Jason Had A "bad" Habit Of Calling You Before He Went To Sleep. He Couldn't Help It, Your Voice Brought

Jason had a "bad" habit of calling you before he went to sleep. He couldn't help it, your voice brought a deep sense of comfort into his disturbed and haunted life.

He didn't care for the time or the fact that you could be asleep; he just needed to hear your voice and to make sure that you were safe.

He always called after his patrol, just a few hours before sunrise. He would dial your number as he made his way to the mess of pillows and blankets from the prior night. He'd huddle onto his bed, patiently waiting to hear you on the other end of the line.

When you'd answer, he'd greet you with excitement, his voice sweet and gentle as if it were doused with honey.

The quite hours of the night often laced his voice with an overwhelming amount of exhaustion. It made his voice sound deeper and huskier; his accent occasionally made an appearance during this time. His tired voice was warm and filled with immense emotion. It made him sound attractive, and you'd wish to hear it in person.

Jason always asked about your day and usually responded by humming or by asking short follow-up questions. Your voice felt melodic to him, like a ballade of a soothing song; Jason could listen to you all day.

The late-night conversations never lasted long though, Jason often fell asleep listening to your stories. You'd call out his name and wait for an answer, only to be surprised with a small snore. You'd giggle to yourself before wishing him good night.

You would stay on the line for another minute or so before finally deciding to hang up and letting your own slumber take over.

One day Tim’s out in casual clothes just roaming because Alfred said he needed to spend time in the sun (Jason said his sickly Victorian child was showing which is what actually got him outside).

Anyway he’s minding his business, bored out of his mind, when an alert about the riddler goes out. He escaped Arkham and Tim is like “I’ve got nothing better to do,” So he tracks him down. Except he tracks him down as Tim Drake, not Red Robin because he was told to get sunlight as Tim.

Kid basically knocks on the door the Riddler’s hideout like “I’m bored and I’m pretty sure I can out riddle you.” And the Riddler isn’t gonna take that challenge sitting down.

He doesn’t even have a plan set up yet. Just drags Tim in like “guess I’ll use this kid as bait he is influential.” And the entire time he’s setting up his elaborate trap he’s shooting riddles back and forth with Tim. Ten minutes in he’s given up on the trap because Tim is not only keeping up but is also dishing out stellar riddles. Riddler’s not about to risk killing one of the few people in Gotham that are actually entertaining.

By this point the Bat’s “Tim Radar” Has gone off. They haven’t heard from him and he hasn’t checked in for the Riddler Breakout. So they track him and they find him sitting in Riddler’s hideout with a mug of coffee playing the equivalent of four dimensional chess but it’s the game Clue.

It ends with the Riddler being willing to go back to Arkham so long has he has regularly scheduled enrichment time with Tim.

Tim’s content with that. Honestly he had a lot of fun.

Bruce is exhausted.

jason couldn’t quite wrap his head around it when you told him. you hadn’t been on a museum date, not even once. never hiked with someone, no quiet walks up hills, no sharing the weight of silence and breath between trees.

he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, staring at you like you were the punchline to some bad joke. “wait, so… no one’s ever taken you to a museum? or on some lazy hike through the woods? not even to pretend like they’re deep?”

you smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “mediocre romance,” you said, almost offhand, like it was just a fact of your life. “i’ve been romanced, sure. just… nothing like that.”

jason exhaled, shaking his head slowly, a flicker of something like frustration sparking in his gaze. “unbelievable,” he muttered, then, after a beat, softer, “i don’t do half-assed.”

he pushed himself off the counter, taking a step toward you, his presence always heavier than his footsteps. “museum on saturday. hike on sunday,” he said, his voice low, but with that rough edge of certainty. “and i promise, it won’t be like anything you’ve had before.”

you felt the weight of his words, not in the grandness of them, but in their simplicity. jason didn’t need to try too hard. it was the promise in his voice, the way he made you feel seen in ways that didn’t demand the spotlight, just the quiet recognition that you deserved more than ‘just enough.’ and with him, somehow, you believed it.

This man and his bad ass dog :,^)

“Not everyone deserves to know the real you. Let them criticize who they think you are.”

— Unknown

Prompt:

Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.

So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-

Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…