For Some Odd Reason I Want To Write A Book About This Prompt And Add Other Pantheons Then Add Science

For some odd reason I want to write a book about this prompt and add other pantheons then add science fiction mainly due to the fact it's been two centuries in the future

After you and Death had a bad break up, they told you they would never come back to you. Two centuries later and, true to their word, they still haven’t come for you.

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

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The Cosmic Horror of Gotham City

CHAPTER NINETEEN / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: Things are changing between you and it's unignorable.

Word Count: 6,849.

Jason's utter lack of mockery put you ill at ease. You glanced at him. Catching sight of his glassy eyes and shaking limbs, you quickly leaned over with a worried, “Hey.”

“Please don’t,” he rasped as he tilted back against the headrest. His tone made you stop. You dropped your hand, unsure how to proceed.

You stared at him, eyes wide and powerless.

Jason sniffled. You glanced his way again as he wiped at a stray tear. Gravity tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I can’t watch you cry and ignore it,” you admitted.

“I need you to. Please,” he begged.

“No.”

Jason choked out a laugh, congested and caught on the sharp edges of melancholy. His bloodshot eyes found yours. “I said ‘please.’”

You sloped forward, eyes steady on him. “And I told you. No.”

He made an argumentative noise. “You won’t let a man cry in peace? That’s cruel, even for you.”

You tried not to smile. “I’ll let you cry, for a price.”

His brow raised in muted defeat. “What’s that?”

You let your hand fall onto the centre console, palm facing upwards. Your fingers lay limp and parted in anticipation. Jason looked down at your hand. The muscles in his throat worked hard as he deliberated his next move.

“If I hold your hand while I’m bawling my eyes out, we’re definitely going to crash,” he said pointedly, gaze flashing upwards. “And then Roy will finish the job.”

With a flippant smile stretched across your face, you said, “Okay.”

“‘Okay?’” repeated a bewildered Jason. You shrugged and twisted towards the window, leaving your hand where it was. “Damn you,” he muttered.

But it wasn’t long after that his fingers laced with yours. He stared at you, hoping you’d turn back to see the mess you’d made of a vulnerable man.

For once, Gotham’s dismal grey skies shied away, allowing a modicum of sunlight to burst through the clouds. The warmth was all enveloping as it alleviated your worries. The radiant beams were pleasant upon your skin, gifting you with livened spirits.

You stood outside of your apartment, completing a blissful twirl as you soaked up a couple more rays. Jason watched, an amused twist to his mouth as he leaned against Roy’s truck.

Roy had kindly offered it for your use—as long as it was returned in the same or better condition. You’d rolled your eyes at that, knowing full well the only time the vehicle was ever cleaned was when it rained. “Nature’s shower,” he’d exclaimed.

“Can you drive?” came Jason’s curious question as you met him at the truck’s door. Warily eying him, you nodded. There was a shrill clack as the keys were hung in front of your nose.

“What?” you gaped, pushing his hand from your face.

“You can drive us,” he said, expectant brows raised.

You shook your head. “I haven’t—in a long time.”

He shrugged and tossed you the keys anyway. Before you could argue, he’d rounded the car and climbed in. The passenger door slammed shut. You sighed with renewed agitation. Of course he wanted to ruin your sunny mood.

Your fingers twitched as you slid into the driver’s seat. None of your prior training felt like enough preparation. Jason’s scrutiny only increased your nervousness.

“I don’t know the way,” you said, voice weak.

“I’ll direct you.”

An exasperated sigh broke loose from your throat. You slowly inched towards the ignition as you searched for a last-minute escape route. “I’m going to kill us,” you warned, glancing at him with pleading eyes.

His gaze dropped to where you gripped the steering wheel tight. “At least it’ll be on my own terms,” he shrugged, shifting so he was more comfortable. You squinted at him for the blithe comment.

Facing the road again, you inhaled and exhaled deeply. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the exercise helped to settle your stomach. And then, to your surprise, one of his hands covered your trembling one in an attempt at comfort. You stared at it, noting that his fingers didn’t seem as swollen as they had previously been.

You looked up. Jason shot you a small smile, eyes soft with encouragement. But his hand drifted back to his own lap all too soon.

Okay, you could do this. It was only fifteen minutes or something like that, right? You didn’t want to make yourself out to be any more of a coward. Jason already had enough reasons to harass you till your wit’s end.

You listened to the low sputter of the engine as you pulled away from the kerb, sweating profusely the entire time. You managed to get onto the road without issue, although you were well under the speed limit. Jason didn’t complain. He did, however, plop his lower limbs onto the dashboard.

“Do you know what happens when we crash and your legs are up there?” you asked, eyes flashing to him briefly.

“Yep.”

“They snap like matchsticks.”

“So don’t crash,” he drawled, head tipping over his shoulder with a lazy smirk. You forced yourself not to stare. Or you really would crash.

You eventually picked up enough speed to match the other cars by the time you reached the bridge.

“You’re doing real good, sweetheart,” Jason commented, his Gotham accent heavier than usual. You swallowed thickly, not liking how your heart reacted to the praise. “I’m not even scared for my life anymore.”

“Hey!” you cried, swatting at his arm while trying not to wobble across lane lines. He gave a husky chuckle, meeting your attacks with a whack of his own. You caught his hand and pressed it against the wheel with a triumphant noise.

The turn of events intrigued him, and as such, his eyes slanted towards you. This sense of playful domesticity and comfort was entirely foreign to him. He wondered if it was the same for you.

Thumps pounded within his ribcage as his heartbeat picked up, but he didn’t dare breathe a word. He wanted a moment where he was allowed to enjoy such a tenderness—one which was unusually shared with him.

As his gaze dropped coyly, Jason decided to test the waters. He pried his fingers apart, and automatically yours wedged into the empty slots between his. His thumb began a slow graze over your skin.

Fuck, you were practically holding hands. And he kind of liked it.

He nervously glanced up and spotted the muscles working in your throat, although your eyes didn’t waver from the road. He supposed you housed a similar fretful twinge.

He leaned against the chair’s headrest as he continued to watch through careful eyes. He didn’t know how long he could leave his hand there before it truly became a thing—before it meant something he couldn’t take back. Something he might have to acknowledge properly.

“We’re almost there, right?” you murmured after a heavy silence. You spared him a look, taking in his pretty green eyes. He was doing that thing again where he tried to find an answer on your face. You didn’t have one for him though. This was new and scary but also—

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled, tugging his hand from yours. Weirdly, there was resistance from your end.

That had been a hint though, hadn’t it? Get the hell off me before someone else sees?

You didn’t seem annoyed per se, but a frown slipped onto your face at the change. He’d put it there for a reason that ungracefully slipped past his comprehension.

The Manor was as grand as ever, you noted, as you padded across the soft green grounds. Perhaps even more so in the daylight. The air was filled with the scent of freshly pruned shrubs and grass. You were grateful the sun still peeked from behind the garden statues, lighting a speckled path for you.

You looked over your shoulder as Jason lagged behind. It was like the Wayne land burned him, if his grimaced expression held any meaning. You took a few steps backwards to match pace with him. He paused when you did but he refused to meet your eyes.

“You can wait... if you want,” you told him in a low tone as you scratched at your arm.

He tensed and untensed his fingers and repeated the actions a few more times. Truly, he’d already been considering it. He couldn’t hide from the urge to scream and scream and never stop screaming that had lodged between his reanimated organs.

“Uh...” Jason breathed aloud, trying to force down the puke and metaphorical rot and worms. He’d been buried in this very dirt and clawed his way out of it with only a fraction of his mind left. He swallowed, feeling sicker as the thoughts spun and rewound again, like an old Hollywood reel.

You nodded, taking his muteness as an answer. You turned on your heel to leave him amongst the discarded clippings.

“Wait,” he panicked, stepping after you. He reached out, not really meaning to grab you, but so the distance wouldn’t get any bigger. He stopped short. He swallowed bile at the invisible barrier between you.

You held out the car keys. “Just wait in the car, Jason.”

Despair tugged at his mouth and pinched the space between his brows. “I... I can do this,” he said lamely.

“You don’t have to.”

Your lack of belief made his nostrils flare. “I can,” he snapped, breaking from the spot he’d been rooted to. He knocked past you as he stalked towards the magnificent, looming door.

You called for him. He stopped rigid, only a couple of steps from his goal. Jason looked up at the hidden camera. It was a surprise that Alfred hadn’t greeted you already, since he would have been alerted to your presence the second you breached the gates. Jason choked on more bile.

He flinched when your fingers wound around his wrist, cold but not uncaring. He looked between you and your hand neurotically.

“Last chance,” you warned him, softer this time.

He scowled at you. “I told you—”

“Okay,” you interrupted him. Your hand dropped till your fingers intertwined.

He was less pliant this time, and subsequently, his mouth opened and closed, voice lost to confusion. He looked at the ground, beyond where his skin tingled oddly against yours. He thought you hadn’t liked his touch earlier, but now—?

Jason shook the whirlwind of thoughts off and led you to the door without another word. He tugged you behind him, not needing to add embarrassment onto the pile of emotions he was going through.

Albeit unnecessary, he knocked. Seconds later, the door opened inwards to reveal Alfred proudly standing beside it.

“Ah, Master Todd,” he greeted, first looking him over. Then, his scrupulous eyes turned to you. Jason pulled you closer to hide you from view.

Alfred pasted a polite smile onto his face. “This must be...”

“Yeah, yeah, old man. Get out of the way,” Jason said, forcing his way inside, and you along with him.

“Hey,” you muttered in warning. You shot the butler an apologetic look.

“He already knows I’m a miscreant,” Jason scoffed, not rethinking his actions.

“While correct,” Alfred agreed, following them, “a proper introduction would not go awry, Jason.”

Jason said your name, “Meet Alfred. Resident pain in the ass.” He threw a look over his shoulder as he stomped down the hallway. “Happy?”

You remembered taking a similar path when you’d been here for Donna’s birthday, but it didn’t stop you from looking over the place in wonder again.

“Endlessly,” came Alfred’s monotonous reply.

A wry smile appeared at the man’s dry wit. “I see where he gets it,” you said to no one in particular, although it earned you a double brow raise. You squeezed Jason’s hand, indicating the comment was in jest.

He sighed loudly. “Is Raven in the training wing or not?”

“The old one... burned down,” Alfred reminded him, and the last part tasted strangely bitter on his tongue. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to the new wing, if you so please.”

That made Jason slow and inevitably pause. You felt the tendons in his arm stiffen, but nonetheless, he nodded.

The three of you walked in silence, diverting from Jason’s original path. He kept his feet ahead of yours.

He knew they’d arrived when he saw wide, frosted glass doors, and beyond it, gym equipment. You both stopped just short of them. “Thanks, Alfred,” Jason said quietly, unsure how else to part in the most ceremonious way possible.

Alfred nodded once, however he didn’t let the conversation end there. “Will you be staying for tea?” he queried.

You looked at Jason the same time he looked to you. You saw the slight twitch in his jaw that meant no. You wanted to say yes—if only to annoy him—but you didn’t want to actually stick around. That seemed like giving Dick too much leeway in recruiting you. Your plan was to see Raven and get out in one piece.

You let out a modest sigh and faced Alfred. “I’m sorry, we have plans already.” Jason relaxed as soon as you gave the excuse.

“Very well. Another time then,” Alfred nodded to himself. There was a beat before he continued. “I assume you’re the roommate?” he asked airily, although the question had obviously come from a place of curious concern.

Jason immediately ripped his hand from yours and crossed his arms at the forthcoming indignation. Alfred was going to verbally crucify him for fun. As if being there wasn’t already hard enough.

“Not anymore. I moved in with Roy.” You glanced at Jason, then Alfred. The corners of your mouth curved. “But he seems to have followed me anyway.”

Alfred’s head tilted and his sharp-eyed stare focused on Jason. “In that case, I do hope he’s pulling his weight?”

Jason made a low noise of protest in the back of his throat.

“Of course,” you agreed, but you couldn’t deny the lick of mischief you felt any longer. “Are you the grandfather that taught him to cook?”

“‘Grandfather?’ Why, I’m merely an old, useless butler,” Alfred mused, playing along. The smugness utterly radiated off him at the shock of an unintentional compliment.

It would seem Jason had to scratch out not being humiliated from his list of things to do that day.

The blood drained from Jason’s face, re-emerging as a tidal wave of insufferable heat, flooding his entire body. He turned around, fingers compulsively finding their way into the curls at his nape. He wanted to yank the hair from its roots; a blinding pain that would hopefully send him to another planet where this wasn’t happening.

“Well, you trained him to be a perfectly good house husband,” you tittered. Alfred’s smile widened, enough to be noticeable.

However, that was the final straw for Jason—if he had to listen to one more word, he was going to go out to his grave and unearth the site so he could return to it.

His fist balled into the back of your shirt, forcing you out of the conversation with an unexpected jerk. “Enough!” Jason lashed out. “Both of you cut it the fuck out, or we’re leaving.”

Alfred sighed wearily, eyes raking over the pair. They stayed on Jason. “Very well.”

Your face fell. As you pivoted, you tried to pry his fingers from your clothes. He met you with anger—or was it hurt?—in his eyes. You wanted to ask why, but he moved towards the door. Alfred immediately tailed.

He reached for the entry panel but Jason stopped him, fists tight by his side. “I can do it.”

“Unfortunately not, I'm afraid.”

It definitely unscabbed a wound to hear it. Upset flickered across his face. “Why? You scrubbed me from the system?”

“No, Jason,” Alfred replied, sounding just as sad. His voice lowered again when he said, conspiratorially, “Your eyes.”

Even though you didn’t understand, Jason did. He froze, hackles practically raised. He took a stiff step back, almost bumping into you as he waited for Alfred to let you both in.

They parted with only an idiosyncratic glance; an acknowledgement of the world of secrets only they were privy to.

You didn’t speak until the doors closed behind you and Alfred walked away. Then, you looked to Jason. You opened your mouth but he cut in first.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” you argued.

He rubbed at his eyebrow. Finally, scornfully, he repeated, “A ‘house husband,’ really?”

“What?” You attempted to muster your bravado. You were quick to offer, “You take care of me. And Roy.”

Jason looked at you strangely as he silently contemplated the admission. He shook his head. “Just—don’t say things like that to him, yeah? He doesn’t need new ammo.”

You barely gave a nod before your eyes averted. You scanned the gym, taking in the large room. One side was coveted in a wall of thorny rose bushes. A garden lay hidden behind them. You wouldn’t mind taking a walk through them, you thought absently.

All at once, Jason’s wired presence ensnared you once again. You swallowed, dodging his probing gaze. Despite the fact that you kept Raven waiting, you didn’t think you could pretend that his outburst hadn’t bothered you. “I don’t like when you yell,” you said, eyes stuck to a foam mat.

His own flicked to your face, roaming over the slopes gingerly. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “I’ll remember that.” When you didn’t reply after a few seconds, Jason touched your elbow. You’d been busy mulling his sincerity. “We good?” Jason asked, voice frail, when you finally acknowledged him with a look.

You cleared your throat. Hoarsely, you insisted, “I mean it.”

The chill of his fingers fell away. “I know,” he said, and it was still spoken at a hushed volume. Frustrated, he ground his knuckles into his cheek until redness bloomed. “It’s hard for me... to be here.”

You wrest the hand that assaulted his face, dragging it to its natural hanging position. His gaze darted across the room helplessly.

“You’re trying?” you asked. There was a pin board in your subconscious where you stuck these new details about the enigma of a man in front of you.

It took some time, but he inevitably met your gaze again. Jason’s chin dipped in a nod. You parroted the movement, expelling your worries with a breath.

As you recalled Alfred’s comment, you peered closer. His eyes narrowed in return.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” you asked suspiciously as you mirrored his expression. To you, they were awfully intoxicating, but not damaged in any way.

He snorted his dismissal. “Guess I grew out of them.”

Great, you thought. Another non-answer.

The neat path led Jason into a part of the garden that was haunted solely by grief these days. A heaviness hung in the air, thick and undulating—willing to take hostages without notice.

He felt it the moment he stepped past the threshold of bloomed pink and yellow roses. The hue of the petals trended darker here, warning of the sadness to come. He paid them only a glance, more focused on his destination. He felt welcome in the clutches of sorrow that lapped at his feet hungrily; like a fated pull that promised to lead him to an old friend.

The flower bushes gave way to a small, gothic piked area. It was stereotypically forlorn in its presentation. The sun, coincidentally, dipped behind the clouds, perhaps in fear of something so powerful.

Jason Peter Todd’s gravestone loomed beside the tall Wayne slabs. He scanned the plots, past Martha and Thomas, before he stopped at Bruce’s. Jason was glued there for a long time, but it took much less than that for his eyes to change from searingly dry to teary.

His entire walk to this graveyard had left him with the rising feeling of suffocation. It clawed its way up from the ground and into his limbs. Now it took home in his chest and throat, scratchy and uncomfortable, much like the thorns that had scuffed him on the journey in. His ribs felt like they were being crushed under the hand of a supervillain.

Except he was that villain.

Bruce was six feet because of him.

His fingers burrowed into his jumper pockets as he searched for a reprieve from the gaping well in his heart. It only swirled and expanded, purported by his overwhelmed senses.

Jason’s eyes slanted sideways. His plot had been smoothed over, no sign of him ever having crawled out. It was odd to still see it standing. But perhaps he was dead to them either way.

A hiccup escaped him. It hurt.

It was too much, too quick, he realised as he relived the moment when his skin was re-exposed to fresh air. He stared at the unruffled dirt. When he’d come up, Bruce’s stone hadn’t been there. It had just been him, the skeletons of the elder Waynes—he shivered—and the chirping of birds he thought he’d never hear again. The whole thing made him want to vomit.

Blood rushed his ears like a waterfall, ever increasing in volume. It left him with dizzying stars in his eyes and the feeling of a thousand concussions hitting at once. His breath was sucked out of his chest and into the deity that hunted him.

Jason stumbled with a yelp as a set of bony phalanges dug into his ankle. It tore open the skin: a raw, ragged cut that burned deep. His balance was ripped from beneath him. Jason’s elbows hit the grass and a painful tremor rocked his limbs. He tried to scramble back, holding in his whimpers, but the hand had other plans for him.

It simultaneously climbed his leg for better leverage while it also yanked him closer to the burial hole.

Bruce was going to send him back to Hell.

“No, no, no,” he repeated, clawing at the grass in desperation. “Stop. Go away. Please,” he begged The Ghost.

He let out a sob when another hand curled around his top half. Jason tried to shove the pervasive arm off, wishing he’d never come. Even if you needed him.

“Go away,” he cried, choking on the simple syllables. The air talked back to him in a frequency too loud and sizzling.

At once, an arm dragged Jason from Bruce’s grave and the entranced skeleton. Jason grappled with the being that engulfed him as he voiced his anguished pleas. They quickly devolved into hyperventilated sobs.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, little wing,” was pressed into the back of his head, amongst his curls.

He was slow to comprehend the words, but when he did, he stammered out, “Wh—at?” Because that hadn’t been Bruce’s disembodied voice. Bruce had never called him little wing.

He pried at the arm clutched around his collarbone and found chestnut freckled skin—warm, alive.

“We should’ve been there. I should’ve been there for you,” the voice continued in a mournful blubber of their own. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jason peered through his glossy eyes at his leg to see it was completely intact. Another guttural weep unleashed from deep within his gut. What was ever real in his life? Were you? Was Dick?

The arms around him tightened. His companion’s hot tears fell down his neck. “We should’ve—we should’ve saved—”

“Dick?” Jason’s words were strangled between harsh breaths.

“I know I can never make up for it. I’m so sorry,” he agonised by his temple. “I’m here now, Jason.”

Jason was drained and confused and his chest heaved like he’d overdone a workout. His ears rang incessantly. He tried to look over his shoulder to see his newest companion. All he could manage to say, dully, was, “I killed Bruce.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t,” came Dick’s immediate, stringent reply. “Bruce killed Bruce. He left us. He’s a coward, Jason. He couldn’t live with his choices.”

He was floored to hear that from Dick of all people. He deflated into his touch, overly fatigued. “You don’t blame me?”

Dick let out a sad noise. “No. But you’re right to blame me. You—” Dick faltered over the unsaid, a streak from his eye punctuating his attempt, “—you died because of us.”

“Bruce dumped you,” Jason said in a low tone.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said sharply. “I was old enough to know better. I left you with him.”

Jason felt the sobs threaten to return at Dick’s plight. He struggled to keep his breathing even. He rubbed at the inner corners of his eyes, willing the wetness away. He swallowed through a painful lump when Dick’s fingers carded through his hair. It was a gentle, doting motion.

“I’ve missed you every day since, okay?” Dick said quietly. “I love you, Jay.” Feeling Jason’s muscles tense, Dick tried to soothe his agitation with a slow rub over his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to love me back,” he whispered. “It’s okay, promise.”

Jason croaked out something that resembled a sorrowful laugh. “But you’re my brother.”

Four rounds of Raven’s instructions had gotten you no closer to learning control. Your ability acted as it pleased: begin dutifully, then run astray. Sometimes the metallic pool was prompt to misbehave, straight to shooting wonky shards in every direction. If Raven wasn’t quick to banish them as they appeared—which you had no idea how she could do that—they left slices in the walls.

After another failed attempt, Raven resorted to words of encouragement. Well, her version of encouragement. She murmured your name calmly, “Powers aren’t easy.”

Your patience was stretched thin at this point. Even if it had only been twenty minutes. You threw your arms up in a tizzy and stared at the wall. “Why not? Getting them was.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her lips twitch, amused. “I doubt that’s true.”

So, maybe those ‘scientists’ had experimented for years before they’d even gotten a hold of you. And you ending up the way you had was nothing short of a miracle, considering their trail of dead bodies. But that didn’t make this process any more tolerable.

You shifted to your other foot, incensed by your lack of success. You resigned to muteness and glared at her. You would do that until the rage evaporated, you decided.

She remained unbothered and met your gaze. It was a long time before she spoke again, an idea having struck her. “Seeing your powers in action is good. It gives me a better understanding,” Raven said. “But let’s focus on baby steps.”

You folded your arms but listened. “What’s that mean?”

She sighed pre-emptively, knowing you wouldn’t like her suggestion. “Meditation.”

You huffed, loud and dramatic and absolutely in semblance of one of Jason’s tantrums. Raven said your name again in an inarguable tone. Your frown deepened, however you allowed her your attention.

“This is going to take time, no matter what. It did for all of us,” she told you resolutely. The fire within you was smothered by her pestilent honesty. “I’m sorry you’re frustrated and afraid of yourself, but you need to channel that energy. Meditation is good in that regards.”

You exhaled and let your arms drop. “Fine,” you said as your arms swung. “How?”

She asked you to sit down next to her so she could demonstrate her process. She ran through it in condensed steps. It sounded easy enough to replicate, but you knew clearing your mind wouldn’t be so simple.

Finally, she requested, “Let's do it together. I’ll guide you.” You gathered yourself into a comfortable position.

You tried to follow the breathing set as described by her soothing voice, but almost instantly your thoughts went to the very reason why you were doing this: the splatter of blood that had, up until seconds ago, pulsed warmly in another person’s throat. The way the energy drooled slow and thick under your skin, like mercury rising up an old thermometer. It always begged to be let out—I can solve your problems.

You blinked away the images of syrupy red splashed across walls and the unforgettable sound of someone gurgling on air. You willed plain darkness behind your eyelids.

It worked for a few minutes as you thought of rain against a window pane. A pretty noise, but too much of a striking similarity to the kind of droplets you ran from. With an aggrieved sigh, you moved onto something else before you grew more irritated.

And what was more perfect than Jason and his gloominess that haunted these halls?

He’d disappeared as soon as Raven had collected you. You wondered if he’d gone to sulk or trot around—it seemed as if he hadn’t been back here in some time.

Raven sensed your distraction. Her eyes fluttered open. Curiously, she asked, “What are you thinking of?”

You let your eyeballs know light again; the pastel and harsh hues of the gym. You looked to her as your brain fumbled to form a reply. You swallowed your uncertainty. “Why does Jason not like being here?”

Her eyes glazed over but there was no other indication that the question was an uncomfortable one. “Some things... happened, a couple of years ago,” she started. “The Manor and its residents bring up those unpleasant memories.”

You took her vagueness to mean the situation had been dire. You nodded, hoping she would give you a sliver more.

“He hasn’t forgiven us. Or himself, for that matter.”

What did he need to forgive them for? You desperately trawled your memories in search of an answer, as if it would jump out at you suddenly. Nothing did.

“He hasn’t told you much,” Raven mused. “About us and his past.”

“No, not much,” you agreed. “I know he was Robin.”

She nodded along. “Why do you trust him?”

Your chin lifted, puzzled by the query. Nevertheless, you said, “I saved his life and he saved mine.”

Raven sighed softly. She appreciated the candidacy and the fact that you obviously cared for him when they hadn’t been able to. “Thank you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest. “Thanks for helping me,” you said in turn. “Sorry that I’m a handful.” In the back of your mind, you acknowledged that it was odd to have a superior who was younger than you.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said and nodded in emphasis. The sincerity of her tone almost made you panic. You shrugged it off as you both stood.

Unsurely, you asked, “Same time next week?”

“Of course.”

You meant to leave, but your incessant need to have the last word made you pause. “You know, you never told me about your date.”

A shy smile spread across her face. “Garfield made a fool of himself. But... it was good.” Her nose scrunched. “Too fancy for my taste, though.”

You laughed, nerves eased by the simplicities of young love.

Leaving the Manor was a silent affair once you’d said goodbye to Raven, Alfred, and Dick, whom left his appearance to the last minute. Interestingly, he’d sent Jason off with a careful pat to his shoulder.

You climbed into the passenger seat as Jason decided to take over driving duties. You appreciated it, but his utter lack of mockery put you ill at ease. You glanced at him. Catching sight of his glassy eyes and shaking limbs, you quickly leaned over with a worried, “Hey.”

“Please don’t,” he rasped as he tilted back against the headrest. His tone made you stop. You dropped your hand, unsure how to proceed.

You stared at him, eyes wide and powerless. He’d never wanted your help or comfort before, so why would he start now? You shifted uneasily and glanced down at your hands. You wondered if this would ever get better between you—or at least easier to live with.

Jason sniffled. You glanced his way again as he wiped at a stray tear. Gravity tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I can’t watch you cry and ignore it,” you admitted. It was bad enough that the skin around his nose was a splotchy red, as were his cheeks. His undereyes and lips were slightly swollen, too.

“I need you to. Please,” he begged.

“No.”

Jason choked out a laugh, congested and caught on the sharp edges of melancholy. His bloodshot eyes found yours. “I said ‘please.’” His words were less sad this time around, but you knew he still searched for a way to make you concede.

You sloped forward, eyes steady on him. “And I told you. No.”

He made an argumentative noise. “You won’t let a man cry in peace? That’s cruel, even for you.”

You tried not to smile. “I’ll let you cry, for a price.”

His brow raised in muted defeat. “What’s that?”

You let your hand fall onto the centre console, palm facing upwards. Your fingers lay limp and parted in anticipation. Jason looked down at your hand. The muscles in his throat worked hard as he deliberated his next move.

“If I hold your hand while I’m bawling my eyes out, we’re definitely going to crash,” he said pointedly, gaze flashing upwards. “And then Roy will finish the job.”

With a flippant smile stretched across your face, you said, “Okay.”

“‘Okay?’” repeated a bewildered Jason. You shrugged and twisted towards the window, leaving your hand where it was. “Damn you,” he muttered.

But it wasn’t long after that his fingers laced with yours. He stared at you, hoping you’d turn back to see the mess you’d made of a vulnerable man.

Instead, you pulled his hand to your face. For half a second, he cradled the plumpness of your cheek, and then you pressed your lips to his pulse point. You did it again for good measure, and Jason wondered if you felt the heart attack he was currently experiencing.

Your nose nudged the skin of his wrist as you looked at him from under your eye lashes. His heart slammed against his chest. So much had changed between you in mere days and it scared him as much as it set off his adrenaline.

Your mouth grew into an unruly smile, cheek pushing into his palm. He watched, unblinking, bewitched.

Your lips just barely grazed him when you whispered an inviting, “You can cry now.”

Jason was stuck on your exceptional kindness. He recalled the softness of your cheek in comparison to his calloused skin and of how you’d nuzzled into him unabashedly. Then you’d dismissed it all with your teasing, only holding him close for a few moments longer. His fingers twitched, wishing to repeat the strange awe-inducing experience.

Jason recoiled—unlike you ever had around him—when he heard August’s grating voice.

“So, you’ve mended things then?” they confirmed upon hearing about his face reveal.

His jaw flexed as the memory washed away from his touch-starved brain. “S’pose,” he mumbled.

“Would you disagree?” August prompted, pen tapping at their clipboard a couple of times.

Jason thought back to the stupid vow of commitment he’d made. He let out a sigh. “No.”

“But you’re still worried?”

His hands trailed over the chair’s armrests distractedly. He offered a simple, “Yes.” His measured eyes looked up to August to see how invested they were in the discussion.

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” Jason huffed, “they could change their mind.”

The doctor took note of his concern. “Do they have reason to?”

“Of course they do. I died and I’m evil.”

August had to bite back a laugh at how plainly he stated the facts. “Jason,” they admonished.

“What? It’s true,” he scoffed and his hands tightened, indenting the plush fabric.

“I believe you’re oversimplifying things.”

“You reckon, huh?” Jason said, baiting them into an argument.

August didn’t engage, instead changing gears. “Do you plan to share these fears with them? Or potentially the secrets themselves?”

“Ha,” Jason bit out, jaw clenching immediately afterwards. “Hell no.”

August ignored his swift rejection of the idea. “Perhaps it’s time to put that trust to the test, Jason. Start with something small?”

He looked away as sourness filled his mouth. How could he start small when every secret he had was more monstrous than the prophesised black hole that would consume the Earth whole?

“Have a little faith in the ones who choose to love you.”

His head whipped back around. Love? The very suggestion made his saliva turn to ash and his hearing dissipate to a mere vibration. The train of thought was entirely too much, so he changed it. “I went to the grave site.” He breathed out shallowly. “Mine. Bruce’s.”

Their head tilted. “How was that?”

“Bad.”

A thin smile slipped onto August’s face. “You’ve recited more poetic verses than that.”

He shrugged, falsely unbothered. “Dick was there.”

“Oh?” August asked, resting their elbows on their knees.

“He said... he said he was sorry.” Jason met their waiting eyes. “For not doing enough. For letting me...” He sucked in another breath. He looked down, fingers raking over where his holsters ought to be. “For letting me die alone,” he finished, only a blip of his anguish surfacing.

“He said that?”

Jason nodded once, not able to level his gaze. Tension remained in his shoulders.

“Wow,” August hummed, impressed with the update. “Was that cathartic?”

“A fraction,” he admitted.

“That’s excellent, Jason,” the doctor continued. “Will you be pursuing a healthier relationship with Dick?”

He looked up then, his forehead creased. He found the wording... not to his liking.

August breathed a little louder; a quiet kind of chagrin. He almost smirked—that was what finally upset them? The implication of incest?

Instead, his head slanted in challenge as he made no attempt to answer.

“Do you think this will help fix things with your family?” they finally amended, posture straightening with obvious displeasure.

Jason shrugged at their lacklustre response. “Maybe once the anger wears off.”

The stone ledge of the building dug into Jason’s underside, a cold and biting reminder of where he was. He let the cigarette smoke hang in his lungs a second too long which caused his next exhale to morph into a cough. The wisps joined the smog of the city, dissipating into a lingering odour. He knew the smell would cling to his clothes no matter what. He also knew he was contributing to the ripe pollution of Gotham—and thus ruining the starry show he liked to watch—but pick your battles, right?

He breathed out again, this time through his nostrils only. It was a welcome burn.

Jason’s head swivelled the short distance upon sensing a new presence. Having expected it to be either you or Roy, he was put off when he found an unfamiliar face. The glow around them was halo white.

Great, he huffed with a roll of his eyes. He was going to have to act as mediator.

Jason didn’t greet them. He watched, for a moment, as they simply pottered about the roof top aimlessly, passing by the scattered remnants of people who’d been there at one point in time. He saw their mouth move, perhaps to have an argument with themselves. Which was even better, he thought sardonically, because now their crazies matched.

He looked back over the city, undecided if the colourful luminescence was more or less comforting than the plain white. Annoyance flickered in his chest as he felt the person’s eyes stop on him. Jason turned back with a scowl. “What?” he snapped, and there was a click in his jaw. He should be nicer to the dead, but, hey, he was busy, okay?

“You’re the risen Lazarus.”

Jason’s movements stuttered, unsure how to proceed. The words lay somewhere between a statement and a question. He didn’t think he’d ever been called that, at least not to his face.

“Why?” Jason’s question came out cautious. His body shifted involuntarily towards the person as years of defensive training reared their ugly head.

“Are you not?” They sounded confused by his lack of hasty confirmation, as if all of the things they had to share depended on his very existence. Their head tilted, eyes raking over his body and up to the streak in his hair.

Jason took the opportunity to repay the favour. It was a man, most likely younger than him. His outfit was nothing special; just casual, everyday wear. Nothing about the stranger screamed scary or unpredictable. Despite this, Jason felt like he teetered on a dangerous precipice.

“No, you are,” the ghost muttered to himself. He drifted closer.

“Again, why?” Jason bit out, tongue pushing against the back of his teeth.

“There’s a hole,” the man replied.

Jason held back a laugh soiled by bitterness. “Shit, in Gotham?” he snarked. “You don’t fuckin’ say.”

The ghost shook his head frantically. “No. The veil between worlds has splintered.” His eyes fixed on Jason, full of a message that hadn’t been received. “Things aren’t right.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “No shit. Why else would I be ‘Lazarus’?”

“You misunderstand, mister.” Agitation slunk into the man’s posture. “It’s been searching for you.”

Jason abruptly straightened and the cigarette fell from his grasp. Blood drained from his face. Goosebumps prickled along his neck and arms in an immobilising wave. “What does that mean?” he pressed, concern making its way to the creases of his forehead.

“Your resurrection is an unpaid due,” the man said. His eyes darted around the fringes of the building warily, recoiling from every gleam of moonlight. It was like he expected something to jump out at any time. “Don’t you feel it? Death lurking in the shadows?”

Of course he fucking felt it. He practically had every soul of the underworld perched on his shoulders, in and out as they pleased. But never to deliver such cryptic messages.

Jason swallowed, trying to wet his parched mouth. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked in a coarse timbre.

“Being dead sucks,” the man said with a shrug. The ghost whirled around then, seeming to lose interest in the conversation.

“How long?” Jason tried again, leaning forward with intent. He couldn’t stop the person from randomly disappearing, but he needed to know more than he’d already speculated.

The man’s eyes traced pavement instead of him. “It draws closer every day.” Staunchly, he suggested, “You should run. This place is a beacon.”

A creak from the balcony below interrupted the suspense. The phantom shot him a wistful look as he twisted back around, taking stock of one of the last beings he was able to communicate with.

Even after the stranger walked off the building’s edge and vanished, Jason stared at the space where he’d stood. His eyes didn’t waver even when you crept into sight.

A/N: i wanted to point out which scenes are my favourite this week, but tbh, ch 19 and 20 are both close to my heart. hope you'll see why! enjoy :-)

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Yandere Batfam (and their fellow villains/rivals) Headcanons

Bruce Wayne

- He is one paranoid fucker. As soon as he feels any sort of attraction to you, he’s researching you the fuck up. Your background, your history, who you’ve been in contact with for the past decade. Everything there is to know, he will know. It can’t be helped. The last couple of women he’s been with were violent and morally ambiguous. Hell, we all saw what happened with Talia. He doesn’t want to let his guard down. It’s a dangerous world for a man like him to fall in love so desperately that all he wants to do is carve out his own heart and give it to you. 

- He is highly manipulative and obsessive. Obsessive, in the sense that he will be stalking you 24/7. He wants to know absolutely everything there is to know about you: your favourite hobbies, the food you like, that one drink you keep ordering from that cafe down your workplace/university. And he’s manipulative in the sense that once you’re his or once he’s embedded himself into your life, he will be using as many psychological tools and tactics to get you falling in love with him. Pavlov’s theory of classical conditioning is one of his favourites. Just like Pavlov managed to get a dog to associate food with the sound of a bell ringing, he’ll have you associating himself with anything you adore. 

- On that note, he is insanely protective, too. He knows just how bad this world is and will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. And he’s paranoid that something might take you out of this world. He’s been through enough deaths in the family that not feeling any sort of desire to lock you up and hide you from this rotten world would be abnormal. Of course, he doesn’t, because he respects you as a human and wants your willing consent. By locking you up, he’s no better than those villains and crooks he beats up every night. But the thought is there. It always is. 

Dick Grayson

- Constantly tries to impress you. Very dramatic when it comes to interacting you or uh, as Damian puts it, “courting” you. Can dial it up from 10 to 306 in a matter of seconds. 

- Has a constant need for attention. Can and will chat your ear off. He likes being your everything all the time. If your attention so much as leaves him for more than 5 seconds, he is not going to be happy. Focus on him and only him. If it’s for work related reasons, fiiine, he’ll accept it (begrudgingly) but if it’s because some asshole butted in and stole your attention, yeah it’s not going to work. He’ll take it as a competition and keep stealing back your attention, doing stupid and crazy shit in order to get you focusing on him alone. He’ll either do some insane acrobatic move or he’ll act like a total baby, huffing and puffing until you get annoyed and turn back to him. Good attention, bad attention. It doesn’t matter as long as it’s attention.

- Like all the batfam members, he’s hecking obsessive. They all want to know everything about you but compared to the others, Dick isn’t that bad. It’s still really bad but Bruce and Tim can take it to a whole ‘nother level that even the devil himself would be morbidly impressed and disgusted. He wants to know everything about you and will be tracking your location 24/7, the messages you send, the links you copy into google, everything. 

- Is quite the charmer. There are a few of the batfam who take a more productive and active approach into seducing you into their lives and Dick is one of the main ones. He plans, of course, once he realises he wants you in his life - Bruce would be ashamed if he didn’t, and he’d never hear the end of it from his brothers (especially Tim) who’d be judging him considerably for not planning anything - but he’s quick to slide on in into your life. He likes to go with the flow a lot so he’ll sort out a ‘meeting’ scenario but other than that, whatever goes, goes. He’s a quick-thinker and can act without the need for a well-thought out plan (unlike Tim). 

Jason Todd

- Jason’s been replaced all his life. After his death, he was replaced not once, but twice. He’s got some sort of paranoia when it comes to his darling. He fears that he might be replaced because he’s “not good enough”. Dick’s the nice, compassionate one. The golden boy. Tim’s the smart one and Damian’s the biological son. So what’s he? The defective Robin? The broken one? He doesn’t constantly try to prove himself worthy of your attention because he, as the great Klaus Hargeeves once said, “has this self esteem issue where he hates himself but still thinks he’s better than everyone else”, but it’d be nice if you notice things about him. 

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My sister lamenting her hair that I've cut, thinking of ways to get back at me without our parents finding out

Courtship Rules

For the lovley @beansapalooza for some alien fucking! For Science!

Summary: You are a scientist on a team of four sent to live on a planet where xenomorphs inhabit. You are all to have your studies on them, everyone has their own thing. You? Well. You study their breeding habits. Perhaps getting a little TOO close to that knowledge. But, what better way to study than hands on? Or. In which a xenomorph recognizes you from its past and believes you to be its mate. Who are you to refuse getting stuffed full of eggs? All in the name of science, of course.

Reblogs > Likes. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, have your age in your bio to interact!

Fandom: Aliens - Aliens VS Predators

Relationship: Xenomorph/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva + is chubby, oviposition/ovipositors, knotting, brief brief mentions of mild gore that’s canon typical, breeding, you get stuffed with alien eggs!

Words: 8.7k

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The mission relayed to you had been one of great importance. But it came with great dangers, dangers that you were all aware of.  

There were four of you total, almost all scientists in your own regard. A handful of teams had come into contact with the creatures you were now studying. And all those teams had wound up dead.  

One of those teams, years ago who had first come into contact with them, didn’t know what they were up against or what they were bringing back. Another team had been sent to wipe them out, claiming them to be parasites, with only one survivor to return to tell the tale. Another team had been sent out as a means to take one or two back to study in cages on their ships, once again did not go well. Another team sent to explore their home planet, weapons in hand because exterminating the species had been the only thing on their mind. Then another team, and another, and another…  

Other teams were documented, more and more who wanted to quietly try and study or eliminate them. All failed. All dead.  

~Rest under the cut~

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