#Bats oneshots

[crazynightmarething]

"Hey, guys." Kai randomly started, walking out of his room, into the living room where Clam, Raven and Max sat. Raven's legs in Max's lap, both of them looking at Raven's phone and Clam sitting across from them, looking at her own phone.

"Yo?" Raven said as she looked up from her phone.

"What if I like... Accidentally fell and got an entire sleeve of tattoos?" Kai mentioned hesitantly, rubbing his neck.

"If you what now?" Clam replied incredulously after the entire room went silent for a minute.

"I think he just said, 'If I accidentally fell and got an entire sleeve of tattoos.'" Max replied dryly, interrupting Kai from repeating his words, making Clam throw the older woman a sarcastic face.

"I fucking heard. I'm just processing."

"If we just left you to process whenever anyone said anything, you'd never have a conversation." Raven grumbled under her breath, sitting up so she could look at Kai, ignoring Clam's "Hey!" of upset.

"And you're an idiot." Raven snapped at Kai.

"No, I'm not! It's a cool idea, and you know it!" Kai defended himself, putting his hands up in surrender, "You said like twenty times last month when Max said she liked tattoos that you'd cover yourself in them."

Raven blushed at the mention of her previous words, "I did get a bunch of tattoos. But, that's not the point. Don't be an idiot."

"Like permanently?..." Kai made a disgusted face as he flopped (flomped.) down into a chair

"Permanently would be nice, but we're not expecting that much from you." Max grumbled under her breath and Raven giggled, kissing her girlfriend's cheek proudly while Kai gasped in shock.

"You don't believe I can make good, healthy choices?" He asked incredulously.

"You have an intense need to relive the years you missed as a teen, so no." Clam put her legs up to rest against the arm of the chair Kai was sprawled out on.

"I do not have an intense need to relive the years I missed when I was a teen!"

"Yeah, right!" Max snorted.

"Wow!" Kai drawled, "Okayyyy! I see how it is."

"You wanna prove us wrong?" Raven asked with a cocky smile on her face, "How about a bet? Be a normal adult, do normal adulting things for one week with no impulse doing, no randomly buying things, no signing up for dumb shit like abseiling, and we'll pay you a tenner each. If you fail, you give us each a tenner."

Kai thought for a minute, "I could gain thirty pounds, but I could also go poor thirty pounds..." He thought out loud before he sighed, "Fuck it. One week of not doing dumb shit."

"Why did you do that, Raven?" Max jokingly scolded her girlfriend, "This could do either way."

"Kai's too impulsive not to fail." Clam answered for her friend.

"Kai's also too anal when it comes to promises and deals to fail."

"Thank you, Max!" Kai replied, a little relieved that someone believed in him

"I'm not on your side." Max snapped back, making Kai frown.

Then an awkward silence ran through the room before Kai said, "Sooooo... About those tattoos...."

"No, Kai. Not without a month of research and another month to find a design and another year of saving." Clam scolded him, making Kai whine.

"That's not fairrrr!" He complained.

"Life isn't fair." Clam shrugged, going back onto her phone.

"Unless you wanna pay us the thirty pounds?..." Raven offered with a smirk.

Kai crossed his arms over his chest, "No, fuck you. I'll win. And I'll be thirty pounds richer."

"If you say soooo!" Raven sung, putting her legs back into Max's lap, making Max put a comforting hand on her thigh, and they both continued looking at Raven's phone.

Kai groaned one more time before leaving, going back into the safety of his room.

Person A: "Don't be stupid."

Person B: "Like. Temporarily...?"

Person A: "I mean, permanently would be nice but I'm not going to ask much of you."

[emacrow]

Orphan's baby

Cass was in the middle of helping the Batfam along with Batman raids through the the hidden base they had found underground lab in an abandoned hospital messing with a neon verison of lararus pits liquid.

Red Robin had already adjacked the security and was going through the files with Spoiler. Nightwing and Red hood beating up the guards while batman was battling with the main boss behind it all.

She was with Robin as they were taking some samples and destroying the remaining ones.

She had already crack through most of seemingly important hidden rooms that seem to be hiding completely full with containers full of lararus pits with tags of PH4N70M, and a winter blue colored marble in a container sealed to the safe that was spelling out electricity every minute in the container.

It looked important, but why a marble..?

She broke the container holding the marble, taking most of the lararus pits containers as well while destroying the remaining unaware of the glow that pulsed in the marble.

By the time is was to retreat, everything was in the clear as Spoiler needed to unscramble hidden files that were behind multiples firewalls.

They were at the batcave when they were securing the containers of lararus pits for later sampling, only for the marble to be missing..?

She was sure that she place it in her bat waist pouch, but it wasn't there anymore..

Did she dropped it accidentally while collecting the containers of larausu pits?

It was already too late to check back now, so she decided not to tell anyone yet.

Until 2 months later, she started feeling downright sick nauseated. Right after Dinner of Alfred's infamous lasagna Tuesday, but.. it tasted a bland which was throwing her off completely.

She was only dropping down by the batcave to just self analysis herself.. only to stop walking half way the secure containement holding all the lararus pits that they brought back..

She couldn't stop herself from staring at it with vast hunger before the swirl of neon green filling her vision and blank her conscience out the window..

Only to wake up in her room on her bed, 3 empty containers with not a inch of lararus pits left inside as if it was wiped-or licked clean. She hide the containers under her bed and stood quiet later on as nobody had noticed yet what she had done.

She doesn't know what had happen, but the nausea and sick feeling went away as if nothing happen.

Hopefully it would be a one time thing...

Bruce and his long lines of lawyers had disbanded the GIW completely over the illegal experimentally on sentient aliens of another world which they tried to label them as ghosts until they tried to accused Superman of being one of them which quickly label their entire Government supported work as hate crime and was steady being searched, along finding a couple of missing traumatized teens, adults and children that had vanished the months before in the other hidden labs.

...

....

.....

She had her head in her hands as she silently groaned when she peak her eyes between her fingers to see several dozen empty containers and immediately close her eyes to try and pretend she didn't see them.

It only been 5 months since that incident and she had seemingly got away with it, but then nausea came back with vengeance like no other, and the increased appetite was new, but yet it didn't filled her belly with the bland taste or satisfaction even though she did felt a bit feint during the couple of night patrols despise feeling energized earlier.

Something was wrong and she know it as she went to the only person who could help her right now.

She went to Alfred straight away silently explaining the situation going on because she honestly have no idea was going on with her and she know she loves his food, and the feint spells, and the monsterous appetite and the insatiable need to swallow a crapton of lararus pits with twelve milkshakes and fourteen bags full bat burgers.

Alfred could only stared with his eyebrows raising slowly with every word spilling out of her mouth.

Alfred helped her get examined in the batcave medbay, and 2 hours later the blood result came in.

Case was pregnant, but It was a almost cryptic pregnancy.

Alfred didn't had the equipment out for a ultrasound at all yet, but from he know from Cass it was during the Raiding of that hidden lab and her being in contacted with this 'marble' that seemingly disappeared after she grabbed it.

That was 7 months ago, but luckily Alfred caught it in time before it literally became a cryptic pregnancy.

Oh the ultrasounds pics of the little baby fetus with his fast beating lil heart beating were precious as he got tiny misty eyes a bit compare to Cass's awestruck look staring at the screen then back at her belly.

He does help get extra vitamins pills, and call her off of Crime duty until further noticed . Bruce on the otherhand was concerned but all he got from Alfred was the You Better not investigate this because I have major blackmail of embarrassing toddler photos against you.

This is Alfred moment that he been waiting for since Bruce became a new adult but not yet sired a baby at the Wayne Manor at all. He is savoring this for the memories and scapebooking time. He is cranking opened that forgotten but clean baby nursery of forlorning hopes.

2 months later, By the time Cass was ready to deliver the baby on February 11, and at February 12th, 12:01am.

Wren Alf Cain was born premature yet crying softly into the word.

[rhysazriel]

Kinktober Day 9: Threesome [Featuring Cassian]

A/N: sorry this one’s a little late, this was a day I didn’t write and had to quickly whip this up for you guys!! First piece with Cassian included too so I hope you enjoy!! <3 18+ only!! Includes sexual themes and threesomes!!

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Cassian had suggested going out for birthday drinks at Rita's, you should've been prepared for what would be in store for you. You should’ve known that it would entail being black out drunk and in one of Rita’s private rooms with him and Azriel, necking back shots of patron and giggling uncontrollably.

You should’ve known that Cassian would resort to drinking games (like he always did) and you and Azriel were too far gone to put up much of a fight about it.

You should’ve known what would come from that. Should’ve known that one daring question would turn into another and another. Should’ve known that somehow you’d end up wearing next to nothing while the two Illyrians watched your body hungrily.

You should’ve known because that’s usually how it happened. How you’d end up in bed with both brothers, worshipping your body for the entire night.

You should’ve known your birthday would be no different. That if anything, they’d be worshipping you more than they ever had before.

“Look at her, Az…” Cassian’s hungry voice trailed off as his eyes darkened. Your breasts were bare to them, your lower half barely covered by a pathetic scrap of underwear.

Azriel’s eyes were as dark as Cassian’s. His tongue peeked out to brush over his lower lip as he took you in. “I’m looking, brother.”

Your cheeks were burning hot, thighs pressing tight together as if that would hide the arousal that fogged the room. Azriel sinks further into his seat, thick thighs spread in silent invitation.

You didn’t need to ask, you knew the deal well enough by now. In nothing but panties, you approached the shadowsinger. He too had began to strip, only wearing his pants and shoes, Cassian almost as bare as you — only in a pair of briefs.

You made your way into Azriel’s lap, legs straddling his sides as you sat your soaked cunt on his swollen cock, restrained in his trousers. Eyes on his, you could hear the shuffle behind you as Cassian followed, thick fingers reaching for your hair and sliding it off your neck and down your back.

“I think it’s time for the birthday girl to receive her present. Don’t you, Cassian?” Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke. Cassian hummed, hands reaching around your body to allow his fingers to graze against your perk nipples.

“Depends if she’s going to be a good girl.”

Azriel’s smirk grew at his brothers words and he finally allowed his eyes to travel down to your chest, watching your breasts tighten and grow heavier with every passing second.

He licked his lips, his shadows almost bursting to touch you, taste you. “Five centuries today,” Cassian’s breath whispered against the shell of your ear and you skin broke into goosebumps.

Azriel met your eyes again, dark and famished.

“Five orgasms it is.”

[rhysandsfavwhore]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Rhysand x fem!reader

content; smut, oral (f receiving)

notes; my first post on here!! its very short but i promise they will get better☺️

—————————————————

You felt your mate, Rhysand, burning holes into the back of your head as you giggled over a joke Cass made. You and his brother had been talking for hours now and Rhys was sick of it.

Not sick… jealous

You continued laughing at Cassian when your mate placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“may i speak with you, my love?” he said sharply, his violet eyes flicking between you and Cassian.

“Oh, of course Rhys” you replied, surprised at his sharp tone.

Cassian smirked at you mischievously, “I’ll excuse myself before i have to witness any of… this” he said sarcastically while twirling a finger at the both of you and slipping out the lounge.

Once Cassian was out of earshot, Rhysand pulled you up, pinning you against the wall, leaning into you as his hot breath brushed against your ear.

“Rhys” you gasped at his sudden movements.

“Yes, my love?” His voice deep, lips brushing your ear.

“um, i thought you wanted to talk”

He hummed in response, the vibration on your neck sending a chill throughout you. He trailed his mouth across your jaw, down your neck, his voice almost a low growl.

“do you want to talk… or…” he nipped at your neck before soothing the red mark with a chaste kiss.

A silent whimper left you at the sharp pain, quickly replaced by a soothing warmth.

“thats what i thought” he chuckled, one of his hands now brushing over the curve of your waist, sliding up your torso.

His hand made its way back to your hip, gripping you, causing your breath to catch. His knee pushed between your legs, lightly rubbing the tops of your thighs.

He smirked into your neck, as he felt you shudder in his grip. He nipped another spot on your neck, pressing his knee closer to your core, extracting another whimper from you.

“Rhys, someone could walk in. We should go upstairs” you said, barely above a whisper.

Rhysand lifted you up into his arms, placing one arm under your ass to keep you in place. “As you wish” he murmured before taking of towards your room.

As he carried you into your shared room, he pushed the door shut with his foot and tossed you gently on the bed.

As you back hit the mattress, he pounced on top of you, straddling your hips and pinning your hands above your head. He leaned down capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss.

You broke away to catch your breath. “Rhys, please” you begged, with no specific goal in mind.

“So impatient” he tutted, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “but since you asked so nicely…”

He trailed his lips down your torso, your top long gone. He unclasped your bra and laid a soft kiss on each nipple.

His lips continued their journey down your body, pecking above your waistline, looking up with a mischievous grin before slowly unzipping your pants.

He pushed your pants over his thighs, laying chaste kisses just above your lace underwear.

His fingers hooked around the sides of your underwear tugging them off. He lifted his head slightly as his eyes roamed your body, a possessive groan leaving his lips. “you are just beautiful” he cooed before diving between your legs.

He licked a long stripe up from your entrance, drawing a low moan from you. He kitten licked around your clit, humming, sending vibrations through your body.

“Please, don’t tease” you whinnied, feeling mg desperate for pleasure.

He chuckled against you then plunged his tongue into you, sucking at your arousal.

He continued his torture edging you closer to release before moving one hand from your hip to rub tight circles over your clit, spurring on your release.

He sped up his movements, and you arched into his mouth before finally bringing you to your high.

Your body crashed back onto to mattress, panting, trying to catch your breath. Rhys raised his head from between his legs, the wetness of your arousal and release coating his chin.

He chuckled at the sight of you, practically wrecked already.

“don’t think I’m done with you yet, my darling”

—————————————————

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Hail Black Sheep

“Mind if I bum a cigarette?” A voice asked behind Hood, startling him so bad he nearly fell off the edge of the roof where he was sitting, taking a little break from patrol. He had made sure there was no one up here and no way to get up here before taking off his helmet, and yet when he turned around there was another man on the roof. Dark hair and sunken blue eyes that reflected an odd unnatural green when the light hit them wrong.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the stranger. He had appeared in Gotham months ago and had immediately pinged the bat’s radar as a potential threat. There was something very wrong with the young man and none of them could figure out what it was, any attempts to find out more had gone nowhere because attempts to follow him never worked! More then that it seemed like any mention of him had been erased from the record, they knew he went by Danny and that was all. And here he was standing on an inaccessible roof right in front of Jason.

“Sure,” Jason said as casually as he could manage, shoulders tense and ready to fight if he needed to. He didn’t know why Danny had sought him out but this was the best chance to learn… well, anything about him that they’d had. He held his smoke between his lips as he shook another out of the pack and held it out to Danny.

The other man smiled, revealing canines that were a little to long and pointed to seem entirely human, not long enough to be vampiric though. He came over and sat down on the edge of the roof as well, out of arms reach but close enough he could reach out and take the smoke, Jason was glad he wasn’t any closer. Danny seemed to be making an effort not to seem threatening as he let Jason hand him a lighter as well, lighting up before passing it back.

“Thanks,” Danny said before taking a drag and exhaling slowly. “I hope you don’t mind I messed with your coms, they’ll work again just fine once I leave but I just wanted to talk in private.”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, tense beyond belief, his hand twitching towards his gun, Danny didn’t seem worried which made him all the more nervous.

“Just to talk. I know you and the Bats have been following me.” Danny said with a casual shrug, leaning back dangerously over the ledge.

“And yet we never manage to actually track you,” Jason said a little accusingly.

“No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen,” Danny told him flashing a cheeky grin. “I don’t exist~”

“Yet here you are,” Jason argued and Danny shrugged again.

“Here I am,” He agreed taking another drag, slow and deep, exhaling just the same to create a break in the conversation before he glanced over at Jason. “That looks like a nasty story,” He commented, touching his own cheek where Jason knew the scar of a J still sat on his own. He snarled wordlessly and Danny held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I won’t ask, I have some nasty stories too,” He murmured rolling up his sleeve to show Jason Lichtenberg scarring shooting up along his arm.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, I guess. You and I have a lot in common really, and you don’t follow the laws when you don’t agree with them, that too,” He chuckled.

“You know that’s why we’ve been following you right? You’re suspicious as fuck,” Jason said accusingly.

“I know,” Danny said with a little sigh. “Have you found anything at all?” Jason scowled and looked down, not wanting to admit that they really hadn’t. Danny just nodded. “You could look up the GIW to find out, not about me, but about what happened to me. Who declared me dead and erased me from the world so they could smuggle me away into a lab and figure out how to use me. I won’t let any of the bats follow me because if you know where I am then others might be able to find out. And I can’t promise they won’t add me to the wanted database again and they’d take that at face value.

“Interdimensional terrorist sounds pretty damn bad huh? Nevermind that I was fucking born in this world and it was scientists they hired that made me this way.” Danny grumbled, looking up at the smog covered sky.

“What way?” Jason asked, because everything Danny had just said was concerning as fuck but that was what he wanted to follow up on.

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny chuckled. “I’m not going to cause any trouble. I was a hero for a couple years as a teenager, before it got so dangerous with people hunting me, and now I’m retired as fuck, the only person I can afford to protect anymore is myself. But I want you to know that too, I’ll defend myself if I have to. If any of you or the GIW come for me again I’m not going to go quietly and I can do a lot of damage when I have to.”

“You know making threats does not help me believe that you aren’t going to cause trouble,” Jason said bitterly and Danny at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“I know, I’m sorry. I genuinely don’t want to cause any trouble for you, us black-sheep should stick together right? I’ve noticed that about you, all the folks the other bats and birds tend to overlook, you look out for them. The whores and the addicts and the street-rats. I like that, I was hoping you might look out for me too, I’ve been mostly haunting your area recently anyway. I could look out for you too? No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen and I can get into anywhere. I’ll keep an eye on things, if I find anything that you should know I’ll come tell you.”

“You’re offering to spy on me as a bonus?” Jason asked incredulously and Danny winced.

“Not on you, for you,” He promised quickly. “I’ll stay out of your business and I really won’t be any trouble! I’ll just keep an ear out and tell you if I hear anything in the way of plotting or people breaking your rules. Like I said, I like how you run things here, I’d like to help.”

Jason was quiet as he thought about that, Danny shifting nervously on the wall next to him as Jason finished his smoke and put out the butt. “Alright, you can stay in my territory, the bats don’t come here often. But I want some sort of accountability from you, at least regular check ins, once a week here and a way to contact you.”

Danny hesitated, biting his lip for a moment before he nodded. “Alright, Saturday night at midnight? I won’t come if I see anyone else around. I don’t have a phone or anything.”

“I’ll get you a burner next Saturday but this is basically a trial period. I know that the crap cops and the other bats say about ‘if you have nothing to hide’ is bullshit, you’re allowed to want privacy especially if you’ve been targeted. But you’re still suspicious as fuck and you’d better be telling the truth about not making trouble on my turf.” Jason said pointing an accusing finger at Danny before putting his helmet back on.

Danny nodded eagerly, looking relieved, tired, and a bit sickly. It wasn’t hard to believe the guy had had a hard life, if that hadn’t made him violent he was a better man then Jason. “You got it! No problems here, cross my heart!” Danny assured, actually making the motion which made Jason chuckle a little.

“Alright, see you Saturday,” He said before pushing off the edge of the roof, using his grappling gun to swing to the next building. When he turned around to look back at the building he’d just left Danny was already gone.

“O are you there?” He asked, tapping at his com to see if it was working again.

“Ya I am, what happened there?” She asked through the voice modulator. “Did you turn off you coms?”

“No, you’re not going to believe this,” Jason chuckled, but he wasn’t going to tell Oracle everything Danny had shared, wanting to meet Danny halfway with trust. Just enough to get her looking into the GIW, maybe if they could get whatever that was off Danny’s back he’d be willing to come out of the shadows and stop acting so fucking shady!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Jason lost a bet to babs and he’s bear-y grumpy about it - sketch

I’d like to apologize…I was writing then I made this cursed image of our pretty Jason.

Jason foolishly made a bet with Babs that he’d be able to get through the family game of uno without swearing once. That $100 from her seemed like easy money plus he ran out of cigs.

Even though he loss, he literally had to be held down by multiple bat siblings to put this on. There’s a couple of gun holes and broken vases in the living room…oops

Jason is a sore loser but just bear with him ;)

This is my second time drawing Jason…hopefully he’s looking consistent-ish…I’ll keep trying.

[honey-milk-depresso]

⋙l o a d i n g…

loading completed!✓ …━━━━━☆

┏ ⋙fries- Tim Drake x Reader┛

♧…━━━━━☆

“Hey Tim.”

The young boy with black curtain bangs looked towards you, sipping on his milkshake as the two of you sat quietly at a fast food diner in the heart of Gotham at night, waiting for the rain to pass as neither of you brought an umbrella.

“Hm?”

You smirked mischievously, twirling a crisp, golden fry between your fingers. “Try stealing a fry from me.”

Tim blinked, taking in your words for a few minutes before he raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m bored.”

The boy rolled his eyebrows, huffing a bit as he shook his head, although he wasn’t really annoyed. Just amused.

“Fine, whatever. You’re a weirdo though,” he teased, smiling a bit as you grinned.

He casually tried to intercept your fingers to take the fry from you, but of course, you lifted your hand up to prevent him from snatching it from you.

His hand followed you up as you moved your hand down. Then right. Then left. Then diagonally to the right again. It looked rather comical to see the young CEO of Wayne Enterprises trying to take a fry from a gremlin who asked for it.

Tim irked slightly, pouting. “Hey now…”

You smiled cheekily. “Who said I’ll make it easy to steal it from me?”

Tim huffed, standing up slightly as he bend his torso forward in your direction and tried a little harder to take the fry from you. Why did he even bother trying to do this with you? God knows why, but now with a goal in mind, he’s not going to stop until he gets the fry from you.

After a while of moving from left , right, up, down, front, back…

you just ate the fry, smiling childishly to yourself as you imagined the annoyed look on his face.

You didn’t take into account though, that trying to take the fry from you became mechanical to him. So mechanical he subconsciously leaned his face onto yours and kissed you to “take the fry from you”.

The two of you blushed profusely seconds later, with Tim immediately pulling back when he taste the slight taste of sweetness from your milkshake and saltiness from the fry you ate, as you tasted the sweetness of his own milkshake and mild spiciness from him eating his chili-dipped fry he ate long ago.

“I… er…” Tim stuttered, blush not dying down.

He didn’t know why, but he liked it.

And he kinda hoped you liked it too…

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Til Death Do Us Part

A Steddie oneshot

Eddie was sitting in Steve's house. . .well, actually lying in Steve's house. He was still pretty banged up, and considering the town still thought he was a murderer, he needed to hide out for a while, and Steve Harrington's was the perfect place. It still felt weird to think that Steve was a good guy, but it was much too evident, and it made Eddie realize that he jumped to conclusions as quickly as others did about him. It's weird how connected they are now. First through Dustin, then through trauma, and now through bat bites. These scars were going to be more permanent than a marriage certificate. Who would have thought that he would be married with a kid by age 20. . .with Steve Harrington of all people? The thought made him laugh.

"What are you laughing about in here?" Steve asked as he popped into the room.

"I was thinking that these bat bites of ours are pretty permanent," Eddie smirked. "We're practically married."

"We are not married," Steve scoffed.

"Are you telling me we're getting divorced?" Eddie asked with a gasp. "So soon. . .oh, sweetheart, tell me what I did so I can make it up to you! Think of the kids, Steve!"

"Well, you didn't listen to me when I told you not to be a hero, so there's that," Steve said. "Not to mention the fact that you made Lucas feel bad about playing basketball, and you divided him and his friends as well as his sister. So, there's that as well."

"Shit, yeah, I do deserve the divorce," Eddie said, wincing and looking remorseful. "I'm not much better than my father, am I?"

"Hey, that not - I didn't mean it like that, Eddie. I'm sorry. Yeah, it's too soon to joke about it," Steve said softly. "Did you apologize to the kids? I mean, you did. I was there."

"Well, yeah," Eddie muttered.

"Was your dad actually sorry for anything he ever did? Would he have done what you did and tried to buy us more time? Would he have found a place for lost sheep to go to?" Steve asked.

"Well, no," Eddie admitted.

"Than you're a better man than your father ever will be," Steve shrugged. "Hold on."

Steve left the room, and a moment later, he returned with his pillow. He placed it on the bed next to him.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked.

"Sleeping with my husband," Steve said.

"So, no divorce then?" Eddie asked with a grin.

"Are you kidding me? No way, I'm raising these hellions without a partner," Steve said. "You said it, we're married. Til death do us part, asshole."

"Goodnight, Mr. Munson," Eddie grinned.

He laughed as he sank down onto the bed beside Steve, who leaned over to turn off the light. He was thankful that Steve left the light on. Eddie watched as his husband closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. A deep wave of affection came over him as he studied Steve’s features. Oh, shit, what was that? Was he developing feelings for his husband? He liked girls. . .right? No, it was just indigestion. Eddie sighed with relief and closed his eyes.

"Steven, why are you sleeping with a man?" Robin's voice floated into Eddie's ears.

Eddie's eyes slowly opened, and he groaned quietly against the morning light streaming through the window. Steve was on his back, his eyes closed. Robin was standing over him, her hands on her hips.

"Oh my God, Robin, you can't just ask why two men are sleeping together this early in the morning," Steve groaned, his eyes remaining closed.

"Is there something you want to tell me, buddy?" Robin asked.

"Ugh, can't a guy sleep with his husband without any third degree?" Steve asked.

Neither one of them had noticed that Eddie was awake, much to Eddie's amusement.

"His what?!" Robin exclaimed and Eddie nearly laughed.

"Eddie said last night that the bat bites made us practically married," Steve said and groaned. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Robin. We're platonically married."

"Okay, I'll just let the kids know that their Daddies won't come downstairs because they're too busy platonically sleeping together," Robin said dryly. "It doesn't look platonic to me."

"Robin, stop, he doesn't like me that way," Steve sighed. "I doubt he likes men and women the way that I do or the way that I like him. I'll get up. They're probably going to want breakfast."

"Steve, he was clearly flirting with you! No one calls people "big boy" like that and means it platonically!" Robin exclaimed.

Eddie held in a breath until Robin and Steve left the room. He let it out with a loud gasp.

"Holy shit!" Eddie exclaimed. "I was flirting with Steve?!"

Eddie's eyes widened as he thought about all of his interactions with men. Yes, now that he's thinking about it, there was a definite attraction to certain jocks. Sure, he actually hated some of them, but Steve, he was pretty sure he hated for no reason back then. He did nothing to him or his friends, and he had always kept Hagan, as well as the other basketball players, on a tight lease. Well, he really tried to. Whenever he watched Steve play while in the gym, he always got irrationally angry at the sight of him. Maybe it wasn't hate. . .no, it definitely wasn't hate because he always wanted to bite him. It was so often that Eddie had, honest to God, thought that he was turning into a cannibal.

"Oh, fuck! Fuckity, fuck, fuck, shit! Goddamnit!" Eddie exclaimed.

As the days passed by, Eddie really tried to push his feelings for Steve aside. He wanted Steve to remain in his life and the one really romantic relationship he had he totally fucked up. No, he wasn't good at that shit and it would only ruin what he had with Steve now. It didn't help that Steve was basically taking care of him. Luckily, he was able to move around, and with the help of Robin, he was able to move downstairs. Unfortunately, she decided that she needed to talk her best friend up.

"I already know how great Steve is, Robin," Eddie mumbled. "I married him, didn't I?"

"No, you got married by a couple of interdimensional bats," Robin said. "You did not make the conscious decision at the time to marry my best friend."

"Why are you trying to sell me on Steve? I don't like him like that. I don't like men either," Eddie said as he lied out of his ass.

"You don't?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I wasn't necessarily trying to convince you to do anything. I was just talking about how great Steve is."

"Well, if you think he's so great, why don't you date him?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I would, but he's got the hots for someone else. We're also strictly platonic. Let's see what else? . . . Oh! There's also the fact that I'm a lesbian," Robin said.

"Shit, seriously?" Eddie asked and stared at her for a while, not saying anything. "Goddamnit! Okay! Okay! I'm also. . .not exactly straight. I like men, I like women, and I am head over heels for Steve Harrington. Happy?"

"Well, yes and no. You know, I wasn't trying to pressure you into outing yourself, right?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "I was pressuring myself."

"Thank you for telling me," Robin said.

"Thank you for telling me," Eddie grinned.

"Are you going to tell Steve?" Robin asked.

"Nope. Never," Eddie said.

"Why?" Robin asked.

"I tend to mess up in that area, so why risk what I have with Steve now?" Eddie asked.

"Because these scars you carry are proof that every day could be your last, and I don't think telling Steve is going to scare him off," Robin said softly. "He might surprise you."

"I know he likes me, which I don't understand why," Eddie said. "My husband can do so much better."

"How do you know?" Robin asked.

"You guys weren't exactly quiet the other day. It made me realize that I like both, that I've been flirting with Steve," Eddie said.

"So, you're running away, being a chicken shit, because you've already decided that you're going to hurt him?" She asked with narrowed eyes.

"I would never purposely hurt him," Eddie said.

"Well, leading him on and thinking it's going to go somewhere is hurting him. So, whether you decide to go forward with your relationship or not, you're going to have to talk to him because you're going to hurt him either way. But you want to know what a good way of not hurting him is? . . . DECIDING TO FUCKING BE WITH HIM, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!" Robin shrieked. "Get your head out your ass. You both deserve to be with each other. We're all scared of telling people how we feel, but you know what I did after we averted the apocalypse?. . .I mean, eventually, I told Vickie how I felt. So, buck up. You're hurting yourself unnecessarily and Steve, especially since you're the one who knows that you like him and he likes you. Meanwhile, he's left in the dark about how you feel. I will not see Steve hurt. Got it?!"

Robin hit him over the head with a couch pillow. Eddie shrieked.

"Alright! Alright, I'll talk to him! Can I heal first?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, that's fine, take your time," Robin said calmly, lowering the pillow. "So, do you want to be with him?"

"Of course I want to be with him. . .I'm just scared," Eddie said. "All of this is new."

"Well, I did say you could take your time," Robin said. "And if you tell Steve how scared you are of messing this up, he'll understand completely, and I'm sure you can both work through it together. . . You know, if you decide to be with him"

"This is fucking crazy. . .Steve Harrington likes me. I can't believe it. Nope! No way," Eddie said shaking his head.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either," Robin laughed.

"Fuck off," Eddie rolled his eyes.

Steve strolled through the door with a sigh as he walked into the living.

"Okay, the kids are all at home. Now we can have some time to ourselves. Well, us and Robin," Steve grinned.

He sat down on Eddie's other and kissed Eddie's temple as he wrapped his arm around him. It had quickly become a thing with them. . .to always be touching. Apparently, they were kissing each other on the head now.

"Hi, honey, did the kids give you a hard time?" Eddie asked as he squeezed his knee.

He could feel his eyes lighting up at Steve as he launched into details about the car ride. God, this was so fucking domestic and he loved it. More days passed, and he was able to move around on his own, but he was still in a lot of pain. Apparently, Steve was, too, but he had neglected to say anything until Eddie was cuddling up to him in bed and his arm wrapped around his stomach. Steve involuntarily winced. Yeah, the bat bites were no joke. Neither was their venom, which, according to the doctors were never going to go away. Luckily, Argyle and Jonathan offered a solution, but they arrived just as Steve was driving Robin to Vickie's.

"Uh, are we waiting for Steve?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, turns out he's in pain too," Eddie said as Argyle guided him to the couch. "He's just hasn't said anything. He prefers to suffer in silence, I guess."

"Bat bites are a bitch, huh?" Argyle asked.

"Yeah, the only good thing that's come from it is the permanent marriage between me and Steve," Eddie said with a grin.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"It's a running joke," Eddie shrugged.

"With the whole kids thing, yeah, that makes sense," Argyle said.

"So, is Steve a good husband?" Jonathan smirked.

"Hell yeah!" Eddie exclaimed, slapping his knee. "Couldn't ask for a better baby daddy."

"Seriously?" Jonathan scoffed.

"You've got something against my husband, Byers?" Eddie smirked.

"It's just hard to imagine Steve being mature enough to handle being married," Jonathan said. "Let alone to a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, the smirk dropping from his lips.

"Just that he's a notorious ladies man, Eddie. I wouldn't get your hopes, man. He's not exactly comfortable with. . .," Jonathan said, trailing off.

"With people like me," Eddie said, looking at him with hard eyes. "Did you just make an assumption about my sexuality, Byers?"

"Oh, man," Argyle said nervously. "I think Jonathan was trying to look out for you, man."

"I'm not his little brother, I'm a grown man," Eddie sighed.

"That's a fair point," Argyle said.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to do that, but I just trying to warn you about what kind of guy Steve is," Jonathan said. "I shouldn't have made an assumption about you."

"What kind of guy do you think that Steve is? Are you calling him homophobic in his own home?" Eddie asked.

"I think he's upset you're insulting his husband, Jonathan," Argyle said.

"I just want to know why you think that about Steve," Eddie said. "That's all."

Eddie was really trying not to show Jonathan how angry he is but the guy was making it difficult.

"He called me queer once," Jonathan said.

"That's it? He called you queer and that automatically makes him homophobic? I've used that word, and I'm about as straight as a cooked noodle," Eddie said defensively. "So, when, pray tell, did he call you this?"

"It was a few years ago," he muttered.

Eddie could tell that Jonathan was starting to realize how ridiculous it was.

"Look, man, I get where you're coming from, I do because I was pretty sure I hated Steve for a long time, and because of that, I held onto my prejudiced views about jocks for a long time. My reasoning behind that is clearly not the same as yours. . .at least, I hope not. After everything that Steve has done, how can you still think anything negative about the man?" Eddie asked.

"You can do great things and still have hateful thoughts," Jonathan said.

"He's not homophobic, you fucking idiot! You would know that if you had bothered to try and get to know him in the last few years," Eddie rolled his eyes. "He shouldn't have to keep apologizing for shit he's already apologized for."

"How do you know that?" Jonathan asked. "You haven't known him that long."

"It's all about quality, not about quantity, and I clearly know him better than you do, Byers," Eddie spat. "Your own brother feels safe around him. The kids look up to him. Nancy trusts him. Your mother and Hopper love him. Jesus, what is this really about?"

"Will won't shut up about him!" Jonathan snapped. "Every time they hang out or Steve drops him off, Will comes home gushing about him and I'm just worried. . ."

"What? That he's going to think that Steve’s the better older brother?" Eddie asked, and then he laughed. "That's stupid. That's even stupider than you holding onto a dumb grudge. You know what Will does when he's over here with his friends and Steve. . . He talks about you. It's non-stop, actually. The kid loves you, and no one is ever going to replace you. So, get that out of your thick skull. Trust me when I say this: Steve Harrington is not homophobic."

"Yeah, okay," Jonathan said softly.

"You need to talk to Steve about this and Will," Eddie said. "And Byers?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever insult my husband again, I'll punch your lights out," Eddie said.

"Noted. I'm sorry. . . Are you in love with him?" He asked curiously.

"Head over heels, man," Eddie said.

"So, are we good?" Argyle asked.

"Yeah, we're good," Eddie said in amusement as he shook Jonathan's hand.

"Oh, thank God, I thought that was going to get really awkward there for a minute," Argyle said, and they laughed.

Later that night, Eddie was lying in bed with Steve, cradling him from behind. His hand was up Steve’s shirt, carassing his stomach right above his bat bites. He didn't want to let this go, but he was also ready to risk it all for Steve Harrington.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you," Eddie said softly.

Steve turned around in his arms so he was looking at him. His hazel eyes were big and round, looking at him hopefully. The light from the lamp beside his side of the bed was revealing all of the colors in Steve's eyes. The green and the brown intermingled beautifully, but the light also made his eyes look a little bit golden. Eddie sighed. God, he was beautiful.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in love with you too," Steve whispered.

"I know."

"Did you just fucking Han Solo - mmpf!"

Eddie crashed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him harshly. Steve smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Eddie gently as he threw his leg over Eddie's. Steve’s eagerly kissed him back, his fingers cupping the back of Eddie's head, tugging on his hair. Eddie moaned into his mouth. Steve gasped for breath as he broke the kiss.

"Is this really happening?" Steve asked.

"Til death do us part, asshole."

[crimsonizedangel]

An Escape at Starfall

Pairings: Cassian x oc

Rating: nsfw

Warnings: oral, piv, slight voyeurism/ exhibition

(Not my art (I kept the watermark in it so credits to the artwork go to foxy art) Is my fanfic based on Acotar by SJMaas. If you want me to do a part two or if you have any requests please feel free to message me. I will rearrange my master list tomorrow sometime)

I stood looking at myself in the mirror. Morrigan was going to be stopping by soon to take me with her up to the House of Wind for Starfall. She lent me an emerald green dress that had a slit on each leg. I didn’t mind them as they accentuated my long legs. I paired it with some silver heels and jewelry. I managed to fix my golden curls into a partial updo that went with the dress and was finishing sticking some pearl pins into some of the curls when Mor arrived.

“Elodie that dress fits you better than it did me.” She greeted me as she came over and helped me with the finishing touches on my hair. “I can think of a certain Illyrian warrior that will probably think the same thing.”

My eyes met hers in the mirror with a scowl on my face. “I never should have told you that I had a crush on Cassian.”

Mor just shrugged “it’s not your fault you let it slip after a night out at Rita’s with me.”

I remembered that night well. Mor had convinced me after we spent the day training with Nesta and Feyre that we all needed to go out. The other two women met us there and we spent well into the night drinking and dancing at the bar. Well sometime when I was walking back with Mor I let slip in my drunken state that I had a thing for the Illyrian and she hasn’t let me forget it.

“Come on let’s go.” I told her. I easily could have winnowed up there myself but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t the first to arrive. Mor ended up winnowing us up and I braced myself for the fall onto the veranda with her only to see a glimmer of blue and red as Cassian and Azriel stepped onto the veranda just in time and I thanked the cauldron when I felt the strong male hands catch me instead of risking landing on the heels that I wore.

“We got a heads up from some of Az’s friends that you two were on your way.” Cass informed us and I just sent a look to Az.

“Thank you for the catch I’m not sure how well my landing would have been.” I told Cassian with a smile “Az do you have spies at my apartment?” I asked the shadow singer.

Az just smiled and shrugged as he walked away opening the doors to the dining room for us.

“Don’t worry Az has shadows everywhere but he usually doesn’t share with others what they tell him unless it’s important.” Cass informed me.

“In this case I’m happy he decides to share the information.” I smiled coolly at him “what else has he shared with you?” I asked him after seeing we were now the only ones out there.

Cass gave me a wicked grin before leaning into my ear and purring “I’ll tell you later. Right now let’s go inside and get some drinks. But Mor was right I do love that dress on you.”

“You.” I started saying but my thought was interrupted by a low chuckle from Cass as he led me inside and out of the way as Rhys flew in holding onto Feyre and Elain.

Azriel, Mor, and Nesta were inside already with drinks of their own as we entered and I walked over to the bar cart and poured myself a glass of wine.

“None for me?” Cassian jested. I only elbowed him lightly as I walked over to where Mor was talking with Az and Amren.

I greeted them before taking a sip of my wine. I didn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about my mind was on what Cass said earlier about agreeing with Mor and loving my dress. Information that must’ve been shared to him by Az and his shadows and made me think about what else he might have been informed of that involved me.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Rhys made an announcement that we should all go outside if we wanted to see the stars soon. I was about to walk out onto the veranda when I felt a strong hand wrap around my arm stopping me. I turned to see Cassian who didn’t say anything but made a motion with his head to follow him up to the sparring ring on the roof and then noticed him grab a couple bottles of wine as we passed the bar cart on our way to the stairs.

“So are you going to tell me why you brought me up here?” I asked once we were almost up to the roof.

“This is why.” Cassian replied as we stepped out and I saw the most beautiful view of the shooting stars. It wasn’t my first starfall by any means but this was the best view of it that I had scene in all my years as a fae.

“Wow.” Was the only thing I was able to get out as I had the biggest grin on my face as I watched the stars. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah it is.” Cass muttered out. I turned to look at him still smiling only to see him staring at me instead of the night sky.

My smile faulted as I realized he wasn’t talking about the stars but me. “Cass thank you for bringing me up here.” I grabbed one of the bottles of wine from him and poured some in both of our glasses. “So are you going to tell me what else Azriel has told you?”

Cassian smirked at me as he took a sip of his wine. “Elodie don’t be mad at Azriel or Mor.” He started saying and I raised an eyebrow about to ask him why when he took a deep breath and continued talking “I like you. I’ve had feelings for you for awhile now and when you confessed to Mor she told me along with Azriel since his shadows told him.” I could only stare at him in shock as my brain worked to understand what he just confessed to me.

I saw him about to say something and I smiled again at him “you like me.” It wasn’t really a question so much as a statement of understanding. I saw Cass shake his head and mutter how stupid he was for telling me. He wasn’t paying attention to me anymore and so I grabbed his black dress shirt, that I was pretty sure he borrowed from Rhys, and pulled him closer to me as my lips met his. It only took him a moment before realizing that I was kissing him before he started kissing me back. I broke the kiss when I felt something hit my face and when I saw the glow on Cassians face I let out a laugh. “We got hit by a star.” I told him when I saw his confused look and then he started laughing himself as another one hit us. I finished the wine that was in my glass before setting in down and turning back to Cassian. He had finished his own glass and had set his glass down by my own along with the bottles.

“I wasn’t joking when I said you look beautiful and now with the glow of the stars you look even better. “ he purred into my ear as he pulled me into him. “Also this dress hugs your ass nicely.”

“Hmm is that so?” I asked him. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I muttered against his lips before kissing him again. My hands sliding into his hair thankful for the heels I was wearing to help with the height difference that we typically had between us. I felt one of his hands grab my ass as the other went to the back of my neck.

He squeezed my ass causing me to open my mouth just enough for him to slip his tongue in and for me to taste the alcohol on him.

“Cass.” I breathed out as he kissed down my neck leaving little marks as he went. “Cass” I breathed out again this time as a half moan. “Do you want to do this up here or in your room?” I finally got out.

“Elodie that’s up to you. Up here no one is going to come bother us but if we go down we might run into someone along the way.” He told me before going back to kissing my neck and shoulder. I thought about it as best I could as I was getting lost in his touch.

“Yeah let’s stay up here.” I agreed and I felt him smile against my skin. My hands started undoing the buttons on his shirt and I ran my fingers over his chiseled chest. His hand found one of the slits of my dress and rubbed my thigh before moving higher and cupping my ass where he discovered the scandalous secret I was hiding.

“No underwear huh?” He chuckled and had a wicked grin on his face. “You’re lucky that when you landed there wasn’t a gust of wind otherwise both Az and I might’ve gotten a little peak.”

“You’re wicked you know that.” I laughed “besides I don’t think either of you would have minded.” That comment earned me a growl from him as he was back on me and this time tearing the straps of my dress resulting in the entire thing pooling at my feet around my strappy heels and revealing that I indeed wore nothing underneath. He took off the rest of his shirt and when my eyes met his all I could see was lust in his eyes.

“Elodie by the cauldron you’re gorgeous.” He muttered as he cupped my face with his hands and started kissing me again. He let his hands wander down my body pinching my nipples, cupping my ass, and eventually his mouth followed down as he nipped and sucked my breasts causing me to let out a breathy moan.

It wasn’t long until he moved further down and he was moving one of my thighs over his shoulder. I felt him kissing up my thigh, blow air onto my clit, and kiss down the other thigh.

“Cass you’re such a tease.” I gasped out.

“What do you want baby?” He asked me with a devilish grin.

“Cassian just fucking touch me, taste me, fuck me, just do something.” I sounded ridiculous with how I was begging him. That was all he needed to hear though as he dove in. He was licking me, sucking my clit, and plunging his tongue in like his life depended on it. I wasn’t sure how I was still standing and was certain that Cassian was doing most of the work keeping me upright with one hand on my lower back and the other on the back of my thigh. My hands were tangled in his hair to help keep my balance and to keep him where I wanted him. I was trying my best to keep my moans quiet as I remembered where we were and that not far below us were all of our friends. It had been so long since I had even been with anyone else and Cassian definitely knew what he was doing with his tongue that it wasn’t long before I came undone and my juices were flowing over his face.

Once I had caught my breath I opened my eyes and looked down at him. He held me steady as he lowered my leg and I wobbled on my shaky legs. He grinned at me as he stood up.

“So Elodie how do you want it?” He whispered in my ear. My legs just about gave out as I thought about the endless possibilities and his arms wrapped tighter around me as his eyes glistened with amusement. I was certain he knew what I was thinking.

“I don’t care. Against the wall, by the railing, on the floor. I don’t care where we do it.” I answered honestly “wherever we do it though just know you might have to keep me upright cause I can guarantee you that my legs will be shaking and give out.”

I saw the lust return to his eyes as he lowered me to the floor and I watched as he removed his pants. His erection sprang free hitting his abdomen and I sucked in air at the size. All I could think about was wing size did matter.

Cassian kneeled in front of me and I watched as he gently rubbed his tip against my slit before leaning over me and capturing my lips in a kiss as a gently and slowly inserted himself a little at a time until he was all the way in. We were moaning into each other’s mouths as we both adjusted and he started moving himself in and out of me. My eyes rolled back and I closed them. Both of us fought internal battles to keep the noise down so as to not disturb the party downstairs. He broke the kiss and grabbed ahold of my thighs, placing my feet on his shoulders as he started pounding into me. My nails raked down his arms and a few times bumped against his wings making him shudder.

The sensation of being with Cassian, being on the roof where anyone could hear or see us, and the falling stars around us was all wonderful and I felt myself start to clench around him right before I had to pull his face down to mine to muffle to scream I let out as I came around his cock. I must have squeezed him as I came because he filled me shortly after with his own moans into my mouth as he did so. He dropped his head to my shoulder as we both came down from our highs and caught our breath.

We stayed like that for a moment before he pulled out and rolled off of me.

“That was…” I started saying but couldn’t get the words out.

“Yeah.” Cassian agreed with me. The only movement we made was to sit against the wall to watch the rest of starfall together. Cassian had put his pants back on and gave me his shirt after we saw the damage that was done to the dress. Neither of us bothered with the glasses and instead just passed the bottles back and forth until they were both empty.

“Come on you can stay with me here if you want.” Cassian offered and helped me up before picking up my dress. I just nodded an agreement too tired to even want to try to get back to my apartment. Even though his shirt covered everything on me he still walked in front of me to block the view of anyone we might pass on our way down to his room.

I forgot how much I hated the steps in the house of wind until I was walking down them drunk and in heels. I was so happy when we finally got to the level of Cassians room where we saw Azriel smirking at us as he entered his own room. Cassian held the door open to his room for me and the first thing I did was take my heels off before heading to the bathroom to take off my makeup and undo my hair before crawling into the giant bed with Cass.

“Goodnight Cass.” I muttered. I felt him move closer to me and an arm and wing drape over me.

“Goodnight Elodie. You look even hotter wearing my shirt.” He breathed into my hair and I smiled to myself and snuggled into him before drifting off to sleep.

[dracarialove]

Love Letter

Shadow gets injured after a treasure hunt and accidentally upsets Rouge when trying to banter with her. When she brings him to her club to rest, he decides to make it up to her by writing a heartfelt letter.

Ship: Shadow/Rouge

*Originally published October 23rd, 2024

A/N: This is a oneshot originally written for the Shadougetober event; something short and sweet for my favorite prompt!

Echoing footsteps bounced a steady melody off the stone walls of a cave. A pair of silver heels clicked below their light-footed owner, louder from their shape than the muffled clunks of heavier skates just a few yards behind.

It was Rouge the Bat leading a walk through a rocky tunnel, her arms occupied by two bags filled with jewels; her body language spirited as wide hips swayed with every step and ivory curls bounced above her shoulders.

Shadow the Hedgehog trailed her backside at a casual pace, looking ahead at the opening where they'd entered the cave, and at the grassy plains that awaited their return from a treasure hunt.

Rouge's voice echoed when she spoke, "You know, I could use some help organizing all these gems. How about you come over after my club closes and we can spend some time getting them sorted? It'll be relaxing."

Shadow thought about her proposal, his interest in organizing jewels less than a whisper; but quiet time spent with his teammate was becoming more and more enjoyable. He felt a warm glimmer in his chest at the idea.

"Sure," he answered, glancing over her form as she gleefully walked ahead.

His eyes left her when falling pebbles caught his attention – at the mouth of the cave, they tumbled from above. When a larger rock fell to the ground, he got a bad feeling, and quickened his pace. Rouge noticed it too, speeding up as well.

"Rocks falling," she said over her shoulder. "Not a good sign!"

Then they heard the rumble of stone shifting along the earth. There were boulders piled above the entrance of the cavern, but they'd been stagnant when the pair first went in.

Now it seemed they were loosened from their rest and were rolling down the slope; they would fall off the cave's roof at any moment. Shadow looked up and saw the rounded edge of a boulder creeping into view past the stone opening. They wouldn't make it if he didn't speed ahead.

So, the hedgehog broke into a sprint, and as Rouge was nearing the exit – the sliding rock on a clear path to flatten her – Shadow positioned both hands to grab her lower back, lifting the bat enough to shove her more quickly out of the cave.

He jumped ahead after her, but making sure his partner got out first had slowed him down. As he was lunging forward, the boulder crashed down onto his legs, pinning Shadow under its weight.

"Aghh!" he shouted, gritting his teeth and looking back at the big round stone that immobilized him.

Rouge had stumbled onto the grass after Shadow's push, dropping the bags of jewels and scattering them across the ground. She was standing up when she heard the crash behind her, and Shadow's subsequent scream made her turn around in a panic.

"Shadow!" she yelled, and ran to his side, even as smaller boulders rolled off the hill to the left and right.

Shock and concern covered her face as she switched her focus from the speedster to the stone. She slipped both hands beneath it and groaned as she tried to lift it up. Shadow was grunting under his breath, but the pain wasn't so great as to make him scream again.

"Damnit!" Rouge blurted with a huff, backing away from the rock. "I'll have to cut this thing into smaller chunks. Cover your head in case pieces go flying!"

He did, draping one arm above him while she reeled back. The jewel hunter spun into a tornado of swift, powerful kicks strong and sharp enough to crack the boulder apart. Once it was in more manageable segments, she rushed to throw the battered chunks off of Shadow's body.

He moved his legs with little effort, albeit slowly as an ache permeated his muscles; then he let out a sigh. "It's a good thing I'm so resilient. Otherwise, that could've caused permanent damage. We should be more careful."

He didn't bring up the worst of permanent damage that could've been done – damage to Rouge, if she'd been the one crushed. Considering the injury to his legs only meant he would have to take it easy for a few days, he felt the responsibility to take hits like that, especially if it was in Rouge's place.

"Well, I think I've got enough jewels to keep me satisfied a while," said the lady, wrapping her hands around his figure to help him stand. "So, we can take a good long break from treasure hunting."

Shadow rested one arm in the crook of her neck, letting Rouge hold him up while he felt out the remaining strength of his legs. He was fine enough to walk with her assistance, and he helped her to gather the gems back into their bags before they set a course for home.

As they crossed the plains, the spy looked back at the cave they were leaving behind, then let out a soothing breath and offered Shadow an uneven smile.

"Nice job pushing me out of there. Even if it meant I got grass stains all over me. Your heroism really comes out sometimes."

"Hm, yeah," he mumbled. "Well, I had to if I wanted us to actually escape."

"Right." Her voice had a playful tinge, trying to lighten the mood and maybe distract him from his injury. "Still! That's our dynamic, isn't it? You save me, I save you."

"I suppose so. Although, if we could cut down on needing to save each other, that would be nice. Risking our lives should be a rarity, not a pastime."

"Okay, fair enough. But, you haven't thanked me yet for helping you out back there."

Shadow looked into her eyes, then cast his gaze forward again. "Thanks. Just remember this the next time you want to go excavating."

Rouge scoffed. "That's what you focus on? You know, you could've complimented me on my skill in freeing you. Without me, you would've been trapped under that rock forever!"

"Never mind that without you, I wouldn't have been there at all." He flashed a smirk when she pouted at him. "But I suppose you evened the score – if I'm being generous."

Rouge's teal eyes rolled and her voice lost its charming quality. "Alright, Shad. I carved up that boulder expertly, but you still can't just give me a compliment after all this time, can you?"

The colder tone she spoke with forced the realization on him that he'd offended her. His natural frown deepened into a glower and he tried to recover by responding with, "Yes I can. You did help me out back there. You know I respect you for that, right?"

He caught her eyes quickly rolling again, the irritated woman clearly not impressed by his attempt to salvage goodwill from the flippant banter that'd turned his quip into an insult.

She didn't reply further, and their conversation trailed off into nothingness following his claim. They walked through the plains, Rouge helping him to stay upright while simultaneously managing to lug her bags of precious jewels.

At the wordless acknowledgement that he'd misspoken at some point, Shadow let the silence be, in turn refusing to prod at the annoyance she was carrying.

He hadn't realized that neglecting to indulge her desire for a compliment would genuinely upset her; his past attempts at teasing had been more successful.

But maybe he was teasing her too much lately, falling behind on showing true appreciation for her talents. And maybe that was catching up with him now.

***

The wounded hedgehog was brought to Club Rouge, where his partner would let him rest even if she was a bit miffed at him. Before they went inside the bustling business, Shadow looked into her eyes earnestly and spoke a thought he'd been mulling over the whole way back.

"Thank you for carrying my weight." He wanted to add more, but his pride was nudging in, getting in the way of putting proper emphasis behind his thanks. He glanced down at the bags of gems in Rouge's grasp and raised a hand towards them. "I can bring these in, if you want; lighten your load after our long walk."

The bat turned her body, pulling the shiny haul away from his reaching fingers, and one brow curved downwards. Thankfully, her tone was more agreeable than he expected when she said, "You don't have to do that! It's a gentlemanly gesture, but I'll carry the babies myself."

Her eyes were friendly, but the smile she gave him was subtle and trepidatious – full of tension that still signaled she wasn't fully over her frustration with him.

He relented, though, not wanting to push her, and instead tried to avoid leaning as much of his weight on her while she walked through Club Rouge.

On the second floor, they entered the private lounge, where the jewel hunter placed the bags on a table and flew up to the ceiling to open her attic door.

"You can relax in my loft for now," she said, pushing a wooden slab inward to open a rectangular entryway. "Stay as long as you need to heal those legs. The spare bed is still set up."

Gazing up at her, Shadow felt a flutter in his stomach. Something about the way she offered her personal space so casually made his heart warm.

It spoke to the closeness of their relationship, and a wave of graciousness passed over him at the fact that she had kept her spare bed available; as if she anticipated him needing it again soon.

It was nice to have an open bed where he was always welcome, something Shadow was focusing on more now that he fixated on Rouge's kindness. She was never so generous with anyone else.

"I don't have to rest right now," he claimed, then gestured at the gems when she looked down at him. "I can still help you sort these."

A little chuckle left her lips and she descended to the floor. "Don't worry about that, hun. I'll handle it." She stepped behind him and hooked her arms under his, lifting her friend off the ground before he could protest.

"You just lie down and take a minute for yourself," she told him, bringing him into her loft space.

She set him down and offered a lingering gaze, as if considering the conversation they should be having. But Shadow didn't know quite how to respond, and when he said nothing, she left the attic, closing the heavy hatch behind her.

It was after she was gone that Shadow reflected on his actions – as well as his inaction – and considered the way he'd spoken to her outside the cave.

Sitting on the spare bed, he thought back to the roll of her eyes, the tense pull of her lips, and the annoyance in her voice. He started to feel bad about what he'd said, and began regretting that he'd chosen to banter with her instead of donating the complimentary words she deserved.

He sorted through his thoughts to admit to himself that there were too many things being left unsaid. And he decided he needed to make it up to her somehow, in a deeply genuine way.

***

The next day met Rouge with a strange loneliness. When she woke up, she looked to the bed Shadow was assumed to still be sleeping in, only to see it empty. It was made up, the blanket laying neatly on top, as if he had gotten up much earlier than her and tidied it before leaving.

Rouge nibbled uneasily on her bare lip at what it meant: either Shadow would be gone from the club, having walked out without saying goodbye; or he would still be around, and she would have to face him.

Rouge disliked both ideas, not wanting her partner to avoid her, but also feeling a linger of annoyance. Usually, the hedgehog's inability to toss a compliment her way didn't bother her. She knew he was no-nonsense most of the time – closed off.

But there were also times when she thought he was letting her in, and hiding less from the connection they had. She didn't like being reminded that there still might be a long way to go in that regard.

She left her bed and dressed herself up for the day, then decided she needed a distraction from the off-feeling the morning had brought her. She wouldn't go looking for Shadow; if he was still there, they would cross paths at some point.

Instead, she turned her musings to the stash of jewels she had yet to finish sorting. If there was one thing that could take her mind off of her uncomfortable emotions, it was precious gemstones.

But when she left her loft space, she found her attention unintentionally drawn as she descended elegantly into her private lounge.

There was something resting on the indigo loveseat – a white envelope with a heart-shaped splotch of red ink stamped on its fold. Bewildered, Rouge picked up the flimsy paper and felt the beat in her chest quicken.

The bat figured it must be from Shadow if it was in her personal lounge, though she couldn't pinpoint why there would be a heart on it if he had left it for her. The envelope alone would do; would be standard for someone as business-oriented as him.

She didn't want to think it might be a sign of something deep or emotional – something she would want from him – because she didn't want to disappoint herself. The stamp could mean nothing at all.

She hesitated to open the envelope, at first unsure if she wanted to deal with the contents inside. But, she decided she might as well get it over with, and so unstuck the fold of the envelope, opening it to pull a letter from the slit.

With stiff posture and a cautious expression on her face, she began reading the words that boasted Shadow's bland, neat handwriting.

Rouge,

Forgive me for not being able to say this in person, although I certainly wanted to. Yesterday, I failed to acknowledge your skill through a lack of grace in putting my thoughts into words. So I'm writing them down, with time to think, and the conviction that this is what I really want to say. This might not sound like me, but know that my heart is more articulate than my mouth.

Her shoulders relaxed a bit with the realization that Shadow probably wrote the letter to apologize, and maybe even make up for the praise he failed to give her before. Her eyebrows smoothened as she continued reading.

Saying I respect you wasn't a good enough compliment. It's more than that – I adore you. You're the best company I've ever had, and I feel a true friend in you. Stronger than that, I feel a connection between us that I believe could only be shared by fate-bound souls. It may sound dramatic, but it's how I really feel about you.

A smile cracked across her muzzle. It wasn't an "I'm sorry" type of apology, but she knew this acknowledgement of his mistake held the same message. Rouge had always felt her sincerest bond was with Shadow, so it meant everything to her that he was admitting it as well.

It wasn't dramatic; it was sweet, and thoughtful… even a bit romantic. And as she kept scanning shimmering teal eyes across the letter, she found herself more and more surprised by the words the Ultimate Lifeform had written himself.

We were meant to be in each other's lives. I wouldn't have anyone else in this world as my partner above you. And I'd even go as far as to say I love you. Though, understand I may never be able to say it to your face. Just know through this letter that it's true.

I love you

- Shadow

Widened with awe, her eyes lingered on the closing sentiment. Three sweet words hanging above the mark of her sender; the name that was signed by hand with a bit more character than the rest of the letter.

Together, they suggested a permanent change to the things Rouge knew about Shadow. His deeper truths were always a mystery, but she never expected this to be one of them.

'I love you'?

She'd never heard him say it to anyone or anything. She couldn't remember if the word 'love' had ever left his lips at all. Of course, it still wasn't being said – it was written, sitting printed clear as day on a sheet of paper addressed to her.

Endeared by his heartfelt words, Rouge hugged the letter to her chest, forgiving his silly mistake and feeling she'd been a bit petty about it. She forgot at times that Shadow still had trouble expressing himself, and it reminded her that he'd come a long way already.

Clearly he thought highly of her, even if he couldn't verbalize it as well. And she cherished the explanation, the penned delve into her partner's emotions; his beliefs; his standing with her. His soul was deeper than she knew. It was beautiful. He was beautiful – poetic.

'I love you'

He'd never be able to say it to her face. She expected that. And she accepted it so readily because she didn't know how she would react if he ever did admit it out loud.

It was a surprising but welcome confession, one she couldn't help but blush at when she considered the romantic undertones of the letter and the red heart stamped on its envelope.

It brought out a realization within herself. She loved him too, in a way more than mere friendship could convey; in the way that made her heart flutter at the thought of him.

She was glad he seemed to have taken his leave, not sure if she could handle looking Shadow in the eyes after reading such a vulnerable message.

It also gave her time – and privacy – to mull over his words some more, and absorb the plain but pretty pen strokes into her memory as a new step being taken for their relationship.

Shadow had to know those three words couldn't be taken back. And they were written in permanent ink. He meant it.

Rouge held out the paper again, her smile so naturally wide that she couldn't suppress it even if she wanted to. In the quiet luxury of her private lounge, she sat on the loveseat to read Shadow's letter again, blissfully consuming the sentimental heft of his tender admission a second time.

[bobbinalong]

dc so firmly positioning cass as batgirl again recently, to the point that she's finally getting a solo again, makes me slightly more hopeful for babs' future as a character than i was yesterday.

[monsor677]

lightning test + some more animals 🍃🍃🍃

[blog-moved-lol]

The Lighthouse (Batfam: Dick)

"Even in our darkest hours, the Bat-Signal is there. Acting as a lighthouse to guide us home."

Dick wasn't really sure when Scarecrow had decided to step into Blüdhaven. All he knew was that one night everything was fine, and the next he was getting reports of people crazed on fear gas running through the city. Of course as Blüdhaven's hero, it was his job to deal with the villain, even though he really didn't want to. Scarecrow was one of Dick's least favorite villains to deal with, a sentiment shared by most if not all of his family. Jonathan might not have much physical strength, acrobatics, strong weapons, or any of the things most Gotham and Blüdhaven villains have.. But he does have fear gas. Fear gas that seeps into your bones, warps your perception, shows you your greatest fears. It's exhausting to have to deal with, and Dick was already not exactly on stable ground with all of the nonsense happening in Gotham recently. In fact that was why he had returned to Blüdhaven in the first place, he was hoping to take it easy for a few weeks while still helping the people. Either way, now the job falls to him..

————

Nightwing stumbled out of the warehouse, head swimming with dizziness and pain. Gas spills out the doors and over the ground like a mist, making Blüdhaven's streets seem far more ominous then usual.

Damn it. He got away.

Dick thinks, gritting his teeth against the fog in his brain. He's trying to ignore it, he really is. He knows the visions aren't real, this isn't his first time on fear gas.. But that's the point, isn't it? It gets into your head, makes you see things that aren't there, makes you believe that it's real. It's not real, right? Or is it. What if it is? No, it couldn't be. These things would never happen in the real world. Bruce would never say this (Or would he?). It can't be (It is.). Dick makes a noise akin to a growl, clutching his head. The sense of confusion and panic that the gas brings on is something he'll never get used to, no matter how many times he's exposed to it. His head snaps up to the darkened sky, filled with black clouds. Not a star is visible through the fog, and the air smells of rain and storm and anger. It brings about a sense of hopelessness. Dick's body shudders. Is he bleeding? He can't tell. He doesn't remember getting hurt, but he could swear there's blood dripping from his nose. Is that a gash in his suit? God his head hurts. He hears a rumble like that of thunder, but whether or not it was real or in his head he can't distinguish. He eyes rise back to the skies, as the clouds part. Darkness, darkness, and more darkness.. But then-

A sign. A sign of hope. A sign of safety. A sign of.. Comfort. There, projected on a dark cloud, high within the skies, is the Bat-Signal. Glowing yellow, bat in the middle, shining brightly as if it were meant to be there. As if it were meant for him. Dick, despite his head swimming with confusion, fear, and hurt, knows that sign better then he knows himself. It means he'll be okay. It means this isn't real. (IT IS!) None of this is real. (NO!) He's.. Okay. He stumbles forward, still unsure of how bad his injuries are, but now with a mission. Scarecrow might have gotten away tonight, but Dick was stupid to try and take him on alone anyway. Fear gas is a scary thing, and he wasn't in the right headspace to deal with it. He needs.. To go home. To see Alfred, and Bruce. Jason, Tim, and Damian. Alfred the Cat, Batcow, Titus.. His family. He needs to get patched up, eat some of Alfred's cooking, talk to his brothers. He needs to be safe again.

And there he will be.

[rhysazriel]

Feel My Touch [Azriel]

SUMMARY: After Azriel left you high and dry one night, he’s left with the task of coaxing you out of your subspace. (4.2k)

WARNINGS: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut, dirty talk, dom/sub relationship, unprotected sex, very brief mentions of daddy kink 

A/N: in my humble opinion, Azriel and subspace should always go hand in hand together, he is a dom!!

You’d been feeling a little soft the past couple of days. Azriel had been busy most days with gathering information against the mortal queens, leaving you to your own devices until the sun allowed the moon to shine and he loved on you a little. 

You’d been patient, to say the least, and last night he took his frustrations from the day out on you and offered no aftercare to follow.

It was something he’d done (or rather, hadn’t) a few times, but only when he had a bad day or he needed to teach you a lesson – when you’d been a bad girl. Well, you’d been a very good girl so you were awfully confused last night when Azriel fell asleep moments after slipping out of you; not offering any love or care that he usually showered you with after.

You were unable to sleep – too caught in your own head trying to figure out what you did to upset him. Did you forget to do something? Did you say something you wasn’t supposed to? You didn’t know. What you did know was that Azriel very rarely used his real dominant side unless you were in big trouble or he’d had a real bad day.

That strict rule he’d set on himself meant you’d only been in subspace once or twice before and it’d always been something to massively worry Azriel. He was used to seeing his love be this independent, badass female that didn’t let people boss you around. Not watching you mope after him with teary doe eyes and a permanent pout in your bottom lip.

But when you have one of those nights where he is ruthless and mean and doesn’t follow through with any aftercare, you’re left to coil into yourself and drown in this dark hole of submission where you feel like a tiny person that needs constant reassurance and love.  

You’d always been affectionate; you both were–Azriel more so secretly–but when you were in that turmoil state, it was worse. You’d seem like a child that leeched onto his limbs and wanted to sit in his lap while sucking on his fingers as he read a book. You never truly realised you did those things in your sub head because you seemed to disassociate from yourself and into a childlike mindframe.

The first time it happened, Azriel made the situation worse. He thought that by showering you with affection and love, he’d be able to coax you out of it. Unfortunately, it shoved you deeper into your dark hole and took almost three days to get you back to your normal state and frame of mind.

The second time it happened, he tried another approach. He was harsh and mean and demanded that you snapped out of it. It only made you coil into yourself more and for hours, all you could say was, “I’m sorry, Az. I’m sorry I was bad, please don’t hate me!” to which, Azriel’s heart broke and he coaxed you out of it again with a little more love and affection.

Maybe that was why he didn't like to delve too far into the kink very often. He much preferred you as your vibrant and independent self and if he was honest, seeing you in such a subby and insecure state had bile rising up his throat. He hated knowing that he rendered you to a helpless state outside of the bedroom. 

He’d had a long week and he knew he probably should have coddled you to his chest last night and reminded you he loved you, but he was fucking spent and when he awoke this morning to go back out again, you were still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake you.

He hoped to come home to you lounging on the sofa with some snacks or wine waiting for him. But when he rolled home at 7:30 and kicked his shoes off at the door, he was greeted with the complete opposite. There was no warm scent of cookies wafting through the house and the sofa was bare with the cushions placed neatly; like you hadn’t sat down in hours.

Azriel made his way closer into the house with furrowed brows and a twitching nose. He could very clearly smell garlic and a cheesy hint of tomato sauces and meatballs. When he crept into the kitchen, he found you dishing up two plates of your homemade spaghetti and meatballs and popping little garlic dough balls into a side dish.

Your dining table was decorated with wax candles and two tall glasses of wine, the good cutlery put out by their placemats and Azriel was certain he could also smell a hint of caramel chocolate that you’d no doubt baked a cake from. 

His brows were still furrowed as your back stayed turned to him. Your hair was thrown in a messy nest atop your head and you were in nothing but a pair of tube socks and one of his dress shirts.

“What’s all this?” he coughed out to clear his throat and catch your attention. You had both plates in your hands as you spun around with slightly widened eyes and a big, toothy smile. 

“You’re home!” You squeaked, placing the dishes of piping food on the placemats. You reached for him on your tiptoes, pressing a longing kiss to his chapped lips and he kissed back but didn’t let his eyes close like yours did.

“I am, what’s the occasion?” he asked again, hands on your hips as you wrapped your little arms around his broad shoulders. 

His dress shirt rode up your body as you stretched and he could feel the delicate skin of your hips and soft material of your cotton underwear beneath his palm.

You seemed to blush at the question, avoiding making eye contact with him but Azriel tried to chase your line of vision to force it upon you. You tried to shimmy out of his grip but Azriel wouldn’t  have any of it. He gently pinched your jaw with a bent pointer finger beneath your chin and a thumb hovering across your bottom lip.

His head dipped to get a better look at you. There was a barely familiar look in your eyes and it was only when Azriel really looked that he noticed the perk pout in your lips. He should’ve known the second he saw you that something wasn’t right. 

You never pranced around the house in his shirt unless you were sick or  having a lounge day – neither of which were currently happening.

His shadows finally allowed themselves to circle your chest and up to your neck, a few straying to your arms before they returned back to their master. 

You were in subspace.

Azriel let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his wings droop on his back. He knew this was his fault, that he basically shoved you down into that little mindset last night when he left you to sort yourself out and didn’t kiss you goodnight. He knew you were  feeling needy and just wanted to please him.

“Baby…” he cooed, both hands cupping the sides of your face and your plump lips squished slightly between his hold. 

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore,” you murmured in a slight whine, like the words were stuck in your throat and you were too scared to mutter them out.

Azriel leaned down and kissed softly at your mouth, nudging the tip of his nose against your own. Brushing stray chunks of hair from your face, he pulled back just enough to allow you to look at him. 

“I’m not mad at you, my love. I never was,” he told you in a gentle tone. His words were spoken in a soft drawl – slower than usual to stress how much you needed to listen to him.

You let out a pathetic whine and tears started to pool in your eyes. You wanted to argue that he was, that surely you’d done something to upset him for him to act the way he had. 

Azriel seemed to know what was running through your head. Like you were too worried to speak in case you angered him further or he punished you. 

Punished you outside of the bedroom. Something he’d never done and never would. 

“But I made you dinner to apologise. I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you mad,” you pouted in a frantic state, like you were desperate to show that whatever you did to warrant the cold shoulder after sex last night, you didn’t mean it and you were sorry.

Azriel shook his head and kissed you again. “You didn’t make me mad, angel. You never make me mad,” he mumbled against your lips. 

The look in your eyes suggested you didn’t believe him. That perhaps you were telling yourself that his gentle tone was a trap. That he’d shower you with affection before neglecting you again, right when you believe he wouldn’t. 

“I was mean last night. I didn't take care of you after, did I?” he tried to encourage you to agree, to get you to nod your head but you stayed silent.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad at you, could never be mad at you, baby,” he shushed you. Azriel released his hold on your cheeks and coddled you into his warm chest, pressing comforting kisses to the top of your head as your arms wrapped around his middle.

You didn’t seem to believe him, worried that maybe he was just saying that to coax you to warm back up to him before he punished you. Maybe as soon as you start smiling he’d throw you over his knees and give you a spanking. You were unsure if that’s what your subby mind wanted or not.

Azriel pulled you out of his grasp and held your face again. There was denial swimming in your eyes. You didn’t believe that you had done anything wrong – you didn’t think you deserved to be let off the hook. Azriel squinted and tilted his head a little, trying to read what was going through your head.

Do you want to be punished? Wouldn’t that just shove you further into your submissive headspace?

He knew you, it was best not to entertain the thought of Azriel being above you—being dominant—being daddy. Every other time he’d snapped you from your subspace, he’d had to remind you that he didn’t want his little girl – that he wanted his baby, his fiancé, his strong and independent female. 

He had to remind you that he was Azriel and he wouldn’t respond to you if you didn’t address him as such. But he also had to be careful. If he didn’t go about it the right way, you could fall deeper and it was the last thing he wanted.

He leaned down to kiss at your lips again but you didn’t kiss him back. You didn’t think you should be allowed to. Azriel frowned, his lips smearing against your closed mouth. 

“Why won’t you kiss me back, baby? Just want some kisses,” he pleaded softly, nose bumping yours and he coaxed tiy to open up; to kiss him back just as gently.

“That’s better…” he breathed. 

You let yourself sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping back around his neck as your chest bumped with his. Azriel still had his hands on the sides of your flushed face and they sunk down your body in tender holds. His palms rested on the little dips in your hips as he pulled you closer. Your neck craned up to meet his kisses and he dipped down to keep your touch intact.

An idea sparked in Azriel’s head and his grip on your hips loosened. His hands snaked around to the front of your (his) shirt and he began unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top. You don’t break the kiss or comment on his advances. You let him have his way with you, do what he pleased because you thought this was it: your punishment was just beginning.

But oh, how wrong you were. 

When the shirt slipped from your shoulders and swam at your ankles, goosebumps broke across the surface of your soft skin. Your nipples pearled and they scratched against the material of his leathers. The sensation caused a careless whimper to slip from your mouth, and into his. Azriel tried not to grin at the noise and let his warm, scarred hands run up the expanse of your bare back.

“Feel good, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, hot tongue sliding against yours and you hummed again, welcoming his heavy taste of coffee and mint. 

Your mind was in a state of turmoil. Was he going to punish you? Was this his way of proving he wasn’t mad? What was he going to do? You can’t think straight.

You nod your head, kissing back with just as much vigour as you could but Azriel slowed the pace, wanting you to just feel him. 

“Just taste my lips,” he guided. 

His mouth moved slowly across yours, touch barely there but enough for you to feel him, to taste him. The gentleness of his touch helped to clear your mind to a state of blankness where you had nothing but him.

From the thumping of the bond that tugged on his chest, Azriel knew what word was festering on the tip of your tongue. His mouth barely caressed you as his left hand came up to massage your jaw. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you before you even spoke, his words a breathless whisper. He didn’t let his eyes close and you didn’t let yours open.

He watched you keen for more, to get a stronger taste and he felt you shiver in just your underwear and tube socks. Azriel allowed his hand to wander to the backs of your thighs before hoisting your small frame into his arms. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his middle, minding the expanse of his wings, and with his lips still on yours, he carried you through the hall and into the bedroom.

He didn't throw you on the bed like you expected. Instead, Azriel slowly eased you back on the balls of your feet while keeping his tongue against your own. 

“Daddy,” you mewled as he backed out of the kiss just enough to unbutton the lapels that contained his weapons to him. 

You felt the rough graze of the leather brush across your nipples and you expected him to blindfold you, to tie you up with the belt that holstered his weapons. But he let it fall to their ankles and you were left in another state of confusion. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you again, nosing at yours and tugging the leathers off his chest. Azriel guided your small hands to his torso, allowing the heat of his skin to warm yours. 

“I’m here, Y/N. Just feel my skin,” he encouraged in a soothing mutter.

He guided your hands across his chest and shoulders, coaxed you to squeeze and grope at his muscles and he started to swell harder in his pants when your thumb brushed over his nipples and fingers reached to lock in the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck. With your mind and hands occupied on his body, Azriel took the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and slip out of his trousers.

He toed off his socks and kicked the clothing to the side; a prominent tent pitched in his boxers and you bravely let your hand fall further down his body. Your wrist knocked against his length through the cotton pants and he stifled a groan. “Please, daddy,” you whispered in a shaky tone against his lips and he could taste the cinnamon bagel you had for lunch.

He subtly shook his head against you, nose bumping yours as he eased you onto the bed – crawling between your parted legs and helping your head to lay back on his pillow. He knew his scent was encompassing your senses and boggling your mind. He also knew it was what would bring you back to him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered softly. 

You’re swarmed by the darkness of his shadows that caress your skin, that whisper gentle reminders that he wasn’t made. Even through the shadows that swarmed you and the dim lighting of the bedroom, Azriel could still see your face – still make out your fluttering eyes beneath closed lids and he urged you to open them.

“Open your eyes, my love. Feel my touch,” he breathed.

His hips were gently rutting against yours, body keeping your thighs parted. Azriel reached a hand between your bodies. He didn’t want to break the touch to take off your underwear, so he opted to pull his aching cock from the waistband of his boxers instead. His tip was oozing with precum that he knew you loved to taste but you can do that later.

Azriel just wanted his love back.

He massaged your dripping core over your knickers, soaking the fabric as you whined desperately at him. Azriel peeled the fabric aside, thumbing at your swollen little clit and he felt your body jolt under his touch. “That's it,” he coaxed encouragingly, rubbing slow circles and you felt his cock bump at your entrance.

You let out a shallow shrill, one that was drowned by the silence of the room and he cooed at you. Azriel had one arm bent by the side of your head to hold up his weight and his hand was angled perfectly for him to brush strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “Gotta come back to me, Y/N. Gotta taste my lips and feel my skin, my love.”

You keen under his touch as Azriel dragged his thick cock to your weeping hole, feeling it flutter against his tip at the anticipation of intrusion. “Shh,” he cooed, circling your entrance before pushing in just a few inches. You gasped against his mouth, welcoming his tongue as he massaged his against yours.

He slowly sheathed in, vision dotted and he tried to muffle his belts of pleasure. You were clamping him down, walls soaked and warm and he felt so fucking snug in your tiny little cunt that stretched around him. 

“So good,” he praised, shuddering breaths across your face and your back arched, your chest out and into his.

“Daddy, please,” you mewled in a soft gasp, eyes wide open but you were staring straight through Azriel, like you didn’t really see him. He shushed you, rolling his lips deliciously and suckling on your tongue. “Come on, Y/N,” he guided. “Come back to me, love. Come back to Azriel.”

His hazel embers were drilling into yours in a gentle manner, like he was trying to get you to find the light in his eyes and swim to it. He tugged on that bond again, surging as much love and force as he could. 

He could feel your heart hammering against his chests and you were clawing at his back when your eyes met. “Yes,” You gasped as his cock hit against your precious little spongy spot.

Azriel grunted and panted above you, a sight so fucking holy toy thought you might’ve gone to heaven. But his thrusts were anything but angelic and his curls and wings were feigning devil horns above his head. 

“Azriel,” you choked, fingernails tearing into the taut skin of Azriel’s shoulders but he fucked into you harder at the mention of his name spilling weakly from your lips.

“That’s it. Just feel me, my love,” he grunted, slick sounds of your pussy squelching and his cock thrusting filled the air. Az’s chest was heavy on yours, a crushing weight that he couldn’t seem to hold up but the touch of his body on yours was what you needed. That push of guidance and pulling of grounding that knocked you into you right mindset.

“Azriel!” You cried again. 

Your voice was much harder, louder – you were more sure of yourself and him and where your mind was racing off to. Your eyes were still locked in an intense gaze and he didn’t know if your body was relaxing because you were close to your release or because you were out of your subby headframe.

You tugged back on that bond, finally, and Azriel could hear the pleads and cries of his name that you echoed through the bridge that connected your souls. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want you to cum all over my cock, baby. Come on.”

Azriel nipped at your bottom lip, let your tongue run across his gums and lick into his mouth. He could feel your thighs trembling from either side of his body and he kept going.

“Wanna cum! Please, please, please,” you begged, eyes frantic and wide. Azriel’s lips smeared against yours messily, cock sliding easily as you gripped him tighter and tighter. “Cum, baby. You don’t have to ask, just cum,” he promised.”

“Azriel! Fuck, Azriel!” 

Ecstasy washed over you with a shrill cry, eyes shut tight as Azriel met his own release and spilled into you hotly. You squirmed as he stilled, panting and frantic. Your hands were all over his clammy skin as you tried to regain a sense of consciousness.

Azriel’s hands looped around your face, shushing and cooing you to open your eyes, to come back to him. “Hey, shhh. Open your eyes, my love. Come on,” he spurred tenderly, tip of his nose nudging yours as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 

You blinked away the orgamsic blur and a toothy grin sat lazily on your lips.

He waited a beat, tried to decipher for himself whether or not you’d snapped out of it and was back with yourself. 

“Cauldron, you literally fucked it out of me,” you choked out a drunken giggle. 

Azriel let out a sighed laugh, head in the crook of your neck and your eyes were dazzling in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You’re a nightmare,” he joked into your chest, kissing his way up to your mouth. You offered an exhausted giggle, cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment of the underlying situation at hand. 

“I’m sorry, you know. Don’t know why I got like that,” you apologised. You felt a little silly, if you were honest, but Azriel never let you feel that way for long.

He shook his head and kissed your swollen lips again. “Don’t,” he said. “Was my fault for not making sure you were alright after. I normally do, I don’t know why I didn’t last night,” he admitted lowly. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scratch your blunt fingernails through his curls and at his scalp. “Not your fault, we both know how I get sometimes. Thank you, for snapping me out of it.”

Azriel kissed you softly, lips enveloped in a tired kiss as he slipped out of you, both of you hissing at the lack of warmth you offered each other. He sighed as he fell onto his back, sweaty chests cooling from the air. You coddled into his chest, his seed dripping from your sore cunt but you didn’t make any attempt to stop it.

Azriel snorted. “You’re dripping on the sheets.” 

You rolled your eyes at the comment and peeled your body away from his, sitting up to look between your parted thighs. Sure enough, there was a soaked patch just beneath you where arousal was starting to stick to the sheets.

You shrugged. “It’s your cum, not mine,” you argued playfully, shooting fake glares at the culprit. Azriel grinned cheekily at his love, reaching out for you so he could massage at your thigh the way he knew made you relax. 

“Well I do apologise,” he quipped in a playful tone and you hummed, playing into his mood.

“Mhm, you can change the sheets.” You leant down to kiss his cheek before hopping off the bed and padding nakedly to your bathroom. You switched on the light and allowed it to drown out into the bedroom so Azriel could see just how much mess you made. He couldn’t stop the blush that sat heavy on his cheeks.

You peered your head out of the bathroom and Azriel swore his heart fucking grew twice it’s size and he almost forgot how to breath. You had a shy smile on your lips and a look in your eye that he knew all too well. “I know you snapped me out of it but I still want to feel you… can we take a bath?” You asked, eyes hopeful as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

Azriel swallowed back the love that wanted to spew out of his mouth and nodded his head. “You can have anything you want, my love,” he sighed, dreamily. 

He followed you into the bathroom. When the water was drawn just enough and to the perfect temperature, you climbed in together with your back resting against his chest and Azriel’s lips pressed to your neck.

feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[sylvemooniet]

Dead Little Bird

Word count: 4,078 words

Centric: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd (father/son relation)

Trigger warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical death

Summary: which Bruce isn't Batman, but his children are still Robins.

Bruce was familiar with the "Robin" codename so many kids used to fight crime on their own. He already has met Dick Grayson, the little acrobatic orphan, so determined to protect the kids from bullies.

Dick was sometimes aggressive, Bruce couldn't say the contrary. He was surprised by how violently Robin beat the Wayne's kidnappers. Bruce couldn't blame him, that kid was an orphan, he needed to unleash his anger on something.

Many people didn't know how the famous billionaire playboy had soft spots for kids, especially orphans. After all, he was an orphan himself.

No one suspected a thing when the great Philanthropist adopted such a "poor helpless kid" like the little Grayson. It was funny how people theorized that the new Wayne was actually dating the mysterious Robin.

And still no one suspected when a new vigilante appeared on Bludhaven the same time the young Wayne moved away. Bruce was "alone" again. Even if he had Alfred, he missed his little Robin, but he was still proud of his Nightwing.

Then, there was a new kid. A new Robin. Such a bright smile and a great attitude, along with a fighting style obviously coming from the streets. The first time they met, he said to Bruce:

"Am I your new bodyguard now, old man?"

Wayne's memory of that day was clear as crystal, he remembers the boy headbutted one of the billionaire's kidnappers when saying that. That kid had a spark on his eyes, the spark Bruce already saw, on himself.

When the new Robin appeared in Bruce's life, the media joked about the philanthropist being a magnet to the vigilante children. And well, they weren't exactly wrong.

Besides Dick quickly revealing his identity to Bruce, it wasn't the same situation with the new kid. He even asked Alfred to do a research in all Gotham City's orphanages to find out more about the boy, but there was nothing, there was no one who looked like the new Robin. Bruce forgot the kid wasn't like Grayson, maybe he had parents, but would they really let a twelve-years-old fight crime?

Wayne offered the boy a decent Robin uniform, hence the kid's one was just dirty and fragile clothes that wouldn't help him fight crime. But the kid refused without thinking twice.

"I don't need your charity, old man. I know how to take care of myself."

The various scars on the kid's body proved he was lying. Even with the optimistic attitude and strength, there was still a truth: no Robin lasts too long.

Grayson was quite lucky, he became popular, he had support, he had Bruce. Dick was one of the only Robins who could grow up to be a better hero. It wasn't rare to see in the news about the police finding a body of a kid wearing red and green with a poorly sewed R brand.

And Bruce didn't want to see such a determined kid dead. But one night, he was just leaving a party, when he saw the kid fighting some thugs like always, but the boy obviously didn't have any advantage. Wayne's bodyguards got into action as he ordered, helping the little boy to win the fight.

But he was already unconscious. His small body was completely bruised, a reminder of a child who's already a soldier. It was unfair of a kid fighting against grown adults.

"Sir, he's still breathing."

So Bruce brought him home. It surprised Alfred to see him carrying a child in his arms again, he hadn't seen a scene like that since Dick had grown up.

When Grayson paid a visit in the next morning, he didn't expect to see a new Robin kid at the Wayne Manor. The butler told him about the last night, about how Bruce found him barely alive.

And the little boy was surprised when he woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room, with the billionaire old man he liked to provoke.

"Uhh, do you collect children or something?"

It was the first thing he said to Bruce when he woke up. He was still wearing his bloody clothes, but there was Dick's old clothes on the nightstand for him.

"Wasn't I supposed to be your bodyguard, old man? Not the contrary."

He tried to get off of the bed, but even after Alfred taking care of his wounds, it still hurt. Then, he just leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. His temper was obviously different from Dick's, and he was way more stubborn.

"What's your name, kid?"

Bruce asked once again, even if everytime the answer was the same.

"None of your business."

And the boy wouldn't change his reply so easily.

"Listen to me, I really need your name, and your parents' phone number, they must be worried about you."

For some reason, that made the kid chuckle like it was a really bad joke.

"I'm Jason. Jason Todd. And my parents aren't exactly available, y'know?"

"... What do you mean?"

Bruce already expected an answer coming from Jason. But if he really was an orphan, why Alfred didn't find anything about him while searching?

"Well, old man, my parents are pretty much dead."

"But, but… I made searches about you, you aren't in any orphanage or foster system. Is there anyone who's taking care of you?"

"As I said before, I can take care of myself, old man."

"But you're a child."

"Wrong, I'm a Robin."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, not even Grayson was that stubborn, but still, he wasn't Grayson, he was Todd.

"Why were you fighting so many people? They were double your size and clearly on advantage against you."

"They were stopping me from reaching my goal."

"And what is it?"

For a moment, Jason looked at him like what he truly was, a lost kid. Then, he looked away, almost like he was holding his tears, hiding them from Bruce and himself. He needed to be strong, like a real Robin.

"It doesn't matter, alright? Thanks for saving me or whatever, but I can just go now."

"Where do you live?"

"What are you? A stalker?"

Jason replied quickly, being extremely defensive.

"Jason, you said your parents are dead, where do you live? And with who?"

"Nowhere, and with no one. I'm no one's son."

"You're a kid, you can't just live on the streets."

Bruce said, his voice getting more soft as he tried to gain Jason's trust.

"Am I your new charity project, old man? Will you adopt me just like you did with the other Robin?"

Dick was spying the conversation through the slightly open door, but he backed away when Jason mentioned him. The boy was smart enough to connect the dots between Dick Grayson-Wayne and the acrobatic boy wonder.

"Listen to me, Jason. You at least need a place to live, and I need to compensate for the times you saved me."

"I don't need your help."

Jason tried to get out of the bed once again, but his body was shaking, still weak. He looked like a helpless kid, and he hated that.

"Jason, please, at least let me pay you a place to live. I know being Robin doesn't pay you."

"... Fine. But remember, you're not my father, and I'm not your trophy son."

==========

Kids were supposed to be easy to deal with. But as Jason stated various times, he wasn't a kid, he was a Robin, and being Robin gave him magic.

Both Alfred and Dick were surprised when Bruce told them he bought an apartment for a "random kid". Jason wasn't a random kid to him… Even if they weren't actually close to each other.

There was a kind of new routine in the Wayne Manor, at least once a week the little Robin came to ask Alfred to help him with the worst wounds he got and couldn't patch them himself. And sometimes he also came to return Bruce back to safety after another attempt of criminals to kidnap Bruce.

"You need to learn how to take care of yourself, old man."

Jason joked, wiping the blood out of his nose, he smiled, even after being hurt because of another fight. He was used to it, and not for just being Robin. But it wasn't a problem anymore, he had his Robin's magic.

And if Bruce was lucky enough, the little Todd would come by for dinner. He was hard to convince, but he still enjoyed being with Bruce, Alfred and sometimes, Dick.

And in an "unfortunate night", according to Jason, Grayson made up a nickname for him, and never stopped using it. "Little Wing", it was how he called the boy.

"When I get older, I'll be taller than you. You'll see who's the little one!"

That just made Dick laugh at him, he said Jason looked cute when he tried to threaten someone, and Alfred hid the knives just to guarantee the boy wouldn't take extreme measures.

Bruce thought of Dick as a reflection of himself, but Jason was unique. The boy wasn't like any of the Waynes, he was in fact a Todd, he was not part of the family.

Grayson and him were Robins, but they were different. Even when Dick was violent, it doesn't compare to how bruised the pimps Jason fought were. The news said this Boy Wonder was crazy, aggressive, the worst Robin Gotham City ever had.

"I can't wait to find this kid dead in a dark alley."

It was what Jason overheard from a cop another day. Once the policeman and the young vigilante met again, the man had an "accident" during work that broke his arm.

Alfred noticed the little boy was smiling a lot during dinner that day, even more than usual. And the butler knew that smile, a smile of a child who just did a mischievous thing.

"Master Jason, did you have a lot of fun today?"

"A lot, Alfred."

One day, a body was found under a balcony, it was presumed the man was pushed to his death. And on that balcony, there was Robin, the possible culprit. And people accused a child of murder.

"I didn't kill him! And what if I did? He literally violated a woman!"

Jason tried to justify himself to Bruce, who was worried about the boy, as he was needing to hide himself, afraid of getting arrested.

"Jason, you can trust me, have you done it?"

Wayne asked him with a soft tone, trying to comfort the little boy. He tried to reach his hand to touch Jason's shoulder, but he stepped back.

"Bruce, do you really think I'm a murderer!?"

The man didn't answer, and Jason felt his heart breaking, the boy thought he could finally trust someone. But he was still seen as a criminal, even to the person he thought… The person he thought could be a new father to him.

"Jason… I…"

Bruce stopped himself, as he noticed something. The Robin was crying, and he was actually being a child, not a hero. A child in despair to be trusted.

"Jason… I'm…"

He didn't let Wayne finish, he just ran away out of the manor. And Bruce didn't stop him. He broke the boy's trust, and he didn't deserve to say anything to him.

Bruce tried to be the father of a no one's son. And nobody is surprised he failed. The Wayne Manor isn't supposed to be a place for kids like Jason, who fought fate itself to survive.

But, a week later, the investigation stopped, Robin was no longer a suspect. It was very sudden, but the detectives with a new big quantity of money in their pockets wouldn't justify it.

And in the same night the investigations stopped. In the same rainy night, the window of the Wayne Manor was opened by an "intruder", who noticed the great Philanthropist on the couch, like he was waiting for someone.

The little "intruder" sat down with him, his head leaned on his shoulder. Bruce caressed the boy's soaked hair, which startled him a little bit, but he slowly gave in.

"I'm sorry, Jason."

Despite Bruce's morals, his codes, the laws. He would do anything for his sons, no matter what. And Jason knew that, and he finally felt safe.

==========

Jason spent his fourteenth and fifteenth birthday with the Waynes, and even if he didn't say it, he wanted to spend all his birthdays with them.

It didn't matter if the boy wasn't in the charity galas like Dick was. It didn't matter if he didn't show himself publicly as a Wayne. Bruce saw Jason as his little bird, as his son.

And Bruce was really proud of his son. Like Grayson, he was a hero. He watched how Todd was growing up, how he was growing better, and he was a hero Bruce could never be.

The Robin was always around in the manor, even if he wouldn't easily admit, he felt at home. All the dinners, the sleepovers, the movie nights, it felt like home. He finally had a home to come back to by the end of the day.

Bruce would make a surprise for Jason, finally getting the paperwork to adopt the little bird, to finally call him "son". It would be a surprise gift, right after him coming back from patrol as Robin.

Wayne waited excited, he knew Todd would be equally happy. He was so proud of what he became, and will be more proud when he finally can call this hero his son.

It was already late, and he still didn't come back. He tried calling him, hoping he just went directly to his apartment that night, it would be understandable, but nobody picked up the phone.

Bruce turned on the television, maybe Jason was late because he was in the middle of a big situation. It already happened sometimes, so it wouldn't be different from those times. But all that he heard was nothing about one of the Robins.

But Jason, he only heard the sound of his ribs breaking after yet another hit with that crowbar. His vision was completely blurry, and it was so hard to breathe. He looked over the woman that smoked while he was in pain.

Jason never told Bruce about how he was searching for his biological mother, just Alfred was helping him secretly, and he made the butler promise he wouldn't tell anyone.

But the little Robin didn't expect his mother to be a backstabber, and in that exact moment, the metal hit his back, breaking even more ribs. Then, he heard laughter.

The laughter of a maniac clown, the one who was enjoying so much causing pain to him. Sometimes he even joked about it, like it was the most funny thing to watch.

"Uh oh, the little bird got a broken wing, maybe your mommy could help you… Oops!"

Then, more laughter followed by another hit that made his eyes water again. Jason was feeling so weak, feeling the cold floor and his own blood accumulating under him.

"D-dad…"

Jason cried out, his voice hoarse and weak. That brought his mother's attention, she knew Willis Todd was dead. But that wasn't the father her son was calling for. He was calling for Bruce, even if he wasn't a vigilante like him, even if he couldn't fight anyone.

Jason just wanted to be in his father's arms again, even if he's dying. He just wanted to be home again.

"Awn, look! Little bird is calling for daddy. What a pity!"

He sobbed in silence, he couldn't give that clown the happiness for breaking him. Jason was broken, very broken, but still, he shouldn't cry, Bruce would probably be disappointed at him.

If his biological mother betrayed him, backstabbed him without thinking twice, Bruce would never save him, even if he knew about his current situation.

The boy's mind became foggy, probably because of so many times his head got hit by that fucking crowbar. The psychopath clown wasn't there anymore, but his mother was tied up. His only memories were of untying her, and a ticking sound, then, nothing.

Bruce found himself awake until very late, even if his mind felt asleep, it woke up, and unfortunately, to the sound of Vicki Vale's voice.

"... A sudden explosion occurred in a warehouse in Gotham City's south area. The GCPD is investigating what might have caused it."

The camera showed a lot of rubble, and various policemen around the area, searching for clues and possible bodies. And they found it.

"Attention! The police just found the body of a child!"

Bruce became startled, his heart was getting tight on his chest, and the tears were ready to come. And when the camera zoomed to a very familiar boy's body, he felt broken.

He didn't get any time for any other type of reaction, his emotions were taking total control of him, Bruce was no longer acting rational. Minutes later, he was exiting the car right in front of the crime scene.

"I can't believe it, Mister Wayne! What are you doing here!?"

And similar reactions were heard by him, but completely ignored as he walked towards his son's body, which was being taken by the police.

"Mister Wayne, you shouldn't come closer, this is a crime scene."

They tried to stop Wayne, but they failed, as he got Jason's limp body in his arms. The boy was already so cold, his eyes still open, all the blue going away. The blood was still wet, staining Bruce's clothes, but he didn't care.

His little bird was dead. His son was dead. Bruce thought the pain of his parents' death was unbearable, but he never thought he would have his son's body in his arms, so cold, so lifeless.

Bruce carefully closed the corpse's eyes, so it looked like the boy was just sleeping, but he knew he wasn't. He held his son tighter to his chest, and screamed. His screams were so painful, as his heart was completely shattered.

Alfred made sure the police and the media wouldn't talk about that moment. And the butler also made sure the boy would be buried with the Waynes, as he should be.

Jason wasn't as lucky as Dick, he wasn't an exception. His end was just like the other Robins. Dead, found brutally killed.

Grayson really wanted to see Jason grow up to prove he wasn't his Little Wing anymore. Grayson wished he could call his little brother his Big Wing.

Alfred really wanted to see Jason's mischievous smile once again. Alfred wished he could bake Jason's sixteenth birthday cake.

Bruce really wished he could have saved Jason. Bruce really wished he could see Jason's smile again. Bruce really wished to hear Jason calling him old man again.

Bruce wanted his little bird back.

==========

Both the media and the GCPD didn't want to admit it, but Gotham got worse after Jason's death. He was one of the best Robins the city ever had.

Dick spent more time in Gotham since that, to act both as Nightwing and comfort Bruce. Wayne needed his son to be with him, and even if Grayson wasn't the son he wanted, he wanted to make his father happy.

They just didn't expect to find Bruce's neighbor inside of the manor, wearing a Robin costume, while having the worst dark bags under his eyes.

Somehow, the little boy knew about the relation Bruce had with the Robins, he knew about Dick and also knew about Jason. The Waynes started to think that kid was a stalker.

The boy was Timothy Drake, who was clearly obsessed with the Robin concept, and the fact the most important Robins of the city were his neighbors, it made him very excited. Even if one was gone.

"C'mon, Bruce, could you resist this kid puppy's eyes?"

Somehow, Dick convinced the philanthropist to not report the kid to his parents, or even to the police. And Tim's parents didn't seem to care about his safety, since he was just running around as Robin without them worrying about him.

And the story repeated itself, with Bruce having another Robin under his wing. He expected the story would go differently, and he wouldn't need to hold his son's body again.

The years were going through, and still, every single day Bruce had visited Jason's grave, but still, he wasn't in the moment his son dug out of his own grave.

It wasn't a surprise when the philanthropist was once again kidnapped, criminals really liked abducting rich people. But he wasn't in panic, it was just like another Saturday, and he was just waiting for Tim to show up.

But it wasn't a Robin who showed up. A person with a red helmet entered the room, and even if Bruce nor the criminals could see his face, they knew he was pissed.

"You idiots can't do a thing right, I told you to not get him. You should give me a reason to not explode your heads right now."

The mysterious man said, and Bruce could feel some familiarity in his voice. The criminals didn't even dare to blink in the wrong moment, obviously scared by their leader.

"You should all go, and if any of you try eavesdropping, I'll cut your ears off."

They all exited immediately, even Wayne was scared by his attitude. And for some reason, he was freeing him from the restraints. That was a very different kind of mob boss.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, old man. I don't hurt you and you don't call those pigs, are we good?"

Bruce looked at him suspiciously, everything was so familiar, but he couldn't point it out.

"Also, don't call your bird boys, do you hear me?"

"You mean the Robins?"

"Exactly, old man. You keep collecting them, apparently. So, just leave, call your butler to take you or whatever."

"Why are you just letting me go?"

"Damn, how ungrateful of you. It's because you're not a bad rich person, if you were some like, I don't know, Lex Luthor, you'd be already dead."

"... Thanks."

"Just go already."

And when Bruce left the building, he almost immediately found Tim, who was in his Robin uniform. If Jason was alive, he would feel replaced.

Days later, the news was just about the infamous Red Hood, who was cleaning up the streets from crime, while staining them with blood.

And still, somehow, the Red Hood and Bruce kept meeting, as criminals still tried to steal from him. And for some reason, a mob boss was determined to protect him.

"Am I your new bodyguard now, old man?"

That phrase, those exact words, they were so familiar, it reminded him of his son. But if Jason was alive, he would think he was forgotten.

"Do I… Do I know you?"

Bruce asked, searching for eye contact even if the man hid his face behind that helmet.

"I saved your ass sometimes. Geez, old man, have you already forgotten? Most of the time, people don't forget about a man with a red helmet."

"No, it's not it. I feel like we've met before. Before all this."

If Jason was alive, he would think his father just moved on after his death.

"What if we did meet? Does something change?"

"You… You remind me of my son."

"Your… Son?"

If Jason was alive, he would have thought his death was meaningless to Bruce, or to anyone.

"My son, Jason."

And he was alive. The Red Hood removed his helmet, revealing the face Bruce missed seeing. Jason was older, but it was still him, even if he was changed. It was still his son.

Bruce was in complete shock as he tried to process the information his son was alive. Jason thought his father would back down, run away from the pain, he must have done the same when he was dead, right?

But Bruce's arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, like he was afraid he would lose his son again. Jason gasped in surprise, but returned the hug. He thought his dad forgot about him, but he didn't.

Wayne cried on his shoulder, and he noticed how tall his son got. He was his little bird, but he was so big now, completely grown up.

"Bruce…"

"I missed you, little bird, I missed you so much."

[evanesce-origin]

when i die (which i must do)

speirsroe have a good time during the war and nothing goes wrong (lying)

ao3 link

CW: major character death, canon-typical injuries, canon divergence. apologies in advance for the things ive written. blasphemy??? (religion as a consistent metaphor)

Speirs had long grown used to the incessant prickling of cold at his fingers, like thousands of pins finding a home in his skin. He paid little mind to it; whether he was in the foxholes or wandering aboveground, it was rare that any presence of warmth showed him what he was missing. It was another aspect of war that faded to background noise; the static of loss and gunfire rang somewhere in between. He flexed his fingers and shifted his weight as he stood overlooking the quiet forest ahead of him.

The thick blanket of snow muffled any sound that wasn’t one of impending violence.There was no movement from the rest of Dog company— most had long dug into their foxholes for the night. Whether they slept or not was another story. Sleep didn’t come easy to any of them anymore.

Speirs moved through the trees like a ghost. His afterimage haunted the forest with the footsteps he left behind, breath whisking itself into the air when it escaped from behind the scarf he hid his face behind. Stoicism was a facade he knew all too well, like holding a mirror to the suffocating cold that surrounded him and donning it as a sort of camouflage. It was comfortable there, in the stiff lines of his braced shoulders and the rigid curve of his spine.There was an unfortunate ease that came to him exploring the line, one that had arrived long before Bastogne. Somewhere just before Taccoa, when he’d accepted he was a dead man walking and had little reason to protest otherwise, the calm had settled in his veins like ice and hadn’t been shaken since.

In the space between Dog company and Easy company’s lines, it could’ve been easy to forget there was a war going on. If he wanted to, he could’ve pretended he was the only man in the world, surrounded by the bright light that reflected off the snow from the moon like a system of funhouse mirrors guiding the sunlight back to Earth. If he wanted to, he could’ve imagined a world of peace that wasn’t so harsh as to take the men he walked amongst, body and spirit. He didn’t, though.

The time for reflection was one Speirs cherished more than anyone else would ever know. He mulled over his experiences from the last few years and the way his heart had changed. A novel concept, the heart of Lieutenant Ronald Speirs; its existence a myth that the paratroopers often made jokes about. Hell, if he were anyone but himself, he’d be cracking the same jokes.

With this time, he thought of the first time he saw Eugene Roe. It’d been a sweltering summer, midday sometime in August, and Dog company had just finished running drills. Easy company, contrary to their name, wasn’t granted the opportunity for a break like they should’ve been. Sobel was running them into the ground, figuratively and literally, as he did often. Incessantly. Shouted orders, insults, and curses poured out of Sobel’s mouth so loudly they rang in the ears of men halfway across the fields. Most of the men in Easy company had at least some level of exasperation on their face, if not pure outrage and murder in their eyes. 

Roe’s face was a facade of calm, even when Sobel began arguing with Winters. He stood at attention as if he had been born to, familiarity and ease in the posture. It was only when Sobel said something blatantly wrong about code and a tactical decision Winters had apparently made earlier that week that Speirs saw a crack in that expression; a brief twinge of annoyance and fury that escaped as Roe’s gaze flickered from straight ahead of him to where Sobel stood. He set his jaw and raised his chin slightly.

There was an urge like a gut-punch that Speirs felt, nearly taking his breath away. The urge to dig at that crack, to unearth whatever was behind it and revel in it. The cold fire in Roe’s eyes had sparked something in his curiosity, and that was bad enough; Speirs didn’t get curious about the other men. He had no urge to know the others, not in the way that they seemed to intimately make friends despite their impending march to certain death, one he had accepted.

There was a part of his subconscious that had always kept track of Roe throughout their separate time at Toccoa. To be fair, he kept track of everyone. It was a force of habit, a way of keeping aware of his surroundings in a sense. Besides, he wanted to know the men he was going into the war with and their skill sets. There was no denying that his curiosity was far more than professional, however, and that ate at him like nothing else had.

Time in Europe before they officially dropped in Normandy had been a blessing, like the miracle of lightning striking a church. The first time they were in Aldbourne, there was much revelry to be had in the bars that remained standing, something all of the companies participated in without hesitation. Speirs didn’t find himself amongst them often, but on the rare occasions he did, there were a further few that overlapped with “Doc” Roe participating. The curiosity turned into a soul-felt hunger, one he tried his very best to ignore. This was one of few things Speirs wasn’t successful at, despite putting his mind to it.

Introductions were made eventually, casual and brief as they were between passing companies as a paratrooper brought Roe’s name up as an afterthought. Speirs refused to acknowledge the delighted twinge he felt at Roe’s accent, the low pitch of his voice bleeding into his thoughts like ink spilled upon a page, dark and all-encompassing as it clung to whatever it could reach. It was soft, something he didn’t often find comfort in, but the low rumble of Roe’s introduction and the subsequent way he shifted in his seat, grasping at his drink to avoid eye contact but not drinking, had Speirs settling in the chair across from him. Perhaps a conversation would satiate his curiosity, if he could just get a glimpse through the crack of his demeanor.

Looking back, this would be the moment that Speirs would declare everything had gone so very right and so horrifyingly wrong. He had never been a man of self control, though, and this characterisation would follow him to both of their graves. He was doomed from the very beginning, marching toward devastation as he followed the pure warmth of that Cajun accent. He would’ve followed it to the end of the war, too. 

Quiet, sparse conversations punctuated with mutual, easy silence over drinks that were rarely alcoholic gave a foundation to acknowledgement of each other outside the little dark corners they spent their time in. It was hard to reconcile with, though; the moments Speirs spent studying the intricacies of Roe’s face, with the dancing firelight shifting and giving a further brilliance to all the softest and sharpest parts of his features. The angle of his brows, the thin purse of his mouth as he contemplated something in their mutual silence, the abrupt yet rounded lines of his cheekbones.

And Jesus Christ, his eyes held storms Speirs would dive headfirst into if given the chance. They were dark, like the farside of the moon and just as enticing. He didn’t catch them often, as Roe preferred to stare down at the surface of their rickety table or glance around the bar with a paranoia troopers didn’t often acquire before dropping for the first time, but Speirs didn’t mind much. Roe asked Speirs occasional questions about the version of himself he’d left behind in the States, one that he’d slaughtered without hesitation in preparation for their upcoming conflicts. He didn’t mind taking those old bones out once in a while, though, and showing them off for Roe if he asked. Roe did the same on occasion too, giving little quips of Louisiana tales that felt distant to them both.

Roe told him about the church he went to and a fondness he had for his “Ma’s cookin’” and the simple delights of walking down the street to a local bakery. The little details were gifts, wrapped by Roe and sent over with tentative hesitation and a wariness in his eyes that gave way to something else if pried upon.

The cold in Speirs’ voice never seemed to put Roe off any, nor did the uneasy way he smiled or the haunting of his eyes that trailed around the room boring holes into the backs of the other men. His Cheshire cat smile did send a shiver down Roe’s back once or twice, but it didn’t seem to be a negative reaction from what Speirs could gather. Speirs wasn’t insecure about the way he was perceived, the demeanor he held so naturally that unsettled the others, but at the time he thought it would’ve been a shame if Roe was the type to be scared off so easily. He wasn’t.

When they caught each other outside of their little corner, it was brief and in passing, but no less appreciated. Once, Speirs had even caught a glimpse of the quirk of the corner of Roe’s mouth, and felt a sense of nonsensical accomplishment. The preparation and anticipation had left them all a bit haggard; drawing a smile out of Doc Roe meant he was doing something right. There weren’t many more opportunities for quiet conversations left before something was bound to happen; they were awaiting further orders from the chain of command. The energy around Aldbourne felt much like the lighting of a fuse, waiting for the bomb to go off. Speirs awaited it eagerly, Roe with a sense of God-fearing dread.

There were bags under those half-moon eyes the last time Speirs saw Roe before the drop on Normandy, more prominent than they usually were, and he felt an irritating itch in his fingertips to smooth them away. At no point had Speirs accounted for any sort of desire, in any sense of the word, rearing its ugly head and drawing his attention somewhere other than the immediate pressing matter of the war ahead of them. He wanted to call out reassurances, make a comment about comforts Roe would find in the rosary beads that hung around his neck, but that wasn’t something that came naturally to him. Instead, across the airfield, their eyes caught on each other; a momentary eclipse. Speirs nodded. Roe nodded. The moment ended.

Accounts from his memory of catching glimpses of Roe during D-Day and the days after were hazy at best. He wasn’t sure if they were accurate or simply his mind filling in the blanks of soldiers passing by in the heat of battle and maybe it didn’t matter. Having caught a flash of his dark eyes and darker hair as he sprinted across the field in Carentan, Roe felt much like an omen. The moon caught his eye in the same way overnight, in passing with a glowing reassurance Speirs didn’t have the time nor the energy to consider. 

The air in Aldbourne was different when they returned. Heavier, smokier, weighed down with the breath of devastation and heartache at what the military called a “mighty-successful mission.” Speirs could agree with that, and with the firm feeling of experience lodged in his chest at what he and D-company had accomplished. The familiar nagging of curiosity pushed him to find out what Roe thought about the whole matter, what he had emerged from the other side of D-Day with. If it had cracked him further, if he still clung to those rosary beads like they were the answer to the wreckage they’d been through.

They found each other eventually, coming together in an easy silence that provided some familiarity despite the fact that everything had changed with their first taste of combat. Speirs had flourished under the pressures and stress while Roe looked as if he were clinging to the semblances of normalcy, his hard eyes crinkled under the pressing crease of his downturned brows. Roe never volunteered tales of what he had been through and Speirs never asked. He could see them written on the creases of Roe’s face and oh God was it beautiful. The unease decorated Roe’s face like a veil and the horrors he had seen adorned his demeanor like the armor he wore to battle. Speirs found resolve in himself to dig himself under that armor, to work out the weak spots and dig his fingernails in until he drew blood.

The first few drinks Roe ordered were stronger than anything Speirs had ever smelt on his breath, but that didn’t last long. Roe just wasn’t a drinking man and that was one of the little quirks that made Speirs even more desperate to know him. One of the nights, after the other troopers got a bit too rowdy for his liking, Roe slammed his glass on the table and considered Speirs for a moment, eyelids heavy. “I’m gonna go on a walk.” He announced quietly, though he didn’t move.

It was an invitation. Speirs accepted it without a word, swinging his legs over his chair and yanking his coat off the back of it. Roe’s movements followed afterward, albeit with less gusto, which gave Speirs the time to shrug on his jacket and remove Roe’s from his own chair-back for him. Roe’s hands were tucked deep in the sleeves of his sweater, so Speirs simply draped his light jacket over his shoulders and struggled not to admire the way it hung over him. Roe mumbled a quiet thank you and they departed the little pub.

There was relative quiet in the streets. The distant shouts of drunk men clambering around the sidewalks hardly compared to the gunfire that had rang through their ears through the past few months. If a passerby were to guess by sound, they’d assume Roe was alone; Speirs’ footsteps were entirely silent, even and sure like a prowling cat. Roe fumbled for the pocket on his coat, unsuccessful as he battled his oversized sweater and the awkward settling of his coat where it was draped over his shoulders. “What are you looking for?” Speirs asked, amused.

“Smokes.”

Speirs obliged without another word, digging into his own pockets to retrieve a carton of cigarettes. “Not a drinker, but a smoker?”

“Yessir.”

Speirs chuckled and withdrew a lighter. He handed Roe a cigarette, which he promptly tucked between his lips. They paused in their steps, turning toward each other as Roe looked up at Speirs expectantly. Speirs raised the lighter to Roe’s mouth, crowding forward to block the wind from blowing the flame around as he lit it for him. For a long moment, Speirs’ eyes were locked in concentration on Roe’s mouth. He felt Roe startle slightly as he glanced up, sharp gaze boring holes into those storms like the sun breaking through clouds, before he looked back down to make sure the light caught. It had.

He moved away and they continued walking as Speirs began to fish out another cigarette for himself. “Uh, I don' mind sharin’. I’d hate for you to waste two at a time since you gave me one.” Roe’s voice was thick with…something.

That sharp pitch of delight returned tenfold and Speirs grinned down at Roe. “Alright.”

They continued their walk to anywhere and nowhere in the quiet amongst the stars. Roe’s fingers had escaped from the sweater to pinch at the cigarette, hands shaking from a nonexistent chill, skin calloused and warm as it brushed against Speirs’ hand when he passed it over. Speirs lingered for a moment. The thought of slipping his hand up the sleeves of Roe’s sweater and touching skin invaded his vision, enticing and unbearable. He wondered what he would find— what scars Roe was hiding, old and new. 

Their hands pulled apart and Speirs took the cigarette into his mouth. It was slightly damp with Roe’s saliva and Speirs relished in the way inhaling burned. When he glanced over at Roe, he was watching him, eyes transfixed on Speirs mouth. That Cheshire cat grin returned as he parted his lips to let the smoke escape his mouth like the gasp of a prayer, head tilted back to the starry sky. When his eyes caught Roe’s figure again, his hand had fumbled for his rosary beads in the absence of the cigarette. 

Speirs plucked the cigarette from his own lips after a few puffs, content to coast on what little nicotine he had gotten just to see it return to Roe. The medic stopped his fussing over the beads and accepted the cigarette graciously, with another brushing of hands and Speirs’ eyes tracking it as Roe put it back in his mouth. He closed his eyes when he inhaled, feather-light lashes fluttering against the rolling hills of his cheekbones.

A few blocks down the road, after contemplating in the silence, Speirs spoke again. “Do you pray often, Roe?”

“For my company, yes. For my patients.”

How honorable. “Do you have a favorite prayer?”

Roe recites it into the night and the ink bleeds through the folds of Speirs’ brain— he can feel it enter his bloodstream and crackle electricity through his bones. The rolling tone, the thick accent, “With all my heart.”

Perhaps, Speirs can understand the allure of worship. Vulnerability on the knees. This thought spurs on contemplation in him and he decides that maybe he does need that cigarette after all. Roe doesn’t comment as he fishes another out, but stops and turns to offer to light it for Speirs. He takes the invitation readily, though he goes about it differently; he tucks the cigarette into his mouth and dips his head to light it against Roe’s. The ember in Roe’s cigarette flares as he exhales sharply, those creases creeping out to dance across his skin as he furrows his brow and finds fascination in the tops of his shoes. “Thank you.” Speirs says, straightening his posture.

He takes a step to continue walking and it takes Roe a moment to catch up, taking a few large strides to walk beside Speirs again. They listen to the whooping of paratroopers down the road, a clattering, and the shattering of glass and Roe rolls his eyes. There are no screams of agony to indicate some sort of accident he has to attend to, and so he simply ignores the antics.

Speirs walks Roe back to the house he was assigned to, the family he’s bunking with long asleep at this point with all the lights off in the house. “Hope I didn’t keep you out past your curfew.” Speirs comments, teasing, as they pause at the door.

The corner of Roe’s mouth quirks up and he shakes his head. “No, sir. Somethin’ muss’ve convinced them that I’m capable. Maybe they heard there’s a war on.”

Speirs grinned and dug into his pocket once again. He grasped the lighter and dropped it into Roe’s pocket, knuckles brushing against his chest through the fabric of Roe’s shirt. “In case you need to light your own cigarettes next time.”

Roe opened his mouth to protest as Speirs spun on his heel to walk away, but Speirs raised a hand and, not too loudly, called out, “Get some rest, Doc. There’s a war on.”

Market-Garden is a resounding defeat. Nuenen more closely resembles Easy and Dog company being shot at like fish in a barrel than any military movement being executed. The death and destruction leaves bodies scattered in the streets that Roe is loath to ignore; the idea that a man can look dead but is still alive enough to be saved if he’d paid just a second more attention haunts him at night. He wonders how many men he’s left behind to die already, despite his oaths to leave no man behind. He wonders if the bloodstains will ever wash from his hands— he’s spent far too long over basins scrubbing his hands raw to not have an answer for that. He thinks he’ll feel it for the rest of his life. He wonders if the rosary around his neck is meaningless now with the ghost of a coating of blood preventing him from truly grasping it again. He wonders if he’ll ever feel clean again, if anyone will ever consider him clean again.

There’s plenty to do when they settle in one place after retreating. There were countless men injured, a limitless supply of bodies to keep Roe’s hands busy. He’s stitched more wounds than he can keep track of, soothed burns, removed shrapnel, and thrown sheets over the faces of men whose names he can’t even remember. And by God, despite all the bodies, it’s the loneliest work Doc Roe has ever done.

It isn’t until nightfall that he eventually gets a break, fully reliant on whatever amalgamation of supply crates stacked behind him to keep him up. He’d propped himself against them not five minutes ago, head tilted back against the harsh corners as he tried to breathe past the iron scent that clung to the inside of his nose. Back in his training days the smell of blood made him nauseous. The first three days he had real patients he couldn’t eat a single meal, couldn’t even bear the smell of food. Those days had passed and there was no other option than to push past the way his stomach turned if given the opportunity for a meal.

Captain Winters handed him something edible as he passed by, commenting on Roe’s good work. It didn’t feel much like good work but he nodded and thanked Winters nonetheless— at least with Winters he knew he wasn’t being bullshitted for encouragement, and that meant something to Roe. He ate whatever it was, lukewarm and stale-tasting, slowly as he tried to cycle through the casualties he confronted that day. There were far too many bodies, nameless bodies, for him to pray for them all, and it had become far more realistic for him to pray for the ones he could still protect. Captain Winters and Nixon. The rest of Easy company. A few faces outside of it. The nurses on the frontlines. He could pray for them.

Like a prayer answered, one of the faces outside Easy company materialized through the dark. Speirs was led by what Roe could only assume was one of his men, a strip of fabric pressed to the side of his face. A strip of fabric soaked in blood.

Roe’s dinner was tossed aside, dish and utensil clattering to the ground as he darted up from where he was sitting and stalked toward them, adrenaline running cold through his veins. “Get ‘m in here.” Roe commanded, voice louder than it had been in weeks.

Speirs seemed to perk up at the familiarity of Roe’s voice, though that disoriented glaze to his eyes and movements never shook off. The man assisted Speirs into the medic’s tent and promptly scattered when Roe pointed to the flap, stony-faced. The moment the man left Roe shifted his full attention to Speirs and covered the hand Speirs was using to hold the cloth to his face. “I’ve gotta take a look.” He said softly.

Speirs looked up at him, hazy and unsure, the amber of his eyes scanning Roe’s face. Despite what seemed to be a form of trauma—mental or physical, Roe wasn’t sure yet—Speirs was still on guard with rigid posture and his muscles locked into place as he sat before him. Roe dug into his pants pocket and produced the lighter Speirs had given him, holding it close to Speirs face so he could get a good look. “Figure it’s about time I return this to you.” 

When Speirs finally focused on the lighter, his posture relaxed slightly. He said nothing, but allowed Roe to finally pull his hand and the cloth away from his face. It was an active fight to quell the rise of panic that struck Roe when he got a good look at Speirs; there wasn’t a part of the left side of his face that wasn’t covered in blood, parts of it thickening and turning dark. For once, it seemed the sharp horror had made itself evident on Roe’s face as Speirs finally spoke, “You gonna pray for me, Eugene?” His voice was breathless from previous exertion.

“No need, sir, you’re gon’ be just fine.”

“What if I ask nicely?”

The lilt of his smile showed the blood on his teeth and Roe did his very best not to stare at the man’s canines, their sharpness giving him the image of a cottonmouth waiting to strike. Roe swallowed and looked away, finding reassurance in the fact that Speirs’ left eye seemed to be working just fine judging by the way he was staring down Roe. “I’m gonna start cleanin’ this up and you let me know if any parts hurt worse than others.” 

“Sure thing, doc.”

Roe retrieves a clean-ish cloth and some fresh water and begins swiping the blood off Speirs’ face, starting with the line of his jaw where the blood had begun trailing down his neck. The running hypothesis was that Speirs’ had a shallow head injury and was more concussed than anything; head wounds bleed like hell and if Roe had kept any sort of grip on himself when Speirs came in, he would’ve remembered much faster. It wasn’t until he began swiping up close to Speirs’ temple, along his hairline, that Speirs flinched away from his pressing hand. “There.” Speirs announced through gritted teeth.

“Gotta clean it up to get a good look at it. Sit tight.”

The previously clean bucket of water was turning a murky pink with every dip Roe made. He did his best to ignore the way Speirs sucked air in between his teeth every time Roe got a touch too close to the gash. He would need stitches, but it wasn’t dire, much to Roe’s relief. “The hell happened out there?” He asked, not sure if he wanted the answer.

“Couple men couldn’t make the retreat from Nuenen. Had to go back and get them.” Speirs answered.

“Any others injured?”

“It was just me.”

“Lucky you.”

“I was the only one who went.”

Roe’s hand froze mid-swipe, resting against the sharp cliff of Speirs’ cheekbone as he stared down at him. The eclipse of their eyes left Roe vulnerable, open for Speirs being able to watch every emotion cross his face at the same time. Finally, Roe settled on one and worked his jaw, grinding his teeth together before he began cleaning again. There was a beat of silence, and then, “You’re angry with me.” Speirs said, his voice breathy again, this time with awe.

He stared up at Roe with a sort of delight in his eyes that would send any other man running with horror, that grin plastered firmly on his face. “No, sir.” Roe said firmly, dragging the washcloth along the water a little too aggressively— water sloshed over his shoe and he paid it no mind.

“Why are you angry with me, Eugene?”

He was prying. “Permission to speak, sir?” Roe asked, teeth still gritted.

Speirs waved him off with a lazy hand, though he was paying rapt attention. “Never had to ask before.”

“I just think we’ve lost a lot of damn good men today, sir. And I understand you need’ta do right by your men, and it’s an honorable thing, but what if you had died?” Roe tossed down the cloth with a force that sent the bucket reeling, refusing to look Speirs in the eye again.

Speirs shrugged. “And what if I die? We’re already dead.”

The fury blazing in Roe’s eye as he looked up again left Speirs delightfully cold, his head tilted back as he basked in it. “Not to me.” He paused. “Not to me, sir.”

With that finality, he turned and began prepping the needle and thread for Speirs’ sutures. Speirs slid off the makeshift stretcher he’d been sitting on, taking the few steps he needed to stand behind Roe. Roe could feel his presence looming over him as he worked, it was hard not to, but he ignored him. Sure it was petty, but if the man could go run behind enemy lines on a solo-suicide mission, he could be a little petty. “Eugene.” Speirs said quietly as he placed a hand on Roe’s shoulder.

Roe turned with a ferocity he wasn’t aware he possessed, indignant. “You coulda died!” 

“I know.”

Roe gripped his jacket, rising to inches from Speirs’ face. “You coulda died and then what?”

“What do you mean, ‘gene?” Speirs’ tone was soothing, the way you spoke to a stray you’d hit with your car before you put it out of its misery.

“What the hell was I supposed to do if you’da died?”

Roe punctuated his sentence with halfhearted shoves to Speirs shoulder and chest, damp with his blood. Speirs caught Roe by his shoulders and pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around Roe’s biceps to stop his protesting. Roe folded into him immediately, accepting defeat as his body shuddered against his will. Muffled by Speirs’ uniform, “What the hell was I supposed t’ do?”

“I’m sorry, ‘gene.”

The reckoning that ran through Roe’s body was like an earthquake, the kind of world-shattering event that sent prayers to the lips of atheists and Speirs just held him like he never considered any other option. When the fear subsided, Roe pulled back and ducked away from Speirs, shoving his fists across his eyes. “Still have to stitch that.”

“Alright, Eugene.”

Speirs sat patiently in place as Roe prepped his materials. He wordlessly handed the lighter back as Roe mindlessly searched for it to sterilize the needle, something he’d done countless other times that day with the same lighter. There was an irony in the concept. Roe used the lighter to sterilize needles to save mens’ lives, while Speirs had used it to light cigarettes before taking lives. Perhaps it was all about balance.

The stitching went smoothly, yet uneasily, as Roe tried not to flinch every time Speirs grunted in pain. The morphine had long run out— if Roe had known this was going to happen, he would’ve stashed just a little, but he hadn’t known Speirs would be so stupid as to do what he’d done. When it was finally clean and bandaged, Roe stepped back and looked him up and down. “Anything else?”

“Nah, ‘gene, I’m okay. A few bumps and bruises, but that’s all.”

Roe rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’ve gotta make sure you don’ have a concussion. You gettin’ back to Dog company?”

Speirs hesitates, sly. “I could leave before daylight to get back.”

Roe nodded. “Alright. Stay here, then. I’ll wake you up every coupl’a hours, make sure you’re not gettin’ worse.”

“Anything you say.”

Roe began cleaning up and as he passed Speirs to dispose of the bloodied cloth, Speirs caught him by the bicep. “Hey, we okay?”

“Yessi— yeah. Yeah, we’re— yeah.”

“Good.”

“I should let Captain Winters know y’here for the night. He’ll be wanting to know what happened.”

“Alright. I’ll be here.”

Roe nodded and ducked out of the tent.The moment the canvas flap fell closed, Roe’s hand darted out to shove it back aside. He crossed the space in a few quick strides and his mouth pressed hard against Speirs’, chapped and cold as he lifted his rosary beads over his neck and placed them around Speirs’ instead. When he pulled back, huffing, he said, “So you think twice about gettin’ your damn self killed.” And he ducked back out of the tent.

The time they got in Mourmelon-le-Grand was bliss. Speirs had nothing but Roe wrapped up in blankets. He pulled sighs from his mouth and swallowed them whole, spent his nights pressing his lips to every inch of the medics skin, and played his hand at worship that was foreign to him but felt so familiar nonetheless. They had never been so efficient in the few duties they did have, eager to get back to each other at the end of the day.

As Speirs leaned over Roe, propped up on his side in the bed they shared, Roe’s rosary beads dangled from Speirs’ neck and skimmed lightly over Roe’s chest. Roe reached up and touched them, stormy eyes fascinated by the way they reflected the light from the setting sun in the window. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Speirs uttered, his palm coming up to rest against Roe’s cheek.

Roe leaned into it, “What?”

“You.”

A flush spread across Roe’s face like the reds of the aurora borealis, painting him with watercolors Speirs would kill to see over and over again. Speirs ducked his head to capture Roe’s mouth with his, as he’d found the taste of Eugene Roe was the only thing that satiated that nagging curiosity he’d held for so long. Speirs’ fingertips skimmed over a smattering of scars on Roe’s side, dancing over the taut skin of his stomach that seized at his attention— he was slightly ticklish, Speirs had learned. God above he was soft, too, where the war hadn’t gotten to him and Speirs especially loved to prod at those places, to dig in and find a home there. Roe invited him in with the warmth of his arms and the plush of his thighs and the bruised bones of his knees as they folded together, Speirs’ face buried in Roe’s neck.

“Y’ comfy, there, Ron?”

Speirs’ reply was indecipherable, his mouth pressed against the warmth of Roe’s shoulder. There wasn’t anything in the world that could drag him out, not even the man himself, and Roe laughed. It was a sound that Speirs would’ve marched through hell and back a million times to hear, rolling like thunder and just as deep. Roe was a storm in the sweltering summer, all dark clouds and warm rain and Speirs had dove in and he was drowning. It was the easiest thing he had ever done.

Roe’s hands held firm against Speirs’ back, the tips of his fingers calloused from all the suturing needles and the rough handle of his knife. Speirs groaned at the feeling, one he prayed he’d never grow used to for fear of it becoming unremarkable to him. A foreign concept, sure, but he still hoped it would never happen. “Could stay here forever.” Speirs mumbled.

“What? Y’ gotta—” Roe pushed his face to the side slightly so as to hear him.

“Could stay here forever.”

Roe sighed wistfully and stared up at the ceiling. “Well, there’s a war on, y’know.”

Speirs, decidedly over the turn the brief conversation had taken, dug his fingers into Roe’s hip and pulled them both backwards. At this angle, he could admire the man in a new light and hell it was a glorious one. Roe’s hair looked best mussed up with no regard to regulations, dark strands hanging in his face as a curtain of black clouds to the eye of the storm. The light caught his features much like it had back in Aldbourne, the first night they had met and Speirs had been cautiously intrigued by the sullen medic. Roe kissed him again and he breathed deep, memorizing every level to the way he smelled. Clean, of soap since they’d gotten to Mourmelon-le-Grand. There was a tinge of sweat from their activities an hour earlier. And hours before that. And there was a note of petrichor, so distinctly Roe that it put an ache in Speirs’ heart.

Yes, Speirs’ heart was something that had never before been seen by the rest of Dog company or Easy company. A novel concept, indeed. The rosary beads that hung around his neck and the cross that fell just above his heart would’ve been frozen from the cold if not for the way his body heat compensated for the ever-persistent chill. He wondered often if Roe was keeping warm. Where he was. From what Speirs had gathered, he spent his time deep within a foxhole or busy on his feet trying to keep men alive that seemed so determined to die in this frozen hellhole. Speirs mulled over the last time he’d been given the opportunity to press a kiss to those frozen hands, praying that the brief contact had breathed a warmth into Roe that wasn’t physical.

In the limbo between Dog and Easy company, Speirs paused and breathed. At this point, if any head of raven hair popped above the ground, he’d see it in easy contrast against the landscape as it suffocated in snow. He was smart enough to promise himself not to wait long. It would do no one any good if he were to get distracted, waiting in the tundra of the woods freezing to death in the search for a glimpse of his medic. The one saving grace for his lack of excuse to be out there was the fact that not many people would be willing to question Speirs on his actions.

He thought over, ever so briefly, what they’d do if they got back. There’d be a ring, most likely. They’d never discussed kids, but that seemed to be the sort of thing Roe might like if they could sort out all the shit in their head first. Before anything, though, Speirs wanted a year of uninterrupted nights with Roe trapped within his arms. Peace. Warmth. He’d follow Roe anywhere in the world if he could get a glimpse of peace in the man’s eyes.

Speirs felt the urge to fumble with the rosary beads and was reaching toward his neckline when a shifting caught his attention. There was a stirring along Easy’s line, men poking their heads aboveground— likely relieving themselves with others on watch. No one wanted to die in the snowy Bastogne woods with their dick out. He paid no mind to their stirring until a whistle sounded out and, “Incoming!” was shouted.

There was no Eugene or Ron in that moment, when Speirs ducked below ground into one of the scattered foxholes that stretched between the two lines. The cover was hardly adequate, but it was better than being stuck above ground as the artillery rained down. The rattling of the Earth had felt like the end of days the first handful of times he’d experienced it, but Speirs was jaded and simply focused on keeping track of himself and not dying. Hunched in that foxhole, he escaped without injury. The assault slowed to a stop, the telltale whistle of incoming missiles vanishing just as quickly as it came.

Speirs hauled himself aboveground and did a quick check of his own personal inventory. He didn’t appear to be missing anything, literally or metaphorically, and straightened up as he prepared to march back to Dog company line and take account of his men. It was as easy as breathing, to begin that march. And then someone called, “Medic!” and, “He is the fucking medic, you dumbass!” and Speirs realized he had never experienced anything close to Earth shattering before that moment.

He was sprinting before he could realize what his body was doing. It was possible that it wasn’t Eugene— Easy company had more than one medic. He could be senselessly charging into a different company’s lines like the entire German army was on his heels for no reason. Not to be crass, but he didn’t much care if it wasn’t Roe, and it was entirely possible it wasn’t Roe. The medic was probably hustling around his own company taking care of those injured and would greet Speirs with an incredulous look of, what are you doing here?

There was so much blood. The snow soaked it up like a sponge, accepting the neon red dye like it was a right, and Speirs had never been so angry in his life. Sharp pain careened through his knees as he crashed to the ground. “Eugene. Eug— fuck, Eugene!” He didn’t know what to do with his hands, hovering them above the medic. Useless.

Eugene was sprawled in the snow, jaw slightly ajar as he stared up through the canopy of trees at the falling snow. It wasn’t a direct hit or an amputation, he knew, but something had gone so terribly wrong as he’d rushed to help a member of Easy company that had tripped on their way to a foxhole. It was somewhere in the cacophony of a falling tree, and he was distantly aware that he was surrounded by his men as they stared down at him. Useless. “Where the fuck is Spina!”

Spina. Hm. Resigned, Roe put his energy into turning his head, fumbling his hand with the fabric of Speirs’ pants where he kneeled beside him. Useless. “Hi.” His voice was garbled, not his own.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eugene. Someone get Spina over here right-fucking-now!”

The other Easy company members had sat back in horror. They knew what Roe would say if he weren’t the one on the ground at that very moment. There was no point. No one survived having a tree branch launched through their middle, impaling them to the ground. “What’re y’ doin’ here?” Roe asked Speirs, confused.

All Speirs could summon were curses and the horror of tears. His eyes were wide and wild, sending Easy company members scattering backwards as he looked up and around. “Where the fuck is the other medic?” He yelled.

“Speirs.” A voice came from behind him. “Speirs. S— Ron.” 

It was Winters, a hand on Speirs shoulder as he forced himself not to look away from the state of Doc Roe. “There’s morphine in his jacket.”

“Fuck.”

The exhale of the curse breathed out any of Speirs’ hope with it, the pit in his chest growing by the second as the blood around Eugene pooled further and dissipated into the snow. “It’s—” Roe’s inhale was rattling. “S‘kay. Don’... feel it.”

Speirs hated the calming storm. He hated the way Roe’s grasp on his pant leg felt feeble at best, hated the way his own hand shook as he took Roe’s hand carefully and resigned himself to a new form of death, one he had never considered but a thousand times worse. Speirs descended into the bloodbath as he lowered himself onto his side beside Roe, desperate to see his face, unmarred by blood. Roe’s eyes were rolling in his head, unclear and unfocused, but he was doing his goddamn best as Speirs’ face hovered over his own.

Speirs’ icy hand found its place on Roe’s cheek once again and he leaned down to press a frozen kiss to Roe’s furrowed brow bone. Roe groaned as he tried to shift and failed. “‘m sorry.” He exhaled.

“Fucking hell, ‘gene, don’t you dare apologize. You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, baby.”

Roe’s laugh was more of a wheeze as his eyes roamed Speirs face. “Baby. Tha’s new.”

“Thought I’d try it out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Another wheeze. The rattling of Roe’s breath was a horror Speirs had become familiar with over their time at war. He’d heard it a million times before and this was the only instance in which it’d haunt him for the rest of his goddamn life. His throat felt raw from screams he was hardly holding back, the wrenching of his gut urging him to upend his insides until it all stopped hurting. Roe’s hands traced upward, fumbling and weak, before they reached the base of Speirs’ neck. The beads hardly poked above his collar but Roe found them anyway and tangled his fingers in them, blood coating the rosary. “Christ above, Roe, you should’ve kept them.” Speirs choked out, wanting to be angry. Angry was better than this. 

Roe attempted some approximation of shaking his head. “No. They’re yours.” came out more along the lines of “N… th’yers.”

Speirs fumbled his own hand upward and captured Roe’s, bringing it to his lips. He kissed each bloody knuckle, ignoring the iron taste in his mouth and the stain it’d leave on his skin before he leaned down and pressed his lips to Roe’s forehead. His brows. His cheeks. Like lipstick marks, Roe’s blood planted itself on his face with each press of Speirs lips. “I’ve got you, ‘gene. You’re alright, baby.” His voice was softer than it had ever been, softer than it ever would be again.

“Lo’...” The exhale Roe let out was final.

Speirs hands shook so badly he couldn't grasp properly. The fight to get the scarf off his neck was one he nearly lost; it seemed all he could do in that moment was lose, over and over again. Carefully, gingerly, he pushed it under Roe's head and wound it around him. Winters spoke up, “Speirs, he's…”

“I know.” Speirs bit out. “I just—I don't want him to be cold.”

“Okay. That's— that's good, then. You did good by him.”

The Earth shattered apart below their feet.

Speirs wore that rosary through the rest of the war and beyond. His eyes stayed wild, his tactics unimaginable, the rumors crass and vicious. He was no man of religion, but he was a man of storms. Other troopers pointed out just how crazy he was, considering he took every chance to stand out in thundering rain, gasping as the rain pelted his skin and washed him anew. Even with the weight of the rosary and two sets of dog tags, it was never enough. He’d left his heart in the frozen ground of Bastogne, under a Sycamore with E.R. carved into it. None of it would ever be enough again.