#Jason will be the first child he adopts that doesn’t remind him of a ten year old boy mourning his entire world

[grandapplewit]

I love Battinson for MANY reasons, not the least of which that the prospect of watching him cradle his fourteen year old sons badly beaten and burned body as he sobs in the middle of a destroyed warehouse has me foaming at the mouth

#battinson adopting dick is one thing #because dicks inherent Eldest Daughter Energy will slowly awaken the stressed single father we all know is hidden somewhere under there #but Jason? finding this orphaned child who has survived with no one around for years #who has the absolute balls to steal his goddamn TIRES #right when he’s fighting with dick #who he loves but can’t seem to understand for the life of him #because they’re so similar he can’t look past his own blind spots #but Jason? #Jason will be the first child he adopts that doesn’t remind him of a ten year old boy mourning his entire world #because Jason never had time to mourn #he had to survive #and that will be his baby!! goddammit #that’ll be his little boy! #who’s angry and caring and protective and loves Jane Austen and the stupid essays his history teachers have him write #who wants nothing more than to grow up and make his dad proud #and that’ll be taken away from both of them #and god I want to see Bruce BREAK #jason todd #the Batman 2022 #battinson #batman #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 21: Apologies (Father’s Day)

AO3

Prev

Marinette purses her lips as she looks at the neatly wrapped package in her hand. She knew she should still give it to her dad, shouldn’t let her hurt over the Gala stop her from celebrating Father’s Day with him for the first time. She’d already gotten confirmation from her Maman that her present for her Papa had arrived. So that was taken care of. A small part of her, the petty part, wanted to use Kaalki and go back to Paris for Father’s Day. But she also didn’t want to hurt her dad, no matter how much he’d hurt her. She had to be better than that, she is Ladybug after all. Sighing, she drops the present onto her bed. Grabbing the rest of what she needed for a movie night at one of Jason’s safe houses, she rushes out of her room. She knew that her dad’s conversation with Superman in the Batcave wouldn’t last too long, and then he’d be looking for her and Damian to lecture the hell out of them. Unfortunately for him, neither of them planned to be around to listen to it. 

“Got everything Pixie Pop?” Jason asks as she rushes down the last of the steps, barely stopping herself from falling. She quickly balances herself and shoots her brother a small grin. 

“Yup. Let’s go before I can get grounded.” She says, rushing past him and out the door, grinning as she hears his loud cackles behind her. It will get better. She’d talk to her dad eventually, and shove the bad feelings away. But she was going to let herself mope for another day. After all, letting herself feel negative emotions was part of the reason her parents agreed to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. 

---

“What do you mean there’s an entire movie about you and Cat boy?” Jason asks, shoving another cookie in his mouth. Marinette shrugs. 

“I mean we have a movie. It’s not my favorite, it’s kind of ridiculous. None of it is accurate. Except, Adrien did voice Chat Noir for the movie...still not sure why he thought that was a good idea.” She says, thinking back to the original premiere of the movie and all of the drama that came with it. 

“Well shit. He’s not the brightest kid, is he?” Jason asks with a snort. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then remembers some of Adrien’s….less brilliant moments. Okay, so maybe he’s not perfect.

“Ya know, we were once cast as Ladybug and Chat Noir in a music video.” She says, snorting at the look on Jason’s face. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Really? Kid, please tell me you didn’t go through with it.” He says, looking mildly distressed. Marinette just rolls her eyes. 

“No, we didn’t. The concept for the video changed and so no more hero costumes. I was terrified though. Kept losing the mask on purpose ‘cause I was convinced the mask would be what gave it away.” She admits with a small laugh. 

“Ya know, that’s almost as bad as the time that someone at WE thought it’d be a good idea to enter B in a Batman look alike contest. Sent in his photo and everything.” Jason says with a snort. Marinette’s jaw drops.

“Wait, really?” She asks. He nods. 

“Yup. But that’s not the best part.” He says. Her eyebrows furrowed together. What could possibly be better- Oh. No, oh my-

“He lost, didn’t he!” She cheers, laughing at Jason’s huge smile. 

“Of course he did! You didn’t really think Brucie Wayne could ever be THE Batman, did you?” He asks with a smirk. 

“Who entered him?” Marinette asks, kind of assuming that Jason did it with Tim’s computer. 

“No one could ever prove anything, but Lucius Fox couldn’t stop smiling for weeks after it happened.” Jason says. 

“No way, Lucius Fox? Oh my god!” She starts laughing again, the negative feelings from earlier almost completely gone. Disappeared. Times like these, she was beyond relieved that she wasn’t an only child anymore. She doesn’t know how she’d ever function again without her brothers and Cass. 

---

Bruce takes a deep breath before knocking on Marinette’s door. He’d spent some time talking to Clark in an attempt to calm down. He still couldn’t believe his two youngest children had gone to the Watchtower without permission...well, he could believe that Damian went. But not Marinette. And then there was her attitude towards him at the Tower. Her posture was very Damian, but her words and tone were very much Jason. He couldn’t decide if he was glad that they were bonding, or frustrated with the way his sons were corrupting his daughter. Not hearing an answer on the other side of the door, he knocks again. 

“If?” He says. Alfred nods. 

“Marinette, I know you’re angry, but shutting yourself away in your room is not the answer. I’ll give you ten more minutes, but then we need to talk about your behavior today.” He says, nodding to himself. That sounded good. That was right, right?

“I’m certain that wouldn’t work on Miss Marinette even if she was in her room, Master Bruce.” Alfred says, giving him an unimpressed look. Bruce’s eye twitches. 

“Indeed, sir. It seems that Miss Marinette will not be sleeping at the manor tonight.” He says, turning to walk away. 

“And I’m assuming you know where she is?” Bruce says, doubting that Alfred will actually give up her location. He’d definitely been picking the kids’ side the last two weeks or so. It was different, and he wasn’t fond of the change. 

“Of course I do, sir.” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. 

“Will you tell me where she is?” He asks, trying hard not to huff when Alfred shakes his head. 

“Of course not, sir.” He says before walking away. Right. So she wasn’t sleeping at the manor, but she was safe. If she wasn’t, Alfred would have told him where she was. He mentally runs through a list of possible places she could be. Dick’s apartment, one of Jason’s safe houses, the Siren’s apartment, Paris- He pales as he realizes that she could definitely be in Paris. Was she really so upset that she would go back to Paris? Would she ever come back if she left? He lets out an uneven breath. He messed up. He messed up and now she was going to go back to Paris and she’d never talk to him again. Unless- maybe she didn’t. Swallowing the guilt that appears at the thought, he pushes her door open. If she had left for Paris, she would’ve taken everything with her. The sight of her clothes and sewing supplies still scattered around the room makes him breathe a sigh of relief. She hadn’t left Not yet. He’s about to walk out when an envelope on her bed catches his eye. Frowning, he walks over and picks it up, ‘Dad’ written on it in neat cursive. Now standing by her bed, he realizes there’s also a neatly wrapped package (Batman wrapping paper) on it. He smiles, then glances back at the envelope. He opens it, smiling at the art on the cardstock. It was clearly Marinette’s art, but he was confused why it was addressed to him. 

‘Dad, I just wanted to let you know that I’m so happy you’re my Dad, and I’m so glad that I got to meet you. Finding out that I was adopted was a little scary, but you’ve made sure I’ve been okay through it all. Happy Father’s Day! Love, Marinette’

Bruce blinks. She was scared. If he had to guess, she was most likely scared that the family wouldn’t accept her. They’d been getting along so well, until the Gala mistake. Until he’d decided for her. Assumed she wouldn’t want to go to the Gala. And now she didn’t even want to stay at the manor tonight, and she was angry enough earlier to throw a chair at him. He pushes a hand through his hair, cursing lowly under his breath. He had to fix this. 

---

A sharp pounding at the door makes Jason leap off the couch. He holds up a finger and gestures for Marinette to hide. No one should be here. No one else knows which of his safe houses he was at today. Grabbing a gun, he walks over, glancing through the peephole. He scoffs. 

“Get the fuck outta here Bruce.” He calls through the door, watching Marinette as she immediately tenses as if she’s gonna run. He shakes his head at her. She didn’t have to run, he sure as hell wouldn’t open the door if she didn’t want him to. 

“Jason, open the door. I need to talk to Marinette.” Bruce calls, Jason snorts. 

“Yeah, not gonna happen B.” He says. 

“I would like to apologize to her.” Bruce says. Jason blinks. That’s new. Did the old man finally figure out that fuck ups warrant apologies? He glances over at Marinette, raising an eyebrow. It was her call. The unsure look on her face almost makes him decide for her. Almost. The kid’d had enough of people deciding shit for her. 

“Let him in.” She says. He opens the door, glaring at the man. 

“Is it okay if he comes in?” She whispers, and Jason nods.

“Up to you kiddo.” He whispers back. She stands taller, pushing her shoulders back before nodding. 

“She’s the one who let you in. Don’t fuck this up.” He warns before stepping aside and letting Bruce walk in.

“Marinette.” He says, nodding at her. Jason groans. Yeah, B was totally gonna fuck this up. 

“Father.” She says, shifting so that her arms are crossed, a neutral expression on her face. God, he really hopes her mimicking Demon Spawn is just a phase. 

“I would like to preface this conversation by letting you know I went into your room.” Bruce says. Marinette just raises an eyebrow. Yeah, Jason wasn’t seeing the connection either. “I apologize for invading your privacy like that, Damian has definitely reminded me several times that your personal rooms are not to be messed with. However, when Alfred let me know you weren’t sleeping at the manor tonight, I was worried that perhaps you had gone back to Paris.” 

“I wouldn’t have gone back without telling you. Well, other than akuma attacks. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” She asks, frowning. 

“I know that I’ve done things I’m not proud of when hurt. Things that I came to regret. And I saw earlier today how hurt you actually are. I didn’t realize-” He pauses. “I also read the card that was on your bed.”

“What! No, that was- that was for Father’s Day.” She says with a sigh. 

“I didn’t open the gift. I originally thought the envelope would have a note from you on where you had gone. Or that you never wanted to see me again. I thought the chances were pretty even.” He says and Jason snorts. 

“Oh, okay. Wait, why would you ever think that? Yes, I was hurt. I still am hurt, if I’m being honest. But I don’t want to cut you out of my life.” She says, shaking her head. 

“Nor do I want you out of ours.” Bruce says. Marinette blinks. “I realize now what it must have looked like, to you. Not informing you about the Gala, taking the rest of the family. It was, admittedly, not my best moment. I made a decision for you when I should’ve asked you what you wanted. You could have even come with us as MDC, but I took that option away from you. I am very sorry, Marinette. I am glad that you’re my daughter, sweetheart.” He says and Jason blinks. Well shit. The old man did have feelings. Too bad no one would ever believe him if he tried to say something about it. He watches as the tension in Marinette’s body drops almost instantly before she runs over and launches herself at Bruce. She wraps her arms around him and Jason can see the way her body shakes. Bruce just stands there, staring down at the top of her head in shock. 

“You wrap your arms around her.” Jason snarks. Bruce blinks before listening, returning Marinette’s hug. Well, they were still dysfunctional as hell, but at least now he’d be able to take Pixie Pop to the manor without feeling like an asshole brother. 

---

Marinette bounces nervously in her seat as she watches her brothers hand her dad presents. She’s shocked when Jason hands over a small gift, knowing that the two’s relationship wasn’t….great. She leans forward in anticipation, watching and waiting to see what he’d picked out. 

“Thank you, Jason. Clark will never let me live this down.” Her dad says, the fondness in his tone not matching the frown on his face. He turns the box around and the room erupts in laughter. Somehow, Jason had found a company that made customizable bobbleheads. The body was probably just a stock body, dressed in civilian clothes with a superman suit peaking through the shirt. And the head, the head was hilarious. It was very obviously crafted to look like their dad, specifically with his ‘Brucie Wayne’ smile. It was awful and amazing at the same time. 

“I think Jaybird wins best gift.” Dick says with a grin. 

“Tt. Unlikely. The new katana that Cass and I gave him is obviously superior.” Damian says, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know Damian, I still haven’t given him my present.” She points out, grinning at the slight frown on Damian’s face. 

“While I doubt your present could be better than mine, there is no doubt it will be better received than Todd’s.” Damian says. Marinette snorts at the look on Jason’s face. 

“Listen Demon Spawn, there’s this thing called humor. That’s what my gift had. I know you wouldn’t know anything about humor, so let me explain it to you.” He starts, and Marinette jumps in to cut him off before they can start arguing. It was Father’s Day, the least they could do is avoid fighting with each other for a couple more hours. 

“And this one’s from me.” She says, passing him the present wrapped in Batman wrapping paper. She grins as Tim and Dick both laugh, not having seen it before now. 

“I think Mari might win just ‘cause of the paper.” Tim admits, taking a large drink of his iced coffee that Marinette had picked up for him. She’d had to fight an akuma right before they started presents, so she’d stopped and got Tim coffee from the shop that he’d tried when they’d all been in Paris. She watches in anticipation as her dad carefully unwraps the box, opening it and pulling out the black suit jacket. He smiles at her. 

“Did you make this? It’s amazing.” He says, and her brothers nod in agreement (though Damian does so reluctantly). 

“Look at the inside of it.” She says, gesturing for him to unfold it. His eyebrow twitches, but he does as she says. She watches his face for the moment he spots it, and grins when his face drops into a wide smile. On the inside of the left side of the jacket, she’d added a breast pocket. It wasn’t really for anything though. Instead, it was so that she could embroider all of his children’s names in a way so that it would rest above his heart. The jacket also had tiny bat logos embroidered at the cuffs of the jacket. The thread was shiny and very dark so that it would barely show up against the black of the jacket. It had to be lit just right to see it, but as he tilted the jacket again, she knew he saw it. It had taken longer than suit jackets normally do for her, but it was because she knew that it had to be perfect. It was, after all, the first piece of clothing she’d made for her dad. 

“It’s perfect, Marinette.” He says softly, running a hand over the names. She lets out a sigh of relief before smiling at him. Things were still a little rough, but they were so much better than they’d been the night of the Gala. She was glad that she had stayed, that she hadn’t ran like she had so badly wanted to.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @mizzy-pop @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin

#maribat #maribat bruce wayne #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat bio dad au #mbdbwm2021 #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat jason todd #maribat dick grayson #maribat damian wayne #maribat tim drake #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timari #platonic daminette #ao3fic #fanfiction #maribat fic #maribat fanfiction #day twenty one father's day

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober2021 - October 4th - Taken Hostage | Pushed

Gift fic to @fidothefinch <3

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Near death experience, hostage situations, implies Bruce as a shitty dad but I don't go into detail on it.

---

If there’s anything in the world that Dick hates more than being restrained, it’s being held hostage. Especially if he’s being held hostage as a threat against Bruce or Batman. One thing they don’t tell you in the foster system is that if you’re adopted by a rich and famous to the Kardashian level man, is that you’re often the target of criminals who think snatching a kid on their way home from school is a surefire way to make a million bucks. It’s no better in the vigilante business either, because often any hero in Gotham is only seen as a stepping stool to getting to Batman.

Honestly, at this point Dick’s used to it. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it, though. Not so much because of the initial kidnapping part, but because he’s worked hard to become his own person, his own man with his own life. He moved to Blüdhaven to be anything other than the son of Bruce Wayne; to be his own hero that villains learn to fear. And then the second he sets foot back in Gotham, for whatever reason, suddenly it’s all about the reclusive eldest Wayne child returning home! Suddenly, when villains see him at night, it isn’t “Oh shit, it’s Nightwing!”, it’s “Shit, it’s a Sidekick! Where’s the Bat?!”

Anyway, long story short, Dick came back to Gotham for one weekend to visit family, and now he’s dressed as Nightwing, standing on a roof with duct-tape keeping his wrists together behind his back and a knife to his throat belonging to a shady businessman who’s finally caught the attention of Gotham’s heroes.

And it’s sorta pathetic how Dick ended up in this situation. It wasn’t like this was going to be a particularly difficult mission. Just sneak into the building, grab the evidence he needed to get this bastard behind bars, and then get out. Unfortunately, someone tipped the man off without Bruce knowing about it. When he went into the main office, he was met with a very strong guard hiding behind the doors, and after a hefty blow to the head and a few concerning minutes of blacking out, Dick opened his eyes—thankfully still masked—to find himself kneeling on the rough cement of a skyscraper’s roof, completely stripped of any of his useful tools. He has a small knife in one of his gauntlets, but it’s not exactly in an easy to reach position. It would take time to grab at it, and that’s not counting the high probability he’ll be spotted by Jerome McCoy--Gotham’s latest shady businessman--or any of his goons.

Besides, Tim is already up here listening to their demands to get Batman up here or Dick dies. It shouldn’t be long before Bruce gets here and kicks his ass. That’s not even accounting for the facts that Jason, Steph, Duke, Dami, and Cass are all in town.

These idiots have no clue how close they are with dealing with close to every single bat if something bad happens to Dick tonight.

And everything was going fine until Tim suddenly stopped mid sentence in reminding McCoy that Batman was on his way and brought his hand to his communicator in his ear. When Tim paled ever so slightly, Dick knew something had gone exactly NOT according to plan.

“What is it?!” McCoy demands, pressing the knife against Dick’s neck with worrying pressure. Dick leans his head back slightly to lessen the risk of his neck being cut and meets Tim in the eyes through their masks.

Tim swallows. “Batman is being held up-”

Dick resists sighing in both disappointment and lack-of-surprise as McCoy practically explodes.

“What?!

“Only for a few hours,” Tim rushes to explain. He’s lifted his hands in a placid manner and softened his voice, which can’t be good. “He’s… met an unexpected complication along the way that he cannot ignore. Please, just tell me what you want, and I can take my partner and be out of-”

“I don’t have a few hours,” McCoy practically screeches. “Either Batman makes it his priority to get here, or Nightwing gets it!” to make a point, McCoy lifts the knife from Dick’s neck and waves it in front of him. Dick slides his eyes over to the other goons on the roof; there’s only a few. Maybe… if Dick plays his cards right… “That was the deal!”

“I understand-”

“Tell Batman to get here now, or Nightwing’s blood is on his hands!”

“He’s busy- I can’t just-”

Dick slams his body back, pointing his elbow the furthest he can with the way his arms are bound and jamming it into McCoy’s stomach. McCoy lets out a startled, breathless gasp as Dick uses his surprise to escape from his grasp and jump to his feet.

“’Wing!” Tim yells at the same time McCoy wheezes “Get that fucker!”

Dick has just a second to notice Tim’s shock at Dick’s sudden attack before Dick’s having to defend himself with his hands literally tied behind his back. Sorry, kid, Dick thinks, ducking around a pair of beefy arms, but we’re out of options.

It was going well until it wasn’t. Tim was even about to step in. However, while waking up from his lovely whack to the head, Dick failed to assess just where he was on the roof.

All it took was for the back of his heel to tough nothing but air for his heart to jump to his throat. Instinctively, he tried to wave his arms to catch his balance, but was quickly reminded of his predicament when the tape tugged against his wrists. For a moment, pure panic filled his entire body, here, wobbling backwards off the edge of a roof dozens of stories above the ground. He could feel his heart pound, hands shake, breath catch, hair rustle in the wind, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop himself from falling backwards. He’s pretty sure he hears Tim scream his codename, but he’s not totally focused on anything other than his pending doom right now-

A heavy hand wraps around his upper-bicep, stopping his almost-promised journey to pancake town. Everything is silent on the roof for a solid moment, as Dick practically hangs over the ledge of the roof with his feet just barely still on solid ground, a goon holding him juuuuuust enough to make sure he doesn’t fall. Tim looks even paler than before, looking like he really did watch Dick go over the edge. McCoy looks a constipating mixture of smug and outraged while the other goons stand nearby like useless props.

Then, McCoy speaks with anger as heavy and level as stone. “Tell Batman I want him here in ten minutes.”

Tim meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick sees everything that he needs to. Whatever is holding Bruce up, it’s more important than Dick, and Tim knows it’s useless to even try.

“Please,” Tim says, voice wobbly. He’s a detective. He knows what’s about to happen. “Just give us more time-”

McCoy snaps a finger, and that’s that.

The hand on his arm pushes Dick away and opens it’s grasp. It doesn’t matter anymore that Dick had his feet on the roof, because the rest of his body is falling.

Falling.

Dick’s completely off the roof in a blink of an eye and he’s falling.

The air is rushing past his ears and through his hair, so loud he can barely think. That’s if he’s thinking at all, as story after story passes him by. He’s falling, and for the first time in a long time, he’s afraid of falling, because this time there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t have any tools… he doesn’t even have his hands, nor enough time to even try and get his hands free. He’s falling, rushing to the ground. He can already see in vivid detail what his body will look like when it hits the pavement.

He’s falling. He’s standing at the top of a beam, watching his mama and papa fall. He’s falling. He’s screaming as the sound of their bodies landing and snapping reaches his ears. He’s falling and he’s going to die in the most Grayson way possible.

He’s going to die the same way his parents did, a way that he’s worked hard to not be afraid of ever since he first moved in with Bruce, but was always secretly terrified.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch. He’s afraid, and Tim will watch from above and blame himself and he never wanted any of his siblings to blame themselves for his death like how he blamed himself for his parent’s for decades and-

And the wind is knocked out of him, but not from his body slamming on the ground. A strong arm wraps painfully around his stomach, and suddenly the world turns sideways and his eyes shoot open in shock.

“Fuck,” Jason grunts, holding Dick with one arm and the other wrapped tightly in a grappling line. “Fucking hell.”

And Dick… doesn’t know what to do. He feels muted, like a YouTube video playing at 144p and buffering still. The adrenaline is pumping so loudly through his entire body that the fact that Jason’s caught him doesn’t register until Jason’s landing roughly on the ground and lowering Dick to the asphalt.

“Started heading over the second that bastard said he wasn’t coming,” Jason explains. Dick nods numbly, his eyes locked on the oil covered road below him, his mind still trying to process. “Said he ran into some bastard working for Two-Face holding some rich family hostage. Said we could handle it. I can’t believe I got here just in time. Fucking fuck-face fucker.”

There’s a splash of two feet landing on the permanently puddled street beside them, and Dick can hardly contain his flinching at the sound, but thankfully Jason doesn’t notice. He just stands up and faces where Tim has landed quite suddenly from where he must have grappled down from the roof. Dick continues to look at the ground, wringing his knitting together in front of him. He… hasn’t noticed Jason undid the bindings.

“What happened to McCoy?” Jason demands, and Tim takes a gasping breath and shakes his head.

“They ran into the building while I… jumped after N.”

Jason growls, taking a step forward but Tim stops him. “Orphan said she’ll handle it, she sounded pissed.”

Jason backs off, but anger still curls in his stomach like an old friend. His fists clench to his side. “Once I see B, I’m gonna punch his teeth up to his brain.”

And it must be proof of how shaken Tim is, because he doesn’t argue.

Then, like a pin hitting tile, a small sound catches Jason’s ears. He looks down to where Dick is still sitting in the grime of Gotham’s street. His heart sinks to his gut.

“N?” he asks, and Dick doesn’t respond. “Nightwing, you’re… crying.”

That directs Tim’s attention down where tears are certainly streaming down Dick’s cheeks from under his mask. His lips are wobbling, and the second Jason kneels down to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, a wounded sound escapes his lips.

“Dick?” Jason asks, his voice sounding shocked and unsure.

Dick looks up at Tim, looking one breath of the wind from falling apart. “You jumped after me?” His voice is small and brittle. When Tim nods slowly, Dick whimpers, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a sob. “You almost watched me die,” is all he says before he finally breaks down into mournful cries.

Jason looks up from where Dick’s now shaking and gasping into his hands and meets Tim’s eyes. Neither of them… has ever seen Dick get like this before. It feels wrong, like something in the world has shattered and can never be replaced.

“Lets… get him home,” Jason says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Tim can smartly bring to his lips while Jason scoops Dick into his arms and stands up.

Dick’s so out of it with his sobbing that he hardly reacts, just curls against Jason and continues to cry.

“You know,” Jason says quietly, “the scariest way to die, for me, is to overdose.”

And Tim understands.

“I… see.”

Jason nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. So let’s just call it a night, get him some Alfred cookies, and just… let him take this at his own pace, okay?”

Tim nods, knowing that after years of Dick always going out of his way to help them with their trauma, their issues, and never asking for anything in return… it’s now their turn to return the favor. Dick looks so much smaller than Tim swears he’s ever seen him, curled up in Jason’s arms, trembling and sobbing. He silently promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make sure Dick gets through this, just like what he’d do for them, always. And Tim’s positive the rest of Dick’s siblings will do the same.

#dick grayson #nightwing #batman #whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #pushed #near death tw #fanfiction #jin writes

[intercoursefluids]

The Impromptu Sleepover Part 2 (Final)

One day. All she asked for was one normal day. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? A single completely average day is not too much to ask for.

Unless of course, you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Then it’s impossible.

People around Marinette start crying as Scarecrow walks into the room, mothers hiding their children behind them as everyone holds onto each other, scared of what’s to come.

Marinette shudders at the pure animosity radiating from the man-turned monster.

Adrien, ever the faithful friend, mistakes the slight shake as fear and shifts so he covers her from the villain’s view.

Everything is quiet before Scarecrow starts on his evil monolog (not that anyone cares).

Tuning him out Marinette looks around, trying to come up with a plan to get everyone out before a shrill scream and crying fill the air causing her to snap back around.

Some of Scarecrow’s goons are holding a woman back as a small boy is dragged up to the monster himself.

Grabbing the boys are he holds the trembling child painfully tight before reaching behind him and pulling out a canister.

Seeing as how Marinette planned this whole trip she made sure to know all about the local heroes and villains.

And the knowledge of what that bastard was going to do to that poor kid squashed any sense of self-preservation Marinette had.

Rushing forward she manages to make it past the few armed men standing between her and Scarecrow and rips the kid away from him just to get blasted in the face by the fear-toxin.

Ringing fills her ears as she collapses to the ground, voices shouting from the corners of her mind.

All of them shouting how they failed her, she should have done better. That she never should have been chosen.

One voice rings out crystal clear amongst all of the other roaring voices.

You said you would save me, M’lady. I should have known better than to trust someone like you. After all, you aren’t even worth the Ladybug miraculous. I have to say, I’m disappointed in you Bugaboo.

Her head jerks up at her partner’s voice, tears streaming from her eyes as she comes face to face with someone she never wanted to see again.

Chat Blanc.

Voices surround her as explosions sound in the distance. Her parents, her friends, everyone. All screaming at how she failed them, how she should have stopped when she had the chance.

Children’s cries fill the air around her, only these are different. They don’t echo from within her head, instead, they come from around her, slowly grounding her. Reminding her that this is just some monster’s trick.

The fear is still there, prominent as ever, but now her focus is on getting everyone out. She hasn’t failed yet.

Slowly uncurling from the ball she had formed she looks around. Forcing herself to see past the bloodied faces of people she failed to save.

All around her everyone is still the same, the hostages in the same places, same as the gunmen (even if they look smug at her suffering).

The only one missing is Scarecrow himself, and turning ever so slowly to face Chat Blanc her fears are confirmed.

In Scarecrows place stands her beloved kitty.

Pure unadulterated rage fills her as he dares wear her kitten’s face.

Lunging at Chat Blanc she hears the startled screams as she attacks him before the rushing in her ears takes over, leaving her deaf to the sound of shattering glass as the heroes arrive on the scene.

Having the advantage of surprise on her side she manages to pin him fairly easily tying his arms behind his back with her visitors’ pass before spinning around to help take down the rest.

An arm wraps around her, trapping her arms to her side as she struggles, a hand coming up to cover her eyes as she tries to getaway.

Quiet shushing and words of reassurance reach her ears causing her struggling to slow.

“W-who are you?”

Marinette winces at the tremor in her voice as she takes stalk of her surroundings.

Her head is tucked under their chin as their surprisingly strong arms hold her in place, one hand still firmly over her eyes.

“My name is Damian. I’m trying to help keep you calm until they can get you the anti-serum.”

She chuckles even as she shakes in his hold.

“It’s not normally a good idea to grab a girl from behind if you want her to calm down.”

He tenses slightly.

“Right, I didn’t think that through. Most people see what they are most afraid of so I thought if I took that away it would help you calm down.”

Marinette doesn’t reply for a while, opting to try and match his breathing instead of replying. All the while subconsciously leaning more against him.

“It’s working I’ll admit, you just went about it horribly. Can we sit down? I feel like my legs are about to give out.”

She feels him loosen his hold and fumble with something behind her before the hand over her eyes is replaced with a piece of cloth. He takes her hand leading her over to a wall before sitting and pulling her with him, tucking her into his side and draping something over her shoulders as her shaking picks up again.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me about yourself? It’ll help me keep my mind off of the panic.”

She feels him nod shifting again so she's leaning more against his chest.

“I have 3 older brothers. Richard, but everyone calls him Dick, Jason, and Tim. I lived with my mother until I was 10 so I’ve only known them for 6 years. They are all adopted but I don’t think anyone even remembers that half the time.”

Marinette can’t help the soft smile that takes over her face as she wraps her arm around him (why is he so warm???).

“You sound like you love them.”

He scoffs.

“Not in a million years, they’re annoying. Grayson is overly dramatic and a hopeless romantic, Todd is a trigger-happy hothead, and Drake is an insomniac, workaholic with a caffeine addiction.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle, her overwhelming fear slowly receding enough for her to think.

“They may be ‘annoying’ but they’re your family, I can tell you care about them.”

Damian makes an offended noise even as he wraps his arm around her rubbing her arm up and down.

“The only person in our family that I actually like is Alfred, he’s our grandfather and the only reason any of us are still alive, but, I guess they aren’t as bad as they used to be. Not that I'll ever admit that to them. Their egos are big enough as is.”

Marinette is about to respond when another voice cuts her off, causing her to cling to Damian as her heart rate picks back up frantically.

“Too late, I brought the anti-serum for your frie- Hey is she okay?”

Damian pulls her into his lap, rubbing her back even as he scolds the other person.

“She’s still being affected by the fear-gas dipshit! I just got her to calm down again, give me that!”

One of his arms leaves her body as he reaches away from her, he starts whispering to her again as something pricks her upper right arm.

It only takes a minute for the anti-toxin to work, causing Marinette to sag in relief against Damian as he keeps his arms around her.

“Seriously Todd! You should have known better than to startle someone like that!”

Marinette takes deep breaths of air, slightly surprised by the smell of Damian’s cologne before realizing she has her arms wrapped around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right. My bad demon-spawn.”

Damian scoffs adjusting Marinette in his arms so he can sit up instead of leaning against the wall.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to, nitwit!”

Marinette sits up slightly kissing Damian’s cheek as she takes the makeshift blindfold off before returning to her earlier position.

“Thank you, Damian. You didn’t have to help me, much less stay with me and calm me down. You’re really sweet, you know that?”

His arms tense around her before cackling fills the air.

“Demon-spawn? Sweet?! I don’t know who you’re calling sweet but it’s most definitely not my little brother.”

Damian groans as ‘Todd’ keeps laughing, instead directing his attention to Marinette.

“Do you think you’re okay to walk? The cops will probably want to take a statement.”

She nods and they slowly rise, Damian, supporting her the whole time. Once she is finally standing up straight she turns to look at the boy who helped before coming face to face with the greenest eyes she’s ever seen.

Her breath catches in her throat as she meets his electric emerald eyes for the first time since they met.

They stand there, in complete silence before a camera flash breaks through their quiet bubble.

Turning towards Todd, Marinette studies his features.

Pale skin, blue eyes, and black hair with a tuffet of white at the front.

“What do you think you are doing,Jason?”

Todd now dubbed ‘Jason’ grins stepping away from his brother.

“Ooh, the first name. You only use that when you’re pissed. And I’m sending this to the group chat, no one will believe me if I say that you were civil with another human being!”

Damian glares.

“You have ten seconds to run, Todd.”

Jason wastes no time running away as quickly as humanly possible.

Damian goes to follow him but stops when Marinette grabs his arm.

“Help me over to the officers? I’m still a little shaky.”

His sharp glare softens as he leads her over to give her statement.

10 minutes later, they are both sitting on a bench waiting for the police to finish getting statements from the rest of the hostages and for the armored truck that will transport Scarecrow to arrive.

“One time when I was 11, Todd and Drake decided it would be a good idea to kidnap my turkey Jerry and hide him away after buying a raw turkey and cooking it for dinner. They said they found it wandering around outside and decided it would be a good idea to cook it.”

Damian shakes his head in fond exasperation.

“That is the closest I had ever come to crying in front of my brothers. I ended up running and telling Grayson what they did and he got so mad. They ended up fessing up that it was just a prank and they didn’t mean to actually make me upset. They ended up going out and buying a bunch of junk food and pizza before we had one big movie night together.”

“We all ended up falling asleep in the living room all piled on top of each other. Father was so surprised when he came home and he didn’t even send us to bed. He got changed and joined us in the living room. We all ended up sleeping in a giant pile on the floor that night while Alfred took the couch.”

Marinette smiles up at Damian, he had been telling her about himself ever since she had asked him to and she honestly enjoyed it.

“They sound wonderful Damian. Hey, when do you think they are going to-.”

“Mari!”

Marinette is cut off by one of her favorite blondes as he latches onto her body.

“When you rushed forward I tried to follow you and ended up getting hit with the gas and had a panic attack, and then when they gave me the serum I couldn’t find you and had another panic attack, and they couldn’t calm me down for a while and then they had to take my statement but I still couldn’t find you and I’ve been freaking out the whole time. What the hell were you thinking? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

By the time Adrien finally stops rambling his head is in Marinette’s lap and his arms are wrapped around her waist.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, but you shouldn’t have even followed me, that was dangerous and stupid and your dad would destroy me if anything happened to you.”

Adrien snorts.

“If you don’t want me to follow you then don’t take off running.”

Marinette groans, not acknowledging the fact that she is still leaning against Damian.

“Adrien, you are far too ride or die for your own good.”

Adrien sighs, leaning back to look at his best friend.

“Yeah well, Chloe is probably gonna kill us both if we don’t get back to the hotel soon. She heard what happened and has been blowing up my phone since I came to. Ms. Bustier won’t let her leave though.”

“We are so dead. She’s going to actually kill me this time. Damian? Would you like an invite to my funeral? You’ll need a tux.”

Before Damian can even try to respond Adrien cuts him off.

“Oh! There's another person here… Who saw me acting dramatic…. Oh no.”

Adrien's pale face contrasts brightly with Marinette’s, which is bright red from restraining her laughter.

“Okay, okay this is fine. It’s fine. We have two options here, A: We kill you so you can’t spill our secrets or B: You become our friend and are kept under surveillance.”

Damian raises an eyebrow at him not even bothering to acknowledge how dramatic he is still being.

“No.”

Marinette finally breaks, cackling like a witch she rips a piece of paper from her ever present sketchbook and writes her number down.

“Here, this is my number in case you want to stay in contact. Come on Adrien, Chloe is going to kill us.”

She grabs Adriens arm and starts to run, ignoring his protests of ‘He knows too much to be left alive!’ in favor of trying to make it back to the hotel with her other favorite blonde.

She didn’t see the soft smile Damian sent her way as he puts her number in his phone…

But Jason did, and soon will ever other wayne if the video he sent to the family group chat had anything to say about it.

#daminette #I don't now how to tag #marinette x batfam

[cdelphiki]

Was re-reading ‘In for a Penny’ when I read this sentence “if we do not rescue Damian today, “Clark said, finally speaking up, “I have a feeling we will one day face him in battle”and thought what if Bruce wasn’t able to find Damian, instead meets him again when he’s ten, how would he feel?What would happen? Damian holding a sword to the father he doesn’t remembers throat, dick finally seeing his brother again. Memories, baby things left untouched in the manor. Would love to hear your thoughts-M

The years since Damian’s kidnapping had not been kind to Bruce.

Dick left him. When he was barely eighteen. Packed up and moved to Bludhaven, where he still lived some six years later.  

Bruce couldn’t blame him. Not really. He’d not been much of a father, once Damian went missing.  

Then Jason came along, and Bruce had tried really hard for that boy. He’d worked on himself, worked on his availability. Adopted him, right from the start.

It hadn’t mattered.

Because in the end, Jason had left him, too. In the most painful way possible.

At least Damian was out there.

Somewhere.

Growing up, living his life.

Jason’s had been cut short.

After that, Bruce had sworn off kids. He wanted nothing to do with children ever again, because brining a child in his life just meant he’d love that child, and life didn’t let him keep the things he loved.  

He wasn’t sure how many more times he could go through that.

Those he loved suffered in the worst ways possible, and how could he do that to another child?

Then Tim came around. Kind of forced his way into Bruce’s life. Reluctantly, and completely against his will, Bruce had come to love Tim, as well. Had adopted him, when the opportunity arose, as tragic as it was.  

Talia had made herself scarce in the years since stealing Damian away from him. He’d tried to find them. Many times. But they always evaded him. Were always too well hidden.

He hadn’t… given up.

Per se.

But as Damian grew older, Bruce’s hope dwindled. He’d not even been two yet, when Talia took him away. There was no chance he’d even remember Bruce at five.

Or eight.

Or the ten he was now.

What right would Bruce have to swoop in and steal him away? Rip him away from the only family he remembered?

To him, Bruce was the absent father, living on the opposite side of the planet, and as much as he wanted to see his son, as badly as he wanted to hold his baby in his arms, he was a stranger to Damian.

He had no right over him any more.  

All he had left of his little boy were pictures and a stuffed cow.

He’d given away everything else. To Clark, when Lois was expecting Jon.

To Selina. When she was expecting Helena.

Damian was too old for baby things, anyway. And walking past a nursery was painful.

They’d turned that room into Jason’s.

It wasn’t any less painful, now.  

Bruce tried not to think about any of it. Tried not to think about Damian.

But it was hard, when Talia al Ghul kidnapped him while he was on mission in England.

Strung him up and got right in his face.

Hers was not a face he wanted to see.

“Talia,” he snarled, flexing his hands, testing his strength against the bat-thing that held him tight.

It would take a remarkable show of strength to free himself. He wasn’t sure he could. Even if he did, there were half a dozen more of the bat-things all around him. He knew himself outnumbered when he saw it.

He was just thankful Tim had taken the weekend off, rather than accompanying him on this trip.  

“What do you want, Talia,” he spat, when she came too close, running her fingers across his chest. He had no interest in her. And she should know that by now.

She had killed any chance of there being anything between them eleven years prior.

And then burned it to the ground when she stole their son away from him.  

“It’s nice to see you, too, Beloved,” she drawled, pulling away from Bruce and drawing her sword.  She toyed with it, staring at the blade in her hand, without saying anything further.

“What. Do. You. Want,” he ground out. Games were also not something he was interested in.  

“Hm,” she hummed, still toying with her blade for a moment before finally asking, “You remember our son?”

“How could I forget,” he growled. If she had merely kidnapped him to taunt him…

He might need to call in Clark to hold him back. He pulled at his arms again, and could feel the give in his captors’ hold. Knew, if he pulled his arms in just the right way, kicked his legs back at just the right moment, he’d be able to free himself easily.

“Hm. Yes, well,” she said, waving a hand at him, as if dismissing his anger, “He has grown wild. I can no longer control him.”

His sweet little baby?

Unlikely.

“What did you do to him?” he shouted, seriously contemplating calling in Clark. Because he was not sure he’d be able to control himself if he found out Damian had been mistreated in any way.

And he couldn’t think of a single other explanation for his Damian turning ‘wild.’ Not his sweet little baby who loved animals and was so gentle. So empathetic. So kind.

“Do not be so dramatic,” Talia snapped, “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy about what.”

“He needs… taming,” she said, twirling her sword around, a little, before she sheathed it again, “He lacks discipline. I had hoped some time with his father would straighten him out.”

“Time with,” he started, only to fumble over his words.

Was she…

Introducing him to Damian?

Why… why would she… after all these years…?

What was her game?

“You’ll hear from me soon, Beloved, though I’ll imagine you’ll be busy. I intend to hold the whole world hostage.”

Bruce tried to look back up at her, to ask her what the fuck that meant, but his head was pushed forward by one of the man-bats, and the entire world seemed to freeze.

Because a small child had materialized before him.

A… boy.

His boy.

In the eight years since he’d seen Damian, he had changed so much, but at the same time, not at all.

He had the same nose. The same… little button nose he’d had, as a baby. The same bright green eyes.

The same scowl.

“Damian,” he whispered, looking Damian up and down, trying to commit every little detail to memory.

“Father,” Damian responded, pushing his sword forward, almost touching Bruce’s neck, “I imagined you taller.”  

“You-“ Bruce started, but had to stop. Because he was overcome with laughter.

The man-bats let go of him, and Bruce slumped to the ground, right to his knees, only keeping himself upright with his hands as his laughter turned a tad hysteric.

His little boy.

His little boy, was standing right in front of him. Was… Was within reach.

Was coming home with him.

“You are the great warrior Mother has told me about?” Damian asked skeptically, his sword now sheathed.

That was enough to pull Bruce back to the moment.  He sniffed, and sat back so he could get a good look at his little boy.  

“Hi, Damian,” he said, smiling a little, to force the overwhelming urge to weep to go away.

Damian scowled, a little, and shot Bruce as critical look. “How do you know my name?”

“What?”

Out of all the things Damian could ask…

“My name. Mother said you did not know of me. She did not tell you my name just now. How do you know it?”

“I- What?” Bruce repeated.

“You are not as intelligent as Mother claimed. Shame.”

“Damian,” he said, slowly, “You- you lived with me.  For almost a year, as an infant.”  

“Tt,” he huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, “Now you are suggesting my mother is a liar. She has done a lot of things, but she has never lied to me.”

“Just, come here,” Bruce said, looping an arm around Damian’s shoulders and tugging him close, “I have missed you so much.”

Damian tensed in Bruce’s arms, but didn’t push him away. That is, not until Bruce started crying.  

Bruce didn’t blame him. He’d be uncomfortable, too, if a stranger claiming to know and love him started crying into his hair.  

They had so much ground to recover.  

- - -

Damian was a massive brat.

Bruce felt like a terrible parent for thinking such a thing about his own son, but Damian was downright horrible.

He did nothing but yell and scream and throw things around. He fought with Alfred. Fought with Bruce.

Hated Tim.

Considering the boy had attempted to push Tim off the top level of the cave, that first night Bruce brought him home, he couldn’t trust Damian anywhere near Tim.

And Tim hated Damian in return.

Or, at least, considered him to be the ‘son of satan’ and avoided him at all costs.

Bruce wasn’t sure how to make his family all mesh together. Wasn’t sure how to get Damian to calm down and give them all a shot.

All those years Bruce had imagined, fantasized with it would be like to get Damian back, never once had he considered he might not like the boy.  

He still loved him, of course. Loved him so much it hurt.

His son was finally home, and his home had been thrown into pure chaos.

Handing Damian the cow had been a difficult decision.

For eight years, that cow had been all Bruce had. The only physical reminder he had of the little boy he’d lost.

Damian and Cow had been inseparable, when he was an infant. Bruce had bought three more, the very second he realized how attached to the dumb toy Damian had become. He had four of those cows, and when Talia’s men took Damian, they’d taken none of them.

It’d been a stab in his heart, every time he looked at cow. Knowing how scared Damian would be without it. How upset.

Knowing Damian likely cried for weeks, if not months, for that stupid cow.  

And in the eight years since Damian’s kidnapping, Bruce had become a little attached to the cow, himself. It sat on his bed stand. Right next to his favorite photo of Damian. He pat cow’s head every night, as if doing so would be telling his own little boy ‘good night, I love you.’  

Just like he’d done every single night Damian lived with him.  

Handing Damian that cow was difficult.  Because Damian destroyed everything he was given. He was violent. He threw tantrums.

And he was, above all, not a child.  

But Cow belonged to Damian, and Bruce was unable to put it off any longer.

“Damian,” he said, knocking on his boy’s door, allowing it to creak open as he did, “I wanted to give you something.”

“What is it now,” Damian started, but paused when he got a look at the toy in Bruce’s hand.  Bruce walked over to the bed where Damian was reading and held it out, for Damian to take.

But instead, Damian just said, “That’s… Mr. Cow.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, laughing a little to cover up the desire to cry.

Because Damian remembered.

“I—“ Bruce started, “He was yours. When you lived here. I’ve— I’ve kept him in my room, ever since you left. To remind me of you. But, he was yours, so I thought I should give him back.”

“Why,” Damian said, slowly, in the least snotty tone Bruce had heard yet, “Why do I remember a stupid toy but I do not remember you?”

Bruce sighed, and sat down on the bed next to his son. He placed Cow down in Damian’s lap, even though Damian made not move to take it.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He’d been a little distraught when none of the photos had jogged anything.

He hadn’t specifically expected Damian to remember things from when he was 20-months-old, but to have his own boy accuse him of doctoring the photos, just to “get into his head” and “paint his mother as the liar” had hurt.

“You were young. Most people don’t remember much from before the age of three, and you weren’t even two when you left.”  

“But I remember the cow.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, placing his arm behind Damian as he leaned back, “You couldn’t sleep without the damn thing. My guess is you cried for it every night for months, after you left. It probably stuck with you because of that.”  

“Oh.” Damian placed his hand on cow’s head and stroked. Just once. Before his cheeks flushed and he yanked his hand away sharply.

“I’m really happy you’re back,” Bruce said, moving his hand so it was sitting on Damian’s shoulder. Damian still didn’t let him hug him, but at least he didn’t shrug his hand away.  “I hope you know that. I want nothing more than to get to know you.”  

“Thank you, Father,” Damian said crisply, then faltered before adding, much less confidently, “I have always wished to… know you.”  

Bruce couldn’t help it. He pulled Damian in by the hand on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around. “Well, I’m glad we have this chance, then.”

For once, Damian didn’t fight him. He did fidget, a little, with Cow started to fall, but he caught the little toy and held it a little more securely while Bruce rested his head down on Damian’s hair.  

And when Damian didn’t push him away for several minutes, Bruce started to think… maybe Damian wasn’t a hopeless case, after all.  

#this is your fault #also it turned a little sweeter than I first thought it would so :) #happy ending #i'll post this to ao3 in a couple days #or maybe tomorrow #idk #wanna put some time between the new chapter and it #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #robin #batfam #batfamily #fanfiction #c writes #pennyverse #sort of alt universe #remember i aged dick up for this fic #Anonymous

[bigfan-fanfic]

Who is Batdad closest to outside Wayne manor? Does he have much of a life outside of the Wayne's? Who would Batdad consider his closest friends besides his family?

Honestly, Batdad doesn’t have much of a life outside of the Waynes. He doesn’t really have anyone other than the League to talk to. Clark would probably be his closest friend outside of his family because in a lot of ways they are similar.

Okay, let me talk about this. ( I came back up and decided to answer more concisely above and put this under a read more because it’s very, very long, and I cried three times while writing it and I have never had any visceral reaction to what I write ever before... oof. Just be warned if you ever feel anxiety or pressure that basically, that’s what follows)

Batdad basically denies his own wants and dreams because he wants to help Bruce. What this means is that no matter what Batdad wanted to be before (maybe he and Bruce were dating and he confessed his desire to be a writer and Bruce allowed himself the fantasy and said they’d buy an island somewhere, and Bruce would lounge on the beach and supply Batdad in kisses while he writes the best book ever), by the time Bruce gets back to Gotham from his training, Batdad has had to become what Bruce would have been if Thomas and Martha were there. 

He’s a public figure and philanthropist, carrying the legacies of Martha and Thomas on his shoulders. He has to keep Martha’s business running - no, not just running, thriving - and deal with corrupt officials, corporate espionage, and greedy businesspeople all but threatening him to take Wayne Enterprises public so they can trade stock, all while making sure Thomas’ charities are well-funded and the money is actually going where it should (see earlier greed, corporate and personal). This is all while having to attend galas and functions and fundraisers and events or risk pissing off any one of these people who can turn his life into hell - missing one event can lead to being blacklisted and then that means nobody goes to a charity gala, which means that there’s no hospital built for those in the Narrows.

All this and also consider that everybody in high society sneers at you because the only reason you’re there is because you’re engaged to Bruce and you lived with him ever since Martha and Thomas died. You’re besieged on all sides, because the snobs hate you, the press wonders if you’re even qualified to run a business, and there’s always envy and hatred from below because why aren’t you doing MORE to help them? You haven’t been trained in this - your parents were upper-middle-class at best; you met Bruce by chance, so it’s just you and Alfred and this crushing, all-consuming PRESSURE and the fact that none of it is enough, you aren’t doing enough, it’ll never be enough.

Oh, and at this point, you’re probably only in your mid-twenties at the latest. And it only gets harder because Bruce is back and crime fighting and now you have to worry about him dying on patrol, so every night you’re there to assist him (sleep? don’t know her) and patch him up and support him every day even though he pretends a little too well to be a drunken boor and a cheating asshole (sometimes he isn’t even pretending) and help him when he gets frustrated and then you adopt a kid after your first day off in years (day off, what’s a day off, you haven’t slept enough since you were eighteen and Bruce left you and Batman came back but you haven’t said a word about it) and now there’s school and making sure Dick eats enough and is happy and doing good and doesn’t get overworked on patrol and stressing on whether or not Dick is okay whenever he leaves the Manor and again, none of it is ever enough.

You feel like you’re in your fifties by the time you hit thirty and the Justice League forms and that means SO much more work not just physically but emotionally because Bruce can’t meet anyone new without determining a thousand different ways to kill them if necessary (except for Talia, apparently. And Selina. And Silver Freaking St. Cloud. And Julie Morrison. And any number of dalliances Bruce has had because somehow they’re all smarter. or stronger, or maybe he just has a weakness for tall women who don’t take his crap. Is that what you do? Is your loyalty and consistency and unconditional love actually what lets Bruce walk away so often to a woman’s bed? Is it because he knows you will still be there? Is it because you have put so much of yourself into this life, into your children, into the Wayne Legacy of Perfection and Excellence that it would kill you to leave? Is it because you’re just another tool to him, one that will be quickly replaced when you succumb to sleep-deprivation, or that thing you’ve heard about in the news where people are dying from overwork so often the Japanese have a name for it, or the fact that you’re doing the work of ten, no, twenty people and not once have you ever complained to Bruce or begged him like any reasonable person would to stop this vigilante nonsense and actually LIVE), but now you have to coordinate meetings and a thousand different secret identities and make sure everything’s kosher and nobody’s fighting and of course Bruce has a beef with the nicest freaking guy in the League and Clark keeps coming to you to see if you can help them work it out.

Oh, and then there’s Talia, aka the thorn in your existence and her child who literally has tried to murder you for the crime of being married to Bruce years before he had even heard of Talia, and now on top of all the above, you have to balance getting to know the kid and be reminded day in and day out by him that you aren’t enough, that Talia has such a deeper connection to Bruce, that you are an obstacle to his happiness, that she’s so much smarter and stronger than you, that you are weak and everything you touch becomes weak and tainted by you. And not to mention that you still aren’t doing enough because Gotham’s underprivileged are screaming in pain from everything they deal with and at least you are fed and clothed and you have a family you can support and you are rich and you need to be doing MORE. 

And nobody else in the League can even come close to understanding you because wow, you do so much, do you ever take a break? You come this close to crying when Oliver remarks that if he had to do that much work, he’d go back to the island he was stranded on for five years because he’s joking. For anyone else your life would be a living hell and he’s joking. How do you do so much; do you ever sleep; hah, Bruce, your husband is showing you up! And this is when they even acknowledge you, and you feel like a major-league prick for even thinking these thoughts because Bruce and the League put their lives on the line every day (oh god they’re always in danger and the stress of losing your boys - which has happened to you already - and Bruce and your friends who are the only ones you can ever actually talk to without worrying that you’ll give away someone’s identity) and you’re complaining about a little bit of paperwork? You get to go to parties and meetings while your husband fights to save lives and you’re complaining? How selfish are you? All you do, everything you do, it isn’t enough, it’s never enough, there’s always MORE MORE MORE and it never ever stops.

Jason is dead, Jason comes back, Dick is beaten within an inch of his life, the Joker kidnaps Tim and you are hanging by a thread because the last time the Joker took one of your kids and you couldn’t find them meant that there was an empty bed and too many memories but no time to grieve because Bruce threw himself into work without a care and you needed to do even MORE because you can’t lose him too. And even the League was supposed to help with this but it doesn’t because you can’t bear to lose anyone, because they’re family and not only that, the world has gotten careless because the supers will save them and crime is actually going UP somehow and if even one of the League dies, a city could be overrun by now because the police and government are all but useless and the skies are filled with supervillains and the only thing stopping the world from falling into utter disrepair is the League, and thus you. And through all of this you have to be doing better, have to be doing MORE because every new thing means all the rest of your work becomes that much harder and you haven’t slept properly in a decade now and you feel ancient but still, you can’t complain, you haven’t earned the right to complain because you are never hungry and you never go without and there are so many people who need your help and charities that depend on you to function and kids that need fatherly advice and affection and a League that needs managing and you don’t have time for a breakdown because if you’re gone for too long everything collapses and everyone you love suffers and forget about therapy because who the FUCK could you ever talk to about any of this without either revealing a hundred secret identities and putting everything at risk or sound like a whiny crybaby?

Selina and Talia are back and hovering around your husband again and they flirt with him like you don’t exist and it’s not his fault and you love him but you see Talia every day in Damian’s voice and manner and don’t even think about talking to Bruce about his infidelity because he has so many more important things to worry about and he’s already apologized profusely and anything else makes you feel selfish and you HAVEN’T SLEPT in what feels like all your life and every moment not filled with work is filled with stress about work and worry because every time you don’t see your boys is a moment they can be dead and you don’t know it and every moment Bruce isn’t at the Watchtower is another moment Lex Luthor has to enact some horrifiying plan or the Joker gets ahold of a nuclear weapon or something else unforseeably terrible happens and it is TOO MUCH but you still need to be doing MORE because it isn’t enough and you aren’t enough and nothing is ever enough.

Is there even a you anymore? There used to be a kid there who just wanted to help his friend when he lost his parents. A kid who got left behind to stay with that friend. A teenager with dreams and hopes and wishes and a sweet boyfriend who could maybe get past his grief and lead a good life with you. A young man with the chance to stop his lover from leaving, to stay with him and not give in. Where did he go? Is he still there, underneath the years? Or is he gone, and this being made of stress and fear and feelings of inadequacy and stifled complaints and sadness gone unsaid and trauma left to fester all that you are? That kid you once were gets further and further away with everything you do to help, every time you keep silent  because what good would it do to scream the way you want to, the way you’ve needed to for so many years but never let yourself?

And yes, your boys and your husband make it better, make it worthwhile, but it remains that you feel old, you’ve been tired since you were still 19. Your days are consumed with stress and your nights are filled with fear. And you can never say this now because it has been years, and you’ve lost that chance. The guilt would throw Bruce off his game and if he’s off his game, he could die and all of this would be for nothing. Quite against your will, you’ve been trapped in a no-win situation, and even death is no escape because you know that without you, it all comes crashing down and game over. You are Atlas, holding up the world and knowing that you have just enough strength to hold it up for eternity. And no one will release you from your prison.

But you have to endure it, and smile while you do so because if Bruce ever knew (or if he even cared to look), it’d all go falling down. You are the support, and the support’s support, but no one ever thinks that you might need assistance. What do you have going on? Being a dad? Working? Attending parties? It isn’t enough and you know it isn’t enough and everybody knows that it isn’t enough and they always, always need MORE.

I wonder now how Batdad does it. How he doesn’t break down crying. And part of that is because he is fictional, and I never thought about what it would be like to go through that level of pressure every day of your life. I hope someday Bruce comes to his senses. That even if he doesn’t let go of his grief, maybe he stops being Batman. And stops training Robins. Because yes, he gave them a home, but he manipulated them into being what he is. Who knows what good Dick could have done if he had just been Bruce’s adopted son. Maybe a philanthropist. Maybe he just would’ve had a happy life instead of one where he could die every day. Where he constantly has to reopen the wound of his parents’ deaths to convince him to keep at it. I want them to realize that they don’t have to, anymore.

But they won’t. Because they aren’t real. And they exist for our entertainment. And because we’ll keep reading the comics and watching the movies and playing the games, Bruce will always be Batman and never come to terms with his parents’ deaths in a healthy way and there will always be more threats to existence and even just to him personally.

And Batdad too, is trapped.

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this part 4

hey, so OG chapter 4 will now be chapter 5 as the gremlins hijacked this chapter.

part one here   previous part here   ao3 here

--

            Damian stared in quiet horror as he looked over Ladybug’s exploits after hacking into Paris’ servers. His sister—the one he took down with little effort—had been defending the city for a month before he appeared. From the video of “Stoneheart” he could tell she was given no training. And her partner was flirting with her! When he should be focusing on the mission!

             What gathered from further research was the following: his sister and her ‘partner’ were untrained. Their teammates were also untrained. A team of ten untrained teenagers—perhaps younger—were tasked with keeping a villainous coward from stealing their magic artifacts, and with stealing his in turn. A team lead by his sister. A very alone, scared girl from his one interaction with her. Smart (he saw now she knew how to save her own skin. Redirecting his attention was a good move at the time). She is smart and creative because if she isn’t, then her city and her will lose. Be under the control of some madman.

             He had to get there, and he doubted he could convince Jon to help him at the moment—why are kyptonians always fighting one another when you need the assistance of one?

             Father would stop him.

             The League was keeping Father in Gotham and he didn’t have individual access yet…

             He was stuck for the moment, and did not like it. Perhaps Grayson could prove useful? He’d ask once the man was done resting from patrol.

---------

             Cass was enjoying Paris. She spotted the possible sister at the bakery with her adoptive mother. They were happy. Cass likes that.

             Cass moved quickly through the crowd, managing to make it to the bakery.

             Marinette ran into her.

             “Ah! Sorry!” the girl managed to catch her things before they hit the ground.

             Cass waved her hands, indicating there was no harm or foul. The girl was no clumsy—Shifu Cheng was ill-informed. Those reflexes and her expression before indicated nothing but an intense focus on something else. On what, Cass wasn’t sure.

             Yet.

             For now, Cass took a seat in the bakery, smiling at the kind woman working the front. Sabine Cheng, the woman who raised the maybe-Bat.

             Cass began doing her own research, messaging Babs that she saw Soup Girl for a moment, and would be assessing her parents. She knew of cases in Gotham where things weren’t always right, and she wanted to be certain that this girl was safe, regardless of if she’s a Bat or not.

--------

             Tim decided to ignore Babs offer in the end. The possibility of owing Jason was low given both him and Cass are on the Case. Jason is good, don’t get him wrong, but the chances of Jason actually talking to the girl in a real conversation before the rest of them? As Red Hood?

             This is a calculated risk and the odd are in Tim’s favor. (Well, not in Jason's.)

--------

             Steph hummed as she went over the designer pool she was looking over. Shockingly low given its Paris—granted 200 girls is a lot to investigate… she didn’t give the others all the information she had though.

             According to Damian, she “posts a disgusting amount” which means she’s posting or tagged often. When she used some of Babs old filtering program with social media involved, it brought the candidates down to 30. She could go through thirty teenage designers social media and comb over who at least has some genes that are dominant from the Wayne side. Her natural hair had to be medium brunette at the lightest, so the natural blondes took out seven candidates right off the bat. While blue or green eyes would give them more priority on the list, eye color genes are weird. Weirdly, five of her candidates had attached earlobes, so she only had 18 left after that filter was put on… Bruce’s hair isn’t curly, so two girls with intensely curly natural hair were taken off the list. Bruce’s thin lips only knocked out two more candidates.

             That left Stephanie Brown with 14 designers in Paris to find and investigate in the right age range, because she doesn’t think Bruce started having sex at 15, unlike Tim who is allowing college kids into his ‘could be Bruce’s daughter’ mix.

             Stephanie is also going to need a plane ticket to meet these girls, and that means getting help from one of Wayne kids… Or stowing away on the private jet that she knows Tim can and will be using sometime today to do ground work himself.

             She’s cool stowing away—Babs is covering for her on principle since Tim wouldn’t take the deal. Steph was smart enough to relinquish one piece of blackmail in total in exchange for use of Babs filtering tech—she has more than that thanks to one Supergirl spilling a number of things Babs has done over the years. Has Stephanie mentioned she’s the only one of the Bats to listen to Oracle, Queen of Technology, in this bet? She is, and she is better for it.

-----------

             Marinette managed to make it to the Agrests Mansion with little issue this time. Today she was going to one of the production lines with Gabriel to learn how to reset the machines and program them to follow any simple stitch pattern she wanted. It was good.

             She also noticed that during none of her times with Gabriel, was there a single akuma sighting. Not an attack—those never happened anywhere near their time together. It was an… interesting pattern. She was beginning to suspect that if Hawkmoth wasn’t Gabriel (he was akumatized, it can’t be him. Get that theory out of your head Marinette), then it had to be someone who worked for him, and high on the food chain.

             She made sure to memorize each of his ‘supervising managers’ and partners’ names. One of them had to be Hawkmoth. And Gabriel had to be someone that this Hawkmoth either really respected or really didn’t want handle re-scheduling with. Which would be all of them…

             She really wished she had more time to dig into their lives herself. For now, she had to trust Max and Markov to do the research… which reminded her, her name had been pinged on multiple searches in Gotham last night. From numerous devices. If the Bats were planning anything…

             Marinette gripped her purse a bit tighter. Her team has her back. She just doesn’t want them caught up in this mess too. She wishes that Aquaman never showed up. If he hadn’t, then the Bats wouldn’t be looking into her civilian life, the one they already knew about but only now deemed worthy of their attention.

             She wished they would just stop—she won’t look into the Great Detectives. She knows she’s not one of them. That she wouldn’t hack it in Gotham. But Damnit, in Paris? Her Territory—she does more than hack it. Sure, she may have blown herself up that one time, and yes, there is the timeline where as Princess Justice she may have sort of broke the world by forcing it to conform to that akumatized version of hers’ idea of Absolute Justice (apparently she was ruthless, made no exceptions and took out a third of the Justice League using Multimouse at the time on top of it all). Yes, she is not a perfect leader. Or hero. But Damnit, her (admittedly two) supervillians have been almost caught twice. Her re-akumatazation rate is much lower than any of the Justice League’s heroes’ normal villain or general crime recidivism rate by more than a little. By a lot. She’s not some Detective but she’s a damn good strategist, a champion at improvising and she and her team do work with the public and victims and reworked so much of Paris’ social culture to lower akuma-creating circumstances and keep the public emotionally healthy.

             She’s no detective.

             She’s a Guardian. That means caring about the details that shift the bigger pieces. That means adaption with what is there and creating what she needs. That means knowing her limits and getting help—to set an example and prove that not even her or Chat are an island. That even superheroes need help, need others and need to work together.

            She’s no detective. Detectives work alone.

            Her? She’s forged a team that (she hopes) could become the new Order of Gaurdians with her… some day. For now, they’re heroes with the same mission and different roles to play.

            Marinette just wishes that she could shut up this hunch since its been disproven. Her instincts on guilt and possible baddies aren’t the best—Adrien’s job is to sense what’s wrong and take them out. Hers is to make whatever is needed to help fix things, to push someone forward and help them grow. Her job to craft a better tomorrow today… and to do that, she lost the parts of her that picked up Danger. She can still find Caution signs (and her anxiety will always invent danger) but real Danger detection went to Adrien when she agreed to become Ladybug in the first place… And until both her and Adrien renounce their roles as the pair wielding the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses, she’ll always be missing it.

            The same way Adrien is missing his ability to think outside the box—seeing things as what they could become to help them went to her. He can only see potential threat and act on them. She can only see potential aide and act on that.

---------

            Jason grinned when he managed to make it into Paris. The second there was some damn akuma attack, he was grabbing the baby Bat and hunting Hawkmoth his way—she need the jewelry? Fine. She can have it. The guy brainwashing kids? The one that slaughtered the city? He’s Jason’s. ---------

            Bruce didn’t like being benched. He doesn’t like not knowing he had another child. He especially doesn’t like that this one is constantly preventing an apocalypse and his allies can’t be bothered to even send him anything about it. Not even a basic ‘she’s not living on the streets’ like Jason did. Or ‘she’s got parents here, calm down’ so he could get this stupid instinct to storm Paris and take on the bastard threatening his family that he didn’t know he had.

            Apparently Barbra has a hunch, but isn’t sharing until she has “conclusive evidence” of his daughter’s identity. Damian just isn’t speaking of it. As if being someone’s father biologically gives him a built-in alarm system for when he’s had a child and the ability to track them down at birth. Damian being raised in the League of Assassins should be enough proof to the contrary there.

            The others were… he wasn’t absolutely certain, but fairly certain his self-proclaimed ‘middle kid club’ were tracking his missing daughter down themselves. Possibly to claim her as part of their group, specifically.

            God, she was so young, It was before he even heard of the League that she was born. In that lifetime before becoming Batman. Would she like him? He was absent her whole life—did she want to meet him, meet the family? They’re a mess, he knows it. But they’re his—he chose them and they chose him. Would she chose him too?

            He watched another video of Ladybug in her early days, before she and her partner (dear god he’s cat-themed. Is it genetic? Should he test her and himself for some ‘drawn to dresses-as-a-cat’ gene?) were given any kind of training.

            She blew herself up to stop her city from being taken over by ‘Animan’ and his creatures.

            His daughter.

            Exploded.

            (She died. She died and he didn’t know. God he’s a horrible parent, and he hasn’t even parented her yet.)

            She died.

            To keep her city safe.

            She somehow reconstituted. But her face, in that video, she was shocked.

            His daughter should be dead but she’s not.

            Magic, he’s so glad his daughter uses magic.

            He. He’s going to need to consult someone. Raven? Raven should work. He can’t talk to the Justice League—nothing wrong with talking to the half-demon all of his Robins that lead the Titans has worked with.

            Loopholes.

            The Justice League is horrible at closing them.

---------

            Dick wanted to be mad when Damian came clean to him about the needles. He wanted to freak out over almost losing a sister he hasn’t met.

            He did.

            But.

            But this is Damian.

            Damian who still has trouble connecting. Who still flinches at certain tones of voice and phrasing. Damian who desperately wants to do Good but… struggles.

             Damian who has all of Bruce’s communication problems and then some.

             So no, Dick did not scream when he found out Damian only sparred “the blood daughter” because she looked too frail and weak for her to be considered anything resembling a threat to him. He did not sigh when he found out that Bruce didn’t know when Damian assumed he did. He did not hit himself when Damian discussed the various weapons he’d gifted her as a apology with the bouquets over the years and their meanings.

             He did take a deep breath, and begin explaining from this baby bat’s stance what had happened.

             “Imagine for a moment that it was me before I became Robin, and I was almost killed by someone who only let me live if I never contacted a shared parent or that parent’s known family. How do you think Pre-Robin me would have responded?”

             “You would have feared for your life and done whatever you could to prevent contact.”

             “Now, imagine I wasn’t told who to be avoiding, only aliases.”

             “You would avoid everyone with an alias that you did not help them create, and keep them from unknown aliases.”

             Dick snapped his fingers. “Exactly. That’s what this sister, what are we calling her?”

             “Her alias is Ladybug.”

             “Yes, that is what Ladybug was going through before Aquaman made contact.”

             Damian was quiet for a moment. “She must be on edge.”

             Dick nodded at that. “She probably is.”

             Damian furrowed his brow. “Do you think the League would allow me to contact her and end our agreement?”

             Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, but we can try.”

             “… And if they refuse?”

             “Then we find another way. We’re Bats,” Dick reassured Damian. He just hoped the missing members weren’t doing anything too rash…    

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

             Marinette made a (painful) decision. Adrien and her would swap miraculouses—at least until there were less pings on her sites from Gotham. For added protection, she kept the Mouse miraculous on. Chatte Noire was less known, and she doubted Wonder Woman or Aquaman informed Batman about the miraculous of Creation and Destruction’s particular… refusal to let anyone but a pair chosen together to wield them at any point.

             Chatte Noire would only be on call for a day or so… what’s the worst that can happen?

--------

the characters are jinxing themselves, and procrastinating the (vague) plot of Shenanigans. i swear. 

if anyone can message me on how to add in a read more, that’d be great since i know these can get long to scroll past for mobile users.

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @laurcad123

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #marinette did not sign up for this #part 4 #long post #my writing #i hate formatting #how do i tag

[bigskydreaming]

The Ric Grayson AND Talon storylines both end at the same time, and in the same way:

Great Grandpa Creeper Cobb successfully manipulates Ric into position to be brainwashed and become the Talon that Willie the Weenie has always wanted him to be.....this happens for like, two issues.

Then Grandpa Get Ye To A Graveyard Already fucks up....he accidentally brings Talon Ric within sighting distance of the Court’s latest crop of prospective Talon recruits, including a wee baby ten year old orphan being trained to be a future Talon.

And the essential corn kernel of Dick Grayson’s essence, deep down in his psyche, just fucking POPS like its Orville Redenbacher and someone just nuked it in the microwave.

And the real Dick Grayson comes SHRIEKING to the forefront of Talon!Ric’s brain, nothing subtle about it, and the next thing his Rancid Relative knows, he’s being fucking impaled by his great grandson’s blades as said great grandson, who is SUPPOSED to be docilely brainwashed, wtf, is already halfway across the room, diving into the mass of other Talons like they’re a collection of bowling pins and he’s a wrecking ball straight out of a Miley Cyrus music video, but instead of the caterwauling lyrics “I never hit so haaaaaaaard in love,” Dick’s accompanied by a soundtrack of him screaming:

“I WILL PROTECT YOU SMOL CHILD!!!”

As said smol child is just standing there, staring, like....dude, wut?

And then Dick finishes absolutely DESTROYING everything undead and nefarious in sight like he’s the Tasmanian Devil on meth, and he turns to said smol child and begins the process of Smothering, as his hands flutter all up and down checking for injuries but not touching, like: 

“Did they hurt you are you alright you’re safe now cough once for I’m all good or punch me in the no-no’s if I’m making you feel unsafe, I will make sure you are totally safe from here on out, you are my baby now, I have decided, but like, only if you want to be.”

And smol child is decidedly overwhelmed but Man-Who-Speaks-Like-He-Has-Pixie-Sticks-In-Place-Of-Blood-Vessels seems harmless, if weird, and is definitely preferable to the weird Bird Men who kidnapped him off the streets and tried to teach him how to kill people and make death threats out of nursery rhymes. And he doesn’t have a lot of experience in OTHER subterranean lairs to compare this one too, but he’s decidedly not a fan, so when Dick asks if he would like him to take him to see Batman and Batgirl and Robin and other superheroes who can also reassure him there will be no more homework on How To Torture People Good, he’s like....”yeah I guess. If you want.”

And so Dick scoops him up with glee and takes off through the tunnels, yelling back over his shoulder: “Bye Greatly-Gross-Grandpa, hate you lots, don’t call, don’t write, you’re officially off my Christmas card list, hasta la neeeeeeeeeever.”

Thereupon swiftly grappling across the Bludhaven rooftops, yelling PARKOUR! just because he can and its fun, and its weirdly relaxing for his wee passenger, because look, this dude may be weird as fuck, but he’s clearly got the moves to protect him from the Undead Legions of Ornithologists and he seems too....fun to be evil, like not in the Joker kinda way like he’s seen on TV in previous foster homes where its like, jeez dude, try hard much, but more like an adult who just quit a soul-crushing cubicle-dwelling corporate-craphole job and has suddenly been reminded that the sky is blue, flowers smell good, and there IS a Santa Claus, Virginia.

Thus by the time they arrive at Wayne Manor, with no attempt made to hide where they’re going from his wee passenger’s eyes - Dick has already decided he’s keeping the kid, pending said kid’s approval but look, kids like him and he’s determined to bring his A game to the pitch meeting, so he likes his chances - said wee passenger disembarks in the Batcave but stays close by, clinging to Dick’s side in an ever so slight way that allows for plausible deniability later, once he gets his bearings and also his bravado back.

“Dick?!” Comes the chorus of voices from the rest of the family, who are all there already, by great coincidence and in great defiance of the crapfests in their own individual titles, but also who the fuck cares. And Dick puffs out his chest, cuz he’s putting on a good show for his new kiddo, first impressions are important...

“Tis I, fam! The one true Dick Grayson has returned! Huzzah!”

Look, being completely oblivious to his Greatest Dork Energy coinciding with his Times He Most Attempts To Be Impressive, is like, Peak Dick Grayson characterization, you can trust me, I’m a doctor. 

And Tim’s like, “Why are you dressed like a Talon?”

And Dick’s like, “Isn’t the better question why AREN’T you dressed like a Talon?”

Which makes no sense but shhh, I’m running out of steam here, don’t question the atmosphere, just let it be.

And Bruce is like, “Who’s your friend?”

With like...designs and agendas already in mind, because said wee Talon-to-be is cute and adorable and bravely trying to act like he is not at all intimidated by his surroundings and is in total control of what’s going on like, he meant to be here, this is all according to plan, yes, excellent, everything is progressing nicely....

Which as everyone knows, are the three key essential traits Bruce looks for in prospective adoptees....

So Dick snarls and later blames it on residual Talon-ness, they’re very territorial bird...assassin....people....anyway, the adrenaline is still high and also he has swiftly become attached because whether kiddo knows it or not, Dick 100% credits him with the brainwash-breaking and thus when factored in with the cuteness quotient, what we have here is an instant recipe for Protectiveness slash Possessiveness that would be creepy and inappropriate if this wasn’t pure crack. 

But crack it is, and thus Dick curls a protective arm around the kiddo like the lap-bar on a particularly turbulent roller coaster and applies G-Force sufficient to keep even Superman from prying him out of his hands - but in a gentle, non- ’crushing kinda way that might hurt the kiddo,’ even though physics doesn’t work like that, except look, these are CRACK PHYSICS, they can and they do work like that. 

And he’s all, “I already adopted him, so back off, Bruce, I’ll cut you. But also hi dad, I missed you. In spirit I mean, like I had amnesia and then I was brainwashed so technically its probably a reach to say I missed anyone but just roll with it. Also I can haz hugs now, please?”

And then Damian apparates in front of Dick amid a cloud of Disapproval that’s really just a cover for OMG-I-Was-Without-You-And-It-Was-Terrible-And-I’m-So-Glad-You’re-Back-But-Also-Who-Is-This-Interloper-And-Why-Is-He-Stealing-My-Hug.

“Tt. Grayson. Your absence was...less than desirable. See to it that this doesn’t happen again. Also what is that and why is it here.”

“Aww, Dami, I’m sorry. I promise to install a “please have the nearest available psychic reboot my brain in case of future brain damage slash amnesia” clause in my living will, and soon as I get a free second, I’ll break the fourth wall and blackmail the DC editorial staff into declaring me off-limits for all death, brainwashing and/or kidnapping plots for at least the next four major crossover events. I have naughty pictures. They’ll cave.”

“Hmph,” Dami says. He resumes staring pointedly at the kiddo, who juts his chin defiantly and stares back while clinging more tightly to Dick, because he may have very little clue what’s going on, but he’s a quick one and has at least picked up on the fact that Dick wants him and this other kid wants Dick. Which combined with the rescuing and the kicking of bad guy ass means Dick is probably Quality and In Demand and Of Value, and thus he might as well stake a claim now and worry about whether or not to act on that or skedaddle later, once he’s got more intel. He’s a natural Bat, this one, but then, that’s probably why he was in Toddler Talon Boot Camp, he scored high on whatever weird aptitude tests they used to scope out talent, and by talent we mean murder-skills.

“Dami,” Dick admonishes then, “This isn’t an it, he’s a person, and he was recently traumatized so promise me you’ll be on your best behavior or at least your ‘engaging in shenanigans with Jon’ behavior. And he’s not competition, you’re my Dames and my little bro, and he’s potentially your nephew, which is a whole separate category and no threat to you and your baby bro status at all, so retract the claws. If anything, the real danger is Pops adopting him and thus supplanting you as the official Baby Bird of our generation, so make like an ally and help me get that dangerous “I’m gonna adopt this kid so hard” gleam out of Bruce’s eye before it gets any gleamier. We’re still only halfway through my tearful reunion and having to cut Dad before we even get to cake would be a major mood-killer, but I’ll do it, I swear. Also, get your Baby Bird behind over here and hug me already, I have two arms.”

Damian rolled his eyes but obediently disappeared and reappeared nestled against Dick’s other side in the blink of an eye. The proper application of ninja skills has always been the pursuance of hugs and cuddles. Thus sayeth the crack.

“Hey, I do get cake, right?” Dick asked suddenly, looking around dangerously. “I was amnesiac and also brainwashed, I deserve cake, TELL me there’s gonna be cake.”

“Well that answers whether or not we should be worried about this being an attempted infiltration or not,” Jason says, strolling over casually. “No impostor or brainwashing script-writer could ever duplicate the Essence de Dick so perfectly. Hey squirt. Welcome to the madhouse. I’m Jason, what’s your name?”

“Oh right,” Dick realized, cocking his head. “Hey, what is your name?”

“Really, Dick?” Tim sighed, fondly exasperated. “I realize you like to jump from A straight to Z whenever possible, but steps B through Y aren’t usually just mere suggestions.”

“It hadn’t come up yet,” Dick defended himself.

“Yes, why would it have,” Duke mused from where he was leaning over and snapping his fingers in front of Bruce’s eyes, in a futile attempt at tearing his gaze away from the viable adoption candidate within 20 meters from him. It was probably best that they get this adoption thing inked out and signed off on as soon as possible - it was the only thing that was definitively going to get that “Argh, I’ve spotted treasure ahoy” look out of Bruce’s eyes. And Alfred had been very clear :Bruce was forbidden to adopt any more kids himself until he got a better handle on juggling the six he already had. Which. The past year had...probably not met Alfred’s standards on, so it didn’t seem likely he’d be waiving that requirement any time soon. 

(And nobody wanted to get in between the Unstoppable Force that was Bruce’s ‘must adopt all the orphans’ and the Immovable Object that was Alfred’s ‘must maintain at least a reasonable fascimile of order in this household, even if it is a total sham, appearances matter.’)

“Hey!” Dick protested. “I’ve been busy, okay? There was fighting and then there was parkouring and now we’re reunifying, and it wasn’t like I was just calling him ‘that kid’ in my head, I was calling him ‘my kiddo’ which is a perfectly reasonable identifier and thus more specific detail just....hadn’t been relevant yet!”

“So uh, bee tee dubs, what is your name, buddy?” Dick asked, looking down. His kiddo looked back up at him for a long, measuring moment, and then he shrugged.

“I’ll tell you in exchange for some cake. You said something about there being cake, but I don’t see any.”

Dick got misty-eyed at that. “See? He already prioritizes like me. This was destiny! Also, you heard my kiddo, do we not deserve cake? It has been a very long day, there was murder and mayhem and more. Also, my creeper great grandpa was there being icksome, and you know how much that weirds me out.”

“Come along, Master Dick,” Alfred said then, appearing out of nowhere thanks to his Bat-Butler Magic. “And your young charge as well. I already have your favorite baking in the oven and it should be done shortly. Lemon meringue with raspberry layers.”

“That’s disgusting and I will not participate in any ceremony that treats that as part of a celebration instead of just a weird kind of laxative,” Jason said loftily, though it escaped no one’s notice that he was the first to the stairs.

“Shut your facehole, its delicious and amazing and you will like it or I will kick your ass,” Dick said, equally loftily.

“Boys,” Bruce said with a long-suffering sigh, as the threat of brotherly bloodshed was enough to finally shake him out of his orphan-induced stupor.

“At MARIO KART. I will kick his ass at MARIO KART, ugh, jeez, B, why do you always assume the worst of us?”

“Precedent,” Tim said dryly.

“Who the hell asked the Oompa Loompa Brigade to weigh in with all ninety of his pounds?” Jason called back from the top of the stairs. 

Cass came up on Dick’s left, where the kiddo was one half of the sandwich made by him and Damian on Dick’s other side. She smiled down at him when he directed his still very wide-eyed gaze at her, landing on her after his latest sweep of the cavern and all its contained chaos, as if trying to take it all in - most likely in the hopes that if he could manage that, somehow the last 72 hours of his life might suddenly make sense. He really was adorable.

“Don’t worry,” she beamed at him, reaching out to pat him comfortingly on his shoulder, right above where Dick’s arm was still curled around it like a warm blanket - albeit one with the tensile hold of a python. “They’re all crazy, but only in the good ways.”

Duke scoffed as he slipped ahead of them and started taking the stairs two at a time. “It’s funny how you say that like you’re some kind of exception to the rule.”

“Bold words, little brother,” Cass called after him. He only shouted back from the top in a booming voice, his words echoing down the narrow stone stairway dramatically.

“Am I not Batclan?”

“Oooh, is that a new thing we’re doing?” Dick asked excitedly. “Somebody catch me up, I demand context. I smell a story there.”

“It was Jason’s fault,” Tim said automatically. Dick nodded.

“Sure, that tracks. Continue.”

Bruce trailed after his brood of batlings and birdlets, sidling over to where Barbara was waiting for the elevator. The latter having hung back to watch the commotion with the air of one taking notes for repurposing in the form of future blackmail material. Her ever extending network of spies and informants made so much more sense, suddenly.

He cleared his throat while they listened to the hum of the elevator’s machinery as it descended to their level.

“I wasn’t really thinking of adopting the boy,” he said. Not at all sullenly, nor with a trace of defensiveness to be found.

“Of course you weren’t, Bruce,” Barbara said. She patted his arm fondly, with all the conviction of a kindergarten teacher whose student was attempting to claim innocence on the matter of a paint disaster perfectly matching the paint stains on his hands.

“I wasn’t,” Bruce muttered as she preceded him into the elevator. 

Why did nobody ever believe him?

[indigomasquerade97]

Brothers Abducted

@brothersapart

Chapter 2 - Lost Boy

Bing.

Takota sighed as he sent another message, pacing along the kitchen counter. He’d been calling his bondmate for the past ten minutes now, but he hadn’t answered. What is going on, he thought. It wasn’t strange for Jason to go out for a walk like this. He’d been doing it more and more lately. But he never just… ignored Takota’s texts.

Why is he so sad? He wondered. He groaned, sinking into his couch. He’d felt a sharp pain through their bond, and it made him worried. Jason was by no means stable. If something had happened-

Woosh!

Takota looked up to see Jason walk into the apartment. Well, that solves his whereabouts, Takota thought with a sigh. Then he growled as he jumped up from his couch, hands planted on his hips. He could be relieved later. He had a giant to reprimand.

‘And where the hell have you been?’ He demanded, causing the larger shifter to flinch from the sharp tone, ‘I have been calling you for ten minutes. Why have you been ignoring me?’

Jason bit his lip, glancing down at his cupped hand. He strolled over and placed it down, sending an apologetic look Takota’s way.

‘Sorry Mouse,’ He said, ‘I was… preoccupied.’

Takota stared at the small child that was sitting in Jason’s palm. Wide hazel eyes stared in shock as the boy took notice of the only other small person in the room.

‘Jason,’ Takota said, glaring at his mate, ‘Why do you have a kid? Where are his parents?!’

‘That’s what I’m gonna find out,’ Jason declared, tilting his hand slightly so the boy would slide onto the counter, ‘He’s hurt. Think you can take care of him until I get everything sorted out?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Takota said, turning and bolting to the wall. The entire apartment had hidden rooms for smaller folk, stocked with emergency food, tools, weapons, and medical kits. One of the perks of living with a paranoid bastard. He grabbed one of the kits and rushed back even as Jason marched out of the apartment.

Takota stopped at the miniature table in the corner of the counter, unzipping the large kit so he’d have easy access to the contents. The boy hadn’t moved from where he’d been placed, rubbing his arms as he watched Takota work.

‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Takota asked, nodding to the only seat. It wasn’t often that the bondmates got guests, especially those who were Takota’s size. They were always too nervous of the thought of being in close proximity to a giant. ‘What’s your name? I’m Takota.’

‘Sam.’ The boy said as he ambled over, taking a seat.

Sam stared at the medical kit even as he spoke to the other man. He’d seen these kinds of kits before. His father had needed Dean to patch him up many times in the past, so Sam had gotten a clear look at the contents before. He could recognize the usual items; gauze, alcohol, scissors, a needle. But there were also a number of clear vials with multi-coloured contents. They didn’t look like the usual anti-septic creams Sam was used to.

‘Right. Where are you hurt?’ Takota asked. Sam hesitated, then held out his hand. Takota gently took his hand, running a finger over the gash. Sam flinched at the stinging sensation.

‘Okay, clean the wound, sterilize, then cover.’ Takota muttered to himself. He grabbed a wipe and began gently cleaning away the blood.

‘So, Sam, where did Jason pick you up from?’ He asked as he worked.

‘Outside. He stopped some snake-thing from biting me,’ Sam explained, then looked up at the man, innocent hope now lacing his words, ‘Was he telling the truth? Will he find my big brother?’

Takota looked up at the boy in concern. Outside? And he had a brother, who was still lost?

‘Oh Sam,’ He said, ruffling the boy’s hair, ‘Of course he will.’

‘But it’s so big out there. How will he find Dean?’

‘Hey. The big guy may be an idiot, but he is annoyingly good at his job. If anyone can find your brother, it’ll be Jason.’ Takota promised, putting down the wipe and taking out the alcohol, ‘Now, this may sting a bit.’

…

‘This is ridiculous! We don’t have the resources to just- ‘

‘I’m not leaving until I know that something will be done!’

‘You have already taken soldiers out on this unnecessary search – in the DARK, I remind you – and all for what? A single lost child? We have more important matters to attend to!’

Jason was having a very hard time not reaching out to dismantle the mech before him. While the planet was mainly home to Shifters, the world still originally belonged to the U’Boltan people, and any major tasks were to be passed through their Council. While they were adamant to the Manimal cause – to protect and serve those who needed assistance – they were still robotic beings who ran on logic and statistics. Coupled with their stubborn nature, they could be difficult to work with.

But human nature was just as stubborn, if not more so, and Jason would not back down. Not from this.

‘Don’t make me pull rank on you, Turnout!’ Jason hissed at the Council head, who just stared back, unaffected by his show of aggression. It didn’t help that Turnout was a tank-based mech, standing over twelve feet tall, and Jason was barely five foot.

‘Okay, you two, knock it off!’

Turnout straightened out, arms crossing in salute as the Original leader entered. The Council may have had power over the planet’s proceedings, but ultimately their rule could be overturned if the Original deemed it necessary.

‘Heya Ash.’ Jason called, giving a quick two-fingered salute to the woman. She sighed, a clipboard in hand. She rubbed her face, trying to clear her thoughts.

‘I have five important meetings to get to in the next few hours. Not to mention the peace treaty with the Skra. I am swamped with paperwork, tensions are building, and I haven’t slept in two weeks! Now tell me, what was so important that you two needed me to mediate?!’

The two at least had the decency to look sheepish at her words. Jason looked to the floor, holding his hands behind his back under his cloak. Turnout made a noise like a spluttering engine, which Jason could only assume was the U’Boltan equivalent to clearing his throat.

‘Forgive me, Ms Ronswan. Mr Metetta wishes to divert resources to locating a family unit to a previously unknown individual who is now on base.’ Turnout summarized. Ashley raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jason.

‘I found the kid in the Silver Woods. He’s lost, scared, and hurt. I left him with Takota while we’re trying to find his missing brother,’ Jason explained, scuffing his boot against the floor, ‘Mouse has kept me updated with what the kid’s been telling him. But we haven’t got a lot of facts yet.’

‘All we know that he is from off-world. There was no record of his existence in our files, so he didn’t arrive with the Skra rescues. The officers in the field have found no evidence of a second Skra, so his story is inconsistent at best,’ Turnout said, glowering down at Jason, ‘Right now, the evidence suggests he was planted as a spy by our enemies. It’s not the first time they have coerced Skra’s into-‘

‘I don’t think he’s a Skra.’ Jason interrupted. He held up his arm, activating a small hologram that showed an image of said child. It showed the pale boy with sandy hair, a stark contrast to Takota’s own darker colour scheme.

‘The entire Skra race have had exposure to our kind before, but the kid has never seen anyone like us, I’m sure of it. Besides, he doesn’t have the same complexion,’ Jason explained, looking earnestly at Ashley, ‘It would not be the first time a child had stumbled upon a transportation relic. The kid is scared, and we could help him.’

‘And how could we help?’ Turnout asked, optics rolling in a very human-like fashion, ‘The universe is almost infinite. The odds of us finding his home are astronomical.’

Ashley hadn’t said anything, and was just looking at the image of the lost boy. She was grimacing. Probably thinking about her daughter, Jason thought. As logical as Turnout’s argument was, in the end, he would never truly understand the impact of motherly instincts on the commander he respected.

It was, after all, organic, and the mech could never truly understand that.

‘We can have an automatic checklist out on all spatial explorations,’ Jason proposed, pressing his advantage in his case, ‘Every time we find a new world, we categorize them for the database. I’ll ask the kid about details of his world, and if any new discoveries match, we’ll check them out.’

‘That will take time,’ Ashley mused, looking over to him, ‘What will we do with him in the meantime? We can’t just send him with the Skra rescues.’ Jason shrugged.

‘I dunno. Maybe Takota and I can foster him til then?’ He then snorted as another message was relayed to him, shaking his head, ‘In fact, we probably will. I think Takota just officially adopted the kid.’ Ashley raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Jason could only shrug back.

‘Alright then,’ Ashley sighed, turning to Turnout, ‘We will deal with the details, Turnout. You’re dismissed.’ The mech nodded his helm, then rolled out of the room. He had other duties to attend to. The Shifters could handle this.

Ashley sighed heavily as she glanced down at her board, then at Jason.

‘Boy, you owe me, big time!’ She declared vehemently, turning to stroll out. Jason couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Thanks, by the way,’ He said, quickly rushing over to walk with her, ‘So, I can get the paperwork settled then?’

‘You do realize what you’re getting yourself into, right?’ Ashley asked, cocking her head to the side, ‘This isn’t gonna be like your cases, taking care of this boy.’ Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes.

‘Come on, Ash, he’s just a little kid. A little kid, who can fit in my hand,’ Jason stressed, grinning, ‘How hard can it be?’

#@brothersapart #new au #Brothers Abducted #contest entry #my writing #chapter 2

[bluboothalassophile]

This Never Happened

Hello, this is @randomshadow85 who gave me a lovely request for some Cat Mom love, and that kind of has evolved into this so I hope you enjoy this multipart snippets! =)

Hopes for a Bastard Universe

Selina had soon learnt, upon saying vows with Bruce that she was now not only responsible for herself and Helena, but now she had willingly forged DNA report, legal documents, even a forgery worthy of the greatest praises stating she and Bruce had conceived and had a child named Jason Todd. Bruce had even drafted a statement about a hospital mix up and how Selina had thought she lost the baby. It wasn’t a stretch, Bruce was off floundering around with that bitch, and Selina had been in Gotham briefly; around Jason birth, so it wasn’t that far of a stretch. Leslie had helped with the forge, after she had secured Jason’s agreement, naturally.

Of course she already had Helena, and unwittingly she had adopted Terry because the baby had grown on her, which was what had her accepting this new reality.

Selina had adopted not one Bat but the four extras.

Dick, Cass, Tim, and Damian were all hers’ now. Hers, and she was seriously beginning to contemplate legally adopting all of them.

No matter, this brought her to the serious moment of her new motherhood, four months into her marriage as she bounced her knee and waited impatiently for her first Robin to notice her presence.

It’d been about four days since Dick and Kori had been forced to move here because Mar'i’s manifesting powers, and she had blasted the neighbor’s walls in one of her crying fits for food. Dick looked three steps from death and if someone didn’t intervene he was going to die next patrol. She sat there waiting for him to notice her as he blearily hunted for what she was guessing sugared carbohydrates, and milk.

Ten minutes later she decided he wasn’t going to notice her so she rattled the box.

“You looking for something?” she purred, and watched as a bedhead whipped around at her blinking his big blue eyes like an owl. He’d always been movie star handsome, she supposed, and staring at her with those big blue eyes she’d have thought he was B’s except that B had not had Dick in anyways until after Dick’s parents had died.

“When’d you get here?” he yawned, as he accepted the cereal from her then retrieved a bowl and spoon.

“Creature of the night,” she answered.

“Shit! Patrol!” he gasped and she caught his arm then and gently shoved him back as she stood and handed him his cereal.

“You are not going anywhere,” she stated.

“What!?” he sputtered.

“I’m putting my foot down, Boy Wonder, you are going to get someone killed. Probably yourself,” she stated.

“B!” he started.

“Has been doing this long before he adopted you and will be fine for a few nights,” she promised. “Eat, then you and Kori are going to bed and I’m taking Mar'i for a few nights.”

“Cat, you don’t…”

“I’m taking my grandbaby,” Selina stated icily and Dick blinked up at her. Don’t get the wrong idea here kid, I’m not replacing your mama, but you’re one of my Robins and what’s mine is mine, and I love ya kid. So you’re family, which makes Mar'i my grandbaby proxy by marrying your dad.”

“You… I didn’t…” Dick surged at her and hugged her tight then, Selina wrapped her arms around him tight. “Thanks, Cat, you were always my second mom,” he whispered.

“I love ya kid,” she purred as she stroked his hair, and marveled at how much he had grown. He used to be this tiny bendy thing, now he was now less bendy, but he was no longer tiny. He was twenty-five, and she was so proud of him as she buried her nose into his shoulder and smiled. He was hers’, her little Robin all grown up and a daddy now, she was so insanely proud of Dick.

“You and B should have gotten hitched sooner,” Dick mumbled. She laughed and shoved him to his seat and he drooped into it bonelessly.

“It would have ended terribly,” she predicted as she sat with her eldest and smiled at him.

“Nah, you two would have had spats, sure, but I think… I think you’d have saved Jay, Tim wouldn’t have been so lonely, Helena and Dami would be the same age relatively, and B would have been happier. He’s happiest with you, always was,” Dick sighed. Selina blinked at his admission.

“Damian wouldn’t be,” she stated for him.

“What?”

“If he ever cheats on me when we’re together, I’ll castrate him and nail his dick over our door, before burning all his shit on the lawn and robbing him of all his money, then destroying his reputation as Batman,” Selina assured levelly. Selina was not a second rate, cheap slut for that desert whore. No. She might be a street rat, but she sure as fuck would command loyalty from her lover because she gave him

“Ah,” Dick chuckled.

“How are you doing Dick?” She hummed.

“I didn’t think she’d have powers yet,” Dick sighed. “Seriously! She just floats all the time and shoots at me when she’s hungry, and she’s wonderful and amazing, but I want sleep Cat!”

“Which is why I’m taking her for the night.”

“Cat?”

“Hm?”

“When did you know, like really know, you loved B. Like full on head over heels, there’s no other love, know?”

She stared at the kid. “Are you second guessing what you and Kori have?” she demanded. She’d seen the way Dick looked at that alien princess there was no way that was fake love or puppy love like what he’d had with Barbara.

“I…”

“I was twelve,” Selina snapped. “I was twelve years old and I was playing with some fancy vase as B dorkily explained it’s history. He was a dweeb, and scrawny, but he had this look in his eyes. It’s a look I’d never seen, he wasn’t looking at me like I was filth or a criminal or a hellion, he was looking at me like I was his equal. He reminded me of a broken bird in need of a bit of love, so I decided to protect him.

“I was sixteen when he saved me. I was seventeen when I took his virginity and he disappeared. I was twenty-four when I saw him again, and I loved him every bit as fiercely as I did when I was twelve, even more so. I love Bruce, just as fiercely as you love that princess, so don’t think to give it up, ever, Dick. You better fight for Kori, because it’s not a Disney romance, real life is messy and a bitch, she doesn’t fight fair, and she’ll kick you in the balls while whistling, but what you have with Kori isn’t just worth the fight, it’s worth the world.”

“I will, I’m just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted.

“You finish that cereal, get up, and go hug the mother of your child and I spoil my grandbaby and we never speak of this again,” she smiled.

“Thanks,” he smiled weakly. “Mom,” he tested it.

“Lets stick to Cat,” she offered.

“You are like my mom, just so you know,” he murmured.

“I love ya too kid,” she smiled.

#bluboothalassophile #fanfic #one-shot #hopes for a bastard universe #hopes for a bastard #selina kyle #richard grayson #DickKory #dickkori #batcat

[spoiled-batgirl]

Alice in Gunpowder part 3

Fandom: batman/DC, Red Hood and the outlaws Au: Alice in wonderland, dad!Jason Word count: 1420 Warnings: menstrual cycle, puberty, overprotective daddy Growing Pains   Alice started training at ten years old. By the time she started going on patrol a year later, Damian had left for the teen titans. She was twelve now, sitting at the table in their apartment, cleaning her two silver pistols. Jason had noticed a drop in her mood since Damian left. They'd become good friends since her tenth birthday, inseparable even. "Alice, are you okay?" He asked, sipping his cup of coffee as he watched his adopted daughter finish cleaning and start resembling her guns. She stopped with and laid them back down on the terry cloth she'd been polishing them on. "Yeah, what do you mean, dad?" She looked at him. He swore she was a tiny doll like child yesterday, now her baby fat was slimming and shaping up to be a young woman. Jason felt really fucking old. She looked at him with piercing blue-grey eyes with thick black lashes and he wanted to cry. She was growing up way too fast for his liking. "You've been down lately." He said. "Since the school year started.. since Damian left." She shrugged and sat cross legged in her chair, her doll like blonde curls touching her toned but slim legs. She wore fuzzy purple pjs with teddy bears on them and a lose grey sweatshirt. He wondered if she was idolizing Stephanie with her new liking of purple. "He's my best friend, course I miss him. School's pretty boring now." Alice said with a shrug. "Okay.. by the way, baby, Aunt Babs and grandpapa Al reminded me to speak to you about.. uh," Jason wished he'd just bought a book on it. Maybe he should've tried harder to date so she'd have a step mom for this stuff.. he cursed under his breath. "Oh." Alice said. "Ah, aunt Steph already told me.. cause I already started that.." Jason almost fell out of his chair. "What?! Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, sitting up. Alice shrugged. "It didn't seem like a big deal. I don't feel any pain and I've already seen a lot of blood before so," Alice shrugged. He felt his heart break a little. She was officially on the way to being a teenager someone kill him. Again. "Well, baby, please tell me if you feel any pain. You can get stomach cramps and head aches and other pains from your period. I hear chocolate and Advil help, just take it easy. You don't have to go on patrol if you don't want to." Jason said, smiling softly. Alice jumped to her feet and banged her hands on the table. "Careful!" He scolded. His coffee almost spilled but obviously he was more worried about the guns and his daughter's safety. "I won't stop going on patrol over this! I wanted to do this for so long!" She yelled, tears running down her cheeks. Jason stood and held her shoulders, bringing her into a hug, "hey, hey, shh," she hugged him and cried into his shirt which she still barely came to his chest. He stroked her hair and hushed her. He rubbed her back, "you're on it now, aren't you?" She nodded against his stomach. He laughed softly. "Okay, well you did patrol and stopped some baddies last night, you handled this on your own and been real good." He said sighing at the morning window. "You can skip school today, baby, but just this once." She grinned up at him and he laughed at her snot caked face. He got the tissues out of his jacket and wiped her face. He grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped her up like a burrito, picking her up as he went and got cookies and chocolate bars and some sodas from the kitchen. "You can't keep picking me up like this, daddy, I'm getting too big." Alice said as they walked to the kitchen. "If your daddy is Red Hood then he can keep carrying you until you have kids of your own!" He said, plopping her down on the couch and turning on Bambi. She loved this movie, which he thought was weird because it had a parent being shot and she lost hers. She says they didn't die by guns, and they don't kill animals so she didn't mind when he asked if she thought it reminded her of her troubled past. But like Bambi his dad saves him, like he saved her, she said. That made him seriously emotional the first time she told him. Alice was laughing and Jason sat down by her and she snuggled into his side. "I miss Damian," she whispered tears in her eyes. He rubbed her back. "I'm sure he misses you too, baby." Alice groaned and pressed closer to Jason. She hugged a pillow to her stomach and Jason put his arms around his daughter. She buried her face into his shoulder and cried a little. "Okay, I'm feeling that now, I think. My head really hurts.. and my stomach and weirdly my joints?" She said, confused. "Advil and chocolate should help, doll. Hold on, I'll go get some." He went to the kitchen and got the pain medication, a chocolate bar, and a glass of cold milk. He laid it out on the coffee table and Alice groaned softly as she took the medicine and ate her snack. Jason remembered when a snack for Alice meant animal crackers and a juice box, not something designed to help the two types of growing pains women endure. Gods, his daughter was becoming a woman. He slumped to the couch. "Daddy? What's wrong?" She said, looking at him with heart-melting concern. He caressed her cheek and smiled softly. "Nothing, Al. I'm just proud of you." He said. Tears brimmed her eyes and she hugged him tight. They settled into a cuddle on the couch, his daughter's petite frame enveloped in his like a nest. He stroked her blonde locks absentmindedly as they watched the animated movie. They had fallen asleep on the couch. Alice woke up to the sound of a window being opened upstairs, the one in the hallway if her ears were telling the truth. She shook her dad awake and gestured towards the stairs going upstairs. Alice got a baseball bat out from under the couch and her dad grabbed a gun from a drawer in the coffee table. They crouched behind the couch and waited for the intruder to emerge. Alice was surprised to see the faces of her best friends peer out from behind the wall that lead up the stair case. Alice dropped her bat and rushed over to hug Robin and Superboy. Her and Jon giggled. "Alice! You weren't responding and you were absent from school, I was worried you might've been captured." Damian growled from their group hug. Alice stepped back and placed her hands on her hips. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, first of all I'm offended you think I wouldn't be able to take care of business if I was captured," she started. "Hold on, no, I'm hella offended any of you would think I'd let my daughter get captured. Second, she's absent because she doesn't feel well. She was resting, answering her phone is normal if she's sleeping, demon spawn." Her dad said, exasperated. She laughed a little only to feel a cramp in her stomach so hard like she was being kicked. She doubled over and breathed out, grabbing onto the wall. "Oh," Jon said, picking up Alice like she was noting but a rag doll and carrying her princess style to the couch. He laid her down and laid the blanket over her stomach. She smiled gratefully at super boy, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Damian rushed over and kneeled by the couch, taking Alice's hand. "What's wrong? Are you ill? Did you get injured? You got shot in the stomach, didn't you--" Jason groaned over Damian's worried tangent. "She just started her menstrual cycle, genius." Damian blushed and Jon was eerily calm. Jason wondered how the fuck he ended up in this situation. "So, is one of your super powers you know when girls are on their period?" Alice teased Jon. "Kinda, it's difficult to explain." He rubbed his neck in an embarrassed gesture. Alice shrugged and settled into the couch, her dad leaving them to talk. The boys sat down with the blonde ranger and they began to talk about what they had missed while they were apart.

#D.C. oc #D.C. #dad!jason #mad hatter #alice in wonderland au #jason todd #batman #red hood #Jon Kent #damian wayne

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Pending - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, bits of the other batsibs Summary: It turns out, Bruce wasn’t the only Batman who was going to adopt his Robin. A/N: AU-ish where Bruce stayed dead the first time, and after Damian was killed, Talia stayed dead too. I don’t know how adoptions work, all this garbage was literally taken from the panels where Bruce adopted Dick, including some of the dialogue. Damian’s 13-ish. Title taken from when I was in the process of adopting my own Damian, his profile on the shelter just said ‘adoption pending’ so. I didn’t think I would get this done today, wow. Dick’s next step is giving Damian a real birthday too hahaha.

~~

Tim stared, even as Cassandra plucked the pen from Dick’s hand, and leaned over the papers to sign.

“…Do you really know what you’re doing?” Tim asked quietly. “I mean, have you thought this through? Really thought this through? No one’s…I mean, you’re not being mind-controlled are you? Or forced to do this?”

Dick smiled. “Of course not. It’s something I’ve thought about for years.”

“And just so we’re clear, I’m not against this. Not at all. Not for your sake or his, but.” Tim sighed. Looked at Jason for help. He wasn’t giving any. “This could change everything.”

“Will, probably.” Jason hummed. “I mean, look at your own experience.”

“I did.” Dick nodded. “And it didn’t change a thing. Bruce loved me and I loved him. And the papers just cemented the fact.”

“Sure, but that’s you.” Tim reminded. “And, as much as he tries to be, remember: Damian is not Bruce.”

“No, he’s not.” Dick agreed. “And unlike Bruce, Damian is going to grow up loved and surrounded by family. Not alone with a butler in a big empty house.”

Tim looked at Cassandra, then back to Dick. “And…if he doesn’t want it?”

“Then we tear up the papers and act like they never existed.” Dick said simply. “Again, Tim. I’ve thought about this. For years. I’ve thought about how Damian might react. I’ve thought about how he looks at Bruce, and how he might see this gesture.”

“And?”

“And…I’m just going to say what Bruce said to me.” Dick smiled. “If it doesn’t work out-”

“We’ll catch the kid before he gets skiddish and runs away, and he can stay with one of us for a while until he cools down.” Jason nodded. Tim and Cassandra both glanced back at him. “…What? Dick isn’t the only one who…likes the kid and wants him around.”

There was a beat of silence, and Tim sighed.

“You’re crazy, Dick.” And even with those words, he plucked the pen out of his sister’s hand and leaned down to sign the paper himself. “I know you two are close, but …you’re absolutely crazy.”

“…Yeah.” Dick hummed, as Tim finished his signature and slid the paper over to Dick. Dick held it up and looked at it like it was his most precious possession. “I’ve heard that before.”

~~

Of all places, he found him in Bruce’s old bedroom. And for the first time since he began this whole process, he paused.

Was this a sign? Or a warning?

He shook the thought away, deciding he’d never much believed in that fate garbage before – he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

“Damian?” He called while he knocked on the already open door. The child in question was lying on the bed on his back, his feet resting on the pillows. There was a book, too, so at some point Damian had been reading. But right now, said book was open, and lying pages-down on his face, his arms spread wide at his sides.

“What?” Was the muffled response. He sounded grumpy. Or annoyed. Or it was that tone he used when he was upset and couldn’t voice it the way he wanted to.

“You busy?”

“Do I look busy?”

“Very.” Dick laughed, stepping into the room. “Think you might have a second to talk to me about something?”

Damian sighed, even as Dick approached, slowly dragging the book down so it was sitting on his chest. He blinked up at Dick and Dick grinned wider. “I suppose.”

Dick sat at the bottom of the bed as Damian closed the book, and turned himself around, mimicking Dick’s posture. Despite his age of almost-fourteen, his feet still dangled. And it wasn’t about his size – but the size of Bruce’s far too large bed.

As soon as Damian was settled, he looked up expectantly. Dick exhaled and jumped right in.

“…You know I love you, right?” Dick asked softly. Damian’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“…Sure?” Damian tried suspiciously.

“Do you know how much?”

Damian looked down and shrugged. “Enough to not send me back to my grandfather?” Then Damian chuckled, but it was a nervous sound. Like it was a joke to deflect his real emotions. “But I guess even Drake likes me enough not to do that, so...I’m guessing you’re going to tell me it’s more than that.”

“I am.” Dick bounced their shoulders together. “I love you so much I let you move in with me. I love you so much I’d gladly cancel nights out with friends I haven’t seen in years to play video games with you.” Damian’s gaze was still lowered, like he felt guilty for those things. “I love you so much, I’ll share my cereal with you. Every day.”

That, at least, earned a laugh.

“I love you so much, I’d die for you.” Dick whispered. Damian looked up at that, eyes unsure and worried. “I love you so much I’d kill for you too.”

“…Please don’t.” Damian returned softly, a testament to how far he’d come since they’d first met so many years ago. “Don’t do either of those things.”

Dick smiled, and shifted to pull the folded paper out of his back pocket. He held it out to Damian.

“I love you so much, I did this.”

Damian stared at the paper for a few seconds, before slowly taking it and unfolding it. Dick watched him read it. Watched as his eyes widened as he understood what it was for. What was happening.

“You don’t have to sign it, of course.” Dick hummed carefully. Faintly, he could hear Bruce saying these exact words to him, all those years ago. And he didn’t mean to say them almost word for word. Didn’t mean to sound almost exactly like Bruce at all, but…they just felt right. “If you think it’s…frivolous or disrespectful to the memory of your parents, I’ll totally under-”

“Pen.”

Dick blinked. “…What?”

Damian didn’t look up at him, but held his hand out. “Give me a pen.”

“Oh.” His heart beat faster, even as he patted at himself. “Oh, I-”

“You give me something like this to sign-” Damian finally looked up, and there were tears in his eyes. “-and you don’t even bring a stupid pen with you?!”

Damian’s tears fell in the silence. He sniffed loudly.

“Or did you expect me not to want to sign it?!”

“…Oh, Damian.” Dick felt a smile melting onto his face, even as he reached out to wipe those tears.

Damian’s lip quivered, and he huffed, looking back down at the paper. A tear dripped onto the corner.

“No one…I mean. Not even Mother…” He stopped, gulped. Tried to continue. “Not even Mother made it so clear, her…her feelings for me. She and Father both died, and I will never know if they truly loved me or not.”

Dick waited. Not on purpose, truly he was trying to remember if there was a pen in Bruce’s bedroom or not. He did, in the end, remember one place. The drawer of the nightstand. For their lazy days, or when one of them was sick. Bruce would always do paperwork in bed.

Damian was still looking at the paper, so Dick chanced getting up to check the drawer. And sure enough, there was a pile of them in there. Red, blue, black…any color you could think of. Dick grabbed one at random, turned and stepped back around the bed to stand in front of Damian.

“…But you do. You do, and you’ve spelled it out clearly.” Damian whispered, before Dick could hand him the instrument. Slowly, he looked back up at Dick, and Dick found his own love reflected easily, and ten-fold. “And…that is enough.”

Dick smiled down at him, holding out the pen. Damian took it instantly, curling his legs up to use as a makeshift desk. Carefully, Dick sat back down next to him, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulders. Damian leaned into him automatically, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he clicked the pen and quickly scribbled his name across the adoption papers.

“You know what I think, Damian?” Dick asked quietly, as Damian slowly lowered the pen, and the two of them stared at the page bearing their names. The proof of their new relationship. The one they’ve really already had for years.

“…Hm?”

Dick leaned down, pressing a kiss to Damian’s temple. “I think you’re enough too, kiddo.”

Damian kept the paper on his lap, but curled into Dick’s embrace even as Dick brought his other arm around to cocoon him. Returned the hug, in fact. Twisted the fabric of Dick’s shirt into his emotional fists.

Dick just grinned, and held his son tighter.

“You’re more than enough.”

#dick grayson #Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #cassandra cain