Holy Fanfiction Batman

The “getting it done in an unconventional way” method.

The “it’s not cheating to do it the easy way” method.

The “fuck what you’re supposed to do” method.

The “get stuff done while you wait” method.

The “you don’t have to do everything at once” method.

The “it doesn’t have to be permanent to be helpful” method.

The “break the task into smaller steps” method.

The “treat yourself like a pet” method.

The “it doesn’t have to be all or nothing” method.

The “put on a persona” method.

The “act like you’re filming a tutorial” method.

The “you don’t have to do it perfectly” method.

The “wait for a trigger” method.

The “do it for your future self” method.

The “might as well” method.

The “when self discipline doesn’t cut it” method.

The “taking care of yourself to take care of your pet” method.

The “make it easy” method.

The “junebugging” method.

The “just show up” method.

The “accept when you need help” method.

The “make it into a game” method.

The “everything worth doing is worth doing poorly” method.

The “trick yourself” method.

The “break it into even smaller steps” method.

The “let go of should” method.

The “your body is an animal you have to take care of” method.

The “fork theory” method.

pairing Jason Todd x fem! reader

summary You run into your best friend while he's on a date!

content 1.3k words, friends to lovers, love confessions in the rain, jealousy, hurt/comfort, fluff

Jason Todd rarely ever left the confines of the steady rhythm he’d built over the years. It wasn’t as if he had anything to call his own. Even Gotham, with her hard edges, felt more distant at every angled dagger. 

And his heart. He often wondered if it was his own. He liked to think it belonged to you. His best friend who always seeped into his skin like you belonged there. If anyone could give him peace, it would be you. 

So what was he doing sitting in front of a girl who lacked your soothing touch and beaming smile? He should’ve known Dick would’ve tricked him into this shit. 

He nodded occasionally as she spoke. He tried to stay polite when irritation crept over. The lights overhead flickered, and alcohol drifted through the bar. He’d rather be at your place– huddled together and watching that period drama you liked so much. 

He was already coming up with ways he could leave and escape into your warm embrace. It was just his luck, however, that you found him first. 

⤷ Pt 1: heels in gotham ˎˊ˗

pairing Jason Todd x fem! reader

summary attracting attention isn’t usually a problem, but when it comes to Red Hood, you’re wearing your most painful heels to stroll through Gotham’s most dangerous streets.

content 0.7k words, banter, talkative reader, slice of life, eventual romance

series masterlist | next

The first time you see him is under the full moon, when nothing—not even the fog of Gotham—can taint his image. Watching from below, you feel his kindness in every scar he bears defending his city. He knows how to wield a sword, and he wields his heart with the same amount of ferocity.

Perhaps that’s why you find yourself constantly seeking the vigilante out. You’re not a stalker, but you do happen to know that he usually patrols The Narrows around 2 a.m. on Mondays and Thursdays.

Today happens to be Monday. The clinking of your heels rings out like a siren call to every mugger within earshot. A sharp pain blazes through your feet, and you wince with every step.

This is totally worth it for your future man, though.

“Fucking hell, not you again.” A deep robotic voice sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. He groans in annoyance, muttering into his comms about needing backup from a “crazy person that belongs in Arkham.”

— Jason trying to confess his feelings, but you already thought you were dating.

!!: request! fluff. fem!reader. no use of y/n. 1.2k words. Sun in Gotham. English is not my first language.

[dc masterlist]

It was one of those weird sunny days in Gotham. Those types of days that felt too strange to be real, and that only happened once in a blue moon. 

But if the sun comes out, people celebrate. They leave their houses, meet with their friends, family and loved ones outside to spend the day soaking in the rare sunlight. They wear the sun dresses they had buried in the very depths of their closet. They wore the sunglasses they only owned to wear anywhere but in Gotham, to protect their eyes.

And you weren’t any different. The original plan was going with Jason to the library. You needed to study for your upcoming exams, but he had insisted on joining you, claiming that he could read something while you memorized the immense paragraphs in your books. 

It wasn’t a proper date, just Jason sitting quietly while you battled against madness, trying to complete with good grades another year of med school. 

But today’s weather was too good to let it pass, and your yellow sundress was too tempting to leave locked down in your closet. 

Calling Jason and changing the plan sounded more than good, it was a fantastic idea. Besides, losing a day of study wasn’t going to change much. You could study every day of your life. But having a sunny day in Gotham, with the sun being actually visible in the sky? That was too rare to miss.

With quick and excited hands, you grabbed your phone and dialed Jason’s number. 

“Hi.” His raspy and deep voice told you that, despite being 3 pm, he had just woken up from his sleep. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty.” You smiled, looking through the window, to the lovely couples enjoying the sun while walking around the streets of the city. “Weren’t you going to join me in my study session."

“Shit. Right. Sorry.” 

You heard Jason’s bed sheets moving, he was standing up to get ready as quickly as possible. 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to put on an alarm. I’ll meet you at the library in ten.” 

You let out a giggle. You could hear a lot of movement in the other line, plus Jason’s sleepy voice slowly waking up. 

“I was actually going to suggest a change of plans for today.” Your voice had a hint of excitement in it that Jason noticed quickly. 

“Is that so?” 

“Have you seen what the weather’s like out there?” you asked, curious to know if he’d already opened the blinds in his apartment or if he was still in a room plunged into darkness. It was probably the second option.

Just as you had expected, you heard Jason moving to open the blinds. He let out a groan when the direct sunlight—something no Gothamite was used to—hit him squarely in the face. 

“Wow.” Was the only thing Jason could say once his eyes had gotten used to the light from outside. 

“Yeah, wow. I thought we could go for a walk and just enjoy the weather, instead of spending our entire afternoon in the library. What do you think?” Your voice was hopeful, waiting for Jason’s answer.

He let out a chuckle before talking. 

“Sounds good, I’ll go pick you up in twenty, is that alright?” 

Your smile widened “Yes. Perfect. See you later, babe.” 

You hung up quickly, and started getting ready as fast as possible, because twenty minutes for dress, hair and make up, was possible to work with but not enough. 

Just like Jason had said, twenty minutes later, he was standing at your door, properly dressed for the weather and with a bouquet of flowers in hand. 

“Are those for me?” You couldn’t hide your smile even if you wanted to. 

“Tulips. They’re your favourites right?” 

Your smile couldn’t grow bigger. You loved that man, he was just perfect. 

“Yes.” you grabbed the bouquet and disappeared into your apartment for a few seconds, just to leave the flowers in a flower pot. “Thank you. Now we’re ready to leave.”

The weather was perfect, your company was excellent and the plan was simple but with Jason it felt fantastic. 

You didn't realize it, but right beside you, Jason was a bundle of nerves. He'd been thinking about telling you how he felt for a while. He liked you—he liked you a lot. You had become one of the most important people in his life, and he wanted you. He wanted your relationship to be official, for you to be his girlfriend. And maybe today, this sunny day that made you radiate with joy, was the perfect day. 

He called your name, making  you turn around to look at him, who had stopped in his tracks. 

The place was not the prettiest, the sea could be seen, as well as Gotham’s bridges, but Jason had to let it out right there, right now. Maybe, if you said yes, he could take you to a pretty cafe to make up for this spontaneous confession. 

“I just wanted to tell you something.” 

The sight in front of you was funny: Big, strong Jason Todd was nervous. Shifting his weight from a leg to another, while his hands were in the pockets of his jacket, trying to look nonchalant. 

But that made you even more nervous, because you really didn’t know what he was going to say. You never know with Jason. 

You nodded, signaling him to continue. 

“Look, I– I don’t know how to do this.” His right hand left the pocket of his jacket to rub his face. “I like you a lot. I love you, if you may. And I just wanted to ask you… Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Both of you stayed still, looking at each other. Jason wanted the earth to swallow him, and you were confused, trying to understand what he had just said.

“What?” Was the only thing coming out of your mouth.

Jason swallowed hard before repeating his question. “Would you like– Can I be your boyfriend?” He rectified. 

Both of you were confused now. What was even happening right now? You were looking at Jason like he had just grown a second head.

“Weren’t we already dating?” 

“What?” This time Jason was the one confused.

“I thought we were already dating, for months now.”

You had gone in a lot of dates. To the cinema, to small and cozy cafes, even to restaurants for dinner. You had been to his house, he had been in yours. You had just assumed you were dating after all those plans.

“No. I never asked you properly.” 

The roles had inverted now. You wanted to disappear from the planet out of embarrassment and Jason was really confused. 

“But I was giving you kisses, small, but kisses; and calling you babe, or baby, or sweetheart… And we weren’t dating?” Your cheeks were starting to turn red.

“No…” Jason said. “I thought you did it in a friendly way.”

“What do you mean!? Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed now.” You covered your face with both hands and started laughing at yourself. “Well, then yes, I would love to be your girlfriend, Jason.”

Jason’s expression softened, smiling. “Now uncover your face. I would like to kiss my girlfriend properly.”

Sunny days in Gotham were weird, they made everyone happy. And today Jason Todd was the happiest man alive, after a lot of months thinking of a proper way to confess while you already thought you were dating. 

© llovelygood

✴︎ a suspicious pink rock and a hard place ✴︎

jason todd x witchy/spiritual gn reader (ft. duke thomas, dick grayson, damian wayne, tim drake, and bruce wayne)

slight crack fic contains: swearing, light spiritual themes wc: ~1.2k

desc: the world's greatest detectives find themselves stumped by a suspicious pink rock, much to batman's dismay. …it's rose quartz, boys…

tucked away in the backseat of jason todd's car is a cloudy pink...rock...? he squints, leaning in closer as his face scrunches in confusion.

"what the fuck?" he mumbles.

he reaches for it, planning on tossing it in the trash, but he stops himself halfway. he probably should not grab some anomaly barehanded... over the course of his vigilante career, he's encountered too many objects that looked completely normal right up until it tried to kill someone. the thing looks harmless, probably just a weird pink rock, but it's abrupt appearance in his car is unsettling. he can't completely dismiss the possibility that it could be some alien technology or a cursed artifact or something altered by poison ivy disguised as a rock.

"yeah, not touching that."

procuring a screwdriver from the trunk, jason cautiously pokes it like he's poking a bear. nothing happens. no explosions, no glowing runes, no interdimensional portals opening up and swallowing his car whole. a faint frown tugs at his lips. the lack of reaction is not enough to completely dispel his mild suspicion. with a heavy sigh and a pair of nitrile gloves, he carefully extracts the thing and seals it shut inside a transparent evidence bag. looks like this is a problem for the batcomputer.

✶ GOOD FOR NOTHING!

synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ the moments when they get insecure in your relationship.

including ⠀! ⠀ bruce wayne. dick grayson. jason todd. tim drake. damian wayne. ✶

contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. obsession. angst. fluff? masterlist. english is not my first language. ✶

BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce doesn't get insecure because another man is richer.

Or younger.

Or prettier.

Bruce gets insecure when you look happy.

Really happy.

The kind of happiness that has nothing to do with him.

You come back from lunch with friends and you're smiling.

You tell him some stupid story.

Something insignificant.

And he listens.

He even smiles.

But something cold starts growing inside his chest.

Because for a second—

A single second—

You forgot him.

You existed outside his orbit.

And Bruce hates how much that bothers him.

Hates it.

Because he knows it isn't normal.

Love shouldn't feel threatened by independence.

Love shouldn't ache when the person you adore proves they can survive without you.

But Bruce has buried everyone.

Parents.

Partners.

Children, in some ways.

Every person he loves becomes a ghost eventually.

So when he sees proof that you have a life beyond him, beyond Gotham, beyond this endless nightmare—

Something ugly whispers:

"She'll leave too."

Not because you stopped loving him.

Because one day you realize you can be happy somewhere else.

And Bruce has never been able to compete with peace.

That's why he watches you sleep.

Not because you're beautiful.

(Though you are.)

Because unconscious, you're still here.

Still his.

Still choosing to stay.

At least for tonight.

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's insecurity comes from being loved too easily.

Nobody talks about that part.

Everybody loves Dick.

That's the problem.

Everyone wants a piece of him.

Everybody gets a smile.

A joke.

A hug.

A piece of his heart.

Eventually he starts wondering if there's anything left that actually belongs to him.

Then he meets you.

And suddenly he's selfish.

Violently selfish.

For the first time in his life he doesn't want to share.

Not your attention.

Not your affection.

Not the version of you that laughs so hard you snort.

That version belongs to him.

At least that's what the ugly part of him thinks.

Then one day he catches you laughing at somebody else's joke.

And something inside him cracks.

Because that's his thing.

Making you laugh.

Making you look at him like he's sunlight.

And now somebody else did it.

It's ridiculous.

Pathetic.

He knows that.

But Dick has spent his entire life being replaced.

First by new Robins.

Then by new heroes.

Then by new priorities.

The world always keeps moving.

So sometimes he looks at you and sees the future.

A future where you're still smiling.

Still laughing.

Still alive.

And he's the only thing missing.

The thought makes him physically sick.

Not angry.

Not jealous.

Just heartbroken.

Like mourning a death that hasn't happened yet.

JASON TODD

Jason's insecurity smells like blood.

It always comes back to blood.

You touch his face one night.

Nothing special.

Just your hand on his cheek.

Soft.

Careful.

Like you're handling something fragile.

And Jason almost pulls away.

Because all he can think about is the corpse.

The boy in the warehouse.

The body left in a coffin.

The thing he became afterward.

You look at him like he's a man.

Jason looks at himself and sees a dead dog.

A mistake wearing human skin.

The insecurity doesn't come when another man flirts with you.

Jason can put a bullet through that problem.

The insecurity comes when you're kind.

When you're gentle.

When you're patient.

Because he doesn't understand why.

You should be scared of him.

Everybody else is.

You should see the violence under his skin.

The rage.

The ugliness.

Instead you kiss him.

And every kiss feels like you're forgiving something he hasn't confessed.

That's what fuck him up.

Not the fear that you'll leave.

The fear that if you ever really saw him—

Every piece of him—

You'd finally run.

And he'd have no right to stop you.

TIM DRAKE

Tim doesn't become insecure.

He becomes obsessed.

There's a difference.

Insecurity implies uncertainty.

Tim doesn't doesn't understand uncertainty.

He gathers evidence.

Creates patterns.

Builds timelines.

You take seventeen minutes longer to answer.

He notices.

You use a different emoji.

He notices.

You seem tired around him.

He notices.

Soon he's drowning in data.

Thousands of tiny details.

All meaningless.

All devastating.

Because the truth is simple.

Tim has never believed he was lovable.

Useful?

Absolutely.

Necessary?

Without question.

Lovable?

No.

People need Tim Drake.

They need Robin.

They need Red Robin.

They need the detective.

The strategist.

The genius.

But him?

Just him?

Tim isn't convinced that person exists.

So he starts testing reality.

Do you still smile when he's exhausted?

Do you still reach for him when he's quiet?

Do you still love him when he has nothing left to give?

Every answer is yes.

Every single answer.

And somehow that makes it worse.

Because if you love him this much—

Then you have the power to kill him.

And Tim knows better than anyone what happens when someone gets access to your weakest point.

DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian's insecurity is almost unbearable to see.

Because it hides under arrogance.

You won't see it at first.

You'll think he's annoyed.

Offended.

Insufferable.

Then you'll realize he's hurting.

Damian spent his childhood earning affection like a soldier earns medals.

Perform.

Win.

Perfect.

Repeat.

Love was never given.

It was awarded.

Conditional.

Temporary.

One mistake and it vanished.

And then there's you.

You loved him on days he lost.

You loved him when he was cruel.

You loved him when he was stubborn.

And Damian never learned how to trust that.

So every time you praise somebody else—

His stomach drops.

Not because he's jealous.

Because he's terrified.

The fear is immediate.

Primitive.

Childlike.

"What if she sees someone better?"

"What if she realizes I am not enough?"

"What if she leaves?"

He hates himself for it.

Despises it.

The son of Batman.

The grandson of Ra's al Ghul.

Reduced to this.

Reduced to lying awake at three in the morning listening to you breathe.

Checking.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Making sure you're still there.

Sometimes you'll wake up and find him staring.

Not because he's being creepy.

Because for one horrible moment he dreamed you left.

And when Damian opened his eyes, he needed proof that reality hadn't followed you out the door.

If you want to be in my DC taglist let me know :)

━━━━━━━ TIED HIM DOWN TO MY QUEEN BED

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: boyfriend!jason todd x female!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: steph calls jason drunk, he has to come pick you up right now. only problem? you insist you won’t be leaving with anyone who isn’t your amazing boyfriend, not recognising the man in front of you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, fluff, crack, reader is lowk a freak for jason (#me2) , flustered jason, 1k words, working on a jason version of this!

<𝟑: art creds to @quezartt

Jason had broken several speed limits, but he didn’t really care. His mind was solely focused on you—or more specifically, you in the background of Steph’s call.

He'd checked his phone enough times to kill the battery twice over. Not because he was worried, Steph was with you and he knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

Still, the movie had long faded into background noise. Every time his phone buzzed, his head snapped up before he could stop it.

Pathetic. Jason blamed you.

He was only half-aware that he’d parked the bike somewhere out of view—someone was bound to steal it if not—and entered the bar where you and Steph had gone for drinks.

"I miss him," you’d drawled, stretching out the i's, clearly drunk, while Stephanie giggled as she spoke. "Oh yeah, definitely come pick her up."

At the end of the place, where the music was loudest and didn’t bother the other patrons as much, were you and Steph, with an empire of empty drinks populating the wooden table.

Your head was tossed back, smiling and laughing as you played with the edge of Steph’s dress.

"Where is myyy husband?" You frowned—bottom lip wobbling—then you giggled. "Well, we aren’t married just yet, but in my mind we are."

Steph nodded very seriously, feeding into your delusions.

"Mrs. Todd has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?" You looked the blonde girl dead in the eye. "Doesn’t it?"

She nodded. "Mrs. Todd sounds kind of expensive."

Jason coughed awkwardly, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

Stephanie smiled. "Took you long enough."

You swept your eyes up and down him.

His heart kicked once against his ribs. You were unfairly gorgeous. Not that he'd ever tell you that to your face of course.

"Is this your ride, Steph?"

She looked between the two of you. "No?"

You raised a brow, still looking him dead in the eye. "Then why is he standing there looking at us?"

Steph’s brows furrowed before she began laughing as if there were no tomorrow.

"It’s not funny, Steph," Jason said.

She pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. "It’s hilarious."

"Do you need something?"

"I’m picking you up." He stated.

Your eyes widened so much it was almost comical. “No way! I have a boyfriend, thankyouverymuch, and I won’t be leaving if it’s not with him!"

Jason bit the inside of his cheek. "Baby, I’m your boyfriend."

You scrunched your nose. "Stop lying. My boyfriend is the prettiest man there is, I’d recognise him anywhere.” You sighed dreamily. Wow, talk about whiplash. "He has beautiful eyes," you continued, licking your lips, "and amazing biceps." You looked at him in anger again. "You either leave, or I’ll tell him to beat you up."

Funny thing was, Jason didn’t exactly know how to feel. He was slightly heartbroken that you didn’t recognize him. But the same time, you were threatening complete strangers on his behalf.

Something stupid happened in his chest, right where his myocardium was. "Beat me up, huh?"

"Yes!" you said, very self-assured. The you dropped your voice to a whisper. “He’s a massive softie, though, but don’t tell him I told you."

Steph patted your back. "He won’t, babes."

"Good." You rested your chin on your fist. "He’s so dreamy."

"Good for you," Jason said, and headed to the bar to ask for two glasses of water.

When he came back, you were still mumbling about munching on his bicep like it was an apple.

He was never recovering from this.

He offered the drinks, and Steph drank hers down without hesitation.

"This is not tequila."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "It’s water."

You eyed him skeptically. "You again. Didn’t we tell you to shoo?"

He offered you the drink.

You stared at it, then at him. “I’m not taking drinks from strangers."

"You’re clearly drunk, baby."

"Only my boyfriend calls me that, you can’t." Your lip wobbled again. "I miss him."

Jason's chest tightened. "I think you should take the water."

Steph pulled out a couple crumpled bills and left them on the table. "Let’s go."

You let her drag you out of your chair, but at the last moment, you nearly lost your balance— Jason immediately caught your waist, steadying you.

You shrieked.

Like a cat that had just been kicked in the street, the whole bar turned toward the source of the noise and Jason thought death didn’t sound that bad after all.

"I." You smacked his arm. "Have." Again. "A boyfriend!"

And because things couldn’t possibly get worse, a tall, jacked man approached the two of you.

"Is he bothering you?"

You sniffled. "Yeah."

The man gave Jason the meanest stink-eye. "I think you should leave, man."

Jason was suddenly very aware that this was exactly how kidnappings looked.

"It’s her boyfriend. She’s just really drunk," Steph said, coming to his rescue like an angel.

The man crossed his arms. "And I’m just supposed to believe that?"

Steph sighed and pulled out her phone. Her movements were shaky as she tapped the screen with too much force. At least she could still see it. "Here. This was last week."

The man inspected the photo for a beat too long before nodding and leaving. Not before glaring at Jason one last time.

You rested heavily against Steph as he walked the two of you—a pair of newborn fawns learning to walk—outside. Jason right behind you, making sure that if any of you fell nothing bad would happen.

He immediately scanned the street; parked cars, empty sidewalk, three people across the road. No apparent problems.

Then you started singing. "You know that song by Doja Cat?" You coughed and began singing extremely off-key.

"Tie him down to my queeeeen bed—ugh, I love him so much. I’d let him put me in—"

Steph smacked a hand on your mouth. “Ew, not about Jason.”

You shrugged and raised your arms.

Heat crawled up the back of Jason’s neck. He ignored it.

Thank God it was late at night and there wasn’t sufficient light to rat him out.

"I’m sure he knows." He said finally.

You spun around, and for a horrifying second he thought you’d fall.

Somehow, you stayed upright.

“Jason!"

Before he knew it, you were wrapping your arms around him and dropping like dead weight.

He caught you automatically. Of course he did.

He hoisted you up gently so you wouldn’t get dizzy, then you nuzzled your face into his chest.

"I missed you. There was this guy who kept standing there. What a creep!"

He rubbed slow circles into your back. "I’m sure he was."

"But you’re here now, so it’s okay."

Steph could be heard laughing in the background.

Jason owns the mechanic shop down the street from the used bookstore where you work. He wanders in one day waiting for his friend Roy to drop off a part for his current project. You think he's just killing time, Jason says he's bored and staying out of the heat. Neither of you expected him to buy a paperback he clearly doesn't need, and keep finding reasons to come back.

series masterlist | ← prev chapter | next chapter →

contents :: female reader. fluff. first meeting. they're both immediately down bad for the plot. no use of y/n. wc. ~3.4k

lambie's notes :: finally !! i got the first chapter out ! thank you so much for being sooo patient with me, and even bigger thank you for 100+ followers !! i waaas gonna do an event, but figured i should get this series started instead ... i also didn't think my idea would be interesting ^^7

The first time you met Jason Todd, you thought he was lost. Not in the metaphorical, soulfully tragic way of a man wandering through life.

You thought he was literally lost, because the second you saw him you instantly decided — subconsciously of course — that somebody who looked like him could not be in a bookstore for the books.

And then you immediately felt bad for ‘judging a book by its cover’. Sure, when you thought of 'reader' the first image in your head was not a massive, sorta scary looking guy with motor oil on his knuckles, and another smear of it on his forehead that you assume was left there after he tried to wipe away sweat. But that didn't mean the couldn't be readers.

Synopsis: You wait for Jason to return from patrol, and Batman shows up (1.5k words)

Jason Todd x gn!reader

a/n: hey! this is my first time writing (and publishing) fanfic, so please be kind. let me know if the writing is fine, and if anything bothers you

Warnings: no betaread, tried to make as gn as possible, otherwise just standard Gotham stuff

Masterlist

|| i love you, with all of my hypothalamus (do you?)

you are here | TWO

Medical Intern! Damian Wayne x GN! Junior Nurse! Reader

CW: This chapter contains possible Medical inaccuracies, explicit/detailed descriptions of emergency response to drowning induced cardiac arrest.

Reader's POV

The chart in your hands felt heavier with every step you took down the hallway. Maybe it was because your arms were sore from lifting patients all shift. Maybe it was because you’d been on your feet for more than 8 hours and counting. Or maybe it was just because you knew that whatever you did, someone else was going to find a way to dump another task on you before you even clocked out.

Being a junior nurse meant being at the bottom of the food chain.

“Hey, can you cover vitals for 314? I’ve got my hands full.”

Translation: they had an extra smoke break lined up.

“[L/n], could you finish charting 309? I started it but I’ve gotta run.”

Translation: they didn’t feel like finishing paperwork.

You smiled, nodded, did it. Because what else could you do? Complain? That would just double your paperwork for tomorrow.

You hugged the chart to your chest and stopped in front of room 312. The patient refused meds again. You’d heard the interns arguing about it earlier.

“…she just won’t take them.” One of the boys stood outside the door, running a hand through his hair. He was maybe in his late 20’s, eyes bleary from lack of sleep. “We explained what they were for. Twice.”

“Explaining isn’t the same as communicating,” came the sharp reply.

You didn’t have to peek around the corner to know whose voice that was.

Dr. Damian fucking Wayne.

He wasn’t like the others. Didn’t stumble or mutter. Didn’t wear exhaustion on his sleeve. You knew he probably wore makeup. How else would you explain his lack of weariness? He was practically a resident. He was younger, sharper, carried himself like he was made of glass and steel. He made everyone else feel insecure.

And the crazier thing is? Patients actually listened to him.

“You’re wasting time,” Damian continued, flipping the chart closed with a soft snap. “She doesn’t care about half-lives and dosing schedules. She’s worried about the side effects. Did you ask her about that?”

The intern faltered. “…No?”

“Then you didn’t listen. Step aside.”

Damian didn’t wait for a reply. He knocked once, brisk, and slipped into the patient’s room. You hovered by the nurses’ station across the hall, pretending to check your vitals sheet but very much not looking away.

The patient, Mrs. De Castro, had been admitted a week ago. Lovely woman. Sweet, if a little stubborn. You’d spent half an hour convincing her to let you take blood once. She just… didn’t like being told what to do.

And yet, there she was now, smiling faintly at Damian as he stood beside her bed, voice low but clear. You couldn’t hear every word, but the cadence was calm, direct, not babying her. He handed her the meds with a glass of water.

And she took them.

Just like that.

The other interns gawked from the hallway. One muttered, “How the hell—”

“He’s Damian Wayne,” another whispered back, like it explained everything. And maybe it did.

You pressed your lips together, flipping your sheet over so you wouldn’t have to see the blank spaces waiting to be filled.

Because it wasn’t fair.

He was your age. Maybe even younger, depending on the month. And look at him: confident, competent, brilliant. He walked through the ward like it bent around him, like this place was already his. Patients trusted him. Nurses deferred to him. Even the residents gave him room.

You, meanwhile, couldn’t even get your coworkers to stop calling you “the baby nurse.” And you've been working here for the past two years.

The door opened again. Damian stepped out, expression unreadable, and passed the chart back to the intern. “She’ll take them from now on,” he said simply.

The intern sputtered. “Wait, what did you—how did you—”

Damian’s eyes flicked to you then, just for a second. Green and sharp, scanning. It made your stomach jolt, but before you could look away, he turned back to the intern.

“Observe next time. Learn. We are doctors now, Harris.” And then he was gone, strides purposeful, coat swishing around his legs.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and dropped your gaze back to your sheet.

Not jealous. You weren’t jealous. No, no. Why would you be?

But when you imagined yourself in his place. Commanding a room, respected without question—it twisted like envy in your chest.

You sighed, as you dragged your pen down the vitals column, gripping too hard, and told yourself it was just exhaustion.

That was all.

Just exhaustion.

Damian’s POV

He spotted you the moment you rounded the corner, clipboard clutched to your chest. The “baby nurse”, they call you.

Your shoulders were tense, steps precise and careful, like you feared bumping into anyone. Another nurse slid a chart into your hands without a word, and you accepted it with a nod so small it barely existed. Head down, eyes flicking nervously between the pages and the hall.

It was… laughable.

He suppressed a smirk. The nurse reminded him of a caged bird—well-meaning, anxious, and desperate to stay out of trouble. He couldn’t imagine ever bending to anyone’s demands that way. He certainly never let people trample over him. How pathetic.

And yet… there was a strange, faintly irritating energy about you. You moved efficiently, even while constantly deferring, constantly apologizing for existing. You  didn’t complain. You didn’t argue. You just… carried the weight of everyone else’s laziness without complaints.

He arched an eyebrow. You had no business being this people-pleasing. Not in a hospital like this. Not if you wanted to last a year without burning out. Which he deduces you probably already were.

But it wasn’t your fault. It was… your instinct.

Damian’s sharp green eyes followed your silhouette  as you adjusted the clipboard and scribbled something down in a frantic hand, glancing up at the clock like you’d forgotten the time existed. Your furrowed brows made you look… annoyed. Or maybe frustrated. Or maybe you thought he’d noticed you staring.

He had.

And yet, he didn’t move closer. Not yet. Not until he decided whether you were capable of something more than just… this.

If you couldn’t speak up for yourself, if you couldn’t claim a moment, a task, a patient’s attention… he couldn't imagine working with you.

Because he didn’t do people who let the world run them over.

A few hours later, when you were just about to clock out—out of nowhere, the double doors of the ER slammed open. A man burst through, soaked to the skin, carrying a limp woman, presumably his sister out cold in his arms. Her hair clung to her pale face, water pattering tentatively down onto the floor.

Code Blue.

Your heart lurched. Of course. Of course, something would happen while you were one chart away from completing before your shift ends. Your clipboard almost flew out of your hands as you rushed forward, only slightly catching yourself on the edge of the counter, rushing to respond to the scene.

“Help! Please, she drowned—she’s not breathing!”

Everything seemed to happen at once. The charge nurse yelled, “Code blue, resus bay!” You pushed the handles of the hefty crash cart as it screeched into place. Your sneakers skidded as you sprinted to the stretcher, adrenaline wiping away your fatigue.

“Here—lay her down, sir,” came a clipped, steady voice. Damian Wayne, already snapping on gloves as he walked calmly, his eyes already scanning the patient.

The man lowered his sister onto the bed, trembling. “She was in the pool—she’s—”

“We’ll take it from here,” Damian said firmly, already at the girl’s airway. “Check responsiveness.”

You froze for a split second—your very first drowning resus, and forced yourself into motion. Focus. Don't freeze now. You pressed your own knuckles against the girl’s sternum, pressing and rubbing hard against the bone. 

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” No response. Damian’s fingers were already at the carotid.

“Nothing,” he confirmed, calm as ice. His green eyes flicked to you. “Start compressions. Now.”

Your knees nearly buckled, but you climbed onto the bedside kneeling, interlaced your fingers, and began pumping hard and fast on the girl’s chest.

“One, two, three, four—” You gasp underneath your breath.

“Bag-mask,” Damian ordered. Another nurse handed it over. He suctioned fluid quickly, fitted the mask, and squeezed in breaths between her compressions.

“Someone on the IV!” he snapped.

“On it,” the charge nurse said, sliding in a line with practiced ease.

Your arms ached, sweat started to slick your forehead, but you didn’t stop. The monitor came alive with a mocking flat line. Asystole.

“Focus on the CPR. Epinephrine, one mg IV, stat. Administer in the next 3 minutes if pt remains unresponsive.” Damian commanded. His voice never wavered.

Drug pushed. More compressions. More breaths. Your chest burned with the effort as you attempted to coax one back to life. What if she doesn’t come back?

The brother tried to force his way in, eyes wild. “God she’s dying, she’s dying—”

“Sir, you need to step back,” the charge nurse barked, blocking him with an arm. “We are doing everything.”

Your focus tunneled to the rhythm beneath your palms, to the rise of the drowning girl’s chest as Damian squeezed the bag. One, two, three…

“Pulse check. Stop compressions,” Damian said.

You lifted your hands, chest heaving. Damian’s fingers pressed against the girl’s neck. Stethoscope pressing above her thoracic cavity. Gaze darted to the monitor.

Still asystole.

Damian’s gaze darkened, quickly reaching for the laryngoscope. “She’s not protecting her airway. I’m intubating. Charge, notify the brother.”

You fumbled for the tube tray, hands shaking, but managed to pass it to him without dropping it. 

“Permission acquired, Dr. Wayne.”

As quickly as he heard those words, Damian slid the tube in smoothly, movements precise. “Tube in. Secure it.”

While he slid the tube in, the nurse that administered the IV kept compressions going at the head of the bed. No pause, no wasted seconds. Meanwhile you scrambled with the tape, fixing it down. You took a breather as your eyes darted back to the flatline, the charge nurse signalling you at the end of her cycle. Every second mattered, and everything felt like slowing down. What meant to be minutes felt like hours. Then, finally, after a few moments, there was something. 

A blip. Then another. Weak, fragile, but there.

“ROSC,” Damian said flatly, though his eyes sharpened. A sinus rhythm stared back at you. She’s alive. You slowed for a moment, the pumping fists in the patients chest faltering, your eyes lifting up as you stared at the spiking beat, still barely able to believe the monitor. You quickly snapped back to action, attempting to signal the charge nurse by the monitor to take over after this cycle. 

The brother’s voice cracked. “She’s breathing?”

Damian rose, pulling off his gloves. He turned to face him, tone gentling but still clipped. “Your sister is alive, but she is critical. We’re admitting her to the ICU for monitoring. The next twenty-four hours are crucial.”

The man’s knees buckled with relief. He pressed his palms together, whispering thanks.

You stepped back from the bed as the charge nurse took your place, chest heaving, arms trembling from compressions. Your eyes flicked to the monitor again. The faint blips of the heartbeat. Proof you weren't hallucinating.

She’s alive. Your first drowning case. Your first code blue where the patient actually came back. You wanted to cry.

And Dr. Damian Wayne—steady and unshakable as he always did, was already moving on, writing orders, issuing instructions as if this was just another Tuesday night.

You swallowed hard, adrenaline still crashing through your system.

God. How does he make it look so easy?

The fluorescent lights of the lounge buzzed faintly above you as you shoved your things into your bag, eager to clock out. The smell of instant noodles lingered in the air, mixed with the faint tang of antiseptic that clung to everyone’s scrubs.

“Leaving already?”

You glanced up. Dr. Wayne was by the water dispenser, his white coat sleeves rolled up, pulling out one of the sad, flimsy paper cups stacked on top. He moved with the same carefulness he had in the ER—measured and precise, except now he was pouring steaming water into the tiny cup with a faint frown, as if the thing had personally wronged him.

You blinked. “...Uh, yeah. My shift’s done.”

He gave a short nod, tearing open a packet of what looked like tea leaves far too fancy for this place. The smell was sharp, earthy, definitely not the staff lounge’s cheap instant coffee stash. But as he lifted the paper cup to his mouth, his nose wrinkled and his brows furrowed, like he’d just tasted spoiled milk.

You froze. Was that—about you?

“I—” you started defensively, hugging your bag strap tighter. “Sorry. If you don’t like working with me, I can just—”

His eyes snapped toward you, dark and unreadable. “What?”

“You just…made that face.” You gestured vaguely at his expression, heat crawling up your neck. “Like you… I don’t know. Like I’m…uh, actually nevermi—.”

“It’s the cup,” For a beat, silence. Then Damian’s lips twitched, the barest hint of amusement breaking through his sharp features.

“It’s the cup,” He repeated, holding it up like Exhibit A. “I forgot my flask. This tastes… wrong. Like cardboard.”

Your brain short-circuited. “...the cup.”

“Yes. The cup.” His gaze lingered on you for a fraction too long before he took another sip anyway, grimacing but enduring it. “You read too much into things, Nurse...”

Your title hung at the roof of his tongue, clearly still unfamiliar with your name.

You opened your mouth, shut it again, then muttered, “…then maybe stop glaring at your tea like it owes you money, Mr. Wayne.”

That earned the faintest huff of a laugh from him, though he quickly covered it by tossing the empty paper cup into the trash. He fixed and slung his stethoscope over his shoulder and, as he passed by, added in that calm, deliberate voice.

“You did well today.”

The words stuck in your ears long after he was gone.

On the way back home, you cried—out of exhaustion, out of relief, out of everything you’d been holding back all shift, maybe even all these years.

Medical Jargons used in this chapter!

ROSC (Return of Spontaneous Circulation) - the medical way of saying the patient’s heart started beating again on its own after CPR.

IV (Intravenous Line) - used to administer fluids/medicine via the veins.

Asystole - flatline

Sinus Rhythm - normal heartbeat

Epinephrine - aka adrenaline

Intubation - (okay, actually let me pause here because this one deserves a mini rant. Feel free to skip it though since this is just my personal opinion.)

I hear so many stories of relatives and people I know refusing intubation here, and honestly it breaks my heart. Most of the time it’s because of financial issues, or fear from all the horror stories that float around. And yes, intubation is scary, and yes, there are risks. But in an emergency, that tube is literally what keeps someone alive. It doesn’t “replace” their lungs, it just keeps the airway open and connects them to a ventilator until they can breathe again.

The stigma around it, people saying it’s too risky, or that agreeing to it means you’re “giving up”can cost lives. I really wish there was more understanding that intubation isn’t the end. 

----------------------

Dick: So....who's your favorite kid?

Bruce: It depends on who called me dad last.

Jason *poking his head around the doorway*: ....does Old Man count?

Bruce: Yes.

----------------------

Tim: Damn, Scarecrow laced his gas with Venom

Bruce: Fuck, I just got 20 years sober.

Tim: you what.

----------------------

Duke: What's the cold case file labeled Mister Whisper?

Bruce: My headmaster sold his soul, killed my best friend and six other students, and beat me in front of my friend's dead body

Duke: 😨

----------------------

Damian: Father, there was a breakout at a Russian prison yesterday.

Bruce: It's a political prison. I was tortured there for thirteen days when I was 18.

you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.

When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.

"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.

"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.

"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.

"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"

"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"

Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."

That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.

"Until next time."

He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.

If you don't already know you have issues doing so, squat down real quick. Bend your knees all the way and touch the floor. Just make sure you can do it. Okay? For me? And then stand up all the way and make sure you can balance on one foot.

If there was ever a tumblr post worth sending to your mom, it's this one.

as examples of how broken WW is elsewhere, you can clip through walls and go out of bounds to skip entire dungeon sequences pretty much anywhere with a ledge, use the Wind Waker to enter a state where you ignore physics and swim at 5000 miles an hour, and even fly infinitely into the sky after dying like some kind of helium zombie. do you know how many games could be broken wide open by an infinite height trick? TTYD would shave off 3 or 4 hours.