#robin angst

From a very young age, Damian had been taught exactly what control meant in this world, which was, of course, power. So it was no surprise that he came to be deliberate in everything he did, meticulously so.

The youngest son of the Dark Knight excelled at about anything he attempted to master, and he did so with ease. One that stemmed from the extensive training he underwent as a child in Nanda Parbat, the hidden city high in the Hindu Kush mountains of Tibet.

Damian was his mother’s son. He had bled, ached, broken ribs, and alike—all before he had even learned to talk properly. For that was what was expected of him; the supposed heir to the Demon’s Head. Just like Talia once had.

Although his childhood was definitely not the average, rosy one most had, Damian knew that his mother’s atypical parenting choices played a major role in what made him as competent in battle as he was.

But an upbringing like that? It inherently shapes you.

He despised a lack of discipline, just as he despised a lack of initiative. Recklessness borne from the belief that he always knew best, well, you could count it as one of the many sins of his teenage years.

Damian had improved in that regard as he got older. With the years, he became more experienced and also more mature. Now as a young adult, he knew better than to underestimate his opponents or to get ahead of himself—for the most part, at least. Though if we’re completely honest, that smug Wayne flair never truly goes away, does it?

Of that, you were sure. Most of all, whenever you’d fight him, and his know-it-all attitude would drive you crazy.

Sparring with you was never just about the fight. You were far too emotionally involved for that to be the case. But Damian didn’t mind. Tempers like yours proved to be excellent fuel for a real challenge. On no occasion had it ever been boring to face off with you.

You, on the other hand, loathed nothing more than to be underestimated, and although Damian hadn’t outright done so—as he was fully aware of your capabilities—his complacent demeanor provoked you like no other.

How dare he not take you seriously? How dare he not give his all when fighting you? The blood in your veins boiled at the sheer audacity. You were seething even considering that he might be going easy on you.

You gritted your teeth, before bellowing, “Fight me!” A simple raise of his eyebrow, and you grew even more agitated. Your impulsive nature won over as you chose to take the first step. Or in this case, the first lunge.

You really should have kept your cool, because Damian had seen through the attempt before you’d even gotten somewhat close to him. He had to give it to you though; the fervor you put into the attack could’ve been effective if your move hadn’t been so blatant.

He caught your fist ahead of impact with his shoulder, and his hand closed around it firmly as though to make a point. With the minimized distance between you, you could hear his amused tut loud and clear.

Oh, he did not just click his tongue at you.

Like you were a goddamn kid. Like you were a little girl that still needed to learn how to control her emotions.

You mentally cursed him out when he then used his grip on you to push you backwards, one-handedly, mind you. Ugh. What a show-off. You glared at him for only a split second before yanking yourself free of his hold with an unnecessary amount of force.

A swoosh of air reached his ears, and Damian barely registered it in time to lean back. He scarcely missed your sharp nails that reached out to scratch up his infuriating visage. Actually, you did manage to slightly graze the bridge of his nose with the tip of your pointer finger. You certainly weren’t above utilizing your freshly manicured and filed nails to claw up his pretty boy face.

Taking advantage of the moment he required to regain his balance, you took a few swift steps back. You needed to gather some distance between you two again in order to recalculate your strategy.

With his narrowed eyes pinned on you now, you circled around each other, anticipating the other’s next step. “You’re too impatient.” His voice was even, vexingly undeterred by the given circumstances.

You rolled your eyes at his unsolicited advice. Here he goes again, sounding like he’s your mentor or leader of sorts, when he wasn’t. You weren’t a member of the Teen Titans for a reason. That unbelievably irritating reason stood right in front of you in all his self-assured glory.

God, why did you even give in to this nonsense again? It was like you physically couldn’t resist the opportunity to stick it to him.

“And you are too confident for your own good,” you countered with a sarcastic grin spreading across your face. Damian shook his head, dark chocolate strands falling onto his forehead in an effortlessly attractive gesture. “No. I think your ego is simply too fragile to accept the truth.”

A disbelieving scoff left your now downturned lips. The sour expression on your face spoke for itself, but of course you couldn’t let his claim simply stand as such. “And what would that be?”

“That I am merely better trained than you.” Swish!

In a sudden twist, Damian rushed forward and retaliated with the attack that you’ve been asking for; quick, sudden, and powerful. His newest course of action stood in stark contrast to the previous half-hearted jabs he had granted you. Was Damian finally coming out of the defense and actually fighting you?

The prospect sparked something alive in your chest, eagerness and adrenaline warming up your body already. Damian’s words only added fuel to the all-consuming fire building up within you—heat and flames that embodied your fury in the most familiar way you knew it.

His strike had come unexpectedly, but it hadn’t been quite cunning enough for you not to evade it. You quickly ducked, before throwing your own punch upon reaching your full height again.

A flurry of blows and parries were exchanged as the fight turned into a kind of dance around the training area—the flow of your bodies’ movements graceful in spite of their violent nature.

The recognizable sound of fists meeting hard muscle sounded through the cave, while the whirlwind of attacks prolonged itself until you eventually succeeded in landing a good hit on the tall boy. Right in the abdomen, with a vigor that sent him staggering backward.

Damian grunted at the collision. And you? You smirked at him with prideful satisfaction. Thinking quickly, you lifted your foot to kick him down.

Unfortunately for you, Damian had been even quicker to grab your leather boot and send you sprawling onto the cold floor instead. A beat later, he was pressing you into the ground. The weight of his body was near goddamn smothering you, and you thanked him for it by spewing vulgarities at him. Damian’s hot breath hit your cheek as he reached to pin your hands above your head. Coarse fingers wrapped around the smooth skin of your wrists.

Afterwards, he allowed himself a moment to take you in; subdued, and yet still burning with a passionate kind of anger. Even like this, you were an inferno of havoc.

Damian couldn’t help his chuckle, quiet as it was. He tried to conceal it by turning his face to the side, but that didn’t help his case at all. “Fuck you,” you hissed at him, annoyed by the fact that he took joy from this.

He angled his face back toward you—cold, piercing eyes meeting your own that reflected white-hot rage. “How charming.” That smug smirk that you’d repeatedly fantasized about tearing off his stupid face motivated you in your pursuit of escape.

With the restricted mobility of your arms and one of his knees settled right between your legs, you considered every single one of your limited options. You were fast to conclude the most logical choice. Funnily enough, in this case, it was something that any decent self-defense class would teach you in about a day. At least in Gotham, that is. After all, there is simply crucial knowledge one must obtain to survive even a week in the city of crazed clowns, crime bosses, and dangerous metahumans.

So after creating a hip bridge, you thrusted your hips up as high as possible, making use of momentum. Simultaneously, you tried to drive your hands down towards your sides.

Your frantic movements forced Damian to shift his hands from your wrists to the ground, so that he could keep himself from falling over. Quickly taking that as your cue, you not only trapped his right foot with your own but also did the same with his corresponding arm. Lifting your hips with as much strength as you could muster, you rolled your shoulder to the right.

Having taken away his ability to stabilize himself, Damian couldn’t do a thing to prevent himself from rolling over to his right side. Moving fast, you reversed your previous positions and mounted him now.

Not wasting a second, you caged his thick thighs between your knees and grabbed his wrists. You pressed them into the ground, hard and unforgiving. You didn’t care if it hurt him. Never mind, you hoped it hurt. You hoped that Damian liked the taste of his own medicine.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you bared your teeth at him in satisfaction. “Oh, I am more than just charming,” you told Damian in the midst of heavy breathing. You leaned in just enough to fully absorb his reaction, and then you added with a sneer, “Though that might be hard to believe for a person as arrogant as you.”

Pools of jade lured you in, but you remained steadfast. So what if he had pretty eyes? He was still an egomaniac. “You take things too personally, Ya Majnouna.” His comment made your fingers twitch in anger.

Oh, of course, that was beneath the great Damian Wayne as well. Could he ever shut up? Or at the very least, stop acting like he was superior to you for once? Damian knew how to turn anything into a lesson, and you were sick of it.

“Please, if anyone is crazy here, it’s you for thinking you know the first thing about me,” you replied in a tone that was uncharacteristically condescending for you as a person, yet absolutely befitting the dynamic you shared with the youngest member of the Wayne family.

Unlike you, Damian wasn’t rushing to escape your grip. From a bystander’s perspective, one could even go as far as saying that he was right where he wanted to be. But he couldn’t have been enjoying being at the mercy of your unleashed ire, could he? And yet…

Damian was raised to be a highly trained assassin from birth. He became Robin at the age of ten. Under the—at first unwelcome—guidance of his father, he grew into his role as Gotham’s newest Boy Wonder throughout the majority of his teenage years.

All this to say, Damian had been taught at least a dozen ways to get out of a situation where he was pinned down just like this. He was choosing not to.

“I know more than you imagine,” he declared as though he knew it to be true. You almost laughed in his face at that. So he assumed that he knew even this better than you would? For a moment, you wondered if this was some kind of absurd joke. Then you remembered that Damian really wasn’t the humorous type.

Tilting your head to the side inquisitively, you voiced your doubts, “What would you ever know about me?” You took notice of the corners of his mouth hinting upward. The ghost of a smile painted itself on his handsome face, and you despised yourself for the fleeting thought that passed through your mind.

Lips like that shouldn’t have been wasted on a guy like Damian. They looked soft and inviting. Far too kissable.

His keen eyes had already caught the attention before you could snap out of it, but thankfully he left your indiscretion uncommented, for now anyway. “You hate routines,” he began. “You never stick to the rules and always let your feelings control your actions. Even when you know that they are likely misleading you.” Your face scrunched up.

You were about to interject, but Damian continued before you could cut in, “You are impulsive, most likely a product of that fiery temper of yours.” Bending forward, you snapped at him, “I do not have a temper!”

Damian chuckled. The same man you had seen laugh so rarely that you could count the number of times he had done so in the past month on one hand. “Are you sure about that?” he asked you cockily, and you almost groaned out loud. You knew that your reaction didn’t help prove him wrong whatsoever.

“Listen, Wayne.” You were so close to his face that you could feel his exhales on your cheek. He silently waited for you to continue, which surprised you more than you would like to admit.

Being a good judge of character was something you had always prided yourself on being, and you had decided long ago what kind of guy Damian Wayne was. Patient wasn’t one of the characteristics you’d attributed to him. The picture you had of him in your mind was more or less something along the lines of, well, a narcissistic asshole with a crippling superiority complex.

Okay, perhaps that was a bit harsh of you considering that you’d never really gotten close to him, but letting go of grudges wasn’t your expertise. And first impressions clearly weren’t his, as you not-so-fondly recalled.

Regardless, Damian was completely at your disposal like this, though you weren’t sure why he wasn’t struggling against you more. His lack of resistance usually would have insulted you, but in this case, you could tolerate it. If that meant he would finally shut up and listen, you could accept his odd behavior. I mean, there’s a reason people say you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You noticed some superficial shit about me? Big deal,” you spat out, words dripping with venom. The grip you had on his wrists tightened. Someone with a lower pain tolerance surely would’ve winced at the added pressure, but Damian accepted you driving his hands into the ground like one would accept a gift. That spoke for itself. “But you know what? I could also tell you a thing or two.”

Oh, this was becoming more amusing to him by the second. He used to never understand why his father would let Selina boss him around at times. Damian felt like he understood him now.

To the untrained eye, it would’ve seemed like his facial expression remained the same. You, however, saw the brief flash of curiosity in his eyes, and it filled you with a sick kind of glee. Clearly, you had some sort of effect on Damian. And god was there something gratifying in knowing you had power over the powerful.

It wasn’t that you were the kind of person who enjoyed hurting people. You wanted to help others, encourage them, and bring hope to the hopeless. Becoming a vigilante was a dangerous decision as it is, but to fight crime in a city like Gotham? That’s like willingly walking into the lion’s den. And still, it was a choice you were willing to make exactly for those reasons. But you were only human, and if anyone had ever made you want to believe in karma, it was the man currently beneath you.

“You act like you are above others. In fact, I think you truly believe you are always the smartest in the room. Oh, and don’t let me forget the way you constantly lecture others, because you are so convinced that your way of dealing with things is the only correct one.”

He didn’t bother with trying to interrupt you. Instead, his intense gaze flickered across your face like it held the answer to some kind of problem he was determined to solve. His lackluster reaction would have frustrated you if you weren’t so elated. It felt like a weight was lifted off your chest, telling Damian all these things to his face rather than thinking them in your head.

You smiled contentedly, before moving your lips right next to his ear. He felt them brush against the sensitive skin there, before you whispered something to him like you were sharing a secret. “But you know what I think the truth is? You’re just a brat, Damian. A brat that seriously needs to get humbled. But don’t worry.” Your tongue swept over your lips. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Ahem.”

You turned your heads at almost the exact same time. Alfred stood there, looking at you two in the somewhat suggestive position you were in. In hindsight, it made sense, of course, that you didn’t seem like you were just straddling him in the name of restraining him. Surely not when there weren’t any signs of struggle from his side.

Alfred cleared his throat before announcing, “Master Damian, I am afraid your father is looking to have a word with you. Though considering your predicament, perhaps I should inform Master Bruce that you are quite busy—” Your eyes widened at that. Laughing awkwardly, you scrambled off of Damian and up to your feet again. “Oh, there’s no need for that! Thank you, Alfred!” you told the butler, whom you’d grown to respect immensely.

“Damian and I were just about done here,” you added with a growing grin on your face, before shooting said man a look full of rotten promise.

Afterwards, you turned to exit the Batcave, and Damian propped himself up on his elbows to watch you leave. You looked good walking away from him, he noted.

Alfred shot him a knowing glance. “I shall grant you a moment to collect yourself, Master Damian.” The subtle undertone of amusement in Pennyworth’s voice hadn’t gone unnoticed by Damian, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Perhaps you were the only person who hadn’t yet noticed that Damian liked the way you stood up to him; that he found exhilaration in having met his match.

Damian al Ghul Wayne really wasn’t one for chaos.

Unless chaos came in the form of the most beautiful, spirited—and frankly oblivious—woman he had ever met.

The sigil burned itself into your palm before you could pull away, ancient magic searing through your veins like liquid fire. You'd screamed, you remembered that much. Remembered Raven's hands on your shoulders, her voice tight with fear as she tried to pull the curse out of you. Remembered Damian's face, pale and furious, as he'd caught you when your legs gave out.

"I'm fine," you'd insisted, even as your magic crackled uncontrollably around your fingertips, silver sparks dancing in the air. "Just... startled me."

But you weren't fine.

The research took you three days. Three days of pouring through Raven's books, of ancient texts that crumbled at your touch, of scrolls written in languages that hurt to read. And finally, you found it.

The Curse of Siavash and Farrah.

The story was old, older than Gotham, older than most civilizations. Siavash had been a warrior, blessed by the gods with strength and courage. Farrah had been a sorceress, powerful and proud. They'd fought side by side, saved kingdoms together, and somewhere along the way, Farrah had fallen in love.

But Siavash's heart belonged to another, a princess in a distant land, promised to him since childhood. When he left to fulfill his duty, Farrah's grief had been so profound that it transformed, crystallized into something darker. Her magic had turned inward, feeding on her unrequited love until it consumed her entirely.

The curse she'd died from had been named in her honor. A cruel irony.

The afflicted will find their magic amplified, fed by the intensity of their emotion. But as the power grows, the body weakens. The curse manifests as flowers—always the beloved's favorite—blooming wherever the afflicted treads. There is only one cure: complete severance of the emotional tie. All memories of the beloved must be erased, or the afflicted will wither like a flower torn from its roots.

You'd closed the book with shaking hands.

Tiger lilies. Of course, it would be tiger lilies.

It started small.

A single tiger lily, vibrant orange with leopard spots, sprouting from the training room floor where you'd been practicing. You'd stared at it for a full minute before incinerating it with a blast of silver fire.

Then there were two in the kitchen. Three in the hallway. Five in the common room.

"Uh, guys?" Beast Boy had called out one morning. "Why are there flowers growing out of the carpet?"

"They're tiger lilies," Starfire had said, delighted, kneeling down to examine them. "How beautiful! Though I am confused about their presence indoors."

You'd muttered something about a spell gone wrong and fled before anyone could ask questions.

But you couldn't hide the other changes.

Your magic had always been strong, controlled, precise, the silver energy bending to your will like an extension of your own body. Now it was wild. During training, you'd accidentally blown a hole through three walls. Your shields were impenetrable one moment and shattered like glass the next. Energy leaked from your fingertips even when you weren't trying to cast.

"Your power has increased significantly," Raven observed one evening, her violet eyes studying you with concern. You were sitting cross-legged in her room, surrounded by candles and crystals, trying to meditate. Trying to find balance. "But your aura is... fractured. Unstable."

"I'm working on it," you said through gritted teeth.

"This isn't normal magical growth. Something is wrong." She leaned forward. "Talk to me. We're best friends. You can tell me anything."

You wanted to. God, you wanted to pour it all out—the curse, the flowers, the way your chest ached every time you looked at Damian. But the words stuck in your throat, tangled up with tiger lily petals you could feel but not see.

"I'm fine, Rae. Just... tired."

She didn't believe you. You could see it in her face. But she didn't push, just squeezed your hand and made you promise to rest.

Rest. As if you could rest when your own magic was eating you alive.

Damian noticed, of course. Damian noticed everything.

You'd known him since you were children, since Bruce had first brought him to the Tower, feral and angry and so convinced he had to prove himself. You'd been one of the few people who'd looked past the violence to see the scared kid underneath.

Somewhere along the way, that childhood friendship had become something you cherished more than anything. Damian was brilliant and frustrating and terrible at expressing emotion, but he made you laugh. Made you feel seen in a way few people did.

And you'd fallen in love with him so gradually you hadn't even noticed until it was too late.

"You're avoiding me," he said one evening, cornering you in the Tower's library. You'd been researching memory spells, desperately searching for any alternative to the cure you'd found.

"I'm not—"

"Don't insult my intelligence." His green eyes were sharp, assessing. "You've barely spoken to me in a week. You leave rooms when I enter them. And before you claim you haven't noticed, there are flowers growing in your wake. Tiger lilies, specifically."

Your heart stopped. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying. You're terrible at lying." He stepped closer, and you forced yourself not to retreat. "What's wrong? If this is about the mission, if you're angry that I didn't reach you faster when you touched the altar—"

"It's not about that." The words came out sharper than intended. "Just drop it, Damian. Please."

Something flickered across his face, hurt, maybe, though he hid it quickly. "Fine. But for the record? Whatever this is, I'm not the enemy. I'm your friend."

Friend. The word lodged in your chest like a blade.

He left, and you slumped against the bookshelf, silver magic crackling uncontrollably around your hands. Three tiger lilies bloomed at your feet, their orange petals mocking.

The team intervention came two weeks after the curse took hold.

You'd been getting weaker; there was no denying it anymore. You could barely make it through training sessions without needing to sit down. Your skin had taken on a pallor that no amount of concealer could hide. And the flowers were everywhere, sprouting from ceiling tiles, growing through cracks in the concrete, leaving trails of orange and black wherever you walked.

"Dude, we're worried about you," Beast Boy said, unusually serious. The whole team had gathered in the common room, even Damian, who stood with his arms crossed, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

"The flowers are clearly magical in nature," Starfire added gently. "And you have grown most unwell. Please, friend, allow us to help you."

"There's dark magic involved," Raven said quietly. "I can sense it. It's wrapped around you like chains, and it's getting tighter."

You looked at each of them, your team, your friends, your family. And you saw the fear in their eyes. Fear for you.

"It's a curse," you finally admitted, and the relief of saying it out loud almost knocked you over. "From the mission. I touched the altar and... it's called the Curse of Unrequited Love. Or Hanahaki, in some texts."

"Unrequited love?" Beast Boy's eyes went wide. "Wait, you're in love with someone?"

You didn't answer. Couldn't answer. But your eyes betrayed you, flicking involuntarily to Damian before you could stop yourself.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"The flowers," Raven said slowly, pieces clicking into place. "Tiger lilies. Damian's favorite."

Damian's expression was unreadable, but his jaw had gone tight. You couldn't look at him. Couldn't bear to see the pity or, worse, the discomfort in his eyes.

"There's a cure," you said quickly, desperately. "I found it. There's a spell that can sever the emotional connection. I just need to... I need to erase all my memories of Damian. Every conversation, every mission, every—" Your voice cracked. "Everything."

"Absolutely not," Damian said immediately.

"It's the only way—"

"I said no." His voice was sharp, commanding. "There has to be another option."

"There isn't! I've researched for two weeks straight. It's either the spell or I—" You couldn't say it. Couldn't voice the inevitable end if you did nothing.

"Then we'll find another way," Raven said firmly. "We'll contact Zatanna, Constantine, every magic user we know. Someone will have an answer."

But you could see it in her eyes. The same thing you'd seen in every text you'd read: there was no other way. This curse had killed Farrah thousands of years ago, and it had killed countless others since.

"How long do we have?" Dick asked quietly.

You swallowed hard. "A month. Maybe less."

They tried. God, they tried.

Constantine came, took one look at the flowers sprouting from your footsteps, and whistled low. "That's old magic, love. The nasty kind. Feeds on genuine emotion, can't be tricked or fooled."

Zatanna worked herself to exhaustion trying to find a loophole, but every spell she attempted either failed or made things worse.

Even Raven, who knew you better than anyone, couldn't find a way to break the curse without destroying the memories.

And through it all, Damian refused to leave your side.

"You should keep your distance," you told him one evening. You were in the Tower's greenhouse, the only place where the tiger lilies didn't look out of place, blending in with the other flowers. You'd taken to spending hours there, too weak now to do much else.

"Not happening," he said simply, sitting down beside you on the bench.

"Damian—"

"Do you know how we met?" he interrupted. "I was nine. Father brought me to the Tower because I'd nearly killed someone in training and he thought the Titans could 'teach me control.'" He said the last words with distaste. "I thought you were all weak. Soft."

You managed a small smile. "I remember. You challenged me to a fight within five minutes of arriving."

"And you accepted. You were the only one who didn't treat me like a rabid animal that needed to be handled carefully." His voice softened. "You fought me at full strength. Didn't hold back. And when I lost, the first time I'd ever truly lost a fight, you helped me up and asked if I wanted to go again."

"You had a lot to prove back then."

"I still do. But you've never asked me to prove anything. You just... saw me. The real me, not the assassin or the Robin or the heir to the cowl. Just Damian." He turned to face you fully. "Those memories you want to erase? They're not just your memories. They're mine too. And I'm not willing to lose them."

Your chest ached, a physical pain now, the curse tightening its grip. "It's not your choice."

"Then tell me you don't want to remember." His green eyes bored into yours, intense and pleading. "Tell me that losing every moment we've shared—every argument, every victory, every stupid inside joke—tell me that's what you want, and I'll stop fighting this."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Because you couldn't say it. Couldn't voice the lie.

"I don't want to die," you whispered instead.

"I know." His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. The touch sent silver sparks dancing across your skin, magic reacting to emotion. "But there has to be another way."

There wasn't. You both knew it.

A tiger lily bloomed between you, pushing up through the wooden bench, and neither of you moved to destroy it.

The day you made your decision, you could barely stand.

The curse had progressed faster than you'd anticipated, faster than the texts had suggested. Your magic was enormous now, powerful enough to level buildings, but it was eating you from the inside out. You'd stopped sleeping. Stopped eating. Your reflection in the mirror looked like a ghost.

Tiger lilies had consumed your room. They grew from the walls, the ceiling, the floor, creating a canopy of orange and black that would have been beautiful if it wasn't so terrifying.

You sat in the center of it all, the spell book open in your lap, and tried to commit everything to memory. Every smile, every argument, every quiet moment with Damian that you'd treasured.

Because tonight, you would erase them all.

The spell components were gathered: moonwater, forget-me-not petals (the irony wasn't lost on you), and a blade forged in sorrow. Raven had helped you prepare, though her hands had shaken the entire time. She'd tried one last time to talk you out of it, but you'd held firm.

You couldn't ask Damian to watch you die. Couldn't put your team through that.

This was the only way.

The knock on your door came at sunset.

"It's open," you called, your voice hoarse from disuse.

Damian stepped inside and stopped, staring at the jungle of tiger lilies that had claimed your space. His expression was carefully blank, but you'd known him long enough to see the cracks in the mask, the grief, the anger, the helplessness.

"I'm doing the spell tonight," you said before he could speak. "I wanted to... I thought you should know."

"No." He closed the door behind him, moving through the flowers until he stood before you. "You're not doing this."

"Damian—"

"I've been researching too." He pulled a folded paper from his pocket, hands steady despite the emotion in his voice. "The curse feeds on unrequited love. The keyword being unrequited."

Your heart stuttered. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're an idiot." He knelt down in front of you, eye level now, and his expression was raw in a way you'd never seen before. "I'm saying I've been in love with you since I was fourteen years old and you stayed up all night helping me with that history paper, even though you had your own work to do. I'm saying that every time you smile at me, I forget how to think. I'm saying that the thought of you erasing me from your memory, of losing every moment we've built together, makes me want to burn the world down."

You couldn't breathe. Couldn't process what he was saying.

"I'm saying," he continued, reaching up to cup your face with trembling hands, "that this love isn't unrequited. It never was. I was just too much of a coward to tell you."

"You..." The word came out broken. "You love me?"

"Yes, you infuriating, self-sacrificing witch. I love you. I have always loved you. And if you think I'm going to let you erase yourself from my life without a fight, you severely underestimate my stubbornness."

A sob broke from your chest, relief and joy and disbelief all tangled together. And as Damian pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were something precious, you felt the curse shift.

The tightness in your chest eased. The wild thrashing of your magic calmed. And when you looked down, the tiger lily at your feet was withering, petals falling away like tears.

"It's working," you breathed. "Damian, it's... "

He kissed you.

It was desperate and gentle and perfect, and you felt the last chains of the curse shatter. Your magic settled back into your bones, familiar and controlled. The flowers around you began to fade, orange petals dissolving into silver light.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you gasping, the room was clear. No more tiger lilies. No more curse.

Just you and Damian and the promise of a future you'd thought you'd lost.

"For the record," he murmured against your temple, "if you ever try to sacrifice yourself again without telling me you're in love with me first, I will be incredibly annoyed."

You laughed, actually laughed, the sound rusty but real. "Noted."

"Good." He pulled back just enough to look at you, and his smile was soft, genuine, everything you'd dreamed of. "Now, let's get you to medical. You look like death warmed over."

"Always the charmer."

"You love it."

"I really do."

The Tower never knew. The curse hasn't been actually lifted... that night you performed the spell and forgot about him once and for all... though Damian would never give up on you.

Oh, they knew about the curse, knew you'd been dying, knew Damian had turned obsessed with saving you. But the details remained private, shared only between the two of you and Raven, who'd figured it out from the way Damian couldn't cross the threshold of your room and the way he kept watching old videos from his camera.

it was just a matter of time.

he had to admit, during all of this he'd managed to push you away. unintentionally, of course. you two were getting into it almost every day now. though he had to agree that it was his own doing and not yours. he'd snap, you'd merely stare, wondering what was wrong with him.

didn't you see? by the end of the week, joker would have gotham painted red if they didn't figure out his next move soon enough.

this was why jason was thankful your sister had come for the weekend to take you away. your sister, ashley, worked a long while away from gotham and it wasn't often that she came to see you. when she did, she turned her nose up at the sight. she never was a lover of gotham.

jason supposed, neither were you.

but as much as you hated the crime that circled gotham, the dirt on the street, the injustice of the entire city, you still loved it dearly. it was where you'd grown up and you just couldn't bring yourself to leave. so, you got a paying job, lived in the smallest of apartments where you spent most of your time with your lover. and if you and jason weren't there, you were spending time at the manor, wrapped up in jason's black sheets while he recited the books that lay on his night stand.

the trip ashley was taking you to would last a total of two days, the friday she came and the saturday after. you wouldn't be heading home until that sunday evening.

he hoped by then that he would have the case sorted out and it was safe enough for you to come home.

often times, he wondered what he was doing as red hood. perhaps it wasn't worth it anymore, would it be better to just let it all go? batman and nightwing could save gotham. he and you could live a normal, mundane, happy life. then he'd look at you in the midst of reading, glancing down at your closed eyes and pretty pouty lips. then, he'd be reminded of why he did what he did. to make gotham a better place for you and one day, for his family.

"you all set?" he questioned, shutting the trunk after lifting all your bags into the car. you'd told him you could do it yourself but he only insisted. he'd done enough to you in the past few days, you deserved this at least.

"yes." you grinned up at him, sweet as ever. even in he midst of chaos, you were the sweetest he'd ever seen. "apex grove awaits us!" you glanced to your sister who was sat in the car, leaning out the window with an ugly green suncap on her head apex grove written in yellow writing.

"it's gonna be the best weekend ever!" she was whooping in the car causing you to giggle at her antics. it would be the best weekend ever, for her, that was if she remembered any of it after she got shitfaced two nights in a row.

jason was not unfamilliar to your sister's drinking habits. but he thought what harm, it wasn't as if you were stupid enough to get dragged into it too. "you have fun, okay? not too much fun."

you listened to him huff out a laugh. "i will." before moving forward to let your head fall on his chest. hugging jason was what you assumed hugging clouds felt like. though you'd never experience it, you could still dream. "'m gonna miss you." you mumbled, only loud enough for the man to hear.

even during arguments, you were the only one that truly saw him.

you never blamed him for his short temper or his aggrivation he felt during cases like these. you only moved with caution, letting him know you were there. you were something he would be eternally grateful for.

"i'll miss you too, sweetheart." he mumbled back, pretty eyes glowing in the little sunlight that gotham got.

"bleh!" your sister yelled, rolling her eyes. "come on, y/n! we're gonna be late for the dinner reservation!"

"okay, bye." you reached up, kissing him on the lips ever so gently. "love you."

"love you too." watching as you made your way towards the passenger seat giddily. "take care of her!" placing his hands on his hips as though he were a mother.

"bye jason!" your sister only yelled back in response causing his brows to crease even further. was she trying to make him go grey in his prime? nevertheless, he waved towards your window until your sister's range rover left through the wayne manor's gates.

while watching them close on the way out, he felt a certain tightness in his chest. worry. he worried for you, worried that something would happen to you while you were gone. then he reassured himself that here was where the trouble was. if anything, he should be thankful you were anywhere but here.

you'd given jason a key to your apartment. you'd always insisted he'd take one anyway but he never did, you soon learned that was because he sort of liked coming through your window, grin on his face as you jumped sheepishly with a fright.

now, however, the key was forced into his back pocket.

you'd told him he'd better stay at yours for at least the nights, reassuring him that this whole joker business would get sorted out as it always did. you told him that whatever he was to do, he was at least to get sleep in your apartment and not stay cooped up in the manor wondering where joker will land next.

and he really wanted to make you happy, truly.

but it was now sunday and they were no closer than they were before.

bruce was injured, heavily so, from the joker's last attack. alfred had all but bedbound him, forcing him onto the lush mattress that costs more than your apartment complex put together.

so for the most part, it was just dick and jason on this one. tim was away and damian wasn't trusted on something so severe without the guidance of bruce.

alfred popped in once or twice to deliver food and assure that they were getting the rest and nutrition that they needed.

however, all the brothers could do was think the entire events over and look for clues. "three wheels on fire." dick's hands were clasped in his lap while he sat by the computers. "that's what he said, why didn't he show?"

the men had thought for sure that the joker would have struck at the fun fair. gotham was throwing one and there happened to be exactly three ferris wheels. "i don't know." leaning his face onto his hand that was propped onto the table. a map lay atop it. "maybe it was to throw us off his trail?"

"no chance!" dick quickly shut him down as he stood, pacing the cave. "maybe something went wrong. maybe he messed up. three wheels on fire, i mean, that was his chance! what else could he have been talking about." seconds passed before dick practically had a light bulb appear over his head. "a car? three cars?"

"that could be any three cars." jason waved him off. "how on earth would we figure out who? besides, three random civilians? don't you think it's a little too.... theatrical for three civilians?"

dick slumped back into his chair. "the joker does love his theatrics."

and jason had to agree with that. his eyes glanced down to the map, scanning it, until... "dick." his head turned. "hand me that red marker?" doing as he was told, dick handed jason the red marker that he used to scribble little dots against the page.

in confusion, the older boy watched him. he watched as fear suddenly took over his face, draining him to a ghostly while colour. dick hadn't seen jason scared of many things but whatever he had just uncovered... that was enough fear for a lifetime. "talk to me jaybird."

he swallowed thickly, already standing. "everywhere the joker's hit has been in pathway's through towns. every dot on the page is where he hit."

dick shook his head. "no, no, he didn't hit there." bulky finger lingering on the last spot on the page.

"no." he shook his head. "but it's the only dot that would connect the full circle. apex grove. it's where y/n is." the words came out sort of like a whisper, a whisper of pure fear.

"no, no, okay? you can't go off of some silly circle drawing, i mean, how do you know she's even in a car right now?" his hands were on jay's shoulders, trying to keep him steady in all his attempts. but jason's mind had already been clouded by fear and that enough had it made up.

"she's coming home tonight."

"that still doesn't prove anything!"

"dick." his face stern and steady. "if anything happens to her," voice cracking ever so softly. "if anything happens to her, i won't forgive myself."

dick swallowed too, realising perhaps jason was right. and even if he wasn't, was it a situation he was willing to put your life on the line for? "okay, let's go."

"it's so dark." you giggled, glancing out the window. you were... tispy, you could say. thing is, you'd been the sober one for friday and saturday night so ashley decided you were going to drink at least one night so she decided why not now, it wasn't as if you had to drive back to gotham, she had that handled.

"yeah." she chuckled. "tends to happen when the sun goes down." you hummed, sitting back up. you weren't exactly drunk, everything was just buzzing a little. "i didn't wanna ask because i didn't wanna ruin the whole night or anything but what was going on with you and jason?"

"what do you mean?" you questioned, turning your head to her while laying it against the seat. tiredness consumed you whole and while you'd loved this little getaway with your sister, you were thankful to be sleeping in your apartment bed tonight.

she shrugged her shoulders, eyes set on the dark road ahead. "i don't know, thought there was a little tension or something."

"we had a little fight." you admitted, absentmindedly gazing out the window. "but it's okay, all couples fight, right?" you couldn't tell her why you'd fought because that would include telling her about the fact that he worked with batman against the joker and that didn't seem like a great way to tell her.

"oh yeah, you should see me and theo." theo was her husband, the father to her kid, teddy, it was supposed to be sort of like theo but you didn't know if that was how it actually sounded. "we fight all the time."

"but you love him." you added.

"oh yeah, to bits." grinning and for a split second, glancing at you. "and as a girl in love, i can tell when other people are in love. and you and jason are just... soulmates." you huffed out a little laugh. "no, seriously, i've never seen two people so in love. i mean, all through highschool, i really thought you were gonna end up a crazy old cat lady."

"i do like cats."

"mm, always did."

BANG !

jason swore he broke every speed limit known to man, he didn't care. he couldn't care. dick waited until the motorbike slowed to a stop.

the men discarded the vehicles before stepping onto the road, staring in shock.

in the darkness of the night, a range rover could be made out, lights still on, though it appeared only one was working. it had been flipped on it's backside, one wheel discarded on the other side of the road. what had hit them? jason had no idea but what he did know was that there was a kind of ringing in his ear, fear.

"is that them, jason?!" it wasn't the first time dick had yelled out the question.

though his voice suddenly brought him back to life, his brows knitted. "the car's not on fire." he mumbled, confused. "dick, the car isn't on fire."

"oh shit." instinctively taking a step back. "it's gonna blow up."

the words should have registered in jason's mind to get the fuck out of there. instead, he ran towards the car.

he heard the faint yell of "jason!" from behind him. but there was only one thing on jason's mind as of now. and that was you.

he found you quick enough, popping off the door with his strength instead of wasting any more time. he could see you flipped in the passenger seat, your sister next to you. even when blood dripped from your forehead and your nose, gash against your hairline, you looked almost peaceful, as if you were only sleeping.

it caused genuine fear in him. jason swore he'd never been so scared.

knowing that at any moment the car could explode, he grabbed your limp body with ease, carrying it until you were a safe enough distance from the car and setting you down on the ground.

"y/n? baby, can you hear me?" dick watched as his baby brother held his limp girlfriend in his arms. "y/n, wake up. wake up!" as if in some distant world, you'd heard him, your eyes slowly peeled themselves awake. "there you are, there you are, huh?" though a laugh emitted his mouth, there were tears in the corner of your boyfriends eyes.

confusion washed over you, eyes hazy. "where am i?" but before you could receive an answer, everything came flooding back and you began sitting up, turning your head. "where's ashley?"

you were leaning on your arm, the other had a wound soaking through your shirt.

the men didn't respond, glancing to one another. going in there meant risking their lives. and sure, they risked their lives every day for the people of gotham but that car could blow at any minute. "where is she?" you practically cried, eyes turning to the flipped car behind jason. "she's still in there?!"

"y/n, listen―"

you cut dick off, trying to stand. "no! no! i have to get her!"

jason held you though it didn't take much, your body already weak. "sweetheart, the car is gonna blow, we can't risk you―"

"i have to save her! get off!" as much as you tried to writhe against him, it worked at no avail. "jason, get off me! jason!" dick's heart pained as jason's hand soothed the back of your head, pushing it against his shoulder.

BANG !

you swore you screamed, you heard a scream, you think. it was all really hard to remember. you clawed at jason, crying into his redhood suit shoulder, sobbing horrendously as you watched the car that held your sister burst into flames.

jason held you, not uttering a word and watching dick flee the scene, most likely in suit of finding the joker. he could only hold you close, listening you scream the word 'no' on repeat.

"i know, i know." he swore he could feel his own eyes muddling with the same glassy tears that yours were covered with. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."

at some point, you turned your eyes away from the explosion, face in jason's chest. you no longer fought against him, crying so loudly as he held your wrists against him, trying everything in his will to pick the pieces of you up. but in some way, he felt as though he'd caused them.

"she's gone." you sobbed out violently against him. "she's gone." the words repeated in your brain. you'd lost many people to gotham but never did you think you'd lose her, anyone but her.

"baby, you're bleeding." blood covered your hands and his, practically dripping down your face. "we need to get you to a hospital."

but you were beyond the point of caring, blubbering with few whimpers between. all you could think was your pretty sister, a husband and a kid, burned away in an explosion. she was gone and she was not coming back. "i- i can't." hyperventilating out the words. "i can't l-leave."

"i got you." you felt him help you off the stone ground, your knees weak. though nothing really registered, a ringing in your ears. even hours later, he kept repeating the same words. "i got you. i got you." sitting on the hospital bed next to you while you sat with a sullen look in your eyes. you were far away, that much was obvious but no longer stained with the vicious blood.

"she's gone." it came out much calmer now, though tears still coated your glassy red eyes. "why didn't you take her and not me?" though it was a stupid question.

even in your clouded mind you knew that if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

"i had to save you." he answered.

when he saw you were in that flipped over car, knowing there was a chance he could have blown up with you, he took it anyway, grabbing your limp body without hesitation.

he'd rather die than let something happen to you.

and in this case, he'd rather let someone else die than any harm to come to you. and that was simply something he wasn't afraid to admit.

he could lose. he had lost. he lost almost everything from his family to the world around him. but he couldn't lose you. no, anything but you.

“We have to break up.” The words felt like knives running through his throat. Breaking up with you was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do.

“What?” Tim couldn’t bare to look into your eyes as he delivered devastating news - especially not when you’re looking at him the way you are right now.

“I- we. We have to break up.” He says again stumbling over his words. His cheeks are hot from the frustration of the whole situation, it was just so unfair.

“Why?” You utter quietly. Tim’s heart rips apart hearing the voice sound so weak and broken.

“Because …. I’m no good for you Y/n…I feel like shit all the time because I know you deserve better and I can’t do better.” You scrunch your face up and places your palms on either side of his face.

“Your perfect for me! What are you even talking about?!” A tear rolls down his face, he feels defeated, seeing himself causing you constant pain.

“I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. You deserve a boyfriend who will be there on your birthday to celebrate with you.  You deserve a boyfriend who will actually show up on dates.  You deserve a boyfriend who can be there for you during hard times.” Your arms fling around Tim has he expresses his short comings. “I’m just- I’m just not good enough - I’m sorry.”

“Shut up Tim! I know your a hero, I don’t care about all of that! You make up for it in other ways!” Tim’s face hardened as he pulls away your comforting arms in which he yearns to lay into.

“I’m not enough… I can’t bare the constant guilt of not being enough. I’m tired of it all.” He stares into your horror etched face as tears well up.

“But - but I don’t feel any of that! I’m happy Tim! I promise I’m happy! Please Tim, don’t leave me.” Tim pulls away shaking his head.

“Think about it Y/n… this would be what it’s like for the rest of your lives. My constant absence will be felt. You don’t see it yet, but one day you’ll be sick of it.” You stare silently at his back turns against you.

After you defeated Vecna, Steve suggested that you should go and get a drink to celebrate that he's finally gone. After all, you all deserve a drink after everything that happened.

That’s how you ended up at Steve's place. You were all in the living room. Jonathan was sitting on the sofa with Nancy in his lap. While you, Robin and Steve took your seats on the couch. Robin was sitting in the middle, you and Steve on each of her side. Different bottles were scattered on the coffee table. Some were empty, some half-empty, some still full. Neither of you realized how much you drink already, you had a good time, so you weren’t paying attention.

But at one point during the night, you became very aware of how close Robin was sitting to you. Every time she shifted in her seat either her hand or her thigh brushed your thigh. And suddenly you felt hot. It felt like that your body was on fire. You didn't know if it was the temperature in the room, the amount of alcohol or Robin's closeness that made you feel like this. Or maybe it was all three.

No one could blame you though for feeling like this. You loved Robin. You always did. And not just as a friend. You always hoped that there's going to be something between you and her.

Your feelings for her were pretty obvious. Everyone around you knew that you're in love with her. Everyone expect her. You were considering confessing. But then she got together with Vicky. And the little hope you had evaporated.

But that night when you were all drunk, somehow you ended up in a room with Robin, sharing a bed together. The alcohol in her system just made her even more touchy than she usually was. So, you weren’t too surprised when she threw an arm over your waist and pulled your body flushed against hers. You knew this was wrong. A part of you knew it. She had a girlfriend. But feeling her body like this... it felt like heaven. And obviously your hands started wandering.

"I love you" you said with slurred words.

Her eyes widened at your confession but then she pressed her lips against yours.

You wanted to stop her, but you couldn't. She wanted to stop too, a little voice in the back of her head told her how wrong this was. But your body, your lips felt too good. She just couldn't stop. What happened after blurred together.

The next morning, you woke up to a slight headache. You didn't remember much from the night, you only remember small parts. You rubbed your eyes and sat up in the bed. You took a deep breath and looked at your side to look at her. She was still sleeping peacefully. Slowly, she stirred beside you and opened her eyes. When her eyes fell on you, she immediately sat up.

"Fuck..." she cursed as she realized what might happened last night. Because she only remember small parts of the night.

"Should we talk about it?" you asked as your eyes met hers and she sat up too.

"No" she said quickly and got out of the bed. She ignored her pounding headache as she quickly threw on her clothes "Let's just forget this. Please" she asked you.

"I can't" you said as you watched her get dressed.

"Look... we're friends. Who got drunk and made a mistake. I have a girlfriend. I shouldn’t have done this to Vicky. I love her" she said.

"And I love you. So, I can't forget it and pretend nothing happened" you admitted which took her by surprise.

"What?" she asked as she stopped and just stared at you.

"I love you. For a long time now" you confessed "So, I can't pretend anymore. I can’t forget this night because it meant more to me"

"Ohh..." that was all she said. She didn't expect a love confession. She didn't wanna admit it but for some reason it made her heart beat faster.

"I know you don’t feel the same. It's fine" you forced out the words, and you felt as your heart break. You knew this moment will come but it hurt a lot more than you expected "Don't worry. What happened between us... stays between us. I won’t tell anyone. I don't wanna ruin your relationship" you said and looked away.

"Thank you" she said and quickly left the room.