#( lol the only one who could stop him is bruce and he won't )

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfam at a gala with the reader being dubbed the "hearttrob", the reader is really handsome and nearly everybody wants to get into his pants. However, the reader is actually a really innocent and the family is always on a mission to stop anyone from talking to the reader who just wants to get him into their bed. They're like "nuh uh he only deserves the best"

Oh God, chaos is about to ensue lol. Just everyone being, nope.

Summary: The fam protects their handsome brother.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, people trying to get into (Y/N)'s pants, protective family...

Out of the 5 sons that Bruce has, both adopted and biological, all of them were handsome in their own way. But (Y/N) was the most handsome one, even more handsome than Damian, who was a second contender to the title. Bruce has never ever made any of them feel bad about it.

Besides, none of them really cared about that title anyway. It was bullshit according to them, but... They had agreed that (Y/N) was the most handsome one. That was something that they couldn't deny in the slightest. They all have agreed that if they weren't brothers, they would try and date him.

Of course, that's what a lot of people tried to do and (Y/N) was called a heartthrob for it. He was often in magazines, gossip ones whilst wearing something nice or casual and the internet would simply explode. It has happened a few times before and it was amusing and Jason nearly died from laughing every single time it happened.

God forbid he gets an Instagram or anything like that.

Internet would not survive in any way, shape or form.

Galas were more often that not insane to deal with. (Y/N) was always a genuine person who would really want to love someone, someone who wouldn't use him for like bragging rights or anything similar. When (Y/N) loves, he loves.

That's something that his brothers knew, alongside Bruce of course. So, being a protective they are, they made a pact to protect (Y/N) from people who would only want to sleep with him. There were many douchebags like that, who only want to get in (Y/N)'s pants.

It was nuts.

The same thing was happening tonight, at a gala for some charity. It was for the homeless people of Gotham city. (Y/N) was dressed sharply, in a classic black suit with a white shirt. Of course, he finished his look with a black tie. He moved around the room to talk to people, avoiding the knows reporters. He wasn't interested in them.

He was more interested in something else and that was his bed. Just two more hours.

However, the others noticed people looking at him, eyeing him like he was a piece of meat for them. A prize. Prey. A trophy. It didn't sit well with any of the family members. (Y/N) deserves nothing more than the best partner he could get.

Only the best.

Jason was eyeing a man who was looking at his brother and has made a move. He started walking towards his brother, but Jason was one step ahead. They were all wearing earpieces, just like on patrol. Jason lifted his glass of wine. " A man is on the move. Tim, he is in your line of sight. " Jason murmured, hiding his mouth with his glass of wine.

Tim turned his head from a man he was talking to and excused himself, quickly making his way to his brother before the douchebag could even reach him.

" Hey (Y/N), Jason wanted to talk to you. " Tim said as he patted his shoulder and (Y/N) nodded, leaving to find Jason, who heard it all and was now trying to figure out a reason to talk to (Y/N).

Tim turned his head to look at the man, who was glaring at Tim. Tim was thoroughly unimpressed.

" I know exactly what you want with my brother. I have seen it time and time before. It won't happen. " Tim said coldly and turned around, leaving the angry man behind.

Damian and Dick smirked from their spots. It was amazing to see it. Truly amazing.

And (Y/N) always turned a blind eye to it. It was either for the reason that he didn't want to deal with people or he simply didn't know. He always played dumb for it, but they all suspected that he knew.

Either way, it soothed the protective urge in them. Bruce knew what they were doing and he was doing absolutely nothing to stop his boys. Only if it was physical. Only then he would step in.

And Alfred? Alfred was the silent watcher, listening and waiting. He listened because most men like that brag about things and are bound to uncover something about themselves. And Alfred is never wrong. He always saw right through them.

As Jason and (Y/N) were talking, the others remained vigilant. It was far more interesting this way. More fun at this gala. Not just this one, but the others too. Far more interesting.

(Y/N) got himself some whiskey and just sipped it slowly. It was a nice evening. Damian moved around, seeing a man walking in the general direction of (Y/N). Damian moved through the crowd of people, watching the man like a hawk.

There was something way off about him. Something was way off. Damian couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew that he couldn't ignore the feeling. If there is one thing that Damian was taught, it was to never ignore his gut feeling about people.

He kept following the man, seeing a lustful gaze in his eyes. That bastard. Damian's eyes narrowed at the man, especially when (Y/N) left to go to the bathroom. Damian's mind went into overdrive, knowing that (Y/N) would be vulnerable there.

" I'm moving to the bathroom. " Damian murmured as he approached the bathroom, making sure to keep some distance. He smudged his shirt a bit to have an excuse to go to the bathroom. He entered it, seeing someone chatting up (Y/N).

Damian cleared his throat as he approached the sinks. " (Y/N), father wants to talk to you. Says it's important. " Damian said and Bruce chuckled through the earpiece.

" Thanks Dames. " (Y/N) said with a smile and excused himself from the conversation he was having with a polite smile. The man kept up a polite smile until (Y/N) left and turned to Damian with a scowl. Damian had to control an urge to not laugh in his face.

" Listen kid, don't ruin this for me. " The man said and Damian kept his cool.

" I know who you are. Your father is a business partner of WE. And Bruce Wayne is protective of his sons so don't make me tell him what you said. " Damian said coldly, but Bruce already heard it. But of course, will keep it quiet as long as the man is somewhat respectful.

Now, the last sentence alone made the man scared. It was a well known fact that Bruce Wayne doesn't take any disrespect about his sons. Of any kind. Damian smirked as he saw that the man has paled.

Damian left without a word and saw Dick who smirked too. " Good job Damian. " Dick said as he high fived Damian in passing, composing himself quickly as the man hurried out of the bathroom, clearly distressed.

The two smirked, making Tim snort from where he watched them with Connor. Bruce subtly rolled his eyes at that, but was happy that Damian took control.

And (Y/N)? He simply remained unbothered, chatting away with Alfred, who was happy to stop for a good chat with his grandson.

[auroreliis]

Imagine reader slipping up & call them the Catboys/Catfamily

They would be so bitter lol

If you called Bruce Catman, or something like that, he would be so confused, I'd love to see it. Jason would laugh, of course, but Bruce would remain stern,"Who is that? Where did you hear that name?" It implies that you were going to say Batman, which is also a big no-no.

Dad, Father, parental figure and Papa (and maybe a few other niche ones) are the only ones allowed. He is not Batman in front of you, only your father. And it BETTER stay that way >:(

Dick would freak out if you called him Catbro.

"NOOOOO NONONONONOOOOOO IT'S BIG BROTHER, OKAY??? BIG BROTHER!!!!", he would whine, with tears in his eyes. How could you do this to him? He's Richard, your dear elder brother. Well...actually, don't call him Richard either...just big brother, okay?

Jason has been called many things by you: Nuisance, asshole, jackass, weird guy who won't leave me alone...you get the point. However, never in his life would he have imagined being called Catbro. His reaction is one of disgust. With a scrunched up face he would tell you to stop. Right away. And don't do it again.

Tim, like Jason, has been called a plethora of insults by you, so just the fact that you talked to him at all makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. If he knows who you're talking to, he really doesn't care what you call him. He would certainly correct you and say,"No, no. I am neither Robin, nor a cat in your presence, okay? It's either Tim or big bro, alright?" He would try to be gentle about it.

Damian would stare at you silently untl you correct yourself. He wil NOT take this disrespect. He is either Damian or My dear younger brother to you, nothing else.

Duke would just laugh awkwardly,"Yeah, haha, whatever you say" He definitely wants to correct you, but is rather hesitant in fear of making you angry.

Barbara and Cassandra would both politely ask you to refer to them as big sister. Since they ask so politely, you cannot help but agree.

Stephanie just starts laughing like a maniac. You end up being so confused...does she...find it that funny? Is she being sarcastic? Why is she laughing so much? It kinda freaks you out. She throws her head back and starts hitting you on the shoulder. Like...It can't be that funny, right?

[vbecker10]

Language (Part 5)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Captain Rogers thinks you curse far too much at work so he came up with a way for each word to cost you fifty cents no matter where you are in the Tower. You are desperate for it to stop and go to Loki to see if he has a spell or trick that can help you outsmart J.A.R.V.I.S.

Warnings: swearing lol... obviously?

You groan and open your eyes to the sound of your phone alarm. The sun has just started to rise, but you need to go home and get ready for work.

"Please turn that off," Loki mumbles against your back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and let go of his hand, freeing yourself from his embrace. You turn off your alarm and sit up, yawning.

"It's too early," he says, still half asleep. Eyes closed, his hand finds your waist and he gently pulls you back towards his body.

"I have to go home," you tell him but make you no attempt to pull away again.

"No," he says simply, his arm holding you in place.

"No?" you giggle at his unwillingness to let go of you. "I need to shower and get changed. I'm still wearing my clothes from yesterday."

"I have a fully functioning shower," Loki mumbles and you can hear the sarcasm in his voice despite him being so close to falling asleep. His legs intertwine with your legs and his hand holds yours as you both easily settle into the comfortable position he held you in all night. The God of Mischief adds, "And I am perfectly capable of conjuring clothing for you."

"I don't have a toothbrush or anything," you tell him, enjoying the feeling of Loki trying to keep you from leaving.

"Y/N, I can summon anything you need," he reminds you gently.

"I guess that's a good point," you say, having already made up your mind that you aren't going home before work.

"Please stay," he whispers close to your ear.

You smile and squeeze his hand, "Okay."

"Go back to sleep," Loki says softly and you nod, closing your eyes.

You take a sip of your coffee as you sit on Loki's couch, your eyes follow him as he paces and talks excitedly. You can't help but smile at how confident he looks compared to last night.

"That might actually work," you say when Loki finished explaining his plan.

He chuckles and sits next to you, "Of course it will work. Why do you seem so surprised?"

"If I say it's because your other ideas didn't go so well, are you going to turn me into a frog?" you joke as he drinks his coffee

"You are utterly obsessed with the idea of being turned into a frog," he rolls his eyes but his smile remains.

"No, I'm concerned that it's a very real possibility," you explain. "I've never been friends with anyone who could do that."

"Ah, I see you are assuming we are friends now," he says a bit sarcastically.

"We're not?" you ask him, unsure what you and Loki are to each other after last night.

"Do you want to be friends?" he wonders, setting his mug on the coffee table.

"What are my other options? " you shrug, hoping he will give you some hint as to what answer he is looking for.

Before he can respond, there is a loud knock on his door. He sighs deeply and rubs his temples then looks at you, "That will be Thor." He notices the confused look on your face and smiles, "There are only two people who have ever bothered me when I am in my apartment and one of them is already in here."

You giggle nervously, "That's fair. Guess the plan starts now?"

He smirks and nods, "Are you ready? I promise I won't turn you into a frog."

Steve and Natasha sit at the far end of the table reviewing the agenda for the morning briefing. Tony, Bruce and Clint stand near the window placing bets on how much money you will be fined today for your swearing. The discussions are suddenly silenced when Thor slams open the door to the conference room. Everyone quickly turns to face him in surprise.

"Woah! Calm down point break, no need to break down the door. There are plenty of donuts for everyone," Tony gestures to the box on the table.

"I don't think that's the issue," Bruce says when Thor takes a step to the side to reveal that Loki and you are behind him. You look down at the ground and fidget with your fingers while Loki glares at his brother.

"What's going on?" Steve asks, standing with his hands resting on the table.

"Thor is overreacting to a simple deal I have made with Y/N," Loki says calmly and you nod.

"She made a deal with you?" Tony asks. "What, was the devil busy?"

"That almost hurt Stark," Loki smirks.

"What did you do to her?" Clint asks, obviously very concerned for your wellbeing.

"Y/N came to me last night after the Captain enforced his new policy regarding her swearing," he explains.

"Seriously Y/N, you thought Loki would help you?" Clint asks you.

You nod.

"I did help her," Loki answers for you. "There is no need for this concern you all share. Y/N is fine."

"Why doesn't she tell us she's fine herself?" Natasha crosses her arms over her chest.

Loki looks at you then back at the team as they gather closer around you both, "She cannot."

"Why not?" Natasha uncrosses her arms slowly and looks at you with growing concern.

Thor answers before Loki can, "He took her voice."

"What?!" Clint, Tony and Steve all shout at once.

Loki smiles, "Don't worry, I'm keeping it somewhere safe." He holds out his hand and a small glass vial appears, a light gray cloud swirls around inside of it. The God of Mischief places it on the conference table in front of you as you rub your throat slowly.

"Absolutely not! Give Y/N her voice back, Ursula," Tony orders.

"How dare you. I am not some common sea witch," Loki glares at him, clearly offended.

"You understood that reference?" Steve asks.

"I read," Loki rolls his eyes. "Besides, I cannot do that. We made a deal, Y/N and I made a perfectly reasonable trade."

"What could you possibly trade for your voice?" Clint asks you but you can only shrug in response.

"That is between Y/N and myself," Loki answers for you.

"I can't believe this is happening," Bruce takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose.

Loki sighs, "There is no need to worry. If Y/N asks, I will be more than happy to reverse the deal."

"How is she supposed to ask? You took her damn voice," Natasha points out.

"She can write," Loki says as if the answer was obvious.

You smile at everyone and give them two thumbs up as enthusiastically as you can.

"You must certainly are not fine," Steve insists. "I can't believe you would do this to get around J.A.R.V.I.S."

"This has gone on long enough," Thor says as he takes a few steps forward and picks up the glass vial.

"Be careful with that brother," Loki warns him and takes a step forward. You shake your head and bite your lip nervously. "This is not like the magic of Stark's fairy tale. If you break that, Y/N's voice will not be released to her, it will simply cease to exist."

"You have got to be kidding me," Tony says, rubbing his temples.

"Give it back to me," Loki says sternly, holding his hand out towards Thor.

"Don't mess with that big guy," Bruce says, his eyes on the vial in Thor's hand.

You watch anxiously when Thor pulls away from his younger brother. "Remove the spell from Y/N," the God of Thunder demands.

"To do that I will need the vial," Loki counters and takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. Loki reaches for it but Thor pulls his hand away, holding it just out of reach.

If you weren't so concerned about the safety of the vial, you might be able to appreciate how much they simply look like bickering brothers and not two Gods arguing over your voice.

Tony steps in, "Thor, give it back to the sea witch."

Loki glares at Tony, "I do not have the patience for you today tin man."

He looks back at Thor and without a word, he flicks his wrist, sending his seidr towards his brother. The green cloud surrounds his hand in an attempt to pull the vial free but Thor clenches his hand and pulls violently against Loki's magic.

"Stop!" Natasha yells.

Your eyes go wide and you cover your mouth with both hands as the vial slips free from Thor's grasp. Loki's seidr doesn't react fast enough and the small glass vial falls to the floor at the older Asgardian's feet, shattering into pieces.

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[brucewaynehater101]

Just read a fic about Tim finally getting post patrol ice cream and his own renovated room after admitting to never getting any unlike his siblings and now I'm imagining an AU

Imagine this, Tim is tired, pulling an all nighter, because he did too poor a job at pretending as Robin, and it's too late to do damage control. Not in front of villains or heroes alike

But the people

They've caught onto how the third robin receives less than the first two

Robin acts less like a child, less like a son to Batman, and more like a 'Business Partner's as he said with his own words. Like a handler

Robin who has to put work into keeping Batman from overexerting himself, from cruelly punishing those who fall victim to him

Robin who receives less praise or care from Batman and cares for both himself and his "Boss" as he said with his own words

And it gets worse after the mantle passes down to Stephanie and Damian because the people notices how even as Batman treats them better than the third, now rebranded as Red Robin—

—Red Robin is still as much a Business Partner to batman as he always has been since the Dark Knight's loss of his second bird

And as much as tries to keep things buried, word is spreading that Red Robin is black sheep of the batfamily, and he won't be able to hide it for much longer

Have fun with this idea lol

I know the fic you're talking about! "with the exception of..." by DSS1101. That's a good one!

"Home Decor" by sElkieNight60 is about Duke remodeling his room as part of the new Wayne member tradition. This brings up feelings in Tim cause his bedroom still looks like a barely used guestroom.

The concept you've mentioned gives similar vibes to a hc/au post I read about how JJ (Joker Junior) isn't known by anyone but the goons/Rogues, Barbara, Jim, and Bruce. All the other Bats don't know. In consideration of Tim, electric shock weapons are immediately put away when Red Robin arrives on scene (I love that idea so much).

I think, with the Gothamites around when Bruce was going on his grief spiral almost killing spree, people feel a kinship with Tim. They couldn't have stopped Batman and, with part guilt and part relief, it seems only a child could. They watch this child, who seems to be sacrificing everything for a brutal and cruel man, and how he pulls Batman back into the symbol he's supposed to be. It brings out the protective and parental instinct of a lot of people.

This cues civilians, goons, and rogues alike trying to assist Robin in small ways. Tim as Robin had people offering him food (in sealed containers), giving him compliments, handing him scarves or hats (how could Batman let a child out in this weather without a hat?!?!?), and more. They tried to give him small moments to be the child he was pretending he wasn't. He obviously wasn't getting decent parenting at home if Batman was just his boss and his real folks were letting him out to fight.

There's a kind of guilty gratefulness towards the third Robin and a protectiveness of him. All young Bats are treated with care by civilains and some goons, but Robin three was special. He willingly became the barrier between Batman and Gotham. A lot of folks owe their ability to work (and not have exorbiant medical debt and medical conditions) to Tim. He saved them by damning himself. He needed the support Batman obviously wasn't providing.

Tim, as intelligent as he is, doesn't realize the affect he has on Gotham's older population. The younger ones will react with slightly more respect towards him than the other Bats, but they weren't around to see what Tim's sacrifice did for everyone.

Tim, with his self-doubt and hero-worship of his predecessors, thought his treatment throughout Robin was the work of those who came before him. Of course Gothamites trust and help out Robin when Dick and Jason built that foundation.

He's not exactly wrong, but it isn't to the extent they actually do for Tim.

Unfortunately for Tim, Damian and Jason do know that his Robin was treated with such reverence. They don't know why, but their Robins did/do not get treated that way. They chalk it up to Tim being the "perfect" and "can do no wrong" Robin. It's one point of contention they are unable to clear up due to Tim not knowing about it and the other two not wanting to explain their jealousy.

Steph was not treated as well as Damian and Jason when she was Robin. She, in this AU, was not treated as much of a crutch as Tim is. Despite that, her Spoiler/Batgirl/whatever persona gets some of the protectiveness that Tim's personas do. Bruce was more healed with Steph, but he was still an ass. That was obvious to any Gothamite watching.

Steph, because she was around at the time and talks with Gothamites to know what rumors are floating around, becomes aware after her death of why Tim's Robin is held up with such respect. This allows, unknowingly to Tim, for them to reach more understanding. With her knowledge of Tim's time as Robin, she's able to point out how he was being an ass, what he should've done instead, and that she herself was sorry for some of her actions.

When more and more individuals cue into Tim's black sheep position in the Batfam, this could go two ways.

One, Tim is targeted more due to his lack of support.

Two, Gothamites and Rogues increase their aid to Red Robin and become slightly cold to the Bats for their treatment of him.

[hound-of-ulster]

Tried writing it and can't seem to make the muse spark, maybe I'll try again later, but for now I must share, lol. Have my brain gremlin.

Dish-Pit!Danny (Lazarus pit pun intended.)

Danny runs from Amity for one reason or another, ends up in Gotham, and what is a kid who hasn't graduated from school to do?

Get a job in food service.

He's hired as a dishwasher at Gotham Prep. And since things happen as they do in kitchens and with #TypicalGothamCorruption, he takes over the unofficial duties of taking care of the alternative diet students. Be it allergies or vegan/vegetarian. Shout out to Sam and Lunch Lady for being his inspiration/shoulder devil angel combo.

Works on getting his GED and eventually night classes. Working at a schools works well for it. Let's throw in an employee assistance program for college or something.

--

Damien meets him while taking a tour.

Tour guide: "Gotham Prep has a dedicated chef for alternate diets your precious student may have." *And it's just Dish-pit!Danny.*

Damian: "How many students do you cook for here?"

Danny: "well, that depends. I have 4 vegetarians, 2 vegans, every now and again the 3 pescaterians. Plus the 15 that pay me to tell their parents when they call that 'yes they are being fed the very best plant products at school' while they really just eat steak, and then 3 more gluten free ones I take care of sides dishes for mainly. So. Like. 11. Give or take the menu."

--

I could see Danny being the guy to accept bribes. "Put your name down and it 10 bucks every time your mom calls."

"Tanner said it was 5?"

"Tanner isn't a dick to Cynthia when she serves him. Say please and thank you next time and it might go down to 5. It's an Entitled Upcharge, get used to it."

--

Damien bonds. Like a feral cat claiming territory. Does a background check and decides that Danny is on probation. Plus, his lentil soup slaps.

--

When Tim loses his spleen, he too joins the cult of Danny. Can't eat from a buffet with a compromised immune system. And I imagine Gotham Prep as a fancy buffet. Because I said so.

--

Add in a sick moment when one of the boys only wants a dish Danny cooks, which gets the other batfam into stealing his recipe, and when that doesn't work, eventually Danny himself is plopped in Alfred's kitchen with the frilly apron of shame tied around him, frog marched to make it.

"He won't stop making puppy dog eyes at us. Fix him."

--

Headcanon he is similar in age to Jason, maybe they meet in GED classes... haha

--

The siblings all have a pact to keep him from Bruce.

"He's adoption bait."

"Oh, absolutely. Let him grow up, he's doing well on his own."

*Danny, living off lunch leftovers from work and spite to finish his GED/degree*

"He's doing amazing sweetie!"

[vechter]

Top 5 Dick and Bruce moments or things

it's gotta be what faith tells dick in JLA (1997) #73

just the implications of it all. how bruce recognizes he hurts people, whether its criminals or the people who have chosen to love him. but still. still. he is immensely and immeasurably proud of dick. he can never say it, he wouldn't know how to even begin to tell dick how much dick means to him. also the crazy thing- we all know dick is insane about bruce and how endlessly devoted he is to him. but bruce is equally insane about him in his own neurotic way. he puts dick on a pedestal (he is right to) but just how fucked up of him. bonus scene from the obsidian run (#76) that always makes me grin:

2. this one is from robin: year one (2000) #4

so bruce fired dick after two face nearly beat him to death with a bat and dick ran away and managed to end up joining a league of assassins vengeance school under this dude named shrike. i won't bore you with even more plot but something about this panel just kills me. they're both so lonely and desperate for each other's partnership. bruce knows he miscalculated firing dick even if it was for dick's safety- dick isn't going to stop being a vigilante just bc batman said so (bruce u fucking idiot) and i think this instance of firing, while glossed over later in favour of the whole two-face of it all did sth that changed their dynamic fundamentally and irrevocably. it is probably the catapult for all of dick's future doubts and insecurities about his role and place in bruce's life. meanwhile, bruce giving dick agency in what he wants to do next- he needs dick just as much as dick needs robin. it's incredibly sad because i think there is a part of bruce that believes dick is only coming back to be robin, a doubt furthered when dick eventually forms the titans and loses all semblance of a life outside the mask.

3. this one is from outsiders: five of a kind - nightwing/boomerang (2007)

basically, dick decided to hand over the outsiders to batman and this is owen boomerang, the son of the guy who killed tim's dad. this is post-adoption so dick is more secure in his role as bruce's son. and just sth about how dick won't stand for people criticizing bruce, even when he might be thinking unfavourably of bruce. bc he can do that. but other people? no dice. also the added angst from owen talking about his own dad and his own version of legacy. i like to think dick probably felt some type of way about owen yelling out 'he was my father' bc while dick probably hasn't ever verbalized that, he has probably felt similarly.

4. batman (1940) #636

bruce brooding over the past. little does he know his second son is back and ready to haunt him literally instead of metaphorically lol. but anyway, this always makes me froth at the mouth. both bruce and dick have a tendency to look back on those years very, very positively and something about how nostalgia warps your memories but also how much of it is nostalgia and how much is truth? bruce is forever living in the past. @nighhtwing summarizes one of bruce's core truths in their fic Hereditary beautifully: Bruce has lived with grief longer than he’s lived without. It’s easy, then, to mourn this moment even as it’s in front of him, alive.

5. basically all of the comic batman/nightwing: bloodborne (2002). one of the most stellar pieces of bruce and dick writing. the art's a little funky but the story is fantastic. the devotion dick has. it's debilitating, it could kill him. it should have (thinking about the blast dick took for bruce in infinite crisis and how it was supposed to have killed him). the same toxin and anti-toxin runs through their veins. something about the intimacy and inherent religious imagery and nature of sharing blood. but it isn't even a cursory thought to dick. of course he will put himself in death's way if it means being able to save bruce. dick's biggest fear: being unable to save bruce like bruce saved him all those years ago. the way it all takes place on the anniversary of his parents' death. fantastic, killer, devastating show-stopping even.

[tickle-bugs]

Chase the Memory of it Still

Summary: Clark is deeply, madly, head-over-heels in love with the one person he can't have. What happens when he can have him, if only for a little while? Fake dating friends to lovers superbat hehe

this one's for @fickle-tiction as payment for being a goblin in her dms LOL love ya!! the sequel to this is in progress >:) also it literally doesn't matter but vicki has a jersey shore/boston accent to me. i won't justify it.

Edit: now with a sequel, But You Were Mine

Clark has never really cared much about his paycheck—not in the grand scheme of things, anyway—but fuck he really doesn’t get paid enough. 

“Sorry, Mr…Kent, but no press is allowed at the event. You’re more than welcome to wait outside with everyone else.” One of the guards—a bald fella who looks way too excited to turn him away—crosses his arms. 

“…in the freezing rain.” Clark attempts to wipe his glasses on a dry part of his outfit. All he does is push the water around on the lenses. His suit’s about three shades darker from the storm. Why didn’t he wear his coat? 

“You all seem quite dedicated. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” The guard smiles at him and shifts his weight, looking straight ahead as if all six feet of dripping Kryptonian have just vanished. The doorman reopens the door and shows Clark his people—a swarming mob of reporters hunched behind metal barriers in windbreakers, using plastic bags to keep their livelihoods safe. 

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Clark clenches his fist until it shakes. Inhale, hold…exhale. He came all the way out to cold, rainy Gotham—wait. Gotham.

He glances past the guards and sifts through the noise of the gala until he finds the one heartbeat he knows better than anything. He smiles. 

“Oh, my mistake. I thought he hadn’t shown up. My partner is right there.” Clark points. They both turn to look—would’ve been an excellent time to subdue them if he was feeling more brash—as he waves across the floor at Bruce. 

He looks spectacular, honestly. His hair is doing that ‘I woke up this perfect’ messy thing, his shoulders are unfairly crisp under a three piece suit that’s probably worth more than Clark’s rent, and he just…glows. He’s chatting with a young woman who looks more than happy to fawn over him. Clark’s no longer staring but gazing, he feels it, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do. Maybe Bruce should stop being so…distracting. 

He sees the surprise and hears the murmured ‘Clark?’ under Bruce’s breath. He thankfully doesn’t say anything else as he approaches, just glides over with a glass of champagne. 

It’s at this moment that what he’s done, what he’s implied really sinks in, but it’s too late to turn back now. 

“Hey, I left my invite at your place and these…upstanding citizens can’t find room in their heart to let me by. That’s what I get for showing up to support my partner, huh?” He hopes his emphasis isn’t too much, but he really, really doesn’t want to stand outside after all of this effort. 

Bruce’s expression lands somewhere between pleasure and disbelief, minute and restrained as always. It’s only the uptick of his eyebrow and the slight narrowing of his eyes that gives him away. Bordering on amusement, but not quite. 

“That’s unfortunate. What seems to be the problem?” Bruce sips. The guards shift uncomfortably. Clark tries to quell his shit-eating grin. 

“I guess they think you’re outta my league.” Clark can’t help but snort a little. Bruce rolls his eyes. 

“Mr. Wayne, can we see your invitation please?” Baldy clears his throat and plays official, knowing damn well it won’t make a difference. Bruce hands it over without a second glance.  

“You look handsome.” Clark winks at him. He could smell Bruce’s cologne before he even walked over. At this proximity, he’s starting to get a little weak in the knees. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Bruce reaches past and adjusts Clark’s tie. Nice touch. 

“Alright, Mr. Kent, you can enter.” The guards shuffle aside. Just to be an asshole, Clark shakes all the water off his form like a dog, splattering both the guards with the rainwater they tried to keep him in. Their shouts of confusion and disgust are the perfect soundtrack to his entry. 

Bruce offers an arm as if he hadn’t seen a thing and leads him over to the coat check, as if he would have a coat to check. He takes Clark’s glasses off his nose, dries them with his kerchief, and puts them back. Clark wrinkles his nose at the gesture—it’s so Bruce to just…do it himself. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry,” Clark sighs. The lenses are terribly smudged. He plans for a headache.

“You owe me. Boyfriend? Really?” Bruce passes him a glass of champagne. 

“I know, I know. I tried to get by as press and when I saw you, I panicked. Lex is here and Lois and I have been trying to corner the bastard for weeks—“ 

“Hold my hand.” Bruce extends a palm. Clark chokes on his drink. If champagne wasn’t trying to migrate into his lungs, he would’ve taken a serious crack at x-raying and double-checking it was really his Bruce. 

“Clearly you’ve never done this before,” he murmurs, the very same palm sliding down Clark’s back. “Casual affection is key. We’re being watched.”

Bruce subtly laces their fingers together as they walk through the crowd. Clark tries to appear as put-together and boyfriendy as possible, but when he looks around, every single eye in the place is on him and Bruce. He starts to sweat and doesn't take another breath until they arrive at a little private corner on the far side of the room. 

“So, you were saying about Lex?” Bruce leans against the wall, scanning the room over the rim of his glass. His eyes catch back on Clark, warm and intense. 

“I, uh…he’s here.” Clark swallows. He’s starting to feel dizzy. This is a lot. He’s used to the grit of Batman or the gentle gruffness of Bruce. Bruce Wayne is a whole different creature. 

“Mhm. He’s looking for R&D investments again. I was told it’d be rude for me not to attend.” A wry smile crosses Bruce’s features. He breaks eye contact to scan and it gives Clark the wherewithal to finish his thought. 

“Lex is pulling his whole ‘get rid of anyone with superpowers’ shtick again. Really mad at me specifically, as usual. I’d bet you ten bucks he has a Kryptonite ray upstairs. He’s probably in the process of building more…or something worse.”

“You have a plan?” 

“I was going to go up there and, yknow—“ he mimes smashing something— “but I can hear about twenty people whispering about us and I don’t want to make you look bad. Not that you look bad, you look great! I just know your reputation is important and I put you in a weird spot and I’m sorry—“ 

Bruce shushes him. Clark blinks and splutters, because who shushes people, but suddenly Bruce is so close that he can’t think. He can see the tiny scar on Bruce’s lip, the one he lies and says was from a household accident. Clark wants to brush his thumb over it. 

He feels entirely normal about Bruce Wayne. 

“Stop overthinking. You’ll hurt yourself.” Bruce roughly pats Clark’s cheek. Clark has to actively shift his focus from the calloused warmth of Bruce’s hands to his eyes.

“Okay, ouch.” Clark rolls his eyes. “I’m just…this is your element. I’m not good at this.” 

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay.” Bruce tilts Clark’s chin down. Brushes some schmutz off his face. 

“I got us into this. It’s alright.” Clark can’t look him in the eye. He’s so painfully aware of all the ways Bruce is touching. A perfectly choreographed performance for the outside eye. An act.

For a moment, he indulges himself, allows his mind to wander to a different world where Bruce might do this for him anyway. Somewhere so gently domestic that their rituals of touch are sacred. He wonders what it might be like to have a Bruce that’d dote on him like this, even while fussing at him. 

Of course he has it now, but it’s not the same. Not when the eyes of hungry spectators cling to them from every shadow. 

“I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up.” He already has his phone out and is halfway through dialing by the time Clark can grab him. Bruce spins out of the hold and starts walking away, still dialing. 

“Bruce.” Clark yanks him back by the bicep. “I can survive mingling for a few hours. It’s no different than using a cover. What do I need to know?” Clark releases him only when it’s clear his stubborn streak is done rearing its head. Bruce works his jaw for a while and then sighs. 

“When you’re talking to these people, they’re going to try and get to the center of you. Try not to lie. The truth will always be easier to remember. Just repackage it.” Bruce adjusts the clean lines of Clark’s suit with his fingertips, procedural and routine. Clark wonders briefly how many times he’s done this. 

“Makes sense. Anything else?” Clark takes a measured breath. 

“We have to sell this. People need to see easy affection before they believe that we’re…doing okay. Now, imagine someone’s watching us—“

“Are they?” Clark tries very hard not to scan the room. He starts to sweat. 

“Shh. Someone’s watching us and you notice. They’re definitely gossiping. What do you do?” Bruce raises an eyebrow. The light of the obnoxious chandelier on the ceiling gives him a gentle glow. His eyes crinkle at the corners just slightly, even without a smile, and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. The surge of emotion in Clark’s chest knocks him off balance. 

“Well, staring isn’t—“ 

Clark kisses him breathless. 

Bruce leans into it, one hand cupping the back of Clark’s neck. There’s a perfect sunburst of giddy adrenaline—his hands find Bruce’s hips and pull them closer. Bruce’s heart thunders in his chest yet his hands are steady as they brace against Clark’s back. Clark cups Bruce’s jaw and brushes his fingers through the gentle stubble there, lets it tickle at his fingers. 

Clark breaks them apart with a quiet, triumphant chuckle—years worth of watching, waiting, and yearning all cresting towards this one moment. He can hear their comfortable status quo shatter as he does, but it’s worth it. It has to be. 

“Wow.” Bruce smooths his hands down Clark’s chest. He can’t tell anymore if the heartbeat thundering in his ears is Bruce’s or his own but he doesn’t care to know—if it’s the former, he’ll combust. Or faint. Somewhere in there. 

“How’d I do?” Clark manages to adjust his glasses without snapping them clean in half. 

“I might have a few pointers,” Bruce clears his throat and looks away. 

“We have plenty of time.” Clark steals another kiss and thanks the universe that Lois isn’t here to talk some sense into him.

……..

“So, you and Mr. Wayne, hm?” A blonde woman with a massive fur shawl wound through her arms sidles up with a glass of champagne. Clark freezes at the snack table. 

“Hm?” He hides the multiple horderves in his hand behind his back. He’s very acutely aware that he shouldn’t be unsupervised right now, but Bruce is being flocked by investors with no hope for escape. He sneaks a pleading glance in Bruce’s direction.

They do lock eyes above the crowd, but the horde encircling him has the tenacity of seagulls on the boardwalk. Bruce apologizes with his eyes. Clark resigns himself to perish. 

“Phyllis Hough, a pleasure.” She extends her hand to him and he takes it out of practice, kissing the knuckles. Her skin is so dry and clammy that he has to bite back the urge to gag. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” He presses his lips into something like a smile. 

“Forgive me for intruding, but you’ve been the talk of the party since you arrived. How did you and Bruce meet?” She sidles too close, like they’re sharing a secret about someone else. Her demeanor reminds him too much of the foxes that used to terrorize his chicken coop growing up. 

The truth is always easier to remember. Just repackage it. 

“Well, he…needed my help. We met through work. We realized we worked well together and after that, everything sort of fell in place.” Clark shrugs. 

“That’s just darling. My husband and I met on a mission trip to Ghana.” She points to a deflated puddle of a man who’s leaned up on the bar, looking like he’d rather disappear than be here.

“A mission trip? That’s so…necessary.” Clark smiles and tries not to throw up in his mouth.

“I adore helping the less fortunate. It’s a hobby dear to my heart.” She places a hand on her chest, showing off the obnoxious diamonds on her bony fingers. Diamonds likely stolen from the same places she claims to ‘help’. 

“Ah, Mrs. Hough. Looking lovely as always. Do you mind if I steal Clark from you?” Oh thank god.

Bruce gives her a quick spin, using the move to squeeze closer to Clark’s side. He winds an arm around Bruce’s waist. Bruce rests his hand overtop Clark’s and he can’t help but grin like an idiot. He’ll never get over the little zing of his nerves every time they brush hands. 

“So soon? We were just getting to know one another.” Mrs. Hough tries to slide back into their space. Bruce stares her down, but not unkindly—just a blank, mannequin-like stare and a smile that almost looks real. 

A tense silence blooms between them. Clark’s sure if he listens just a bit harder, he’ll hear Bruce cursing this woman to high-heaven in his head. The silence stretches on.

“Forgive us. We haven’t spent much time together this week. I’ll admit I’m a little clingy. I never like to be far from him.” He cups Bruce’s cheek and gives him a quick, chaste kiss. Bruce chases his lips and lingers longer. Clark actually gets a little lost in it until a feeble cough splits them apart. 

“Well, who am I to interrupt love?” She strains the word strangely. “I best take my leave. I’ll see you around, gentlemen.” She waves over her shoulder and traipses back into the crowd. As soon as she leaves, Clark heaves a deep, weathered sigh. 

“How do you do this? I’d rather chew off my own fingers than rub elbows with these people.” Clark takes Bruce’s glass from his hand and downs it. The fizz is nice, but it might as well be water. He starts munching on his poached horderves. 

“Trust me, it’s not fun for me either.” Bruce grumbles, plucking a cracker with crab dip from Clark’s little stash. 

“Why do it then? Why pretend?” 

“It’s part of the job. You know that better than anyone.” There’s something so very tired in Bruce’s eyes. Even as he smiles, it’s empty and rueful—the light doesn’t make it to his eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that with me.” Clark squeezes his shoulder. Bruce’s gaze drops to the floor and his shoulder sag minutely, the tiniest give in his guard that Clark’s privileged enough to see. For a moment, he’s not Bruce Wayne but Bruce. 

He doesn’t lean to catch Bruce’s eye—he knows he hates that—so he just stands there and rubs circles into his shoulder. 

“I like who you are under the mask.” Clark offers him another cracker. Bruce takes it and taps it against Clark’s last ones, as if they’re holding glasses, and pops it in his mouth. Clark snickers. Only Bruce could make something so dorky look so charming. 

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Bruce?” A feminine voice cuts through the din with ease. Clark catches the moment that Bruce’s muscles lock up and the eyeroll before he turns around. Just like that, Bruce Wayne returns. 

A woman in a long green gown slinks across the floor. Her posture sets her aside from everyone else in the room—her stance is powerful and lithe. 

“Vicki. It’s been a while.” Bruce gives her that practiced smile he’s been wearing most of the evening. His posture is so unnecessarily rigid that Clark rubs his back before he can think better of it.

“How’ve you been, Brucie? Hear you’re gettin’ into some interesting trouble. Speaking of trouble—“ 

“Vicki Vale, Gotham Gazette.” She sticks out her hand to shake. Tall, blonde, terrifying eyes—yeah, he could see how she would be Bruce’s type. Definitely an ex. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” He shakes her hand. “I thought press weren’t allowed in.” 

“I have my ways. So do you, it seems.” She winks and passes him a flute of champagne. He graciously accepts. 

“Ah, well. Perks of being around this guy I suppose.” Clark bumps Bruce’s hip a little. Bruce looks so startled by the motion that Clark can’t help but laugh a little. 

“Listen, Clark, I’ve been with Bruce before and—“ she leans in close but doesn’t whisper, like she’s giving the world’s most public secret— “He’s honestly a softie under all the suits and cars.”

“I am not a softie. I can hear you.” Bruce shoves his hands into his pockets. Even though he’s turtling, there’s a levity to it. 

“He has a thing for stubborn asses who get into trouble, ‘cause he is one. If that’s anything like you, you’ve got a good thing going here.” She smacks Clark’s chest with the back of her hand. Her honesty is…jarring, but not unfun. 

“Oh, do you now?” Clark raises an eyebrow at Bruce over the rim of his glass. 

“It’s not a thing. I don’t have a thing.” Bruce grumbles, the faintest hint of pink tinging his cheeks. 

“Kinda sounds like you have a thing, Brucie.” Clark grins. Bruce scowls. He might be pushing his luck but it’s the only fun he’s really had all night. 

“You two been together long?“ Vicki snatches a fresh glass from a passing waiter like a viper. 

“Few months. Feels like longer.” Bruce doesn’t skip a beat. Clark hopes his smile makes Bruce’s tone sound less under duress. 

“Wow, that’s pretty serious. Congrats.” She raises her glass in salute. Clark wants to cut in—that absolutely felt sarcastic—but Bruce gives his hand a squeeze. 

“Can’t imagine life without him.” Bruce gives him such an earnest look that Clark has to avert his eyes before he gets too hopeful. His stomach twists. Play the part. 

“Do you got somethin’ you like most about him?” Vicki locks onto Clark and he jumps a little. She dissects him with her gaze in that way only journalists can. He does his best not to shuffle under her scrutiny. 

“Vicki, I hope this isn’t an interview.” Clark gives her his best stern stare. 

“If it was, you botched it.” She bumps shoulders with him. “I’m kidding. Off the record. I haven’t seen Bruce glow like this, ever. Just lookin’ for your secret.“ 

That sends a sweet, traitorous flutter through his ribcage. 

“Do you want to dance?” Bruce abruptly turns on his heel and shoves his hand into Clark’s personal space. 

“Do…you want to dance?” Clark furrows his brow. Bruce looks like he might explode. 

“Come on.” Bruce pulls Clark onto the dance floor. 

“Bye, Vicki!” Clark calls over his shoulder, but Bruce is spinning him into the gentle embrace of violin song faster than he can resist. They glide far, far away from that corner of the room, losing her verdant silhouette in the crowd.

“Be honest. Did you just run from your ex?” Clark laughs, trying to keep in time with Bruce’s steps. He’s always had two left feet, but Lois had forced him to go to ballroom dancing classes with her enough times for him to pick up some semblance of rhythm.

“No.” Bruce leads just a little too fast for the music at hand. Clark drags his feet in an effort to slow them down. 

“I don’t buy it. You would’ve been happier to see Harley than Vicki.” Clark almost dips Bruce on autopilot. He course-corrects pretty quickly and pulls a tight-lipped Bruce close instead. Nearly cheek-to-cheek, Clark takes the lead as easy as breathing. 

Clark isn’t sure when he started humming, but he lets the music take them both. Bruce allows him to maintain the lead, surprisingly, and he guides them languidly around the dance floor. He even twirls Bruce, shocked he gets away with it, but he’s too wrapped up in whatever this is to question anything.

When Clark pulls back a bit to tease, Bruce is staring at him with those wide, pretty eyes. 

“What?” Clark can hear the gears in Bruce’s head turning, even when there’s nothing to say. A remarkable talent.

“I…didn’t know you could dance.” Bruce shifts his hand from Clark’s shoulder to his back. 

“I’m full of surprises.” Clark grins. Their form slowly morphs from proper ballroom to a casual, dance-in-the-kitchen kind of waltz--Clark links his fingers with Bruce’s and leads them by the hands, they somehow find a way to get closer to one another, and they end up in a slow, gentle sway. 

“We should dance more.” Clark spins Bruce again and they end up back-to-chest, arms crossed over Bruce’s torso. 

“You can’t be serious.” Bruce’s ears are adorably rosy. Clark chooses to remain alive and not comment on it. 

“It’s good for you, Bruce! Lord knows you could use the smiles.” Clark spins them again, back to proper form. Bruce’s whole face scrunches and he stops in his tracks. A tinnitus-like sound ringing gently from Bruce’s ear and into their personal space makes Clark wince a little.

Of course he’s wearing comms. 

“Diana’s got Lex cornered upstairs.” Bruce leans in and murmurs low in Clark’s ear. He fights tooth and nail against a full body shiver. 

“Diana’s here? You called for backup?” Clark adjusts his glasses.

“If anything we’re her backup.” Bruce scoffs. “We need people to see us disappear so we have an alibi. Act natural.” 

Clark walks away. Bruce yanks him back by the bicep and leans in close. 

“Flirt with me. No, no—Clark, like you mean it.” Bruce compensates for the awkwardness by messing with Clark’s tie, but it starts to look like a tic more than anything else. Clark caresses Bruce’s cheek but it looks more like he’s wiping something off his face. 

“I’m trying!” He huffs. “This isn’t exactly my skillset.” 

“You had all of…that a minute ago—“ Bruce gestures at him— “where’d it go?” 

Clark tries to summon ‘that’,  whatever that means. The best he can do is scowl uncertainly and lead them back into an awkward sway. 

“You could at least pretend like you like me,” Bruce huffs, uncharacteristically petulant. Clark almost gives himself away then and there.

“I’m not good at this.” He swallows and averts his eyes.

“Come on, American Pie. You’ve gotta be working with more than those doe eyes.” Bruce’s devilish smirk genuinely tears the breath from Clark’s lungs. He takes a ridiculous inhale to buy him time until—yep, there it is, the smirk disappears. 

“Nope. This pie is fresh outta doe…eyes…that was going to be a dough joke but I think I should let it die.” Clark lets his forehead collide with Bruce’s shoulder as they sway, relishing in the comforting pat on the back that he gets. 

“That would be merciful.” Bruce laughs. 

“Did you just laugh?” Clark perks up. 

“No.” Bruce’s jaw tightens. He can’t kill the sparkle in his eye though, no matter how hard he tries. It’s there and it's stunning, like the cosmos in its depths. 

“You actually think I’m funny. You laughed at my joke!” Clark doesn’t realize that he’s dipped Bruce until they’re nose to nose, sharing the space of a breath. He quickly pulls him back up. 

Enough dancing. Clearly he can’t handle that. 

“I think you are…moderately amusing.” Bruce rolls his eyes. Clark squints.

“I think you are super…man.” Clark drags out the pause. Bruce all-but-scoffs. 

“Seriously?” He shoves Clark’s chest. There’s a fondness to the gesture that makes his heart ache. 

“You wanna laugh. I see it in your eyes, you do this squint—“ Clark pokes Bruce’s nose, mostly because he can’t do anything about it.  

“I don’t want to laugh. I want to punch you.” Bruce gives his best scowl. Clark’s finger on his nose cuts most of the threatening aura. 

“You’re smiling though. You are!” Clark scritches beneath Bruce’s chin as a fond gesture, something Lois often does to him. 

Bruce squeaks.

“You are beyond immature,” Bruce huffs, jerking away from the touch. Clark’s brain struggles to reconcile what he just heard with what he’s seeing, as a suddenly perfectly-stoic Bruce adjusts his suit jacket. 

Clark reaches out to do it again and Bruce latches onto both of his arms to push him away. Clark pushes back with no strain, as if the grown man clinging to his wrists weighs no more than bracelets, and repeats the gentle tickle. 

Bruce smashes his chin down to his chest as a couple of scratchy snickers force their way free. 

“No way.” Clark beams. 

“Don’t you dare. Do not. Clark—Clark.” Bruce starts to back away. Clark snakes an arm around his waist and holds him tight. 

“What? I’m flirting.” Clark presses his fingers into the curve of Bruce’s waist and it earns him a headbutt—thankfully avoiding the glasses. He finds a spot beneath Bruce’s ribs that gets a snort. 

“You’re so cute. I wish you’d smile more.” Clark worms his fingers beneath the curve of Bruce’s jaw, chasing that squeak that opened up such beautiful horizons. 

“I am not cute, you dick.” Bruce tries to bite at Clark’s fingers. 

“Mmm, I disagree.”

“I’m going to bury you in the shallowest of graves.” Bruce grits out, curling into Clark’s shoulder. A strangled squeal flies out upon contact with his ears and Clark stays there, fascinated by the degree of squirming happening in his immovable arms. 

“I’m sure you will.” He persists until finally, finally, a choked giggle emerges. It’s quiet enough to float beneath the ambient noise of the gala, but it rings loud and clear in Clark’s ear. 

“Are you coming? Otherwise, I’m taking him to Arkham myself. He’s…irritating.” Diana’s voice is a tinny pinprick in Bruce’s ear, but Clark still picks up on her message. He stills his fingers.

“On our way,” Bruce murmurs. As soon as the connection is severed, Clark steals one more squeeze at his side before they vanish to the service corridors to meet Diana. 

…

“Boys. You’re late.” Diana looks up from where she’s been braiding the Lasso of Hestia. On the other end, Lex Luthor hums an irritating tune. 

“Busy day,” Batman grouses, flexing his fingers. He makes his way over to the contraption in the corner and starts picking at the wires. 

“Whatcha got over there?”

“A highly concentrated laser stocked with a rainbow of Kryptonite strands. We were right on time.” Batman dislodges something with a mighty crack. In his hands, a glass capsule full of suspended Kryptonite crystals glitters in the light. The lenses on the cowl flick blue as he analyzes them further. 

“Well, Lex, you’ve just made me ten dollars richer.” Superman puts his hands on his hips. He can feel the faint, crawling fatigue starting to burrow into him from the proximity of the Kryptonite, but he resists it. He yanks a handful of wires free from the machine, crushes the focus, and kicks the motherboard hard enough to disintegrate it. 

“I hope your investors don’t hear about this,” he tuts, crossing his arms. “I’d hate for Wayne Enterprises to leave you in the dust for the…what, sixth year in a row?”

“We’ll see who’s laughing soon, Man of Steel. Your supposed altruism is nothing but your own selfish desire, fueled by greed—“

Superman knocks him out before he can finish.

…

“What the hell do you gel your hair with? Cement?” Bruce ruffles Clark’s hair again with a scowl. It doesn’t move. 

”Mrs. Duvet’s Quick-Dry Iron Hold gel. Otherwise it gets super obvious when I’ve been out flying.” Clark carefully starts pulling strands to the front, mimicking Bruce’s helmet hair. 

“Of course you do.” Bruce continues carefully messing with his hair. Clark shivers at the fingers on his scalp. 

“I can just wet it and shake it out real quick?” Clark grabs for the sink handle and starts sizing up how to fit his head into the basin. 

“I’d rather not leave a soaking wet bathroom for the custodians.” Bruce runs his hands beneath the tap, then holds them towards Clark. “May I?”

He nods numbly. Bruce runs his hands through Clark’s hair and he utterly melts into it. Oh, it’s a crime this won’t last.

“Looking like, uh, we had sex is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” Clark starts fiddling with his tie. He can feel his face heating up at the idea of it. 

“There is an art to it. Here, let me.” Bruce takes the ends of the tie and gives it a quick full Windsor with practiced hands. Then he loosens it just right. 

“Honestly, Bruce, no one will notice if I sneak out. I’m just some reporter they’ve never heard of.” Clark’s eyes dart to Bruce’s lips for a moment. 

“These people have nothing but time and wealth—they’re always looking for gossip. We disappear and you don’t come back? In two days, someone will find you and hunt you down for the exclusive on our ‘tumultuous relationship’.” Bruce fiddles with Clark’s shirt collar. Undoes a button. 

“So I’ll tell them we went our separate ways. Big deal.” Clark clears his throat. 

“Vicki and I broke up eight years ago. To this day, she still gets harassed by paparazzi on her way to work. Maybe that doesn’t bother you, but what are you going to do when people with cameras and time start realizing how much you disappear from the Daily Planet?” Bruce makes an exasperated hand gesture that seems to lack a target. 

“Fair enough.” Perry and Lois can only protect him so much. Bruce, regrettably, has a point. 

“We’re playing a part. After this, you won’t have to worry. I’ll give a statement that we quietly split and in a week or two, you’ll be left alone. Let’s focus on getting out of here.” Bruce returns to fiddling with Clark’s hair. 

Clark takes Bruce’s hands in his own. His breathing stutters a bit.

“Can I kiss you, Bruce?” Never has a question felt so heavy, so precarious. 

“Is there someone in here?” Bruce’s voice drops low, eyes darting to the stalls. 

“No! No, I just thought it’d be easier to…y’know…rather than faking it.” He can’t bring himself to look Bruce in the eye. He loses track of whose heartbeat is thundering in his ears. He feels like he’s back in high school and fumbling his way through practicing in the mirror. 

“What?” No going back now. 

“It would just be for a minute or two. It might be more effective than pretending. We could kiss a little. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Clark shrugs. Yeah. Logic is good. This is strictly a business arrangement. Friends kiss sometimes. They’ve been through hell and high water together, this should be easy. 

Bruce stares at him for a long while, long enough to make him sweat, to make him sick. Years of friendship and trust suddenly hang in the balance and he’s not ready for that. He’s not ready to lose that. What the fuck has he done? 

“I—“

“Are you…reasoning your way through making out with me?” Bruce puts his hands on his hips, expression utterly unreadable. 

“Maybe?” Clark swallows. 

Silence envelops the bathroom. Clark starts running through ways to retcon the worst mistake of his life—passing it off as a joke? Yeah, that might work. He starts to fumble his way through the syllables of an apology, when—

Bruce laughs. Hand on the wall, shoulders shaking, laughs. He tips his head back as the last snickers float and echo. He looks at Clark down the length of his nose, still beaming. It’s the rarest thing he’ll ever see and he commits every detail to memory. 

“I don’t think anyone’s asked so nicely before. Is this how they do it in Kansas?” Bruce unravels Clark’s tie in seconds. He wraps both ends around his knuckles idly, hanging his wrists off of Clark’s shoulders. 

Clark grabs both sides of Bruce’s head and kisses him deeply to shut him up. Bruce tilts his head and pulls Clark roughly forward, slamming them both into the wall. He lets out a beautiful little noise as his hands slide beneath Clark’s jacket and absolutely ruin the clean press of his shirt. Clark has half a mind to hoist Bruce onto one of the sinks, but he resists. 

He’s beautiful. It’s the only clear thought that runs through Clark’s head as he starts unbuttoning the buttons of Bruce’s shirt. He tilts Bruce’s jaw up and presses tender, lingering kisses down the column of his throat. Bruce pulls at Clark’s hair, forcing his head up, and catches his lips with a growl. 

“That’s how we do it in Kansas.” Clark breathes, hovering in Bruce’s personal space. His glasses are fogged and smudged but he can still see the tantalizing tilt of Bruce’s lips. 

“Again, I have a few pointers—“

This time Clark does pick him up. Bruce’s eyes go wide. 

“Nevermind.” Bruce pulls him back in with a forearm around the neck. Clark surges forward and mouths beneath Bruce’s jaw. He can feel Bruce’s heartbeat nearby and he hunts for it, spurred on by the storm of his own want. When he finds it, he sucks slow and steady against his warm, soft skin until he’s sure it’ll bruise. Bruce lets out a keening whine that stutters into a gasp, gripping Clark’s shoulders. His thighs clench around Clark’s waist. 

Clark’s better judgment grabs him and he breaks them apart. Bruce doesn’t move away and that lights his brain up like a Christmas tree. He hovers there for far too long, fighting tooth and nail against the urge to chase the adrenaline. Bruce looks utterly sinful in his grip, flushed in a way Clark hasn’t ever seen. 

The concept of self-control comes to him in a whisper like it’s foreign. He remembers himself. 

“Are we…good?” Clark vaguely realizes he’s still holding Bruce and sets him down. He’s buzzing from head-to-toe, like he’s just taken a full day’s nap in the sunlight. He’s not entirely certain he can feel his face. He touches his own lips reverently. 

“What? Oh. Yeah, c’mon.” Bruce grabs him and leads them through the venue. 

When Bruce pulls him through the party and towards the front doors, he doesn’t even process the prying eyes and whispers. All that matters is Bruce’s hand gripping his own. 

Clark’s determined to catch this shooting star in his hand, even if it doesn’t last. Even if it burns him down the line. 

[golden-buddle]

Hey mutual, figure the third Omegaverse thing was startin to get long again lol. So I thought I'd respond here instead >:3 (Also have links to the previous ones for easy access lmao) 1_ 2_ 3_

You know what would be kind of adorable? If it was Tim who got all angry at the gossip magazines. Everyone else is used to it and finds it kind of funny after all, since as you said, people outside of Gotham don't know the nuances of Gothamite body language. But Tim has been slowly coaxed into acting like a pup, been reassured that him acting like that is okay and is perfectly natural. So seeing people trying to claim Bruce isn't a good caretaker in a way that straight up targets that behavior? Oh baby boi is going to throw a fit.

Also love the idea of even other Gothamites going, yeah, the bats are more than a little feral, even for us lol. They've seen it all from the gleeful murder-baby first Robin to the trying-to-bite-your-ears-off second Robin to gonna-jump-off-this-bridge-and-take-you-with-me Batgirl. To the big bat himself who will see what could account as a straight up mob worth of people and go yeah I can fight that, and actually does, and wins.

Like that's just utterly hilarious to me lol.

Actually, before I forget, I feel like Damian's and Tim's relationship would be better in this. Seeing as Damian is younger and both Tim and Dick are very familiar with being unfamiliar with pup behavior or being forced to try and stop doing it. Which thankfully it wasn't to the extent of Tim, but still. He's the itty bitty baby of the pack who doesn't want to let anyone go the moment he realizes they won't betray him. Similar to how Tim is once he finally realizes the Waynes won't leave him and actually want him to stay.

Also remind me to sketch out the different fangs when my hands aren't shaking lol

Oh Tim DEFINITELY rips into the gossip mags.

He may be a lil pup and semi-recently got placed with the Wayne Pack, but by GOD is he going to send some angry emails.

Honestly I can see him reaching out to the daily planet as ‘Bruce’ and setting up an interview to clear it all up.

But until that happens, Tim gets scruffed and brought into the nest SO often to calm him down.

Like. Calm down pup! You are TOO angy!

Speaking of Tim and Damian’s relationship- they have the best relationship by far in the Pack. Tim can and will throw down for his new little brother. And the brotherly instincts he never had before (and thusly never had to stifle before) doesn’t help either.

Dami is more or less constantly following either his Mum, Jason, or Tim.

If he has to, he’ll tag along with Dick and Alfred, but in order of his favorite pack members Tim is definitely up there with Jason and Bruce.

He can and will use the fact that he’s just an itty bitty pup and whine and whine to get carried around. He may be an independent pup, and he DOES like to wander around on his own, but he absolutely loves being engulfed by his packmate’s scents.

It’s so very different to when he first left the cloning pod and all he could smell was blood and sterile alcohols.

And finally for how Gotham views the Feral Bats??

It’s DEFINITELY like that. Gotham is in awe over their guardians (and I can’t help but see them putting the Batfamily up as embodiments of the city, Gothamites definitely definitely made shrines for the Batfamily that dot about the city)

The Agent, the one who walked the streets long before the Bat flew for the first time, who holds ears in the highest of places and knows far too much that he rarely shares with others. The one who was only connected to the bats far, far down the line.

The Motherly-Protective Bat who has claws like in the old days, who bares his fangs and rips into flesh with no hesitation to protect his city-pups and actual pups. Who dragged the first of the costumed rogues back to Arkham by sheer force and detective skills.

The First Robin who was gleefully blood thirsty, somehow the most animalistic of the pack as he chirped and trilled and danced in the air. Flying like his namesake as he bares his puppy fangs in a barely constrained aggressive smirk.

The Batgirl (Cuckoo) who nearly flew as well as the First Robin, the one who chirped and warbled and forced herself into the Bat’s nest and first showed the City what happened to those who hurts those the Bat holds dear and who showed what happened to who the Bat deems as unwelcome to his territory.

The Nightingale, the first of the robins to grow up, the one with fangs he never hid and a voice as sweet as his feathers. The one who talks as much as he growls, the one who shreds his enemies with enough cheer and electricity to drown a clown.

The Second Robin, (Cardinal, clad in blood reds and spiked feathers, somehow still in the familiar designs of the First Robin) the one taken far too soon who didn’t quite fly as he did glide. The one who hid in his mother’s cape, only leaving to fight and protect-protect-protect just like his mother. The one who showed what happened to those who ignore that they were chased out of the Bat’s territory.

The Third Robin (Crow, Clad in blacks and shiny feathers but still the familiar Robin design) The one who is too smart for his own good- the one who ended the grip that the Bat’s bloodstained claws held on the city. He clings to his mother, only leaving to find more of his pack.

The Forth Robin, (Starling, purples and blacks and shimmering feathers that seem to mirror your face back at you) The blending of Batgirl and Robin, the one who was dragged into the Bat Pack when Crow wandered too far from his mother and needed her help finding his way back to the nest. All the gracefulness of the Bats and the Aggressiveness of the Robins twirled into one sparkling purple attack.

The Cardinal, the second of the robins to grow up, the one who took the name that was whispered in the alleys as his own. Who came into the scene with a splash of blood as bright and soaking as his initial departure. Who’s eyes glow with Unseen bloodlust and protection that followed his mother’s steps.

[fortanuvasyama]

#THEY DID WHAT TO JASON?????#ALSO IF ROSE HAD TO RESUCITATE HIM IT MEANS HE DIED BC OF WHAT BRUCE DID????#omg

@crepus i spotted your tags and had to say something lol

the answer is... maybe??? idk what Jason would have done if he was brought into the fight under different circumstances, but he did choose to work with Joker B of his own free will (and agreed pretty quickly, though that might be more because the [supposed] plan was to kill Joker A) (and also bc Joker B has decided he's not the Joker after all and that he needs to kill Joker A after which I guess Joker B would... die? kill himself? i think? idk man) and he actually set up a distraction with Rose to prevent Bruce from interfering (bc I'd imagine Bruce wouldn't want him to kill Joker A 😒)

(side note: lost my shit laughing here at the entourage of actual bats following the batmobile)

(btw that kid with Rose up there ^ was part of Joker B's group and Jason had the condition that the kid be uninvolved if Joker B wanted Jason's help)

(that's why Rose has the kid with her, so Batman can help the kid)

ANYWAYS so Jason is at the fight because he wants to be/he has a chance to kill a Joker/Joker B gassed him into not being paralyzed by fear, so depending on which motivation you think is right then one could argue that it's Bruce's fault he's involved.

BUT ANWAYS.... the set-up here is: Joker B is driving a train that will (unbeknownst to Jason) crash into Gotham and cause a big boom. It's a trap to lure in Joker A - who wants to kill Joker B because there must only be one Joker, blah blah - and Joker A comes swooping in on a dirigible/blimp (filled with bombs) to blow up the train.

A big fight between them and the henchmen ensues, Jason gets Joker A at gunpoint, and then Joker B reveals the true plan, and Jason gets booted out of the conductor's car.

(btw i'm omitting panels that are unnecessary to my narration, there's more in-between chatter that makes the story flow better)

so Jason decides to go for the blimp and steals Killer Moth's suit-wings-jetpack-thing (no idea what it really is) to get there, and hijacks the blimp. He tries to call for Batgirl (Stephanie atm) and gets Batman instead, and outright tells Bruce that he chose to do this, and also that they need to stop the gas in the train and the bombs in the blimp somehow. But there's no way to do either in a way where the gas won't blow into the city anyway...

And so Jason's solution is...

a big explosion that eats up the gas with the bombs in the blimp.

(genuinely a miracle he's not dead just from that lmao)

And there's an argument to be made that, uh, Jason... drowned. And was dead. For a pretty solid amount of time.

and Rose resuscitates him!

Rose is a miracle-worker apparently lol

A N Y W A Y S the point is, yeah Bruce could be held responsible for part of this if you look at it a certain way. I definitely think Jason's plan of blowing up the ship he was on by crashing into something in order to save people is very reminiscent of a certain other time.....

.....yep.

[roxineedstosleep]

can i get a one shot with soft bruce shopping with his kids and making them try embarassing clothes that he thinks they'd look " adorable!!!!!!!" in lol

Dick loves his father. He really does.

He loves Bruce and could not deny him anything, as long as it was within reason or logic.

But now he doubted whether he could be strong for everyone and have to deny Bruce this. Especially with how excited he seemed to be about it.

"Bruce, I don't think…"

"Nonsense mate" Bruce interrupts him, making a hand gesture that makes the boutique clothesline jump up next to him with other garments "You said it yourself, we can't keep dressing up as majordomos for Halloween; we need to think of something else."

"But B -"

"Don't they look cute in those little ghost costumes?" exclaimed Bruce, totally stoked, seeing how he and his other siblings were being hidden in those hyper-realistic Snoppy ghost costumes "Although it feels a little empty, something else or-"

"Baba, I don't want to be a ghost!" exclaimed Damian, who nearly tripped over the sheet material, as he tried to get closer to Dick "I don't like the costume, I don't want to go out on the street like that!"

Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Now Bruce, his poor father, looked utterly heartbroken. His sky blue eyes were now wide open in shock, as if an ice cube had been thrown down his spine.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," Bruce said, now crouched down in front of his little brother, as he pulled the sheet off his head, revealing his face, which also held tears of regret, "I just wanted you to have a good costume for this year, but if you want to dress up as another-"

"What the spoiled brat means, old man, is that he doesn't like that oprque he's so small he trips" Jason cuts him off, saving the situation, and he gives Damian a little smack on the head "The kid won't stop falling if you don't cut off his costume."

"Oh that's right!!! I'm so sorry habibi, I totally forgot to look at that size thing" Bruce now looks more animated, as if Jason has given him the answers to the universe "Thanks for that Jaylad… although, speaking of size, I think you're a little big for Snoopy's little ghost costume, and I'll give you one of-"

"Just make it a bit bigger, the joke is that you can only see the soles of my shoe" adds his brother, quickly, as if he's afraid Brue will pull him out of the group costume… and knowing him, he'd really rather dress up as a sheet ghost than something else "Or I can swap mine with Damian's, which looks longer".

"Sure Jaylad, always so considerate" says Bruce.

Well… it looks like they're all going to have to be dressed up as Snoopy sheet ghosts, at least to keep Bruce happy.

But the situation improved when they saw their father wearing one just like theirs, but with a bow on it.

[o-uncle-newt]

Cabin Pressure Advent Day 27: Zurich Part 2

Okay, now that my face has loosened up from the grin it's been in for the last twenty minutes...

I think that it is important for me to say here that this is my favorite finale of anything ever (obviously in combination with Part 1). In any medium.* It's just so so perfect, emotionally resonant (which I don't need to devote SO much time to because as I noted JF did it perfectly here) and one of the funniest episodes JF ever wrote of anything.

It's also got some absolutely GENIUS plotting and impeccable attention to detail, including such tiny things as having Theresa establish in Part 1 that Martin has told her time and time again about the St Petersburg saga, and therefore she remembers enough about it to contribute when they're planning in Part 2 by pointing out that in St Petersburg Gordon would have been able to take anything small out of the aircraft. It's unnecessary- JF could have given the line to someone else- but the fact that he not only gave it to her but gave us enough information for it to make sense that she said it works so well. And then when there's "stop quickly" "that I can do," and Arthur screeches them to a halt, it's a perfect reminder from last episode about the brake pads, which is such subtle set up for Martin to suggest that they be given in lieu of payment. (Sure, if I were Bruce Fraser I'd be a BIT more suspicious that the guy who offered 14k only showed up with 12, but he's also the kind of guy who likes Arthur's Goofy painting so maybe it's just better all around not to trust his discernment.)

When I first listened to this episode exactly nine years ago, I was a couple of minutes late, and so it wasn't until months later that I first heard the amazing cold open with Tiffy. Which, by the way, is so so funny... I love it so much, it's just perfect as a recap-without-being-too-info-dumpy and as just a peek into Arthur's world. Which is fitting, because I really see this as Arthur's episode. There are very few episodes that feel that way- St Petersburg was KIND OF one, but it ended up being more about how the rest of them jump into action to protect him than him being able to do anything. But here... this is Arthur's moment! He's INCREDIBLY active in this episode, whether solving the ID problem or realizing that Gordon is trying to trick them. He doesn't usually get to be so it's really great

If I had to rank the others in terms of their relevance to the plot after Arthur, it would probably be Douglas, Carolyn, Martin. Douglas is definitely the key one, and I'd argue that without his key role, Martin would be basically irrelevant to the plot here- the episode tries to convince us that Martin might not take the job, but even once he has a real practical way to stay with MJN we kind of know he won't, and have known since Yverdon. But Douglas, as JF noted in Farewell Bear Facts, has to prove he's worthy of being captain and put himself on the line- and he has to be able to serve in a mentorly capacity for Arthur (where it's a bit more paternal, even) and Martin.

On that last note, I used to be a bit annoyed by Douglas telling Martin to take on his shtick, because I was like "Martin is fine just the way he is, imagine if he turns into DOUGLAS"- I still kind of think this way (though of course I'm sure it's more metaphorical than him pretending to be Douglas exactly) but relistening to the whole show, including some of my least favorites, reminds me that Martin could kind of use being someone else... who he used to be was really fucking annoying lol.

As far as Carolyn, I WILL add something about her journey here because JF doesn't mention it in his post. He talks about how her journey is to be more vulnerable to Herc, but I think it goes farther, in a way I've talked about here. The question she finally asks Herc- why does him saying he loves her mean something different now than it did to his previous exes- is her being vulnerable to HIM, but also an expression of an inability to be vulnerable that she'd shown to everyone, not just him. The whole time- til at least late S3, at least- she couldn't trust people, she felt like she needed to rule by fear, and it takes vulnerability for her to accept that eventually she's not the one in total control and people are doing things for her because they care about her and the company as something bigger than her and that it's not totally in her control. Maybe this episode it manifests itself in the question to Herc and being vulnerable to him... but it also manifests itself in her changing the name of the airline. It's OUR Jet Still.

A few smaller notes:

Martin, Douglas and Arthur all saying Yellow Car is my favorite thing ever

I use the phrase "a thousand strawberry lollies and the Princess of Liechtenstein" all the time and it's one of my favorite lines ever

The scene with Douglas-as-Gordon and Martin-as-Douglas is possibly the funniest exchange JF ever wrote (I feel like I say that kind of thing a lot)

And... "I hate flying into the sunset" is such a fantastic line to very-nearly-end on. It's a tie back to Limerick, but it's also an expression of how they literally are ending with a fairy tale ending, flying off into the sunset... which they'd all said wasn't possible in Zurich Part 1! Though Arthur was still right- it wasn't a totally fairytale ending, it was more like The Jungle Book. Martin's not there, he goes off with the girl to the human village. And so it's not a fairytale ending, where everything freezes at an unlikely ending point- it's BETTER. They're all in the best possible places for them, as characters, to continue, even if it's bittersweet, and it's amazing.

I do have to say- doing this every day has been such a joy. I may come back tomorrow to do a final thing but I'm not sure, but in the meantime, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoyed as much as I have!

*It used to be tied with the finale of Detectorists, and I still love the S3 finale, but they then fucked it up by doing that Christmas special last year which was honestly horrendous.

[kerakeriza]

Love Love Love your art!!! It’s sooo beautiful and the dialogue is top tier!!!! Can I ask what Damian’s relationship with his Mother and that side of his family is like in your universe??

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 💖

yeah of course! in newish earth, the foundation for their family dynamic comes from one book, batman: son of the demon. the only thing from that story not canon to my universe is talia giving her baby up for adoption. instead, she keeps him, and i'll tell you why.

so, if you haven't read it, what basically happens is that bruce and talia make their marriage official, they make love and conceive a child. when bruce hears about this, he's sooo so so happy! even ra's is happy, because his daughter is happy. ra's throws a big banquet and welcomes bruce into his family with open arms, and it's the sweetest thing ever honestly. but since they're all working on a mission together to stop some bad guys, of course trouble arises.

bruce puts himself in way too much danger just to protect his pregnant wife. talia realizes bruce is gonna get himself killed for her and their baby, so she lies and tells him that she miscarried so that he won't be so damn reckless just for his family. she tells him to leave her alone, and he does. (the next time bruce and talia meet in the comics, bruce is very bitter about what happened, and even though talia offers to give up her life as an assassin for him, he refuses, not only because it's too painful for him right now, but also because he knows he'd have to give up being batman to be truly happy with her, and he simply can't do that.)

keep all that in mind for the ghul family dynamics. so, on newish earth, talia raises damian as an assassin not because she's a maniacal psycho or whatever, but because she wants her son to be able to protect himself. she does plan to tell bruce about damian eventually, but only after she's sure that bruce doesn't need to be so lethally reckless just to protect his family. talia also gives damian the necklace that bruce gave her for their wedding, and when bruce sees this necklace, he's even more hurt, but it makes him realize how much he does still love and miss talia, how he never, ever could forget her, as much as he wanted to, as much as the lie of a miscarriage hurt him. as much as he wished he was there for damian when he was younger.

likewise, ra's has no problem retiring in this universe, and while he does pressure damian to stay with the league to be his heir so talia may leave and refuse the role of heir herself, he doesn't try to take over his damn body. he'd never do that to one of his family members. in this universe, the only person who wants to hurt damian is dusan, as he is jealous that he is not the "prince" of the family himself. talia had always been the favorite child, so ra's wasn't a perfect father, but he still wouldn't do something as crazy as trying to hurt his precious grandson.

so damian actually does love that side of his family, he just resents being brought up the way he was. when he was 10, he obviously didn't understand *why* talia didn't just run away with bruce and raise damian together with him, away from the assassins. but... at the same time... he also acknowledges how privileged and blessed that life was, too. as an assassin, the prince of the assassins in fact, he was gifted so many luxurious things, and he gave it all up to become robin. it was an actual decision that he had to make with actual consequences. it wasn't as if he was leaving an abusive situation and finding nothing but freedom. he was leaving a loving home and going into a new home that honestly treated him like garbage just for how he was raised, which he obviously had no control over. his own actual choices don't seem to matter at first.

anyway... that's pretty much it! i'm starting to ramble now. just know that nobody is perfect but they all try to do their best, from their own perspectives. except for dusan, because he's bitter and jealous lol.

[anawrites3]

King Bruce having nightmares every single night after "giving up" his son - about horrible things his mind keeps telling him happen to him under Wilson's "care", about Dick calling him, begging and crying when he's being raped and abused by his new husband, about his head coming back to him in pretty box one day...

(How's he dealing with whole situation btw? Knowing Bruce he's grieving already...)

Before we'll get to the story I'd like to apologize for how long it took me to answer your ask, anon. I'm very very sorry and I feel so awful about it but life's been crazy lately and i barely had any time to write at all. I want you to know that the moment I got your ask I literally gasped and went to writing it right away, that's how much I loved your idea. But after I started it and outlined the story a bit, I went back to finish other stuff I was working on earlier, thinking "hey, I'll finish those quickly and then I'll get back to this to write it properly." Annddd of course that didn't happen as life went "lol, good joke" and then kicked me in the shin, throwing stuff on me, because it's a little shit like that.

Again, I'm very very sorry. Thank you for being patient with me while I sorted out my stuff - it's better now so you won't have to wait this long for answer again, I promise. And anon, I want you to know that I love and appreciate you and that I'm very thankful for your ask because your idea is great and writing it was a pleasure. Thank you. Feel free to send me another ask to yell at me for taking so long haha

And now - finally!! - the story;

/ / / / / / /

"N-no... no, please- please!"

Dick desperately tried to crawl away, as much as he could with all the injuries he already received. The blood continued to seep from his wounds, leaving a red trail behind him while he did what he could to get as far away as it was possible.

He didn't manage to get far.

A broken scream, as loud as his already damaged throat allowed, forced itself out from between Dick's lips as his hand was crushed under a heavy boot. The sound of crunching bones, breaking under the weight of it was sickeningly loud in his own ears.

"Where do you think you're going?" Slade Wilson asked calmly, almost as if they were talking about the weather over the dinner table. He put even more pressure down on Dick's shattered hand and Dick trashed, desperate to pull away. Slade didn't even budge. "We're not quite done yet, my prince."

"No please- please, no more!" Dick sobbed. He was no longer fully aware of the words that were spilling out of his mouth, he didn't care, he just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to get away, he wanted to go back home, to his brothers, to Bruce. "Please, stop it!"

"Hm, no, I don't think I will." Slade smiled like a wolf hungry for blood, but he finally took his foot of Dick's hand.

Dick immediately cradled it against his naked chest, instinctively trying to protect it from getting hurt any further but he knew it didn't matter much anyway. If Slade wanted to hurt that hand more, he would, regardless of what Dick did.

"But you can keep begging. Who knows, maybe I'll change my mind?"

Slade pressed his boot against Dick's shoulder to forcefully turn him onto his back and Dick just sobbed again.

"P-please! Anyone! H-help me, please, anyone!" he screamed.

Like every other time he tried this, no one answered. No one rushed to save him. But he had to keep trying, he couldn't give up his only chance. There was no way he would be able to win against Slade alone (he knows, he tried that already) but maybe some of Slade's knights - even one, just one of them would be enough - would take pity on him and help him get away.

"Shh. There's no need to yell, sweetheart, no one will come anyway." Slade hummed, crunching down by his side.

He caressed Dick's bruised cheek almost gently and wiped off his tears with a thumb before trailing his fingers higher, to burrow them into Dick's hair. They were wet and sticky with sweat and blood but Slade didn't seem to mind.

"Why would they?" he continued instead, arching Dick's neck to expose his throat more. "After all, you're spending a nice night with your husband right now. You wouldn't want anyone to interrupt us, hmm?"

"No no no-" Dick babbled. He tried to shake his head but Slade's fingers just tightened in his hair and he could just yelp at the painful tug.

Slade ignored him for the sake of pressing his lips against Dick’s neck. The kiss was gentle, with Slade's lips barely brushing against the skin and the deep bruises in the shape of fingers that bloomed there. Dick's breath heaved and he forced himself to keep breathing, to not choke on another sob that tried to escape him.

Even with the touch so gentle, it felt as if Slade's lips were burning him, painting his skin with their touch. Even when he pulled away a moment later, Dick still could feel them there, marking, branding him. New silent tears fell down his temples.

"Just look at you." Slade murmured. His hot breath caressed the sensitive skin of Dick’s throat, as he struggled to swallow. "Pretty little thing."

Slade’s teeth closed over the side of his neck and Dick screamed.

"Please, please! L-let me go!"

He managed to grab at Slade's nape and his nails dug into the skin there but it was as if the man didn't even feel it.

"Let you go?" Slade repeated with a mocking laugh. He pulled away to admire the mark he just left and fondly traced it with his thumb. "Now, that wouldn't be fun at all. Apart from that, where would you even go? Defiance is your home now, little prince. No no, I'd rather have you here with me."

When Slade jerked him higher, manhandling him any way he liked, Dick couldn't do anything but let it happen. He was forced into a not-quite-sitting but not-quite-lying position and his hand slipped on the wet floor a few times when he tried to support his weight and not strain his muscles any further. Slade hummed softly, satisfied.

Their lips crashed together in a bruising kiss Dick had no way of escaping. It was hungry, savage almost, with Slade taking everything he wanted from him and showing in yet another way how little power Dick held now. The meat he got to eat earlier that night, the wine Slade could still taste on his tongue, Dick got them only because Slade agreed to it. As the king's consort he was stripped of any privileges he had as Gotham's crown prince. Now he wasn't anything more than just a pretty thing perched on Slade's arm.

Slade's teeth tore into Dick's lower lip and he didn't even have the time to whine before blood flooded his mouth. Slade tilted his head to be more comfortable and licked between his lips to taste him better, not caring for the way Dick choked a little.

Dick wondered if spitting the blood on him would be worth it.

"I hate you, I hate you-"

"I don't care, boy." Slade laughed, pulling away. His teeth were red from Dick's blood. "Hate me all you want, wish me death, try to take my life. I'll win either way. You'll just make it more interesting for me."

He pushed Dick back almost carelessly and the young consort fell down, his back hitting the floor painfully with a thud. For a moment, Slade just looked at him - taking in the bare skin, every bruise and cut he made that night, admiring the work of his hands, teeth and knives. Hm. Perhaps he will use a whip next time.

In that time, Dick managed to get a few meters away but it really didn't matter much. Slade crossed the distance in a few lazy steps before he drapped himself over Dick, settling on his hips to hold him down again.

"And now," Slade purred out, leaning over him. He placed his hands on either side of Dick's head and Dick no longer could see anything else, not even the ceiling of the room. Only Slade, always only Slade. "we're getting to the fun part."

"N-no, please..." Dick sobbed again. He squeezed his eyes shut so he didn't have to look at how pleased Slade looked. At Slade's lips, stretched in a smirk still red with his blood, at that cold eye full of sick cruelty. "B-Bruce! Bruce, please please, help me!"

"Calling your daddy now?" Slade laughed. "He won't save you either, boy."

"N-no, he will!" Dick argued, almost hysterically. "He'll help me, he won't let you-!"

"Oh, but you're forgetting about one little thing." Slade drawled, as his fingers closed over Dick's chin hard enough to bruise, to force him to look in that cold eye. Slade waited for him to open his eyes before continuing, "I own you now, little prince. Your father was the one to sell you out. And now you belong to me..."

"Dick!"

Bruce woke up with a gasp, sitting up so abruptly that he almost fell off the bed. It took him a moment to realize that he was the one screaming and then a few more to fight off nausea. Oh Gods. Oh Gods, it was a dream, just a dream... was it really only a dream?

"Your Majesty?"

Bruce looked up. The doors to his chambers were wide open, knights guarding them were inside and looking over the whole room and its balcony, while the kerosene lamp illuminated them all.

"Your Majesty, are you alright? We heard you scream."

Bruce could just nod in answer. His hands were shaking so much that even clenching them into fists didn't stop the trembling.

He stood up from the bed quickly and stumbled across the chambers to get to the doors. His knights - who already made sure that their king wasn't in any danger and that no one broke into his chambers - observed him with concern. Bruce didn't pay them the slightest of his attention. He needed... he needed to-

"No, please- please!"

He felt as if he was drunk, stumbling and bumping into everything on his way but he didn't care. The bruise on his hip from hitting into a wall will heal. The knights he pushed out of his way will be okay. He didn't give a shit about any of it.

"Something's wrong. Quickly, go get sir Alfred!"

"And what about lord Kent?"

"There's no time, go already!"

Bruce stopped before Jason's chambers, swaying on his feet. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to yell, cry, slam his fists into the stone wall until his hands were broken but he needed to know that Jason was safe first. It was his fault, all his fault that Dick had to leave and marry that monster. He already lost one child, sold him out, he couldn't bear to lose another one.

"Get out of my way." He ordered the knights guarding his son's room. They eyed him, concerned for his almost delirious state and didn't step aside to let him pass. "I said, move!"

He pushed them away, reaching for the handle. His elbow throbbed from the force with which he hit the knight to move him away but he didn't care, he didn't give a shit right now, the knight had an armor on, Bruce is paying him anyway-

Empty.

Jason's bed was empty.

Bruce rushed deeper inside the chamber. The bed, the bed was empty, as well as the armchair Jason liked to read in, the sofas, the balcony, the ensuite bathroom, it was empty, it was all empty, he wasn't here-

"Where's my son?!" Bruce yelled. The walls seemed to shake from the volume of his voice, or maybe it was because of his rage, of his despair?

Knights didn't answer him fast enough and so he ran out of the chambers and down the hall. His legs didn't want to work properly, he was shaking so much that he wasn't entirely sure which way was forward. He didn't even notice when tears began to blur everything around and oh, maybe that's why he was choking.

"Jason!" he screamed, completely hysterical. He moved around the knights that tried to stop him. "Jason!!"

Someone grabbed him from behind and Bruce didn't think before whirling around and punching them straight in the face. He won't let anyone stop him, he has to find Jason, make sure he is safe.

"Master Bruce, stop right now!" Bruce recognized Alfred's voice but he didn't listen.

He just kept running, opening random doors and yelling for his son. Because Jason had to be there, somewhere, he didn't just disappear. There were so many people in the castle, the knights, servants and maids that were still finishing their duties or simply making sure that the fire in their chambers was still burning. Someone would see if Jason left, or if-

If someone took him away.

Bruce's legs buckled under him and he distantly felt the dull pain in his knees where they hit the floor. Everything, everyone around him seemed to stop as well, now that he wasn't running around anymore and they didn't have to chase him.

"Master Bruce." Alfred breathed out softly, kneeling down beside him. His arms wrapped around Bruce and he let himself be held for a moment, just crying quietly.

"Alfred..." he sobbed. There were people around them but he didn't care if they saw him break down. He was paying them to keep quiet of the things that happened in his home. He can always throw them in a cell too. "Alfred, Jason's gone, I can't find him anywhere. I failed Dick, I sold him out to that monster and now... now Jason too is-"

"Bruce! Bruce, what happened?!"

Bruce looked up just in time to see Jason push through the knights surrounding them. His hair was tousled as if he just woke up but he was still wearing his daily clothing and not sleepwear.

Jason basically ran to him, face twisted with worry. He let Bruce embrace him, despite being a maturing teenager and those never wanted to hug their fathers (except for Dick, Dick loved hugs, he loved all the contact he could get-) and buried his face in Bruce's collarbone.

"Jason, oh Gods, Jason-" Bruce babbled, hiding his face in his son's curly hair.

He couldn't get rid of the image from the nightmare from his head, he could still vividly see Wilson's smirking face, dirty with Dick's blood and so full of sadistic pleasure.

Bruce, please please, help me!

"I'm here, dad." Jason said, his voice quiet but firm and Bruce could breathe again, however shaky his breath was. "'m here and I'm alright. Everything's alright."

No, it's not, Bruce wanted to scream but couldn't push the words past his lips, Dick is still with that awful man, helpless and so far away from home.

Alfred rubbed his warm hand between Bruce's shoulder blades and Bruce trembled, holding Jason even tighter. It had to be at least a little bit uncomfortable but Jason didn't say a word about it.

"Let's get you both to bed now." Alfred suggested in a warm voice. "It's the middle of the night and a lot has happened in this short time. I bet you are quite tired, my king."

Bruce let them help him to his feet and led back to his chambers but he still didn't let go of Jason. For once, Jason wasn't opposed to it at all, keeping close and making sure that they were pressed together so Bruce could feel him and know he was there. And Bruce wanted to start crying again because the action was so Dick that it physically hurt his chest. The way Dick always cared for them all and how he always made sure that they got enough of hugs and human contact, how he teached their siblings about how important it was to get at least one hug a day.

So lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice when they entered his chambers and the doors closed behind them, separating him, Jason and Alfred from the rest of the castle. Jason sat down on the bed's edge with him and he rested his head on his son's shoulder. Suddenly, he felt so damn drained.

"Jason?"

"I'm still here." Jason immediately answered, squeezing his hand.

Bruce breathed out slowly, "I'm... I'm sorry for- for this. I didn't want to worry you."

Alfred didn't argue that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much he wanted to. They all knew that Bruce wouldn't agree with him and they'd just start arguing about silly things, while there were more important matters at hand, such as making sure that Bruce was well.

"It's alright." he said instead, handing the man a glass of water.

Bruce took it gratefully, finally feeling how sore his throat was from all the screaming and crying. He felt much better just after a few sips.

"What happened?" Jason prompted after a few minutes of silence. When Alfred didn't scold him for it, he continued. "I heard you screaming and came as fast as I could but..."

"I behaved like a child." Bruce sighed. The glass shook slightly in his grip. "I... I had a nightmare and- wanted to, no, I needed to know that you're safe and uninjured, Jaylad. When I went into your chambers and saw that you weren't there... I'm sorry. You shouldn't see me in a state like that. I shouldn't let all of the stuff see me like that."

"Oh come on, Bruce, it's not your fault!" Jason scoffed, pressing even closer to him. "Even if you're a king you're still only a human, just like we all are. That had to be one hell of a nightmare to scare you like this."

Alfred frowned at the words and he parted his lips to scold Jason for cursing but before he could, Bruce nodded, "Yeah... it was."

"...What was it about?"

"Master Jason!"

"What?! I'm just curious!"

Bruce shook his head but a small smile finally tugged at his lips.

"Not important right now." he breathed. It really wasn't. It was... it was just a dream. None of this was real. "I'd rather know what you were up to that late in the night, Jay."

A blush climbed onto Jason's cheeks and he turned away, as if that would make Bruce unable to see the way the tips of his ears turned red as well.

"I went to read in the library." came the shy, mumbled answer. "And then fell asleep there, in the window nook."

Alfred murmured something about reading in the lamp's light and bad eyesight. Bruce didn't really understand much of it because he was too busy laughing. He actually felt a little bit sick from it again but he couldn't help himself. The library. Of course.

"How did I not think of that?" he chuckled. "Of course you were in the library, Jaylad. Did you find anything interesting?"

Jason shrugged but he was nodding at the same time. "I did, actually. Why else would I stay up?"

"We both know that it's not a real issue for you, Master Jason." Alfred sighed. "You could always be reading one of your favorite titles again."

"Maybe but not this time, Alfie! Bruce got us new books from Defiance writers and I was looking through them all evening."

Bruce's smile faded a bit at the mention of Wilson's country but he quickly pushed the thoughts about him away. There was nothing he could do about it now anyway.

"Anything interesting?" he asked and Jason perked up, as he always did when he got to talk about his books.

"Yeah, the one I'm reading right now is actually pretty cool! The story takes place several centuries ago so I get to know about Defiance's history and its customs and- um. Maybe it's a little late to tell you all about it." he cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his head in a nervous habit both Bruce and Alfred tried to teach him out of. It only made his bed hair even more messy.

"That's alright." Bruce hummed, placing a kiss on his son's forehead. "How about you tell me all about it in the morning instead?"

Jason didn't beam at his words - not like Dick would - but it was a close thing. He pulled Bruce into one last hug before standing up. "Alright. That sounds good. I'm... I'll be in my room this time, if you need me."

Bruce smiled fondly.

"Thank you, Jaylad. But hopefully I won't and we'll get to sleep through the rest of the night without any further troubles."

Jason bid both him and Alfred goodnights with a smile before walking out of the chamber. Bruce waited a few more moments, to make sure he was far enough, before he turned to face Alfred properly. Alfred was already standing by his side, waiting.

"We are leaving for Defiance first thing after the breakfast." he ordered, not even a trace of his smile left. "Please make sure that everything will be ready by then."

"Very well, Your Majesty. Shall I inform lord Kent about the journey?"

Bruce shook his head, eyes hardening. "No. I don't need Clark's help to kill that bastard if I see even a scratch on my son."

Masterlist of the au

[just-an-enby-lemon]

hope you dont mind getting asks but your post about your favorite Riddlers being the ones that are unapologetically themselves made me remember the One Bad Day version and how that one seems to genuinely hate everything that makes Riddler the character he is. He is a mostly serious person, he says he isn't "fun" and doesn't want to be considered fun, his weirdness is mostly an act and he hates riddles and puzzles because they're the one thing he's bad at. and idk something about that is just kind of sad to me, it feels like it's treated like it isn't possible for the character to be genuinely silly and fun while also being a competent villain and not just a joke. what's your thoughts on that?

Don't be sorry, I really like asks (that was why I turned my ask buttom in a non-straight test lol).

I think that was the first time someone put into words my problems with One Bad Day, I never could explain why something didn't fit until reading this and I agree completly. It's a thing that recent writers do a lot with Riddler in a way to try to merge his characther into a more dark and "realistic" characther and while I think it can lead to a good story (look no futher than The Batman for that) it misses something that for me is the core of his characther (not only the fact he is unapologetically himself but in most medias also his games motifs) and it doesn't need to be like that.

Au contrary I think it would be a very interesting thing to present a characther that after being repetedly abused for the things that made him different instead of repressing it doubled down on it to the extreme were he won't hear any valid criticism because in his head it's just more of the abuse. Someone who is themselfs not for self-love but for hatred and pettiness. "You wanted me to stop playing games? Oh yeah? What if I turn this mundane thing into a game? Not good enough? What if I turn life into a game? Not pissed yet? What if I stop seeing value in other peoples lifes because it's all a part of the game? Ah that got you, hn."

He is himself to the level that it stops being a quality and he can't even recognize the things he does because of his OCD compulsions as something out of his control that he should treat (and the same for all his mental illnesse) because it's part of him and how dare you want him to change? (Now that is not necessarialy how I see him but it's a way more efetive way to make him a competent villan and genuinally terrifying without taking alway all the silly things that make him himself.)

In this way his obcessive fear of changing can be compared with Bruce obcessive fear of growing pass his grief. They don't get better because they don't want to, can't.

Anyway that is just one of various alternative readings but my point is being silly and dramatic is part of his characther and I think that taking it for him is less about making the story more realistic and more about how people see silliness as a weakness, they can't fantom that reality can be dark and cruel and still have a touch of unreality. That not everything makes sense and that a media about a man dressed as a bat can be serious while being absurd.

In a less negative note about the comic you could interpret that Edward Tierney was the mask, that the fun and the games was who he was and that being forced to be that serius boy was what broke him and that in the end the mentality that he couldn't have that fun caused by the abuse was what made he be unable to sustain the Riddler forever. Of course it takes away his hate for riddles and puzzles (i rly can't defend that) and it's a very flatering reading, but hey it's possible.

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

Which unpopular archetype are you ?

     𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙴𝚁

you got fucked up something awful. sorry. i don’t know why or when it got so bad for you, but now that heat feels so true to you that it’s hard to imagine a you without it. there’s nothing grand about the damage you do. it isn’t the kind that people write stories about. for this reason, it’ll be a while before anyone stops you, if they ever come around to it. it’s all the more likely that you’ll have to dig your own way out of this pit. one day you won’t even remember how blood tasted. the rage won’t keep you warm forever, killer! 

                                         personality: intense, introspective, edgy                                                                                   counterpart: the dark horse

TAGGED BY: @tharanduil​ thank u sandra xoxooxxxoo TAGGING: @banschivs​ @belndes​ @ljusaga​ @etherealbound​ @fuckingvictus​ @lapeirla​ @nyiwo​ @plckybecky​ @rotnight​ @wasworthy​ @theyeardecembered​ && you !!

[p-taryn-dactyl]

A Soul For a Soul

a/n: i think at this point im just writing too much lol but anyways: ANGST. this is angst, that's it. that's the plot. ~angst~. so people liked my best friend reader x yelena fics so i decided to uhhh do the opposite? if thats what this is lol

warnings: as said above, this is angst. long. also terribly written lmao. gif not mine

tw: mentions of suicide and self hate.

word count: 3.3k

taglist: @coolbeans32

prompt: the world needed natasha, yelena needed her favorite sister back, and you - you knew how to make that happen. but at what cost? (reminder: hawkeye takes place a year and two months after endgame- at least that's what i heard so thats what im using)

pairing(s): yelena x sister!reader; natasha x sister!reader; kate x reader; thor x platonic!reader; guardians of the galaxy x platonic!reader

You stood on the ledge, hands in your pockets as you gazed down below. So this is where she died. Where Natasha decided to sacrifice herself for the greater good. Resentment stirred in your stomach. Normally, being at this height would make your head light and vision blurry but today- today your mind was clear. You knew what you had to do. Closing your eyes, you took a step back away from the cliff, letting the memoires wash over you one last time.

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

It was like being hit by a truck when everyone but Natasha came back from the Time Heist. You couldn't move from you spot, curled up against the wall - knees to your chest, for what seemed like hours. Clint explained what had happened. How he tried to stop her but she wouldn't let him. But all you could think of was how you were alone. Both of your sisters - gone, in only the span of five years. You didn't let yourself cry in front of the Avengers. You wouldn't let them think you weaker than they already did. But that night, your body was wracked with sobs, air desperately trying to fill your lungs. She was gone. Really, truly gone. The walls felt like they were caving in, trapping you alone in your sadness. What were you going to do now?

Bruce brought everyone back. Later, you were told that Yelena's first thought after reappearing was Natasha. She never mentioned you.

The battle happened. Everything went by in a blur. Thanos was defeated, Tony sacrificed himself. Now you had lost your sister and one of your only friends. You left immediately for NYC, finding an affordable apartment, trying to get some sense of normalcy. And for a while, you found her. Kate Bishop. One day, while you were sitting in a cafe, she walked in - wearing a sweatshirt covered in what looked like ash. The lady behind the register laughed.

"Kate Bishop, did you burn your breakfast again?" Kate nodded her head sheepishly before sitting in the booth you were in, obviously exhausted. She banged her head on the table before looking up and practically jumping out of her skin when she saw you. You waved awkwardly. Kate smiled nervously.

"Uh...hi? OH! I'm so sorry, I'll move-" You shook your head, for some reason, you didn't want her to leave.

"No! Uh, I mean, no it's- it's fine." You smiled softly at Kate, who grinned back at you, "I'm [name]. You're Kate Bishop?" She laughed and nodded.

"I'm kind of a regular here. Everytime I convince myself, 'maybe the cereal won't catch fire this time' and try to make my own breakfast, my smoke alarm is going off and I end up here. I'm not complaining though- their pancakes are kick ass." After that, you and Kate formed a quick friendship, which quickly led to more. You had been dating for a year before you heard the rumors. A Black Widow had been hired to kill Hawkeye. And she was coming to New York. Using every means necessary, you tried to get Yelena to notice you. To get her to visit. But she never came. Eventually, you stopped, not wanting your sister to control your new life. But when Kate met Clint Barton, started working with him, your life shattered. Kate told you of Natasha's sister, Yelena, who had broken into Kate's apartment. They had mac n' cheese together. Yelena warned Kate to stay out of her way. She threatened your girlfriend.

In the end, you made it to the party, desperately looking through the crowds of people evacuating for Kate and or your sister. What you found broke your heart. Yelena beating the crap out of Clint, calling him pathetic, until he did the whistle. The sound that acted as a barrier between you and your two sisters. You heard Yelena sob before proclaiming how much she loved Natasha and how she was all Yelena had. All at once, every thought of you not being enough resurfaced. You weren't the one Yelena wanted. It was Natasha. Natasha would always be Yelena's favorite sister, while you stood on the sidelines doing anything to get your big sister's attentions. A thought sparked through your mind, a phrase Clint had said. A soul for a soul. Turning around before your sister or Clint could see you, you pulled out your transponder, sending a message to Thor, who had been hanging with the self proclaimed Guardians of the Galaxy for the past year. They had all regularly checked up on you, constantly offering you a place on the team. But after meeting Kate, you rejected the offer each time.

"[Name]!" You heard your girlfriend's voice echo through the streets, her footsteps running up to you, "I was so worried about you! You weren't returning my calls and everything was going to shit and I didn't know if you were okay-" You cut her off with a tight hug before bringing her head down for a kiss. Slow and deep, you savored the taste of your girlfriend. You knew it would be one of the last times you would ever kiss.

"I love you." You murmured, Kate's face blushing before she pecked your cheek and tightened the hug. You pulled away, taking a deep breath.

"I- I have to go on a trip for a while." You forced out, watching as Kate's face twisted into an expression of confusion.

"Wha-why? Now?" Her voice held an edge of panic to it so you cupped her face with your palms, looking into her eyes.

"Kate, I-" you sighed, before telling Kate everything. Well, not everything. Just that you were the forgotten sibling of Natasha and Yelena, that you had no idea that any of this would happen, and that you needed to see the spot your sister died. For closure. Surprisingly, Kate wasn't angry. She understood why you hadn't told her. Which made your heart hurt worse.

In the evening, you heard the sounds of a space ship hovering above your apartment building. You grabbed your bag, packed so Kate wouldn't worry, and turned to go to the roof. Arms wrapped around your waist and you felt a kiss on the neck.

"Come back safe okay?" You turned towards your girlfriend, who had a look on her face you couldn't describe.

"Don't worry, I'll be back for Christmas at Clint's farm." That seemed to satisfy Kate, who let you go. You pecked her lips one last time before turning and walking out the door. Thor was waiting for you when you walked out, the giant of a man scooping you into a giant hug.

"It is so good to see you again [Name]! How are you?" You lied, saying you were fine, and boarded. In a flash of light, you were approaching Vormir.

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

And that's how you ended up here. Standing on the very spot where Natasha leaped off the edge - all for a glowing orange stone. You had decided it was time when a voice sounded from behind you.

"In all my years, I've never seen anyone jump without asking for the stone," The Red Skull floated beside you, his cloak flaring around in the wind, "But you do request something in return." You set your shoulders back, chin up.

"A soul for a soul? Isn't that the deal you have here? I'll give you mine if you bring her back." The Red Skull nodded, understanding what you were asking.

"Natalia Romanova. The one who sacrificed herself in love for Clint Barton. You wish to bring her back. You must know child, I do not make the rules. If the One Who Sees All approves, they will take your offer. If not, then you will have left everyone who you love and who loves you, alone." You hung your head, shrugging.

"I wouldn't be missed that much anyways."

"You can't possibly believe that." Rocket's voice startled you, making you turn around. The Guardians all stood behind you, their faces ones of shock and sadness. Thor stepped forward.

"[Name], I understand it's been hard-"

"No you don't!" You yelled, every emotion bubbling to the surface, causing tears to fill your eyes, "You don't know what it's like to always be the third choice. Not even the second! I was never seen growing up, it was always 'Natasha this' or 'Yelena that'! In the Red Room, Natasha was the prodigy who escaped, Yelena was the greatest assassin after our sister and me? Me?! I'm the one Dreykov had killed, the only reason I survived wasn't because of my skill but because the Widow assigned to me hesitated. I survived because of a fault in the programming. None of them looked for me! They knew I was alive and they. didn't. look. for. me! Natasha, figured out I was alive when she walked into SHIELD for the first time and saw me there. I was at SHIELD first but she," You sobbed, "She was everyone's favorite. Fury's favorite, Coulson's favorite, Hill's favorite. She was the first choice for the Avengers Initiative. She didn't even talk to me unless she had to! We only grew close after Thanos beCAUSE I WAS THE ONLY ONE THERE! I WAS THERE FOR HER AND SHE STILL JUMPED. SHE TOLD CLINT HE HAD A FAMILY BUT WHAT ABOUT ME? DID I NOT MATTER? I WASN'T ENOUGH, I WON'T BE ENOUGH UNTIL I BRING HER BACK. Yelena didn't even care about me when she came back. Her only thought was Natasha, she never thought to think how I was doing - her younger sister who had lost both of her older sisters. She didn't visit me. I had thought we had grew close after the fall of the Red Room but apparently not. Guys, I'm-I'm tired. I'm tired of my family casting me away. The world needs Natasha, Yelena needs Natasha. She doesn't want me - she never has. I won't be anyone's third choice anymore." When you finished your rant, tears were streaming down your face, and everyone - including the Red Skull- looked shocked. Rocket took a step forward.

"What about Kate? Are you her third choice? How will this affect her?" You swallowed back a sob at Rocket's question, shaking your head and looking away.

"Kate- Kate is strong...She'll get over me quickly and find someone better." Peter scoffed.

"Okay fine, you want your family to stop casting you away? Let us become your new family. [Name], you wouldn't be our third choice - ever. And Kate? She could never find anyone as amazing as you are. So come with us okay?" He held out a hand, "Kate can come with us - I'm sure she'll love to see space." You chuckled, imagining Kate's face pressed against the windows of the Milano, watching in amazement as stars blurred by. You nodded, stepping towards Peter, taking his hand. The entire group seemed to let out a breath. You let yourself walk with them for a few feet, with each step you could practically feel the stress leaving their bodies.

You almost changed your mind.

But then the flashes happened. The flashes of Yelena's disappointed face when you came back, after the Guardians eventually tell her what you were going to do. You imagined her asking you why? Why didn't you do it. So, you took a deep breath and looked around you, at the people, the only ones, who would probably miss you. Warmth blossomed in your chest, thankful for these last moments with the ones who cared. But all good things must end.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold of Vormir's entry, you pushed Thor's hand away from yours, twisting his arm back with all your strength. The God of Thunder let out a surprised grunt, the Guardians taking a step back as the tall man tumbled forward. You took a step back before turning around and running full speed towards the edge.

It was like time stopped turning. You could hear the Guardians behind you, each one rushing to grab you. You heard Quill power on his rockets, propelling him forward. You slid to the ground, quickly spinning around and using Peter's body, you kicked him back while flipping off the edge. You let your body relax, feeling the wind rushing behind your back, curling around you like one last hug. You saw Nebula reaching her arm off the cliff, a failed attempt to grab you. Rocket sat on the edge, his eyes full of regret as he watched you fall to your death. There was nothing you could do. You were already dead.

Before you hit the ground, you swore you saw Natasha beside you. You could feel her shaking your body - screaming no over and over. But you blinked and she was gone. The last thing you saw was the brightest light you've ever seen rising into the sky, exploding into a multitude of colors - illuminating the horizon with your soul.

Then...nothing.

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

Kate stood outside Clint's farm, watching the sky for any trace of your return. She had been at the Barton family residence for hours, patiently - okay fine - anxiously awaiting your return.

"Kate Bishop, staring at the sky isn't going to make her arrive any faster." Yelena's voice startled Kate.

"Oh come on, you can't blame me for being excited! It's Christmas! Plus, she's your sister Yelena. You should be waiting with me! Aren't you one bit excited to see her again?" Yelena acted indifferent for a moment before smiling.

"I am, Kate Bishop, it has been a while since I've seen my little sister. But I will wait where there is food and warmth." Kate laughed before nodding.

"Okay, okay. I'll come inside." Looking one last time into the sky, Kate walked into the house, where Clint, Laura, and their kids sat at the table, laughing at a story Clint was telling. Kate and Yelena sat down, leaving a seat in between them. Conversation flowed easily but each second felt like an hour to Kate, who's leg wouldn't stop bouncing from excitement. Suddenly, a large gust of wind burst into the room, rattling dishes and creaking the home's foundations. There was a bright burst of light and a figure stepped out. The room went quiet. Yelena felt tears and joy building up in her chest.

"Nat-Natasha?" The Black Widow looked confused but welcomed her sister as the blonde barreled into her, grasping her tightly into a hug.

"A miracle." Clint whispered in awe. The next few minutes were full of joy stained tears and lengthy but quick explanations. Kate stood apart from the group, waiting for her widow to show up. Soon, the group heard the Milano land next to the house. Kate sprinted out, Yelena and Natasha right behind her. Nat was the only one who felt dread building inside of her when you didn't walk off the ship. Kate looked behind the Guardians, oblivious to their somber and angry expressions.

"Where's [name]? Is she using the bathroom or something?" At the Guardians silence, Kate laughed nervously, no humor in her tone.

"Come-come on guys where is she? This isn't funny." Kate's voice was full of panic, her chest felt tight and her breaths labored. Clint placed his hand on Kate's shoulder, worry filling face. Yelena stepped towards the Guardians, annoyance flaring in her eyes.

"Where is our sister?" She asked, her voice hard as Natasha placed a hand on her arm.

"Yel-"

"Oh, so now you care about her!" Rockets incredulous exclamation shocked the two Widows. No Guardian made a move to stop Rocket's rant.

"What about when Dreykov tried to kill her? Did you care about her then? Or when everyone was dusted? Did you even try to be there for her? Or when Natasha died!" Yelena's eyes grew wide and she started to shake her head rapidly, fearful of what Rocket was about to say, "You were never there for her! You weren't her family!"

"How dare you-" Yelena started but Natasha brought her hand up to silence the angry blonde.

"Rocket." Her voice was chilly, like she was encasing all her emotions in ice and packing them far inside her mind - protecting her from what she was about to hear, "Where. Is. [Name]." Rocket let out a sob, his normally tough exterior cracking, showing his vulnerable heart to the world.

"Where do you think?" Came Nebula's rough voice, her fists clenched and body stiff as Gamora held her sister back from pouncing, "We went to Vormir. She- she said she wanted to see where you died." Kate was rapidly shaking her head, shoving her hands in her coat pocket. It's just a bad dream, you'll wake up any second now. She kept telling herself. Tears were building up in her eyes, flowing over and streaming down her face. Yelena was practically rocking back and forth on her heels, arms wrapped around herself as if to protect her. Gamora stepped forward, in front of Nebula, her eyes hard yet also full of pity.

"Vormir requires a soul sacrifice for the Soul Stone but-" She swallowed, shaking her head and making direct eye contact with Natasha, "for every person sacrificed, their soul can be retrieved, by another giving up their life- permanently. That's what [name] did for you Natasha. She thought," Gamora's voice broke, her own cool exterior falling apart, "She thought this would make everyone happier. You were always the favorite, she said. She thought she didn't matter enough to anyone, that she wasn't worth anything except bringing you back. Why would you push her to this?" Towards the end, Gamora had started to yell. Her voice broke on every word, like her heart was projecting it's sadness. At the silence of Natasha and Yelena, Gamora yelled.

"Don't you understand? She's gone! [Name] is dead and it's all your fault! Your sister is dead!" Gamora leaned her head on Peter's shoulder, "She's dead."

Kate fell to the ground, her body shaking from the sobs wracking her form. With trembling hands, she reached inside her pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

"Kid..." Clint tried to place a comforting hand on Kate's shoulder but she slapped it away. She glared at the two Widows before standing up and walking away. Yelena stared at the ground, her mouth trembling as sobs threatened to break out. Natasha clawed at her chest, angry at the universe, angry at herself, angry at her soul. She moved her hands up to her head as memories flashed by. Your first birthday, your first mission, the day you saw her at SHIELD - eyes full of hope that was crushed when she walked away indifferent. Collapsing to the ground, Natasha clasped the area where her heart was and raising her head to the sky, released a scream so loud, it shook both Heaven and Hell, making even the most powerful beings look away in sorrow. Yelena just whispered, "My fault, my fault, not again, I can't do this again," over and over.

As Kate walked to her car, she heard Natasha's scream. Shaking her head, she collapsed in the drivers seat, sobbing into her hands. A light gust of wind blew through the vehicle. I'm sorry, my love. Through her tears, Kate opened the box, revealing a sparkling silver ring, simple yet elegant. As the light breeze circled around her, Kate felt as if you were sitting next to her. She swallowed.

"I had a whole speech planned, [name], a whole plan," she laughed through her tears, "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, why- why would you?" She broke down into tears, not able to finish her sentence. I would've said yes, a voice whispered in her ear, sounding like yours. Thinking her grieving mind was playing a trick on her, Kate wiped away her tears and put her seatbelt on. But when she looked out the window, she saw a figure in the horizon - glowing the colors of a sunset. You raised your hand and waved one last time before dissolving into light, once again painting the horizon with your soul.