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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

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The day he understood what Death means - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : The youngest Wayne makes a shocking discovery...And will need his parents, siblings, and the one and only Alfred, to recover from it. /Drabble.

I don’t know. I was thinking about this. How when you’re a kid, realizing that one day you’ll die, but worst, that the people you love will die, is sort of traumatic...And wanted to write about it. So. Here we are, with little Thomas eh. I hope you will like it :) :

My masterlists blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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If you have no idea who Thomas is, he appears in those stories (long story short he’s the youngest kiddo, biological of Batmom and Bruce) : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Wild Child 2, “We want them back”, How do you make babies ?“ and Mom got lost again”

******

Realizing your loved ones are not immortal for the first time can be traumatic.

Especially if they’re amazing, if they’re your heroes, if you admire them beyond all measure, if they love you unconditionally just like you love them so damn much, and if you can’t even imagine your life without seeing them every day.

If you can’t even fathom the fact that maybe, one day, they won’t be there when you wake up and go look for them. And that they will never be there again.

And so it was particularly quite the shocking discovery for little Thomas Clark Wayne, 5 and a half years old, to find out about that certain thing called...”Death”.

It happened on a moody, rainy Summer day. The weather outside was awful, even for Gotham City. And it meant that Thomas was calmly playing inside, rather than getting up to some shenanigans in the garden.

His parents were home, it was one of those rare day they both had off.

Which always filled little Tommy with joy. It wasn’t often he could get them both with him !! In the end, the fact it was rainy outside was good. It meant they’d probably all snuggle up later in the day, and watch a film, a mug of hot cocoa in their hands.

You would probably throw a blanket over him, and keep him close, sandwiched between you and his dad. His father would fall asleep half-way through the film, which would annoy you and Damian.

Damian would join for sure. Sitting next to you. Yes. He would. Maybe Tim too, if he wasn’t too busy with college ? Oh he would surely make the time to come. And Cass ? Yes. Yes Cass would be there, sitting in her usual spot, on the floor right in front of you (or maybe Tommy). Because she knew you’d gently run your hand through her hair, and your youngest son slowly took the habit to do the same. Which was so soothing to Cass...Duke would certainly be there, he never said no to a good movie.

Maybe, because it was a rainy day, Dick and Jason would come too ? Unlikely, but Thomas could hope. He loved having his entire family in one spot.

They’d ask him to do his “puppy eyes” and convince Alfred to join them too, and not work.

Alfred had an armchair reserved just for him. Right next to the couch where Bruce would sit, leaving enough space for Ace to lay down (Damian’s dog, Titus, always preferred to be near his master, who would more often than not be sitting next to you, laying his head on your shoulder, even as he was not a child anymore...Yes, Titus sat next to Cass, at Damian’s feet, letting his head fall down in Cass’ laps).

Ace...Ace didn’t feel well yesterday, and this morning, the “dog doctor” came.

Thomas heard him say they needed to give him a...an “indection” or something ? (An injection, really) So he’d probably get better. Shots were supposed to get you better or to avoid you getting sick, that’s what you told him.

His dad looked upset, but it didn’t alarm Thomas much. Because his dad was always upset when him or his siblings would get a shot, he hated going, so it was probably the same thing.

Come to think of it, Thomas hadn’t seen Ace since the “vekerinarianan” (or whatever it was pronounced) came earlier in the day.

He suddenly wanted some “doggle” (dog cuddles), and so he put down the toys he was playing with, and went to look for him.

Maybe, he could also round up the rest of his family so they’d start movie time earlier ?

Hyped to have some family time, as he considered his dogs family for sure, he went on the hunt to find Ace, and gather everyone else.

If only. If only he had known...

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

“Aaaace !! Aaace ? Ace boy, where are you ?”

This was odd. Usually, Ace would come running if he heard the little one’s voice. That dog loved children, and he made it his mission to protect all of them (bonus point if he had some snuggle, and a few treats, while doing it).

Bruce told him long ago to protect his kids...So Ace was always there.

Maybe he wanted to play hide and seek ? Thomas would play that game with Titus and Damian, Ace never seemed very interested, but maybe he changed his mind ?

“Ace ? Aaaacceeee ?”

The boy roamed the manor, but every room Ace would usually hang in were empty.

Finally, he decided he’d ask his parents, who would usually hang out in...oh, they weren’t in their usual spot either. In their bedroom, maybe ?

Thomas ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, sure that he would find Ace, and his parents, asleep in the master’s bedroom. When they had their day off, his mama and daddy would often take long naps together.

Thomas immediately knew something was wrong when the door to the room was wide open. Slowly, he approached the place and...surely his parents were there.

But something was off.

His dad was laying in the bed, back to the door, his head laid in your lap. One of your hand was caressing his head soothingly, while the other was drawing calming circles on his back.

Definitely something was not normal. You’d do that to your kids when they were sad, or sick...Was daddy sick ?! This gave Thomas a little fright.

You whisper something into Bruce’s ears, and he doesn’t answer, just shaking his head to say “yes”. And so you stand up, after giving him a kiss on the cheek, and...You spot your youngest son.

You smiled at him reassuringly, and go to him.

“Hey little buddy. You should give a big hug to Daddy, he’s very sad today.”

You say, walking past him and ruffling his hair.

From the direction you were taking, you were going to the kitchen, and Thomas just instantly assumed you were going to brew some tea for his dad. When Bruce was sad, you’d always brew some tea for him, from his mother’s garden (which was kept up nice and clean by you and Alfred, now).

Worried about his dad, Thomas slowly walked to him and climbed on the big bed. Bruce turned around to see what this new weight was, as he knew you had just left and...He smiled.

Of this wide pure genuine smile he gave his family only.

But there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes, and Thomas didn’t like that one bit. So the little boy crawled to his dad, and nestled next to him, wrapping his little arms around his dad’s neck and holding tightly.

Bruce engulfed his son in his own arms, holding onto the little one, burrying his face in his hair. There was always something comforting, in the smell his kiddo had. It was a mix of your smell, which was always soothing to him, but also something more...Something soft and sweet.

Just like his son.

Little Thomas was the epitome of a sweet child. It was a miracle, a man like him made a child this cute and happy. Ah, but he wasn’t raising him alone of course. There was you, and his siblings, and Alfred...

After a pause of the little boy holding his dad, he whispered slowly :

“Daddy, why are you sad Daddy ? Please don’t be sad, it makes me sad too.”

Thomas unwrapped his arms from around his dad’s neck, and squished his little hands on Bruce’s cheeks. Which made Bruce sigh fondly, chuckling a little as he said, honestly (he shouldn’t hide this sort of things) :

“Because Ace is gone.”

There’s another silence, during which Thomas tries to understand why is the fact Ace went somewhere so sad. He cannot figure it out, so he asks :

“But, he’ll come back daddy. Like always. Yes ? Ace is a good boy.”

“Was.”

Bruce is clumsy in his grief. He always been. He’s not sure how to broach the subject to his son, how to explain to him their dog was just too old and sick to make it...He doesn’t know how to explain death to him.

“Was ?”

“Ace is gone for good.”

“What do you mean Daddy ? Where did he go ? Why couldn’t we see him again ? Did he move out, like Dick ?”

Oh. Oh the sweet innocence of a child that is maybe a little too sheltered by his family (he’s the youngest, the one they’re trying to keep away from the horror they see every day as much as they can...Although he’s still trained, all of them hope he will never become a Robin, or worst, a Batman).

“Did he move out, like Dick ?”

Sweet, sweet Thomas. Not able to even fathom that Ace is never coming back...and why would he ? How could he know what his father meant ?

“No, no he didn't move out. He left us, to a place we can’t follow him to.”

Another short pause. And you could see the gears in little Thomas’ head turning. After a little bit, he asks :

“...The toilets ?”

This makes his father chuckle, even in this sad times. But he continues :

“No. Not the toilets. He...He went really far away, where we can’t ever see him again.”

This idea is so foreign to your son, that he raises himself on one of his elbow and exclaims :

“Why would he do that ? Does he not love us anymore ?”

Obviously, the thought is distressing to the little bird. So Bruce says :

“No no no, of course he still loves us...loved, us. But he had to go.”

“But why ?”

“Because he was getting very old, and sick.”

“But we don't mind daddy, right ? We don’t mind ? He doesn't have to go away for that, I don’t care if he doesn’t play like he used to, I want him to stay ! Tell him daddy, call him on the phone to tell him to come back.”

Bruce is lost. How ? How can he explains what death means ? He thought about this moment coming many times, but never told him anything as he thought that he had time to know what it meant. He had time...

How do you tell a child that one of his favorite “person” in the world is dead ?

“Unfortunately buddy, we have some sad news.”

His savior. You, as usual. With two cups of tea, and a cup of hot cocoa on a tray. As you went downstairs to get some “pick me up” for Bruce, you knew your son was gonna need it too.

“What news mama ?”

“Ace. He died today.”

You actually thought about it as you were preparing everything for them. How to talk about this ? You decided to go with “honesty”. Not brutal honesty though. You weren’t about to traumatize your son.

But you thought it was important he knew what happened to Ace. As a child, you hated how your brothers tried to make you think your ferret ran away to Las Vegas or something of the like.

You understood this sentiment, of course. But you also remembered how betrayed you felt when you finally understood “death” and realized your beloved Mister Will Ferret was NOT in Sin City having fun, but just died...

The truth was important.

Especially about such subjects.

Children weren’t dumb. And they had every right to know certain truth.

Did you wish your son could stay innocent for longer ? Of course. But he still had a right to know what happened to his dog. To be treated like a person and be explained things.

People, too often, treats children as some kind of idiots who wouldn’t comprehend complex things anyway, and who have to be protected at all cost from anything...

Kids were clever. You had a bunch of them to prove it so. But above that, although you agreed kids had to be protected...You weren't one of those person who thought you should lie to your children in order to do so.

Because one day, he’ll know what death is. He’ll know what happened to Ace. And what if the fact you lied that day, settles a slight distrust in him towards anything you’ll ever tell him ? Just like it did with you and your brothers ?

No. You thought at first it was a good idea to delay such a conversation. But why ? Because it would make you more comfortable ? That didn’t sound very fair in regard of your boy.

Everyone always talked about “the birds and the bees” talk, but never about something that was even more inescapable than that...

Death.

You give him a few seconds to take in your words. “Ace died today.” You wait for his reaction. He seems to think about it, having vaguely heard of “death” before...finally he asks :

“What does it mean ?”

He’s sitting up in the bed now. Bruce did the same, encircling his arms around his boy protectively (old habits die hard). But he’s determined to explain things to him too. You and Bruce were always rather in sync, about how you should raise your children.

“It means he will no longer be with us. He passed away to something else.”

“To what ?”

“No one really knows.”

“Will we see him again ?”

“No.”

“Why ?”

“Because he’s dead.”

“And being dead means you can’t see anyone anymore ?”

“Being dead means you are not living on this Earth anymore, so yes, you cannot see them anymore.”

“It means we can’t see him ? And what do you mean not on Earth ? Is he in Space ? Can we see him if we go to the watchtower ?”

“I mean in our life, we will not see Ace again. He won’t be with us ever again. He’s not in space, he’s just gone.”

“Because he’s dead ?”

“Because he’s dead.”

“So, being dead means we don’t get to see someone ever again ?”

“Yes.”

“Ever ever ?”

You decide to leave any conversations about a possible after-life aside, as it’s clear this, he’s not quite old enough to comprehend. So you keep on talking about the truth, with the support of Bruce.

“Yes. Ever ever.”

It takes Thomas a few minutes to take in all those new informations. Bruce is sitting on the bed, legs crossed, behind the boy. And your son is clearly lost in deep thoughts...Up until finally, finally tears are starting to well up in his eyes.

“But I didn’t even say goodbye !”

“Unfortunately, we don’t always get to say goodbye...”

“But mama, how will he know I loved him so much if I didn’t even say goodbye before he left ? How could you let him go before I did ?”

“I’m sorry, if I could chose I would’ve-...He knew you loved him and-”

“Are you going to die too ?!”

The dreaded question. Dreadest of them all, really. But you can’t lie to him. Not now that you started to explain things.

“Yes. Everyone dies one day.”

“But but but...but I don’t want you to die ! And Daddy ?”

Bruce nods, and...and that’s when it finally happens.

The awful moments your sweet innocent boy realizes what death sort-of means. That one day, none of his parents will be in his life anymore. Than one day, he’ll lose his siblings, and Alfred.

Just like he lost Ace. Because he was “old and sick”. But...Thomas knew a lot of sick people ! And a lot of old people ! Were they going to die too, without him being able to say goodbye ?!

And so the tears started to fall. And oh, oh did they fall.

Bruce held his son against his heart, drawing soothing circles on his back, just like you usually do. And you came to sit next to them, encircling them in your arms as well.

Thomas was trying to talk, but nothing came out very clearly as he cried, cried, cried and cried some more.

When he finally calmed down, he was slowly falling asleep, crying drained him of all his energy. That night, there was no “movie time”, but comforting snuggles with his parents...

Thomas had finally discover what “Death” meant.

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

“Oh my God Thomas !”

Bruce’s heart drops.

The entire scene goes in slow motion, and the fearless Batman can see his entire life flash in front of his eyes, as his tiny son is running towards him, while a few thugs were about to shoot automatic weapons at him...

“There’s a kid ! There’s a kid !”

“Who cares, we have the bat right at our mercy, just shoot !”

“I can’t shoot a kid...”

“Should we shoot ?”

The few seconds of surprise after Thomas bursted in allow Damian to swoop down, and to get rid of everyone. Slowly, a serious face on, your son walks to his dad and, solemnly, he says :

“This was too close, father. And...Thomas...”

“I know Damian, I know.”

Your little boy was inconsolable, clinging to his dad.

They didn’t even have to ask him how he got there. It was obvious he somehow snuck into the Batmobile (which wasn’t that much of a surprise, although it was already quite a feat...Thomas was small, but also very stealthy, as he was taught to be).

He was only five, and it wasn’t really clear to him yet his dad was that “Batman” everyone talked about, that his siblings were also vigilantes...But he knew that when they went out at night, they were often in danger.

And that night. That night right after the one Thomas learned what Death was...He snuck in the car, so he would make sure “she” would not take her dad away ! Or her brothers and sister !

Only Damian and Bruce were in the car, on patrol together. The rest of the kids were scattered across the city, and you were taking care of the bat computer (nowadays you were the one doing so to give some relief to Alfred).

Thomas took the habit to fall asleep in the cave, in a bed there just for him...and he must’ve snuck into the car.

It was nobody’s fault. It was very unlike the boy, to do such a thing.

He got into the car. When Damian and his father got out of it to apprehend a few of Two-Face’s thug, he stayed behind, looking at what they did...but when he saw those men about to shoot his dad (a proper ambush), he jumped out, punching every buttons (which was quite dangerous itself) to find which one opened the door, and then he ran to his dad...

The surprised probably saved Bruce. But it also almost killed him with a heart attack.

What if those men didn’t hesitate long enough for Damian to take care of them ? What if they shot anyway, ignoring the surprising appearance of a small child ? What if they had recognize who that kid was, too ? (Unlikely, this was a time where Thomas was still quite sheltered from media, as you tried to give him a childhood as normal as you all possibly could).

What if they shot anyway...

Bruce doesn’t think he would’ve survived the death of his youngest son. He was sure, actually, that he would’ve killed those men.

That is, if Damian didn’t do it first.

But it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen, but it was so close. So close.

Later, when everything calmed down, Thomas would explain he jumped in the car to “keep death away”, to protect his daddy and brother. To make sure Death wouldn’t take them.

And that's when you all understood Ace’s death, and the discovery that everyone dies one day, one way or another, truly was “traumatic” for your baby.

From that point on, you made sure that Thomas would be in the cave...but this event. This event really unfolded a problem you knew you’d have to tackle truly one day.

You just had no idea yet how to help your son.

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

Damian had told Jason the debacle that was yesterday. About his parents explaining to their little brother what it meant to be dead. And about how it lead to Thomas sneaking into the Batmobile and running in front of danger to “protect” his dad.

Because of where he grew up, Damian always knew what death meant. And he never cared much (or convinced himself he never cared much). He understood from a very young age what all this shenanigans was...

Jason did too. He found his mother, dead, when he was three years old. He grew up surrounded by death, in the gutter of Gotham. He knew. He did.

But Thomas.

Thomas was a “normal” 5 years old boy, as normal you can be in such a family. He trained a little, and sort of knew about his dad being “Batman” (but it seemed he didn’t understand he was ACTUALLY the Batman people talked about in the city).

He spend most of his nights in a little area made just for him, with a bed and such, in the batcave (he hated sleeping upstairs alone, so he would sleep in the batcave and you’d pick him up to bring him in his bed once you’d go to bed, and/or once the rest of your family would get home).

So for a little one like Thomas, who was pure and sweet and nice...It was a shock, to know one day he’d lose the people he loved.

He was inconsolable, at Ace’s funerals (thrown at the back of the Manor).

He couldn’t get over the fact he didn’t get to say goodbye, and that he would never play with his dog anymore.

It made it worst, that Ace’s death made everyone else sad. That dog truly was a member of the family...

“I know you're feeling very sad. I'm sad, too. We all loved Ace so much, and he oved us, too.”

You told him a few times, tryin to put words on his emotions and helping him understand...God, to Damian, you truly were the most amazing mother. Always knew what to say, how to say it, when to say it.

But Thomas was still blue, and it was so unlike his usual bubbly personality.

And so, both Damian and Jason made it their mission to distract their little brother, and...it worked. For the most part. It really worked.

Amongst all his siblings, Damian and Jason were the ones that loved having a little brother the most. Not that the others didn’t, of course ! They just were a little less willing to play for hours on end with a little kid.

They were rather busy. Jason and Damian always found ways...They were an unlikely pairs at first glance. Most people would think Damian was the closest to Dick, and Jason too. But no. They were equally as close to all their siblings, in different ways.

But Damian and Jason, they had an extra connection. Jason was there, when Damian was a baby. He didn’t remember his own name, and was used by the Al’Ghuls after they resurrected him...But he was still one of the only person in Damian’s life that truly valued him.

Fate, right ? A funny thing. After all, how small did the world have to be for two of Bruce’s sons to meet in such a way ? A hidden son, and one he thought dead, at that ?!

In any case. They were closer than most would think. And they also were linked not only by the Al’Ghuls, but by how they were both ripped off of an actual childhood, and therefor wanted to make sure their little brother had one too (Cass was the same, but more subtle, and discreet).

And so...

They played, made art pieces, jigsaw puzzles, watched his favorite movies, cooked...Anything to take his mind off of “Death”.

That little boy would overthink too much, for such a young age.

But overall, Damian and Jason did a good job distracting him from the pain.

They did an amazing job.

You were so proud of how they took care of their baby brother (and it would give yourself more time to go cheer up the “Oldest Wayne”, your dear husband, who definitely had a hard time getting over his dog’s death...).

Only, there was one problem...And that problem was that neither Damian nor Jason, just like everyone else, were immortal.

And this, this, Thomas would realize very soon.

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

“More compresses, Master Tim !”

“On it Al !”

The loud noises woke Thomas up. You knew. You knew you should’ve gone up to bed earlier. Tuck him in, and wait for your family to come back.

Ah. But when they all arrived in the cave, ALL of them, including Dick who did not live at the manor anymore...You knew there was a problem.

And indeed. Jason had been badly hurt. Not something that couldn’t be fixed, but ah, once again, too damn close.

Everyone was on the tail of a high profile serial killer, the newcomer called “Dr Pyg”, and...Collateral damage. It happened, in this line of work.

It wasn’t easy. Especially when it was one of your baby. But you had to keep a leveled head, as you helped Alfred fix your boy.

You had taken medical trainings early in in your relationship with Bruce. For obvious reasons. And there was rarely a day it didn’t come in handy.

In any case, all the noises around woke Thomas up.

Before. Before he knew what death truly meant, he would’ve been worried. He would've cried. He would’ve been distressed. Of course.

And one of his siblings would’ve taken care of him, reassure him, soothe and console him, and little Thomas would be ok again.

Before he knew what death truly meant.

He was so small anyway, most of the time he’d forget things, or just not understand them...but he was five now. Close to the age of reason. And definitely aware of his surroundings enough now to pay attention, and remember things.

And he knew what death truly meant.

He clung to Jason for dear life, even as everyone reassured him he was actually ok. Jason himself was conscious, he had been badly hurt but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

He needed some rest for sure, but it was fine, really.

It wasn’t fine for Thomas. He yelled, threw the biggest tantrum he ever threw, yelled some more that they should stop. That he didn’t want them to die. That whatever they were doing...He begged them to stop.

Never before in your life, had any of you witness Thomas being in such a state. He was inconsolable. You couldn’t calm him down, no matter what...

And once more, it’s only because of exhaustion that he finally relaxed. But yet, still in his sleep, he clung to Jason’s sleeve, as if afraid his brother would be gone when he’d wake up.

It tore yours and Bruce’s heart apart, to see your baby like this. But to be honest...neither of you knew what to do...

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

“Where’s Damian mama ? Where is he ?”

Thomas was truly panicked.

The first day, he thought maybe his brother was busy with school and such. The second day, he started to worry. But now ? Three days in a row with Damian not at the dinner table ? Or in his room ? Or in the batcave ?!

It made Thomas anxious. What happened to his brother ? Was he...was he...DID DEATH TAKE HIM AWAY ?

“Where’s Dami mama ? Where is he ?!” Thomas kept asking, crying. And it took you moment to finally realize what your son must’ve thought. When you did, you picked him up and calmed him down, explaining Damian was simply over at Jon’s for a few days...

And from that day on, you’d make sure to tell him why anyone would be gone for any amount of time.

That night, Bruce and you talked about what you could do to help Thomas get over his consuming fear of losing one of you.

But nothing really came to your minds.

And it was awful, to feel like a failure like that.

Later on, your Damian would tell you you were NOT failing at parents because you were a little lost about this. After all, none of your other kids got into quite a crisis like this one. He said maybe considering a therapist could do ? But oh, oh Thomas was so little.

And if words were out that Thomas Wayne, barely five years old, was seeing a therapist ? The scandals would be unending, and would it really help your son ?

Damian joined in in the search for a way to soothe his baby brother. He never said “no” to cuddles from him, but lately...Lately, Thomas almost became overbearing, as he made sure he’d always sort of have his eyes on everyone.

And it wasn’t healthy, for such a little boy to worry so much.

Damian missed his carefree baby brother. He knew he had to eventually grow up, of course, and that he’d have some hardships but...he was just five and a half ! He wasn’t suppose to be so scared of death !

And so he thought, nights and days, of a way to soothe him. But just like you and Bruce, this matter was quite delicate...

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

It seemed like Cass was the only one able to truly console him, and make him relax. She would sing him songs, just like you did to her when she felt sad.

She would tell him tales of Death as a good thing, inspiring herself from many legends from around the world.

She would try to put perspective on everything, in a way you truly admired.

She never spoke too much, your Cass...But when she did, every words were carefully chosen and crafted into truly beautiful things.

And it would soothe your boy.

But only as long as he was with Cass. And he couldn’t always be with her.

You didn’t have her talent to tell those tales, and your singing was working only for a few moments to put him to sleep but...you couldn’t always have him sleep. You had to think of more viable options.

Nonetheless, when Thomas was really too anxious, Cass would be there.

Relieving everyone of their worry, as she could calm her baby brother in matter of seconds. In those moments, you wished time could stop. You truly did...

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

Thomas would cling to you and his dad the most. His siblings were often out and about, but you two ? Well you took some time off to be with your youngest son, to be there for him in this odd times...

And you weren’t sure it was such a good idea, in the end.

He would often just snuggle up to you or Bruce, listening to your heartbeats, which would calm him...You’d normally never say no to hugs from your children. But this was all starting to become so unhealthy for the little one.

What could you do ? What could you do ?!

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

Duke was panicking.

Thomas was doing fine today, and Duke felt like he royally fucked up.

Thomas was worried about Duke, telling him to be careful and that his heart would break if Duke ever died...Which melted Duke’s heart.

It made him feel so loved and accepted. And he wanted to help little Thomas so much...

That’s when he made a rookie mistake.

After all, he was still quite new at this “big brother” thing.

“There are things worst than death.”

Is what he told him. What was he thinking ? Reflecting on things, Duke realized he didn't think it through. To him, it was a soothing way to say death wasn’t that bad. But...Ah, ah it made Thomas cry.

“What ? What is worst than not seeing you guys ever again ?!”

At that moment, Duke hadn’t realized quite yet how much he fucked up. So he said : “Well, my parents can't remember me, can’t remember who they are...They’re not dead, but they’re not here anymore. They’re physically here, but they don’t know me, they don’t know how to hug me, they can’t be my parents anymore...Yet they’re still alive.”

The horrified look on Thomas’ face is what gave him a hint that this really wasn’t a good thing to say...

“No no no wait Thomas, don’t cry please, I was trying to tell you...Wait Thomas, please, no. Oooh buddy, buddy I’m so sorry.”

It almost made Duke cry too, to witness the one he considered his little brother in such distress. He wasn’t trained for this ! He wasn’t trained for this !!!

This was the first time Duke truly felt like an older brother, truly felt like he understood this important role. He had to think before saying something. He had to protect his baby brother. He had to find ways to soothe him...

“Ok here we are, here we are everything is a-okay, you’re ok, things will be ok...”

Duke picked Thomas up, and started to rock him back and forth slowly, just like his own mom did to him...He mixed the way his mom used to put him to sleep, with your soothing singing. With words he borrowed from you.

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t worry I’m here, I won’t go anywhere. Things will be ok baby boy, things will be ok. You’re gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean any of it...”

Duke had been living with you for a while now. He came to see all of you as his second family, even as his parents were still alive, and a constant chain holding him back at times...a chain that broke right at this moment.

Thomas was his little brother. He truly was.

And Duke was determined to be there for him. Especially after he made him cry.

“It’s ok Tommy, cry all you want. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to cry.”

You always told him that. It was ok to cry. To be angry. To want to break everything. To want his mom...

But you were his mom too now. You were. And you had such a way with words. Such a soothing touch. Even as he was grown up now, you always knew what to say. You always did.

“You’re ok, right ? Yeaaaah you’re ok. See, things are fine, we chill, we chill.”

Duke was slowly swaying from left to right, Thomas in his arm, slowly lulling him to sleep, calming him down. His voice seemed to have the same effect than yours...Because he was calm. And because he meant it.

The love.

The love he had for this little boy.

It poured out of him, easily, naturally.

He loved that kid so much. And he wanted him to be ok. And it seemed like Thomas ? Thomas felt it. He felt the love. Just like Duke felt the love of all of you...

That little bean put himself in such a state at the mere thought of Duke dying, of one of his brother leaving...And Duke. Duke realized he felt the same.

Couldn’t imagine any of them dying.

And so he poured love in his every word, and swayed from side to side, calming Thomas, and making sure he knew...He knew that, he was right there.

Right there.

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

“You’re getting old, Alfred.”

You said jokingly, as you beat him at chess. And oh. Oh what a mistake you just did.

“Old ? I don’t want you to die Alfred, I don’t !”

Thomas was playing next to you. You hadn’t thought about his “trauma” for a little while as he seemed to feel a little better lately...But oh, he plunged right back into it there.

Because of you. You felt absolutely awful...

“I’ll fight Death for you Alfred ! I will ! I won’t let her take you !!”

It took a while, as it became usual now, to calm him down. He was ready to throw hands with Death. Fierce that no one would take his “grandpa”. But he was still very scared and sad...

“I’m a terrible mother...”

You told Bruce that night. And he held you against him, consoling you, saying it wasn’t your fault and that it was just friendly banter with Alfred as usual...

“You are the literal opposite of a terrible mother, my love.”

“But Broosh, I made him- I-”

You sniff, unable to control your sobs as you remember your poor little boy holding Alfred and yelling at Death she can’t take him. The poor butler himself didn’t even know how he could do anything to calm him down...

“We’ll find a solution my love, we’ll find a solution...”

This entire night, Bruce stayed up although he was exhausted, so he could soothe you and take care of you. Skipping patrol (knowing though the city was safe with his children out).

At some point during the night, Thomas came to your room.

It was often, lately, that after a nightmare he’d come running to you. His nightmares would often be about losing you...

You had finally fallen asleep, in your husband’s arms, and Bruce gestured to your boy to not make too much noice.

Sweet little Thomas acquiesced, and slowly came to the bed, taking the hand his father gave him.

Bruce was about to fall asleep too, knowing you had finally found sleep...But now, he wasn’t going to. Not until he made sure his son was asleep as well.

All he could do for now, was being there for you two. Try to soothe you as best her could. As best he could...

Sleep was restless and full of nightmares.

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

Dick would try to often visit his parents and siblings. As much as he could, which wasn’t always easy, with his work in Bludhäven. But nothing is more sacred than family...He realized that over the years.

During those moments, it would be rather normal for Thomas to go settle in his oldest brother’s laps. He would make the most of seeing him.

So today, as Dick was in the kitchen trying to make himself a cup of coffee, it was no surprise when little Tommy came to see him.

You had bought a new espresso machine, and Dick had no idea how it worked...Slowly, his littlest brother came in, dragged a chair next to him, and used it to climb on the counter.

He then started to make Dick’s cup of coffee, without much of a word being exchanged. Dick smiled widely, his little bro was so cute and clever. In no time, he had make a great cup of coffee for him.

But...Something seemed to bother him. Tommy was an exuberant child when around his family, but he had been quiet right there. He didn’t jump in his brother’s arms like he usually does, and he wasn’t telling him all about what he missed since last time he came in !

Was it still this all thing about being worried about death ?

“Are you ok little wing ?”

Ever since Jason, “Little Wing” or “Bird” became the common denomination for his younger siblings. A term of endearment that they all (secretly or not) loved.

Tommy seemed to think a little, while raising his arms, signifying he wanted Dick to pick him up.

Dick did, of course, and they went to sit at the kitchen counter, and as usual, Tommy settled down on Dick’s laps. He turned around and, after another short pause (Dick always knew when to stay silent, and wait for the other person to speak first) said :

“Dickie, are mom and dad not your mom and dad ?”

“Mm ?”

“Your real mom and dad, they died ? You can’t see them no more now ?”

There was a lump in Dick’s throat. Not because he thought about his parents no. He actually came to peace with their death long ago now. And though he missed them every day, it didn’t hurt as much as it used to.

He was lucky to find another loving family...From which that little worried kiddo in front of him was an important part of.

“Yes, I can’t see them anymore.”

“It hurts ?”

“It used to. Now less. I miss them, but I wasn’t alone.”

“Because you have our mom and dad ?”

“Yes.”

Dick ruffles his hair fondly.

“Do you wish you’d still have your real mom and dad ?”

“Mom and dad ARE my real parents too. I was lucky enough to find new ones. Not everyone is as lucky, like dad. He was alone for a long time”

“What about Alfred ?”

“It took dad a while to realize that Alfred was a second father to him”

“So...Will you be my second dad if dad goes ?”

Dick feels another lump in his throat. Bigger this time.

He couldn’t even imagine the day he’ll lose this “second dad”, this one he had now called “dad” for longer even than his own biological father...Dick was 8, when he came into yours and Bruce’s life.

He spend more years with you two than with his “real” parents. You never replaced them, no. You just..became his parents too.

He would never forget his biological parents. But he would never diminish the impact his adoptive one had. The love you and Bruce gave him.

Would he be good enough to be Thomas “second dad” ? After all, he currently had about the age Bruce had when he adopted him...

But Dick couldn’t imagine losing Bruce too. Losing another father. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Thomas was already moving on, asking more questions :

“Will I find another mom and dad too if mom and dad die ? Or will I be alone like dad ? Will I have Alfred forever ?”

“I-I don’t know buddy.”

“What if I lose all of you at the same time ? I will be all alone then.”

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do ?”

“I’ll always be there.”

“You can’t know that, can you ?”

“Maybe, but this will never happen. You will never be alone.”

“You really think so ?”

“I Do. And I promise little wing, I promise...You won’t lose all of us. You won’t.”

Dick held his brother even tighter against him, and missed the unconvinced expression on Thomas’ face.

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

Your youngest son was still utterly terrified of losing any of you. But his terrible fit would pass now, he would calm down more easily, and wouldn’t cry until exhaustion...But it didn’t mean he wasn't afraid anymore.

Unfortunately.

“Death” was still a constant on his mind. One of the biggest question. Without much answers.

His mother and father said no one knew what happened after “death”, but Thomas wasn’t convinced. So he went to the only one he knew would tell him the truth, and was most likely to know...Tim.

His older brother was currently in the garden, studying for his finals. But oh he’d take a break for his little brother, of course.

Especially lately, as said little brother was overly worried and needed constant reassurance.

“Hi Timmy.”

“Hey little one.”

“Bothering you ?”

“You are not bothering me, never.”

“Can I ask you a question then ?”

“Of course.”

“What happens when we die ?”

Oof.

OOOOF.

Not something Tim could say he expected to be asked. Even as he knew Thomas was sort of obsessed with this lately. And ah...Ah he started to get lost into physiological effects of death, into science, into things Thomas could definitely not understand...

And into things he didn’t care about.

Thomas had no interest in knowing what happens to the corporeal side of things. To our bodies. He wanted to know where “we” went. Where the being went. The conscience.

Of course he wouldn’t word it that way, but it was easy to understand that it was what he meant when he said : “where do we go when we die ?”.

After a long time of Tim getting lost in many complex explanations about decomposition (what the Hell Tim ?), he finally stopped as he saw that Thomas was most definitely lost.

“Where do we go after we die ?”

“Yes. What happens ? You must know, you know everything !”

The faith his littlest brother put in him made him feel warm inside but...unfortunately on this subject he had to disappoint him.

“I..I don’t know about this, actually.”

Thomas looked crestfallen. Was nothing sacred anymore ?? Death existed, and the one he thought would always have a solution to everything didn’t know something that important !!

“There’s many theories.”

“What’s a theories ?”

“One theory, multiple theories. A theory is...an idea of how things might work.”

“What are the theory ?”

“Theories, plural.”

“What are the theories ?”

“Well. Some people think that you go into some kind of afterlife. It depends the culture, and the religion, and...many other factors. But there’s usually a few places we can end up.”

“And we’ll see the people who died there ? We’ll see them again ?”

“Supposedly so.”

“Is it sure ?”

“No, it’s just a theory.”

“You said a theory is an idea of how things might work.”

“An idea that might not be proven.”

“What’s the point then ?”

“Theorizing.”

“I don’t understand...”

Of course he didn’t, he was a smart little boy...But still just five. Tim sat down to his level, and looked at him in the eyes :

“Well. You have to understand that um...No one knows what happens after death. So we have to make theories, things that might or might not be. You understand ?”

“No.”

“Well, since we don’t know, we make things up. But maybe those things are right. Maybe they aren’t.”

“So the answer is we don't know ?”

“Yes. But there are theories ?”

“Ok. So aside from the place we see others again, what are the theories ?”

“Well (...)”

Tim was a patient boy. For hours and hours, he tried to explain every single “theory” people might’ve had about what happens after Death. And Thomas listened carefully.

Finally, Tim was done, and his brother said :

“So...No one really knows, and there’s a lot of theory...ies. Theories.”

“Basically.”

Thomas looked so discouraged. Tim was very well aware that none of what he told him really helped his brother, or reassured him...But ah. Tim was known to not lie. Which was a good thing. And he couldn’t possibly have a free conscience if he had told his brother just one theory of the after life, the nicest one, just to reassure him.

Of course, he wanted to reassure him. To distract him. But he would do so another way. Lying to him was not it.

Still, it was so disheartening to see this sweet little boy so crestfallen.

“Um, Well...I guess some people know.”

Thomas looked up at his brother, hopeful, waiting for him to continue.

“Like Constantine. But um, he’s sort of crazy. And dad doesn't want him around the house for...reasons you’ll understand when you’ll grow up. And-”

Ah but Thomas wasn’t listening to Tim anymore, and his monologue as to why maybe John Constantine wasn’t such a reliable source.

“Constantine” huh ? Interesting. Ah. Sometimes, Tim forgot how smart his little brother truly was...for a five years old. And how he took after his father, when it came to memory and attention to details.

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

This constant worry went on for quite just a few days. A few very eventful days, that were so...exhausting. Thomas was constantly scared for your lives, and would cry if anyone got hurt too much.

He would follow you around, and be way too stressed for such a little bean.

Everyone came to hide their injuries from him, tried to distract him from what they were doing when out as the Bats...But it was becoming a real problem.

How ? How could they make a little five years old understand that he couldn’t forever be afraid of death ? It was impossible. None of you, not even you, had the right words. There were no right words anyway.

You could tell him whatever you wanted, it’d never make him stop thinking about Death taking one of you with her, taking one of you far away from him.

“A place he cannot follow you to.”

How ? How could you help ?!

But the change had to come from within him, you would soon realize.

About a week after Ace’s death, and a truly painful few days of everyone being lost and unable to help the baby of the family... he suddenly spoke up, at dinner time :

“Mama, mama, if one day you die, I will bring you back. I promise. Same for daddy, and Dick, and Jason, and Cass, and Tim, and Duke, and Damian, and Alfred. I don’t know if we can bring dogs back, but humans yes ? And worst case scenario, I’ll conjure your spirit so I can say goodbye, and then I’ll know we’ll see each others again !”

“Wh-What ?”

“Stunned” doesn’t quite cover how you felt at your son’s sudden tirade, at dinner that night. Everyone was here, a rare occasion. Your one dinner a months that was mandatory for all your kids ! To make sure you’d all have moments together.

And boom. Came this monologue out of nowhere, from your small little five and a half years old son.

Stunned. Not a strong word enough to describe you, or your other children.

But Bruce. Oh Bruce. Bruce was frowning. Narrowing his eyes in a way you knew perfectly well...It meant he was angry at someone.

“Who told you all this, son ?”

“Mister Constantine.”

A growl. A scary growl. From deep within your husband’s throat. You would NOT want to be John next time he’d see

“How did you talk to him ?”

“I used your phone.”

“I don’t have his number on my...Wait, the bat phone ?!”

“Yes. The one you call uncle Clark on !”

“What the-...how did you-ugh ?!”

There were so many questions. So many.

“I copied what you do, on the phone. And I asked it if it could call the Constantine.”

“The Constantine”, this better not be a stupid way he called himself in front of his son, Bruce thought. Ah, and curse the fact he kept having kids that were too damn smart for their own good !

Kids this days. Growing up with technology. Able to work a batphobe at age 5 and a half !!

“Hope I helped little man - John Constantine”, said the note that came to the manor a few days later. Which made Bruce fume with rage, but Thomas beam happily.

Bruce was already planning to go after John, and force him to say what he told his son. But...But...

To be honest. Whatever he said. You didn’t care. You knew, more than anyone else, that “Death” wasn’t as definitive as it sounded at times. And you knew for certain there was something after you died. What ? You couldn’t be sure. But something. Another place. Or maybe reincarnation ? Who knew.

Deep in your heart though, you knew that no matter what, if you ever were to die...You’d see your family again. You weren’t sure how or where. It was just a certainty in your heart. A gut feeling.

Yes. You didn’t care what John told your son. If it could help him accept that everyone will die one day. Didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of losing you anymore. Oh no. But at least...At least he knew worrying about it lead nowhere. And to truly enjoy the moments of the present.

Whatever John said, it helped your son. That’s all that mattered. And as Thomas would grow up, you knew he’d understand things more and more.

He already knew he was luckier than many people. He had a loving family. They were all there with him for now (minus Ace, whom he missed every day). A lot of people couldn’t say the same thing.

Death was an odd thing. Especially in the World you lived in.

It wasn’t as definitive as some would say.

Your family knew that more than anyone else.

Death was an odd thing, that wasn’t always the ultimate end...

This, one day, Thomas would truly understand.

The end

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). Just a quick thing again, my bigger story (fake boyfriend trope with Bruce hehe) is coming soon. But in the mean time, felt compelled to write about this. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and liked it ? Not my best work :/, another quick drabble written very late at night eh. But nonetheless, fun to write ? Hope it’s not a disappointment, it’s just a thing to make ya wait for a more elaborate thing that I took a lot of care writing. Anyway it’s 4 am, time for bed :).

If you did, don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback or/and to reblog :). If you didn’t as well really, it’s always good to know what’s not good so I can improve (just stay civil please).

PS : Bonus point if you get where I’m trying to arrive at with those last few words about how definitive death is :p.

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Note

can you write christmas headcanons with the batboys, the batgirls, and bruce? like setting up the apartment/house and baking blablabla

✦ a/n — I’m writing this with the holiday celebrations as a secular thing in mind.

Bruce Wayne

Bruce honestly doesn’t have enough time to set up the manor, but he makes it up to you by actually helping you choose the decorations.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s enthusiastic about it, he’s just busy. And he makes as much time as possible for you and the family.

Bruce enjoys baking for the holidays. I’m sure that’s one of the few activities he enjoyed as a kid when Alfred tried to keep his mind off how sad the holidays would be without his parents.

December is like Gala Time™︎ so the season is hectic for everybody at the manor. Never a dull moment is spent at that house.

And he likes it that way. I think Bruce prefers the erratic nature of having the entire batfamily around him throughout the festivities, it’s a reminder that he isn’t alone even though he feels like it sometimes.

He goes out of his way to get everybody a special gift. Alfred helps, of course, but Bruce takes his time to give his input and think about them.

Dick Grayson

You find out he’s a good singer while decorating the apartment. He starts by whistling and then he’s full-on belting while singing different Christmas songs.

He claims he isn’t a “Christmas guy” but he enjoys the cheer the season brings. He finds it contagious. (He sooooo is a Christmas guy, but don’t tell him I told you.)

Dick’s less impulsive throughout the holidays because he doesn’t want to miss any party or event.

Really indecisive as to what to get his family for Christmas. He low key panics when it’s time to choose Damian’s present.

You will never get Dick Grayson to bake. I’m sorry, but he’s a menace in the kitchen. He also hates measuring ingredients.

Buuuuut, he’ll happily watch you and keep you company. He might take place in decorating cookies. They don’t turn out that pretty, but it’s a blast.

Jason Todd

Setting up the apartment with Jason is really fun. And he can reach anywhere so he does all the hard work.

However, when you get to the Christmas tree it isn’t as fun anymore.

You see, Jason is very protective of the people he loves. He loves you very much. And Christmas trees are a fire hazard.

He’s almost ready to throw out the tree but he can never say no to your puppy eyes. So he agrees. And he turns into a clean freak because “artificial trees collect dust and that makes them a fire hazard.”

I have this headcanon that Jason is a great cook and I also think he’s a great baker. The apartment usually smells amazing, and it smells even better throughout winter.

Don’t tell Alfred, but Jason’s cookies are the best in the world.

Tim Drake

I see him as somebody who’s really into the festive season.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” he says, unironically and with a sweet smile on his face.

Colors everywhere, stockings, mistletoe, ornaments... decorating the apartment takes you a few days because neither of you can decide how much is too much.

Not much of a baker, but he’ll give it a try just to have some festive fun.

He’s an expert at wrapping gifts. Seriously, he does it quickly and without a struggle.

I think everybody from the batfamily enjoys doing charity work around the holidays, but especially Tim.

Damian Wayne

I’m certain Damian didn’t grow up celebrating the holidays to the same level westerners did, and he probably started tolerating them in his late teens.

That being said, he prefers simple decorations. Too much color is headache-inducing and he thinks it doesn’t look good when a pallet isn’t being followed.

Tease him about how colorful Robin’s suit is and he’ll send you the deathliest glare you had ever seen.

Damian takes decorating cookies very seriously. And he’s a really good artist, so as expected, his cookies are gorgeous.

Never take him Christmas shopping, please, the world isn’t ready for that catastrophe. He does all his shopping online and he always knows what to buy for everybody.

Expect a gift that could only be considered as a lot. Damian doesn’t know what a small present is — or if he does, he chooses to ignore the concept.

Duke Thomas

The two of you slow dance surrounded by the Christmas lights when you’re done decorating the apartment.

Movie marathons are a usual thing for you, and they only get more frequent as the holidays approach because there are a lot of holiday movies and he loves most of them.

The entire month, he tries to take a peek into what you buy in case his gift is there. Sweet Duke doesn’t know you bought his gift earlier because of that specific reason.

He tries to get you to spill what you bought for him. Mostly with spontaneous kisses. He makes it reaaaaally hard to keep the secret, but you manage.

He’s a decent cook, but he cannot bake to save his life. He can bake pre-made stuff and even that turns out burnt sometimes.

Look, he’s busy rather often and he can’t remember everything he has to do — that includes that there’s good in the oven. BUT IT’S OKAY, HE’S CUTE, NOBODY’S PERFECT.

Barbara Gordon

Babs gets you matching Christmas sweaters for every occasion. You don’t know where she finds the ugly kind but she manages to get her hands on some atrocious stuff (in a fun way.)

The two of you most likely spend Christmas Eve at her family’s. She’ll be okay with visiting your family too, and will probably try to bring something special to charm your parents.

She’s already charming as she is, but festive!Babs is 100x more charming.

You have a tradition of giving each other awful gifts on Christmas Eve and good gifts on Christmas Day. She switches it one year and it’s chaos.

So. Many. Cute. Photos. Together. Dressed as elves, as Santa, as reindeer; with your Christmas sweaters; on your pajamas; dolled up for a party... you could fill an album with photos exclusively taken on the holiday season.

Christmas Day is for cuddling and eating candy you found on sale.

Stephanie Brown

Picture her in one of your sweaters, stretching her arm to teach the top of the tree so she can do the finishing touches. She’ll refuse your help, but will kiss you as soon as she’s done as a thank you for being helpful.

The two of you host a small holiday party at your apartment and the preparations are the most fun you’ve ever had.

Like finding Christmas markets in Gotham is hard and the city is awful sometimes, but the process is fun and Stephanie’s excitement makes it even better.

And the party is a success. Your friends are there, and your girlfriend is so happy because the apartment feels so much like home that you can be comfortable with hosting parties.

Instead of baking cookies and being a cute couple by smearing royal glass over each other’s faces only to clean each other, you have a gingerbread house competition.

It gets messy, and Steph laughs throughout the whole thing. Nobody wins, but it’s fun, and it isn’t particularly cute, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Cassandra Cain

Like Damian, she didn’t grow up celebrating the holidays as westerners do.

Cass isn’t the most open person in the world. She tries, but it’s hard for her sometimes. She makes more efforts around the holiday season. As cliche as it sounds.

If she’s spending the holidays with the batfam, she partakes in the family traditions Bruce has set up for everybody.

If she’s on her own with her S/O, I see her doing chill stuff. The two of you cook your favorite food and watch movies the entire day, perhaps indulge in a bottle of mauled wine or something of sorts.

She’d be okay with going to your family’s Christmas celebration as long as you also get time for yourselves later.

Cass will give you hands down the best Christmas gift you’ve ever received. She’s observant so it’s hard to hide things from her and that means she knows exactly what you want or need.

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #duke thomas x reader #barbara gordon x reader #stephanie brown x reader #cassandra cain x reader

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shhhhsh · 3 years

Text

About Tim’s New Story….

I just really hope they address Tim’s mental health. Like, DC just been ditching really good plot lines in favor of being “woke” or pandering. Just look at all the live action shows.

Now I’m not saying they can’t make Tim queer/bi/gay, but (as someone pointed out to me) Tim’s previous story writer was bi and he still chose to write Tim as straight & in a healthy romantic relationship with Stephanie Brown. I’ve seen several people who identify as queer/bi say that to have Tim go “ ooooh I’ve fooled myself into thinking I was straight, but now I’m freeeee” sends the message that Tim’s previous relationship failed b/c he was with a woman and not because of Tim’s poor mental and emotional health.

To go back to my previous statement; by him not writing Tim as bi tells me that he didn’t want or care for Tim to be bi, but instead saw Tim as, or preferred him to be, straight. The writer had free control to write Tim how ever he wanted and yet he chose to keep Tim straight. And he actually liked & wanted Tim/Steph. Again, I’m not saying Tim can’t be queer/bi, I’m just saying I find the motivations for this possible change very fishy. Almost as if the new writer is trying to get brownie points for pandering to a portion of the fans.

I think this way b/c in every other media where a character is revealed to be LGBTQ they just did it. They didn’t beat around the bush or do any queer coding/baiting. They either announced it, just made the character that way right out the gate, or just dropped the bomb w/out warning (as seen in Netflix’s Voltron, Amazon Prime’s Invincible, and Nickelodeon’s Legend of Korra respectfully).

DC currently has a bad habit changing things to be “woke” and bragging about it or shoving it in our faces. DC is becoming the “pick me girl” of superhero media. If you want to do it, just do it. Again I just get the “look at me, look at me” & “carrot on the stick” vibes from them now. If you truly feel in your heart to do something you would just do it without the need for recognition or to be so dramatic about it.

Now what I much rather see & think it’s a natural progression for Tim:

I personally believe that if Jason, Dick, & Damian can get a story that attempts to give them character development beyond romantic relationships (romance was more of a B-plot to the character driven A-plot anyway) I think they can give it to Tim as well.

I know that the Bat-Family all struggle with some form of mental health problems (most commonly paranoia and PTSD). However, I would like to point out that trauma is was what brought the others into the vigilante lifestyle, while Tim & Barbara became traumatized because of the vigilante lifestyle. Yet, Barbara was shown overcoming her trauma and using it as motivation to get better. Tim is yet to have this moment.

We all know that Tim struggles with depression, self-esteem, and suicidal tendencies. I mean heck, him becoming Red Robin only happens because of Tim’s degrading mental health. I hate to say it, but Tim is very psychologically broken and has been show to get so depressed that he can’t even get out of bed some times. To my knowledge, Tim is the only one in the Bat-Fam that struggles in his head with the idea of not being needed, useful, or forgotten when in reality that is furthest from the truth (Steph, Jason, & Damian also feel like the black sheep periodically, but that is because they have been presented with real evidence that would lead them to logically believe this. I.e being actually forgotten or dismissed for past mistakes despite great efforts to better themselves).

While yes, Dick did Tim dirty by replacing him without having a proper conversation first, the motivation was because he saw Tim as his equal and not Damian. He thought highly of Tim, but Tim couldn’t see that over his offense. Tim is so beat down by life that he see’s everything with negative lenses. Everyone came to check on Tim’s mental health but Tim took it as an insult instead.

And even though now Tim has reached some form of “peace” in his life, that only happens because the people he lost came back (Bruce, Conner, Bart, Cassie, etc). Tim never fully learned to handle grief, to handle his emotions, instead he represses them. Again in the Red Robin run, the main reason he doesn’t believe in any form of God is because he can’t logically justify the pain he has gone through. He is hurting and doesn’t know how to deal with that. In his original Robin run, when he tried talking someone out of committing suicide……the words and comfort he gave….that wasn’t something that was just inside Tim, this is something that was told to Tim. This is followed by him calling Dick to get the same pep-talk he just regurgitated to someone else.

In short: Tim is hurting. Deeply. And having been someone who’s emotional & mental sanity was pushed to the brink and attempted to jump off several times, I think it’s really sad that DC just ignores it. Now as someone who’s gotten the help they needed & now helps other people who struggle with the same issues as myself & Tim, I think that they’re going to say a lot of Tim’s problems come from him not being “aware” of his own sexuality, which is just sad.

In the story in question, Barbara talks about Tim not having a solid identity. People are more than their sexuality. People are capable of making future decisions for themselves without it hindering on their sexuality. If Tim was real, I would brake down his struggle as so:

Tim refuses to go to college and do something more with his life because he cannot see anything beyond his current circumstance. And the only reason why Tim cannot see anything beyond his circumstance is because he has no internal sense of purpose, identity, and acceptance beyond the cape & cowl. And when Tim finally found that in being Robin, Tim held onto it as a lifeline. There’s a reason why everyone says Tim is basically Bruce 2.0: it’s because he is Robin/Red Robin/Drake & Tim is the mask. At a young age, he did not grow up having these things instilled into him due to his parents neglecting him at a very important age in his development. Tim raised himself, and for a lack of better terms; an idiot cannot teach themselves to be smarter, an idiot becomes smarter by learning from the intelligent. A child can’t teach themselves to be an adult, they have to learn from others to grow & better themselves.

Now a parent doesn’t necessarily have to sit down and give a lesson about how to be an individual, but children learn how to live life by watching their parents. A good example of this is the rest of the Bat-Fam; they all grew up with some form of parental figures that taught them how to behave (for better or worse). Of course children have their own personalities, which is why two kids can go through the same type of trauma but come out differently, but it is a battle of nature vs nurture. Steph, Jason, Cass, & Damian grew up in abusive/unstable homes, while Dick, Barbara, & Bruce grew up in loving homes, but their personalities & character dictated how they responded to trauma. They took what life gave them and decided what to leave or take.

Tim had nothing to work with & is basically playing catch-up with the rest of his peers.

In a weird sense, Tim is like Zuko from The Last Airbender: only living to serve their father’s purpose. Anything outside of that they don’t know what to do. They’ve been trained to be something externally without been given a chance to figure out who they are internally.

Again you are not your sexuality, your sexuality does not determine who you are as a person. When a person struggles through life, it is due to the conditions of thier soul. Everything starts internally and shows it’s self externally.

I want to make that very clear because I am truly scared that in DC’s attempt to claim “clout” they are missing the bigger picture. Tim doesn’t have identity problems simply because he “doesn’t know” he likes boys, but because DC never gave him is own identity to begin with. Robin was never his own identity, Red Robin was never his, & Drake was his first attempt to make his own but he quickly gave it up so that he can be Robin once again. What is Tim going to do once Damian gets back? Is Damian going to get his own identity before Tim? Or is Tim just going to go back to one of his old identities?

I would like for Tim to personally move on from being a vigilante and rejoin civilian society for a while. Go to college, do something for himself and only for himself. Give Tim the self-discovery story, let him heal, and grown to be his own person. Besides you can never have a functional romantic relationship if you are not a functional individual. Self love > romantic love.

#red robin #batman #dc comics #tim drake #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #damian al ghul #damian wayne #stephanie brown #batgirl #cassandra cain #batfam #robin #I just want a good and meaningful story that doesn’t have some secret agenda #just do right by Tim #beware the pandering #not everything has to be about romance

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bonyarishitafuan · 3 years

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A lot of people probably are gonna hate me for this, and if you disagree with what I’m about to say, please don't bother to respond, just ignore me completely and move on, go make yourself happy.

It’s just that I honestly don't see how this:

can be the same as this:

Personally, I don't care for Dick-lite Pre-Crisis Jason at all, because he’s never seemed to me a real character with any real personality of his own, and I just really don’t buy the idea of a teenager, with still very recently murdered parents that might as well be every bit as the same kind of loving parents and positive influences to their kid as the Flying Graysons, getting over the loss of their old parents’ and accepting someone they’ve only just met around the time their parents died as his true new parent in practically no time at all...especially when it’s happened in a world where a preteen could end up spending the rest of his adulthood fighting crimes in a bat suit after witnessing his parents being gunned down by a mugger.

The only thing Pre-Crisis/Earth 1 Jason Robin seemed to have going on was being a son to Batman/Bruce (and a son to Nocturna, because clearly if he could’ve gotten over his real dad so easily, why wouldn’t he have also gotten over his real mom and come to think of this mysterious criminal lady as his true new mom when she had wanted so much for him to be her son and they had lived together for like a week)--and I feel that if the executives at the time had really wanted Bruce to become a dad, they'd probably just let him settle down and give him a biological child as in the Golden Age, but instead they gave him a second Robin; and the way they laid themselves out to make the relationship between him and this second Robin to be exactly father-and-son despite the fact that Bruce would’ve had to be real stupid to actively endangering a young person whom he consider his own little boy by bringing him to fight crimes just never sits right with me.

It always seems to me like they’re just trying to retcon the original Batman and Robin relationship without actually retconning Bruce and Dick, who hadn’t really been Bruce’s adopted kid just then and had often regarded his mentor Bruce as more of his older brother/closest friend rather than just plain old “dad”--It’s like they’re just trying to remove every implication that there's ever anything gay/creepy in the original Batman and Robin dynamic, simply by bringing in another Robin character, one with the exact same backstory as Dick and nothing that could actually differentiate him from Dick (except him being originally blond-haired and himself outright telling people that he’s “not Dick” in one of his few featurings in the New Titans where he’s portrayed as every bit as much as a smart, decent, capable young person equipped to be a successful young hero just as Dick Robin or Tim Robin would’ve easily been portrayed), and making his relationship with Batman to be plainly, unequivocally father-and-son, then with there being no actual difference between Robin II and Robin I and the two Robins being virtually the same, sure the viewers would see that the relationship between Batman and Robin II and the relationship between Batman and Robin I are very much the same too, and no one could say if there’s any resemblance of a gay couple with a creepy age difference in the original Batman and Robin’s dynamic ever again since they’ve always been father and son.

It just feels so manipulative to me and I hate it, but that’s just how I feel and I’m not saying that it’s truly the case. I’m sorry if this offends anyone who loves Earth 1 Jason. If you love him, that’s great. There’s nothing wrong to love a wholesome Robin and his altogether wholesome relationship with Batman, nor there’s anything wrong to love Red Hood Jason but prefer his softer New52 version which would’ve certainly seemed to be a less drastic change from his Pre52 version if he’s more like his Earth 1 counterpart to begin with.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong to prefer one version of a character to another, to just say fuck canon and recreate a character you love into the way you could enjoy them most and have all the fun you want with them.

What gets to me and drives me bonkers, is when people couldn’t just be happy with their headcanon, but have to go out of their way to tell other people that it’s fact that Pre-Crsis/Earth 1 Jason and Post-Crisis/New Earth Jason are the same character, while in actuality, they weren’t even meant to be the same in the first place.

If DC had ever wanted to just keep using Pre-Crisis Jason but give him a new backstory, they would just follow up on whatever he had been doing with Bruce as his pre-crisis self while casually throwing in his new backstory at some point, just as they did with a lot of other characters such as Donna post-crisis, not give him a full reintroduction in Batman #408 and rewrite his relationship with Bruce from the ground up.

It just makes me want to scream, when people, who never seems to have a lot of problems with Under the Hood and maybe also Lost Days, have to go out and call every portrayal of Pre-52 Jason and some of the more recent Red Hood Jason that shares a resemblance to him wrong for not portraying Jason as that sweet little bookworm he really truly was, and that an entire different life experience just cannot change a character in any substantial way, and Jason being an angry kid with aggressive and violent tendencies is just something that had never been established until the more recent retcon/the OOC work of Jim Starlin, while in truth Pre-Crisis Jason with the exact same backstory as Dick just simply cannot be the same as Crime Alley Kid Jason, who doesn’t even have the same biological parents as Pre-Crisis Jason to provide him with the same gene that the Flying Todds, which were Joe and Trina Todd, had created their son with.

If Pre-Crisis Jason and Post-Crisis Jason are one and the same, then it’d mean Dick is also very much the same as Jason is the same as Tim is the same as Damian is the same as Bruce and no one character is truly unique and special because every character ever made is just an alternate version of another character.

It had been shown most clearly since his first appearance that Post-Crisis/New Earth Jason, other than literally being a different kid with the same name, was nothing like his pre-crisis counterpart, but rather a bold, outspoken, confrontational, fully independent and proactive ghetto kid, who had got some serious stones to rob Batman’s gear, actually succeed in taking the tire off the freaking Batmobile and getting away originally, and had only run into Batman when he had come back to steal more, and called Batman a “big boob” after he had given him a good hit right in his Bat stomach.

This precious cupcake here↓

↑...that was often used as a proof that the NE Angry Robin Jason is a later retcon/ mere misconception had actually only ever existed in Detective Comics #569-573 during the earlier part of the writer Mike Barr’s run. These 5 issues from Barr are all notably 60s-ish, and while they’re published after CoIE and Batman Year one, it’s clear that they’re Earth 1 stories, seeing that they’re written with characters such as Earth 1 Catwoman. It was only in #574 that Jason’s New Earth origin was first introduced in Detective Comics, right before Batman Year Two; and although the issue was still written by Mike Barr and it did seem to have followed directly after #573, the previous issue was ended with the caption of “The New Origin of Batman”, and the tone of #574 as well as the writer’s latter issues and his portrayal of Jason Robin were no longer the same.

↑Detective Comics #574↑

It was stated by Bruce repeatedly, in both his own title and Detective Comics, that the reason he had taken in NE Jason as his new Robin was to save him from walking down the wrong path and to provide an outlet for his rage.

While no doubt Jim Starlin’s NE Jason Robin (that everyone hates) was the most aggressive and violent, it had never contradicted how the character was initially written by Max Allen Collins, the writer of Batman #408.

↑Batman #410 by Collins↑

↑ Batman #411 by Collins, after Jason had found out that Willis was murdered by Two-Face and Bruce had been hiding the information from him ↑

Although in the end of Batman #411, Jason did seem to have gotten over his anger and saved Two-Face’s life, judging by the way he’d talked about his dad Willis in his first introduction and the fact that he’d never before bothered to find out what had happened to the man the whole time while he’s in the manor where he had all the resources to acquire the information, it was doubtful that he and Willis had had a good relationship, and what he’d felt for his crook dad then could hardly be the same as what he felt later in “The Diplomat’s Son” story.

NE Jason had always been consistent in being a fearless, proactive, feisty individual with a hot temper, even in the hand of a writer with a much mellower sense of writing like Mike Barr.

↑ Jason and Bruce encountered Two-Face again in Detective Comics #580-581 by Barrs ↑

It had been established from the get-go that NE Jason Robin was the type of kid who would challenge Batman and go out handling a criminal on his own without consulting him or anyone else first, and was morally questionable with tendencies to aggression and violence, which was perfectly understandable for someone with his background--Only at the beginning it’s easy to brush these things off, because there's never any real consequence to his behavior and so Bruce was okay when he’d behaved this way at the beginning, and since Jason’d still got a lot to learn and was eager to learn from Bruce at the beginning, it would only be right that he’s more agreeable and willing to obey Bruce, but once he had completed his training and been allowed on the field, it would also only be right for him to feel like he had learnt enough and gotten the hang of the business already, and so just easily slipped into his old habit of handling things on his own, just as he had always been while he had been surviving in the Crime Alley on his own before Bruce came along.

NE Jason Robin wasn’t suddenly turned from 0-100 in The Diplomat’s Son story (though I really doubt that it’d be impossible for someone, especially someone around Jason’s age, to go from 0-100 if they have to deal with what Jason had dealt with in the story)--

↓ This didn’t happen until after the diplomat’s son was let go by the police due to his status, and on his way out of the police station where he’d been initially brought in by Jason and Bruce for raping and kidnapping an innocent woman, the mofo called his victim right in front of Jason and Bruce and threatened her on the phone, which led the woman to immediately commit suicide.

I’ve always thought it’s a good story and a lot more tasteful than it’s usually given credit for. It wouldn’t even have been the first time a “teenage superhero” has killed in the DCU (whether it was accidental or intentional); it’s certainly not something so dark and controversial that DC wouldn’t go for it, they could’ve easily just gone for it and had Jason Robin murder a criminal then, except they never really showed that he did. The audience just naturally assumed that he did because the whole scene was shown through Bruce’s view, and Bruce could see that even if Jason didn’t really kill the rapist then, he might very well be capable of it, and it makes the whole Under the Hood storyline as well as the continuation of Red Hood Jason possible.

The concept of Under the Hood and the continuing existence of Red Hood Jason works, instead of just being a complete character assassination like One-Year-Later Cass, only with Jason being his post-crisis version with all of his very established traits and his very established problems with Bruce.

If Under the Hood Jason is indeed Earth 1 Jason or similar to him, he would really need to be under some outside influence for him to do the things he had done, for there’s just no other justification for his action.

He would really have to be driven mad by the effect of the Lazarus Pit (which has only ever been showed to exist momentarily on other characters), he would have to be incapacitated the whole time, unable to control his own action or even form any conscious decision--and it would only make it extremely possible for him to do something truly awful such as killing some innocent or other heroes or even someone in the Batfam, since he wouldn’t be able to stop himself even if he wanted to, or be able to tell if that’s wrong; that’s what being incapacitated means, that’s why people who’s committed crimes, even as bad as murders, cannot be held legally accountable when they’re proven to be mentally ill--and if that’s truly the case, then Bruce as well as Dick (who had a pretty amicable relationship with Earth 1 Jason) and everybody else who has any knowledge about the matter would all have to be some real awful persons to not lift a finger to help him, by making it a point to stop him from committing any more murder that he wouldn’t have committed if he could help it, and figuring out a way to relieve him from the influence by means of the various science and magic overflowing in their world, like they’ve repeatedly done for many others who’ve been in the similar position, and eventually getting him the hell out of this altogether traumatic crime-fighting life, so he could finally begin to heal from his extensive traumas, including being forced to kill which has always been a very common cause of PTSD for soldiers at war; and even if Jason doesn’t leave the crime-fighting life forever, he could no longer continue operating as the Red Hood; it’d just make no sense for him to keep up the identity previously belonged to his murderer, and have it constantly remind him of how he didn’t just get brutally murdered, he was also forced into becoming a murderer himself, which.he never would’ve become if he wasn’t literally out of his mind.

Moreover, there could never have been a Tim Robin (even if Tim didn’t go by Robin but something else), if the Jason who died in A Death in the Family had the same disposition as Earth 1 Jason and none of his NE traits which was the one and only justification Bruce had for taking in Tim as his third teenage partner, seeing that Tim is patient and careful and cooperative with all the qualities to become the same kind of hero like Dick, and not at all “reckless” and “rebellious” like NE Jason, and so he’s likely to turn out like Dick and not get himself killed like Jason (that’s the only true significant retcon Pre52 Jason had. Although NE Jason Robin could be rather reckless and rebellious, that’s certainly not why he had gotten killed. They just made Bruce and everyone pretend that that’s what killed him, so it wouldn’t seem so utterly horrible for Bruce to endanger another teenage kid with no superpower or any previous fighting training by bringing them in the business that had already gotten one kid killed, and also for Dick and everyone else to just let him).

It’s a complete disregard of facts and logic to call Earth 1 Jason and Red Hood Jason the same character, which doesn’t really matter as long as it’s only headcanon; but when people push it as a fact, it really just sound to me like they’re saying that it’s wrong to like Pre 52 Jason/Post-Crisis Jason Robin, which I very much do because I actually think he’s an interesting character with an interesting and more coherent story than a lot of other DC characters.

It’s like they’re saying that it’s just plain wrong and unnatural for a person to have aggressive and violent tendencies and be inclined to criminal behavior simply because they had grown up in a most crime-infested place and had to rely on themselves and learned to do what it takes to survive since before twelve, or become more and more violent simply because they’ve been made to work in an extremely violent environment and have never been provided with any kind of actual aid for their mental health the entire time.

It’s like that if a person, after being brutally murdered and then coming back to find that their mentor/guardian who was the closest thing they had to a family and was also responsible for their death in a major way just didn’t seem to be giving any shit about that at all, is filled with such murderous rage that they could very well just go out and kill a bunch of criminals, but they aren’t actually a smol whump baby with no absolutely agency of their own that must be protected at all times all along, then they’re just no good at all and don’t deserve any love or respect or understanding.

...I don’t like myself for ranting about this. I hope I could just not give any shit about this dumb thing, but it’d been driving me crazy and I’d just got to let it out.

#dc #DC comics #jason todd #batman #red hood #Robin II

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gaitwae · 3 years

Text

The Dark Angel [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Possibility of being bad, it’s a sequel.

Length: 8k

Summary: Bruce Wayne and Charlene fluff, i don’t really know XD

Ring, ring, ring.

The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon when the telephone rang, violently and loudly. Internally, Bruce knew it wasn’t an emergency — it was someone trying to reach him before the day started. If it was an emergency, the caller wouldn’t have dialed the Blackberry. It wasn’t the red phone; the small cell was for business, not pleasure, so it wasn’t that either; he had a small rotary for the boys in case they were sick or held up at the university or high school (or in Damian’s case, soccer practice). The ringing phone was the Blackberry.

His thoughts were all over the place. In the beginning, his first thought was that he really needed to change the ringtone. It sounded like Christmas bells on Kryptonian steroids. The darn thing was just outside of Bruce Wayne’s reach for the first time in years; that thought alone was infuriating to him. The more he dwelled on someone calling the Blackberry…

Ring, ring, ring.

“Not today,” he swore, heaving a sigh and hoisting himself off of the bed. His Blackberry kept buzzing and playing its tone on the nightstand like an angry massage tool from Tartarus. He wiped his face, and just before the contraption could finish its next Ring, ring, ring, he answered the call. “Bruce Wayne.” His tone was gruff; he wanted to make sure the caller knew that the excuse better be good. The billionaire wasn’t in the mood to play games with the idiot on the other line.

“It’s Clark,” the voice on the opposite end answered. Bruce tensed. Clark had no reason to call him this early — had something happened with Charlene? Did their trip to Smallville get tracked?

“Clark —”

“Don’t worry; this isn’t life-threatening. You left something in that suit jacket you lent me,” his friend explained. “We should talk… Soon.”

The tension that built in Bruce left instantaneously. He had almost forgotten: Weeks ago, an envelope had been slipped into the inside pocket for Clark to find. He couldn’t risk saying something around Charlene, or anyone else who could have found her, when the risk was so high. He didn’t expect Kent to find it immediately, but he didn’t think it would take weeks to discover the note.

“I placed it in the jacket intentionally,” Bruce replied. He laid back down, closing his eyes. He would have to go downstairs soon. The boys would need to be woken up. Alfred would reprimand him about his sleep, telling him that a ‘sound body and mind cannot operate under such conditions,’ when he came downstairs. He could already see where the day was taking him. “I was banking on you finding it much earlier. Why did it take you so long?”

A pause.

“I don’t think she’s going to like this, Bruce.” He could hear shuffling over the mic, the crinkling of paper. “She really won’t like this. She just bought a house; this is quite a big commitment.”

“I’m not proposing, Clark; calm down.” Bruce rubbed a finger under his eye once or twice. He didn’t have the patience so soon in the day. He reached over to his bedside table and switched on the lamp. “She would despise that, not to mention how we haven’t talked about it, yet.”

“I didn’t even know you two were really together.” Clark’s tone reflected an edge — either protective, disgusted, or judgemental — that told Bruce exactly how much trust he had when it came to Charlene Park. “The last I heard about the two of you was your most recent trip to Metropolis.”

“When I met with Luthor,” Bruce guessed. He chewed his cheek; he didn’t mind talking about Char, but when it came to his relationship with her, he preferred not to be bothered — his affections didn’t need to be questioned left and right. Char was a grown woman. She chose Bruce; that should have been the end of it. “We’ve seen each other in Gotham since then. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you.”

“Yeah, with Luthor. Char said you had coffee and she babysat Damian,” he said. His voice was rising. For having impermeable skin, Bruce was having surprising luck getting underneath it. “And what do you mean ‘surprised she hasn’t told you’? What are you implying? That you’re sleeping together?”

“We’re taking it slow,” Bruce answered. “If we were sleeping together, I’d be the one to tell you. You’ll be glad to hear that we aren’t.” Clark scoffed over the phone; clearly, he didn’t believe that. “I just thought you’d like to know what I’m planning; Diana will need to be informed as well. This is important. Char’ll need all the help she can get.”

“You know, I never did take you for the type of guy to be with Charlene,” the other man continued. “You’re brooding and dark; she’s not like that at all. You’ve got some nerve—”

“Is this all you needed, Clark?” the billionaire deadpanned, cutting the Kryptonian off. He looked over at the bedside clock. It read 4:22 AM . Superman was far more worried than he was letting on if he was calling at the witching hour.

He didn’t need to be. Bruce would make sure that the woman was safe above anything else — he loved her too much to just put her in harm’s way.

“You know she’ll be fine,” Wayne reassured.

“Do you think this is safe for Charlene? This lifestyle?” the journalist whispered into the phone. “Lois couldn’t handle it; who knows if Char can?”

“She’s more involved than we ever anticipated,” Bruce said. He wet his lips. Lois left Clark? Unsurprising. “She’ll be excited to join. She has the potential; why waste it?”

“What will the boys think? They’ll think they’re getting a mom.”

He huffed a half-humored laugh. The boys didn’t know yet — no one knew. Clark was the first to be told. “They love Char. It shouldn’t be an issue to let them think that. Damian already told her she would be the only acceptable candidate for a stepmother. In the next decade, they might have one.”

“You can’t be serious. You’d marry Char? She’s going to join the League?”

“I’m plenty serious. She’s going to be part of the Justice League’s inside informants if she wants to. Whether you approve or not.” He didn’t answer the marriage question. Marrying Charlene would require more time. He wasn’t ready; she hadn’t hinted at anything more. She had only stayed at the manor twice — he felt that was enough of a leap for now.

He didn’t need to marry her out of the blue, did he?

“I don’t approve. She’s delicate. What if she thinks that your attempt at being personal is —?”

“Goodbye, Kal-El.” Without another word, Bruce hung up the phone. Clark had too many worries; too many things on his mind. He was so preoccupied with Charlene’s life that he had to ask about her relationship instead of the plan to incorporate her into the League. He needed to let go and learn to trust others’ judgement… But then again, some could say the same thing about the Batman.

Bruce sat up in bed. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Charlene or said he never thought about fully committing. It had been three years since the gala; things were going well between them. If he was just a billionaire, he might have tried harder, pressed for marriage instead of bringing it up every now and then.

But he wasn’t just a billionaire.

Bruce wiped his face again and looked out his bay window. He could see the area of town where he first saw her… where the Batman thought Charlene Park would jump to her death. He hadn’t expected to even meet her after that. He hadn’t expected a wonderful woman who understood him. Meeting her seemed so long ago now. It seemed against reality to think he hadn’t known her at one point in time.

He could make a few calls before seeing his family, maybe create a funding account for Char when she was ready to join the League; he knew she wouldn’t say no if he explained himself the right way. She was warming up to the idea of helping him with all aspects of life — he was warming up to the idea of domesticity. At the same time, making the calls would be presumptuous. Who knew if Charlene wanted that, yet? He didn’t want to do anything without talking to her.

Char may have understood the Batman, but he certainly couldn’t predict her. The identity guessing and the kiss and the entire history of their relationship proved that fact over and over and over like a natural law. Everyone thought they were gravity: dangerous; inevitable; fitted perfectly to the human body like Earth’s atmosphere.

He thought they were just a coincidence that turned into a gift. Charlene was an angel; he was her knight in shining armor.

“Time to start the day,” Bruce mumbled. He got up from his bed. He looked out the bay window once again. He sighed deeply.

Gotham City.

Would this place really be safe as Charlene’s future home?

He looked away, resting his head against his pillow and trying to sleep again. The attempt wasn’t very fruitful — eventually, he got up and dressed for the day. He tinkered with the gadgets he had created for Char, tweaking it and wondering whether or not to pick up the phone and call her. Every day was another failed attempt to be the hero she needed.

“Ah! Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred Pennyworth greeted the dark knight as he descended from the stairway. The old man handed him a glass of water and the stack of letters that had been delivered overnight. “I take it you had a restful night?”

“Barely,” he sighed, squeezing his old friend’s shoulder in appreciation. Bruce drank from the glass, feeling the coolness spread downward. It was calming, but not the calm he needed. “I got a call from Clark Kent at about four in the morning. How are the boys? Are they all up? I had something I wanted to talk to them about.”

“Damian is awake; Dick has left for school; Tim is still sleeping; Jason never slept, I’m afraid.” Alfred cocked his head, eyebrows lifting as he studied his former ward. He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a careful breath, asking in a wary voice, “Is everything alright, Master Bruce? Was Mr. Kent’s call that important, sir?”

“Yes and no,” Bruce answered. He didn’t clarify; he couldn’t think of an answer for each question. He scratched his neck, taking Alfred with him as he walked down the hall. Each picture on the walls was of the Wayne family, and as he got closer to the end of the hall, each of the boys. Dick with his acceptance letter to Rutgers University; Damian’s birthday; Jason against a tree; Tim playing guitar. Countless family pictures. There was a spot on the wall waiting for Char, he realized. “We’ll just have to talk about it when Dick comes home. I’ll sit the other boys down and tell them not to leave.”

“Sir?” Alfred asked, now flabbergasted. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” he said. He tried for a smile. Alfred didn’t relax, so Bruce stopped. “It’s just about Charlene.”

The butler nodded deeply. He leaned in and looked about the room to make sure no one was spying on them. The corridor was empty. He held his breath to listen, but the only sounds were their shoes clicking on the tile. “Sir, is Charlene… leaving us?” Alfred whispered. “I thought you and she were getting along rather nicely.”

Bruce didn’t react. “I’ll talk about it later tonight, Alfred. I’ll need to see Char when she comes back from Kansas — if she’s leaving, we’ll find out after I visit her.” He clapped Alfred’s shoulder. “But if she isn’t, we might have to reclean the guest room.”

“The guest room, sir?” Pennyworth grinned.

Bruce found himself surprised at that. Another joke, obviously, but he just hadn’t thought about that sort of arrangement with any seriousness. “Yes — she’s not going to be in my room, Alfred.”

“A woman who’s not so worldly, eh?” the butler chuckled.

Bruce smirked. “No, it would seem not.”

°°°

Charlene would have to say that her morning wasn’t going perfectly. Going down to see Johnathan and Martha was one of the best parts of the year. It was the best part of the upcoming summer season! But this morning, this last week, she had noticed that Clark was acting insane. Her instincts told her to ask, to say something, but she got swept away with her pseudo-parents fluttering about her and asking how life was in the big city.

“You look so grown up, now!” Martha cooed. She set her hands on Char’s shoulders and turned her about, checking her face over. Charlene had stayed with Martha and Johnathan for two years when she was a teenager. They were the closest she had to family. Every summer, she returned to stay with them for two weeks — whether or not Clark was there. Martha, now satisfied with how Charlene’s physique and health was, found her gaze set on the newscaster’s newest gift from Bruce: A small locket pendant graced with a rose-shaped diamond, tied around her neck by a silver chain. “I love this new piece of jewellery you’re wearing, sweetheart. What is it?”

“Has Clark finally made a move?” Johnathan asked. He took a sip from his coffee cup, craning his neck to see the necklace. He turned his head sideways at it, then hummed. “It’s gorgeous, honey. Whose gift was that? Was that from my boy?” He laughed, looking over at Kal-El. “Did you buy that for Char, son?”

“Er, no.” Char laughed nervously, holding the locket in her hand to hide it. “He isn’t going to make a move. He didn’t buy it. I’m seeing someone else; it’s going pretty well. He’s a businessman, single father.”

“Who are you seeing?” Martha gasped. She pushed a mug of coffee into Charlene’s hands, shuffling about the kitchen to try and find some food for everyone. This conversation was just before breakfast. “It’s such a nice necklace! When can we meet him?”

“He doesn’t want to push things too fast,” Char explained. She smiled brighter than she wanted to; she was nothing but happy when she talked about Bruce. She hadn’t seen him in almost three weeks due to work and flight preparations, his business meetings, and whatever secret project he was working on. “He’s got three sons and a ward who’s planning on surprising him with adult adoption papers for next Father’s Day.”

“That sounds just…,” Martha trailed off, pressing her lips together as she thought of the words. Charlene knew she was a little wary, almost disappointed. Seeing a man with multiple children either meant he was one of the sweetest men in the world or one of the more careless. How he raised his children was a completely different story. Not wanting to spread Bruce’s life story around to everyone, she just figured it was better to keep quiet about it. “How old is this man?”

“He’s thirty-seven,” she continued. “He, uh, adopted two of the three sons. The youngest was a different situation. Clark’s met him already.”

Johnathan nodded. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to Clark, who was still acting off. “So he’s a good man, then?”

“One of the best men,” Charlene swore. She opened the locket, looking at the picture of Bruce holding a rose to the camera on the inside with an inscription on the opposite side: “More than you know. - B.W.”

She showed Martha and Johnathan. Martha set a hand on her heart and Johnathan’s shoulder, smiling at the picture and carved words. “We’re taking it slow and old-fashioned; eventually, I’ll bring him down here for you to meet. Or he’ll invite you to his home — whichever comes first.” She grinned, closing the locket. Martha smiled at her.

“How long have you two been seeing each other? It seems like this man loves you,” Martha said. “Does he know your history? When did he give that pretty thing to you?”

“Yes, he knows my history. He gave me the locket about two months ago. I took him to my favorite spot in Metropolis and gave him a few written letters about my feelings.” She scratched her scalp. “The next time he saw me, he said he couldn’t just let me be the only one who ‘let their affections come to light.’” She laughed at her imitation of Bruce. Martha gasped and grinned.

“So you’re taking it so slow you haven’t told him you love him, yet?” Clark scoffed behind her. “You wrote a letter? After two years?” Charlene rolled her eyes, turning to see her best friend of nearly twenty years. The Kents’ faces drew up in surprise, but Char just frowned. He had barely said anything last night and this morning. Why did the first thing have to be about his distaste for Bruce?

“He knows I do; you know he isn’t big on words. We’ve found other ways of telling each other.” She crossed her arms. Clark mirrored her movement, rolling his eyes. He took his glasses off and set them on the table, pinching his lids closed. “How many times are we going to have to talk about this? I know you don’t like the idea of me dating anybody, but it’s going to happen. I might even get married; are you going to make nasty comments about that, too?”

“I might if it’s him. He’s going to get you killed, Charlene. Do you have any idea what he’s got planned for you?” He raised his hands and then dropped them.

“No, not really. Gosh, Clark, you realize it doesn’t matter. You’re Superman. He’s not any different from you. Let it go.” She waved her hand in dismissal. She tried to turn back to Martha and Johnathan. She didn’t want to get into the I’m-dating-Batman explanation today.

Kal-El screamed in frustration, hovering off the floor by a few centimeters. He combed his hair with his fingers — with both hands — giving away how anxious he was. Charlene knew there was more than he was telling her. “No, I won’t, Char. You need to be careful! He left a note in the suit jacket he left me, I called him—”

“Wait. Stop,” Char said, cutting him off and trying not to sigh in exasperation. She was getting tired of being constantly questioned over her boyfriend. He wasn’t dangerous, he wasn’t rude, he wasn’t going to kill her. Bats tried to actively keep her out of the dangerous details of his life; eventually, that would change… but wasn’t going to change yet. “This is about you two not communicating, again. Isn’t it?”

“I—,” he started. Charlene pointed her finger at him, hushing the alien. He shut up quickly at her silent threat. They both knew she couldn’t hurt him. Sometimes just the idea of her trying worked, though. He set his feet on the floor again. Char set her hands on her hips, taking a step back.

“Deal with that on your own. Please. I don’t want to break up with him because you’re acting like a kid, Clark.” She wiped her face. She knew that Ma and Pa were watching them argue and she didn’t like it. She hated being the center of attention (one of the Wayne boys would say that was ridiculous, considering she was a newscaster). “I appreciate you worrying, but I know what I’m getting into.”

Clark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And what if you find out years along the way that you don’t want to be Bruce’s wife?”

“That’s why we’re taking it slow, Clark. I’m not going to abandon you like Lois did; I’m not going to do the same thing to him, either.” She looked at the clock. “It’s six in the morning. Let’s help with chores, yeah?”

“You’ve gotten quite commanding since I’ve last seen you,” Martha chuckled. “Does all this change come from that Bruce?” She used the name in a teasing manner, which made the younger woman laugh. The old mother set plates out for breakfast.

“Yes, it is,” Char said. “He and Clark work together. He’s not too thrilled with me being a hero’s partner, yet.” She shrugged, sitting down at the table. Johnathan clapped her shoulder lovingly. Clark sat down next to Pa.

“They’re a good brand. If Clark trusts him enough to work with him, I don’t see why you can’t go with him.” Johnathan snickered. “Speaking of going with people. Son, have you heard back from that lovely Amazonian woman? You know, since you’re not with that reporter lady and, apparently, you gave us the wrong idea about Charlene. Honestly, I’m not too surprised about the Charlene bit; you two could never figure out if you were friends, siblings, or edging something more for as long as I can remember.”

“Pa, come on,” Clark whined. He crossed his arms, his cheeks colored with a red flush. Char didn’t know the Man of Steel would get embarrassed over Wonder Woman. She suppressed a giggle. And then he started stuttering. “Diana isn’t interested in me — Be-Besides, it doesn’t even matter. She’s a — She’s a very nice woman and I’m her colleague. That’s all. I’m going to steer clear of dating for a while. Sorry we didn’t tell you Char was seeing someone.”

“You should be sorry!” the old man said sternly. His smile never wavered. “What if I’m a grandpa and I don’t know about it? I understand Charlene not telling me, but you? Oh, Clark, come on!”

“Pa, it was her place to tell you.” Clark sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table’s edge. “I’ve been busy, too.”

“You never know if a relationship is working until you start talking about marriage, boy.” He held Char’s hand and Clark’s. Martha placed the last of the foodstuffs before the family. She sat down next to her son. “You two need to figure things out. You’re stuck with each other for life — you know you are. You’re going to have to trust each other. Now hush: let’s say grace.”

They all did as they were told. Johnathan prayed over their food, they ate, breakfast went by quickly. When they were cleaning up, Char’s phone went off.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Ma asked.

Charlene read her screen. Her eyebrows drew together. “I’ll have to leave a day earlier than expected; there’s a change in my work schedule.” She frowned a little bit. “I’ll have to make a call.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. Don’t worry about it,” Martha said. She patted her back. “Do what you need to.”

“Oh, I will,” she smiled, but in reality, she wanted to scold someone. She knew exactly what happened.

Bruce changed her scheduling around without telling her.

°°°

After staying as long as she could — about a week — Char had to board a plane and find her way out of Smallville. Somehow, getting on the plane and sitting on it for five hours wasn’t the issue. She could afford to be patient when she knew she had a plane to catch. She had just enough experience to practically ignore the takeoff, the flight attendants, and the goodbyes.

That all went smoothly. It always did.

And then there was the airport after the flight.

Being at the airport was one of the worst experiences Charlene ever had. She hated air travel with every bone in her body, but there was no other way to get back to Metropolis: the trains didn’t go that far, the buses would have taken too long, and Charlene didn’t have enough money to rent a car. She felt safe flying when she had another person to count on; this time, she was alone. Standing in the middle of the bustling, glassy terminal made her heart pound. Was she supposed to call for a taxi? Walk home? She had driven to the airport with Clark. She had no ride.

Walking through gates and managing to find her luggage without difficulty, she passed every single crying child, scolding mother, complaining grandfather, and fussy TSA member. She had jet lag. She had a headache. She missed Bruce. She was a little bit irritated with him, too, but she could talk about it — calmly — at a later time.

Her eyes were clouding up with sleep. Her mind was wandering. She didn’t even know what time it was. She was trying her best to walk out of the terminal.

“Charlene,” a familiar voice called. She picked her head up, her heart swelling with gratitude. Dressed from head to toe in black, Bruce stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His feet were spread apart. He had that look about his face — the one he wore when he was amused but didn’t want you to know it. She all but sobbed as she ran to him.

“Oh, my goodness!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him. Bruce’s arms encompassed her. “You’re here! How?” She buried her face in his shoulder and let the hero keep her steady.

“Clark said you were leaving early,” Wayne laughed. He took her suitcase out of her hand, absentmindedly rubbing her back. Charlene thought she must have been dreaming. She nearly forgot about trying to ask if he rearranged her work plans, again. She opened her mouth, but Bruce was faster. “Before you ask, I didn’t mess with your schedule this time. I was working on a —”

“— project, yeah, yeah. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask the producer what happened,” Char sighed, taking in Bruce’s metallic scent. His shirt was scratchy, but soft from wear. She dug her fingers into it, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth from her boyfriend. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured. He broke the hug. “Let’s get in the car. The boys are going to be worried sick. I can call the studio, tell them you’re under the weather if you don’t want to go to work.”

“Are you okay, Bruno?” Char asked, yawning. She covered her mouth, minding to use the other nickname rather than just calling him “Bats” in public. “You’re edging a ramble; that’s unlike you.”

“I’m fine. There’s just some things we need to talk about; Clark doesn’t like it, despite how it could benefit our life.”

“‘ Our life’?” she asked, voice slurring with the need for slumber. She took his hand. He held it back, but gently. He was being somber. Solemn. Serious. That usually only happened at home, behind closed doors. And behind another set of doors, he let himself truly smile. “I wasn’t aware you were thinking about a future so soon.”

“I am,” he said. His fingers tightened their grip on hers as they swung through the air. “I want to help you into all sides of my life, even for just a little bit. I heard perspective can help a marriage last longer.”

“Marriage?” Charlene laughed. She swung their hands. The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched, again. She started grinning like a madman — no, like the Joker. “You intend to make me an honest woman?”

“In the end? Definitely.” Bruce walked her outside. It was raining. He opened an umbrella and handed it to her. Charlene took it in her hand and tried to hold it above Bruce’s head, but it didn’t work — he was too tall. He just shrugged at it, smiling at her softly. “Depending on when you’re ready, darling, I’ll propose.”

“‘Darling,’ now? My, my, my, aren’t we affectionate today, Mr. Wayne.” Charlene giggled and poked his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s not every day you’re calling me pet names and talking like that. In fact, I think the last time you said the words ‘I love you’ was April Thirtieth.”

“The thirtieth wasn’t that long ago,” he frowned. He walked her to one of his antique cars, opening the trunk and putting her suitcase in the back. She took down the umbrella and set it back there, too. “It’s only mid-June. It’s not like I never tell you.”

“Bruce, other couples say it daily,” Charlene smiled. The rain started pouring down harder. It was mussing Bruce’s neatly-combed hair and dripping down his nose. She could feel it soaking her back and coiling her locks. She was sure she looked just as messy as Bruce looked adorable. “I know you don’t need to say it for me to hear it, but it’s still nice.” She paused for a moment, playing with the locket. She knew that just this gift alone was worth a thousand “I love you”s. Then she added, “And rare. Clark thinks we haven’t said it at all.”

“Rare,” he repeated. He opened the car door for her. She slipped into the passenger’s side. “Nice to know. It’s not Clark’s business whether or not I tell you I love you.”

“So what if it’s rare?” she asked with a permanent smile. “It just makes it even better to hear.”

“Are you going to cry when I deliver my wedding vows?” he asked in deadpan. He buckled in, turning the engine. “I have about seven years to prepare them; I’ll make sure to make them as sensitive as possible. The boys can say a line each toward the end of the ceremony.”

“Are we going to have a Jewish wedding?” she asked. “I’ve never been to one.”

“No,” he answered. “Not entirely. My parents were Jewish, but I… I don’t know. I haven’t done anything in regards to faith in years. I think we should just have a small ceremony for the boys and Clark and his parents. The only people who matter. We can blend in some Jewish tradition.”

“I can understand that,” she said quietly. She set her hands in her lap. She could already imagine a ring around her finger. Would it be an older design? Would it be intimate? With meaning behind it? Would it be big? Simple? “I don’t want anything huge, but I don’t want to rush into this. We have forever and a half, Bats.”

“We have longer than that, angel.” He looked behind him and pulled out of the parking lot. “I brought the boys from Gotham. I hope that’s not a big deal.”

“Did you get a hotel room?” Char looked out the window, then watched the wiper blades scrape water off the windshield. They made their way onto the highway in no time at all. “Or are they hanging out in the apartment?”

“A hotel room. I didn’t want to go into the apartment without asking.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “Was that an invitation, Miss Park?”

“Mr. Wayne, I am a woman of class,” she teased. She sat up a little. “Of course, you and the boys can stay. We can all sleep in the living room. You, the big, bad billionaire, can lay on the carpet floor next to the common damsel.”

Bruce scoffed. “As if there’s anything common about the woman I’m going to marry. Not everyone can be trusted. Not everyone can handle this life.”

Char shrugged. “We didn’t meet like common people meet.”

“We certainly don’t love like normal people. Kent can’t seem to stop reminding either of us of that fact.” He sighed, cracking his neck. Char wondered how that phone call Clark had talked about a week ago went. “Is he in love with you? Is he worried? Whatever his issue is, I can’t figure it out. It won’t change the fact that you and I are romantically involved.”

“You have a taste for danger,” Charlene answered. She vaguely recalled hearing from Dick that Bruce used to have a relationship with Catwoman. Damian was the product of an affair with an evil mastermind’s daughter. Batman, for the majority of his life, had been married to the cowl. “That’s his issue. You have mass intellect and he has superpowers. He could catch me from the sky, but you can’t. I’m a casualty waiting to happen.” She laughed sadly. “In his mind, I’m not safe with the Batman.” Bruce exhaled slowly to show exactly how much he agreed with that idea.

She could tell it was more than he wanted to admit.

“That’s why I can’t propose yet.” Bruce kept his attention on the road. “I need to make sure that you know how to defend yourself. If something ever happened, you’d at least be able to throw a punch or two. When the need arose, we would be prepared to keep the family safe. Right now, you need constant surveillance; I know what that does to you.”

“Constant surveillance?” she questioned. “Why?” Her heart dropped several levels. Had she been right all along? Was she being duped or manipulated into giving Wayne easier access of keeping an eye on her?

Bruce took a while to answer, creating more and more fear in Char’s mind. Finally, he opened his mouth. “I want you to gather intelligence for the Justice League. Whenever you’re ready, you’ll train with the boys at Wayne Manor. Just say the word, baby.”

“Is… Is this the perspective?” she asked, wary and unsure. She felt her eyes burn and her throat tighten. She didn’t want to ask this, again, but she felt she didn’t have a choice. The last time she asked the question, Bruce had kissed her for the first time. It ended up just being a publicity stunt. “Are you sure you actually want to marry me? That this isn’t just to make sure I don’t accidentally tell the world Bruce Wayne is the Batman?”

Bruce’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Charlene, how many times do I have to explain myself? If I wanted to keep an eye on you, I wouldn’t be talking about making you my wife. I wouldn’t let you interact with my boys. I wouldn’t be setting up a whole room for you at Wayne Manor. I love you. I have no reason to be picking you up from the airport other than my own desire to make you happy.”

“I know,” she sniffed. “I’m sorry. You were just acting funny. I didn’t know that you actually wanted to stay with me for… for as long as we live.” Charlene took a deep breath to calm herself. Man, did she feel like an idiot. “Bruce, you said you didn’t want to be part of that kind of domesticity two years ago. When did you decide you wanted to marry me?”

“Char, I didn’t need to decide. I still don’t want the picket fence type of life.” Bruce turned to exit the highway. “Our relationship has changed over the last two years. I would be lying saying I didn’t rely on you whatsoever.”

She swallowed. “You need me?”

He didn’t say anything. Yes. His cheeks colored. She let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh.

“I need time to think this all over, Bruce!” she exclaimed, slapping her palm to her forehead. Her pulse accelerated. Her legs felt tingly. “Marry you someday…”

“You don’t feel the same?”

She watched as the city blended into the street instead of Bruce’s unchanging expressions. If she wasn’t careful, he would turn investigator on her. “I had no idea you were so sure about us. It isn’t that I don’t feel the same, baby, I just need time to process this.”

“I understand.” He hummed. “Don’t tell the boys, yet. They might get excited.”

Charlene dropped her hands in her lap. She would be getting stepsons. She would have a husband. She would be a freelance spy. “I’m getting excited. I’m nervous, scared, sad, happy. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Bruce pulled into a parking garage. He got out of the car and took her luggage out of the back. “Say you’re going to be sure before you tell me you’re ready to start training.”

Charlene got out of the car, too, taking Bruce by the hand once more. “I will.” She cupped his face. “I will, Bats. Now kiss me.”

°°°

Walking to the hotel room, using his stealthy steps across the hideous patterned carpet, Bruce found himself holding his breath. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were going to blow this out of proportion, make Charlene uncomfortable. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him — but then again, how could they not? This was his whole family’s future at stake. This was an opening to expand the family. “Char.”

“Yeah?” she asked. She twisted her head to see him. “You okay?”

“Only tell them about the Justice League. Let’s ease into this.” He was practically pleading. He didn’t answer her question, but she nodded in understanding. Charlene took his hand and kissed the back of it, then dropped it.

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a winning smile. He managed not to sigh out the flood of fuzz that rushed in his soul. He was the Batman. He should be braver than to push Char away.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling gently.

“Ready.”

Wayne took her hand this time. He watched her, studied her. She had a lingering smile she was trying to wipe. She didn’t need to. Charlene was happy. When Char was happy, he was happy. Her hand shook in his; he was nervous, too. Committing to this would change so much. There would be no backing out. Even asking her to be on the same page could have scared her away.

He was quickly realizing he needed to trust Charlene. Whose life was going to be altered after all this? Whose life would never be the same once this process was over or ended? Not his. Not to the extent Charlene’s would be. She would be the first-time parent, not him. She would be the one who knew nothing about business or vigilante work, not him. She would be the one most affected.

She deserved so much from him. He thought he was asking for greater than she could handle; Char was there to prove him wrong again. Again, again, and again.

Bruce put on a big smile, opening the hotel room door. The boys all stood up to greet him, and all spoke over each other at the sight of Charlene: “You’re here!”; “How was the flight?”; “How long are you staying? Alfred’s—”; “We missed you!” They brought the woman into the residence with glee.

He couldn’t be more grateful to the boys. They always did their best to welcome Char and put a smile on her face. They loved her too much for their own good. She loved them, too. Bruce brought her into the room, setting her bags on the queen bed where Damian had left his shoes. The boys were swarming her, hugging her and asking question after question.

“Hey,” Bruce said. “Give her space; we have to talk about something important.”

“What is it, Bruce?” Dick asked.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

Bruce beckoned the kids to the floor where they could all sit. He took Charlene, pulling her next to him. He held her hand. “We’re thinking about making Char part of the Justice League’s informant group. That way, she can see the world from our perspective. We’re hoping…” He trailed off, uncertain of how to finish.

“We’re hoping this can further our relationship and give me a chance to spend more time with you,” Charlene filled in. She smiled, moving under Bruce’s arm. He held her tightly. “We’re not getting married, yet; just thinking about how to make it work.”

Jason was the first to speak up. “So… after Selina and Thalia — sorry, Damian — you’re finally going to settle down?” He grinned. “You’re going to marry Charlene?”

“When it’s the right time,” he said. “Don’t tell Superman.” He chuckled a little at his own joke. At least the boys approved. They deserved to know what was happening. Damian scooted over to sit closer to Charlene, who ruffled his hair.

“Are you going to stay at Wayne Manor?” Dick asked. He folded his hands in his lap. Out of all four of the boys, he copied his mannerisms the most. Secretive, stoic, at times, and would sometimes hum more than speak. The only difference between his mannerisms and the Batman’s was the smile that he allowed to grace his features.

Charlene shook her head. “No; not until we have everything sorted out. It’s probably unusually old school, but it’s what we want.” She smiled up at the Batman. He smiled down. Tim, quietly, went “Oooooh,” but that didn’t stop the small moment of perfection. As suspicious as it seemed, everything was perfect for a little while. A small pocket of happiness he had allowed himself.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t going to be so hard to relate to, anymore.

Damian took his chance to ask a question, practically jumping up and down with excitement. Tim pulled him down on his bottom, which made Dick and Jason laugh. He usually wasn’t so excited. Actually, none of the boys were. “Did you pick out a codename for her, Father?” Damian looked at Charlene. “What will we call her?”

“Nothing.” Bruce shook his head, feeling a bit dissatisfied with himself. This whole situation was unorthodox for him, but that was something he could live with. It wasn’t unlike him to embrace change, but it wasn’t like him either. He had no idea what nonsense the boys would bombard him with once Charlene was gone for the night. He could guess… and his guess told him it wasn’t anything he’d enjoy. “She doesn’t have a codename, yet. As soon as she’s comfortable, I want you boys to start training her to fight.”

“And then what?” Jason asked. He crossed his arms. He leaned forward, looking between the two of them. It was as if he was trying to figure out how soon the relationship would end. After all, the Batman was alone. Selina didn’t work out, Thalia didn’t work out, countless others didn’t even get a chance. Charlene’s odds were stacked against her.

Yet he loved her more than either of those women.

Bruce laced his fingers with Char’s habitually. The domestic affection had only happened behind closed doors, and any kisses or lingering hugs happened within closed doors behind closed doors. She looked up at him with slight surprise when their fingers slid together. “And then we’ll figure things out as we go along.”

Everyone made noises of excitement at that. The night went on in the hotel room, with giggling and laughter and games. Questions were passed back and forth. Food was ordered. Near midnight, Charlene had to go home. She had work the next day, and Wayne’s surprise had been laid in her home. Asking her to join the League hadn’t been the whole package; he and Clark both knew what was waiting for her there. He knew it was a rushed decision — one of his stupidest ideas by far.

Legally, as a billionaire, he could practically do anything for Char. As Batman, he would kill anyone for her — her and the family. She was family, now. He wasn’t going to push her away.

Taking Char home was one of the first times Bruce had felt this nervous in years. There weren’t enough roses or lockets or even words to express how much he cared about her other than that paperwork he had hidden away.

It wasn’t a proposal. She would only have to sign it if she was ready. The rest of the work to make it real would come in time.

“Are you okay?” Char asked as he drove. “Your fingers are turning white on the wheel, Bats.”

“Fine,” he answered with a clipped voice. “Just tired.”

“You never get tired,” she reminded him gently. He could feel her eyes on him but he stared only at the road. Metropolis was easier to drive through, but it only made the impending doom feel even worse. There was no possibility to stall. Not when he was certain.

“I’m fine, angel,” he insisted. They were quiet the rest of the ride, minus the exchange of a kiss and goodbyes when he dropped her off.

Now all he had to do was wait.

After all, he didn’t switch around her schedule for nothing.

°°°

After that worrying ride through the city, Charlene trudged through her door. She looked about the living room, noticing how something was different about her apartment. A few of the pillows had been moved — it was as if they’d been sat on. There was a letter and a gift bag on the table. She set her bag down on the floor. “What on Earth?” she muttered to herself.

Bruce’s metallic scent lingered in the air, but it could have just been from when she sat in his car. She walked past her old dog, rubbing his head and checking his bowl. The pet sitter had fed him, then… and he had been given a new collar. Hmm. That definitely wasn’t the pet sitter. She beckoned him over as she checked out the present on the table.

The letter was the first thing she opened. As Char sank into the couch, she folded it open and quickly read the words. It was a brief description from a lawyer about what… what…

“Legal marriage to Bruce Wayne would entail”?

Her heart stopped. She fished through the gift bag and found a marriage license in a different envelope. A pink glass rose. A small set of glass earrings and an article clipping of the night of the gala. If anyone ever accused Bats of being unromantic, they were seriously, seriously wrong. This wasn’t a proposal — she could see that. He wasn’t asking for this. He wasn’t telling her to try and find out. There was no trying! And along with all that silly stuff, there was a mask and a tag in his script that said, “Dark Angel – Can be changed”.

He just laid it all out for her, knowing this was their future.

With clammy hands and a voice that was barely working, she dialed Bats’ number. It chimed for a few rings, but he eventually picked up. The familiar “Hello?” followed by, “Char?” was so sweet to hear, to let her know it was real…

“I’m signing,” she said. “And I’m keeping the codename.”

#Batman x OC #Batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x OC #Bruce Wayne x reader #gaitwae writes

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phis-corner · 4 years

Text

wild

Another prompt for @jasonette-july-2k20, also cross-posted on Ao3 under the name m3owww. The other prompt fills are also on there.

“We’re going to the zoo!” Dick announces. “Everybody is mandated to come. Otherwise, Oracle’s locking you out of all your devices for a month. And by everybody, I mean everyone who dons a costume at night to beat people up.”

Marinette groans. This is not going to go well.

Scene I: The Giraffes

“Hey, it’s the giraffes!” Steph exclaims. “Woah, those are really tall.”

“We would have to stack three Damians to reach the height of one female giraffe.” Tim remarks, clutching a large thermos of coffee.

Damian snarls. “Do you wish to die, Drake?” Bruce snatches Damian’s backpack from him before he can pull out his knives.

Jason pokes Marinette in the side. “Male giraffes are eleven feet. If you stood on my shoulders, we’d be around that height.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Call me short, Jay. But I could easily punch you in the groin if I wanted.” Marinette grumbles. She pointedly ignores the commotion next to her.

Damian has tackled Tim, Dick is trying to pull him off, Steph is cheering him on, and Cass is happily watching the giraffes. Bruce is rummaging through Damian’s backpack and grimacing at the amount of weapons the child packed.

Go figure.

Scene II: Elephants

“Well, this kind of stinks.” Jason remarks, as the baby elephant in front of them decides to take a poo. They all collectively gag as the smell wafts their way.

“Let’s just move on.” Bruce decides, and the group starts walking, except for Damian.

“Five more minutes, Father.” The boy commands. “It is too adorable to leave.”

Marinette has never been more glad that she always brings face masks around. She hands one to Jason and puts the other on. At least this muffles most of the scent.

Bruce sighs. “Damian-”

“Five minutes, Father.” He hisses dangerously.

“Guess we’re stuck here.” Tim says sadly. “It’s going to be a long five minutes.”

Scene III: Reptile House

“Mari! Look here! It’s a Burmese Python!” Jason calls, pointing to a massive snake coiled in one of the terrariums.

Marinette shudders. “Eugh, these creep me out. Guess I use the mouse miraculous too much. I just hope we can move on soon.”

“This snake is beautiful.” Damian declares, gesturing at a King Cobra. “I wish to keep it as a pet.”

“Little D, this is a zoo!” Dick chastises. “Not an animal shelter with pets up for adoption!”

“Are you crazy? That’s the longest venomous snake in the world!” Tim shrieks.

Damian sniffs. “Precisely, Drake. I wish to train it to attack you, just as I have with all my other pets.”

“You- what?” Tim splutters. “That’s why none of the animals like me? I’m changing your Wifi password.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Steph walks up to Marinette and Jason, holding out a tub of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Thanks.” Marinette reaches for the popcorn, then freezes. “Wait. Where’d you get this?”

The blonde grins. “I have Cass on my side. Anything is possible.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason frowns. “Where is she?”

Scene IV: Butterfly House

Dick shrieks as another butterfly flaps past his head. “I swear, these things are trying to kill me!”

“Tt, don’t be stupid, Grayson. They are harmless creatures.” Damian scoffs.

Marinette hums thoughtfully. “I mean, most butterflies are, but if they’re actually the demonic purple butterflies sent by a crazy fashion designer with a magical brooch to prey on negative emotions and turn people into colorful monsters with ridiculous powers that I spent three years fighting, then we’re in trouble.”

Jason blinks. “Sometimes, I forget how crazy your life was.”

“Yeah, I wish I could do that.” Marinette sighs. “Gabriel was a dick.”

Tim raises his camera and snaps a picture of Steph giggling as a butterfly makes itself at home in her hair.

Bruce almost-smiles. “At least no one’s trying to kill each other here. Everyone is- wait.” He scans the house, frowning.

“Guys, have any of you seen Cass?”

Scene V: Penguins

As it turns out, Cass went off to buy a slushy. She joins them at the penguin exhibit and watches gleefully as Bruce tries to interrogate the poor birds. Tim is filming the entire thing on his camera.

“Have you ever had any association with the Gotham villain known as Penguin in the past?”

“Squawk.”

“What, exactly, is your connection to the criminal otherwise known as Oswald Cobblepot?”

“Squawk?”

“Answer my question!” Bruce growls at the birds.

Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and Marinette stifles a giggle.

“Father, these are-”

“Silence, Damian! I am interrogating the moles that Penguin planted at the zoo.”

One especially brave penguin waddles right up to Bruce, leaving only a few inches of space in between their faces.

They engage in a silent staring contest.

Then…

“SQUAWK!” The penguin screeches in Bruce’s face. Being the Batman, he doesn’t startle (very much) and simply growls as the penguin dives into the water, chirping happily.

“Get back here! I wasn’t done yet!”

Scene VI: Tigers

The orange and black-striped feline elegantly prowls towards the group, heading straight for Cass, who beams and reaches her hand out to press up against the glass. The tiger nuzzles into the wall between them, and Cass frowns.

Captive. She signs. Free?

“This tiger was born in captivity.” Bruce says. “She wouldn’t survive in the wild. And for future reference, none of you are allowed to free the zoo animals.”

Dick sighs. “Aw, come on B, Dami and I had our heist already halfway planned!”

“This tiger is beautiful.” Damian states. “She is graceful in a way that humans cannot master.”

“What about Cass?” Jason points out. “She’s just as graceful as the tiger.”

Cass smiles, pleased. Thank you, little brother.

“Marinette and Dick are really graceful when they’re in the air too!” Steph adds.

Marinette winces. “Key word being air. I’ve already tripped over my own feet six times, and another three times on Jason.”

Right on cue, as she moves to read another plaque, she trips over Jason’s foot and flails. He catches her in a dip like the good boyfriend he is and promptly kisses her- passionately.

Damian makes a disgusted noise, Dick sighs, Tim snaps a picture, and Cass smacks them both on the backs of their heads.

Children. She signs, and they both smile sheepishly. Two toddlers are staring, openmouthed, and Marinette counts five parents covering their children’s eyes.

“Oops.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two can contribute to Alfred’s PDA jar when we get back.”

“Aww, Bruce!” Jason complains.

“He has strict rules and you didn’t follow them.” Steph chirps. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Timbo, help me out here?”

Tim looks up from where he’s fiddling with his camera. “Uh, no thank you? You two have scarred multiple children for life. It’s only five dollars. You’ll survive.”

“No! Betrayed! By my own family!” Jason wails, and Marinette huffs.

“Mon oiseau, you are the son of a billionaire. Not to mention, all the money you make from your… extracurriculars. You can pay the five dollar fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

At the end of the day, all of them are tired and sweaty. They agree that maybe the zoo isn’t the greatest place for a family outing, except for Damian, who wants to return to kidnap (Animalnap? Zoonap?) the animals and set them free.

As they get out of the minivan one by one, Marinette, who is right behind Damian, spots something in his shirt move.

“Damian, what’s in your shirt?”

The boy snarls. “Nothing!”

“Damian…” Bruce sighs, and Damian reluctantly pulls out a green grass snake.

“It is non-venomous. Nobody will miss it.” He says defensively, and there is a chorus of groans.

“It’s a snake.” Tim points out. “That you stole. From the zoo.”

Damian sniffs. “I prefer the term liberated.”

Jason groans, and rests his chin on the top of Marinette’s head. She staggers underneath the extra weight. “I hate this fucking family.”

Marinette reaches up to poke him in the chest. “You know you love us. Why else would you wear a bat on your chest?”

“To piss Bruce off.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july 2k20 #mild crack #I had a lot of fun writing this #now i'm just posting my favorites from ao3 on tumblr #my writing

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imaginedcreaderinsert · 4 years

Text

You know you are your own assassin — Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jason Todd

SUMMARY: /the promised quadruple/. You were eighteen and in love. You have been for the past four years with his figure, what he meant and what he represented to the rest of the city – more importantly, what he represented to you, everything he was in your little world. Even so, you are very aware of your position as one of his adopted dear children and never try anything, neither public nor in private… And it would have stayed that way had you not insisted on patrolling alone, being exclusive. Sure, Tim and Damian could come up – from time to time in the same areas you both chose, but you were made for him. You were incredibly protective of Bruce, Batman – to you they were the same person. He rescued you and he opened HIS world to you. You are still trapped in that room, you are still in that cruel position, with your arms trembling and your head down to the floor, offering your bare back to a stranger who uses the skin left unmarked to put the fire down, make himself a new one with-

WORD COUNT: 6810 (almost 7k of smut lol)

TW: Smut (more explicit than usual, I believe), swearing, some light angst and implied abuse (not sexual). No one is here related by blood, thus it is not incest, but to each it’s own. This four part fic it’s not for the faint-hearted.

A/N: I kid you not 2810 of context/angst/explanation because I can’t do PWP and then, the rest, all NSFW/LEMON with Todd. There’s a bit with Bruce -- things will escalate as the chapter advance. There will be a total of four, if things go right! As mentioned on the Trigger Warning, it can be considered that it is some kind of incestual lowkey relationship, but none of them are related and they try to break from the frame. Again, this is pure dirty indulgence. You have been warned twice!

People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup

You were not normal, not like the rest. Maybe that is why Mr. Wayne —Bruce— had never forced a strict education upon you, contrary to the others. Even Todd had attended at some point Gotham Academy before being expelled; but it was not your style. Maybe your past-self dreamt of glory, trophies and competitive environments in a very possible future with other Ivy League material, but not this time, not in this life. You had gone through enough, and it was just not in you to continue with that path. You were mediocre at best, nothing really catching on your interest save the occasional English class (some books caught on your attention. Not for too long, but it made Alfred and Mr. Wayne feel better).

At first it had been thought that it was just typical teenage behavior, but then the visits to therapy became increasingly longer and more preoccupying; your memories and attitude had gotten worse the older you got. You came from a rough background (more than the rest, arguably; close to Jason one could say); mom OD’d, and dad left for a better family, someone who was less broken, less problematic. You had served as an ashtray to your mom’s ex-boyfriend (between some other little things) after she had died for some time, and it had ended quite badly, but for the better. The night you rebelled was the night Batman found you, and quite literally saved you. You had blown the ashes straight into his eyes, and he, while crying, had tried to pin you, strangle you, hit you. He had managed to do the two first ones, but you never thought you would die. It didn’t come to your head at all, you knew you had to fight, survive somehow – as small as you were you understood some things, such as pride and stubbornness. Your father who victoriously thought he ran from you both, you little psychopaths, was not going to be happier, was not going to fuck up your entire life. And maybe this other temporal dude did for some years, but you would make it, you would, you would-

Your lungs burnt as he flew from your little body and the Batman came into appearance, broken windows, magnanimous appearance. It was brief, it was easy: you spit into the ground, blood and air making their way through your mouth. You couldn’t imagine how much your life would change.

He adopted you, and as you become older, he saw it as the most inevitable invitation, option for him to try.

“Do you want to train with Jason and Richard sometime?”

…

You were eighteen and in love. You have been for the past four years with his figure, what he meant and what he represented to the rest of the city – more importantly, what he represented to you, everything he was in your little world. Even so, you are very aware of your position as one of his adopted dear children and never try anything, neither public nor in private… And it would have stayed that way had you not insisted on patrolling alone, being exclusive. Sure, Tim and Damian could come up – from time to time in the same areas you both chose, but you were made for him. You were incredibly protective of Bruce, Batman – to you they were the same person. He rescued you and he opened HIS world to you. You are still trapped in that room, you are still in that cruel position, with your arms trembling and your head down to the floor, offering your bare back to a stranger who uses the skin left unmarked to put the fire down, make himself a new one with-

“Batgirl, with me?”. You hope it’s his first call. He is meticulous, perfectionist; he won’t take any less from anyone.

“Yes, a hundred percent. Was checking the other entrances.”

…

“Let me guess, another perfect mission?”. Timothy asks, taking off his mask, slowly getting his cape off. You help, humming to yourself happy. “I don’t know why I still ask.”

“Because you care. He still prefers me.” You gloat, taking a look at his back: some bruises that will last for days, but nothing that cannot be fixed with a warm bed and rest. You slap his back, making him groan. Damian scoffs. “What, something to argue?”

“He does not prefer you. He just won’t say no because you are a soft spot. And well, no one else wants to go with him. You just always call it first.” The atmosphere is different. Damian is not hurt per se, but you can tell he’s pissed off about something.

“Jealousy does not suit you, Damian. I thought your thing was being cold and brief.”. You are unsure and a bit wary of where he wants to take it to. Damian and you had never been on the best terms, as much respect as you had him (so young and so good, lethal; you wished you could have started sooner, have his gifts. Maybe Bruce would like you more that way).

“You did not understand me. I’m saying you are father’s weak sidekick, not that you are his. That’s why he concedes, so that he can take a better control on you.”

There’s a brief silence in the cave. If Dick had been here, if Jason was here they would have stopped him already; Tim is not one for conflicts, thus can’t think one anything to start with, to comment on. He hopes Alfred or Bruce will appear so that he can’t stop what he can foresee is a catastrophe.

“You are wrong.” But you are late answering. You took some time, you considered; that’s what you’ve always been afraid of, not being enough – good, strong, courageous, dexterous to follow his pace. It’s eaten you since the first mission you both went to together. He always chose you, not the other way around. “He prefers me, I’m his favorite because I know what I’m doing, I’m-“

“You never talk back to him, you always obey, you always follow his directions without offering any feedback, any refinements to the plan”. Damian lists, perfectly, without missing a beat like he has been harboring it for some time. “You are father’s-how was it that you said, Tim? Father’s little girl?”. Tim looks mortified as you look at him, incredulous that he would say something so hurtful behind your back. Surprised that they both have been having those opinions to themselves. “In fact, this is, I believe, the most I’ve heard you use a first person in public. As I’ve said, you comply with anything he says. So, if that’s being a good Batgirl then yes, you are the best, (Y/N).”

You are astonished. You are not weak; you voice out your opinions you-you can be more than a little girl afraid of little Daddy not liking her anymore. Bruce has made that abundantly clear throughout the years – he adores you, he would do anything for you. He won’t abandon you, he won’t leave you for something better.

…

So you plan to help the next big hit; Damian and Tim are included, seeing as it is a big one, but all the trust that Bruce has had on you vanishes as soon as the mission starts. You are not moving in your element, too insecure, shy almost when giving orders and unable to command the Robins. The mission goes out okay, but nothing more than that: barely acceptable, as he tells you as soon as all of you are out, incredibly exhausted and beaten.

The desperation to show him you are the one has been too apparent, has ultimately fucked everything out. The stress and impotence is completely eating you out as you rest in a roof, not too far from the building you’ve destroyed not too long ago (which was not supposed to happen, but it has been your last resource).

“Drake, Robin, home: now. Batgirl, stay.”

Damian scoffs while Tim tries to give you a pat, which you evade, still bitter because of his comment some weeks ago. Yes, it has been proven that you can’t, you are unable to-

“What were you thinking? This has-I’ve never taught you anything like this, Batgirl. You have always been-“

“Good? Obedient? Compliant?” He seems slightly shocked at seeing your response. You have always looked at him straight in the eye, honest and slightly (always, since a child) terrified – that he will abandon you, that he will leave you in a dark room, prohibit you from his spare attention.

“Capable, discreet, intelligent. Specially quick in your feet, and had I not moved you aisde-“

“Is this going to be you telling me everything I did wrong? Because I know, believe me, I am-“

“No, this is me being angry at you for mixing feelings in this mission”. Your face goes white. He is serious, cruel almost in his eyes even when you can’t see him because of his mask. Is he going to think of you as something disgusting, as- “You were trying to prove a point to Robin? Drake? That was not the purpose of the mission, Batgirl. You let your feelings get in between and because of that-“

You sigh, almost in relief to yourself, this time looking at him straight in the eye. He’s not sweaty, but rather tired. His shoulders are still tense, his figure incredibly marked because of his suit, his jaw perfectly-

“You are not taking the lead anytime soon. You are better following me.” And you would agree some years before, but you are 18, you are not his brat, to be scolded and ordered to follow without a say in anything as easy as it has been before. Damian was right.

“We are partners! That means that-“

“We are”. He says softly, stopping you momentarily from getting more and more angry. It calms you, you almost smile before his cruel mouths gets opened once more. “But we are not equal. And I mean it by far. You are far from acceptable Batgirl level.”

It feels like a slap in the face. Did he meant it to light a fire down your ass? Because you grow desperate, as he turns around, maybe planning to leave you alone to fume, wallow in your own sadness – which you would if jealousy didn’t surge in your chest. Incredible jealousy, terrible green jealousy which creeps it all out and eliminates any rational filter from your mouth.

“Is it because of Barbara?”. You’ve heard that speech a lot of times in soap operas. He’s not even his-nothing! She is nothing, but still she can’t get her head around him taking in another Batgirl. Specially that redhead. “Is she your new protegée? Are you going to fund her to college, get her into the Ivy League you couldn’t get me because I’m such a big fuck up?”

He stops, noticing it goes far beyond a simple mission or a simple riled up from the Robins. But he has seen something tonight that he has never been able to teach you before, too afraid of being too much on you, too strict and harsh when you’ve had it bad already with such authoritarian figures in your life. He has missed the point completely, and he feels frustrated because of it.

“This is only because of how soft I have been on you, (Y/N).” The name is a stab to the heart. He has never used it, save for a soft reprimand. Never like this. “How childish your behavior has been, putting our lives at risk just for proving what? That you can lead a team, me? You’ve clearly showed you can’t, you are lost, just a girl trying to make herself bigger, stronger than she really is, because all you really are is-“

“Shut up!” You irrationally explode, afraid of him continuing, saying the final ‘you are out’. You won’t let him. You will do anything before going that way.

“You are off duty, case closed!”. He has never raised his voice, almost making you flinch, afraid of his tone but the meaning of his words. No! Love me, don’t abandon me!

“No. No! I won’t have it, no! No, Bruce, wait! No!”

There are tears in your eyes as you ran behind him. You try to grab him twice as you shout the same words, trying to make him look you. If you do that, if he does-maybe you have a chance. Maybe you still-yes. Yes, you will. He won’t leave you, he can’t. You will die before he never looks at you again, before he drops you out like you are nothing, like you are just another obstacle in his life like your father considered you. He won’t!

“Bruce, no!”. You are using names, maybe hoping he will at least shout you, as your voice gets higher and higher; more desperate. It doesn’t work, and your hands start to tremble, out of pure fear and desperation. “No! This is not about me, it is about us!”. It’s the first time you’ve voiced it, getting in front of him. His eyes get slightly bigger, clearly surprised as well. “It’s you getting overprotective with me, again! I’m not a small child, I’m not immature, I have been a woman since long before anything changed, since before we had to change our suits or-anything, really! I won’t have it, I won’t abide by your rules, I won’t-“

“Then leave. No one is stopping you.”

It breaks your heart. You know what it is: it’s Bruce pushing people off, aside. You’ve seen it done with some other women, his own Robins, out of fear of losing another one, being too closed, too attached again and not recovering. You understand him better than anyone and he’s letting you leave? He WANTS you to leave? No, he has never done that, save J. But J. is a special case, it’s not you, you are-you are special, you are his, inevitably his. He loves you, he-

“No! How dare you!” You shout, furious tears running down your face. “Everything I have done, I have because of you! Because you wanted it, because you praised me, valued me for doing things right, good for you! You made me into this, you gave me an identity and now you are taking it from me!” You start punching his chest, getting in front of him again; this time he brushes you aside harder, you taking his arm and taking him with you, moving it. It starts getting violent. You’ve never sparred with him, never have fought seriously with him. “I’ve fucked it up, but surely, surely-“

He fights, maybe stopping your hopeful words, eyes: does he really NOT know? He punches you, you evade, easily enough; but then you start hitting each other hard, grabbing each other, letting the other fall into the ground and then trying to kick, seriously. You are not afraid, if anything, you are invigorated to prove him right: you are worthy, enough.

You finally sweep the floor with your right leg, making him jump to evade it, just so that you can kick him in the middle of his chest, making him retrocede. He grabs your feet but you manage, miraculously, to make him fall into the ground, with great force. It doesn’t seem like he’s getting up any time soon, but still, you struggle, getting on his hips, his broad chest and still defiant, furious.

“No!” You shout, blocking his attack, pinning his legs and arms to the ground. He can’t fight, he won’t fight. And it takes you a few extra seconds to see the position you are in, alone and panting in a random rooftop, alone.

There’s a silence, where you think he thinks you’ve calmed down. But to the contrary, your heart is beating extremely fast. You don’t think, not really, after almost losing him. There’s an acknowledged look on him of you being able to pin him down, having the abilities. Bruce thinks he might use it as a speech to reassure her, maybe retract himself.

But then you kiss him. You furiously grab him by his jaw, stopping him from struggling or moving you aside. He stays frozen in his place, hands still as you have let them go, your hips grounded on his abdomen, making her gasp as she grinds, almost tentatively, virginally, making him finally react. This is it. It’s the moment of truth, of never going back to being the same.

“I have loved you since I was fourteen. You saved me when I was twelve, and you have been everything my father never was. I have not once seen you as a paternal figure, Bruce. Take it or leave it. Hate me or love me. I can’t do grey areas.”

…

Damian might not be very observant of personal relationships, but he can sense there is something off. Well, there has been for some time; and he doesn’t know if Timothy has deliberately decided not to comment on it, or if he doesn’t really see it, but something has changed in the dynamics. It’s not only that you are now rotating (each of them get to have one night with Bruce when patrolling), but something is… Off whenever Bruce glances (Y/N) or she does it back at him. They can’t keep it for long, and he can only wonder what has happened since the last mission. It’s been some weeks, but he hasn’t seen much interaction around the house.

Father does not come down for breakfast, and (Y/N) did the same for a week. Then, after her first patrol after announcing they now had a rota, she had started occasionally coming down for a fruit or two, then going back up.

So for once he decides to break the rules and follows them. He abandons a part of Gotham where tonight anything could happen – but his interest is on them, which seem to almost playfully get as far from each other before getting closer again and changing positions as they move. Almost as if they want to lose him, but he’s too clever. He sees a pattern and not in her, but in father.

And he really wishes he knew better, he didn’t follow them. Because he can never unseen her, opening slightly, in the front, her suit, showing cleavage and bronzed skin under the moonlight, seductive lips opening up as her hands rest on his chest, stoic as he is. Is he giving in, are they-? No, they couldn’t, father is-

Yes, he pushes her. Softly, but does so. And that’s enough for Damian, that’s enough for him tonight on things he did not really want to know.

…

“No, it is pretty quiet. Maybe the cold makes villains hibernate or something.” She playfully says as they stop in a rooftop, not too far from the worst neighborhoods in Gotham. He can sense a tone, something foreign and somewhat wrong but-but still as she zips down her suit he can’t stop her. His eyes are glued to skin, the marks they reveal slowly. Beautiful, not shameful like she has made them appear for years. “Do you maybe want to… Today?”

She tempts. She gets closer, on her toes, almost reaching him-but he can’t let that happen again. The first time was too hard, and this time would be impossible, alone. Worse than that, they could be see, heard: Drake and Robin are too clever, too smart for their own good. Maybe they already-do they? Will they? He softly pushes her as he can feel her in his mouth, hot and wet, like she promised other parts would be if only he-

“I told you not to do that ever again, (Y/N). It won’t happen. Ever.” There’s a moment of fragility in her eyes as she lowers down, offended, hurt. He can see it all over her face, breath becoming labored and eyes worried.

“But I-you, you let me-“

“And that was my fault”: She will do it again. And it will only become more aggressive, assertive, as time passes. “I assume it. Now you have to do it. And I’m going to continue on patrolling, but don’t think of going of your own. Go to the Manor now, seeing as you can’t control yourself tonight.”

It sounds strangely erotic to her, and he can see the flutter in her eyes, but he is dominant in that aspect as well. He won’t let her tempt him. And as he moves to jump, escape almost the uncomfortable feeling in his abdomen, he can hear her groan and metal kicking.

…

You felt like crying. He had grabbed you back that night, and you had felt closer, different to him the last nights. You though you had broken every familiar tie he ever thought he had with you, but it seems he doesn’t even know how to react. And as pathetic as you sound, you’ve been starving for too long, too much; he was your sexual awakening, the first man you thought when you first masturbated, and also the first name you moaned as you came with your own hand. Sexuality was a thing you were not lost in, that you controlled; and you had almost offered yourself to him that night and he had turned you down. What was it that could tempt him them? Something that could break him, that could make him like you, give in-because he WANTED to give in. You had felt it that night on the rooftop: for the very first time something hard between your thighs, surprising you and making you tentatively grind on that, which he had stopped you shortly after, almost harshly. He was afraid of wanting you – but he did.

“What is a kitten like you doing all by herself in such a cold night? Have you lost Daddy Wayne?”. He teases, making you sigh as soon as you heard him, making you hide your head between your legs, trying to get the starting tears of your eyes off. “You are going to get cold like that. He won’t like it, kitten.”

“Fuck off, Red.” You call him, making him smirk. At least you can come up with something back. Jason Todd, Jay or Red. He had been a previous Robin but after his death/not death he had joined the Outlaws and-shit, you have lost count or can’t really say where is right now. The thing is, he had been the closest to you: everyone thought it was Dick, seeing as you were always hanging together in pictures and places, always cuddling or giving each other some “sibling” love (it was not. I had never been. Dick had something on him that resembled Bruce a bit, but you had never told him that). But no, it was Jason: he was the one you shared the most with, the one who understood the fucked-up feelings and thoughts that you had. He was probably the first to know about your little crush on Bruce, but he never judged. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“Not in the mood because he rejected you? Don’t you want to get naked anymore and show off your tits?”. Fuck, he saw you. You close your eyes, groaning still with your head in between your legs; darkness embraces you, and somehow you feel more comfortable, until you feel a jerk from your hair, which you complain about quite quickly. It’s him, forcing you to look at his eyes. “Are you not wet anymore, prepared for him?”

“Dumbass, you are being really gross, what is really going on with-“

“I’m not Daddy and because of that you can’t respect me? You won’t respect me like you do to him or Dick?”. Yes, he has always been a little jealous of both: the stars that glowed in your eyes as you talked about them. You might have known of this but chose to ignore it at times. It was not convenient to you as you needed to rant on someone. “Were you thinking of throwing yourself at Dick? Maybe him taking your virginity, your tight little pussy?”. You blush at the words, your back against the wall firmer, like you are trying to fuse with the stone. He is keeping you in your place, taking you by your chin and forcing his eyes on yours, scrutinizing and harsh. “Because you are, right? Still saving yourself for his cock. And trust me, kitten; everything about him is big.”

You are hot and bothered in your place. Your knees are pressing themselves together in your position, and you can feel the wetness out of your pussy getting your underwear uncomfortable. It’s not a pleasing sensation, more so than that, someone else (your half-brother) causing you that while thinking of your adoptive paternal figure.

“Have you tried to spy him in the cave? The showers?”. He tries. You don’t answer as he gets closer to your mouth, and when you whimper and nod, he laughs. Instead, he redirects himself to your neck, making you gasp and move, almost fight, against him. Almost, being a key word because you don’t really try. “Have you ever touched yourself thinking about him? Pressed in a little finger inside your cunt to-“

“I have only played with my clit”. You say, too quickly, writhing under the pressure of his body against the firm marble behind you which is making you shiver (it has nothing to do with his hot lips on your jaw, doing down on your neck and leaving marks, lapping and kissing like you are something delectable. He is taking his time). “Jay!”

You grab onto his shoulders, and his figure, bigger than that of Dick’s, almost can make your imagination go far, almost can make you think is someone else the one that’s taking you: which immediately makes you open your legs, giving him access to your body and his cock to rub off on your core, tight on your skin, leaving little to nothing to anyone’s imagination.

“Smart girl. Have you had someone else’s fingers on you?”

“No.”

“You are in for a ride, princess.”

Red Hood and Batgirl were allies, had been partners in more than one occasion (whenever Batman needed the help, they had started to rely on each other. You had been a great meeting point). Jason and (Y/N) were friends, confidants of each other. They had been something deeper, and you couldn’t deny the attractive he posed in comparison with Bruce. You have had a wet dream or two with him more than once; big guys just did something to you that you couldn’t explain, Jason being the perfect example. He grasps the zipper in the front of your suit and slowly takes it down, making you gasp and shiver against the coldness of the city against your very hot skin. It’s unbearable to wear such a skin tight suit when your body is so hot, horny and desperate for contact. You almost take, harshly, the upper part of your body off you, with a little chuckling help from him – but he is controlling the situation, never letting you get ahead of yourself.

“I think I can feel a wet spot. Are you wearing-? Oh, yes you are. How cute” He murmurs into your skin, his skillful fingers getting into the lowest part of where his fingers can trace, having gone down your chest with his fingertips down your body. “Jackpot. Fuck you are so wet. I thought I would have to eat you out, but you are lubing yourself quite well… And I wanted to so badly, princess. But it looks like you can do something else for me, can you? I’ve made you hot enough. Light me up, I want to burn.”

You kiss him, desperate enough. Fuck him, he started it anyways; why shouldn’t you follow? Are you going to stop yourself again, maybe rejecting the one person that desires you? No, no way. You kiss him desperately, moving your hips against his and he corresponds: you feel him hot, big, against your core; your legs are almost out of the suit, almost naked in front of the whole Gotham. You feel wild, unleashed for the first time and you realize that’s what you’ve always been with him. He has never restricted you, tried to tie you down to some cliché or bounded you to the morality of society.

He gets up and you sit better, your back straightened up. Eagerly, making him laugh, you take him out of his pants: commando, of course he is. It springs out, almost slapping you in your face: like a cheap porno, honestly. You still lick him up slowly, unsurely. Jason is, after all, your first sexual contact with someone more or less your age, a real man. You’ve never had a pulsing cock in your hands: maybe a dildo, a silicon one or something that you’ve tried to get into you (you’ve never gave in, too afraid of doing it on your own, being too loud); but never like this, so real and hot, veiny and hard. It’s soft at the same time, as you move your hand on his shaft and fap him slowly, letting him rest his tip on your hot tongue, offering it in a slutty way for him to use. He doesn’t give in, letting you explore him, maybe knowing it is your first time doing that as well.

Slowly, at your own pace, you take him into your mouth. You first suck him in taking more than just the tip, then a bit more, a bit more after that until you are halfway there and-well, you choke. Your gag reflex kicks him, something unknown to you until then: but it didn’t feel bad, it just tells you to go slower, no rush to get it all in. You suck him, looking at him directly and giving him sweet eyes while you look for his approval, his praise which you get in the form of pats in your head, caressing your hair until he grabs it with more force. Eventually you are sucking him out, hot and hard in your tongue, your pussy getting wet by each ticking second, but he’s fucking your mouth as well. He keeps a normal pace, not too slow but not too unforgiving while you open more your legs, grinding a bit on the floor like looking for relief; he chuckles and promises something after you finish him, which you more forcefully try to do.

But he stops you.

“Such a bitch in heat, I swear I didn’t know you had it in you. Did you try to touch yourself while sucking me off? Bad move. I come first, just as I did to you before.” He is dominant, clear, taking himself off your mouth. You whimper, crawling to him half-naked, almost completely getting out of the suit, left behind like some dead skin. “On the floor, lay down. I’m fucking your mouth. Properly.”

You shiver, doing as he says; it is cold, and you shiver, protesting almost, until he gets on top of you, moving slightly up, his legs pinning down your arms, to both sides of your body, close to it, so you can’t struggle or stop him. He is serious about it, and you are close to dripping on your own underwear so much it will get stained. It’s a pool, to say the least.

“Open up. I’m not stopping, so breathe in.”

You nod, vigorously and he gets in. He starts slow, letting you get used and breathing by your nose, but he quickly takes up the pace. It’s unforgiving to your throat, but he seems to have caught on the limit of your reflex: he always stops before it’s too much, even if he triggers it a bit at time, making you choke – tears form around your eyes, and as much as you try to struggle against his arms to push him slightly off, control him a bit, he doesn’t let go. His legs are huge, thighs muscular: you won’t make it.

“You are taking each inch of it, gorgeous. All by yourself. You are going to make daddy cum.”. The kink sends you crazy. You close your legs, trying to squeeze them into giving you pleasure, even when you can’t properly follow it. You are frustrated because of it, but perfectly know how good it’s going to feel once he starts giving it some attention. “Daddy is going to cum, okay kitten? And you are going to take it all, drink down my milk and ask for more. You are my perfect kitten, aren’t you?”

The pet name was not a kink you knew you had, but you want to be perfect for him, for everyone. But specially him, so special and unique in so many ways. You’ve never really thought of Jason that way, but now that he’s fucking your mouth, you can only think of him fucking your pussy, at that same pace and kissing your neck. The thought makes you shiver, close your eyes in pure bliss.

“So close, I’m at it, gorgeous, I’m there”.

He warns, and you can prepare for it a bit. Just a bit, before it gets too much on your mouth and he quickly moves, cumming on your face as well. He paints it white, making you close your eyes: he wipes the rest on your eyelids almost delicately, smirking.

“My kitten looks good in white, but she made a bit of a mess, didn’t she?”. You are gasping for air, too tired on the ground, too cold almost suddenly, wetness uncomfortable on your underwear. “You got it easy, I’m not going to make you-“

Still you lick him out. You get on top of him this time and lick his cock out, the remaining’s until it’s clean and soft in your hand. But you can sense it’s still interested, as you touch him a bit up and down, try and and elicit some reaction from him.

“Fuck me”. You almost beg, above him, incredibly frustrated and wet: but his mobile starts ringing up and you know it’s trouble. It never announces nothing good. You don’t even have to see the ID, as he gets kisses you and gets up, giving you his jacket to cover yourself a bit.

“Just a second, princess”. But you know it will be more than just one second. That was the attractive part of Jason Todd: his unavailability which had been so present in your life, as Bruce had been such a busy man all of his life. Jason being emotionally and sometimes physically unavailable had been such a big attractive on you. “Yeah, I know. No, I wasn’t-okay, yes, I’m going.” He hangs up, dejectedly turning himself around and looking at you, on the rooftop and with your legs closed together; probably not letting your wetness expand. “I have to go. Believe when I say I would rather stay here, gorgeous, and fuck you out in this same rooftop until someone had to come up to see who the fuck was I killing, cause that’s how much I’m going to make you scream”. He crouches down to kiss you, almost too sweet for how he normally is. Maybe he does really care about your first time. Is it all an excuse? “Hey, don’t go there. I see you are thinking, angel. I really really want to fuck you. And make you cum again… And again… And again”. He says, getting to your neck and kissing it repeatedly as he mumbles the same word over and over again. Like he’s lost on it, on your essence, how sweet you smell to him. “It’s just orders, okay? Keep the jacket and give me a show next time we are alone. I’ll come back for it, I swear… But I have to take something in return to keep me warm in this cold night. Can I?”

Your breath hitches as his eyes go down on your legs. You nod, unsure of what he is really going to do, until he grabs both of your legs and easily opens them up, revealing a very dark spot in your grey underwear, making you pant excitedly. He makes his way in, kissing your ankle and moving upwards until he’s on your knee. His mobile starts to ring up again and he growls almost: it really must be urgent. He almost urgently takes off your underwear, and with a grin, smells it. You blush, getting your suit closer so that you can dress up slowly, legs still a bit weak.

He disappears, getting your knickers into his pocket casually, and jumps off the roof. You really want him to go back to you and properly do what he has promised. You don’t want anything more tonight than him.

…

“I still think you were too rough on her.” Batman begrudgingly comments, almost mutters under his breath: too ashamed, too angry? Jason can’t really say.

“And here I was thinking you enjoyed the show. The protectiveness now doesn’t help much, B., to be honest.”

He grunts, closing his arms and looking at the rest of the city, almost hovering it. But Jason knows better, smirking almost under his red helmet.

“I just said you had to redirect his attention onto you, Jason. Make her forget about me.”

“And I did, but believe me, she wanted it. You can’t believe how much she was dripping.” He says too quickly, impossible for Bruce to cut off. He learns too much, he didn’t want to. “Trust me, as long as I’m on the scene he won’t bother you. And if it weren’t for you, I would be pounding her virgin pussy right now.”

There’s an acknowledging silence between them. Both of them know why he called at that precise moment: he thought they would really do it, take her first time, in the middle of a rooftop. He really thought Jason would take her in front of him, break her and pound on her while he was looking.

“Just-“

“Just nothing, Bruce. You’re fucking jealous, you have a type; she checks every box. Why are you making me do this? Why don’t you give in? I’ve seen you with younger models clinging onto your arms.”

He sighs, almost tiredly; has he been explaining that a lot? Maybe Dick knows of it as well? He takes a note to call him later, put him up to date on what the Batman has been up to. And how incredibly naughty he has been.

“I can’t have something happened like what happened to you, Jason. I-“

“Yeah, yadda yadda yadda. Your cock, your rules I guess – but hey, catch!” He throws him something, quickly, while already making an escape for it. “Brought you a little something. Enjoy, they are still wet and warm!”

And of course it had been her underwear, heat and covered in her juices, dripping on them. Some of it was still wet, a little pool of sticky self-lubricant on the core of it. Had she cummed without knowing? There was enough there to make someone like him think she did. It looks so delectable, so edible when he’s grabbing it so close to his own mouth. It’s too easy to stick his own tongue down, take a bit and groan onto the feeling, the flavor: it’s hot, it’s slightly salted more importantly, empty. He knows he will cum onto them later, in private; he knows he can jerk off all the times thinking on her cute little pussy on his mouth, eating her out until her body can’t take him on anymore, but it won’t be enough. It will never be her legs opened up around him, moving and dripping around his head, making her cum again and again and again…

BONUS for next chp.

“U must be kiddinf”

“Shit you not”

“pics or it didnt happe”

“Jaybird has sent unknown.jpg”

“fffff u really did take em. so u fucked her?”

“bat wouldn’t let me. And why the fuck are you writing

Oh, nevermind. I’m so naïve. Are the pics the ones I sent you when she was drunk with Roy, the vid or the ones still from the mission?”

“both.”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re such a degenerate, D. And to think she stills thinks of you as her dear big brother… And here you are, jerking off to her in a suit, drunk and a vid of her tits moving. Pathetic.”

Some minutes pass on without an answer. Jason grows more disgusted by the moment. Fucking horny dog.

“If it’s open season I’m going next, J. Two can play this little game.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m promising you.”

#jason todd x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #red hood x reader #dcu x reader #reader insert #jason todd fanfic #dcu fanfic #dcu

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akimmito · 4 years

Text

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 10

Richard Grayson never expected to meet someone who had an aura similar to Alfred's, but when he approached them after leaving the hotel and almost killed them with fright, he found that the existence of other like that was possible.

Hugo, as he presented himself, did them the favor of leading them to a house on the outskirts of Paris. Unlike Wayne Manor which is amazing to see, Lenoir Country House is like stepping into a magical garden worthy of being part of a movie set. Vines tangle in the wooden frames and arches forming a natural roof from which grapes hang, plus the rose bushes that cluster around. As they walk through what would be the totally green front garden, they begin to hear barking and, according to what they were seeing on social networks, Marie Lenoir's son has six dogs, two puppies and four adults, in addition to two cats (yes, they did their little research on the family and were able to see the only photograph of the boy, who has green eyes and a haunting resemblance to Bruce).

At the entrance of the house they are greeted by a gray-haired woman with a motherly gaze. She guides them through the small mansion to her employer's study, telling them some stories of the place's reform and how kind her boss is, letting the employees live in the house, in addition to informing them to be careful with the Animals that roam the house, can be very wild and are capable of knocking down adult men (he told the anecdote of Agatha rolling through the mud to Felix Graham de Vanily and Adrien Agreste at the same time).

Tim looks with interest at the scenery, everything is so… soft, warm and homey. The place is decently large, but it doesn't feel empty, not the way the mansion, even with everyone gathered, feels cold and lonely. In that house only three people are part of the Lenoir (if their observations are correct regarding Hugo).

As they walk down a hallway, they hear two different types of barking, but soon more join… until a black-haired boy pushes them aside as he runs, behind him come the four adult dogs and they manage to knock down Dick who had the unfortunate luck of not being moving in time, the two cubs pass over him.

A little subtly they hear the boyish childish laugh before crossing another hallway (although for Tim, it was more of an evil laugh).

"That boy, always doing his thing." The lady denies with a loving expression. "When I met him, he was very grumpy, he only gave us suspicious looks and observed us in everything we did, especially when we cooked. The first time he refused to eat something that had not been prepared by Miss Lenoir or Hugo, it was hard for him to trust us..."

"Looks like they had a rough start." Dick mentions curiously, wanting me to explain a little more about the boy. Marie has done a better job than Bruce keeping her son away from the media.

"I was, but I think it was worth it, he's a very special boy." She smiles and starts walking again, straight to the shrill noise of the dogs. They barely manage to hear the murmurs.

They enter the studio, a rather large and very elegant room in cream white and black. As they walk through the door, Marie looks up and drops the conversation she was having with her son, Damian turns and gives them a look of contempt, as if he really has something against them. Dick is openly confused by the boy's gaze.

"Welcome, Mr. Grayson and Mr. Drake." She smiles kindly and invites them to settle into the room, the dogs have already taken over a large part of the space. "Honey, why don't you take your friends out to play in the backyard?"

"They are very comfortable here, mother, besides, we have played all morning. We deserve a break. ”He responds politely and giving them another poisonous look, he sits on the black leather sofa (synthetic leather, of course) rising above them as the owner of the place.

Now Richard is much more confused, did they do something to offend the boy?

Tim is restless, the boy deliberately ran past his pack of dogs capable of taking down a Dick-sized man (maybe they could even knock someone like Jason or Bruce to the ground) and now he's subtly threatening them, maybe his older brother isn't I feel it as such, but Damian is drawing a line that if they cross, it will have consequences, and he doesn't want to imagine what that murderous-looking boy is capable of doing to them.

"Weren't you going to take measurements and ask what they want, mother?" Damian questions from her place, seeing that the three adults stood uneasily. Tim tries not to look in his direction, he has the feeling that he would smile darkly at him like a whole evil being.

"Sure..." She says and takes the tape measure from the desk and putting it on her shoulders, then picks up a pencil and her sketchbook. "So is it for an event or for everyday use?"

"Daily use, in my case". Dick responds as casually as he can, feeling the boy's gaze awkward. "Tim wants his suit for work."

"Comfort and elegance, I feel most of the time, but I need to be more than decent when executives decide to improvise a meeting." Tim looks around awkwardly. "It happens very frequently... and most are organized by Bruce"

Marie is aware of what Damian is doing, but doesn't understand the reasons, she has never had that behavior with a client and doubts that it's only because they are two men who border her age, there is something else and she's going to find out, these two men they mean something, her child only reacts to extremes when it comes to... his birth family. Well, mystery solved. Now, she will discover how to approach the issue.

She couldn't see the boy's reaction to his biological father's name, but ho gaze only intensified by throwing mental daggers at the younger of the two men, causing chills. Dick gives Damian a small look, yes, it's unsettling, but he's worried about the amount of contempt he has for them, he cannot even think about how sweet and pretty the designer is, because he's not blind and she's beautiful.

Damian takes out his phone and takes a subtle photograph that he sends to the chat he has with Felix, asking him to come help him intimidate those two men. She only receives a vague reply, but it's enough for him. Although his attention is slightly taken by the group chat, where he has the misfortune of being for being of all the members of the MT (official and unofficial) .. with a very subtle name and nobody don't want to tell him who was the genius who put it on, Although if he must guess, it must have been Kim. Between that and the ridiculous names, he's completely sure that it is his doing.

Marie spends the entire morning chatting with her two clients, Damian and her pack of dogs hang around the entire time. The two German Shepherds are very intimidating, especially Agatha whenever Richard leaned too closed to his mother.

Damian is not allowing his supposed brother to have even the slightest chance of becoming his alleged father. No, he prefers his mother's lover (whoever he is) a thousand times to anyone who is in any way related to his biological family.

----------

It's not the MT

The Antibiotic: Why wasn't told me the butterfly it was active?

Perfect Crime: Because, dear cousin, enough suffering is being married to the shrew.

Plasticine: Don’t invoke her, she’s worse than Satan.

Almost pretty: At least Satan is a good guy, he invited me for a few drinks when I went to Los Angeles with my mother.

Three balls: I signed him a comic, it's great.

Needle: I remember that day, he invited us to a trio

Dragon Tamer: I remind you that there is a child here.

Olive: Agreste, none warned you because they have the concentration capacity of a stick, that is, none.

Plasticine: And you?

Olive: I don't care enough to remember his existence.

The Antibiotic: At least you are sincere...

----------

At lunchtime, Felix arrives at the country house. The two clients are still there, after Damian left the room to go to the bathroom (he's still mad at his physiology for betraying him), Tim was more open about the details. Dick was also more relaxed and they even got into a little conversation around the stunts... until the boy returned.

Two things became clear to Dick: first, the boy has something against them, and second, he has a very heavy and intimidating presence. Very creepy if asked.

So, with everyone gathered in the dining room, it's almost a surprise to see Felix arrive carrying another puppy, Dick looks bitterly as the boy gets another dog, at least hde will not be there for when the puppy turns into a giant dog.

"Felix, what does this mean?"Marinette questions in dismay, none of her friends had given an animal to her son, most against her beacause allowing him to have so many pets (even though only Daphne lives in the apartment).

“A few nights ago I had an epiphany when I saw how a ridiculous suit was the solution to all our problems, so I decided to give Damian a Great Dane because… things can only be strange to a certain extent. "

"You're delusional." She wants to laugh at his logic, especially since he always seemed incredulous every time he saw a Lucky Charm, he always ended up talking to Tikki about it and ended the discussions regretting the loss of all logic (he gave up long ago time, but it seems that the last Akuma made him remember the strange things that it delivers).

"Anybody raves after that." Damian, take. ”The boy stands up to receive his new pet, showing a small and subtle smile when he takes the puppy in his arms. "I had a hard time getting it, I had to blackmail this friend of my mother who tried to sell it at exaggerated prices. "

Marinette gives him a warning look, refraining from saying what he did in front of her guests, can still save her family's reputation a bit after Damian nearly threatened them with kitchen knives (because the real weapons don't come out of the headquarters of the MT).

"Of course not, I made a deal, I can't reveal the circumstances of the deal." He smirks and his gaze on Marinette's clients. "I'm sorry for my rudeness, I'm Felix Graham de Vanily."

"No problem, Richard Grayson." He gets up to shake hands and shake them, giving him a nice smile, Tim stays in his place and just introduces himself, looking at the blond man without being able to avoid that many expressions of the boy are reflected in him. Does Damian see him as his father figure? He's pleasant around him, although he has not seen how he acts in front of other people.

"Do you have lunch with us?" Marinette already knows the answer, but still asks for the employees to prepare another dish.

"Of course. "

"Does he have a name?" Damian asks after he has been stroking the puppy whose fur is completely black, who is happy to be cared for.

"No, you can put whatever you want and, for the love of all that is good, never ask my cousin about it again." Mariette smiles with amusement and settles again, although she knows that Damian will take a little longer to return to sit down.

"Pictso seems happy with his name." Damian says amused to see Felix's face contract, he enjoys teasing the adults around him (except his mother).

"It just shows that any creature that comes from my cousin has the same lousy taste as him."

"I thought that was established since he didn't accept that Chloe will start the divorce process." Marinette says simply as Margaret, Hugo's equivalent in the country house, comes in with the extra plate and places it right in front of Tim, at Damian's side of the seat.

Felix only teases and adjusts himself in his seat, Damian imitates him without releasing the puppy, ignoring Marinette's gaze.

"Damian."

"Only this time, mother, then he will be with his brothers." He responds, facing his mother, feeling Richard's gaze on him, making him uncomfortable because it's too soft for his taste.

What does he need to does to get those people out of his life forever?

--------

Damian @DamianLenoir

Titus is added to the family, his brothers adore him.

[Attached photo]

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

@DamianLenoir Another one? Where do you get dogs so fast?

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

@DamianLenoir @BourgeoisQueen It was a gift from Felix.

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

@DamianLenoir @MarieLenoir Tell me it's not related to the bottle of Château Cheval Blanc that he gave us all

Marc @MarcAC_twt

@DamianLenoir @BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir I think it is.

Nath @NathanielKC_twt

@DamianLenoir @BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir @MarcAC_twt I don't even dare to touch the bottle, why did he give us a damn 5,000 euros wine? I shouldn't have investigated...

Felix @GrahamV_Felix

@BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir @MarcAC_twt @NathanielKC_twt Say thanks, or didn't they teach you manners?

Nath @NathanielKC_twt

@BourgeoisQueen @MarieLenoir @MarcAC_twt @GrahamV_Felix I would be more grateful if I didn't feel that wine is worth more than all my art supplies

#dickinette #dick x marinette #maribat #ml x dc #mominette #Damian & Marinette

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 24

Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

Ao3

Note: might continue this one if enough people yell at me. Do not ask to be put on a tag list.

Warnings: Torture of a minor, blackmail, blood, violence, vomit, more tws in tags

Summary: Slade blackmails Dick into joining him. Things go downhill for Dick when Damian tries to get involved, and Slade decides the interference is a perfect opportunity for a lesson in torture.

-o-o-o-o-

The gym is the only place in this entire mansion where Dick feels safe. Or, at least a little in control of his life. It's been months since he's sold his freedom, and while he's allowed free reign of the entire building excepting the west wing and the basement, there's hardly anything he can do in any of these empty rooms besides glare holes in the walls.

At least, while he's in the gym, he can pretend the faceless punching dummies belong to Slade Wilson.

Because fuck that guy.

It's the safest place in the mansion. It's the only place he's allowed to work himself up to the point of hitting, kicking, and screaming. As long as he doesn't harm the equipment or himself, Slade doesn't care what he does in here. Granted, if he shows his frustration too much anywhere, Slade will use it against him. Which is probably why whenever Slade needs something from him, he looks for him inside the gym.

So maybe it's not the safest place in the mansion.

But it’s still better than cold, empty rooms.

And Dick doesn't really care anyway. Everything stopped being safe the moment he was pinned to the carpet of his own apartment and whispered to that… that…

His knuckles ache. The punching dummy just wobbles, and Dick wonders what would really happen if he tore it apart.

He doesn't even get to entertain the idea of slamming his fingers into the tiniest weakness of the padded fabric to rip it at its seams, because before he winds up for another punch, the sound of heavily booted footsteps make themselves known behind him.

Which definitely means something is up. If Slade wanted to come in here just to mess with Dick, he could have easily left his movements more silent than a moth's wings. He punches the dummy, wipes sweat from his brow, then turns to glare at his captor.

It's not Slade who looks back, but Deathstroke in full attire.

Something is definitely up.

"Apprentice," Deathstroke says smoothly, sending chills of annoyance down Dick's spine. He hates everything about this, but Slade refusing to call him anything other than apprentice or boy is just an insult to injury. It's like Slade owns him. Like Dick doesn't have a right to any other name.

However, instead of lashing out like he oh so desperately wants, he straightens his posture, flattens his expression, and brings his hands behind his back to grasp onto each of his wrists.

Time for the most humiliating thing of all of this. His mouth already tastes disgusting.

"Master."

Dick can't see Slade's face under his mask, but he knows the other man is grinning. It's been months, and Slade has yet to tire from Dick's discomfort.

"Tell me," Slade practically purrs, folding his arms across his chest and looking too relaxed. "Do you remember the conditions of your stay here?"

What's Slade's game? Why is he bringing this up now? Dick grinds his teeth for just a second before forcing himself to respond.

"I do what you say, when you say it, and immediately follow any and all orders without question."

"And in exchange?"

Now Dick can't help but feel a little bit of his uneasiness show in his face. He swallows and shifts his feet.

"You won't detonate the bombs."

Dick can practically smell Slade's smugness as he asks "and where are the bombs located?"

Dick takes a deep breath. "Inside the skulls of Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Damian."

How Deathstroke got the bombs inside all of their heads, Dick will never know. All he knows is that he came back from patrol one night to find Deathstroke sitting on his couch, the X-rays of each of their heads sitting on his coffee table. Of course, he didn't know it was their heads until he was overpowered and manhandled to the ground so Slade would explain it all too happily.

Dick doesn't know what Slade's plans are this time around. He hasn't done anything besides force Dick to train in various forms of combat. He hasn't said anything about joining his mission or killing people or… or anything. Just training. Dick's beginning to think he just enjoys having power over Dick.

"Come," Slade says, forcing Dick from his thoughts, "I have something I need you to do."

Dick forces himself to nod, and not question why Slade brought the bombs up. He simply brings his hands to his front, unwraps the tape around his knuckles, and follows along even though the sweat sticking under his workout clothes is uncomfortable and he'd much prefer a shower before dealing with whatever Slade wanted from him.

The walk through the mansion halls are as lonely as always. Dick's sure that even if Slade wasn't a jackass with the thirst to kill for money, this place would still be empty. The entire mansion was built somewhere within the Appalachian mountains, practically in the middle of nowhere. Hidden expertly within the trees and designed to be practically invisible to any eyes traveling above. To get here, they had to take a helicopter.

A helicopter. Dick cannot stress that enough.

He lets his mind wonder as he follows Slade. It's probably for some sort of training exercise outside. Maybe he's being brought to the gun range? He tries to tell himself it's nothing, but there's still an inkling of unease in his gut.

Why did he bring up the bombs?

Slade suddenly comes to a halt, and it's all Dick can do to not slam into his back. He stops and looks at the door Slade stopped in front of with widening eyes.

The door to the basement.

One of three places Slade has forbidden.

Slade doesn't bother with any dramatics like locks or passcodes. No doors are locked here. Dick knows better than to push anywhere he's not supposed to.

The literal heads of his family are on the line.

He watches with a horrible emotional cocktail of nervousness and curiosity as Slade turns the handle and opens the door. There's nothing special right away. Just stairs leading down into the shadows.

"Follow," Slade says, and Dick does.

The travel down is… uneventful to say the least. Nothing to see besides stone steps and gray walls. However, Dick quickly becomes aware of a drop in temperature. A dramatic one. One that seeps through his sweat soaked clothes and straight into his bones like freezing little needles.

It's when they reach the basement floor he realizes why it's so cold, dark, and secretive down here.

It can hardly even be called a basement once Dick gets a good look.

It's more like a dungeon. Long hallways, iron doors with iron bars, dim candles built into the walls…

It's Slade Wilson's personal prison.

Which is strange, because Slade doesn't often take prisoners. Dick's normally the only one to own that title when it comes to Slade.

Slade doesn't give him a chance to really take in everything and just continues down into the dungeon, passing door after door, each holding just glimpses of various dangerous looking tools and chains and contraptions… ones that have Dick's head spinning just by thinking about the range of torture that can be performed in each room.

His bewilderment must be more obvious than what he meant it to be, because Slade turns to look at him and lets out a chuckle.

"You have questions," he notes.

Dick swallows and turns his head from the doors. He forces himself to look Slade right in the eye. Or… the hole where his one eye is hidden under. "… I do."

"Ask."

Deep breathes. "What is this place? Why are we…"

Slade chuckles and turns away, grabbing at a ring of keys from within one of his pockets. It seems the no locked doors policy doesn't apply down here. "I didn't plan on taking you down here so soon," Slade explains, turning down a seemingly random corner. "I planned for you to know this place… intimately… soon enough. Except, well, something came up. And I supposed this portion of training could begin a bit earlier than planned."

He stops in front of a door, one that's more heavier fortified than the rest they had passed. The iron widow on the door is covered by a steel plate, possibly making the inside completely shrouded in darkness.

Dick watches with growing anxiety as Slade pushes the key into the door, turns it, then steps back to allow Dick a clear, complete view on what's inside.

His stomach twists violently. His breath leaves his lungs like he's taken a violent blow to the gut.

There's chains hanging from the center of the dark room, shackles locking tightly over clenched, bare wrists. There's a boy hanging from them, his uncovered toes just one chain link away from having enough purchase to let his heels touch the grime covered ground. He's not wearing a shirt, and his pants are torn near his knees.

Wrapped around his eyes is a blindfold. Over his mouth is a painfully tight looking leather gag. Locked over his ears is a pair of what is definitely sound canceling headphones.

Damian.

Dick finds himself backing away, his heart in his throat, but he quite predictably runs into Slade's chest. He can feel every single one of his nerves twist violently as Slade wraps his fingers around Dick's biceps to keep him standing there, in the doorway, with the perfect view of his littlest brother hanging in chains.

Then, his eyes slide to the side of the room where there are metal tables set with… with tools. Knives. Hammers. Whips. Pliers. Brands.

He almost chokes on his tongue when Slade leans down so his mouth is right by Dick's ear. "He tried to fight me all alone on my last visit to Gotham, demanding to know where you are. I easily took him down, but he needs to be taught a lesson, don't you think?"

Slade’s last trip to Gotham was three days ago. Has Damian been here… hanging here for that long?

"Slade…" Dick whispers, shocked that his voice still exists at all.

The hands on his biceps tighten.

"Master-" Dick quickly corrects himself, but it doesn't fix a single thing. Stirn, unmoving hands begin to force him to walk forward until he's fully inside of the cell, able to smell the faint reek of a child's sweat, and the smudges of blood that stick to his skin. Dick clutches his fists so tightly he can feel his fingernails threaten to break skin. The closer he gets, the more wounds he can see on Damian's mostly naked body.

Slade was careful taking him down.

"Now here's what you're going to do," Slade growls while Damian continues to hang there. Blinded, deafened, gagged, helpless, probably completely unaware that they're in the room. He lets go of Dick's arms and walks towards Damian. He curls a hand in Damian's hair, causing the boy to tense.

Dick wants to scream.

"You're going to do exactly as I say with no back talk." Slade tugs on Damian's hair, causing a muffled grunt, before he taps the pointer finger of his free hand right onto Damian's left temple. Right where the X-rays showed where the bombs were implanted. "Or else."

Dick can hardly sort his thoughts. He can barely breathe. All he can focus on is the hand in Damian's hair, watching as Slade pulls his head back so his neck is exposed, showing the beginnings of an Adam's apple that bobs nervously.

"Master-" Dick gasps, he can't even keep his voice even.

Slade squeezes his hand in Damian's hair, causing Damian to bend backwards even more and release short, almost panicked breaths. The sensory deprivation must not be doing any favors for him. The way his toes barely touch the ground doesn't even allow him to feel for vibrations.

"Pick up the knife, boy."

And something shatters in Dick's chest. "Please, Master- I'll do anything-"

"Pick up the knife!" Slade snarls, and Dick can't help a full body flinch. "If you question me one more time, I'll chain you up to watch me break him myself. Only, if I do it, I'll make sure he dies slowly, and painfully. I won't even use the bomb."

Dick wants to cry. Instead, he sucks in a breath and turns to the table, picking up the first knife he sees with shaking hands. He tells himself that he's doing this to save Damian's life. That if he does as he's told… Slade should let Damian go.

Teach him a lesson. Teach him a lesson.

Slade's not sending a message. He's teaching a lesson. Which means he won't be forced to kill Damian.

Just learn how to torture him.

"Good boy." Dick can practically hear the smile in Slade's voice as he finally lets go of Damian, backing up so the boy is left hanging in his shackles, breathing hard and definitely fighting off anxious twitches.

He holds the knife out in front of him, the light is low in the cell, but he can definitely tell how sharp the edges are. He honestly would rather plunge this knife into his own heart than put it against his kid… but Dick has a feeling Slade wouldn't let Dick go that easily. Somehow, Slade won't let Dick die here. He'll keep Dick alive, then chain him up, and force him to watch Damian gain gruesome death that he doesn't deserve.

He's helping Damian. He's helping Damian. He's doing this to make sure he lives. That they all live.

So he holds the knife out in front of him, approaches, and forces his face to not show how much distress he's in. His lips wobbles, and Slade definitely notices it, but he doesn't comment on it. Just chuckles.

God, Dick hates him so much.

"Put the edge against his jaw… but don't press hard enough to cut flesh," Slade says, and Dick crawls away to some corner of his mind to do exactly as he's told. Robotically. Not feeling anything. His brain is screaming. "Run it down his neck, yes just like that. Trail the tip over his chest, not cutting, but let him feel it. Let him imagine the things it can do to him. We will prove his expectations to be underdeveloped in a minute-"

And Dick does as he's told. He trails the knife over Damian's skin, forcing himself not to flinch every time Damian's breath catches. He brushes where Slade tells him to brush, threatens with a small push when Slade tells him to threaten.

He breaks skin on Damian's back when Slade tells him to break skin.

I'm sorry Damian, he can only scream inside his mind as digs the blade in at an awkward and extremely painful angle near Damian's collar bone.

The kid writhes and certainly does his best to ignore the torture… but he eventually screams through the gag.

And Dick keeps doing as he's told. The shattered pieces of his sole are now a fine, crushed dust.

"There we go…" Slade compliments happily, when the first tear appears under Damian's blindfold. "You're doing great, apprentice."

And it doesn't stop there. And Dick keeps doing as he's told. He keeps pressing the knife. He keeps trailing it. Tearing skin. Puncturing sensitive places. Using Damian's struggles and tremors against him.

Like a monster.

I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry.

Eventually, Slade finally tells him to stop. Dick backs away like Damian’s fire. He watches with wide eyes as Damian sags against the chains and heaves a shaking breath that rattles his entire blood splattered chest.

“Go upstairs, shower, and go to bed,” Slade says, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick can’t help it, he flinches. All he can think about is how Damian is desperately trying to get a hold of himself. Unaware that the torture is over. Unaware that it was Dick who… who… who did this. Slade doesn’t seem to care about Dick’s flinch. He just tightens his iron strong grip and leans closer to Dick’s ear. His mask is off now. Dick can tell by his familiar hot breath against his cheek and ear. “You did good, apprentice. I’m proud of you.”

“What…” Dick breaths, memorizing every line of red on Damian’s skin that he caused. Dick swallows down a mouthful of vomit that tries to rise. “What about-”

The grip on his shoulder shifts, thick fingers squeeze the base of his neck dangerously. “I said go upstairs. Shower. And Go. To. Bed. The brat is no longer your concern.”

There’s a threat in Slade’s voice. One that Dick has been conditioned to immediately obey for fear of worse punishment. Fear of a button being pressed and every single one of his siblings…

He looks at Damian for a heartbeat longer; tells himself that Slade will let Damian go. That Damian will soon be back at the manor and recovering.

Dick nods his head then turns heel, forcing that little pit of despair to turn into something that could be mistaken as hope. He walks past all the other cells, not looking inside a single door, before he’s running up the stairs two at a time and sprinting to his room.

The moment he’s in his bedroom—a large one at that, but filled with nothing but a bed and a dresser—he beelines to his bathroom and is already stripping his clothes before he can close the door behind him. He tries to wipe his arms and hands with his shirt as he takes off his garment, but he can still see smudges of red on his skin. He turns on the water as hot as it can go then collapses by the open toilet.

He empties everything in his stomach, then continues gagging every time he smells blood on his body until steam has completely fogged up the mirror.

He flushes the toilet and steps into the scalding water, hardly even noticing how his skin burns.

All he’s aware of is the red running pink down the drain, and the drops of water on his cheeks that is definitely from the spray of the shower.

He’s not sure he’ll ever forgive himself.

He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to fully wash the blood from his body.

All he can do is stand there and let the practically boiling temperature of the water assist his emotional turmoil in becoming something physical.

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