children. “Oh my God, you’re all here.”

It was Jason who caught you first and welcomed you into his embrace. Your other children soon followed and trapped you in the middle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. All of your fatigue and stress suddenly lifted from your shoulders now that all of your children are home safe and sound.

“How was your mission? All good? Are you guys safe?” come the string of questions you couldn’t help but to ask. You quickly check all of your children for any obvious injury, and you found yourself let out a long, relieved breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“We are, Mama,” Jason gently placed his hands on your shoulder to ground you. “We figure we might come home for a little while. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Yeah. I miss your beef stew,” Tim chimed in. “Can we have it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said as you gently cradled Cass in your arms. Cass clung into you like a baby koala for dear life, her nose nuzzled into your collarbone seeking for comfort. It made your heart soared and dropped at the same time, knowing that she found comfort in your presence and the fact that she must’ve had deprived for comfort that she actively seeks for it.

All of you shared blissful moment together, all shared some jokes and recite few relaxed and funny moments happened during mission. You were glad nonetheless, with Cass laid her head on your lap, Damian pressed against your side, and all of your children are here laughing and reciting some stories, you couldn’t ask for a better way to end the day.

The Batcomputer suddenly beeped, alerted everyone that somebody is coming. Dick quickly rose from his seat and take a solemn look to the computer screen. “It’s Uncle Supes and Wonder Woman,” he announced, a little confused at their arrival.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. Does it mean all of your children had to go for a mission again?

The door to the Batcave opened not so long after, revealed two hero came into the light. All of your children were already on their feet and geared up, ready to dive back into the battle once they’re needed. But a strange expression coming from Diana and Clark somehow told you that it was not a mission.

“Clark? Diana? Is everything alright?” you were concerned. You found yourself pulled Damian into your side and firmly held him, afraid of letting your son go once more.

“Y/N, you might want to sit down,” Clark gently said.

Diana gently took you into her arms and led you into the nearest chair. You were still a little puzzled, your heart racing against your chest. Diana then gently placed her hand on your shoulders, her eyes solemnly staring into yours with an unreadable expression. It frustrated you greatly.

“Diana, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Hold on for a little while. But I need you to sit down.”

“What–” you opened your mouth to protest, but was cut off abruptly at the sight appeared in front of you.

You blinked rapidly, afraid that it was some mind trick that you weren't aware about. You found yourself awestruck, unable to move, but at the same time unable to believe your own eyes. You heaved few heavy breaths that sounded like you were half laughing and half crying, your mouth went agape at the sight alone.

“Holy shit,” you could hear Jason cursed loudly. “Holy shit. It works.”

So it was real, then.

There he was. Your husband. The one and only Bruce Wayne. Completely alive albeit looked a little gruff and exhausted. He had some rough stubble all over his chin, and the usual light in his eyes had dimmed. You could only stare and stare, your mouth let out few incoherent noises that was only above whisper.

Bruce slowly approached you. As if he was afraid, but the corner of his eyes lifted up happily at the sight of you stared at him like a deer caught in the headlight. From this close distance, you could see his eyes glossed from tears that started to well in his eyes. You watched him kneeled in front of you.

“Honey,” Bruce said as he gently took your hand into his. “I am so sorry.”

“Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, sounded as if you were strangled. Your unoccupied hand shakily covered your trembling lips, eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this… is this really you? Are you real?”

Bruce gently took your hand and placed it on his rough cheek. There was a growing eye bag underneath his eyes. He looked so much older and tired than the last time you had remembered him. “It’s me. It’s me. As real as I could be.”

There are few beats of silence before you let out a strangled cry. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The stubble on his chin felt rough underneath your skin, but you found yourself loving the way it felt. “Bruce Wayne, you little shit! You promised that we will die together when we’re grey and old in our nineties!”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle. It was warm and familiar, and you had missed it so much. It had been way too long since the last time you heard his laughter. “Therefore, here I am. Coming back to you to fulfil my promise.”

You smiled shakily as you laughed through the tears that stubbornly streamed down you face. You leaned closer to rest your forehead against his. “Don’t pull that stunt on me again.”

“I promised you I will always come back to you. And I do.”

“What happened?”

“The machine that I investigated had sent me into far past. I was trapped there unable to come back home, but I managed to survive. Until I met Barry, he said that he able to finished and decipher all the code gathered and redesigned the machine to bring me back. And therefore, here I am,” Bruce explained. “The warehouse was a trap set up to harm me. But Tim managed to inserted some codes before it exploded, so it sent me into different time instead of kill me in explosion. We figure it was a part of Injustice League’s scheme.”

“All I could think about was you. I worried about you and the kids. Sometimes the only thing that could get me through the day was the thought of that one day I will finally able to come back home to you.” Bruce placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. “You have managed to save me over and over again. Thank you.”

You couldn’t muster up any single words, so instead, you threw yourself into his embrace. Soon all of her kids would join and trapped you in the middle. Although Jason acted as if he hated it, you knew that deep inside his heart he was relieved to have his father back. Dick didn’t even bother to hide his excitement; he was just happy his family was whole once more.

That night, for the first time in forever, the night didn’t feel long and tedious. Or torturous. But neither of you and Bruce could able to sleep in a wink, you and him just hold each other close and greedily craved for each other’s presence. No words exchanged between you and him, however. But you were relieved. You were reunited with your love once more, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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sparkypantaloons · 3 years

Text

Loss

Five things Bruce taught Jason and one thing Jason taught Bruce (1/6)

Bruce is lying on Jason’s floor when Alfred finds him. The teenager’s room is all but destroyed.

The curtains have been ripped from the windows. The bedding is strewn around the room. Sheets shredded, pillows gutted, feathers settled on the floor like snow.

Books have been pulled from the shelves, flung across the room. Posters ripped from the wall. Trinkets smashed, shattered, thrown.

Bruce lies at the centre of the destruction he has created. The grubby, one eyed teddy bear is clutched to his chest. His face is pressed to the carpet. He can breathe again.

Alfred stands in the doorway, grips the handle too tight. “What have you done?” The words are barely a whisper. They leave him in a rush, desperate to get out into the world and make sense of what is happening.

Bruce doesn’t answer. His eyes are vacant. He stares straight ahead, teddy wrapped in his arms, broken glass in his hair.

Alfred takes a deep breath. Steps back from the door. Pulls it shut.

Bruce closes his eyes and weeps.

Shattered eye socket. Broken nose. Perforated ear drums. Dislocated jaw. Three avulsed teeth. Depressed cranial fracture.

Broken collar bone. Cracked ribs. Collapsed lung. Dislocated elbow. Broken fingers, all eight. One dislocated thumb. Compounded radius fracture.

Vertical pelvic shear fracture. Extensive blunt renal trauma. Liver laceration. Ruptured spleen. Spinal contusion.

Tibial shaft fracture. Seven broken metatarsals. Ruptured achilles, both. Broken toes, all ten.

Bruce repeats the injuries to himself like a mantra. Runs from head to toe. Lists every broken bone, every damaged organ, every hit Jason took from the crow bar. Over and over and over.

He wonders what order the blows came in. If The Joker crippled Jason first, breaking his feet, snapping his achilles, so he could do nothing but writhe in pain, unable to escape.

Or was it his head first? Did he destroy any hope of recovery, damage his brilliant boy’s brain beyond all repair and then move on to rest of his body just for kicks?

The explosion was nothing. A finale with no substance. Jason was taken long before the bomb went off. Brain damaged, brain dead, long before the smoke entered his lungs.

Shattered eye socket. Broken nose. Perforated ear drums. Dislocated jaw. Three avulsed teeth. Depressed cranial fracture.

Bruce wonders which one hurt the most.

It’s raining.

Bruce blinks.

He’s in his pyjamas. Stood in the vegetable patch. Mud between his toes. The crops lie untended, withered and decaying.

He bends down. Pulls up one of the wooden markers.

Jason’s scrawl is faded, but he can still see the word once written there.

Pumpkin.

The second p is back to front. The dot above the i, a circle.

He turns the small wooden stake over in his hands. Tries to remember that day, so many years ago.

Jason’s cheeks flushed pink with fresh air. The lilting sound of his laugh. The feel of his hand in Bruce’s.

Something is inside him. It’s hot and cold all at once. It burns in his chest, wraps around his spine, forces him to his knees. It's like ice down his throat, sharp and unforgiving until he can’t breathe.

It blurs his vision until he’s blind. Takes his hearing until he’s trapped in the dark and the silence. He screams into the void, unable to hear a sound.

He’s losing time.

He finds himself all of a sudden on a roof top, grapple in hand. Wakes up mid-fight, bloodied bodies beneath his fists. He’s in the Batmobile, looking over to the passenger seat. And every time he wakes Robin is missing.

Bruce thought he knew grief once. Thought he knew what it was to ache with the desperate absence of loss. To breathe in and feel as though you might never breathe out, because all the air that’s meant to be in your lungs has been sucked into the endless hole of sorrow and rage and sadness.

He had been wrong.

How he longed for those days of a child’s grief. Longed for the only loss he had known to be that of his Ma and his Dad. Life changing and soul wrenching and wretched, yes. But at least that was a grief he knew he could weather. At least that grief he knew had meaning.

His couldn’t survive this. Couldn’t survive losing his bright and darling boy.

His boy who used to make him laugh with impressions of Commissioner Gordon and The Riddler and Superman. His boy who used to race him up the stairs, and crow at the top of his lungs every time he won. His darling boy who used to climb into his bed after a nightmare, cling to him as though there was no-one else but the two of them. His brilliant, brilliant son who would have grown up and changed the world.

Who could survive that?

What was the point if they did? What was the point in a world without Jason?

Bruce is at breakfast and Jason is missing.

He brushes his teeth and Jason is missing.

He goes to work and Jason is missing.

He comes home and Jason is missing.

Every breath he takes Jason is missing and how is the world still turning? How does the sun still rise and the wind still blow and the tide still fall when Jason is missing?

Gone.

Forever.

You can read the rest of this fic here https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213801/chapters/85127050

#spbfic #batfamily fanfic #soft dad bruce wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam #batdad #batkids #red hood #batman

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 12

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: We continue the three perspectives!!! AND we got special appearances from a few characters today eeeeee we’re so close to the finale. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

WORDS: 12,068 WARNINGS: violence, arm dislocation, muscle injuries, alcoholism, mentions of coffee addiction and insomnia

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

Dick:

That day, this all ends.

Telling himself he got into this mess because he hadn’t a choice, that he hadn’t already stopped because it was all just too riveting and captivating and not at all within his control, was nothing short of a lie.

He had every say in it.

But not even his fucking conscience could convince him to stop. He wanted this mess. Dove right into the lava. He knew every bit of the heartbreak he’d have to endure and he willingly brought it to himself. To get lost into the deep dark woods, with nothing more than an oil lamp, to be pricked by the many thorns and suffocated by the leaves and trees that crowd about much like a bush. To get lost in her, and never want to climb out of any of it. He knew how slippery the road ahead of him was and still he kept going, kept driving, sped up a little even when he thought he’d actually get to where the stars pointed him to.

But so profoundly was his loss of himself, without much effort at all to escape from those grasps even when he told himself he did; going to another woman, wanting the same arrest of his heart to hopefully take him away, but without halting those thoughts of Y/N and how her smile that he’d seen earlier that day would last until dark, maybe even beyond that. Those flares of her face and her voice and how he let them speak to her every night, change them into burning whispers against his ear when he’s memorized her voice too much to make her say anything he wanted her to, even when they only last in his head.

Dick never tried to stop her from taking her heart like that, even when he had to watch her be with another.

Tonight, it all ends. Every bit of this torture that he brought only to himself, it all comes to this sorry halt.

Dick, standing atop a roof of an office building in Dresher, knew that at that moment, he had to sit this one down. He had to be alone and in the darkness to make this as painful as it possibly could, hoping that if all that pain were to be felt now, compress them into this little tub of static blackness, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad the next day, and the day after that. Even when he knew this would backfire, he had to.

No one, especially not Y/N, would want him to end up with her. Tim deserved her. Hell, even Jason’s done a lot more for her sake than he had. He can't hope anymore. He can't let this go on.

All this would have gone better if he’d known this sooner.

So with him on that rooftop, sitting on the ledge fifty stories above as if not at all was he a push away from death, Dick let his finger scroll across his phone’s screen moist from his sweat. The battery was going to run out soon. He’d been there for hours, staring at that same picture of her from the day in the nursery, when the sun had been kind to her, touching the surface of her skin so perfectly, it showed more of the little details that he’d already memorized. Those exact images would be thrown out by the end of tonight. Pack their bags. Scram them out the door.

It had, as expected, proven to be difficult.

The thirty-seven pictures he took that day, he’d already heartly remembered by the end of it. Countless of times, he pulled them out of his pocket just to take a second to look, even at the worst. Another month had passed and nothing had happened much since, nothing out the ordinary, which meant their friendship was back to how it used to be. They were friends.

And that was why it ends tonight. Because if he doesn’t fight these thoughts, if he doesn’t fight her, he loses her. He loses this friendship.

Are you sure you want to delete this photo?

Confirm.

Thirty-six times, he let his finger do the talking. Not his heart. Not even his brain.

At the last one, the screen was too distorted by a fallen tear that had seeped out of his domino mask for him to go on. It was the only hindrance he needed to give up and stop. At least for a second.

But he couldn’t even dwell on it too much, or let himself cry, let it burn his skin off enough so it wouldn’t hurt any more afterwards. He couldn’t even let himself have that luxury when he heard the thudding noise of his brother’s boot-cladded feet, a Bo staff that hit the ground, and a black cape that enforced a gust of wind to blow against the back of his head.

Dick just closed his eyes, and just after that, Tim walked over to stand right behind him.

Greatest Detective in the World. But even an idiot would know what he was up to, sitting in the darkness crying while his feet dangle off a rooftop’s ledge, eyes to his phone like he was reading the saddest sob story in the whole world or that he’d just received a text that one of his loved ones’ lives had been taken away from cancer.

The way Tim was silent, he knew.

And Dick just let him believe it, without even a word to explain himself, he did. He let Tim’s mind do the figuring out and the explaining because not even his own words would be half that truth.

Tim’s voice that night wasn’t the kind he heard often.

“You think this is the right time for that, Dick?”

A crack on his knuckles, his throat sounding rough and beaten, Dick didn’t know what to even say.

“We called you fifteen times over at the bridge. We needed you-“

“Sorry-“

“And it turns out you’ve been at your phone the whole time-“

“You handled it without me.”

“That isn’t the fucking point.”

A month of silence, since that deathly night after they took Y/N home. Several minutes, together in one car, had proven to be one of the most insufferable moments of his life. And not surprisingly, it went on for even more days after that.

Dick turned off his phone, but Tim snatched it away from his hands and walked away so Dick couldn’t grab it.

He stood from the ledge. “Come on, Tim. Not cool.”

“Hmm. Cute,” Tim faked a smile and swiped around the screen, at the last picture of Y/N he had. “Could have sent it to me. And Jason.”

“Tim-“

“But it’s cool,” Tim said. He threw the phone back at Dick and he caught it just before it hit the ground. “All good. Finally, you have something of her all to yourself, right?”

Tim was Tim. Not this. Not someone so angry and grievous and someone who was looking at him that way with so much disgust when he used to be that young boy of fourteen who looked at his older brother like a god. How long, he thought, must he have kept all this frustration bundled up inside, where not even he could reach into. Someone who’s so calm, so in control of what he says, had finally given in and let his annoyance flourish about. He wondered, as anyone would, at what point Tim had finally had enough of all of this.

“Tim, please-“

“You,” Tim pointed his gloved finger right at Dick’s face.

“You were supposed to be my brother.”

Tim:

Of course, he’s had enough.

He’s had enough of all this a lot longer than anyone else, even he, would have thought.

It might have been since that day Y/N was crying over an argument they once had, over something he can't even remember, that almost pried them apart, only for Dick to come along and console her without telling Tim where he was, and he only knew because Y/N told him what happened. If she hadn’t, Tim wouldn’t have known.

He wouldn’t have known Dick had long been pining over the love of his life, never mind how she was in his arms and kissing his lips and calling for his name.

Dick, who could have literally anyone he could possibly wish for, just had to want her.

“What do you want me to say?” The asshole started after a moment’s silence, of nothing but a helicopter’s whirl from far above, the lack of light from everywhere around them, and their footsteps against the empty cement.

He couldn’t even look at his brother in the eye with his mask on, but he knew enough to know what he felt. It didn’t matter if he was sincere. It didn’t even matter that he cried.

“Nothing,” Tim said. “You’ve done your damage.”

“Damage?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Enlighten me.”

Tim scoffed and faked yet another laugh. It annoyed himself at that point.

“You are unbelievable-“

“I’m not trying to do anything with her anymo-“

“Don’t even start with that, asshole.”

Tim’s hands were shaking, and subconsciously he tried to repress those tremors, hoping they’d go away if he clenched them enough, but they only got worse.

“She was mine,” he cried. “And you just couldn’t handle that-“

“I never tried anything with her when you were together.” Dick tried to step closer to him but he just backed away.

“So you weren’t just waiting for us to break up so you’d swoop in and be the hero?” he scoffed. “I asked you to make sure she was okay, not take advantage of her hurting just so you’d have your chance.”

“And why did you break up, Tim?” He had the audacity to ask. “You didn’t love her anymore-“

“You knew I still did-“

“Then why hurt her?!”

“Because I was hurting her anyway!”

Never. He’s never been this angry. Not that he could recall.

“I was 17. Everything about me changed. Wayne Enterprises. Red Robin. Fucking Bruce dying and coming back to life. She was there but I was about to lose my fucking mind. I thought she didn’t have a place in all that mess anymore so I broke it off.”

Finally, he stepped close enough to Dick, almost to leveling with his height. His brother had his lips hidden, hands falling to his sides.

He looked terrified.

“Two seconds after that, I never regret anything more my whole fucking life. I thought talking to you would make her feel better, but you just couldn’t help but bat your pretty little eyes at her when she was vulnerable. I wanted to go back but I couldn’t ‘cuz you were already there!”

He was snarling, and a growl escaped his throat by the time he backed away. Tim didn’t even get to hear himself until he saw his own reflection in the white of Dick’s mask.

But Dick. He didn’t even take it as a hint to just shut up and take his rambling.

“I never meant to keep her away from you-“

“I went to you, Dick.” Tim wiped his lips with the back of his gloves, watched over to the next building to avoid his brother’s face. “I always went to you for help. With her. You know how long I’ve wanted her. And I went to you because I thought you were my brother and you’d help me.”

“I did help you!”

“You were helping yourself!”

His hands slammed against Dick’s chest, and it was a good thing he didn’t fight back. He would have just taken that as an excuse to keep hitting.

“Tim,” Dick held his hands up. Tim backed away. “Just go to her-“

“THIS ISNT ABOUT HER ANYMORE, ASSHOLE!”

Hands shoving his chest once again. This time, Dick had caught them, held them by his wrists enough so Tim couldn’t pull them away.

“THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND ME, GRAYSON!” Tim screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO HAVING EACH OTHER’S BACKS!”

“YOU THINK IT WAS MY CHOICE TO GET IN BETWEEN YOU!?”

It was from a whip of strength not even he had known prior, but it hurt when he finally could take his hands off of Dick’s grip, and with that, he backed further away, though his eyes couldn’t stray from looking straight into his brother’s.

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF IT WAS-“

“THEN I’M SORRY!’ Dick swallowed. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?!”

“No,” Tim’s knees hit the railing and so close did he fall, but he kept himself up, rubbed the bottom of his chin with his gloved hand. “You're not sorry…”

Dick’s silence. Even more so did he want to just lunge at him and strangle his vocal chords. No matter how far-fetched, Dick was supposed to tell him all the things he wanted him to say. So far, he’s said none of that.

Dick just watched when Tim turned around to rest his weight onto his palms, looking out into the open seeking for just about any kind of help there was that he could call out from the wind, but there was nothing.

“You're right,” Dick said, and Tim felt the cement crack from beneath his palms. “I’m not sorry.”

“Fucking bold of you-”

“What would have happened to her if I hadn’t stepped in?” He heard Dick’s voice louder and clearer, which meant he was walking closer towards him.

“I would have come back. I always wanted to come back, but by then she was all over you. I couldn’t-“

Tim looked at his own hands. “I had it coming. I can't blame her.”

Another whiff of air, and it blew the strands of his black locks right onto his eyelids. They stung, but he didn’t push them away. He just kept his eyes locked onto the blankness of the gray, the dark that went all the way into his spirit.

“But I do blame you-“

“Tim, you hurt her-”

“AND YOU HAVENT?!”

Dick caught his Bo staff, which Tim had thrown right at him as swiftly as he turned around. His mouth was as dry as his palms were sweating. His teeth were close to breaking. And his eyes dangerously drifting off into some unknown nowhere just so he wouldn’t have to look at such betrayal.

“Tim-“

Tim was shaking, or at least his hands were, when he gave into his impulses and moved so fast, grabbing Dick by the collar and standing him down.

“You stand there blaming me for all that hurt when here you are-“

“What the hell do you want me to say to you?!”

He was strong, stronger than any one of them would have thought. Dick couldn’t even move, much less out of shock than it was out of his hold on him too overwhelming to counter.

“Tim, this isn’t like you-“

“You have no idea what I’ll do,” Tim growled. “Why do you think I became Red Robin?”

To separate himself from the likes of what it used to be. To not be Robin anymore. To stray away from his ideals, ideals and morals no longer his.

Because he was, in his truest capacity, capable of much darker things than people seem to know. Even his own brother.

“I hate you-“

Dick, who took that second to take advantage of weakness, grabbed him by the wrists and pushed him off with the soles of his feet, not enough to send him to the ground but enough to almost topple him. And when he looked up, immediately, Tim’s fist headed for his brother’s head, but again it was caught by Dick’s palm.

“HEY, HEY, HEY, ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!”

A much deeper, louder voice, the third one to be heard that night. It was that, and two strong arms that grabbed Tim by the shoulder and Dick by his suit’s back. Even when it wasn’t even to much effect, they stopped.

At least, for a second they did, before Tim started for Dick’s neck and he had to be held back with a strong hand right against his chest. “Let me go!”

“What the hell is going on with you two!?”

“Stay out of this Jason!”

It was easier for Jason to stand right in between, just to stop either of them from going after their skin. Dick had stopped. Tim, on the other hand, had to be held back by the shoulders. “Tim, calm down!”

“I said stay out of this!”

Jason:

“One of you pinheads tell me what’s going on!”

“Are you really gonna let Jason fight your battles, Dick?!”

Tim tried to push Jason out of the way. He was lucky, in fact, that none of them could see the irate look on his face hidden behind the safety of a red helmet. Otherwise they might have started for him too, just at how disgusted he looked at them both. And he had every right to be. He knew exactly why they were fighting. It was the devil in him who felt like asking.

Jason held him back with his cape. “Hey, KNOCK IT OFF-“

“Let go of me!”

“You don’t think I wanna bash this asshole’s brains out everyday, Tim?!” Jason hauled him to the floor. “Trust me. You can hold back.”

“Oh, fuck you, Todd.”

“You shut up.” Jason pointed at Dick. “If this is about Y/N I know exactly why Tim wants you dead.”

“And why am I the one you two’re ganging up on?!”

“If I was, Dick, I’d just let this one have at it with you. Thank me later.” Jason said, nodding over at Tim. Tim shrugged off his brother’s hold on him and frowned.

“You were never the one to trust, Dick,” Tim gulped. And Jason knew Dick would have thought the same. His flaring eyes, the burn that was almost never there from someone so usually calm. It was unnerving seeing Tim this way. “Look at everyone you’ve hurt. Y/N. Kori. When are you going to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking start with me, you little-“

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jason pushed Dick again with a shove of his hand. Dick stepped back.

“Jason, just get out of here -“

“I don’t know, man; Feels like I have to be the responsible one. For once.”

Tim grabbed Jason’s hand and hauled him to the side so he could step closer to where Dick was standing. “You don’t want to be a part of this.”

Jason, if not at all wanting that to be true in the slightest sense, didn’t fight back and took Tim’s shoving. But, as he’d thought, Dick was the one who looked at him so slyly he wanted to grab his lips and use them to haul him over the building.

Suddenly, every part of his skin wanted to burst, blood beating through every inch of vessel and flesh so much it burned him. His mouth sewed shut, ears hurting at the redness. Again, if not for the helmet, it would have been a dead giveaway.

But Dick wasn’t having it.

“Trust me, Tim. He already is.”

“What the hell do you mean-“

“I said, enough. You two settle this at home.”

Jason tried for Dick’s shoulder just to push him to back away, but he threw his hand off.

“Don’t fucking act like the good guy between the three of us,” Dick said. “What are you gonna say next? That this isn’t what Y/N would want?”

“You think it is?!”

Dick chortled and he turned away. Tim still wouldn’t let his glare away from his brother and if Jason would let him, he’d have mauled him to death.

“You always did think you knew what was best for her, didn’t you?”

“Jason, what the hell is he talking about?”

He never told him. The bastard never told Tim when he was so sure he would, when he basically told him that night outside Y/N’s doorstep that by the end of the hour, Tim would know what he’d done and he’d have found Jason by the next, even when he tries too hard to disappear, which he had tried to do for four months, hiding from his brother, and not long after he’ll never be welcomed into the manor as so much as a guest. It did surprise him, after many months, that Tim hadn’t so much as acknowledged it. Part of him wanted to believe Tim didn’t care, or had already forgiven Y/N and in turn forgiven him.

But, of course, Dick hadn’t told him. The asshole wanted this to drag out as painfully long as he possibly could. Make him carry that burden himself just because he thought it was right, as Tim’s brother, even when he wanted no part of those niceties.

“You wanna tell him?” The blue leotard wearing ass said. “Or should I?”

“Don’t fucking bring me into this shitshow-“

“Brother, you walked right into it yourself.”

“I will kill you,” Jason growled. “One of these days.”

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s voice, the softest it had been since the start of that night.

He shouldn’t.

His little brother, one whose relationship had proven far too difficult to build, if there was ever a chance at a good relationship at all. His brother. An established brotherhood he once despised so much, took too many years just for it to be something tolerable. His little brother.

He never had a little brother like Tim. Perhaps even now, he wouldn’t. Not once he knows.

“Tim, I-“

“Jason, tell me what’s going on.”

Dick no longer even had that smirk on him. He just looked sad for the both of them, as he should be. As anyone should be.

“Just tell him.”

So much did his fist want to just fly and land straight at Grayson’s perfectly chiseled cheekbones, break his face so much he wouldn’t live to stand a day.

But Jason had grown too silent, too guilty.

He couldn’t even take off his helmet and look at either of them in the eye.

Tim stepped right in front of him and on his face kind of worry that often lingered prior to it being the worst rage to ever engulf into.

Was there a way out of this? To counter the impact? Make it so it didn’t hurt so much?

If Grayson had just told him, it wouldn’t have to be this way.

“Jason-“

He looked up, and through the slits of his visor, he knew Tim wanted to look at him in the eye, to find something out of this truth.

“I…”

His throat, it hurt to even breath. And when this happened, he usually takes the helmet off. This time, however, he couldn’t do that. Not when he had so much to say despite him not wanting to.

“I slept with her…”

It was a shame Dick didn’t look too much like an ass right then. If he did, he’d have a reason for himself to just jump at him with a knife. But all he could even see, all he could bring himself to watch, was his feet.

Nothing else. Not when Tim was looking at him that way.

“What?”

“I slept with her-“

Tim.

Was it even Tim anymore? The boy in front of him? Who never looked at him with so much betrayal?

“When?”

“A few months ago…” he said. “Lasted about a month.”

Then, it wouldn’t even have mattered if it were him who broke the news, the asshole that Dick was, or the Gotham Times.

Tim.

No longer his little brother. Never will be again.

Right for the neck. That’s where Tim pounced a second less than he was smart enough to move away.

Dick:

That asshole deserved it.

But if anyone deserved it more than Jason did, it was Dick.

Was it to divert Tim’s attention from himself? Give him a breather and a while for Tim’s anger to mellow down taking it out on Jason so he doesn’t take it out on him so much? Possibly.

But the moment Tim’s hands squeezed the living daylights out of Jason’s neck, he knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was wrong. This was all wrong.

He started for Tim’s arms, grabbing them both just to at least give Jason enough time to breath, but this newfound strength certainly wasn’t one he’d expected. When he did manage to pull them off, Tim swung his fist right at Dick’s face.

Then, he went back for Jason, who then took that short time to grab both his fists and stop them for hurling him over the roof.

This was his fault. This was his doing.

And all the more did he want this to end when Jason held Tim strong enough to make him scream, and with that, he threw another punch right for his helmet, shattering the visor beneath his bruised knuckles. Jason tried to kick him away with his knee, but Tim was pushing him.

Jason, who should have been a lot stronger, was not doing much to fight Tim. And instead, he tried talking him out of it.

“Tim!” he coughed. Tim still holding both fists went on to push him. “Tim, stop!”

Head slam against his helmet, and it broke, enough for a part of it to be chipped off and expose his forehead.

Jason finally hurled Tim over to the ground just so he could wipe the blood stain off from seeping down his eyes, but that wasn’t much of a good idea. Not when Tim took that as a chance to jump for his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders, and with the forces of their own bodies flying across the wind, the railing wasn’t enough to stop their fall.

Tim and Jason fell over the building, down fifty stories with one’s hands wrapped around the others throat, and Tim went on to strangle him even as they fell.

Dick, without even thinking much, dove into that same abyss. Did he have a plan? No. Was this going to work anyway? Probably not. But he had to try.

At least, it was all he had to do. When Dick leapt, head soaring straight down for a car so miniscule that wouldn’t be so small the more he wastes time, his brothers thrashing bodies that broke the speed of their fall worked to his sorry advantage and Dick managed to catch up.

He grabbed Tim off, thankfully with the fall lessening his grip but not at all did it change the murderous look on his face. This wasn’t his brother. This can't be him. This was someone who had all his frustrations bottled up in the form of coffee addiction, insomnia, and workaholic tendencies, someone who hadn’t vented out his hurt and anger at him, who he apparently had been hating for a while.

When he had him in his grasps, Dick grappled up to the next building. “Jason, hold on!”

It was, in actuality, the worst idea he’s ever come up with. Other than the fact that Tim weighed a good 170 pounds, Jason was no lighter. Not even in the slightest. And carrying both of them? He might as well be hauling up a whole tank.

That one single grappling hook showed them no appreciation despite it holding on the best it could. And it was to no help that the hook landed on a building too far.

They were just yards up the ground when the rope tightened, and the impact on Dick’s arm he was sure had the bone dislocated. A scream was all he could muster at the shooting pains that went all the way up his neck, but still, he held on, and even when it lasted no more than a few seconds, it was all too agonizing not to feel like it lasted hours.

All it took was to at least break the fall, but that was all he could handle. Dick let go of the grapple gun and they were falling across the whole block, across the street over to an abandoned lot with junkyard cars and probably some broken glass scattered across the ground.

Tim landed on top of one of the cars, breaking the windshield under his weight. Jason wasn’t so lucky, rolling across the cold cement with it hitting his helmet, enough to expose his face.

And Dick, with it not helping his arm at all, landed right against the fenced border and fell to the ground. Some wire sticking out might have impaled his skin.

He was breathing. Was he still breathing? There was throbbing. Redness. Blood that went to his eyes, most probably. He could hear his heart and basically the rest of his senses going haywire.

When he looked up, already Tim could stand, right on top of the cars.

Now lacking his Bo staff, Tim smashed the broken metal beneath his feet and pulled out a slab hard enough to break bones.

Tim:

If Dick were smart, he should have let him die.

This was always how he was, how this was all going to boil down to. His so many ways of dealing with loss, heartbreak, and stress, it was never going to hold him back enough if he hadn’t an outlet. And this, tonight, this was all part of the inevitable. He did what he promised Y/N. He kept off the coffee and had eight hours of sleep every day. But did it mean it warded off his thoughts on her? On his brothers? On their betrayal and how much he’d been holding that all off for months? Not even close. In fact, they grew worse.

Who does he start with?

Dick was all the way over at the fence. Wounded. Dislocated arm. He pulled himself up and went for a wall he could smash his shoulder against just to pull back the bone.

And Jason.

Shit.

Should have went for him first.

Two glocks in his hands. This man wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

“Jason, don’t!” Dick cried. Too late. He already shot one of the cars.

Tim spun about just to dodge at least the shattered glass. He was aiming for his legs, at all the parts of his body that wouldn’t be so lethal. How kind of him.

Which meant, that if it were the vital parts of him exposed, Jason wouldn’t shoot.

So he didn’t even try to hide himself, his chest especially, when he hurled himself over the many car hoods and roofs. Jason kept going, and this time he went to shooting the glass on purpose. Probably to hit him with the shards.

Tim reached the wall and pushed his feet so he’d roll on the ground. Cape up, he looked through the many places to hide, but he didn’t want to hide. What he wanted was to grab one of them, any of them, by the shoulders, pin them to the ground, and have his fist have at it with their stupid faces.

He ran up to Jason, cape protecting his legs and arms, and just as he did Dick had crept up behind him, grabbing Jason by a headlock. Elbow to Dick’s chest, he took that as a chance to grab his guns and throw them over to the side. So close did he miss one of the bullets, if grazing his shoulder was ever a miss. But he ignored that hiss and landed a hit on Jason’s stomach.

But not even that could last long, with Jason practically subdued. Dick set Jason aside to block Tim’s fist from landing anywhere near either of them. He kept hitting, swinging, it was all a blur after the third time he felt his shoulders hurt. And Grayson’s was no better. So he aimed for it.

What was he doing?

Foot landing on Dick’s pelvis. It was enough for his body to skid across the ground. He looked up at his brother, teeth gritting so much that it hurt, Tim didn’t move fast enough before he could move away from Dick’s fist, which landed a good one right to his teeth.

Jason:

This was the most ridiculous fight he’s ever been on. No different from a fucking pellet gun war over at the gardens that one time they were drunk and stupid. This was a game, one he really didn’t want to play. He should have known, and what he thought that time was that somehow, she was worth going through all this chaos for. That moment of bliss, that month of beauty and serenity and peace, was it worth this? With his own brothers?

It wouldn’t have been if it was just a month of beauty and serenity and peace. But it wasn’t just about that anymore, was it?

So this had to be worth it. In every way. With Dick and Tim over a few yards away, Dick holding his shoulder and trying so hard to avoid being hit there and Tim so unruly and angry and being so taken over with his rage, not at all was he anything like this before tonight.

He had the choice. To grab the gun that had skidded over to his side, shoot them both in the shoulder to put everything to a stop, or join in on their rumble to drag this out as long as inhumanely possible. Three different men who knew exactly what the others’ moves will be, this wasn’t going to last very long if it were to be a good way.

But, if this were to be dealt with bullets, he can say goodbye to either of them of ever being his brother again, to never be a part of this family so hard to love but love nevertheless.

He stopped his hand from reaching for the gun, and with that, he started for the two.

Jason grabbed Tim’s ankle just before it would have landed on Dick’s chin, threw him to the side so he’d land on the floor.

Dick’s fist, which would have hit Tim, instead hit Jason right at the nape of his neck. He almost toppled over to the ground, and with that flash of rage, he struck back at Dick right at his bad shoulder. Might have been too far. But he didn’t care.

Tim hit his back, right up against his sharp knee. He cried out at the unnerving bellows that went straight to his head, picked himself up just before he hit the ground.

Another hit for his head, but Dick had stopped it with his own hand, twisted Tim’s ankle so he’d once again lose his balance and fall.

Three different men.

Three different fights.

Three men who knew each other far too well to be beaten so easily.

They jostled and rolled about, around the junkyard over so many of the cars and the broken glass and even the fence that had long blown over. This wasn’t at all supposed to be what they’d spend the night on, but with the slabs of metal being thrown, the cars almost hurled up with their peak human strength, their limbs flailing, some barely missing a nerve on their head and some wrecking a whole tooth out of their mouth, it was not, to even some capacity, ever going to end as well as any of them hoped.

And with them at the middle of the barren empty grounds, Jason dodging Dick’s fist only to meet Tim’s knee, Dick being absolutely smothered by Tim’s head smashing against his, and Tim being pinned to the ground by either of his brothers larger than him that he hated so much.

It all would have ended in death, after the kind of blur that clouded so much of their moral thought and any kind of sense at all to remind them of what they were doing, if not for something far too strong for them to easily swerve from.

Or, better yet, three things too strong for them to swerve from.

At a whiff so quick for any of them to have possibly even sensed, a flash of purple was the first to wave off that blur from their eyes. And it went for Tim.

Stephanie was first to subdue him, holding Tim down with her knee landing right at the small of his back. He cried out both at the shock he hadn’t expected and the pulsing pain that probably went all the way up his spine, but he was done. Steph had grabbed Tim’s head and pinned him down right against the floor.

The next one was Dick, and before any of them could even turn, something so brightly blinding, a figure of yellow, fell from one of the cars’ hood and grabbed Dick by the neck. Duke was smaller, but not at all was that some disadvantage. His huge armored arms, locking Dick enough for him to just flail his hands about, it was enough to make him stop.

And, just as he expected, the next thing he saw after that flash of a second he was spared, was a blur of black so silently creeping up on him, Jason couldn’t move even when he knew it was coming. No one could have seen it. Not even him. By the next second, he was bent over one of the cars, hands to his back, and Cassandra had a taser stuck to his hip.

“NO, NO, NO, CASS DON’T-“

Barely enough to fry him unconscious, but enough to fucking electrocute his skin off so his muscles could barely move.

Dick:

This should all have ended sooner than it even happened.

And the shame crept in, not even when he stopped struggling against Duke’s hold on him, but when Barbara, the last to come into the scene, flew in from the window right across.

She looked like she wanted to murder all three of them by a rope around their necks. One single rope. Having three just wouldn’t be worth it.

She took off her cowl and let her red hair fall to her back, so they’d easily see just how disgusted she looked at them all, at the look on her eyes, at the look on all their eyes.

“Duke, let me go-“

“I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Please.”

“If we could, Nightwing,” Babs swallowed. “I’ll have you tied to that streetlamp for the rest of the night.”

Jason tried to reach for something in the car just to kick Cass away, but she tased him again. Some smoke flew up from his flesh.

“Cass, that’s enough,” Babs said.

Cass glared at them all, then settled to just holding Jason down with his arms.

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on with you three?”

“Maybe if you get your foot out of my head, Steph, I’d actually get my brain back and answer her question,” Tim said.

“You lost your brain when you fell down that building.”

“You saw that?”

Steph snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t jump in until I had all of us on call.”

“Lucky?!”

Steph twisted Tim’s arm and his cries could be heard over to the next block.

Jason tried, again, to break free from Cass’s hold, but her fist wasn’t one to welcome when it landed much like a bat would’ve right up against Jason’s head.

And Tim, who almost pried Steph’s knee from against his back, was just pinned down again not even a second after breaking free.

They were too tired to go up against any of them.

So Dick, knowing there was no other, prettier way out of this, let go of his hands from gripping too hard on Duke’s arm. He didn’t let go, but it had loosened, enough for him to properly talk. Babs went over to him. That dagger-infested glower stuck through, but at least there was some appreciation for his lack of resistance.

“It was a misunderstanding-“

“Was it?!”

Babs clenched her jaw.

“This is about her, isn’t it-“

Tim’s voice echoed. “No!”

Tim:

He growled and shoved Steph’s hand away, but they kept on his arms, pushing them down against his spine. She was strong enough to subdue him, stronger now that he was exhausted and his muscles were all strained, but that didn’t mean he was, in any way, going to back down from this fight. This wasn’t over.

He could crane his head up enough to look at Babs.

“This is about these two traitors who lied to my face for months!”

Steph was having too much trouble keeping him down. “Tim!”

“Are you really going to take their side?!”

“No one is taking anyone’s side here.”

Babs eyed Cass at least to make her loosen her grip on Jason’s twisted arms. Cass rolled her eyes, sighed, and still without a word, she grabbed Jason by the back of his collar to make him stand. But it wasn’t without her taser stuck up to his side.

“Cass, I’m not gonna fucking fight you-“

“Just shut up, Jay,” Dick said, and with that, Duke tightened his arm.

“They wanna know,” Tim panted. “Tell them all why we’re in this mess.”

His voice, all broken and rageful and so unlike what anyone would have thought. It turned the heads of everyone around. Steph loosened her hand around Tim’s neck much out of her own disbelief.

“Stabbing me in the back the way you did…”

“Tim, you don’t have to-“ Babs went on, but Tim’s screams were too much.

“Tell them! Say why you’re all a bunch of ass-“

“You’re the one who wanted this to be some shitshow!” Jason’s teeth shouldn’t last long with how much he was gritting them when he hissed and snarled at Cass, who poked the taser just beneath his hip.

“Cass, enough with the taser.”

“Yeah, Cass,” Jason said. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

“Some douchey police officer over at Chinatown,” Duke said to him while still keeping his hands on Dick.

Something so foreign, so unruly and aggressive, it was taking too much control over him. Tim’s eyes were burning, and there weren’t even any tears. His blood pulsed through every vein, strong enough for it to hurt, and loud enough for him to hear it through his bloodied ears.

Tim pushed Steph away and for a moment, he was free. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. He just wanted his hands squeezing the voice out of Jason’s neck.

Babs grabbed him by the cape just as Steph caught up, and again he was on the floor. Still, he screamed, thrashed about because everything within him just yelled for him to finally let it out. He was done being the nice guy, done being the brother they both pushed around, took advantage of, lied to, and picked on because they knew he’d never fight back.

“Tim…” Babs helped Steph holding him down. She looked up at Dick. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing we can't sort out!”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason snorted. “You haven’t said one smart thing all day.”

“Like you're any better, you asswipe.”

“Enough!”

Babs stood right between them, otherwise they’d have lunged for each other even if they had a missile launcher aimed for their heads.

“Let me go. Duke,” Dick said. “I’m not gonna fight any of you-“

“Yeah, three seconds ago you were close to running Jason’s head through a windshield.”

“Just let me go and we’ll all calmly-“

“Calmly?” Duke laughed. “I saw you fall down that building from where I stood. None of you know what calm is.”

Duke’s voice was stern and not at all did he sound like he’d trust him enough for that, no different than Steph’s or even just the look in Cass’s eyes. Because, if anything, other than the utter disgust, disdain, and disappointment, everything before them was something not to easily believe.

Not long after, before anything even happened, before Tim heard that first trace of a large black cape and the heavy soles that would have broken the cement floor underneath if he hadn’t purposely landed so swiftly, with the shadow that wasn’t in fact a shadow, but a suit so terrifying, dark, and so close to invisible, it was the night in a physicality no two people could similarly describe.

Tim knew he’d get here first, before anyone else even turned their heads. Because he stopped with his cries and faced his untimely doom. Face to the ground, quiet and unmoving. Everyone else followed but that was after he’d already appeared.

Not even anyone from the likes of the worst villains had seen the look on Bruce’s face as close to the one he had right then.

Jason:

If he were alone, he’d just have snorted. The look on Grayson and Drake’s face. Couldn’t be drawn.

He’s seen that same frown on Bruce every time he shoots a damn gun, which was every night. He could paint it by memory and he wouldn’t miss a detail. The squinted white of his eyeholes, his lips forlorn and flat. His hands, clenched enough for it to hurt, hidden beneath his cape. Oh, Dad. Did I do that?

These guys just needed some getting used to.

And he shouldn’t be amused at the fact that at least, for once, he wasn’t the only one in trouble this time. Tim looked ashamed. Dick looked like he’d seen a ghost. Dick should have known this, at least. He’s steered up a few times of trouble himself. Nothing like what he’s done, that’s for sure. But he shouldn’t be so stricken. Still, he was, which made it all the more inappropriate if he were to smirk right then.

Damian was right beside him. He wasn’t entertained, or intrigued, what he usually was watching his father tell off his brothers. In fact, he looked bothered. Like they’d just taken so much of his time away from what he’d rather be doing, which apparently was more interesting than this.

Ah. Of course. An out-of-town mission. Just Batman and Robin. They left Babs in charge. Probably why she looked just as horrified as Dick, hands to her side and keeping the slight shake of her palms hidden. It seems she prepared for anything to happen on patrol that night, anything Bruce prepared her for being the boss. What they hadn’t prepared for, apparently, was them.

“Batman, I-“ Babs swallowed. “We have this under control. You can go back to-“

“Let them go.”

Chills down everyone’s wobbly spines at his growling voice proved more terrifying under the filter near his neck. Everyone except Jason, of course. But he can't be so relaxed. Cass was getting suspicious. He just felt her hands tighten even more around his wrists.

But perhaps, he should be afraid. He’s gotten into mounds of trouble, but it was never anything like this.

He snorted again. They hadn’t hurt anybody. It was just them three and their lack of brain. They’ll be fine.

He hoped.

“Bruce, they’re trying to kill each other-“

“They can try.”

Babs, right then, might be the one to kill them right after. Maybe with her bare hands. Maybe with a truck. With a deathly, silent scowl at all of them, she nodded.

Duke was first to let go of Dick, and with that a pat on the back. Dick rubbed the back of his neck, stayed put and didn’t even step away. He was relaxed. Ashamed, but relaxed. He just stretched out his limbs and already everyone was satisfied.

Next, it was Jason. With a reluctant Cass finally letting him go, and the taser, Jason tumbled over to the nearest car hood just to keep himself up. That fucking taser robbed him of his knees. How many volts was that thing?

Finally, Steph swung her legs over from holding down Tim’s body and helped him up. She dusted off his back, apologized under her breath. He probably had a lot to say if it weren’t for the seven other pairs of eyes on him, watching him from letting out so much as a twitch.

Tim didn’t shove her away so he could go back to poking Jason’s eyeballs out. He just stood there and stared at him like Jason and Dick were lucky everyone else was around. Which, he probably was. He wasn’t going to deny that.

The last people to be so afraid of Bruce were the three of them, the perpetrators, the reason for this little reunion. So instead of letting out something so cocky and unapologetic, something so at the borders of causing Bruce to have an aneurysm, not one mouth resisted from being kept shut. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t often expected from such an unusual family.

And Bruce looked at the three of them not with anger, or dismay, or even annoyance.

He looked disappointed.

Which, arguably, makes it a whole lot worse. Hell, even for him. He’s been yelled at since the day he came back and all of a sudden a little fight with his brothers is what brings him to shame.

Bruce was unmoving, so his voice startled and shook.

“All this…” he said. “For her…”

No one spoke. Not even a cricket. Even with the horns and sirens from afar, the bustle they couldn’t care less the only noise there was, it was deafening.

“Don’t you think you’ve disappointed her enough?”

Jason ignored the shattered edges of his helmet that poked on his cheek, ignored the blood it drew or the strain on his arms. Everyone did, perhaps.

“Go back to patrol.”

Batman left, as quickly as he’d come. Robin followed right behind him.

Batgirl turned around, nodded at her team, which was all there was out of her, out of anybody. They could see her fists clench, her eyes down and avoiding the others. The Signal flew out of the scene, Spoiler grappled up to the next rooftop, and Orphan disappeared out of thin air, without a word or even a grunt.

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Red Hood left that junkyard lot, and as the brothers they were, and dreadfully still are, they kept out of each other’s ways for the rest of that quiet night.

-----

What was so different about that night, and the many more nights that followed, was how they no longer had each other to turn to, even more now that it seemed they needed their brothers the most. Jason was, in the worst sense, used to the kind of isolation he was forced into after the matter. Dick had to learn to be alone, but it always had been better to have another’s shoulder to lean on and talk to. Tim, not so much. Not when he almost always turned to Y/N. And if not her, Dick. His older brother. One he once looked up to like a being unreachable, now a traitor he’d scoff at if he dared to show up.

So what they did, and what they were forced to do for several nights, was to deal with the cosmos and the whirlwind of thoughts all by their sorry selves. Dick usually could be found in training, spinning about in the uneven bars set up for him at the manor, have the sweat and the strain in his muscles force out whatever it was that bothered him into some physical outlet, how it often had been for many years as he appreciated himself for the care it brought. For the others, however, it wasn’t so much the same. Tim would spend all hours in the office and wouldn’t so much as nap even when his whole body tortured him to at least stop his back from being crouched so much. And Jason, well, had already drowned himself in booze, even more now that the reasons had faded clearer.

Alone in his apartment, over at the nook by the window where he usually spent the day with a book, now his mess of a hair would be plastered against the cold glass and the many bottles that surround him would block the surfaces of the cushion. It never actually got out of hand. He only ever drank to get rid of that noise blaring into his ear the way it was now, the way it was for all three of them.

And Tim couldn’t turn to that same comfort, or whatever it was that caffeine, stinging eyelids, and an unhealthy staring into a computer screen with an all nighter at the office would bring him. That night after the fight, he couldn’t sleep, even when he tried to. Which led to no one’s knowing, a cup of coffee when the day had risen and he was forced to go on with that said day like nothing happened. That cup would turn to two. Three. Eventually it dawned on him that he’d slept what he should have in a single day in a span of three.

Dick’s training, as it turned out, wasn’t so healthy at all. The strain in his wrists began a little over two hours ago. He’d been at the grounds for quadruple that time. For that day alone. Would it kill him if he didn’t stop? Probably not. Would it almost kill him? Probably. But he went on. Kept his hands busy. Forced himself to feel that exhaustion that should be taking his mind out of everything and not amplify it.

But this was only the beginning of what eventually would be that highway to descent, to some slope with no ladder to climb back up to, no guide for them to reverse and no light at the end that would eventually bring some alternative to the truth. They only had the truth to hold on.

Their brotherhood. One so strained. So complicated. One that took far too much time to build and rebuild. They couldn’t, not even if they wanted to, be apart from this family, deny that they were a part of it. They couldn’t escape each other’s presence no matter how many times they’d change their numbers or block out their trackers or find another city to live in. They couldn’t lose something that had grown too strong for them to fight against. That night, they tried. Or rather, the forces tried. The forces run by their bitter rivalry or the want for the same woman.

It was the fifth night after that fight, when Dick let go of the bars, finally giving his hands that rest too many hours overdue. He wiped his sweat, drank from his bottle, and pulled out his phone. That night, he thought it was enough, that this silence and bitterness and sheer negligence over their bond would eventually break for permanence. He knew that this coping was only just the beginning, and that it will, for everything he was certain about, would it become so much more, something so dark, that it would pull the whole family apart. He didn’t want that. For any of them. So that night, he sent a text to Tim and Jason.

Tim’s first account wasn’t on his brothers, though it had crossed his mind many more times than he would have hoped. His first thought, if anything, was how Y/N would have thought if he let himself fall. It’d be in his rule this time, that he wouldn’t let the caffeine get to him or reach to such extremes he’d never otherwise control. But Y/N wasn’t going to believe that, as nobody should. Hell, he probably shouldn’t place that much faith onto himself at all. Even if he does so much as lose an hour of sleep, one for every night until there wasn’t any hours left, if he allows himself one more cup when he had one just half an hour before, he knew it’d be just the beginning.

So, when he got that text from Dick, he realized it wasn’t worth much the risk.

He hated them both like he’s hated no one else, wanted them to realize just how much of a wreck their doings have imprinted on him and Y/N, how the consequences that followed weren’t nearly what they deserved at all. But if he doesn’t fight that hate, if he doesn’t find peace, it’ll be that darkness for him, that same life he hadn’t learned to control, one where he once lost himself to. and in turn, made him lose Y/N. And he’ll lose her again if he won't listen to that conscience. He texted Dick back and told him to meet him at Pauli’s.

Jason, on the other hand, acted as was expected of him. When he saw that text the first thing his lack of conscience told him was to get another phone and forget it all happened, disappear for another few months, show up when it was convenient, and hope that this all blows over before his escapism backfires.

But he never did get to bring himself to throw out his phone and get a new one, much less delete the text before he’s even seen it. A few days after, he let that daft little voice in him to open the text, allow himself a few seconds just to witness its premise. But he’d read through everything in that split second he allowed himself to. Dick didn’t really have much to say. And what else was to come next other than the few days of tussling and fighting and the many more bottles of booze that were not at all helping with those same voices that just wouldn’t shut up.

Was this all worth it? Was anything worth this at all?

Because those few years it took just to have any sort of a conversation with Dick, much more with Tim, certainly wasn’t a few years of a bond rebuilt that he wanted to go through again.

He loved them. In his own, twisted little way. He loved his brothers and actually would go out his way to save them from whatever horrors he’d been forced to face. That love didn’t have to be from occasionally hanging out in the holidays or spent an hour or two in a bar.

At least, in his conscience, if he were to die one day like he’d realize would happen again, knowing life wasn’t exactly his alone to spend and control, he’d know he did whatever was best for the people he loved.

So, despite Dick and Tim not at all expecting so much as a text back, they still had it in them to wait a few hours. In that dimly lit corner of Pauli’s, the aroma of freshly backed pancakes distracting them from their otherwise bland pickup from the rest of their senses. They waited, not hoping for the best.

Jason went into the diner and saw them, ordered a cup, then took a seat across Tim, with Dick in between.

That silence, the same for everyday for the past five, it was haunting and eerie, disturbing, uncomforting, one they knew they’d all have to settle if they wanted to move on and actually bring some light into whatever it was they’ve caused.

Jason didn’t take off his hoodie. Tim warmed his hands with his cup of hot chocolate. And Dick, knowing he’d have to start, cleared his throat and looked up.

Dick:

Seeing Tim walk through that door was a surprise enough, much more Jason coming along and not even was he three hours late. Fuck. Fuck. What does he even say? Where does he ever start? Should he even start?

Giving in to his impulses certainly was bad an idea. This was, in every way, what he should have expected when he picked up his phone and thought to call his brothers hoping it was the right thing to do. And, perhaps, it was the right thing.

But was he the right person to start it? Lead this conversation to the direction he wanted so they’d get to a better place? The one that pushed his impulses in the first place?

They were all too awfully silent. Tim’s had his second round of hot chocolate. He doesn’t even like hot chocolate that much. And Jason looks like he’s hiding himself from the cops with his hood down and neck craned to the table’s surface. He’s never been in anything more awkward and uncomfortable in his years. This was just humiliating.

But, he was sure, humiliation should be the first thing they’d have to go through. Setting their prides aside, talk with the other’s stories in mind and hope that by the end of this, it’ll at least be a bit better.

So he started, in the most bland, uneventful way, he tells them both.

“Thanks for coming,” Dick said.

Tim momentarily bit onto his lip, and Jason stayed motionless without so much as a nod. At least Tim glanced over at him, even when it was just a second.

“How are you, Tim?”

Tim’s finger traced over the brim of his cup. He’s finished it. Didn’t seem like he wanted to order another one.

“Alright. I guess.”

“Good. Jason?”

God, this was awful. He doesn’t even ask how their broken bones are healing after a life-threatening encounter in patrol. Hopefully this greyness wasn’t too weird, not when it should be the start of something even more difficult to overcome.

Jason’s order of coffee came into the table and it made Tim shift in his seat, leaning to the back to stay further away from its aroma. Jason took a sip. “Fine.”

As quiet as they possibly could. Dick wished he had something to order, even when it was just a piece of pie they’d displayed over at the counter. But he didn’t want to get up or even call a waitress.

He was, in the most obvious sense, ashamed. Ashamed that he wasn’t either of them, which he wished nothing more to be. He wished he was them so he wouldn’t have to be the man who’d hurt Y/N the most, when he was supposed to be who she’d turn for comfort, because they weren’t the man who’d been in love with her for so long, never thinking he’d have a chance. And when he did finally have her, even for a just a moment, when he finally got to kiss her that one time he’d been waiting for so many years, it all broke down and nearly diminished what he took years to build. Their friendship. Something so great yet so fragile, when their love never could be so easily set aside to make way for a friendly bond.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, and his voice had gone softer. “I’m sorry I started a fight. And for being so angry. That was uncalled for.”

He did want all this to be right with them. Both of them. Two of his brothers he’s learned to love. And with that love comes many sacrifices.

“You don’t have to be sorry for being angry.”

“Would you like more hot cocoa?” The waitress came in with a pitcher. Tim declined, and she left.

He stared at the empty cup and rolled his lips.

“Yeah, I… I kinda do.”

Further into the day, the less people there were in the diner. And with that came more silence. There were half the people in there than when they’d first arrived. Soon enough, they’ll be the only ones left.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Then, without even a word, Dick and Tim turned over to Jason.

They didn’t expect him to apologize, or even say anything for that matter, possibly for the rest of the night.

But Jason shrugged, looked up at both of them in the eye, and he nodded. It was enough for them both to know what he meant.

Jason:

Get this over with. As quick as they possibly could. But he should know by now that this was going to take time. With how difficult it was. This wasn’t going to end any better than when they’d started if they rush through.

Jason took a sip out of his coffee and leaned his arms over on the table. Still, he didn’t take off his hoodie, as if he was going to take off not long from then.

“I don’t exactly know where to start,” Dick said. “But I think we should put this out there now.”

Neither of them looked him in the eye. He and Tim both stared at their cups as if it were any interesting.

“I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong. I’m just saying what I think is best.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said. “Just go on.”

This was harder than when they had to help out the League face Brainiac. And that certainly was something.

“I love Y/N.”

Okay. Wasn’t what he thought Dick would say. But okay.

“Tim loves her, too.”

Shit. Alright. So that’s what this motherfucker thinks he’s doing.

“And I for sure as hell know, that you love her as well, Jason-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason’s voice was deep, controlled, and as monotonous as he forced it to be. Without a flick of a lie or a speck of truth, as they both would have easily picked up if they listened to him hard enough. That is, if it worked. Which it probably hadn’t.

“We don’t know who she wants…” Dick said. “And frankly, I don’t think she does, too. At least for now.”

“It could be any of us.” Tim didn’t take his sight away from the blankness of the white table’s surface.

He can't take this. No. He never should have opened that text. This was a bad idea.

Y/N will choose one of them. Not him. Not when he was the one who fell in love with her far too late, realized just how perfectly imperfect and how she managed to be this little bundle of happiness for him that he never could find in another. Someone whose presence he yearned for on the days when he thought nothing could be okay. He realized all that when too late, when his brothers already cemented their places and have already gone out of their way to win her love. And, on top of all that, he was the one he didn’t have a close friendship as a ground for something to lean onto. They weren’t close. Not like she was with Tim. Not even with Dick.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason stood up from his seat with his cup half finished. “I’m leaving.”

“Jason-“

“Dick, I want no part of this-“

“You can deny it all you want, but what if she chooses you?”

“She won't choose me. That’s the point-“

“Everyone knows that’s just as much of a possibility than everything else. It didn’t even take much time, and already you’ve wooed her. You think we didn’t notice that?”

Jason stopped and faced the counter, away from his brothers.

“Just sit down.”

“Dick-“

“I know this hurts but what if she actually does choose you-“

“I don’t love her.”

“You do. And she might love you back.”

No. Don’t bring his hopes up like this. This fucking-

“And if she does, are you really going to turn her down?”

Jason closed his eyes. He had nothing to say.

“No matter what Tim and I do, if it’s you she wants, then it’s you who’ll make her happy. Do you honestly think I believe you won't at least take that chance?”

Nothing. No voices whispering into his conscience to fuck everything and leave. Nothing that told him what to do, much less what to say.

He just knew that whatever he was, it wasn’t nearly as strong as that one pull that forced him back on his seat.

This shitshow already hurts as it is. What’s a little more?

Tim:

There’s a chance for all of them.

That’s what has always been so hard for him to understand. Never would he have thought it to be true, but it was.

They were both good men, good people, and if he were honest, he’d admit to Y/N being lucky if she were ever to choose one of his brothers in the end. He never, ever wanted to admit that. Not even now.

But for so long, he’s ignored the fact that those choices might be for her happiness, for what she deserves, and that might not always be about Tim. That whatever it was he wouldn’t admit to himself didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Y/N smiles like no other with Dick and no one else understood her like Jason. Even if Tim were her best friend, even if they had together from the very beginning, even if he probably loved her the most. It won't be about that.

So he has to accept all this.

And if it meant her happiness, then that hurt will be a lot easier to deal with.

“He’s right,” he said, and his two older brothers looked up at him.

“I’ve always thought you two… Well, I wish I was in your place. Not always. But, right now I do.”

They were confused to say the least. They didn’t look like they understood. Tim was the one who got to be with her, had years of calling her his love, had her love in return and have her actually show it the same way he did.

But that was just that. He had her. And now he didn’t. Because of him. Because he had her and was stupid enough to let her go, something neither of his brothers would have done if they were him.

And he wanted to laugh at the looks of both their faces. They didn’t have to say anything at all, but he understood. They envied each other in so many other ways, too complicated to map out. Because they’ve all done their own grievances, done so much that they regret.

Which is why this had to happen. Because no one knew what was going to happen next.

“I know it’s hard for all of us…” Dick said. Tim stared out at the window to see the start of the cold evening. “But we’re brothers. I don’t know about you both, but I don’t want this to tear us all apart.”

It already did, he wanted to say.

But it might not be true. It might not be too late. This brotherhood could still be salvaged. And in a way, it might be worth all that hurt.

“The last few weeks have been hard… for all of us… taken its toll on the rest of the family. And we’ve worked too hard on each other. I don’t…” Dick swallowed. “I don’t want to lose Y/N, but I don’t want to lose both of you either.”

It was easier for him to shut his eyes closed.

Neither do I, Tim thought.

“But… Y/N deserves to be happy… We’ve put her through too much.

“And if it means being with the one she loves, one of us, then so be it. We’re done making her decisions. We don’t decide between the three of us. If she wants to choose, then she gets to choose. And we won't have a say in any of it. She decides if it’s one or none of us at all. She deserves this.”

Jason finished his coffee. He no longer sat so stiff.

Tim sat back on his chair and stared out the window.

“And whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. As brothers. We’ll have each other. It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

That cold night of late November had the first snowdrop of the year. It was light, subtle, and one would have missed it if they weren’t looking out for too long. But they saw it, and never had something so gentle calm what used to be this rageful storm, not since Y/N.

They hadn’t spoken another word in that diner. But for many hours, they stayed.

They continued to wait for many months. They were patient.

October. November. December. January passed.

And on that day of the second week of February, a day Y/N once loved and hated at different times, they put an end to that waiting.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: I honestly can’t wait for the finale. AHHHH

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ketchupqueenboiiii · 3 years

Text

Death

A/N: Some swearing, and kind of rushed.

@maribatmarch-2k21

Beat up and broken Jason Todd in the warehouse Joker left him, pathetic. He helplessly looks around and sees twenty seconds on the timer. Which would have been time enough for him to escape if he was still in good shape. Then he hears voice and looks over to see a girl who seems to be glowing.

Not something a regular person sees everyday, but, as Robin, it's nothing too hard to believe.

"Who are you?" The most practical question he could come up with.

"I am Marinette." She didn't elaborate.

"What are you?"

She hesitated, looking off thoughtfully, like she was deciding how she would answer, "Not mortal."

"So you're an angel?" He said before he could stop himself. It would check out though, she's what you would think an angel would look like, white clothes, nice face, somehow glowing. All she's missing is the wings

She huffs, face grimacing in confusion and affrontedness, "Of course not. Angels do not exist."

"Well, excuse me." That's not very politically correct.

Neither spoke, Jason tried to be sizing her up with a glare and she just stood there starring right back.

"So, how'd you get in? Last I checked, there ain't another exit than the door." He looked over to it, "Which is locked."

"You are correct. There is only a door. But I came because I was summoned."

"Summoned? Mhm, cause that doesn't sound like absolute bull." He looked at her skeptically.

"Your end is near. I must be present." She stepped closer to him and in turn he scooted farther away.

"Ah, so you're the Grim reaper. Mhm, sure."

"I am not Death, that is my father." The fuck?

"Ok, so you're clearly crazy. Why don't you just show me how you got in so I can get out." He dealt with enough crazy for one night, thank you.

"I can't do that." Now she has to be difficult, because why the hell not? What ever force controlling the universe must be shitting their pants as they laugh at Jason's life.

"And why not?"

"I am not to meddle with Fate. Not even if I tried. Everything happens for a reason, and it's Fate's job to know that reason." She's really into her story.

"Ok, fine, so you're the child of death, that means you're here to guide me to wherever the fuck I'm cursed to, right?" He might as well entertain the conversation.

"No."

"No?" dear lord, Jason didn't have the patience for this chick. "Then what the hell are you here to do?"

"I represent Life, all of it." She could give Bruce a run for his money with that level of crypticness.

"That seems a little contradictory."

"Yes, well, my mother is goddess of fortune and chance. It was no surprise that my birth was one against the odds." She made her way to him and he moved back until his bruised back painfully hit the wall. She helped him sit up properly. He would have told her to fuck off if he wasn't in his current state. "I am patroness of everything in life and alive. From your first breath to your last."

"That doesn't explain why your here. As far I know, I'm closer to being dead then alive."

"As life, I am present in every mortal life."

"That's a lot of stops. There's no way you can do that, not even a speedster could."

"Haven't you noticed?" She tilted her head innocently, like how the younger street kids did to guilt adults into giving them their pocket change.

"Noticed what?"

"Look around you." He did, what's there to see but a crappy warehouse- oh, everything stopped. He couldn't hear the dripping of water, and he was sure that was a droplet mid-fall across from him. He hadn't even noticed. Even though the adrenaline wore off minutes ago, the fact that he was dying finally caught up to him. He started to breathe hard and his hands felt especially numb; to the point he was sure she noticed.

How could he be so distracted? The world had stopped and he didn't realize until now. It's probably the reason he's in this situation. He deserved this fate, Bruce probably wouldn't even-

"Bruce will mourn, Jason. And a death such as this one is not one you deserve." How did she- was she in his head?

"How they hell do you know that?"

"Lives like yours are frequently monitored. The neutral, who have done equally good and bad, are not. Kind of like bookmarking, we move on to watch others but make sure to remember you." She was falling out of that proper, airy routine. Jason found it slightly less obnoxious.

"That doesn't explain jack-"

"You started to ramble and hyperventilate and shake and, and I had to do something." She rambled on herself, flustered and looking away, likely out of embarrassment. She even blushed.

Once she calmed her flaming cheeks, she spoke again, "I have come here to comfort you in your last seconds of life."

His amused eyes changed to glaring ones, "I don't need comfort."

"Something I like to do is stick around with mortals who have actively done good or bad. Enough to get them in to the Fields of Reward or the Isle of Penalty." That sounds a lot like what he had learned in Social Studies, the Greek gods and their definition of after life. And if he's right, he could be spending the eternity in with some old minced god or in paradise. Jason didn't know if he wanted to be told his fate.

"...Which am I?" Apparently, his lips weren't in jurisdiction of his already poor impulse control.

"You, Jason Todd, the second Robin, will achieve entry to the Fields of Reward. As all heroes do."

"All heroes?" He's pretty sure no one else in the JL died.

"Heroes, the people who did well for their cause. You are a hero, and you will be remembered as one."

"Aren't the good guys supposed to die will honor, or after retirement? They'd get statues and holidays named after them. I'm just a street rat who got lucky-"

She surprised him by hugging him.

"Um, excuse, me?" Hugs weren't very common in the Wayne household, he could count on three fingers how many times Bruce hugged him.

"As I said before, Jason, you will be mourned and you will be remembered. By your father and your brother. And all else who have been affected in your path." She whispered to him, her weight feeling like nothing more than a gust of wind on his body.

"They are not-"

"We both know you consider them so." Fucking weird pretty angel-gods and their fucking ability to read people-

He was silent. She moved over to his side against the concrete wall and held his hand. He tensed, for a second then calmed himself.

"Are you ready?" She whispered, voice threatening to crack. This was always the worst part. Seeing them die, especially such a good one, so brutally. And the heartbroken looks on their family's faces. She sensed his father nearby, on his vehicle, stuck in place yet still seconds too late.

"...yeah." He answered, just as quiet. He understood that this was it. The death of Jason Todd. At least he'd go out with a bang.

Oh gods, it was way too early to joke about his death.

Time came back to speed, 5 seconds. 4 seconds.

3 seconds.

"They love you, Jason." She said, leaning her head just over his dislocated shoulder.

2 seconds.

"Are you sure you're ready?" She asked.

1 second.

"No."

BOOM!

#maribat march #maribat #jasonette #death

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter One

Everyone had thought that Marinette was crazy for choosing Gotham as the first city in America to accept a high-profile job, specifically a job that would require her in person. Despite all of the logical arguments against it, however, Marinette could feel it in her bones that this was where she was supposed to be. It felt like divine intervention beyond that of the usual kwami antics in her life.

At that very moment, though, she had never wanted to curse the universe more.

She tore through the unfamiliar streets, heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to shout his name, scream it from the rooftops, but she knew all too well justs how dangerous that would be. After all, she’d only just barely gotten away from the Scarecrow herself.

“Tikki, where is he?” Marinette whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “I can’t lose him, I just…”

“We will find him, Marinette,” she said, determined. “He can’t have gone far, and he knows how to keep himself safe. You’re still emotional from the fear toxin.”

“But Gotham is so dangerous! I knew I should have left him home.”

The kwami did her best to comfort the guardian, but she felt the same desperation growing with every minute.

“He wouldn’t have gone this far, Tikki, what if he-”

“Maman!”

As she whipped around, Marinette’s frantic, fear-toxin addled mind locked onto two facts: her precious son was alive and well, and he was in the clutches of a costumed man.

She felt her heart rate spike, and everything she had learned and experienced as Ladybug boiled down to this one moment. In short, the man never stood a chance.

“Ma’am, I-”

As the stranger spoke, Marinette pivoted on her right heel, her left heel colliding with the man’s jaw with a sickening crunch. It was too fast for the average eye to see, and the man was felled in a moment, going down with a strangled grunt.

Gathering Leo into her arms, she sprinted away, heartbeat still hammering in her chest.

“Maman, he’s nice,” Leo said in French. “He helped me, we were looking for you. He’s a hero, like Ladybug.”

“Marinette, you really need to go make sure he’s okay!” Tikki said, distressed. “If you explain about the fear toxin, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Finally her feet began to falter, the exercise further clearing the toxin from her mind. She squeezed Leo in her arms, horror mounting. “Oh no. I just roundhouse kicked one of Gotham’s vigilantes, didn’t I?”

“I think so, Marinette.”

It felt like a walk of shame, but when she made it back to the vigilante, he had at least propped himself up against a nearby wall. He was groaning, clutching his jaw.

“Excuse me, Monsieur?” she said hesitantly. “I, uh, I’m the one who ki- oh no, is your jaw dislocated? I am so sorry! I didn’t- I mean, I just, there was fear toxin from Scarecrow, and I’m not from Gotham, and I was so worried about my son, and… I’ll stop talking now. I’ve fixed dislocated jaws before. May I help you?”

The vigilante - through process of elimination, he must be Red Robin - stared up at her with wide eyes. He didn’t exactly say no, so Marinette kneeled down beside him.

“The pain will get a lot better once I’m done,” she promised, discreetly harnessing the barest traces of magic to help this go smoothly. She’d done this for Chat Noir more than once, and as Guardian of the Miraculous, she had access to more than a little bit of healing magic. Red Robin looked more uneasy by the second, so Marinette just went for it.

Sliding her fingers into the right position, she pushed down on his back teeth, simultaneously guiding his jaw back up into place, a burst of magic taking the brunt of the pain from him.

Red Robin jerked backwards, working his jaw a few times. “Thank you?”

“I am so sorry!” Marinette repeated, standing and offering a hand to help up the vigilante. “There will still be a bruise for a few days. I promise I don’t make a habit of kicking vigilantes in the face.”

He stood with her help, only looking a little dizzy. “Don’t worry about it, there were extenuating circumstances. If you don’t mind me asking, though, where are you from? If Gotham’s civilians were half as deadly as you are, our streets would be a lot safer.”

“Paris, sir. My son Leo and I just arrived here tonight, actually. We were on our way to our hotel when we were caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks and I told him to run and hide. Does that mean you found him?”

“Yes ma’am. You have a very well-behaved son,” he said, careful to keep his posture as harmless as possible. “And while you are obviously a capable defender, it would help me put my mind at ease if you let me walk you to where you’re staying.”

She hoisted Leo up into her arms, the familiar weight soothing her. “Are you sure you want to? I very nearly broke your jaw five minutes ago.”

“And you put everything back where it should be. Now where are you staying?

*************************

Tim couldn’t deny that he was intrigued by the woman in front of him. Not to mention she was attractive, but doubtlessly married. Anyone that wonderful in general had to be taken.

What he fixated on, though, was her skill. Thinking her child was in danger would definitely be grounds for an adrenaline rush, but her movements were too controlled and practiced for it to be a fluke. Tim couldn’t have dodged her if he had tried. He didn’t think any of his brothers could have either, maybe not even Bruce.

She was staying in a nicer hotel in Gotham, owned by Bruce, of course. When they arrived, Tim couldn’t stop himself from lingering in front of the hotel longer than strictly necessary, trying to do something, anything to understand the woman before him. He stayed in the shadows until they were out of sight, and even then he stayed a while yet, staring at where she had stood.

The rest of his patrol was short, and he got back home about the same time as the others. When he slipped in, Jason was in the middle of telling Dick a story.

“-and so I went in thinking it would be a normal hostage situation, but no. Right before I can get in, the door flies open and this girl runs out like a bat out of hell. She just vanishes into the night without a trace. I go in and the Riddler is already trussed up like a pig for the slaughter. I swear, I could marry that girl.”

“Was she French?” Tim demanded, blatantly eavesdropping.

Jason turned to meet his eyes, scrutinizing his brother. “And how would you know that, replacement?”

“I ran into her after that. She has a kid, and I found him. She dislocated my jaw when she thought I was trying to take him.”

Damian snorted. “Did she damage your delicate ego along with your delicate face?”

“Isn’t it your bedtime?” Tim fired back. “After all, it is a school night and we know how much you need your beauty sleep.”

“She really dislocated your jaw?” Dick asked, looking thoughtful.

“With a roundhouse kick. She put it back into place too.”

“Not just anyone can do that. Maybe we need to keep a closer eye on this girl.”

“We can do some research tomorrow,” Bruce said, appearing out of thin air. “Go to sleep, all of you. Tomorrow we have the meeting with MDC and we need to make a good impression. Tim, that includes you. No more caffeine until you’ve had at least six hours of sleep.”

Normally Tim would have chafed under Bruce’s orders - he was a grown man and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, after all. But for once he felt like he could actually sleep, without nightmares, even.

He was meeting his favorite fashion designer tomorrow, after all. For some reason his thoughts were consumed by a certain French woman, however. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he idly wondered what color her eyes were.

A/N: I'd never really experienced being baby-hungry before, and then quarantine happened and I wasn't able to see my nieces and nephews for over a month. During that time a good number of my friends announced that they were pregnant, and I miss being surrounded by children. This is super self-indulgent, so I don't really take criticism. If this isn't your cup of tea, move along. Also don't be surprised if you see more kid fics coming your way. I have had entirely too much time missing the children in my life, so I also have a Daminette thing partially written, and several other ideas screaming at me. If you want to be tagged, let me know!

#timinette #maribat #marinette x tim

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fearfulkittenwrites · 3 years

Text

With one last breath in me (I’d die before I’d let you leave)

Word Count: 8053

Notes: Hey @river-bottom-nightmare! I hope you enjoy this! I tried my best to make it angsty but I always go overboard with the fluff on these two. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you’ll have fun reading it too!

“Superboy, to your left!” Robin says.

Jon uses his laser eyes to destroy the robots, before moving back to Robin’s side, running with him for the exit.

“You have the data?” He asks.

“Who am I, Red Robin?” He shoots back, smirking as he shakes the flashdrive in front of him “Of course I have the data.”

“That was fast.”

“I am fast.” Robin says, using his batarangs to make a hole on the wall ahead of them.

“Careful,” Superboy smiles, picking him up by the armpits and flying them out of the twentieth floor “You almost sound like Flash now.”

“That’s preposterous.” Robin rolls his eyes as his feet carefully reach the ground, patting the dust out of his costume.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks, scanning his friend like his father had recently taught him to.

“I’m fine. Are you?” Damian grunts, rearranging his cape.

“Yeah, I’m okay. But I think we should go before that becomes a problem.” Jon points at the building they just left, with a reasonably sized burning hole on it’s side.

“Great point.” Robin raises an eyebrow at the mess they’ve made.

Jon picks him up by his armpits again, over Damian’s protests.

“Put me down, you wild beast!” He flails around “You’re going to dislocate my shoulders!”

“What do you suggest then? We need to get home!” Jon says. Damian thinks for a second, before sighing.

“Fine. Put me on your back.” He says, resigning to his fate.

Jon doesn’t need to land to throw him over his shoulders, going faster now that Damian was more secure. Robin blushed with the ease that he had been placed on his friends back, wrapping his arms and legs around Superboy’s torso. They still had fifteen minutes to go, so he rests his head against Jon’s back, examining the flashdrive. Jon blushes when he feels Damian’s hair ticking the back of his neck. They reach their HQ after twenty minutes of a comfortable flight. Robin doesn’t complain about the added travel time.

Damian walks to the computer, analyzing the data they had just stolen, downloading whatever seemed interesting and relevant before he could take it back to the cave for further research under his father’s critical eyes.

“Hey, Dami,” Jon calls. Damian freezes at the nickname, and tries his best to disguise it as he feels Jon’s hand on his shoulder “Do you think you have it covered? I kinda really need a shower right now.”

“Go ahead.” Damian’s voice comes out a bit higher than normal. He clears his throat “You wouldn’t be of much use for me right now anyways.”

Jon takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.” He pulls his hand back “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

Yes, he did. In the shower. And Damian was trying really hard not to picture him there. And he was trying really hard not to think of how nice Jon’s hair must feel when it’s wet and being shampooed. And he tries even harder not to think of how even nicer it must be to have Jon’s hands massaging his scalp for him. And he tries really hard not to think of how much he wants Jon to tangle his fingers into his hair and play with it as he drifts off to sleep. And he doesn’t even know why it is that he needs to try so hard not to think about it.

“I won’t be needing you, Kent.” Damian says “Have a nice shower. You stink.”

“Whatever.” Jon says again, rolling his eyes one more time.

...

“What’s with the face, D?” Jon asks, sitting across his friend at the lunch table.

Damian takes another bite out of the sandwich Alfred had carefully crafted in the morning and frowns harder as he watches a girl sit down next to Jon, followed by her friend. He was almost sure one of them was Delilah, but it might as well be Janet. Jon is – as always – smiling, but the two girls aren’t. Understandably so. Damian didn’t exactly make an effort to be liked.

“So, which class do you have next?” Jon insists.

“Chemistry.” Damian answers.

“Oh, I hate chemistry.” Jon says, overreacting, trying to keep the conversation alive.

“I used to find it rather fascinating. Of course, that was back when I was with mother and being taught something actually useful and challenging, and not now, when I’m forced to go through this with a bunch of functional idiots that can’t even remember the formula for the air that they breathe.” Damian says.

“Huh.” Jon says, tapping the table and bouncing his leg. Damian rolls his eyes.

“Yeah.” The girl – maybe her name was Jessica – says, turning to Jon “Hey, have you seen the soccer game last night? Man, I could barely stay still!”

“Me neither!” Jon says, enthusiastically chattering on about a game Damian had neither seen or been interested in with the girls.

He tunes out the conversation until he finishes his sandwich and leaves without a word, but enough noise to catch a few eyes. Not that he cared.

“Excuse me for a second.” Jon says to the girls, before sprinting after Damian “Hey, D, wait up!” He says, placing his hand on Damian’s shoulder again, forcing him to turn. He wills himself not to blush when he faces his blue-eyed friend “What’s going on? Did something happen? You seem a little down today.”

“Nothing happened, Kent.” Damian spits out “I have a class to attend. Go back to talking about football with your friends.”

“It’s actually soccer, but-”

“Doesn’t matter.” Damian turns around “Americans” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way through the halls, leaving Jon very confused, a little worried, and a little angry.

Damian keeps rubbing and scratching his right shoulder through the day, remembering Jon’s hand forcefully spinning him on his heels. He can’t understand why he wishes it was still there.

The rest of Damian’s classes go by at an agonizingly slow pace, and when he’s finally free to go home, he once again feels a hand grabbing him on the hallways. Jon holds him by his left forearm, and Damian stares down at his friends grip in surprise. His arm is covered by his clothing, but it still feels like it’s on fire under the other’s fingers. Surprisingly, Damian finds that he doesn’t really want to pull away. He drags his eyes up, meeting his friend’s.

“Dami, did I do something? You haven’t talked to me all day.”

Damian frowns.

“You didn’t do anything, Kent.” He pulls his arm back, harsher than he needs to be “Leave me alone at once, I need to go home.”

“Oh, c’mon Damian.” Jon walks beside him. Damian wants to punch him in the face “Don’t be like that. We’ve been friends for such a long time, you can tell me anything.”

“Great. I’m telling you to leave.” Damian shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You’re so rude, Damian.” Jon says.

“Oh look, there’s Pennyworth.” Damian says, monotone and sarcastic “I would hate to keep him waiting. Goodbye.”

Damian walks faster, getting away from a huffing, frustrated Jon, while waving at Alfred. He replies with a polite nod and a small smile. When Damian gets in the car, ready to cuss up a storm on his way home, a friendly face greets him.

“Hey Dami.” Dick says, smiling, sunglasses on “So, I take it school sucked today.”

“Very much so.” Damian dares to open a small smile as he settles in next to Dick “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, missed you too, happy to see you’re safe.” Dick teases.

“Yes, sure, I’m glad you’re back from your mission, alive and in one piece.” Damian rolls his eyes “Not like I had any doubts you’d come home safe.”

“I’m here because I missed you.” Dick says, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair “But Bruce wouldn’t let me come alone, says there are too many bruises to be questioned, so I had to stay in the car.” Dick removed his shades to expose a nasty black eye, so swollen Damian could barely see the blue in them. He was taken aback by that, finally noticing all of the other injuries Dick hid so well; there was a healing cut close to his hairline, a splint in his left hand and a deep purple bruise poked out of his collar, probably hinting at a much bigger nightmare underneath.

“I can see why.” Damian says as Dick puts his shades back on. The boy stops for a second, thinking “Can I still hug you?”

Dick has the biggest smile on his face at that.

“Of course you can, little D.” He says, opening his arms “Just mind the hip, I think I might’ve fractured it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Damian replies, already burying his face in his brother’s neck. He hadn’t realised how much he missed Dick when he was away.

“Now,” Dick starts as they separate “Wanna tell me what’s gotten you so down?”

“I’m not-” Damian gasps, outraged for a split second, putting up all of the walls he always did before he remembered this was his brother. He sighs, shoulders falling as he does so “I... Jonathan is getting on my nerves.” Damian rubs his left forearm, curling protectively over it.

“Did he hurt you?” Dick asks, reaching out for his arm.

“No, it’s not that.” Damian answers, sighing, letting his brother check under his sleeve for bruises “It’s his friends, that Denise, or Jennifer or whatever. Following him around talking about ‘soccer’.” He makes a face “And of course, since he insists on following me, I am forced to listen to that... annoying little voice, blabbering on about meaningless subjects.”

“Hm.” Dick listens with a smirk “Y’know, it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

Damian huffs.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it though?” Dick squints a bit.

“Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

“Yes you did.”

“Kids, please, no more yelling.” Alfred says.

Damian huffs.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I was only teasing you.” Dick says “But, um, just in case I was right, then... you do know it’s okay, right?”

“You were not right, so it doesn’t matter. Now leave me alone already.” Damian looks out the window, frowning.

“Okay, okay, I’ll back off.” Dick says, putting his hands up.

“Good.” He shoots back. There are a few minutes of silence before the kid speaks up “When will you be able to go on patrol with us again?”

Dick frowns.

“Tonight?”

And there it is, the string of curses Damian had been holding back on, bullying Dick hard enough to get him to stay at home for at least a week.

...

“So... the school dance is coming.” Jon says over Damian’s shoulder.

“And you are bringing this up because?” Damian grunts, searching the room for any other crooks that could be hiding.

“Because this is boring.” Jon replies, grabbing a hidden guy by the back of his neck “And I was wondering if you’re going.” He shoves the guy to Damian, who hits him with a perfect nerve strike to keep him down for a while.

“-tt-.” Damian rolls his eyes, walking to the next room “As if I would be willingly joining those stupid peasants for an evening.” He takes down two men while Jon leans against a door frame.

“Wow, okay.” He says “Forget I asked anything.”

“Why? Are you going?” Damian scoffs.

“Yes.”

Damian looks at him in disbelief and disgust.

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.” Jon rolls his eyes “And there are three more guys coming from the hall, I can hear their heartbeats.” Damian attacks before they reach the door “And Elise invited me. I think I might say yes.”

“What?” Damian scowls “You can’t-” He dodges a punch “A little help?” He growls at Jon, who sends a laser beam into the man’s foot “As I was saying, you can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because! It’s preposterous!” Damian yells, knocking down the last guy.

“Well, I don’t think so. I think it will be fun.” Jon says, making his way out of the place “And the police are near. We should be on our way.”

“I’m not allowing you.”

“You’re not the boss of me, Damian.” Jon rolls his eyes.

“You have patrol.” Damian shoots back.

“I can miss a day of patrol.” He crosses his arms “Just stay with your family for the night. Besides, hasn’t Nightwing just gotten back from a long mission overseas? Just spend more time with him, I’m sure you two miss each other a lot.”

“That’s besides the point!” Damian stomped his foot “You’re gonna leave me all alone for that... weird football girl.”

“Once again, soccer.”

“Ugh! Whatever!” Damian exclaims “I’m going home. Since you can’t take this seriously enough, I believe we should call it a night.”

“Robin, c’mon, don’t be such an ass.”

Damian clenched his jaw.

“Go back to Metropolis, Superboy. Gotham clearly doesn’t have a good enough soccer league for you.”

Damian shoots his grapple gun, letting it pull him to the top of a random building.

“Agh! You’re so frustrating sometimes!” Jon yells, shoving his hands in his hair.

After Damian sees the boy leaving, he sits on the edge of the building, feet dangling down. He picks up his comm, switching it to a private line.

“Nightwing,” He calls “Are you awake?”

It takes a while, but after a small static noise, Dick picks up. Damian sighs in relief.

“Hey.” He answers “I’m up. Is everything okay?”

“It’s... fine.” He sighs “I think...” He blushes “I think that you were right.” He looks down at his dangling feet “I think I did hesitate.”

There’s silence for a short while. Dick knows this is as close as Robin gets to crying.

“Where are you?” Dick asks “I’m picking you up.”

...

Back home and under weighted blankets, Damian held on to a cup of hot cocoa Alfred had made for him while Dick ruffled his hair.

“Feeling better little D?” He asks, sitting down next to him. Damian sniffles a little.

“Not really.” He admits, staring at the steaming liquid in his green mug “I don’t understand. Why does it feel like I’m... like I’m dying?” He looks up at his older brother with watered eyes.

“I don’t know, Dames.” Dick replied gently “Maybe if you talk to me about what happened, I could help.”

Damian sighs, putting the mug down and hugging his knees.

“Her name is Elise.” Damian starts “The annoying girl I was talking about. And... he’s taking her to the school dance.” He closes his eyes for a second “I don’t understand. He’s... above her. Why would he subject himself to such a humiliating situation?”

“Why do you think he’s above her?” Dick frowns a little.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I think you might be forgetting that his mom is human too.” Dick replies “I don’t think he-”

“No. God no. You misunderstand me.” Damian interrupts “It’s not the human part that’s the problem. It’s the way she is. Such an annoying waste of space and matter.”

Dick tries his best to conceal his smile.

“Little D... you feel like you’re dying because you’re jealous.” Dick says. This time, Damian doesn’t protest “And it’s fine. It’s part of life.”

“But I don’t want to feel like that.” He says, hiding his face in himself.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s a possibility.” Dick smiles.

“How do I make it stop?” Damian asks.

“You could try asking Jon to go with you instead.”

“Never!” He hisses back “I’m not taking part in such dreadful events.”

“Oh, c’mon, what could be the worst that could happen?” Dick responds “Some harmless fun?” He teases “Oh no! The mighty Robin is afraid of music and watered down poncho!”

“Quit it Richard.” He growls “I’m not going and that’s final.”

...

“I don’t understand.” Jon says, burying his face in his hands “He’s just so... difficult.”

Clark watched attentively as his son stared at his slice of pie, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“It’s like he doesn’t want me to be happy.” He frowns “I had no clue he hated me this much.”

“He doesn’t hate you Jon.” Clark says, gentle eyes scanning his son “We both know that Damian’s family life is... complicated. He cares about you very much, but has a hard time expressing it. He never really learned how to express it.”

“Yeah, well, remind me again of why I put up with it.” He complains, shoving a bite of pie into his mouth “It’s not like it’s my responsibility to teach him how to be a decent human being.” Clark waits patiently as his son finishes chewing “I mean... it’s so unfair. Why do I have to keep on... getting hurt by his mean words and he gets to just... walk away and have fun with his siblings? He was the one being rude and now I’m the one that’s upset.”

“Uh, I’m sure Kon would love to patrol with you, if that’s the issue.” Clark tries, unsure on what to say. God, he wished Lois was home. She was the one that knew what to do in situations like these.

“Ugh, dad, no.” He presses his temples with the palm of his hands “I mean that like... I have to carry around this weight that he puts on my shoulders! And it’s not fair.” He sighed “Why did I have to fall for someone who treats me so badly?”

Clark blushes at the words, unsure on what to say. These topics always made him a bit uneasy. But there was his boy, his little miracle, teary eyed and hurt, and for once in his life, there was nothing he could do about it. He reaches out a hand to his son.

“I don’t know, son.” He starts, holding Jon’s small hand in his “We can’t really control the desires of our hearts. Especially not at your age.” He smiles.

“I wish I could.” He mumbles, letting tears fall out of his eyes.

“I know.” Clark replies “We all do.”

“It feels like the world is ending right now.” Jon sobs “Like nothing matters anymore.”

“I know.” Clark moves to sit next to his son, hugging the boy “But I promise you it’s not ending.” He gently rubbed his arms as silent tears fell from his boy’s eyes “Everything seems so much bigger when we’re young. But this bad feeling will fade away, I promise you. Just give it time.”

Jon nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

“Do you think I should talk to him?” Jon asks “I could... tell him how I feel?”

“I think that could be good.” Clark swallows “But... remember who he is. Damian might not be as kind as you would if he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jon sighs “But it’d be nice to put something of mine on his shoulders for once.”

...

The next day, Damian doesn’t go to school. Jon spends the entire day anxious, wondering why his friend was allowed to skip class. Was he sick? Was he upset? Was he sent on a mission away from home? Was he dead? Oh no. If he was dead, then how was Jon supposed to confess his love? Wait. No, this wouldn’t be the worst part of him being dead. Jesus, Jon, come on.

At night, he can’t contain himself anymore. They weren’t supposed to patrol together, but Jon suits up and flies to Gotham regardless, heart beating desperately in his chest as he lands close by the cave’s secret entrance. He walks in, hoping he’d need to ask for Robin’s whereabouts, but instead he finds him as soon as he walks in, analyzing fresh samples in the batcomputer.

“Damian?” He calls “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here, Superboy?” Damian growls in response.

“I was worried.” Jon says “You weren’t at school today.”

“Very perceptive of you.” Damian rolls his eyes.

“I thought you were sick.” Jon crosses his arms, walking towards his friend “But clearly that isn’t the problem.”

“Stop scanning me.” Damian scowls.

“Stop being such an ass!” Jon shouts back “I’m here because I care about you, and you still say rude and mean things!”

“I didn’t ask you to come!”

“Well, but I’m here! And you could at least try to be polite!” Jon stomps his foot down.

“Did you come here to yell at me? Are you done already?” Damian asks, finally turning his entire body to face the boy, walking towards him as well.

“No! I came here to see if you needed help.” Jon replies “But you can’t help yourself, can you? You need to push away people that care about you.”

“Great. I don’t need help.” Damian replies, walking back to the computer “You’re done around here. Have a safe fly home.”

“What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this, Damian?” Jon asks, frowning.

“Because I still feel your touch on me!” Damian shouts, turning around to face the other, ripping away his mask. There are tears gathered in his jade eyes. They break Jon’s resolve and they break Jon’s heart “Because even after you leave, your scent is burned into my nostrils and I can still feel you, everywhere!” Damian shoves his gloved hands into his hair “And for the first time in ages, I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know what this means, and I don’t know why I keep on feeling like my entire body is on fire when I’m next to you, why it feels so cold when you’re away, and why every bone in my body feels like they are breaking simultaneously when I see you next to someone that isn’t me!”

And then, the unthinkable finally happens.

Damian sobs.

He covers his mouth just in time, but the pained, loud sound still reaches Jon’s ears, and he feels it; the pain Damian just talked about, shattering every unbreakable bone in his half-kryptonian body. He watches as Robin falls to his knees in front of him, crying, crying so much it scares him. Because to this very day, Jon was certain that Robins didn't cry. Superboy had been warned of that several times.

No, Robins don’t cry.

But Damian does.

“D, I...” He reaches out a hand, crouching in front of him.

“No!” Damian yells, slapping his friends hand away “Don’t. Stay away from me! I don’t want to keep on getting hurt.”

“Dami, I don’t-”

“Don’t call me that!” Damian pushes Jon back, forcing him to stand up “Don’t call me that when you don’t mean it!”

“Please, just listen to me!”

“Leave me alone! Get away from me! Get out of here before I make you!” Damian keeps shouting out over Jon’s words.

“Damian, please-”

“Leave!” Damian reaches into his boot, pulling out a shard of kryptonite “I will not stand in your way any more, Kent.”

Jon puts his hands in front of his body, staring at him and at the green stone and he feels sick. He’s not sure if that’s on the kryptonite or if that’s on... everything else. Finally, he flies away, whispering his goodbyes and his apologies. If he cried on the way home, no one had to know. If he cried on his father’s shoulder when he got home, no one had to know. If his mom had to help him out of his costume and into bed after he calmed down, no one had to know.

And if Damian broke down and cried until his voice was hoarse and he ran out of tears, no one had to know. And if Dick rushed downstairs and held Damian’s small body against his own, no one had to know. And if his father had found them and caressed his hair and cupped his cheek with concerned eyes, no one had to know.

Because life would go on, no matter what. It had to, no matter how much pain there would be. It had to keep moving, no matter how heartbroken Jon was when he didn’t see Damian at school for the following week, only to find out he had been transferred to Gotham High. It had to, no matter how Damian’s body seemed to refuse to move on his first day in his new school. It had to. It simply had to. There were things to learn, people to protect, dances to attend, a world to save, and none of those were willing to wait on Robin or Superboy.

...

“I can’t go.” Jon says “I’m sorry, but I really can’t go to the dance with you Elise.”

“What?” Elise says “The dance is tomorrow Jon! Who am I supposed to go with?”

“I’m sorry.” He says again “I know that I should’ve said something sooner, but... something came up.” He scratches the back of his head “Something that I can’t miss.”

“And what exactly is that?” She crosses her arms, upset.

“Well...” He shoves his hands in his pockets “A chance to make some things right.”

...

Robin sits on the highest tower in Gotham. Nightwing sits by his side. He looks down at his own dangling feet. The dance in metropolis high was happening as they sat there. Damian couldn’t understand why he still felt a knot in his guts. He hadn’t been able to eat properly before patrol, but he also wasn’t hungry at all. He hasn’t been hungry since the night of the screaming match in the cave.

“Robin,” Nightwing speaks up “Since there’s no way he’ll ever be able to sneak up on you, I think I should tell you that Superboy is on his way here.”

“What?” He exclaims. Dick pulls him away from the edge “How do you know that? Did you invite him?”

“Yes.” He says.

“You-”

“Before you insult me, let me speak.” Nightwing interrupts him. Damian grunts, but crosses his arms and waits for an explanation “After that night, Clark came to me.” He sighs “He was worried about what happened, because it seems that Jon had been crying so much he wasn’t able to explain what happened and for a second he worried about your safety.” He joins his hands, intertwining his own fingers as he speaks “I explained the situation giving as little detail as possible. Clark told me that... he said you two needed to talk. And that he could convince Jon to come, but he’d need my help getting you to be there.”

“So you tricked me into it.”

“Would you have come if I had asked you to?”

“...No.” He grunts.

“There we have it.”

“I don’t have anything else to say to him.”

“Apparently, he has a lot he wants to say to you.” Dick massages his own gloved hand “Just hear him out, okay? I think it might at least alleviate your suffering.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Damian asks.

“Look, if I didn’t have some sort of certainty that this would help and not hurt you, I wouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place.” He sighs “Last time you two spoke, it wasn’t good. Leaving it at that is killing you inside, baby brother.” He smiles at him “Just try, okay?”

Jon lands on the rooftop as Dick finishes speaking.

“So, you didn’t go to the dance afterall.” Robin says, walking away from Nightwing and closer to Jon, arms crossed.

“Alright, there’s no easy way to say this, so here it goes.” Jon says, taking a deep breath.

Damian braces himself for the worse.

How could Dick possibly think that this would be good for him? Had he really been brought here just to be painfully rejected?

“I love you.” Jon says. Damian’s eyes widen “I have always loved you, I think. But now, I love you more than I ever have. More than as a friend.”

Damian doesn’t know how to respond.

“I...” He tries “Me too.”

“Yeah. I kinda figured that out in the bones breaking part.” Jon smiles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So now what?” Damian asks, looking at the ground.

“I don’t know.” Jon says “What do you want to do?”

Damian's stomach growls.

“Well, we’re in Gotham.” Jon grinned at him “I think a vegetarian Bat-burger would be nice.”

“Yes.” Damian smiles shyly “I believe so too.”

...

Jon lands next to Damian, on top of a Metropolis building.

“How was school today?” He asks.

“Awful.” Robin answers, removing his gaze from the street to look at his partner “I shouldn’t have asked father to change schools. Now not only do I have to put up with annoying commoners, I also have to spend the day missing you.”

Jon blushes and giggles, looking down. Damian smiles at him.

“It’s a quiet night.” Damian says “But then again, I suppose Metropolis is a lot quieter than what I’m used to.” He examines Jon’s face “You could... do the thing again.”

“The... thing?” Jon asks, frowning.

“Yes.” Damian stares at him “Like... the sky thing.”

“Oh! Oh, that thing.”

“What else did you think of?” Damian crosses his arms, smirking.

Jon blushes violently.

“Nothing! I was just confused!”

Damian laughs.

“Yeah, alright, Superboy.” He walks forward, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck “Now do it.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it.”

“And cocky.” Jon says, wrapping his arms tightly around Damian’s waist before taking off, pulling them both up to the air.

Damian smiles, looking down at the now small city under them.

“Aren’t you ever afraid of falling?” Jon asks as he stops on the highest spot possible before the air got too thin for Damian “My mom said she was always scared to death when my dad would do this.”

Damian stares into his eyes, bright blue sapphires that seemed even more alive from up close.

“I know you won’t let me fall, beloved.” Jon swallows, reactionless for a moment. Damian allowed himself the smallest of smiles “God, I love you so much.” He cups the other’s cheeks “But I’m getting cold, so I think it’s time we go down.”

Jon chuckles.

“Can I kiss you first?”

“You can kiss me whenever.” Damian smiles, pressing their lips together “Just not in front of my team. Or my family. Or yours. Or-”

“Okay , I get it!” Jon stops him, giggling, stealing another kiss “Just when we’re alone.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re gonna have to patrol with me more often then. Since we don’t go to school together anymore.” Jon argues.

“I thought that was a given.” Damian replies “As long as you keep doing the sky thing.”

“I’ll do it as many times as you want.” Jon nuzzles into Damian’s neck.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“I’m still cold.”

...

Jon is cuddled up to Damian on the couch while the fireplace crackles and Alfred the cat is curled up at his feet. He is reading a book about Gotham’s economic history while Jon scrolls through his instagram feed, eventually laughing softly at some joke that pops up on the screen. Damian mindlessly plays with his hair.

“Dames?” Jon calls.

“Hm?” Damian responds, not taking his face out of his book.

“What are we?”

“What do you mean, beloved?” Damian puts his book down, gently brushing Jon’s hair back.

“What are we?” Jon sits up “We’re not friends. But we...” His words die inside his throat.

“Boyfriends?” Damian asks, raising an eyebrow. Jon’s eyes widen.

“We are?”

“I... isn’t it obvious?” Damian looks at him with concern “We go out together, we hold hands, we kiss, we cuddle... I told you I love you multiple times. Why the question? Don’t you... want to be my boyfriend?”

“No I do, it’s just...” Jon scratches the back of his neck “We never... said anything, I guess. I was afraid you didn’t want to be my boyfriend.”

Damian shoots him an exasperated look.

“I swear Jonathan, you are so confusing sometimes.” Jon rolls his eyes, looking down “But fine. I don’t have a ring on me so I hope a kiss will be a good enough substitute.”

“What are you...”

Damian gets down from the couch, kneeling in front of Jon.

“Jonathan Lane Kent,” Damian says, holding the other’s hand “Will be my boyfriend?” He gave his ring finger a feather light kiss.

Jon blushes intensely.

“Yes.”

Damian smiles, sitting back up on the couch and picking up his book again.

“No, put the book down.” Jon pouts climbing on Damians lap “I need kisses from my boyfriend.”

Damian rolls his eyes.

“You are so childish sometimes, beloved.” He sets his hands on Jon’s waist, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles. He kisses Jon regardless of his complaining, and when he pulls back, he gazes into the other’s blue eyes “How could you think that I didn’t want to be your boyfriend, you idiot?”

“I don’t know I guess... it’s just that... it’s a big deal. Right?”

Damian makes a face.

“I never thought it was.”

“I guess we just have very different views of love.” Jon whispers. Damian nods, biting his lips.

“I’ll...” He sighs “I’m sorry. I’ll try to... see things your way too.” Damian grabs Jon’s hand, staring at their intertwined fingers for a second “But you have to understand that I might let you down at times. I wasn’t raised to be a romantic. I don’t know what is normal and what isn’t in a relationship. I don’t understand the rites of passage properly. I didn’t know that the title boyfriend required a formal request. I might not know many other obvious things. I’ll try, I swear. I’ll try to learn and I’ll try to... be a good boyfriend.”

“You already are a good boyfriend, D.” Jon says softly “I’m not upset at you, I promise. I just really needed the clearance, that’s all.” He cups Damian’s cheek gently, giving his hand a light squeeze “And I’ll try to be patient. I won’t take silly things to heart and I promise to tell you when something bothers me.” He kisses the tip of Damian’s nose “And you promise to do the same?”

“Of course.” Damian smiles.

“Good. Now, I’m not done with kissing my boyfriend.” He sings out the last word, pulling giggles from Damian.

“So childish.” Damian mumbles against the other’s lips.

...

Damian throws the ball as far as he can again.

“Go fetch!” He exclaims, watching as Titus clumsily runs after it, giggling as he jumps up to catch it mid-air “Good boy.” He scratches his chin when the dog brings the ball back to him.

Jon openly stares at them, grinning like a fool at the fact that he could call that boy his, forgetting that they were surrounded by their combined families for a barbecue at the Waynes’ huge garden.

“You really are as lovestruck as they come, huh?” Dick smiles, settling next to him.

“Oh, um...” Jon blushes, embarrassed.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s adorable.” He places a hand on the teen’s shoulder, shaking him slightly “I’m not really the overprotective type. That’s Bruce.”

“Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly.” Jon scratches the back of his head, remembering the expression on the billionaire’s face when he heard the news of their relationship.

Dick laughs at the boy’s shy reaction.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He’s more talk than action when it comes to that.” Dick reassures him.

“Still...” Jon looks over at Bruce, who’s standing next to Clark as he handles the grill, shuddering, before redirecting his gaze to Damian, biting his lips nervously “Y’know, sometimes I struggle a lot to understand him.” He admits, and feels Dick straightening his posture by his side “Don’t get me wrong, I love him, I really do, but... he somehow over explains everything and still leaves doubts in my mind. I feel like I’m always looking at an out of focus picture, and no matter how much I try, I can’t get the image clear in my eyes.” He chews on his fingernail for a second “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, a little.” Dick crosses his arms “I gotta say, sometimes I felt like that with him too. He’s too... reserved. Dangerously so. I had to constantly push him for little bits of information that may be crucial to my understanding of who he is as a person.” He tilts his head from side to side, considering “But in time, it got easier. Dami is... he’s not much of a talker, I guess. It’s easier to perceive him if you look at him, instead of just listening. After all, we are talking about a picture, right?” He smiles, charming and understanding.

“I guess so.” He ponders “Wait...” Jon frowns at Dick “He lets you call him that?”

“Call him what?”

“Dami.”

“Yes?” Dick raises an eyebrow “Why?”

“That one night... the fight...” Jon shakes his head lightly “He told me not to call him that when I don’t mean it.”

“Oh.” Dick smiles “Of course.” He chuckles a little.

“I... was it a bad thing?”

“No, no,” Dick smiles softly at him “It’s just that... when you pronounce it like I do, more like ‘duh-mee’ than actually ‘dami’, you’re kinda saying my blood in arabic.” Jon seems confused and scared “I heard once that in arabic, people say things like, ‘my heart’, ‘my lungs’ and stuff to their loved ones. I tried it with Damian once and...” He shrugs “So that’s probably what he meant for you not meaning it. I’m sure that he’ll be over the moon if you call him that now.”

Jon blinks at him.

“So that’s why he gets so mad at being called that?”

“I mean, if someone you’re not close with called you sweetheart, wouldn’t it feel super invasive too?” Dick shrugs.

“Yeah.” Jon chews on his bottom lip again, looking back at Damian “Dami.” He whispers under his breath, trying to say it like Dick did “Dami. Dami.”

“Yeah, like that, but maybe say that to him instead of me.” Dick taps his back as he leaves, and Jon is suddenly startled by the man, having completely forgotten that he was standing next to him.

“Dami.” He says, louder this time, running for the other teen “Dami. Dami!”

“Jon?” Damian frows, startled as his boyfriend nearly tackles him to the ground with a hug and a kiss.

“Dami. I mean it. I’ve always meant it, you dumb bird. Even when I didn’t know what it meant.”

“You’re an idiot Jonathan.” Damian smiles, cupping his cheeks “Such a huge fucking idiot.”

“Your idiot.” Jon corrects him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Damian blinks some tears away, laughing as he presses their foreheads together “God, I missed hearing you say that. I was wondering when you’d say it again.”

“I would’ve said it sooner if you had explained what it meant and why you said what you said back in the cave.” Jon says.

“Whatever.” Damian rolls his eyes “Say it again.”

“Dami.” Jon presses their lips together.

“Again.”

“Dami.” He kisses him again “Dami. Dami, Dami, Dami.”

“I love you, Jon.” He lets a tear slide down his cheek.

“I love you too, Dami.”

...

“Hello!” Bruce greets the salesman with a wide smile, best dumb, kind, billionaire like grin that he can muster.

“Good afternoon, mister Wayne.” He replies politely “How may I help you?”

“We’re here to look at some promise rings?” He joins his hands “They’re for my son.” He looks over to Damian, who is sporting his typical frown paired with over-analytic eyes. Dick walks right behind him, smiling enough for both of them.

“Oh, surely. If you’d follow me, please.” He walks them to a table they can sit down at, and pulls out a bunch of rings “These are the most popular ones at the store. What do you think your girlfriend would like?”

“Boyfriend, actually.” Damian shoots back, examining the rings with a frown “And none of these will do. I don’t believe either of us would enjoy wearing a...” He twirls one of the rings between his fingers “Silver butterfly or a...” He frowns at a second one “Is that supposed to be a rose?”

“I think it’s a carnation.” Dick says.

“I-It’s a rose.” The man interrupts, smiling awkwardly “We should have more discreet options, if you give me a second.”

Damian crosses his arms and leans back on his chair.

“Little D, you should try to lighten up a little.” Dick ruffles his hair.

Damian glares at him. It would make a weaker man nervous, but Dick simply chuckles.

“It has to be perfect, Richard.” Damian answers, looking forward “I already messed up once by not doing this sooner. This time I can’t let him down. Besides,” He turns around, coming closer to his brother and whispering “He’s enough of a lovable idiot that he might wear it out on patrols so... it can’t be recognizable.”

Dick laughs at his concern.

“And what makes you think that the world will be deeply interested in Jon Lane Kent from Metropolis, to the point of checking his rings?”

“Other than the fact that his mom has a Pulitzer?” Damian grins wickedly “What do you think?”

“You’re going...?” Dick’s eyes widen “Oh my God, you’re going public with your relationship?” He smiles “Dami, that’s great!”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down. And yes, that’s great, if he agrees to it.” Damian settles back “We haven’t discussed it yet. I was hoping that the ring would help him with that decision. So it has to be perfect.”

“It will be, son.” Bruce says, smiling “We’ll find something perfect either here or somewhere else. You know that money is not a problem.”

“Yes, which just makes this even more stressful.” He shoves his face in his hands “If we were on a budget, it would already make whatever I found special. But no, you had to be a billionaire. That’s just my luck.”

“Well I’m so sorry that I have enough money to buy you a luxury car to give Jon if you want me to.” Bruce replies, amused.

“Can we do that?”

“No.”

“Can I have a luxury car?” Dick asks.

“I thought you didn’t want my money.” Bruce smirks.

Dick shrugs.

“I don’t want your money, but I think that I’m ready to start accepting gifts again.” He smiles, and the trio can’t help but laugh.

“I brought you some more discreet options.” The salesman smiles.

Damian twists his nose and scowls at every single one of the rings.

“I might as well give him the ring Timothy found in a cereal box.” He frowns, crossing his arms. The man is sweating, staining his dress shirt.

“Damian, don’t be rude.” Dick sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“I-I... I could bring you the engagement rings we have.” He swallows “But they are a bit more expensive.”

“Money is not a problem.” Bruce says, finding it difficult to keep up his happy and silly facade already.

The man comes back with boxes full of rings, having trouble to properly balance all that he’s brought down. Damian set his eyes on a pair of white gold rings.

“Let me see those, please.” He stretches out his hand in the direction of the rings.

Damian analyzes them for a second.

“If I need them in different sizes?”

“That can be arranged.”

“Can you engrave our initials inside?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I want this one.” He says.

Dick breathes out in relief.

“Oh, thank God. Fucking finally.”

...

“Beloved,” Damian says, sitting up on the couch “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it Dami?” Jon puts down his book, looking at him with worry.

“You know how... you always talk about going to a restaurant or something, for a change, but father’s concern for the cruel public eye of Gotham stopped us?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I... I’ve been thinking.” He puts a hand in his pocket “I would quite like to go out with you. Take you out of the manor for once, when you come over to Gotham.” He swallows “But if we’re doing that, then it means our relationship will most likely be on every Gotham’s newspaper, and every single gossip site that bothers with the romantic endeavours of d-listers.” He looks up at Jon expectantly “Would you be okay with that?”

“Yes.” Jon says, immediately “Yes, yes a million times yes.” Jon hugs Damian.

“Alright, alright.” Damian smiles, pulling himself free “That’s good. Because our six months aniversary is coming up and I have a place where I’d love to take you, if you let me.” Jon is already nodding “But before anything else, I need you to close your eyes.”

“What?” Jon frowns “Why?”

“Close your eyes.” Damian says.

“If this is going to be like, a prank, Damian, I-”

“It’s not a prank. Just close your goddamn eyes, Jonathan.” Damian sighs.

“Okay.” Jon does as he’s told.

“Now give me your hand.”

“It’s sounding a little too much like a prank.”

“Give me your fucking hand.” Damian presses the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, alright!” Jon smiles, placing his hand on Damian’s palm.

Damian gently slides a ring into his finger.

“Oh my God.” Jon whispers, eyes still closed “Is that-”

“Yeah. You can look at it now.” Damian says, blushing “It’s white gold. If you don’t like it, I can always buy you a new one.”

“Damian this is perfect.” Jon covers his mouth with a hand while he admires his new promise ring.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Give me yours. Let me put it on you.” Jon demands, stretching out his hands. Damian hands him out his ring and lets him slide it into his finger, smiling “Perfect.” He whispers, bringing his hands to his lips and kissing it delicately.

Jon giggles, pulling Damian closer to his chest, getting them both to lay down as he admired their hands.

“Dami...” Jon starts, pulling him closer with one of his arms “You make me so happy.”

“You make me happy too.” He whispers back, tracing little patterns on the exposed skin on his lover’s arm “I can’t even fathom how painful and dull my life would be if I had to live without you.”

“You have to stop outdoing me with your declarations.” Jon smiles, wrapping both of his arms around Damian’s body now, nuzzling into his hair “It makes me sound stupid.”

Damian giggles.

“Well, you are a little bit stupid.”

“And you are a little bit rude.” Jon laughs too.

“Oh yeah?” Damian laughs, turning around to face him.

“Yes, very rude.” Jon pouts “So rude to me.”

“Let me make it up then.” Damian whispers, admiring the other’s face as he pushed his raven black hair out of the way.

“How are you going to do that?” Jon asks.

Damian pushes forward and gently kisses his lover.

“Yeah, that works for me.” Jon smiles.

Damian blushes and hides his face into his chest. The blue eyed teen lets him, pulling him closer and resting his chin on his head.

“I love you.” He says “I love you so much, Damian.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Damian smiles “And I’m glad you liked the ring, because if I ever catch you without it, you’re done for.” He looks up at him “I’m sure Elise is still dying to put her hands on you, and I need to make sure my territory is marked.”

“I’m not a tree and you’re not a dog.” Jon teases.

“But you’re mine.” Damian jabs a finger into his chest “And now everyone will know. Especially her. Hear me?”

“I hear you.” Jon smiles. Damian settles back down.

“Good.” He mumbles “Because who does she think she is? Is she Robin? No. Does she smell as good as me? No. Did she buy you a white gold ring? No. Is she-”

“Babe. I got it.” Jon stops him “And you don’t have to worry about her. She’s not even my type.”

“And... what is your type?” Damian frowns at him.

“Hmm...” Jon pretends to think “Dark haired, green eyed boys who smell good, punch criminals and buy me white gold promise rings.”

Damian smiles.

“Good to know, Superboy.” He buries his face in his chest again “Good to know.”

Hey! I hope you liked this! Please consider rebblogging it if you did, it helps with spreading my works and makes me super happy! Also, I gotta thank @3ambird for telling me about Dami’s name thing, hahaha! Go check out their fics, they are an amazing writer.

#damijon secret santa #damijon #jondami #damian wayne #jon kent #robin #superboy #supersons

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020, Day 1

Waking Up Restrained / Shackled / Hanging

Ao3

Warnings: descriptions of torture, violence, dislocated shoulders, referenced child trafficking. This fic is mature. Please read responsibly.

-o-o-o-o-

When Dick wakes up, he's on his side; his cheek pressed against cold and grimy cement and his shoulders pulsing with a discomforting ache.

He groans, his body feeling like tar has been stuffed between each of his joints—which makes it difficult to begin moving. His stomach rolls, and the sharp pain near the temple of his skull isn't helping much.

What… happened?

He remembers… he remembers patrol. Leaving his apartment and swinging towards the streets to fight the constant stream of crime Blüdhaven is so willing to supply. His memories get hazy the more he tries to think about what happened during and after the patrol, making the pain in his head twinge torturously.

Deciding that there's not much he can remember at the moment, he resolves to try and figure out his situation—because even though he has little memory, just the information that he was on patrol is enough for him to realize he's in his Nightwing suit. He recognizes the familiar skin tight feeling of the kevlar.

What he notices immediately with just a few agonizingly slow movements is that his gauntlets and boots are missing. Which is not good. He twitches his nose and he relaxes only slightly when he feels the sharp edges of his mask. His anxiety, however, only rises when he realizes that his hands are stuck behind his back.

Okay. Captured and restrained. The cuffs are heavy and thick, at least a few centimeters thick. There's a small length of chain between the cuffs that can hardly be called a "length". There's not much space between his two wrists, perhaps only three or four thick chain links spanning between the shackles.

He goes to move his fingers and test just how tight the shackles are on his wrists, but he realizes quickly that his fingers are stuck; curled into an uncomfortable fist and held in place with something cold and plastic.

Okay. Alright. This is fine. Dick can still work with this.

He opens his eyes, slowly, to not agitate his headache nor his rolling stomach. He figures that if no one has revealed themselves to Dick so far then he must be alone. He hasn't exactly been quiet walking up, which is something Bruce might be disappointed by but come on. There's only so much Dick can do when confronted with what's definitely wavering effects of some sort of tranquilizer. Nausea, aches, groggy and slow movements, feeling like shit in general.

The first thing he sees through half-lidded eyes is the grimy floor he's laying on top of, and since there's really not much to see here he moves on to the rest of the room.

And scratch that. There's not a whole lot to see in the room at all… at least, not from his position on the ground. Nothing but walls in front of him that are made of dark brick stone.

Dick shifts, curling up slightly to get his shoulder positioned under him so he can work his way up so he's sitting. It takes a minute, a minute filled with panting breaths and barely contained gagging that makes his stomach want to show him what he had for dinner. Eventually, he makes it, his back pressed against the wall and his legs strewn out in front of him and his head leaned back so he can catch his breath and try to make his stomach settle.

Don't throw up, Dick. He doesn't want to be covered in his own sickness by the time his captors decide to show themselves. It will be totally embarrassing and Dick had a cool, pretty boy reputation to keep up after all.

And besides, when he blinks his eyes to look at the rest of the room he's in he finds that it's rather small and compact; throwing up here would make the smell linger horribly.

His stomach rolls and he decides to do his best to not think about throwing up. Starting… now.

He brushes his eyes throughout the room he's woken up in. Besides the stone wall and the heavy looking door, there's not much to see besides a singular bulb installed in the center of the room above him.

That; and a chain hanging right besides it.

He frowns at the chain. The end has a singular clip hook attached to it. From where it's hanging—about three feet from the ground—it travels up to some sort of makeshift pulley system; composed of various eye hooks that run along the ceiling so the other end of the chain latches next to the door.

The clip at the end looks strong too. Something that would be used for lifting heavy equipment.

Now that he's studied the room to its extent, he shifts so he's looking over his shoulders to his hands. Duct tape, he finds, is what's keeping his hands in a fist; multiple layers of aluminum colored tape preventing him from messing with the shackles or breaking a joint to slip out of them.

Alrighty then.

He should probably work on getting his hands in front of him. Just to give himself a little bit more of a fighters chance.

And of course, when he goes to do so, his hands are stopped by another freaking chain that he hasn't noticed till now. It's attached to the tether between his wrists and then it connects to the wall; like a leash, but an infuriatingly short one. There's hardly any give. He's stuck to the wall and he's not going anywhere.

He lets his head fall back against the bricks behind him once again, cursing that sometimes criminals are smart about things.

Then, with that flawless dramatic timing most criminals often have, the door opens.

Dick brings his legs up to his chest, positioning himself so he's less vulnerable, as a group of three masked men—judging by their body types—make their way inside the room he's trapped in. He glares at the one that steps closer to Nightwing as the other two hang back. One by the door, one by the chain connecting to the wall.

One man, who must surely be the leader, stops just outside of Dick's kicking range and kneels down to the balls of his feet. The balaclava he's wearing covers his entire face besides a section for his dark eyes, but Dick gets the feeling he's smirking.

"Alright," Dick says, shifting so he's sitting straighter while making sure his tone is unbothered and bored and not at all as groggy as he feels, "let's get this out of the way. M'names Nightwing, I like long walks on the beach, and I'm not going to tell you any secret identities."

"Which would be a shame," the man in front of him says, "if we cared for secret identities."

A bolt of confusion shoots through Dick at the sentence as the man stands up, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head. He isn't interested in secret identities? That's… a new one. Most villains who capture him practically beg for his name, that way they can get Batman's name. The first time Dick's been beaten with the reasons of secret identities, it was scary, sure, but now that he's older he's just sorta… gotten used to it at this point. A villain who wants to know his name is a predictable villain.

One who wants something different is a dangerous villain.

"You see, Nightwing," the man continues, "all we want is information. We have a couple questions for you, and if you cooperate you won't be hurt."

There's no we'll let you go . Just you won't be hurt . Dick doesn't know who these guys are or what they want, but whatever it is, it can't be good.

Dick flashes a toothy smile. "Oh, a few questions? Is that all? Ask away."

"Does the name The Silence ring any bells?" The man asks, and Dick fights a scowl because it does ring a few bells.

They are an international, underground human trafficking organization. Grabbing kids from all over the globe and selling them to various rich assholes for a multitude of disgusting reasons. Dick's fought them before, in fact, they had a station in Blüdhaven that he worked with the police to raid and rescue the kids trapped inside.

But that was three weeks ago.

"It sounds familiar," Dick replies slowly, wishing the man wasn't wearing the stupid balaclava so he could judge the facial expressions better. He can't tell anything with just the eyes. "But they were taken down weeks ago."

Keep it vague. Do not let them know that you know more than the bare minimum.

"We both know that's not true, Nightwing," the man says with a sigh. "The Silence has reaches across the entire globe and for the past decade they have gone entirely unnoticed. Until now, where you took down the base in Blüdhaven twenty days ago." He pauses, then gives Dick a hard look. "Until when, just a day ago, another base in San Francisco was taken down by none other than Red Robin and all those other powered brats."

Shit. Shit . They caught on way quicker than what anyone was planning. The moves on them were supposed to be "accidental". Like Dick "stumbling" upon the warehouse, expecting to find some other crime and instead finding a massive group of child kidnappers and sellers. Like Tim and his team just happening to catch wind of the base and taking it out because it was in his city. Bruce really isn't going to be happy about this one. Dick really hopes Jason's okay. He's the one who's undercover and getting the base locations.

"Look, I don't know anything about this, I just saw what was happening and took it out of my city," Dick says, flexing his fingers in the tape they're wrapped in. This is going to get messy fast, he can tell.

"Anyone with a brain can see the bats are connected to this," the man says with a sharp edge to his voice. "And I'm not in the mood to pretend you don't know anything. What we want to know, Nightwing, is where you're getting your information and how many other bases you know about."

So… Jason hasn't been found out yet. Good. That's good. There's no way Dick will sell him out, not when they have close to fifteen other major locations and are currently working with the local authorities to take them out in one fell swoop.

Dick takes a breath. "I really have nothing to tell you."

The eyes of his captor hardens and Dick fights to keep his heart steady. He knows where it goes from here. Even before the leader motions to the other two men. "Then you have decided to make this difficult for yourself."

Then, the two other men approach. The moment one of them gets close enough, Dick lashes out with his legs, kicking him in the shins. But, because this guy is 1. Huge and 2. Has a friend , Dick's quickly overpowered as his shoulders are grabbed and he's shoved so far forward his nose almost slams into his knees. His shoulders protest angrily as his wrists remain attached to the wall by the short leash, but that discomfort doesn't last long before his shackles are disconnected from the wall and he's hefted up to his feet by two pairs of meaty hands on his biceps.

His head spins as they frogmarch him past the leader into the middle of the room, right next to where the chain is dangling. The lightheadedness quickly fades though with a dosage of adrenaline as he's held stiffly in place.

When his hands are grabbed and he's turned so his back is to the chain, he fights down a fit of panic and desperately ignores his rolling stomach. "What are you doing?"

There's the clinking of metal links, a snap, then one moment turns into another and Dick is left standing in the middle of the room with the slack between his shackles attached to the hanging chain.

He glares at the leader and watches out of the corner of his eyes as the two other men return to their positions—one by the door, the other by where the very chain Dick is now tethered to is latched to the wall.

He has a very bad feeling about this.

A very bad feeling that he knows exactly where this is going.

"Last chance, Nightwing," the leader says, "tell us what we want to know and you won't be harmed."

Dick shuffles his feet and rolls his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for what's about to happen. This is going to suck .

"I'm telling you, I don't know anything," Dick tries, making his voice sound as genuine as he can so hopefully they believe him and not torture him for the next who knows how long. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, he has no such luck as the leader turns towards the man by the chain and nods.

Now Dick, he isn't lightweight. Sure, he's short for his age and quite lean compared to most people, but that flat stomach and slim shoulders are made entirely out of muscle . And muscles are, in fact, heavy . Yeah, he's nowhere near Bruce's record weight of 210 pounds, nor around Jason's outstanding 230, but come on. Dick's almost six feet of pure 145 pounds and that's heavy .

Which is why it shocks him so much that Mr Man over there takes the chain from the wall it's connected too and manages to successfully yank the chain down so hard that Dick's feet leave the floor for a minute. He just manages to curl up with his back keeping contact with his fisted hands, but without the purchase of his fingers added with the weight of his own body, he quickly finds his shoulders burning with strain.

Dick's an acrobat. He can hang from many positions safely for long periods of time, but there's nothing safe about strappado. His shoulders are on fire, and it's only been a few seconds. His chest is tight and the metal bites into the skin of his wrists, and just when he feels like his ribcage is going to burst he finds his knees hitting the floor roughly.

He's painfully aware of every nerve and cell in his shoulders, he can feel the blood pulsing with a sharp agony that has him swallowing gasps.

And of course, before he can even recover, the chain is yanked again loudly and violently that has him stumbling to his feet, his wrists held so high above him that he's forced to bend forward and stand on his tip toes.

Dick's flexible. He can twist and contort unlike anyone other.

But let it be put on the record that some joints are not meant to bend certain ways. The shoulders shouldn't be pulled back and up like this.

It's agonizing. A pain that's way more biting than what he expected. He hasn't been tortured like this before—which admittedly is a terrible thing to say because it implies he's been tortured before but in other ways… which is a correct assumption, but still —and honest to the gods and to mother nature, it's like his entire upper body is on fire.

His stomach threatens rebellion as he's held upright in this new stress position. His chin is suddenly grabbed and Dick soon finds himself glaring through the strands of his bangs at the man in charge of this fun play date. Dick wants to vomit on him.

He keeps that just to his thoughts. He'd actually rather not.

"Where did you get your information?" The man asks, eyes cold and glaring. Dick bites back a wince as the chain jerks slightly, sending pings of pain into his shoulders and neck.

"No one," Dick hisses through clenched teeth. "No one told me. I was scoping out the warehouse and just happened to find- Ahg-!"

His chin is released and he's in the air with one mighty tug. He chokes back a cry as he's suspended awkwardly above the ground. It's even more painful this time. It came more of a surprise and he didn't get to prepare himself. His abs strain as he attempts to curl up to relieve a little bit of the tension in the socket's of his shoulders that are bending way too far in the wrong direction. He just manages to catch sight of the two other men both holding the chain before his vision is obscured by the leader approaching him.

If Dick wasn't so concerned with not having his shoulders ripped from the socket's, he could kick him in the face right now.

But he doesn't, he can only force himself to not cry out and keep his face a straining level of nonchalant as the man speaks above the ringing in his ears.

"Where did you get your information?"

Dick grinds his teeth and shakes his head.

Which is thankfully answer enough, Dick's pretty sure if he opens his mouth he'll scream.

Though, because it's the answer they don't want, Dick's lowered just a bit and then jerked right back up.

He'd be lying if he says he doesn't release a choked off shout. It's horrible . The strain, the tugging, the constricting, the weight. It's a miracle he hasn't dislocated a shoulder or two yet.

He's held up there for what feels like an eternity but in reality must have been just another minute or so before he's lowered back to his feet. He tries to keep standing, but his mind is so hazed over with pain that he falls to his knees once more, his heels hitting his ass as he leans forward and gags—the nausea in his stomach finally winning.

Thankfully, it's more like just an acidy spit-up. No past meals to be seen. Regardless, there's a horrible taste in his mouth to match the horrible ache in his body and the humiliation of throwing up at the feet of a captor.

A hand in his hair. A tug on the chain.

"Where did you get your information."

Dick doesn't bother answering, and the force of the chain lifting him up is so great that he feels the back of his biceps hit his head right before…

Crack .

Pure, unhinged agony pounds into him as his left shoulder finally gives out. He yells through clenched teeth, his feet scrambling for purchase that isn't there, and then, there's a second horrible pop as his other shoulder dislocates as well, and he's not able to hold back this scream.

Dick's hanging now, his wrists fully above his head in the worst way imaginable, gasping choking on his spit—his upper arms and the area around his neck burn like hellfire. He can't breathe. He can't even try. It's all pain pain pain pain that sends bolts to his fingertips and down his ribs. The meat of his shoulders press against his ears, and all he can do is dangle as his brain tries to process the horrible signals that's being sent though every burning nerve.

"Was wondering when that would happen," someone says all faraway. The leader or one of the other two, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that his eyes are blurry and he can't focus on anything other than the dislocated joints that are already becoming oh-so-worryingly numb.

He's dislocated his shoulders before. He has . But this is different. This is awful. This is… this is…

"Where did you get your information, Nightwing," the leader yells through the haze. Dick blinks rapidly, trying to focus, trying to find the present though the maze that is torture. His head hangs, the nerves in his neck feeling like he's pinched them all individually, but he does manage to at least look up and mumble.

"What was that?" Someone asks.

Dick tries again, but only mumbles and grunts escape.

The leader leans forward and Dick does the only thing he can do, he spits the biggest wad of phlegm he could gather right onto his enemy's face.

The leader howls in disgust, yelling something too loud for Dick to process. He only has a moment to silently celebrate a victory when the tension holding him suspended in the air is suddenly lost, causing him to once again fall to the floor. Only this time, he crumbles all the way down, landing awkwardly onto his feet, down to his knees, over to his side and right on top of his right shoulder.

Everything goes white then. Ringing. Nothing but lightning bolts of angry, poisonous red as the pain envelops him.

He gasps, choking on air, trying to crawl back to his eyes and ears to see what is going on around him, trying to ignore the invisible knives that slice into his upper body.

He fails. Dramatically so. He passes out from the pain, and the pain remains even in sleep.

So much so, that the only reason he can tell time has moved when he wakes up is that he's no longer in the middle of the room, but shoved back against the wall. He's laying on his side, but he can't feel anything in his shoulders. His fingers itch below the layers of tape and he doesn't have any strength left to even check to see if he's connected to the wall again.

He releases a shaky breath and remains limp on the ground, praying that someone will come and that this will all be over soon.

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cxplqnce · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson - Like Strangers Do

Word Count: 1,544

Based on Like Strangers Do by AJ Mitchell

I miss the taste of your lips on Sunday

And the sound of your laugh when I say something funny

But nobody heard it, except for you

And my mom still ask about you

I lie and say we friendly

'Cause I don't have it in me, to tell the truth

It had been a while since you and Dick had broken up but you were still a mess. Even though it was for good reason, you still regret leaving when he got angry at you. He had argued with you after you had been kidnapped by Deathstroke and almost killed. He had told you how unsafe his job was and how badly he wanted to keep you safe so he ended it. Instead of arguing back, you just left.

You had moved so far away from San Francisco, back to your hometown in Michigan. You moved back in with your parents after lying to them saying that you got a job offer that you couldn’t refuse. You told your mother that you and Dick were still friends that it was a mutual decision but that was also a lie.

I miss the way that you looked in your sundress

The way that you looked when you undressed

The sound of your first steps across the room

Now my friends don't ask about you

'Cause they think I'm fine without you

I say it's all good but it's never true

Dick missed you too. He had been in a slump, making irrational and stupid decisions. So much so that Deathstroke won. Donna had told Dick to try and move on. To deal with his personal issues before going back to the superhero life but Dick had refused. He had told Donna he was fine but it was obviously a lie.

Soon after, the Titans were disbanded and Dick moved to Detroit. However, it wasn’t long before his past came back to bite him in the form of Rachel Roth.

A few new team members, some returning ones and a demon later, and Dick was back in San Francisco and Deathstroke was back. Unfortunately for you, Deathstroke hadn’t forgotten about you and had come bearing gifts.

Before you knew it, you were locked in a damp, dark room with ropes around your hands and feet and blood dripping from your head. You looked around and saw a man that you didn’t recognise. He had on a metal helmet and suit, with a large light on his chest.

“Oh, the little princess awakes from her slumber.” The man joked, walking towards you. You panicked and struggled in your chair – a few tears falling from your eyes. “What shall we do with you, eh?”

“Oh, Dr Light!” You heard to your right. You looked up to see a young boy in the Robin suit laughing. Once you saw the suit you thought it was Dick but as you looked closer you knew it wasn’t. “Did you come up with that shit by yourself or did your parents saddle you with that bullshit? I mean come on, what a lame fucking name.” The boy sneered.

“Shut it!” Dr Light yelled in his direction, but then came back to you, creating sparks from his fingers and pointing them right at your face. You whimpered as you felt the heat from the sparks start to irritate your skin.

The boy chuckled again, “What? Is my talking annoying you, dickweed? Cause that’s the thing…” By this point, Dr Light had most definitely had enough of the boy’s constant yapping so moved away from you and towards the boy who continued on his monologue, “I can do it all day, all night. And if you’re nice… twice on a Sunday.”

Dr Light stood directly in front of the boy and glared at him, “I said, shut the fuck up.”

But just as he finished his sentence the boy viciously kicked him in the down-there area, then in the head and strangled him with his legs before saying, “Night, night asshole,” and escaping his ropes.

Once you’d heard the sound of bones clicking back into place, you saw him look in your direction and run over, “Are you okay?” He asked, untying the ropes around your hands. You nodded; your breathing still heavy and fast. “Okay, let’s go.” You ran to the staircase before a sword was held pointing towards you and you were forced back into your chair.

You and me, what are we if we not together?

It could be nothing 'cause nothing last forever

You sat in your chair, tears running down your face as Deathstroke picked up a phone and dialled a number. The phone connected and he started to speak in the voice that gave you chills, “I see you found my gift.”

You heard mumbling on the other side of the line before Deathstroke spoke again, “Oh, you mean your little sidekick?”

“Who the fuck you calling a sidekick, asshole?” The boy, you had learnt was called Jason, yelled before Deathstroke started beating the shit out of him… again.

“As I was saying if you want him back, hand over Rose. Also, I have another gift for you.” He said, menacingly before looking over at you, “Say hello to Dick.”

“Dick?” You asked, your voice trembling, “Please, help me.”

If you saw me on the train would you look the other way?

Like strangers do

Later that evening, or morning, you and Jason were tied to a window cleaning carriage about forty floors up – with an explosive tied to one side – while Deathstroke waited inside for Dick and the Titans to show up.

“You doing okay?” Jason asked, trying to get out of the binds that held him to the carriage.

You nodded, “Yeah. I’m good. Funnily enough, not the first time I’ve been kidnapped by Deathstroke.”

Before Jason could reply, the blind on the inside of the windows rose upwards, uncovering Dick and Deathstroke. Dick’s face went pale as he saw the explosive on the side of the carriage. Deathstroke pulled out the detonator but before he could click it, he was encased by flames – coming from a woman with purple hair, a fellow Titan you presumed.

After the fire lady appeared, a fight broke out. Every time Deathstroke got closer to Dick, your heart sped up slightly as you and Jason desperately tried to undo the binds on your wrists. The fire lady pushed Deathstroke through a wall so Dick got up from his position on the floor and came over to the window, hitting it with his fist but to no avail. However, the fire lady was knocked out with an explosion so Dick ran over to stop Deathstroke from killing her.

Thankfully you remembered something that Dick told you and you screamed as you pushed your knuckle, dislocating it and freeing one of your hands. You freed your other hand before freeing Jason from his binds but as you did, you saw that the fight had ended with Dick and the fire lady on the ground and Deathstroke with the detonator. He pulled it as you both launched forwards grabbing onto the side of the building.

Dick ran to you both, getting down on his knees, “Get her first!” Jason shouted as Dick pulled you up onto the ledge. He then reached back down and grabbed Jason’s hand but it slipped and Jason fell.

It happened in slow motion as your hands clasped over your mouth but before Jason could hit the ground, some superhero grabbed him – saving his life. Dick grabbed your hand, pulling you to run down to the ground with him and the fire lady.

You heard two shots and saw the man who saved Jason fall down. You stood in front of all of them unsure of what to do as Dick tried to figure out if they were both okay.

“What happened?”

“This guy just saved my life.”

And if you passed me on the street

Would you look down at your feet

And move on through?

Like strangers do

“You doing okay?” Dick asked as he entered his bedroom, where you sat in his bed failing to get any sleep whatsoever.

You grimaced, “Not really. Is that Jason boy okay? And the guy who saved his life?”

“Of course that’s what you’d ask. Always worrying about everyone but yourself.” Dick smiled, “And yeah, Jason’s fine. The other guy is in a coma down the hall but Dawn said he’ll be fine.”

“Good.” You replied. You paused for a moment reviewing what you wanted to say before speaking again, “So, is getting kidnapped by your nemesis’ going to be a monthly occurrence. Should I schedule it in my calendar?” You joked.

Dick chuckled, “That’s not funny.”

“But you laughed… It’s nice to see you smile.” You said, without thinking. “Sorry, that was awkward.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to see you smile too.” He replied. He looked into your eyes for a moment, thinking about something, “Would it be completely wrong to ask to kiss you? I know we broke up months ago but…”

“It wouldn’t be wrong at all.” You replied before leaning into kiss Dick’s soft lips. “I’ve missed you Dick Grayson.”

“I’ve missed you too, Y/N.”

A/N: Sorry I’ve been super inactive lately but I’ve been really busy with college :) Anyways, hope you enjoy, follow my instagram @ cxplqnce and I take requests!

#dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson one shot #Titans #dc titans #titans imagine

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thychesters · 4 years

Text

WHUMPTOBER No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging ao3!

Dick comes to with a groan, which, unfortunately, is pretty standard fare for him. The strain in his back and awkward angle of his neck is a dead giveaway he’d fallen unconscious in otherwise unfavorable circumstances. He gives himself a cursory once-over: the curl of his toes in his boots followed by the subtle flex of fingers against his restraints. On his next breath he pays close attention to the expansion of his ribs and the bruises he can feel forming on his left side, likely from where he’d landed. It coincides with the ache crawling along the back of his skull and spreading behind his eye.

He presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and finds it feels like he’s bitten it. Though muffled, he can make out murmurings from the other side of the wall, but he can’t discern the words. He opens his eyes and finds they’ve left the mask on him at least.

“And who says chivalry is dead,” he says around a sigh, sitting up to roll his head back along his shoulders. Dick sniffs, taking in a rather lackluster room and the rather lackluster situation. He blows a raspberry, and the chair creaks as he tries to stretch out as best he can, despite his legs being attached to those of the chair.

The restraints only allow so much give when he tests them again, clenching his fists against the arms of the chair. He curses once under his breath, debating the merits and ramifications of dislocating his thumb in order to slip his hand free, and then whether doing so is worth it since his glove is still attached.

The door opens in a dramatic sort of fashion, and Dick would expect nothing less, so he breaks out a grin simply for the sake of getting under his skin.

“Aw, Harv, I knew you missed me.”

“Sure, kid,” Two-Face says, mouth twisted into his ever present scowl; Dick can hear him hiss through his teeth on his not-great side. Dent shifts out of the shadow, stepping toward him and into the dim light like he’s about to ask where he was on the night of the twenty-third like some good cop/bad cop routine he still hasn’t perfected. Dick never knew the Harvey Dent from the glory days of old. But then based on their last few run-ins with one another, he has little interest in playing the ‘getting to know you’ game since it usually comes with a few broken ribs. A couple of Two Face’s goons crone in the background, probably coming up with their own guesses as to what the boss’ next move is. “Maybe this time I won’t.”

“Promises, promises.”

His side still aches; it’s a little more difficult to focus on Harvey’s face(s) than it usually is, and Dick barely withholds the remark and thank God for that.

The pieces from the night before (or the same night? Calendar Man isn’t exactly here to keep him up-to-date) come together slowly: patrol with Robin while Bruce played Bruce Wayne, Airhead Extraordinaire with some socialites. There was an apprehension of a couple run-of-the-mill muggings and splitting some fries from Pauli’s on the roof of one of the cathedrals. He’d sent Robin back in early, and his beeline to the Clocktower had been cut short by—

Dent’s gang going to town on a damn ATM at the First Bank of Gotham, of all things. Dick snorts. Loudly.

“That’s the problem with progress, huh? Everything’s automated these days. So impersonal.” Dent’s face is unreadable, but when isn’t it, he thinks. “What’s wrong, they stop letting your ugly mug into the bank so you decided to pass the time by having your guys attack the computer out front? You couldn’t even be bothered to show up until after I got there. Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

“Think you’re real funny, don’t you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” Dick says, twisting his neck again with a resounding crack. Nausea rolls across the back of his tongue as his head pulses. “Aren’t you supposed to call me punk? Think you’re real funny, don’t you, punk? has more of a punch to it. That would actually hurt me and make me think about what I did. Otherwise you sound more conversational, and you and I both know we haven’t gotten to that point in our relationship yet. After all these years you never even bothered to ask what my favorite color was.”

He leans back in his chair as best he can. The shadow cast over Dent’s face masks some of the unblemished skin. Surely someone’s coming for him. They have to have put the pieces together by now.

“I’ll give you a hint.”

The scowl twists into a grin, one that Dick would have found more unsettling had they not been doing this same song and dance for years. Robin had been afraid of him once. Once.

Dick just returns it with a smirk of his own. Internally it falters because the back of his head is still throbbing. One of his finer parting gifts from the likes of Two-Face, he supposes.

Dent shifts and Dick almost sighs again at the sight of the bat he brandishes. Same song, same dance, just a different verse. The murmurings in the other room take on a different pitch, ones that sound more frenzied, like hushed, nervous whispers.

“I’m gonna take a swing with this and let you guess what’s going to break first.”

“Don’t you have to flip a coin for that? Figure out if you’re gonna swing left-handed or right-handed?” He asks. The grin quickly morphs into a frown, a grimace, and then a pained grunt that turns into a wheeze the first time the bat connects. He drags in his next breath, trying to decide what hurts more now: his head or his chest.

“Where are the quips now?” Dent grits out, air hissing through his teeth and pockmarks in his cheek again. Dick’s tongue darts out to wet his lip.

“You want a baseball joke or one of our usual ones?” he wheezes. Dent’s stance shifts, as does his grip on the bat, and Dick braces himself for impact. “Not really fair when you’re hitting someone who can’t fight back.”

His next swing connects with the side of his face, when he’s unable to duck away in time, movements still restricted. The chair moves, feet grinding against the floor, and Dick’s chin ducks into his chest as he spits into his lap. His head spins just a little faster, like it’s reaching terminal velocity. He hisses as Dent drags blunt nails against his scalp, grabbing his hair by the roots as he yanks his head back. One of the lenses in his mask is cracked, and Dick peeks at Dent through it, dragging in a breath through his teeth. It’s a little more labored than he’s comfortable with.

He swallows and the corner of his mouth quirks.

“You hear that?”

From where he crouches beside him, Dick can make out a barely there glint in the shadows over Dent’s shoulder. It’s almost imperceptible, and through the haze of pain there comes a spark of relief. There is absolute silence from the next room, and it would be unsettling were he in Dent’s shoes.

Dick laughs a little, just before Dent shoves his head away and likely taking a few hairs with him.

“Exactly,” he says, lifting his head in defiance as Dent comes to stand before him again. He smiles, even if his head aches and feels like it’s being split in half. “Guess you really shouldn’t have pissed off my sister.”

#dick grayson #harvey dent #whumptober 2020 #whumptober #nightwing #twoface #dc #batfam #**#ok i've done a few prompts but i make no promises of doing all of them lmao #i may do quick drabbles for the others?#and i have ideas for other things from halloween prompts pen sent me so frankly i'm 😈

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wordsfromthesol · 4 years

Text

Safety Precautions (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Things got a little complicated and the bats definitely know way too much about your personal life now. Too bad they are necessary in stopping your past. Warnings: Fighting, wounds, cursing, all the good stuff. Word Count: 2.1k

Part One

“Well, where is she?!” You almost screamed as you rushed into the batcave, only to realize no one was there.

“Give Red Robin time, we don’t know how far away she was.” Nightwing tried to settle you down, as Red Hood disappeared in the elevator.

“Shouldn’t have been more than 2 hours. That’s what we agreed on.” You paced back and forth as Red Hood reappeared with Alfred.

“Miss Y/N. May I check your wounds? I hear there was another scuffle.”

You glared at Hood, but ultimately complied. Alfred had just finished putting fresh bandages on when you heard footsteps. You raced over, enveloping Lily in your arms.

“He found you. Oh thank god, I thought I may have been too late.”

“I was hesitant to come with the brat, but then…he’s back?”

“Back with a vengeance. Though I suppose he never really left.”

“No, but we escaped.”

“Some of us.”

“Sister, you can’t keep blaming –” Lily cut off as she realized the three vigilantes staring at the two of you. “Maybe we should discuss this somewhere private.”

“Oh, uhm, of course.” Nightwing stuttered and motioned for you to follow him into a room. As the door shut he raced back out, to find Red Robin had already pulled up the video and audio feed from the room.

“You know they are probably still listening.” You chuckled out.

“Yes, but I can pretend. And hopefully still get some real answers from you. You didn’t meet up with me. That day.”

“I, uhm,” you looked around, hoping to find the listening device before you had to tell your story. You sighed when nothing caught your eye and continued. “I didn’t get out. I had to make sure the girls did. Helios did not let me go. After that, he made sure I was always injured, never able to get too far from him. That day…he ruptured my femur and branded me.” You tugged at your shirt to reveal his mark burned into the skin over your heart. “He said this way I would know that I was always his. He made a slight error 6 months ago, that the simple pain of a dislocated shoulder and some bruised ribs was enough to keep me there. I made allies with those out there almost as soon as I escaped, I think that’s the only reason he didn’t attack sooner. Once he saw I enlisted there help to find you, he knew he had to act soon.”

“How do you know he hasn’t gone after the girls?”

“Sister, he wishes for you and I. He knows we were Eclipse. That we got the other girls to safety.”

“But I wasn’t Eclipse.”

“Maybe not all the theatrics, but you helped form the plan. You gave me courage and you gave me hope. I could not have donned the persona without you. And I thought I had lost you, my beautiful sister.”

“You forget that bastard trained me as well.”

You smirked, “and he unknowingly brought upon his own demise with that.” The two of you walked out of the room, well aware that the costumed men before you heard every word. “Alright, we need to find him. He wants me, I’ll be bait.”

“Like hell you will.” Nightwing said almost before you finished your sentence.

“I agree. He wants me more. I’ll do it.” Lily spoke up.

“I can’t really agree with that either. You are a civilian.” Nightwing played along as if he hadn’t heard your conversation.

“I’m hardly a civilian. Now, let’s head out.”

You stood on the nearby rooftop gazing down at your sister when Nightwing came to your side.

“You can’t be okay with this.”

“I do not like it, but it’s the right play. I trust her to keep herself safe, just as she trusts me to take out Helios.”

“Hm –” Nightwing’s words were cut short when Tim came over the comms.

“I see movement coming from the south. Be ready.”

Helios was there in seconds. Grasping for Lily when you swooped down, kicking him back. Red Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing landing just behind you.

“You didn’t really think I would leave her here alone, did you?”

“No. In fact I was hoping you’d be here, to see my work.”

“Your work?” Just as the question left your lips 6 girls appeared behind Helios. “No,” a gasp escaped from your throat.

“Oh yes, now. I’ll take Lily.”

“Wait!” Helios tilted his head, an invitation for you to continue. “You can have me. Just let Lily and these girls go. Let them have a choice and I’ll be yours again.”

“Deal.” Helios raced over and grabbed you before anyone could protest. “Girls, you are free once I am.” They all nodded and turned towards the heroes before them. However, as soon as Helios was out of view they collectively stopped. Without hesitation Nightwing sped after you. One of the girls looked at remaining people, settling on Lily.

“She was Eclipse.”

“She was.”

“We all thought she was but a myth.”

“Who are you all exactly?” Tim questioned.

“I’m not sure –” Lily was cut off by the girl.

“It is not a happy tale, but perhaps it will help your friend find Eclipse. So I will tell it.” Red Hood nodded in agreement, passing his earpiece over.

“So Nightwing can hear.”

The girl took it from him and placed it securely in her ear before beginning. “I’m sorry,” she looked towards Lily, “if this was not meant to be shared. Helios trains us, molds us. Beginning at the age of 8 he is a benefactor, supplying our family with the means to make us succeed in both school and athletics. By 10, if we are deemed good enough, he slaughters our family and takes us under his tutelage. A school of assassins. Eclipse, however, was different. She was not under observation; her older sister was, Lily.”

A cracked sigh came from Lily as the young girl mentioned her name. Tim passed her his earpiece in an instant. She continued the story, looking at the girl.

“I am her. Lily.”

“Helios did not kill you?!” The girl was shocked, clearly the myth of Eclipse had been distorted over time.

“No, but Eclipse made sure everyone thought he had. To keep me safe. I took our mother’s maiden name, to distinguish us even further. Eclipse was only 6 when I was to be taken. When she was to be murdered, along with our parents. Helios slayed our parents in front of her, but when he turned the knife on her…well she did not go down easy. The frightened child he expected was not present. So instead, he took her as well. Eclipse was born that day. His best student. She plotted against him from the day he brought her in. I don’t even think he knows how many girls were saved from his wrath because of her.”

“The count, in the stories passed, is over three thousand. We were being trained in a two-story wooden house 16 and a half miles from this location.” Tim quickly pulled up a map and showed it to the girl. “Here.” As she pointed Tim sent the location to Nightwing, motioning back for his earpiece.

“Nightwing, is that where they are headed?”

“Looks like it. You coming to join the party?”

“Always. Me and Hood are on the way.”

“And me. She’s my sister. My baby sister.”

Red Hood looked at her dead in the eyes, “Be ready for a fight.”

Helios slung you against the wall as you entered the building. “You know they are going to follow me, right?” You wiped the blood from your lip.

“Of course, but I don’t plan on keeping you alive long.”

“All of this just to kill me?”

“All of this?! Your little persona has created chaos in my schools. They think there is some savior coming to rescue them. They’re wrong. Once I have that stupid mask as a trophy, they’ll all know.”

You screamed as you charged at him. Both of you dodging and throwing punches, knowing each other’s exact moves. It felt more like sparring, after all, you’d done this thousands of times before. Helios pushed you back towards the door, as he did you heard the faint sounds of a motorcycle. Nightwing. Suddenly, you charged at Helios, vaulting over him and forcing him to keep his back to the door. Watching the door creak open, you slid to the ground hitting Helios’ legs as Nightwing jump kicked his back. Scrambling you pinned him, his face pressing into the ground. You knew you couldn’t hold him long, so you pulled out a dagger and lodged it into his bicep and the floorboard below. You then focused your strength to holding him down.

“Do you even know their names?!”

“Of course not. I know them by what matters, their rank. Still no one has been able to surpass you, number one.”

“Don’t call me that.” You gritted through your teeth. If Nightwing wasn’t standing there, you would’ve killed him by now. Instead, you planted one final punch. Hearing his skull crack as it embedded itself further into the flooring. Just as you were standing, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Lily came through the door. You ran to your sister, enveloping her in a hug and pulling her away from this place. It was too similar to your own childhood in Helios’ clutches.

Nightwing looked at his brothers, “We need to get him to Arkham.”

“Heh, well don’t ask me. If I’m alone with that bastard, I will put a bullet through his skull.” Red Hood commented as he sauntered out to meet up with you and Lily. “So you’re a legend now?”

“Heh, tragic backstory and all.” You chuckled out. “At least those kids have a say now. We didn’t get one.” You blinked trying to contain the tears brimming at your lids. “Caden didn’t get one.”

“Woah, I thought it was a girl’s only school…” Red Hood questioned you.

“Yeah, he was our brother. Four years old. Helios took Lily to the school and then came back for us. We were both forced to watch as he slit our parent’s throats. As he came towards me, I bit him and yelled at Caden to run. I would’ve bit his finger off, but he slung he across the room and ran after Caden. When I caught up to him, his fingers were wrapped around Caden’s throat. He forced me to watch the life drain out of our brother’s eyes.” You had forgotten the comms were still on. Nightwing’s voice rang in your ears.

“I’ll kill him!” You looked back at the house, as Red Robin was attempting to hold NIghtwing back.

“I better go get him.” Hood commented.

“You never told me that before…” Lily whispered to you after Hood left.

“I didn’t want it to burden you, as it has me. I always think, if I had been a little faster, or brought a knife with me, or I don’t know. Done something different.”

“The result would’ve been the same. You were six. You should’ve never had to endure that to begin with.” You looked up from your sister and watched Nightwing exit the building.

“Hey, uhm, can I bring you home?” He mumbled.

“Lily, will you be alright?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not leaving this bastard until I see him surrounded by steel.”

You nodded and followed Nightwing to his bike. The two of you rode in silence to your apartment, but when you got there, you couldn’t seem to dismount the bike. You sat there, arms tightly wrapped around Nightwing’s waist, unwavering. After a few minutes he finally spoke.

“I’m going to take you to my place, is that okay?” You still didn’t speak, just nodded. Once he felt the movement of your head on his back, he took off. Even at this unfamiliar place, it took you several minutes before you got the courage to let go of him. He didn’t press you, just took your hand in his and led you in the right direction. Before you realized, you were sitting on his bed, him in sweatpants, a tshirt, and no mask sitting next to you.

“It’s over.” You finally stuttered out. You turned towards him and collapsed in his arms.

“I’ve got you. You can rest now.”

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chickenmuffinsoup · 3 years

Text

baby talon dick au

or, the au where dick and damian are the same age and dick was taken by the court of owls

“Ugh,” Damian grunted as he slammed onto the rooftop. He shoved himself up, and just barely caught the light thud of his opponent dropping gracefully in front of him. One hand clutched at the wound in his side, the other groped his boot, looking for the knife he was praying he hadn’t lost. His katana was several rooftops away by now, kicked out of his hands fairly early into the fight. His comm had also been smashed early on, something Damian suspected was intentional. He’d sent out a distress signal, of course, once it became apparent this child would actually be a formidable opponent. Because it was a child; even though Damian couldn’t see its face, it was the same height as him, and its build was slight and lithe with the underdeveloped-ness of youth. Except, it wasn’t only a child. Damian could have handled that. This thing was different. Damian cut it, and it didn’t bleed. He dislocated its shoulder, and it shoved it back into place without a second’s hesitation. And now, staring into the impassive goggles of the cowl that covered the child’s face, Damian’s blood on the sickle-like knives it held, he knew that he couldn’t beat it.

But that wasn’t any reason to stop trying.

Damian lunged forward, refusing to allow the child-the thing-to have the offensive. The child accepted the attack easily, backpedaling and blocking blows with an almost acrobatic lightness of feet. Damian backed it all the way to the edge of the roof before it ducked, leaving Damian off-balance after his blow aimed directly at the creature’s golden goggles. Something solid slammed into Damian from behind, and he felt himself teetering towards the edge. Without conscious thought, his knife fell from his hands, clambering down to the street below and his arms windmilled at his sides in a desperate attempt to find his balance and prevent his body from following his weapon. Then, something yanked on the back of Damian’s collar sending him sprawling back onto the rooftop. Damian rolled, every part of him sore, lightheaded from blood-loss. This time, he could only manage to push himself up to his knees.

He looked up to see his own reflection in that same pair of goggles, far too close to his face. A gloved hand reached out, impervious to Damian’s meager attempts to shove it away. Clawed fingertips dug underneath his mask and pulled it up. After a brief inspection, the child tossed it to the side. Damian spit a mixture of saliva and blood as close to the thing’s face as he could. He missed by several feet.

“Go on and do it,” Damian ground out. He didn’t mean it. Damian didn’t want to die, but he knew how to act when faced with death. He screwed his face into the closest approximation of Todd’s as he could, and prepared to go down kicking and screaming.

The child’s hands twitched forwards, and Damian thought for certain he had only seconds before those golden knives plunged into his flesh—only, they didn’t. They clattered to the ground. The creature reached up, and with one hand, pulled off the black, impersonal cowl to reveal a boy, no older than Damian.

Damian blinked. Golden eyes blinked back at him. The boy’s head tilted, birdlike, to the side.

“What do you want?” Damian asked, unable to maintain a completely combative tone, so surprised by the turn of events.

“You’re not a Robin,” the boy said, his tone a mixture of confusion and question.

“Of course I’m Robin,” Damian snapped.

“No, you’re not. Talon’s meant to kill Robin, but you’re not Robin.”

Damian bristled at that. He took the mantle of Robin very seriously. He knew the story of the first Robin, the one who’s mantle he’d inherited. The boy from the circus, the only one of his Father’s strays that Damian would accept to be Batman’s son. Richard Grayson had created the title of Robin from dust, built a legacy that would live on after him. He saved Father’s life, losing his own in the process. Todd, Drake, Brown; they were just pretenders. Damian was the true heir, to Batman and to Robin. Only the blood son was worthy to accept the mantle of the son who’d given his blood for Batman.

That said, Damian wasn’t stupid. If the boy was out to kill Robin, it wouldn’t do to convince him that Damian was Robin. Even if he definitely was.

“And what are you then?” Damian asked instead. “You’re certainly not human.”

“I’m Talon. What are you?”

“I’m…” Damian groaned. Partly so he didn’t have to come up with a response, and partly because the stinging in his side was only growing worse, his fingers now saturated in blood. The boy’s—Talon’s—luminescent eyes flickered to Damian’s wound. Slowly, he pulled off a glove, and reached out with his bare hand. His fingertips barely grazed the wound before he whipped his hand back, inspecting the splash of red against tan skin.

“You’re…bleeding,” Talon said, like he was tasting the words on his tongue.

“All thanks to you,” he growled.

Talon focused back on Damian and leaned forward from his crouch so he was kneeling in front of Damian. He squinted, leaning his face closer, like he was searching for something. “You are familiar,” Talon stated, matter-of-fact.

Damian had half a dozen smart-ass responses he could have given to try and deflect the strangeness of that statement that he didn’t give. “Why did you want to kill Robin?” Damian asked instead. He just needed to buy himself some time, he may as well gather information in that time.

“Talon didn’t want to kill Robin. Talon was meant to.” Talon straightened his back and puffed up his chest, and Damian got the distinct impression he was quoting someone when he said, “’Talon must kill Robin. It is Talon’s final transformation. Talon must kill Talon’s past.’” His posture relaxed. “But you’re wrong. You’re not Robin.”

“If I’m not Robin, then who is?”

Talon shrugged, a strangely mechanical motion compared to the gracefulness of all his other movements.

“If I’m not Robin, then what are you still doing here?”

Talon froze. At first, Damian thought it was because of his question, but then Damian heard it too, the familiar pounding of several sets of boots on rooftops. Talon whipped around in the direction of the sound, snatching his knives up as he went. He positioned himself in front of Damian, and if he and Talon hadn’t just spend all night trying to kill each other, he might’ve thought it was a protective stance.

When Damian caught sight of a distinctive black outline against the light-polluted sky, he sagged in relief, forgetting, for a moment, all his training, and calling out, “Father!”

“Robin!” came Batman’s gravelly voice, and before Damian knew it he was swept up in his father’s arms. “What happened?”

“Uh, Batman?” Todd’s modified voice said, startling Damian, who hadn’t registered anybody else on the rooftop besides he father. Now that he looked, Red Hood and Spoiler were there too, along with Talon, staring warily at the new arrivals with his knives hanging limp at his sides. “Bruce?” Todd said again, this time with something that sounded like a crack in his voice. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Damian felt his father’s arms go slack around him, and Damian had to cling to his shoulders to keep from falling. Father corrected his mistake, now clinging to Damian just as tightly.

“Impossible,” his father breathed, and if Damian weren’t in his arms he might not have heard him say it. Then, louder, but only by barely, “He looks just like-“

“Dick,” Todd said, dropping to his knees in front of Talon. Spoiler stood at the ready behind him. To Damian’s utter surprise, Todd ripped off his helmet, tossing it to the side. “How are you…”

Talon took a couple cautious steps towards Todd. With his ungloved hand, he pulled off Todd’s mask in the same manner he’d pulled of Damian’s, except this time looked perhaps more gentle, almost, caring? He left a swatch mark of blood on Todd’s cheek. Talon stared at Todd with eerie, unswerving eyes.

“You’re meant to be shorter,” he said abruptly. Jason’s laugh was sudden and hysterical as he grabbed Talon and pulled him into his arms. Damian’s mind swam in confusion as the world went black around him, even as he tried to focus on Jason’s desperate embrace of Damian’s would-be killer.

When the world came back into color, Damian was lying in the medical bed down in the cave, staring up at the bat-covered ceiling. He pushed himself into a sitting position, biting back a moan at the aches in his body. A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision made him jerk his head to the side. Perched haphazardly on a nearby chair, eyes gleaming in the low-light, was Talon.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Talon said, voice chipper. He held out an arm, stick-straight. “I’m Dick Grayson, nice to meet you.”

#damian&dick #uhhh no slash #talon au #dick grayson #damian wayne #robin #batfam #batman #jason todd #jason knows dick because I said so #(◡‿◡✿)

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hellimagines · 4 years

Text

Sunbird -- Jason Todd

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N and Jason are reunited after believing the other was dead.

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, torture, angst

Pairing: Joker’s!Daughter!reader x Jason Todd

Word Count: 3,000+

A/N: I haven’t written in a while, and it’s my first time writing for Jason Todd and DC as a whole, so we’re just gonna see how this goes. Please let me know what you think! This has aspects from Batman: Under the Red Hood as well as the comics, but doesn’t follow any specific canon. Also, I know Marvel just released a new character named Sun Bird, but we’re ignoring that.

The harsh rub of zip ties against her bloodied wrists, the impossible twist of her arms behind the wooden chair she was sitting in, the harshness of her breathing from screaming and broken ribs, and the split skin from her right cheekbone down to the bottom of her lip did nothing to distract Y/N from the true pain in front of her.

“Stop! Please, please, leave him alone; he hasn’t done anything!” Y/N cried, straining against the ties even harder, ignoring the pull of her dislocated shoulders and the raw rubbing of her wrists. There was another crunch as a crowbar came hurtling down against the boy at her feet, her pleas ignored. The crowbar hit his shoulder blade, blood spraying across the girl’s shoes from the freshly torn skin.

The Joker looked up, his eyes full of familiar mania while he gripped his weapon tightly. “Peaches,” he tsked, straightening up to look down at the beaten girl in the chair, “he’s done everything. He’s the reason I haven’t seen you in two years. He’s the reason ya mother’s locked away. He’s the reason my babygirl isn’t my babygirl anymore.” Joker’s words were dripping with venom, spit flying from his mouth and landing on the two lovers as his anger grew. “The bird and the bat have destroyed my family time and time again. I won’t allow it any longer!”

“Robin didn’t ruin anything, you did!” Y/N fired back just as fiercely, spitting back at the clown before her. “You’re the reason I ran away to Batman and Robin. You’re the reason I never looked back. You’re the reason I hate you,” she snarled, (e/c) eyes filled with rage.

Silence filled the room as the Joker reeled back, hurt and anger wiping his smile clean off. He drew his arm back, bloodied gloves gripping the crowbar tightly, and slammed down. Y/N wasn’t expecting the agony that exploded down her arm and up her face as the crowbar connected with the junction from her shoulder to her neck, nor the scream that hurled from her lungs. Blood splattered across her face, over her chest, down her arm, and onto the boy below, while her chair tipped to the floor due to the force. Robin, known intimately as Jason Todd, yelled out for her, his own blood flying from his mouth. She didn’t yell back for him, her throat too raw from the sudden pain and her body turning cold with shock. The Joker knelt, tilting his head to look Y/N in the eye.

“Now, peaches, that’s no way to talk to your father.”

“Until the day I die, you will never be my father.”

Silence prevailed once more as father and daughter stared one another in the eye; Y/N panting heavily with blood across her face, and the Joker breathing deeply with blood across his hands. Finally, after it became obvious neither was going to back down, the father stood.

“Very well,” he spoke simply, turning his gaze away to look down at his handy-work on Batman’s sidekick. “Usually the bat shows up by now, but considering the lack of importance that two of you apparently hold, I’ve given up hope on our date night.” He began walking away from the battered teens, his hands clasping the crowbar behind his back. It thumped his palm eerily, echoing in the warehouse. “Since both of you refuse to ease your suffering, I’ll leave you be,” he paused, opening the warehouse door and allowing a gust of snowy air to rush in. “If you’re worried about the cold, don’t be. Should the bat not show up soon, it’ll warm up eventually.” There was no laughter, no smile, no looking back as the Joker left with the heavy doors slamming behind him. The wind vanished alongside the Clown Prince of Gotham, but the warehouse was still chilled to the core.

Jason didn’t - couldn’t - speak, his lungs filled with blood and struggling to even breathe. Instead, he tilted his head to look at Y/N, her (h/c) hair sticking to the bloody parts of her face. She was already looking down at him, guilt clear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she began, ignoring the way Jason shook his head, “I don’t know how he found me. We were so careful, all of us, I made sure of it. I’ll get us out of here, I promise, we’ll figure something out.” Her promise held no guarantee, they both knew that, but she needed to give them hope.

Jason tried to talk, tried telling her that Batman would be here any second and that it wasn’t her fault; but he couldn’t without choking on his own blood. He grunted instead as he rolled onto his stomach, his body protesting in pain while he scrunched up to walk his legs through his arms, returning them to the front of his body instead of the back. He couldn’t get out of his handcuffs and he couldn’t get Y/N out of her zip ties, but he didn’t have time to wallow on that- he had to keep moving. Grabbing onto the side of Y/N’s chair, he used it as leverage to pull himself to his feet, his legs quivering with the strain. He gave the chair another tug, one he knew was gonna put him on his ass, and uprighted the chair so Y/N wasn’t fallen over. As predicted, he collapsed immediately and whimpered in quiet pain as soon as he hit the floor.

Y/N seethed, “Goddamnit, Robin, you’re gonna kill yourself! Just stay still, Batman will be here soon.”

Jason ignored her. It wasn’t his job to wait around for Batman or Nightwing or anyone else to save him; his job was to do the saving. He was Robin, Batman’s partner in justice- he could save himself and the girl he loved without dying. Bracing his forearms against the cement, Jason dragged himself forward, unable to stand again. Y/N continued protesting behind him, trying to break free of her bindings to stop him, but he kept going. He dragged his body across the floor, blood trailing in his wake as he reached the door. Jason had no idea how heavy the door was going to be, but as he reached up and grabbed ahold of the handle, he realized it didn’t matter- the handle didn’t budge. Falling against the door in exhaustion, Jason looked around for another means of escape. As his eyes wandered, a soft beeping caught his attention, forcing him to notice the black multi-wired box with a timer attached near the door.

“Robin, what is it?” He looked back at Y/N, his blue eyes conflicted with defeat and terror.

They were going to die.

He couldn’t save her.

“Jason-”

—

“Keep your eyes out, Robin. We don’t know how this guy works.” As she spoke through the com connected to her suit, Y/N could practically see Tim’s eyes roll.

“You know, Sunbird, I’d rather keep my eyes firmly within my own skull, thank you,” Tim shot back, causing a bark of laughter from Nightwing across the comms.

Y/N smirked, ready with a retort when Batman’s voice cut through the comms. “Focus, all of you. We’re working with someone who has taken out three drug rings within the last week. Snark won’t get us where we need to be,” he graveled, and the birds settled down.

Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Sunbird were all gathered at Gotham Harbor to confront the man who had ‘taken care of’ all three of Y/N’s latest missions. He was called the Red Hood, and they had yet to figure out his motive, who he was, or how and why he was intervening in Sunbird’s discreet missions. While she was appreciative of the danger being off the streets, she wasn’t fond of a new, murderous vigilante stepping on her toes. Y/N was perched atop one of the many red shipping containers littering the docks, the breeze pushing in the damp air from the ocean causing her to shiver. Her red and gray suit didn’t do much to keep the cold out, but her unnaturally high body temperature kept her from freezing. Across the dock Y/N could vaguely see Robin on his belly, his fingers tapping in boredom against his cape, while Batman was hidden amongst the shadows further to her right. Nightwing was to her left, balancing on top of a pole to give him a bird’s eye view. But, if you asked her, he was simply showing off. Everyone kept their eyes peeled and ears open for a flash of red metal or anything alerting them of their target.

After a while of nothing, Nightwing began to groan. “How do we know this guy is going to show tonight? He may be killing another bust right now, or, god-forbid, sleeping at the current time of midnight.”

“How do we know he doesn’t have a partner? We may be walking into an ambush, Batman,” Robin pipped up, having moved a few containers over for another perch.

“Ballistics show one gun type with the same bullets, all shot from the same spot. He’s working alone. Gordon sent Sunbird a tip about the trade-off happening here tonight, using the same system that he used for the other tips. The tips that Red Hood ended up busting himself. He found a way onto their link, and he’s shown up the past three times. He’ll be here.” Batman’s voice held no room for arguing, and the birds huffed in silence.

Just as everyone began to get comfortable once more, Robin’s voice yelled through the comms. It was inaudible and short, and by the time Y/N snapped her eyes to his perch, he was gone. She wanted to yell out for him, but she kept silent, not wanting to alert anyone to her position. Instead, she gracefully leapt down from her perch and quickly rolled to the side, hiding in the shadows beside Batman to gain a plan. He held up his hand to her, silently telling her to stay put as he moved toward the container where Robin had been.

“‘Wing,” he spoke gruffly, “follow me.” A blur of black and blue jumped from the sky before disappearing behind the container Batman had just gone to. Y/N listened and watched, waiting for any update on if Robin had been found or signs for what had happened. As the minutes ticked by and silent static graced the comms, she grew worried.

“Batman, Nightwing, what’s happening?” She whispered, her teeth nervously chewing at her bottom lip. They were fine, they had to be, they’re Batman and Nightwing, the original Wonder Duo. There’s no way anything happened-

“I didn’t kill them if that’s what you’re pittering about.”

Instantly, Y/N jerked her elbow back to hit the owner of the unexpected voice. However, when her elbow collided with metal, she cursed; both at the pain and the realization of who it was. She turned around, cradling her bruising elbow while looking up at the man before her. He was unfazed by her attacked, hands tucked comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket and his head tilted to the side.

“Are they alright?” She questioned, lowering her arm once the pain had subsided. Knowing that Batman and Nightwing had been incapacitated by this man unnerved her.

He scoffed, “They’re fine. The bat and Nightwing are knocked out. They should really look into helmets. I’m sure they sell ones that brood.”

“What, like yours?” He huffed a laugh at her reply, and she could only picture a smirk under the hood. “What about Robin?” she asked, noticing Red Hood stiffen at the mention of the youngest member. A glint from an overhead dock light fell across his helmet, giving him a darker look. Y/N could see his fists clench in his jacket pocket while he paused.

“The replacement is fine. Knocked out like the others,” he finally spat after a moment. Confusion fell across Y/N’s face as she took a step back, trying to work out what he meant. “I was never worried about the cut he gave you scarring your pretty face, I’ll admit. And now that I get to see it up close, I was right to think it’d make you even more badass. Bet the gash on your shoulder is even better. Took a chunk right out of you.”

“Jason.” His name was more of breath rather than a word as it left her mouth, disbelief keeping her from reaching out. “It can’t be.”

“Missed you too, Sunbird.” The pet name Jason had given Y/N all those years ago being spoken by him nearly brought her to her knees. “I’m honored that you used your nickname to become a sidekick.”

Disregarding the jab at her occupation, Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Let me see you. Let me know it’s really you.” While the fact of her pet name should’ve been enough proof, she still needed to see him. To see Jason Todd again. “Please,” she whispered in desperation.

He paused for a second before sighing, “Never could say no to you.” Red Hood reached up and clasped at the underside of his helmet, his fingers working until a mechanical hiss filled the air followed by smoke. The helmet was removed and held under his arm while Y/N gasped quietly. “Still handsome, I hope,” he joked, quirking his lips in a toothy smirk.

“Jason,” she breathed once more, finally believing that the man she loved was standing in front of her. His hair was shorter, flat against his forehead from the helmet, and his eyes were hidden behind a domino mask; but it was Jason, there was no denying it now. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Y/N barreled forward, crashing into his chest and causing him to drop his helmet. She wanted to be mad at him for killing people, for not telling her that he was alive, but in that moment she couldn’t feel anger towards him. Jason squeezed her tight, dropping his head to the top of hers, and breathed deeply as Y/N clutched the back of his leather jacket.

“I saw your body- I saw… After the explosion, before Bruce got to us, I got free and felt your heart stop. I watched them bury you. I’ve been to your grave every month,” she rambled, shaking her head against his padded chest. “I’ve never stopped crying for you.”

Jason held her tighter. “I did die. I was dead for six months.”

Y/N looked up sharply at his confession, removing herself from his arms. “You’ve been alive for six years, and I haven’t known?”

He reached out for her, grabbing ahold of her shaking hand. “Sunbird, listen-“

“Jason, I needed you!” She interrupted, her voice pitched with hurt. “I was alone, nobody understood what I was going through. I shouldn’t have lived, but I did, and I hated myself for it every day. Bruce hated me for it; I was the reason his son was dead. It should’ve been me,” she croaked as her voice broke at the end, tears slipping down her cheeks while she looked up at Jason.

“No, don’t say that. I thought you were dead. Talia told me you had died! When I came back, I read your obituary. Everyone said that you had died with me, and I believed it because if I had died so did you. I didn’t find out you were alive until two weeks ago,” he explained, running his thumb over her calloused knuckles. “It killed me, twice over, thinking that I had been brought back to life while you were still dead.” Y/N reeled at all the information, her breath hitching in shock.

“The world had to think she was dead. If the Joker found out she had lived, he wouldn’t stop looking for her,” a voice spoke from behind Jason, causing the boy (now a man) to quickly turn around. His body instinctively stepped in front of Y/N’s, arms raised for a fight. But instead of one of his targets holding a gun, it was Batman and Nightwing. Jason stared at both of them, noticing the way they had aged in the past six years. While Y/N had grown from a fifteen-year-old to a twenty-one-year-old, the older vigilantes both seemed aged past their years. A part of Jason wanted to reach out for them as he did Y/N, but he held himself back. He came to Gotham for a purpose, and this wasn’t it.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jason began, ignoring the looks of shock on their faces and refusing them the chance to ask any questions, “the Joker gets to live, but we had to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Nightwing began and took a step in front of Batman before Jason laughed bitterly.

“No, Boy Wonder, that’s exactly what it’s like. Batman’s refusal to kill resulted in the deaths of two innocent lives, while the monster responsible gets to breathe, laugh, and walk freely. He cares more about keeping a good image than your own family,” he spat, continuing to stand in front of Y/N defensively. Batman kept silent as Jason vented, giving Nightwing’s sleeve a slight tug to pull him to the side.

“Jay, come back with us.” Y/N reached her hand out, grabbing onto Jason’s larger one with a soft touch to try and gentle his rage. “We can all sort this out, figure out where to go from here.”

Looking over his shoulder at the girl he presumed lost forever, Jason shook his head. “I can’t, Sunbird. Somebody has to kill Joker, and that somebody is me.”

Y/N gripped his hand tighter, “Don’t, please. I can’t lose you to my father again.”

Batman stepped closer to Jason, holding out his hand. “Listen to her. Come home, Jason. We’ve all missed you,” he pleaded, trying to find any sign of agreement on his son’s face.

Instead, Jason laughed bitterly, sending chills down the following vigilantes’ spines. “I don’t have a home with you anymore, B. This doesn’t end until I have his brains splattered over a crowbar,” Jason sneered, turning away to give Y/N one last look. “When this is over, I’ll find you.” From a normal stance, his words should’ve sounded creepy, but all they did was give Y/N hope.

“Jason-” But before Y/N could grab ahold of the boy she had watched die, Jason slipped from her grasp.

All Writing Taglist (OPEN- also, I know it’s been a while, so if you want removed please message me): @teageowen @mads---world @alex--awesome--22 @hxdesworld @frozenhuntress67 @samanthasmileys @simonsaysyasss @marvelismylifffe @bademliimagnum @wherewecangazeintothestars

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood imagines #red hood x reader #batfamily #angst #dc imagine

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 4 years

Text

Good Things Come to Those Who Talk

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, but the muse visited this week, so here is a fluffy and smutty Captain Swan one shot. I’m sure this trope has been written one millions ways, here is one million and one. Hope you like it. Although I am not around as much as I used to be, CS still remains my OTP and always will.

ao3 ffnet rated M 8.9K

Summary: Emma Swan is so over her brother, he warns every cop he knows to stay away from her. She's pined for so long though, she wants Killian Jones, it's just double bad luck that he's a cop and he happens to be David's partner. She decides her brother's wrath is worth the risk to find out if there's something more for her and Killian. Now all she needs is a new dress and a plan.

“Emma Swan, you little slut! What has gotten into you?” Ruby screeched as Emma pulled the door to her home open.

“Is it too much?” Emma asked with just a touch of hysteria coloring her voice. She hurried back to her bedroom to give herself the once over… again. Running her hands down the newly purchased, skin tight, black mini dress, she followed each and every curve that was on full display.

“Girl, I would do you if I didn’t already have a girlfriend.”

“Not helping, Ruby!”

“Emma, you look fucking hot, there is not a man on earth that could turn you down in that.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she mumbled under her breath. Tonight was the night. She’d danced around the longing and heat between her and Killian Jones for long enough. She’d been pining for this man for longer than she could remember, half the time they spent together felt like they were a couple anyway. She already knew her stupid brother, David, had warned Killian Jones to stay away from her, but there was nothing stopping her from putting the moves on Killian Jones. She just hoped Ruby was right, that no man would be able to resist her, including the one who’d been threatened with death if he so much as laid one finger on her. Emma was undeniably hoping for far more than one finger. A shiver jolted through her and she was brought back to the present.

“Someone’s got it baaaad,” Ruby teased. “You gonna make your move tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Emma said as she grabbed her knee length black leather jacket and tied it closed. She pulled her flowing, golden tresses from the jacket and tossed them over her shoulders.

“Well then let’s get this party started!” With that, Ruby grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her back to the front of the house and out the door.

The Rabbit Hole was their favorite local pub, and the only place to celebrate the hot shot detectives who’d made the biggest bust this city had ever seen. Of course it was the hot shot team of Detectives Nolan and Jones to bring down the infamous Robert “The Deal Maker” Gold and his outfit of miscreants. Earlier this morning, both men had received the Medal of Valor, for extraordinary acts of bravery and heroism, performed in the line of duty at extreme life-threatening, personal risk, their Captain had said.

Emma remembered that day three weeks ago, when she’d received the call from her sister-in-law. The baby had been wailing in the background as Mary Margaret had tried to tell Emma, through choked sobs that David was in the hospital. No doubt the little guy had been so upset because his mama was having a justified meltdown.

When Emma had arrived, Killian was in the waiting room, a little bloodied, bruised, and banged up, but he’d insisted on waiting for her before letting the doctors examine him. He’d wanted to let her know that David was in surgery, but he’d be okay, and Mary Margaret had just left to drop her two year old off at Belle’s so he didn’t have to wait in the ER. It wasn’t until Killian’s body had slumped against hers that Emma realized he wasn’t doing as well as he’d pretended. She’d found out later, Killian had been hit by Gold’s car as the fiend had tried to make a run for it.

Emma doesn’t like to think about the panic she’d felt as he was hauled behind the swinging doors of the ER. She doesn’t like to remember the tears that had fallen when the thought that she’d never gotten to tell him how she felt for him, crossed her mind. She especially doesn’t like to think about how he’d been out of the hospital for three weeks now, and she’d still been too chicken shit to even ask him out on a date, let alone tell him that she’s crazy about him.

Once Killian’s internal bleeding had stopped and he was cleared to go home, she’d helped him convalesce through a dislocated shoulder and severely bruised ribs. He’d gotten remarkably lucky considering he was hit by a car. Hours of flirting and bantering, movies on his couch, meals together, and she hadn’t scraped together the courage to tell him how she felt. She’d picked him up and attended the medal pinning with him today, and still she couldn’t find any words to tell him how she felt. When he’d come down off the stage, walked toward her and scooped her up into a bear hug, all she’d come up with was how proud she was of him. Even though it was true, there was so much more she wanted to say. And she’d known long before any of this had happened, she’d just never considered moving past her fear of rejection or risking their friendship for a chance at something more until she’d felt like she might lose him.

That thought made her feel pretty shitty. But that’s when she’d decided a few things. Emma Swan was shit with words. Actions speak louder than words. Tonight was the night. And she needed a new dress.

Taking a deep breath as the car pulled into the parking lot, to center her thoughts, fortify her determination, and get her collective shit together, Emma stepped out of Ruby’s car with something akin to hope.

Upon entering the noisy bar, she searched for the woman who’d be lending her an assist tonight. Regina and her husband Robin, a retired police officer, now owned this bar. They were close personal friends with Emma’s brother’s family, as David’s former partner, and by extension, with the whole group. Regina would be the one taking care of their party tonight. Emma needed to square some drinking details away with the woman and then she’d be mission ready. After talking to Regina, she glanced around the crowded bar, searching for the man of the hour. Whatever confidence or hope had been building, promptly deflated as she located Killian, only to find him sitting at the bar with some handsy redhead whispering in his ear.

“Emma!” She heard Mary Margaret’s voice call out from across the bar, but she couldn’t turn, she was transfixed, watching as the woman ran a finger along Killian’s jawline. It gave her just an ounce of pleasure when he removed her hand from his vicinity and placed it on the bar. The mystery woman was undeterred though as she placed her hand on his chest next.

Mary Margaret called her name again, louder this time, and Emma noticed it caught Killian’s attention as he began to scan the bar. When his eyes met hers, they immediately lit up and he mouthed the word help, with desperation in his every feature. Emma’s confidence restored, she sashayed toward him with renewed determination.

Goddamn, she thought as she appreciated how Killian’s royal blue button down shirt and black slacks were tailored to his body. She bit down on her lip when she noted that he definitely had his customary one too many buttons undone and was displaying that magically delicious thatch of chest hair she’d imagined running her hands through just a couple times. Sauntering right in between the two, she settled in the spot of his perpetually manspread legs and placed her palms on his thighs, leaving her back to the other woman.

“Hey Sexy, where’ve you been all my life?” she asked in the sexiest tone she could muster while also trying not to crack up as she laid it on thick for the woman trying to steal her man. What?

“Right here, waiting for you, love,” Killian answered, wrapping an arm around her waist. The man didn’t miss a beat.

Emma couldn’t be bothered to feel bad as she rubbed her palms over his muscular thighs which currently rested on her hips. She had a mission tonight, and this floozy behind her had been throwing herself at Killian.

“I’m so lucky someone didn’t come and scoop you up before I got here.”

Emma almost melted when he came right back with, “No one else is you.”

She knew this man, had known him for several years. She knew when he was playing a long con, when he was bullshitting, when he was joking, when he was serious, and when he was sincere. Her heartbeat stuttered as his earnest expression dared her to believe him. Just at that moment, the drinks Killian had ordered arrived. “Come on,” she said, grabbing the three beer bottles in one hand and taking his hand in her other.

“Let me order a couple more, now that the rest of you are here.”

Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And leave you at the mercy of Hands, I don’t think so.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Killian actually shivered, and she wondered how bad it had gotten before she’d arrived. When she stepped back though, she noticed a bright flush along Killian’s cheeks, and she wondered if she wasn’t causing that shiver and blush. “I’ll order when the server comes around.”

Emma was positively rippling with anticipation of what Killian would think of her dress as they walked over to the private room Mary Margaret had reserved for tonight. The bar had several private rooms off each corner of the bar, they were a little less noisy, and perfect for celebratory drinks. This one had a large round booth and table in it, so Emma slid in next to her brother, pulling Killian in behind her. Strategically speaking, she was hoping David couldn’t stare daggers at Killian from this angle, like he always did when Emma and Killian were hanging out and getting too close for his comfort. She didn’t need her stupid brother ruining her plans.

“Here love, you can have this beer,” Killian offered as they sat down.

“That’s okay, I can wait for the server.” Emma was not in the mood to get drunk, at least not drunk for real. “Are Will and Belle still coming tonight?” Emma asked as she untied her jacket and leaned forward to take it off while still seated in the confines of the booth.

Killian audibly choked on the swig of beer he’d been taking when he caught a glimpse of all the skin Emma was now showing. One false move and there could be a nip slip, really.

“Hey, Jones, you okay there buddy? Emma, quick, give him mouth to mouth, he’s choking,” she harassed.

Emma shot her a look before slapping Killian on the back a couple times. “My ribs,” he croaked once he’d finished hacking and coughing.

Emma preened as she noticed he still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “You gonna be okay?” she asked, turning fully toward Killian as she soothingly rubbed her hand along his rib cage.

“Love your new dress, Ems,” Ruby exclaimed, adding fuel to multiple fires.

“New dress? Are you sure you got the whole thing?” David fumed. “Looks more like a tank top to me. And yes, to answer your question from before, Will and Belle are coming, their Lyft was running late.”

Emma looked over her shoulder to scowl at her brother, and he scowled right back. “I happen to like this dress, David,” she said, saying his name as pettily as any sister could, “what about you Killian. Do you like my new dress?”

Killian’s hand immediately shot up to scratch behind his ear, but before he could even speak a word, David leaned forward, peered around Emma and stared those oh so familiar daggers at Killian.

“Oh stop it, David,” Mary Margaret chided her husband.

“Oi mates, hope you didn’t start the party without me,” Will shouted as he and Belle entered the room. He and Belle scooted into the booth next to Ruby and Mulan, and Emma was thankful they’d arrived before David could start ranting about not wanting his sister to date a cop.

Emma, Mary Margaret, Belle, and Ruby had all been promised a play by play of the Gold bust now that the case was finalized, Gold had been sentenced, and everyone was healed. Will and Mulan hadn’t been injured, but they’d been part of the task force, and instrumental in the take down. Emma tried not to concentrate too hard on the fact that she was the only female here who wasn’t technically a significant other. Besides, maybe that would change after tonight.

A round of shots was ordered to start the evening and Regina brought them to the table, handing a shot of rum to each guest. They toasted to the takedown of the felon who had run rampant like a virus, for far too long. The story was intense to be sure, and a second round of shots was ordered to toast the health and safety of David, Killian, Mulan, and Will.

When the live band started, they headed for the dance floor and Emma was thankful to have a bit of privacy, albeit in the middle of a crowded dance floor, with Killian. “You cut quite the figure in that dress,” he whispered into her ear.

The band was covering a latin number and Emma melted as Killian pulled her in close. His left hand was on the small of her back and the other held her free hand. Her free hand rested on his chest, right at the juncture of his too unbuttoned shirt.

“I don’t know exactly how to do this… dance,” Emma mumbled as Killian began to move his feet. They were connected at their hips as they swayed with the beat.

“It’s called a mambo; there’s only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d danced with him before and it never ceased to amaze her how well the man could move his body. If he was this fluid and skilled while dancing, what could he do in bed?

“I can see your mind working, Swan. What are you thinking about?”

Emma tried to stop the blush, but she’d definitely been caught ogling him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Perhaps I would,” he admitted while sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You are blushing,” he added as he trailed the finger down her cheek.

“I was just thinking, if you’re this good on the-” Emma’s breath was knocked from her as David and Mary Margaret careened into them.

“Hey guys,” David shouted over the music, “time for shots.”

Emma just barely stopped herself from yelling at her brother to stop being a cockblock. Instead, she settled for stomping on his foot as she led Killian off the dancefloor. They all lined up at the bar and Regina doled out more shots.

“I’m ready to go home,” Emma slurred into Killian’s shoulder several hours later. “Take me home?”

“Aye, love.”

“I thought Ruby was your ride,” David interrupted.

“No can do, Davey,” Ruby mumbled. “Me and my baby are staying at the hotel across the street so we don’t have to drive and we don’t have to come back for the car tomorrow.

“We will take you home,” David proclaimed, as if someone had died and made him king.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re already taking Belle and Will home,” Mary Margaret told her husband. “Killian hasn’t been drinking for the last two hours, he can take Emma home.”

“Bu-” David started.

“I know we have five seats, but we don’t need to squish five adults into them, when Killian can give Emma a ride.”

Emma snickered at the way Mary Margaret effortlessly handled David.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” David muttered.

After the group said their goodbyes, Emma let Killian lead her to his truck. She pretended to need much more help getting in than she really did. Under the guise of being drunk, Emma found she was much braver. If he turned her down, she could always pretend she was so drunk she didn’t remember, and if he was a gentleman, which he was, he’d never mention it.

Reaching across the space between them, Emma brushed the hair away from his forehead. “I was so worried about you when you were in the hospital,” she whispered, making sure to slur a word here and there.

“I’m sorry I worried you, lass, but you needn’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, Killian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, in your inebriated state, I’m sure it’s hard to imagine, but I am sure you’d manage.”

“What a horrible thing to say! I would not be okay if I lost you, I would never be okay.”

Killian clasped his hand over hers, which had been idly stroking his cheek. “Shhh, love, there’s no need to discuss this topic anyway. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s surviving.”

Killian pulled into her driveway and hastily exited to help her down from the truck. She definitely put more weight on him than was strictly necessary and sloppily handed him the keys to unlock her door.

“Someone is going to be feeling like shite in the morning,” Killian laughed.

Emma played it up, and allowed Killian to get Tylenol and water for her as she stripped out of her dress and hopped into her bed.

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he checked as he set her hangover supplies on her nightstand.

Emma caught his hand as he went to put it in his pocket. “Stay with me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” Emma asked sweetly, looking up at him with all the hope she felt inside written clearly on her face.

Killian exhaled a long sigh as only a man who knows he’s lost can. Circling around the bed, he started to climb in behind her.

“You’re not going to sleep in jeans, are you?”

“I don’t exactly have sleepwear at my disposal, Swan. And you’re sleeping in your dress.”

Emma laughed at that, that’s what he thinks. “Take off your jeans, boxer briefs are just like shorts.” She grinned triumphantly as she heard the metal of his belt and the rustling of pants being dropped.

Once he was settled in her bed, she turned over and snuggled against him. The groan he emitted when she did so shot a bolt of heat straight to her core. She knew he was just as affected as she was, and that was hot.

“Emma, please, you’re making it very hard fo-”

“That’s kinda the point,” she giggled, pressing her body against his and snaking her free hand into the opening of his shirt to rake it through his chest hair.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Poor choice of words,” he corrected as he scooted away from her advances. “We can’t do this.”

Emma immediately felt the sting of his words in her chest, like someone was gripping her heart, or worse, like someone had taken it and she was hollow. A flurry of emotions ran through her as she tried to assure herself she still had her failsafe of “being drunk”. She searched for words. “Why? Because of my stupid brother?” she demanded, her voice a little more watery than angry.

“This has nothing to do with your brother, Swan.”

“Then… why?” Emma sat up in bed and pulled the blankets tightly around her body, as if they’d protect her from whatever hurtful reason he had for not wanting her.

“Because you’re drunk and-”

“Well-” Emma interrupted.

“No, wait, let me finish. Before I lose my nerve.”

Emma frowned at him, but complied by sitting quietly.

“You’ve been drinking all night love, and I would never forgive myself if I took advantage of you in this state and then you regretted it in the morning, if you regretted me. I… I’m crazy about you Emma, I have been for a long time. I don’t want a drunken one night stand with you, hell, I don’t want any kind of one night stand with you. I want… more.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked softly.

“Short answer? I’m a coward.”

“What if I want to know the extended version?” she asked as she patted the seat next to her and offered him part of the blankets so he could join her.

Killian got back into the bed and sat up against the headboard as Emma was. “I guess I’ve hid behind your brother’s warning to stay away from you. I mean, he’s not wrong, it can be a hard life being with a cop. Look what happened with Gold. I also worried about jeopardizing our friendship, especially if you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why now?”

Killian chuckled before answering her. “You being drunk gives me the courage to say how I feel, because you might not even remember this in the morning.”

Emma dropped all pretense of being inebriated and leaned forward so she was looking straight into the depths of the eyes she dreamed about almost nightly. “Let’s get something straight, okay? I could never regret you, Killian Jones.” Placing a hand softly on his cheek, she smiled at the awestruck look on his face. “And also, I haven’t had a drink all night. I paid Regina to fill my shots with apple juice. I just needed the cover of liquid courage to try and seduce you because I am shit with words. And I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could always pretend that I didn’t remember the next day.”

Killian’s warm laughter startled her a bit, but then she was laughing with him. “I usually have a flair with words, Swan, you just do something to me that brings me to my basest form. I’m a goner for you, and I wish I’d have told you sooner.”

“Well, get used to me not being great with words. I’m sort of caveman-like. I mean, I’m not gonna point and grunt, but I definitely use action over words. But if I can paraphrase a great wordsmith, ‘I’m crazy about you, Killian, I have been for a long time’.”

The smile that lit up Killian’s face, dimples and all, was worth the hell she was going to go through with David.

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I never got a chance to answer you at the bar. I love your new dress, may I see it again,” he asked, gently tugging at the blankets she’d wrapped around herself for protection a few moments ago.

“Hmmm, sorry, not right now...” Killian immediately dropped his hand from the blanket and began to tell her it’s okay, when she peeled away the blanket, and continued, “because I’m not wearing it anymore.”

“Fuck me,” he murmured before biting down on his lip hungrily.

“Still the plan.”

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

“Stand up, love, let me see you.”

Emma complied, standing up and bearing herself to him. She was clad in nothing more than lacy, black panties and a matching bra. Watching as he perused every inch of her body, from the swell of her breasts, to her lean torso and soft belly, then down to the apex of her thighs, she could see his length swelling under his boxer briefs, and every part of her wanted him. Crooking her finger, she beckoned him to her, and it was his turn to comply.

Once Killian stood before her, Emma unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, to the floor. Then she did something that shocked her a little bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close and just held him; he immediately reciprocated, both arms encircling her and bringing her close. The feelings they’d just spoken floated around them and flowed between them.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she guided his mouth to hers and kissed him, softly and exploratorily at first. But as lips gave way to caressing tongues, and roaming hands, heat built and Emma found herself panting and breathless.

Killian unclasped her bra and pulled it away and she was never more grateful for that barrier to be gone, as his chest hair delicately tightened her nipples and sent sparks shooting to her core. She wanted more and made it known by grabbing his ass with both hands and hauling him firmly to her. Killian glided his hands down her back and over her firm ass while sucking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned his name at the sensation of his wet mouth laving at her breasts, and his fingers and palms caressing the smooth expanse of her ass. Emma wanted that last barrier gone, she reached between them to remove first her panties and then finally his boxer briefs.

She was not disappointed when she finally got a look at what her Detective was packing. Emma licked her lips as his cock stood at full attention, straining with the need to be touched.

“See something you like, darling?”

There was that hint of cockiness that she loved so much. “Yeah,” she breathed as she dropped to her knees. Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Emma stroked up and down a few times, relishing in the hiss that left Killian’s mouth. When his head dropped back, she pounced, taking him deep and swallowing once, before pulling back and then setting a slow rhythmic pace.

Killian lifted her from her knees and attacked her mouth with kisses, between trying to speak, “You don’t have to do that.”

Emma pulled her head back to stare at this man in front of her. What guy turns down head? “I know I don’t have to, I was enjoying myself,” she said, then she pushed into his frame, guiding him backwards until he could sit at the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees again, and smirked before descending on him once more, but before she could even set a rhythm, he was halting her ministrations again.

“Okay, that’s twice. What’s up, Jones? Do you not enjoy getting head? Do I suck at it, and not in the good way?” Emma sat back on her calves, folding her arms around herself.

“On the contrary, you are magnificent at sucking my cock, Emma.”

She grinned mischievously at the compliment, a swarm of relief flooding her mind. “Then what gives?”

“I haven’t...” Killian trailed off, and an actual blush colored his cheeks as he tried to find the words he was looking for.

Emma put her hands on his knees and gently squeezed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while, I’ve kind of been saving myself for this brilliant lass I know. Plus, I’ve been hard since you took your jacket off at the bar and I don’t wish to finish before you,” he admitted. He rubbed nervously behind his ear as he waited for her reaction.

Emma was a little speechless. At no point in her life had she ever been with a man who was so dedicated to her gratification, he would deny his own. She’d definitely never been halted in the middle of a blow job so that her needs could be met. She stood up, taking Killian with her and then turned them around so that she could lie down on the bed. Holding her hand out to him, she pulled him down next to her and then scooted so that they were laying face to face. “Make me come, Killian.”

Needing no further guidance, Killian captured her lips in a fiery kiss while situating her on her back. Their tongues slid together effortlessly until he broke the kiss to blaze a trail down her body. She would definitely have marks, but he was careful to leave them where only they would see. As he paid special attention to her breasts again, delighting way too much in the noises she made, Emma finally caved, begging for more.

Scooting down between her legs, Killian took stock of the pretty picture splayed out for him. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured. Ever so gently, he ran the tip of his finger along her glistening folds, parting them as his finger ran further down, exposing her clit to the cool air.

“Please Killian, touch me.”

“As you wish.”

Emma keened in half relief and half need as his tongue finally made contact with her clit. She thrust her hips, needing nothing short of penetration, and again, she was obviously hoping for more than just one finger. She wasn’t disappointed when Killian filled her with two digits as he worked her clit with his tongue.

Emma fisted a handful of Killian’s dark hair as he brought her a pleasure like none she’d experienced before. It was hot as hell to have him watching her with those devilish blue eyes gazing up from between her thighs as she fucked his fingers.

Emma had never been much of a talker in bed, but she found it easy with Killian to ask for more, to ask for it harder, and because of that, he had her falling over the edge of oblivion quickly.

“Get up here, now,” she panted, once her mind came back from the haze of post orgasmic delight.

“Gods, you taste divine,” he praised as he moved over her body, settling between her legs so they were face to face.

“You are really good at that, better than I could ever have imagined.”

“Oh, Emma,” he began as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently before letting it go, “do elaborate on ‘imagined’,” he smirked before grinding his hips down so his thick length slid through her folds and over her clit.

A breathy moan rushed past her lips as he teased her. “Yeah? You want to hear all about how I get myself off while thinking of you?”

“Aye, lass, tell me.”

“Mmmmm, sometimes it’s quick and dirty, fucking my fingers, wishing they were yours. Other times I imagine you bend me over your desk at the precinct and take me roughly. But the best is edging while wondering if you’re lying in bed thinking about me, stroking your hard cock. I always finally make myself come, pleading your name as I picture you making yourself come all over your chest, calling out my name.”

“Christ, Emma, I’m going to come all over your chest if you tell me any more.”

In a flash of motion, Emma flipped them so she was on top, staring down at Killian. “We can’t have that.” Leaning down, she kissed him roughly, demanding his tongue, while situating his cock so she could sink down on it. “Oh… fuck you feel so good,” she gasped as his full length hit a depth she’d never felt without toys. Her hands found purchase on his chest as she adjusted to his size.

She let Killian set the pace after he grasped both her hips and guided her along. He was mesmerized by the way his cock slid in and out of her wet heat. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he praised.

Killian pulled her down for a kiss again, and flipped them so he was on top. Emma whined as he withdrew from her completely and sat back on his haunches. “I’ve just realized I don’t have a condom,” he said defeatedly.

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill and I’m clean. You clean?”

“Aye, lass. On my honor.”

“Then put every inch of that cock back inside me,” she demanded as she pulled him back into the cradle of her thighs.

Emma laughed lightly as Killian groaned loudly while pushing back into her. “Just so you know, love, this feels so much better than any time I’ve ever taken myself in hand while thinking of you. And I always come with your name on my lips.”

Her answering smile turned into a low moan as Killian pulled out and then thrust back home. He changed the tempo, long deep passes, quick pounding thrusts, grinding his hips into her sometimes, and pumping shallowly others. She made sure to let him know what felt good and what felt better, and especially what was, “Oh fuck, yes, right there!”

Despite never having been together before, the combination of Emma knowing what she liked, being comfortable enough to ask for it, and Killian listening to her and taking care of her, had them riding the same wave, feeling, exploring, loving.

In the end, Killian had both her legs pulled up high around his waist, arms under her shoulders, and his face buried in the crook of her neck as he methodically drove into her, determined to make her come again.

Emma had her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, her arms around his neck, and her head thrown back into the pillow. They were a hot sweaty mess, and she was sure she’d never been wound this tight, she’d never been this turned on,maybe there was something to sex with feelings. His hot breath against her neck caused a tightness in her nipples and a tingling in her clit. Killian’s thrusts were punishing, hitting her deep, and she was so close and she knew he was close and she really wanted to come again.

“Touch yourself, Emma, I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

An errant bit of relief flooded her as she realized Killian was not intimidated in asking for what he wanted either and he wasn’t too macho to ask her to help get them there. Now was not the time for reflection though, and so she pushed those delightful thoughts to an area for later. Reaching down between them, Emma gathered the arousal that coated her thighs and started rubbing her fingers over her clit. “Almost, Killian, almo- Oh, Ooooh,” Emma cried.

It was almost ridiculous how in sync they were, each gracing the edge of ecstasy before plummeting off one after the other, calling the other’s name like a benediction. She’d been right, his moves on the dance floor had definitely foreshadowed his performance in bed. And just like the attentive gentleman he was day-to-day, he was the same in bed, making sure to guide her through every aftershock, and hold her as she came down from on high.

“Bloody Hell, why did we wait so long to do this?” Killian panted against her neck, before rolling off of her. “Come here,” he said, pulling Emma against his side.

Instead of nestling into him, Emma stood up and stretched deliciously. “So, I guess, I’ll umm... see you around?” A mixture of shock, disappointment, and embarrassment crossed his face before he quickly jumped out of bed. The look was priceless, she really did feel heartless, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“Right, love,” he mumbled as he turned from her and grabbed his slacks off the floor.

Emma tiptoed behind him and circled her arms around his waist, his whole body was taught. “I’m fucking with you, Jones,” she said gently, pressing her cheek to his back. “Join me for a shower?” As his body relaxed, she placed a few kisses between his shoulder blades causing him to shiver.

He turned in her arms and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. “You are a devilish little minx, aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t resist,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Come on, let’s go get clean… and dirty.”

“Do you promise to tell me more dirty little fantasies?”

A blush ran up her body as she remembered telling Killian her favorite fantasy about him.

“Don’t get shy now. For someone who says they’re shite with words, you were certainly very chatty in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Killian.” She rolled her eyes and smacked his chest as mortification coursed through her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shower, but found herself being swung back into his chest.

Killian wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his front to her back in a sensual embrace. “Don’t you dare ever feel ashamed to tell me exactly what you want, love. If you want it harder,” he thrust his hips against her ass to elaborate, “if you want it deeper,” he growled, sucking at the lobe of her ear, “if you want my mouth between your thighs…”

Emma moaned as Killian continued rutting his hips against her ass and caressing her with his strong hands. She hung on his every word.

“If you want to watch me stroke my cock,” he said huskily, “just say the words.”

“Fuck, Killian. I want you to fuck me again,” she responded breathily. Taking his hand and pulling him toward the shower again, she met no resistance this time.

Reaching into the shower she turned the water on full blast and then turned around and jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to kiss him while they waited for it to warm up.

He took her again, against the wall of her shower, then they made out until the water began to cool, before they both fell into bed, sated and exhausted.

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

Emma hummed happily as she stood at the stove making pancakes. Killian was still sound asleep in her bed, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and a hard case of morning wood if the slight tent of the sheets was anything to judge by. As much as she’d wanted to wake him up with salacious activities, she’d also wanted to let him sleep in. So she’d silently slipped into her black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. Her mind kept jumping to different parts of their evening together, and how much she hoped for a repeat performance.

An unadulterated smile broke out across her face when Killian’s husky voice broke through her morning musings. “Something smells delicious.”

The way he nuzzled into her made her weak in the knees as she protested the compliment. “It’s just from a box.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear, “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

Emma spun in his arms and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her mind was spinning, it was a little shocking to her that she wasn’t panicking at all about how much they’d discussed last night and how deep their feelings ran for each other. She realized she wasn’t afraid because what they had was worth taking the risk for. Breaking the kiss, she peered into his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes full of emotions that she knew mirrored her own. And the absolutely boyish grin gracing his face made her heart soar.

“What?” he asked as she continued gazing at him.

“Nothing, I’m just... happy.”

“Aye, love, me too.”

Emma leaned in to kiss him again, this time parting her mouth and begging entrance to his as she stroked the seam of his lips with her tongue. “To hell with the pancakes,” she muttered when he opened to her, tongues tangling together. Carding her fingers through his hair, only their breathing and wet kisses filled the air as she pushed him back toward the table until he was sitting with her nestled between his legs.

Untying her robe, Killian caressed his hands up and down the lush skin of her torso before greedily pulling her against him, showing her how ready she had him, not that it was hard to tell through his boxer briefs.

“I smell pancakes. I thought we were eating on the way to the zoo?” a masculine voice said, cutting through the moment.

“David!” Emma gasped.

“Your brother has a key, good to know,” Killian muttered. Emma dropped her head into Killian’s shoulder, willing this to be a dream. That was quickly shattered when she heard Mary Margaret’s voice.

“Are we interrupting something,” Mary Margaret asked, eyes wide as saucers and a smirk begging to be let out.

“EmEm! Killy!” little Leo cooed.

David’s hands had immediately found his hips, as they quite often did before interrogating a suspect. Although the look on his face looked more like he was preparing to beat a perp. “What the… I mean… What’s go- Why the hell is he- Goddammit!” he roared, throwing his hands up in the air, and the toddler snuggled in Mary Margaret’s arms immediately started crying at his father’s outburst. “I thought I said she was off limits?”

“Hey!” Mary Margaret and Emma both yelled. As Emma stepped away from Killian to give her brother a piece of her mind, Killian quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Neither missed the huff of exasperation from David, but both ignored it. Killian quickly folded Emma’s robe over and tied it closed before giving her an attempted wink.

She smiled that happy smile at him before returning a scowl to her brother. “I am not a possession, David. You’re not my father, you’re not my husband, and you’re not my keeper! You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be with.” She was outright yelling as she finished.

“I’m not,” he boomed. “I’m telling Killian he can’t be with you. I don’t want you with a cop, Emma!”

“Why is being with a cop good enough for your wife, the one you share a love so pure with and would lay down your life for, but being with a cop isn’t okay for me?”

“It’s not like that, Emma,” David argued.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s it like? I’m dying to understand,” she retorted.

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“From what?” When David made no move to answer, she shouted her question louder at him. “From what!?”

“Daddy, EmEm, no fight,” Leo cried.

“Emma,” Killian called softly and she turned to look at his calming blue eyes. He was quite the site, clad only in his skivvies, both hands strategically placed over his package. “Let’s get dressed. You both could use a minute to calm down.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret piped in. “Take five, we’ll finish making breakfast. You still have that leftover ham from the other night?”

Emma nodded at her sister-in-law, then she and Killian headed toward her bedroom.

“Where are you going, Jones,” David seethed.

“Where the fuck do you think his clothes are, David,” Emma cursed.

Once in the bedroom, Killian pulled Emma into his arms. “Hey, we are going to make him understand, okay. There’s no reason to fight with him. Let’s make him understand. Hear him out, whatever his reasons, and then show him why he’s wrong.”

“No, Killian. He’s being an absolute dick. He has no right to tell me what to do. And I hate whatever his reasons are. I don’t care.”

Killian placed a hand on each of her cheeks and looked into her eyes, before planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Yes you do, love. And we can figure this out.”

Admittedly, some of her anger faded as Killian talked of understanding and explaining and communication. She walked to her dresser and pulled out one of his old t-shirts she’d borrowed at a party at his place.

“You still have this?” he chuckled.

“It smelled like you for a long time after I borrowed it, I like sleeping in it.”

“That party was over a year ago,” he mused.

“I told you, I’ve wanted…,” she paused, trying to find a better word for how she’d felt for so long. “I’ve really liked you for a long time, Killian.”

He slipped the t-shirt over his head before descending on her and kissing her fully. “Maybe almost for as long as I’ve fancied you.”

She just giggled at that, hugging him for fortification before taking his hand and heading back out into the battle zone.

“Wait, I still don’t have pants.”

Emma led him to the guest room.“David and Mary Margaret keep extra clothes here for when they don’t decide early enough who is going to be designated driver.”

“I don’t think Mary Margaret’s pants will fit me, darling.”

“Shut up you goofball,” she laughed as she threw him a pair of David’s sweatpants.

“Let’s sit down and eat, and discuss this like adults,” Mary Margaret, always the mother, ordered everyone when Emma and Killian emerged.

She’d finished cooking the pancakes, whipped up a batch of scrambled eggs, and was just finishing frying up the leftover ham. David was pouring a round of coffee for everyone and holding Leo who was happily babbling now that he had a pancake in his hand and no one was yelling.

After strapping the baby into the portable high chair they kept at Emma’s place, everyone sat down at the table and dug into breakfast.

“Can you just tell me what you think you’re protecting me from?” Emma asked. “I mean you trust Killian with your life, literally. Why don’t you trust him with my heart?”

David’s stoic expression lightened at that. “Does he have your heart, Emma?”

Killian glanced toward Emma and smiled knowingly. They didn’t need to call it love right this instant, but they were definitely invested in each other.

“Answer the question, dear,” Mary Margaret prodded. “Otherwise they don’t have the truth, because trusting Killian has nothing to do with it, and you know it.”

“Fine,” David sighed. “You dealt with abandonment by your own parents, by every subsequent foster parent, by the only friend you made as a child, who turned out to be a fraud, and then with Neal’s betrayal, which almost broke you. I don’t want you to ever experience that abandonment again.” David’s voice broke as he finished explaining. Tears rimmed his eyes as he contemplated even trying to understand what she’d been through. And he would be damned before it happened again, especially by someone who he’d introduced into her life.

“What?” Emma asked incredulously. “That has everything to do with trusting Killian,” she argued. “Why do you assume he’d abandon me.”

Leo quieted as the tension between siblings started to grow again and Mary Margaret looked around the table, jaw clenched and a warning in her eyes to every adult at the table to not upset her baby again.

Killian placed his hand over Emma’s white knuckles where her fist lay balled up on the table. “I don’t think he means I would intentionally leave you, Swan.”

Emma looked between her brother and Killian, a confused furrow cocking her brows.

David chuckled, “See, he gets it.”

“Explain, David. Make her understand where you’re coming from,” his wife urged him.

Wait, Emma thought, it was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to be making him understand why she and Killian were a good, no great, thing. Before she could speak though, David started up again.

“Emma, you really think no one sees how much you two are into each other? You really think for almost two years, no one has watched the way you pine for each other, flirt off the charts, tease each other like kids on a playground? You’re like an old married couple half the time, we’d have to be blind not to see it. Killian is a good man, I understand he’d never purposefully hurt you, he’d have to deal with me if he did. But you have to understand that officers die in the line of duty all the time. Being with one means you accept that risk. I couldn’t bear the thought of you losing one more person you loved, especially if it was someone I brought into your life.”

A tear or two trailed down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to her brother. As she really heard what he was saying. For the first time, she understood where he was coming from. It finally made sense why he didn’t want her being with a cop. And it relieved her mind that it had nothing to do with Killian personally, especially because she wasn’t giving him up.

“EmEm, you sad?” Leo asked.

A small laugh turned cry-hiccup escaped Emma’s mouth. “No baby, I’m happy,” she smiled.

Leo clapped his hands, his innocent celebration of an adult human being happy, bringing a smile to everyone’s face.

Emma unfurled her balled up fist under Killian’s comforting hand and interlaced their fingers, giving him a strong smile. “David, while I am thankful that you explained your reason for not wanting me with Killian and I even understand where you’re coming from, I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a bus. There are no guarantees in this life.”

David nodded his head as he glanced between her face and her and Killian’s intertwined fingers.

“He has my heart, David, would you deny us that?”

David sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest as he often did when contemplating something. After a full minute, at least, he exhaled a breath bespeaking acceptance, albeit reluctantly. “I’m beginning to see that. And I could never deny you happiness, Emma.”

Emma beamed at her brother, understanding that while his actions may have been off kilter the reasoning behind them was fueled by brotherly love.

Mary Margaret leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek before flashing Emma and Killian a smile. “Glad we got this settled,” she giggled.

“So, just what are your intentions toward my sister, Jones?”

Emma scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes at David’s attempt at big brother intimidation tactics. But when she heard Killian’s answer, she was kinda thankful to her brother.

“Well Dave, whatever happens between me and Emma is as much up to her as it is me. But I’m in this for the long haul if she’ll have me.”

“Good answer, partner,” David laughed as he threw his hand out across the table in an offer to shake Killian’s. “Two rules,” he added as he squeezed Killian’s hand tighter, “you are never allowed to kiss and tell around me, and if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Killian let David have his moment of brotherly protection, because he understood how important it was to cherish Emma. He was the one who’d fancied her for almost two years after all.

“All right, enough of that,” Mary Margaret sighed as she wiped Leo’s hands and face. “Let’s get everything cleaned up, and then we are headed to the zoo as planned. Emma you are free to bail, you and Killian probably have a lot of catching up to do for the last year and a half.”

Emma waggled her eyebrows at her sister-in-law and Killian had the good sense to not dispense with his usual abundance of innuendos, while David just cast the evil eye at his wife.

“What,” Mary Margaret asked, holding her hands up in mock innocence and confusion, “what’d I say?”

“Ga-dammen!” Leo shouted and every head whipped around to look at the little boy as he tugged helplessly at the lap belt of the high chair. “Up, up,” he pleaded.

“Way to go, dear, looks like he’ll have your charming vocabulary,” Mary Margaret scolded her husband.

Not having any kids of their own had Emma and Killian struggling not to bellow out loud at the little guys antics.

“No, no, Leo,” David told his son as he unbuckled the lap belt and picked him up. “That’s a… that’s a daddy word.”

“David! What kind of lesson is that?”

Emma and Killian just looked at each other and started cracking up. “So what do you say? Stay in or join these crazy kids at the zoo?” Emma asked Killian.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing,” Emma deadpanned. “I’m asking you out on a date with me, my brother, his wife and kid, and the monkeys too.”

“Sounds delightful as long as you’ll be there,” Killian answered as he pulled her into his embrace and pecked her lips.

“Hey, let’s just take it slow,” David interrupted, “I’m not quite there yet.”

“Oh relax, she’s 28, not 16, they’ve obviously already done the deed, how are you going to get squirmy over a hug?”

“Not helping!” David pleaded with his wife, rubbing his temples in a soothing motion.

“He’s such a baby,” Mary Margaret cracked up. “How about you guys meet us there? No rush,” she added conspiratorially.

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to lay out a trail of rose petals to the bed for them?”

“He’s too easy,” she continued laughing.

“Fuhfuh sake!!” Leo shouted.

Mary Margaret’s laughter cut off immediately as she stared daggers at her husband. “Watch your mouth, he’s a parrot these days!”

“Gonna be a fun day,” Emma said, once the Nolans had departed. She was most definitely trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“It’ll be brilliant, love. You and me, that is the only requisite for my enjoyment.”

“I bet you say that to all the other girls.”

“There are no other girls. Only you, milady.”

“Good,” Emma whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Mmm, let’s practice mating like the animals, Swan.”

Emma laughed so hard her stomach hurt. “I have no doubt David is now timing the drive to the zoo and adding it to the time he thinks it should take us to be ready.”

“I can be quick,” Killian purred as he thrust his hardening length against her stomach.

“Or we could take our time and really freak him out?”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, I promise, that’s all I want you to have.”

Emma stared into the intense gaze of Killian’s eyes, the blue shining with truth and sincerity. “The long haul, Killian, that’s what my heart desires. You and me.”

The End

Tagging @laschatzi @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @hollyethecurious @jennjenn615 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @apromisednightcap @ultraluckycatnd @wordsmith-storyweaver @darkcolinodonorgasm @nikkiemms @deathbycaptainswan @gingerchangeling @thisonesatellite @resident-of-storybrooke @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @cocohook38 @snowbellewells @andiirivera @searchingwardrobes @timeless-love-story @artistic-writer @kday426 @imagnifika

#cs fan fic #cs ff #cs smut #captain swan #cs au

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