Only in gotham

by Kia357

Summary:

Living in Gotham is like using spoilt milk for your coffee the night before the exam that will determine if it is worthwhile to live on rather than plummet headfirst from a douchebag billionaire’s building for the heck of it.

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Or the reader (or OC) finds an injured Redhood and somehow gets knit into Batfam. Attempt at humour. No use of y/n. wow.. I am awful at summaries.

Notes:

English is not my first language and this fic hasn't been proofread or edited. I apologize in advance for the errors. This is a rough draft. Enjoy!!!!!

Chapter 1: meet damian wayne

Living in Gotham is like using spoilt milk for your coffee the night before the exam that will determine if it is worthwhile to live on rather than plummet headfirst from a douchebag billionaire’s building for the heck of it, but even Gotham has its perks if you don’t have a strong hold on your will to live, are into men with impeccable ass, clad in spandex or, if you want to meet life’s end in an exotic way like exploding because of poison ivy’s weird pink concoction(happened to my friends boss, don't worry he was abhorrent; committed murder and arson on various accounts and ate my friends blueberry yogurt). It ain’t that rough. You either live or ya don’t.

As someone with preposterous student loans I often walk towards Bane when he is tearing limbs apart. Mornings are still the worst thing to come by even in Gotham. With the soot and the ominous gothic air (smog) most of us just flip a coin to call the shots on the time of the day but for a miscreant evil-doer worse than the supervillains, me, a teacher mornings are filled with viciously rich hell spawns and the cheapest coffee there is. The Gotham academy’s iPod sized fiends just make your day........worse than the respiratory ailment you get from confiscated weed that wasn’t weed at all it was Ivy’s premium grade matcha (ok maybe that one’s on me but I was sleep deprived and it was in a hello kitty ziplock bag , sorry Irene).

 

Walking in class wearing stereotypical English teacher cardigan and way too many thrifted rings. I get on with the lecture. Halfway through principal strides in with way too big pearl around her neck and a smile that doesn't reach her eyes

“We have a new student, please make sure he is acquainted with the class.” following her is a young boy with raven hair and sharp feature.

 

“Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?” I ask the raven boy as the principal departs.

 

“They know who I am” the boy has a deepening snark for which he adds “anyone who already doesn't is undeserving and insignificant.”

 

Yay to me, another rich kid whose daddy is seen more in tabloids than at home. The last thing I can waste my caffeine induced vigor is to search up a rich kid’s name..

 

“I don’t” I answer to his remark

 

“My point still stands” that little shit “I am Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne” he oh so thankfully adds.

 

So, this little tweep is another bundle of joy taken up by the DILF billionaire...everyone knows Brucie either because of Wayne Enterprises the large, growing multinational company or from his criminally bewitching waist. Back to the demon son..

 

“Hello Damian, quite gutsy to join in the middle of the semester, but I am sure you will catch up, you seem like a smart kid.” and he did if the neatly ironed navy blazer and the zipped remarks were anything to go by, nothing about the boy screamed tween. It was like talking to a short old man.

The boy shrugged “it is a measly task, I hardly think there is anything you can teach that I don’t already know.” wow the “addressing a peasant tone” sure is grating.

 

“Good to know Damian, why don’t you grab a seat, we still have fifteen minutes till class ends. Why don’t you stay after the class and we can talk then.”

 

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For someone who joins at the end of the class he sure has quite a lot of inputs to make. All the kids drag their expensive footwear across the tiled floor to make their way to the next class while two other girls Debra and Shay giggle while stealing glances towards Damian. To his credit he does stay after class rather than walking out.

 

“You can get the book list and the syllabi for each subject at the reception. You can take your time to get up to date. Are there any clubs you are interested in, any hobbies? I don’t want you to feel burdened by the pace of it all.”

 

“I don't require your assistance for such trivial affairs. Hobbies are a waste of time. I am here only because of father’s petulant insistence. I do not wish to spend an ounce of time more than necessary in this institution.” Damian says in a posh way that tells you that he was chauffeured to school in a car worth more than your entire life’s earning. It's also kinda sad the kid has no hobbies, at one point in my life my will to live revolved around yaoi, but me recommending that as a hobby would be some sort of code violation...I think, plus getting into yaoi is a cannon event that I wouldn't wanna mess with. So instead, I opt for buttering the self-righteous birdie.

 

“Come on there has got to be something you like doing. The greatest minds like yourself require arena for output. You gotta find at least one, take it as your homework for the day.” the kid turns slightly red at that and whispers.

 

“I like to draw.” well look at that, the kid’s still mellow from inside. But there is hesitance in his voice as if he would be berated for being human.

 

“That’s great. I would love to see them if you are good with that, kid.” That seems to loosen him out. “Why not join the art club, maybe make a few friends?” that seems to make his hackles rise. “You are a sweet kid I am sure there are quite a few kids who wanna be friends with you.” the boy’s got walls, but it’s Gotham so who doesn't.

 

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Chapter 2: Chapter-2 Thick thighs save lives

Notes:

None of my knowledge for the fic is from the comic books. Most of it is from fanfiction, the batfam webtoon, tumblr and the fanart manga I read where batman turned into a baby and joker took care of him. Although, I don’t think that’s canon😊. Anyway, this one has a bit of OC character story, it is short and sweet, but you can skip it if you read after (---------) and (=========) indicates the switch in the POV between Jason and OC. If you do read the OC side character’s story let me know if you like it!!!

💚🩷<--my fav colors.

 

Thanks for reading!!!!😁

After spending the day with hell wanderers and hearing about how Bane isn't a “hear me out” but a “hold me back”, one deserves the strongest cup of tea, possibly one that makes you hallucinate. Going home to grade unfathomably idiotic assignments about a man turning into a cockroach (no offence Kafka is my dude).  

 

 If it weren’t for Jane I would have taken the metropolis university offer, but that old witch knows exactly which heartstrings to pull. “They offered you the university job, didn't they?” she had rasped. Her voice parched and tired. She was the only one I had so far-far away from my home and with mommy issues like mine, you grab the haggard old women who offers you tea, by the throat (not literally she has severe respiratory ailments). “You should go”. Leaving her would have felt like tearing out stiches of a wound that never healed. Her rosy cheeks never left her, neither did the stories of her husband. It’s been two years since she passed, and I stopped wanting to leave. Never could bring myself to say she died, she just passed like wind on a bright spring day, the warmth of which still lingers. I still remember that summer we accidently got high from the meth lab in the basement, it was all up in the vents or the not-so-pg13 movies we watched while you critiqued. You are awfully missed Dorothy jane.... my dearest dotty.  

 

 

 

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Anyways, I am hungry from all that sad spiel. The run-down Chinese restaurant with like a million things on the menu and an uncle in the kitchen with a cigarette to add that ashy flavor in my noodles or the batman themed cafe with the barista with a nose ring and skunk hair were my choices. I ended up with a belly full of black bean noodles along with sweet and sour chicken (safe options) and to finish it off I had chocolate mousse cake along with red, green, and yellow sprinkles for the robin theme. I am pretty sure my dinner choices don’t go together but the ‘morning me’ will sort it out while the mission for the ‘now me’ is to get home, hopefully alive.  

 

Gotham after sundown gives a ‘shiver me timbers’ kinda vibe but people are still on the streets, and the walk back home is short. That’s when it happened, ‘innocent pink bow' me was standing on the patio reading my fortune cookie (it probably should have said “luck is coming your way” but there was a fortune telling typo where the L was replaced by an f) and that’s when I heard the distressed loud groan from the alley adjacent to the neighboring building. It is probably a drug addict or a stabbed guy, and as someone who is not batman and has survived in Gotham for so long, I bolted upstairs into my apartment.  

 

 Julia, jane’s elder cat who wants to be left the fuck alone at all times, was not happy to see me. As a ‘not a cat person’ I adore Julia, but the feeling was not mutual. With the unrequited love heavy in my heart and the heap of unmarked assignments strewn on my desk I opted for a scorching shower. Apart from all the hate Julia, the feline, carries for me she likes to lounge on the towel rack while I shower and paw at the loofahs hanging on it.  

 

After the scalding shower I started redressing myself in my avocado printed pjs (I have never eaten an avocado). The resounding beep from Julia's motion detecting water dispenser was deafening. Everything froze in real time and my skin begin to crawl. My phone was on the kitchen counter; I had no one to call. The police, mehh maybe. The bathroom window was too small to jump out off. How did he get in? What does he want? Am I getting robbed? Did he see me enter the building? The questions were overwhelming. Do I do something? Do I wait it out?  

 

After mentally banging my head into the wall I opted for waiting it out. I latched the rickety lock on the door and held the shower curtain rod that came down on my head three days ago and I forgot to fix.  

 

================================================  

 

Jason was out for blood tonight. Several children from the streets have went missing in the last three days. A new hallucinogen drug has been released that has seeped through the streets like blood. After rigorous efforts and lot of killing and torturing the cause came to light. The scarecrow has partnered up with penguin to synthesize and market top-grade psychedelic (hallucinogens) for the rich. The side effects, addictive strength, clinical presentation on humans of this raw drug is being tested out on the people of his streets. He had already taken out the suppliers. The kids that went missing are in a locked in a cargo container near DLC chemical warehouse and are to be moved tonight.  

 

The warehouse was heavily guarded, and his plan was supposed to be, go in, get the kids, get out. Well, the fight was strenuous, but it was all going his way until he was overpowered by goons with blue veins mapping their body even in their eyes. They were dosed up on something, but he wasn’t losing, not yet, not until the kids are out. That is how he ended up driving a semi-truck with a cargo container full of kids, with a bullet in his thigh and a knife in his side to Roy's shelter. Roy wasn’t in Gotham. The sirens were his cue to leave. GCPD wasn't the biggest fan of red hood but compared to the bats, they were Taylor swift level fans.  

 

He was grappling back to his closest safe house with a throbbing thigh every time he landed on a building. Then the tensile cable was cut free with a shing. It was a batarang. Well, well well the day just keeps getting better. It was baby demon brat or, like he said, the blood son. Jason saw green start to seep into his vision, he wasn’t fond of the screechy kid but after all that, he really wanted to lie in bed and never wake again.  

 

“Stand down, Red Hood”. Yeahh so that was so not happening.  

“nope” was what he said but his voice had gotten wheezy from the blood loss and even the voice modulator couldn't hide that and that's when Jason took off cus if the demon brat is here than daddybat is nearby and confronting him while being riddled with holes is not something Jason had written on his fridge for the day.  

He got away from the brat who chased him relentlessly for a while screaming profanities in Arabic but was distracted by a call of help nearby and thought that the pursuit wasn't worth it. He had gotten so into running away from robin that he had forgotten about the blood seeping through the tourniquet he had tied across his hip and thigh.  

 

 

That is when he saw mob of penguin’s goons loitering just behind him near the Chinese place. Either they had followed him, or they just really liked the batburger from that ugly cafe nearby. Without waiting he skipped away towards his safe house, the blood loss had turned into pounding thrum that shook his entire body. Collapsing a few feet away from the goons wasn’t an option. He heard several startled voices and turned back to inspect that they had been directed to him and that he had been spotted. That give him the blood rush he needed to make it into a far tucked away alley. The pain was paining now.  

 

He needed to get somewhere safe, now. The med pack on his thigh had been shot through.  

 

===============================================  

Chapter 3: Chapter-3 The first meet and greet goes... well

Notes:

Sorry for the medical inaccuracies in this chap. Mr. Tea is a dog plush I had. Tom & jerry is mentioned. I don’t know what to add...... ignore the errors if any and enjoy. There really is an article on how to treat a bullet wound on a US gov. Website. (https://medlineplus.gov/ency/patientinstructions/000737.htm)

I ate alfredo pasta today!!!

Thanks for reading. 💚🩷

 

 

The man was moving around the house , through doors. The echo of boots across the floor tile gave me jitters. The footsteps start to close in, painting a broad silhouette across the translucent glass pane on the door. I clutched tighte r on the shower rod, the guy was the size of my fridge.  

Clunk... creak... He tried the door handle once... twice and as I prayed to all the gods I  ever heard about, I started with Satan when the long list ended   (I ain’t partial) and clutched the rod tighter ,  

Surprisingly the body moved away. I tried not to feel disappointed at missing a perfect opportunity to smack someone with a metal rod. I sat on the edge of the tub, all the adrenalin melting away and the Gotham edge setting in made me frighteningly nonchalant about the situation. At a point I even grabbed a packet of Cheetos from my bathroom snack drawer, as I felt the body move away... fuck I should add a mini fridge in here.  

 

The man was constantly moving, near the kitchen. I heard fabric rip. I can really make smores in here , vanilla scented ones at that.  

Thunk ..  

It is a tiny bit stupid that the first thought in my mind was “hope he’s okay” after I hear the thunk of a body colliding with my kitchen floor. So....what now .... I don’t hear him move to get up after i have downed three smores. Even Julia, the feline snorts acknowledging the fact like, “that guy ain’t shit”. I agree julie.  

 

Alright, now this is getting boring so the teenager in me makes me poke my head out of the bathroom door and look around. No motion detected. I plan to get my phone and call the police or maybe just run. As I peer back at Julia one last time in hopes for good luck wishes, she gnaws at the cracker still uninterested in my want to get killed. My phone which I dumbly left on the kitchen counter is still there as I make my way to it, doing more bendy tricks than necessary and the finger gun...... are you fcking kidding me.  

 

There lay the man in question, strewn dramatically across my cutesy kitchen floor, bleeding. He is wearing a red helmet matching the bat emblem across his ......... chest (Got distracted there a bit, not proud of it).one of the guns missing from his thigh holster. Hey, wait.... I know this guy. He was one of the “hear me outs” my students talked about. I even saw him in the news, the vigilante that kills. I respect it, so I lower the finger gun and make way towards him. Yep, he’s “the new vigilante in the neighborhood blowing open heads with the guns strapped to his amazing thighs”. Should I ‘google lense’ him just to be sure and what about the gaping wounds. You know what let’s google that too. I am sure someone on Reddit or Quora has been stabbed or shot at. “What to do when a hot intruder drops dead in your kitchen?”  

 

Dragging the massive guy to lay straight across the floor probably gave me abs. I placed a jerry faced cushion (from tom & jerry) under the helmet. I am sure the guy wouldn't take to kindly to being shipped to the hospital. Let's get the first aid kit from the cereals cabinet. The guy tore my bed sheet. He was trying to use the strips as bandage. Come on, intruder bro that bedsheet completed my aesthetic he even left my stuff toy on the floor......on the floor.......... should I let the fucker bleed out. I am sure Mr. Tea, the dog plush would appreciate it (he always had a murderous look in his eyes......even at the tea parties we had in second grade, he looked at those pastries weird).  

 

I went against Mr. Tea’s suggestion and start to scissor through the Kevlar near his thigh and his side. I thoroughly resisted the urge to yank that knife and focused on the bullet wound that pulsed blood. There really is an article on how to treat bullet wounds on US gov. Website (huh they know the people). The bullet went through so i don’t need to fish in bro’s thigh for it. The article was scary....  

 

• Stop bleeding 

• Clean the wound 

• Find and remove bullet pieces 

• Find and remove pieces of broken or shattered bone 

• Place drains or tubes for body fluids 

• Remove portions of, or whole, organs 

Tubes what tubes all I got is a paper straw. I ain’t removing a guy’s marvelous thigh. Since the bullet went through, I guess I can just stop the bleeding and stitch it up. right. I used to sew up old socks to make stuffed animals all the time this can’t possibly be any different.  

 

“ Take a piece of st e rile gauze and apply steady, direct pressure. Press down hard. The goal is to cause the blood to clot as quickly as possible. ”  

 

 

 Alright, mate. As I press down the bullet wound the man jolts upright with a pained groan, clutching his thigh and my hands. A spluttering sound and then a trickle of blood pours out from near the knife lodged in his side. The dude lets out another howl of pain at that which sounds like high pitched static, probably cus of the voice modulator. With the YouTube video on how to treat gunshot wounds still playing in the background. Red seems to register his surroundings after which his gaze, or actually the helmet lights are directed towards me. Well, at least I don’t have to stitch a guy’s skin together, which I would do a pretty good job at. I have made plenty 5minute craft rabbits and chicks to know that for sure. Nobody says anything for long so I start the spiel.  

 

“Hiya, red. Not to crush your dreams or anything but you make a shit intruder. And now since you are awake and all, i am sure you could deal with *gestures vaguely toward the injuries* so why don’t you do that and i get something to eat. Do you know how draining this whole “barging in and bleeding on my floor, ripping my floral bedsheet” ordeal has been. Well, you are literally draining out, so I won’t go into details. You deal with that and let me know if you need anything.........do you have any dietary restrictions.”  

 

 

“What?” he croaks out weekly gurgled by the voice modulator.  

 

==============================================  

Okay, from what he remembered last he broke into someone’s home cus he had goons on his tail and then he made sure the house was empty, but he hadn't been thorough and the proof of which was sitting between his legs pressing down his thigh painfully , all while taking directions from a YouTube video. His first thought was to put a gun to the stranger’s head but then they started talking as if this happened every Tuesday. His dietary restri ctions?? What?  

 

==============================================  

Red doesn’t seem to be doing too good. It’s like he is stuck in a tra nce of some sort.  

 

“You alright there, big guy? ”. “Need help ? Although I am pretty awful at stitches. This one time I tried making a sock teddy and jane thought I had gotten into voodoo; she supported me though. You ever had someone like that?” I was recounting to humor myself not thinking he would reply .  

 

“No” the tone was clipped, and the word was whispered but I was a feet away stirring mac and cheese, so I heard it . A vigilante with issues, unoriginal minus ten points. I didn't think I said it out loud till I heard a gurgled snort from his direction. He had started rummaging the first aid kit for supplies, which I was sure it did not have.  

 

“If you need anything I can run by the store real quick.” it was phrase d more like a question . He seems to startle at that and ...... fidget. it’s weird seeing such a big man fidget like a toddler too nervous to ask for ice cream money .  

 

“No, it’s ...... manageable.......” after a pause he spits the question out. “Why are you ..... you.. ”  

 

“Manageable means not enough to do a good job so tell me what you need, and I'll run by the store . You seem weirdly disoriented, is it the blood loss or me? ”. “ Look, red. I know you are the g un-toting vigilante with cool thighs. Sorry ignore that bit. My point is you kill bad guys, and I am cool with that plus it’s Gotham, you gotta be cool with a lot of stuff to survive down here plus you can’t die cus who will kill the bad guys then and maybe I am a tiny-tiny bit suicidal .” “Now let me ask again, what can I do to help or is there someone you can call?”  

 

============================================== This is so much weirder than getting resurrected from a glowstick pool. Someone insisting on aiding him with supplies while stirring a pot of mac and cheese for too long. Should I take the offer it looks like it’s going to rain so he needs to get out of here fast cus getting wet with such injuries isn't exactly ideal, so he takes it. The bleeding has stopped because of his makeshift tourniquet but he has a knife protruding from him like a coat hanger.  

 

He lists of what he needs, like suture kit, a nalgesics (pain relievers ), etc. He sees the stranger scramble for a pen as they scribble it all on a hello kitty sticky note. Then plate two portions of mac and cheese in mismatched ceramic bowl and hands him the red cherry one along with a child safe fork with a dinosaur on top. It feels weirdly hilarious .  

 

         ===========================================  

 

“I’ll be back with the supplies till than Julia will keep you company.” I say pointing at the uninterested cat that wandered out of the bathroom at the smell of mac & cheese. With the bowl clutched in my hand along with my wallet and phone, I make my way out.  

 

============================================== Jason still couldn't believe it. The weird crazy lady left a bleeding v igilante alone in her home with her angry looking cat after she made him mac & cheese and what is up with the child proof cutlery......and Roy says I am the weird o ne. M aybe in hindsight sneaking into a civilian's home wasn't the best course of action and Roy would probably chide him for it, but hey, he got mac & cheese.