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butwhyduh · 3 years

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Getting tall

Summary: Damian finally hits his growth spurts and the fam have opinions. Some damijon, timkon, jaytemis, and dickori mentioned.

Damian was an adorable tiny murder baby when he first showed up at the manor. Like a feral kitten. Short end of normal growth at 10 years old and thin too, Dr Leslie found. Make sure he eats 3 square meals and snacks when he wants and he’ll be just fine. Alfred had made it his mission, as he had done for both Jason and Tim, to put weight on Damian.

The first family member he outgrew was Cass. She reached over to ruffle his hair only to reach up above her head rather than below it. She didn’t mind. 5’4 isn’t very tall. She’d just have to remember that the next time they spar. Height wasn’t an important factor to her.

It was a few months later that Damian hit a massive growth spurt and grew 4 inches. He passed by 5’6 Stephanie.

“Hey little dude. What are they puttin in your food, miracle grow?” She asked when she noted how tall he was and how big his feet had gotten. Damian was a bit like the giant puppies all gangly. Alfred was adjusting the Robin costume monthly after Damian rushed to put it on for patrol one day and every time he raised his arms he felt his stomach show. Clothes were constantly being bought that met his newest height increase. The Kents were very appreciative of the barely worn clothing Jon got as Damian went through another pair.

“I’m perfectly normal in growth,” he said pulling on the hem of his shirt that was growing shorter by the day. Stephanie eyed him but left it. Tim hated the height jokes they would make when everyone started passing him in height. Nowadays Tim just rolled his eyes and deferred all short jokes to Bart who Damian was now taller than. Bart didn’t care at all because he was short but he was also at least top 3 faster people ever so who cares right?

For a very short time, Damian was taller than Jon. He liked that. Jon thought it was pretty funny.

“D, I’m going to be taller. My dad and mom are both taller than yours. I’ll be taller in the end,” Jon said with a grin before Damian pushed him off the roof. Jon giggled and stared at Damian with obvious heart eyes. The kid was definitely smitten.

Tim was half an inch taller. He didn’t acknowledge it in any way. But it wasn’t surprising. His mother was tiny, his father lower end of average, and Tim probably skipped too many meals with working during an important growth phase while he was becoming Robin. 5’8.5 is a perfectly normal height for a man. He had an easier time with stealth.

Bruce watched as his son grew more handsome and taller everyday. He recognized things he hadn’t taken the time to see with Dick or Jason and had missed completely with Tim. Aftershave, cologne, and deodorant budget went up exponentially and Damian was barred from bringing any of his shoes in the house and his Robin uniform had to double washed occasionally. He spent far longer in the bathroom doing his hair and agonizing over any spot on his face.

Bruce even once caught Damian do the lean on the doorframe while talking to someone they like when Jon visited once. He had to give the worst birds and bees talk of all time. Bruce also noted how Damian had Talia’s nose and his lip curled the same way hers did when he smiled. He stretched when walking to the breakfast table the same way Dick did.

Damian didn’t get another true growth spurt for 2 years. There was plenty of jokes that he jumped up to his height and didn’t move again. Jon was once again taller than Damian. Alfred was ready this time with the massive amount of food the 15 year old could put away and panels in his costume for easier adjustments.

Talia smiled proudly at her son as he grew taller than her. He was turning out handsome like his father but kept her feature and in her mind, that was the perfect combo. She never told Damian because she didn’t him to grow arrogant.

Dick didn’t notice it right away. He was so busy with Bludhaven and the Titans that he didn’t notice Damian had gotten a full inch taller than him. He only realized when him and Damian practiced a complex move that required a taller and shorter partner while training. They paired up as they always did and the maneuver completely fell apart. Dick was mentally putting together why it failed when Damian walked over and it clicked. Little D was not so little anymore.

“You’re taller than me,” he said brightly. Damian immediately grinned.

“So now you’re little D,” Damian said back. Dick laughed at that one.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I can throw you around like a tilt-a-whirl,” Dick warned. Of course, that’s exactly what happened the next time they sparred when Damian tried to use his height advantage.

“I can beat Jason so don’t think you can beat me just by being bigger,” Dick said standing over Damian who rolled his eyes.

Dick had no problem with Damian getting taller. It was his own height he had a complicated relationship with. See, Dick grew up as an acrobat. Being tall is a disadvantage. More weight to swing, more body to move. And his father had told him growing up that almost every Grayson man has been 5’8. It’s a legacy as strong as flying above the circus crowd.

And so when at 15, Dick was very distraught with the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at 5’8. It felt like a part of his history and family legacy had died. He wasn’t one of the 5’8 Grayson men. He never told anyone beside Kori, late at night where she told him she loved him tall or small. She had already far outpaced Dick and was on her way to being 6’4.

Duke and Alfred and Damian were the same height for a short while. Duke would joke that he could just wear the Robin’s costume since they were the same size. Damian would threaten to disembowel him if he touched it and that made Duke laugh even more.

When he grew taller Duke once again joked with Damian calling him a not so jolly green giant and Alfred considered his nutrition attempt a complete success. Damian went from a tiny kid to a tall strong young man.

Damian and Jon were practically the same size for a while. Jon barely bent his neck to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder as his partner worked on a complex mechanical part. Then Jon hit another growth spurt to end in his final height of 6’2, same as Bruce and his father. Damian enjoyed having a taller boyfriend for a while but would never say anything. High school dances were nice.

Bruce could see Damian getting taller and stronger and was practically grown. Dr Leslie warned Bruce that growth could continue until Damian was in his early 20s and he could end up a quite tall young man or stop tomorrow.

Jason liked being the tallest and biggest in the family. He had an entire inch in height on Bruce and was at least 20 lbs heavier. He was built like tank. When Jason had died at 15, he was terrifyingly thin. Alfred had tried his best but Jason had suffered malnutrition and hunger from practically birth. He was short and thin and Dr Leslie had told Bruce he probably always would be. And so when Jason came back to life a giant 6’3 and over 200 lbs, it was a shock. It took him forever to accept his size as anything more than an amour to create fear in his enemies. The first time he had accidentally scared a woman walking in the street at night, Jason had hated that he was so big. But within his family, it had become a source of pride. He was certainly taller than Dick and Alfred and even Bruce.

So when he visited Cass’s birthday party and Jason stood next to Damian and realized that the kid was taller than him, he was a little shocked. Damian had reached his final height of 6’4.

“When the hell did you get so big?” Jason asked while cake was being served. Dick nosed in the conversation.

“Little D is taller than you now,” he said with a teasing grin at Jason.

“And yet you insist on calling me Little D,” Damian said with an eye roll.

“I call him Big D,” Jon said with a smile. Dick blanched and Jason coughed out an awkward laugh.

“Good for you, bro,” he said patting Damian on the back. Jon blushed at the sudden understanding.

“No! I mean- he’s taller than me. I didn’t mean- uh,” Jon stuttered. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away from his brothers who were laughing.

“It’s weird you know,” Jason admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“The fact that he is dating Jon?”

“No, they’ve been together forever. That he’s taller than me,” Jason said.

“Are you- does it bother you that you aren’t the tallest?” Dick asked with a gleeful smile.

“No,” Jason said abruptly.

“It could be like how I learned my little brother was bigger than me,” Dick teased. “All of a sudden you were just massive. My tiny little brother was this big dude. Good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.”

“Your girlfriend is like 6 inches taller than you. If that isn’t emasculating then there’s nothing I could do,” Jason answered.

“Yeah, she’s always been taller than me,” Dick said with a fond smile. “You can’t talk with the Amazon you’ve been hanging with.” He pushed Jason’s shoulder with a grin.

“We’re just friends-I guess,” Jason said uncomfortable. “That’s not the same-“

“Well at least Tim will always be our little brother,” Dick changed the subject but mentally noted Jason’s reaction to the mention of Artemis.

“Yeah, he’ll always be a shrimp,” Jason agreed.

“Honestly fuck you both,” Tim said from across the room. With Kon standing next to him he certainly looked tiny.

“Hey, it’s my birthday and I am the shortest and I can still kick all of your butts,” Cassandra reminded them both and they laughed but neither corrected her because they knew she was right.

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robinofgothamcity · 3 years

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♡ scenario: connor losing his mind when you're hurt and charging into the fight recklessly.

♡ pairing: connor kent ( superboy ) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i'm sorry but i'm living for these angst to fluff moments rn especially bc i rewatched reign of the superman and forgot how much i loved connor in it.

Connor watched as you were completely slumped on the side of the building, no longer clear headed and struggling to stay awake. what was supposed to be a clean and easy mission turned out to be more than what the league expected.

he had requested for back up and while they were already trying to fight off the thugs that were attacking Connor, he could still see that you were fighting to stay alive and he had no idea if you were even going to come out of this fight alive.

"what the fuck?" Connor whispered, seeing you now slumped on the ground. he turned to the person who attacked you, eyes fully red with no intention of holding back. Clark could sense his song was a second away from committing murder as he saw Connor charge into the heart of the battle with no game plan, just murder.

"SUPERBOY NO!"

you waved shyly to the group of league members as you hid behind Wonder Woman. you were new to the scene of sidekicks and had no idea how to even introduce yourself without sounding like a complete idiot.

"woah new girl!" you heard a male voice say as you stood in your place petrified. you had no idea who it was as Diana had yet to individually introduce you to everyone, "i call dibs!" you heard the same voice say.

Diana turned to you before grabbing the boy who was charging towards you by the head and tossed him back to Superman, "she's not up for 'dibs' Superboy. she's my newest apprentice and you will treat her as such," she threatened.

you giggled behind her as a few of the sidekicks introduced themselves. you knew them as the Young Justice team and although you weren't formally with the team, you figured Diana was training you to become apart of them in the future.

"( your hero name ), this is Superboy," Wonder Woman said, "he associated to the Super family," she explained as he pushed up his dark circled glasses and flicked his hair back, "pleasure is all mine," he muttered, shaking your hand.

you returned a tiny smile before she continued to introduce you to Robin and Impulse. you noticed how Superboy kept his eyes on you. you had no idea if it was because he liked you or he disliked you but every time you turned to look at him, he was already staring at you.

after introductions and the cliche 'your real identity is sacred' conversation ended, Diana felt it was for your own good to get used to your new 'teammates'. she wanted you to make sure you weren't uncomfortable around any of the YJ team even if that included Superboy.

"so, what do you like to do for fun?" Wonder Girl asked, sitting down next to you and handing you a bowl of popcorn. you shrugged, "uh, not much. I like to watch tv and read for the most part. no one really invites me to do things with them," you admitted, scratching the back of your head.

she laughed, putting her arm around you, "well that ends today! we should all do something fun! how about we go to the county fair? doesn't that sound fun?" she asked. you shrugged, not really opposed to the idea, "I call all the rides with ( your hero name )!" Jinny replied.

you smiled, following her and Wonder Girl out the door as Robin, Impulse, and Superboy followed behind you. Robin looked at him, "you like her don't you?" he asked, already calculating the minute Connor had fallen in love with you.

"well she's apart of the team, i'd like to hope we'd all like her," he replied as Robin shook his head, "no, you get what i mean by that," Robin pressed as he could see Connor's face fall with realization. he didn't reply but he could tell what he was tell Connor's real answer through his face.

as they arrived to the fair, they all booked it to the first food stand they saw. Robin offering to pay for everyone being Bruce Wayne's son had its benefits. you ordered a simple coffee as you didn't want Robin to spend too much on everyone.

"what ride should we all get on first?" Jinny asked excitedly. you pointed to the tallest ride, it was one of those high rides that sat two people at the top and had them spinning around, "oh I can't do that. it's way too scary," both Keli and Jinny said.

Superboy smiled at you, "I'm down if you are," he said as he grabbed two tickets from the worker, "cool," you replied as the two of you walked to the line, sweat already building up from nervousness.

once they sat the two of you and made sure you were both buckled in, you stared at Superboy nervously as the ride started up and pulled you up before immediately starting to spin. you stared at Superboy, screaming for you life. you unintentionally grabbed his arms, not realizing you were holding onto him as you continued to yell.

Superboy chuckled, finding your reaction cute.

after the months passed and you finally grew closer to everyone on the team, you were particularly close with Jinny and Superboy. you and Jinny shared a lot of common interests as she showed you how to shoot a gun and Superboy...well, everyone could tell the two of you were just seconds away from actually dating.

you walked into the YJ lair, sipping on hot chocolates with Jinny as the weather was turning cold. she was cracking some cringe dad jokes, trying to make you laugh as you tried to contain from choking on the hot chocolate.

"hey, where we yall at?" Keli asked. you turned to Jinny before giggling, "just doing a few errands we had to run before I had patrol with Superboy," you said, not really clarifying on what you both were actually doing.

although everyone could see how much you liked Connor, Connor himself thought you had a thing with Jinny. he knew she was particularly close with you and felt as though he was practically competing with her for your attention.

"do you have my phone?" you asked Jinny as she dug into her pocket and handed it to you. you grabbed your phone before quickly snatching her hat and putting it on, "yee-haw," you giggled into the mirror as Jinny started chasing you down the halls.

as you turned a corner, you bumped into Superboy and fell flat on your ass, "oh, I'm sorry Superboy, I didn't see you there," you groaned as Jinny grabbed her had and put it back on her, "you've yee'd your last haw," she said, making you laugh harshly.

Superboy's eye couldn't help but twitch as he gave you his hand, "ready for patrol?" he asked sternly. you looked to Jinny who crept away from the angry Kryptonian and left you to deal with him, "yeah, let me just freshen up again and I'll meet you outside," you murmured, going into the bathroom.

you quickly used the bathroom before checking if you had everything. you opened the door and walked into the lair's common area. Connor had yet to drop the angry attitude and everyone was eerily silent as you walked in. he grabbed you by the arm and practically rushed you out the door.

"weird," Jinny told Robin as he shrugged, "what isn't weird about him," he replied making everyone laugh.

patrol started extremely awkward. you hadn't felt this weird since you first started on the team and you had no idea what was wrong with Superboy since he wasn't telling you.

the two of you walked on top of roof, scanning the empty roads before you turned to look at him, "what's up? you seem bothered," you asked him as you both sat on the ledge, "seriously? you seem annoyed at me or something so at the very least you can try and tell me what's wrong," you pressured again.

he looked at you with eyes of determination before grabbing you by the collar of the shirt and pulling you into a very heated kiss. you were taken back by surprise but let him continue to kiss you. a part of yelled at Connor pulled you close but another part of him was still screaming at him that you still could've liked Jinny.

"I had to do that before Jinny officially took you away from me," your eyes fluttered in confusion, "uh, what do you mean by 'take you away from me'?" you asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

Connor sighed in frustration, "I see the way you're around Jinny and figured that she likes you and vice versa," he finally admitted as he stood up, not wanting to hear your response. you quickly stood up and grabbed him by the wrist, "hey wait," you said.

he stared at you, "I'm really not in the mood to get rejected ( your hero name )," he ran his fingers through his hair annoyed. you shook your head, "I don't like Jinny nor does she like me. we're just really close friends Superboy," you whispered, bringing him into another kiss.

this time, he was the one taken back but he melted into the kiss, all his negative emotions washing away as you continued to kiss him. he wrapped his arms around your waist as you him in closer by the neck. Connor was definitely not expecting this tonight.

"so does this mean that we're like....together together?" you asked playfully shy. Connor let out a laugh before lacing your hands together, "clearly. I can't let Jinny steal you away from me," he jokingly replied.

Connor ran to the three different henchmen as his strength was to the point of killing, not caring if he died in the process. he was recklessly dodging bullets, knowing they wouldn't do anything to him. he grabbed the first man and threw him against a wall as it collapsed around him. Connor only hoping that it did enough damage to unalive him.

the second one he managed to choke him out enough to the point where he passed out but that wasn't enough for him. you were on the brink of death and if he had to see you die, he was going to make sure the men who possibly killed you got what they deserved.

"SUPERBOY!" he heard his father scream again. Connor paid no attention to him as he grabbed the third henchman and slammed him to the ground, throwing punches left and right, "listen to me," Clark screamed at him.

he could see the tears coming down Connor's face as anger, fear, and sadness clouded his mind, "this is not you! pull out of it!" he yelled, shaking Connor's shoulder, "you're about to kill this man. I get that you're angry but you don't get anything out of hurting him. all you get it consequences and your girlfriend needs you right now more than ever!" he continued.

Connor finally shook himself out of his trance as he heard his dad telling him to go to you. Connor nodded and ran to you, seeing you unconscious and hardly breathing, "I'm taking her to the hospital," he yelled to Batman before hauling your body into his arms and flying towards the nearest hospital.

once he finally reached the emergency doors, he shoved everyone out of his way and to the front desk, "she needs help...NOW!" he yelled to the poor receptionist. the girl jumped up from fear but nodded and screamed for a bed and a few doctors.

the doctor asked Connor to place you on the bed before the doctor told him that he could follow them inside. a part of Connor wanted to straight up move the doctor to follow you into the OR but he knew that he'd get into more trouble with his dad and the MPD if he hurt anyone else.

for what felt like hours, he was waiting inside of the room they had told him you'd be in once you got out of surgery. he had already gotten the lecture from his dad about the consequences he would've gotten if he actually managed to kill the three men earlier.

"she's going to make it," the doctor told Connor as he walked into the room while they adjusted you to the bed. Connor nodded, "she'll be out of duty for months. she sustained a lot of injuries to her body that'll take weeks to recover and she got a nasty concussion so you'll need to play doctor for the next few weeks to make sure she's okay," he explained.

Connor nodded as the doctor told him that you should be waking up within the next few hours. Connor adjusted himself on the seat and got comfortable as he had no intentions of leaving your side until you were awake and ready to leave the hospital.

you woke up a few hours later, your body killing you from all over as you saw balloons all around the room. you knew you had landed in the hospital but you had no idea how long you were asleep or in a coma even. you turned to see Connor passed out next to you, his body slumped awkwardly.

"Kon, Kon wake up!" you whispered, shaking him softly. Connor jumped up in a fright as he immediately realized you were awake, "how do you feel? are you okay? do you need anything?" he immediately asked as you couldn't help but laugh at his frantic attitude.

"Connor, I'm okay, I promise," you whispered as you brought him in for a kiss, "my body just hurts and i'm still kinda tired," you murmured as Connor nodded. you managed to wiggle yourself enough to make space for him, "babe, it looks like you haven't slept in days."

"I had to make sure you were okay so i haven't exactly slept in a while," he admitted sheepishly. you shook your head, "you're too much sometimes," you giggled as you put your head on his shoulder, "but you love me regardless," he replied.

this was the first time the L word had came up in the relationship, "yeah, I guess I do but now you need to sleep," you said as you closed your eyes and felt Connor pull you closer to him, "I love you too by the way," you whispered, giving him another kiss on his partially exposed chest.

#dc #dc x reader #dc imagine #connor kent x you #connor kent x reader #connor kent imagine #connor kent #superboy x y/n #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #comics #dc comics

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catxsnow · 4 years

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THOMAS WAYNE B.W.

Request: Hi love, I was wondering if you can do a batmom imagine where both her and Bruce have a child together but they have selective mutism where they only talk to Bruce, batmom and Alfred.

Warning: I didn’t really know what I was doing, fluff, LMAO Jason’s death

A/N: I was really winging it with this one I hope it sufficed for you!

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.8k

You and Bruce had been together a long time. Long enough that you had to cry by his side when Jason died. Long enough to help get through the pain of losing him and having Tim fill a void that he couldn't replace. Long enough that you knew the Batman possibly more than he knew himself.

Bruce loved you, he did for a long time. It wasn't until Dick had moved on from Robin did he realize how much he relied on you. Batman without Robin was dangerous, but Bruce Wayne without (Y/N) (L/N)? That would have been even worse.

Life with him was far from perfect but you had found perfection within each day and that was all that matter. No matter how many times you or Alfred had to stitch him up or lecture him for being so reckless, all that mattered was that you got to fall asleep next to him every night. As long as you were safe in his arms, that was all that he cared about.

After years of dating, you had gotten pregnant. It had totally been an accident, but the second that Bruce saw his son's face, he knew that he wouldn't trade it for the world. You had named your son Thomas, after his father. Bruce had nearly cried when you offered the name.

Thomas Wayne had been the exact kind of child that you expected. He loved his father, and he loved his older brothers. Dick was barely out of being Robin when Thomas was born. He was the only reason that Dick willing came back to the manor - and to visit you as well. He was the exact kind of older brother that you wanted for your kid.

Jason on the other hand... you didn't trust Thomas with him without you there as well. He was there for a lot of big moments with Thomas - walking, learning how to talk, potty training. Jason had surprisingly been willing to help - but also was wanting to put your son in less than ideal situations.

The batcave was their favourite place to hide away from you. Jason would show your son all those cool tricks he could do and half the time he would get so distracted he wouldn't notice Thomas walk off and try to grab something sharp and dangerous. It didn't matter, Jason quickly became his favourite and would nearly chat his ear off.

It was when Jason had died did things really change.

Bruce had lost himself. He became violent as Batman, more willing to teeter of his line of morality. He was a changed person, and if it wasn't for you he didn't know how badly he would have ended up. You worried about your lover, a lot. Nothing you did seem to be able to help him over come Jason's death.

It didn't just affect him, it had affect your son as well. Thomas had gone quiet, very quiet for any five year old. It worried you and Bruce. Jason's death had devastated him to a point that you didn't think he would ever be able to go back to his old self. He would talk to you and Bruce just like he always had, Alfred too. But anyone else that came near him? Silence.

You were sure that Thomas had become petrified that if he came close to someone again that he would lose them. Even Dick, the only other person he had known his whole life had been excluded from his life. You felt terrible for your oldest son - you didn't wish it to be this way. No one had.

When Tim came around, you thought things might change. Bruce was slowly becoming his old self again, though he was still haunted by the nightmares of Jason. He was turning back into the man that you fell in love with, the man that would spoil you and call you beautiful, even when you didn't feel like it.

Thomas still remained mute around Tim. He didn't seem to hate the older boy, but he was nervous around him. Tim didn't take this personally, he knew that trauma could look like many forms. He tried his best to make Thomas comfortable around him, while it seemed to make a difference, your son still wasn't the lively child he once was.

You and Bruce truly appreciated Tim for putting in so much effort with him. Sometimes, it felt like neither of you could ever get through to him - Tim was able to do that. You had taken Thomas to therapy, counselling, anything to try and get him to talk about his feelings - everyone you went to he wouldn't say word.

It was when Damian came around did you start to have problems. Damian was the blood son of Bruce, not you. Damian was barely older than Thomas meaning that you and Bruce had still been dating when he was born. You had known about what Talia had done to Bruce, the influence that she had put him under.

The second that it had happened, he had told you. You were mad at first, of course - some other woman had sex with your boyfriend how couldn't you be? It took you a while to understand that he didn't have a choice in the matter. Bruce had been drugged, this wasn't his fault, it was hers.

You detested Damian when he first arrived. He was a reminder of his mother, someone that you despised. Damian felt the same way towards you - just because you were dating his father didn't mean that you needed to pretend that you were his mother as well. He already had one of those, he didn't need another.

Thomas seemed to get angered with Damian quite easily. Damian would tease your son, he didn't understand why he didn't talk. It wasn't something that he had seen before. Not to mention that his people skills were already terrible from being in the League his whole life.

So, when Thomas came running into your room with tears streaming down his face, you had completely lost it with Damian. He was down in the cave with Bruce when you went storming down there. Your face had been tinged red with anger and you couldn't control yourself from losing your shit with the 'blood son'.

Bruce had never seen you this angry. The threats, the pure rage that you had against this little boy that had no right to just show up here and think that he owns the place. You were furious at him for teasing your son for being a mute. Bruce had tried to step in, unsure of what was going on with you but the second that he saw your glare towards him, he knew not to get in your way.

Damian had been through a lot in his short twelve years of life. But seeing you, the girlfriend of Batman, hold him up by the collar of his suit and threaten that if he ever made fun of Thomas ever again it would be the end of him? That made him a little nervous. He had gained a respect for you that day.

He also never bothered Thomas ever again.

"Clark is bringing his son over today" Bruce told you. The two of you were laying in bed. He was laying on his back looking up at the roof while you rested against his chest. You absentmindedly traced the scars engraved on his body. "He's the same age as Thomas and Damian, maybe they can get along."

You scoffed at the idea of Damian getting along with anyone his age. "Okay, maybe Thomas and Jon will get along," Bruce changed his statement. You wanted what was best for your son, maybe a little bit of Kent mentality would help him. He always liked Superman, it had been a while since he was able to visit.

"Dick said he was coming by today, too," you tilted your head up to look at Bruce. "I think he misses me."

"I don't blame him," Bruce pecked your lips. You wished to kiss him for longer, but a loud crash from downstairs pulled you back. Bruce sighed, it was rare that you ever got to spend mornings together like this, something seemed to always ruin it. "I'm going to guess that Dick got here early."

You sighed, but agreed with his assumption. The two of you quickly got out of bed and dressed for the day to see what the hell was going on in your home. The second that you stepped foot down stairs, you couldn't help but let a smile work its way onto your face. Thomas and Dick were both to make breakfast.

"What are my two lovely boys doing this morning?" You asked. Dick nudged Thomas and jutted his head towards the coffee mug on the counter. He grabbed the mug and brought it over to you with a grin on his face. "Morning, baby." You kissed the top of his head and grabbed the hot coffee.

"I wanted to surprise you and dad, and Dick offered to help," Thomas explained to you in a low voice. He was still weary of talking around Dick, but had come a far way from what he used to be like. You looked between the two of them, Dick's cooking skill were less trusted than your trust in Thomas' - both of which were less than good.

"Thank you, Tommy," You smiled once more at him. "Your father is on his way down, should we get coffee for him too?" Thomas nodded his head and nearly dragged you over to where you kept the mugs. While he poured another coffee, you turned to Dick.

You happily accepted his open arms. "How's my other boy?" you asked him as you pulled away. After being such an important figure in Dick's life for so long, he was always happy to call you his mother.

"Good," Dick responded. Bruce had joined you downstairs and Thomas had much the same reaction with him as he did you. "He's coming along. I remember when he wouldn't even say a word if someone else was in the room other than you and Bruce."

"I'm proud of him," you agreed. "What I'm wondering, is how Alfred let you into the kitchen after last time." Dick laughed at you accusation - but it was true. He had to very persuasively convince Alfred to let the two of them cook you breakfast. "Your bacon's burning," you patted his chest, cutting off his laughing.

You had lots of struggles with Thomas as he grew up. Going through school was difficult. The teachers would get frustrated at him and the kids would bully him. You were sure if he wasn't the son of Bruce Wayne that he would have gotten it a lot worse. As much as you hated the title of being the most famous wife in Gotham, you were glad that some good came out of it.

Thomas had trouble making friends and he rarely brought anyone home to play with. It hurt you and Bruce to see your son so upset sometimes because of how different he was. For a while. Bruce considered training Thomas into being Robin - maybe it would help him gain confidence. However, the second that you brought up the idea to your son, he had shut it down.

You wanted what was best for him, and after all these years neither of you were sure what that was going to be.

If Bruce was any other man, Thomas would have been far to grown for him to be carried around. However, both of your favourite men came towards you with your son latched onto Bruce's hip. "Did you hear who's coming over today?" You asked Thomas, who shook his head. "Clark and his son, Jon."

Thomas looked more excited than you had seen him be in a while. Bruce set him down so that he could go finish helping Dick make you a... delicious breakfast, hopefully. You cuddled into Bruce's side, watching the two boys that you raised work together. The second you looked up at him, he kissed you.

In the corner of your eye, you could see that Dick was blocking Thomas' eyes so he wouldn't have to see you kiss. You giggled at the two of them.

Thomas may have struggled lots in his life, but he had a countless amount of people that were there to support him every step of the way. You and Bruce never once neglected your son because of his condition, it was a learning curve for you both but loving your son would always come first. You were sure Bruce loved him more than he ever loved you - not that you could blame him, Thomas had that affect on people.

Not long after you finished eating breakfast, which wasn't as bad as you or Bruce were expecting it to be, Clark and Jon arrived. Damian had joined you when you were seated in the dining room though didn't say much until you told him that the Kent's were coming over. Much like his father, he was wearing of the Kryptonians.

It had been years since you had seen Jon. He was still just a little toddler who couldn't say much and couldn't control his powers. Now, he was the same age as Damian and well surpassed him in height. Clark was friendly to you, as per usual. When he looked over at Thomas, he was astonished by just how much he had grown since the last time.

"You've gotten so big," Clark exclaimed. He knelt down on one knee to be eye level with Thomas. Although your son liked Clark, he still refused to speak to him. Instead, he let out a beautiful smile and then scurried back over to you to whisper into your ear.

"Tommy says it's nice to see you again. And that he's been drinking lots of milk so that he can get just as big and strong as you," you relayed his words. Thomas tugged your sleeve down again, correcting your statement. "Oh, sorry, hun. He says he going to get bigger and stronger than you."

Clark laughed and ruffled Thomas's hair. Jon, nearly skidded on the floor as he rushed over to Thomas. "Hi! I'm Jon," he stuck his hand out to shake Thomas', to which he did. "Dad says that me and you are going to be great friends."

Thomas nodded at Jon. He held a single finger up to him as if to tell him to just wait a moment. This time, he ran over to Bruce and got him to crouch down to hearing level. He nodded along as words were whispered to him and then straightened back up again when Thomas ran back to Jon.

"Thomas would like to know if you and Damian would like to join him for ice cream this afternoon," Bruce looked over at Jon. Before arriving, Clark had told his son that Thomas was a little different from the rest of the kids as school, but he was still a good heart-ed soul.

"TT, I suppose," Damian answered, crossing his arms. He didn't look to excited to be going but you also knew him well enough that he was quite fond of the frozen treat.

"I'd love to!" Jon grinned. Thomas gestured for him to follow to where you assumed was his room. You looked over at Damian and jutted your head for him to follow as well. Reluctantly, he did. That left you, Bruce, Clark, and Dick together. Clark surely came over for business about the Justice League but you didn't bother to ask.

"You raised him well," Clark complimented you and Bruce. He didn't expect Batman to be such a loving father. Thomas needed that extra bit of love more than the other boys.

"Did we?" You asked. "I just want him to be happy, I feel like most of the time he isn't. We've gotten used to his muteness but a lot of the kids at school make fun of him for it. I worry about him."

"You're doing great, (Y/N)," Dick assured. He brought you into a side hug and kissed the top of your head. Even those you raised him for much of his life, now it seemed that he was the one that would parent you. "Thomas is a great kid, I don't think that anything is going to stop him from being happy when he's got you."

A series of laughs could be heard from upstairs. The harmony of noise brought a smile to your face. Even though you had your ups and downs raising your child in this hectic life, he was still turning out pretty okay.

Maybe you and Bruce didn't do so bad after all.

#batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam one shot #batmom #batmom!reader #batmom x batfamily #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne x batmom #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc

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suwya · 3 years

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 1

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue

AO3

A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this.

Chapter 1.

How many loved

Your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty

With love false or true;

But one man loved

The pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows

Of your changing face.

(W. B. Yeats)

Ten years later.

It was a warm late evening. Killian was at home dedicating his time to his most precious love: his spaceship.

He had traveled the multiverse for ten long years. He and his friend Robin had left New Tolemac a couple of days after Killian's encounter with the Princess on the shore. They had spent four years away with one thrilling adventure after another, with no worries on their minds, and it had been liberating.

One day they had landed on Althea-Seals, a quiet planet, always dry and warm with no differences between seasons. Neither seas nor woods, but never-ending yellow sand and rocks all over the surface.

It wasn't a place full of opportunities to become rich and famous, but they weren’t looking for that. It was a planet inhabited by a mix of people from the four corners of the universe. And most of them went about their own business, accepting anyone who wanted to enter without asking too many questions.

Althea-Seals was big enough to hold a couple of large cities and some small villages around them. Places were called using numbers, starting with the two biggest cities named I and II. They had decided to stay in a village called VI, mostly a bunch of houses dug in the light yellow rock of the hill that dominated the south-west of II.

Robin had opened a tavern and had started to settle down. He had met a beautiful girl, Marian, and soon fallen head over heels in love with her. Luckily the feeling was mutual.

Killian had become a supplier, flying back and forth from Althea-Seals, transporting goods in his ship to other planets, or procuring exotic items for his clients. His need to explore every possible universe had never abandoned him.

But he had always come back: He had come back for his friends’ wedding, he had come back when their son Roland had been born, he had come back when Robin's wife had died after a severe illness... and that was when he had finally decided to stay more present in his mate's life, to help the other raising the little kid.

So his trips had become less frequent, and when he had to go, he had tried to stay away no more than a couple of months at a time, always bringing back some curious toy or gadget for little Roland. The kid loved the stories of the journeys, trying to imagine the different places that uncle Kil had visited.

The three of them lived next to each other, two apartments separated by a wall. Killian's was the smaller one: a living room with an open kitchen, one bedroom, and a bathroom, but actually, he didn't need more space. Robin's apartment was the same, with the addition of another bedroom.

It had been a few months since his last trip and Killian was feeling a bit restless. He had parts of his ship’s engine scattered on his living room table. There wasn't an actual problem with them, but the last time he had gone on a journey he had heard some noises he hadn’t liked. So he was cleaning some pieces: Better be sure.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts. When he opened it he didn’t see anyone at first, but then he lowered his gaze and a brown mop of hair came into his field of vision. “Uh... can I help you?” He asked the young boy that came with it.

“Are you Killian Jones?” The boy asked back with curious eyes.

Killian studied the person in front of him. He was probably nine or ten years old, skinny, freckled face, eyes the same color as his hair; he was wearing casual non-branded clothes, with a grey and red scarf and a backpack hanging from one of his shoulders.

The man didn’t detect any threat, so he decided to answer honestly. “The very same one. And you are...?”

“My name is Henry. I'm your son.” He announced with a bright smile.

Killian thought he didn’t hear correctly. “I beg your pardon?" But when the boy just stared at him back with a big grin, Killian felt the need to clarify "I'm pretty sure I don't have a son, lad.” At those words, the boy ran into the house without permission.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“What's this?” Henry asked, pointing at all the pieces on the table. “Are you a mechanic?” He seemed to be full of questions but less inclined to answer ones.

“No, I'm not,” Killian replied patiently. “These are parts of my ship's engine that need to be fixed.”

“You have a spaceship! Cool!” Enthusiasm was something quite evident in this young man. “I knew you were the only one who can save my mom.”

That was enough. “Save? From what?" Killian was starting to lose his patience. Who was this kid, and why was he in his house? “And who exactly did you say your mother is?”

“I didn't say it.” Henry shrugged.

“Does she know you are here?”

“Nope.”

“I should probably bring you back home.” Killian kept his door open to invite the unexpected guest to follow him. It was getting dark outside.

“Are you going to help us?” The boy asked with a hopeful look while going out.

Killian didn’t want to disappoint the lad, but he needed more information before deciding anything he could regret later. “Well, that depends. Maybe your mother doesn't want to be helped. Come on, let's get going, you'll explain what you need my assistance for while walking.”

They kept a good jog for quite a few minutes in silence until they reached the borders of the village. Darkness was already surrounding them, and Killian wondered if the boy had spent the whole day searching for him.

Henry headed towards a suburban district of II, one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city.

Killian was expecting the lad to start explaining his story, but when it didn’t happen, he decided on a different approach. “What's in the backpack?” He asked.

“Just my stuff.” The boy was being evasive.

"You mean your school stuff. Did you skip your classes to come to find me?" He inquired.

"Maybe. Are you going to tell my mother?" He asked, but he didn't wait for an actual answer and went on. "It doesn't mind. She will figure it out eventually. It's impossible to lie to her."

"Mothers tend to have the ability to find out the truth," Killian said with a soft smile on his lips.

"No. I mean, she has this superpower, you know? She can detect a lie from a million miles away."

"Can she?” He asked, but he wasn’t surprised, he had seen many strange things during his trips, so why not someone with an ability to find out the truth. “A useful skill, indeed."

The boy went silent for a while. He was chewing his bottom lip, a gesture that reminded Killian of something or someone, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Then the boy spoke again. “There’s this bad guy. I saw him talking to my mom. I know she is afraid of him, even if she tells me I don’t have to worry about him.” He went on walking and then added: “She works so hard to give me a normal life. I want to help her, but I don't know how. That’s why I came to you. Maybe you can help us.”

“What does she do for a living?” Killian was still trying to understand the whole story, and if he really had something to do with it, or if the boy was wrong. But of one thing he was sure: He did not have a son.

“She finds people.”

“Come again?” That was unexpected.

“You need to find someone? She finds this person for you. She’s pretty good at it.” The lad explained.

“What if someone doesn't want to be found?”

“Well, those are the best rewarded, the most difficult ones. Sometimes she spends months going after someone, and then... Bang! She finds a good lead! She has those devices, you know.”

“Devices?” Killian asked.

“Yes. You can search for names, or birth dates, or relatives, and many other keywords. Mom says I shouldn’t touch those things, but...”

“Is that how you found me? Did you use your mother’s devices?”

The boy didn’t answer but he seemed frankly contrite. Then he stopped in front of an old decrepit building carved in the yellow rock and Killian sensed that it might be the kid’s house.

A dusty light bulb spread dim shadows throughout the entrance, Henry climbed the stairs two by two and Killian followed him up to the fourth floor where the boy reached a door with no numbers on it, exactly equal to the other doors on the landing. The perfect kind of place where you hide if you want to go unnoticed, Killian thought. Maybe the lad was right and his mother needed some help indeed. What trouble am I getting into? He saw the boy taking a deep breath before grabbing the handle of the door to open it with resolve.

***

Killian stood in the door frame watching the scene in front of him. The kid had run inside the house leaving the backpack on the floor next to the door, and was now in the middle of the small living room, enveloped by his mother's arms, who had bent down to hug him and was caressing and kissing his head.

Killian scanned the room, which seemed to be the whole apartment: a table surrounded by a couple of old armchairs and two mismatched chairs, a kitchenette on the right, and a bunk bed on the left. The bathroom was probably in common with the rest of the apartments on the same floor. Killian didn’t expect a luxury hotel suite, but this, well, this was miserable.

"Henry!" She sobbed.

As soon as he heard her voice, Killian instantly steered his gaze to the woman kneeled in front of her son. He could see that her eyes were slightly red and a bit swollen as if she had been crying for some time.

She was older than he remembered, but alas 10 years had passed for her as well. She wasn't the fragile girl anymore, but a beautiful grown-up woman. Her hair was shorter, wavier, and a bit darker than the last time he saw her. Killian couldn't believe his eyes, but the very Princess of New Tolemac was now in front of him, in one of the poorest rock houses of the planet.

“Mom!” The lad started to speak, but his mother interrupted him.

“Henry, are you alright? Oh my God! I was so scared! Where have you been? You know what? It doesn't matter.” She was rambling without pause, kissing her son’s forehead. “What's important is that you're home again and you're fine!” Then she looked at Henry seriously: “You are, right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm ok,” Henry reassured her. “Mom, I've found him!” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Who?” She asked, a little perplexed.

“My father! I've found my father!” The boy explained.

“Uh…” She seemed to be out of words, and if Killian was good at reading her, the look in her eyes was one of concern. Then she looked up and her eyes found the man standing at her door. The concern was gone in one second, and her eyes widened in disbelief. She opened her mouth but no word came out.

“Mom, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mom, Emma Swan.” Henry introduced.

Emma Swan. Killian repeated in his mind. The surname didn’t ring any bells. She had probably changed it during the years. That, the place where she was living, and the fact that Henry admitted she needed help, gave him the chills. Something was wrong, so very wrong. But he decided to keep those thoughts to himself.

“It's nice to see you again, Emma.” He smiled.

“Of course, you two already know each other. I mean. I exist, so…” Henry giggled.

“Seriously kid?” She inquired incredulously at her son, with a slight red blush on her cheeks.

But Henry was already distracted by something on the square table behind him “Dinner! I'm starving.” He said joyfully.

This seemed to wake her up from her trance and she stood up from her previous position. “Wash your hands before sitting at the table.” She warned while the boy was already discarding his scarf and jacket over one of the armchairs.

Killian could recognize the authoritarian tone of the Princess he once knew and a smile appeared on his lips. Then she turned towards him and with no words, she approached him and put a couple of fingers on his chest, softly pushing him out of the house. He complied.

When they both were outside, she almost closed the door behind her. She wasn't looking at him, she seemed more interested in her shoes. “I'm sorry for all the problems Henry may have caused. If there's anything I can do for you…”

But Killian dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No problem.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.” Her tone was genuinely thankful.

“It was the right thing to do.” And when she didn't reply he felt it was the moment to say goodbye.

He started stepping back but suddenly stopped and turned around facing her again. “Uh... now that I think about it. There is a thing you could do for me.” He tilted his head arching an inquiring eyebrow “I have one question” he said, emphasizing his words lifting one of his fingers “why does your boy believe that I'm his father?”

At those words, she lifted her gaze to look straight into his eyes.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe - science fiction #space au #my writing

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

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Reverse Robin au

I wanted to try my hand at both Reverse Robin au and childhood friends DamiTim. So, Headcannons for all!!!

In which Damian goes from thinking Tim has cooties, to imagining him in leather. Oh, and he trains to be a hero in between.

Or, in which Tim goes from sassing Damian for being a prick, to sassing him because it’s their own special sort of foreplay.

They are seven and eight, respectively, when they met.

A part of Damian still believes girls have cooties; Timothy is no girl, but his best friend and usual companion is one, so he can’t be that far. Besides, he’s seven, a baby. Still, Mother and Father insist he plays with him, and he loves them too much to say ‘no’ when they ask something so earnestly.

Tim, a hand gripping his mother’s dress, takes one good look at the Wayne Heir, the hand offered to him and a superior sneer on his face, and then glances at his mom.

‘He’s a prick’, he tells her with his eyes. She smiles benevolently down at him, but he catches the answer behind her Lady facade: ‘I know he is. Still, behave.’

While Mother and Father exchange pleasantries with the Drakes, Damian shakes hands with their son. As Heirs of the two most powerful families of the city (and arguably, the country), they are bound to see a lot of each other.

The boy, Timothy he introduced himself as, has a very pale, very soft hand. No calluses. Damian, a martial arts enthusiast, can’t help but scoff.

The kid looks him dead in the eye, apparently not missing his reaction. With a completely angelic smile, and the most passive aggressive voice Damian ever heard, he tilted his head and asked.

‘Is there something on your throat, Mr Little Wayne?’ ‘No?’ ‘Oh, then you’re just a naturally unpleasant person’

Before Damian can even answer with a good comeback, the little boy is walking away towards where his friend, Stephanie Brown, daughter of Miss Brown, the head catheter of this events, is waiting.

Damian is left standing, hand still out where he was shaking the kid’s own, mouth agape as he watches the little brat just leave him. His parents must have missed they ‘conversation’, but Mrs Drake hasn’t, if the equally exasperated and fond look in her eyes was something to go from.

From then on, every time they met, the little monster seemed to have a comeback ready. No matter how Damian prepared himself for their little greetings each time they bumped into the other at a party, Timothy always had some answer waiting under the tip of his tongue, both cutting, smart and deceivingly innocent.

‘Tsk. Again with Brown, I see. Can’t you do anything without your little shadow?’ ‘I can explain to you what friendship is, but I don’t think I can help you understand, sadly.’

‘Damian, I feel twice as happy seeing you as I did last time!’ ‘I’m sure you do…’ ‘Yeah. What’s two times zero?’ ‘...you brat’

‘Timothy. Your suit looks… as nice as it could, given the circumstances, I think‘ ‘And yours looks… well, I guess it’s nice to see not everyone is so obsessed with appearances’.

Both Brown and Mrs Drake seemed to find their exchanges amusing. He’s glad someone does, for he finds them exhausting and full of frustration. The little brat was seven, he shouldn’t be able to always have the last word. Damian was a Wayne. It was unbecoming.

Still, it was… better than aimlessly follow his parents around. And he could always brag about his physical training success, which never failed to bring a frown to Timothy’s face.

He noticed too how his hand was starting to gain callousness over time. Apparently, someone was bitter about Damian’s training.

When his parents died, murdered in cold blood in front of him at the tender age of ten, he thought himself alone. Then Alfred came for him to the police station and hugged him as tight as Dad used to do, and Timothy walked right to the front seats on the funeral and held his hand during it all.

He had lost his parents, but there were people that cared for him, still. He couldn’t allow himself to fall into despair; he needed to keep this from happening to anyone else. He needed to protect the city his parents had loved.

Back in the Mannor, he endured as countless of strangers gave him their condolences, swallowing his desire to spit in their faces. None cared. Fakes, all of them; in their eyes, he was but a wealthy, vulnerable child, an open door towards the Wayne fortune.

Timothy’s hand in his, calluses more notable each day and cold eyes keeping the worst of the worst away, kept him in check. He left his side shortly, speaking with his mother in whispers, before coming back and tugging him away. Mrs Drake, as the Waynes most close ally, took Damian’s place in thanking people for their support.

In his room, safe from the world, he broke down in the other child’s arms. Timothy, just one year younger but so much frailer, kept a tight grip on him, arms around his back and back straight, eyes to the door. A show of strength, of protection; you can cry, I’ll keep watch.

Damian starts his training. Alfred calls master after master, in acrobatics, swordsmanship, hand to hand combat, forensics, everything that would keep his young Master from giving up and quitting on life. Anything to keep him busy, and moving.

Damian finds it humorous, how Timothy looks at him the next time they met at a party and frowns, obviously noticing the trials his body is going through on the lines of it. Something no one else seems to see.

He doesn’t tell Timothy he doesn’t need to work himself to the bone to be equal to Damian, he doesn’t need to catch up to him, because he’s already on the same level, his sharp mind and calculating disposition enough to make up for the breach in physical strength. He doesn’t say this, because wit can only take you so far, if your opponent is stronger than you, and every bit of knowledge Timothy amasses in his quest of showing Damian up could potentially save his life one day.

He likes that their exchanges are still the same; even in the darkest times, he can trust the newly turned 13 year old to be a passive aggressive little brat.

‘Oh, Timothy, it seems you’re still focusing more on your studies than… more practical areas’ ‘Somewhere out there, there’s a tree tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breath. I think you owe it an apology’

‘You seem ill, Timothy. Or is that shade of white natural to you?’ ‘Oh, I was feeling a little unwell, hence why I came to see you. They say laughter is medicine, and your face is already curing me’

‘It smells like something is burning. Damian, are you trying to think again?’ ‘....as always, you’re such a pleasure to meet with’ ‘I know, you’re welcome’

It lacked the bite it used to have, tough. Timothy was as ready to talk back at him in his bitchiest voice, as he was to ruthlessly humiliate anyone trying to fuck with Damian.

When he left the city, seeking to better himself for his mission, he and Alfred were the only ones he was sad to leave behind.

He traveled for years, safe in the knowledge that Mrs Drake was looking out for his company and her son, and that Alfred would be taking care of the Mannor and preparing everything for his return in a few years.

HE exchanged letters with Timothy. Calls could be intervened, and as long as him and Timothy spoke in code and never revelaed anything too personal, there was no problem with keeping physicals reminders of their ever growing bond.

He met Talia when he was fifteen, who in turn introduced him to her father. They both seemed to take a liking to both his abilities and goal, and took him in for training. She seemed to think of herself as a mother figure, as she kept pating his head and calling him ‘my own’, and Ra’s’ eyes would shine with greed during the times he took Damian’s training into his own hands.

He left before turning eighteen, when talks of successors and adoptions became too unbearable. His only parents were dead, and he had no intention to replace them for such dark, shady figures. Besides, no matter how close their objectives seemed at first, the more he knew them the least they sounded like philanthropists. Terrorist, was a more fitting label.

He turned 21 on his first night back in Gotham. Alfred, who never failed to bake a cake for him despite his absence the last seven years, shared it with him with teary eyes.

The morning after that, Timothy came to see him.

It took Damian’s breath away.

He was still shorter, and at this point it was a sure thing he’d always be, but small height didn’t mean his charms were as well. His skin remained as white as he remembered, eyes icy blue, both in color and the feeling they gave off, hair even darker than Damian’s framing a delicate face.

His hands were rougher than he remembered, though. More calloused, packed with extra strength. Damian could tell, because the first thing this enchanting man did upon them meeting was to slap him. Hard.

‘I know everyone is entitled to act stupid once in a while, but you are really abusing the privilege, Damian. Seven years? Seven? And spent, what, three of them in company of the Al Ghuls? Are you always this dumb, or you just like showing off when I’m around? This doesn’t impress me, you know. I’ve always known you were an idiot, it’s not news anymore’

‘How…?’

‘You might think yourself above all others, smart wise, but please remember I’m someone you never won a battle of wits against. I know everything about your little world trotting, because I have spies, and about your time with the League, because I’ve known Ra’s for way longer than you. Also, your stupid little hero idea…’

‘Spies again?’

‘Alfred. Somehow, he thinks I can make you change your mind. I might be hailed as a saint by gothamites, but I certainly can’t work miracles’

Tim left eight hours later, after discussing both Damian’s travels and plans for the future. He had way more information than Damian had guessed, and had been silently but steadily growing his network of contacts and spies, and had his dainty little fingers in more pies than a baker. He growled at him, called him stupid, told him he was going to get himself killed if he pushed forward with the whole ‘Batman’ idea, but… When he left, it was as a ally. He’d support Damian, do his best to keep him well informed, and deal with over the table crimes, while Damian took care of the ones under it.

He fell in love, a little bit. Or, more accurately, fell more in love. The seeds have been planted years before, when a seven year old sassesd him and left him eating his words. Now, through… the dark knowledge he had amassed, the sharpness in his eyes, the deceptively frail appearance…

Something twisted in his gut, in a nice way. He went to bed that night, and started to think in other aliases that would go nicely with Batman.

Wouldn't Timothy look dashing, in leather and kevlar?

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Reverse Robin au #love reverse au #Batman Damian #spymaster Tim #Janet Drake is also a good mom here because #SUCK IT DC #pre damitim #Alfred Pennyworth #my writting #headcanons

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

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Inside a Broken Dream Chapter 5

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen Words: 3617 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Penguin, Jean Bart, Smoker, Tashigi Note: Story title comes from the Vertical Horizon song “Shackled.” Character and relationship tags reflect the current chapter. Obviously this is canon-divergent ;)

Warnings: There is an assault in this chapter. It’s not overtly sexual, but if that bothers you, avoid the italicized section.

Summary: Two years after Wano, peace on the Grand Line is fragile. Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates are doing their best to help maintain the peace, but when Doflamingo returns with Law in his sights, the balance of power entirely may shatter entirely.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law was so startled by the revelation that he forgot his vulnerable position for a moment, eyes widening. Dying? He could have laughed, except—

“I’m going to fix it?” he echoed in disbelief, brain catching up with the other man’s words. “Why the hell would I do that?”

Doflamingo set his pistol down on the table—Law’s shoulders loosened at that—and reached down to grab Law by the collar and pull him upright in the chair he was bound to.

“For one thing,” he said directly into Law’s face as Law very carefully did not flinch. “It’s your fault.”

“Oh?” Law raised an eyebrow. “As happy as that would make me, when did I—”

“Dressrosa.”

Law blinked, momentarily confused, then recognition struck like lightning. “The Gamma Knife.” That was supposed to be a killing blow—and it would have been against anyone who couldn’t stitch their organs back together with strings. But Doflamingo had said that was merely first aid, not healing. It had been a patch job for the immediate damage to his organs but didn’t account for the—

“You have radiation poisoning,” Law realized. He hadn’t spent much time thinking about the long-term effects of the attack after developing it because he hadn’t considered that someone might survive for more than a few agonizing minutes. But it made sense. Interesting.

Doflamingo rose to his full height, forcing Law to look up at him. “The doctors at Impel Down discovered it not long after I arrived. My unique abilities have kept me alive longer than I had any reason to live.”

“But you’re almost out of time,” Law deduced. Radiation at the level Doflamingo had been exposed to from that attack should have killed him within days, if not hours. That he had lived for two years after the attack was downright miraculous. But even his impressive biology and the creative use of his Fruit couldn’t keep him alive indefinitely.

Doflamingo’s expression tightened, as if it pained him to concede, “Only the Ope Ope no Mi can cure me now.”

For a moment, Law was speechless as he processed what he’d just heard. Suddenly it made sense why Akainu had chosen now to sic Doflamingo on him; he didn’t have any more time to wait if he was going to play that card. But Doflamingo was, as ever, the Joker—a wild card.

And then Law laughed, hard enough that tears formed in his eyes. He knew the laughter was jagged with sharp, unhinged edges to it, but he couldn’t stop himself. It had taken an additional two years—fifteen years since that night—but Law had pulled the trigger after all.

Cora-san…

After several long moments, Law collected himself with no little effort, aware that Doflamingo’s veins were bulging in fury. But Law couldn’t bring himself to care. Doflamingo couldn’t maim the only surgeon in the world who could save him. And Law would need to use his abilities if he were to operate on the former Warlord, so the threat of another Seastone bullet was just that—a threat. Even the one in his shoulder would have had to come out eventually.

“Why,” Law asked, amusement still evident in his voice, “would I help you when I was the one to deal the blow in the first place?” Especially now that Doflamingo knew the truth about that night and Law’s revenge mission.

“For the sake of your crew.”

Law stilled, all traces of humor dissolving. “What?”

“I have two members of your crew in the brig,” Doflamingo reminded him. “How long do you think Penguin and Jean Bart would hold up under torture, Law?” He tapped his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. “I’d bet on Jean Bart outlasting the bird, being a former captain and slave. But maybe he’ll surprise me.”

Fury, now uninhibited by Seastone, uncurled in Law’s chest. “No,” he snarled.

“No?” Now Doflamingo’s tone had turned amused.

“They have nothing to do with this.”

“They have everything to do with this,” Doflamingo sneered. “The moment you made them yours, they became mine as well. Because you’ve been mine since you were ten years old, Law. You know what kind of Family we are.”

“You son of a bitch,” Law growled. “You leave them alone.” This is exactly what he’d been afraid of when he’d sent his crew to Zou while he went to Punk Hazard on his own.

“Why would I do that? I know better than to think I could torture you into compliance. I trained you too well for that.” Doflamingo licked his lips in anticipation. “But your crew? I know you never did for them what I did for you.”

Doflamingo was right; he’d never treated his crew the way Doflamingo had treated his Family—valued for their usefulness to the captain. It had taken Cora-san’s death for Law to realize it, but Doflamingo was everything Law didn’t want to be in a leader. The only Donquixote legacy Law wanted to pass on was that of Cora-san.

The thought of Penguin and Jean Bart subjected to the cruelty he knew Doflamingo capable of, Law forced to watch helplessly as they suffered because of him, made Law sick. It was his job as captain to protect his crew.

But he also knew the danger of healing Doflamingo, knew what the man could and would do once he was no longer suffering from the effects of radiation poisoning. Doflamingo couldn’t have much time left if he’d been willing to risk stealing a Marine ship and kidnapping Law in broad daylight. If they could just outlast him…

“And besides the two in the brig,” Doflamingo added, “the rest are sailing right into my arms as we speak.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. Though his first instinct was panic, he forced his mind back to logic. Penguin and Jean Bart might be captive, but the rest of his crew was free. They would fight. And if the Straw Hats were also on the way, Doflamingo would be outmatched, even with a ship full of Marines under his control.

“I put my trust in my crew,” Law said finally. “And my allies.”

“Even against a Buster Call?” The retort was immediate, as if Law’s response had been expected. (It probably had been; Law had constantly felt steps behind Doflamingo ever since he’d known the man.)

Law went cold, memories of Flevance surfacing in his mind’s eye unbidden. The gunfire tearing through bodies like paper, the blood flowing like rivers, the heat of the fire that consumed the hospital and Lami, the moans of the dying children he should have been among, the weight of the corpses pressing in on him as he fled…

That hadn’t been a Buster Call, but it had been close enough.

He thought of Nico Robin and the haunted looks that she masked expertly from her crew but never could disguise from Law when he knew them from his own mirror.

He shook himself, trying to force the images from his mind. “What?”

Doflamingo smirked widely. “What do you think Akainu would do if I sent word that I’d lured both the Heart and Straw Hat crews to one place?” He slammed a hand down flat on the table, and Law started, despite himself. The memories had cracked his composure, and he knew Doflamingo had seen it. “It may not be his original plan, but do you think that man wouldn’t take the chance to wipe out the both of you at once?”

“You’d still be dying in that case,” Law countered, swallowing against the bile in his throat.

Doflamingo tilted his head. “Perhaps. But at least I’d be taking you and Straw Hat and your nakama with me.”

The words struck a familiar chord. Law had felt much the same when he’d made his plans for attacking Dressrosa; if he’d died, so be it—as long as Doflamingo’s death was assured in the process. And now their roles were reversed. The power of a man with nothing to lose could be a fearsome thing indeed.

“But it doesn’t have to come to that,” Doflamingo added.

“If I do the operation,” Law supplied flatly.

“It would make things simpler, would it not?”

Law’s eyes narrowed. “My crew will be unharmed.”

“As long as you play your part, they won’t be harmed,” Doflamingo confirmed with a creeping smile that made Law’s skin crawl.

“And the Straw Hats? They are my allies.”

“Don’t push it.”

Law’s hands were clenched so tightly in fists that when he forced himself to loosen them, he found bloody crescent-shaped wounds in his palms. He absently rubbed his hands on his jeans, leaving bloody streaks on his thighs. He could try to push the negotiation further, but knowing Luffy, he wouldn’t care about or stick to a deal Law had struck anyway.

“Fine,” Law decided finally, the words strained. “I will treat the radiation poisoning only.”

He would not be cornered into the other operation. Law didn’t mind dying to protect his nakama, but he wouldn’t unleash an eternally-young and powerful Doflamingo on them—or the world. And he knew his crew and allies wouldn’t accept him making that trade either. It was the one line he wasn’t willing to cross to protect them—at the end of the day, it wouldn’t protect them or anyone else he cared for anyway. He’d even risk the Buster Call for that one.

Doflamingo nodded. “Agreed.” He eyed Law. “But to make sure you don’t get any more smart ideas before we reach Herrenlos, you won’t be leaving my sight.”

Herrenlos. Of course, Law thought as he remembered. It was the name of an island the Donquixote Family kept as a secure outpost in the New World in case they ever needed to flee their current locale. He’d learned all the names and locations of the Family outposts across the four Blues and Grand Line as a child. Law hadn’t thought about any of them in years since Doflamingo had been openly ruling Dressrosa while Law plotted his revenge. He’d asked Tashigi to find out where they were going, and she’d done so.

“Fantastic,” Law muttered.

-----

The longer Law was away, the more Penguin’s worry gnawed at his insides. The three prisoners had been brought their usual scraps for dinner, and when Marines had come to escort them to the bathroom, he’d tried to find out Law’s status but had only gotten an elbow to the gut for his trouble. Once night had fallen and his captain—his friend—still hadn’t returned, Penguin turned restless and started pacing his cell. Though he’d washed his hands in the bathroom, he could still feel Law’s blood on them from removing the bullet, and, though it wasn’t the first time, he’d never get used to that feeling.

“Would you stop before you wear a hole in the floor?” Smoker snapped. “Not all of us can swim.”

Penguin paused and glared at the Vice Admiral. “Easy to say when it’s not your captain being held captive by a madman.”

“No, it’s my partner and my men,” Smoker retorted coldly.

Penguin stiffened. Smoker had been commanding this mission when Doflamingo had taken it over, leaving his men under the string man’s control. And the swordswoman who’d taken Law away was Smoker’s partner; he’d forgotten.

“Right,” he muttered, sliding down against the wall again and burying his face in his collar. He could only be so sympathetic when the man had been leading a mission to capture or kill his captain in the first place.

He knew Law was more than capable of taking care of himself—he was a freaking Emperor—but he also knew there was a long, nasty history between the two former Warlords. And that history had been haunting Law since before Penguin had met him when Law was 13.

Having known Law for as long as he had, Penguin had seen and heard Law’s nightmares, had more than once held him as he came awake with whimpers or shrieks, his body wracked with tremors. He’d seen the haunted look in Law’s eyes, emphasized by the darkening circles under his eyes, and Law’s growing insomnia as he feared sleep, succumbing only when his body gave out from exhaustion. Once the original four Hearts had taken to the sea in the Polar Tang, Penguin had watched as Law stared at the skies and constantly looked over his shoulder, always wary of a flash of pink.

Penguin had also kept a careful eye on his friend once he’d returned from Dressrosa. After Doflamingo’s fall, some of the weight had lifted from Law’s shoulders and some of the shadows had faded from his eyes, but Law had never told even him, Shachi, and Bepo everything that had happened on Dressrosa. More than once, he’d caught Law absently fingering the ugly scar on his arm and flinching at the sight of guns and knew whatever had happened wouldn’t leave him so easily.

Law kept his pain to himself, tried to avoid burdening his nakama no matter how much they wanted to help him carry it—and so to know that Law, no matter how strong he was now, was once more in that man’s hands made Penguin sick.

Sometime during the night—it was impossible to keep track of time in the brig except for the visits of the guards and the sounds of activity above them on deck—the brig door opened. Penguin sat up, hoping to see Law, but it was the swordswoman.

“Tashigi,” Smoker said in surprise.

She put a finger to her lips. “I don’t have much time. I’m supposed to be going to the kitchens, but I took a detour.”

“Where’s Law?” Penguin demanded.

“With Doflamingo.” Penguin’s stomach sank. “As far as I know, he’s unharmed,” Tashigi added quickly, glancing between Penguin and Jean Bart. “But Doflamingo wants to keep an eye on him until we arrive.”

“Arrive?” Jean Bart asked.

“Where are we going?” Smoker prodded.

“An island called Herrenlos.”

Penguin frowned. “What’s that?”

Tashigi shrugged. “I don’t know. But it seemed to mean something to Trafalgar.” She looked at Smoker. “We should arrive sometime tomorrow.”

Smoker nodded thoughtfully. Tashigi, meanwhile, looked between Penguin and Jean Bart.

“Your crew is not far behind us.” She sighed. “Same with the Straw Hats.”

Smoker groaned, but Penguin and Jean Bart perked up. Penguin knew his nakama would come for them, but that they had apparently called the Straw Hats for backup as well was excellent news.

“Do you know what Doflamingo is up to?” Jean Bart asked.

Tashigi shook her head. “He sends me outside the room any time he talks about anything important.”

“Talks with who?” Smoker asked, leaning forward. “Law?”

“Him. And he’s been making calls on the Den Den Mushi.”

Smoker frowned. “Who would he be calling after two years in Impel Down?”

“I don’t know. Old contacts?” Tashigi twitched. “I have to go. Be careful,” she said, turning from the cells and leaving the brig.

“You be careful,” Smoker called after her, sighing as the door clanged shut behind her.

Penguin exchanged looks with Jean Bart. It was good that Law was okay, but that still didn’t answer what Doflamingo wanted him for. He supposed they would find out tomorrow.

He really hoped his nakama would hurry.

-----

Though Law had never been to Herrenlos, he’d seen the maps and base schematics—though that had been nearly two decades earlier. Still, the name had stuck with him; with its name meaning abandoned, the island had sounded haunted to Law when he was a boy. As the Marine vessel pulled into the docks on the island the next afternoon, Law took in the island through the window of the captain’s quarters and thought his younger self had been on the right track.

A rocky outcropping loomed over the beach, which was rocky rather than sandy and was scattered with desert flora. Atop the outcrop was the base—a warehouse with living quarters, from what Law could remember. The base was well-suited to defense from an outside attack… like would be coming from the Heart and Straw Hat crews.

As Law watched, the Marines, some under the control of strings and some moving of their own accord, started unloading cargo from the ship. Whatever items would be useful for stocking up the base, Law assumed.

Law flinched when one large hand came from behind to rest on his right shoulder, the other stroking down the left side of his face, tracing his line of his cheek—a facsimile of tenderness and affection.

“Stop that,” Law snapped then hissed in pain when a finger found its way into the bullet wound on his shoulder. His knees nearly buckled as the finger pressed into the wound, sending a jolt of pain down to his toes and drawing fresh blood, but Doflamingo’s unrelenting grip on his shoulder kept him upright.

“It’s time to go,” Doflamingo murmured into Law’s ear, his breath wet and warm against Law’s skin.

“Fine,” Law said through clenched teeth, gathering himself and turning on his heel. His shackles clanked with his sudden movement. He didn’t look at Doflamingo.

Doflamingo chuckled but let go of his shoulder and followed him. Tashigi was standing outside the door when Law opened it. She glanced back at him in surprise, eyes briefly falling to his left shoulder and blanching, but she was forced to walk half a step behind Law as a guard. Law ignored her reaction and strode forward. Doflamingo followed his two captives.

Neither Law nor Doflamingo slept the night before. For several hours after their tense arrangement had been reached, Law remained tied to the chair, stewing silently, while Doflamingo sat at the desk and looked over papers and maps and scribbled notes. Law very carefully did not think about how much this felt like sitting shackled to the Heart seat in Dressrosa, powerless.

Some time after night had fallen, Law started when he felt the strings confining him to the chair fall away. He looked over at Doflamingo, who had shifted in the desk chair to face Law, and raised an eyebrow. Rather than respond, the other man pointed a finger, and Law was pulled to his feet as a single string wrapped around his shackles and tugged him forward.

Law grimaced but didn’t fight the movement. He didn’t think it was worth picking the battle—not yet. He came to a stop directly in front of Doflamingo, Law’s thighs nearly touching the larger man’s knees. For a long moment, Doflamingo scrutinized Law from behind his glasses. Then he reached one hand, almost tentatively, up to Law’s face. Law inhaled sharply as Doflamingo’s hand cupped his cheek and tried to push back against the touch, but the string was still wrapped around his shackles and kept his hands in front of him.

“W-what—”

The hand slid from Law’s cheek to the back of his neck and fingers lightly brushed through the hair on his nape. Goosebumps erupted under the touch, Law intimately aware that Doflamingo’s large hand could enclose around his throat at any moment. Logically, he knew it wouldn’t because Doflamingo needed him alive, but his body wasn’t reacting to logic.

The fingers suddenly tightened in Law’s hair, and Law’s breath hitched as Doflamingo pulled back, exposing Law’s neck. Law swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Doflamingo slowly rose to his feet. He leaned over, as if to sniff Law’s exposed neck. Law’s heart hammered in his chest as his position became even more vulnerable.

Maybe he should have picked the battle after all.

“I always knew you’d grow up into something incredible, Law,” Doflamingo murmured.

“Funny,” Law replied, voice unsteady as he focused his gaze on the ceiling. “I didn’t expect to grow up at all.”

There was a huff of laughter against his neck, and Law suppressed a shudder. “I have always been good at cultivating potential.”

Law felt his irritation spike at that. “Yes, such great potential behind bars in Impel Down,” he retorted with a measure of satisfaction.

Doflamingo growled, predictable in his anger at any slight against the Family. The hand in Law’s hair tightened further then Law cried out as he felt a sharp sting in the meat of his left shoulder. His eyes flew wide, and he jerked back as far as he could with the string still attached to manacles. Breathing heavily, he looked down to see a bloody bite mark.

Furious, he glared at the other man. “What the fuck?”

“A reminder of just who you belong to,” Doflamingo simply replied, teeth bloodied as he smirked.

Law’s stomach turned. Doflamingo, seeming satisfied to have made his point, dropped the string from Law’s bindings. Law retreated to the chair at the table, moving only to clean up the wound when Doflamingo had thrown a towel in his direction.

When Law emerged on the deck, he was relieved to see Penguin and Jean Bart, as well as Smoker, standing by the gangplank, guarded by armed Marines.

“Captain!” Penguin called, relieved, as Law approached. His eyes narrowed as he saw the fresh wound on Law’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Jean Bart asked, having noticed it as well.

Law nodded, refusing to give Doflamingo the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “Fine. You two?”

“We’re good,” Penguin said, and Jean Bart nodded in confirmation.

“As touching as this little reunion is,” Doflamingo drawled, “it’s time to go.”

The Marine guards jerked into motion and grabbed Penguin, Jean Bart, and Smoker, pushing them toward the gangplank. Law and Tashigi followed, with Doflamingo bringing up the rear.

#Caitlin's fic #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece fanfic #Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Doflamingo #Heart Pirates

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gobydana · 5 years

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Have You Ever Cared?

Hi! Could I request a batfam x batsis reader fic where she’s not a vigilante and everyone thinks of her as a spoiled trust fund kid and say some pretty mean stuff to her during an argument causing her to storm out. She’s killed and nobody really does much. So when she is resurrected she stays off the grid and leads a simple life until the batfam finds he and confront her where she reveals how hurt she is.

Batsister was a lot of things, biological daughter of billionaire Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s party child, twenty-some year old with no real path in life, living off her father. Or well that is what one would think if they read the tabolids or even talked to her family. As one of the only family members not in the superhero business. The gossip columns loved to feature her. Who she was out with, where she was partying, what car did she wreck. Her family loved to get on her case. Why didn’t she go to college or do something besides chilling at home. Why waste the money on drinking, being the party persona Bruce took on for many years.

Tonight was one of those nights, only it seemed worse. Maybe it was due to the non-stop shit she got or maybe just today she didn’t want to deal with it. Either way it didn’t seem to stop and just kept coming.

“They said you were drunk and saw you driving.” Bruce about yelled as he pushed the car away.

“I wasn’t drinking.” She hollered back.

“Really? Then do you just suck at driving? Can’t find the line?” Damain added in.

“C’mon sister, we can’t have two family dissapointments. Just drunk driving?” Jason said from a top the stairs. That got him the bird.

“When are you going to grow up.”

“Father can’t get you out of trouble all the time.”

“What if you cause someone else’s injury? Did you ever think about that?

“Stop being the billboard for trust-fund child. Like c’mon can you actually use that brain in your head.”

“I can’t believe we are related. Are you sure you are Bruce’s kid.”

“Enough!” Bruce yelled among the insults shooting out. “I am very disappointed in you.” He said with the most even, cold tone he could.

With that batsister left towards the door not wanting to hear anything more. She couldn’t take it anymore. They of course wouldn’t listen to her but take the word of the press. It’s not like any of them were around enough to even get to know her. That’s why she knew they wouldn’t know where to find her.

She went to the graveyard. It was her safe place, minus certain times of the year her family really didn’t come here. She walked towards the only two people she hadn’t manage to disappoint in life: Thomas and Martha Wayne. She sunk down in defeated and started talking to the tombstones. Having the feeling at least someone would listen to her.

“Your son hates me again. Family wouldn’t even listen to. Thought I was drinking and driving all cause of some Instagram videos taken of me not driving in a straight line. You want to know why I couldn’t drive? I was crying again. Had the stupid police radio on and heard bat down. Didn’t know which was got hurt, but judging by the sling on Jason’s arm going to guess it was him. They don’t know what it’s like. Finding out the same time the public does when one of them gets hurt. Every time I am home I see a new bruise, stitches, broken bones. Don’t they care that one day I might come home and find them gone? Hell doubt anyone would even tell me if they died. I probably would find out from the press.”

“Got into that university for a degree in chemistry biology. Think I might just pack and leave. Would they even care? They give me shit cause doing nothing, but they don’t know what goes on in my life. If they did, they would know I was applying. That the press’s opinion of me hurt my last chance. Been trying so hard. I am going to pretend you are proud of me though. So at least one or two Waynes would be.”

She brushed the tears off her face. The thing she would never let her family see. Stay strong until she was alone. She was a Wayne and they were strong. But times like this she couldn’t be. After a few hours she knew she had to go. The rain was starting to come down and the moon was already hanging high in the sky. Grabbing her backpack, she walked towards the road. Starting tomorrow she was finding her own place and living a new life. Maybe move to Metropolis.

The dark night, slick roads, and her black clothes made her hard to spot. It didn’t help she was walking from the graveyard to the main road. That might be why the driver didn’t see her. The tears in her face cloudy her vision so that she didn’t see the car until it was too late. The last thing she registered was red blinding pain as the car made contact with her body at 45 mph. A driver who didn’t even care enough to stop but instead drove away.

From the shadows though stood someone who did see. Someone who recognized her and knew of her family, Both as civilians and with capes. Someone who wanted to get back at Bruce and see him suffer. So Talia stepped out of the dark and picked up the bleeding girl. Batsis had died upon impact, but that didn’t mean she had to stay dead. Her father had a way to fix that.

Green and pain was the next thing she remembered. It was almost glowing green as every injury she just suffered came flowing back. Her yells and pleas for it to stop echoes in the dark cave. Finally she found her way out towards the end of the pool where Talia and a guard were waiting. She explained everything to her and what happened.

The first thing she asked was about her family. They might have been mad at her, but truly they would mourn her at least? But when Talia showed her newspapers and camera that she hacked into the manor, it surprised her. No mention of her death or the accident. Her family was acting as if nothing happened. Just carrying on like normal. When each of her siblings died and her father, she cried for days. Often feeling like she couldn’t get up each day.

Everyday she found herself checking on her family with the same results. Talia saw the girls spirit died a little each day. After a few weeks she handed the girl a wad of cash and some new clothes. Gave her a chance that once she wanted more than anything. A do over, living a life not as a Wayne but as herself. She took that chance and left the compound to another world. It wasn’t long before she found a job and a place. Settling into life away from the family who didn’t care.

It would be months before someone found her backpack. Bruce went to the cemetery to visit his parents' grave. On the way out he saw the backpack hidden in the bushes. At first he thought it was a normal one until he saw the W.E pin that she always had on hers. Closer look saw blood that was long ago dried up. The weather got to the backpack, no doubt being there for some months. He thought she had left mad at them, to another city. But maybe it was something else. He took the bag to examine further.

Back at the cave, he emptied the contents. He was surprised at what he found. A college acceptance letter to pretious program, volunteer shirts from an orphanage the next town over, notebook and pencil, and her wallet. So much of it surprised him so much he didn’t know about his own daughter. Soon he found himself lost in thought he didn’t hear Talia come in at first. She knew he would be at the graves today and made sure he would find the backpack.

“She died you know.” She said with hands up as he stood up with a batarang in hand. “A hit and run. Her killer just drove off without a care in the world.”

He sank down into the chair with a sad realization coming over him. She hadn’t been avoiding them, she had been dead. The rest of his kids were coming down the stairs at that moment for patrol. Every single one stopped in their tracks as what she said echoed in the cave. Not one knowing.

“DId you?” He started with her only to cut him off.

“Yes. SHe is alive again and if you truly cared about her, you would stay away from her. What family doesn’t know that one of them is dead. Prioritizing cape life over your own blood? She died alone thinking you all hate her.”

With that she left. Bruce couldn’t say anything but waived the rest of them off to patrol. While they were gone he went up to what was once her room. Some place he hardly walked into since she was a child. He could still remember when she was younger and wanted it decorated pink. A pink glitter canopy hung over her bed. She was so happy to help him put it up. THat room no longer existed. Some time between now and then she painted it a different color.

On the dresser was pictures of all of them. She was younger in

most of them. Thinking back it had been a while since he had done anything with her. Between Gotham and the league, something was always pulling him away. Different college applications clouted her desk along with an old text book of his. Looks like she was teaching herself different science items. A police radio sat on the bed side table with a wrinkled sheet. On the sheet had all the code names the police used for the different bats. She must have been listening at night. Further discovery of wrinkled up tissue told him more than he ever knew.

Through out the next week, they all found parts of her around the manor that surprised them. Jason found the book he recommend she read before his death as Robin laying on her bookshelf. It was worn out and no doubt been read a few thousand times. Damian discovered that she had a sword hint half painted. It was going to be a gift for him. Dick found the old letters he use to write her when he first left the manor and started on his own. It appeared he was the one who stopped writing. Tim found his old camera and pictures in her room. Duke saw she wrote down his parent’s birthdays as a reminder for herself what days might be hard for him.

It was Bruce who went looking. Everyone else thought maybe the best thing was to let her move on. Him though, he just couldn’t give up. She was his daughter, an only child he got to raise up. He had baby pictures of her and more growing up until the pictures stopped. He couldn’t give up on her. He might have found the man who hit her and threw him in jail with a lot of bruises, but none of that could make up all he forgot.

He remembered as a child she was fascinated with France. Claimed she was going to live in southern France one day. So on a hutch, he went there. A few weeks later he saw her. It was in a small village near a university. She was working at a café. He sat across the road and watched her. The whole time, she looked genuinely happy. Something that didn’t happen in Gotham.

That night he followed her home towards a small flat where she lived with a cat. She turned around when he came through the window, just starring at her.

“Wonder if you were ever going to come. Was it better without worrying about a press nightmare living at home.” She asked.

“I didn’t know you died.”

With that she threw up her hands. Of all he could say, that is what he said. SHe exploded.

“I died and saw you all move on. You didn’t even know? What thought I just up and left. Didn’t even care to find out where? Did I ever matter to you? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. I was second string to everything. Sorry missed you birthday, had to go save the world. I wanted a Christmas morning with my family? Too bad Joker broke out. I seem like I am hungover? Nope been up all night crying because the police reported one of you asses were massively hurt. Seven I wanted to go trick o treating but nope went to a fellow soliciaties party because the bat was too busy to take his child out. The damn league saw you more then me. I debated often just joining the rogues because then maybe you would pay attention to me. Nope just caused you problems that you couldn’t ignore. Put the Wayne name in the spotlight and you started paying attention to me.

“I didn’t know.”

“Is that all you can say? LIke I know you weren’t a man of many words but c’mon. How hard is it to say you are proud of me? To ask about my day just once in awhile instead of scolding me? Well guess what, I am proud of me. I am starting my degree of chemistry biology while working at the cafe. I made friends here who are friends with me not because of my family but because of me. No more wondering if I am good enough for you or good enough to be a Wayne. I am good enough for me. So there’s the door, don’t let it hit you on your way out.

That night Bruce grabbed sleep at hotel and video chat with the family. Each one of her brothers ashamed that she thought she wasn’t good enough. For the next year, they came separate and slowly got her to be at least friendly with them. No doubt they could never undo the damage done but they tried to be a family. Bruce thought has the longest road.

For the longest time he could never get the picture of her as a little girl asking for story before patrol. But over time he slowly saw her for the brilliant young woman she had become. He started talking time off from Batman to see her. Wanting to not waste more time. He almost lost her for good due to his own stupidity. Seven years later when she graduated with her doctorate, he made sure to be there with the family front row. He had missed so many memorable moments he wasn’t going to miss that one.

Over time she also started to forgive them. The sadness and loneliness that had made a permanent place in heart had finally left. She finally heard her father say that he was proud of her. That was something she never thought would happen. Also as a promise to her, he never came as Batman. Only as her father, Bruce Wayne. The family started to inform her more of when they got hurt instead of her finding out herself. ANd some days when she came home to two of her brothers crashing on her couch bickering, she couldn’t be happier.

Tagging: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @superwhoteen @speedypan

#batsister #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #batman fanfiction #fanfic #i made myself cry #angst #death #talia al ghul

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flightfoot · 4 years

Text

We’re The Same Ch. 1

AO3/FFN

So I’ve been a fan of Damian for a long time, since way before ML came out. He’s my favorite Robin actually. I was excited to see him used in tons of ML fics... and then discovered he was out of character in most of them. And used for bashing and salt mostly. And paired with Marinette for some reason.

The bashing REALLY annoys me, especially in regards to Adrien bashing. He and Adrien have gone through some similar abuse at the hands of one of their parents, though Damian’s was WAY worse. Honestly? The two of them would relate and probably become friends.

I wanted to see what would happen if I dropped a CANON-COMPLIANT Damian Wayne into Miraculous Ladybug; this was the result.

Disclaimer: This is a Lovesquare fic, with Identity Reveal, Hawkmoth Reveal, and Hawkmoth Defeat. It is NOT a salt fic.

This is set between seasons 2 and 3 of Miraculous Ladybug, and during the “Year of Blood” arc in Robin: Son of Batman (2015). Adrien and Marinette are 14, Damian’s 12, and I’m not certain how old Maya is, but not much older than Damian.

Thanks to @mini-minou for betaing!

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“Maybe we should take a break.”

Damian sighed. “Tt. You can leave at any time you know.”

Maya Ducard glared at him. “I’m not leaving! But we’ve been flying around constantly for the past week, returning things you took, trying to make amends for what you did during the Year of Blood. I want you to try to make amends, to repair some of the damage you did – heck, that’s why I’m here! – but I need a break, you need a break, and most of all, Goliath needs a break. He’s strong and has a lot of endurance, but even HE has limits Damian!”

The giant red bat-dragon gave a low grunt in agreement.

“See? Goliath agrees with me!”

Damian frowned. “A year, Ducard. A new horrible task every day to ‘prove’ myself to my mother and grandfather. There’s still almost a hundred tasks left to try and undo – or at least to try to fix or make up for as best I can. We don’t have time to waste.”

Ducard gritted her teeth. “If we collapse – ANY of us – it will take a lot longer. We need to be at the top of our game. And just submerging yourself in this redemption quest without any sort of break IS taking a toll, even if you won’t admit it. Mentally, if not physically.”

“I’m FINE-”

Goliath bellowed as some sort of cable wrapped around him. Instantly Ducard and Damian stopped fighting, jumping to high alert.

A girl in a skintight polka-dotted suit and a catboy in a similar skintight black suit swung onto Goliath, using their forward momentum to swing them both on top.

The catboy – wait, is that tail a BELT, how is it moving like that? – grinned, then did a double-take, blinking. “Wait, are you-”

Ducard charged forwards before he could finish, the catboy blocking her blows with his staff. “Who are you? More assassins?”

Catboy looked shocked. “No! Wait, MORE assassins?”

The spotted girl looked around carefully, taking in Damian’s and Ducard’s expressions and body language. Damian held himself at the ready. It looked like maybe this was a misunderstanding, but better to be ready than allow himself to be caught off guard. This could still be a trick of some kind.

“…You’re not an akuma, are you?” the girl asked.

Damian frowned. “What’s an akuma?”

The girl groaned. “Not again. Chat, I think we might have jumped the gun a bit.”

Ducard backed off, still holding herself at the ready but no longer attacking. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

The spotted girl sighed and plopped down on Goliath’s back, the catboy joining her a moment later. One of his cat ears flopped slightly, increasing his resemblance to an oversized kitten. “I’m Ladybug, and the boy beside me is Chat Noir. We’re the local superheroes in Paris. A villain named Hawkmoth is threatening Paris, sending out these tainted butterflies that infect anyone who’s feeling a strong negative emotion. It gives that person superpowers, but also corrupts them, twisting them into an evil version of themselves and putting them under Hawkmoth’s control.”

“A few minutes ago reports started pouring in about some giant beast flying above Paris. Naturally everyone assumed it was an akuma, so we came to defeat it. Looks like we were mistaken though.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “No kidding. Now get off.”

Ladybug crossed her arms. “You don’t need to be so rude about it.”

Ducard took one look at Damian’s expression and decided to cut in. “Damian’s just like this. Don’t mind him.”

Damian looked at her sullenly. “No one asked YOU, Ducard.”

Chat tilted his head to the side. “Hey, I was wondering – are you Robin? I thought you died, but recently I’ve seen news reports that you were spotted around Gotham City again. But then there’s been that whole Robin movement in Gotham lately with a ton of kids and teenagers putting on the uniform, so I wasn’t sure.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, but- I thought Robin was older than that! I thought he was like, sixteen at least?” The spotted girl peered at Damian, narrowing her eyes as she stared at his face. “You’ve got to be a LOT younger than that.”

Who does this girl think she is? “And if I said I was sixteen and that you’re just a horrible judge of ages?”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t believe you, since I can SEE that your upper right canine’s growing in. Generally speaking, sixteen-year-olds don’t have baby teeth.”

Dammit!

Ducard snickered. “She’s got you there.”

“This is YOUR fault, Ducard,” he muttered.

“If I recall correctly, you said that it had been loose for a while by the time I knocked it out.”

He looked away, silently fuming.

Chat coughed, obviously hiding a grin behind his hand. “So back to the topic at hand – ARE you Robin? What are you doing here?”

“Of course I’m Robin! And what I’m doing here is none of your business!”

“Well we ARE the protectors of Paris. If there’s any trouble Bugaboo and I should know about it.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes at him. “Quit calling me Bugaboo!”

Damian wanted to groan. Great, more flirting. He’d seen it between Father and Selina Kyle often enough, he didn’t need to see MORE of it. Was it something about cat suits? Was that it?

Ladybug turned back to Damian, addressing him. “Chat IS right though. If there’s any trouble heading to Paris, we need to know.”

He glared at her. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Ducard sighed and cut in. “We’re just passing through. We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Ladybug gave a curt nod. “That would be goo-“

She didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Namely because a giant spoon had whacked her off of Goliath.

“MILADY!” Chat yelled, his face twisting in panic. He dove off Goliath after her.

“GOLIATH, CATCH HER!” Damian didn’t know whether they’d make it in time, but he HAD to try. The whole point of this trip was to undo damage, put some GOOD back into the world, maybe even earn redemption and forgiveness. He wasn’t going to let her die. He’d taken enough lives by his own hand. He didn’t want to see another one snuffed out.

Goliath dove towards Chat and Ladybug… but it turned out to be unneeded.

Damian blinked, then stared. Ladybug’s yoyo was wrapped around Chat, keeping her from falling to the ground. Chat, meanwhile, was twirling his staff so fast that it apparently acted like a helicopter blade, allowing him and Ladybug to slowly descend to the ground.

So these two were obviously magic. Great. Just great. He could feel a headache coming on. Well, it seemed like he’d just have to wing it and figure out the limits of their abilities as they fought. Not what he preferred, but he’d made do with less intel before.

And then one of the silliest-looking supervillains Damian had ever seen flew towards the two superheroes.

He had two sets of “wings” – if they could really be called that. The upper pair was made of two giant spoons, while the lower pair were two forks. A pair of knives were strapped to his back.

“People kept saying that the placement of silverware doesn’t matter. That it didn’t matter whether the spoon goes on the right or left of the fork, and even that the type of fork or spoon didn’t matter! Well, joke’s on them! I, Table Angel, will put everyone in their proper places AS SOON AS YOU GIVE ME YOUR MIRACULOUS!”

So this was probably an akuma. Apparently akumas were really stupid. Seriously, this guy was more of an imbecile than Condiment King, and he didn’t even know that was POSSIBLE.

Akumas were also unobservant. You’d think that he’d notice a giant red bat-dragon descending from above and barreling towards him, even with his back to them, but nope.

He noticed eventually. When Goliath rammed him into the ground.

Goliath descended to the ground, Ladybug and Chat Noir landing a moment later.

There was no rush. The akuma (Damian REFUSED to call him something as stupid as “Table Angel”) wasn’t going anywhere. Currently he was groaning in a giant crater.

Chat smirked. “Well that’s one way to take down an akuma.”

He strolled over to the semi-conscious supervillain. “What do you think, Milady? The knife, fork, or spoon?”

Ladybug shrugged. “Try the knives first. He hadn’t used them yet, maybe there was a reason.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. CATACLYSM!”

The knives crumbled into black powder, a purple and black butterfly fluttering out of the remains.

“No more evil-doing for you, little akuma,” Ladybug called out, spinning her yo-yo. “Time to de-evilize!” She caught the butterfly in her yo-yo, then opened it and set it free, now a pure white. “Bye-bye little butterfly!”

As it flew away, a purple liquid mass passed over the akuma, stripping away his supervillain appearance and leaving behind an ordinary man.

The man blinked, looking around wildly. “What happened? Where am I? Wait… Ladybug? Chat Noir? Oh no. I was akumatized, wasn’t I?”

“Yes-“ Ladybug began telling the man soothingly.

“SENTIMONSTER!” the man yelled, scrambling to his feet as he stared at something behind Ladybug.

“Sentimonster?” She turned around. And came face-to-face with Goliath.

“Oh. Right.” She called after the man, “Don’t worry! He’s not a sentimonster, he’s just-“ but by that point he was out of sight.

She sighed. “Well, there he goes.” She turned to Goliath and smiled. “Thanks for your help. Sorry about that whole being-mistaken-for-a-sentimonster-and-an-akuma thing.”

Goliath smiled, sweeping Ladybug and Chat Noir both into a hug.

Ladybug laughed as best she could, with the way she was squished against Goliath. “I love you too.”

Chat was ecstatic, his eyes sparkling as he seemed to melt into Goliath’s soft fur. A low rumble sounded from his throat.

Damian blinked. Chat could actually purr? Exactly how much of a cat WAS he? His eyes were catlike, his cat ears and tail swiveled and moved like a cat’s, even though they were CLEARLY fake… did he just like, have the magic essence of a cat or something?

Come to think of it, he didn’t actually know HOW Ladybug and Chat Noir got their powers. He didn’t even know whether they were human or not.

Hm. This was worth investigating.

After a few more moments of hugging, Goliath let Ladybug and Chat Noir down.

Chat dropped to all fours, still leaning into Goliath and purring, eyes half-lidded in contentment.

The “magic essence of a cat” theory was seeming more likely by the minute.

After several more moments, a beeping noise sounded from Chat’s ring. He blinked. Looked at it. Then abruptly jumped up, face turning as scarlet as Ladybug’s suit as he chuckled. “Uh, heh heh heh, I’ll just be going now, nice meeting you guys!”

“Chat!” Ladybug called out, holding out her fist. Chat smiled, raising his fist to meet hers.

“Pound it!” they chorused.

“Just one more thing I need to do,” Ladybug said. “Lucky Charm!”

A statue of a small red-and-black spotted bird fell into her hand. She blinked, glancing over at Damian. She studied him closely.

“WHAT?” he asked her irritably. “What was that all about? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t think you should leave just yet,” she told him. “My Lucky Charm produces an item that I can use to succeed; sometimes by giving me the tool I need to beat an opponent, and sometimes by giving me a hint about what to do next. This bird looks like a Robin, so I think you’re supposed to stick around.”

Damian frowned. He hadn’t been planning on it before, but... he didn’t fully know what was going on here. And as both Batman’s partner and the former prince of the League of Shadows, he knew how valuable a bit of intel could be.

“Fine,” he stated abruptly. “But I’m not going to stick around for long.”

Ladybug looked slightly annoyed, then sighed. “That’s all I ask for.”

She threw the bird into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Swarms of ladybugs erupted through the air, whirling around the city. One swirled around the crater that Table Angel (with some unsolicited help from Goliath) had made. When the ladybugs left, the crater was gone.

Damian stared. So THIS was the ‘Miraculous Cure’ she’d been talking about. This… this could be HUGE. Collateral damage was a major problem in superhero fights, if this could reset that…

No way was he going to leave now. He wasn’t sure whether this power could only repair damage related to akumas or sentimonsters, as she said, or whether there was a more general principle, but he had to know more. At the very least who Ladybug and Chat Noir were so he could find them if he needed them.

A beep sounded from Chat’s ring again, a beep from Ladybug’s earrings sounding in tandem with it.

“And now I REALLY should be going,” Chat called.

As Chat ran past Damian brushed against him, lightly placing a device on his belt.

“I’ve got to leave as well, I don’t have much time left.” Ladybug hesitated. “You might need to hide Goliath somewhere; he’s obviously a huge softie, but Parisians might panic.”

Damian scoffed. “I’m not an imbecile, girl. And neither is Goliath. He knows how to hide.”

She shot him another irritated look, but apparently decided that it wasn’t worth responding to the slight insult.

Instead; “Look, I’ve got to go too. I’ll try to figure out what the Lucky Charm was hinting at and contact you later.”

As she threw out her yo-yo, hooking it onto the nearest building, Damian swiftly placed an item on one of her spots. A moment later she was out of sight.

Damian smirked.

Ducard glanced over at him suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?”

Damian took a device from his toolbelt and flipped it open.

Two dots blinked back, both moving rapidly.

Ducard stated flatly, “You put trackers on them, didn’t you.”

Damian’s smirk widened. “Always get to know who your allies are.”

Ducard let out an exasperated sigh. “How do the Batfamily have so many friends again?”

He chose not to dignify that with a response, looking back at the screen instead. “Now we just-“

The dots disappeared.

Damian blinked.

Ducard stifled a giggle.

“Did they discover my trackers? They didn’t seem like the most observant lot.”

“Guess you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” Ducard teased.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “We’re getting to the bottom of this. I’ll go to the dot on the left, you take the dot on the right. We’ll look for clues about what happened.”

Now it was Ducard’s turn to smirk. “I’m guessing the fact that the left dot is the catboy is totally irrelevant?”

He looked away.

Ducard burst out laughing.

“I don’t get what’s so funny,” Damian muttered.

Ducard wiped the tears from her eyes. “Damian, I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at him. Looks like someone has a crush~”

He shot her an irritated look. “That’s not it.”

“Really? Because it looks like it to me.”

He shook his head. “Tt. I have no romantic inclinations towards him or anyone else.”

“Then what was up with the look on your face when you looked at him? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

He stared in the direction that Chat Noir had gone and swallowed. “It’s just… he reminds me of some of the stray animals I’ve rescued.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment, then looked back down at the tracker, squinting at it. “Ok, I think I know where to go. I’ll head for where Ladybug’s tracker disappeared.”

Damian gave her a curt nod, then ran away. He had a catboy to find.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #Damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #Adrien agreste #Maya ducard #We're the same

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battinsxns · 4 years

Text

Little Robin

Thank you so much to @manontheflyingtrapeze for letting me use this head canon to write on! : “Headcanon that when Dick fist has Mar’i, he calls her his “little robin” as an endearment term, and the first time jason hears him calling her that, he’s naturally angry and goes all “planning to drag her into our shit life too?!””

You can also find me on ao3 under sam_writes!

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Mar’i was flying. So that was new.

“You sure this has never happened before,” Jason panted, “because she seems to be pretty freaking good at it.”

“Do you think I’d bring my daughter here if I thought she could fly away?” Dick huffed as they continued to chase after the toddler, giggling and squealing ahead of them.

Dick was going to have a heart attack. One minute he was on the couch with Mar’i at his feet with her arms raised to be picked up, and the next she was airborne. Sometimes, he wondered how his life got to the point where a flying baby was just something that happened to him.

Rounding another corner into the kitchen, the boys stopped. Mar’i was still in the air, which was a problem, but she was no longer leading them on a chase. Instead, she reached for the cookie jar Alfred had taken to hiding on top of the fridge. Finding her treasure, Mar’i squealed in delight and leaned down to bite the chocolate chip cookie, only to dip forward into a spin. She giggled as she spun in the air, one clumsy tumble after another.

Dick wasted no time in climbing onto the countertop, reaching for the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, and swinging toward Mar’i. With a graceful jump he flew forward and wrapped his daughter safely within his arms as he landed them both onto the ground.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her downy forehead with a sigh. “Your mom is going to kill me. Oh, who am I kidding, she’ll find this hilarious.”

Jason leaned against the back of a chair, willing his heart rate to slow. “You and your fucking ground repellant family. This is why I never come over.”

“Is it bad that I’m proud of her? I mean, did you see her form? She’s a natural flying Grayson!” Dick laughed, tossing Mar’i lightly into the air as she giggled, cookie clenched tight in her tiny fist. “My little robin!”

Jason froze, body rigid. “Put her down, Dick.”

He turned, confused. “Jay, what -?”

Louder, tenser, again, “I said put her down.”

Carefully, Dick placed his daughter in her highchair, careful now to mind the straps in case she decided to fly again.

Jason stomped his way back toward the living room until Mar’i was no longer in hearing distance. Dick followed his brother wearily.

“Jay, what’s going on?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Jason’s fist collided with his cheek. His head rocked back with the force behind the punch, and he took a step backward to lower himself into proper stance.

Dick raised his arms up to block Jason’s fists swinging toward him and swiped his leg at his brother’s knees, sending him to the ground. He pressed his knee against Jason’s hips, arms pining his wrists.

The hold was broken by the slamming of Jason’s head against his own as their positions were flipped. Another punch to the nose jarred Dick as he raised his arms defensively. He jabbed his knee against Jason’s ribs, and took the grunt of surprise to throw his own punches.

Between the green haze in Jason’s eyes and the trading of punches, Dick didn’t know how long it was until strong arms pulled Jason from him, and another set of hands pulled Dick up from the ground.

“What the hell is going on here?” The angry grumble of Batman’s tenor slipped into Bruce’s voice.

Jason lurched, shoulders held between Bruce’s elbows and head between his father’s hands, spat red onto the floor.

“You’re just as bad as him! All of you! Always ready to let your kids die for the fucking mission. Bet you can’t wait to dress her up in the little suit and send her off to fight all those killers on the street, huh Dickie?”

“Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this.” Dick’s heart was pounding. His voice dark and dangerous. He felt Alfred grip his wrist as he took a step forward. Jason gave him a bloody smile, with bitterness in his eyes.

“Isn’t that what you wanted to do? She’s a fucking baby. How long were you going to wait? Til she could type case files? Count off rounds?”

Dick shook of Alfred’s grips and lunged at Jason. Before he could punch him in the face like he wanted, Bruce was between them, a hand gripping each boy’s shoulder on a pressure point that had them both cringing.

“That is enough! Do you both understand me?” Bruce had shouted at them before, many times as they’d grown older, but it still froze them. Once a robin, always a robin.

“Might I request we all stop shouting? Masters Timothy and Damian are trying to distract the young miss, but I think it would be best not to set her off crying.” Alfred, ever the wisest among them all.

Bruce dragged them both to the couch, tossing them both down on opposite sides. His fists clenched, but he didn’t cross his arms, keeping himself ready to intervene again.

“Now do you two want to explain what happened here? I thought all you boys were finally getting along.”

Jason responded with an angry huff and clenched fists that escaped no one’s eye.

“Golden boy here is already talking about making Mar’i a mask, and you’re both so fucking brainwashed you don’t even see the problem with that.”

“What the hell are you talking about!” Dick threw up his arms, anger smoldering with the throbbing of his nose.

“Little robin? Is that ringing any damn bells for you?”

Alfred gave a small “oh dear” that echoed in the silent room.

Jason sneered at Dick’s frozen form. “What? Didn’t think I’d hear you praise her tumble and tell her what a good little robin she was gonna be?”

“It’s what my mom called me,” Dick whispered.

Jason’s face twisted and then fell blank and second later. When he spoke, his voice was small. “What?”

“My mom. When we practiced the trapeze, she said I flew. The first time I flipped she called my her little robin. It’s the last thing she said to me. ‘Ready to fly, my little robin?’.”

Jason scrubbed his unbruised right face with the palm of his hand. “You bastard,” he said to Bruce, “you absolute bastard.”

“Bruce? You never told them?”

Here he was, the Batman, flustered and as emotionally constipated as Dick remembered. “I… presumed you would have told them yourself. And… and Dick you yourself often called it a… symbol…”

Dick let out a small, exasperated chuckle. Soon It became full blown laughter. Jason joined in as well, until they were both clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath. Bruce just stood ever so still with flushed skin and averted eyes.

“Master Dick, if you would please sit still so I may tend to your wounds so you do not frighten away your child?” Dick looked up to see Alfred’s arched eyebrow, and suddenly the laughter left him as he felt once again like a reprimanded ten year old boy.

“Sorry, Alfie. At least we didn’t break anything this time?”

Alfred gave an unamused humm and did not spare any disinfectant on the cut on his cheek.

“Oww!”

“Well maybe this will teach you boys not to roughhouse indoors anymore, least of all around children.”

Dick felt shame stir in him. God, what kind of father was he? It was one thing to go out at night while she was safe asleep, and cover up his bruises in the morning, but to bring it so close to her? With her family, where she should be safe?

“Guess that explains why you hated me so much, huh,” Jason asked as he wiped his eyes. Though the words were said jokingly, Dick could hear the tension underlying them.

“I didn’t hate you, but yeah. You were my replacement, and you had Bruce’s attention and my mom’s nickname. It stung. I was a kid. But so were you.”

Dick paused as Alfred prodded his bruised nose, wincing. It wasn’t broken, but it was definitely going to be bruised and swollen for a while. Dick cursed, and just hoped he’d left make-up here to cover it up for Mar’i.

Jason sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You know I’d want let her out there, right?” Dick closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath and tried to dispel images of his baby girl hurt from his mind. “I’d never want her hurt, or scared, and in this lifestyle there’s no going around that. I’m scared every time that Kory goes on a mission, and it breaks my heart to see her hurt. I’m scared every night I go out, because if I don’t make it back then what happens to Mar’i?

“But I am absolutely terrified that Mar’i one day is going to have to know about all of this, and that she’ll want to be a hero, and I won’t be able to stop her. Because it’s in her blood, isn’t it.”

He looked up at Bruce, eyes bright. “I mean, you never wanted me going out, but I kept doing it anyway until you decided to make us a team. But it wasn’t enough. I’ve broken bones and been shot and almost died so many times, and I still keep doing it. So what about her? I can’t protect her!”

Bruce knelt in front of his eldest son, strong hands on his shoulders. “Dick, look at me.” He lifted teary eyes to meet Bruce’s. “Mar’i is in the kitchen. She is with Damian and Tim. She is not even two years old. Whatever may happen in the future will happen then and not now. For now, just hold your daughter, do the best you can to keep her from this, and whatever happens as she gets older, she will have a family here to protect her.”

The sound of clapping broke the peaceful moment.

“Damn, Bruce,” Jason laughed. “I didn’t think you could find emotions. Thought all you did was yell and grunt.”

“Hm.”

Dick laughed and stood, stretching his back.

“Well, as fun as this has been, I better go get Mar’i before she starts flying again.”

“She what?”

#batman #robin #dick grayson #Jason todd #fic #fanfiction #listen I haven't written in months I tried my best #I just really loved this idea #mar'i grayson #ao3

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years

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A Miracle In The Family - brood au

Characters: Clark Kent, Jason Todd, Lois Lane, Diana Prince, Dick Grayson, various others Pairing: implied/past superbat Summary: Jason ran off after his birth mother, and was now in the hands of the Joker. Clark just hoped against hope he’d get to his boy in time. A/N: Obviously this AU’s take on Jason’s (not) death. He’s 14/15 here (and Dick is around 18, here’s the breakdown of years apart the kids are if you forgot like I did). I don’t remember all of the canon Jason dying storyline, so forgive how it’s probably all wrong regarding Jason’s ma. I tried to follow the kind of outline of this I made in the last chapter of ‘Whole’ but suck at everything so didn’t really. Sorry ending is bad and vague. Jason attempts to be Robin a little after this but I don’t think he sticks to it much/for long, and this is probably a bit of a lead-in into how Conner and Tim get into heroing.

Other Brood AU things.

Clark could kick himself. Wanted to, honestly. Wanted to straight up die, was the real truth.

Because he didn’t notice. Somehow, he didn’t fucking notice.

Didn’t notice the extra research Jason was doing. Didn’t think about how Jason was talking about his birth mother an awful lot all of the sudden.

Didn’t notice the Robin suit was missing until now. Didn’t notice that Jason wasn’t home in his room, that none of his siblings had any idea he was gone or where he was going. Until it might just be too fucking late.

“Just…” He breathed into the phone. “I…I don’t know. Get to the house. Stay at the house.” A tremor, in his own voice. “Don’t let Cass or any of the boys leave your sight, okay?”

“Okay.” Dick practically whispered. Clark could hear the car roaring down the road in the background. “I won’t, Dad. I’ll keep them safe. Just keep me in the loop, alright?”

“I’ll try.” He paused, as he began to follow a river, knew the river was the trail to Gotham. “But even if I don’t, no hero stuff, okay? No waltzing in to save the day. You get to Smallville and you stay in Smallville, got it?”

Dick hesitated, and Clark could almost hear him biting his lip.

“Okay?” Clark repeated. “Promise me, Dick.”

“Yeah, but Jason-”

“Promise me.” Clark nearly begged.

Dick sighed. “Call if you need help. Me, Diana, anyone. Jay’s already run off on his own – apparently. Last thing we need is you doing it, too.”

“I will.” Clark swore himself. “I’ve already given Lois a call too, and she’ll be there when she can be. Though the Daily will probably want to cover this as breaking news so…I’m not sure how soon that’ll be.”

“No problem.” Dick mumbled. “I’m almost there.”

“Good. I’m sorry I took you from work.” Another pause, and Clark could feel Dick’s own fear, even through the phone. He wondered if Dick could feel his too. “…I’ll bring him home, Dick. I swear on my life.”

“Okay.” Dick murmured childishly. “I’m about to the farm, and I think I can see Conner and Cassie outside, so I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.” Clark nodded to himself. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” Dick returned, a little too seriously for Clark’s liking. Though, right now, nothing was going to Clark’s liking.

Dick hung up without another word, and Clark absently shoved the phone back in his belt, returning all focus to the city appearing over the horizon ahead, and the boy within its walls that he would do anything not to lose.

“Hang on for me, Jay.” He prayed, pushing with all his strength to fly as fast as he could. Mostly to himself, to whatever god that was listening. But also into the communicator in his ear, that connected only to Robin. He couldn’t tell if Jason’s was on, if he had it, or if it had been destroyed. But he could have sworn he heard a ragged breath or two. “Please just hang on.”

The city was already abuzz with what little information anyone had. Televisions and electronic billboards were all broadcasting the grainy video and blurry stills that the Joker had released. Repeating the god-awful news.

The Joker had Robin. The Joker had already beaten Robin into the ground. Would continue to do so until he was bored, or until the little bird died, he’d declared with that hideous laugh. And no one would stop him, even if they wanted to. Because no one could.

People looked up at him as he flew overhead, but for once, he had to ignore them. Had to keep his focus, no playing up to the crowds today. Not when his boy needed him.

Not when his son might die.

He could see them talking, though. Whispering. They all put two and two together, knew Superman was here to try and save Robin.

He could see them all pitying him, too. Because none of them believed he would make it.

Poor Superman, they sighed to each other. Just wasting his breath. Try as he might, no one gets saved in Gotham. That’s just the facts.

He didn’t blame them for thinking so. Gotham was cruel. Heartbreakingly cruel. They were just realists.

But he couldn’t let that stop him. Never had before, and absolutely refused for this to be the first time.

So he took a deep breath. Deep and shuddering. He wanted to cry, but knew he couldn’t. Not until he found his boy.

He exhaled, and kept that focus, waded through the heartbeats he could hear, looking for that one. That one of seven he knew better than anyone else on this ridiculous human planet.

It took him too long. Longer than it ever had before. But eventually he found it. Slow and weak, but around the west side harbor. Sweet, stubborn Jason.

He blinked and he was there, the heartbeat growing louder in his ear every second. But not faster. Oh, no. The louder it got, the slower it seemed to become, and dread filled Clark’s soul.

And suddenly, there was a beep nearby. Somewhere in the warehouse complex.

Beep. Second. Beep. Second. Beep. Second.

Laughter. Terrible, screeching laughter. Not from the same place, but somewhere close.

And below it all: tears. Quiet, pained sobs. A quiet gasp of “Mom…”

Beep. Second. Beep. Second. Beep. Second.

He could hear it in his ear too. Tinny and soft through that communicator he hadn’t been sure was still on.

Clark’s whole world stopped.

A bomb. There was a bomb.

The warehouse doors didn’t stand a chance. He burst through them like they weren’t even there, not caring where the shrapnel landed. A woman shrieked, and for once in his life, Clark couldn’t care less.

Because…there!

There, across the room. Jason was sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood. He was barely conscious, but was trying to stand, trying to get onto his hands and knees, looking at a point across the room. But his obviously mangled hand kept slipping in the blood, and bouncing off the crowbar that had been dropped next to him.

The bomb was between him and Clark, and it read two seconds.

Clark didn’t think. Didn’t even breathe. Took off across the giant room as fast as he could, afraid that it still might not be fast enough. And even as he moved, he saw Jason’s mouth move. Bloody and bruised, he watched Jason as he continued to stare across the floor, and once again said, “Mom…!”

Oh yes, the woman. Jason’s mother. His real mother, the one who abandoned him too many years before.

The clock struck one second, and he still didn’t care about her. Only cared about the boy he still felt too far away from.

But he was Superman. He was supposed to save everyone. Even the bad guys.

And how would Jason react, if he left his mother behind?

But there was no time to think about it, so he ran on autopilot. He grabbed Robin, curled him up into his arm, and then he turned, jumped and grabbed the woman. She was tied to a post, and Clark didn’t bother attempting to be gentle as he ripped her out of the rope.

He was a foot away from the warehouse threshold when the bomb went off.

He threw the woman out of the building and to the side as the heat hit his back. Curled his whole body around Jason as they were knocked to the ground, covered him as the fires cried and raged around them.

“Mom.” Jason wheezed, even as he curled his bloody fingers into Clark’s uniform. “M-Mom…!”

Clark glanced up. Could see the woman hobbling to her feet a safe distance away, looking into the flames for them.

Or…or was she looking for a way to escape?

“She’s okay, Jay.” Clark whispered anyway, ducking his head back down, refusing to let even Jason’s hair be exposed to more pain and injury. “I got her out, too.”

“C-Clark.” Jason coughed, and even in the shadow, Clark could see tears cascading down Jason’s battered face. “D-D-Dad…”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Clark murmured himself, holding Jason as close as he could. And even as he said it, even as he kissed Jason’s temple, relief washed through his body.

Because he did. He got to him.

Just in the goddamn nick of time.

The initial explosion finally settled, and Clark felt that it was safe enough to move. Carefully, he stretched Jason across his arms, tried not to cringe at the pitiful wails of pain Jason gasped with every movement.

When Jason was finally settled against his chest, Clark stood and looked around.

Jason’s mother was gone, and not a single trace of her was left.

“Sorry.” Jason sobbed weakly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Clark suddenly wondered who the apology was for. Himself, or the mother who had apparently just abandoned him again.

He remained on scene just long enough for Commissioner Jim Gordon and his police department to arrive. Not on purpose, but it took him that long to get a safe enough distance away from the wreckage, and to think of a plan. Head to the nearest hospital? The Fortress?

But after speaking briefly with Gordon, and informing him that he was taking Robin, he decided neither of them were good enough, and headed towards the closest transporter to the Watchtower.

Jason came in and out of consciousness the whole journey, but the blood never seemed to stop flowing. He was whiter than a sheet by the time he got him to the ICU, and Clark was terrified that he’d lose him before they could get a transfusion started.

So he didn’t let go of his hand. So small and cold, Clark clung to it as his fellow Leaguers rushed around him, setting up tubes and machines and needles. Jason whimpered and whined, but he couldn’t do much else. He didn’t have the energy or the strength.

And even as his friends got him situated, and on the path to stability, Clark couldn’t help but fear the worst. What if they lost him? What would any of them do if they lost him?

What would his kids do? God, what would he do?

He didn’t think he could take it. Jeez, look at how he dealt with losing Bruce, and that was just a disappearance, an assumed death. Here, he’d watch, first hand, Jason wither away.

It’d destroy him. Him and Lois and his entire family.

He stayed, even after his friends did everything they could. Even after they got the transfusions going, the monitors beeping and the injuries wrapped or otherwise taken care of. Sat there, holding his boy’s hand, wallowing in the possibilities of the next twenty-four hours.

So he didn’t hear the rap on the door, or the throat clearing. Didn’t react until he felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked up to find Diana staring sadly down at him.

“I called home for you.” She whispered. “Talked to Lois and Dick. Told them what’s happening.”

“Thank…” Clark coughed, his throat unknowingly dry and scratchy. “Thank you, Diana.”

She nodded. “Dick is beside himself, and wants to come up here right away. Lois was able to convince him to stay home with his remaining siblings until morning.” Diana frowned. “The children are all beside themselves.”

“No doubt.” Clark sighed, risking releasing Jason’s hand to run it down his face. He blinked in confusion though, as he felt the early signs of stubble on his chin. “Wha…?”

“You need a break.” Diana suggested gently. “I will sit with him while you go rest.”

“No, I need to be here. I need to stay with him.” Clark shook his head. He glanced out the nearby window, though, and frowned. The stars were in a different place than he thought they should have been. “…How long have we been here?”

“It has been about ten hours since you brought him up here.”

“Feels like it’s been twenty minutes…”

“Because you are exhausted.” Diana tugged softly on his arm. “You need your rest.”

“But…”

“I will come get you the moment he wakes, should he at all.” Diana promised. “Jason will never be alone. I swear that to you, Clark. Not even for a second.”

And he wanted to shake his head. He needed to stay. He couldn’t leave his son, not after almost losing him. Not after not even realizing he’d gone.

But he knew if he didn’t, Diana would force him. Lock him into their makeshift prison, use Kryptonite on him.

And…maybe she was right.

“Just next door.” Clark mumbled, reluctantly standing. He stood for a second, before leaning down and kissing Jason’s forehead. The boy didn’t move. He breathed via machine for now, and it didn’t take an inhale for him for another second. “And if anything…”

“I will get you.” Diana nodded, all but pushing him from the room. “Rest well, my friend, and know that we will do everything we can for him.”

Clark nodded wearily, shuffling to the next door. When he got into the room he stood there, staring down at the white, clean sheets. He hadn’t taken off his bloody uniform yet, and was too tired to do so now.

“…I’m sorry, Bruce.” He found himself whispering into the silence. The silence didn’t answer. He sighed, swallowed the lump in his throat, and laid down on the cot.

He awoke to another hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find Dick staring down at him.

“Hey, Dad.” Dick whispered. He didn’t look much better than Clark felt, skin gray and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept. And Clark had to be honest with himself – his eldest probably didn’t.

“Dick…”

“You doing okay?” Dick asked as Clark sat up, stumbled to his feet.

“Fine. Tired, but…fine enough.” Clark mumbled as gathered Dick into his arms. Held him for just a moment. Relished in the feeling of Dick hugging him just as tightly. “Have you seen…”

“Yeah.” Dick croaked into Clark’s chest. “Lois is in there with Tim and Conner right now. Barry and Arthur are distracting Damian and Jon for the time being. Diana is helping Cassie process it all.” Dick sighed, leaned his weight against him. “I just…needed a break.”

“I know the feeling.” Clark mumbled into his eldest’s hair. Absently rubbed at his back. “I’m just…god, I’m just glad I made it in time.”

“Me too.” Dick agreed, leaning back. Clark couldn’t help but hold Dick’s cheek. He just looked so tired. So much older than his years. “…He looks terrible, Clark.”

“I know, son.” Clark nodded, that lump in his throat from before he slept still there. “I’m glad you didn’t see what I did when I found him.”

Silence.

“…Has anyone said anything?” Clark asked, gently turning Dick towards the door and leading him out. He heard Jon’s laughter before he saw them. Found his mouth twitching into a small smile as he watched Barry run around (at a human speed) with Jon on his back. Damian was sitting on a sofa nearby with Arthur, critically examining his trident. “Found anything out?”

Dick kept his frown, glancing towards the door of Jason’s room.

“Typical Joker things.” Dick mumbled. “…The mom was in on it.”

Clark froze. “What.”

“Jason’s mom.” Dick repeated, sounding just as bitter as Clark felt. “She was working with that bastard. Knew what the Joker had planned, more or less, and lured Jason there anyway. J’onn said her being tied to a pole was probably the Joker betraying her. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Clark turned away, looked in through the window of Jason’s door. He still wasn’t conscious. Lois was holding his hand. Tim was holding the other one. Conner was at the window, staring angrily out into space.

“…I regret saving her.” Clark whispered furiously. “I’ve…I’ve never regretted saving anyone, not even Lex. But.” His fist tightened. “I will regret saving her until the day I die.”

Dick didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t act proud. But he sure didn’t act disappointed either.

“…He must have known.” Clark murmured thoughtfully, glancing at Dick when he heard Damian call his name. Watched Dick give him a tight smile and short wave. “Jason, when I found him. He…he had to have known.” Quieter, sadder. “…And he was still trying to save her, when I got there.”

Suddenly, Clark realized what Jason’s initial apologies were for.

Dick bit his lip. Closed his eyes and looked away. “…What are we going to do, Dad?”

“No, no. There is no ‘we’, Dick.” Clark pushed, turning towards Dick completely. “Nothing here is your responsibility.”

“He’s my brother.” Dick pushed back. “We share a room. I should have noticed something was up. I should have stopped him before any of this happened.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Clark shook his head. “Eight people live in that house total, and not a single one noticed. I didn’t notice. If this is anyone’s fault, Dick, it’s mine. Not yours. Never yours.”

Dick sniffed, wiped at his eyes.

“Besides, you did what you were supposed to, honey.” Clark put a hand on his shoulder. “You came when I called, and you took care of the rest of the kids.”

Dick turned back to look into Jason’s hospital room himself. He didn’t gasp, or break down, the tears just silently started pouring down his face. Clark did the only thing he could. Just pulled Dick back into his arms, and held him as tight as he could as he sobbed into his neck.

“What if he doesn’t make it?” Dick wailed. “God, Clark. Dad, what if we lose him?”

“Don’t think like that, sweetheart.” Clark whispered, holding the back of his head. “Please, don’t. Just have faith in your brother, okay? Jason’s a tough kid. If anyone can make it through this, it’s our Jay.”

Dick gave a little hiccup, and tried to nod. Clark just held him. He glanced over once, saw both Diana and Arthur watching them sadly.

But with Arthur distracted, Damian made his escape. Hopped from the couch they were on and came running at them. Didn’t say anything when he reached them, just latched on to Dick’s waist.

After a moment, Clark released his eldest, turning to his second youngest. “Hey, baby. Can you do me a favor?”

Damian didn’t let go of Dick, but glanced up curiously.

“Take Dickie over to Uncle Arthur, okay?” He asked. “And how about you tell him what Uncle Arthur taught you about Atlantis and the trident.”

Damian nodded, and shifted only to take Dick’s hand and drag him away. They didn’t make it to Arthur, before Cassandra appeared too, giving Dick just as big a hug as Damian and Clark had.

Clark smiled, just a little. His kids were so smart.

He waited long enough to watch Diana lead them all back to Arthur, and all of them pile onto the sofa, before turning and entering Jason’s room.

Lois looked up at the sound of the door. Tim glanced at him for just a second. Conner didn’t move from the window.

Silently, he walked around the bed, pecking Conner’s temple before wrapping a loose arm around Tim’s shoulders, rubbing at his arm.

Jason was unchanged. Still pale, covered in wires, but worst of all, unconscious.

“How soon until he can come home?” Tim asked quietly. It was naïve, but so innocent it broke Clark’s heart.

“I don’t know, Tim.” Clark whispered. “I just don’t know.”

“Boys, can you go make sure Jon and Damian aren’t driving the League out of their minds?” Lois asked politely, standing from her chair. Tim nodded almost gratefully, like he was looking for a reason to escape the room. Clark didn’t blame him. Jason was a soul-crushing sight.

He shrugged off Clark’s hand, then turned and tugged Conner’s elbow until the other moved. They disappeared silently.

Lois waited until the door was closed before looking back at Clark. She studied him for a moment, then tilted her head.

“How you doing, Smallville?”

“I feel like he looks, if that makes sense.” Clark murmured. “I just…I want to fix it. I want to fix everything. I’m Superman, I’m supposed to. But…I don’t know how.”

“Clark, you’re not a doctor. You know you can’t.” Lois offered. “The best you can do is be there for him, like you always have been. Be there for him and the other kids.”

“How am I supposed to be there for all of them if I’m barely dealing with it myself?” Clark whispered sadly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t realize how greasy it was until now. “God, Dick just broke down in my arms because he thinks Jason’s gonna die. I can already tell Conner’s going to bottle this all up until he explodes. Tim looks like he’s aged one hundred years since yesterday, and I don’t even want to know how this will affect Cass and the babies.”

“I’ll help you where I can.” Lois smiled. “And while you’re there for the kids, I’ll be there for you. So will the whole Justice League and your parents and your friends at the Daily.”

“I appreciate that, Lois. Thank you.” Clark sighed, hooked his fingers around Jason’s. They were still so cold. “…God, Bruce would hate me for this.”

Lois’s comforting demeanor dropped immediately. “Clark…”

“And I wouldn’t blame him.” Clark woed. “Christ, he left his kids with me because he thought I could protect them, and here I almost got one killed.”

“At least you were there. At least you got to him in time.” Lois countered. “And like you said, he left them. He’s not the one here at his son’s bedside. You are.”

“He’s dead, Lois.” Clark reminded. “He’d absolutely be here if he wasn’t. Hell, Jason wouldn’t have ever gotten the opportunity to run off if Bruce was still able to raise him.”

“My point is, don’t do this to yourself, Clark. The what-ifs and thinking about Bruce isn’t going to help.” Lois tried. “You don’t need it, and neither does Jason.”

Clark sighed, and glanced out the door. Zatanna was there now, distracting Conner, Cass and Damian with magic tricks. Diana’s protégé Donna had appeared now too, and was sitting where Arthur had been, Dick leaned exhaustedly against her neck as she hugged him, smiling at Jon on his lap. Tim sat next to Dick, half leaning against his brother while teasing to tickle Jon at the same time.

Then he looked back down at Jason. Comatose and half-dead. A shell of himself.

“What do we do now, Lo?” Clark whispered.

Lois sat back down, retook Jason’s fingers for her own. “Now we wait.”

Clark sighed as he sat down, inhaling the steam from his fresh mug of coffee. Smiled softly at Dick in the chair next to him, long asleep from before he even arrived. But the love for his brother was still palpable in the air, even if you didn’t notice the almost-actually-beard stubble on his face.

He’d been against the idea at first. Dick, trying to start out on his own as a young adult, taking a leave of absence from his job to stay at the Watchtower with Jason 24/7. That wasn’t Dick’s job, that was Clark’s.

But now he appreciated it. Appreciated the little shop in Smallville who employed his eldest for now. When he gave them the vague story, they’d immediately said to take as much time as he needed. Even mailed treats to the house, and started a tip-jar fundraiser for Jason’s (non-existent) medical expenses.

People were still good, despite where he was right now, and that was always a nice thought to remember.

He blew on the steam from his coffee and looked at Jason as he sat down. It’d been about two weeks now, since he’d found his boy in the nick of time and brought him to the Watchtower to heal. Two weeks since he’d fallen into a coma. Two weeks of waiting.

It all hurt a little less now. Mostly because nothing had changed. Sure, in the days after, Clark found the Joker and threw him in prison. But much like always with Bruce too, the bastard escaped and went underground. And Clark had bigger things to worry about right now than uselessly chasing him around a city that wasn’t his.

But after that, it was this. It was Dick sitting up here alone most of the time, give or take what ever League members were on the Watchtower, then Clark joining him whenever he could leave the office, or write his articles remotely. With Lois offering to stay with the others in Smallville, he slept here, with Dick at Jason’s side, then returned to the office the next morning.

The children came to visit often, even when they weren’t supposed to, but Dick being up here so much was bad enough. He wasn’t going to let the younger ones waste away up here too, even though they all desperately wished to.

Otherwise, this was it. A fresh cup of something hot, a book or documentary to watch, machines beeping, and this boring, ugly, gray room.

Every. Single. Day.

So today wouldn’t be any different. Today, he shouldn’t expect anything to be any different.

Except, apparently, it was.

He was sitting there reading, had already tuned out all sounds. Tuned his powers to listen only to the sounds of heartbeats. Of the slow, steadying breathing of Dick and Jason. Calming, for the most part.

So he missed the quiet groan. Missed the little word, almost, just assumed it was Dick talking in his sleep.

But he sure didn’t miss that second time.

“…Dad…?”

He was on his feet so fast, the chair he shoved backwards was embedded into the wall behind it, the mug sitting on the arm shattered amongst the wires lining the floor.

Jason’s eyes were barely open, and even struggling that as Clark gently put a hand on his face. It took him a good five seconds to find the strength to raise his eyes and meet Clark’s already tearful gaze.

“Whu happened…?” Jason slurred. “W’ere are we?”

“In the Watchtower.” Clark whispered, running his other hand over Jason’s greasy, shaggy hair. “Safe.”

Jason didn’t seem to actually understand anything he’d said. Just blinked slowly. A little too slowly, and Clark almost thought he was going back to sleep.

But then his gaze jerked back up, hazy and not completely there. “Joker?”

“He did this, yes.”

Jason’s eyes twitched around the room, even as he leaned into Clark’s hand still on his face. “…Mom?”

“Alive. I don’t know where.” Clark shook his head. Leaned his foot out and began softly, but urgently, tapping his foot against Dick’s shin. “She…ran off, when I got you both out.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dick stirred, then. Grumbled a little, but sat up rubbing his eyes. It took him a second, about ten, to realize what was going on.

“Oh my god.” He was on his feet as fast as Clark had been, and practically pushed the elder out of the way to get to Jason himself, curling him protectively into his arms. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Jason’s fingers twitched in an attempt to hug Dick back, but it was all still too new, and he was still too weak.

“Dick.” Clark murmured. “Careful.”

“Yeah.” And Dick was already crying. Already practically sobbing into Jason’s hair. “Yeah, I know.”

Clark gave them that moment. Let Dick smother for a minute or two more, then carefully pulled him back by his shoulder.

“You gonna make it?” Clark joked. Dick just laughed and wiped his eyes. “Go grab whoever’s on the station for me, please? Then call Lois if you could. Let her know what’s going on.”

Dick nodded, then gave Jason one last look, as if he’d be gone by the time Dick returned, then dashed out into the hall.

Clark watched after him for a moment, as he bound happily around the Watchtower, until he once again heard the tiny, weak voice.

“…Dad?”

Clark looked back, kept his own warm, relieved smile as he stepped back up to the side of the bed. Jason’s eyes were a little clearer now. A little sadder.

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

Clark just nodded silently as he perched on the side of the bed and wrapped one arm carefully around Jason’s shoulders. Jason collapsed against his side just as J’onn appeared in the doorway and made a beeline for the medical equipment.

Clark didn’t respond to Jason. Just gently rubbed at his shoulder and gratefully kissed his head. Held him while J’onn began his examination.

It was over another month before Jason was released to even go recuperate at the farm. And even when he was, he was sent home with a laundry list of medications, physical therapy routines, and a calendar of when Justice Leaguers would be visiting for follow-ups.

But when he was released, the whole family went up to gather him. Tim, Conner and Cassie carried all his clothes and personal items, with Damian carrying a loose thing or two. Dick handled the medications. Even Lois went, and she volunteered to take all the paperwork, and threatened hell on everyone if even a single word on any of these charts was wrong.

Jon clung to Jason’s side from the moment they arrived at the Watchtower, and refused to leave it. Would whine and cry if anyone tried to pull his hand from Jason’s, and even trigged his previously-unused heat vision. So, they left him there, and he acted as Jason’s personal escort from satellite to horse stable.

They used the transporter, with Lois going before Jason to catch him on the other side, and Clark coming after. And even when they landed, Jon gleefully continued his duty, and was the one gently leading Jason across the dirt, back towards their home.

At one point, about halfway, Jason stopped, already exhausted. Jon waited patiently, staring off into the distance, waving at some birds flying overhead. Clark silently came up on Jason’s free side.

They’d already talked about it. Of course they had. What Jason had done, what he was looking for, what Clark came upon with only seconds left. They’d talked about it, and re-talked about it. They’d shouted and cried and apologized a thousand times over, and then some.

But still.

“Your family’s right here.” Clark reminded, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I know it’s a different story when it comes to biological parents and all that, but…don’t think you have to go looking for someone to love you. Not when you have all these people here who already do.”

Jason nodded, leaning into Clark’s side. “I know.” He smiled, then gave a little laugh. “Well, I know that now, anyway.”

A moment to just stare at their house, like they were a couple of old men.

“I love you, Dad.” Jason whispered. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

Jason stepped forward again, and Jon jumped right to his side, already asking him if he was alright, that he could take another break if he wanted, that he’d bring him a burger from downtown if he wanted it, or his favorite cow from the pasture, who missed him a lot.

Clark smiled, watching the two go into the house. Then let out a long exhale and looked into the sky. Thought of Bruce, for just a moment. Thought longer about how truly lucky he was right now, in this moment.

“Never, Jay.” He promised. “Absolutely never.”

#clark kent #Jason Todd #dick grayson #superbat #(but not really)#brood au

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justbitthedust · 5 years

Text

Never [Chpt. 2]

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, I’m sorry this took so long to update! Geez, I need to make a schedule... WELP NOW I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING LATER after homework!

I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of blood, bruises, the stuff. Oh, and feelings are felt.

This probably went without needing to be said, but actively trying to find every tracker in his uniform wasn’t how Tim normally spent his patrol time. The comm he’d ditched the second he’d gotten the text from Dick. He was standing on a building that stood to the left of Wayne Enterprises, pulling his gloves on after making sure there weren’t any trackers hidden in them, shock rendering his mind blank as he opened the thread he had with Dick. His brother had sent a photo, and Tim wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it or not.

He tapped the download icon and waited as his phone loaded the image.

What he saw made him take a sharp breath.

It was Jason, helmetless and shirtless, unconscious in the backseat of a car. Ugly bruises were scattered across his chest, an eye was swelling, there was blood smeared across his forehead and chest, and Tim could make out at least three broken ribs, even with the quality of the picture.

Dickwing: I’m with Jason and Roy. Where are you? We’ll pick you up before we get Damian.

Tim took a deep breath to clear the lingering horror from the image seared into the back of his eyelids, only thumbing out a response once he could breathe and think properly.

Timbin: I’ll call you.

Dickwing: Don’t you have your phone encrypted?

Instead of texting a response, he called. Tim indeed did have the best encryption he could possibly have, but there was always the possibility of Bruce enlisting Barbara to help him find his sons. And, as much as it pained him to admit, Barbara would help him. Without a second thought, really, after the initial question of why.

The phone was answered before the first ring could finish.

“Where.” A question phrased as a demand. Here Tim was thinking only Bruce could pull that off.

He rattled off his location.

There was some shuffling on the line and Tim heard Dick’s voice distantly as he repeated the address presumably for Roy. He listened, holding the phone to his ear, as he sat down and ran a hand through his hair.

“Bruce really did that?” Tim’s voice came out small, like a scared child’s, and he hated it, but he was having a really hard time believing it. Bruce beat Jason into a bloody mess. The same Bruce who put Joker in a body cast for months and nearly died every night after Jason’s death because of his grief. The same Bruce who hadn’t wanted Tim to be Robin because of Jason. The same Bruce who’d been torn to pieces when he’d found out Jason was Red Hood.

He’d done this to the very son he’d grieved.

Dick’s sigh drew him from his thoughts, and he remembered that he was on a phone call.

“I know it’s hard to believe, Tim. Bruce… he’s not in his right mind right now.”

There was a long silence when it clicked. The instantaneous fury that surged throughout him nearly choked him, but Tim swallowed past it to find his voice.

“Selina?”

“High possibility.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, crouching and putting his face in his free hand. Tremors shook his shoulders with repressed emotion, and Tim tried to collect himself.

Licking his lips, and finally composing himself, Tim cleared his throat to ask, “How bad is he?”

“We… we’re not sure. Damage looks bad, but we don’t know how bad yet.”

In other words, ‘I don’t know but am afraid to check’. Tim hissed a little, straightening when he heard the sound of—presumably—Roy’s car pulling up in front of the building. He checked to make sure he saw Dick, who was stepping out of the vehicle—a dirty black civilian Jeep—as soon as it parked, before dropping down beside him.

His hand hit the ‘end’ icon to drop the call as he looked up at Dick. Their eyes met through the domino lenses and they stood apart for several seconds, silence thick with meaning.

The air left Dick’s lungs when 125lbs of little brother crushed him in a hug, and he wheezed, but he was quick to return the gesture just as tight, resting his cheek on Tim’s head as Tim buried his face in Dick’s shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Tim,” Dick murmured.

He was given no verbal response because Tim couldn’t come up with one, so he hugged his eldest brother tighter to make up for it. In all honesty… He wasn’t sure if it was true. God knew the extent of Jason’s injuries—psychological and physical—and the effect it would have on all of them. Even if Jason made a full physical recovery, they had no idea how bad Bruce hurt his psyche, and this event would forever stay with them. There would be no forgetting this, for any of them.

A minute passed before Tim forced himself to let go. Jason needed to be taken care of and fast. The image of his bruises and all the blood were engraved into the front of his mind, details unforgettable.

With a quick squeeze, Tim released his brother and ducked into the backseat of the car, freezing for several seconds when he saw Jason strewn there, blood dripping from his cuts and bruises coloring ugly. Swallowing past the cork in his throat, he slid to the floor of the car, knees bent uncomfortably, and closed the door. Once the door was shut, he started pulling out bandages and alcohol wipes to at least clean up the superficial wounds.

“Hey, Tim.”

He looked up to meet gazes with Roy in the rear-view mirror. The archer’s emerald green eyes shone with concern, fear, and rage, lacking their usual bright mirth. The sight made something twist in Tim’s chest and he nodded in greeting.

Dick climbed into the car, shutting the door gently.

“Damian and Duke are going to meet us at the safehouse. We can head straight there,” he said, typing away at his phone.

Roy nodded and Tim returned to his previous task. He forced strong-armed his emotions away—there simply wasn’t time to deal with them, so he wouldn’t.

As Roy drove off, Tim found himself checking Jason’s pulse periodically as he tended to the cuts. It was weak, but there. Jason was still alive.

Which left one thing…

“Thank you, Roy.”

The archer glanced back.

“For what?”

Tim lifted his head, looking to Roy seriously. “For watching out for Jason. He wouldn’t let us, but you… You he trusted with his life. And you didn’t let him down.” His gaze was steady as he repeated what he’d said the first time. “Thank you.”

Roy snorted softly, eyes going back to the road and staying there.

“He’s like a brother.” Then, softer, “It wasn’t a problem.”

Pain flashed across Dick’s face at the first sentence, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Tim’s brows furrowed at that and he made a mental note to try and figure it out later. For now, Jason still held priority.

As he turned back to Jason, Tim just kept wiping blood away. And when he would, more would sluggishly ooze from the cut if he wasn’t quick in patching it up, which was frustrating, but he remained emotionally disconnected, hard as it was to be as his hand brushed over a fist-sized bruise on Jason’s cheek. A fist-sized bruise that would probably match Bruce’s.

Not now.

In total, it took them a mere four and a half minutes to reach the safe house. Tim had done the best he could, but he still held a bandage against Jason’s hairline. A bandage which was steadily dampening with dark crimson. The cut there needed stitches, and so did one on the left side of Jason’s ribs.

Roy opened the back door, and Tim helped move Jason out of the car and into the arms of his brother’s best friend. He paused, then, at the thought. Roy had said Jason was like his brother. The feeling was probably mutual.

Roy Harper was no longer at best a pseudo-family friend. He was family. A new brother.

He’d talk to Dick, Damian, Cass, and Duke about it but, in his heart, Tim knew that they’d readily agree with him, even Damian though the kid would make it seem like he was forced to accept it.

Tim exited the car quickly after Jason, shutting the door without bothering to mind the force behind the shove, and rushed after Roy. Dick was already holding the door open, and when he stepped inside, he saw Duke and Damian there—just like they said they’d be.

Only, there was someone standing next to Damian, tight-lipped and serious. A woman; someone he recognized in milliseconds.

Doctor Leslie Thompkins. She’d saved all their lives on more than one occasion, and Tim was no exception to that truth.

He nodded in greeting, and she returned the gesture before briskly moving after Roy, who’d said that this safe house had the best medical equipment of the ones nearby and told her to follow him. He’d been polite about it, of course, and Doc Thompkins didn’t ask any questions.

Tim went to follow and help—he’d assisted Alfred enough times to be useful—and nobody stopped him. Dick moved to but Duke grabbed his arm and subtly gestured to Damian, who looked shaken to the core of his being, and Tim felt a flash of sympathy for him as he went after Doc Thompkins. God knew this whole thing might just affect Damian almost as much as it would Jason, because Bruce was his dad, same as Bruce was Jason’s, and he’d done this to his son, so would he do the same to Damian?

It ached to think about, so Tim didn’t as he shut the door behind him, Dick’s murmurs of reassurances and comfort muted by the barricade. He almost regretted coming in to help, because he could be where Damian was, being held and comforted by someone who he needed it from the most, then he immediately dismissed the thought. He’d made the choice he had for Jason’s benefit, not his own. As much as he wanted to be selfish… He just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to his brother, and if any of them deserved at least one fair thing, it was Jason.

Taking a deep breath, Tim made up for the precious seconds he’d wasted as he hurried over to Leslie’s side.

The time passed in a blur of bloody bandages and clipped instructions and commands.

Tags: @mizmahlia @boosyboo9206 @an-all-write-life @lovelywally-deactivated20181210 @avengerdragoness @crazyfreckledginger @red-balistic @solis200213 @emmadevr @tomscaprisun @whambamthanksbatfam @queen-fighter @jaybird-rednerd @shirokokuro @aaren-27 @osejn

#nxttime writes #my writing #my work #my fanfiction #fanfiction #RHATO 25 fanfiction #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Roy Harper #Arsenal #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Duke Thomas #Signal #Damian Wayne #Robin #Never Chpt. 2

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believingispowerfulmagic · 5 years

Text

“We All Will Be Together”--New Year, New Life

A/N: Hey, everyone! So, my plan was to do this last year but then Old Blue (my laptop) died and I lost it all. I’ve spent 2018 trying to build it up again (though I’m still not as far along as I hoped) so I could spend 2019 giving you a peek into the lives of the Mills-Locksley family from my story The Christmas Wish. If you haven’t read that first, you might want to read it—but you’ll probably figure it out without reading it.

I’m reusing The Christmas Wish cover, which was made by @glindalovesshoes. Thanks again, Eva!

Happy New Year!

Regina was getting used to waking up to a pair of strong arms around her and a warm body pressed against her back. She sighed as consciousness slowly crept upon her and snuggled deeper into Robin’s embrace. He pressed a sleepy kiss to her shoulder and then the side of her head. “Happy New Year, Mrs. Locksley.”

“Happy New Year, Mr. Mills-Locksley,” she shot back, smiling.

He hummed. “If you want to hyphenate, I’m fine with that. Do you want to change the boys’ names as well?”

She crinkled her nose, feeling like her brain had short-circuited. “Ugh. I think that’s a question to be decided when I’m more awake and not hungover.”

“Of course.” He kissed her shoulder again before pulling away from her.

She shivered at the loss of his body warmth and rolled over to ask him where he was going. However, her stomach turned over and she clutched it with a groan. “Oh god…I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that last round of champagne,” he said, his voice sounding scratchy. He then groaned as well. “Or the shots.”

“Are you going to lecture me about our drinking choices last night or are you going to help me before I’m sick all over the bed?” She held out her arm blindly, trying to reach out for her husband.

A warm and strong hand closed around hers and helped her helped her out of bed. He then wrapped an arm around her and walked with her toward their bathroom. She knelt and was sick into the toilet as Robin held her hair back.

She moaned as she sat back against him, hearing him flush the toilet for her. He leaned her against the bathtub. “I’m going to get a facecloth, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, maybe you had a point about the champagne and the shots,” she moaned, pressing her hand to her eyes to block out the little light that was trying to get past her eyelids.

Robin gently wiped her mouth before sitting down next to her. She fell over, resting her head on his shoulder. “This probably wasn’t the picture you had in mind when you agreed to stay married to me,” she said

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, this is exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to stay married to you.”

“Really?” She would’ve opened her eyes and glared at him but she worried that would’ve triggered the headache she felt lurking behind her eyes.

“Well, I would’ve thought you’d have the flu and not be hungover, but I knew that this agreement would mean holding back your hair at some point,” he told her.

She let out a wry laugh at his statement, acknowledging that truth of it. “Thanks. I’d do the same for you but I doubt your hair gets in your way.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll take good care of me when I get sick.”

They sat on the floor for a bit longer and Regina started to drift off again. She felt Robin lift her into his arms and carry her into their bedroom, lying her on the bed. He kissed her forehead as he covered her with the still warm blanket. “Get some more rest. I’ll deal with the boys.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, rolling over and letting sleep claim her yet again.

Robin was also feeling the aftereffects of too much champagne but he was clearly in better shape than his wife. After shrugging on pajama pants and a shirt as well as his bathrobe, he stumbled downstairs and started up the Keurig. He hoped one very strong cup of coffee would help him feel more human before the boys woke up and needed breakfast.

As his coffee brewed, he leaned against the counter and hung his head. The last bottle of champagne had been too much, he decided. Celebrating their marriage did not need that much alcohol. They could’ve toasted their new life together with water.

Or at least drank a gallon each before going to bed rather than making love well into the wee hours of the morning.

The Keurig finished and he grabbed his mug, sipping the hot black liquid without adding any creamer or sugar like usual. He needed his coffee extra strong at the moment. And maybe some Advil, once he could shuffle to the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom.

He leaned against the counter as the reality of his new life hit him. He and Regina had made vows to each other and pledged to spend the rest of their lives together as husband and wife. Now that the holidays were over, they were going to have to really start blending their lives together and coming up with new routines. Robin easily adapted but he knew that Regina liked her schedules, something he figured came from living with her mother. Cora Mills-Blanchard demanded pretty much perfection from her daughter, so if Regina could remain a few steps ahead of her, the easier her life would be.

Robin wanted this transition to be as smooth and easy as they possibly could make it. If it meant getting onto one of Regina’s schedules, then so be it. Hopefully he would then show her that it was okay to shake things up sometimes and be spontaneous, but it would have to be in baby steps.

“Good morning, Papa,” Roland said, shuffling into the kitchen. He hugged Robin. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, my boy,” he replied, holding his son close. “Did you sleep well?”

Roland nodded. “Especially once you and Mom told us you were staying together. I like having a mom again and having a brother.”

“And you’re okay with living here instead of our cottage?” Robin asked.

“Yeah. Santa moved all my stuff and there’s more room here,” his son replied. “Do you like it here?”

Smiling, Robin nodded. “I like it here very much. But as long as I have you, Henry and Mum, I would be happy living anywhere.”

“That’s really sappy,” Roland said, scrunching up his nose.

Robin chuckled. “I guess so, but it’s the truth. You three are all I need to be happy.”

“Well, I guess I just need you, Mom and Henry too,” his son replied before smiling widely. “And French toast.”

“Okay, okay. Why don’t you go have a seat and I’ll get the French toast started for breakfast?” He gave Roland a gentle push toward the table before turning to gather the ingredients needed for the request.

As he fried up some French toast for his son, he heard the padding of little feet and knew who had just joined them. Without looking, Robin said: “Good morning, Henry. Are you hungry?”

“Yes. Is that French toast?” Henry asked, coming to stand next to him at the stove.

Robin glanced down, seeing only the boy’s sleep-tousled brown hair. He smoothed it down, causing Henry to look up. Smiling, Robin motioned to the table. “Why don’t you join your brother? Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Henry didn’t move right away. Instead, he hugged Robin. “I’m glad you decided to stay my dad.”

“Me too,” Robin said, kissing the top of his head. He then pushed Henry toward the table to join Roland before plating the French toast slices for his sons.

Once the boys had their breakfasts—complete with glasses of orange juice—Robin sat down with his own slice of French toast. Henry looked around, frowning. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s still sleeping,” Robin replied, sipping his second cup of coffee.

Henry’s mouth fell open. “We’re up before her? Is she sick?”

“Uh…” Robin paused, trying to figure out the best way to answer that. He doubted Regina wanted their children to know that she was hungover but he didn’t want the boys to worry too much.

Clearing his throat, he decided on his response. “We were out really late and I kept your mother dancing most of the night. I think I really wore her out.”

“Oooh,” both boys said, satisfied with his answer. They turned back to their breakfast and Robin let out a sigh of relief.

Crisis averted.

Continue reading on FFN (no smut), AO3, Wattpad

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #hood-mills family #the christmas wish #we all will be together

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trueloveseyeroll · 6 years

Text

The Dancing Thief (1/13)

Summary: Pretending to be a noblewoman might be the dumbest thing Emma has ever agreed to do. And she’s not sure if meeting Lord Killian Jones made the whole thing better or worse. (Better. Definitely better.)

Rating: T (language and mild violence)

Beta: The wonderful @forget-me-not-s

Artist: The lovely @captxinswans - check out her amazing artwork for this chapter!!

Word count: 6032 (62k words in total)

A/N: After trying to write this story for months, I signed up for the @captainswanbigbang in hopes that it would help motivate me to actually finish the story. And now, half a year later, I can't believe I'm sharing it with the world! I know for sure that I couldn't have done it without my wonderful beta and friend Aina (forget-me-not-s), as she encouraged me to sign up in the first place and gave me hope when I thought everything I wrote sucked. I'd also like to thank my incredible artist captxinswans! And of course, the moderators of the csbb for making all of this possible!

This story was initially inspired by one of my favourite books, The Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson. Especially the first two chapter are inspired by the books, so I would just like to say, that I do not own anything you might recognize :)

Now, I really hope you enjoy it! I'll be posting every Wednesday until Christmas :)

AO3

Emma no longer questioned whether or not she had lost her mind. Alone in the bustling carriage, she made peace with the fact that she was indeed completely insane. But she had a job to do, and nothing was going to keep her from following through with it.

In the dark outside, people hurried home to their hearths or perhaps to a tavern for a drink and some laughter. Lanterns were lit here and there, and smoke rose from every chimney. Emma had never before thought of Misthaven as charming per say. Then again, she was far from used to seeing her hometown from the inside of a horse-drawn carriage.

Emma stopped fiddling with the soft skirt of her dress. She refused to let her nerves get the better of her, and shifted in her seat on the cushioned bench. The corset of the dress forced her to sit with her back straight, and although she worried for her spleen, it was comforting to know that her dress would keep her from slouching.

The hair was probably the worst part. Snow had pinned it up so delicately, Emma worried it would all unravel at the slightest bump. But it was beautiful - the hair, the dress, all of it. Not even Emma could deny that. She looked like a noblewoman, and the moment she first tried it all on five weeks ago was the moment she started to believe the plan could actually work.

Robin knocked on the carriage from outside on the coachman’s bench. Will played the actual part of coachman, leaving Robin to signal that they were nearing their destination. Emma could already tell from the way the streets were lit up; nothing could brighten the streets of Misthaven quite like the great keeps. Not to mention the palace. But the destination tonight was Keep Jones, and Emma - a street urchin at best, a criminal at worst - was about to attend her first ball.

Now, this wasn’t Emma’s first time pretending to be a noblewoman. Sometimes pilfering a few items from a store called for a fine dress and some noble confidence. Of course, her usual “noble” attire wasn’t half as nice as the one Snow had dressed her in, and Emma wasn’t just planning on stealing a few things. She was planning on fooling the entire court of Misthaven.

Yes, Emma had indeed lost her mind, but at least she wasn’t alone.

Six weeks ago, Ruby’s tavern

“You want me to what?” Emma asked, certain she’d misheard Ruby.

“Infiltrate the court,” the tavern owner said as if it were the simplest thing ever.

Emma stared at her friend, waiting for her to admit that it was all a joke. Snow, sitting next to Ruby, spoke instead. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Emma, especially when you and I have only just met, but your help could make a big difference.”

If Snow hadn’t looked so sincere, Emma would’ve called her mad and left the table, uncaring that they were practically strangers. But she had known Ruby for a long time, and although she was prone to wild ideas, Emma trusted her judgement. And if Ruby trusted Snow, well...

“Why me?”

“Because you’d be amazing at this!” Ruby exclaimed.

“Ruby, I’m a thief. I might pull off a few scams here and there, but I’m no actress - and I’m definitely not a spy.”

“You might as well be,” Ruby muttered.

Touching as Ruby’s faith in her was, Emma couldn’t help but feel that it was misplaced.

“How is this gonna help David anyways?” Emma asked Snow, careful to keep her voice down. Although they were in a dim corner of the small tavern - the usual spot where Ruby presented Emma with new jobs - they weren’t entirely secluded, and helping the exiled prince in any way was treason. Helping him take his father’s throne was probably high treason.

When David was exiled seven years ago, Emma was eleven and cared little for the gossip. The story went that King George had discovered his wife’s unfaithfulness upon her death, and started to doubt if David was even his own son. He came to the conclusion that the Queen had borne another man’s child, and David was exiled. But it seemed the prince - and his fiancée Snow - weren’t going to respect King George’s wishes much longer.

“He needs support from the other Houses, and he already knows who might help him, but things can quickly change,” Snow replied. “So far we’re relying on informants and simple hope, but we need someone at court who can hear everything at first hand. Someone we can trust completely.”

“Someone who hates George as much as us ‘petty commoners’,” Ruby supplied, knowing just how to butter Emma up.

Hardly anyone liked King George - if anyone at all. He was a ruthless king who cared only for profit and power. He didn’t spare a thought to all those who suffered under his sky-high taxes and the beatings issued when one didn’t work hard enough. Orphans like Emma lived and died on the streets, and King George merely turned his head the other way.

Oh, how she would love to punch the bastard in the face.

However, the plan didn’t call for any violence from Emma. It called for delicacy and deceit. Snow was putting all of her faith in a thief she had only just met, and Emma could already feel a great weight on her shoulders.

“This is all risky as hell.”

Snow gave her a look of agreement, while Ruby bluntly asked, “So are you in?”

Emma sighed, downing the rest of her ale. “I can agree to discussing the plan, but I can’t promise I’ll go through with it.”

“Thank you, Emma. That’s all we can ask of you.”

“For now,” Ruby added.

Present time, just outside Keep Jones

Emma thought back on her first meeting with Snow as the carriage approached Keep Jones. She’d also met David since then. Now twenty-six with his hair at shoulder-length and a thick shadow of stubble, the prince had returned to his hometown after seven years. He wasn’t at all what Emma had imagined. He was actually... nice. Someone she would like to see on the throne, and it only assured her that she’d made the right choice.

For the past five weeks, he and Snow had trained her in proper etiquette, worked on her back-story, perfected her posture and refined her language. Robin had pitched in as well. He used to be a footman at some baron’s estate in the far west. In fact, Snow had been the lady’s maid in the same household, and Will a coachman. But when they’d come across David two years ago, all three of their lives had changed drastically, just like Emma’s had after meeting the lot of them.

Finally, the carriage slowed to a halt. Emma peeked out of the window to see various nobles mingling as they made their way to the entrance of the keep. Bright lights illuminated the grey façade, leaving shadows in odd corners. Emma took a deep breath, knowing that this was her last moment of just being Emma.

Then the carriage door opened.

A footman stood ready to help her out. Emma had never understood the custom - a woman could damn well get out of a carriage on her own. But with the dress flowing around her legs, she found herself grateful for the outstretched hand.

The footman briefly returned Emma’s smile before pointing Will in the right direction. Robin stepped down beside Emma, ready to play her steward for the evening - and for every ball in the future. It was custom to bring a servant to courtly outings, and while Emma mingled with the nobles, so would Robin with the servants. And Will with the coachmen.

“Ready, milady?” Robin asked.

Ready as I’ll ever be, Emma thought, offering Robin a nod.

Careful not to step on the hem of her gown, Emma followed the carpeted path to the open doors of the keep. She was tempted to look up and see how high the towers actually reached, but didn’t want to look stupid. Then, remembering that the young Lady Emma Swan was new to the city and easily impressed, she looked up anyway.

No building in Misthaven stood taller than the palace, she knew. There was doubtfully a building in all of the Enchanted Forest that could compete with its grandeur. But perhaps Keep Jones could give the palace a run for its money.

At the doors, two servants accepted the forged invitation as Robin introduced her as Lady Emma Swan. The servants bowed and waved them in, unknowing that Lady Emma Swan didn’t actually exist. Neither did her father, a fabricated baron in the far north. The Enchanted Forest was such a large country, no one could possibly keep track of every single lord and lady without studying records. As long as Emma dressed and acted as a lady, no one would be any the wiser.

Still, Emma couldn’t help the knots in her stomach as she noticed several looks in her direction. A group of noblewomen to her right in the foyer were surveying her, as well as a pair of young men. Emma kept her head high, ignoring the urge to run. They weren’t looking at her because they knew her secret, she told herself. They were simply interested in the newest addition to court. They were studying her dress, her make-up, her jewellery... none of them actually saw Emma underneath it all.

The thought comforted her, and she held on to it as she passed through to the ballroom of Keep Jones.

As grand as the building was from the outside, Emma wasn’t prepared for the sight waiting for her inside. Four or five daunting stories high, the ballroom was several times as long as it was wide. Not a single spot wasn’t decorated and not a single stone wasn’t skilfully crafted. Large stained glass windows adorned one long side of the hall, the light cast on them from the outside creating a magnificent display of colours.

It was a feat in itself to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor when she entered.

A string orchestra played on a platform to her left, several couples dancing to the beautiful music. It was a far cry from anything Emma had ever heard or seen in a tavern, that was for sure.

Robin settled her seating arrangements with another servant before leading her towards a small table some paces away from the dance floor.

“I asked for a solitary table,” Robin informed her. “As we’ve planned, you won’t need to do much mingling tonight, just be seen.”

“And dance,” Emma muttered. The dancing was likely the hardest part of pretending to be a noblewoman; David’s feet had certainly suffered through the few lessons he and Snow had given her.

“You could probably avoid that tonight. Just be respectful and you can refuse any young lord who asks. They’ll likely assume you’re flustered by all the impressions of your first ball and will take no offence.”

Part of the tension left Emma’s shoulders. She knew she liked Robin for a reason.

“Of course, you’ll have to dance with them at the next ball,” he continued, earning himself a glare.

While Emma took her seat, Robin went to get her meal from the serving table.

Looking around, the stained glass windows drew her attention in particular. Each showed a different picture - most of the sea or the creatures in its depths. Emma remembered something about the Lord Brennan Jones being Duke of a large stretch of land by the coast, and even commanding the royal navy under King George as well as other seafaring businesses. As such, House Jones was one of the richest and most powerful of all the houses, and their keep certainly showed it.

Robin returned with her meal before long, and Emma did her best to eat as slowly as possible. It wasn’t difficult, as her stomach could hardly contain anything but nervous flutters. She wasn’t quite used to the richness of the food either. Eating slowly was more about postponing the inevitable dance offers though.

Robin stood behind her, up against the wall. He was close enough that should she need him, it wouldn’t take much more than a whisper, but far away enough to give her the proper space. Emma wished he could just sit in a seat beside her and keep her entertained, but she’d surely turn too many heads if she asked her steward to join her.

Eventually, her plate was clean and Emma knew her small bubble wouldn’t remain up for long. The first young man approached her about two minutes after Robin had taken her plate.

“Lady Emma Swan?” he asked, bowing slightly. “I am Lord Grif Ladrian. Would you care to dance?”

“My lord,” Emma smiled politely, adorning the mask of a sweet young girl. “I am honoured, but this is my first ball and everything is just so breathtaking! I’m afraid I would fall over my own feet on the dance floor. Perhaps, next time?”

“Of course, my lady - I’d be honoured,” he said with a courteous nod. “I bid you a pleasant first ball.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded again and withdrew.

The small encounter had Emma’s heart racing, but she couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps she wasn’t absolutely terrible at impersonating a noblewoman after all.

Three more men approached her, but she turned them all down as politely as she had the first. They were all from the smaller houses, as expected. She was hardly going to turn the heads of the Great Houses on her very first night at court.

But things were going well enough, Emma felt, all things considered. Until Robin informed her he had to leave for the stewards’ dinner.

Emma knew he had to leave at some point, and she didn’t want to feel helpless without him, but the thought of being alone with all these nobles wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“You’ve done well so far, Emma. You’ve made no mistakes - at least none that wouldn’t be excusable for a lady new to court.”

“Like what?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Robin answered, a twinkle in his eyes. “Now just continue as you’ve done, and everything will be fine. I’ll come find you when I’m done, and we can call it an evening. Until then, just sip your wine - but don’t request too many refills, okay? You’re at a formal ball, not a rowdy night at Ruby’s.”

Emma wanted to curse him for being such a condescending asshole - even if he was merely joking. “Just go already, Locksley.”

“You have to dismiss me properly first, milady,” he said, the twinkle bright as ever.

Emma rolled her eyes at him. Thank heaven no one was looking their way or listening in on their quite improper interaction. “Fine; you’re dismissed.”

Robin bowed slightly. “Thank you, milady.”

And like that, Emma was on her own.

She sipped at her wine and studied the people mingling and the couples on the dance floor. Her reluctance to dance must have been passed on, because no one else approached her with an offer. She was quite relieved on that matter.

But sitting at her table alone was starting to get to her. She tried eavesdropping on the conversations around her, but they were either of no importance or the table was too far away for her to hear things properly. Restlessness seeped into her bones, and she longed to stand up and walk around - if only she could be sure no one would try to talk to her. She was still perfectly fine with just observing everything.

On the far side wall, Emma noticed something she hadn’t noticed before; above the windows, just underneath the ceiling, a long balcony ran along the wall, separated in several sections by pillars. The lights up there were low, and only a few guests mingled about.

Robin had told her to stay were she was, but the longer she waited for his return, the more her eyes sought out the balcony. She’d have a perfect view of the entire hall from up there. And some peace to study everything without seeming to gawk.

Her legs were on the edge of bouncing with unrest, everything in her itching to get up and move about. She waited one more minute, then stood.

It felt as though every eye was trained on her as she passed through the hall, but she forced herself to keep calm. She’d rather not appear to be running away from her first ball.

The stairwell to the balcony was hidden in the wall near the corner of the room, but Emma found it without difficulty. Climbing the winding stairs in a heavy ballgown was another matter though. The steps were small, and she couldn’t see her own feet. After climbing about half of the stairs, she began to feel quite tired as well. Ballgowns really were impractical as hell.

At least the climb was worth it. Emma instantly felt better with fewer lords and ladies around her. And the few that had found a spot on the balcony paid her no attention.

Crossing the length of the balcony, past pillars and guests, Emma kept half an eye on the floor below. At the far end, she was lucky enough to find an empty section, almost entirely secluded by a pillar. She stopped at the railing to get a proper look at the stunning hall. Invisible to her eyes before, she noticed that the tiles of the floor created a pattern; an elegant curving of grey upon white. Waves, perhaps. It certainly fit with the rest of the keep.

The balcony was dark, lit only by the warm flame of a sconce behind her. To the side, Emma noticed thick navy curtains that - if desired - could conceal the entire balcony. She glanced up at the pillars in the hall, seeing various animals and mythical creatures carved at the top, frozen in motion. Even the railing of the balcony was elaborate in detail, the twisted iron bars resembling seaweed.

Emma had always loved a view from above, and she would happily spend the rest of her evening in this beautiful, secluded spot.

“I never knew women could be such cruel thieves.” Emma startled at the sudden voice next to her, turning to see a young man with dishevelled hair and the hint of a smile. “But perhaps a stunning lass like you could be the cruellest thief of them all.”

Too busy recovering from the shock, Emma didn’t catch the compliment. She only caught the subtle accusation.

“I’m not a thief.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her cheeks turn red. Perhaps because she was embarrassed by the bluntness of her outburst. Maybe because she was too late in realizing the thinly veiled compliment in his words. Possibly because she was blatantly lying her ass off. But she couldn’t deny that it was also because he was one of the handsomest men she’d seen all night. Even with his eyebrow raised at her in question.

“And yet you’ve stolen my favourite spot on the balcony.”

“Oh. I, uh, I wasn’t aware of that... My lord,” she added.

Smooth, Emma. Smooth.

Something flickered in his eyes, but his smile stayed put.

“I suppose there’s no harm done. However, it is the best spot on the balcony - secluded and with the perfect light for reading.”

Only then did Emma notice the book threatening to fall out of the pocket of his coat. Made of thin black leather, with the edge of it reaching just above his knees, the coat wasn’t what Emma usually associated with noble fashion. It was rich-looking, but paired with snug black trousers, a dark brown vest and a shirt that hadn’t been entirely buttoned up, the young lord’s attire certainly stood out.

The dark ruffled hair didn’t help matters much. It added to his charm though, as did the gleam in his blue eyes. A bit of stubble graced his jaw, and Emma gathered he was a few years older than her - he could be no more than twenty-two though. Perhaps twenty?

“I don’t mind sharing,” Emma said, referring to the spot. She’d be damned if he made her leave. She had just as much a right to enjoy the spot as he did. Or so she assumed, at least.

“Brilliant,” the lord smiled, “neither do I.”

Without further ado, he pulled the book from his pocket and began reading. The open pages rested against the railing, and though he stood a few small paces away from Emma, she could see that he was right; the light was perfect for reading. She couldn’t discern the tightly scribbled lines though, not from afar.

A few seconds passed before Emma realized she was openly staring at him. She looked down at the hall again, trying to forget his presence, but it was all but impossible. The couples dancing below only made her wonder why a handsome lord like him was up on the balcony, reading. He hadn’t even introduced himself!

Emma shifted from one foot to the other. The upper-class world was full of rules and decorum; surely there was something odd about the current situation.

The young lord turned a page.

Emma contemplated leaving. The peace she had found in the once secluded spot was more than ruined now. Perhaps she could find another place to observe the hall. But stubbornness kept her rooted where she stood; she didn’t want him to think he had won the spot over her. He could ignore her all he liked, she wasn’t going anywhere.

The current melody ended, and the string orchestra began a slower tune.

Her growing annoyance nagged at her. She had no reason to be annoyed that some stupid nobleman found his book more interesting than her. She was used to being invisible after all. She hadn’t been much older than five when she learned that not being seen had greater advantages than the risks of being beaten if she did something wrong.

But being so blatantly ignored by someone who had been ever-so-charming towards her before, put her teeth on edge. Really, she should just leave him to his own stupid devices.

The competitor in her refused to let it go though.

“Do you always read at balls?”

The young man turned his head, looking up at her. “When I can get away with it.”

“Then what’s the point of even attending?”

“The wine, usually,” he smirked. “Though I always bring something a little stronger, just in case.” With a pat to his chest, he hinted at a hidden flask in an inner pocket of his coat.

“That can’t be reason enough to show up just to hide away on a balcony,” Emma said. She might be toeing the line of proper decorum, but he wasn’t exactly straight-laced either.

“Perhaps you’d enlighten me on what would be reason enough. You’re hiding away up here too, are you not?” he pointed out, his tongue clicking on the last t.

“I just wanted a brief view of the hall,” she lied.

“And you chose the most secluded spot by coincidence, I presume,” he teased, “and have become so enraptured by my presence, you can’t find it in yourself to leave even if you’ve far surpassed a ‘brief’ view of the hall.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “No. I just... this is my first ball and it’s all a bit overwhelming, alright? I don’t even really know how to dance... not that it’s any of your business.”

Emma silently cursed herself. Why on earth did she tell him she couldn’t dance? And then of course, she had to go and try and cover it up in the least proper way ever. Fortunately, the young lord didn’t seem to mind her candour.

“You’ve got a bit more fire than your timid looks let on, don’t you, my lady?”

“Timid?” Emma repeated, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a lady standing next to him and he hasn’t even introduced himself.”

“Now, there you go sounding like my father. Far more beautiful, but just as grumpy.”

Emma glared at him.

“Fine; as you wish, my lady. I am Lord Killian,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “And who do I have the pleasure of sharing this wonderful spot with?”

“Lady Emma Swan,” she replied while mulling over his name. Lord Killian. Was it his given name or a family name? She couldn’t remember any Killian from her few lessons - then again, there were far too many noblemen and houses for her to remember all of them. Luckily, no one expected her to, what with her being new to court and all.

“Swan...” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. Hopefully he wasn’t wondering why he’d never heard that family name before. “It suits you.”

A treacherous blush found its way to her cheeks again. “Thanks.” Before she could say anything else, he gave her a charming smile and returned to his book. Emma was left even more baffled than before.

“You still haven’t told me why you’d rather read a book alone than participate.”

Killian sighed, more for show than out of true exasperation. “Well, you see, I’m not really much of a dancer either.”

“Ah.”

“And even more important, believe it or not, Lady Emma, but once you’ve attended five or six hundred of these balls, they start to come across as a bit repetitive.”

“You’d probably be a better dancer if you practised more.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “You’re not about to let me return to my book are you?”

Emma shrugged, a slight smile curling her lips.

“Well, not that it’s any of your business,” he said, playfully throwing her words back at her, “it’s not that I don’t know how to dance. It’s that I’m rather tired of ladies scowling at me because I’m not as ‘into it’ as they’d like me to be.”

“Maybe they’d scowl less if you were more of a gentleman.”

She didn’t know what she was getting herself tangled up in, but for the first time that evening, Emma found that the racing of her heart could be fun as well as nerve-wrecking.

Killian wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “Oh, I’m always a gentleman, Lady Emma. In fact,” he said, swiftly closing his book and holding out his arm, “would you care to share a dance with me this fine evening?”

Emma froze.

In less than ten minutes, Killian had gone from charming to rude to annoying to flirtatious... he was either socially incompetent or incredibly smooth and it irked Emma that she couldn’t decide on which.

Killian took in her surprised look and chuckled as he lowered his arm. “Or perhaps it’s better we spare my toes from being stepped on and you from having to scowl more at me because of my presumably festivity-dampening-energy.”

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

Killian smiled good-naturedly, and Emma found herself pleased to notice that he didn’t open his book straight away again.

“So, Lady Emma, what brings you to Misthaven?” he asked, folding his arms over the railing and looking down at the festivities below. It didn’t occur to Emma until then that the people below could probably see her and Killian easily enough if they looked up and squinted their eyes a bit. Should she be worried about people getting the wrong idea? They weren’t standing awfully close together, but they were unaccompanied. Emma tried to subtlety shift a few inches away from Killian as she contemplated her answer.

“The chance to see more than my tiny corner of the world, I guess.”

“And how are you finding it?”

“It’s nice,” Emma said, briefly meeting his eyes.

“Merely nice?” Killian teased.

“Well, it’s a bit overwhelming; I’ve never seen so many buildings in one place.” Truthfully, Emma had never been outside of Misthaven. She never really had the chance, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. At least living in the capital of the Enchanted Forest meant there were more pockets to steal from. “It’s beautiful though.”

“I’ve always been partial to the open water myself,” Killian said.

“This hall must be to your liking, then,” Emma nodded at the glass stained windows, each of them depicting the ocean or various sea creatures.

“Aye, it’s quite magnificent. It can’t compete with the real thing though.”

“So, books, liquor and the open water - you’re not secretly a pirate or something, are you?” Emma joked, though a part of her wondered if it could be true. If a street rat could infiltrate the court, surely a pirate could too.

Killian laughed. “No, I’m not. Not yet, at least,” he said, eyebrows waggling.

Emma couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “I’m not sure if pirates are that much into reading though.”

“I’m sure they could be; not all treasure is made of gold, after all.”

The smile lingered on her lips as she looked down at the mingling guests. But then her eyes fell on her table, and, more importantly, Robin.

Shit. If Robin found out she’d spent her time alone on the balcony with some young lord, she’d never hear the end of it.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Is everything alright?” he quickly asked, startled by her abruptness.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only my steward has just returned from his dinner and he’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Oh.” His face fell, but was quickly masked with a smile. Emma was sure she’d imagined the touch of disappointment in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll finally get to return to my book then.”

“I’m sure it was awful to be kept from it for so long.”

“Oh, it most certainly was,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “But it was a pleasure to share this spot with you, Lady Emma.”

Emma returned his playful bow with her own playful curtsy. “Likewise, Lord Killian.”

They shared one last look, and then his book was open again before Emma had even taken her first steps towards the stairwell.

She walked the length of the balcony, refusing to look back to see if he’d looked up from his book to see her retreat. (Which he definitely didn’t do, of course not.)

Robin met her halfway between the stairwell and her table.

“I see you found your courage to walk about,” he greeted, speaking quietly as to not be overheard.

“I figured it couldn’t do any harm.”

“Would you like to walk about a bit more then? I thought we’d head back home around now, but if you’d rather stay a bit longer...?”

“I think I’ve had my fair share of ball-entertainment for tonight,” Emma answered, and she and Robin began to make their way towards the main entrance again.

“So...” Robin began, “who was that fellow I saw you with on the balcony?”

Damn.

But Emma knew she’d have to mention Killian at some point. She might as well just get it over with. “A Lord Killian.”

“Killian Jones?”

Emma was just about to shrug when she realized what Robin had said. “Jones? As in House Jones?”

Thankfully, she kept her voice down despite the surprise. Robin seemed as surprised as her though.

“Well, that’s the only Killian I know of. I’ve heard he’s quite against the frivolity of balls though.”

“Sounds like him,” Emma said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Had she really just spent her evening with a member of one of the most powerful Houses in all of the Enchanted Forest? “But he’s not like... an important member of the family, is he?”

“He’s the only living son of Lord Brennan Jones.”

The only living son... Fantastic. Emma had called the heir apparent to House Jones a pirate.

“Perhaps we should wait until we’re at home before we discuss things further,” Robin said as they neared the foyer. Emma gave a vague nod in agreement, her mind already going over the conversation she’d shared with Killian.

Why hadn’t he introduced himself with his full title? Before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder, squinting at the balcony.

Killian held his book, closed, in one hand - and she could have sworn he was looking down in her direction.

“There you are!” Snow greeted Emma and Robin as they entered the townhouse. The dark-haired woman leapt to wrap Emma in a tight hug which she awkwardly reciprocated. After knowing each other for little more than a month, Snow already liked to think of herself as something of an older sister, being seven years older than Emma.

“So,” Snow started, pulling away, “how was your first ball?”

“Intense,” Emma answered, honestly. “But it wasn’t too difficult, I guess.”

Snow’s smile grew impossibly brighter. “I told you, you could do this!”

“Right now, I could really do with getting out of this dress though.”

“Of course! We’ll wait in the drawing room for a quick chat. Would you like some cocoa?”

Emma nodded. After her first taste of the chocolatey goodness, she had developed quite the affinity for the drink.

Emma’s bedroom wasn’t large, but it had four walls, a roof and it was hers. That alone was more than enough.

Of course, the room wasn’t actually hers, neither was the townhouse. Snow’s godmother Johanna owned a few houses and rooms in Misthaven, and had offered one of the better residences to Snow and David without a moment’s hesitation. Without Johanna, Emma wasn’t sure the operation had any chance of succeeding. If anyone ever wanted to call on Lady Emma, send her a letter or even shadow her after a ball, the townhouse was exactly the kind of place they would expect to find.

After swapping the ball gown for a loose shirt and a pair of breeches, her hair now in a messy braid, Emma joined the rest of the gang in the drawing room.

“So, did anything interesting happen?” Snow asked when they’d all sat down.

Robin looked at Emma. Emma looked at the cup of cocoa in her hand.

“A few lords asked me to dance,” she began. “I had to turn them down ‘cause I was too nervous, but they were all nice about it.”

Snow asked for the names and jotted down Emma’s answers in a small book.

“I also met Lord Killian Jones.”

“Killian Jones?” David repeated, incredulous.

Emma nodded. “I kind of took his spot on a balcony and we ended up talking-”

“Did he ask you to dance?” David interrupted.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he meant it.” Emma shifted in her seat, her legs curled underneath herself on the armchair.

“I’m sorry, Emma, but this isn’t good,” David said, never losing the kind spark in his eyes despite the gravity of his tone. “Lord Brennan Jones has always been close with George, and Killian was always a bit of a troublemaker as a kid. I’ve heard he’s only gotten worse since - and he shouldn’t be taking any lingering interest in a noblewoman far below his station.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Snow said.

“You’re making it sound like the world’s ending,” Will chipped in.

“It is bad. If Jones decides to use Emma as his next opportunity to spite his father, the whole plan might backfire! And I can’t have anything happen to you, Emma, not on my behalf-”

“Hey, no one forced me to do this,” Emma interrupted. “I know this is risky - hell, I’ve had more than a few doubts about it all - but whatever happens to me is my fault alone. You don’t have to worry about me.”

David looked as if she were asking for something perfectly impossible. “Just try to stay away from Jones, okay?”

“Sure.” It shouldn’t be a problem. Killian had probably already forgotten all about her anyways.

Still, Emma had the feeling she wasn’t likely to forget Lord Killian Jones too easily.

#csbb #my writings #cs ff #the dancing thief #chapter 1 #cs fanfic #and so it begins!

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justanoutlawfic · 5 years

Text

The Forgotten One: Chapt. 1 [The Coronation]

Summary: When Roland crashes Regina's coronation, it leads to a huge rift in the Mills Family. Robin is determined to get her newly found brother to her wedding, while Regina wants to make up for her mistakes.

PLEASE READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE! I know it's long, but it'll help you decide if this is a fic for you or not.

This whole thing was prompted by @queen-of-the-merry-men, who also helped me with some of the dialogue. It's going to be multiple chapters, but not sure how long quite yet.

I want to preface this with some warnings. This is post-series finale. Literally takes place after Regina's final line. This will discuss Robin's rape, but not in detail. I love Regina, she is my favorite character and if you know me, you know this. Zelena began to grow on me in S7. That being said...there will be times in this fic (starting off in this chapter), that their past actions are called into question and are called out on not being the best. This is especially true for Zelena. This isn't a bashing fic of her, but it says basic truths about what she's done. Same with Regina. If that's a problem, then I wouldn't recommend this fic to you because I don't want to see hate comments about Roland or Robin doing that.

This verse is also going to be pretty much family relationships only, mainly Regina/Roland, Roland/Robin, Regina/Robin, Regina/Zelena and Robin/Zelena. The only romantic ships will be background, canon ones such as Robin/Alice and Henry/Ella. If romance is more your speed, I have other fics for that. Of course, past Outlaw Queen will be mentioned and Dark Outlaw Queen is discussed a bit as well. Robin Sr. will be discussed in a positive light, so, if that bothers you, this isn't your fic. Overall, this is a story of the Hood-Mills family healing.

That being said, if you're still with me, sit back, relax and enjoy...

Also on AO3

“In the end, we can get past it all with hope.”

Regina smiled as the crowd cheered, looking around at all of them. Snow and David still stood proudly behind her, her sons, Emma, Ella, Lucy, Hope and Hook on one side of the front row with Zelena, Alice, Robin and Nook on the other. She had once told Henry that one day he’d have more family than he knew what to do with, but it turned out that applied to her too. She never imagined she’d be crowned the Good Queen, let alone be overwhelmingly voted as one.

The cheers and applause died down, but it was followed by a slow, near sarcastic clap. She tilted her head and tried to figure out where it was coming from. A man that looked to be in his mid to late 20s appeared from the crowd. He had longer brown hair and some thick facial hair. It took her a minute to realize who it was, until she saw the dimples. He wasn’t smiling, but they were still evident.

“Roland,” she whispered.

“I’m surprised you recognize me, Regina,” he said. His voice had dropped over the past couple of decades, which surprised her more than it should’ve. “I see that you’re now the queen of the people. You saved the day once again.”

“I didn’t know you were coming. You look so grown up.” She stepped down from the platform once more and held her dress as she walked closer to him. Regina was close to hugging him, when she realized that he reeked of whiskey. “You’re drunk.”

“Astute observation.”

Roland pushed past her and looked over at the right side of the room. Robin stood there, looking shocked. Regina realized that the two siblings hadn’t seen each other since the day Zelena and David helped the Merry Men back to Sherwood Forest.

“My baby sister,” he slurred. “You’ve gotten a lot bigger since I last saw you.”

“You’re Roland,” Robin said, softly. Alice squeezed her hand, smiling a bit at the unconventional reunion.

“I’m surprised you know who I am. I thought everyone had forgotten about me.”

“This is hardly the place,” Zelena cut in, giving him a harsh look. “This is Regina’s big day.”

“Oh, so now you care about Regina?” Roland asked. “Because it sure didn’t seem that way when I was a kid. You disguised yourself as my mom, to hurt her and my father. Heck, if you hadn’t done that then your daughter wouldn’t even exist.”

Zelena’s eyes widened and Robin gasped, looking over at her mom. Regina suddenly felt as though the castle walls were crowding in around her. She and Zelena had made a decision a long time ago. They would never tell Robin how she was conceived. It wasn’t to protect Zelena, but more so, so Robin could never be hurt by it. To make things less awkward, Robin never knew that her aunt and father had ever been in love. Over 20 years of secrets were suddenly spilling out within minutes, from a clearly very hurt man.

“Is this true?” Robin asked her mother.

“Sweetheart…”

“I asked you if it was true!”

“Everyone, maybe we should stop this,” Snow stepped in, ever the diplomat. “We can start the reception and you all can step outside…”

“Snow White, always trying to take control of things,” Roland interrupted. “You couldn’t even take control of the town. I remember when you were mayor while Regina pouted over my father. You could barely hold it together.”

“Leave her alone,” Henry said, moving from beside his wife to stand by his mom. “You’re hurt and upset, but you have no right to do this. You’re clearly hurt over Mom and Zelena, but they don’t deserve this.”

“Don’t you get it, Henry?” He looked between the two sisters. “This is exactly what they deserve.” He turned to face the crowd. “Yes, you have your Good Queen. She protected everyone, except the one person she promised to.” Roland let out a bitter laugh. “I suppose she never really changed.”

Roland’s eyes locked on Regina’s which were filled with tears once more. This time, however, they weren’t ones of joy. She reached out to cup his cheek, but he pulled away from her.

“Your family ruined my life,” he said. “I just thought it was time you knew it.”

He pushed past Regina, purposefully bumping her shoulder as he did. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him. The silence didn’t last long and soon, everyone was talking at once. Ry was asking Emma about what all of that was about. Snow and David were trying to talk to Regina, but she wasn’t saying a word, she was just staring at the doors. Henry told both of them to give her some space, that she didn’t need coddling right at that moment and Ella was trying to round up Lucy and the other kids to lead them out. Some murmured about how grown Roland had gotten, while others admitted they had long forgotten all about him.

The biggest blowout was happening between Zelena and Robin. The younger Mills woman kept throwing her arms up in the air, as she demanded answers from her mother. Zelena looked like she was on the verge of tears herself. Alice had a hand on her fiancé’s back, while Killian had taken several steps away from Zelena, clearly remembering his own trauma surrounding his rape.

“Is what he said true?” Robin demanded. “Just answer the damn question, Mother!”

“I…I was a different person back then,” Zelena stammered.

“That’s not what I asked. Is it true? Did you rape my father?”

“I wouldn’t call it rape…”

“Let’s look at it this way. When he slept with you, did he think you were Marian?”

Zelena bit down on her lip. “Yes.”

“Then that’s rape! I can’t believe this!”

“I never wanted you to know…”

“I can imagine why. You didn’t want to admit to what you had done!”

“That’s not it.”

“Yes it is. God.” Robin turned to her aunt, who hadn’t said a word during this entire thing. “I’m sorry Aunt Regina, but I have to go.”

She stormed out the exit, Alice chasing out after her. Killian spared Zelena one last look of disgust before following out after his daughter. Zelena turned to Regina, now sobbing. She put a hand on her arm and finally, Regina broke out of her trance.

“Regina,” she choked out. “What am I going to do? Robin is never going to forgive me!”

“That’s not the issue right now,” Regina said, looking up at her. “What the hell happened to Roland?”

#the forgotten one verse #dimples queen #dimples peanut #curious archer #regal believer #hood-mills family #mills family #dark outlaw queen #mayor queen

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gray-autumn-sky · 6 years

Text

Afraid to Lose, an HCBA Flash Forward

Set during Regina’s pregnancy with Oliver, Roland explains why he doesn’t want a baby sibling.

For OQ Angst Fest. Prompts #24, #42, and #44.

It takes her a minute to ease back into the rocking chair by the window, but as soon as she does, she knows it’ll be a long while before she gets up again.

For a moment, she just sits there, rocking gently with her eyes closed, ignoring the newly cut-and-sewn stack of flannels sitting on the little table next to the chair. The window is open, and a light breeze that smells faintly of apples from the nearby orchard is coming in, and aside from the wind, everything is quiet and still. A little smile works its way onto her lips as shifts her hips, finding a comfortable position--and as she draws in a breath, her hand falls over the curve of her very-pregnant stomach, and she’s glad that the baby has also decided to take a rest.

For days she’s been growing increasingly restless, and though she knows that’s normal for this stage of pregnancy, it’s made Robin extra vigilant.

They’ve been working on the nursery--something Robin has repeatedly reminded her someone else could do, and something she’s repeatedly insisted was something she wanted to do--and it was coming together nicely. The Hunting Lodge had never had a nursery. Robin’s father was far too old for one when his father decided to make it his main residence, and the only other child born in that time was Mrs. Potter’s son, Christopher--or Chip as everyone called him--and his room had been upstairs in the servants’ quarters.

Of course, it was because of Chip’s presence in the house that there was anything baby-related at all. In the attic they’d found his crib and the rocker were kept and a little pitcher and basin adorned with hand-painted little ducks, and with a little dusting and refurbishing here-and-there, they were good as new and ready to use.

They’d picked the room across from the boys’ room for the baby, just down the hall from their own, and Regina picked out a green and white paisley wallpaper for the walls. Ruby was making new bedding for the crib in various shades of green, yellow, and white fabrics--all of which she’d spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing--and Mrs. Potter had just hung new, bright yellow curtains on the window that morning.

For the most part, Henry had been her helper, eager to do whatever was needed to prepare the baby’s room, while Robin hovered and reminded her that they had a staff to do these sorts of things. She didn’t mind it, for the most part, and though his worrying could be a bit tiresome, she knew it came from a good place--and she knew his worries stretched beyond her.

Marian’s pregnancy was something that weighed heavily on him before she got pregnant, and though this baby was planned, she’s fairly certain he was unprepared with how he’d feel as she progressed through the pregnancy. She wasn’t even sure if he was entirely conscious of it, but every time something happened--from the first bouts of morning sickness, to the baby’s first kick, to the first time she’d felt a little more tired than usual, he couldn’t help but compare her experiences to Marian’s or to project Marian’s onto her.

He didn’t talk about it much, but she could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch--and she could only imagine what it would be like to be in his position--a helpless bystander--just watching as the life drained from someone he loved. Of course, Marian was sick before her pregnancy with Roland, but the pregnancy took years away from her, everyday draining her a little more and a little more, until all that was left was child she’d bore.

Her own experiences with pregnancy were much different, of course, but Robin didn’t know that, and how she was feeling and what she’d come to expect as normal was hard for her to convey. With Henry, she hadn’t had time to rest. It hadn’t been afforded to her, but she’d also been a bit younger, and aside from a few new aches and pains and a bit of discomfort, until that last month, she hadn’t felt all that different--and the same was true of this pregnancy, though if anyone saw her now, they’d hardly believe it.

“Mama,” Roland’s voice calls, in a loud whisper, “Are you sleeping?”

“No,” she murmurs, grinning as one eye opens and she turns her head to look at him. “I’m just resting.”

“Oh,” he says, shifting awkward as he peeks around the frame of the door. “Are you resting because you don’t feel good?”

“I’m just taking a break,” she tells him, opening her other eye and smiling softly. “I feel fine.”

He nods and fidgets with his fingers. “How much longer til the baby comes?”

“About two months.”

“Oh,” he sighs. “That’s a long time.”

“It’ll go faster than any of us thinks.”

Nodding, he chews at his lip. “I… I don’t want you to have the baby.”

“No?” she asks, sitting up a little. “You don’t want a little brother or sister?”

Again, Roland shifts nervously. “No,” he admits in a little voice. “I want a mama.”

Her chest tightens. They’ve talked about this before--but no matter how many times they did, seeing that fear in his eyes and hearing it in his voice broke her heart. With Roland, it was similar to how it was with Robin--it didn’t matter how many times she tried to reassure him, he still worried, and at five-years old, he couldn’t quite understand that gaining a baby brother or sister didn't mean he’d inevitably lose a mother. To him, it was a trade--at best, a gamble--and it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, holding out her hand to him. “Come here.”

Roland wastes no time coming into the room and climbing into the rocking chair with her, and when he does, he cuddles up to her, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. Pressing a few quick kisses to his hair, her arm wraps around him and she rubs his back, her heart breaking as his fingers clutch the fabric of her dress so hard that his knuckles turn white.

“It’s not fair,” he says in a shaky little voice, an indication that he’s on the verge of tears. “I just got you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“But you don’t know that.” Her eyes press shut and she draws in a breath, but before she can think of something soothing to say, he lifts his head. “Do you?”

She’s not quite sure what to say.

Of course, there’s a small chance that something could happen. There were always those stories of difficult births and unforeseen complications, but that wasn’t something she could explain to a six-and-a-half year old--and she had to be careful about not implying that this was somehow a choice she could make because if it were choice then it’d have been Marian’s choice to leave him.

“You really miss her, huh?”

Roland shrugs, looking away shyly. “No.”

“It’s alright if you do.”

“I can’t miss her,” he says, sniffling a bit as he reaches for one of the buttons on her dress, his little finger tracing it. “I didn’t know her.”

“That doesn't mean you can’t still miss her,” Regina says softly, reaching out and pushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You can still wish you’d gotten to know her.”

Roland hesitates, focussing on the button. “I… I don’t think she’d want to know me.”

“That’s crazy. Of course she’d want to know you.”

“No,” Roland says. “I don’t think so.”

“And why not?” Regina asks, her voice piquing defensively at the notion that anyone--especially Marian--wouldn't want to know him. “You’re pretty stellar, you know that?” He shrugs, still focused on the button. “I mean, you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you’re so smart, and handsome and--”

“I’m the reason she died,” he tells her in a voice that’s barely audible, his jaw trembling as he looks up. “I heard you and Papa talking about it once.”

“Roland, that’s not--” She stops, shaking her head as she pulls him to her chest, holding him tightly as she rubs her hand over his back. “It’s not your fault,” she tells him, holding him a bit tighter. “It’s… it’s no one’s fault.”

“But she died,” he says, pulling back as tears brim in his eyes. “She died because of me.”

“No--”

“She did,” he says in a small, barely audible voice. “I heard papa say it.”

“That’s… that’s not what he meant,” she says gently. “What happened with you mother was… awful,” she tells him. “But it was complicated and it most certainly was not your fault.”

“But Papa said--”

“No,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “He didn't mean it like that.”

Roland’s face crumples. He’s not listening--and if he is, he’s not hearing it. “And you could die because of that baby.” His jaw starts to tremble and tears spill over his eyes, and all she can do pull him close to her, rocking him gently as she assures him that everything will work out as it’s supposed to, that she’d never willingly leave him and that she loves him--but no matter what she says, it doesn't seem to soothe him. “I don’t want to lose you, too,” he tells her, pulling back and batting his hands over his eyes. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You’re right,” she nods, forcing a smile as her chest tightens. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

He sniffs. “Why do you have to have a baby, anyway?”

A little grin edges onto her lips. “Because your papa and I think you’d make such a fantastic big brother.”

“No,” Roland says, shaking his head as though this were something that could be taken into account to change the situation. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.”

Again, he sniffs. “But I don’t want to be big brother. I like being the little brother. I’m better at that.”

“Well, you’ll still be the little brother,” she explains. “You’ll still be Henry’s little brother.” Pausing, her eyes narrow as Roland’s lips tighten, clearly not liking that explanation. “But it’ll be different than it is with Henry and you.”

“Why?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why does it have to be different?”

“Well, you’re in a special situation.”

Roland shakes his head. “I don’t want to be in a special situation. I just want my normal one. I like the way it is now, with me and Henry and Papa and you.”

“I like that, too,” she admits. “But this special situation is going to be so much better.”

“Why?”

“Because you get to be a little brother and a big brother. You get the best of both.” She grins, watching as Roland considers it. “It’s like getting two desserts.”

That seems to catch his attention a bit, and he looks up at her, grinning softly though his tears. Leaning in, she kisses his forehead and rubs her finger over his cheeks, brushing away his tears. A little grin edges onto her lips as she kisses his cheek and as a faint hint of a smile tugs up at the corner of his mouth. She giggles softly as she leans in to kiss the other cheek. Again, that faint smile starts to tug at his lips. Her hands find his sides and her lips pepper his face with kisses, and it isn’t long before before he’s laughing out and squirming, practically screaming as she tickles and kisses him--and then suddenly, they both stop.

Her hand falls to her stomach as the baby kicks--and Roland’s eyes widen as he feels it. She takes his hand and places it over her stomach so he can feel. “The baby wants to play, too,” she tells him, watching as his hand trembles over the spot where she holds it--and when the baby kicks another time--this time a bit harder-- she flinches.

“Is it hurting you?” he asks, his voice tentative and his eyes wide. “Is--” His voice halts as his eyes grow wider and flood with tears, and Regina’s brow furrows with confusion. “Is that blood!?”

She looks down at herself, following his gaze to a red spot on her dress--and she can’t help but laugh.

“No,” she tells him, taking his hand and turning it over so that his palm is faced upward. “I think that’s strawberry jam from your sticky hands.”

Roland blinks, looking almost stunned--and she watches as relief washes over him, likely remembering the scones and jam Mrs. Beakley had made to go with tea. Somehow, though his relief is heartbreaking and she knows that it’ll be short-lived--so she presses a kiss to his palm and tugs him back to her, wrapping her arms around him. He’s too big and she’s too pregnant for her to cradle him, but she tries it anyway, rocking him in her arms and giving him the love and attention that he’s craving--the love and attention he’s so afraid to lose.

#hcba verse #oq ff #oq angst fest #outlaw queen #dimples queen

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